Musings on the byways of popular culture
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Time is passing more rapidly. As a proportion of my life, seven years is the equivalent of one when a summer break lasted 9 months. A two week holiday in Wales seemed to be 3 months long.
A twenty minute track today fills as much of my life as a three minute single back when I first started buying records. Obviously, I have just gone on Fela Kuti binge. A lot of his stuff goes on for twenty minutes plus. Marvellous. The time flies by.
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I just can’t get this Melania coat thing out of my head. The sheer weirdness of it all. Like Trump walking into a Stormy Daniels press conference wearing a pair of comedy breasts. It’s like bleak Milligan humour, but it can’t be. I’ve been trying to compute the meaning all day, and I’m none the wiser. But I’ve come up with a series of options, which, I think, offer an explanation, in order of decreasing probabilty.
And before anyone says its all just more distraction from the real issues, like the Mueller probe, I would say that this is a very real issue. This is about the character and countenance of the leadership of the most powerful nation on the planet. I would say this behaviour is a matter of some urgency.
Option 1. More Trump trolling. Early on the morning of Melania’s trip, Melania’s people get a call from Trump’s people. “We need to fuck with their minds!” bellows a Trump aide down the phone. “Tell Melania to wear the Zara coat.” This is all a ruse dreamed up by one of Trump’s keenest sycophants, keen to jump up an orbit or two in the monstrous gas cloud » Continue Reading.
