A Prediction

To predict is to run the risk of ridicule should it not come to pass.  To revert to an "I should not be surprised if . . ." earns no medal of honor but only a ribbon of participation.  And to hedge with an "odds are against it, but it could happen that . . ." is gutless; after all anything can happen in politics.

So, go for it, Fletch; what do you predict?

I predict that between now and October, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (for he so loves to see his name in print [as if this impudent gesture were to be seen: you wish, you dope]) will start a war, i.e., a small-scale military adventure despite the War Powers Resolution.  After all, everybody else has gotten away with one.

Here's why he will start a "war:"

• He is falling behind in the polls and needs a patriotic rallying cry to divert attention from slow economic recovery, faltering coronavirus response, and religious leaders' expressions of doubt after watching their Bible being waved upside down in front of a church in which he has not prayed.
• His love of military stuff: if they won't give me a parade, how about an invasion?  Granada worked for Ronald Reagan.
• His need to quiet the chorus of retired Admirals and Generals; what better way than to rouse their automatic support of troops put at risk?
• His need for an act to quell rising questions about whether his tough guy talk is just tough guy talk.
• His need to cow foreign leaders who have begun to see him (and the US) as a toothless tiger.

Pity the poor little country the bully selects to pick upon.

Anyway, there it is; stay tuned.