"....Warning!...Fragile....Handle With Large Gatherings Of Adoring Acolytes..."

It's time to put an end, once and for all, to the use of the word "stupid" when it comes to Trump supporters.

Because the word "stupid", no matter how accurately it might apply to some, does not apply to all of those who are still exalting and extolling the boy king while they are swooning and swaying to the strains of Lee Greenwood's pride in gladly standing up next to them.

What's required, and more reasonable,  is a more factual description of the mindset of those who worship at the alt-altar.

More factual description coming up.

Saturday night (29 April), the annual White House Correspondents Association Dinner was held in Washington, D.C. The dinner is a yearly tradition enjoyed, and honored,  since 1921. Since 1983, it has taken to the form of a comedy roast, generally hosted by a prominent comedian and, in the format of roast, of course, a night of lampooning and comic jabbing of the sitting president and his administration.

Besides the fact that the dinner is a charity affair, benefiting a scholarship for gifted students in college journalism programs around the nation, it is, also, a remarkable display of an uncommon existence in a world filled with oppression and despotism and dictatorship. The freedom to, literally, make fun of the leader of a nation without fear of resentment, retribution or retaliation.

And, probably more critically, the participation of that leader, illustrating a personality trait irrefutably essential in someone who has the genuine ability and skillset to motivate and inspire an entire nation of citizens.

A sense of humor.

In recent years, critics have offered that the dinner has increasingly become an example of the "coziness" between the White House press corps and the sitting administration. The implication, of course, being that the press corps is incapable of maintaining an adversarial attitude toward the occupant of the Oval if it has dinner, a few drinks and a few laughs with that occupant one day out of every 365.

Personally, I think the case can be made that those buzzkilling critics are overlooking the advantages of employing one of the classic techinques in dealing with adversaries.

Keep your friends close. But keep your enemies closer.

The ability to use a sense of humor as a strategy, though, requires having a sense of humor in the first place. And a much keener than average mind.


Which brings us around to Donald Trump being a no-show at this year's dinner.

And, more to the point, the show that he put on in answer to the show that was put on at this year's dinner.

Cue those who continue to exalt and extol while swooning and swaying to the strains of  Lee Greenwood's pride in gladly standing up next to them.

The irony can't be lost, on those with the aforementioned keener minds, that Trump has, either by devious design or neurotic need, tomato, tohmahto, gifted the nation with a new tradition, one to surely be repeated for, at least, the next 1600 days or so or until he no longer resides at 1600, whichever comes first.

Taking its place alongside the iconic American traditions of "if at first you don't succeed, try, try again" and "when in doubt, don't", the 45th President of the United States presents, "when you don't like the tally, just hold a rally".

In this case, the "not playing fair", in Trump's spin, is the arrival of the admittedly over-hyped, but inevitable, road marker labeled "First 100 Days" and with the arrival, the aforementioned tally of accomplishment or lack, there of.

• not a single legislative achievement....not one....zip, zero, nada, nothing, no way, Jose
• the lowest approval ratings of any new commander in chief since World War II
• several key, promised and assured immigration goals held up by the courts
• the failure to deliver the much and often promised health care reform, including repeal and replacement of Obamacare
• after, literally, years of loud and repeated civilian criticism of Obama's issuing of executive orders, the issuance of more executive orders that any other President in history with the exception of Truman.
• understandable criticism of his appointing his daughter and her husband to key White House positions of power
• credible allegations of possible ties between his campaign aides and Russia
• and, all in all, we must remember not to forget the wall....or, to paraphrase 60's hitmaker Donovan, "first, there is a wall / and then there is no wall / and then there is."

Well, hell. With that kind of a tally, no wonder he called a rally.

Because that's what Donald does.

I offered up in a podcast a few days ago about the need to end comparisons of Donald Trump to Adolf Hitler for, if no other reason, the comparisons were ultimately invalid.

And I summed it up by saying, plainly, bigly, if you will, that Donald Trump is not Adolf Hitler.

Donald Trump is, it turns out, Frankie Merman.

Merman, one of many interesting and amusing characters who inhabited the world brought to us each and every week on Seinfeld, nicknamed "Fragile Frankie" was, of course, a childhood acquaintance of Jerry's who, in adulthood, carried on with a tradition of his own from that childhood. When someone did something that hurt him or his feelings, Frankie ran into the woods, dug a hole for himself and sat in it, crying for hours.

Now, simply substitute a Harrisburg, Pennsylvania expo center for the woods, substitute a stage and a podium for the hole, add in a few thousand exalters and extollers swooning and swaying to Lee, finally, substitute an hour of whining for the hours of crying and, voila'...

...Fragile Frankie Merman morphs right before our very eyes into "Delicate Donny Trump"

Getting his boo boo kissed and made better by all that love. Making memories go away of those meanies who just won't play nice with him in Washington, or anywhere else that 75 million Americans, give or take, live, Americans who would vote yea right now for abortion if that law was limited to legalizing the abortion of this increasingly bad parody of a presidency.

There's not a bottle of iodine or Mercurochrome or even aloe vera big enough to salve the sting that Delicate Donny feels when all those meanies slap him around.

And chances are pretty good that the National Park Service wouldn't take kindly to Donny trying to dig a big hole in Rock Creek Park.

But who needs ointments or excavations when you can slather on the adoration and hold yet another coronation?

Like an addict in pain, a junkie who cannot deal with the hurt or the obstacles or, even the simple task at hand, without the boost, the buzz, the rush of pleasure, the artificial adrenaline of accolade, poured on without measure or limit or condition by the exalters and extollers, swooning and swaying to Lee's pride in gladly standing up next to them.

Exalters and extollers who can read a tally as clearly as the rest of us but just don't care.

Fuck the tally. It's time for a rally.

Which brings us back to putting an end to the use of the word "stupid" when it comes to Trump supporters.

Because "stupid" simply doesn't get the descriptive job done.

The word you're looking for is dope.

No, not "dopes", as in "people who clearly recognize what a failure this man is but steadfastly refuse to admit, let alone accept, it are all dopes."

No...dope.

As in the slang term for drugs.

The kind of drugs junkies need to deal with the meanies.

Junkies. And crybabies.

Like Fragile Frankie Merman.

And Delicate Donny Trump.

"...Make Nashville Great Again.....Bound To Be Bout As Successful..."

Old saying.

There is no "I" in "team".

New saying.

There is no "they" in "they".

Or "them" in "them", depending on your past, present or future tense status.

Dean Dillon is an accomplished Nashville songwriter with dozens of hit country songs on his resume'. George Jones, Kenny Chesney, Brooks and Dunn, Toby Keith, Blake Shelton and LeeAnn Womack are just a few of the country singing star names that Dillon can truthfully drop when and if name dropping is called for.

Dean's main claim to songwriting fame, though, is that he is the composer of many, if not most, of the number one hits recorded by one of the icons of country music, George Strait.

"Unwound", "The Chair", "Marina Del Ray", just a few of the Strait super hits where you will find the name "Dean Dillon" in the little parenthesis just under the titles on the CD covers.

And, come May, you will be able to see and hear the story of Dillon's rise to country songwriting royalty in a documentary entitled "Tennessee Whiskey". For those interested in hearing the Dean Dillon story, the film is cleverly subtitled, "The Dean Dillon Story."

In conjunction with the release of the documentary, interviews with Dean are showing up here and there in print and/or online media. One such interview, published online at Wide Country.com finds Dean reflecting not only on his career and his success with Strait, but the current state...of country music. And as you might expect from a basic value, down home Tennessee boy, Dillon doesn't fancy up his feelings about how things are musically in Music City.



“Every song is about the same damn thing. Daisy Dukes, trucks, beer, lake banks, time, after time, after time, after time. The bro country thing started 12 years ago, and 12 years later, they’re still singing the same things. Do they not evolve? Get older? Get married? Have kids? Get jobs and shift in society? There’s no movement in it.”


Having spent more than a few years working the same streets and song business as Dillon myselfg, I was both agreeable, and a little amused, at Dean's observation.

First, yeah, what he said.

Second, though, it's not a new perspective nor a new expression of that perspective. Criticism of banality in country music, combined with the oft heard lament that "country just ain't country anymore" traces back, at least in my own memory banks, to the mid 70's when what was derisively referred to as the "countrypolitian" sounds of borderline Vegas acts like Kenny Rogers and Lee Greenwood, among many others, was anathema to purists who were weaned on the pioneering Nashville music of George and Tammy and Loretta and, going even further back, Patsy Cline and Kitty Wells and Roy Acuff and, of course, the Holy Grail of Grand Ole Opry alumni, Hank Williams.

During that 70's period of a more pop/EZ listening approach to the tried and true, the town known as Music City itself saw the birth of an additional nickname that is, depending on your musical loyalties, either right on the money or an affront to all things sacred, "NashVegas."

Today, with country music acts actually doing "residencies" in the actual Las Vegas and the, again, depending, buzz or blasphemy of CMA Award shows featuring entertainment by, among other less than down home country folk, the Backstreet Boys, those who love, and long for, the good ol' days of the good ol' boys doing the Friday and Saturday night Grand Ol' Opry are blunt and boisterous in their condemnation of country music's "new fangled ways".

Dillon's point, meanwhile, is really more of a critique of songwriting content than it is of the cast of characters who inhabit the country stages and airwaves. And, on that point, as a broadcaster, songwriter and, simply, consumer, I'm totally more "fer" him than "agin" him.

Dillon rightly points out that the songwriters seem to be stuck in a space/time loop in which nothing exists in that universe except the aforementioned trucks, beer, lake banks and Daisy Dukes.

Well, Dean, I'm right there with you, buddy. But I'll see your same damn things and raise you a same old song. The result, for my money, of, at least to some extent, nothing more or less than laziness.

The composer/lyricist equivalent of what Seth MacFarlane, among others, do in contemporary television. When you can't think of anything uniquely or cleverly or innovativley funny to offer your audience, just fall back on the tried and true giggle generators from generations past.

Tits, dicks, fucking and flatulence.

Not necessarily in that listing of laviciousness.

In Nashville songwriting rooms, the prevailing winds have, for a lot of years as Dean points out, been blowing in the direction of "why spend hours trying to articulate the blessings of love or the layers of heartache in the blues, when we can just start counting the royalty payments by cranking out yet another ode to a big beautiful badonkadonk?"

And, of course, if big asses aren't the "in demand" item at the moment, surely someone on Music Row is looking to sing about trucks, beer, lake banks....or Daisy Dukes.

At the same time, though, there's a hidden fly in the ointment of Dillon's disappointment. And my own go-to rationalization that laziness is at the core of the conversion of country to crap.

Put simply, songwriters are only giving the masses what they want.

And to those who are inclined to rebut and debate that premise, let me offer you a pretty set in stone rule in the category of basic marketing.

If people don't want it, it won't sell. And if doesn't sell, it won't be around very long.

Dean Dillon dates the demise of depth in country songwriting as beginning 12 years ago with the arrival of "bro" country. Bro country, for the neophyte or non-interested, is defined as country music that appeals to not so much an age group or even specific gender as a certain mindset. Bro being the non-gender specific equivalent of the non-Nashville world's "dude". And "bro country" being the kind of songs that, when being described, not only appeal to those of the mentioned mindset, but also, both ironically and comically, imply, if not outright call for, the use of the term" bro" as in "hey, bro, check out that truck"...."hey, bro, hold my beer"..."hey, bro, hold my beer while I check out that truck down there on the bank of the lake"....and, of course, "hey, bro, hold my beer while I check out that truck down there on the bank of the lake where that hot mama with the bootylicious badonkadonk is killin' those Daily Dukes."

Not exactly "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry", right?

But the audience, at least the pay for the downloads, pay for the concerts, pay for the t-shirts audience isn't clamoring for Hank. They don't see anything amiss or askew with Backstreet Boys mingled amongst their Blake Sheltons, nothing but pride and joy at Carrie U or Miranda L or Kelsea B sharing a stage with Queen Bey.

Just like your father's Oldsmobile, this ain't yo mama's country music.

And what the hell is an Oldsmobile while we're at it?

Numerous articles, books, op/eds and essays have addressed, and are addressing, a "dumbing down" of the culture in general, a generational one step forward, three steps back in terms of America's preferences for music, literature, television programming, motion picture presentation, actually, the cultural facet of the culture itself. Not much of a stretch to assume that country music would follow suit with their own do the one step forward, do the two step back approach.

And in literal answer to the accomplished and acclaimed Dillon's rhetorical query about singers getting older, getting married, getting jobs, "evolving" and/or "shifting" in society.

Reasonable questions. Total buzzkill, dude.

Oh. Make that total buzzkill, bro.

Dean Dillon's take on Nashville tunesmithing is, if absolutely nothing else, factually correct. And there's a legitimate case to be made that current country music songwriting is long, way long on sizzle and short, way short on steak.

But the finest cut of the finest beef lovingly and carefully prepared to a gourmet level delight is doomed to fail in a society that lines up around the block to order yet another cheesy version of what amounts to nothing more than yet another same old bacon cheeseburger.

It's not the "they" or the "them" who are "ruinin' good ol' country music".

Country music fans, in particular, and America, in general, simply arent all that interested in tasteful.

Just tasty.

And easy to swallow.

In its programming, in its reading material.....

...in its country music....

and in its President.

Talk about unwound.

"...Next Time You Feel Like Hiring An Incompetent Fool, Do Us All A Favor And Hire An Experienced Incompetent Fool..."

Not a week goes by, in print, online or on air, without the ugly paralleling of Adolf Hitler and Donald Trump rising up like an ominous Wack-A-Mole.

Most recently, filmmaker Michael Moore has pulled the tyrant trigger by predicting that the next major terrorist attack on America will be utilized by Trump to incite and inflame a lynch mob mentality among the Red State wanna be revolutionaries who are, satirically, if not affectionately, referred to, often, as mouth breathers, in much the same way that Hitler saw, and seized, the opportunity to parlay the Reichstag fire into a political and, ultimately, despotic windfall.

For those who prefer to increase their education via WeTV's Braxton Family Values as opposed to The History Channel's life lessons, here's a brief blazing backstory.





The Reichstag fire was an arson attack on the Reichstag building (home of the German parliament) in Berlin on 27 February 1933. The Nazis stated that Marinus van der Lubbe, a young Dutch council communist, had been caught at the scene of the fire, and he was arrested for the crime. Van der Lubbe was an unemployed bricklayer who had recently arrived in Germany. The Nazis stated that van der Lubbe had declared that he had started the fire. Van der Lubbe was tried and sentenced to death. The fire was used as evidence by the Nazi Party that communists were plotting against the German government. The event is seen as pivotal in the establishment of Nazi Germany.

Adolf Hitler, who had been sworn in as Chancellor of Germany on 30 January, urged President Paul von Hindenburg to pass an emergency decree to suspend civil liberties and pursue a "ruthless confrontation" with the Communist Party of Germany. After passing the decree, the government instituted mass arrests of communists, including all of the Communist Party parliamentary delegates. 

With their bitter rival communists gone and their seats empty, the Nazi Party went from being a plurality party to the majority, thus enabling Hitler to consolidate his power.

The responsibility for the Reichstag fire remains an ongoing topic of debate and research. Historians disagree as to whether van der Lubbe acted alone, as he said, to protest the condition of the German working class. The Nazis accused the Comintern of the act. Some historians endorse the theory, proposed by the Communist Party, that the arson was planned and ordered by the Nazis as a false flag operation.



Okay. Now, substitute Trump for Hitler, Muslims for Communists and whatever devastation is to occur with the fire that burned then and you have the blueprint for yet another comparison/parallel between the author of Mein Kampf and the author of Art Of The Deal.

Oh. Wait. Sorry. Apologies to the author of The Art Of The Deal. He has nothing to do with any possible Hitler-esque shenanigans. All he did was write a book for which Donald took credit.

While the inevitable, and relatively frequent, comparisons between the dictator with a goofy mustache and the dick with a goofy hairdo seem to make sense on a superficial level, they simply don't ring true or logical when subjected to a little good old fashioned strict scrutiny.

Hitler was a psychopath. And complete with every home edition of the Psychopathy Game comes an unfailing belief and/or confidence that every plan planned and move made is for the greater good and infallible, no matter how lip smacking un-good and/or irrefutably fallible they might appear to the more reasonable, read, sane, brain.

And as tempting, emotionally, and seemingly insightful, intellectually, as it is to paint Trump with that same batty bonkers brush, the reality that cannot be rejected is that he simply doesn't qualify.

If it please the court of public opinion....

•  Trump pledged to "drain the swamp" of the traditional gang of usual suspects---his cabinet and sycophants are primarily Wall Street alumni, Bush era officials and fellow rich bitches.
• He pledged there was going to be a wall...and Mexico was going to pay for it---there is no wall, there will likely never be a wall and Trump has shown his inability to wheel and deal at any level above closing a deal on a golf course by repeatedly backing off from any wall deal any and every time Congress tells him it ain't gonna happen and/or Mexico tells him "fuck off, El Presidente".
• He pledged an immediate repeal and replacement of Obamacare with "low priced insurance for everybody". So, how's that wonderful new insurance workin' for you and your family, huh?
• He pledged to "get tough with and/or on China. Since the Chinese Prez visited Donald at the luxurious Florida golf resort whose mortgage you and I are now paying, there's no Coco...no Coco? no Coco....and no tough on China, either.
• He pledged to save the coal industry. Even many of his top supporters know now, as they knew then, that promise was bullshit with capital B and that rhymes with C and that stands for Coal? we can't save no stinking jobs in coal...
• He pledged to put America first and let the Middle East, for one, handle their own problems. Four words, so far, Benjamin. Syria. Afghanistan. North. Korea.
• He pledged to "not be a President who takes vacations". Since Jan 20, 30% of his term has been spent at that luxurious Florida golf resort whose mortgage you and I are now paying. 30% of a year would be approximately 17 weeks. What are you planning to do with your 17 weeks of vacation?
• He pledged to sue those he called "liars" after Pussygrabbinggate hit the video market during the campaign. At this moment, not a single legal action.
• And just in the last week, his "tax reform" plan is being called "not even close" to any kind of tax reform by his own party leaders and benefits, primarily...wait for it....the rich...and corporations who will see their tax rates slashed......AND after having yet another court block one of his "rulings", in this case, the sanctuary city issue, he is quoted as saying that he is "definitely looking at 'breaking up' the 9th District Court. Because, of course, this court has ruled against him in some, well, in any, way.

The list, like the first 100 days that have passed like molasses through a garden hose, just goes on and on.

And the faithful, read: those who lack a comprehensive understanding of the geopolitical landscape and/or need a calculator to add single digit numbers, will balk, bitch, bluster and blow hard at any aspersion cast in the direction of their hysterically coiffed hero.

Spare me.

Cause I'm actually givin' your boy some backup here.

Donald Trump is not Adolf Hitler.

Donald Trump is not anything even remotely close to Adolf Hitler.

Adolf Hitler was a mastermind. An evil, vicious, even Satanic mastermind, but a mastermind, nevertheless.

Donald Trump, meanwhile, has turned out to be nothing more, or less, than just another lying politician.

And here's the real insult to all of us.

He's not even particularly good at that.

"...Land Of The Free, Home Of The Brave...Or Bonehad, As The Case May Be..."

Forrest Gump's momma had more going for her than a savvy chocolate expertise.

She was also more than just a little insightful when it came to matters of intelligence, or lack there of.

"...stupid is", Momma Gump wisely reminded us, "....as stupid does..."

That catchphrase, now occupying a deserved space alongside such iconic cinematic chestnuts as "there's no place like home",  "as God is my witness" and  "here's lookin' at you, kid', has taken on a contemporary relevance as a result, primarily, of the choice that Electoral College fans and friends made last November.

In fact, it wouldn't be too much of stretch to offer that there are tens of millions of people who are bigly not fans of the Electoral College's choice who would sum up the outcome of that election with just those five words.

Six months later, that sentiment hasn't lost a centimeter of its support among those who can't get their heads around the idea that so many people were able to get their heads around the idea of voting for a man with so many egregious and obvious character and personality defects, not to mention his history making lack of experience at anything having anything remotely to do with running a city council, let alone the United States of America.

And with each passing day and each new amateur hour proclamation or policy or edict or, and dear God, please somehow give us the strength to do away with these forever and always, executive order, those of us who see Trump's clumsy, inept and potentially harmful farce of a presidency instinctively ask the question that, if not particularly polite or even fair, begs asking.

What is ya? Stupid or something?

Bill Maher, host of HBO's Real Time takes a very point A to point B path to his opinion on the whole matter of those, either civilian or professional politician, who continue to support, even celebrate, this massive failure waiting to happen.

"If you want me to stop calling you stupid," Maher offers, "just stop doing stupid things."

He played that card again on his show this past Friday night. And while the layers of common sense and/or logic and/or even making a fair point lie firm and constant just under the surface of the primary conversation, the ultimate uselessness of playing the "how fucking stupid can you be?" card is that all it does is energize those accused of the suspected stupidity to dig in deeper.

This week, though, one of Maher's guests hit a parked a point of order solidly over the center field fence.

Seth Moulton is a Massachusetts born former Marine Corps officer who served four tours of duty during the Iraq War and was awarded the Bronze Star. He was elected in 2014 to the House of Representatives where he now serves as the Congressman from the Massachusetts 6th District.

During a panel discussion on Maher's program, as the conversation inevitably circled around to the "stupid factor", Moulton, a vocal and articulate opponent of Trump's performance thus far, offered an overdue tweak to the assertion that intelligence is lacking in, at least, D.C.

"I get asked", Moulton said, "why are so many of your colleagues just stupid? Look, to be honest, I don't think they're stupid. I think it's kind of hard to get elected to Congress. I think what's lacking in Congress is not intelligence...it's courage."

"They know what's going on", Moulton continued, in particular reference to the talk of Trump collusion with Russia.

"They simply refuse to speak up."

And there it is.

I confess that I have been, for some time now, one of those struggling on a daily basis to resist the temptation to label those who can't see the fool's forest for the Trump trees as "stupid". I'm aware that it's rude, at best and judgemental, at worst, but I've found it difficult to avoid getting on board with Bill Maher's mantra.

If you want me to stop calling you stupid, then just stop doing stupid things.

Like continuing to cheer, support, endorse and, worse, enable a man who, whatever authentic good intentions he may be convincing himself, and his minions, that he has, throwing the baby of what really makes this nation great out with the bathwater of change, simply for change, and self aggrandizement, sake.

But the talented Mr. Moulton's simple, yet spot on, observation flipped my switch and lit up a corner of my cortex I had, almost foolishly, overlooked. Especially since I pride myself on understanding what the primary motivation of politicians is when it comes to saying or doing almost anything.

Homeland security? Yeah, they glance at a memo and/or make a speech every now and then.

Job security? Full time occupation.

Talking about their jobs.

Not yours.

As for the civilians, your average Joe and Jane, your Mr. and Mrs. Yeah! Make America Great Agains? Well, frankly, it's hard to get a read on the motive involved there.

Stepping up and speaking out in disagreement with, among many other things so far,  lowering tax rates for the rich, dismantling programs that do genuine good in the neighborhood, let alone the nation, appointing clearly unqualified people to key positions in the government, sending an "armada" to a far away location when, in fact, the "armada" was being sent in the opposite direction, basically neutering the government agency charged with seeing to it that you and your loved ones and their future loved ones will have clean air and clean water, none, and all, of those things have no effect or influence on whether or not supporters will keep their gigs.

Once again calling on the wisdom of Sherlock Holmes, we are left with the axiom that once you take away the impossible, whatever is left, no matter how improbable it might be, must be the truth.

Seth Moulton's perspective on the cowardice of Congress explains their behavior to a Trumpian T.

As for the rest of you?

Well, applying Sherlock's P.O.V. what you have when you try to distinguish those who are stupid from those who simply refuse to step up is a Rubik's cube.

Because when you take away the impossible, all that's left is the improbable.

And, in this case, a lot of us are trying very hard to take the attitude that the impossible, in this case, is that there really are tens of millions of people in this nation who simply aren't all that bright.

And, then, what's left is the improbable.

That there are simply millions of people in this nation who simply aren't very brave.

It must be that.

Otherwise, they would find the courage to speak out and step up and hold Trump accountable for all the things he promised them during the campaign, the things that, so far, he has either failed to accomplish or has decided to backpedal on, ignore or simply pretend that he never made the promises in the first place.

They wouldn't just blindly watch this clown car weave and wobble down the global highway.

That would be stupid.

 

"...Keyser Soze, On Fame...Like That!...It's Gone...."

For the family, the personal loss will be the hardship.

For the rest of us, it will be a combination of sadness...and enduring the inevitable puns.



Popular actress Erin Moran, a mainstay on TV from the late '60s to the mid-'80s and best known for her kid-sister role in the sitcom "Happy Days," has died. She was 56.

Authorities in Indiana found her body Saturday afternoon after getting a 911 call at 4:07 p.m. for "an unresponsive female," the Harrison County Sheriff's Department said.

 

 

She had been the subject of tabloid reports that she and her husband were living in a trailer in Indiana since losing her home to foreclosure in California. While other cast members continued to act or direct, acting work dried up for Moran.

 

IMDb lists just five acting credits from 1998 until her last role in 2010

 

 

Paul Petersen, author, activist and a former successful child actor himself, posted this sharing on his Facebook page today.

 

 

Erin Moran Has Passed

It hurts to even write these words. An entire community of former kid actors is not only taking note, but will long remember this kind-heated soul who soldiered on until at age 56 she was done.

She was so far away in Indiana. The help she ran from was right here, as close as a call. Those of us who knew her pain and remember it so well must tonight rededicate ourselves to the task of making sure that none of our brethren pass away unremarked or feel unloved.

Erin Moran lived and she mattered. Her talent and beauty were on display. Fame won young can be a cruel mistress, often outlasting the person within the purpose. Dearest Erin, you will be remembered by all those with the humility to understand what it means to say, “There but for the Grace of God go I.”

Paul Petersen, just one voice for A Minor Consideration*

 

 

There is something almost uniquely poignant in this passing. Fame, historically and by its nature, has been correctly described as both fickle and fleeting and there's no evidence that those adjectives will fall out of usage anytime soon.

 

But, in this era of reality television and selfies and social media self promotion, fame takes on an additional attribute. Where once fame was, at least in some measure, earned with some skill or talent or ability, no matter how fickle or fleeting that talent or ability might have been, it is now less bestowed than it is simply handed out like home printed flyers in a shopping center parking lot.

 

Andy Warhol once wryly offered that in the future, everyone would have fifteen minutes of fame. What he didn't apparently realize, at the time of his prediction, was that fame would not only be handed out to so many, so much and for so little, but that it would happen all at once. Put simply, were Andy around today, the prediction might be more accurately offered as "in the future, everyone will have fifteen minutes of fame and they will all have that fame at the same time."

 

There are a couple of inevitable side effects to this particular generic, cheaply manufactured and distributed notoriety. First, the shelf life is considerably less than in past editions. Today's Facebook phenom is, literally, tomorrow's "who?"

And, equally inevitable, the quality, such as it ever is, of fame itself is diminished, lessened, cheapened. If everyone on this Earth had sparkling green eyes and flaming red hair, what would be even remotely special about sparkling green eyes and flaming red hair?

In this era of instant, constant and, fair to say, incessant communication and distribution of information, though, the aforementioned poignancy makes its appearance. And it adds to the dual qualities of fame, fickle and fleeting, to create a new, at least a little ironic and not just a little sad, tri-fecta, as it were.

Fame is now fickle, fleeting and, if only briefly, renewable.

Erin Moran was famous a long time ago. And then she wasn't famous anymore.

Today, Erin Moran is famous again.

In the moment.

 

For the moment.

For the family, the personal loss will the hardship.

For the rest of us, a combination of the sadness of renewed fame...and enduring the inevitable puns.

"...no more Happy Days...."

"...un-Happy Days..."

"...Chachi Misses Joanie..."

Stand by. Many more to come.

In the moment.

For the moment.

 

 

 

 

*The organization that Petersen mentions, and founded, "A Minor Consideration" is an advocacy group that focuses its energies and efforts on assisting young actors as they make the transition from childhood to adulthood. Too often, children/young adults who have known some fame and/or fortune find the reality of an adulthood without that fame or fortune damaging. It is an often overlooked cause and the organization makes a remarkable contribution to addressing the issue. Check out their website at http://aminorconsideration.org/ 

 

 

"...One Look At The Pic And It's Obvious The Trump Budget Cuts Funding For Any Future High Road Construction..."

Here's two names you don't often see in the same sentence.

George Carlin. Ted Nugent.

Connectivity forthcoming.


Wednesday night, former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin, Ted Nugent and Kid Rock visited with  Trump at the White House. Details of the meeting were not immediately made known, though Nugent posted an article on his Deer & Deer Hunting blog about the encounter. The musician wrote, “We discussed various quality of life issues and how entrenched status quo political correctness has wrecked everything it has touched and how his administration is focused and dedicated to get back to the US Constitutional basics of government of, by and for the people.”

 Images posted on social media of the meeting show the group taking photos in the Oval Office and mockingly standing front of Hillary Clinton’s portrait.

First of all, let's spare ourselves any wasted debate over the lack of courtesy, grace, class or style exhibited by this white trash trio edition of The Three Amigos.

If the ridiculously childish and self embarrassing compulsion to pose with derision in front of the Hillary portrait like three middle schoolers who snuck a selfie in front of the school trophy case, middle fingers extended, arguably in-bred grins firmly in place, isn't enough, we are afforded the extra bonus cheap and tacky of the Kid and the Nooge not finding a way to honor their invitation to visit "America's house" without keeping their "can't seem to accept middle age gracefully" arrested development headwear firmly on their heads, let alone, God forbid, they should visit hat in hand, either literally or metaphorically.

And debate is wasted for the same reason that most all discussion and debate about anything even remotely connect to Trump these days is wasted. If you don't find the lack of courtesy, grace, class or style obvious and irrefutable, then fill in this blank, you're not part of the solution, you're ___________.

But, enough about you. Let's talk about Ted.

Erudite, enlightened, inspirational, motivational and, as always, as articulate as fuck.

Here's, verbatim, the caption to a picture taken of the Ted and the Trump shaking hands at the desk in the very same office where people like Roosevelt and Eisenhower and Kennedy and Johnson and Reagan and Bush have led the nation through our history.


So today is the 242nd anniversary of The Shot Heard Round The World is it! Well well well looky looky here boogie chillin', I got your Shot Heard Round The World right here in big ol greazyass Washington DC where your 1 & only MotorCity Madman WhackMaster StrapAssasin1 dined with President Donald J Trump at the WhiteHouse to Make America Great Again! Got that? Glowing all American over the top WE THE PEOPLE gory details coming ASAP!! BRACE!


Again, we'll skip the debate course and move right on to the entree'. 

Ted Nugent is an idiot. And a racist. And a misogynist. And, one can easily suspect, a big fan of sugar, given that it helps the meds go down / in a most delightful way.

But, that's okay. Everybody knows that Ted Nugent is an idiot. Even the people who like him. It's part of his charm, his joie de vivre, his schtick. It's what makes Ted Ted.

Just like the penis makes Bruce......what?....oh....wait.....that's right....sorry.

Just like the vagina makes Caitlyn Caitlyn.

And, props to the Motor City Madman, boogie chillin, very few people can make Sarah Palin almost look like a reasonable, mature, dare we say, normal person. So, kudos to you, there, Cat Scratch boy.

Let's keep in mind, of course, that I said "almost look like".

But here's where Bob Segar's brain damaged fellow hometown hero steps in his own bullshit. It's that tricky little three worder that he just couldn't resist throwing into the mangled mix of meandering that his mind processes as worthwhile contribution to the national discourse.

We the people.

See, the problem with people like Ted who use that iconic, one can only assume trademarked, phrase is that they do so at the peril of being made to look like liars, hypocrites, fools or idiots.

Even those who we are all pretty much agreed are already idiots in the first place.

Because you don't have to be a Rhodes Scholar or, from the complete opposite end of the IQ spectrum, possessed of a brain on the level with, say, Ted Nugent to know that the "we" that Ted refers to in his use of the term is as far from being an inclusive use as is humanly possible.

Pretty sure when the founders coined the phrase "we, the people" they were talking about all of the people, all of the time. You know, the ones Lincoln said you can't fool.

Everybody. You. And me. All of us. All of us who call America our home and who feel, even in our most difficult moments, like one nation, under God, indivisible....

yada. yada. yada.

At the same time, also pretty sure that when Ted says "we, the people", he's talking about the people who think it's cool to pose like socially maladjusted eighth graders in front of the school trophy case, middle fingers extended; visit America's house with their doofus faux fedoras, lame Little Jimmy Dickens knock off cowboy hats and zipper skirt, open toed fuck me pumps the best they can manage as a fashion statement; those who passionately believe that the most articulate response one might offer in rebuttal to a point of order in the political process conceptualized by someone of a more liberal position or perspective is "...uh....yeah?.....well.......you're a libtard.......you know......you hear me, snowflake...?"

Eloquence of a caliber never before seen in our nation's history.

You see, Teddy, you say "we, the people" but what you really mean is "you and me, boogie chillun".

That said, it's really about perception, isn't it?

Like George Carlin told us a long time ago....

"....did you ever notice how your stuff is stuff....and other people's stuff is shit?"

 Same thing goes for opinions, positions and political loyalties, turns out.

And whether or not it's courteous, gracious, classy or stylish to walk around America's house wearing a lame Little Jimmy Dickens knock off cowboy hat.

Pretty sure "we" the people think... not so much.






 

"....Sexual Harrassment Is Like The Weather...Everybody Talks About It, But..."

There's nothing particularly funny about this whole Bill O'Reilly thing.

And yet...

As O'Reilly's Fox demise sucks a considerable amount of media oxygen out of the news cycle, it's been bantered about, more than once, that O'Reilly's early, for lack of a better, less cringe worthy word, championing of the Donald in the early days had a major impact, ergo, played a major role in scoring Trump the lease at 1600 Pennsylvania.

And Donald, of course, while deserving, in some eyes, of praise for his recently begotten title and the traditionally accompanying respect, is , as all of us know, but only some of us admit, a video captured, audio verified member-in-chief of the very same club where O'Reilly enjoyed membership, at least, of course, until this week.

The club doesn't haven't an official name but informed and well adjusted folks know that the prerequisites for membership are centered and/or essentially focused on pussy.

Either coveting it and/or its owner, ridiculing it and/or its owner, denigrating it and/or its owner or, of course, in some of the more notorious moments, grabbing it.

And/or its owner.

So, again, while there's nothing laugh out loud funny about what's happened to O'Reilly, the fact that he's been hoisted on the very petard that every classy decent person on the planet thought would skewer Trump's chances of getting within a country mile of the Oval, you just gotta see the humor.

And if not the humor, then, come on, step up, concede me the comedy tinged irony.

By the way, just so you know, I'm fully cognizant of the fact that a lot of people reading or listening to this piece might be a little put off at my lack of hesitation at using the unabridged, unedited, un-bleeped form of the word "pussy".

Well, hell, it didn't bother 60 plus million of you when you heard it come out of the mouth of the guy you elected commander-in-chief and chose to represent all Americans on the world stage, so, it's more than just a little ridiculous, not to mention hypocritical, that you've suffering from bunched panties hearing it from me.

So, due respect, grow up. Don't be such a pussy.

Meanwhile, at this writing, O'Reilly's show has been canceled, he is to be paid what is being reported as "tens of millions"of dollars in severance, the publisher of his best selling "Killing" series of historical novels is standing behind their profit making man and, thank you, Stephen Stills, when it comes to weighing in on the Fox News decision to spin Mr. No Spin right out of the old studio swivel seat, "battle lines are bein' drawn."

And it's that battle line drawing business that is doing a pretty articulate job of highlighting the issue within the issue that really deserves scrutiny, assessment and good old fashioned U.S.of A. back and forth banter.

Some might dare say, the real issue at hand in this genitalia generated controversy.

Kirsten Powers, a once upon a time Fox News regular and a current CNN contributor said, in an interview this week, that she and a fellow guest on the O'Reilly show, some years ago, were offended by O'Reilly's snarky and condescending on air reference to them as blondes. She went on to relate how she complained to management and demanded an apology that, naturally, never materialized.

The immediate problem with Powers testimony was that a 2014 op/ed piece from USA Today written by Powers surfaced, immediately, in which she went out of her way to defend O'Reilly from allegations that he was a sexist. The op/ed piece was titled, not so cryptically, "Bill O'Reilly Is Not A Sexist."

Crass opportunism and a clear intention of sucking up the guys signing the contributor paychecks around Fox notwithstanding, Power's current assertions are arguably not without merit, if only because she's not anywhere close to being a lone voice. She is, in fact, a member of a choir that is singing the same song and growing with each passing moment.

And in a country where the freely elected (term ever so loosely used) President of the United States can pivot positions with a speed that makes that old Tasmanian Devil from our Warner Brothers cartoon childhoods look like he's in stop frame slow mo, it's hardly cricket to castigate anyone else their freedom to flip flop. One imagines, actually, that USA Today will shortly be offering up an updated op/ed from Ms. Powers entitled, "Okay, I Was Just Sucking Up To The Paycheck Signers At Fox Last Time, But, Trust Me, This Time I'm Telling It Like It Is, Bill O'Reilly Really IS A Sexist."

Insinuations, allegations and outright accusations, of course, the grist for the mill of the main issue here.

Not to be confused with the real issue, here.

Bill O'Reilly, and Donald Trump, for that matter, might be the sleaziest couple of misogynist pond scum sucking losers to ever foul and soil a national platform. Or they might be a couple of sincerely misunderstood, falsely accused, patriot/choir boys that ever graced the nation with their sacrifice and unerring, unending contribution to truth, justice and the American way.

Wouldn't change a hair on the head of what's really at issue here.

Despite all the kumbayah, you've come a long way, baby, delusional wishful thinking being thinked by those who want and need to not believe it, America has always been, is now and will, for the foreseeable, be an blatantly rock solidly sexist nation.

From founding "fathers", no mention of mothers to the good old boys club to the nation's highest office held by a man who "came at em like a bitch" and reveled in the freedom to grab groins in just ten generations, give or take.

And while Fox News, read, "the Rupert Murdoch family" showed, at the very least, some seemingly laudable and, the case could be made, rare awareness of a high road by showing O'Reilly the door, a couple of things loom large amidst the dust raised by that door being thrown open.

First, there's that little matter of a whole lot of ka-ching accompanying that catch ya later. The aforementioned tens of millions of dollars that Bill will have to heal the hurt, the cash with which he can kiss the boo boo and make it all better. More than a few commenters have already zealously commented that the message being sent by the size of that golden parachute is only marginally subliminal, that it is, in fact, a clear signal that crime might not pay, but chauvinism, crassness and crudeness make the bucks flow like a bitch.

But even if you write off the cash that both O'Reilly and Fox will almost certainly write off, there's another little telltale that tells the tale of America's ongoing attitude when it comes to the fairer sex.

And for that telltale, we turn to that location to which we turn more and more often in these days of mass observation, opinion and unprecedented expertise, known by a designation that is becoming more and more bitterly ironic with each passing moment of every passing day.

"Social" media.

You can put aside your assorted articulate, professionally composed news reports, articles, observations and/or opinion/editorials.

You want the real deal, throb like a bitch American pulse where you can put your finger?

Two words, Benjamin.

Comment.

Threads.

I'll spare you the enlightening (or annoying, depending on what it says on your favorite cap) examples of what passes as conversational contribution in this era of a functional illiterate in the White House and a doorknob running the now hilariously oxymoronically titled Department of Education and just give you a quick bullet point "greatest hits" of the dumbed down dust being churned up by the prevailing winds.

• Bill O'Reilly is being railroaded by "the left" who are still pissed off that Donald put a whuppin on Hillary
• Kirsten Powers is either 1) a "snowflake" who needs to grow up and stop boo-hooing that "big, bad Bill" called her a blonde or 2) a hypocrite because of the aforementioned flip flop on her assessment of O'Reilly's way with the ladies
• Fox fired O'Reilly although he hasn't been officially "convicted" of anything and that's not how it's supposed to go in this great, red state Republic
• Women, in general, need to knock it off already with all this whining about how mistreated they are 
•  What Bill O'Reilly is no different that what Bill Clinton did

The list, like the embarrassment of living in this country these days, goes on.

Let's take each of those bullet points and fire a return shot.

• The moronic notion that anything is still happening at this point because Hillary lost the election six months ago aside, "the left' could railroad Bill O'Reilly all along the Atcheson, Topeka and the Santa Fe and it wouldn't have mattered squat in terms of Fox, read the Murdochs, cutting him loose. The moron in charge of this notion lack the medulla to comprehend the simple logic truth that if "the left" could exert any control over Fox News at all, they would have found a way to put an end to Fox News a long time ago.
• Kirsten Powers' flip flop is undeniably a flip flop. Hi. Have we met? I'm Washington DC and flip flop is a skill you have to prove you have to get any kind of certification in this town. And for those Trump groupies who were waiting to pounce because they just knew I was going to pull one of those "it's okay Kirsten did it because Donald does it" double wrongs making a right thing, guess again. Not going there. Tomorrow I might talk about every single campaign pledge Trump has made that has been 180'd in the first 100 days. But not today. Consider yourselves neener neenered.
• That Fox didn't fire Bill because  he was convicted of something is irrelevant. They are a private company and they can fire who they want when they want if they are prepared to do battle with some who has a contract. Unless, of course, the battle is headed off at the pass by cooling the eliminated employee's temper to the tune of, say, "tens of millions of dollars."
• Only an idiot would say something like women need to stop speaking out about mistreatment. Well, okay, idiots and Ted Nugent. But I repeat myself.
• And as far as what Bill O did being no different than what Bill C did, here's a very complicated existentially philosophical question for the "yeah, what he did" advocates to take a pass at comprehending. How about that kind of behavior is simply unacceptable whenever and wherever it occurs no matter who behaves that way?

 The issue seemingly in the forefront of this soon to blow over storm is the fairness, or lack, of the termination of Bill O'Reilly's employment at Fox News.

The real issue is the misogyny, chauvinism and sexism that is as much an undeniable presence in America as the prejudice, intolerance and racism that is equally undeniable.

Until that issue is confronted, acknowledged and rectified, the actors playing the parts will change, the characters will remain and the show will continue its record breaking run on the American stage.

And every incident that rears yet another ugly head of sexual misconduct, be it a Roger Ailes or a Clarence Thomas, be it a Clinton or a Cosby will find the effort to deal with and, ideally, put a stop to repeat offenses thwarted by an atmosphere, an attitude, a mindset embedded so deeply into the American psyche that it generates hundreds of thousands of comments and posts and tweets that blame anything and everything except what is really to blame.

That America, in 2017, remains a blatantly rock solidly sexist nation.

Complete with that atmosphere, attitude and mind set that have been a part of this nation's DNA since the founding "fathers" took care of business while the "mothers" took care of getting dinner on the table.

Put simply, this mindset, that factors into every well intended determined effort to put a stop to behavior like that just cost O'Reilly his job, is nothing new.

It just never had a name before.

One suddenly occurs. One that is, in fact, now available because it's previous use has been made academic.

The O'Reilly Factor.