Left behind

Charles P. Pierce writes:

"I was informed by reliable government sources that at 2:18 p.m. EDT on Wednesday, I would be receiving a text message from a notorious public sociopath.  It never happened.  Who do I call to report this?  Is someone in the Deep State using me for bait?"

I never got the big official message either.  When this became clear, I flashed back to the joke Woody Allen used to tell about his draft classification:  "In the event of war, I'm a hostage."  And in the event of national emergency -- whatever that may mean -- I am evidently a statistic.  Knowing that an eminent journalist was also unnotified makes me feel less lonely.  

Besides, this is a bunch who separate very young children from their parents and lose track of them; who tear up treaties like losing tickets at a racetrack; who pollute the earth with the mad abandon of dogs having their first encounter with snow; who respond to natural disasters like Laurel and Hardy without the well-meaning sweetness.  Why would anyone imagine they could make a phone call without fucking it up?