X Not Only Marks The Spot, It Marks The Ballot, Too...

Old saying.

Two things certain in life.

Death and taxes.

2020 re-boot.

At the very least, two additional things certain in life.

A love of game shows and reality television.

Couple of fun facts to know and tell about the former.

The death and taxes quote is attributed to no less a wit than Benjamin Franklin, in a letter to French scientist Jean-Baptiste Leroy in 1789.

The exact excerpt of that letter reading as follows:

"Our new Constitution is now established and has an appearance that promotes permanency, but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except.......

Say it with me.....

...death and taxes."

It's worth noting, of course, that while the whole death and taxes ba dum bump has been ba dum bumped around now for the 240 years since Ben and Jean-Baptiste were pen pals, it is both interesting, and not just a little eerie, that the actual phrase wasn't a stand alone, but was, in fact, a punch line to Ben's observation that the, then, newly minted American Constitution was, in no way, guaranteed to be a sure thing, fail safe, bullet proof, unconditional warranty, protecting all of the we that made up that other heart stirring catch phrase of the time, "we, the people".

Interesting because, safe to say, most people don't know that "death and taxes" ever had anything at all to do with the Constitution.

Eerie because we're talking about death and taxes at the moment, a moment in the American history timeline in which that Constitution is getting what is going to end up being described as an historically brutal bitch slappin'.

Meanwhile, back at the 2020 re-boot.

And two of our new besties, game shows and reality television.

Motivating, understandably, the request for an answer to the question.

What in the world do game shows and reality television have to do with death and taxes?

Well, as our friend Dr. Franklin very possibly might have said at one time or another in his own lifetime....

Don't get your kite all tangled.

You'll get your "what" as in "what in the world" in a few minutes.

For almost a year now, my friend and fellow opinion enthusiast, Dave Simmons and I have been doing a vidcast/podcast called "The Blab"

New broadcasts air and publish each Tuesday night on our Facebook page with that week's program continuing to be available for the remainder of the week on the Facebook page and at my own website, sepradionetwork.com

The Blab is sixty minutes of, well, as our show promo hype hypes, "just two guys talkin'". And while neither one of us claims any particular credentials validating our observations, opinions and/or commentaries, we're confident that we're as qualified as the next guy or gal that offers observations, opinions and commentaries to offer observations, opinions and commentaries.

Because thanks to social media, of course, it's become irrefutably obvious that everyone either you and I know is an expert on pretty much everything there is to observe, opine or comment upon.

Including, of course, you and I.

And me and my friend, and fellow opinion enthusiast, Dave Simmons.

We make an effort to keep the conversational topics diverse, eclectic, hopefully entertaining and, even if only accidentally, informative.

Because while we are both very personally opinionated, and not afraid to 'em, we are both more than aware that the average human attention span is, currently, like Congress' approval rating, at an all time low.

And while the show may just be "two guys talkin'", the two guys talkin' have, at this writing,  125 years, give or take, of life experience. So, to paraphrase, if not rudely rough up, actor JK Simmons's fun insurance commercial catchphrase.....

"We know some shit...cause we seen some shit.."

And inevitably, if only because it is the exceptionally bloated, mutated elephant in the room these days, politics has a way of sucking up a lot of the oxygen in the studio each week.

In the interest of both fairness and full disclosure, I'm usually the guiltier of the two of us when it comes to steering the Blab bus back into the muck and mire of 'Murican political muck and mire when it appears we're done with politics for that evening's program, but only because, of the two of us, I've got a decade or so on Dave and, paraphrasing Kathy Bates paraphrasing JK Simmons, "I'm older and I've got more insurance....and I've seen a decade's more shit..."

Make no mistake, though, Dave's a smart and insightful fellow and gives as good as he gets. No small feat, by the way, and I have ex-wives lined up to freely and liberally add "amens" to that.

But, being, say, Obi Wan to Dave's Luke....or Wally to Dave's Beaver (yes, he said Beaver....inside joke for all you Blab fans out there), I'm usually the one being asked for political perspective with Dave doing the asking.

I admire and respect that he thinks enough of me and our friendship to come to me for that perspective while, of course, admiring and respecting that he's a thousand miles past smart enough to know that I'm gonna give it to him whether he asks for it or not.

Bright guy, that Beaver (yes, he said Beaver, again)

Here's a question he offered on a broadcast recently.

"So, who do you think the Democrats are going to nominate?"

While that seems like a pretty simple and direct question, it's worth noting here that, in fact, Dave showed remarkable savvy in asking it, because he knows me well enough to know that when it comes to simple and direct questions, simple and direct answers just aren't my thing, baby.

Hey,if Trump gets away with his landfill sized pile of shit under the cloak of "that's just Donald being Donald", then, I'm claiming my God given right to just be me.

And I've been me almost as long as Donald has been Donald.

One key difference, though. My answers really are a concoction of thought, consideration, reflection, relying on a life time of reading, research, listening, learning, observation and contemplation, with a confidence that while I'm never shy about expressing my own point of view, really wise people know that other points of view are essential, even critical, to the process of making what, ultimately, will be intelligent and productive decisions.

While Donald, of course, says whatever what passes for a brain shoots down his synaptic yellow brick road and out of his mouth, or Tweeting fingers, before you can say "tippy top shape".

And the only other points of view he ever, ever, listens to are those coming out of the Rhodes Scholars disguised as Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels on the hilarious sister station to the Cartoon Network, Fox News.

Meanwhile, back at my answer to Dave's query (yes, he said query, but it's not that kind of query).

"I don't know yet. And don't have any firm predictions to make yet. I need two things to happen before I can give you any prediction. Iowa and New Hampshire. Let's have this conversation then."

Then, and only, then, will it be possible to measure actual prevailing winds.

And not just the 'too much air time on their hands' yammering of some political weather forecaster.

That's the what of the answer to the question.

Here's the why.

Game shows. And reality television.

Given the election of Trump in the first place, 2016 is looked back upon as a unique, if not phenomenal, year in American electoral history.

And that's not phenomenal as in, say, Beatlemania or the singing voice of Susan Boyle or the Cleveland Browns actually winning six games this past season.

But, phenomenal as in its synonym sisters...uncommon, unbelievable....inconceivable.

But, when it comes to 2020....cue Al Jolson, circa 1925....

"...you ain't seen nothin, yet..."

Political prediction is always a slippery slope in the best of times. And nobody with a medulla in their noggin' would label these times as the best of times.

And 2020 presents an even slippery-er slope than ever before. Because prediction, at least reasonably intelligent prediction, is based on factors that, however bent and dented they might be after generations of use and abuse, are still tried and true, if not positively dependable, then, at least plausible...possible.

2020 finds the tried and true off the table, down the rabbit hole, deep in the nebula,

All bets are off, baby.

And those holding on to their slide rules, pie charts and bar graphs like grim death, those who are already ready to call this thing in favor of Donald, The Nightmare Continues or Democrats-The Reckoning, are well advised to remember one word that will forever stand as a testament to the pitfalls of ever, ever, counting your chickens before the hatching is a wrap.

Hillary.

As for me and my chosen methodology of prognostication?

Game show.

To be more precise....talent competition.

Cue the honorable Mr. Webster.

"a variable in a given situation that could have the most significant impact on the outcome."

That's what it is.

Here's what it's called.

X Factor.

Here's how it applies to what's coming.

It's both reasonable and logical to suggest that there are hundreds of thousands, if not, literally, millions of people, of voting age, registered to vote, whose vote in the election of 2020 is going to be impossible to predict until sometime on, or even after, November 3. Which isn't to say that the predictions are suddenly going to fade away, We all know that they will not only continue but, given the unprecedented volatility of the coming contest, predictions will fly like footballs on second down.

Because prediction is interesting, intriguing, even exciting. And they serve as the statistically teasy equivalent of "if it bleeds, it leads" in media.

Even though if history has taught us anything, it's that prediction, based on statistics, based on pre election polling, is as reliable as promises of new jobs for coal miners, quality, affordable healthcare for everyone and, that oldie but goodie, a great wall on the border, paid for by those folks on the other side of the border.

And if it isn't history that has taught us anything, once again, we would refer you to that which has taught us everything we need to know about predictions, stats and polls.

Hillary.

But back to the millions. 

In Nixon's time, the phrase "silent majority" came into fashion. While the context of its use in those days differs from nowadays, the premise was the same. 

Millions of people with nothing to say, except for the expression of their choice of who should be in charge, said choice to be expressed only upon the closing of the curtain behind them in that little booth come November.

This time around, meet the new booth, same as the old booth.

But here's the X factor.

Fatigue.

Even exhaustion.

Nixon's misadventures, although historic, at the time, were, in hindsight, little more than a little out of the ordinary bending of the rules and regs resulting in reckoning...and resignation.

And memory serves, a lot of people got weary of the whole day in, day out Watergate yada yada up to the day that Nixon wrote that "effective noon tomorrow" letter that now resides in the national archives and a kabillion photo copies to see in Google Images.

But, again, memory serves, weariness wasn't really fatigue and it came nowhere near exhaustion.

This time around, nobody knows the trouble we seen. Nobody knows our exhaustion.

'Ceptin', of course, them's of us what's exhausted.
 
The blurry, blunt blotch on the timeline that is the 'presidency' of Donald Trump has 
been a philosophical, psychological, even physical drain on the national, even global, psyche that makes that salt creature sucking unfortunate Star Fleet ensigns dry on that early episode of the Shatner/Nimoy Star Trek series look like an impish kissing bandit.

And exhaustion may, or may not, have any credible effect on a poll, but, bet the farm, Nadine, exhaustion takes a toll.

And that toll could very easily result in those exhausted, for the time being, silent millions showing up in record numbers in November and letting it be known, with their closed curtain voice, that they've seen enough, heard enough and had enough and want to end the days of an America that has, for four years, been a divorcing mommy and daddy either treating each other with cold contempt or screaming at each other....every hour....of every damn day.

Will it matter who's running against Trump?

Anybody who has experienced divorce, either as a child watching their mommy and daddy stabbing at each other from Hell's heart, as a mommy or daddy being stabbed at from Hell's heart or have even simply endured deep, long lasting, chronic pain will testify to this set in stone truth.

Whatever it takes to make the contempt and the screaming...and the pain....stop.

Whatever.

Is there any way to predict how many there are, how much enough is enough they feel, how many of them will show up?

Nope.

That's why it's called an X Factor.

Speaking of which, there's a second, less complicated, but just as legit factor of X.

God is great, beer is good.

And people are crazy.

Shit happens.

It ain't over till its over.

Once again, the dictionary def of "x factor".

"a variable in a given situation that could have the most significant impact on the outcome."

Notice that there is no insertion of the word "predictable" between the words "a" and "variable".

There are, in any kind of contest, but, most especially in political contests, always variables that have a significant impact on the outcome.

And, not to muddy the water or induce an ice cream freeze headache, but we also have to account for X factor of realizing that there are, as yet, unpredictable, additional X factors to take into consideration.

I'm standing pat and going all in, though, on my personally theorized X factor of what, in the spirit of infamous acronyms like STFU, LOL and MAGA, we'll satirically acronymize as PDSDT.....

Pretty Damn Sick of Donald Trump.

Beyond that, Iowa and New Hampshire.

And then let's carry on with the conversation.

Oh....and the reality television thing?

Well, first of all, reality television really is an oxymoron, can't we all agree?

And whether you think of it as essential viewing or the darkest form of fictional comedy, there is no denying that it has, and could very easily continue to have, an immeasurable impact on your life...and the lives of your kids and their kids and maybe even their kids.

Not feeling it?

I would refer you to the one reality television program that has, thus far, had a staggering impact on your life, the lives of your kids and maybe even their kids....and their kids.

A comedy competition program that just doesn't seem anywhere near funny anymore.

The Apprentice.

 

 

The Half Of It? Hell, He Doesn't Know The Tenth Of It...

Old saying.

What you don't know can't hurt you.

2020 reboot.

What you don't know that you don't know can hurt you.

A lot.

And there's a lot of that going around these days.

More so than ever, actually, at this writing.

The problem, of course, with the whole know/don't know hamster wheel is that, more often than not, the only way to prove beyond any, let alone reasonable, doubt the danger in not knowing is to allow the situation to play out.

In other words, one is inclined to not believe that the hand is going to experience excruciating pain until the hammer comes crashing down.  

Or unless one has already participated in the process of skepticism/disbelief/full and reckless hand exposure / arrival of crashing hammer / excruciating pain.

And, even then.

We are, for better or worse, all equipped with both circuit breakers and short memory features that help us block memories that would have us curling up and spending the rest of our lives in the fetal position.

Those features are useful, of course.

Without them, every woman on the planet, so inclined, would have one baby, max.

And men would move heaven and Earth to keep from ever getting a cold the second time.

The drawback to these filters, as it were, is that they also allow for the very real possibility of repeating mistakes and inflicting additional damage.

It's a common flaw in the schematic of the human mechanism.

Entire patterns of behavior, in fact, are rooted in the concept.

"Here, hold my beer" comes to mind.

On a more contemporary note, the know/don't know paradigm is wreaking real havoc in the here and now.

And if you don't know why, no worries.

I know.

And I'll tell you.

Shortly.

A few days ago, Donald Trump gave the green light to have Qasem Soleimani assassinated.

Soleimani was the highest ranking officer in the Iranian military and what Middle East experts describe as the Iranian equivalent of an American Secretary Of Defense.

Even an American Vice President.

Unless you're been out of town, way out of town and/or visiting with occupants of interplanetary craft lately, you're already basically, if not comprehensively, up to speed on the what, when, where and what passes for why of the incident itself.

So, let's cut to the chase.

Thanks to the marvel of 21st Century trouble-making, disguised as high, tech innovation known as social media, those interplanetary visitors would, undoubtedly, be left with the impression that, among its many other wonders, America is possessed of a population, literally, millions of people who, in addition to their abilities at various occupations, ranging from barber to janitor to truck driver to Wal Mart cashier to that kid who mumbles some version of "you want fries with that" at you, can also boast of a comprehensive knowledge, scholarly understanding and expert analytical skill at and of geopolitical dynamics, with a specialized expertise in Middle Eastern matters, military strategy as it pertains to global stability, not to mention, of course, their obvious and oft expressed expert interpretations of Constitutional law.

Of course, the average participant in that stable genius round table has a delightful way of trimming through the geekspeak and wonkwording that clutters up the hard rock bottom line and translates it into a user friendly, one phrase fits all interpretation, good for all occasions, age groups and/or ball cap embroidery.

For example, in regards to this latest international incident, something along the lines of "well, hell, our president shore did open up a Costco size can of whup ass on them towel headed mother fuckers, dint he?"

Why, yes. He dit.

Just one thing, though.

And here's where that know/don't know thing enters the plot-line.

99.9 % of those volunteer geniuses....

Don't know what the hell they're talking about.

And that's not a diss. That's just the way it is.

And always has been.

If, for no other reason, just like you can't possibly know how to, for example, do open heart surgery if you haven't learned how, you can't possibly know how to navigate the complexities of international politics simply because you know how to put Fox News on your remote's favorite channel list.

Fair being fair, the whole "not knowing what the hell we're talking about" thing isn't a new kid on the block.

It, too, is a common, and ancient, flaw in the human mechanism.

And none of us are immune.

Indifferent, perhaps. Ignorant, pretty possibly.

And, then, of course, there's the always impish arrogance that comes free with every purchase of the premium narcissistic sociopathic package.

But, more on Donald in a few.

By the way, it hasn't slipped past me that I'm just as eligible as the next guy or gal to be held accountable for speaking out of turn, talking through my hat, writing checks with my words that my ass can't cash....and assorted other witty and urbane descriptions of being heard when I should simply limit participation to being seen.

My get out of jail card free comes in the form of knowing something a lot of people don't know.

I know how to fess up that I often don't know about something. And pretty much always include that I'm ever working and studying and researching to learn what I can about those somethings.

Which brings us, inevitably, around to that guy who green lighted the assassination of the Iranian equivalent of an American Secretary of State.

Or even an American Vice President.

The assassination was, varied and diverse sources suggest, ordered contrary to the best judgements of scores of seasoned professionals, experienced in the aforementioned global political landscape, not to mention the last, say, four or five, maybe even more, presidents of the United States who recognized that navigating the aforementioned complexities of international politics, let alone simple co-habitation on the only planet available, at the moment, to any and all us, consists of attempting to achieve a skill level comparable to that of a world class grand chess master.

All but the most moist of the currently fashionable mouth droolers would have a hard time refuting the fact that Donald wouldn't know a chess board if its little squares had words like Boardwalk and Park Place printed on them.

Yes, Virginia, that was my verbose and vitriolic way of calling Trump a doorknob.

That case has been made and proven more times in the last, going on, four years than Kellyanne Conway has robo-mouthed "I don't see it that way" to anything that doesn't sing Donald's praises.

And it continues to be made, at this writing, on a daily basis. As, for example, Trump warns Iran he will bomb their cultural artifacts. And his own Secretary of Defense and Secretary of State counter that if there is to be war, it will be war "within the laws of armed conflict".

So, let's skip the "I know you are, but what am I" part of today's round table merry-go-round and let me hip you to that which I advertised a few minutes ago.

Why the know/don't know thing is wreaking real havoc these days.

Even more so, represents a clear and present danger.

Millions of members of our population believe they have it all figured out and what to do about it.

And they don't know what they're talking about.

For most of the same reasons, meanwhile, Donald Trump doesn't what the hell he's talking about,either.

But millions of members of our population aren't within a hundred miles of putting a finger on that symbolic button.

Trump is.

And he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Worse....and more ominously.....

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing.