Month: May 2024

BE AFRAID, BE VERY AFRAID

While it is not true that all conservatives are stupid people, it is true that most stupid people are conservatives. – Comedian Jon Stewart   

He’s back!

Not only that, it appears Donald Trump is leading in the November 5 election for President of the United States.

Yesterday, he promised oilmen that he would deregulate the industry and re-introduce fracking. The technique revolutionises oil and gas drilling but, without rigorous standards, it can poison water sources, impair landscapes, and threaten wildlife.

No one should be surprised. Most Republicans scoff at climate change anyway. For his part, Trump has always maintained it was a “hoax”. 

Sometimes he jokes about it. “It’s freezing in New York. Where the hell is all that global warming?” I am, of course, assuming he’s being facetious.

Otherwise, he creates a bogeyman. “The concept of global warming was created by and for the Chinese in order to make US manufacturing uncompetitive.”  

Donald Trump is an enigma, a person so weird that he makes Richard Nixon seem Lincolnesque. He’s often been characterised as a “textbook” narcissist – a person who’s so self-involved that he tends to ignore the needs of those around him. 

The “diagnosis” made him easy to underestimate with analysts predicting that people would begin to see through him, that his popularity would diminish over time. 

The man lied about the 2020 election, even instigated a riot which he hoped would overturn the election results. Even today, he insists that he won but he’s also declined to debate incumbent Joe Biden, flagging a possible fear that he might be cornered on that issue.  

Almost every senior official in his administration, including his former vice-president Mike Pence, has criticised his tenure – wholly or in part. And there have been any number of tell-all books. 

Yet it does not seem to have had any effect. His popularity remains undimmed. It just proves Napoleon was right: “in politics, stupidity is not a handicap.” 

The title of a 2018 book by former Washington Post correspondent Bob Woodward succinctly summarises what Trump arouses in people – Fear: Trump in the White House.  

Indeed, a May poll among US voters showed that many voters were worried that Trump would not leave the White House if he won in November. 

More tellingly, another poll indicated that two out of three Americans worried that violence would follow if people weren’t satisfied with the outcome of the polls. Indeed, the Donald has refused to commit towards accepting the results of the election. 

He continues to stick to his surefire recipe for success: heads I win, tails you lose. 

US allies are equally fearful of a Trump second term. The man has indicated that he would be willing to tear up treaties if Europe didn’t honour its commitments. He even went further, saying Russia “could do whatever the hell they want” (in Europe) if the allies didn’t keep its promises. 

He has made no secret of his admiration for Vladimir Putin. He also lauded China Xi specifically citing his “President-for-life” status for special mention.  

You can see where his heart lies. 

And yet he didn’t see anything wrong with categorising Covid-19 as the “Chinese virus” and indirectly exposing Oriental Americans to hate crimes. 

The bottom line: the man does not give a fig for public opinion. He actually said he could shoot people in the middle of the street, and it would not affect his popularity. 

If that’s true, then Einstein was right. “Only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.” 

ENDS

LIVING NEXT DOOR TO MALICE 

When I die, I hope to go to heaven – whatever the hell that is. – Philosopher, writer Ayn Rand

There is, apparently, a video game called Neighbour from Hell. 

I’m not particularly interested in video games, but it reminded me of a couple living next to us when we were living in Petaling Jaya a long time ago. It was the wife who converted the husband to religion: he’d never believed in hell until he married her. 

That, to be sure, is a joke but there was something about her that seemed off. I’d heard from my other neighbour that she’d been a teacher and one suspected that she’d have been a grim and stern one at best. Not nice, gracious, pleasant or cheerful. None of those adjectives came to mind. Instead, only the old G and S seemed apt. 

At the time, my wife was the administrative head of a regional plant quarantine centre in the Agriculture University in Serdang. As a result, she knew many of its scientists. Indeed, she shortly brought home a dwarf durian sapling that one scientist had promised great results in a short time.

She planted it in the backyard, and we all forgot about it. Subsequently, Becky went abroad to do her doctorate and took our daughter with her. 

With me in charge, the garden didn’t exactly flourish. But I could argue that my benign neglect forced it to evolve into a hardy, Darwinian refuge where only the fittest survived. The natural selection that followed ensured that all the orchids and most of the flowers Becky planted perished, but the trees survived including all four Ashoka pillars.  And, the dwarf durian tree which proved its resilience by spreading across the backyard pleasingly. 

Fast forward four years later and my family was back. While still not quite up one Sunday, we heard what sounded like the chopping of wood.

We ignored it – we didn’t have a gardener – but it persisted until an ominous silence fell. It was not quite eight in the morning.

After a while my wife roused herself. I only awoke when I heard her voice, raised in anger against old G and S. 

It was the first time I’d seen her publicly lose her temper.  

I rushed out to see the remains of the dwarf spread out all over our backyard. Such was my wife’s rage that not only were the ones responsible out and about, but other neighbours began congregating. Suddenly, we were the only show in town. 

Why, was my first question? Apparently, a small spar of a branch had jutted into said neighbour’s airspace from which, it was claimed, “it was raining ants.” 

So, she’d informed her gardener to climb our gate and cut down said tree. All three – GnS, husband and gardener – didn’t seem to think that it was not only weird but illegal to boot.  

The argument was attentively followed by Neighbour On The Right, a lawyer. He said I could sue for “trespass” and “breaking and entering.” Open and shut, quoth he.

His wife didn’t help matters.  She informed everyone that there had been a full moon the previous night. Then, nodding significantly in the direction of old GnS, she threw her head back and howled. 

It was deteriorating into a B-grade drama, so we just requested the offenders to clear up the mess which was considerable. 

But the gardener had fled at the first sign of trouble and the husband came over to do the needful.  

My wife had regretted her rage by then, and the poor guy was at least twenty years my senior. Sensing our capitulation, all the neighbours gloomily drifted off. At the very least, it boded well for the rest of their Sunday.  

I ended up carrying out the wood. It seemed like the Darwinian thing to do. 

ENDS

ALAS, POOR BOJO

It turns out that what people thought was a sign of Boris Johnson’s  clear conscience was actually his notoriously bad memory.

Case in point:  the former British prime minister was turned away from a polling station on Thursday for forgetting to bring his voter identification card.

Ironically, it was Mr Johnson who introduced the  contentious 2022 requirement when he was in office in the first place. 

British media reported that Johnson, who quit in 2022 following a scandal-ridden premiership, was initially turned away at a polling station in Oxfordshire, southern England, while trying to vote in local elections taking place across the country.

A spokesman said Johnson had voted Conservative but did not deny that the ex-PM had initially failed to produce the said ID.

As prime minister, Johnson’s government introduced the ID requirement to crack down on possible voter fraud but it was heavily criticised for its potential to disenfranchise parts of the electorate. 

Previously, voters only needed to give their name and address to be able to vote.

Last year, in the first vote where the new rules were implemented, around 14,000 people in England were denied a vote in local elections after being unable to provide an ID.

To Malaysian eyes, the need for a photo ID seems perfectly reasonable and the criticism against it, baffling if not a little thick. 

As if to underscore “thick”, it appears that a recent survey by YouGov showed that 14% of Britons were still unaware of the voter ID requirement.

When he was Premier, Mr Johnson often came across as a  bumbling, self-deprecating, slightly rumpled sort of fellow who always seemed in need of a haircut. 

It might have been a carefully contrived persona but he certainly seemed to have a bad memory. It could have a  lot to do with his fluctuating weight: he would walk into a room without knowing why and usually end up at the fridge looking for a clue.  

The enduring irony about his tenure was that he led the Conservative Party to the heights of popularity only to be forced to resign two years later over a series of scandals that, truth be told, would have seemed only mildly irksome in Malaysia. 

It is a credit to the UK that its people will not put up with serial lying. Here we would have dismissed it as having déjà vu and amnesia at the same time: when one realises that he’s lied about the same thing previously. 

One former premier, now languishing in jail, suffered from that curious malady for most of his ten-year tenure. He usually took something for it – loot – until he was forcibly ejected from office. 

Again, one is struck by the apparent apathy of the Malaysian populace that it can actually  countenance the ”forgiving” – house arrest? – of a criminal who stole billions from his country while in a position of trust. 

Its mere notion would have been pilloried in the UK. 

Indeed, it seems strange that  Mr Johnson is now held in such low esteem by the British public.  Donald Trump brought shame to his country but is now odds-on favourite to return as President. 

Mr Johnson’s unpopularity seems to have shifted to the Conservative Party which could face a heavy defeat at the next general election.

The Labour Party, the Conservatives main rival, is in a happy place. It does  not have to do much; it just needs not to spectacularly screw up any time soon. 

The man waiting in the wings is Keir Starmer, 61, a dour looking politician who seems all but sure of becoming the UK’s next leader. 

He does not, apparently, have memory issues. In fact, his memory is so much like an elephant that the beasts frequently consult him.

ENDS