The war was a flop without that oil. If for whatever reason we go after Venezuela, I hope we plunder what belongs to the victor, the way nature intended it. Otherwise, I say donât even bother with yet another â â â â hole.
Indeed. It is all team play on steroids. Partisanship is the problem.
Two valid political and economic philosophies are now seen as mortal enemies. They are not. Weâre all patriotic Americans with different approaches to government and problem solving.
Yes, both sides have their lunatic fringes. But they shouldnât define either side.
Working together?
It wonât happen because of the commercialization of this horrible, toxic partisan divide. Fox News, MSNBC, blogsters, et al; that divide, divide, divide. As long as those corporations are making buckets of money spewing forth their divisive rhetoric, every President going forward will be impeached.
Kinda. The Democrats are behaving like partisans, meaning theyâre too worried about the political blowback of impeachment. If they really believe Trump deserves to be impeached, they should do it, regardless of the consequences. So yes, theyâre afraid but itâs not cowardice; itâs the practical consequences. Not pretty and definitely not high minded.
For some reason the OP title made me think the line - âDo I dare to eat a peach.â
Swansong of Nancy Pelosi (With apologies to T.S Eliot for a few amendments) -
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky We like patients etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night chic hotels
And DC restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming questionâŚ
Oh, do not ask, âWhat is it?â
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Ocasio.
And indeed there will be time
For the fellow, broke, that slides along the street,
Rubbing his back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before recording our depositionsâŚ
I grow old⌠I grow oldâŚ
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to speak âImpeachâ?..