As you read this, we are increasingly on the brink of some sort of nuclear confrontation with North Korea.
Now, back when I lived in New York, this would be (from a selfish standpoint) horribly, horribly, horribly upsetting news.
Here, in California, it’s all that—and then some.
See, according to most reports, North Korea already has the capabilities to reach California with a nuclear weapon. If that doesn’t freak you out, it should. A. Because Kim Jong-un is one unstable motherfucker. B. Because Donald Trump is also one unstable motherfucker.
I wish I were exaggerating those points, but I’m not. And if you need proof, just read over the news from the past few days, when the little man (Jong-un is listed at 5-9, which means he’s probably 5-5) and the little-handed man have played a which-country-will-perish first game of Who Has the Bigger Dick? Bingo.
Now, of course, Southern California is—in part—Dana Rohrabacher’s turf, and our congressman also appears (or at least brags about it) to have a close relationship with the 45th president. So one might think Rohrabacher would speak up. Or have opinions on the matter. Or, in his role as a foreign policy guy, offer vital input that might guide our nations away from confrontation.
Well … um, no.
Rohrabacher, being Rohrabacher, has uttered nary a word. And why? Because he has no game, and he’s never been a player. It’s all about perception with this guy—occasional flareups during testimony, occasional appearances at local store openings. And then …
… into hiding.
I assure you, when the bombs are falling on Huntington Beach, Dana Rohrabacher will be in a bunker, cowering in the basement and crying over the Obama plot to ruin the United States.