Current Affairs Wrap: Trump’s newest latest nutcase, Smith ball tampers our heart, Killer plays to type

What a week. Seven whole days of it. Yep. Between Sunday sleep-ins, we saw the latest Trump acolyte emerge, Steve Smith make us sad, and a killer person loving guns.

International

In the furious revolving door of the Trump Presidency, only those who stick to the glass will survive. Of the few chosen, many have fallen, with HR McMaster the latest to call Human Resources to organise their exit interview. However, the next name on the door (which we’ll commit to memory by the time he gets canned) is John Bolton, a man who is colloquially a bit lizard.

Apparently, John Bolton is a dangerous dude. And a particularly dangerous choice as National Security Advisor. But, is he that dangerous?

Yes, John Bolton Really Is That Dangerous, via @nytimes When American potential for disastrous foreign policy interventions go from very bad to catastrophic with stunning precision. https://t.co/d5VNvtJqnj

— Dr. Peniel E. Joseph (@PenielJoseph) March 24, 2018

If the New York Times is to be believed, Bolton is a man with armaments for hair, and a trigger finger for twitching. Byways to explain his subtlety, he believes the solution to the North Korean schism is striking first. And hard. And deep into the genitals of their nuclear body.

Yeah, Bolts, we’ve seen that movie too.

That being said, I don’t think we should fear this Super Murderio Brother, as the pickled gherkins in Papa Trump’s cabinet tend to have a rather quick spoil date. Hopefully, it’ll be another case of Donald’s dithering, in that he threatens to do something, but hits the links/playboy roster instead.

One can hope.

Sidebar. When we look back at the Trump administration, I suggest that we do not ignore the fact that his inability to follow through was not only his saving grace, but ours too. Four. More. Years.

Domestic

It seems the most important, latte rippling, stomach coursing piece of news this continent of ours is subject to this morning is a strip of sticky tape on a ball. The horror. The man with the face of a pre-pubescent teen and the second most job in your Uncle’s Australia, Test Cricket Captain Steve Smith, is this currently backstroking in that proverbial brown creek, sans paddle, nor recourse.

The event that overturned the canoe was a scheme of ball tampering. Aimed at the South Africans, the red orb of destiny was manipulated with the yellow adhesive of doubt, and the acts of Smith has produced something far more foul from the Pandora’s Box of collective assumption: hyperbole.

This is the lowest moment for office of Australian captain since underarm. At very least can’t see how Steve Smith, or any of leadership group involved in ball tampering scandal, can be allowed to play 4th Test. If ICC don’t ban them, CA should

— Andrew Wu (@wutube) March 24, 2018

Ball manipulation in Test Cricket is nothing new, in fact, many figures over the years have dabbled in it. It’s an important facet of the game, as a manipulated ball will move unpredictably, used as an antidote to the octogenarian narrative of the game. Or, in plain English, they cheat to make it feel like you haven’t wasted a day watching diddly-piddly-squat. Heroes all.

Is it that serious?

Well, if you happen to treasure the sanctity of a game created by imperialists, played by millionaires, all in an effort to see who can earn the largest grass stain. I get it, it’s a game that the youth of tomorrow idolise, and those they idolise matter. But, it’s a passing fancy. I was yesterday’s youth. A man who thought he could be Test Captain, but reality cartwheeled my mental wickets, as the summer voices of note completed their sentences, and the aura of that unique season became very much like everyone else.

My point is this, perhaps we should not know our idols too well, or indeed, perhaps we should not view them as towering sunburnt gods high above us on Mt Panorama. They, like all of us, are flawed, fallible, and occasionally do whatever stupid shit we need to, to keep our jobs.

Let he who is without sin, tamper the first ball.

Weird and Wonderful

And finally, an example of why you should absolutely judge people by their names. Long ago, your surname denoted your title. Smith is derived from Blacksmith, and Cooper was taken wholesale from those who made barrels. What you did was who you are. White culture. Sah interesting.

Overnight, those who marched in the anti-gun “March for our Lives” was hit by substantial recoil when a noted Bernie Sanders supporter decided to very publically mention how much he loved the NRA.

Killer Mike: “In real life, the cops don’t come on time” https://t.co/ELU6Qbb5dl

— Pitchfork (@pitchfork) March 24, 2018

The name is a hint. He’s a killer, dude. He’s not Let’s resolve our differences without the need for violence Mike. That being said, the issue is actually a bit more nuanced than that, as Killer Mike used the platform to talk about black gun ownership, but choosing the wrong platform on which to do it. Still interesting, though.

“I told my kids on the school walkout, I love you, if you walkout that school, walkout my house…we are not a family that jumps on every single thing an ally of ours does because some stuff we just don’t agree with.” –@KillerMike #MarchForOurLives pic.twitter.com/Gx8JLntmZ8

— NRATV (@NRATV) March 24, 2018