To paraphrase a national news source, Roald Drumpf once again had a “terrible, horrible, no good, very bad,” week. The most publicized had been the news surrounding the funeral of a well-liked senator. Drumpf was told (in no uncertain terms) to stay away. He spent the day of the services on the golf course, but his daughter and her husband were in attendance. Their presence was not well received by those active on her father’s favorite social media, and it didn’t stop several speakers there (including the senator’s daughter) from taking digs at Drumpf and his favorite political meme, “Make America Great.” His comment was, “Mission Accomplished. America is great again.” Hers was, “America was always great!”
A big deal was made by Drumpf’s supporters when he donated his 40K salary (a drop in the proverbial bucket to a man of his great wealth) to charity (tax deduction, anyone?), but less was said when he rescinded the minor 2.1 percent raise which had been promised to civilian government employees.
Drumpf is currently battling with his Attorney General, who he still blames for recusing himself from involvement in the Russian investigation. The current bone-of-contention involves the AG’s continued refusal to allow the justice department to be influenced by a political agenda, and this time it may cost him his position.
The confirmation hearings for Drumpf’s nominee to be the next Supreme Court justice began this week. The opening was marred (or enhanced) by protestors demanding that the hearings be delayed. Knowing that the results of the mid-term elections might change the balance of power in Congress, and thus lower their chances of pushing their candidate through, the questions continued.
Drumpf’s nominee is known to be ultra-conservative, and to be a real threat to our civil rights. He has made no secret of his opposition to Roe Vs. Wade, and has even stated that birth control is a sort of preemptive abortion. The greatest threat he holds for the nation is his fervent belief that a sitting president cannot be indicted for federal crimes.
In a surprise move the White House recently released 42,000 documents pertaining to the nominee’s legal history, leaving no time to adequately read and examine them. A hundred thousand pages are still being held back; what are they hiding?
The more that is discovered concerning the probe into the Russian interference in the election, and Drumpf’s part in it, the closer we come to the possibility of impeachment. Roald Drumpf, of course, insists that will never happen. “How can they impeach me,” he insists, “when I’m doing a good job? They have no reason to impeach me while I’m doing such a great job.” He insists that his supporters will revolt if he is impeached, and at least one right wing faction has threatened (no, promised) bloody revolution.
With mid-term elections looming, Drumpf has been spending as much time “stumping” for his parties candidates as he has doing his job. (Perhaps we should be grateful for that.) He claims that, should the blue party gain control of the Congress, violence would occur. He clarified by saying that they would quickly (and violently) take away all that he had accomplished since taking office. Hmm… isn’t that what he’s been doing to the administration that came before him?
“Calm down, Grace,” she told herself as she pulled out of the parking lot. “You can’t let Reginald know what you’ve found out or he’ll know what you’ve been up to.” She decided to stop at a local diner to get a bite to eat, and to let her nerves settle before returning home. Reginald wouldn’t be expecting her for a while, and she needed some time to figure out her next move.
Iced tea and an egg salad sandwich were just the ticket. Grace had chosen a booth near the back where she could watch without being noticed. She had parked her car in the rear of the building where it wouldn’t be seen; no point in drawing unnecessary attention, she thought. As usual, she was careful to lock it before walking away.
She thought about the conversation she had just shared with her friend from the resistance. She had, she said, tried to call after the first murder because she recognized Grace’s address. Reginald had taken the call, and assured her that all was well. When the killings continued, she’d tried to call back to tell Grace to be cautious. Once again Reginald had answered the phone, and this time he had angrily told her to stay away. “We can take care of ourselves,” he had said, “and if it’s ‘your kind’ he’s after, I want nothing to do with you!”
Grace wondered why he hadn’t told her about the calls, or about what he knew. Any time she had tried to discuss the situation, he had become angry and told her to stay out of it. He got angry a lot lately, she thought. Grace decided that, while she couldn’t talk to Reginald, she needed a way to keep herself safe. If she couldn’t trust him to be honest with her, she certainly couldn’t trust him with her security. She stifled a giggle, suddenly remembering the “Home Alone” movie franchise. “A bit far fetched,” she thought, “but I’ll come up with something.”
She paid for her lunch with cash, leaving just enough tip that she wouldn’t be remembered. When she got to her car, there was a torn piece of paper stuck under her windshield wiper blade. In block letters, it read, “BACK OFF”. A newly terrified Grace checked her back seat, floorboards, and even inside her trunk, before unlocking her car and getting in; she relocked her doors before beginning her drive home.
When she arrived there, it was to find Reginald at the kitchen table enjoying a plate of reheated leftovers. Looking up, he said, “You should make this more often, it’s pretty good.” Grace didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to notice that she was upset.
“You’ll ruin your supper,” she said as she walked past him to put her handbag in its usual place. Before putting it away, though, she retrieved the .380 caliber pistol she had carried on the road, making sure it was loaded and the safety on, then tucked it neatly inside. She felt a little better already.
Three days went by without incident. As a precaution, Grace had stretched noise making trip wires between the bushes outside. She had considered scattering shards of glass, but her concern for possible stray animals caused her to reconsider. Reginald was annoyed by her insistence that they hang sleigh bells, salvaged from the Christmas decorations in their attic, on their doors at night. In finally giving into her desire to do that, he made it clear that he was just humoring her. “Really, Grace,” he had said, “You have got to stop being so paranoid.”
“Even paranoids have real enemies,” she mumbled under her breath. She and Reginald had always had their differences, but she’s never before had reason to distrust him; she didn’t like it! She also didn’t understand it. Reginald was not the were-man, of that she was certain, so what was his part in all of this, if any?
On the evening of the fourth day, and just as they were finishing yet another silent meal, the phone rang. Before Grace could respond, Reginald pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet. “I’ll get it,” he said, and with that he hurried to answer the phone.
Grace cleared the table, then walked over to listen in the doorway. Reginald was speaking softly with his hand covering the phone, so she couldn’t hear a thing. She’s slipped back into the kitchen before he could see her and began her usual clean-up. What was there about this conversation that he didn’t want her to hear, she wondered. She made up her mind to find a way to figure out who he was talking to, and what they had to say to each other.
The next morning, Grace awoke to find that Reginald had already gone. It was nearly noon before his return. He immediately went into his den and shut himself inside. Soon, Grace could hear the sounds of DNN filtering through the door.
She had spent her morning on the phone with her friend from the resistance, and she had gained some valuable advice on what she needed to do next. There was a good electronic supply store in town, and she planned to “bug” her own house. It made her feel foolish, but she wasn’t taking any more chances.
Before the car engine had a chance to cool, she was behind the wheel and on her way. The woman at the electronics store had been most helpful. “You’d be surprised how much home security equipment we’ve sold since these killings started,” she said.
Grace bought a motion-activated system for outside; she’d get Reginald to help her put it up when she got home. When she asked about the “kind of stuff private-eyes use, you know, to listen in on private conversations”. The clerk hardly blinked, “We sell a lot of those, too.” she said.
With her purchases secured, Grace headed for home. That night, after Reginald had gone to sleep, she planned to put her “bugs” in place. The mics were so small, and the recorder easily hidden, she figured he would never find them. Grace didn’t know what she was doing, and she wasn’t sure she could handle what she might discover, but the one thing she couldn’t do was stand by and do nothing.