On May 19, Egypt Air 804 crashed into the Mediterranean Sea, spelling the end for all 66 people on board. Just a couple of hours after this news broke, our boy Donaldo tweeted “looks like yet another terrorist attack. Airplane departed from Paris. When we will get tough, smart, and vigilant? Great hate and sickness.”
In the six weeks after the crash, no terrorist organization has taken credit. USA Today’s July 4 update on this disaster read, “Investigators found heat damage on parts of the wreckage but have yet to conclude what caused the crash.” The article also says the Paris prosecutor’s office has opened an inquiry into the crash, but at this time it’s not a terrorist investigation.
I bring this all up to point out that Trump, as a bloviating developer and TV celebrity, can be as loose of a cannon as he wants, and nobody gives a shit. But as a man who is one election away from being the leader of the United States, his tendencies to “shoot from the lip,” previously thought charming and entertaining, aren’t much of either. Now, they just look like the oafish remarks of an impulsive dipshit, about as presidential as a prospector’s spittoon.
A couple of comments here in the wake of the end of season six to all my Westerosi brethren and sistren, notes to all us Game of Thrones geeks who find that, in the end, we are all helplessly hooked.
I mean, Arya, for example. Look, I realize that to fully enjoy GoT one has to bring a certain amount of reality suspension that makes it possible to not get too hung up on those moments where you might exclaim, “oh, now come on!” But with Arya’s thread, I had problems. I mean, The Waif stabbed the absolute stuffing out of Little Mizz No One on that bridge, just pierced her big time in the belly, and then twisted the knife! OK? So what the hell was Arya doing the week after her guts got shredded, hopping out of bed and running all over Braavos, sliding under fruit carts and jumping from walls to escape the determined and murderous Waif.
But all things considered, you take the lame with the awesome in this show, and Holy Hugeness of Hodor, Cersei’s fiery revenge in the season finale was the kind of stupendous spectacle that makes it worthwhile. All hail Cersei, Queen Bitch of Westeros! And her rap to Septa Umella, the Dame of Shame, was beyond great, flat out juicy.
Cleanup in King’s Landing—watch out for that bigass Bell of Baelor!—will take about nine months. And then, season seven will be upon us, which promises to be crazy ass! Dragons and zombies and wargs, oh my!