MERCED, Calif. — Jeff Marchini and others in the Central Valley here bet their farms on the election of Donald J. Trump. His message of reducing regulations and taxes appealed to this Republican stronghold, one of Mr. Trump’s strongest bases of support in the state.Uh-huh. Because mere mortals couldn't possibly understand the logistical and financial requirements that farming to scale present to the farmer. What the fuck is with these people? It's bad enough that this dipshit seriously thinks that non-farmers or non-businesspeople have no concept of this, but it's even worse that he also seriously thinks that Clownstick does understand their dilemma to any significant level.
As for his promises about cracking down on illegal immigrants, many assumed Mr. Trump’s pledges were mostly just talk. But two weeks into his administration, Mr. Trump has signed executive orders that have upended the country’s immigration laws. Now farmers here are deeply alarmed about what the new policies could mean for their workers, most of whom are unauthorized, and the businesses that depend on them.
“Everything’s coming so quickly,” Mr. Marchini said. “We’re not loading people into buses or deporting them, that’s not happening yet.” As he looked out over a crew of workers bent over as they rifled through muddy leaves to find purple heads of radicchio, he said that as a businessman, Mr. Trump would know that farmers had invested millions of dollars into produce that is growing right now, and that not being able to pick and sell those crops would represent huge losses for the state economy. “I’m confident that he can grasp the magnitude and the anxiety of what’s happening now.”
Immigration was by far Clownstick's most consistent issue. Forget that he had no real plan or solution; forget that he clearly had no fucking clue about anything, including that particular subject. He tried, in his own inimitable, incoherent way, to make it his key issue. But it came out as a rambling obsession, like all his other obsessions the rambunctions of a drunk on a barstool in every Moe's Tavern across this land of ours.
Only someone who knew nothing at all about large-scale agriculture, who had no clue about what cracking down on immigrants had done to other states in the recent past, would talk like that, would say the things He, Clownstick said over and over and over again.
One thing these stupid anthropological ass-spelunkings have consistently found -- yet, paradoxically, failed to explain at all -- is how these people, already showing signs of buyers' remorse, keep saying things along the lines of I didn't think he was really going to do that. Really? Why not? He spent eighteen fucking months, holding rallies anywhere and everywhere, saying these things at each and every rally. He told them quite clearly and consistently what he was going to do, and now they're surprised that he's, you know, doing those things.
How does someone who considers themselves a serious person -- and trust me, these farmers take themselves and their occupation way too seriously, in the sense that they don't seem to realize that the conglomerates can take them over and streamline operations without batting an eye, that while what they do is difficult and complex, it is also highly trainable and scalable -- vote enthusiastically for a political candidate, while simultaneously assuming that they can cherry-pick which of that candidate's campaign promises actually will or will not be pursued? Especially when it's a volatile, temperamental personality with zero history or context to inform those assumptions?
This is what you voted for, you dumb assholes. Own it. Pick your own fucking radicchio. Let us know how that works out for you.
Beyond all the usual "fuck these bozos" schtick though, it jibes with the more "serious" ideological posturing from the hardcore bozos lurking in the internet woodwork. It makes sense that a defining element of these fascist closet-cases is that they define a "Great Man" type and hitch their wagon to him; what makes no sense (as with the Central Valley farmers) is why they identify Clownstick as said Great Man, someone whose name could be uttered in the same breath as that of Lincoln or Churchill with a straight face. The idea that Clownstick, with his uncommon combination of ignorance, incompetence, and treachery, even has the capability to be that sort of leader, is incomprehensible to anyone who not only has read accounts of his lengthy history of business fuck-ups, but has simply bothered to listen to his rallies on YouTube, or read the full interviews with him, and fact-check his nonsense.
The only things it seems safe to assume about Clownstick are evinced by his mannerisms, his spoiled upbringing, the stupid things he says, the things he clearly does not know, right down to that fucking dainty mobster thing he does with his hand to "reinforce" a point. He's never driven a car, ridden a motorcycle or an ATV, fixed or built anything, or even been in a fistfight. The rhythms and cadences and phrases of his speeches and conversations are those of the phony tough, of a guy who's always had bigger guys around to bail him out of the jams his mouth and his ego got him into. He's going to fuck over the radicchio farmers just like he'll fuck over the coal miners, because he doesn't know or care about their bullshit, only what they can do for him with their blind, stupid, misplaced adulation. He's going to fuck them good and hard, and they'll thank him for it while they blame someone else, because that's all they know how to do.
Ultimately it comes down to this: either you believe in gravity or you don't. It's America, and (for now) everyone has a choice, and obviously enough people who don't believe in gravity made that choice for everyone.
And it's a long hard drop. Buh-lieve me.