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.

The Answer, My Friend, Is Likely To Take A While...

Jean-Luc Picard would probably be disappointed in me these days.

I pretty much refuse to engage any more.

Or, at least, for the time being.

And by engage, I mean reply, respond or, more often than not, even acknowledge remarks made in the comment threads of the various social media pages I either publish, or just frequent, when said remarks come from the disagreeing side of the dialogue demarcation line.

And not just because those remarks are almost always, and let's just get the overused, not so funny anymore hardy har har out of the way, not just disagreeing but disagreeable.

But,mostly, because, for mostly most of my life to date, I haven't tugged on Superman's cape, I haven't spit into the wind, I haven't pulled the mask off the ol' Lone Ranger....and I haven't spent any time banging my head against brick walls that have no intention of budging.

Even when the disagreeable disagreeing is, by any reasonable measure, ridiculous and my instinct is to keep insisting that the disagree-er could see that , if only they would see their way clear to hearing, honestly listening and giving it a reasonable amount of consideration.


As a variety of authority figures throughout my life have admonished me, I should know better by now.

Or as the aforementioned disappointed Admiral Picard would remind me.....

Insistence is futile.

Still, as with chocolate, Dwayne Johnson movies and that "last golf club you'll ever need to buy", temptation is always alive and well..... ever urging an indulgence of the urge to volley back the debate birdie, the ever present hope also alive and well that this time, this back and forth, this push and pull will result in common sense winning the discussion, not to mention the day.

Props to our home girl, Emily Dickinson, "hope is", meanwhile, still "a thing with feathers...that perches in the soul."

All of that said, never let it be said that I'm any more than mere mortal. And, accordingly, inclined to spit out, rather than bite, the bullet and give that birdie a bitchin bash.

Game point coming up.

Donald went to London recently for a NATO meeting. Between snarky tweets, foot in mouth commentary and the garden variety white trash in an expensive, tailored suit approach to global leadership, it was business as usual for America's leader-in-waiting (as in, he was elected to be a leader, the lion's share of us are still waiting).

Oh...and there was that zany video of several of the other world leaders having a private chit chat prior to an official meeting in which they were, without naming names, naming one other leader as the resident buffoon in the bunch.

By the way, not for nothin', but "accidentally overheard mocking and ridiculing...". These are intelligent, savvy young men. In this little ongoing situation comedy, there is no such thing as "accidentally". Score one for a well executed play from the Aaron Sorkin playbook. (check out the "the red light on the camera was on" episode of "The West Wing").

Meanwhile, after Trump's return to the land of Washington State apples, Georgia peaches and House impeachment, Joe Biden posted some pointed put downs, pointedly proffering that Donald being a laughing stock wasn't exactly raising America's stock in the eyes of the world.

Motivated by Joe's point of view, I offered my own, via the ol Facebook.


".....Biden is carpe diem-ing the "global ridicule" angle in the latest ad(s).....

theoretically, the ridicule of the other world leaders is damaging to Trump, but....

....it's important to keep in mind that the key votes in the Midwest, et al, that gave Trump the Electoral College came, in large measure, from people who don't really care about (or, for that matter, even understand) "global issues".....

their "world" is the three to five feet in front of their faces at any given time......

and while we all, in fact, "inhabit the planet", there is a sizable population of America that could give a shit less about what France or Germany or even Canada thinks......and will, in a heartbeat, vote for Trump again if they think he will keep (get) them safely back to the America of 1955......

even if that "getting back" is all nothing more, absolutely nothing more, than a sad illusion......."

The comment thread responses to my response consisted of the reasonably predictable. My friends, colleagues and/or like minded acquaintances weighed in with a yay thee. And there was one amusing oldie but goodie from someone I don't know.

"Get over it, snoflake"

While I appreciate his taking the time to frame his ignorance in a holiday theme, I was a little off put by, not so much the predictability of that mindset, but the complete and total lack of originality involved.

Dude, the whole "snoflake" thing is, like, so, like ,2017.

Bet you still say things like "groovy" and "far out", too, right?

One comment caught eye and mental ear, though. From a lifelong friend who, we both acknowledge, says tomato when I say tomahto on just about every issue that exists from religion to politics, from Boulder to Birmingham.

And though we don't connect much, all that much, anymore, it was a rare occasion on his part to respond to one of my observations.

Especially one of the political observations.

And it went like this.

"...I think you should form a “Let’s persuade Michelle to run” election committee. Better yet, make it the “Clinton & Osama-Bama retry election forum. Whatever works. I wonder if you’ll ever understand that the WH winner is not in the hands of mere mortals. I would’ve thought someone as insightful as yourself would‘ve figured that out after 2016..."

For the first time in a while, I was more than tempted to reply right there in the ol' FB comment-o-matic. But I realized that what he had inspired me to offer required a little more. If only just a little more space.

This is that space.

And here is a little more in the way of reply.

Season's greetings,  brother from a different mother....the first, always challenging, bump in the road when it comes to online sharing is that "tone" is, often, impossible to gauge. So while it's entirely possible that your entire offering here was articulately performed with a tongue planted firmly in cheek, it's also possible that you were seriously soap boxing me.

I'm gonna go with the tongue and cheek thing. And take, on faith, that you accept that 99% of my say is equally sardonic. Which isn't to say I'm not serious about the what. It's just that it's more fun to be impish with the how.

Your first few words, there, reminded me of the psychology I've researched through the years, in particular, the notion that the first thing we instinctively go with when commenting or responding is our "first responder" mode,  a verbal version of running straight on into the fire without hesitation. The calmer, more measured (read:self censored/edited) stuff follows shortly or even later.

And if that theory is legit, then you help prove a point I've made from time to time (and others, too, I'm insightful, not all knowing and seeing). The implied assumption, on your part, that because I am firmly, oh, hell, passionately, against pretty much everything Donald Trump is, was, stands for and/or ever will be, that I am automatically yearning for the days of Obama and Clinton (and bears, oh, my).

Frankly, I was never all that enamored of Obama's performance. I was, truth in advertising, not happy with a lot of what he did and/or did not accomplish. In a final report card world, I would have given him a B-, maybe a C+. 

But all of that assessment, on my part as a citizen, is based on policy agreement or disagreement. And, in my case, a "filter", as it were, that allows for knowing, through years of self motivated study and self education, reflection, etc, on political and presidential history,  that the job of President of the United States is, while certainly more dramatic, no different than any job in which he or she holding the job is evaluated. 

Cue Danny O' Keefe. 

Some gotta win / some gotta lose.

Put more visually....place five people in a room. Ask each of them what they think about (anything..fill in the blank)....

Two will love it. Two will hate it. And one can take it or leave it.

Paul Stookey had it right, I think, when he wrote "whenever two or more of you / are gathered in His name / there is love".

His lyric, wisely, says absolutely nothing about any agreement in the room.

Again, Obama was no better...and no worse.....than any other president in contemporary times, when his tenure is graded on a curve.

And being that the whole of America is made up of aptitudes ranging from Rhodes Scholar to "we need to talk about little Benjy", the need to grade on a curve is a given.

Meanwhile, none of my "that's a big negatory, good buddy" when it came to the Obama period had anything to do with his personality, his presentation and/or his general character.

My take then, as now, is that he was an intelligent, educated, decent guy. But, more importantly, in hindsight, I realize he was, again, within the acceptable and inevitable parameters we have to include when judging our fellow mere mortals, a class act, respectful of the system as it was created by the, these days, much mentioned Founders and supportive of the foundational institutions that make America what it was designed to be.

Again, and only because of what's coming next, no less....nor more.....than the Bush or the Clinton or the Bush or the Reagan or the Ford or the Johnson , ad nauseum, E pluribus unum........that preceded him in the gig.

And I never, for a single second, felt a flick of fear that I was going to wake up one morning to find that the whole nation had been converted to Islam over night and we were all going to have to do an off off off Broadway production of "The Diary Of Anne Frank-The Muslim Years"

So, I never felt, nor feel, the need to play witty word games using words like "Hussein"...and...wait for it..."Osama".

PS....at this writing, still got all my guns, too.

Meanwhile...Maude?

Yeah, put a pin in that.

And then there's Donald.

I'll spare the recitation here. If curious or unclear on my general posture as regards the host of NBC's hit "reality" show, "The Apprentice", just find one of my blogs, podcasts or vidcasts on the matter.

Pick a blog, podcast, vidcast. Any blog, podcast, vidcast.

As far as the White House not being in the hand of mere mortals......

There's two paths to traverse here.

One involves finding any credibility whatsoever in anything that comes out of Rick Perry's mouth. Either Rick or his partner in prophetic predilection, Michele Bachmann.

That, of course, brings us face first into this Franklin Graham meets Monty Python theatre of the absurd presentation, "He Is The Chosen One"

When every one with a smidge of synaptic function knows damn well that Neo is the chosen one.

Geez.

Path two?

Well, if that's your play, you may be on to something, there, mi compadre'.

That's where we start talkin' bout one of them gods that God takes exception to us having before Him.

Scripturally speaking, of course. 

And the twin brother Megatrons of a nation in the chaos of being "transformed".

 "Oligarchy" and "Plutocracy". 

With each passing day, "Hail To The Chief" gets closer and closer to being excised from the Marine Corps Band playlist, in favor of several more suitable and applicable candidates for the theme song-in chief.

Cyndi Lauper. "Money Changes Everything."

Barrett Strong. "Money (That's What I Want)".

My personal fave?

Randy Newman. "It's Money That Matters."

My favorite because Randy always brings a bit of whimsy and weary cynicism to his artistic interpretations of the human condition.

And what could be more whimsical, not to mention, wearily cynical, than for America to have elected a president who not only represents, but outright champions, the very gaudy, gold plated pillars on which ol' Oli and Pluto are founded?

See, bud, it turns out that, either way, I did, in fact, figure it out after 2016.

Sooner, actually. If you go back and find video/audio of my radio talk show appearances, podcasts, et al, pretty much starting from the moment that Donald descended the gaudy escalator and announced that he was going to show Obama what happens when you make fun of Donald at White House Correspondent Dinners.

Well, shit, he shore did show him, din't he?

Not to mention the rest of us.

That pretty much sums it up, my friend.

Oh....and the very last thing I want to see is Michele running.

She, too, struck, and strikes, me as a decent and classy person.

And the last thing in the world she deserves is to be put in charge of a country where four out of ten people, at any given moment, think a slick, real estate hustling, snake oil peddlin' sociopathic narcissist comes with ten kabillion miles of what the, these days, much mentioned Founders had in mind when they gave birth to Article II.

It's one of those Groucho Marx "be in any club that would have me as a member" kind of thing.

Love and best to the family.

And thanks be to Donald John, of course, for the freedom with which he has blessed me, after so many years of oppression, to wish you all.....

Merry Christmas.

Hey, You Look Like Death Warmed Over...But, Good News, The Dow Is In The Pink...Well, Black, Actually

Today's edition of saying the things that go without saying...

• An American student held captive in Iran since 2016 has been released in a prisoner swap....the family is, obviously, elated....and celebrations, obviously, underway for yet another world record set: personal best, to date, time between event and appearance of the Donald Taking Credit Tweet......goes without saying that America is going to see a whole lot of these "hey, that's really good to hear" things between now and November.......it's all part of the psychology in play in other life situations....like the essentially worthless employee who somehow starts razzle dazzling just prior to yearly review time.....like the wife beater who suddenly gets all kind and lovey dovey when actually being thrown in jail teeters on the precipice between possibility and probability...... 

• An op/ed written by a noted news analyst, decidedly at home on the left side of the peanut gallery opines that Trump currently has an "obvious path to a second term". The impetus for the impending inevitability?......Unemployment at a 50 year low. And with it, the perception that, economically speaking, happy days are not only here again, but the sky above is clear again......goes without saying that a society basing its overall health strictly on the basis of its economy is putting all of its eggs, not to mention future existence, in one basket.....who needs morality, inspirational leadership, a visionary reaching out to other nations, the global equivalent of next door neighbors,  a concerted effort to reduce hatred, bigotry and all those other pesky human failings when the Dow is looking good?....just ask any homeless vet....or Mr. Bernstein in "Citizen Kane"....."no trick to making a lot of money....if all you want to do is make a lot of money..."

• A couple of Democratic Congressmen have let it be known that they will not be voting "aye" on any of the articles of impeachment that are presented when the House votes. New Jersey's Jeff Van Drew, one of the two, says that impeachment is "tearing the nation apart...and I want to bring people together".....He goes on to offer that everyone's goal should be to "move on"....goes without saying that "moving on" from cancer without removing the cancer is really nothing more than simply "walking away"......and given the overwhelming amount of willingness the Trumpists have shown to work together with all parties for the common good of everyone, walking away is, at best, a guarantee of future failure...and, at worst, well, stupid comes to mind.....

• And lastly, but not leastly,  we jingled the Salvation Army bell pretty good on this little holiday nugget during this past week's webisode of "The Blab", but it simultaneously goes without saying while it bears repeating that there is no "War On Christmas"....the war on common sense, meanwhile, enters its fourth wearying year.....and, forgive the holiday buzzkill, things aren't looking good for the commonsensicans......pray, Zuzu, pray very hard......and Merry Christmas to all.....

Doctors...And Presidents....First, Do No Harm....

Holiday time.

Rush, rush, busy, busy.

No time for reading the complete descriptions of every Christmas movie on your flat-screen channel guide, let alone wordy diatribes addressing the American political landscape.


So, here's a little something to chew on instead of whatever sugar is lurking in every nook and cranny of your life for the next four or five weeks.

It's just a little pill of opinion.

Be it easy, or bitter, to swallow.

A lot of us, a whole lot of us, have spent several years now in emotional, if not outright verbal, conflict with one another regarding the current, either momentary or eternal, occupant of the Oval Office.    

But, put a pin in that.

Here's the pill.

Most of us, if not all of us, we, the people, as it were, have been getting it wrong for a long time.

If not every day of our lives.

We have functioned with eyes glazed over from the fog of fantasy that what we are electing, when we elect a President, is someone who will have us climbing every mountain, fording every stream, following every rainbow as he (and someday, no matter what a lot of you think, hope and pray for, she) and we work together to find our dreams and see them come true.

Allow me to quote your current Oval Office occupant and one of his more eloquent observations shared many times during the 2016 campaign.

Wrong.

All of that mountain climbing, stream fording, rainbow following, dream finding portion of the program (cue appropriate angelic, inspiring, hope filled harp music) is certainly something we don't want to see go away and, of course, something that we would very much like to see in the he (or someday, no matter what a lot of you think, hope and pray for, she) that we grant the privilege of swearing to faithfully execute the office.

But it's way past time to get our minds right on exactly where in the national "qualifications for keys to 1600 Pennsylvania" list that wad of wonderfulness belongs.

Number two, at best.

And it's way past time for a new number one at the top of the charts, cats and kitties, a little something that's been bubbling under far too long and has, finally, inevitably, in fact, hooked us all on the horns of one big damn dilemma.

With a capital D and that stands for, well, D and...that....stands for demagogue.

Number one on the "you must be this tall to ride this ride" list of Presidential qualities, virtues, traits and/or abilities.

The deceptively difficult skill required to keep the cork in the goddamn bottle.

Clarity and conclusion coming up.

Time for this week's episode of "Metaphor Theater".

America, in our marvelous metaphor this week, is a living, breathing body.

A living, breathing body with a heart and a bloodstream feeding that heart, and a brain and a bloodstream feeding that brain and lungs to keep the body vigorous and healthy and a bloodstream feeding those lungs to keep them functioning and healthy.

I'll spare you the item by item metaphoricals here and just clue you that the cells in that bloodstream represent the good, decent, loving, caring, kind, compassionate qualities that exist in many, oh, what the hell, it's Christmas, most of the people that make up the population that make up the civilized society each of us refers to as "my country".

As in 'tis of thee'.

And 'sweet land of liberty'.

And, big finish, that letting freedom ring thing.

But, just like a living, breathing body, America is also inhabited by toxins, poisons, potentially harmful, in extreme cases fatal, some natural, if unwelcome, by-products of the daily functioning of the body, many, oh, what the hell, it's Christmas, most primarily self inflicted. Too much sugar, too much fat, too much cholesterol, that can kill ya like that.

Again, for the metaphor challenged, the toxins and poisons represent bigotry, racism, sexism, white supremacy and your lesser dramatic but equally dangerous garden variety infectious invaders like selfishness, pettiness, vindictiveness.

And another "ism" I forgot to mention. One that is to the American bloodstream of the 21st Century what polio was to the nervous system of the 20th Century.

Narcissism.

And the really insidious thing about all those "isms" and "nesses"........

Just like the toxins, poisons and potentially fatal infections that live, literally,  for the opportunity to do damage to the healthy human body, all of the worst of humanity, each of the aforementioned "isms" and "nesses" aren't going away any time soon.

Props and due respect to all those who work tirelessly to change the world.....as well as those who imagine all the people living lives in peace, those poisons have been a part of the human experience since the garden.

So, it's not buzzkill pessimism, but, rather, sensible fact facing to acknowledge their existence.

And, ideally, to do everything we can do to keep those poisons, if not conquered, then, at the very least, contained so that they can do as little harm as possible.

This week's metaphor bonus.

Think of a healthy society as a well maintained and skillfully run nuclear power plant.

And think of man's worst qualities as radioactive air and water, by products of the nuclear process.

Properly contained, the plant provides power and light and life.

Allow, through carelessness or recklessness or, worse, by design, critical mass and meltdown to occur....and disaster, destruction and death are injected into the mainstream.

Like poisons in the bloodstream.

A reactor malfunctions and radioactivity is released.

An essential body organ ruptures and toxins flood the bloodstream.

A bottle marked "Poison" falls and shatters........

Or, even worse, the cork in the bottle marked "Poison" is pulled out.....

It's way past time to get our minds right on exactly what is number one on the national "qualifications for keys to 1600 Pennsylvania" list. 

Number one on that list of Presidential qualities, virtues, traits and/or abilities.

The deceptively difficult skill required to keep the cork in the goddamn bottle.

Because we've already seen what happens when America elects someone who lacks that skill.

His only real skill being convincing enough people that, in fact, pulling that cork out is exactly just what the doctor ordered.....

...to make America great again..

Tippecanoe and Up Yours, Too....

National election time again.

Well, not technically, given that we're, at this writing, a year away from actual ballot casting, but in a culture that has you navigating the store aisles stacked high and cheap with Christmas decorations within a day or two of your closing down the pool for the year, it's only natural that presidential election campaigns eat up more than 1/4th of the actual time we elect people to actually do the job.

And, of course, as is tradition, with every shiny new national election comes the value added, free with every purchase glut of catchy slogans.

This time around, though, it occurs that if the snap, crackle and pop of this go-rounds collection of campaign mantras is any indication, the future is looking less like a sizzle and more like a snooze-fest.

And it's not that the bumper sticker bywords ultimately matter a hoot in hell compared to a particular candidate's stand on the economy, immigration, climate change, taxes and all the other issues that we satirically convince ourselves we have researched and pondered and come to enlightened decisions regarding.

Then again, judging from a lot of what's floating around out there in the social media mainstream, it's not incorrect to suggest that while polio, smallpox and yaws have been pretty much eradicated, dumb seems to be spreading like those wildfires in California that would go away if they just ratcheted up their forest floor sweeping schedule.

Oh...and that's "yaws" the rarely fatal, but highly disfiguring cousin of the syphilis bacteria.

Not that badly bootlegged, Swedish dubbed version of the killer shark film classic.

Personally, as a writer of some experience, and infamy, if not, accomplishment, it's my p.o.v. that you can tell a lot about a candidate for office by the catchphrase they contribute to the conversation.

For a couple of reasons.

First, you only get one chance to make a first impression.

And while rallies, town halls, chat room events, even deeply probing, insightful interviews by Rhodes Scholar level inquisitors like Joy Behar are fleeting moments on the time line.....

...bumper stickers are forever, baby.

And  a well thought out, appealing, even, dare we dream, simultaneously intelligent and witty slogan shows a potentially keen, even, dare we dream, simultaneously intelligent and witty mind on display.

Most slogan historians point to "I Like Ike" as the pinnacle of promotional savvy.

Me, I'm more of an "AuH20 in 64" kind of guy.

But I've oft been told I'm way too clever for my own good.

Campaign 2020, meanwhile, is, as mentioned earlier, not shaping up to be a massive wave of wit, whimsy and wherewithal when it comes to making the case in as few words as possible.

Joe Biden is letting us know that "Our Best Days Still Lie Ahead".

Which, frankly, sounds more like a pep talk for somebody suddenly rendered paraplegic than a reason to cast a Biden ballot.

Current, at this writing, full time candidate and, to hear Hillary tell it, part time Russian asset Tulsi Gabbard is pledging to "Lead With Love"

Could just be me, but I'm not particularly inspired to vote for anybody who has me finishing her slogan in my head with "it's the only thing / that there's just / too little of".

Bernie Sanders has mostly de-commissioned last time's "Feel The Bern" and opted for a more attention span challenged friendly "Not Me. Us."

Probably not a best choice, given that, depending on how the next year or so shakes out, accusations of criminal behavior-wise, Donald might be usurping that mantra to use frequently in the form of "Not Me. Never Me. In Fact, Anybody and Everybody Except Me".

And Tom Steyer, who you might know from people saying things like "who the hell is Tom Steyer?" is letting America know that "There's Nothing More Powerful Than The Unified Voice Of The American People".

Most certainly patriotic and powerful. But lacks the understanding that very few people are going to commit to putting three bumper stickers on their car.

Even my personal fave in the electoral fracas, Pete Buttigieg, is playing it pretty garden variety as he pledges "A Fresh Start For America".

Again, probably just me, but when I hear that, I'm not thinking innovative and inspiring national and global leadership as much as I'm hearing the voice of Jimmy Dean and trying to decide between links and patties.

Speaking of Donald, of course, there's the now combination iconic politically / classic comedically "Make America Great Again" which has been evilly ingeniously re-tooled into "Keep America Great".

Couple of thoughts.

First, "Make America Great Again" itself was a re-do, originally used by Ronald Reagan in 1980. Reagan was the Trump of the 1980's. A tax cutting for the rich, woefully inexperienced, essentially useless former celebrity. The key difference, of course, being that we all liked him because he was a nice guy and not a sociopathic narcissist.

Second, "Keep America Great" shows an irrefutable lack of creativity and/or imagination. In fact, it makes one suspect that the goal is to to keep the motto as simple as simple can possibly be, lending credence to the theory that Donald has always known that his success is based entirely on the support of people who are, themselves, as simple as simple can be.

Third......

....no, scratch that. That second one pretty much covers it.

The history of political slogans is a fascinating one and well worth the five minutes, or so, that it takes to Google up that history (start at Wiki / it's a very good place to start).

As you might imagine, they run the gamut from uncommon to unimpressive, odd to ordinary, well intended but poorly executed.

Something noteworthy in the list for not showing up very often in the list, though.

The real bare knuckle, low blow, kick 'em in the nuts, no ifs, ands or buts you might expect to find in a profession pretty much fueled on venom.

Oh, there were a few hit and run sloganeers along the timeline.

"Ma, Ma, Where's My Pa" was used by the James G. Blaine campaign in 1884 referring to the allegation that his opponent Grover Cleveland had fathered an illegitimate child. When Cleveland was elected, his supporters fired back "Gone To The White House, Ha, Ha, Ha".

Al Smith, in 1928, took advantage of the desire of voters to repeal Prohibition by sloganing, with a not so subtle wink, wink, nudge, nudge, "Make Your Wet Dreams Come True"

And in 1964, in answer to the Goldwater contribution, "In Your Heart, You Know He's Right", the campaign of Lyndon Johnson smacked back on Goldwater's pro-use of nuclear weapons stand with a snarky "In Your Guts, You Know He's Nuts".

Mostly, though, the campaign slogan scrapbook is filled with lofty and/or cliche' and/or predictable same ol', same ol.

Time for a change.

Lumped in among the wide array of bonus features included in the Trump Premium Package is what amounts to a free pass.

Anything goes. Sky's the limit. Gloves are off. No holds barred.

Formerly standard operating procedures like decorum, tact, courtesy, regard, subtlety, discretion, even garden variety politeness....they're all now not only passe', they're practically subject to ridicule. As in "speak respectfully to other candidates for the job I'm wanting? what kind of candy ass, snoflake, suck it up butter cup bullshit is that?"

And gracious acknowledgement of critique or criticism?

Fuck you, you featherweight pussy. Make America Great Again.

The problem with this attitude, of course, is that there is no end to the list of problems with this attitude.

First, if not foremost, being that no matter how supposedly "gutsy" or "tough guy" or "take no bullshit" the followers think, or have been led to believe, it is, at the hard rock bottom of it all, that's simply no way to run a civilization.

Of course, if you're one of those who got the "civilizations is for candy ass, sno flake butter cups" refrigerator magnet with your purchase of the red cap, you don't give that hard rock bottom a second thought.

Except, of course, when others insult you by complaining about the noise you're making scraping that hard rock bottom.

To which you always immediately and instinctively reply.....

"...fuck you, you featherweight pussy. Make America Great Again."

By the way, not to wander too far off the point path, but have you noticed how "Make America Great Again" has evolved, or, more accurately, mutated, into a kind of honorary hashtag at the end of most everything that the followers say?

It's a lot like that fun phrase William Shatner attached to just about everything he said during his stint as the mirthful mad cow lawyer on the TV series "Boston Legal".

"...Denny Crane."

The key difference there, of course, being that whatever preceded that verbal exclamation point was usually delightfully eccentric and/or affectionately satirical.

As opposed to ignorant, mean spirited and/or just flat fucking obnoxious.

Oh. Right. Sorry. I forgot.

Fuck me. Make America Great Again.

Meanwhile, back at the bumper stickers.

As much as I, and, I'm fairly sure, many others would like to see the next twelve months spent electing a president play out in a firm, but fair, powerful, but polite, strong, but civilized, intense, but tactful, dramatic, but diplomatic atmosphere, I'm prepared to make a killing by betting every dime I own and/or can get my hands on that this next twelve months will prove that the answer to the question "how low can you go?" is actually the same answer to the question "what's a number between, say, two and three?"

Infinity.

And beyond, baby.

Trump will see to that.

And if you're inclined to yank your, by now frayed and stained, red cap down with a little defiant jerk and unload on me with a whole mess of "Demo-rats" and "Sleepy Joe" and "Nervous Nancy" and all the other theoretically clever, but, truth be told, ultimately pathetic pencil dick attempts at a comeback defending your big, orange hero, let me just add.

Fuck you. Make America Great Again.

So, while those of us sitting in the civilized section would enjoy watching a well played game of, say, chess or tennis or even baseball, all games that are ultimately more about intelligence and strategy than they are brute strength, the unavoidable fact is that "Campaign 2020", again, bet all you can beg, borrow or steal, is going to pretty much look like the cheapest, tackiest WWE grudge match your imagination can conjure.

With business attire, as opposed to ill fitting, psychologically damaging Speedos, as the dress code.

And if, props to Doris Day, whatever will be, will be here, then let's go all in and do it right.

Enough with the same ol, same ol, plain ol, lofty, lame, lightweight, flimsy, feeble, half baked. cut rate catch phrases and let's PDF Donald's cheap shot, low blow, petty, pea brain playbook and get busy bumper stickerin' like a bitch.


Kamala Harris- It's Pronounced COMuhluh, You MAGA Morons.

Tulsi Gabbard- Russian Asset, My Ass.

Amy Klobuchar- Just Vote For Me And Stop Sounding Stupid Making Fun Of My Name

Bernie Sanders - Call Me A Socialist One More Time, Motherfucker.

Elizabeth Warren- Hey Donald, Read THIS Warren Report, Fat Boy.

Pete Buttigeig- Yes, I'm Gay. And You're An Idiot. Let's Work Together.

Joe Biden - At Least You Know Where MY Hands Have Been.


Starting to sound like we got something here, don't you think?

And not to worry.

For those who think their big, orange hero is going to be left out, we've got a killer campaign slogan for him, too.

One that, just like all these others, is in your face, up your ass, dividing and inciting and angering and stirring up hatred and bigotry and ignorance and brings out the very worst in us.

As Americans, as citizens, as voters, as neighbors, as friends.

As human beings.

Donald Trump- Make America Great Again.

Oh, wait.....

Make that.....

Fuck You. Make America Great Again.

It's worked like a charm so far.

It's Like Apples...And Orange Cult Worship...

For those unclear on, or even unaware of, the applicable historic contexts:

Any and all comparisons between the Trump impeachment process and the Watergate/Nixon impeachment process are pointless, if only for one irrefutable reason......

In 1974, the Congress of the United States was made up of men and women who, although passionate in their political philosophies, were, in the majority, honorable people who, when it was crunch time, put honor, integrity and country ahead of party and personal greed/gain.......

Men and women of that caliber are in the almost non-existent minority in 2019.

And only after you, and yours, and what matters to you personally have been sold out by them, will you finally realize that they had no goal or purpose, from the beginning, except to further their own personal agendas.......

It was, in 1974, the political party of the President, in fact, that made it clear to that president that he was in violation of his oath of office and was destined for impeachment and conviction......

There will be no such display of courage, honor or integrity this time around.

Humorously intended meme floating around:

Without authentic patriots, as well.