The X Factor, As It Turns Out, Is Actually The X Factor

Two debates (at this writing) down.

Ten debates (at this writing) to go.

Plenty of issues in the old issue box to dissect, debate and discuss.

And only 486 days (at this writing) left until America has a very important decision to make.

A decision that is going to, ultimately, be decided on the basis of one factor.

Actually, not so much a factor, per se', as...a quality.

Integrity? Compassion? Empathy? Humility? Honesty?

Hey, hi, we're America. Have we met?

If any of those qualities really mattered a hoot in hell, it's a put all your money on, and get ready to win big, bet that Donald Trump would never have gotten past the first couple of primaries in 2016.

Integrity, compassion, empathy, humility, even honesty are, let's just save ourselves some time and plain talk with each other, qualities that pretty much everybody says they look for in someone when it comes time to cast a ballot, but, when the chips are down and that little curtain behind them closes on Election Day......

...again, I would refer you to the first couple of primaries in 2016.  

Not to mention the Electoral College vote tally on Election Night that November.

As far as actual issues are concerned?

Well, like finger foods on a buffet table, there are always plenty to choose from, assuming that it's one of those buffet tables where time and effort have been put in to put out a nice spread, but, people, being voters, and voters, being people, tend to disregard pretty much everything on that buffet table with the exception of the one, maybe two, usually three max, noshes that tickle their particular taste buds.

It's all very noble to believe that the average voter takes time to study and determine how their lives, and the lives of their friends, loved ones and (the always heart stirring) "fellow Americans" are going to be affected by race, education, healthcare, the economy, employment, or lack thereof, immigration, climate change, guns, crime, terrorism, income inequality, affordable energy, drug use and/or treatment, homelessness, Social Security, Medicare, the environment.........

...all very noble to believe all those issues matter to that average voter.....but all very naive', as well.

Because, to put it in a succinct, easy to digest, sound byte qualified phrase, as to how much each and all of those issues matter to people.....

They don't.

Oh, all of them are on the buffet table and available for tasting and testing, but the hard core truth of the matter is that, allowing, of course, that there are always exceptions to every rule, the average American voter is very much not a nibble, taste and test type.

Mostly, the average American voter zeroes right in on the pigs in a blanket and loads up.

As to our metaphorical buffet here, which pig and which blanket, again, depends entirely on the particular hunger of the particular voter.

Out of work and pretty pissed about it? Well, unemployment is going to certainly be on your radar.

Gainfully employed but recently burgled? Yeah, yeah, poor people without jobs, too bad, so sad,  blah, blah, yada, yada, what's going to be done about crime in the streets, huh?

Good job, blessed to have not been burgled or mugged but convinced that it's only a matter of time before some pillaging, raving, raping brown skin comes kicking down your door to rave, ravage and rape?

Build. That. Wall.

Same principle holds fast, steady and true no matter what one's particular need, desire and/or demand. Because just like men and/or women who convince themselves that Speedo is really the wisest choice for summer beach attire, Americans, in large numbers, are in the habit of convincing themselves that , being bona fide residents of the land of the free and home of the brave they are totally, even automatically, down with equality and compassion and tolerance and, of course, from sea to shining sea, crowning each other's good with brotherhood..... truth....justice...you know....the American way.

When, in fact, it comes to truth? Here's the truth.

The issues that matter to them...are the issues that matter to....them.

Historically, if only theoretically, the choice made in the voting booth was made by taking a number of factors into consideration.

That was then.

In the now, the number of factors has been boiled down to one.

Which candidate is offering up those pigs in a blanket.

Good for my neighbors? Yeah, well, maybe. Good for my friends? Sure, okay, whatever.

Good for my country?

Look, man, that kind of analysis and perspective is way above my pay grade. All I know is that my guy or gal is promising to keep me in pigs in blankets till the cows come home.

Not to mix the barnyard metaphor.

There's actually a slang term for this, now, apparently essential factor.

It's relatively new in the process. Although historians could probably furnish us with some kind of evidence that even Washington or Jefferson had their own groupies, posses' and/or "guys", more contemporary scholars would probably date the current phenomenon back to circa 1960.

Arguably, the first "rock star" election. Resulting in, arguably, the first "rock star" President.

Fast forward twenty years and, bada bing, the broadening of the definition of "rock star" to include the less flashy, but no less glossy,  "celebrity" status.

Ronald Reagan was no Jack Kennedy, but, hey, he had known Marilyn Monroe personally, too, ya dig?

From there, the rock star gene found its way into the American DNA more than once on Election Day.

Bill Clinton.

Barack Obama.

Yeah, obviously, both Bushes were left off the list here. But, first, no one could ever really say the words "rock star" and "George Bush (either H.W. or just W without the H)" without evoking snide laughter and a well deserved chorus of WTF's.

Second, since bashing the "Hollywood elite" is a copyrighted page in the Republican playbook, when it comes to claiming a place at the cool kids table, the GOP can just step off.

This factor, meanwhile, is not to be dismissed nor taken lightly.

Because 2016 took us to Celeb Con One when it came time to choose somebody to faithfully execute the office of.

(Given Trump's bad hair day hustler back story, the combo of Celeb and Con there is screaming for a whole commentary, but I'm gonna file that one and keep eyes on the prize here).

Here's a prediction you're likely not going to hear anywhere else.

The "star wattage" of election 2020 is going to play a major part in the outcome.

Because America 2020 is a celebrity fueled culture.

And America 2020... is a fast food culture.

America wants it hot and fresh and fast....and convenient.

Whether it's good for them...or not.

And how they feel about the issues of our time, what they think about the policies and programs that might not only directly affect the now but possibly have dramatic consequences for generations to come takes a way in the back back seat to the factor.

The X factor.

I don't have any stats or data or evidence, empirical or otherwise, to validate my theory here. But, statistical, empirically evidentiary data kinda flies in the face of the theory in the first place.

The voter who has mined coal for forty years and comes from a family that has mined coal for ten generations doesn't give a rat's ass about facts and figures.

And is guaranteed to swiftly and brutally turn a deaf ear to any evidence of any kind that the days of coal are, if not completely over, then certainly in the nine to ten range.

As in "ten....nine....eight...."

They hear a sales pitch that includes the phrase "going to get you your coal job back" and they buy that pitch like shipping was free and included a free My Pillow with every purchase.

Jobs in the coal industry, in this example, being that particular voter's pig in a blanket.

Yum. Yeah. Hot damn, now you're talkin'.

Truth be told, there's nothing particularly new about this method of electioneering. Voters have been buying pigs in a blanket since the dawn of both time and the ballot box.

Nothing about the process has changed all that much from its original edition.

You have a vote. I want it. I promise you something you want and you give me your vote in return.

The problem with the system, of course, has been, is now, and ever shall be that the vote isn't given in return for the product....or service....or good job with good pay and benefits.

Or. That. Wall.

The problem is that the vote is given in return for the promise.

I'll gladly serve you up that pig in a blanket next week or next year....for your vote today.

What's changed, and dramatically so, is the aforementioned X factor, again, relatively new to the process.

The pitch now is not necessarily being made by a garden variety, standard issue "politician" where it's almost considered standard operating procedure for them to promise you whatever it is you need to hear and you basically pull the arm down on the slot machine and say a quick prayer that three little cherries will show up in those three little windows.

Or three little pigs in a blanket if cherries don't do it for you.

The pitch is being made by celebrities.

To an America that is a celebrity fueled culture.

Celebrity. Noun. A famous person. The state of being well known.

There are about twenty five synonyms available in the particular definition that I looked up just now for the word celebrity and nowhere to be found were there any that came even remotely close to......

...experienced.

Visionary.

Compassionate.

Educated.

Erudite.

Inspiring.

Noble.

Well suited.

Qualified.

This explains a lot about what happened in 1992 and 1996.....and 2008 and 2012.......

But it totally explains what happened in 2016.

As a number of Americans sufficient enough to put the popular vote machinery into TILT mode put a celebrity in the Oval Office.

A celebrity without experience, vision, compassion, education, erudition, inspiration, nobility.....or qualification.

But a celebrity whose entire public persona was built on a foundation of masterful salesmanship.

A celebrity who doesn't know that there's no such Bible book as Two Corinthians, that Frederick Douglass has been dead a long, long time.

That, as near as most reputable historians can determine, there were no airports during the Revolutionary War.

None of that matters in 2019 America.

Because, even after all we've seen and know about him that we suspected but hadn't yet seen and didn't yet know three years ago, his celebrity is intact.

And be it coal jobs or limitless guns or no more pesky rules about polluting the air and water or putting an end to that annoying stream of raving, raging, raping brown skins, each and every one of those is, surely, somebody's pig in a blanket.

Yum. Yeah. Hot damn, now you're talkin'.

Celebrity is going to play a major part in the outcome of the election in America 2020.

Especially an America so infatuated, and influenced, by celebrity that it is easily impressed by just the right pig in a blanket.

Even if it's nothing more than a celebrity peddling pigs in a blanket.

Or pigs in a poke.

If You Think About It, Gravestones Are Little Walls, Too

America loves a winner.

And that's why what you're about to be told is going to come as bad news.

Hey, America.

You lose.

You've been defeated, vanquished, knocked out of the race, banished to the cellar, pick the sports metaphor that hits a home run for you and run with it.

You are number one no more.

And here's the dun-dun-dun surprise plot twist that makes life's little melodramas so much more entertaining.

You don't even know that you are number one no more.    

Even worse, you think you're still king of the hill, top of the list, a-number one, head of the heap.

Start spreading this news.

It wasn't a foreign foe or an enemy army that conquered you. It wasn't a virus or bacteria or plague, locusts or otherwise, that did  you in.

It wasn't even the illusory and imaginary hoardes of raping, pillaging, drug crazed brown skins that came pouring over the border like a tidal wave in any given movie most likely starring Dwayne Johnson.

No, what ended your reign as the undefeated champion of, literally, the world, was a simple pebble in your red, white and blue shoe.

A wall.

Even worse, a wall that does not now, nor will it ever, actually exist.

And, pun disguised as metaphor notwithstanding, a wall that sealed your fate as losers.

Stone truth.

Right here and now.

Fifty years ago this year, on July 20th, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin became the first human beings to set foot on the surface of the moon.

These days, anyone under the age of, say, 55 most likely relates to that momentous historic day in much the same way those of, say, my generation related to the Wright Brothers' little moment of winging it, circa 1903.

It was of some interest as the tale crossed their radar via dry pages of a dusty history book, but there was no particular emotional connection.

Historic events are mostly comprised of facts and figures, who, what, where, when and, if applicable to the context, why.

Feeling the feelings and emotions that come with the event requires a personal presence either at the event itself or, at the very least, being alive and aware at the time the event takes place.

I know that John Wilkes Booth shot and killed Abraham Lincoln. I can honestly tell you that I haven't got a clue of a sliver of a memory as to when I first heard or just read about that killing.

Meanwhile, it was fifty three years ago this November, but I can still tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing when I heard the radio broadcaster announce that John F. Kennedy had been shot to death on a Dallas street.

And those twenty or thirty years younger certainly join me in remembering just where they were and what they were feeling as they watched the Twin Towers come crashing down.

Bottom line, history is about reflection. Historic events and any emotional connection to them, themselves, are largely a matter of "you had to be there".

At this point, it's expected, and reasonable, that a lot of folks reading this piece are likely asking "what does all of this have to do with this "America has been defeated" business?

Fair point. Fair question.

And here's the answer.

America simply hasn't got what it takes to get the job done anymore.

And the proof? Well, the proof comes in the attitudes of millions of people who, like a dog with a bone, can't see any other solution, actual or imagined, to the challenges of maximizing the safety of this nation and securing this nation's borders except a solution that was considered high tech, state of the art....

...375 years ago.

1644 for those History Channel types who are also sticklers for exact calendar notation.

Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of a wacky, fun area of Asia, circa 200 BC, got his border security on by working on protecting his newly minted dynasty from, as the dry and dusty pages inform us, "incursions by nomads from Inner Asia."

The structure went through this emperor and that emperor until 1644 when it became the border securing/landmark/tourist attraction we all know today.

Courtesy of that era's area supreme leader and/or leaders, the always amusing Mings.

Come for the vases.

Stay for the Great Wall.

One suspects that had bumper stickers and ball caps been around in 1644, they would have been sold out of the very popular "Make China Great Again" edition.

Fast forward to America 2019.

And the perceived solution to what ails U.S. when it comes to legitimate issues of immigration and border security.

And proof positive that America has been defeated, vanquished, knocked out of the race, banished to the cellar, pick the sports metaphor that hits a home run for you and run with it.

Clearly, America has given up.

And, following the inevitable path of logic involved when giving up occurs, the obvious conclusion to be drawn is that America simply doesn't have what it takes anymore.

Because fifty years after John F. Kennedy surprised everyone, especially those whose job it would be to make it happen, by publicly committing the United States to putting a man on the moon and returning him safely to Earth by the end of the year 1969.....600 months after America put its best brains to the staggering goal of putting a man on the moon and returning him safely to Earth...18,250 days after those best and brightest answered the call, put their brains to work on the goal and, fifty years ...600 months.....18,250 days ago, this July, ... accomplished that goal in the America of 1969....

...the America of 2019, the America that considers a failed real estate hustling, pathological liar, pussy grabbing narcissistic sociopath worthy of occupancy in the office that has seen the likes of George Washington.....Abraham Lincoln......Franklin Roosevelt......John F. Kennedy...come and go.....the America that has witnessed the advent of nuclear power, the discovery and distribution of antibiotics, the eradication of polio....the creation of, and common ownership of, a small chip, in that computer on your desk, that computer in your lap, that cigarette pack sized phone in your hand that affords you access to a wealth of information that makes traditional libraries seems like a circular stuck under the windshield wiper of your car in a grocery store parking lot.....

...the America of 2019 believes the venomous, pandering, fear mongering, self serving spew of a failed real estate hustling, pathological liar, pussy grabbing narcissistic sociopath.....not suggesting that the only thing to fear is fear itself....or "throwing our cap over the wall of space travel and having no choice" but to scale that wall and retrieve it.......

instead.....that the best answer to the legitimate issues of immigration and border security.....is not any one of a thousand things that America's best and brightest minds could most surely conceive and create if only encouraged.....or inspired.....or just asked.......

....no......the answer is a wall.

No brain storming, no think tanking, no drawing boards, no limitless 21st century technology being birthed by the most brilliant of the very best and the very brightest in the tradition of those who harnessed nuclear power, discovered penicillin, eradicated polio....created a small chip.......

...put two men on the surface of the moon and returned them, and their equally brave fellow explorer, to the Earth.

Fifty years ago.

This July.

All there is....is a wall.

A tired re-hash....of a 375 year old idea.

Clearly, America simply doesn't have what it takes anymore.

That's indescribably sad.

Given the power and energy and creativity and innovation and brilliance of the America that was.

An America that reached for the stars.

And achieved it.

An America that now has nothing to offer but a wall.

An America that can't even get that off the ground.



 

It's Time To Talk Some Plane Truth

Today's commentary is a respite from the viciousness and vitriol that makes up pretty much any and all discussion about politics these days.

Sometimes, it's worth having a chat about aerodynamics.

As always, in this era of shooting, or more applicably, tweeting and/or posting first and asking questions later, a fun facts to know and tell primer is both enlightening and essential.

First, a simple definition.

Aerodynamics. The study of the properties of moving air and the interaction between the air and solid bodies moving through it.

One witty dictionary offered up this sardonic slant as an example.

"When forward thrust is lost, the plane has the aerodynamics of a brick." 

Suddenly, the metaphors potentially leading us down a tempting path of punchlines practically beg to be introduced into evidence, forward thrust as, for example, progressive legislation and the plane now mutated into brick as the current ship of state as piloted by pirates, brigands and assorted family members of pirates and brigands who come along on trips to England for no other apparent reason than a trip to England on the taxpayers dime.

But we're taking a little respite from the viciousness and vitriol that makes up pretty much any and all discussion about politics these days.

So, let's talk aerodynamics.

More to the point, again, for those who are already starting to experience the shakes that come with any imparting of information that doesn't come in the form of an adorable emoji and/or an OMG to an LOL, up to, but not necessarily exceeding an LMAFO, lest you be admonished to STFU, let's make this as simple as possible.

And talk about how things fly.

Again, keeping it simple lest we lose those who can't seem to figure out the complexities of traffic circles or four way stops, but can recite entire story arcs of Game of Thrones, let's focus in on how just two things fly.

Actually, keeping it very simple, because the whole flying thing works the same way for both.

Birds.

And planes.

Explanation, courtesy of a charming website where all kinds of interesting information regarding biology can be found, cleverly, and usefully, named "ask a biologist"




The principles offered up there, of course, apply to planes, as well.

After all, planes are really nothing more than really big birds with overpriced beverage service, very little in the way of legroom and headphones that probably carry every bacteria known to man.

There is, though, one other little factoid that plays a big part in the principle of flight.

Be it bird or really big bird with very little legroom.

We'll come in for a landing on that one in just a few minutes.

The stars at night may be big and bright...but bright isn't something often associated with the Lone Star state these days.

And the infamous billboard certainly wasn't going to sway any jury who might be charged with the task of ruling guilty or not guilty of the charge of "seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you people?"

For those almost always in the know, but, still, paradoxically, out of the loop, here's the gist.

A billboard in the Texas panhandle went viral, over ten thousand photo shares on Facebook. It was large white letters on a simple green background.

And it read as follows....

"Liberals...please continue on I-40 until you have left our (their caps, not mine) GREAT STATE OF TEXAS."

Okay.

Few things worth noting and deserving of mention.

First, the outdoor advertising company that owns the billboard spoke with the advertiser and it has been agreed that the billboard should come down.

Second, more than a few local residents, interviewed about the incident, offered that they were in full support of the message and the messenger.

Third, within just a day or two, a GoFundMe page appeared soliciting funds for a billboard with a more hospitable greeting and very quickly reached its goal.

That sign reads.."Texas is for everyone...not bigotry...Welcome, ya'll."

And, lastly, but certainly not leastly, , for those who own a custom made copy of the Constitution complete with hair trigger always ready to accommodate their itchy finger, stand down, there, little buckaroo and/or buckaree.

The free speech bicker and bitch meeting is three blogs down on the right, just past the men's room.

Oh...and there is one more thing.

The direction I'm heading in here doesn't really have anything to do, per se', with the actual billboard or the positions taken on it.

I'm still thinking aerodynamics.

With a dash and/or dollop of demagogue thrown in to make things zazzy.

A local fill-in talk radio host, in this neck of the woods, posted the picture of the Texas billboard and added his own sassy splash of erudition, enlightenment and education.

"...got to love Texas...I hope this message spreads."

It's worth mentioning that this same on-air "personality" is of the school that finds back slapping hilarity in a Rodney Dangerfield cut and paste meme floating around that reads "Nancy Pelosi is so ugly...that her proctologist accidentally stuck his finger in her mouth."

Wow. Let's hope that you can't overdose on classy because this poor profound patriot is flirting with showing up D.O.A at any minute.

In fairness, I don't know the guy personally, so I have no way of knowing whether he's got a Doctorate in dimwit, having minored in moron, or he's just diddling around with "Trump-The Home Game" and Donald-ing the dickens out of the crowd by playing to them.

Having a little back story in the business of audience affectation my own self, I'm going to cut slack and assume it's mostly about pandering as opposed to pea-braining.

The affirmation of said audience on clear display with the very first comment from an audience member in the thread attached to the billboard picture post.

"...it's time for people to make a stand and not back down from these liberal dick heads..."

Hmm. "Liberal dick heads"......

Well, it's no "Crooked Hillary" or "Crazy Joe" or "Pocahontas", but you keep swingin' for the fences, there, little Rhodes Scholar basement dweller, dream big.

I said, at the outset, that today was going to be about aerodynamics and not politics.

Yeah, well, turns out that didn't fly.

Buh to the dum-bump.

But, in the spirit of getting back, getting back to where we once belonged, let me do a little course correction and resume our flight plan.

First up, just a quick, no-frills, no padding, no editorializing list of accomplishments in America generally credited to those of the liberal dick head persuasion.

See if any of them ring your "oh, yeah, well, there's that" bell. Especially if you laughed and said "goddamn right" when you first heard the phrase "liberal dick head" a minute ago.

The G.I. Bill....how many college degrees in your family came about as a result?

The space program...one small step for man, one giant leap for Uncle Sam.

Earned Income Tax Credit....big words....try these on: more money for you.

Family and Medical Leave Act....this would be why you can actually have a family and keep a job at the same time.

Consumer Product Safety Commission....yeah, yeah, Federal agency, bureaucrats, blah, blah....let's go simple again and say your kids just might have all their fingers because of those bureaucrats.

Americans with Disabilities Act.....done any good handicapped parking lately?

Unemployment insurance...essentially, getting paid for not doing a thing.....like being in government without the free health coverage.

Freedom of Information Act....if you need to know, you can actually find out.

Allowing you to see your own credit records. If you need to know, you can actually find out.

The Voting Rights Act....prohibiting racial discrimination when it comes to casting a ballot....currently being reevaluated by arrogant privileged whites singing "what a friend we have / in Donald", but still....

Women's Right To Vote....affording women the same opportunity men have to take the blame for this mess.

The National Weather Service...yeah, yeah, yada, yada, you say, you've got the new IPhone for that....and where do you think IPhone gets the information, there, brainiac?

Rural Electrification.....was a time them hill folk had to watch their Fox News shows in the dark.

Bank Deposit Insurance.....little protection policy spelled FDIC.

And...big finish....

Medicare/Medicaid.

Social Security.

But, wait! There's more!

Actually, there's plenty more but more and plenty of it isn't the point.

The point, ladies and gentlemen, or in its new, hip contemporary form, "you guys", is this.

Liberal dick heads.  Henceforth referred to "left wing."

Along with their theological, philosophical, political counterparts, the "right wing".

And a very simple, and irrefutable, law of physics.

Found at a website, very cleverly, and usefully, named "how things fly".

"A plane needs balance to be stable. When it has two wings, it has lift on both sides and it is pushed straight up into the air. If you remove one wing, though, the plane is suddenly out of balance. It would have a huge weight in the middle and lift only on one side. causing the plane to lift unevenly....and, inevitably, unavoidably....stall..."

Uh oh.

There are a lot of reasons why the billboard in Texas and the hundreds, even thousands, of similar expressions found in 2019 America are, at best, poor sportsmanship and, at worst, incendiary provocations at a time in American history when flames need to be doused not fanned.

But, again, for the more ADD afflicted, here's a simpler it, as in what it is.

It's just stupid.

A plane, a bird...a nation....with only one wing has nowhere to go...but down.

Whether it's a blowhard billboard deep in the heart or the pandering pyromania of a talk radio show, the risk of stall, crash and burn is the same.

And while politics is the front and center noisemaker in the whole air show of  avarice and antagonism and arrogance, the undeniable fact of the matter is that it's ultimately not about politics at all.

It's simply about an immovable law of physics.

Aerodynamics.

It Doesn't, It Won't, It Can't, It's Not, It Is And It Isn't...But, Mostly...It Just Shouldn't....

Sizing up, talking about and summing up Donald Trump should be as simple as it gets.

It isn't.

Given that the person we're talking about was, in theory and, as it turns out, only in theory, thought by, literally, millions to be the "sweeping change" needed to get this country "back on track", saying that this country, at least in modern times, has never been more derailed might be hyperbole, but when it comes to being incorrect?

It isn't.

No winnable argument exists to refute the fact that America has never been as polarized as it's been since the day Trump solemnly swore to faithfully execute the office.

And while there is most certainly a host of wonderful possible punchlines dealing with his "executing the office", it's a mistake to think that this is a good time to go there. 

It's not.

Recently a friend/colleague and I launched The Blab, a vidcast/podcast, that streams live on Facebook Wednesday nights at 7P Eastern. The Blab deals with timely topics, invigorating issues and assorted other features, follies and fun facts to know and tell formatted, theoretically, to cover a wide, deep diverse range of what's happening in our towns, culture, country and world in the year 2019.

It doesn't.

At least, not yet. And it's not for lack of intention or effort. In fact, each week, after the six weeks we've been doing it, at this writing, we do a brief internal review, talk about revising and tweaking and streamlining, working to find those fine lines between entertaining and endless, profound and preachy, thought provoking and mind numbing; engaging, educational, erudite....and exhausting.

For us and the audience. You can easily understand that, even when things are what passes for normal in life, that's a challenging task and, if asked if we ever find that its even close to easy to accomplish that, there's only one honest answer.

It isn't.

Politics plays a primary part in that challenge. Before deciding to give the show a try, we both agreed that we didn't want to be just another sixty minutes of yada yada yammer, world without end, amen of political punditry, but not talking politics at this point in the timeline that is irrefutably not normal, by any standards, would be like having a breezy chat about sports scores and movies we like while outside people were running in a panic to find any kind of shelter as the zombie apocalypse is in full giddy up.

There's an elephant in the room metaphor that's commonly used in situations like this but as to elephants, and/or donkeys, being our favorite metaphors these days?

They're not.

The presence of Donald Trump, meanwhile, both in the Oval Office, and even on planet Earth, for that matter, compounds the complications of talking as much about any and everything else as we talk about politics. Because normal times and normal presidencies would obviously factor into any chat that includes the daily headlines, but that assumes that the Trump occupancy being anything resembling normal is something that can be reasonably said.

It can't.

In reviewing the shows of the first few weeks, I found a common thread in The Blab. Actually, it turns out, common on a couple of fronts.

First, it's a theme that seems to run through each of The Blab shows, to date.But it's also the same theme that runs through talk radio shows, TV cable news shows, generic chit chat radio and/or TV shows and even a lot of every day conversations amongst the masses we sentimentally, if not just a little satirically in these times, refer to as "we, the people."

And there's no denying that it comes down to an unavoidable, and unavoidably catchy, catch phrase.

All Trump. All The Time.

And it's a theme that actually blurs, if not outright blinds us to, the simple truth offered up at the beginning of this piece.

Sizing up, talking about and summing up Donald Trump should be as simple as it gets.

It's not.

But it should be.

And if you're curious as to whether you're correct that that's where this piece is headed.

You are.

It is.

And, unlike almost all of the other debates, discussions, arguments, confrontations, etc, yada, blah blah that this guy generates, all of the "he's this" and "he's that" that fills the conversational air like a foggy day in London town or a smoggy day in Tinseltown, the real heart of the matter has to do with who and/or what....

...it doesn't.....won't.....can't.....and, more critically, one more apostrophe equipped word.

Still to come.

First, a mea culpa is in order.

While I haven't gone completely over, I am guilty of being, too often, seduced into the dark side of the force.

In this case, the force is the precedent shattering tonnage of bad mouthing a single, living, breathing human being.

Donald Trump, through no fault of anyone in this life, except Donald Trump, is the Frank Burns of American politics.

In an episode of "M.A.S.H.", Hawkeye and Trapper are being unusually more than usual frat boy disrespectful to the weaselly, easy to dislike Major Burns.

Burns, in a moment of frustration, finally finds a little spine between his usually stooped shoulder blades, "why", he whines, "do you both always have to treat me so badly?"

Hawkeye, in an articulate mixture of satire and sincere, replies "...well, you invite abuse, Frank. It would be impolite of us not to ask it in."

Throw in Melania as Hot Lips and you've got a 4077th re-boot just waiting to happen.

Anyone who knows me or any of my work knows I have a finite, specific and exact amount of respect for Donald.

None. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

And, if pressed or confronted with someone who simply won't take zilch for an answer, I can do twenty minutes on why he rates 1001 on the list of 1000 people I think deserve to exist at all.

And that's just twenty minutes without taking a breath. Give me a chance to inhale a fresh batch of oxygen and I can do another half hour with nary a pause for comma, colon or period.

But there's something else that factors into my Trump antipathy.

I fully recognize that the continued hashing and re-hashing and rehashing of the re-hashing of the being, and his morals, character and/or personal existence, and/or complete lack of them, is a waste of time, energy and brain tissue.

Again, pleading guilty to any and all accusations that I'm just as inclined, or more so, to go off on said re-hashing as if it were an instinct.

I am a rattlesnake. I see a fleshy leg and I strike.

I am a boxer. I see someone's hand even beginning to come my way and I dodge, duck and right cross back like a boss.

I am courteous. I see someone inviting abuse and I feel it would be impolite of me not to ask it in.

Donald not only invites abuse, he sends out embossed invitations.

Although it's a safe bet that he buys in bulk, stiffs the stationary store for the bill and has someone else do the licking and stamping.

Cue Susan Ross.

All of that said, and, admittedly, re-said, it's obvious how the re-telling changes minds and offers productive solutions.

It doesn't.

And there's an annoying part rhetorical, part stone cold reality question floating around out there that needs, deserves, even requires answering. If only so that I can say that I gave my very best effort to resist being drawn into yet another yammer about what a crude, rude, blunt tool of a narcissistic sociopathic bully currently occupies the highest, once most prestigious,office in the land.

It's a simple question, really.

And, indulge me, if you will, as I ask myself the question.

And give it my best earnest effort to answer it.

Because I'd really like to know what I've got to say for myself.

What is really my problem with Donald Trump?

By running for the office of President in the first place primarily because he was looking for yet another way to draw media attention, spotlights, lime lights and assorted focuses to himself, he created, endorsed, even encouraged the idea that asking to be given the honor of serving the nation as its president is primarily a self serving headline opportunity just waiting to be exploited.

It isn't.

By consistently, even enthusiastically, replacing the "campaign trail" with a historically "low road", at every opportunity, with cheap talk, childish taunts, obnoxious insults, sexism, misogyny, racially inflammatory spewing, et al, etc, he gave every appearance that his perception of the election of a United States president is nothing more than a cut rate, carnival atmosphere hybrid of a WWE "championship" match, NRA convention meeting and brightly lit Klan rally in a black man's front yard.

It's not.

By mocking women, fellow candidates, even a reporter with a congenital physical affliction, essentially anyone and everyone who failed to worship at his altar not so thinly disguised as a podium, he all but insisted that ridicule and revenge are virtues, even symbolic of courage and valor and worthy of praise.

They are not.

By giving yet another cheap and tasteless campaign speech and calling it an "inaugural address" that reeked of cynicism, fear mongering and self congratulations, he sent the message that "a new kind of leadership" means exhibiting cynicism, fear mongering and self congratulations.

It doesn't.

By denigrating, diminishing, devaluing and demoralizing bedrock American institutions such as the court system, the FBI, the CIA, each and every, any and all, agency, organization and even Cabinet level office when, if, and as, anyone involved with any and/or all of them incur his wrath by simply disagreeing with him, he left, and continues to leave, an unmistakable impression that his belief is America is best, and most effectively, led by autocratic authoritarianism. His autocratic authoritarianism.

It isn't.

By viciously, unarguably and irrefutably, spitting in the face of the rule of law, he makes it unarguably and irrefutably clear that he believes himself to be above that law and America should be grateful for every drop of spittle.

It's not.

By always inciting, never inspiring, inflaming never enlightening, pandering never compelling, agitating never awakening, by exploiting people's fears never showing a way out of darkness and despair,  he reduces, even dissolves, the indescribable power and potential of the office he holds, pissing away a thousand opportunities to move a nation in the direction of greatness, at a time in history when that nation should be lighting a path for the rest of the world and not showing every sign of spending the next five or ten or fifty years falling farther and farther...and farther behind.

Because he foolishly, pitifully, embarrassingly, tragically, even, possibly, dangerously mistakes bullying for strength, denigration for critique, demolition for construction, belittling for authority, blind loyalty for respect, preaching to a sad, uneducated choir for speaking to better angels, leading a lynch mob for magnificently moving the masses.

Donald Trump needs people, for reasons that will fill psychology textbooks of the future, to believe that his way is the "new American way" and that way works better than any other way that has come before it.

It doesn't.

It can't

It won't.

Because Donald Trump's new American way is bullying, denigrating, demolishing, belittling, inciting, inflaming, pandering, agitating, cheapening, humiliating, embarrassing.

He doesn't spend a minute of his day not convinced that his way is going to succeed.

It isn't.

And here's some pretty reliable history regarding how well that way works.

It doesn't.

It can't

It won't.

Partly, again, as history has taught us, because it never has.

But, more importantly...and fundamentally.

Because it shouldn't.

And that's as it should be.

There She Is, Myth America....

Col. Nathan Jessup got it absolutely right.

Actually, in the interest of accuracy, it was Jack Nicholson who got it absolutely right.

Well, actually, in the interest of irrefutable accuracy, it was Aaron Sorkin.

Because it was Sorkin who, in writing the award winning play and, later, movie "A Few Good Men", put the words into the mouth of Col. Nathan Jessup, portrayed in the movie by Nicholson, words that became a catchphrase that has taken its place in the "hall of catchphrases" that include such iconics as "frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn", "here's lookin at you, kid" and the more contemporary, still timely and topical "go ahead, make my day".....a catchphrase still in use as we speak, by average Janes and Joes to the always eloquent and articulate George Costanza.

You can't handle the truth.          

Americans, particularly Americans in the year of our discontents 2019, have what can fairly be described as a love hate relationship with the truth.  

We love to think that we value it, respect it and honor it by telling it whenever we are faced with the choice of using it or not.

And we hate hearing it when it wanders even a skosh off the road leading to what we want the truth to actually be.

Again, to paraphrase Sorkin via Nicholson via Jessup.....

We want to hear that truth, we need to hear that truth....but we, very often, far too often.....say it with me.....

...can't handle the truth.

Then, we come to the truth's mischievous second, very possibly inbred, cousin....the myth.

Dictionary def: a widely held but false belief or idea.

The more popular pop culture myths include the continued belief that the Earth is flat, that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree, that Marie Antoinette ever said "let them eat cake" (that, actually, came from one of those folks at Entemanns), then, of course, there are your more high wattage myths like the Loch Ness Monster,, the Sasquatch and the belief that Trump will ever do anything, ever, that isn't about self gratification, glorification and/or a pathetic attempt to generate praise, worship and adoration.

Well, actually, that's not fair because I exaggerated a little bit.

There's some pretty good evidence that Sasquatch really does exist.

By the way, the dictionary definition of "truth" is worth mentioning here, if only for the irony present and accounted for.

A fact or belief that is accepted as true.

Ah. The old "accepted" disclaimer. That little asterisk has been getting a bigly, yuuuge work out in the past three or four years.

And proven to be especially useful, and used, by those who Sorkin was describing with the rhetorical plural edition of "you".

As in "can't handle the truth, you."

Well, here's some bad news for you who fall in line behind those who get in line at the sign marked "can't handle the truth line starts here."

There's a myth in our midst that is so massive as to be fairly described as monstrous.

And you'll just have to take on faith that I'm telling you the truth that I'm going to make public that misconception.

Momentarily.

Scott Jennings is a former assistant to George W. Bush, a former campaign adviser to Mitch McConnell and partners a public relations firm in Louisville.

He shares, in a recent online op/ed, his considered op that there's already, at least, one state out of the fifty which the Democrats can pretty much check the box labled "lost cause in 2020."

And, no, it's not a deep South, "hey, where yore red cap, yew ain't from around here, is ya, boy?" one out of the fifty either.

Here's an obscure, pop culture pop quiz hint as to this particular state's ID.

Tin soldiers / and Nixon's comin'.

For those not up to date with their total recall of the seminal protest songs of the 70's and/or their trivial expertise on the work of Crosby, Stills, Nash and/or Young, the song and the one out of fifty that Jennings suggests the Democrats should know they should fold em', are both entitled....

Ohio.

And Jennings' conclusion is drawn not from a long, windy wonk's delight of facts, figures, factoids, ruminations, theories nor does he require any bar graph, pie chart or polling analysis data stream to make his case or his point.

He boils the reason why down to two very easy to understand numbers.

450.

700 million.

Donald tweeted this past week that General Motors has agreed to invest 700 million dollars in Ohio and, as a result, 450 new jobs will be created around the state.

The tweet ended in the predictable, bombastic blowing hard.

"THE USA IS BOOMING!" (his caps, not mine)

Jennings predicts, not implausibly, that act will pretty much also seal the deal for Donald on a renewal of the lease at 1600 Pennsylvania.

Now, as promised earlier, here's that massive, monstrous myth.

America.

Doesn't exist.

Maybe, at one time, it did. Like dinosaurs.And drive in theaters. And dial up internet. And that rousing, but, ultimately, bromidic battle cry...E Pluribus Unum.

But, today, in the season of our discontent, 2019....

Naah.

America, as most of us are conditioned by upbringing and tradition to define it, is a nation, again, I'll direct you to the dictionary, "a large body of people united by common descent, history, culture, or language, inhabiting a particular country or territory.

A quick check list seems appropriate here.

Large body of people. Check.
Inhabiting a particular country or territory. Check.
Common descent, history, culture, language,etc. Uh, check with a little asterisk here and there.

Uhhp. Hang on.

Here's where we get hung up.

United.

Uhhh.

No.

And without wandering off into a half hour on the sociological, philosophical, psychological and, hey, let's not kid ourselves, basically illogical sidebars we could wander off into being the complex, multi layered, hey, let's not kid ourselves, basically illogical creatures we are, here in the bleachers marked "human beings", let me just simplify this particular testify thusly.

Put five people in a room and ask where everybody wants to go for lunch.

There you go.

And that's merely the decision required to determine lunch.

As opposed to the future of mankind.

America, as an abstract concept of a large, powerful nation, is, has been, and will always be, alive and well in imaginations from coast to coast to sea to shining sea.

But America, as a reality of that concept, is, if nothing more than the stuff that dreams are made of, then, most certainly, a myth.

America, as it exists in the year 2019, is an assortment of groups, clusters, cultures and sub-cultures and sub-sub-cultures (and the subs could go on forever and ever with liberty and justice for all).

Again, by way of simplifying the testifying, let's once again call upon Mr. Webster.

A social division in a society consisting of families or communities linked by social, economic, religious and/or blood ties, with a common culture and dialect, typically having a recognized leader.

The password is......tribe.

But, there's a more conventional, less ethnically evocative term for what we're talking about here.

State.

America is chock a block full of those suckers.

Fifty at the last count.

And coming in at number 35 on the How Big Are Ya Top 50 but bubbling up to number 17 on the When Were You Admitted To The Union Top 50.......

Ohio.

The musical muse of Neil Young. And, for those a little less politically involved, the inspiration for what become the theme for Drew Carey's sitcom more than a few years ago.

Cleveland Rocks.

Ohio.

Also the state to which Scott Jennings is referring when he tells Democrats "move along....nothing to see here."

And, to the point today, a quality example of the sure to break the Internet assertion here that America is a myth.

One state.

Out of fifty.

Pretty much, most likely, having made up its mind eighteen months before the next presidential election about who it will choose as their favorite to become, in this case, remain, President of the United States.

Without giving much if any at all, thought to what the needs of a nation might be. And who might be in the best position, be possessed of the skills, be blessed with the talent, wisdom and vision required to meet many, if not all, of the nation's needs.

Hey, we're getting 700 million bucks.

And 450 of our 11.7 million fellow Ohioans are going to get a job, baby.

E Pluribus Unum?

Yeah, okay, whatever.

Around here, we're thinking about going with "Surrexit Autem Vos Adepto Nostrum Tuum"

We got ours...you get yours.

One of the most oft heard slap backs when conversations about abolishing the Electoral College rears it's ugly is one form or another of this articulate analysis.....

"...uh, yeah, well, uh, we don't want those libtard Obummer snoflakes in California and New York deciding who our president is gonna be...."

Uh.

Yeah.

That notion, itself, actually qualifies for inclusion in our list of myths, but that point has already been made, so indulge me a retort from another angle.

It's not necessarily California or New York that you have to worry about "hijacking" the decision.

Take, for example, the state that's only 35th in size.

A state with 18 of those Electoral votes.

Electoral votes that have played, and can always play, a yuuuge part in the outcome of the election.

Eighteen months out, they're already ready to cast those votes.

With nary a primary or debate or even much in the way of speeches having occurred to give them the opportunity to listen and think and reflect and make the best decision they can in terms of what would be best for the nation, one nation, under God, indivisible.....

Uhhp. Hang on.

One nation?

That's a myth.

America is an assortment of tribes.

Also called states.

And some of those states can be bought for a song.

Take that state that's only 35th in size.

They're selling their power to decide what's best for the entire nation for the low, low....low price....of...

...450.

Jennings' predictions fall into the "time will tell" category.

Here's a prediction that's falls into the category labeled "bet the farm".

My prediction.

Lot of people are going to be unhappy about my assertion that Ohio is un-American.

That's not what I said and that's not what I'm saying, but that won't matter.

That's what they're going to hear or, at least, read into what my point of view here.

I'm pretty busy, though.

So, to save time, let me just say to all of those folks, thanks for reading, enjoy your day and as to the point of view itself?

I'd refer you to an acquaintance of mine.

Ohio.....

meet Col. Nathan Jessup.

Saving The Soul....Not So Simple Economics...

Breaking up may be hard to do.

But growing up can be a real bitch.

Mostly because, as we head on down that highway of life, we find ourselves not only evolving physically and, ideally, mentally, but we inevitably find little pit stops along the ride, where the impressions, opinions, even beliefs that we form as children find themselves, often abruptly, sometimes even harshly, replaced by that most paradoxical, and not just a little annoying, unavoidable party crasher.

The truth.

Or, put less philosophically....    

The facts.

Came across a fun list, the other day, of facts that play a large factor in seeing our childhood bubbles get popped.

The article, cleverly enough, is entitled "Things We Learn As Kids That Aren't Actually True."

Here's a little sampling of the aforementioned bubbles and, where necessary, the applicable bubble popping facts.

Just the facts, ma'am.

• Babies are delivered by storks---obviously, every one discovers, by around the age of seven or eight, that the whole charming stork story turns out to have been nothing more than a diabolical ruse to prevent having to explain to five year olds what Sheldon puritanically referred to as "coitus" and whatever impregnation might result. Of course, today, thanks to WeTV and pretty much everything Seth McFarlane has ever contributed to the culture, the whole stork thing is pretty much dead in the water before it ever takes flight in the first place. And those parents who still take a shot at it, most often, find that, again thanks to Seth and all things bearing a resemblance to all things Seth, those same five year olds react to Mommy and Daddy's stork saga with another skill kids are learning earlier and earlier in life....the eye roll.
• Christopher Columbus discovered America---in the olden days, shortly after kids learned to sing their ABC's, they were be-bopping that "in fourteen hundred and ninety two / Columbus sailed the ocean blue." Today, of course, not only has that little ditty long ago dropped off the Billboard Top 100, the whole sordid story of Columbus and his three ships has been rebooted to include the previously redacted, but irrefutably essential, details about, first, his being, not first, but, at best, second to find what would become the America in need of becoming great again, Leif Erickson being the discovery dude some 500 years before fourteen hundred and ninety two. Of course Chris' PR people now also have the daunting task of trying to spin the replacement of the friendly corn dinner shared with locals when he arrived myth with the less savory history of rape and pillage and murder that's a whole lot less ocean blue and whole lot more black and blue. Had all that come to light in the 1400's, even Kellyanne Conway would have had a hell of a time putting a twinkle on that turd.
• We have only five senses---as you will recall from your cherished, if not checkered, childhood, the conventional wisdom was that the human body has five, count em, five senses: smell, sight, taste, touch and hearing. Not to be confused, of course, with the seven words you can't say on television. Now, in the database of America 2019.0, science offers that we should be including hunger, balance, thirst and almost a dozen more "senses" to the list. And, again, that's senses, not to be confused with "sense" which, judging from what we smell, see, taste, touch and hear on TV, radio, social media and on any given election night, has now moved from the endangered species list to the big tally marked "extinct". The upside, of course, being that the next time you find yourself muttering "this makes no sense", the cause of your distress is easily answered. There is no sense.
• Coke and Pop Rocks will make your head explode---just a silly urban legend, mischievous myth. You might foam like a fool, but your cranium will remain complete. Word of caution, though, for relatively intelligent people in our audience....head explosion is not completely a myth and should be taken very seriously, the most frequent cause in current culture being exposed to any thing spoken, at any time, by the aforementioned Kellyanne Conway.

The list, like life, if you're lucky and don't actually ever need healthcare, goes on.

But, after doing a little research on the topic, I found one glaring omission from the ongoing list that included such revelation as Napoleon actually not being all that short, George Washington not actually having wooden teeth, Salem witches not actually being burned and, of course, that total buzzkill about Santa...no matter what shuck and jive Virginia naively bought...

One very disappointing and, at the same time, enlightening omission, as a matter of fact.

The truth. The whole truth.

Momentarily.

Chris Cillizza writes for CNN.com.

Here's the first few words of a piece recently published there.

"Here's a great headline for Donald Trump as he turns toward his 2020 re-election bid.: 'CNN Poll: Trump's approval rating on the economy hits a new high'. And the story which accompanies the poll numbers is equally good news for Trump.... 

"The result comes on the heels of the announcement that the US economy grew at a much better rate than expected in the first quarter, and Trump's performance on the economy becomes one of his prime selling points for next year's general election"

Cillizza's story goes on to compare and contrast the approval rating when the economy is factored in and the simple, unadorned approval rating.

The difference between the two is both obvious and predictable.

Regardless of what people think of the state of the union's financial condition, the overall approval of the state of the union in general is pretty much where it has been since Trump solemnly swore. Solemnly, maybe, but, clearly to everyone by now, not even close to seriously.

And forget about sincerely.

Three, sometimes four, out of ten people think Donald is the dude.

The other seven, sometimes six, are thinking they'd like to vote Donald off the island.

In November next year, for sure.

Later today, if at all possible.

One of the challenges, at this point in the space/time continuum, in talking about Trump, at all, is trying to avoid falling into the same old riffs about the same old shit that we've been riffing and shitting since the day that Donald solemnly, but not seriously, or sincerely, swore.

Put simply, there's only so many ways, and times, one can say "the house is on fire" before it becomes clear that the conversation should have long ago moved on to something along the lines of "a) shut up b) grab a hose..."

Because, also at this point in the space/time continuum, we, the people, both the people who think Donald is the dude and those who would not only vote him off the island today if at all possible but would break the Internet donating to the Go Fund Me page devoted to paying his moving expenses, all know all we need to know about Donald.

There's nothing new coming. What we see is what we get.

And what we get is who, and what, he is.

To paraphrase Sam Cooke, "change ain't gonna come.....you know it won't..."

Sure, there's surely prosecutable tax returns and how much of America has he sold to Putin and how does he continue to eat junk food and not experience an IMax 3D coronary thrombosis, but those are just little bullet points, even bits of trivia that aren't going to ever influence the quick summation.

Love him, leave him, adore him, hate him, genuflect and declare him dude, light a dozen candles, couple dozen tiki torches and send him sailing away, he is what he is.

Petty. Infantile. Abusive. Dishonest. Dishonorable. Ignorant. Pea-brained. Sociopathic. Narcissist.

Dissing his physical appearance, though, would be a cheap shot. Although the comedic temptation screams out to do something with calling attention to him not being in "tippy top" shape.

And here's a thing.

At this point in the aforementioned space/time continuum, dissing Donald misses the point.

Which will bring us back to do-re-mi...but, mostly, you.

If you happen to be one of those three or four people who think Donald is the dude.

In large measure, because of two words that onomatopoetically create a yuuge distraction to the real dilemma.

Booming. Economy.

And their kissin' cousins.

Low unemployment.

New jobs.

Yeah.

Never mind the buzzkill realization that the "wave of new jobs" consists, largely, of low paying, service type jobs. Meaning for every three new jobs, there's only one person benefiting because that one person has to work those three jobs just to stay afloat on the ocean of MAGA paradise.

But, yeah.

New jobs.

Whup comma big.

Under ordinary circumstances, the whup would, indeed, be big. And worthy of both praise and appreciation.

I started to use the word "normal" there in place of "ordinary", but it genuinely seems like "normal" has been filed away in the same folder with the word "sense".

Current circumstances are neither normal nor ordinary.

And, full disclosure, this isn't the first time I've boarded this particular train of thought. Memory serves, last time it left the station, I livened up the chit chat in the club car with a little old time religion.

Matthew 16:26.

"...for what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world...and forfeits his soul?..."


For the parable/metaphor challenged amongst us, here's a translation.

"....for what will (America) profit if (it) has a booming economy...and (loses its democracy, allowing it to crumble and tumble into irreparable rubble)?".....

The Republican Party of Abraham Lincoln, Dwight Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan is on life support, if not already clinically dead and gone.

The United States Senate, at this writing, under the sycophantic allegiance to the King, of Mitch McConnell is an means to serve the ends of Mitch McConnell, disguised as the ends of Donald Trump....America's needs have been taken off the to-do list.

America's relationships, friendships and, more critically, alliances with neighbor nations have been diminished, seriously, if not irreparably, damaged...crashed against the rocks because a spoiled man-child with no nautical experience whatsoever is steering the ship of state.....afflicted with an often fatal combination of character flaws....the inability to have a clue about steering the ship...and the ego that won't allow him to listen to anyone who knows how.....

America's fundamental, and foundational, institutions are under attack....the FBI, the Central Intelligence Agency, the district, regional and state courts, the Constitutionally guaranteed free press and other media, including news organizations, radio and television programs and none of those attacks....none....are coming from foreign enemies....they are all coming from the spoiled man-child who has never known a day in his life where he didn't think of himself as infallible.

And....just like that, the same old riffs on the same old shit about the entire psychology textbook waiting to be written in human form named Donald John Trump.

But none of that seems to matter.

Because of two words that three, sometimes four, out of ten people hold up as reason, cause, excuse, rationalization, even justification for ignoring the huge pile of shit sitting smack dab in the middle of what they see to be a magnificent banquet table.

Booming.

Economy.

One glaring omission from that list of things that we learn as kids that aren't actually true.

Money isn't everything.

Yeah. Turns out....that's not true at all.

Turns out....it is everything.

At least in three, sometimes four, even, at times, five out of ten houses in America 2019.

Soul? We don't need no stinking soul.

What kind of profit is there in that?

Cue Randy Newman.

It's money that matters / hear what I say

It's money that matters / in the U.S.A.

"Uncompromisin', Enterprisin', Anything But Tranquilizin'...."

Some American history, sitcom style.

Lady Godiva / was a freedom rider /
She didn't care if the whole world looked
Joan of Arc / with the Lord to guide her
She was a sister who really cooked
And when the country was falling apart /
Betsy Ross got it all sewed up

And then......

There's Joe.

Joe Biden released a video this week in which he announced that he is, as expected, a candidate for the Democratic nomination to become President of the United States.

The pre-pre-pre-pre exit polling on his entry into the ring, race, battle or whatever predictably overly sensationalized description American culture has come to expect of the electoral process, tends to place him in one of the, also predictable, two choices American politics seems to have available these days.

Lovers love love love love love.  
  

Haters hate hate hate hate hate.

Takes a committed, if not just a little naive, optimist to resist falling victim to the cynical suspicion that we...are never ever getting back together.

But that's kinda who we, the people are now, aren't we?

One side versus the other. Them vs. us. Fer us or agin us.

If American politics, or just everyday life in America, for that matter, were a poker game, there would be no time wasted on pointless pursuits like betting, or seeing the bet and raising, or checking or bluffing or calling a bluff.

Every hand would be "I'm all in...oh, yeah?....well, I'm all in, too....oh, yeah, whatya got?....oh, yeah? whatta you got?"

And, lately, what every body seems to "got", doesn't amount to a pair of twos.

Which makes the notion of how much "winning" was promised a while back as hilariously ironic as it is darkly tragic.

But the sociological perspective on this whole "you, no, you, no, you, no, you" bicker and bitch business is the stuff of term papers and masters' theses and therapy sessions.

For our purposes here, let's just say that if you're the kind of person who likes a little leg room in your life, make sure and book your journey through life for the foreseeable somewhere in the middle.

Lots...and lots...of room there.

Meanwhile...then there's Joe.

And with the official, if predictable, entry of Biden, the, likewise, predictable questions pop up like a verbal version of Whack-A-Mole.....

...is he too old?....is he too out of touch?...is he too creepy and/or handsy to be taken seriously?.....he's run and failed numerous times, what makes this time any different?....is he the only candidate who can defeat Donald?....doesn't this coming election require someone new and fresh and dynamic and not someone who is symbolic of an earlier, now arguably, obsolete time?......

It's worth noting, at this moment, that there's something very telling about the fact that the most readily, and often, asked questions, and not just about Biden, spring from the well of murky, dirty water as opposed to any pretense of seeking the cool refreshment of fresh, clear, new water.

Water, for those who are metaphor challenged, represents ideas and directions and visions of a better life for me and mine and you and yours.

Old saying about how we, the people, tend to set others up just to knock them down.  In the updated, re-booted version, some streamlining is apparent, given that the process now often tends to skip bothering with the set up and simply goes for the knock down from the get go.

And ironic as it might seem, coming from where they come from so much of the time, a lot of your average, everyday we, of we, the people fame, profess to be tired...and tired of being tired....of political campaigns that offer nothing but trashing of the other side.

Ask not, what your candidate might do to actually make America better and safer, even greater. Ask what kind of shit the other guy is pulling that can be used to knock them off the podium and send them back to being a cable news contributor where they belong.

How about what will you specifically, exactly and, in simple sentences we can all understand, do, for example, to make America safer including, but not stir up the fires of fear and bigotry limited to, border security.

Well, first, if you're thinking anything like "yeah...that makes sense....it's a fair question....what specifically and exactly, would you do?"....

..hi, welcome to America. First time here?

Quick Cliff Notes explain on the whole politics thing.

We don't do specific and exactly and simple sentences.

Ain't nobody got time for that.

Mostly because any candidate that, even however well intended, gives that approach a shot is going to disappear in the preference polls faster than McRibs come and go off the big menu board in the drive thru lane.

Politics, all politics, actually, but American politics, in particular, is about scoring at least 5.1 out of every 10 votes. Put more practically, six out of every ten voters have to like what they hear. In order to do that, of course, it is critically necessary to tell pretty much all ten of those voters what they want, even need, to hear.

And if you're telling ten out of ten people what they want and need to hear, I'm gonna go "all in" and bet the farm that you're not telling the truth to all ten of those people.

Because the truth might set you free. But it will put a bullet right between the eyes of a candidacy faster than you can say "I will build a wall...and Mexico will pay for it."

Meanwhile, then there's Joe.

And that list of questions that is already raining down and around cable news and social media like April showers, and/or pollen, on the hood of your car.

There is, turns out, though, one question that I'm, again, willing to go "all in" on and bet will not be asked as this election plays itself out.

A question that's actually user friendly. Because it's a question you only have to ask....

...yourself.

And when will I tell you what that question is?

You have to ask?

Hi. Welcome to S.E.P.

First time here?

Once upon a time......

A friend and colleague of mine in the broadcasting biz appeared in the doorway of my studio and asked if I had a moment to chat.

He shared that he had been offered another job and was struggling with the decision making process. He went on to explain that, in addition to dealing with the always challenging issues of any kind of major life change, this particular choice was complicated by the fact that the job being offered was not in broadcasting, his profession since he was old enough to have a profession, an occupation that he had enjoyed and in which he had excelled for a long time.

He had, meanwhile, made no secret, at the time, that he was going through a season of discontent with that profession, although he was honest in offering that he couldn't tell whether he was burned out on broadcasting itself or was merely dissatisfied with his current gig. The job he was being offered, again, was not in broadcasting, but it held the promise of reasonable money, some new challenges and, perhaps, even some new beginnings.

No one who knows me at all thinks for a second that I'm ever at loss for an opinion, let alone words, but, most who know me well would also tell you that I'm not inclined to simply draw and shoot with those opinions, especially when it comes to important issues and, in this case, important decisions. And, knowing my friend as I do, I knew that he wasn't asking so much for direction or even a suggestion as to how he should decide as he was looking for a perspective.

Which is exactly what I gave him. Not an answer. But a question.

And, metaphor and analogy enthusiast that I am, I offered up a point of view on his occupational crossroad by putting it into a context to which I knew we could both expertly relate.

Love and marriage.

Pretend, I said, that you've been married to someone for a very long time. Let's say that while the marriage is not unbearable, it's not particularly happy anymore. Maybe you're going through what optimists call a rough patch, and cynics call a living hell, or maybe the marriage is really just a body waiting to be pronounced dead, but, you're a grown up who understands that making a major life change involves pretty much turning your life basket on its side, if not upside down.

Now, you meet someone. They have captured your fancy, wet your whistle, they ring your bell, shake your tambourine, make you smile and, for the first time in a while, make you think that maybe, just maybe, you have another chance to realize, not just happiness, but enthusiasm, excitement, new day, new dawn, all that stuff your brain feeds you when you're suddenly smelling roses after having been in the horse stall for so long.

Your current gig here in broadcasting, and maybe your whole feeling about broadcasting, is, of course, the horse stall. And that job offer is coming up roses. You don't know what to do. Should you stay or should you go?

That's a reasonable, and obvious, question to ask in a situation like this.

It's just not the right question.

Only you can know what you want, what you need, what it will take to make you feel hopeful, where there has been hopelessness; energy, where there has been malaise and fatigue; even joy, where there has been joylessness, no one can tell you what it's going to take to make those things happen for you.

But when making the decision as to whether to endure the horse stall a little longer and see how things turn or make the move and pick the roses..or....endure the horse stall but keep looking for just the right garden and just the right roses, the answer is to be found in the answer to this question.

Is what, or who, you're being offered going to be better?

Or just different?

Better, obviously, is improvement.

Different, meanwhile, could go either way.

Better is about an improved quality of life and, ideally, a path out of darkness.

Different, on the other hand, could be a stairway to heaven...or a highway to hell.

And, more importantly, better is a state of being that, ideally, lasts a lifetime.

Different is a novelty. And novelties wear off.

In marriage, the "other man or other woman" might be the answer to a prayer, the love of a lifetime.

Or Glenn Close, complete with boiled bunny and remarkable prowess with a butcher knife.

When it comes to making political decisions, "the other man or other woman" might lead the way out of darkness.

Or.....

It's reasonable, even wise, to ask questions when it comes to choosing candidates for public office. And, if recent history has taught us anything, it's taught us that being informed, educated, knowledgeable about candidates, who they are, what they are, where they stand and what they are really offering has become critical at this point in the timeline of American history.

Not being bothered to do the due diligence of really learning about those who are running and making those informed, educated, knowledgeable decisions on Election Day is a luxury that we, of we, the people fame simply cannot afford and indulge at our own extreme peril.

My friend was looking for an answer to a lot of questions, one in particular, should I stay or should I go?

We, of we, the people fame, are looking for answers to a lot of questions, many more to come, to be sure, but not asking the one question that really hits the nail.

And it doesn't matter, necessarily, whether the question is being asked about Bernie or Pete or Kamala or Amy or Tulsi or Kirsten or Elizabeth or Seth or Beto.....

...and then there's Joe.

It's a one size fits all kind of query.

And the answer, all other answers aside, makes all the difference in the world.

Is having them as President of the United States going to be better?

Or just different?

Better is state of being.

Different is a novelty.

Novelties wear off.

And, turns out, we have the advantage, such as it is, of knowing now what happens when we, of we, the people fame, decide not to give "better" its due at the poker table and go "all in" on "different".

For no other good reason than it's different.

Better is a state of being.

And then...there's Donald.