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.
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.