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“Sanity” Prevails? Why Am I Not Reassured?

Jeez, it’s getting so that you don’t dare to sleep anymore. Every time you close your eyes, that damn little ditty from Wes Craven starts going through your head, One, two, Donnie’s coming for you! Three, four, better lock your door. On the other hand, you need a good nights sleep if you’re going to have to wake up to the possibility of a full blown meltdown in the Middle East.

So, Little Lord Tauntleroy was all “cocked ad loaded” to wave his big swinging dick around again, until he realized at the last second that a flaccid mushroom just wasn’t all that terrifying of a spectacle, huh? Personally, I have no doubt that Trump initially called the go ahead for the strike, nor that he called it off at the last possible minute. Nor do I doubt that casualties played a significant role in his decision, bur possibly not for the reason a lot of people think. But I think that this episode has stemmed from both an inner conflict, as well as a brewing eternal conflict, and how those two play out will be critical as to whether or not we go to war with Iran.

Let’s be clear, Donald Trump could give a shit less about 150 dead IRGC soldiers scattered around a missile battery. But Trump has pulled the trigger before, and the results weren’t very much to his liking. He had barely gotten his Oval Office chair dented when he called for a strike that the Obama administration had passed on, and got a soldier killed. Nothing quite like a little blood on your personal hands to put a little skin in the game for you, huh? And his ghoulish phone conversation with the widow of Sargent LaDavid Johnson’s widow showed him in vivid detail that Americans don’t like it very much when you shit all over the widow of a fallen hero.  In the last month, in his quest to go all Call of Duty and shit, Trump has posted 2,500 new American troops to the Middle East, all with big, fat, targets on their back. And all within striking distance of Iranian troops and their proxies. All of them there on his orders, his responsibility.

President Bone Spurs is at his very core a chickenshit. Trump didn’t mind one whit the thought of some anonymous draftee taking a round or two for him over in Vietnam, but the vision of a dead soldiers face behind his lids every time he closes his eyes, one he personally dispatched into battle, is not his cu- of tea. That is both comforting as well as alarming, comforting in that it means he is more likely to pull back on an impulsive action, but alarming because it may cloud his actions when a hazardous course of action is required. Trump’s pampered, privileged, responsibility free life has left him ill prepared to make the tough choices that his current occupation requires.

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Which brings us to the external conflict. By shedding himself from more independent “voices of reason and restraint” like Mattis and Tillerson, Trump has insulated himself from counsel that could have helped him to avoid placing himself in untenable situations like this one in the first place. Instead, in a desperate move to look all hard ass, Trump has surrounded himself with the advice of mental midgets like John Bolton and Mike Pompeo, in a confrontation against an adversary that both men have been long and outspoken critics of, their desire for a ground conflict in order to exact regime change apparent. They are not about to let Trump wriggle off of the hook. They will continue to escalate matters, hoping to create a situation from which Trump can’t pull back.

This is pure conjecture, based mostly on having spent the last 4 years dog paddling around in Trump’s mental slough, but here’s how I see this playing out. Trump has once again placed himself in a position where he appears indecisive and weak. being incapable of personally committing an error, what happens every damn time he finds himself in this position? Why, he looks for a scapegoat, of course! With Iran being the opponent, Bolton has risen to a prominence in the media at least equal to Trump’s, if not overshadowing him. This is intolerable for Trump who must be the center of attention in all things. Trump has already publicly admitted the space between himself and Bolton, half joking to the press that it’s him that’s keeping Bolton from kick starting a war with Iran. As this witches brew continues to bubble, with Trump’s apron getting spattered, it’s Bolton who will be the Wormtongue of all of Trump’s ills, and his ouster will prove Trump’s commitment to a sane, stable hand. I give Bolton two weeks before he can go back to cleaning out birdcages with his mustache.

Which leaves Pompeo. Which makes Bolton’s replacement critical. As much as conventional wisdom screams out for civilian control of the military, if Trump picks a replacement like Mattis or McMaster, a sane, grounded military man, who understands the consequences of erratic actions, and Trump listens to him, then Pompeo is neutered. But if he takes Pompeo’s advice, then we end up trading out one chicken hawk war monger for another one, and the merry-go-round keeps right on spinning.

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So, while I was innocently copping some Zzzz’s, we stepped yet again up to the brink, but managed to dodge a bullet that topples us over the edge. So what else is new? But somehow or other, I ain’t breathing a sigh of relief. After all, even a stopped clock is right twice a day. Seven, eight, better stay up late. Nine, ten, never sleep again.

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