02:43:57 am on
Saturday 18 Sep 2021

No Kornacki Gnome
David Simmonds

Gee willikers, that was the longest five days I ever experienced. From Tuesday evening until Saturday mid-day, from the time the polls closed until the media called the race. as won by Joe Biden, the wait was excruciating. My heart palpitated; I was all sweats and Steve Kornacki kept going as if he were the Energize Bunny.

Election night ended with no decision.(/h6>

After I concluded, on Tuesday at just before midnight that nothing was going to be decided that night, I very sensibly took myself to bed earlier than the three in the morning I had expected. Except that there was no conclusive result to be had the next morning. I ended up getting next to no sleep as my mind raced through the dark thoughts of another four years of Donald T**** and his wrecking crew.


Then came the sweet relief of the Saturday mid-day announcement. There was spontaneous dancing in the streets of Philadelphia, Wilmington, Washington and New York. The acceptance speeches of Joe Biden and Kamala Harris on Saturday evening put the icing on the cake.

The way the vote count progressed was remarkable. At one point in the Pennsylvania race, T**** enjoyed a 250,000-vote lead. How could Biden possibly overcome it? But he did. Other T**** leads disappeared in Georgia, Wisconsin and Michigan. Those counseling   Biden not to panic had did their research, well.

There was poetic justice at work here: T**** had trailed Hillary Clinton in the early returns in 2016. Although he managed to get more people to vote for him this time than when he ran in 2016, the fact is that he got over four million fewer votes than Biden. He lost, plain and simple. The world knows it, well.

Voters will leave T**** behind.

Voters are uncowed by the blather, of T**** or his bluster, anymore. His power has all but evaporated, as former presidential contenders George Bush and Mitt Romney and world leaders such as Emmanuel Macron and Justin Trudeau have moved to congratulate Biden, thereby endorsing the validity of the election. It’s as if somebody stood up and said “Look, the Emperor is not wearing any clothes.” Then everybody acknowledges what had been clear all along.

What surprises me is that T**** seems to have no interest in leaving a positive legacy, at least the type of legacy that rings noble like “nothing in this life became him like the leaving of it.” He has blocked his own high road out of office by telling his supporters there has been a massive fraud. How can he later concede on the basis that, on reflection, maybe it was fair?

He will instead be remembered as the Great Disrupter. The President who refused to accept the painful side of democracy and who had to be practically dragged kicking and screaming out of the White House by burly men in dark suits and sunglasses.

Then, again, T**** displayed his breathtaking lack of self-awareness when he decided to run for president. He was suited neither by temperament nor by experience for the position. He ran for president to show the world he could win the job and, if he couldn’t win, he could make money with reinvigorated brand.

His presidency, littered with victims of his impetuous and self- seeking nature, will go down in history as an unparalleled disaster. The only fraud in play here is the one perpetrated on the American people by Donald J T****, in presenting himself as presidential material in the first place and persuading seventy-four million people to give him a second chance.
I don’t know what T**** will do for his spare time this winter after he spends his time defining the lawsuits that will be brought against him. I know what to suggest to Mr. T****, as to how to spend his time. I have a suggestion for him.

Perhaps T**** and his entourage could form a travelling circus and move from city to city offering to address local problems in the same way they addressed national and international problems when they were running the presidency. That should give rise to chills and thrills, so ticket sales would be strong. 

More poetic justice.

To end on a somewhat brighter note, the election result means that columnists and cartoonists will have to work harder to earn a living once T**** is gone. There’s more poetic justice for you.

 

Some readers seem intent on nullifying the authority of David Simmonds. The critics are so intense; Simmonds is cast as more scoundrel than scamp. He is, in fact, a Canadian writer of much wit and wisdom. Simmonds writes strong prose, not infrequently laced with savage humour. He dissects, in a cheeky way, what some think sacrosanct. His wit refuses to allow the absurdities of life to move along, nicely, without comment. What Simmonds writes frightens some readers. He doesn't court the ineffectual. Those he scares off are the same ones that will not understand his writing. Satire is not for sissies. The wit of David Simmonds skewers societal vanities, the self-important and their follies as well as the madness of tyrants. He never targets the outcasts or the marginalised; when he goes for a jugular, its blood is blue. David Simmonds, by nurture, is a lawyer. By nature, he is a perceptive writer, with a gimlet eye, a superb folk singer, lyricist and composer. He believes quirkiness is universal; this is his focus and the base of his creativity. "If my humour hurts," says Simmonds,"it's after the stiletto comes out." He's an urban satirist on par with Pete Hamill and Mike Barnacle; the late Jimmy Breslin and Mike Rokyo and, increasingly, Dorothy Parker. He writes from and often about the village of Wellington, Ontario. Simmonds also writes for the Wellington "Times," in Wellington, Ontario.

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