So, D. Trump at several campaign stops this weekend called Hillary Clinton “unhinged,” “unbalanced,” and “a dangerous liar,” and asserted she would “short-circuit” should she become president.
Hey, wait a minute…, haven’t I heard all this before? Oh yeah, that’s what Trump’s critics have been saying about him ever since he began opening his mouth as a presidential candidate 14 months ago.
It’s a clever twist on gaslighting wherein America’s abusive orangutan says, Nuh uh, she abused me!
2016 — the year a major party’s presidential candidate employed the tried-and-true I’m rubber, you’re glue strategy. And still millions of Murricans want this Our Gang reject to be this holy land’s leader for the next four years.
Yeah, I’m scared
The Numbers Game
I got a kick out of this, largely because the DSCOVR satellite using its Earth Polychromatic Imaging Camera (EPIC), took these time-lapse images of the Earth over a year’s time from its vantage point one million miles above the planet:
One million miles really struck me, even more so than the half-billion or so miles the Juno probe is distant from Earth right about now. Juno began orbiting the massive planet Jupiter on July Fourth. The probe was launched five years and three days ago from Cape Canaveral and has traveled some 1.74 billion miles to reach the gas giant (and no cracks about me, please.)
It’s impossible for me to imagine 1.74 billion miles. Nor can I adequately grasp half a billion miles. But a million? I can almost dig it. I’ve driven well more than a million miles in all my terrestrial vehicles (read: cars) during my adult life. If I drove non-stop at 70 mph from this date until January, 2018, I’d cover about a million miles. That’s a crazy, huge distance — astronomical, in fact — but its ju-u-u-ust about understandable to me on a gut level.
Some Big Mike-Mobiles
The DSCOVR spacecraft is about a million miles away because it has been specifically positioned there in what is known as one of the two stable La Grange Points between the Earth and the Sun. A small mass — the DSCOVR satellite, for instance — positioned perfectly, will remain in a steady orbit around the Sun, circling our star on a radial line with the Earth. In other words, the Earth and the Satellite revolve around the Sun as if the two bodies were affixed to a bicycle spoke. In this way, the Sun will never obstruct DSCOVR’s view of the Earth, the Sun will constantly illuminate the side of the Earth facing the satellite, and astronomers can keep uninterrupted tabs on our little blue and white planet’s climate.
DSCOVR Is Always On A Point Between The Sun & The Earth
So, The Loved One and I embarked on a little road trip this weekend. Yesterday, we were to meet some folks at a designated place but, before we got there, we decided we needed life-giving refreshments, or drugs — same thing. We looked for a Starbuck’s and finally found one on a congested street. TLO vol’d to jump out of the car and order our pick-me-ups while I circled the block. So far so good.
I’d asked her to fetch me a coffee and she was going to get a caffeinated tea. “Whaddya want in your coffee?” she blurted, her hand already on the door handle. “Make it a Boston coffee with two sugars,” I said. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a wave of traffic heading toward us as she leaped out of the car. Before she shut the door, she asked, “What’s aBoston coffee?”
Another glance in the rearview indicated the onrushing horde resembled nothing so much as a group of marauders led by Immortan Joe. I, natch, felt like the latest iteration of Mad Max. “Just tell them you want a Boston coffee…,” I hollered as I burned rubber.
‘…They’ll Know What It Is!”
Now, before I go on, I feel compelled to explain I’m not criticizing The Loved One for not knowing what a Boston coffee is. She doesn’t drink coffee. She has never drunk coffee. As such, she likely does not even know the diff. between arabica and robusto. Her knowledge of joe begins and ends with Mrs Olson. She can’t be expected to know any better.
Mrs. Olson Explains It All
An eternity later, after I’d grown weary of circling the block, I parked the hot rod and went into the Starbuck’s, which was packed. TLO was just trying to squeeze her way out of the joint. “Sorry,” she said, “they didn’t know what a Boston coffee is.”
I replied, smartly, “Whuh?”
We jumped back into the old iron. “So,” I said, “What do you mean they didn’t know what a Boston coffee is?”
“None of them knew,” she said.
“It’s true. The barista even said she was from Boston and she’d never heard of a Boston coffee.”
“She’s from goddamned Boston and she works at goddamned Starbuck’s and she doesn’t know what a goddamned Boston coffee is?” I hollered.
Fortunately, The Loved One grasped that it was the java-jonesing talking. She knew I wasn’t berating her. She also knew I was about to go on a tear against today’s anencephalics who can’t even be bothered to learn a thing or two about the product they’re peddling. I proceeded to rant about every bored, jaded millennial who refuses to look at the customer, who has a scant few cultural references from before the Age of Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, who considers Aqua Teen Hunger Force to be contemporaneous with Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and who is certain life is tragically incomplete if there exists on her or his skin a single untattooed square centimeter.
Spent, I became quiet and sipped the coffee she did bring me. “I got it with lots of cream,” she said. “By the way, what is a Boston coffee?”
“This is,” I said in a smallish voice.