Politics, Politicians, and Prevaricators...say what?

Here I go again (to paraphrase RR,) "Morningbrain" has struck, and sleep is no longer an option.  Writing seems to work, though.  Problem is, by the time it works, it’s usually too late to return to sleep.  No matter, at least I feel the papers left by the process may, occasionally, have some value, if to no one but myself.

Facebook can be a waste of time.  Then, again, so is television, but, at this point in life, I’m not willing to totally give up either.  Politics has resulted in strange photo-fellows, it seems, and the picture of Trump alongside of Hillary is rife on both screens: Which  brings to mind the phrase, “I don’t know how to love him,” (followed by) “He’s a man, he’s just a man…and I’ve known so many men before, in so very, many ways, he’s just one more,” and while the first part definitely does not apply to this pairing, the second does, especially when you consider they are both genuine “superstars” in their own right, even though neither could appropriately be compared with the “Superstar” the quotation originally applied to.  (Can the election come soon enough?)

Which brings to mind a Facebook “friend” who I choose to call “Chad.”  Chad is an ornery sort,  one who majors in negativity.  He reminds me of a stanza from a Limelighter’s album:

            “The whole world is festering with unhappy souls:

              The French hate the Germans, the Germans hate the Poles;

              The Poles hate the Yugoslavs; South Africans hate the Dutch;

              And I don’t like anybody very much!”

He hates Hillary, and professes to not like Trump much either (but of the two, Trump is his stated choice, and if you disagree with that, YOU’RE a “DA.”  (And, for those who might seek clarification, as “Fred G. Sanford” might once have said, “And the ‘D’ is for ‘Dumb,’ dummy!”  Hope that gets the point across, ‘cause Ah ain’t a’clarifyin’ “Chad” any further.)

We are two days beyond the third, and final (thank God,) “debate”  of this pitiful political season.  Truth of the matter is, I knew “debate,” and this, my friend, was no “debate.” (Apologies are in order, I’m sure.)  Four years from now, hopefully, our talking heads will see the need to settle on the term “debacle” to define the process with an added degree of clarity.  Debaters everywhere need to rise up and see that this is done to preserve the sanctity of their time honored process. 

What went on the last three times we have seen a “Presidential Candidates Debate” would have been much more interesting, and just as informative, if the Candidates’ Podia had been placed about one foot apart from each other.  That would have given us a real spittin’ contest, with real spit, I’m sure.  At least we the audience would have had something to smile about if this had been the case.

Now, I have just enough time to make myself a cuppa and get back to my other tube for the six o’clock news.  Whatta way to go!  And to all of you, won’t you please have yourself a “Good Morning,” unless, of course, you’ve already decided not so to do.

(And, of course, that last was for you, “Chad.”)

Anyone else have any suggestions?  Comments are allowed.