Kim, to be sure, and despite his horrendous stature as a human being, should be praised for coming up with the perfect nickname for our President, who has been called far worse by liberals and outraged democrats and even by those of his own party on whom the President has turned with a viciousness seldom seen among republican haters of at least half of all Americans.
One high level GOP personage seen often on the TV political panels referred to the Dotard as “a horses ass.”
The “Dotard” is the perfect replacement for the “Donald.” The dictionary refers to a dotard as somebody in “their dotage, or state of senile decay marked by decline of mental poise and alertness.” This sounds about right, meaning a dotard teeters on the brink of dementia, thus the temper tantrums and wee hour tweets of incoherent aggression against all those plotting against him, which sounds eerily like Kim Jong Un himself, a verified paranoid infantile lunatic according to almost all objective appraisal.
The Dotard has referred to the North Korean leader, who is very young and possibly feels pretty smug and secure calling the Donald the Dotard, as “Rocket Man” and a “madman” and threatened to blow his country up with “fury and fire,” so that nobody remains alive in so many words, while the Rocket Man has called The Dotard a “gangster, a rogue, and a frightened dog fond of playing with fire,” and threatened to blow the USA into cinders. Over the past few months, the two of them have continued their threats to blow the countries they represent into smithereens, like two immature 8 year old's in a playground like the one I grew up in in Compton, California, a rough working class blue collar town where bullies abounded and you learned clever ways of skirting or dealing with them.
For instance, on a street one block away from where I lived, Jerry McCauly and Nels Pierson, who were high school juniors, permitted none of us kids in junior high to pass their houses on either side of this street without fear of being chased down and beaten to a pulp. They guarded their street like pit bulls. Everybody hated them. They lived next store to each other and were merciless mean asses.
Well, Danny Fowler and myself, both thirteen years old, had a plan. As we approached their house, on the way downtown, they jumped away from polishing their cherried out cars in driveways and ordered us to turn around and take the next street over. We were both good athletes and fast sprinters, so we gave them some lip but turned around, took the next street over, and, on the way downtown, where a housing project was being built, we secured long lead pipes, and turned back around with these pipes mostly hidden in our britches. When we approached Nels and Jerry, they instantly strode toward us, sneeringly calling us “little punks,” and Fowler and I instantly pulled out and wielded our pipes menacingly and exclaimed, “this makes YOU punks, you fucking stupid asshole motherfuckers!”
Well, the two of them sprinted to their garage and actually came after us with pitch forks, screaming like banshees. We instantly tore down the street, easily out running them and never went down their street again, at least until they were gone from the neighborhood.
This is a lesson the Dotard, who recently continued threatening Un and North Korea before hundreds of world leaders in his speech at the UN, should learn, but of course he did not grow up in a place like Compton. What I learned much later, in the army, and as a bartender in one of the roughest, uncivilized, violent fisherman's bars on the west coast, is that you do not trade insults with violent lunatics and criminals. You do not confront and incite and insult them. Nor do you bow down to them. To keep peace in the establishment, you talk to them and always keep calm. You compliment their huge scary dogs. You bring up subjects they prefer, like fishing, hunting, or boxing, and subtly develop an easy rapport, so that eventually they do not look upon you as a future threat, an enemy, or a coward to bully, either, but instead somebody to actually visit from time to time and shoot the bull over a beer.
This policy almost always works and should be pursued to the ultimate to avoid a fight, which never settles anything and always ends in physical pain, injury, maiming, and somebody's humiliation and taste for revenge.
The Dotard has to stop calling Un names, and the republican idiots who have never had their asses kicked have to stop claiming that by using the Dotard's tactics of name calling and petty belittling and threats and confrontation that he is confusing and perhaps intimidating and scaring his fellow idiot lunatic.
But what he is really doing is provoking him into a nuclear meltdown while acting like an 8 year old in a school yard who's never been in a real fight in his life.
Why didn't somebody kick the Dotard's ass but good a long time ago...