Removing Donald Trump

blue heron

A blue heron strolling in my Florida back yard yesterday

19 days to go before I leave America. I’m going from swamp to desert. Who says geezers can’t handle radical change?

Given what is going on in my adopted country — not just post Charlottesville, but everything else too — never have I been more certain of the correctness of my decision in January ’17 to move abroad, until Donald Trump is forcibly removed from office by any legal means necessary.

When it rain it pours.

Let me explain what I mean, because like The Donald, no matter the subject, it’s always about me.

I’ve had to fix quite a few things with/in our house lately before leaving. It’s costing me stacks, man.

For example, a mysterious leak has sprung in an outside wall in the back of our house, and has to be located by a professional (read: very expensive!) leak detection outfit and fixed today before things got worse.

Many appliances suddenly died and needed replacement.

There have been roof issues, because of the constant deluge of water pouring down from the sky.

The car needed new spark plugs and its AC died, which cannot be tolerated in the summer FLA heat.

Water, water, everywhere, so much of it, so close to home, if you like Carver; or, if you prefer Sage, the water line is rising, and all we do is stand there.

It’s as if there is a Trumpian dark cloud over this place. Maybe there’s one over America wherever you look nowadays.

No matter.

You try to not lose your head, or cry wolf when things go wrong under pressure: you solve problems, one by one, because you’re an adult now, and know how to stabilize any situation, until your head explodes.

Or until the poisoned well is capped, the storm water drained, and the leakage in the kitchen is found, thanks to the leak finder guys, and stopped and it was all from the lousy install by some Home Demon contractors of the new dishwasher, and that, too, will end up costing me a bundle to fix, unless I can negotiate getting reimbursed.

If only the same could apply to dealing with the clusterfuck that is the Donald Trump presidency.

Can you go to a Customer Service window in DC and return the defective item in question?

Just tell them, it’s faulty; no good: all it does is spread the odor of Old Man uriniferous effluence — and they take it back, no questions asked.

There is really only one answer for the United States now.

The GOP must convince itself to invoke the 25th amendment; waiting for a lengthy and a protracted Congressional impeachment process, following what is sure to be an extremely ugly 2018 election cycle, will tear this country apart. Running against him in 2020 is too late.

Whatever happens, Trump is going to try to dig in even more. His Vanilla Isis base will attempt to make permanent what has amounted to a fascist coup.

Will Antifa and Anonymous stand idly by for this?

Would you?

In effect, it’s become obvious to more than the Cassandra set that the United States is increasingly facing the likelihood of a second Civil War — unless the widely reviled Trump is removed from office.

Should Pence and the GOP not pursue the 25th amendment track, more serious steps will be required.

If Robert Muller finds sufficient rock-solid incriminating evidence to indict the President of the United States, members of his family, and his inner circle, past and present, Donald Trump should be allowed to either immediately step down in disgrace, or be advised that he will be prosecuted to, as the hackneyed phrase goes, fullest extent allowed by law — without the possibility of a pardon.

That threat, ultimately, may be the only stick that will successfully chase out this president and his henchmen as well as his various appointees, including Christian Supremacist Mike Pence and Evil Mama‘s boy Neil McGill Gorsuch, via unrelenting lawsuits that challenge the legality of their selection.

But what if Muller fails?

arab american cartoon

Illo from Washington Post archives

You do not want to be here, as an Arab-American, for that eventuality.

It was the Jews who fled that ended up surviving, not the ones who remained and waited for the SS to come a-knockin’.

Stay and fight?

They say the pen is mightier than the sword, and boy you just never know what can happen these days in that regard.

The United States is still, for now, a great country — despite, say, the horrendous things it is doing in Afghanistan, and elsewhere, yaddi yadda.

It will survive this, too, though changed for the better or worse, I do not yet know.

Tell you what.

I’m not holding my breath under water as I gambol in my Association pewl until Congress grows the cohones to undo the harm this unfit, appalling — in both the early and late Middle English senses of the word — man has already done.

I’ll probably suffer a shallow water blackout before a Republican-controlled legislature works with the Dems to enact permanent steps via Constitutional amendments such as to never allow the likes of Donald Trump to ever darken the door of the Oval Office again.

Shallow water blackouts, man.

They’re, like, deadly.

Better Days

leaving america

Me, shoveling snow one winter in our CT house

 

It’s perfectly normal as we grow older to pine for the careless days of youth gone by. When we were living in that 4th floor walkup in Chicago, eating Ramen noodles by ourselves without a care in the world.

10 Signs it Might Be Time to Divorce, HuffPo

They say don’t look back, and I won’t.

But there was a time when I thought the future promising, and that true love, even, was at hand.

But then I wonder if it’s sane to remain with someone — long after the bloom went off the rose — because you worry deeply how she might survive without you,

People destroy their lives for all kinds of reasons.  Often, they have to convince themselves that it’s someone’s else fault.

I think you only truly become an adult when you take personal responsibility for all your failures, and credit others for your successes.

What happened to the guy in the picture? The one who shoveled the snow all winter, because he knew that in Spring the entrance to their house would look like this.

greenwich lawn

It looks nice enough, but it took a lot of work, much of it I did myself, to clear the land to get it to look like this. I have always loved this Copper Beech, and I thought once that we would have children who would one day try to climb this tree that shaded the front of our house. I planted crocus and snowdrops on this hill, and every year after the winter snow melted they would pop up on that beautiful lawn I created for the children that would never come.

This is a shot of the land I cleared in the back yard, just behind the pool. This was full of Japanese vine-choked dying trees. All in all, the 1+acre property had between 30 and 40 rotting hardwood trees, most between 80 and 100 feet tall, and many with dangerously hollowed out hearts, that I had to cut down and chainsaw into fireplace logs. It took me 3 years of weekends, but I did it, even as I also held a stress-filled job in Manhattan. All for nothing, as it turned out. All for absolutely fucking nothing.

Will I ever see him smile like that ever again?

Winter will be here in no time.  But there will be no snow where I’m going.

In fact, it will look more like what you see below: yet another sunny place for, as they say, shady people.

leaving amerika

At Lake Nasser, around the time we bought the house

 

 

The slow goodbye

I will miss this beach, compadres, but not much else. You can’t see them here, but there were 4 nurse shark swimming not far offshore, in about 15-20 feet of crystal clear water.

 

beach

 

Art work by Nour Helmy

Yet, Gouna beckons…. ever stronger now. Imagine this: the return of the native, the Egyptian Martin Guerre, after half a century, a refugee from his adopted coutnry.

I have often imagined bring my SUP board here, launching out and paddling all the way to Africa.

This in the years where I felt trapped and that there was no way out of the fetid swamps of Florida.

I should have done this 15 years ago, but I didn’t.

So just counting out the days now, like a prisoner waiting for his release.

It’s almost over.

Meanwhile, see this willet go, “oh oh: human approaching.”

 

beach

 

41 days left!!!

willet

Yippeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!