Talkin’ About A Fight!
There are two main stages to a national election. There are two main stages to a heavyweight fight. First there’s the selection process, whatever it is, then there’s the fight:
Then the houselights go down, and the ring is cleared. Just three now, and it’s hot. The spectators are on the outside; they are all looking at you; and you have to prove to them that you are as tough as they think you are.
“It’s not like people think,” the boxer knows, “it ain’t about knocking guys through the ropes, or fighting dirty. It’s about getting hit; taking a hard hit that jars your senses a little, and standing back up again. It’s about throwing a punch he’d never expect when you don’t have the strength to raise your arm. It’s about you maybe getting hit three times for every one that you land, but making him pay.”
“You stand up right in his face; and for every punch he lands, you make him pay.”
Now, there’s a problem with relating this analogy to Trump: You know, and I know, that Trump isn’t a fighter; he’s a bully – a thug. There’s a difference. I’ve never seen him get in a fair fight; his whole style is to never allow for there even being such a thing as a “fair fight.” He clearly, obviously, right up front fixes every fight – he cheats every way he can, and calls it virtue. And, then he hides behind his subordinates when he fails.
But this is different. Toe-to-toe with a fighter who will hit you back: “twice as hard.” All those people who, “talk a good fight,” are in the shadows. Lies don’t work here. Here, every lie is a debt of pain.
And, that’s where we folks come in: we keep it a fair fight: We call every lie a lie, and prove it. We call bullying what it is. We recognize the misuse and abuse of power – and we demand that it be banished.
Then we will see what Donald is made of. (Remember that lies don’t count for anything when you are laid out on the canvas.)
“Hey Man! I heard Trump can’t take a punch – never been in anything but fixed fights. A real fighter would take him apart in two. No guts.”
Democrats need to get behind a “champion;” and “step up to the line.” You may well think that I am jumping the gun, but consider this: In 5 months, Trump will be cemented-in as the presumptive Republican candidate. Democrats can’t be seen as a mob. Nor can the candidates be seen as a pack of lean, young hounds; out to get “theirs.” Trump would glory in having so many targets to attack. Like pigeons.
The purse for the winner of the contest? Democracy, and individual liberty. As usual, Trump thinks he’s risking nothing. Maybe not, ask Jeffrey. Oh, and for Trump he would be losing all that free golf!
But, who will be our Champion? Step Up!
Trump’s foul mood leads him deeper into darkness: