As could have been expected, it is not over after the election. The primitive knockabout comedy is continued. Nobody expected Trump himself to accept his defeat. An orderly transition of governments could not have been expected either. Not with him. It is no surprise that he fights tooth and nail for his office, or that there will be prolonged judicial proceedings against what he for months has been calling election fraud even before the first vote was counted. Neither are his cock-and-bull stories that would make the Lying Baron green with envy anything but run-of-the-mill.
But what the rest of the bunch puts on stage proves one more time that things can always get worse. Some of it, on the other hand, is downright hilarious.
Secretary of Justice William Barr has always been Trumps poodle. So he without any hesitation obeyed his master and told federal prosecutors to investigate voting irregularities even before all votes have been counted, which is highly unusual. Top prosecutor Richard Pilger, a man who still has his backbone, immediately resigned. Barr cannot seriously believe in any of Trump’s allegations, but as an obsequious proxy he never lets facts and the rule of law get in his way. The doggedness with which he scurries around Trump is really cute.
And what on earth is wrong with Pompeo? Did he smoke crack and crystal meth at the same time and rounded everything off with a bottle of Jim Beam? Why this bootlicking, this kowtow to a loser? Reality slowly dawns on one or the other Republican, but Mike Pompeo is used too much to foggy sight. And he is too humourless to be capable of satire. No, it can only be a combination of true adulation, complete loss of sense of reality and an equally complete lack of self-respect that makes him babble about a “smooth transition to the second Trump administration”.
White House press secretary Kayleigh McEnany, too, keeps to her badly-known stance. She, who at her first appearance in this job promised never to lie to journalists, just in order to several times do exactly this just minutes later, has become used to this procedure that much that she without batting an eyelid against all reason and devoid of any sense of shame keeps up her Trumpian demeanor.
You must ask yourself: have people like Barr, Pompeo or McEnany taken down all the mirrors at home?
Rudolph Giuliani definitely has. The man who as the mayor of New York once had gained some, though doubtful, fame, has lately made his career by waddling around Trump. And now he presented to the flabbergasted American audience not only the lowest point of post-election policies, but also a stage set of absolutely magnificent symbolic luminosity, a theatrical tableau of the Trump era and the abominable exit of his entourage. At an amateurishly improvised press conference Giuliani beat the big drum for the juridical massive attack on the democratic decision by the American people. In front of campaign posters plastered onto the gate of a third-class storehouse. Of a landscape gardener. In other words, of an enterprise that trims its world. And what do we find in the neighborhood? A porn shop, the epitome of a phoney world of make-believe, in which some people fill their pockets, while others are exploited in order to help others again to some self-induced pleasures. And, not the most cynical late night talker could have thought that up, a crematorium! In which the remnants of an indecent, destructive and dead-pan government are burnt to ashes.
Thank you, Mr Giuliani. Thank you. Nobody could ever have derided your lot more effectively.
