Minneapolis: the Un-Chicago

 Five and-a-half years ago, I watched in disbelief the video of Laquan McDonald's murder at the hands of Chicago Police Officer Jason Van Dyke. Given the obviousness of the event, I assumed a conviction and a long jail sentence were forgone conclusions.

What I failed to remember was that this was Chicago, where the fix is always in. While it's true that Van Dyke was convicted, he received a slap-on-the-wrist sentence of just six and three-quarters years for shooting McDonald sixteen times in the back.

(Which I think you'll agree is what you and I would have received had we done the same.)

Even more stunning was the dismissal of all charges by judge Domenica Stephenson for the four cops central to the police-sanctioned cover-up. Combined, these cases represented an abyssal failure of justice, and if Chicago cops didn't feel immune from prosecution beforehand they certainly did afterwards.

So I am relieved that Minneapolis was able to conduct a trial unblemished by political influence and pandering.

Of course, it helps that the circumstances were very different. McDonald's murder came late on a Monday night on an empty stretch of Pulsaki Road. Floyd's came mid-afternoon in a neighborhood populated with stores—and shoppers

While the Chicago police sat on the McDonald footage until a court order forced its release, that was never an option for the Minneapolis PD. Cell phone video was posted to social media within minutes.

And finally, the defense's argument that Floyd's medical conditions killed him—not Derek Chauvin's knee pressing on his neck for nine minutes—was ludicrous. Seriously? Turned inside-out, that argument implies George Floyd would have died that day even had he not encountered Derek Chauvin.

Wow.

They must've thought they were addressing a CPAC convention, because I can't imagine another forum where such lunacy would be given a second thought. Never mind a first one.

The mind reels.

So congratulations to all concerned. Again, it is deeply satisfying to see reason and evidence triumph over political expediency.

With so much yet to be done, I fear this post is premature. Chauvin has yet to be sentenced (as a first-time offender with only a second-degree murder conviction, he's probably looking at a little over a decade in prison) and the trial of his accomplices won't happen until August.

As a hard-bitten cynic I'd say plenty of track remains for this train to go off the rails. 

But it is my desperate wish that communities of color and the police departments who serve them could meet, speak honestly and discover a mutual sense of respect and understanding. Of when police need to do certain things and why, and perhaps even discover a better way forward.

 

The Empty Soul of Donald Trump

I have always hated Donald Trump.

I hated him when he was a self-styled New York City businessman preening for any camera within sight. I hated him when he was a reality TV star, reveling in the sadism his mantle on The Apprentice afforded him.

And I hate him as President of the United States of America.

This is because the most contemptible example of humanity is the person who loves to dish out abuse but can't take it themselves. While they gleefully smear reputations, engage in rumor-mongering and relish the opportunity to pile-on, they erupt in self-righteous indignation whenever the snark and the humiliation is directed at them.

And while this dynamic has reached epidemic proportions in 2019 America, one figure towers above all in the wholeheartedness of his embrace: our president.

Even beyond the taxing demands of issuing a non-stop barrage of childish nicknames for anyone who doesn't worship at the altar of Donald, the Trump-whore is perpetually on guard for slights and insults; accusations that every word falling from his tiny, pursed mouth isn't necessarily the soul of truth.

Or suggestions that in the manifold obligations of his office, Donald might be, um, bereft.

When he isn't puffing out his chest and extolling his great and innumerable accomplishments, the Trump-whore is belittling and accusing. That's it. That's all he has. Two speeds. Two dimensions.

Which, I hasten to point out, is one less than you and I and just one removed from Scooby Doo.

After a recent sketch on Saturday Night Live (which, like all satire worthy of the name, contained more than a grain of truth), Donald again took to Twitter and issued another puerile attack, suggesting that anyone with the temerity to mock a giant like himself ought to be investigated.

He went on to suggest that the show's less-than-flattering portrayal of him was “one-sided” and that it was potentially illegal.

As a radicalized socialist, I'll admit it was one-sided. It was the complete opposite of Donald's appearance last night at CPAC, where he pleaded with the nation to take an objective look at our media and consume it responsibly.

Where he urged his base to move on from the manufactured scandal of Hillary Clinton's e-mails, put aside its knee-jerk hatred of immigrants and consider—if only for a moment—how a pending real estate deal in Moscow might have compromised his campaign's integrity.

But the night's high point occurred when the Trump-whore revealed previously-unknown depths of honesty. He fell to one knee and like a sinner prostrated before the cross, admitted it was possible more people may have attended Barack Obama's inauguration than his own.

Sniff.

Instead of sober reflection on his failed summit with political despot Kim Jong un or laying out a plan to consolidate the nation's strengths and how best to shore-up its weaknesses, the Trump-whore whined and complained about the same things he's been whining and complaining about for more than two years now.

A one-trick pony running the only course he knows.

It was a pitiable, one-hundred twenty-minute howl from the forlorn wilderness of Donald's empty soul. The lashing-out of a petulant bully who doesn't understand why everyone doesn't do what he tells us to do and believe what he tells us to believe.

Why can't we take him at face value, they way he does Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un? What is wrong with us? Why can't we see Donald the way he sees himself?

If there has been a sadder figure ever to occupy elected office, I'd like to see them. But even as a recipient of what is often termed the world's best health care, I don't think I'll live that long.