Earlier today on Facebook:

The Ace of Trumps has now laid out his family leave bill, like any good Democrat would. Republicans supporting him can feel comfort in how deftly he has converted them away from conservatism and into the open maw of modish (if racially retro) progressivism.

Smile as you are engulfed, my friends.

Watching the extinguishment of your “limited government” souls I’ll take with a helping of Schadenfreude.

I expect Trump to rule, as I have warned before, like a slightly more competent, infinitely more amusing Jimmy Carter. But with this whopping increase in the welfare state, he is leaning a little more in the Kennedy direction — the Chappaquiddick Kennedy, I mean.

The Reagan Era is officially over. Trump, if elected (as it looks more likely every day, Hillary having kicked the first domino over this weekend), will be a closer heir to Obama than Hillary would have been. And the GOP can finally die its well-deserved death, die of shame.

Wait, its soul is already dead. Snuffed out.

Trump didn’t kill it; he merely hijacked the corpse.

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September 13 on Facebook:

In Faërie, it is the Ace of Trumps versus Lady Chaos for King of the Shadow Harvest, and the ranks of wingéd beings wish to declare a Queen, even if Queen for a Day, to be replaced by Death Incarnate upon the first slip into the Night Land by the Lady. The Ace of Trumps, meanwhile, has gathered a Basket of Deplorables, and there are even expatriate Excoriables falling into his harvest basket, set to weigh in against the wingéd ones.

It is said that the Shadow Harvest shall never be the same again. But what is more likely is that the singers of the Choir Incessant shall lose their perch amongst the wingéd, and as fallen angels their cries and lamentations shall be dinned out by the Rising Lows, whose shockingly deep voices offend those wingéds but please the Deplorables, the Excoriables, and the unsung Praisables.

Meanwhile, a Challenger has arrived at the gate, his name being Fascinus. His ambit extends from the Fever Swamps, but his ambition to hold lance into the middle of the contest. He has surprised many by his challenge, and has gathered to his side even some wingéds as well as a few Praisables, Deplorables and Excoriables. The fen folk who accompany him (raucous but mostly unheard) berate Fascinus, themselves, one another, and (in good measure) another challenger, Doktor Tine, who hails from Luna, enhaloed by moonbats in flittery flight.

No one knows what will be the  outcome. But the Shadow Harvest will be held.

From September 12:

I wonder. Do people not see how they are being played by Trump?

This ad would not, I think, hamper his chances.

Move-On offers up one of their usual pitches for money, to fund an anti-Trump advertisement:

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Would this change your mind? Why?

For my part,  I don’t believe for a moment Trump is earnestly considering using nuclear weapons. He has another set of purposes at play here, and this nuke talk has other functions than visible at the superficial, surface level.

Oh, and also: I do not support the man. I just think playing into his hands makes his opponents look like fools.

 

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