Apparently the new thing in the politics is for the mayors to become crime waves.

R. Scott Silverthorne, he is the mayor of Fairfax, Virginia. He also maintained a tube in which he offered methamphetamine to men willing to have sex with him and some other men.

Silverthorne, 50, indicated that he could provide methamphetamine for sexual encounters and undercover detectives agreed to meet for a group sexual encounter in exchange for methamphetamine, police said. Silverthorne arranged to bring methamphetamine and other men, police said.

Detectives met Silverthorne at the Crowne Plaza Hotel in McLean on Thursday and he was arrested after he gave them methamphetamine, police said.

When you are an American, you are not allowed to have methamphetamine, when you have sex with the men.

Neither are you permitted to get naked with the minors and load them up on alcohol. That is why Anthony Silva, mayor of Stockton, California, he was put in the pokey. It seems that, when not mayoring, Silva runs himself a "youth camp," where he whips out the liquor and then invites the young people to join him in a game of strip poker. Suffering from some sort of Nixon disease, Silva decided to tape these encounters, and now Mean Police, they have the tapes, and Silva, he is in Trouble.

Previously Silva had some Trouble when a 19-year-old woman accused him of sexual battery, the city manager charged him with secretly taping their conversations (more Nixon disease), and there occurred a fracas in a limousine, which caused police to handcuff the mayor while a woman ululated that Silva had inappropriately gone Clenis on her. Silva also had a firearm that got itself stolen; the gun then fired into a house, before killing a 13-year-old boy who was standing in his driveway. The cop people are claiming that Silva is declining to provide information in the homicide investigation, apparently because he doesn't Feel Like It.

Released on bail, Silverthorne and Silva united to form the Meth & Minors party, with which they now seek to become the president, and vice-president, respectively. They have already seriously redrawn the electoral map, as political analysts expect the Meth & Minors party to prevail this November in at least West Virginia, where four years ago some 41% of the Democrats voted for a Texas prison inmate, rather than cast ballots for The Kenyan.

We do not have any meth or minors around this place. Here, the current major excitement is the plum tree by the front porch. It is sprawling onto the roof again, which is the way we like it: the squirrels can thereby stand on the shingles and plum-dine at their lesiure. Sometimes some of the squirreled plums roll off the roof and plop down onto the ground, where at night the deer come by and finish them off. I begrudge none of these animals none of these plums, because I don't eat them. It's nice to know they're there, though. For, like, if The Hairball, he somehow beats out the Meth & Minors party, and becomes the president, and then he issues a Decree, that I can no longer shop in the markets, because I touch brown people, then I will go for the plums. And arm-wrestle the squirrels for the walnuts. Etc.

I will also be eating the plums and the walnuts in 2040, when there won't be any markets, because all the power will be devoted to running the computers.

A leading technical organised [sic] called the Semiconductor Industry Association has produced a study which said that computer-crazy society will be running short of electricity by 2040.

It wrote: "Computing will not be sustainable by 2040, when the energy required for computing will exceed the estimated world's energy production."

All of the humans, they will live in the caves, and eat shoots and leaves, while the computers, they hum on. I expect that by then all the computers will be united in one big computer, like in the true-life documentary film Colossus: The Forbin Project, and that this one computer to rule them all shall blat forth as The Hairball's twit machine, which will ceaselessly broadcast from The Hairball's cave—"tremendous, huge; the best"—various boastful foraging updates: "all my shoots and leaves are the best shoots and leaves; they are the cavier and champagne, of shoots and leaves."

It has been some months since last I checked in with DeepDrumpf, the cocky creation of MIT wisenheimer Bradley Hayes, who "programmed a recurrent neural network—an artificial intelligence—to study and emulate the Republican-ish candidate's speeches." DeepDrumpf, he reviews the emanations of The Hairball, and then, from these, sends out his own Hairballian twits, on his own Hairballian twit machine, here. Among the more recent wisdoms:

I can destroy a man's life by firing him over the wall. That's always been what I'm running, to kill people and create jobs.

We need to make our country vicious. A great America is about watching others have ruin. Crooked Hillary has no idea.

We're killing tremendous people in this country. We have to cherish our Second Amendment. Very important. I'll need the ratings.

White people need me to rebuild our own country. This is a legal process. We take advantage of the law. I can do that, @HillaryClinton won't.

In Russia I don't know how they don't know what they're doing. To make Russiamerica we need a leader that's great. We need me.

I always was with guns, but I still hate to see what's happening. Now we have to protect with different things. Fully nuclear weapons.

How stupid are these politicians? They're killing us but you don't hear that from anyone. We need a leader that can start a war.

It will be really easy to bring the Military into power and be very strong against the false song of globalism.

Birds? Think about it. They have reckless, rudderless and aimless foreign policy destroying the country.

Remember in the true-life documentary film Dumbo where Dumbo and his mouse pal eat the drugs and then have the visions, before waking up to the tree full of cigar-smoking crows? I have decided that's what this campaign season is. Dumbo's dream. And we're all flailing around in it.

[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jcZUPDMXzJ8]

Once upon a time, the Science Men, at least in the West, they were mostly monks. They would eat some gruel, and chant some nonsense, and then they would go back to their cells, there in the monkery, and invent some Science.

And apparently they are still at it, these monk Science Men. How else to explain these nimrods, all having a puzzlement, about why women have orgasms?

The female orgasm has baffled scientists for centuries.

Scholars as far back as Aristotle have questioned why women have evolved to have orgasms at all—as they play no obvious role in human reproduction.

Under what sad sterile rock do these dumbos dwell? The female orgasm dilates the cervix, which allows any sperm that might be hanging around in the vagina to pour into the uterus, where the sperm can then go on an egg hunt. Seems like a pretty "obvious role in human reproduction" to me. Only people like monks, don't know this—and, apparently, too, Aristotle, who I guess was too busy instructing Alexander how to become an ur-Roman, so he could go off and kill people all over every hill and dale for No Reason, to understand anything about women, and their orgasms.

Mostly women have orgasms because they're fun. And people are supposed to have fun down here. Unless they're monks. Then they just eat gruel, chant nonsense, and invent Science.

It was 71 years ago today that the Americans took their new Science Men toy, the nuclear bomb, and dropped it on Hiroshima, as an open-air Science Man experiment to see what it would do to human beings, and also to show the Soviets that the American penis, it was now really Big.

Today, all of the Americans know that Hiroshima was stupid and shameful and wrong. But they pretend that they don't. They pretend it was "necessary." So they don't have to feel Guilty.

Way back in the day, even a serial killer, Fleet Admiral William Leahy, said it was Wrong:

It is my opinion that the use of this barbarous weapon at Hiroshima and Nagasaki was of no material assistance in our war against Japan. The Japanese were already defeated and ready to surrender because of the effective sea blockade and the successful bombing with conventional weapons.

"Bomb" is the wrong word to use for this new weapon. It is not a bomb. It is not an explosive. It is a poisonous thing that kills people by its deadly radioactive reaction, more than by the explosive force it develops.

The lethal possibilities of atomic warfare in the future are frightening. My own feeling was that, in being the first to use it, we had adopted an ethical standard common to the barbarians of the Dark Ages. I was not taught to make war in that fashion, and wars cannot be won by destroying women and children. Employment of the atomic bomb in war will take us back in cruelty toward noncombatants to the days of Genghis Khan.

We were the first to have this weapon in our possession, and the first to use it. There is a practical certainty that potential enemies will develop it in the future and that atomic bombs will some time be used against us.

One of the professors associated with the Manhattan Project told me that he had hoped the bomb wouldn't work. I wish that he had been right.

John Kenneth Galbraith was one of three men selected by Franklin Roosevelt, the creator of the National Security State, to head the US government's "strategic bombing survey" of the effect of Allied air power in WWII. In 1984 Galbraith repeated to Studs Terkel the group's conclusion on the strategic "necessity" of the atomic obliteration of Hiroshima and Nagasaki:

The bomb did not end the Japanese war. This was something that was carefully studied by our bombing survey. [Indefatigable Cold Warrior] Paul Nitze headed it in Japan, so there was hardly any bias in this matter. The conclusion of the monograph called Japan's Struggle to End the War was that it was a difference, at most, of two or three weeks. The decision had already been taken to get out of the war, to seek a peace negotiation.

So. That's that.

There are not a lot of Hiroshima survivors on the planet these days. Most have gone on. But some of those still here, are endeavoring to ensure that their stories remain alive.

"We don't want you young generations to go through what I did. You can help by spreading what you just heard from me to other people," Okada—a hibakusha, or "atomic bombed person"—said this week in Hiroshima, not far from the spot where American forces dropped Little Boy, the first atomic bomb to be used in warfare[.]

Not only is Okada telling her own story, but she has also begun to train an apprentice to continue disseminating her tale after she's gone: a memory keeper, one of a growing number here being designated as an "A-bomb legacy successor" as the number of survivors dwindle.

There aren't a lot of Holocaust survivors on the planet these days, either.

More than 70 years after the war, the window is rapidly closing on the survivors' ability to relay their stories. Some 180,000 elderly survivors remain in Israel, with a similar number worldwide, but more than a 1,000 die each month, and experts predict that within seven years none will be well enough to share anything of significance.

One might think a similar "memory keeper" endeavor of value here, too . . . except such a thing would be totally hopeless. Because even when the world was chockablock with Holocaust survivors, still sprouted roughly eleventy-billion tubes asserting that the Holocaust never really happened.

Curiously, there do not seem to be any "Hiroshima denial" tubes about.

One wonders if Japanese had perished in the Holocaust, while Jews were incinerated in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, whether the Holocaust would then be accepted as matter of fact, while it would not be possible to turn on a computer without tripping over eighty-quadrillion tubes asserting no nuclear bombs were ever truly dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, at all.