I was encouraged when I heard The Rexretary of State speaking to his new posse a couple days ago. His message seemed to me calculated at least partially to assuage the anxiety that was inevitable when they’d been put on notice (like they were the Iranian Department of State or something) by their new “President.”
Spice Boy (Pissed-Off Spice), gave his rendition of this classic line:
If you don’t like it, lump it.”
When there were questions:
“Shut up,” he explaned.
Maybe just as well that he diverged from his prepared text at this point, which leaks have confirmed included these lines:
“Takes one to know one.”
“I know you are so what am I? ”
And, more substantively, “pay no attention to that Bannon behind the curtain.”
Our Rex, who seems, in relative terms, to be a sentient being, can maybe hear the deafening tick tock of the Doomsday Countdown Clock. And this, I’m guessing, is a trailblazing example of what we might learn to call three-minutes-to-midnight-in-America humor:
“Sorry I was a late. I was at the National Prayer Breakfast, and they seemed to think they needed to pray a little longer than normal.”
- Cue State Department laughter. (Any way to make it more sort of nervous laughter?)
Pray, like many of the words we use routinely, and not always very precisely, has PIE roots. (Not just for wishing there was dessert: Proto-Indo-European) So it goes all the way back to a time when our viral species hadn’t overcome the planet’s natural defenses, and gotten straight RAMPANT. Literally ask, request, entreat, it makes sense that these early folks prayed a lot. After all, they were–look here yo–in the dark.
Sometimes it seems like we are just as much in the dark as our early ancestors. So, it makes sense to get our prayer on. Maybe, though, to borrow from the farmer’s playbook, we should still ask, request, and entreat. But, then:
Plow the field.