The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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An Alabama church put this up on their readerboard: They Falsely Accused Jesus. Vote Judge Roy Moore! I guess if you think ‘they’ falsely accused the Son of God, you should probably vote for the Republican candidate for U.S. Senate, the righteous and indignant Judge Roy. I personally am not sure who was accusing Jesus for something he didn’t do, but hey, it’s been a long time, and like Trump always says in regard to Judge Roy’s transgressions, it’s been a long time. Me, I’d probably just say Jesus died for his sins, let it go.

Politics and religion are always a volatile mix. The American Taliban, all those Bible thumping holier-than-me yahoos think they ought to be able to preach politics from the pulpit, and of course they do. I just think they ought to have their tax exemptions pulled and then they can rant and rave to their heart’s content. Course, today Trump just announced the United States will consider Jerusalem the capital of Israel which made a whole lot of evangelicals very happy. The rest of the world, not so much. Kind of screwed up the Middle East negotiations and if anyone was paying attention, the Holy Land is a mess these days. So why throw a monkey wrench into the works???

Half of Alabama thinks it’s okay to vote in a child predator. The man has been banned from malls for menacing young women fer Chrissake. C’mon, children, you really think that’s forgivable?? He certainly hasn’t repented and he certainly is guilty. But you want to vote him in as Senator of your proud state? The great state of Alabama, home to Gov. George, segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever, Wallace?

What kind of funky facile religion do you folks practice down there in the humid South? You read that Bible you like to quote so often? You listened to your boy Jesus? You ever read the New Testament? Or do you just preach what you practice?? Check out a little piece of wisdom called the Golden Rule, chillen, something about doing to others what you’d like them to do to you. And don’t tell me you’d like to prey on young girls. Although … that would explain a lot.

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Alabama, you got
the weight on your shoulders
That’s breaking your back.
Your Cadillac
has got a wheel in the ditch
And a wheel on the track

Alabama, as Neil Young lamented, is a damn mess. The President’s spokeswoman, Huckabee’s daughter, unabashedly aware the Chief has his own harassment issues to deal with, tells reporters after she’s demanded they tell her what they’re thankful for this Thanksgiving, no doubt thinking she’s running a 3rd grade class of stupid students, that the voters should decide whether Judge Roy Moore should be the next Senator of that proud state.

I guess the logic here is that if Donald Trump was elected President, the voters have substituted the ballot for the force of justice in the judicial system. You got a Groper-in –Chief, why not a pederast Senator? The voters say okay, I guess it’s okay. Or like Trump says, better Moore than some liberal.

This is the state of politics in America these days. Neil Young could’ve substituted America for Alabama. Our Cadillac has a wheel in the ditch.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. Sarah Huckabee Sanders wants to know what we’re thankful for before she’ll take a question. I’m thankful for Neil Young, Sarah. My question is how can the President of the United States support a pederast over a Democrat who isn’t particularly liberal and how is it, as a woman, you’re not ashamed every damn day to speak up for this Harasser?

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I’ve always wondered how the evangelical voters could ever support a guy like Donald J. who admitted, on camera no less, to groping women. Does the whole Man is the Head of the Household thing work to justify whatever us guys want to do with our women? Never mind that there are laws against this sort of sexual assault. Never mind that we’re watching a herd of harassers dragged into the police line-ups for all of us to identify. I might understand if they confessed and asked for some Christian forgiveness. But not too many do and most just point an accusatory finger at their own accusers, calling them liars and political operatives.

Judge Roy Moore definitely is my poster boy for this sort of malfeasance. He’s an avowed firebrand of a Christian, a family values sort of guy, impeccable evangelical credentials, a man who fought the Hard Fight against the secular legal establishment to bring the 10 Commandments into the Alabama State Courthouse. Now, of course, he has half a dozen women, once teenagers he hit on when he was in his 30’s and feeling more than his oats, coming forward to tell their sordid stories. The Judge avows how this is nothing more than a political hatchet job. Why didn’t they press charges back when?

Times change, Judge. Ask Anita Hill. She brought her case to the white men on the Judiciary Committee about to rule on Clarence Thomas’ fitness for the Supreme Court. And she got browbeaten on a national stage pretty handily. You want to take a turn in the docket next? Not me. And not most women who could easily imagine their careers ruined, their co-workers turned hostile, their notoriety smeared with mud and blood.

Well, times do change. The Judge declared that these spurious accusations were nothing less than an attack on his character. No kidding? I guess that’s why they made you a judge. But Roy, this isn’t the 20th Century anymore, or in your case, the 19th. No, little buddy, this is Now and your Day is over. Even if the fine folks of ‘Bama vote you in as Senator, you’re a Pariah. Look it up, Judge, it’s a biblical expression. And that excuse from some of the evangelicals down there that Joseph and Mary were consenting statutory rapists by today’s standards, see if that holds up in court as a defense.

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Pity the poor men! Every day some sad schnook who was riding high on ego and money and power, gets dragged down into the mob of angry women ready to have at his sorry manhood with sharp tongues and sharper fingernails. One day it’s that creepy monster Weinstein or Winestain or whoever, the prototypical casting couch perv who not only seduces young wannabee actresses but threatens the established ones with smear campaigns that undoubtedly would ruin careers. Hugh Hefner died last month and boy howdy, that signaled the end of an era of boys having their way with girls.

Hef surrounded himself with a bevy of young talent, lounged lasciviously in his black satin pajamas and thought he’d discovered a New World of permissive sex and exploitation. Guess he missed the Roman Empire. Power brings many rewards, but as the boys at the Pilot Lounge like to say, money talks and bullshit walks. For all our lives the frat boys and the fat cats have had their way with their female counterparts. Women’s Lib opened some doors, but behind a lot of them, they still encountered the predatory male, the guy who can’t translate NO and doesn’t expect rejection, not from some pretty little underling.

Every day now another rogue molester finds his accusers shaking fists and talking to the press. Movie actors, congressmen, judges, professors, you name it, the spotlight is veering this way and that. Poor Judge Roy Moore, newly off his campaign win for GOP Senatorial nominee of the great state of Alabama, is being accused of groping a 14 year old girl. Even in Alabama this is considered beyond the usual pale, they don’t care if he WAS the chief justice of the state Supreme Court and fought valiantly for bringing the 10 Commandments into the courthouse. (Well, 9 Commandments if you throw in the prohibition against sex with someone other than your wife.)

Even Jesus’ old man Joseph was called out by the Alabama state auditor, purportedly in defense of Judge Moore, for being an adult dating Mary, an underage teen at the time. The auditor, apparently felt that what was okay for the parents of the Son of God was certainly good enough for the beleaguered Judge. My own take is that they should be glad the statute of limitations is a couple thousand years past due date. But not for the Judge.

#MeToo is a train that’s barely left the station and already the bodies are piling up under the cowcatcher. The chatter at the morning breakfasts in the South End Diner is way less vociferous, almost whispers now. It’s as if we can nearly hear the testosterone drying fast in the hot winds of this new climate. Who knows who’ll be missing next week? Who among the assembled caffeinated is without sin? Who can say where the next finger points.

Danny the Dagger, our geriatric playboy of days long past, maybe summed it up best. “If those people thought they were safe after Trump admitted groping women then got elected anyway, they better hope they own a few very tall Towers and half a dozen golf courses too. My money’s on the women now. Trump better climb to the top of his own damn Tower and bolt the doors, they’ll be coming for him too. God help us all.”

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