We cats have seen a lot of chatter online this week about Benedict Donald's mental state. As in, it's not good, and it's getting worse.
It's not just that Donald may feel the noose of impeachment (not to mention the investigations by the Attorney General of New York and other multiple inquests) tightening around him. It's that he's deteriorating because of dementia, or Alzheimer's, or something related to syphilis — because, you know, New York in the 1970s and 1980s was pretty wild, sex- and drug-wise.
His apparently involuntary grimacing during a visit to Westminster Abbey has gotten particular attention. Add that to his deteriorating language skills — TelePrompTer notwithstanding — and folks have really noticed a decline.
So with the news that the latest Trumpian restrictions on fetal tissue research were "the President's decision," we cats are reminded of George Santayana's warning that those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it.
In the 1980s, Ronald Reagan, already in the early stages of dementia, wrapped himself in the embrace of right-to-lifers, and condemned fetal tissue research that promised to cure Alzheimer's and other dementia-related disorders. What happened to Ronnie? He spent his last years in diapers and public silence, and died in 2004.
Thirty-plus years later, Benedict Donald — so clearly suffering from something — similarly wraps himself in the still-hateful embrace of the right-to-lifers and blocks federal fetal tissue research, thereby ensuring he will die a demented whackjob.
Do we feel sorry for either Ronnie or Donnie? Please.
In their separate ways, they both sentenced innocent people to undeserved deaths, and therefore we celebrate anything bad that happens (or has happened) to either of them. We cats HISS and PURR at the same time.
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