Author Archives: oinsketta

The timely hush money payment that allowed Trump to win the Electoral College

Using the timeline of actual events (so unfair!) right before the 2016 election, Lawrence O’Donnell shows how crucial suppressing the story of the porn star who had a brief sexual encounter with the entitled pussy grabber-in- chief candidate was to Trumpie’s brilliantly engineered electoral college victory a few weeks later.

O’Donnell makes a good case that without this well- timed hush money payment, there never would have been a president pussy grabber. So rather than a minor infraction that should not be the first prosecution against the totally innocent and persecuted self-proclaimed billionaire, it is fitting and proper. The illegal and fraudulently concealed campaign contribution of suppressing this damaging story is foundational to the entire 45th president’s story.

If it wasn’t for all the so-called facts, Trumpie would have excellent defenses to all of these baseless partisan witch hunts!

Low tactic

When you find yourself without a good argument, getting frustrated with the person you can’t convince without him bringing in disputed facts, don’t lower yourself to the ad hominem attack “you’re being a lawyer, this isn’t a trial, or a prosecution and don’t try to turn this into an inquisition, I won’t let you put me on trial, I’m not the one on trial here.”  Understandable though it may be to react this way when you feel cornered, it doesn’t help your case and it makes you look bad.

Especially when you deploy it against a reluctant and underpaid former lawyer who hated the idiotic adversarial system and was drawn to problem-solving and compromise every time over zero-sum trial by adversarial combat. 

Look at the parade of ever more marginal lying scumbags who continue to bring a flotilla of frivolous, legally incoherent, evidence-free claims on behalf of a vindictive, lying sociopath and his pernicious disinformation machine.  Those lawyers are behaving as we expect the accursed stereotype of the “anything for a dollar,” or an intoxicating whiff of power, lawyers to act. 

That the licenses of these lying mercenary dicks were not immediately yanked by the legal profession is another proof of the moral idiocy of an adversarial system in which a lawyer/client can use the courts strictly for delay, expense and vexation, with no consequence to themselves. They can justify anything he or his client can imagine might, in some world, not be, technically, an outright transactional lie fraudulently presented to the court in a way that would risk their law license. Satan is often depicted as a lawyer in a very expensive suit.

So when you are about to complain, when your side of argument loses sight of the agreed facts, take a breath instead of playing the lawyer card a lawyer to assert it’s unfair, and frustrating to argue with someone trained in the martial art of law. Stop and consider: isn’t this really a good time to take a breath and pause, let the hot emotion cool a bit? Isn’t that deep breath a much better alternative to possibly insulting a friend and making them antagonistic in return?  

Short answer:  yes.

Conflict, to many hurt people, is a war to be won not a problem to be resolved

Some people are so hurt that, when it comes to inevitable conflict, they see it as hurt others or be hurt yourself, and take no chances — they attack. They commonly deploy a technique known as DARVO, (Deny, Attack, Reverse Victim and Offender) a reflexive strategy whenever there is conflict — make it the complete fault of the other person.   

Conflict, to this personality, is not something to be resolved, it is a war for existence itself that must be won by any means necessary.  The first rule of conflict, for those who see it as total war, is:  deny any role in the conflict and blame the merciless party you disagree with. Like so:

This conflict is entirely your creation and not my fault in any way, so you are the cause of the entire conflict and the only one who can fix it, obviously!  I need to defend myself against your unfair, sick, dangerous attacks.  I’ve never had conflict in my life, your life is one long conflict, so the entire problem must be you, though, of course, you can’t admit that, because that would make you wrong, which you can never be.  You keep insisting I hurt you but you hurt me continually,  brutally, unfairly and without the slightest mercy or hesitation, etc.

If you think about it for a moment, the only hope of resolving a conflict is through an honest back and forth, everyone gaining a better understanding of the cause of the problem, everyone willing to compromise to make the mutual pain stop.  This takes a certain maturity and faith in the problem solving abilities of the other person in the conflict. 

Honest conversation and understanding are the last things a person who needs to “win” every conflict can tolerate.  So-called honesty is perceived as a vicious attack on vital organs!  So you use all of your powers to transform the other party into the unreasonable aggressor and recruit loyal allies in the brutal war to defend your good name against the slander that you are hell-bent on winning at any price.

Talk about your basic mindfuck.   The cherry on top is that people you have known for years, and considered close friends, could believe this simplistic and ridiculous version of events rather than the much more plausible story of what actually took place… perfectly mindfucking…

Remember the acronym DARVO — deny, attack, reverse victim and offender.  How did I go all these years with no shorthand for the consistent way every angry person who cannot be wrong that I’ve ever had a conflict with has reacted?   What is the word for the flying monkeys who believe the weaponized DARVO version of reality?   Oh, yeah, flying monkeys.   Oh wee yo…  

I understand, but sorry

It’s sad, but also freeing, to understand that while somebody you care about can’t help their anger, feels they must behave as they do, their misery is also no excuse for things they do that become intolerable to you. What you can’t tolerate, you can’t tolerate.

“But if I can’t help it, it can’t be my fault!” the person might cry.

OK, but if you can’t help doing it over and over, and won’t talk about it, and I can’t stand it, I can’t help you either.

It’s as tragic as untimely death itself, but the math of it is pretty straightforward.

Trumpie totally refutes judge’s finding

Judge Beryl Howell granted the DOJ’s motion to compel Trumpie’s attorney Evan Corcoran to answer questions, under the penalties of perjury, about the many classified documents found at Mar-a-Lago after he certified, falsely, that after a diligent search all documents had been returned. She ruled that attorney/client privilege does not apply to many of the questions because of the crime/fraud exception.

Because Trumpie and his attorney appear to have jointly participated in crimes, obstruction of justice, for example (the order is under seal) attorney/client privilege does not apply to conversations and actions related to those crimes. Corcoran has to answer the DOJ’s questions about these alleged crimes, or plead the Fifth.

In response Trumpie’s “office” issued this stinging smackdown of the weak, woke DOJ and pathetic, abusive American justice system, as reported in The New York Times:

source

Hell, of course you will!

Isolation is bad for the health

Isolation, particularly if it also involves an inability to move around freely, is a form of torture.  Solitary confinement has finally been identified by the UN and various human rights organizations as torture.  Take away a person’s freedom, their ability to interact with other humans, and the outlet of vigorous exercise, and you’ve got yourself a nice, self-sustaining torture room.  Economical, too.

Humans, like many animals, are highly social creatures who take comfort in being together.   Being isolated with only your own thoughts, fears and moods as company will eventually drive a person mad.  The beauty of isolation as torture, from the sadist’s point of view, is that, as long as you are also immobilized, you cannot make it stop.  All isolation requires is silence from everybody else, which is easy enough to accomplish in our competitive, hectically busy world.  You just have to whisper a few specific, ugly things about the person you’ve isolated to anyone who might have been sympathetic, sit back, and watch your handiwork.   

People undergoing torture will do anything to make it stop.   To picture how destructive long term isolation is, think of its chilling political implications.  Here in the Home of the Brave (TM) we have tens of millions of isolated, grumpy old Americans riveted to on-line “communities” where their millions of new virtual friends all believe that adrenochrome, the mythical element in a terrified child’s blood that fuels the lust of “woke” cannibal pedophiles while infusing them with ungodly strength, is the demonic currency of the global plan, by you know who, to enslave all white nonpedophiles.   If they are that powerful, and capable of that kind of satanic atrocity against innocent children, what do they have in store for the rest of us?

On a personal level, I woke up with a slightly larger sense of isolation today.  The scared feral cat I had patiently gained the trust of, and who I fed every day as he rubbed his head against me to be petted, is lying dead outside the window, apparently clipped by a speeding car the other night as he waited to cross the street he’d crossed countless times.  

I had been giving two more old friends of fifty plus years the benefit of the doubt for the last few months.  Even as I suspected, during their long silence, that a good outcome from this benefit of the doubt was doubtful.   Today I woke up to more silence, a goodbye kiss from Sekhnet (off to the city for a couple of days) and then, ruminations.  I thought of another unanswered WhatsApp I finally sent out yesterday, after no comment on my upcoming knee replacement surgery text,  “understood, you believe I am unforgiving and dishonest” sent to a close friend I’ve known since we were fourteen.

Do the math, a fifty year friendship with friends since we were teenagers, and you will see another example of the obvious:  childishness is not limited to young kids.  We are sociable, we are also clannish and our choices are subject to whim, peer pressure and narrow self-interest.  Some are immature from cradle to grave.

I had two unsettling conversations with my lifelong friend, months back.  In the first, she lambasted me for being unforgiving, unloving, and torturing two dear old mutual friends who loved me dearly.  When I protested that she’d been told an unfair, untrue story, gave my account of the senseless conflict that was being pinned entirely on me, my “defensiveness” proved my guilt to my old friend.   I had the creepy feeling I was the defendant in a witch trial.

“You’ve worn me out,” she said as she got off the phone to have dinner.  

A few weeks later the theme was my dishonesty.  She told me that if I really can’t forgive these cherished lifelong friends, who clearly love me, I have to be honest enough to tell them.  Neatly, the entire mountain of bat shit had been piled on me.  Not only an unforgiving, loveless, torturing prick, but a lying one too.    My character had been assassinated, this old friend was talking to a despised, stinking corpse.  I seemed to be the only one who didn’t realize I was already dead.

I understand now that what sent the old friend who set this all afoot into a rage was that I was probably the only person in her life who, in fifty years, had never contradicted her about anything.  I was always easy to get along with, even when she was being mercurial, controlling, judgmental, I always understood and never took anybody’s side against her.  Suddenly, during a tense “vacation” with her and her husband, worn out by days of mounting stress, I seemed to be defying her — for the first time ever!  This “et tu, Brute” moment made her fly into a rage and have a full blown shit fit.  And thinking about it, what safer target for her rage, that had been building for a long time, amid the endless Covid crisis at work and awful, mounting tension with her husband, than the one person in her life who had never made her feel bad about herself?

From her point of view, as she angrily explained whenever I brutally tried to resolve the conflict, she never got angry, never did anything wrong, she only apologized to me the morning after I claimed she was mad because I was clearly so weak that I’d been hurt by nothing after I’d been so threatening and aggressive and completely to blame for any “tension” I perceived.  I was also stubbornly unwilling to take responsibility for causing all the bad feelings between everyone there.  From her husband’s point of view, whatever she said, that was his position.  If she said something different, that was his new position.  

While I spent a year of torment trying to fix a broken friendship, and preserving their privacy (since I truly didn’t understand how things had come to this ugly pass), these determined winners were working overtime to control the news cycle and destroy my good name among everyone we knew in common.  Of the two stories about our falling out, their ever-evolving one and the one we’d all lived, one makes much more sense than the other.  This could be a big problem to these two respectable, sociable people, make them look shamefully imperfect and less than 100% admirable.  Intolerable!  They went to work, passionately confiding in everyone we knew in common the story that left them the complete victims of me, an unaccountably vicious asshole. 

From their friends’ point of view, if they were both that hurt, and told the identical story, and Eliot wasn’t talking about it, then Eliot must be a sadistic, diabolical, lying, unloving fuck, no matter how he might use his silver plated lawyer’s logic to try to twist the facts, and love itself, to obscure that ugly truth.  No matter how well he’d hid this from us during those decades of carefree, seemingly loving friendship.

Most people, you may have noticed, prefer simplicity to complication.  It is a worldwide disease at the moment — there are only two choices in any situation.  It is either Red or Blue, Unregulated Capitalism or Totalitarian Communism, Systemic Racism or Senseless Rage, absolute forgiveness no matter what or an inability to love.  This is by design.  It is much easier for tyrants to rule unopposed if everything is phrased as a war — black vs. white, good vs. evil, God vs. Satan, love vs. hate and everyone is constantly provoked to fight to prove they are on the right side of these ephemeral absolutes.  The irresistible power of this divisive strategy is that a statement like “good people on both sides” when one side are Nazis and Klansmen and the other side is their intended victims, cannot be seen as a statement of moral neutrality.   Claiming there are good violent racists means that you agree with their plan.

Political tyranny is a vast human nightmare, and a necessary part of its hellscape is the terrifying personal isolation of all citizens, particularly if they don’t take part in the lynchings and pogroms.  Everyone is vulnerable, at any time, to being denounced to the authorities and subjected to the harshest punishment.  The same goes for the reign of personal tyranny, maintained by what is often called Narcissistic Abuse.  The person who can never be wrong has the same bag of tricks as any despot and the same reflex to deploy them to deadly effect if unquestioning loyalty to them is ever violated.  If you live within the social circle of someone who can never be wrong, who must always be seen as perfect, and obeyed, know that they have always practiced bringing others to their side against all enemies and get used to the taste of being vilified and cast out if you ever make them feel bad about anything.

Doesn’t make the bitterness of it that much easier to get used to, mind you, but it’s a good reminder that the world is simply the world, homo sapiens are not necessarily “wise apes” and that the only things we can really influence, on a good day, are our reactions to the ongoing shit show.  Cold comfort on a cold day, I know, but better than resorting to desperate acts, no?

Then, silence.

The problem with pathos and ethos without logos

If what I write here doesn’t touch your emotions, it’s useless.  The best writing will sometimes challenge your beliefs about right and wrong, make you see a complicated moral issue in a different light.  Our feelings are classically called “pathos” and our moral views “ethos”.  These two strands of human experience, emotions and trust, are huge and the successful appeal to them is of incalculable power.    Without “logos,” the capacity to set things out coherently, the other two are impossible to talk about, understand or resolve conflicts that arise between people of strong feelings and beliefs. 

Logos, without pathos and ethos, of course, reduces you to a well-programmed chatbot.  Logos by itself can be monstrous, as can any of these strands, in isolation. All three need to come into play in any persuasive presentation, though logos often rides in the trunk as the other two drive the car and scream out the window.

No meaningful debate is possible based only on passionate feelings and a strong sense that the other person is morally deficient.  There is literally nothing to discuss, beyond “I am very upset that you are such a moral cretin” and “I’m upset that you’re such an unreasonably judgmental asshole.”  Not a very long conversation, and one that can only end in disagreement, based on strong mutual feelings of moral repugnance.   The only things that we can really talk about, set out clearly for meaningful discussion, are facts, data, actual events, crucial elements of any true story.

Real life, of course, rarely involves a rational disagreement among philosophers, it’s a dirty, earthy business that sometimes ends in a lynch mob stringing up a big mouth just to win the argument.  “Who’s laughing now, asshole?” is not a very decorous question to pose to a dangling corpse, but there we are.  Cutting off the lynching victim’s body parts as they scream doesn’t prove you are right, except to your fellow enraged torch and pitchfork carriers.

Humans are a cultish lot, and it’s very easy to fall in with a tribe, particularly an aggrieved tribe on the march, in a moral crusade.  We are getting the full downside of this unreasoning cultish tribalism full-stink in recent years.   

In 2009 Congressman Joe Wilson from the great secessionist state of South Carolina (currently considering the death penalty for any pregnant female who refuses to give birth) snarled at the first Black president “you lie!”  The moment of internationally televised in-your-fucking-face disrespect made big news at the time.  Now much worse is said every day about Biden, to his fucking face, and the Big Lie itself is in hot dispute among the pathos/ethos crowd.  What is the Big Lie? 

The latest spin is that it’s the lie that “so-called January 6th” was NOT the fault of fucking Mike Pence!   Pence deserved to be swinging from that gallows, the fucking cowardly traitor who made the riot that never happened necessary … and what about Hunter Biden’s laptop, Fauci’s crimes against humanity and the fucking drag queens raping young children in public?

How do you talk to people in a rival cult, with all logic off the table?  It seems impossible.  It is certainly impossible if the technique for shutting you up is citing outlandish conspiracies to angrily contest every factual assertion you make.  The best you can do, when faced with a relentless, logic-free assault, is to say “understood.”  By “understood” it will be understood, even by a grimly determined foe, that you mean “have a blessed day!”    

And, by “have a blessed day,” that you mean just that.

The price of inheritance

The price of inheritance is obedience, to the exact degree demanded.   Dissident children don’t get shit, except for furious punishment while the bequeather is still alive.   Getting nothing, and being cast out of your family, is a very high price to pay for a fleeting feeling of personal integrity.

We spent five days with old friends in a beautiful rented house near Woodstock.  At one point I was sharing my long-running painful estrangement from my niece and nephew, my only two direct blood relatives, with one of my oldest friends.  I haven’t seen either one since my mother’s funeral in 2010.  My attempts to remain in touch have been mostly futile.  Now I don’t even hear back from either one when I reach out.  My friend, at a loss for any idea we haven’t already talked about, seeing how much this seemingly insoluble situation hurts me, looked at me with sad eyes and said “that’s very painful.”   I nodded and we sat there for a minute, just acknowledging how much this kind of thing hurts.

In the case of my niece and nephew I understand what they’ve been told by my brother-in-law and his wife.  Your uncle is an insane, judgmental, vengeful, lying prick.  He stole your inheritance when your grandparents died.  He will eventually kill you, if he ever gets the chance.  He’s a person incapable of love, forgiveness and honesty, though he pontificates at unbearable length about the importance of all three.  He is the lowest form of vicious hypocrite imaginable.  Picture Hitler, only much worse.

Fast forward a year and a half.

My periodic attempts to make contact with any of my old, formerly sympathetic friend’s three adult children, all of whom I have known since birth and fondly played with all during their childhoods, as well as advised and helped as young adults . . . crickets.

My own fault, really, since I refuse to acknowledge that to some people talking about conflict, with an eye toward preventing future strife, is exactly the same as viciously attacking them in their soul.   To speak about any kind of mutual role in conflict is to blame them, 100%, when they are unshakably certain that you are 100% to blame and a very dangerous fucker too, capable of all kinds of satanic appeals to love, fairness and vulnerability, which always come at their expense.  They will explain this to their children with passion, telling them to think of Hitler, only much, much worse.

I understand now that if you have a competitive view of life, see the world as black and white, win or lose, pride or humiliation, no compromise is possible with someone who does not do what you need them to do.   That’s just the way it is.  Keep whatever you want in your heart but keep any look off your face that shows defiance of a will that needs to be right.  Have as much integrity as you want in the quiet of your own soul, but show any glint of that and we’ll cut you dead as we cut our dear, old friend, Hitler, dead.  Clear enough for you, my beloved child?