The Prohibition Against Pork

"I hate it when there's no bad guy."-- Joe Mantegna

In the week before the Tree of Life massacre occurred, there was a significant reaction on Twitter to Farrakhan’s now excoriated verbiage comparing Jews to termites, and I knew nothing about it, and raised my voice to suggest for those of us who wished to remain in ignorance on the matter, the collective scolding gave Farrakhan an undue legitimacy his fading relevance had long bypassed, at least on the merits. I mentioned that he had the same linear minded fixation with Jewish identity as when he appeared on Phil Donahue in our prehistoric analog era prior to the Digital Age, and it was suggested to me not to be too dismissive, especially in light of the fact that Keith Ellison's political aspirations are stained with Farrakhan's sphere of influence-- such influence he still holds with Nation of Islam, and I admit I was stymied by the brief colloquy. Then Bowers had his rampage which mortally wounded us all, collectively, whether Maga or never Trump; indeed, Trump rather capitulated that this casualty list out of Pittsburgh was too much for our collective psyche, and we're gamely flailing ahead, recoiling.

I myself am no longer quite capable to experience such devastation as that which lead my follower JD Landis to ask if Bowers would not have happened if Trump had not won in 2016. By this I do not mean my conscience isn't troubled, only that the quivering dissonance has been muted by my own personal calamity. I did not engage with my occasionally prurient gallows interest in such rhetoric as this, and what The Jerusalem Post offers up as confirmation is the farthest I go in an examination of Farrakhan's nefarious notoriety. I have reasons for this, reasons which, if I am to be sincere with myself, demand that I torture the matter out, follow the curve where it leads me, in between horrid power chair tilt naps and my current domineering submergence to the interpersonal regression to the care giver always at me, like a battering ram. If I am lucky, the grist will turn the mill further later this evening.