Apologies for the way I’m easing myself into this post.  And thanks to the Ricochet member (you know who you are) who read a comment of mine on this subject elsewhere and suggested that I post it separately.  You deserve what you get.

“Kamala,” I suppose, passes in an odd way for a first declension Latin noun.  When I was ten years old and going through my first Latin grammar lessons, the object lesson for first declension nouns (which generally end with an “a”)  was “Mensa,” meaning “table.”

The second declension example was always “Dominus.” Meaning “master.” (I don’t think the word conjured up any other connotations at the time, and wasn’t necessarily in opposition to any other term indicating servitude.)

So, “Mensa,” and “Dominus” were the exemplary nominative (subject) forms of the respective first and second declension nouns.

The next form we learned was the “vocative” form of the word.  The “I’m speaking to you!” form. (This is a bit funny in itself, considering present circumstances.  “I’m speaking…..”)

First declension, the vocative form was the same as the nominative–“Mensa.”

I remember the English rendition of the declension:  Nominative: Mensa–“Table.”   Vocative: Mensa–“Oh, table.”  I used to wonder, “Who the hell speaks to their table that way?”

Second declension was a bit more tricky, in that the vocative form of the noun changed from an “us” ending in the nominative, to an “e” ending in the vocative: Nominative: Dominus–“Master.”  Vocative: Domine–“Oh, Master”   Well, at least that makes a bit more sense.  Talking to a person, then.

And that is how Shakespeare, although Ben Jonson once damned him with faint praise by saying he had “Small Latin and less Greek,” got the immortal line exactly right:

Et tu, Brute?

“Brutus.” Second declension Latin noun.  Vocative form: “Brute.”

Which brings me back to “Kamala” (first declension, nominative).  And “Kamala” (first declension, vocative).

And so, on to the more recent events of the United States Vice-Presidential Debate last night:

After keeping an eye on Democrat candidate Tim Walz for most of the debate, largely in disbelief (he seems to have been taken gurning lessons from Joe Biden–when will it dawn on the mainstream media that the split TV screen is not their friend?), I eventually found a semi-coherent thread to pull on: I think that Walz is trying to convince the voting populace that J.D. Vance is dangerous because he will be too staunch a Trump advocate and loyalist, and that as VP he will do and say anything Donald Trump wants him to.  As contrasted, I suppose, with the Hero of January 6, Mike Pence, a man whom the Democrat party had hitherto derided as a character out of a Handmaid’s Tale dystopia and a Christian nationalist and LGBTQ+ hater who didn’t deserve to be anywhere near the levers of power, but who then assumed legendary status as an “American Patriot” after the 2020 election. (For my own part, I didn’t change my opinion of Pence at all.  I think he acted exactly in character all the way through, start to finish, like the letters on a stick of Blackpool Rock.  But that’s just me.)

However–pace Erich Segal–nothing means never having to say you’re sorry like chucking your boss under the bus when Leftist conventional wisdom says he’s an existential threat, or that he’s past his sell-by date, or that he simply needs to be hooked off the stage. You can be celebrated for life for doing exactly that.

At least, if your boss is a Republican.

Then there’s Kamala Harris, the woman who claims to have been the “last person” in the room before Joe Biden made all his substantive policy decisions.  The woman who has vociferously supported all those decisions, even the one that led to the disaster in Afghanistan in August of 2021.  The woman who’s simultaneously running on her unique qualifications to lead because of her VP “experience” in all these matters, is at the same time trying to convince us that she had nothing to do with any of Biden’s policy outcomes; that she can’t be held accountable for any of them, or for any aspect of accomplishment (or otherwise) throughout his dismal record.

Wut?  The Border Czar?  Who?  Me?

That woman.

The woman who – just eight months ago – defamed Special Council Robert Hur as a political hack for saying – in so many words – that although Biden should be prosecuted for his handling of classified information, there would be no point in trying to do so because – essentially – Biden is a senile old man with no understanding either of his actions or with any sense of right or wrong.  Here’s what Harris said about Robert Hur:

The way that the President’s demeanor in that report was characterized could not be more wrong on the facts and clearly politically motivated. And so I will say that when it comes to the role and responsibility of a prosecutor in a situation like that, we should expect that there would be a higher level of integrity than what we saw.

She’s the woman who repeatedly insisted, for the first 3 1/2 years of her Vice-Presidency, that her boss was “sharp as a tack,” implying that he was doing daily floor exercises in the Oval Office in the style of Simone Biles, at the same time as he was philosophizing from the throne in the manner of Marcus Aurelius, Plato, or Aristotle.

She must have known.

And still–while the opportunity didn’t present itself, and while she was still happy to float along–she did absolutely nothing to protect the country from the obvious incompetence of the POTUS, at the same time as she regularly accused those with very valid concerns about his observed behavior of unspeakable betrayal and untruthfulness, of spreading “disinformation,” and of being disloyal Americans.

And yet, one day–to coin a phrase–“the chickens came home to roost” for Joe Biden.

And Kamala spotted her opportunity.

Et Tu, Kamala?

Hard to imagine a more dangerous Vice-President than Kamala Harris.  Even when–if you’re Tim Walz–you include the prospect of J.D. Vance as such a one. (Note to the unwary: I don’t believe Vance is such a one.)

When is someone going to ask Kamala Harris about any of this? 

Meanwhile, Tim Walz:  I can’t quite figure out what declension he’s in.  There were only five when I went to school.  Maybe there are 57 or so now, like the Heinz varieties.  (Sorry.  My Pittsburgh privilege is showing.)

Still, Tim, here’s my best advice to you:

1. Don’t go to Primanti’s in the Strip District.  Just sayin’
2. Cover up well.
3. Watch your back.
4. And your front.

K?