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It’s Time to Take Marianne Williamson Seriously. Sort of.

Today’s Campaign Update
(Because The Campaign Never Ends)

Responding to reader mail.:  Several readers have written to ask why I haven’t had anything to say about the U.S. Women’s Soccer team and this peroxided-blonde doofus making all the ruckus over in some foreign country where they are playing the World Cup boredom, er, soccer matches.

The answer to that is simple: I hate soccer. Well, let me revise that a little bit: I hate soccer when it is played by anyone over the age of 8. My granddaughter’s 6-year-old and under soccer games this Spring were totes awesome, mainly because the girls had no idea what they were doing, and no one had trained them to respect the “beauty” (which normal people translate to “tedious, mind-numbing, scoreless boredom”) of the game. So they just got out there and ran around and kicked the damn ball until they were utterly exhausted and their parents could then take them home and get some rest because their kids were too worn out to bug them about opening them a snak pak or taking them to Happy Fun Time Trampoline Town or something.

Soccer at that age is a fabulous spectator sport. But once those kids grow into adult bodies and incredibly boring soccer coaches teach them all the incredibly tedious aspects of how to bore fans until they become frustrated mobs who go out and start wars with neighboring countries, the game is a garbage dumpster fire. It then becomes a game populated by really good athletes who are so frustrated that no one really gives a damn about their dumpster fire game – like this peroxided chick whose name I don’t even know – that they end up lashing out in order to attract attention whenever they aren’t writhing on the turf faking an injury so that the other team gets a “yellow card” from one of the prissy game officials.

So that’s why I haven’t said anything about Peroxide Pauline or whatever her name actually is up until now, and why I don’t plan to have anything else to say about her in the future. So don’t ask me about her anymore.

All of which leads me to the real topic of the day: Marianne Williamson. Marianne Williamson probably never played a moment of soccer in her entire life, which goes a long way to helping to explain why she is an actual “interesting” person. Of course, I have to put quotes around that word, because being “interesting” is not always a positive thing, especially when one is interesting in a leftist, new-wavy, spiritual rock-worshiping, Stevie Nicks sort of way, as Ms. Williamson appears to be.

Most of the “experts,” i.e., pundits based in the D.C. thought bubble who all told you at various points in 2015-16 that Donald Trump a) would be out the race in two weeks, b)that Donald Trump could never possibly win the GOP nomination, and c) that the Pantsuit Princess was going win the general election in a landslide, just wrote Williamson’s first debate performance off as disastrous, labeled her campaign a “vanity project,” and predicted she’d be out of the race within a few weeks. Which could happen, but given the track record of the “experts” we should probably expect her to keep hanging around for awhile.

And be honest here: Wouldn’t you pay good money to see a debate between Marianne Williamson and Donald J. Trump? I mean, check this out:

That’s some pretty good moves for a 66-year-old. I couldn’t move like that when I was 16. And we already know President Trump’s got some moves from his 2015 appearance on Saturday Night Live:

We have simply got to get these two kids together. Think of it: They could begin by discussing Williamson’s grudge against New Zealand’s Prime Minister and debating the merits of nuking that country to settle the score. And why not? It’s no more ridiculous than debating the merits of abolishing the private health insurance of well over 100 million Americans and forcing those same Americans to pay for healthcare for the tens of millions of new illegal aliens who are going to flood into the country after Democrats succeed in decriminalizing illegal border crossings.

It would be no more absurd than debating whether or not to print 5 trillion dollars we do not have so we can “forgive” the student loans taken out by idiots so they could obtain worthless degrees in Tibetan Women’s Studies or Russian trans-gender Poetry; no more ridiculous than forcing a sitting U.S. President to debate whether or not to award abortion rights to people who do not possess female body parts; no more ludicrous than debating whether or not to abolish the miracle of air travel so we can replace it with rail, the transportation miracle of 1840; no more absurd than debating whether or not to spend 38 trillion dollars attempting to get rid of cow farts; no more mindless than debating whether or not our country should adopt a socialist philosophy that has caused so much human suffering and death everywhere it has been tried.

In other words, while everyone commented on how odd Williamson’s debate performance was and how strange her ideas are, when you compare those ideas to what the other 19 Democrat debaters were actually saying, she really isn’t an outlier here. Not at all. And hey, Donald Trump kind of stood out on the stage in the early GOP debates in 2015, too, and things worked out ok for him.

So let me repeat the call I made last Friday – and which others have picked up on since then – that all conservatives and Republicans out there go to marianne2020.com and give $1 to her campaign so that we can be sure to see her qualify for the next round of Democrat debates.

Let’s work hard to ensure the upcoming Democrat debates have at least some shred of diversity of thought in them, even if it is the kind of “diversity” brought by Ms. Williamson. Otherwise, those future debates will be every bit as boring and tedious as a U.S. Women’s soccer match.

That is all.

Follow me on Twitter at @GDBlackmon

Today’s news moves at a faster pace than ever. Whatfinger.com is my go-to source for keeping up with all the latest events in real time.

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Open post

Patriots and Rams Deliver a Super Bowl Deserving of its Halftime Show

Today’s Campaign Update
(Because The Campaign Never Ends)

Can somebody tell me why I still watch these things? –  The NFL almost pulled off what I had always assumed was the utterly impossible last night, staging a Super Bowl game that was very nearly as  boring and tedious as a damn soccer match. Yes, yes, yes, I know – it was a “great defensive battle,” right? Spare me, please.

It was a game in which LA Rams quarterback Jared Goff played worse than any Super Bowl QB since at least Billy Kilmer and really since Joe Kapp in Super Bowl IV. The vaunted Rams offense punted on its first 8 possessions, racking up a princely 3 first downs in the process, before finally breaking through with an actual drive that resulted in an actual score – a field goal – with a few minutes remaining in the 3rd quarter.

You read that right: Rams fans (I’m not one) had already had to sit through that atrocity of a halftime show before their team even scratched the scoreboard. At least Patriots fans (I’m not one of those, either) got to see their guy kick a field goal before the NFL rolled Adam Levine, Maroon 5 and a bunch of hip-hop artists who CBS had to keep bleeping out onto the field to deliver what has to have been the most dreadful halftime show since Up With People performed back in the mid-70s.

Somewhere, Virginia Governor Ralph Northam is no doubt preparing to have a press conference in which he says something like, “look, I have worn full-length mink coats and heavy chain jewelry while in black face many times in my life, but I swear I was not that fat rapper who performed with Maroon 5 last night, and I want to use facial recognition software to prove it.”

The show’s sole redeeming value was that the media-hyped promise that Levine would give some sort of tribute to all the wealthy NFL slobs who kneel during the national anthem failed to materialize. Guess either the NFL or CBS warned him off.

For their own part, Tom Brady and the Patriots offense played possum through the first 53 minutes of the contest before Brady finally started targeting all-time great tight end Rob Gronkowski on a fantastic drive that ended in a TD run by RB Sony Michel. The Rams got the ball back and, with the Patriots in a soft “prevent” defense, promptly moved the ball to the New England 27 yard line before Goff very predictably threw an interception that effectively ended the contest.  That INT occurred with 2:43 remaining on the game clock, ending the lone 4-minute and 17-second flurry of actual action in this three-hour long contest.

When you think about it, that’s actually not as tedious and boring as the average soccer match, which will have about 45 seconds of actual action spread over about two and a half hours.

So, at the end of the night, in spite of everything – including Adam Levine taking his shirt off, I guess in a tribute to Janet Jackson – American football is still better than soccer. Faint praise, but it’s all I got.

A little bit of trivia and a song to start your week off right. – Other than the game’s only touchdown, the only real other highlight of the evening was the magnificent rendition of the national anthem delivered by the great and elegant Gladys Knight. The Pips were nowhere to be seen, but the lady didn’t need any help on this particular night.

On a sports-related bulletin board I frequent, a poster related this wonderful bit of trivia that links Ms. Knight to the late Farrah Fawcett, who would have turned 72 on Sunday:

Most people don’t know that the song “Midnight Train to Georgia,” which was such a huge hit for Gladys Knight and the Pips in 1973, was inspired by Farrah. In 1972, songwriter Jim Weatherly phoned Lee Majors, who was one of his friends and Farrah’s husband at the time. Farrah picked up the phone and answered the call. Weatherly and Fawcett chatted briefly and she told him she was going to visit her mother and was taking “the midnight plane to Houston.” Although Majors and Fawcett were both successful by that time, Weatherly thought Farrah’s line was a good one and used Farrah and Lee as “characters” in his song, which is about a failed actress who leaves Los Angeles and is followed by her boyfriend who cannot live without her. Eventually the genders were swapped to a failed actor who leaves Los Angeles and is followed by his girlfriend who cannot live without him, a train replaced the plane, and Houston was changed to Georgia. Here is Jim Weatherly singing the original song, the song that Farrah inspired, “Midnight Plane to Houston.” As soon as you hear it, you’ll recognize it.

Midnight Plane to Houston

That is all.

Follow me on Twitter at @GDBlackmon

Today’s news moves at a faster pace than ever. Whatfinger.com is my go-to source for keeping up with all the latest events in real time.

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