a myriad of misconceptions and skewed data

Back in August, after the El Paso and Dayton mass murders, I wrote that the primary reason we’re seeing more of these sorts of crimes is because of easy access to guns.

It’s the guns. Guns, high capacity magazines, and lax firearm laws. You get yourself a semi-automatic rifle and a few 30-round magazines, and you can rack up a high body count in a very short time. Doesn’t even have to be an assault-style rifle, though the military design of those weapons makes them more attractive to would-be mass killers. Any semi-auto rifle would do the job, so long as you’ve stocked up on hi-cap magazines. Gear up, take a walk, and until you open fire, you’re probably acting within the law.

Some folks, of course, disagreed with me (which isn’t all that uncommon; people disagree with me all the damned time). One of those who disagreed recently left a comment on that blog post. Not a comment exactly — a link to a post on his (I’m assuming it’s a guy) website. The post is titled ‘The Colt AR-15- Is It Rightfully Demonized?‘ It’s a question worth discussing (SPOILER: the answer is yes, it is properly demonized).

AR-15

Since I don’t have this person’s name, and since his blog is called Inverted Logic, I’m going to refer to him as IL.

IL states, “a pervasive fallacy among the anti-gun crowd is to conflate the motives of the murder with the murder weapon.” This certainly would be a fallacy if it was accurate. But it’s not. As IL himself correctly points out a sentence or two later, “an inanimate object does not possess motives.” Bingo. I don’t know anybody who believes firearms have motivations. What some of us actually believe is this: there are certain weapons commonly used by people who are motivated to kill a lot of other people in a short amount of time.

It’s like this: a lawn mower and a pair of garden shears are both tools that can cut grass. Neither tool has any motivation. It’s not that lawn mowers want to cut grass faster and more efficiently; it’s just that it’s designed to do that. People who are motivated to cut grass are much more likely to opt for the lawn mower than the garden shears. That’s the same motivational process of people who want to kill other people faster and more efficiently.

IL then examines FBI crime data. He states, “four times more people were murdered by a knife than were by a rifle.” That’s correct, but misleading. We’re not talking about murder rates here; we’re talking about mass murder — a totally different beast. Mass murders are relatively rare in comparison to ordinary murders. Most murders occur between people who know each other, usually during an argument and often fueled by alcohol. That or some fuss over drugs. Most murders are crimes of — I hate to use the term ‘passion’; let’s call it high emotion. In general, they tend to be spontaneous, unplanned, spur-of-the-moment crimes.

In fact, most mass murders also follow that pattern. The problem is in how mass murder is defined. Here’s the most common definition:

Shootings at a public place in which the shooter murdered four or more people, excluding domestic, gang, and drug violence, in a single episode.

If a drug deal between gang members goes bad and a few of them get killed by gunfire, it’s not technically considered a mass murder. Similarly, if a man gets drunk, argues with his wife or girlfriend, grabs his gun, shoots her and her kids, and maybe her parents, it’s not technically counted as a mass murder. Seriously. I’m not making this up. So most mass murders aren’t even considered mass murders. The victims, though, are just as dead.

Henckels chef’s knife.

Back to IL and his knives. There have, of course, been mass killings committed with knives. China, for example, suffered a spate of school attacks between 2010 and 2012. In ten separate incidents, 25 people were killed and around 115 were wounded. Those attacks were made with knives, box cutters, machetes, and meat cleavers.

That’s 25 dead and 115 wounded in ten attacks over three years. Twenty-five dead is maybe ten minutes work with a semi-auto firearm, including re-loading time. The thing is, killing groups of people with a knife requires a lot of work. To begin with, a knife attack is more likely to wound than to kill. And there’s a lot more chasing involved in a knife attack; you literally have to get close enough to the victim to touch them — and most folks aren’t going to stand around to give you the chance.

AR-15 with modifications

So let’s just dismiss the knife argument. Given a choice between an edged weapon (a knife or a machete or a meat cleaver or a damned box cutter) and an AR-15, I’m confident most would-be mass killers would opt for the rifle.

IL also points out that rifles aren’t a common murder weapon. Which is true. He writes:

Only a minuscule 3.2 percent of all reported murders in the same decade were committed with rifles. Even per the New York Times, 173 people have been killed in a mass shooting where an AR-15 was used from 2007-2017 (total number of homicides 13,657). If you do the math (173 divided by 13,657=0.012667 X 100= 1.266 %) that is a number that is slightly above 1 percent of all homicides. All this uproar and outrage is being focused upon a weapon that is only responsible for approximately 1 percent of all murders.

But, again, we’re not talking about murder rates. We’re not talking about individual murders. We’re talking about mass murders. Using IL’s dates (2007-2017) there were at least 480 fatalities that met the traditional definition of mass murder. If 173 were committed with AR-15 variants, we’re talking about a quarter of all mass murders. Add in all the mass murders committed with AK47 variants and…hell, add in ALL semi-auto firearms, rifles and pistols, and you’ve just about covered it all. (I say ‘just about’ because technically multiple deaths in arson attacks and explosions also fit the common mass murder definition.)

The important question IL doesn’t address is this: why do so many mass murderers select AR-15 and AK47s as their weapons of choice? I mean, a Ruger mini-14 would be just as effective at killing large numbers of innocent people. Like the AR variants, it’s a semi-automatic rifle that uses .223 caliber rounds, and hey, it can utilize high capacity magazines. It’s also a lot less finicky than the AR. So what is the appeal of the AR variants?

Ruger Mini-14

I’d argue it has to do with two things. First, they look dangerous. There’s a reason so many mass killers dress in black (or camo or trenchcoats). It’s not because they want to blend into their environment. Camouflage isn’t going to help you in the aisles of Walmart. It’s because there’s a mass killer aesthetic; there’s a popular culture notion of how mass killers are supposed to look. Militaristic-looking weapons are a part of that aesthetic. A mini-14 may be as efficient a killing machine as an AR, but it doesn’t have that brutal militaristic aura. It just looks like a plain old rifle. No self-respecting mass killer would walk into a Walmart with a Ruger mini-14.

Exploded view of AR-15 modifiable parts

Second, AR variants are exceedingly customizable. They’re like Legos for gun nuts. You can interchange or upgrade just about every part of the AR — switch barrels, change the stock, add a sound suppressor, modify the grip, get a new trigger. A LOT of gun owners like AR variants because they can play with them more than other rifles. If you want a semi-auto rifle that will operate under almost any condition, you opt for the AK variants. If you want one that looks brutal to begin with and want to make it look even more brutal, you go for the AR.

IL does, though, say one thing I mostly agree with. “The take away here is that we need to be critical consumers of media. There are a myriad of misconceptions and skewed data represented as being conveying the whole picture. When, only a sliver of factual truth is being presented and is reframed to support a specific ideology or agenda.

Ignore the grammar and creative punctuation; IL is right. We DO need to be critical consumers of media. We need to be able to recognize and dismiss arguments that are misleading. We need to be aware of arguments that have a hidden agenda.

Because I want my agenda to be completely open, let me say this (I’ve already said it dozens of times on this blog): I don’t hate guns. I like guns. Guns are fun to shoot. I just don’t think they should be easy to obtain and keep. I don’t think all firearms are equal. I’m okay with certain firearms being banned. I don’t believe anybody needs a magazine holding more than ten rounds. I don’t think anybody needs a sound suppressor. I’m okay with the government putting limits on the Second Amendment just as they’ve put limits on the First.

Will banning or confiscating AR and AK variants put an end to mass murders? No, of course not. It might reduce the butcher’s bill, which is still a worthy goal. Probably a more immediately effective way to do that, though, would be to ban and confiscate magazines with a capacity of more than 10 rounds. Or what the hell, 7 rounds.

Just my opinion.

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it’s not a toomah

Okay, first — I don’t have a brain tumor. I’m just saying that right up front to shed any drama from the rest of the post. No tumor, no cyst, no alien symbiot, ain’t nothing growing in my head. Just wanted to get that out of the way. Now, the story about not having a brain tumor.

A few years ago I began to notice my left ear felt…okay, here’s a problem. How do you describe something wonky with your hearing? I’ve been going through this with doctors for about a year or so, and I still can’t get it right. The thing is, sounds in my left ear are muted a bit, but with an intermittent sort of hollow echo-ish thing. It’s sort of like having water in your ear, or that air pressure thing you experience when flying — only it’s not constant. It’s like a filter that instantly creates a weird doppler-like effect then just as suddenly stops.

Confusing, right? Anyway, I first noticed it when I was living alone in an old farmhouse in the hills of rural Pennsylvania, trying to be a writer. The thing about living alone in the hills trying to be a writer is that you can go days without seeing or talking to anybody. That isolation is great for writing, but it also means you don’t really notice that your hearing in one ear has become sporadically fucked up. When you do notice it, it’s just a minor annoyance, and since you have no health insurance, you just ignore it and assume it will clear itself up or just go away.

It didn’t. But I’d gotten used to it and by the time I came to my senses and moved back into the world of people, I was used to it. It meant occasionally asking folks sitting to my left to repeat stuff. Not a big deal. It’s especially not a big deal when those folks know you to be the sort of person who spends a lot of time just thinking about stuff. If I miss what other folks are saying, they tend find excuses for it. They assume I’m distracted (and I often am) or just not paying attention to them (usually, though not always, wrong) or that they’ve just said something I find particularly interesting and I want them to repeat it (sometimes true).

So that’s been the situation. I’m accustomed to not quite hearing or understanding what folks say, and they’re accustomed to me asking them to repeat themselves. You know, ‘That’s just Greg — he’s probably thinking about the Norman Conquest or turtles or the origin of the word ‘omelet’ or what he’s going to cook for supper.’ Like that.

Then about a year ago my ex said something to this effect: “Dude, you really need to get your hearing checked.” And I realized she was right. So I did. Not immediately, but when I had my next check-up I mentioned it.

The doctor poked and prodded, did some interesting stuff with a tuning fork, and said, “All them little bones in your ear? Ain’t nothing wrong with them. Probably your eustachian tubes might be fucked up. Try some Flonase for a month, probably clear it right up.” (Not a direct quote).

It didn’t clear up. So he scheduled an exam with an audiologist. This is where things started to get weird. I had the exam a couple of weeks ago. They gave me some hearing tests. The first was just a series of beeping sounds — some loud, some soft, some low-pitched, some high. I assumed I heard fine out if my right ear and missed some beeps in my left. The next test involved words. I’m my right ear I’d hear, “Say the word ‘hard.’ Say the word ‘bell’.” Nothing to it. But in my left ear I’d hear, “Say the word ‘blargh.’ Say the word ‘dog.’ Say the word ‘froon.’

Turns out I could hear equally well in both ears, but I couldn’t correctly identify a third of the words I heard in my left ear. The doctor said, “Dude, you need an MRI of your whole damn head. Something’s fucked up in there. Might be nerve damage, might be something growing in your head is pressing on a nerve. A cyst maybe, maybe a tumor, I dunno. Something.” (Not a direct quote.)

Leaving the doctor’s office after the Possible Alien Symbiot diagnosis.

Afterwards I sat in the car and had the following thoughts:

  • Well, that explains a lot.
  • I guess I’ll have to tell my ex and my brother I might have an alien symbiot growing inside my skull. They’ll be concerned.
  • I probably ought to be concerned too.

But I wasn’t. I mean, nothing had changed. If a symbiot was growing in my skull, it had been growing for a while. It was either there or it wasn’t. No point in fretting about it.

So I told them with as little fuss as possible. “Yeah, saw the doctor, might be something in my head, got an MRI scheduled next week, how about those Red Sox?” And they accepted it with minimal fuss, which I appreciated. Then (aside from occasional desire to exclaim “It’s NOT a toomah!“) I basically forgot about it.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I didn’t think about the symbiot or what it might mean for…well, my life, or how they’d eventually deal with it. But I did think about the MRI. I’ve never had one before, so I was curious about it. When I talked to the MRI Johnnies about scheduling I’d told them I was mildly claustrophobic. They said not to worry, they had a new shiny large imaging unit for folks who didn’t like tight enclosed spaces.

I showed up as scheduled only to find there was another patient — an absolutely enormous guy. I’m guessing close to three hundred pounds. I was told I could either wait, reschedule, or have the MRI in the older narrow unit. They showed me the older unit. It was pretty massive, but the patient-tube sleeve (probably not what it’s actually called) was…well, small. Teensy.

“How long will it take?” I asked. The tech said, “Thirty, thirty-five minutes.” I thought, Well, how bad could it be? All I have to do is lie still for half an hour. So I said okay. The tech said, “Then we’ll pull your ass out, inject some dye into your arm, and slam you back inside that sausage tube for another fifteen or twenty minutes.” (Not a direct quote.)

I almost said I’d wait. But I didn’t. I said, “Fuck it, let’s go.” (Not a direct quote.)

It was unpleasant. First, you insert expandable foam plugs in your ears to mute the noise. Then there are — I don’t know what you’d call them. Firm cushiony things placed around your head to keep you from moving it. Then they slide a sort of plastic ‘Man in the Iron Mask’ thing over your face. After that, a conveyor belt slides you inside the tube, which is so narrow your shoulders are pressed up against the sides. The tech speaks to you over some sort of intercom, which is absolutely useless since you’re in a tube and you’re wearing ear plugs and you’re there because your hearing is already fucked up. So you’ve no idea whether she’s saying “Okay, everything is fine, here we go” or “Oh my god you’ve got a fucking symbiot growing inside your head.”

Then the noise begins. Weird mechanical noises. Banging, whirring, grinding. I was lying there thinking that this wasn’t the least bit amusing or interesting, when I had a moment of…well, let’s call it a sort of enlightenment. Dye. They were going to inject dye into my arm to give them a better image of my brain. Because there might be a symbiot growing in there. And I had the following thoughts:

  • These folks are seriously testing my brain for symbiots.
  • They’re more concerned about these possible symbiotic motherfuckers than I am.
  • I should be more concerned about brain symbiots.

And for a moment, I was. Then I realized that nothing had changed. If a symbiot was growing in my skull, it had been growing for a while. It was either there or it wasn’t. And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it while I was packed inside a torpedo tube. Just focus on your breathing and let it all go.

So I did. All in all, I was packed in that tube for about 50 minutes. When it was over, I was given two scheduling options for an appointment to review the results. Wednesday the 11th at 8:00 AM or Friday the 13th at 1:00 PM. I figured if there was a symbiot growing in my skull, it had been growing there for a while — so there’s no point in getting up early to find out. It would still be there Friday afternoon.

Then I basically forgot about it again. Until yesterday morning, when I was showering and shaving to go to my appointment. And I had the following thoughts:

  • In a couple of hours I’m going to find out if there’s something alien growing inside my skull.
  • I should probably be more concerned about this; something alien growing inside your skull just ain’t right.
  • Maybe the alien symbiot that might be growing inside your skull is fucking up my thinking, which is why I’m not as concerned about it as I should be.
  • Oh well, I guess I’ll find out.

And I did. There’s no drama here, remember? I told you right at the beginning. No tumor, no cyst, no alien symbiot. I went to the doctor’s office, they put me in an exam room, and a few minutes later the doctor came in and said, “Dude, no tumor. Your entire brain is shiny as a peach. Probably you had some sort of virus thingy that fucked up a nerve. That’s what we tell folks when we don’t really know why their hearing in one ear is fucked up. Anyway, your hearing IS fucked up and almost certainly won’t get any better, but hey…no tumor, right? So go now and be happy.” (Not a direct quote.)

So I did. I left and I was happy. I told my ex and my brother that the MRI showed my brain was perfectly normal. My ex was happy; the brother suggested I get a second opinion.

I don’t normally spend much time thinking about how I feel about things. I mean, I’ve known myself my whole life — there aren’t many surprises there. But for a moment this morning I had this odd sense that I should have felt something more when I learned my brain was being slowly gnawed away. Something big, something dramatic. But I was basically happy before all this began, and I’m still happy now. So nothing changed.

However, there was a moment — that moment right after the doctor said there was no tumor — that I felt something. Not big, not dramatic. It wasn’t relief or a release of tension. Or if it was, I wasn’t really aware of the tension to begin with.

It was something more like apricity.

The appreciation of experiencing the warmth of the sun on a winter day.

Do you know that word? It’s an obscure word for a common feeling. It was first included in Henry Cockeram’s English Language Dictionary, published in 1623. This, by the way, was only the third known book to serve the function of an English dictionary, but it was the first to actually be called a dictionary. All of which is beside the point, although this tangent probably helps explain why folks often thought I was just distracted when I asked them to repeat stuff they’d said to me.

Anyway, apricity. That’s what I felt when the doctor said I was symbiot-free. It refers to an appreciation of experiencing the warmth of the sun in winter.

Apricity. Yesterday was a perfectly lovely end-of-summer day. Sunshine, 78 degrees, light breeze. But sitting on an exam table in a doctor’s office, I felt something like the warmth of the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a wintery day.

“No tumor,” he said. And I said, “Cool.” (That’s a direct quote.)

he’d sell them weeds

Jeebus on toast. This guy, I declare.

This is exactly the sort of tone-deaf, massively bone-headed thing Comrade Trump would do — assuming it’s not just another off-the-cuff lie he’s telling, which is entirely possible. Only a fuckwit like Trump would secretly invite the Taliban to the United States. The Taliban — the people who literally made it possible for al Qaeda to crash commercial jets full of innocent passengers into each of the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon (not to mention the disrupted attack that ended in an empty field in Pennsylvania. And to do it secretly? On the anniversary of that attack? That’s got TrumpThink written all over it.

But even though it completely fits in with Trump’s brand of idiocy, it’s still Trump. So we always have to ask if it’s a lie. Always. Because this would be a classic Trump sort of lie. It’s self-aggrandizing and dramatic. But IF he invited the Taliban to the U.S. for any reason at all, would he have invited them to stay at Camp David? No, probably not. He’d almost certainly have invited them to stay at a Trump property. That sounds like snark, I know, but it’s not. I’m sincerely convinced Trump would try to find a way to make a buck off of peace talks.

So I’m inclined to think this whole Taliban business is wrapped in a cocoon of lies. It’s probably not entirely a lie, or even mostly a lie. But I’d bet my paycheck (if I had a paycheck) that it involves a complicated and terribly dumb string of semi-related lies wrapped around a single kernel of truth.

But here’s the thing: we absolutely should be talking with the Taliban in order to find some way out of the now-pointless war in Afghanistan. And I have no problem with talking to them here in the U.S., though that seems awfully premature. But regardless of how and where it’s done, Comrade Trump should NOT be involved.

Nobody trusts him. Nobody believes him. Nobody can rely on him to honor a deal or keep a promise. He’s lied to and cheated on all of his wives; he’s lied to and cheated hundreds of businesses with whom he’s signed contracts; he routinely tells blatant lies to the public and to the news media; he’s negated treaties with our nation’s closest traditional allies and he’s cozied up to our enemies. Everybody — everybody — knows Trump is capable of changing his mind at any moment for any reason or perceived slight. Comrade Trump simply cannot be trusted on any level.

There’s an old Bedouin saying: La taqul bur lin twkyh. “Don’t say it’s wheat until you harvest it.” The Taliban aren’t Bedu, but I think the saying still applies. They aren’t stupid. They know Trump will sell them wheat and deliver only weeds. So it’s unlikely any serious peace talks will take place while Comrade Trump is in office.

red flags, fear, & a wee bit of common sense

After the Santa Fe High School mass killing event…wait. Do you remember the Santa Fe mass killing? A year ago, in Texas? May 18, 2018? Ring a bell? Ten killed — eight students and two teachers — and thirteen wounded? Remember now? C’mon, it was the third-deadliest school shooting in U.S. history. Comrade Trump said, “we are with you in this tragic hour, and we will be with you forever.” Remember now? No?

Following the Santa Fe High School mass killing.

Okay, these things happen. They’re easy to forget. Anyway, after the Santa Fe shooting Greg Abbott, the governor of Texas, created the Texas Safety Commission to look into ways to prevent that sort of tragedy from happening again. The TSC released its report and recommendations last month, two days before the El Paso Walmart massacre. Here’s what Gov. Abbott said at the time:

“In the aftermath of the horrific shooting in Santa Fe, we had discussions just like what we are having today. Those discussions weren’t just for show and for people to go off into the sunset and do nothing. They led to more than 20 laws being signed by me to make sure that the state of Texas was a better, safer place, including our schools for our children.”

Those laws to make Texas ‘a better, safer place’ weren’t common sense laws to increase firearm safety; they were mostly laws that loosened existing restrictions about where Texans could carry guns. There’d been some discussion about including a ‘red flag’ law — a law that allows police or family members to ask a state court to order the temporary removal of firearms from a person considered to be a danger to others or themselves. But in the end, Gov. Abbott and the TSC decided a red flag law would put too many burdens on gun owners.

“I think we need to focus more on memorials before we start the politics.” Texas Gov. Greg Abott

Seventeen states have some sort of red flag law. Although these law are still fairly recent, research suggests red flag laws have, at a minimum, reduced suicide rates. There’s not enough data yet to comment on their effect on murder rates, but red flag laws have been used in at least 20 instances in which people were threatening to commit mass murders. Threatening to commit a mass murder doesn’t mean a person will actually attempt it, but common sense tells us seizing their firearms would certainly make any attempt a lot less likely.

There ARE a few — a very few — valid constitutional concerns about red flag laws. There are due process issues involved when you allow police to seize property from somebody who hasn’t actually committed a crime. But when the crime is murder and the property involved is a tool designed specifically to kill, I think we can allow a few narrow due process exceptions.

Gun rights advocates argue red flag laws give too much weight to the accuser. They fear angry women will use the laws to punish men by having their guns seized. They argue law-abiding gun owners could lose their weapons “because some woman was slighted by a comment taken out of context or jilted by a lover.” Others are afraid the laws would be used by liberals to confiscate the firearms of conservatives. Some even claim red flag laws are, in fact, the first step in a Deep State plan to disarm conservative ‘patriots’.

Most of these folks are idjits.

At the heel of the hunt, it always comes down to this: fear. Politicians fear the money and power of the NRA. They fear losing their status, their power, their ability to shape laws to their own ends. Gun rights advocates are also afraid. White fear of minorities, and fear of becoming a minority themselves. Male fear of women, of being humiliated by women, of not being able to control women. Fear of losing privilege. Fear of losing dominance. It’s all about fear. The ONLY reason for a civilian to carry a firearm is fear. The only reason for a political figures to promote or tolerate looser gun laws is fear.

Folks who don’t own guns are also afraid. Students are afraid they’ll be shot at school. Families are afraid they’ll be shot at church or at the mall. Parents are afraid their kids will be shot. Young adults are afraid they’ll be shot at bars or parties. We’ve actually reached the point where there are survivors of multiple mass shootings. Two brothers who were present during the Gilroy Garlic festival mass shooting had also attended the Las Vegas concert where 58 people were killed. Two other survivors of the Las Vegas massacre were present at the Thousand Oaks mass murder. One of them survived the second mass murder; the other didn’t.

Years ago, Frank Herbert wrote, I must not fear Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I think he was only partially right. Fear IS the mind-killer. But fear can be rational and appropriate; fear can clarify as well as cloud your judgment.

Here’s a true thing: the vast majority of gun nuts (and by ‘gun nuts’ I mean those men who amass a sizable arsenal of firearms) aren’t a threat. Common sense tells us most of these folks aren’t the sort of nuts who’ll use those guns to commit mass murders. We don’t have to be afraid of them. But here’s another true thing: anybody who threatens violence is thinking about committing it, and if a person who threatens violence has weapons, it’s rational to fear he’ll follow through on the threat. It’s common sense to remove those weapons.

Again, it’s all about fear. Their fear and our fear. But it shouldn’t be about whose fear will win. It should be about common sense. Red flag laws are simply the application of common sense to a social danger. Common sense is a fear-killer. We don’t have to let anybody’s fear win.

 

donald and dorian and will and grace

Hurricane Dorian is now being described as a ‘catastrophic’ category 5 event — though I think that’s redundant. I mean, any cat-5 hurricane that makes landfall is going to be catastrophic. But we’ve also got yet another mass shooting — in Texas again, because Texas is working its ass off to be the most firearm-friendly state in the Union. Five dead, more than twenty wounded. I think that makes the August mass murder butcher’s bill top the fifty corpse mark. Not a new record, but still. And there’s all manner of crazy political shit happening in Hong Kong and London, not to mention more kinetic events in Afghanistan and Yemen. Brazil is on literally on fire, and big chunks of Africa and Siberia are also burning.

And Comrade Trump, the President of These United States? What’s that maladjusted motherfucker focused on this morning?

I liked Debra Messing in that one show she did a few years ago. Frankie and Grace? You know, where she played a housemate with a gay guy, and there were hijinks? It was a good show. I’ve absolutely no idea what she’s doing now. Whatever it is, it’s got Trump annoyed. So instead of being POTUS, Trump is spending his morning focused on the apparent lack of respect he’s getting from a sit-com actor.

Not that he’d be doing his job if Debra Messing hadn’t annoyed him. He was supposed to be in Poland this week, to mark the 80th anniversary of the start of World War II. But he canceled, saying he needed to stay in the U.S. to monitor the hurricane situation. Complete and utter bullshit, of course. He could monitor it from Poland just as well. And in fact, he spent a big chunk of yesterday doing his monitoring from another of his own golf courses (his 212th golfing outing since he took office).

By the way, Comrade Trump is currently attempting to ‘transfer’ US$271 million from FEMA to ICE. That’s right, he’s trying to strongarm funds away from disaster relief during hurricane season and use that money to build more immigration detention facilities and (he hopes) to finally construct some of that wall that Mexico was supposed to pay for. But he’s letting his underlings handle that business, because dammit somebody has to deal with Debra Messing.

EDITORIAL COMMENT: It turns out Frankie and Grace is a sit-com about two women who live together after their husbands turn out to be gay. The sit-com about the woman who lives together with the gay guy is Will and Grace.

EDITORIAL COMMENT (Part 2): It turns out Frankie and Grace is actually Grace and Frankie.