Is There Intelligent Life On a Planet Called Bernie?

by Steve Rohosky

 

The amazing thing about Planet Bernie and his hubris which orbits him as would a large moon: he is so categorically convinced of his superiority over both Hillary Clinton and a certain megalomaniacal businessman that he is incapable of accepting–let alone understanding–how he was recently reduced to the status of a lowly tool during the furor over Bernard’s “debate” overture. A tool wielded with depth and precision by the practiced hands of a master manipulator, Donald J Trump.

Recognizing Bernard’s desperation to be seen as the rightful Democratic nominee, Trump toyed with the ploy for several days. While being bandied about, all the self promotion and media attention he could possibly receive was squeezed out of the carcass of an iffy idea. As another day dawned over the next 24 hour news day cycle, Sanders and his debate dreams were discarded with a terse statement questioning the appropriateness of debating the “second place finisher.”

Useful no longer, the VT Congressman has been left to wander what remains of the campaign trail, bewildered as to how the likes of a narcissistic capitalist fool such as Trump could out maneuver The Living Legend, Bernard Sanders. It should be obvious to most observers by now that BS is well off his game as his post Trump encounter performance has been reduced to a since rejected demand that a pair of Hillary’s “attack surrogates” be removed as co-chairs of the convention’s platform and rules committees (to be replaced, one would assume, with his own “attack surrogates”), the issuance of still more threats about “gumming up” the process at the Democratic Convention and halfhearted mutterings about The Donald’s toughness–as if anyone sporting such a moniker could EVER be considered “tough.”

Hardly up–or down, depending upon ones point of view–to Bernard’s usual standards of rhetoric, sloganeering and campaign high jinx.

Seemingly overwhelmed by the speed and dexterity displayed when Trump so easily used and abused, only to leave him dazed and confused, one must wonder if perhaps Bern-Bern now sports a bit of political PTSD as a souvenir of his encounter with this New Age, self-styled “god of Money.”

All of which serves to illustrate why Sanders’ approval ratings remain so high this far into the campaign, why he and Janey are able to drone incessantly about him being the best candidate to defeat Trump in the general election: the GOP slime machine, which has worked overtime over decades to goo the gears of Hillary Clinton’s approval ratings apparatus, has completely ignored Sanders. And for very good reason. Karl Rove, along with other rightist extremist masters-of-the-ooze, determined ages ago Bernard Sanders would be so easy to muck, so easily struck from his pretentious perch, he truly wasn’t worth the effort.

After all, the Republican presumptive presidential nominee, using minimal effort, for all practical purposes left Bernard on a deserted sound stage somewhere crying for both his momma and his cherished Boys First Look at Marxist Philosophy Coloring Book (No Girls Allowed Edition). All accomplished with such ease, Trump’s ultimate insult may have been that he didn’t even bother to come up with a disparaging nickname for the now seemingly so much older Ol’ Socialist.

One thing which did not go completely unnoticed throughout this entire weekend at Bernie’s: the difference in attitude displayed by Sanders when facing a male adversary, rather than a woman. Gone were the snide comments, the disrespectful gesticulations and bony finger stabs, angry quips and quotes dripping with male chauvinism having been hurled both indirectly and right atcha, Hillary, during this entire campaign. Instead of his accustomed air of arrogant superiority, the Democratic runner-up was left P T–post Trump–flatter than someone just run over by a car in an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Which is really F L A T.

To quote perhaps the greatest of all of America’s preeminent 20th century pop philosophers: What’s up, Doc?? Insofar as the true up or really down, only time will tell. If Bernard Sanders comes to his senses, recalls his true campaign opponent is a woman and IF he regains his fighting weight–up several classes due to all the lobster sliders recently consumed, along with multitudes of triple mocha cappuccino muchos grande aye caramba! washed down by he and the missus thanks to the benevolence of all those $27-a-hit saps…errr, donors.

Should all his borderline misogyny come flooding back, he can prove he still got game. Cause right now Bernard is T minus a week and counting from the true Super Tuesday of this entire primary season. And Mr “Democratic Socialist” is going to need all the thinly veiled condescension, all the celestial body sized hubris he can muster if he hopes to pull off one of the great political upsets of this or any other century. What Sanders doesn’t need is Trump reverberating throughout his brain, reliving how he was made to look as inconsequential as Jeb! Bush (shudder!!) in front of the entire tv viewing audience.

Otherwise, Hillary Clinton will just roll over BS some more, flattening him further until all that remains is a few wisps of white hair and some very thin skin, his one shot at relevance and a pair of glasses both crushed, flung to the shoulder of the General Election Super Highway–or its spur the Freeway, for those hailing from out west.

Either way, looks like folks in the eastern zones will be on California time, for a good part of June 7th as political scientists search all available data, sift through mountains of documentation gathered to that point, all in an effort to deduce if there ever truly was ANY evidence of intelligent life once existing on a Planet called Bernie. Or if it was all just some gigantic hoax perpetrated by the mainstream media to goose the ratings this past year.

I’m anxiously awaiting the results.
How bout you??

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