I am a communist. I would argue that we need more political show trials of notoriety. Talking the talk is so far from walking the walk that fair and equal justice is reduced to a symbolism that shows Americans to be fearful, scared, intimidated, acquiescent, compliant, timid, apprehensive and Mister Smiley Face. Like. We. Did. Not. Know. This. Yes, we did. Letitia James has a clear and driven focus. She has the chops. Do an aerial photographic survey of where the bodies are buried in cement. This is a serious person. Let her do her job. We have always known deep down in our bones, the day would arrive when someone outraged enough to wage war, wages war. Someone not intimidated. By the Great Machine. Finally. Once was not enough. Time always wins. He gets on the aircraft as YMCA by the Village People loudly inundates the tarmac with historical ambiguity. “I said, Young Man.” There are no young men within 400 miles either way of this group of old and feeble politicians in ideological competition with other elderly and deranged dinosaurs from West Virginia. Old men. It’s true. West Virginia has more buried dinosaurs than coal deposits. Humor is not civil. Quietly insidious. Civil litigation is for mama’s boys. It doesn’t have the gravitas. There are as many crimes as goons. It’s going to have to be a crime crime. Like wearing white, patent leather shoes to the Manchin Country Club. Like taking a photograph with a telescopic lens of Joe Manchin and Mitch McConnell having lunch. “Was that you in the picture having lunch with Mitch McConnell.” No. Mitch McConnell does not own a Mazarati or Detroit. Mitch owns ships that do business with China. I smell dead fish in this. Coal and Steel. Anachronisms. Did you really think they were going to let go without a fight. This will be another Last Man Standing in his witchcraft.