So Kathy Griffin held up a bloody, severed Trump head in a photo. I don’t know the context, if there was any, but I guess she was trying to be funny, and this wasn’t seen as funny by, really, anybody. To me, this is not surprise, because (while I confess to not being terribly familiar with her) I’ve rarely found Kathy Griffin to be particularly funny. I could be wrong – maybe she’s a real hoot. But anyway, this wasn’t funny, especially to the sensitive, in-touch with their feminine sides (that’s not a sexist thing to say these days, is it? If so, I apologize) Republicans (as opposed, to, say, kicking the shit out of a reporter, or hanging Obama in effigy, or depicting him as a witch doctor complete with nose bone, or any of those other truly high-sterical Ted Nugent utterances). But it also wasn’t particularly funny to me – if for no other reason than I despise looking at that ugly pig-orangutan hybrid’s puss, whether it’s attached to his shoulders or not. It also wasn’t funny because it gave the jack-booted Konservatives an opportunity to express faux outrage and blather on about how awful “Liberals” are – as if this Kathy Griffin person represents all Liberals and liberal ideas.

I will give some grudging respect to Trump, however. He tweeterated (I guess) that his 11-yr old son was reduced to a quivering pile of jelly because he thought that Griffin had literally beheaded deal old dad. Say what you want, but it has to be tough for Mucho Macho Donno to admit his son is apparently a rather stupid crybaby wimp. Probably spends too much time with his mother (or maybe his nanny). Had somebody done similar related to my dad when I was 11 (and, keep in mind, this was well before the Internet or Photoshop was in invented, and stop-action claymation and puppetry – complete with visible wires – was the epitome of special effects, so something this “real” looking would have had much more of an impact), I’d have probably been pretty pissed and I might have felt a desire to punch somebody in the nose or go all “Billy Jack” on their asses (at least, in my childish little mind), but I can pretty much guarantee you I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to think it was real and it wouldn’t have made me want to cry.

So good for Donald admitting that his boy is a clueless little wimp (like father, like son) that probably plays with dolls (as opposed to the “action figures” I played with as a kid, which are clearly much more manly, though if pressed I’ll admit to taking my sister’s Barbi – and Ken – dolls out for a spin. Mostly, I enjoyed blowing up my little green – and blue – army men. And napalming them – except I used gasoline – and watching them melt. One tip for you aspiring young pyromaniacs out there – don’t fill an empty soda can up with gasoline and then light it to recreate the Olympic flame. That can gets really hot, really fast, and when you drop said can on the driveway and then attempt to extinguish the flames with a garden hose, it only spreads the flames all across the driveway. Which, I have to admit, is a rather impressive sight once you get over the sheer panic. Ah, those were the days).

Of course, this stunt also wasn’t funny because it distracts everyone (everyone being the collective mental giant known as “We the People”) from what’s truly important. As if the world didn’t already think we were all a bunch of rubes, now Trump has (as expected) pulled us out of the Paris accord (that the rest of the world bent over backwards to negotiate to US specifications just to get us on board).

Our (as in, the United States’) rather brief turn as that shining beacon to be both looked up to (to the extent that we ever were – there’s probably as much or more myth to that idea than there is truth) and respected is more or less over. The Visigoth’s have sacked the capital, Christianity has undermined all we’ve stood for (or at least pretended), Romulus has fallen, and Odoacer sits on the throne.

Oh, we’ve still got nukes and enough of an economy that the world will continue to pay a certain amount of lip service to us. We’ll get invited to all the best parties – but they’ll all be laughing at us behind our backs.

At least until this asshole President our ours and his asshole buddies in Congress and the Supreme Court get done raping and pillaging here at home and decide to invade somebody in order to boost their ratings.

That’ll teach Kathy to make Barron cry.