My grandmother’s nostalgic recollections of her adolescence in the Mississippi Delta were filled with inviolability, a shield her older siblings provided from potential Jim Crow perils and those beyond the compos mentis psyche. She was a woman of wisdom, a trait she carried and cultivated with her evermore after moving north. Although outwardly as sweet as sugar, her resilience was evident in the way she slept, with a switchblade under her pillow and a .38 caliber pistol under her mattress, until she transitioned in her early 70s.
Emma Jane Gundy would not have been awestruck, sociological progress notwithstanding, by humanity persevering and vying in earnest to prevail. She was unfailingly optimistic and lived by the mantra, “It’s always darkest before dawn.” Just weeks ago, the Republican Party was slowly eclipsing the flickering daylight emanating from its counterpart. Now, a groundswell of enthusiasm is only at its genesis, thanks to the amalgamation of VP Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz.
WWE: ART vs. LIFE
In Butler, Pennsylvania, an assassin’s gunshots irrefutably rang out. The result was not only havoc and chaos but significant morbidity and mortality. Volunteer fire chief Corey Comperatore lost his life. David Hutch and James Copenhaver both sustained critical injuries.
In the aftermath, the actions of “45” have been the subject of deliberation. Was he hit by glass or shrapnel? Was he severely wounded? Queries persisted, and skepticism emerged as official medical reports remained cloaked in confidence. Seconds into the incident, a woman seated behind the podium, as tranquil as an oceanic breeze, captured everything on her cell phone. To Donald Trump’s sycophants and aficionados, her undisclosed video was equivalent to the (much-modified) Zapruder film. In typical baronial fashion, the former president gathered himself and his shoes, raised his fist for the partisan crowd, uttered the words, “Fight!…Fight!” and shuffled away, wreathed by Secret Service agents. Just prior, in a moment too coincidental for Hollywood, a snapshot was taken (by now seen worldwide and plastered on t-shirts and mugs or near you) below the stage level, Trump sneering defiantly, flag waving in the distance, in a seemingly watered-down facsimile of the U.S. Marines’ (1945) triumph at Iwo Jima. The intertwining of life and art can be dangerous. Perhaps the objective was to make Trump a sympathetic figure or to underscore his self-perceived machismo. Worse, the aspiration may have elevated the sociologic temperature from boiling to full-on ebullition. Perchance is the ability to garner and maintain the spotlight, or maybe it’s just popularity mixed in with a modicum of narcissism.
Whatever the case, Trump has always been enamored with Vince McMahon Jr’s version of WWE. Decades ago, in the 70s, the organization was known as the WWWF (World Wide Wrestling Federation) and was centered primarily in the northeastern United States. Its patriarch, Vince McMahon Sr., insisted that the corporation capitalized on the region’s diversity by maintaining its champion as wholesome, rule-abiding, tough, athletic and ethnic. The fan’s inclination to suspend their belief for over an hour on Saturdays or a few hours while packed in 15-20 thousand seat arenas made many promoters and top talent lots of money. Some individuals, convinced that the show was real, took their passion too far.
Occasionally, the enterprise, not taking the temperature in the room, puts its participants in peril.
In April 1976 (years before Hulk Hogan became a problematic star), beloved Italian strongman and WWWF champion Bruno Sammartino faced a green-as-grass youngster from Texas named Stan Hansen. The relative novice was known for using a clothesline maneuver to take out his opponents. However, before executing his signature move in their initial title match, he tried to bodyslam Bruno in front of the near-capacity crowd (17,493) at Madison Square Garden. At first glance, everything appeared routine, but the youngster accidentally dropped the champion on his head. The latter suffered a fracture to his lower cervical vertebrae, which was not part of the scenario. They ended the match as swiftly as possible by utilizing a foreign object placed within an elbow pad worn by Hansen. The upshot was that Bruno’s forehead was cut severely, and the New York State Athletic Commission and the referee stopped the match. In reality, it can be seen on YouTube as clearly as day that Bruno cut himself with a dark razor blade (a common trick of the trade). With blood cascading down his face, he headed to the locker room and then to a local hospital. As word spread about the neck injury, McMahon Sr., the fans (and fellow villains scheduled for upcoming matches and paydays against the champ) became outraged.
The corporation decided to stage and propagate the idea that Hanson‘s clothesline lariat maneuver had broken Bruno‘s neck when, in reality, the errant body slam had caused it. This injury, however, infuriated those closest to Sammartino on the WWWF circuit in New York, New Jersey, Boston, Pittsburgh, and points beyond. Some of those individuals had bonafide ties to the mob. At that juncture, Hanson received legitimate death threats, some from the champion’s Sicilian brethren, which were only quelled behind the scenes by Sammartino himself.
Whether it was a shard of teleprompter glass, a self-inflicted incision, a blood capsule, or an actual live round, melodramatizing the stratum of one’s wounds–especially under these dire circumstances–is both egomaniacal and hazardous. In addition, the felonious one’s right ear coagulation and miraculous healing powers are the stuff of cinematic contrivance. Days later, Trump stated that “blood was everywhere,” yet there was not a drop on his hands or his pristine white collar. Any sanctioned comprehensive medical report remains undisclosed. Regarding assassinations, theories espousing collusion are commonplace in U.S. history: Jack Ruby on Lee Harvey Oswald, Malcolm “Mac” Wallace’s lone fingerprints in the JFK sniper nest, or James Earl Ray (+/-) Raoul in the MLK slaying.
Bruno, a stand-up guy, had access to a goon squad, which was altogether sinister and receptive to harming anyone, perhaps irrecoverably, at his request. His character and moral compass would never green-light this. Conversely, Trump has a much larger posse of his own, as exhibited clearly on January 6, willing to “fight like hell” for the cult called MAGA. Still, “45” emboldens and threatens to turn them loose at his behest. For those who have already been convicted for their part in the Capitol riots, the former president has publicly dubbed them as “innocent” or “hostages.”
AD-VANCE WARNING
Who is this JD Vance? The Senator brandishes a curriculum vitae that would be eminent by almost any barometer. Scholarly achievements aside, what transcends them are the virtues of the man within. One’s spirit is predominant. Living as a chameleon or being lukewarm to taking an iron-clad stance for humanity is costly and unsettling. Senator JD Vance, the current VP Republican candidate, at one point admonished “45”, dubbing him a “moral disaster.” At present, he stands as Trump’s right-hand man. The DSM-V manual could not thoroughly demystify the mindset of this tandem, as it would perplex even the most seasoned psychiatrists.
“Before becoming one of Trump’s fiercest allies and defenders, Vance sharply criticized the former president. During the 2016 presidential election, Vance wrote that he goes ‘back and forth between thinking Trump is a cynical a**hole like Nixon who wouldn’t be that bad (and might even prove useful), or that he’s America’s Hitler.’” [1]
Reluctantly, according to many accounts, Trump marches forward on this ticket, saddled with a bit of buyer’s remorse: this was not (reportedly) his ideal preference for a running mate. Nevertheless, both are weird and supporters of Project 2025 (the public and classified Phase 2 version) and the (smoke and mirrors) Agenda 47. Still, even Trump secretly winces behind closed doors as Vance spews sexist, racist, xenophobic rhetoric daily. Seemingly stalking an opponent on a tarmac or publicly stating that she should “go to hell” is over and above disconcerting. JD is a hillbilly–a confused one–whose favorability among men and women alike is negative and plummeting rapidly.
“What they’re doing is they are motivating every Democratic voter, every fence sitter, every independent voter, and people who are just disgusted with racism and sexism and want a multi-racial democracy to continue to the polls,” Mara Gay recently stated on MSNBC. Gay added that [Vance] calling for Harris to be more grateful for this country is a “dog whistle, calling her uppity,” and “every Black voter in America knows that.” [2]
'Just Try Racism': MSNBC Guest Claims GOP Used 'First Instinct' Against Kamala Harris pic.twitter.com/OfkgHBdZhG
— Daily Caller (@DailyCaller) July 23, 2024
Like his running mate, Vance unapologetically relishes spewing archaic, divisive rhetoric and bargain-basement insults to appease his base. Meanwhile, with corresponding intentions, Trump is taking his talents to sundown towns nationwide. However, a nascent segment of the GOP is beginning to acknowledge both men’s diatribes as dubious, menacing and stale.
