I’m old enough to remember reading daily and seeing pundits on TV hourly weighing in on Joe Biden being old, decrepit, unfit, unhealthy – and, let’s be square, it was probably fair, given his age.
Donald Trump turns 80 next month, is about as obviously on the dementia spectrum as is possible, and …
Look at those hands.
Not a peep from the White House press corps about any of it.
The guy is one step away from wearing those oven mitts that MLB players wear when they get on base, but oddly, not one question of Trump about it, and it’s not for lack of opportunity.
The guy can’t breathe without a camera and microphone to blather into.
Why is nobody who is given access to be within smelling range of the guy asking:
Hey, Mr. President, what is that caked on your hands?
Everybody with a byline in D.C. gets to talk with the guy on the phone.
Ask him!
Sir, about the splotches …
Biden was fair game, but Trump is off limits?
After he talks around whatever is about to put him six feet under, maybe ask about the overwrought scribbles with the sharpie that he makes in lieu of actually signing legislation.
For all the issues he and the media made of Biden’s autopen, Trump not actually signing his name to things seems worth exploring.
Mr. President, are you functionally illiterate?
The people have a right to know.
But we can’t bother the press corps with such nonsense.
I mean, asking anything remotely off script might get that pass yanked, and for god in heaven’s sake, those passes, they’re gold!
They should be badges of shame, and if there is a god in heaven, one day, they will be.
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Chris Graham
