the end of kristi noem

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Like you, I was curious how the ‘patriots’ at Free Republic would respond to the story of South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem killing her 14-month-old puppy, Cricket.

It’s possible you’re unaware of this story. It’s included in Noem’s soon-to-be published autobiography, No Going Back: The Truth on What’s Wrong with Politics and How We Move America Forward. She suggests the young wirehair pointer was “untrainable” and “less than worthless as a hunting dog.” So she took the puppy to a gravel pit and shot it. And as long as she was in the shooting animals mood, she also fetched a smelly billy goat, took it to the gravel pit, and shot it too. Fewer people are concerned about the goat.

Cricket’s killer

Okay, maybe you weren’t really interested in how Freepers responded to the story. Maybe you hadn’t even given Freepers a moment of thought. Hell, you’d probably prefer not to think about them at all. And who could blame you? But because FreeRepublic is one of the more vitriolic and zealous branches of the MAGAverse, I’m inclined to see them through a canary-in-the-coal-mine lens. They can be predictive of MAGA behavior. So I periodically check in to see what these folks have to say about current events.

I assumed they’d defend Noem’s puppycide, and for the most part, they did. There was also a sizable anti-puppycide contingent. What surprised me (though it shouldn’t have) was a third group; people who were either pro-puppycide or puppycide ambivalent BUT were adamant that Noem’s problem was openly confessing to her puppycidal behavior. There were a LOT of ‘If you’re going to kill puppies, DON’T talk about it comments. In the interest of brevity, I’m only going to include this single example of this group:

How she could be so dumb to write about killing a puppy basically is beyond me.
by toddausauras

The discussion thread I reviewed was called This is The End of Kristie Noem Even if Trump Picks Her, so much of the ‘analysis’ and opinion was dribbled through a filter of her viability as a candidate for Comrade Trump’s vice presidential ticket. Maybe 15-20% of Freepers agreed that killing a puppy was, all by itself, disqualifying. Here’s a representative sample:

She can’t handle a simple 14 month old dog.
by NoLibZone

Noem said she “hated that dog” and deemed it “less than worthless”.
She killed it out of hate. And then she wrote about it in her book as if it were a perfectly normal thing to kill animals you hate. That is textbook sociopathic behavior.
by 10mm

Anyone that does something like this, and thinks it makes her seem like a leader, is a POS. Trump needs to pick a man, and skip the backward notion of women in high office. They try to hard to seem strong enough, and fail to realize that leadership and strength require thought as well as action.
by MagaMatt

While unlike Pit Bulls and some others, I think a wirehair pointer would quickly find adoption, and which should have been her choice. And where is the man of the house in all this?
by daniel1212 (Turn 2 the Lord Jesus who saves damned+destitute sinners on His acct, believe, b baptized+follow HIM)

A number of anti-puppycide Freepers seem to think Noem’s willingness to kill a puppy (and let’s not forget the male goat) had something to do with being a woman. I wasted some time trying to work out the misogynistic logic there. I mean, are they arguing that the puppycide could have been averted if only a strong man had been around to prevent her hysterical reaction? Or that killing a puppy is okay if a man does it? I gave up trying to reason that out; that way madness lies.

Cricket

The majority of Freeper responses fell into the pro-puppycide category. Some felt shooting the dog was acceptable though unfortunate. Most, however, defended her, arguing it was actually necessary for her to execute the puppy (and the goat). Predictably, some Freepers found it amusing; some actually reveled in the cruelty of the act. Here is a representative sample:

Puppy? Let me know when you adopt a “puppy” that attacks and eats your children.
by Responsibility2nd

A lot of people don’t understand that dogs aren’t only pets, some are actually working animals that are expected to do a job and their owners depend on their ability to do that job for their livelihood, and that if they can’t do their job their owners don’t have the resources either time or money to keep them as pets.
by Truthsearcher

She killed a dog?
Maybe the postal workers union will endorse her.
She may even become “Cat Fancier” magazine’s “Woman of the Year.”
by x (She’s only killing the dogs the illegals can’t be bothered killing.)

The joyful chicken killer.
Chicken Lives Matter.
How many eggs did Cricket produce?
by kiryandil

One of the biggest hopes America has of not going full-Islam is Americans’ love of dogs.
Regardless of how much sense can be made of her killing a dog, it won’t fly with the vast majority of dog owners.
We supposedly need some soccer moms to vote for Trump. Soccer moms are not going to vote for a dog-killer.
by who_would_fardels_bear

Noem did the right thing shooting the dog. You’re highly sensitive aren’t you?
by Macho MAGA Man

I find nothing wrong with killing a dog that wont hunt. or a nasty goat.
and a billy goat that is mean could hurt someone if it got out. and you can eat it.
by Ikeon (My only issues with stupid people are, they encouraged to talk and post stupid opinions.. )

I would like her even more if she made slippers from cricket’s pelt.
by Wilderness Conservative (Nature is the ultimate conservative)

These examples don’t show the actual scope of the Freep responses to Noem’s puppycide. There were several comments comparing shooting a puppy to abortion. Some ignored Noem and the puppycide altogether and just advocated other potential VP selections. And some comments had no obvious connection at all to the topic being discussed. But it wouldn’t be FreeRepublic without a bit of random casual racism, so I’ll add one more comment.

She had to have some Indian blood, as seen from the high cheekbones.
by nwrep

Noem, responding to folks to the anti-puppycide crowd, referred to this and other stories in her book as “real, honest, and politically incorrect.” Seriously, politically incorrect. As if there was a political stance involved in killing an adolescent dog.

It’s to be hoped that the title of her book is prophetic. Let’s hope there’s no coming back for her. Let’s hope the Freep discussion thread was accurate, that this IS the end of Kristi Noem.

EDITORIAL NOTE: We need to burn the patriarchy. Burn it and bury the ashes with a wooden stake driven directly through where its heart should have been. Then burn the stake. Burn the patriarchy and salt the earth where its ashes are buried. Keep salting the earth for generations. Then nuke it from orbit. Then tea and biscuits.

photolosophy

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Life is unfair and full of disappointment. Here’s me, with my wee Fujifilm X10 in hand, walking down the street, spotting a mustard-colored corner building. And oh lawdy, there are two women walking down the sidewalk toward that building, one of whom was wearing a shiny blue jacket that would look amazing against that mustard wall. All I had to do was stop, wait for them to be in front of the building, and squeeze off a couple of shots.

But no. They stop before they get there, climb into a parked car, and drive off. So I have to settle for some random guy in a black leather jacket and khaki pants. And if that’s not bad enough, when he reaches the right point for the photo, he’s badly out of step. I shot the photo, but c’mon…it’s like these people have no aesthetic sensibilities at all.

Seriously, would it have killed him to step off with his other foot?

But then I notice there’s a fire escape on one side of the building, casting an absolutely delicious shadow on the mustard-colored wall. But some asshole has (and I assume this was done deliberately) parked a dull white block of an SUV right beneath the shadow, completely ruining the visual. Imagine somebody sticking a big wad of gum or an old bandaid over the woman in Hopper’s ‘New York Office, 1962‘ and you’ll get the idea. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot the photo.

Happily, there was a nice detail worth photographing. The shadow of a string of holiday lights made a nice filigree in an abstract block of color and darkness. It’s not entirely satisfying; it’s like eating croutons that have no garlic. Better than nothing.

It’s got the crunch, but lacks flavor.

But I’ve been told patience is my only redeeming quality (seriously, a million years ago when I was in middle school, in trouble again, having waited in an uncomfortable chair for a long chunk of time for the Boys Advisor to lecture and chastise me for some offense, I was told that patience was my only redeeming quality…and I’ve clung to that one quality ever since), so I decided to wander off and return later when the offending SUV would be gone.

And that’s what I did. I kept walking and shot a few more photos, including this bizarre doorway of a shop that had gone out of business and was blocked by a Port-a-Potty. There’s a sort of warped genius at work there.

Somebody thought, “We’ve got a doorway, we’ve got a port-a-potty, let’s put them together.”

And when I eventually returned to the mustard-colored building? The goddamned white SUV was still there. Not only that, somebody had parked a blue trike motorcycle in the adjoining parking space. I tried not to take it personally, but it hurt. I don’t know what’s wrong with these people. I still couldn’t stomach the idea of photographing that appalling SUV, but I could swallow the blue trike. It allowed me to get a bit of that glorious fire escape shadow. And there was a blue doorway behind the trike, and a rather nice arch overhead, both of which mitigated the offence. Well, somewhat mitigated it.

Okay, but at least I spared you the goddamn SUV.

Life is unfair and full of disappointment. But in a world of white SUVs, there’s also mustard-colored corner shops and doorways blocked by Port-a-Potties. There’s always going to be something around the corner…and you never know what it’s going to be. That’s why we walk around with a camera, right? It’s the philosophy of photogr…ooh. Photolosophy.

Okay. I like that. I’m almost certainly not the first person to come up with that term, but I’m not going to Google it. Not Googling is part of my photolosophy.

Addendum: MDavis commented on the “crisp striping on the trash can in the first photo.” I also found that appealing. Unfortunately, as I noted in my reply, the hurried photo I shot didn’t quite come together. The elements are all there, but it just doesn’t have any harmony. Still, here it is:

where’s dookie?

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Whenever I have a story published, I get asked this question: “What’s it about?” And I’m always at a loss for an answer. You’d think, since I wrote the damned thing, that I’d be able to tell folks what the story is about. But that’s the thing about stories…or at least that’s the thing the stories I write (and I suspect that’s true of most writers). They’re never about just one thing.

I have a story in the May/June edition of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine (which, by the way, is an absolutely wonderful magazine if you like short mystery or detective fiction). It’s called Where’s Dookie?. I can confidently say it’s almost certainly the best short story you’ll ever read about Kool-Aid collecting. And yes, that’s a thing: there are actually people who collect Kook-Aid. I wouldn’t make that up. (Okay, in fact, I would make that up, but I’m not.) But it’s not really about Kook-Aid collecting.

I could say it’s probably one of very few pieces of short detective fiction that deals with the obscene cost of insulin. That would be accurate, but the story isn’t about the pharmaceutical industry. I could say the story revolves around the importance of family, which would most definitely be true. But it’s not actually about family. It also deals with the difference between commercial art and art for its own sake, but I’d be lying if I said the story is about art. The story involves issues of gentrification, and dive bar culture, and retirement communities–but it’s not about those things. Not really. The title suggests the story is about Dookie, which it kinda is, but mostly isn’t.

So what IS it about?

I guess it’s about caring. Which may seem like an odd thing for a detective story to be about, but there it is. Caring for the community, caring for the past, caring for the future, caring for your work, caring for people.

But that sounds awfully sappy, doesn’t it. And it sounds so very sincere. Even serious. But how serious can a story be if it involves Kool-Aid collecting and a character named Dookie?

Anyway, the story is out there. Now if anybody asks me what it’s about, I’ll can just point them to this blog post. It may not answer their question, but it’ll save me some time.

yes, I watched civil war and have thoughts

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Okay, first? There be SPOILERS here. If you want to see the Alex Garland film Civil War with innocent eyes, then DON’T READ THIS.

Second, Civil War is NOT a movie about how the United States split up into various factions. In fact, you can basically ignore the underlying premise of the story. It’s just not very important. Well, it’s not important to the story. Sure, it’s weird as fuck that California and Texas have somehow joined together to overthrow the fascist government of the United States (and even weirder that–and I swear I’m NOT making this up–they are supported by the armed forces of Florida), but none of that really matters. It could have been Wakanda and Ruritania teaming up to fight against Fredonia and the story would be the same.

Because this is a movie about two journalists and two news photographers covering a story. That’s basically it. They don’t take any moral or political stance; they’re simply documenting and reporting what they see. And what they see is pretty fucking awful.

It’s also a sort of road movie. Instead of a traditional plot, this movie is a series of related vignettes. As the four make their way from New York City to Washington, DC, they encounter a series of deeply localized situations. Here’s a gas station controlled by a few guys who maybe belong to some sort of community militia, there’s a town where life goes on without any apparent awareness that a civil war is taking place (until you notice the snipers on a rooftop), and over there are some uniformed sociopaths quietly filling a mass grave.

Obviously, the four characters are affected by these scenarios. The two journalists–one a sort of adrenaline junkie, the other an older obese man at the end of his career–are an important part of the story, but they’re essentially supporting roles. The ‘stars’ of the movie are the photographers. The journalists just have to observe and report; the photographers have to get the photos, which requires them to expose themselves to the action.

This was the aspect of the film I was most interested in. Unlike a lot of movies in which an actor pretends to be a photographer, Kirsten Dunst and Cailee Spaeny clearly knew how to hold a camera. While I’m skeptical that a photographer–even a rookie–would rely on a 1980s-era Nikon FE2 film camera (without a motor drive, no less) in a modern combat situation, I wasn’t particularly troubled by it. After all, the FE2 was Don McCullin’s camera of choice in Vietnam, so I assume that choice was no accident. Kirsten Dunst’s more modern Sony A7 camera bodies made a lot more sense, although I’m not convinced an experienced conflict photographer would be running around during close quarters combat toting a camera with a massive and highly visible 70-200mm zoom lens.

But overall, both actors looked natural using their cameras. There was no sense that the cameras were just being treated as props. And I have to say, I got a kick out of the fact that Kirsten Dunst (like me) has a dominant left eye–which is sort of inconvenient for a photographer.

I was especially pleased when the film referenced Lee Miller, one of the pioneering women photojournalists during World War 2. And doubly pleased by a brief early scene that was (intentionally, I hope) a callback to Miller. The scene shows Kirsten Dunst in a bathtub, which I found was reminiscent of the famous photograph of Lee Miller sitting in Hitler’s bathtub on the day he committed suicide.

My only real complaint about the film is that the climactic scene was predictable–and frankly, that’s a pretty small complaint. Fairly early in the story, Jessie (the rookie) asks Lee (the veteran) if she’d photograph Jessie’s body if she was killed in action. Lee responds, “What do you think?” (or words to that effect). At that point, it was clear that one of them would be killed and the other would shoot the photograph. It could have played out either way, but it seemed more likely there’d be a sort of ‘passing the torch’ moment in which the rookie becomes the veteran. It’s a seriously stupid scene. Jessie exposes herself to gunfire and Lee, instead of tackling her and removing both of them as a target, stands in front of Jessie, facing her (her back to the gunfire). It makes for a nice photo of Lee’s face as she’s being killed, but is still stupid.

However, the final shot of the film–the shot on the screen as the credits roll–is perfect. In the final scene, Jessie photographs some troops summarily executing the president. It’s a very matter-of-fact scene, not particularly dramatic. As the credits roll, though, we see the shot taken after the execution. It’s depicted as if the image is very slowly being developed in a darkroom–the gradual revealing of the scene. It’s a classic military trophy photo, similar to every awful trophy photo shot in every war. Soldiers standing over a body, smiling proudly.

That final image is disgusting. It’s brilliant. It’s horrible. It’s perfect in that it says everything that needs to be said about war and violence. THAT is the shot that people need to think about and discuss. It reminds us that violence is the worst form of seduction.

surrendered

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Confederates: Okay, okay, you “won” the war. We give up.
Union: About time.
C: So basically you’re saying we can’t own black people anymore.
U: You can’t own ANY people.
C: What about Indians?
U: No, you can’t own native people.
C: Mexic…
U: No.
C: …
U: …


C: How about if we just keep them poor?
U: Why would you do that?
C: Somebody has to do all the shit jobs, right?
U: Well…
C: And we can provide them with alcohol and drugs.
U: Again, why would you…
C: For their own good. Look, they’re going to be doing shit jobs all day for little or no money. You don’t want to give them a little something to ease their pain?
U: Well, when you put it…
C: C’mon, it’ll give them something to sing about.
U: I dunno. I guess it would…
C: Good. We’re agreed.
U: If it’ll stop all the fighting, sure.
C: We’re not going to let those fuckers vote, though.
U: sigh

it’s not a ‘hush money’ trial

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Jury selection for Comrade Donald Trump’s first criminal trial is scheduled to begin on the 15th. People and the news media (you’d think the ‘news media’ would be populated by ‘people’ but I swear, it’s more a collection of rabid ferrets tied up in a gunny sack) keep referring to it as “the hush money trial.”

There’s a good reason for that, of course. Trump did actually pay money to hush up a sleazy sexual episode. Three sleazy sexual episodes, in fact (the one-night stand with Stormy Daniels, the 9-month affair with Playboy model Karen McDougal, and Trump Tower doorman Dino Sajudin who claimed Trump fathered a child with a former employee). Hell, Trump’s probably paid hush money on multiple occasions to multiple people. This is a thing rich assholes do. Nobody is ever really surprised when rich assholes pay money to suppress their disreputable behavior.

But here’s the thing: the hush money isn’t the issue. The issues are: 1) how Trump paid the hush money and 2) how his attempts to hush up the way the hush money payments were made.

Does that sound confusing? Well, it kinda is. Here’s what happened (according to the prosecution, anyway). The various hush money payments were listed in Trump’s business records as a ‘legal expense’ payable to Michael Cohen (who, by the way, pled guilty to violating campaign finance laws, tax fraud, and bank fraud; he picked up a three year sentence in federal prison, fined US$50,000 fine, and was eventually disbarred from practicing law in the state of New York.). Shuffling the money through Cohen involved falsifying business records, which is only a misdemeanor UNLESS that falsifying is done to cover up another crime. That turns the misdemeanor into a felony. The other crime, in this case, is violating campaign finance laws. Trump is facing 34 felony counts in this trial.

It’s one thing for a rich asshole to dip into his pockets to pay a person money in order to hide his disreputable behavior. It’s one thing to pony up some of your own coin so your family and/or business acquaintances won’t find out that you’re a despicable creep. That’s just ordinary everyday sleazy rich asshole behavior.

It’s another thing altogether to dip into campaign pockets to pay a person money in order to suppress a story that would lead voters to believe you’re a despicable creep, which might make them decide not to vote for you.

Trump is being prosecuted for falsifying business records in order to disguise the fact that he used campaign money to suppress ugly stories that might hurt his chance of being elected to the highest political office in the United States.

Maybe the most horrible part of this trial is that Trump probably didn’t need to…well, do anything at all to hush up his bad behavior. His attorneys could argue that Trump’s supporters would vote for him even if he publicly admitted he’d cheated on his wife with a porn actor. I mean, this is the guy who bragged he could shoot somebody on 5th Avenue in New York City and not lose any votes. This is a guy who is EXPECTED to behave like a total asshole, and who regularly lives up to that expectation.

Trump: Yeah, that’s right, I cheated on my first wife with my second wife, and I cheated on my second wife with my third wife, and I cheated on my third wife with a porn star. I’ve cheated on everybody at every chance I got in every aspect of my life. Why shouldn’t I? You’d do it too if you thought you could get away with it. Vote for me!
MAGAverse: Hell yeah! We love his honesty! He’s just like us! We’d be total assholes too if we thought we could get away with it! Vote Trump! He’ll make America great for total assholes again!

That may be true, but it’s not a legit defense in a criminal matter. The victims in this case aren’t Stormy Daniels or Karen McDougal or the many voters Trump were lied to. The true victim is the electoral system itself, not the voters who use it.

The total asshole in question.

This isn’t a case of a rich total asshole paying hush money to salvage his reputation. It’s a case of a rich total asshole paying hush money to gank the electoral system—to gank it so he could gain access to power and influence. And hey, it worked. The motherfucker actually got himself elected (with the aid of a hostile foreign nation, Russia). And to nobody’s surprise, when he was faced with losing a second election, he tried to gank the system again. And almost succeeded.

Trump is still trying to gank the electoral system. The upcoming trial is the first real attempt to hold the motherfucker accountable.

EDITORIAL NOTE: I have a baseball cap with ITMFA on the front. It originally stood for Impeach the Motherfucker Already. And hey, they did impeach him. But it didn’t take. So then ITMFA stood for Impeach the Motherfucker Again. And they did. And it didn’t take. Then it stood for Indict the Motherfucker Already. And they did. Now ITMFA stands for Incarcerate the Motherfucker Already. (I reserve the right for the I to eventually stand for ‘incinerate’.)

the bull goose loony of asshole culture

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The Trump re-election campaign is basically a defense of Asshole Culture. It’s clearly NOT a traditional presidential campaign. It consists almost entirely of Trump shouting various iterations of the Asshole Culture credo (if ‘credo’ means what I think it means).

The Asshole Credo? I’m glad you asked.

I do/do not want to do this thing. I don’t care if it helps/hurts other people. You can’t make me do or not do this thing. I will go way the fuck out of my way to create a disturbance sufficient to make others miserable in order to do/not do/stop other people from doing this thing. I am Asshole, hear me roar.

I wrote about Asshole Culture back in 2021, detailing how my understanding of the Republican Party shifted from seeing them as a Fuckwit Collective to advocates of Asshole Culture. I used to believe they did cruel stupid shit because they were too stupid to grasp that what they were doing was cruel. It became clear to me that many of them did cruel stupid shit because they’re cruel. Not just cruel, but performatively cruel. In your face cruel. Visibly and vocally cruel, without any fear of consequence.

Trump is campaigning on the theme of A Celebration of Asshole Culture. His claim of Absolute Immunity is grounded in Asshole Culture. His mockery of Joe Biden’s stutter, his deliberately insulting language about judges and prosecutors, his honoring of the January 6th Insurrectionists, his racist comments about immigrants, his contention that he’s the victim of reverse racism, his hateful depiction of E.Jean Carroll, his absurd gestures toward Christianity, all of his blatant lies — these are all manifestations of Asshole Culture.

And Trump? He’s the bull goose loony of Asshole Culture.

Trump’s entire presidential campaign is, down at the cellular level, based on the idea that he should be able to fart in church and enjoy the discomfort of other churchgoers without any consequence. Own the libs, insult eggheads, denigrate experts, mock the disabled, taunt minorities, malign women, intimidate those who disagree with you, fuck your feelings — these are the centerpieces of Asshole Culture.

Policies? Trump doesn’t need them. He doesn’t want them. He doesn’t understand them. He just wants to do whatever the fuck he wants to do at any particular moment. He insists on his right to be the supreme asshole.

That’s the open secret of his political success. Trump’s followers wish they could be as much an asshole as Trump is. They wish they could be as openly objectionable, as blatantly abhorrent as Trump is, and escape responsibility for it as much as he has. They don’t care that he’s a liar, a crook, a cheat, a hypocrite, an asshole; they just want him to be able to get away with it. Because then maybe they can do the same. Did he cheat on his taxes? Did he cheat on his wives? Did he pay hush money to porn stars? Did he try to steal an election? Fuck yeah!

It shouldn’t come as a surprise that Asshole Culture is rooted in patriarchy.

EDITORIAL NOTE: We must burn the patriarchy. Burn it to the ground, gather the ashes, piss on them, douse them in oil and set them on fire again. Burn the patriarchy, then drive a stake directly through the ashes where its heart used to be, and then set fire to the stake. Burn the fucker one more time. And keep burning it, over and over. Burn it for generations. Nuke it from orbit. Then have tea and pastries.

trump’s maltese collateral

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First, let me say very clearly and categorically that I personally believe it’s morally wrong to take pleasure in another person’s pain or humiliation. Then let me admit that I’m enjoying the hell out of the admission by Comrade Trump’s lawyers that he can’t find anybody or any institution willing to trust him enough to pony up US$464 million for his bond in the New York State fraud case.

There’s an excellent chance Trump will be forced to sell some of his properties, which will be even more humiliating (and I’ll enjoy the hell out of that too). Well, to be more accurate, he might be forced to TRY to sell some of his properties. It may be difficult to find buyers. Trump’s attorneys, in their most recent court filing, admitted they tried to use Trump’s real estate as collateral for the bond. And hey, guess what. Nobody would agree to accept it.

Why? Because…and this just makes the pain and humiliation all the more piquant…the very reason Trump has to post a bond is that he fraudulently misrepresented the value of those properties.

Remember The Maltese Falcon? The movie or the novel, doesn’t matter which, the story is the same. The plot hinges on the supposed existence of a 16th century statue of falcon made of gold and jewels, crafted by the Knight of Malta as tribute to the King of Spain. There’s a lot of intrigue and betrayal, but in the end (SPOILER ALERT) the falcon turns out to be a fraud.

In your mind, replace the falcon with Trump Tower.

What we’re talking about here is Trump’s version of the Maltese Falcon. The court determined that he lied about the value of his properties, and now he’s trying to use those properties as collateral. Nobody wants to buy this corrupt motherfucker’s fake falcon.

This has to be humiliating and painful for Trump. Incredibly humiliating and deeply painful. Soul-crushing humiliation, gut-wrenchingly painful. We’re talking humiliating and painful at the cellular level.

Damn, I’m enjoying this.