Baba Yaga

Baba Yaga.

The young redhead was out of town, she claimed she had an educational seminar in Orlando, so he brooded by watching a dick flick, “John Wick.”

Hey, that almost rhymes.

White men, Russian hoodlums, break into his house, beat him up, kill his new puppy, steal his prized Boss 429.  The puppy – Daisy – was a gift from the deathbed of his long-suffering wife (young and beautiful) with the mysterious disease who got him out of the mob five years earlier.  She made him want to be a better man.  Now she’s dead.  Puppy, too.  That puppy was all he had.

Anyway, Mr. Wick is unhappy.  And that’s not good.

Turns out Wick’s nickname was Baba Yaga.  “The boogieman?,” one skinny goon with a big Adam’s apple asks.

Not the boogieman.  He’s the man you send to kill the boogieman.

Oh.

Much mayhem ensues.  Movie over, the old man turned on cable news.  The Presidential campaigns.  Yikes.

And he gave some thought to the rigged election.  Let’s go backwards.  Young Republican strategist – big fan of Rubio’s – talks about all the great next generation of leaders his party has coming up.  The old man was reminded of back in the day, like last year, he was told the Reds had a “deep and talented field.”  He still had to stifle a laugh at that.

Apparently, the polls were accurate when The Donald was riding high.  Apparently, elections weren’t rigged when he won all those primaries.  When the media gave him over a billion dollars of free publicity, complaints were few.

If you lose, it’s because you are a tax-evading, draft-dodging, sexual molester, a pathetic weak bully who projects his own inadequacies on others.  A crook and a liar.  Five kids with three baby mommas.  An asshole of unparalleled proportions.  A sham as a businessman and not all that rich.  Old and bloated, too ugly to molest.  A loser.

Mentioned projection.  The Donald looks like he is just one more Big Mac from cardiac arrest and he criticizes her health.  Stamina?  Eleven hours grilled by rabid Congressional inquisition.  Didn’t even use the girl’s room.  Let’s see Christie do that.

If we are talking about rigged elections and grabbing pussy, nobody is asking, where are your tax returns, Donald? WHERE ARE THE TAX RETURNS, YOU LYING, CHEATING WANNABE?!

You would have us think of Hillary as a baba yaga, a hideous witch who lives in a chicken leg house and counts dead men’s fingers.  A boogieman.  Something to scare disobedient children and the poorly educated.

Why does the public hate Mrs. Clinton so much?  Because the right – through the media – has convinced forty-percent of the public she is the demon spawn.  The boogieman.  If we can believe the media then, why can’t we believe the media now?  Just sayin.’

And another thing.  The old man had arrived in Germany two decades after the hostilities.  He reported only to his sergeant and the Director of National Security Agency.  But that’s another story.

Shift work.  Four on, one off, four on, one off, four on, four off.  Four days free in the middle of Europe, you could spend some time just about anywhere on the continent.  So, one night, there we were deep in the woods of Bavaria at a back table in a gast haus the size of a football field.  Filled with picnic tables and benches piled with polluted Germans drinking heavily.  Mine was the only black face in the place.

Everybody was hammered.  Bone homie, however you say it.  Place was off the meter.  Then it got really crazy.  A little dark haired man in a tan suit, a bad haircut and a weird mustache comes on stage.  The crowd sound lessens and goes completely quiet when the little guy yells, “Heil!” and launches into some loud oration which the old man didn’t understand but completely comprehended.

The crowd goes wild.  “Heil!!,” it roars back, arms raised in salute.

Before I digress, noticed there is one bit of political correctness the Trump folks don’t deny, i.e., Godwin’s Law.   A rule that, over time, all internet debates will end up with one participant comparing another to Adolf Hitler, or the Nazis.

So what do you say when it is finally true?

Three years over there, he’d only met one German vet who admitted to serving on the Western Front.  Killed a lot – uberlang.  Old, crippled, drunk and bitter.  Knew he was loser.

The old man had studied dictatorships.  Read Shirer.  A child remembers wars and bombs and getting under your desk in case of a nuclear holocaust.  What were those desks made of, anyhow?

He had read about demagogues and he had seen that faux Fuehrer but – making lemonade here – this was the amazing spectacle of living in a country at a time when an actual demagogue was coming to power and trying to take over.  Wow.  Like one group of billionaires deciding another group of billionaires wasn’t moving fast enough.

You’ve probably seen several versions of that movie.  Imagine Christopher Walken as Trump.

Actually, Chris could play Hillary, too.  Use the same wig.  Left over from Warhol in that Basquiat biopic.

Deplorables.  That’s another thing.  When your supporters include Vladimir Putin, David Duke, Steve Bannon, Roger Stone, The White Nationalists, the unusual suspects…  that’s a gang too far.

Hillary Clinton is my baba yaga.

Much mayhem ensues.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HDLLXUaqZxg

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