Order of the Baby Cannon

If the election of Trump was positive in any way, it's that it spurred me (and millions of other Americans) to action in a way few other events could.

Going against my own reticence about self-promotion, by the time Trump's inauguration had occurred, I had started Revolution Art Offensive, launched a secret think tank (which I later dissolved for completely irrational reasons, proving that the Trump presidency makes people crazy) raised money for various causes, and had entered into a business with an old high school friend. 

But the universe would have bet against the long odds of a partnership between Benjamin Wittes, senior fellow at the Brookings Institution and editor in chief of the wonky national security rag Lawfare Blog; and Quenby Moone, wannabe polymath and eccentric patriot to bring hope to thousands of weary American citizens who followed a 4-inch cannon's every move.

If one were to look for the embodiment of "chutzpah," they might point to my approach of Benjamin Wittes, founder of NatSec Blog "Lawfare," as a good example. 

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Relatively obscure to America outside policy circles and the "Deep State" that the MAGAs maligned so greatly, in 2017, Benjamin Wittes began ringing in each development in the Trump-Russia scandal (or Ben's evocative "L'Affaire Russe") with the "tick tick tick" of a time bomb on Twitter; as such he became an unlikely twitter celebrity as it became increasingly clear Russia appeared to have actively meddled in our election; the ticking had the beneficial side effect of driving Sean Hannity crazy.  

I’m not sure when or why Ben replaced the ticking with a tiny cannon, but once he began heralding new developments with the Baby Cannon shooting a variety of inanimate household objects, a cultish devotion for this wee piece of artillery blossomed overnight.

I approached him (when I met him briefly and people asked how we met, he said “She Twitter-stalked me) numerous times with offers to make the colors that would indicate our allegiance to this little mascot of democracy. He ignored me.

I ignored him ignoring me.

Eventually, I wore him down: he addressed me directly, probably to shut me up and to get me to leave him the hell alone. What he didn’t anticipate was that I had already had the design in my head, which, once I had his attention, I shared with him.