So, today, Morning Joe took a breather from his homicidal career as a serial intern killer, to go on another long rant about the cowardly Republican senators, who have cast their lot with Captain Orange Man, even as he steers the ship into the iceberg.
Joe, let me explain this to you, because it’s pretty clear what is happening.
This onion, I think, has several layers.
First off, stop marveling that the Republican senators elected in 2014, 2016, and 2018 are mostly lacking in public spirit and moral fiber. You remind me of the man who visits the zoo and expresses wonderment that all the animals in the place marked “Tiger Cage” have stripes. But this is no cause for amazement. The zookeepers put all the big cats with stripes into the “Tiger Cage,” and they put all the other guest animals in other places. It did not happen by accident.
By like token, all the recently elected Republican senators are people who thought it would be a good career move to be a well compensated towel boy, or girl, in the plutocrats’ brothel. Just-do-the-right-thing is not exactly the go-to life strategy of people for whom that is an attractive career move.
Now, I know your next question: well, even if they are not guided by morality, why are they willingly sailing into the iceberg on Captain Orange Man’s ship?
I do not believe it is very challenging to reverse engineer what they must be thinking.
Pardon my blunt speech here, but the time is long past to mince words. The Republican braqnd and the Republican organization rests on three stools: (1) the plutocrats, or at least a good part of the plutocrats; (2) the Main Street country club types, or at least a good part of them; and (3) the white trash, whom the plutocrats and the country club types have heretofore manipulated and exploited for fun and profit.
It looks as if, in 2020, the stool is probably going to come apart, and the Republican Party will face a great crisis. But guess what? After the debacle, there will still be plutocrats, and the plutocrats will still need towel boys and girls for their brothel, and the towel boys and girls will still be well compensated.
Maybe Humpty Dumpty will somehow be put back together again, this time without Trump. Maybe the plutocrats and the Main Street country club folks will form a third party, to be called the Rational Conservative Sensible Pro Growth American Centrist Party, or something along those general lines. Whatever. The plutocrats will still need to buy politicians and lobbyists. And they will want to buy loyal politicians—people who bloody well know how to take a bullet for the team. They will not want to hire people whose escutcheons are blotted by any hint of adherence to science or to the first principles of Judeo-Christian ethics.