What, Me Worry…?

I know I’m not the only child of the “Leave It To Beaver” 1950’s who grew up hearing those chilling words “You want something to cry about?  I’ll give you something to cry about!”.  Sounds familiar, yes? Well, welcome to the 21st Century version of that adage:  “You want something to worry about?  I’ll give you something to worry about!”.

WHAT IF all the fear-mongering, the vitriol – all the hate-laced insanity that spews from every pore of Donald Trump’s bloated being — as ugly, incendiary and terrifying as it has been since  he first laid claim to the White House, turns out to be but mild unpleasantness compared to what awaits us when his time in the Oval Office finally, mercifully, ends.  (and if that sentence were any longer, it would be on Death Row).  Whenever he exits – whether under his own steam, or kicking and screaming in Strait Jacket or shackles – when he’s  gone, that’s when the nightmare that is Donald Trump will truly begin!

Since Day One of his White House occupation, instances of Trump’s “loose lips” have become the stuff of Legend.  You want examples?  Okay, I’ll give you examples:  On May 10, 2017, during a private meeting in the Oval Office, Trump thought it appropriate to divulge classified information to two members of the Russian government.  On May 11, when word of that conversation had reached the media, White House staffers insisted that no such conversation had taken place. On May 12, however, Trump not only admitted to having had the conversation, but insisted that he had every right to share classified, Top Secret intelligence with Russia. 

Want more?  Okay, here’s more:  Not long after that episode, Trump attended a fund-raising dinner in New York City and used that fancy-schmancy gathering to spill a platter full of classified beans regarding a recent battle in Syria involving Russian mercenaries and U.S. troops.  Bragging to the assemblage of big money donors, Donald  gleefully announced that U.S. fighter pilots had been so good during the battle that they’d taken out as many as three hundred Russians in less than ten minutes!  At the time, details of that particular battle were a closely guarded U.S. secret and certainly not the stuff of civilian dinner conversation.

According to those in the know, there have been so many instances of Trump sharing state secrets that to enumerate them here would require considerably more space than this space allows.  Suffice it to say, Donald Trump has never met a secret he couldn’t exchange, exploit or expose. 

It’s said that if you want to know what people are likely to do tomorrow, all you need do is look at what they did yesterday…and that, boys and girls, brings us to what we should be worrying about, and it isn’t the toxic waste dump of words and deeds Donald Trump has bestowed upon the world since the election of 2016.  No, indeed, it is not.  What should be robbing us of sleep…what should be fueling our nightmares…what should be causing us to pace the floor, pull out our hair (whatever remains of it), and religiously refill our tranquilizer prescriptions is not what he has done in the past, but rather, what his past tells us he will do in the future.

On the day that Donald Trump vacates the Oval Office, every piece of information he encountered during his time in office – every detail involving the U.S. military – its capabilities, deployments, plans or placements, will be nothing but commodities to be brokered, bartered, bought, or sold.  The accumulated knowledge of the United States government – what we do and how we do it – every piece of Top Secret intel – the name, address and job description of every U.S. agent and asset, location of every submarine, the target and payload of every missile, all of it, will cease to be secret.  And while it’s common knowledge that Donald Trump doesn’t read and refuses to sit through Briefing Sessions, has the attention span of a fruit fly, and the I.Q. of a radish, he has spent the last seventy-plus years acquiring as many shiny objects as he can get his tiny hands on.  It’s a safe bet that government secrets are among the shiniest objects he’s ever come across and they’re worth their weight in Greens’ Fees.  (and consider, if you dare, the list of charming people Donald has allowed to peruse that information: international ne’er-do-well son-in-law Jared, sweat shop business maven daughter Ivanka, and animal slaughtering rocket scientist sons Eric and Donnie Junior, to name but a few).

So, I say to you, without hesitation or reservation, the single greatest danger on America’s horizon is not what Donald Trump has already done, and it is not what happens if and when he doesn’t leave office,  it is what happens when he does! And the single most important question we must ask is not what will he sell and to whom will he sell it, the question is: what can we do to stop him before he does it? That is the question we must ask, and if we don’t find the answer to that question in the immediate future, America will have no future! What, me worry? Hell, yes!

— Y. Not? (aka Brooke Jones)

I Believe In Yesterday

After three days of binge re-watching Aaron Sorkin’s The West Wing and basking in the comforting nostalgia of America’s often wise and compassionate yesterday, I collide, heart first, with the cold and cruel reality of America today…and my tears of shame and sorrow overwhelm my soul.

It was not that many years ago that President Kennedy inspired us to reach for the Moon. Then President Obama inspired us to reach for “the angels of our better nature”. And now?…And now??…And now it is all I can do to reach for the Kleenex. My tears of shame and sorrow have yet to run dry.

What If We The People of the Human Race joined hands and reached for the love that dwells within us all? What If, indeed.



 “WHAT IF…?”…the Blog that asks the question “What If…?” (well, duh!)…while occasionally posing other pressing questions, such as “WTF??!!!?”  From time to time I may even offer an answer or two.  I’ve been known to offer stranger things.  (I’ve even been known to offer strangers things, but that’s another story entirely)

Y. Not  (aka Brooke  Jones) 

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