7 November—To celebrate their first birthday this morning, Hope and Glory the Scotties had hoped to dine at the exclusive Cat Litter Box. But Chef Timothy and Sous Chef Chloe hadn’t prepared the flavorful feculent feline feast, so the spoiled little bitches had to settle for pork femurs.

And we’re all delighted that Senator Christopher Murphy has been discharged from Johns Hopkins Hospital after suffering what turned out to be a small hemorrhagic stroke—a brain bleed—rather than a more common ischemic stroke (as we had ventured) a week ago. But he’ll be recovering in a rehabilitation facility.

You wonder why a rehab facility is necessary, since it’s not the norm for victims of small strokes. You also wonder why Senator Murphy doesn’t intend to drop by the Senate for several weeks, according to his office, and therefore will miss some important votes. Like impeaching Pete Hegseth and Bobby Kennedy Jr. Even with announced and increased GOP support, neither desideratum is likely to succeed, to be sure, but Chris surely would want his votes to impeach the buggers to be recorded.

So with his customary narcissistic buck-passing, Donald Trump credited Tuesday’s midterm Slaughter of the Republicans to everyone but himself:

“If I were on the ballot, we would have won. You saw the people that were packed. Thousands and thousands of people at every rally. And if I was on the ballot, we would have won. But they just . . . You couldn’t transfer that love. There was such love at those rallies. It was incredible. And, we weren’t able to transfer the love to candidates.”

Love indeed. The Republican candidates depending on Trump certainly had problems. But what does Trump know about love? The only love he has is for himself, after all. But he knows all about lust. Lust for pelf. Lust for power. Lust for control. Lust for fame. Lust for respect. Of course, lust for sexual gratification—although that’s likely just a manifestation of his lust for power and control.

Donald Trump is clearly delusional and demented, so it’s not unlikely he actually believes most of his bullshit. But, to his credit, he has said that he’s open to working with the Democrats. What a guy! And as a conciliatory gesture he just sacked hardliner Susie Wiles as his chief of staff (since the start of his second reign of terror and error) and replaced her with easygoing moderate Stephen Miller, everybody’s friend . . .

6 November—Yesterday Russell Brand was convicted in London of raping one woman and sexually assaulting three others and now is being investigated for another two rapes. So the obvious question is: Who the hell is Russell Brand?

And just a reminder: Donald Trump found himself in court for (among many other things in his litigious curriculum vitae) forcing himself on Jean Carroll. But thanks to New York’s statute of limitations he wasn’t charged with rape or sexual assault. In fact, he wasn’t charged with any crime. Rather, he was sued for civil damages—i.e., money—and found liable for forced digital—rather than penile—penetration—commonly known as a finger fuck—and consequent defamation for denying it.

So losers in civil court are found liable but not convicted while losers in criminal court are convicted and found guilty.

And Donald Trump was convicted and found guilty of 34 felony counts of falsifying business records in the first degree, making him a convicted criminal. In all honesty, however, even though Trump certainly is an unrepentant big-time criminal and deserves to spend the rest of his life behind bars (or, even better, on a chain gang), the felonies should have been charged as misdemeanors—if they should have been charged at all.

Because you don’t have to be a crook to falsify records and tax returns—intentionally or otherwise. Even the most honest, law-abiding, saintly—and diligent—business owners, accountants, and personal taxpayers do it in some degree . . .

5 November—This day in 1872 was Election Day, so in Rochester, New York, Susan B. Anthony voted, along with 14 other women who accompanied her. Problem was, back then it was illegal for women to vote. (The 19^th Amendment, which gave women the vote, wasn’t ratified until 1920, 14 years after Susan had died. Also back then, real voter fraud wasn’t uncommon.)

Since Susan and her supporters had to register beforehand, as part a national putsch that included about 50 women in Rochester, on 1 November she and a few of her sisters-in-suffrage from her ward were able to register at a barbershop serving as the registration office (before you ask, the barber wasn’t the registrar of voters) by threatening to sue the bastards for violating the four-year-old 14^th Amendment (which dealt with citizenship) if they weren’t allowed to sign up. The women in the other wards evidently couldn’t scare the bastards, so they didn’t get to redister. Of course, Susan publicized her brazen assault on male dominance—starting with invading the sanctum of a so-called “shaving saloon.”

You may wonder why Miss Anthony didn’t threaten to sue the bastards for violating the two-year-old 15^th Amendment, which dealt specifically with voting. Well, the male chauvinist congressional pigs who drafted it limited its coverage to citizens’ “race, color, or previous condition of servitude,” cleverly neglecting to mention gender. This was driven home by a unanimous U.S. Supreme Court in 1875 in Minor v. Happersett.

So on Election Day in 1872 Rochester the 15 suffragettes went to the polling venue, were given ballots, and voted. And all were arrested. Along with the male so-called election inspectors who had registered the women and allowed them to cast ballots. Susan’s distaff pals were never tried. The election inspectors were tried, convicted, fined, jailed when they refused to pay the hundred-dollar fines, and pardoned by President Grant.

Although Susan was arrested for a New York State crime, the U.S. attorney had her case moved to the federal circuit, so she was indicted in January 1873 for “wrongfully and unlawfully” casting a vote and tried in June—United States v. Susan B. Anthony—in federal court in Canandaigua, New York, Judge Ward Hunt presiding. Hunt, a successful lawyer and politician who naturally moved in the right circles and had been chief judge of the New York Court of Appeals (the state’s highest court), had recently been appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court and was riding the circuit, as SCOTUS justices were required to do in the old days.

The trial, which was closely followed by the press, was a classic kangaroo-court travesty of justice. Long story short, Hunt refused to allow Susan to speak, didn’t allow the jury to discuss the case, delivered his opinion—written before the trial had begun—on the second day, directed a guilty verdict, and refused to poll the jury.

So Hunt fined Susan $100. She naturally refused to pay it. Had he ordered her to be jailed until she paid the fine, she could have taken her case to the Supreme Court on a writ of habeas corpus. Not that it would have gone the right way—or anywhere, to be sure, but it would have given her some great press. In all events, Hunt didn’t order custody, doubtless only for public relations, so Susan B. Anthony never got to the SCOTUS forum.

And, yes, at SCOTUS in 1875 Justice Hunt was to enthusiastically concur in Minor v. Happersett. And, yes yes, Ward Hunt learned his law at the Litchfield Law School on South Street . . .

4 November—Where were Donald Trump’s election integrity police when they were needed to prevent the obvious voter fraud that overwhelmed this year’s elections, resulting in the return of Democrat majorities to both houses of Congress among other disasters? And we won’t even mention how the Democrats have further tightened their pernicious stranglehold on the dreaded and dreadful Connecticut trifecta that has been knackering home rule, pandering to public-employee unions, and bleeding the taxpayers for decades.

Okay, we mentioned it. And heartfelt condolences to probably and unfortunately soon-to-be-former State Senate Minority Leader—i.e., Republican—Stephen Harding, who at this writing is running about two percentage points behind Democrat newbie Aaron Zimmer. Aaron will be the first Democrat to represent the 30^th Senate District since 1980.

What else but massive voter fraud can account for the disastrous election results? Sure, early voting is part of it without a doubt, but even though Trump wasn’t running himself he ordered his faithful fools—sorry, followers—to vote like he was running.

On second thought, maybe too many people did vote like Trump, whom re-elected Georgia Senator Jon Ossoff defined—sorry, defamed—as a depraved, corrupt, and incompetent lame duck president, was in fact running. Or at least like he was responsible for everything he’s responsible for.

Thankfully, neither Democrat-controlled house of Congress will be able to do any real damage to America, which Donald Trump has single-handedly made great again, because their majorities, although impressive and admittedly phenomenal in the circumstance, just aren’t big enough.

In all events, it’s vital to the nation’s well-being that the executive—the president—isn’t of the same political persuasion as both houses of Congress, although some cynics would opine that it would be more beneficial if the executive—the president—weren’t Donald Trump.

It’s hoped, for instance, that the congressional Democrats won’t waste their time impeaching Trump. They didn’t get the 67 Senate votes they’d need to convict. Or to override a veto. In fact, they didn’t even get the 60 votes to cut off a filibuster under current rules.

The U.S. Senate’s Democrat majority is sufficient—and if the two outstanding races at this writing should go to the Republican candidates it wouldn’t matter anyway—that Trump’s equally principled Vice President Whatever-He’s-Called has been effectively castrated. His potential tie-breaking vote as President of the Senate is worth bupkes. And his presidential hopes have been flushed down the crapper with his foul balls.

Truth be told, the honorable thing for Donald Trump to do after this year’s well-deserved Republican electoral disaster would be to blow his brains out. But when has Donald trump ever done the honorable thing? Ever?

Meanwhile, as the nation and world start the Herculean task of undoing all the damage Trump has wreaked—while trying to contain and minimize what he’s certain to wreak in his remaining 808 days as an unstable, evil, senile lame duck . . .

3 November—Seven decades ago when I was a callow junior in high school, I heard some seniors talking about erections among themselves. I didn’t know what erections were, so not wanting to show my ignorance to the big boys I asked the first teacher I saw what an erection was. That’s when I learned that an erection was when the Japanese chose a plesident. I’ve since learned that rather than a plesident the Japanese actually have a plime minister, but he or she isn’t chosen by dilect erection.

Back in the U.S.A., then, Article I of the Constitution deals with elections in the same less-than-specific (but invariably for good reason) way it treats most matters of importance. On elections, it says: “The House of Representatives shall be composed of Members chosen every second Year by the People of the several States . . .” and “The Times, Places and Manner of holding Elections for Senators and Representatives, shall be prescribed in each State by the Legislature thereof; but the Congress may at any time by Law make or alter such Regulations, except as to the Places of chusing Senators.”

Article II says: “The executive Power shall be vested in a President of the United States of America. He shall hold his Office during the Term of four Years . . . together with the Vice President, chosen for the same Term. . . .”

Lest you forget, in the early days of the republic the presidential candidate who won the most electoral votes became president and the runner-up became vice president; it wasn’t until the Twelfth Amendment was ratified in 1803 that the prez and veep appeared on ballots as running mates. And it wasn’t until the Seventeenth Amendment was ratified in 1913 that U.S. senators were elected directly by state voters rather than legislatures.

And we’re still stuck with the outdated and counter-democratic Electoral College. And probably will be forever.

Lest you think that early voting is a recent stratagem devised by pols hoping to attract uninformed and generally unmotivated voters, until 1845—when Congress standardized the day for elections for federal elective offices as the first Tuesday following the first Monday of November—the individual states could hold federal elections any time in a 34-day window before the first Wednesday in November.

Now, of course, the early voting window closes on the first Tuesday following the first Monday of November—except for mailed-in absentee ballots—and is a bit shorter in most states. But, believe it or not, it’s even longer in a few states—like an absolutely ludicrous 45 days in Vermont, as well as over 40 days for in-person absentee voting in several other states.

But at least voting early offers greater opportunity to vote often . . .

2 November—It was surprising to read in today’s Hearst RepublicanAmerican that Senator Christopher Murphy had had a stroke on Saturday. Surprising for two reasons. First, unlike most news in the printed HRA, it wasn’t published later than in other printed rags. Second, who would have thought a young, presumably healthy kid like Chris Murphy would have had a stroke.

Just goes to show, you don’t have to be an old fart to experience—suffer—life-threatening medical events. Anyway, it’s good to read that Connecticut’s junior senator is on the mend.

We won’t speculate on the etiology of young Murphy’s surprise stroke (which, like any of his medical details, hasn’t been released as of this writing—and quite possibly shouldn’t be), whether it was hemorrhagic or ischemic, but it was probably the latter, which is far more common. So he’ll likely be on some sort of blood thinner for the rest of his life. Like aspirin.

Donald Trump takes a 325 milligram aspirin every day to keep his evil blood flowing clotlessly. Sad to say, it appears to be working.

It’s not unlikely that when news of Senator Murphy’s stroke broke, predatory—sorry, make that ambitious—Democrat pols in Connecticut got their hopes up. For his rapid and complete recovery, to be sure.

In the unlikely event Senator Murphy doesn’t return to the Senate for whatever reason or reasons, though, Governor Lamont is probably—as well he should be—considering whom to appoint to serve out the rest of Murphy’s term, at least until the next general election. In Connecticut, that requires the approval of two-thirds of both houses of the General Assembly—as well it should.

One of the predatory—sorry, make that ambitious—Connecticut Democrats who must be champing at the bit to get into the U.S. Senate is Luke Bronin, insidiously clever former Hartford mayor and current First District congressional candidate—after he engineered the overthrow of veteran congressman John Larson largely because Larson is 78 and Bronin is only 46. Bronin hasn’t been elected to the House yet, but can there be any doubt?

It’s irrelevant but worth noting that when—not if—Luke Bronin gets himself seated in the U.S. House of Representatives next January, little Connecticut will be the only state—quite probably ever—to have two Oxford University alumni serving in the House concurrently. As it happens, they’re both Rhodes Scholars, the other sitting Connecticut Oxonian congressman being Jim Himes.

Back to Christopher Murphy, then, there’s been some speculation of late that he’s been insinuating himself into candidacy for the 2028 Democrat presidential nomination. And that his stroke scotched that. But the grownups among us may recall that President Dwight Eisenhower—who was Chris Murphy’s age when he commanded Operation Overlord (D-Day) in 1944—suffered a heart attack (initially misdiagnosed as indigestion) in 1955, the middle of his first term, and went on to be elected to a second presidential term—during which he had a stroke. But he served out his two presidential terms with honor, distinction, and golf. And despite any number of health issues, Ike made it to 1969, when he died at 78.

Only 78? Makes you think . . .

1 November—This morning, Hope, Glory, and I woke up at our usual time, an hour earlier than the same time yesterday. Thanks to the semiannual great American onerous pain-in-the-ass totally gratuitous demonstrably counterproductive one-hour back-and-forth clock adjustment.

To his credit, Donald Trump wants Congress to ditch the switch, as ending the practice of changing clocks between Standard Time and Daylight Saving Time has come to be known informally, because it can be perilous, especially, as he reminds us, “when you have high and dangerous steeples to reach, like on churches and municipal buildings.” Who else would have thunk of that. Trump the populist clearly cares about people.

Of course, Trump wants permanent Daylight Saving Time—and for many of the wrong reasons, including that it gives more light later in the day for afternoon activities like golf—thus expanding his opportunity to cheat. (Apropos nothing, I haven’t played golf in something like 65 years, but I seem to recall that one of the downsides of the game was having to tee off at dawn. But that’s an argument for Standard Time.)

The U.S. House of Representatives agreed with Trump on a bipartisan but far-from-unanimous vote about permanent Daylight Saving Time. But the Sunshine Protection Act, as ditch the switch is officially known, has stalled in the Senate for a number of good reasons, including the danger of permanent Daylight Saving Time pushing winter sunrises past 9 a.m. in some regions, meaning that school kids and commuters would have to travel in early-morning darkness. And of course farmers and cows prefer to start the day with a bit of natural light.

Moreover, Permanent Standard Time is preferred by scientists and health organizations, including the American Academy of Sleep Medicine, to permanent Daylight Saving Time because natural morning sunlight aligns with human circadian biology much better than sunlight later in the day. And that, we’re told, evidently affects obesity, inter alia, through metabolic regulation, since health experts reckon that permanent Standard Time could (but not definitely would) reduce nationwide obesity by some 2.6 million cases while permanent Daylight Saving Time would (but not just could) reduce it by only 1.7 million cases.

Not that it matters, but Donald Trump’s excessive weight crosses the obesity threshold with Ex-Lax regularity. Just saying.

In all events, it really is time to ditch the switch and make America great again on permanent Standard Time . . .

31 October—Isn’t it strange that Benjamin Netanyahu in Israel and Flávio Bolsonaro in Brazil—until Monday, thanks to Donald Trump’s enthusiastic help in skipping the country—are bitching that the recent elections didn’t go their way because of voter fraud?

It certainly sounds like Donald Trump’s influence. As Trump sees it, there are two kinds of elections: the ones he and his toadies win and the ones that are stolen by fraud. QED. Of course, Trump naturally thinks in terms of fraud because he’s such an unrepentant—and now, thanks to a wayward Supreme Court majority—apparently unpunishable grifter.

And as America’s grifter-in-chief rails about nonexistent voter fraud while his taxpayer-funded personal shyster firm, the Department of Justice, blazes new trails in illegal election interference (as well as widespread intimidation not restricted to voting), full marks go to Pope Leo for taking his American citizenship seriously and dutifully exercising his franchise. As the boys in the Vatican put it, “The Holy See Press Office confirms that in keeping with this long-standing practice of civic participation, he has submitted his mail-in ballot in Chicago.”

Illinois doesn’t require party affiliation for registered voters, and Robert Prevost, alias Leo XIV, has voted in both Democrat and Republican primaries through the years, simply declaring his party preference. (We won’t get into the stupidity of effectively open primaries, which invite all manner of shenanigans that are lawful but awful.)

Of course, we don’t know whom Robert Prevost has voted for. Ever. And we won’t even speculate.

Incidentally, it was 42 years ago today that Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated in New Delhi—by two of her trusted Sikh bodyguards. Her son Rajiv succeeded her as PM and he too was assassinated. Given the sitting American vice president and the all the unfit links in the 25^th Amendment’s current chain of succession—i.e., everybody but everybody in Donald Trump’s corrupt cabinet—assassinating the president would simply be an exercise in futility. Still, the Secret Service . . .

30 October—First, it appears that some emails individually and specifically sent to addresses on servers including but—as far as we know—not limited to AT&T, Microsoft, Google, and Optimum from pmrosenberg@optonline.net and Editor@LitchfieldMonitor.com are not reaching their addressees but are not being bounced back. Randomly. So we have no idea when they’re not being received as intended. These same addressees evidently have been receiving the Monitor’s daily link as intended—as far as we know.

In all events, neither we nor our own internet experts nor the English-speaking ones at Altice Optimum have any bloody idea what the hell is going on. (But of course it’s not Altice’s fault.) Or how to remedy the unacceptable situation. It appears in all events that even the U.S. Postal Service is more reliable than the internet.

On to the daily disquisition, then, a couple of days ago Donald Trump’s testosterone-crazy (and crazed?) warlord fired yet another general officer—but this time, it appears, not without some possible justification, because Army Lieutenant General Brett Sylvia has admitted leaking classified information about Ukraine and Iran to reporters. What and why remain to be seen.

In all events, Pentagon Pete Hegseth removed Sylvia from his post as director of strategy, plans, and policy on the Joint Chiefs of Staff, whereupon Sylvia chose to retire after 32 years of service.

Smart move for Sylvia, since his pension will be over $180,000 a year, almost as good as many Connecticut State Police and Department of Correction retirees who put in excessive overtime in their best three years. And Sylvia and Mrs. Sylvia (and any non-adult children) will get Tricare, among the best health insurance available in the United States.

So a reporter asked Trump for a comment on Sylvia’s dismissal, referring to “General Sylvia.” Always on top of everything—when he’s awake—the ignoramus-in-chief gave Brett Sylvia both barrels: “She’s got problems. She’s gonna have big problems. We’re very much looking for leakers.”

Okay, that’s Trump, whose ignorance and insouciance are as notorious as his corruption, bullying, unquenchable grudges, and instability. But did he really think that a reporter would refer to a general by her first name in a formal context? Or is that simply another manifestation of his equally notorious disrespect for women?

Come to think of it, does Donald Trump really think at all?

29 October—29 October was a Tuesday in 1929 and is remembered as Black Tuesday because on that day prices on the New York Stock Exchange tumbled. It followed Black Monday (28 October, to save you the trouble of working it out through calendar calculus), when prices had plummeted, and Black Thursday, 24 October, when prices had plunged.

If you’re wondering about the Friday between Black Thursday and Black Monday, its date was 25 October and it continues the melanic sequence as Black Friday—even though the NYSE actually enjoyed a rally, however moderate and brief, thanks in part to President Herbert Hoover’s reassurance that the country was on a “sound and prosperous basis.”

You’d figure it would have been more appropriate to call the days of market decline and negative numbers red days rather than black. But in English linguistic tradition (and Western tradition in general, dating back at least to Ancient Rome), the color black has negative association—tragedy, catastrophe, and the like, but never skin pigmentation.

And in the 1920s, moreover, with the rise of communism in the Soviet Union, the color red—from the red flag (with gold hammer and sickle; and red star with wide gold border)—had distinctly non-capitalist association.

Ignore the fact that the Soviet government, having established trade relations with the Brits, bought three Rolls-Royce Silver Ghosts in 1922 for use by Vladimir Lenin and other VIPs. After all, why shouldn’t a dictator have a fancy car?

And lest you wonder, while most of the world suffered from the capitalist financial collapse in the 1930s known as the Great Depression, the communist Soviet Union didn’t suffer and in fact saw massive industrial and economic growth—along with humanitarian catastrophe driven by forced collectivization, labor camps, political purges, and man-made famine . . .

28 October—After losing Brazil’s presidential election Sunday (although he hasn’t conceded) and fleeing the country yesterday, Flávio Bolsonaro arrived in Miami this morning, along with his wife and daughters. Just like that. Certainly reminiscent of Kosta Diamantis’s allegedly unpremeditated powder to Greece last month, but quite possibly—if not probably—contingently premeditated and with the alacritous collusion of Donald Trump, who just happens to be an admirer and defender of Flávio’s papai, former Brazilian president Jair Bolsonaro, who’s in prison for five of the offenses Trump should be in prison for but isn’t.

(The five offenses Jair Bolsonaro was convicted of, by the way, are: taking part in an armed criminal organization; attempting to violently abolish democratic rule of law; plotting a coup d’état; damaging government property; damaging protected cultural assets. Trump clearly is guilty of all five—and not just for what he did 6 January 2021—even though he’s unlikely ever to face the consequences.)

Flávio Bolsonaro has been accused of and investigated for corruption, money laundering, tax evasion, and illicit financial ties. Sound familiar? So he needed to be elected for the same reason Trump needed to be re-elected and Benjamin Netanyahu still hopes at this writing to keep his job as Israel’s prime minister and prolong his war with Hamas and Iran.

The State Department doesn’t normally issue visas of any kind at a moment’s notice—on demand, you might say—and it hasn’t volunteered what kind of visas the Bolsonaro clan have been granted. But it pays to have a corrupt friend in the highest place and lots of toadies to do his malevolent bidding. So Flávio Bolsonaro and his family got their U.S. visas pretty soon after the Brazilian election results came in and even though the country’s supreme court had publicly ordered him to surrender his three passports—personal, diplomatic, and Italian (since 2023)—and evidently canceled the Brazilian ones just in case he didn’t.

Not that it mattered, mind you, because Brazil’s membership in the Mercosur group—Mercado Común del Sur, a South American trade bloc and customs union—would have allowed any Brazilian citizen to cross various borders using only a national identity card. Flávio, wife, and daughters flew to Argentina, a Mercosur member, and thence to Ecuador, an associate member. And thence, of course, to Miami.

Don’t ask why Brazil’s Supremo Tribunal Federal didn’t cancel Flávio’s national ID card—because it wouldn’t have made a difference in the circumstance.

And if Donald Trump weren’t out stumping for what we hope are losing Trumpublicans, it’s not unlikely he’d have been at Miami-Opa Locka Executive Airport to greet the chartered Gulfstream G400 that delivered Flávio and fam to the Sunshine State.

What about extradition, then? Get serious. At least while Trump is abusing the presidency . . .