One night, we were gathered around the kitchen table in Calgary, me and my pals were, and my Dad was listening to us. The conversation turned to astrology. I started making fun of people who believed in it. 

“What a bunch of idiots,” I said. “They actually believe their personalities can be determined by the position of stars jillions of miles away. Morons.”

My chums joined in. Soon, we were loudly making fun of psychics, homeopathic medicine and the religious, too. 

My Dad, who was a scientist, spoke up. “Gentlemen,” he said, in that quiet way he had, “there is nothing more cruel than mocking others for their harmless personal beliefs.”

And that stopped us cold. 

Anyway. We have a new Governor-General, and she is a scientist too. In recent days, she got together with some fellow scientists and mocked people who believe in God, homeopathy and astrology. 

Here’s direct quotes of what she said:

“Can you believe that still today…we are still debating and still questioning whether life was a divine intervention or whether it was coming out of a natural process let alone, oh my goodness, a random process.

…[or that] taking a sugar pill will cure cancer if you will it good enough and that your future and every single one of the people here’s personalities can be determined by looking at planets coming in front of invented constellations.”

According to the CBC, here, the folks there all had a good laugh. They thought people who believe those things are idiots, too, and  are therefore worthy of ridicule. Ho, ho. 

But, you know, they’re not. And, just for the record, I’ve always thought astrology was kooky and that holistic medicine was goofy, too. I’ve always lacked proof that God, you know, exists. 

But. 

Since that long-ago day my Dad taught us a lesson, I’ve religiously believed this: if a person believes something imaginary is real, and they’re not hurting anyone else, they should be left alone. If someone thinks they’re a “Leo” (as I apparently am), who fucking cares? Would it kill anyone to let them keep believing that?

People get through tough times by believing in imaginary things. For example, can you believe there is actually someone in Canada  who believes her title is “Her Excellency, the Right Honourable, C.C., C.M.M., C.O.M, C.D.”? Can you believe that this unelected person believes she is the “vice-regal” emissary of a family in Britain who are “royal” because God personally chose them?

Ho, ho. Can you believe that? Don’t you want to mock a person who believes that? 

Personally, I don’t intend to. If she wants to believe in harmless fictions, let her.

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…with my pals Supriya and Matt on AM640 this morning! You can listen in here.

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Hate him. 

The 70 per cent of Americans who self-identify as Democrats or Independents share one thing: they hate, hate, hate Donald Trump. They want him gone. Impeached, indicted, whatever. Gone.

The 30 per cent of who still call themselves Republicans, however, love him. They adore him. They stick with him.

No amount of controversy, no new outrage, deters them. They remain devoted to the Unpresident. As such, elected Republicans are afraid to oppose him. Those who detest Trump (cf. Senators Flake and Corker) fear the wrath of the lunatic Trumpian media (cf. Fox and Friends, Breitbart, Alex Jones). So they choose flight over fight.

Politicos and political scientists are frustrated by the stubborn Trump voter. Entire forests have been felled to print analyses about how pry lose Trump’s core voters. Racism allegations didn’t work (mainly because a lot of them are racist). Sexism allegations didn’t work (ditto). Allegations about mental instability didn’t work, either (sigh).

But, this week, something revisited the public consciousness. Something that just might work. And it was the product of “oppo.”

This writer has been doing oppo for political parties for decades. Oppo, however disparaged it is by the mainstream, persists because it works.

Now, notwithstanding the many mythologies that have developed around James Carville’s Clinton-era war room, and just about every other war room since, opposition research – “oppo,” as it’s called – is neither new nor glamorous. It is, instead, frequently boring work that has been done in political campaigns since the beginning of time. 

Sometimes it wins campaigns, and sometimes it doesn’t. But it’s always worth doing.

Oppo is just one part of a large and complex campaign organization, drawing together press relations, polling, field organization, debate preparation, advertising and the candidate’s own retail politicking. At best, an oppo team’s damaging revelation will throw an opponent off his or her campaign “message” for a day or so. But rarely will it win a race on its own.

By the early 1990s in the United States, oppo started to come into its own. Larry Sabato, one of the most acute observers of the unloved species that calls itself a political consultant, estimates that there was a 200 per cent growth in opposition research firms in the U.S. in this period. Such paid, full-time professional political consultants, as opposed to the ad hoc, decidedly amateurish political consultants that had preceded them, had become a big, multimillion-dollar business. 

Oppo is ubiquitous now. Technological advances have enabled the media, and politicians, to do things that had been previously only dreamed of. In the case of politicos, technology and the Internet (and its dangerous progeny, Facebook and Twitter) permitted even the most modest campaign to develop crucial databases containing information about opponents. 

James Carville once told me he doesn’t agree with the naysayers say about oppo. “Look,” he told me, “the best way to do this game is to get all your information, and then get all your information out. The voters deserve more information, you know? We’re not in this business to be mean or negative. We’re in it to draw distinctions, and to draw distinctions that favour our side. So we just go out and try and be very honest about these distinctions, these differences.” 

Which leads us, in a circuitous fashion, to this bit of oppo: there is a tape that exists, that real people have really seen. It shows something that happened in room 1101 at the Ritz in Moscow on November 9, 2013. Here, according to one of the people who has seen it, is what it shows:

“There were other aspects to [the target’s] engagement with the Russian authorities. One which had borne fruit for them was to exploit [the target’s] personal obsessions and sexual perversions in order to obtain suitable ‘kompromat’ (compromising material) on him. According to Source D, where s/he had been present, [the target’s] conduct in Moscow included hiring the presidential suite of the Ritz Carlton Hotel where he knew President and Mrs. Obama (whom he hated) had stayed on one of their official trips to Russia, and defiling the bed where they had slept by employing a number of prostitutes to perform a ‘golden showers’ (urination) show in front of him. The hotel was known to be under [Russian federal Security Service] control with microphones and concealed cameras in all the main rooms to record anything they wanted to.”

The target of the oppo effort – initially paid for by Republicans, later by Democrats – was one Donald J. Trump. 

So, read that passage above again, and then ask yourself: when this oppo work ever becomes public – and it will, guaranteed – will Trump’s voters stay with him? Will they remain loyal?

This war room guy’s hunch: they will do what has been long-predicted, and is long overdue. Namely:

Drop him.

 

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.@sljournal calls Recipe for Hate by @kinsellawarren “a compelling and jagged read.” It’s available now: https://t.co/qsIMJwVVV2 pic.twitter.com/NOdaPvY231

— Dundurn (@dundurnpress) October 30, 2017

With a title ripped from a Bad Religion song, this book does not try to hide its punk flair. X and Kurt Blank are best friends in Portland, Maine at the beginning of the punk rock movement. Kurt acts as a Nick Carraway figure to X’s Gatsby, narrating his story. Fueled by anger, music, and misfit solidarity, the boys are devastated when one of their own is crucified behind the local bar that hosts punk shows. With police who seem less than fully committed to finding the murderers, X throws himself into figuring out what is going on and uncovers a twisted plot of Nazi ideals…the story compels readers forward…The novel’s unpolished aspect, which in another book might be off-putting, adds a layer of punk rock attitude. It is a story analogous to modern times and will find a home in activist hands.

VERDICT: A compelling and jagged read, buy for the anarchists and misfits in your library.

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That Robert Mueller is one crafty guy.

He knew the Unpresident would say (a) the Manafort/Gates indictment doesn’t mention me or my campaign (b) they were bad guys I haven’t had any contact with in a long time, and (c) me and my campaign did nothing wrong.

Mueller knew Trump would do that.  He knew.

So what did he do? He waited until the same morning Manafort and Gates were being charged – and then he quietly let this bombshell drop: one of Trump’s most senior campaign advisors – one of the advisors who was with him after the campaign, too – has pleaded guilty to conspiring with Russian agents.  To get “dirt” on Hillary Clinton.  “Thousands of emails.”

Donald Trump is going down, hard.  It may take a while.  But he is done.

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Here is the first page of the multi-count indictment.

Read it. It is extraordinary. And there can be no doubt, now, that Trump’s campaign was effectively run out of the Kremlin.

Have a nice day, President Pisstape.  Your misery is just beginning, you racist, sexist sonofabitch.

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It will be such a good day, too!  My God Almighty, how I enjoy the misery and despair that will be unleashed today!

Trumpkins being bankrupted by legal bills! Once-close Trumpsters turning on each other before grand juries! The inner circle’s mug shots living on the Internet, forever!  Make Assholes Guilty Again!

Who do you think is heading to the slammer? Vote now, vote often!

 

It’s #IndictmentMonday! Woot! Who’s getting their very own mugshot today?

— Warren Kinsella (@kinsellawarren) October 30, 2017

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