—and, frankly deserved.
There might not be a more popular way to express an opinion today and express it to everyone you see on the street, at eating places, at sporting events—you name it—than the t-shirt. Even in our smaller towns, there’s likely to be some one who makes t-shirts to order. Our junior senator became instant t-shirt fodder last week when he became the “got” in “gotcha.”
I wonder if the company is going to sent one of these to the Senator. He’s tall, about 6-7, and kind of husky. An XL, VL (very long) would probably cover the most territory although it won’t cover that part of his anatomy that was exposed at the hearing.
Social media has had a field day, of course. AI has added a new depth to the ridicule opportunities. Creative juices have become gushers on various platforms. This one showed up on our Facebook page.
These things get circulated around and I am afraid I don’t know who had the original thoughts so I can’t tell you the names of these creative people. These probably are just a small example of the images created in the wake of the implosion. Most of them also showed up on our Facebook page.
I wonder if the senator, to show that he has a sense of humor about himself, will fame a few of these and put them in his office in the Russell Senate Office Building near the Capitol. He hasn’t been able to admit he made a giant mistake that will haunt him for a long time. But if he won’t admit he did a lot of damage to his future political credibility, maybe he can regain some PR points by displaying how much fun he has allowed others to have at his expense.
Don’t you wish you could have been a mouse in the corner when he and his staff got back to the office and closed the door after that hearing?
Here is what happens when a bag of political dirt explodes in your face. Your faithful observer knows from some non-political experience of dropping the bag while emptying the canister of our whole house vacuuming system. My dirt, however, washed off fairly quickly. The Schmitt dirt will require a huge amount of scrubbing, and even then—–
Maybe someone was thinking a song from a Stephen Sondheim musical, A Little Night Music—
Isn’t it rich?
Are we a pair?
Me here at last on the ground
You in mid-air
Send in the clowns
Isn’t it bliss?
Don’t you approve?
One who keeps tearing around
One who can’t move
Where are the clowns?
Send in the clowns
Just when I’d stopped opening doors
Finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours
Making my entrance again with my usual flair
Sure of my lines
No one is there
Don’t you love farce?
My fault, I fear
I thought that you’d want what I want
Sorry, my dear
But where are the clowns?
Quick, send in the clowns
Don’t bother, they’re here
Isn’t it rich?
Isn’t it queer?
Losing my timing this late in my career
And where are the clowns?
There ought to be clowns
Well, maybe next year
Our president might be able to straighten things out the way he straightens out a lot of things—by renaming them.
Chris Clark and Kyle Cheney headlined their story on Politico, “Eric Schmitt pins down Jack Smith — as a Caitlin Clark fan” and went on: “Sen. Eric Schmitt thought he caught Jack Smith in a lie. Instead, he outed him as a fan of former Iowa Hawkeyes star Caitlin Clark.”
Perhaps we should lighten up on our junior senator a bit. A long time ago I was in doing some research at the University of Iowa and during a lunch break I went past a t-shirt store that featured one kind of like this
Self deprecating humor can lower the temperature a bit. I had a t-shirt that I bought in Columbia that read: “Missouri. It’s not that bad.” So far there has been no such humor from our junior senator, though.
Senator Schmitt isn’t the only prominent Missourian whose dreams of national importance went up in smoke in an instant because of an ill-timed word or an ill-timed action or something that wasn’t supposed to become public but did. We’ve seen it happen several times on our political turf in Jefferson City.
However, as rocky as our political history is, we have not reached the level of my home state where I once saw a t-shirt such as this one.
About eighty percent of the license plates issued in this country are made by prison inmates. Missouri is one of the states that has that system. We understand our inmates could make license plates for other states, as some other states do. But we know of no public record indicating them do.
There are some states who get their plates made in Canada. So far, license plates have escaped Trump tariffs.
I think this is probably enough for a while about Senator Schmitt. Already, he’s old news. And I imagine he hopes to stay that way for a while.