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The Secret Service has no right to be appalled.

NBC News: Secret Service is appalled.

Anthony Guglielmi, the Secret Service’s chief of communication, said in the statement: “We stand united against any attempt to discredit our personnel and their invaluable contributions to our mission and are appalled by the disparaging and disgusting comments against any of our personnel.”

The Secret Service doesn’t get to be appalled after their appalling inability to keep Trump safe.

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Why was the Secret Service so lax?

There Will Always Be Vulnerabilities

This article was written by an veteran police officer who has been writing about law enforcement for many years.  He describes working with the Secret Service in the manner that you’d expect.

From my position I could see other teams similarly situated on rooftops, but so numerous were the nearby buildings that there weren’t enough counter-sniper teams to post one on all of them. I was told, however, that any position overlooking the landing zone would be guarded by at least one Secret Service agent, most of them accompanied by an LAPD officer.

I’ve read a couple of books by Ronald Kessler about the Secret Service.  It’s difficult to understand why security was so lax for Trump’s rally.

Punderson State Park Campground

Spent the weekend at Punderson State Park campground.  It was a short trip, with most of the party going to a graduation party, so not much use of the park facilities.

Sparky had to be put in the camper a few times, and watch the fun from the window.  He doesn’t like the term, “over-stimulated” because it makes him sound like a spaz.  Sparky can be enthusiastic when he sees other dogs.  Also, a female dog in our party was kind of rapey, so they’d mix it up.  Sparky is never a threat or vicious, but the barking and leash-pulling doesn’t reflect well on either of us.

There were many tent campers in RV spaces.  Since tents aren’t pitched on the asphalt for an RV, the occupants feel that any grass is fair game.  When I arrived, there was a tent pitched two feet from my camper. 

I don’t know what the protocol is or should be, but maybe pitch the tent behind where the RV would be.  The tent campers probably arrived mid-week, so the park seemed like their domain.  One tent was pitched 10 feet from the door to the restroom.

My neighbors asked if I wanted them to move their tent.  It was a pretty elaborate tent, so asking was a nice gesture, but I’m not going to press my land rights.  Someone else may have.  I did leave my air conditioning on all the time and hope my water pump was irritating to them.  That’s passive-aggressive,  and I’m not proud of that, but there we are.

One consolation is that it was wicked hot.

Some politicians aren’t opposed to people getting killed.

After a startling event, it takes a couple of days to get the story.  Getting “all wee-wee’ed up”, as Obama once called it, isn’t a good idea until the dust settles.

A couple of things happened prior to the attempt to assassinate former President Trump.

In April, U.S. Rep. Bennie Thompson and eight other congressmen introduced a bill to strip Secret Service protection from anyone convicted of a felony.  The intention was clearly to leave Trump with no Secret Service protection. 

The Biden Administration has been denying Secret Service protection to Robert F. Kennedy Jr.  RFK is running as an independent candidate for president and is polling at 15%.  He is not a trivial candidate.  In case anyone isn’t clear on the history, his father and uncle were assassinated.

Denying Secret Service protection to credible presidential candidates is an extraordinary abuse of power and is thug intimidation.  Greasing the skids for an assassin to murder a presidential candidate is horrible.

That should be reason enough to ruin the political careers of Biden and those nine congressmen.

Sparky takes refuge.

Sparky’s self-support in evaluating and addressing his own emotional needs, is admirable.

Late last night, a big thunderstorm came through.  It was enough to wake me up and notice the bright lightning.  I heard Sparky licking his chops and smacking his lips, like Moms Mabley.  That’s typical, so I went back to sleep.

This morning, I found him sleeping in my closet.  Sparky has never done this before, and there is no concern that he will want to sleep with my dirty laundry every night.  He is such an adorable little pup, I’m happy that he has a refuge from thunderstorms.

After we had breakfast, I explained that the tower for the high-voltage power lines would act to neutralize much of the electrical potential between the ground and the storm clouds.  If there was a lightning strike, it would hit the 100 ft tower or the cable running along the tops of the towers.  We had little to fear from lightning.

Sparky took umbrage at my suggestion that he was afraid of thunderstorms.  He reminded me that, just yesterday, he had barked ferociously while running down a rabbit.  Nature was no threat to him. 

Sparky said that he was afraid that I might be startled by the thunder, roll out of bed, and squash him flat.  I let him know that if he was calling me fat, we could cut out the fortnightly rotisserie chicken.  Sparky changed the subject by asking if we could invent rotisserie rabbit.

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