The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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Who would’ve guessed, right? Some 35,000 year old warrior channeled through J.Z. Knight right down the road from us in Yelm, WA, pounds his fist and high fives the President. And this was a week BEFORE the Trumpster ordered up 59 Tomahawk sandwiches for the Syrians. I assume Ramtha isn’t Syrian. Lemurian, actually, but where exactly Lemur is, your guess is pretty much as good as mine. Mine is that it’s a country right behind the hippocampus region of Oz and that Trump will be sending Ivanka’s husband Jarud over there as Ambassador –at-Large once Jarud’s cleared up the Palestine/Isreali spat and brought peace to Iraq and business-ized D.C. and neutralized ISIS and … well, pretty much squared up the world, probably a month or so at most.

John McCain and Lindsay Graham, two boyz who never met a war they didn’t love, thought it was a great start, those cruise missiles, but hopefully they were just a nice prelude to some regime change in that war-torn country. Iraq, Egypt, Yemen, Libya, all lessons lost on them. The Trump team crowed that now the world will respect us at last and the about face of the Commander-in-Chief, who ran against further involvements abroad, should put the fear of the Christian God into nations that thought we’d become weak and ineffectual, especially given the unpredictability of American policy now. “They can’t be too sure what we’ll do,” the advisors claimed, rightfully so.

Course, we can’t be too sure either. One day pro-Russia, next day not. One week all for letting Syrians decide on Assad’s fate, next minute a proclamation that he has to go. One pronouncement, health care reform is dead, next one a few days later, not so fast, we’re working on a deal. Pretty obviously, consistency is the hobgoblin of their little minds. Better to be nimble, keep the enemy off balance. Including us. Trouble is, the administration is too. In a world where stability was once considered paramount to peace, these are troubling times.

But … when push finally comes to shove, when the Trumpster decides, after a particularly fitful sleep, that North Korea needs a fat wake-up call, trust me, he’s not going to send in the Tomahawks or even Steve Bannon. Too dangerous. After all, they got nukie eggs and a million soldiers in uniform. Who’s he gonna call? Jared Kushner? I don’t think so. He’s gonna call his old buddy Ramtha. And god help those silly North Koreans. We got the Warrior King on our side now.

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