It just never quite goes away,  the hot rage I feel at so many things.

I have been trying to address it, and not give the power to things to upset me–but it’s hard to undo sixty-eight years of learning the art of the insult that began with a mother who spewed verbal diarrhea and recrimination at everyone.

But rage is what we should all be feeling toward the Trump administration, the bad actors among the personnel, what has transpired in a mere three weeks.

At the moment this anger attaches to Stephen Miller, a senior Trump advisor, who appears to have written the piece of drek that Trumpsky bellowed at the inauguration—and fast forward to last week, that he played surrogate and spin doctor on the talk shows.

Miller appears to be Trump’s little wind-up doll, and the kind of ubiquitous self-aggrandizing player I can’t stand.  He is a reflection of Trump’s erratic and incomprehensible choices.  I just tried to find him on Twitter; if anyone out there knows what his handle is, let me know.

Miller represents the worst of the ethnic stereotype, inviting, with his sense of entitlement and arrogance,  the antisemitic feelings no one is supposed to have ever, let alone admit to.


David Corn and Mother Jones are right that Miller is an odd man out in being both a.  a Jew and b. a White Nationalist.

Miller recently aroused the ire of Joe Scarborough, who last week on Morning Joe was clearly itching to call him something really bad.

If Herr Trump is impeached or deposed per Amendment 25, he will have to look in the mirror, but he will also need to look at, and see, what he has done to us all with the treacherous General Flynn, the white supremacist asshole Bannon, and, it would seem, the little  puppet Stephen Miller, who is in love with himself.  Maybe Trump has a thing for him–you know, that sort of thing.

Bugger,  what we couldn’t do with some ripe footage of presidential indiscretions.