Tuesday, September 13, 2016
How To Make A Ball Of Yarn From A Sweater
Looking over the last three posts, I'd like to take one more bite at the apple, only this time being strictly clinical.
Arguendo, we will even assume that Cover Story 3.0, "pneumonia-induced dehydration", is exactly what it is claimed to be.
How well does that fit the facts here?
1) I've had actual "walking" pneumonia, for real. In my twenties.
It absolutely kicked my 20-year old ass, around the block, and down the hill.
Forget about what it would do to a corpulent 68-year old woman.
I did not, for instance, simply go into an air-conditioned apartment for an hour, and come bouncing back to normalcy, same day.
Not just no, but HELL NO.
I was put on a course of antibiotics for a week. I dropped half my college classes for a semester, and it took two weeks at home, doing abso-effing-lutely nothing, to get to where I could come back and struggle through the half that I didn't drop.
And before and after I got to that point, I looked and felt like death warmed over, thinking I just had a bad chest cold. I did not, for example, look bright and perky in the morning, and then faint dead away in a matter of an hour and a half on a pleasant fall day.
Conclusion: Shrillary did not suffer a bout of pneumonia, and is not recovering from one now.
2) If you're the Secret Service protecting a principal, who suddenly has an acute case of falling flat out cold and damn near face-planting in Manhattan, you don't take them to an apartment; you take them to the nearest emergency room, stat (which is Latin for "right effing now"). This point is not open to discussion from the non-syncopal political hacks in the protectee's party.
Conclusion: This was not a syncopal episode from anything acute, like recently diagnosed pneumonia.
3) The actual medical treatment for acute dehydration, once again, is not air conditioning in an apartment.
It's 2 or more liters of IV fluids, bolused onboard as fast as the patient will tolerate, along with immediate laboratory bloodwork and a head CT, to rule out things like a stroke, a tumor, and a plethora of other medical possibilities, etc., and a 12-lead EKG to rule out anything cardiac-related.
Conclusion: This was not a case of dehydration, induced by pneumonia.
4) When the protected principal goes down, the Secret Service does not nonchalantly catch them, toss them into a van, and whisk them to an apartment in Manhattan. They spring into action like linebackers on crack, and would, as a rule, trample the living fuck out of any staff too slow in getting out of the way.
There are only any number of incidents and even National fricking Geographic specials on the Secret Service to document this, at your leisure, should you be inclined to doubt it.
Conclusion: This was not a sudden, unexpected event, like a case of dehydration and a fainting spell, but rather one of a long-playing series of events where this principal has totally lost consciousness, and the phalanx demonstrated here was all about hiding what was going on from prying eyes, rather than springing to aid a surprisingly stricken protectee.
5) When someone running for the presidency is diagnosed by a competent medical doctor with pneumonia on Friday, but said candidate is too hard-headedly stoopid to take a rest break, you don't wait until they publicly fall unconscious on Sunday to prescribe them antibiotics for that previously diagnosed pneumonia, and you hand them the goddam pills on schedule several times every day and watch them swallow them, until they're either well, or on a multi-day rest period.
Conclusion: This was not an actual diagnosed case of pneumonia on Friday, as both Clinton and her campaign hacks, as well as the doctor in question, have lied, and it probably isn't one now either.
6) When someone previously diagnosed with pneumonia needs a break, you don't walk them slowly away, for hundreds of yards, forcing them to expend energy and stamina they don't possess, and then prop them up while you wait for the Executive Waahmbulance to get to you. You get them to the nearest secluded place of rest and recovery you can, even if that's a VIP pop-up tent out of sight, and you get them off their feet, right effing now, and bring the Waahmbulance to Mohammed. Over barricades and pedestrians, if it comes to that. And you have a "poop-out" golf cart, or the like, handy and just out of sight, to expedite exactly the extraction that occurred, without forcing your boss to have an Asphalt Brunch on national television from being walked into catatonia and syncope.
Conclusion: The staff knew before the event that there was no pneumonia, nor was any such diagnosis made, and that's why no such precautions were taken nor were eventualities for dealing with it planned and war-gamed out ahead of time.
7) Incipient and/or latent pneumonia doesn't cause coughing fits weeks before felling the patient, nor cause uncontrollable head nodding 400 times in an hour, nor cause one to constantly position their hands in awkward places to keep them busy, and prevent such manifestations as "pill-rolling". Nor does pneumonia cause you to become startled easily, roll your head around like a bobblehead in an earthquake, nor cause you to go rigid, unable to ambulate, unable to move your legs, unable to maintain your balance, or unable to do anything but imitate a sack of potatoes headed for the ground.
Oh, but things like Parkinson's Disease cause all of that.
Conclusion: This was not a pneumonia manifestation, but rather it was a public outing of a long-concealed and very advanced case of Parkinson's Disease, a progressive, debilitating, and ultimately incapacitating neurological disorder.
8) Given Shrillary's past hardships in finding the truth with both hands, a map, and a search party, and the ongoing retinue of people who are plainly nothing but medical caregivers in her daily entourage, Shrillary didn't discover that she had Parkinson's Disease on Sunday, unlike the rest of America. She has to have known about it for months, if not years. Which means, knowing this to be so, a conscious, long thought-out, and deliberate plan was made to lie about this to everyone, long and hard, and even after any shred of pretense about the truth was any longer defensible (at least to anyone who doesn't wear a football helmet on outings to the store or ice cream shop).
Conclusion: The is a world-class fraud, perpetrated against first of all her supporters, then against the entire Democrat Party, and ultimately against the entire nation. Which, if you're a Clinton, is simply who you are, and what you do.
Sunday was the DNA-stained dress that finally revealed to the entire nation exactly what a ruthlessly dishonest, calculating, and conniving witch has garnered the Democrat nomination to the presidency, long beyond the time when anyone less venal and selfishly ambitious would have thrown in the towel, and retired from public life with some semblance of dignity.
9) If your cover story is overheating (on a 77-degree morning with a light breeze and mid-range humidity), and your fall-back medical facility is the daughter's apartment, it's probably best to go to the building your daughter lives in, and not the one she USED to live in, which "coincidentally" also not only doesn't feature your daughter's residence, but DOES have a home health care agency located inside instead. And you know this, because you realize everyone has Google and the internet, and will catch you lying about lying about lying within another day or three.
Conclusion: This lame-as-hell cover story, as lame as a dog with no legs, and already the third lame attempt to mis-explain something that's become painfully and inescapably obvious, was whipped up on the fly by people too effing incompetent to escape from a wet paper bag, nor pour piss out of a boot when the instructions to do so are written on the heel.
Q.: What do you call a dog with no legs?
A.: What difference does it make? He's never going to come to you anyways, nor do the tricks you want.
And neither is this latest Cover Story 3.0 going to suffice to cover for Shrillary's ongoing physical unfitness meltdown.
Q.: Where do you find a dog with no legs?
A.: Right where you left him.
Which is why, despite all the efforts to get people not to believe their lying eyes, both Shrillary and her campaign are metaphorically still lying face down on a Manhattan side street, and overwhelmingly, it's because they're all still lying.