Trump’s Private Security Force

Donald Trump is keeping his private security team. It lets him suppress dissent at his rallies, quell the press and intimidate. It’s  beginning to look like my prognostication for our near future in “GTE” The Great Transformation” Could this unfold?

“Meantime growing numbers of RW&B security forces were deployed in all major urban centers. When asked at his first news conference why he wasn’t deploying USA military forces or the National Guard, he drawled smugly in his Texas two-step accent: “Why, everyone knows that private military contractors are more efficient.”

Wall Street was cordoned off returning it to its antecedents as an area enclosed to protect it from the “hostiles.” Chicago’s Mercantile Exchange was similarly locked down, while that city’s simmering pot, its South Side, was doused with cold water when the National Guard, now led by a RW&B commander, swarmed through its decaying buildings and projects confiscating guns, semi-automatics, and pistols.

Simultaneously, another military contractor, Fortified Star, threw up an electrified fence along that neighborhood’s perimeter providing its residents with only one entry and exit checkpoint. When asked about this at a hastily put together news conference, the President elect’s spokeswoman, a well-known right wing pundit May Halter, tossed her mane of bleached blond hair, stabbed her bony finger at the assembled media, brusquely informing them:
“A new plot was hatched that would have stopped our President elect from assuming office. But Jesus be praised [her eyes rolled up to the heavens] certain patriotic Americans stepped forward to alert President elect Cross who, with the full assistance of our military and the RW&B forces, were able to quash this plot guaranteeing the peaceful, orderly, and lawful transformation of power.”
She paused. Looked out over the audience of the stunned assembled media and continued…
“Let me ask you, ” questioned the reporter, “I see a military presence here in this room.” She motioned to the armed minutemen with a jerk of her head. As she did so those men visibly tensed, but the commander standing well behind Halter to her left quickly raised and lowered his hand and the soldiers’ trigger fingers relaxed.
“Why,” she continued, “in a free country are they required? Are they here to intimidate the press, the public? And why is the acting president, soon to be the Vice-President Randall Carey, using a private contractor? And last, why has the National Guard been placed under its direction?”
“Well,” began the simmering Halter, “I am surprised that someone from your network would ask such a question. What would you have us do? Permit an insurrection; a coup d’état against the legitimately elected president? Or are you in league with those advocating the overthrow of the government by fomenting revolution through such scurrilous accusations? Is that what you want Inez?”
“What I am suggesting,” the suddenly plucky reporter responded, “is that the rule of law be respected in this country. What I am asking is why are military contractors being deployed and why is the National Guard under their command? What I am asking is why have all the nation’s major urban centers – specifically the so-called ghettos- been literally walled off as if they were prisons?
“And why are what looks like – and forgive me for drawing this always controversial comparison- but for lack of a better term – storm troopers, stationed in this room armed to the teeth and clearly ready to mow us all down with a nod from that RW&B commander standing over there in the corner?”
As she finished she stood very still, clutching her cellphone [as they were called back in the day] and some papers in her hand. Halter glanced back at the Commander who crooked his finger and a shot rang out. Inez, in a final protective gesture, raised her hand that still gripped her cell phone as she fell to the floor, a bullet cleanly wedged in her left temple. As this happened the assembled media luminaries dashed for cover, diving [when they could fit] under chairs, some making for the doors, which were blocked by soldiers who intoned as if ushers at a Broadway show, “Sorry ma’am, Sorry sir, no one’s to leave. Please return to your seat.”
The Commander, looking as if he were arriving at a state dinner his dark blue uniform bearing the identifying red and white shoulder stripes of his employer encased his body like a glove, grabbed the mike out of Halter’s now shaking hand and unceremoniously pushed her into a chair on the stage. Leaning over her while pushing back the streams of blond hair falling willfully over her face he hissed at her, “What a mess you are! Pull yourself together. We are about to move in for the kill.”
Then as if realizing the irony of what he just said, grinned, “No pun intended, just stand behind me.”
“But, but, don’t you see what’s happened,” she gasped, her eyes darting here and there as if she could not fully absorb what had occurred.
“But, what?” he asked nonchalantly.
Coming back to life she looked up at him. “Not this, “she sobbed, “not this…” as she gestured to the dead reporter.
He grabbed her, pulled her to her feet spinning her around to face the audience whispering in the stunned woman’s ear in what almost sounded like a caress, “What were you expecting? Did you think we were playing? Did you think this was another one of your ridiculous talk shows? Lady, this is and has always been the plan. It was all put in motion well over eighty years ago. Of course, no one had expected it to take so long. Each succeeding generation used their own tactics, but the bottom line was always the same: dismantle the New Deal, the Liberal Society ushered in by Roosevelt and his ilk. You are either with us or against us. Your choice.”
“I’m…I am…with you…I just hadn’t expected… I wasn’t told…that’s all,” she mumbled while smoothing down her hair and clothes. That action caused her entire demeanor to brighten so that she was able to look up at him with that TV personality smile plastered on her face declaring in her most professional tone: “Commander, you’re on in five.”
He beamed down at her. “Now, that’s better. We each have our part to play. Follow my lead. Just remember, rats must be exterminated.”
She obediently did as instructed trailing after the Commander as he took center stage. She handed him the microphone. He put it to his lips like a child about to lick his favorite ice cream pop, but nothing sweet emanated from his mouth. He bellowed:
“Shut the FUCK up you sniveling little shits…take your seats!”
Immediately, the dazed reporters who unexpectedly found themselves the subjects as opposed to the objects of a huge media event [ahhh…how the worm had changed position] returned, zombie-like, to their seats. All except, of course, the dead reporter who remained where she was when shot, lying face up, slumped across three seats, cell phone frozen in her dead grip.
“Now, that’s better,” the Commander crooned at them. “Things aren’t always as they appear. I know what you’re all thinking. You believe you just saw one of my men blow away your colleague. You think we did it to intimidate you, to muzzle the press. Well nothing could be further from the truth.”
He stepped forward toward the row of chairs where the dead reporter sprawled, motioning to one of his soldiers.
“Lieutenant Jimenez. Take the phone out of Rosenfeld’s hand- mind you- remove it carefully.”
Jimenez, with a show of great caution, gingerly removed the phone from the now lifeless hand and handed it to the Commander.
“NOW, ladies and gentlemen, watch and learn that appearances can indeed be deceptive.”
He turned to the lieutenant commanding, “Jimenz pick up the chair Rosenfeld was sitting on. Turn it over to show these good people here what’s there.”
Again, Jimenez did as he was told revealing what appeared to be a plastic explosive taped under the chair. The assembled group gasped.
“You see, your so-called colleague was doing a bit of moonlighting. That chair was rigged to explode. She was an operative for domestic terrorists, a suicide bomber.” [Murmurs from the audience of: “Oh, no!” “How’s that possible?” “She seemed so nice, so normal.”]
“This is what we are facing; like it or not. It’s a coordinated effort by domestic and foreign terrorists to destabilize the country to stop President-elect Cross from taking office. Did you all believe that once President Harris was arrested all was right again in the world? Think again. She was simply a plant. The forces behind her have burrowed deep into the American political, social, economic and yes, even military fabric. That’s why I’m here. That’s why the RW&B has stepped up; to preserve the American way of life; to preserve American democracy. To ensure there is, as there has been for over two centuries, a peaceful transformation of power. So yes, we shot her. We shot a terrorist who was about to send your comfortable butts into the next world.”
He removed his marauder style military cap putting it to his chest bowing low, “So please forgive me if we had to put a bullet through her head to protect you and the Constitution.”
As he rose from his formal bow the audience began to clap, first tentatively and then it came as a roiling roar as the group leapt to its feet chanting, “Pab-lo Cross, Pa-blo Cross, Pa-blo Cross …”
The Commander, knowing when to make his exit, turned to Halter, kissed her hand and signaled to his “boys” to take their leave.
After that, all went off without a hitch. Any media dissenters were quieted. Some got with the program while those that refused quietly disappeared. No one asked questions. No one dared.
On January 20, 2021 President Pablo Cross, along with Vice-President Randall Carey, were inaugurated. As it turned out, they would be the last president and vice-president of the United States of America. Two years later President Cross called for and got a constitutional amendment and three months later the USA was no more.

Hamilton to the Electoral College: Stop the Russian Creature, Donald Trump

In Federalist Paper #68 (1788) Alexander Hamilton urged our Founders to put in place the Electoral College as the last bulwark against a charlatan gaining control of the American Republic. Hamilton’s words have never rung more true than today. He wrote:

“Nothing was more to be desired than that every practicable obstacle should be opposed to cabal, intrigue, and corruption. These most deadly adversaries of republican government might naturally have been expected to make their approaches from more than one quarter, but chiefly from the desire in foreign powers to gain an improper ascendant in our councils. How could they better gratify this, than by raising a creature of their own to the chief magistracy of the Union?” Alexander Hamilton, Federalist Paper #68 (1788)

That is precisely what is happening today. Putin and the Russians have “raised a creature of their own” in the guise of Donald Trump and will soon see him placed in the White House. After 288 years, the Electoral College is finally called on to perform its sacred duty- to protect the American Republic, our Constitution and our people, from a “creature” raised up by a foreign power in order to take control of the United States.

It’s time Electoral College. Do your duty. Only you stand between us and the destruction of the Republic by a corrupt creature.

Trump’s Swamp Runneth Over

The swamp is filling rapidly with Trump Plutocrats. Trump and his compadres are poised to launch a Putin-style corporate takeover of the USA. Remember Romney’s famous line: “Corporations are persons, my friends.” Trump is about to make this a reality.

Many are astonished by his cabinet and advisor picks. Didn’t Donald Trump promise to drain the swamp? Well, surprise! That Master of Reality TV has broken through your 52-inch screen and captured the presidency and, yes, our lives. Remember  the rules of reality game shows: no one is ever what he or she seems. That’s how you win the game and Donald Trump knows how to play that game.

So, what does Trump want?  Certainly power and money – the usual. But what truly motivates him is garnering the status among the entrenched elites he’s so long been denied.  We have had a president like this before. Abraham Lincoln’s southern Vice-President Andrew Johnson who assumed the presidency after Lincoln’s assassination,  also betrayed  his populist promises that had catapulted him to prominence in his native Tennessee. Once ensconced in the White House Johnson immediately invited into his inner circle those same Southern aristocrats who had formerly scorned him for his humble roots. As president he basked in their glow and ultimately betrayed the national goal of reconstructing the South.

You get the picture, right? The same things motivate Trump as Johnson. Greed, yes, but of more importance to Trump is to be accepted by and kowtowed to by those same One-Percenters that formerly saw him a little more than a buffoon. You only have to rewind the video and watch the pretty dance Mitt Romney performed for the Donald before he publicly humiliated Romney by selecting Exxon Mobile’s Rex Tillerson as his choice for Secretary of State. Rex is not simply a Putocrat par excellence but, like too many of Trump’s growing inner circle, closely tied to Putin.

The result: he’s filling the swamp with denizens from Goldman Sachs, Exxon Mobile and other Plutocrats  with close ties to Putin. The swamp is not simply full but overflowing. America, as Trump has promised, will be great again, but for whom?

Read: The Transformation: GTE 45, for my chilling look at what our future holds.



Donald Trump’s Magical Mystery Reality Show

Donald Trump’s  Magical Mystery reality show is “coming to take you away.” Where to, you ask.  To Trump’s 24/7 reality TV show. He’s the boss now, the big cuhuna! It’s certainly a step up from that last show he had where he could only tell his guests: “You’re fired.”  As President Obama mused at the 2011 White House Correspondents Dinner, on that show Donald Trump had to ponder such momentous events as what to do when the men’s cooking team failed to impress the judges from Omaha Steaks. “But you, Mr. Trump, recognized that the real problem was a lack of leadership. And so ultimately, you didn’t blame Lil Jon or Meatloaf. You fired Gary Busey. And these are the kind of decisions that would keep me up at night. Well handled, sir. Well handled.”

Now he has 320 million contestants- yes, that’s the entire American population and daily special guest from around the world. One day it might be recurring guest and sometimes substitute co-host Vlad Putin, that wily but lovable Russian dictator. He will instruct  Trump and the other Plutocrats, White Supremacists, homophobes, climate deniers and all manner of haters and Corporate grifters who have destroyed the American dream, how to crack that whip to get those contestants in line. Then there’s Trump’s Executive Producer, Steve Bannon, that irascible bull dog with the perpetual sneer who’s pulling many of Trump’s strings as we barrel into the abyss. So climb onto the bus and be ready to be deposited in Donald Trump’s Magical Mystery reality show where the surprises will daily assault your life in a fact free zone America. And as “the Donald” has assured us: if you loved Trump University you’re gonna’ love a Trumped up America. Now can we all say, Amen to that!

To read a dystopic vision of where this will all lead go to: The Transformation: GTE 45