Debating The Debate: Only one woman's opinion...but I'm right.

At it again...all for you.

by Angela K. Durden

A Magnificently Methodical Southern Woman
and The Most Brilliant Woman in the World 

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Publisher.

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I’ve been giving some thought to the debate Tuesday evening, September 29, 2020. All persons I’ve talked to, pundits in/on any media I’ve heard, and all sides of the political spectrum have agreed: The debate between Trump and Biden or — as one pundit hilariously put it — between Chewbacca and The Swedish Chef —was crazy, wild, no rules followed by either party. Even the chosen law man, moderator Wallace, had as good as been defunded.

What was going on?

Let me first get Biden comments out of the way. He whined. He backpedaled. He said “you shut up”. Whatever his team did to change his body clock and keep his mind sharp, worked. I don’t believe he used his go-to insult — dog-faced pony soldier — but what insults he did say could easily have been answered by “sticks and stones”. However, he put a target on his back for his party to shoot at when he said “I am the party” and then proceeded to trash much they held dear.

But Trump? 

He gave Biden opportunity to follow the rules, but once Biden interrupted him, you know he said to himself "So...that's how it's gonna be, huh?" And so he went full MMA on Biden, the Democrat party, the Left, BLM, Antifa, and their ilk. Then he threw in some dirty street fighting to top it all off when he challenged the appointed po-po, Chris Wallace, and got in his face. He changed tactics. He jumped in. He laid back and watched. 

Chewbacca he was not. 

He was crazy-sly like a damn fox. He demonstrated just how wild the situations are in certain Democrat-controlled cities when rules are not followed. How do we know the message got through? Ask yourself this: What have we heard since then from the Dems?

“We need RULES!”

So, Trump now has all the Dems begging — B.E.G.G.I.N.G! — for stability.
Crazy-sly. It was so clear to me.

Flawed and Good. Perfect and Evil.

This is a visual example of
Flawed but Good.
I know. I do my best.

by Angela K. Durden

A Magnificently Methodical Southern Woman
and The Most Brilliant Woman in the World 

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Publisher.

Flawed is not the same as Evil. 

Perfect is not the same as Good. 

For instance, Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Liberal Democrat RINO Socialist Fascist Commie Do-Gooder Environmentalist Social Engineering-types believe they are Perfect — all FLOTSAM from #CrunkNewsNetworks push that narrative — but they are Evil. 

While their number-one and other nemesis, Donald "The Hammer" Trump and normal regular folk, are Flawed but they are Good — and all FLOTSAM does not push that narrative. 

See how that works?

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** FLOTSAM: For Liberal Opinion That is Serious and Actually Matters

The Principles of Engines and Sex

by Angela K. Durden

The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

Please be advised this content is for non-P-HWPCLDRSFCSJWs*. If you self-identify as a P-HWPCLDRSFCSJW, DO NOT CONTINUE READING.  If you are a distributor of FLOTSAM**, you know how to reach me for clarification of any statement you deem inflammatory, is not approved by P-HWPCLDRSFCSJW or your masters, contains information you've never heard, or for any other fashion you wish. If you want to blame this on President Donald "The Hammer" Trump, please do not contact me, and instead reach out to the White House Office of Press Relations Management and take it up with them. 

Fuel-powered engines operate very simply in theory. Everybody understands how engines work. You put a key in a slot. You turn a key. And boomshakala-Bob’s-yer-uncle, there you are, ready to put’er in gear and move right along.

Never mind the reality that gears and rack and pinion and tires and seals and filters and brakes and oil and other important fluids and parts must also be maintained or else major repairs costing mucho dinero will hound you for years. You see? You understand? The simple theory of how cars work is totally explained in the opening paragraph and that is the simple theory of how people look at their car.

And how they think of sex.

You put a Whangdoodle in a little fill’er neck. You turn this way and that and boomshakalaka-Bob’s-yer-uncle, there you are, put’er in gear and moving right along.

Never mind the reality that over-shoulder-boulder-holders may or may not be involved. Never mind the reality that bits of sheer fabrics and lacy peekaboos may need to be slowly removed or ripped off in a rush, dodged or fondled, and so forth, and if not done properly can result in much heartache. Never mind that just when you think you’re home, the gas runs out; or the aging vehicle can’t keep up with demand; or while you’re happily “driving down the highway”, a seal springs a leak leaving you with future obligations the likes of which you think will never end and you swear off sex…or at least promise to be more careful.

Just like engines look simple but are complicated, so is sex. Chemicals (gas for engines, hormones in bodies) involve internal combustion designed to convert energy in the chemical into mechanical energy. In both cases, “pistons” move up and down in a linear motion inside “cylinders” that, in turn, move “crankshafts” in a rotary motion. If pistons and cylinders are misaligned, not properly milled to spec, or so antique they give in under the pressure, the desired converted energy is lost and the trip is postponed.

You may infer the quotation marks in the above paragraph to imply tongue-in-cheek commentary; that phrase — tongue-in-cheek — is not meant as a pun.

But let’s say that the energy is converted, there is still danger. If the converted energy is weak the “engine” may not know the “trip” has begun much less is over leading to “check engine lights” coming on and somebody whispering that excitement-killing phrase, “Daddy-O, are we there yet?”

We humans simply take engines and sex for granted. We believe they will always work when we want them to and are surprised and angry when they don’t. I once had a mechanical engineer explain to me how engines work in four simple steps. One: Engine intakes air and fuel. Two: Compresses it until it Three: Explodes. Then Four: Exhausts. Or as he said it, and these are his words:

1. Suck. 

2. Squeeze.

3. Pop.

4. Phooey.

Need I say more?

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* P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commie Social Justice Warriors

** FLOTSAM means For Liberal Opinion That is Serious and Actually Matters

Fuel-powered engines operate very simply in theory. Everybody understands how engines work. You put a key in a slot. You turn a key. And boomshakala-Bob’s-yer-uncle, there you are, ready to put’er in gear and move right along.

Never mind the reality that gears and rack and pinion and tires and seals and filters and brakes and oil and other important fluids and parts must also be maintained or else major repairs costing mucho dinero will hound you for years. You see? You understand? The simple theory of how cars work is totally explained in the opening paragraph and that is the simple theory of how people look at their car.

And how they think of sex.

You put a Whangdoodle in a little fill’er neck. You turn this way and that and boomshakalaka-Bob’s-yer-uncle, there you are, put’er in gear and moving right along.

Never mind the reality that over-shoulder-boulder-holders may or may not be involved. Never mind the reality that bits of sheer fabrics and lacy peekaboos may need to be slowly removed or ripped off in a rush, dodged or fondled, and so forth, and if not done properly can result in much heartache. Never mind that just when you think you’re home, the gas runs out; are the aging vehicle can’t keep up with demand; or while you’re happily “driving down the highway”, a seal springs a leak leaving you with future obligations the likes of which you think will never end and you swear off sex…or at least promise to be more careful.

Just like engines look simple but are complicated, so is sex. Chemicals (gas for engines, hormones in bodies) involve internal combustion designed to convert energy in the chemical into mechanical energy. In both cases, “pistons” move up and down in a linear motion inside “cylinders” that, in turn, move “crankshafts” in a rotary motion. If pistons and cylinders are misaligned, not properly milled to spec, or so antique they give in under the pressure, the desired converted energy is lost and the trip is postponed.

You may infer the quotation marks in the above paragraph to imply tongue-in-cheek commentary; that phrase — tongue-in-cheek — is not meant as a pun.

But let’s say that the energy is converted, there is still danger. If the converted energy is weak the “engine” may not know the “trip” has begun much less is over leading to “check engine lights” coming on and somebody whispering that excitement-killing phrase, “Daddy-O, are we there yet?”

We humans simply take engines and sex for granted. We believe they will always work when we want them to and are surprised and angry when they don’t. I once had a mechanical engineer explain to me how engines work in four simple steps. One: Engine intakes air and fuel. Two: Compresses it until it Three: Explodes. Then Four: Exhausts. Or as he said it, and these are his words:

1. Suck.

2. Squeeze.

3. Pop.

4. Phooey.



Need I say more?

Rocker's Wail

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

Surrounded as I am here in Decatur/Atlanta by Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Liberal Democrat RINO Socialist Fascist Commie Social Justice Warrior-types who are #RadicallyShatbitCwazy, I wrote this song to help me stay in touch with the balance that brings sanity.

I think you might like it.

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Richard North Patterson delivers a beaut of a whine: It's all Trump's fault!

At it again...all for you.

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

In the March 31, 2019, issue on TheAtlantic.com, a novelist, attorney, and political commentator blamed the dismal state of his writing career on the president. That's right, folks. The Donald's insistence on standing firm for his beliefs and what is right and proper has made it nigh on impossible to write a novel anymore.

Therefore, Richard North Patterson turned his full-time attention to political commentary because — and here I quote him verbatim from his own article — "The aim of the novelist is to enlist others in his fantasies, immersing them in an alternative reality so emotionally compelling that they willingly suspend disbelief. Trump has dangerously conflated this sort of storytelling with real-life presidential leadership, casting himself in the role of the archetypal savior-hero, battling the forces of evil. He’s our first novelist in chief."

What RNP isn't tell you is that...

...the bottom fell out of the publishing biz good and proper, and nobody is buying enough of his books anymore to make the time spent writing one worth his while. I bet you ten dollars his publisher did not renew his contract and he realized self-publishing was damn hard work, so he went into commenting upon all things political. He did not turn to political commentary because Trump became novelist in chief, though reading the column he wrote would lead one to believe that. 

That's called branding spin. 

Nope. RNP turned to commentating in 2015, getting spots on various #CrunkNewsNetwork shows and placing his words in blatantly Liberal publications, all of whom mention he is a novelist with 20 published books to his name and he's an attorney, too, so he's really, really smart, you should listen to him because he agrees with us. 

That is called soft advertising married to delusion.

That Patterson is jumping in now with this negative spin on Trump should come as no surprise.

Hilariously, RNP complained that Trump got $3 billion worth of media coverage for free and said that made him unique amongst all candidates. Geez, I guess RNP forgot all about the first "social media president" who got that ball started. Frankly, Trump was simply the recipient of Obama's failed presidencies. Had Obama not done such a terrible job so openly, not as many people would've cared about Trump. 

Conveniently, RNP does not mention the dollar amount of the decades-long fawning and doting of Barack and Hillary and Nancy & Co. et alia by what has been called Mainstream Media. We know them as the three-letter networks and their morning and evening news shows, cable "news" shows, late night comedians on networks, and print media, too, all featuring a staggering rotation of politicians, pundits, and pinheads delivering anti-American FLOTSAM* talking points 24/7/365-and-a-¼.

Truthfully, not as many would've needed Trump — or as I call him: The Hammer — if there was not The Enemy Within, a fifth column, operating so blatantly. The Hammer is a man uniquely suited for the time. All the things Patterson cited as negatives in Trump, are the very things that make a great leader out of a flawed man in a tough situation. Things like: 

• Speaking against Evil and
• Firing back at Black Hats while
• Not backing down from Desperadoes so the 
• Little Guy is protected, and being
• Willing to suffer for what is Right and Good and 
• Able to see trouble coming from the horizon,
• In effect practicing The Art of War, which brings back 
• respect for Law and Order so the
• Community can now move forward magnificently.

A hard man has always been needed when times are hard and the enemy has no conscience. 

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. And when the tough get going, good people will be heartened and the fight will be on. Because, while claiming otherwise, one thing RNP fails to understand is real life battle. While one man can make a difference, he can only do it alone in novels and movies. 

Read more about that topic here in "The silent coup will soon turn into a pretty little Civil War."

So, Richard North Patterson, maybe you should get your head out of your fictional world and join the real world. See what is really happening and why. It's for your own good I tell you this, sir, because writers are the first ones dictators come after when they get in power. You may believe you curry favor with the Deep State by agreeing with them and writing so pretty about it, but you would be wrong. You are not in the protected class. You are an expendable minion when it becomes necessary for them to consolidate power and your services are no longer required. 

* FLOTSAM means For Liberal Opinion That is Serious and Actually Matters

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Tear down those walls!

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

What? Keeping traffic sound out? That's just wrong. All sound is equal and should be treated as such. I will start a GoFundMe account that will be all about tearing down those evil barriers keeping underrepresented sound out of those neighborhoods whose residents prefer — and pay for — sounds coming from stages featuring Jazz and such.

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Loving greenery more than loving people.

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

Which is worse: To love trees and bushes so much that people die? Or to manage the trees and bushes and save human lives, homes, businesses, schools, etc.? This poem written in 1895 sums up the California fire situation wherein Governor Moonbeam is praised for saving leaves and letting people die while Donald Trump is being called bad names — yet again — for pointing out a sensible solution that is used by many others to great benefit.

The Fence or the Ambulance

JOHN N. HURTY, M.D.

'Twas a dangerous cliff, as they freely confessed,

Though to walk near its crest was so pleasant.

But over its terrible edge there had slipped

A duke and full many a peasant.

So the people said something would have to be done,

But their projects did not at all tally,

Some said, ' Put a fence 'round the edge of the cliff';

Some, 'An ambulance down in the valley.'

But the cry for the ambulance carried the day,

For it spread through the neighboring city;

A fence may be useful or not, it is true,

But each heart was brim full of pity

For those who slipped over that dangerous cliff;

And the dwellers in highway and valley

Gave pound or gave pence, not to put up a fence,

But an ambulance down in the valley.

For the cliff is all right if you're careful,' they said,

'And if folks even slip or are dropping,

It isn't the slipping that hurts them so much

As the shock down below when they're stopping.'

Then an old sage remarked, 'It's a marvel to me

That people give far more attention

To repairing results than to stopping the cause,

When they'd much better aim at prevention.

'Let us stop at its source all this mischief,' cried he,

' Come, neighbors and friends, let us rally,

If the cliff we will fence we might almost dispense

With the ambulance down in the valley.'

'Oh, he's a fanatic,' the others rejoined.

'Dispense with the ambulance? Never!

He'd dispense with all charities, too, if he could;

But no! We'll protect them forever;

Aren't we picking folks up just as fast as they fall?

And shall this man dictate to us? Shall he?

Why should people of sense stop to put up a fence

While their ambulance works in the valley?'

But a sensible few who were practical, too,

Will not bear with such nonsense much longer,

They believe that prevention is better than cure

And their party will soon be the stronger.

Encourage them, then, with your purse, voice and pen,

And (while other philanthropists dally)

They will scorn all pretense and put up a stout fence

On the cliff that hangs over the valley.

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What if Picasso painted what he saw because he was dyslexic?

As Picasso
might have
painted me.

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 


What if Picasso painted what he saw because he was dyslexic?Before somebody jumps all over my back for being insensitive to those with dyslexia, let me assure you the question is valid.

Not only is it valid, but it applies to me as I am dyslexic.

Dyslexia is not just the inversion of a letter or number, but is actually a wide spectrum of how the brain interprets what it sees including colors and shapes, and is different with each person. It can also be inherited: My grandson is dyslexic and has some of the same visual interpretations as I.

Let me see if I can make an analogy as to how dyslexia can work.

Let's say two people are walking down a road in Texas somewhere near the border with Mexico on one side and the U.S. on the other. Let's make these people..hmmmm...let me see...who could they be? I know: Trump and Obama.

While illegal fence jumpers are all humans, Trump sees a drain on the U.S. taxpayer, and Federal and State resources as well as a lowering of the defenses that keep U.S. Citizens and legal immigrants safe.

On the other hand, Obama sees a warm body he can sign up that will be so indebted to him they will vote for anything he tells them to so that he can advance his Socialist agenda of a One World Government in which he will hold a top position and live behind a wall in a guarded secure compound for the elite and in which the fence jumper will wear a special uniform while he rakes The Big O's yard or she does the laundry.

See? Same human shape, but different interpretations as to what those look like. Of the two walkers down our proverbial Texas road, which one do you think has political dyslexia? That's right! Obama!

Once, my mother and I both applied for a job in a manufacturing plant. The test involved putting shapes into corresponding holes. Square block goes in square hole. Star shape goes in star hole. You get the drift. There were nine shapes and nine holes. Mother and I sat in front of our respective test blocks. A woman stood in front of us with a stop watch.

After dire warnings that failure meant not getting hired, the woman angrily spat out "You have thirty seconds. GO!"

Mother had all nine fitted in fifteen seconds, but when the woman called time, I was still staring at the first shape I picked up, desperately trying to find the hole it went into. The woman looked at me like I was an idiot. Mother was furious because they were hiring pairs of relatives and this meant we weren't getting the job.

"What's the matter with you?" Mother said, angrily shaking her head and slapping the table with the flat of her hand. "Are you stupid? You put the round one in the round hole! Here!" And she rammed in the one I was holding into the slot it fit and I still did not understand what she was doing.

I just looked at both of them and could say nothing. We drove home in silence. Yet, only the summer before I had a job in a Tastee-Freez that required me to take apart, clean, and put back together a complicated ice cream-making machine with about fifty parts. Yes, the owner was frustrated that I didn't learn as quickly, but he was patient and guess what?

He then went on to brag about how fast I could do it once I did learn. Everybody was jealous because I was the best there had ever been and since time is money, the less time the machine was down the more money the owner saved and could make. See? I just needed time to process the information in a different way than most other people.

My duo partner and I are learning an extremely intricate song by Chick Corea called "Spain". There are the two famous riffs in the song that if any musician or singer gets wrong they would be booed, so of course we are working hard on those. Alan, who knows the song well, is trying to teach me the notes and he is teaching me using methods that work for everybody else but that are not working for me. I can feel his frustration as he keeps trying until finally I said to him, "Alan, my brain does not process information like other people. There is a mind/body disconnect so please let me work through this my way."

Once I get something, I've got it. Same with my grandson. But if you push our different-shaped minds through the sieve of a normal routine, you'll just make everybody frustrated.

So, let's get back to my original question about actual dyslexia and Picasso. What if Picasso wasn't some visionary genius and he was truly painting exactly what he saw? Would we think less of his work then? What if we knew at the time of his painting that he had dyslexia and some teacher or art critic came along and said, "That is NOT THE RIGHT WAY to paint!"? And what if he then quit painting because when he tried to paint THE RIGHT WAY, he just couldn't and got frustrated?

Then after he graduated Picasso, pegged as someone who COULDN'T LEARN, would have been put in a Jobs Training Program dreamed up by a Deep State P-HWPCDLRSFC*, only to spend his life sweeping the halls of the very school that labeled him LEARNING DISABLED and condemned him to a life of not ever getting to do something else because he was stupid.

Oh, what income Picasso would have missed out on!
 
What adventures he would have been denied.

What famous people would not have sought his presence!

And the FLOTSAM* would not have massive opportunities for reporting on his shows, the record sales dollars of a famous work of his, or the production of documentaries about his life and the famous people he hung out with.

See? 

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* P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commies

** FLOTSAM means For Liberal Opinion That is Serious and Actually Matters

Merkel takes page from Trump playbook

At it again...all for you. 

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

According to Soren Kern writing on GatestoneInstitute.org, Germany's Angela Merkel has reinstituted border controls with Austria.

Lots of reasons for that, and you can read those in the link above. But I, as your Citizen Journalist, will tell you the real reason why she finally was able to start acting like a leader:

It was all that time she spent in Canada with Donald "The Hammer" Trump at the G7 Summit.

Look, I know the popular picture of the event was this one wherein all the leaders and their helpers seemed to be successfully coming against the big-bad American meanie and telling him to toe the line or else they would rip him a new one.

Image tweeted by German government.

However, when I saw this picture, my first — and might I add, most accurate — impression was that "The Hammer" was again commanding the crowd and bringing them around to his way of thinking while they pitched their little royal fits. But notice Merkel? She might have been posing for the picture (after all, Germany tweeted their leader looking strong), but let me tell you, it was already written on her face that she was in deep doo-doo and she was drawing strength from "The Hammer" because she knew what she had to do.

And what was it she had to do?
Why, that would be to bring back strong borders.

And now, lookey what we find in the story above but that Angela Merkel is doing just that. Granted, it is only with Austria and there will be many P-HWPCDLRSFC* who will manage to get quoted in FLOTSAM** outlets that she is wrong, but the point is, she isn't wrong to protect the citizens of her country.

Just as Trump is not wrong to protect the citizens of his.
Or as Mexico is not wrong to protect its citizens — should it ever get around to handling those cartels, and dirty politicians, police, and army.

I know quite a few P-HWPCDLRSFC who totally understand protecting the interior of their countries by limiting access to their borders. They live in gated communities and guarded hi-rises, and exist behind doors and windows with shrieking alarms that must be shut off with special codes or else the police, fire, and EMT are dispatched.

The only ones complaining about strong border protections are idiots whose deepest thought has been which milk to use in their extra-foamy latté today: Whole, skim, cashew, almond, rice, or soy?

Thank goodness Merkel has grown a pair, small though they may be.

* P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commies
** FLOTSAM means For Liberal Opinion That is Serious and Actually Matters

How to Rise to Power Like a Boss...errrr...I mean...Dictator

A proper breakfast for 

your Citizen Journalist.

by Angela K. Durden
The Most Brilliant Woman in the World

Citizen Journalist.  Novelist. Author of other stuff. 

Business writer.  Songwriter.  Protecting creator's copyrights. 

April 29, 2018, 7:30 AM. It is a Sunday morning and it is cool on my balcony. I eat a breakfast of uncured bacon, grilled sourdough toast, and two eggs over medium. Strawberry jam is there for the spreading. Enjoying my cup of made-from-scratch hot chocolate and reading an invigorating book, I realized something about a friend of mine and I got quite sad.

This realization came as the absolute proof of something I've said for years: Stupid is bone deep, and we all know you can't cure stupid.

Now, my stupid friend is as nice as can be. And caring. But so, so stupid when it comes to the world. My friend is a P-HWPCDLRSFC*.

I know! You are asking how it is that your Citizen Journalist could have such a friend, but there is something to say for pleasant company as long as the conversation stays on men and music and cocktails. Besides, we have something in common and this friend is very good at that thing, so...yeah...there is that.

However, it dawned on me that it is because of people like my friend that dictators rise to power. See, stupid people believe everything they hear. No matter what. As long as they believe it to be caring. Stupid might be another name for sucker because suckers never think to question.

There are some very smart stupid people out there, let me tell you. In the business arena I'm specifically thinking about investors in Spotify, UMG, and WorldCom, to name a mere handful. Relying on numbers given them by the very people asking for money, investors believe the lies shoveled about — let me stop choking on the irony here — earnings reports.

See? Stupid! Same in politics, but a whole lot worse.

In investing, you can lose your shorts. In politics, you lose your freedom. Which, of course, is exactly what dictators want. So how does a dictator rise to power? Here's the how-to list:

• Put on a rally and invite everyone.
• Make big promises (chicken in every pot, phone for everyone).
• Identify who lines up for the chicken and phone.
• Identify who walks away muttering under their breath.
• Tell lies so big they just have to be true.
• Say you care more than those mean ol' hardworking stiffs.
• Tell folks you will solve all their problems.
• Subliminally reiterate "It's too complicated. Let the smart people do the thinking."
• Take away or severely limit rights and freedoms.
• Kill or otherwise silence those who mutter.
• Tell those who lined up for the chicken and phone that those who want them to earn their chicken and phone are evil and should be mistrusted, if not destroyed.
• Get stupid people to show up for a riot. 
• Disappear into a penthouse suite high above the fray as the stupid people riot.
• Avoid most of the initial dictator-setup messiness by inheriting a dictatorship from Daddy and then do all the above some more, including killing your uncles who also want to be dictator.

Of course, what all dictators know, whether they admit it or not, is that they are bullies. And all bullies understand power when they see it. Which is why bullies stop moving forward when real power faces them down.

Real power won't budge. Kim Jong Un — for the first time in his life — came up against real power in the form of the Trump Administration that said

No games. No playing footsie under the table. No winky-winky "this is for the camera, business as usual later" styling and profiling for the stupid people lined up for their chicken and phone.

"Stop it...or else."

3gDL Kim Jong Un

Our third-generation Dear Leader (3gDL) found himself in an awkward position. His country was not nearly as isolated as he thought it was. Even though he outlawed technology and told his people they could not talk to their neighbors in the world, he was beginning to be ignored.

Tourists pose with North Korean soldier
on the North Korean side of the DMZ.

We know this because pictures of North Korea began to surface from tourists who went there. Pictures that showed what the real country looked like. Documentaries about South Koreans being kidnapped and brought to North Korea to perform functions their uneducated masses could not do were distributed around the world. 

Then, when 3gDL acted all tough by rattling his nuclear sabers, and the P-HWPCDLRSFCs quaked in their little jackboots, that is when the Trump Admin said...

Stop it. Or else.

And what happened then. Why 3gDL huffed a bit more and poked out his chest and said

And the Trump Administration took another step in his direction, stared hard, and said:

Ah! 3gDL swallowed hard and took a look around.

His nukes aren't working. His concrete is failing. His country is crumbling. His people are starving and have nothing left to lose. His good Chinese buddies pretended not to know him anymore. 

The rumblings of 3gDL's slave class finally made it through the fog of his upbringing and personal delusions. 

And there was Donald "The Hammer" Trump fixin' to put the beat down on his sorry little ass. So, what happened?

The DMZ: Soon to be a museum visited by tourists.

Why, 3gDL decided it was time to join the 21st Century and make nice. And so, for the first time he crossed the DMZ and he signed the guest book at the Peace House and had dinner in South Korea with his wife, and the president of South Korea and his wife. 

But do stupid people understand any of this? No, they do not. They call bullies their friends and call tyrants those who fight to protect them. 

And that, dear friends, is why we, who do understand, must be ever vigilant. We may be doomed to watch history repeat itself, but we don't have to let it go on as long each time. 

* P-HWPCDLRSFC is Pussy-Hat Wearing Politically Correct Democrat Liberal RINO Socialist Fascist Commies