Emails between FBI agent Peter Strzok, head of counterintelligence, and his Department of Justice girlfriend, Lisa Page, revealed that the two of them were presenting talking points for FBI Director James Comey’s meeting with President Obama to keep him up to date on what the FBI and the Justice Department were doing to rig the election for Hillary Clinton. One may assume Obama was also involved in the FBI/DOJ insurance policy in the event of Donald Trump winning the election, which turned out to be using a fake dossier to obtain a FISA court ruling that allowed them to spy on the president elect, and then after the inauguration, to spy on the president of the United States in the hopes of finding something that would help them remove him from office. It is not yet clear that Obama, while president, was the guiding hand in all this, but in today’s climate he is likely guilty until proven innocent, or even more likely, guilty until proven guilty. It is also unclear that Attorney General Jeff Sessions has any interest in any of this, but we do because we’re all deplorable and ignorant hillbillies. I do not have a cell phone that sends my every movement and text or voice message to Google and the NSA, movements that consist primarily of moving from the couch to the kitchen table, but many others do, and are very well aware that everything they say, write and do is recorded somewhere. This is what is so strange about the tens of thousands of emails involved in the Clinton investigation and the coming investigation of the FBI and DOJ, where, in both cases, actual crimes were committed and not a few people are going to jail when it is all over. I for one am happy I’m just an ignorant and deplorable hillbilly from Philadelphia, home of the Super Bowl winner.

They called us all deplorable
Condition most incurable
But even not adorable
In time we’ll have our say
We never tried to fix a race
By lying right in FISA’s face
A crime you say, not just disgrace?
They’ll find crime doesn’t pay
A Special Counsel’s what we need
And need one with the utmost speed
And have him draw a special bead
On Barack’s DOJ
Who wanted Clinton not to lose
And so they knew they had to choose
Which crime they would decide to use
To let her win the day
Two counsels then are not enough
To cover all the naked stuff
The FBI can sure act tough
Pretending to obey
The laws that never, it appears
Applies to Clintons and their peers
Not for them are hot courtroom tears
They breed rot and decay
And yet the guillotine draws nigh
For DOJ and FBI
They’ll get strung up and strung up high
The emails show the way
And Hillary will be there too
As juries of twelve good and true
Bring down the curtain on this crew
And end this rotten play

Reality does not exist
And neither, friend, does time
With both seen through illusion’s mist
Reality a mime
A thousand years, a blink of eye
Is all the same in dreams
In deepest night, in darkest sky
The stars but flickering gleams
We walk through life, our path defined
Set in our bidden ways
Not knowing that the path is lined
With sudden yesterdays

My friend Og sat in front of his cave, sighing that things were just too darned complex. He looked at me and said:

It’s just all this complexity
Compounded by perplexity
And I confess that I don’t have a clue
The sun comes up too early
And my neighbor’s getting surly
And to top it all my woman’s overdue
As a family we were happy
And though most times things were crappy
We at least had food to eat and clothes to wear
But our families got together
And became a clan to weather
All the storms and strife we could no longer bear
After that we went to tribal
And although that made us liable
To the strains that growing large would put us through
For a time things were just great and
We became a city state and
Did I say my woman says she’s overdue
There was never a vacation
We became a big time nation
And we conquered those around us to survive
And of course you know the story
It was Empire and glory
It was conquer or we’d cease to be alive
When collapse came it came quickly
And my woman got quite prickly
I was Emperor of all that was in view
But now here I sit in sorrow
Broke, in debt, with no tomorrow
And my woman, friend, is three weeks overdue