All Americans Are Equal Unless They Are More American Than Other Americans

An infamous and controversial train of thought is heading out of the station and gaining steam once again.

Twelve states, at this writing, are now on board, to risk nudging the metaphor into banality, with eliminating the Electoral College.

The primary goal of those who favor shutting it down is modifying the national election process to mirror the process that has been used since day one in all local and state elections.

One voter. One vote.

He or she with the most votes wins.

Sounds simple enough.

Then again, how many of us have been seduced only to find ourselves suckered by another of life's "simple enough"s?

Some assembly required.

Not to mention "may cause drowsiness."

And, more recently, of course, that four word favorite that's been a hair in our soup since the day it first appeared in print and/or embroidery.

Make America Great Again.

The calls for change and the immediate, swift and caustic catcalls of "leggo our Electoral" have evolved, in recent years, from periodical scholarly analysis and suggestion to pretty much an every four year tradition, think Groundhog Day and only do it on the second Tuesday of November twenty five times per century.

There are two reasons for the increase in demands for the winds of change to blow.

Yes, it can be argued that one of those reasons is Donald Trump.

For most of us, that's the only reason we need.

But, take Donald, personally, out of the equation (if wishin' made it so), and the second reason carries a little more weight.

Since the first American presidential election 231 fun filled, cast your ballot years ago, the candidate receiving the most votes has been denied the thrill of victory and bitch-slapped by the agony of defeat five times. The first time in 1824 when Andrew Jackson saw John Quincy Adams yank the keys to the Oval Office away from him like that really mean old fart in those State Farm commercials. Jackson, of course, did go on to eventually become President which is something you probably want to avoid bringing up if you're ever invited to Trivial Pursuit night at Hillary and Bill's.

The "hey, congrats you won!/oh, hey, sorry, you lost!" scenario repeated itself in 1876 and 1888 when Samuel Tilden and Grover Cleveland, respectively, won, but lost. Tilden never did make a comeback, but, Grover, well, he was president at the time so he had that to ease the pain.

Again, Hillary and Bill's game night. Keep your presidential trivia to yourself if you don't want to end up in an episode of "N.C.I.S. as "the body in Rock Creek Park."

From then, it was a luxurious, and false sense of systemic security, one hundred and twelve years and the year 2000, when Queen could have made a killing by recording a hip and groovy update of their classic and we all sang along "We Are The Champions, Wait, What?"

And Al Gore was able, for years, to get a big laugh by introducing himself to his climate change lecture audiences by saying, "I'm Al Gore...and I used to be the next president of the United States of America.."

But here's that second of the two reasons you're now hearing "shut it down!" almost as much and as loud as you're hearing "build that wall".

Because although the Electoral College has only prevented he or she with the most votes the reward for getting the most votes five times in 231 years and 58 elections, it has happened twice, now, in just the last 16 years..and the last four elections.

Sheldon Cooper would have already done some quick calculations and extrapolated that at that rate of accelerated occurrence, within, say, the next ten years, max, you can pretty much rest assured that whoever wins will just automatically be the loser. Might even get to the point where the need for actually voting in the first place becomes pointless.

But, enough about Donald's dream scenario.

Here's the part of the piece where I do a little plot twist.

Both the pro arguments and con arguments on the issue of eliminating the Electoral College are well documented, well known and, well, just well worn.

And I'm neither interested, nor inclined, to re-open that way past its expiration date can of worms.

I'm a "hey, let's open up a whole new can of worms" kind of guy.

And that's what I'm inclined to do. Even if it means I lose the popular vote.

For those who have been on Neptune, or watching only Real Housewives, Love After Lock-up and/or Fox News for the past few years, let me offer up a quick, bullet point summary of the "why we, like, totally, like, need the, like, Electoral College" perspective.

Actually, I don't need to bore you, or me, with bullet points.

Let's just take the most commonly heard, loudest shot from the protester's pistol.

"Well, great, let's just abolish the Electoral College and let those libtard morons in California and New York choose the president from now on."

First, on behalf of we of the Most High Order Of Libtardus Moronicus, who take great offense at being typecast, labeled and/or categorized, here's a thing.

Lot of us don't live in California or New York, ya mooks.

That said, the whine the whiners whine does have a little splash of truth in it, slightly bitter aftertaste notwithstanding.

But, again, the notion that one state, or the other, will determine the outcome of the entire presidential election if the Electoral College is crated up and Smithsonianed, is not the notion I'm all revved up to note.

Try this on.

America...is a myth.

More accurately, America is an illusion. A mirage, hallucination, apparition.

A fantasy, figment, fabrication, creation, concoction.

I got a fully unabridged Thesaurus and I ain't afraid to use it, baby.

And before your panties wad up into an embolism causing bunch or you bring on a stroke by waving that flag so hard that your temples explode, understand what it is I am telling you.

Because what I am telling you has nothing to do with love of country. It has nothing to do with patriotism. It has nothing to do with allegiance, loyalty, faithfulness, fidelity, devotion, duty.

Again, Thesaurus. Grab yours. Let's have some fun.

Those who scream the loudest and doth protesteth too mucheth about the idea that the election process should be simplified to one voter, one vote are among those who probably have Love It or Leave It plastered on the bumper of whatever they drive and not only sing out loud and proud when The Star Spangled Banner is played, they know all the lyrics to the other three verses!

Well, hell, a hearty "then conquer we must/ when our cause it is just / and this be our motto / In God is our trust" to you and yours from me and mine.

But here's the deal.

If you're screaming about how California and New York are going to yank the wheel on the ship of state out of your God fearing, hard calloused working class hands while you sing about the vim, virtue and victory of the America  as described "oh thus be it ever where free men shall stand / between their loved home and war's desolation / blest with victory and peace / may the heav'n rescued land / praise the power that hath made / and preserved us a nation", you, sir and/or madam, are engaged in one of the more miraculous of man's physical phenomenon's....the rare, yet somehow more and more common, ability to sing out of both side of your mouth.

Because what, exactly, is this nation you profess to be proud to preserve?

You know. America.

Land of the free, home of the brave.

From sea to shining sea.

Give or take California. And New York.

Let's not forget Massachusetts while we're at it.

Hear tell they're running one sum bitchin snake pit of libtards up there.

Oh...and New Mexico. Admittedly not a lot of Hollywood elitists there, but, hey, how can you be expected to trust any state named after, well, you know......the wall.......reneged on their promise to pay?.....oh....wait.

So, let's tidy up where tidying up seems to be called for.

And let's hear those voices raised in song once again.

God Bless America.....except for California...and New York....well, Massachusetts....and New Mexico, yeah, New Mexico..../ my home sweet home.

Does this all sound silly to you?

Yeah.

No sillier, though, than the notion that, at the end of the day, let alone the dawning of another presidential election, there really is any such thing as...America.

What there is, more accurately, what there are, are fifty areas of bordered territory, each one called home by the particular group of people who live within those borders, who, in great numbers, are convinced that people in those "other" bordered areas are out to deny them their life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

And while we're modernizing the whole concept of one nation, at all, let alone under God, let's redefine those particular groups of people living within those borders as what they really are, no offense intended.

Tribes.

And the tribe in Alabama is convinced that the tribe in California is up to no good. And the tribe in New York thinks the tribe in Texas hasn't got ten brain cells between 'em.

There is a place within what is known, at least both historically and for the time being, as the continental United States where you can, literally, stand with some part of your feet in four different states at the same time.

Cleverly named Four Corners. And when you are in Four Corners, you can stand simultaneously in Colorado, Utah, Arizona and, how's this for ironic whimsy, New Mexico.

So, theoretically, you and three other people could shake hands, better yet, form a little handholding circle and each one of you would be in a different state.

Home of a different tribe.

And there's a pretty good chance that each of you, each a state apart from each other, would, in the course of small talk find that you are all, each of you, hopeful that your kids can get a good education, that your neighborhood streets can be made as safe as possible, that you and your families can make a decent living, enjoy clean air and water, worship on Sundays as, and where, you choose, that those kids you mentioned earlier can get that good education without being distracted by the possibility that they might be shot to death before the dismissal bell rings, that our veterans are afforded the respect and dignity they've earned...that hate and the groups that celebrate hatred are shunned, punished, even dissolved....that those the four of you put your faith in by giving them your vote will bring dignity, integrity, honesty, compassion, kindness, firmness, absolute best effort to be worthy of the trust which you have bestowed upon them and, if not, held accountable, swiftly, surely and justly for their failure to honor their commitment to you and yours.

Four people. Four states.

A thousand things in common.

E Pluribus Unum.

Out of many, one.

Sounds simple enough.

Makes you think of another "simple enough"

One voter. One vote.

One America.

The Whole Truth And Nothing But, Give Or Take, So To Speak

Funny, if arguably obscure, line from a Paul McCartney song, circa the album Abbey Road.

"So I quit the police department / and got myself a steady job..."

Admittedly, that little bit of tongue in cheek didn't register, at the time, even a blip on the pop music scandal-o-meter, as opposed to its lyrical cousin "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" and its, to this day, wink, wink, nudge, nudge belief among so many of the lysergic acid diethylamide enthusiasts in our midst that the title, and song, were code for enjoying the pleasures of, well, lysergic acid diethylamide.

And, of course, coming not even close to that hosanna, heysanna moment in 1966 when John Lennon found himself on the business end of the non-secular symbolic six-shooters of those immortalized in the classic karaoke favorite, Onward Christian Soldiers for his alleged assertion that Jesus Christ, himself, ran a close but no cigar second in popularity to none other than....wait for it....The Beatles. And their blasphemous poet/hit maker/heretic, John Lennon.

Of course, this was a few years before Jesus was promoted to Superstar status within the hip and groovy culture, but Lennon's impudent anti-idolatry was a long time in being forgotten.

Never mind, by the way, that what Lennon said in the interview that stirred the
sectarian shit pot in the first place was nothing more than an honest evaluation, in the day, of the fact that more people, many, many, many more people would rather buy records and attend concerts by four cheeky, rock and roll lads from Liverpool than fill the pews on Sunday.

But that's an hypocrisy for a different dissertation. Besides, John Lennon lived his entire professional life refining and re-defining the concept of balloon popping provocateur.   

Think Donald Trump. And add charm, class, grace, courtesy, compassion, you know....human qualities.

Oh. And intelligence. John Lennon was a very intelligent, cheeky rock and roll lad from Liverpool.

And Donald Trump....well, I grew up listening to John Lennon, I emulated John Lennon, I felt, at time, like John Lennon was a friend.

Donald, you're no John Lennon.

You are, though , not even close to coincidentally, wearily inevitably these days, the focal point of today's observations.

And Paul McCartney's little megabyte of a giggle is merely the opening act.

Stick around for the headliner. More to the point, the headline.

That lyrical lark I went off on, offering up a little McCartney wit from the song "She Came In Through The Bathroom Window" was inspired by the latest asking of a question I have been asked more than once, lately, given the way things have been, a lot.

"...why don't you run for office?"

Well, first, thanks for writing in. And I'm going to resist the flip, satirical, even sometimes sarcastic replies that have been known to pop out of my piehole from time to time and just give a quick, couple of reasons why answer to the question.

First, I don't have anything near resembling the required temperament. Dismissing the ridiculous babble that's been being babbled for the last three years or so, that what this country needs is a president who's not a politician, I'm simply not temperamentally suited to be a politician. Because, as I've offered here before, a politician, by the nature of the game, has to be, if not all things to all people, then, at least as many things as possible to as many people as possible.

And I'm simply not hardwired to power up that selling job. And not just because being as many things as possible to as many people as possible requires, at some point or points along the way, telling lies. I can lie with the best of em'.

Ironically, this particular wall around the ring where I might be inclined to toss my hat has more to do with telling the truth.

And don't confuse "telling the truth" with that "telling it like it is" bullshit that Trump and his clown car companions have been successfully shoveling for the last few years.

"Telling it like it is" is just Trumpian code for "telling people what they want to hear." If any one of them accidentally stumbles into telling a truth here or there, well....broken clock and all that.

I'm talking about truth. Like instead of telling a state fair exhibition hall full of screaming idiots that I'm going to personally see to it that a big, bad barrier of 1,954 miles long gets erected before end of business and then, I'll get another sovereign nation to just write a check for the confinement, I'm more inclined to say things like......

"I know you're afraid of drug dealers...and I know you want your streets and neighborhoods and towns and cities to be safer....and I also know that some of you out there are even willing to sign on for anything that will keep those coloreds out of your towns and cities once and for all. And that's pretty much pick a color, any color. But I'm gonna kill your buzz and bum you out. There isn't going to be any wall because it's not a practical solution to a legitimate problem. It's a placebo, folks. For those of you who get all your worldly wisdom from Fox News, a placebo is "a measure designed merely to calm or please someone". And before you go all rant and rave outraged on me, let me ask you a question. Don't you think that a nation that put men on the moon and brought them safely back to the Earth FIFTY FUCKING YEARS AGO has the capabilities, FIFTY FUCKING YEARS LATER, to deal with that problem effectively and efficiently without wasting time, money, energy and did I mention money on building a big, bad barrier, 1,954 miles long that YOU, not Mexico, not New Mexico, not anything or anyone that even has the world Mexico in it anywhere, no, YOU are going to pay for?....But you don't hear me do you? Because you hear "wall' as if your grandmama had cancer and I suddenly said "cure". Of course, the cure is a big, bad barrier, 1,954 miles long around your grandmama and any fool with 50% of their wits about them knows that's not going to accomplish jack shit when it comes to keeping grandmama alive, but you didn't hear any of THAT I just said did you? All you heard...and hear...is "cure".

Build that cure. Build that cure.

I suspect it will be awhile before anyone else asks me why I don't run for office.

Indulge me one more quick example of truth that has no place in the race.

That headline I mentioned earlier. This one from an online news article analyzing the already begun presidential campaign of 2020.

"Donald Trump's plan for 2020 Democrats: Cause Chaos and Sow Division"

And now, inconvenient or otherwise, some truth:

First, won't speak for you and Lord knows I 'fess to being a little windy , word wise from time to time, but even I recognize a headline in serious need of a red pencil. Let me take a whack at it:

Donald Trump's 2020 Plan: Divide and Conquer." There you go.

Second, duhhh.

Third, if you're a Trump supporter and,like a kid at 4AM on Christmas morning, you just can't wait until you can get back into that voting booth and press that magic button that reads: Four More Years Of The Chance That We Will Really Get Rid Of Those Colors Once And For All", here's a few things worth mention. I'd have said a few things worth considering, but, shu-yeah, we both know that's not gonna happen, right?

Donald is going to mock, denigrate, bully, slander, libel and say things we never heard in the Bible for, among many other reasons, one primary reason. It worked for him last time. And, as my country music friends and family wisely advise, you "dance with the one that brung ya".


Here's some more of that truth:

Still known and accepted that he never really wanted the gig in the first place, didn't honestly expect to win and when he did was afflicted with a bad case of be careful what you run for....an affliction that has lingered, to one extent or another, to this very day. And all the days to come before he becomes the first president in history to have a library with huge gaudy, neon lit letters spelling out his name tacked up over the palace meets church meets circus tent main entrance.

But he did win. And now that he has won, they'll have to pry those M&M's with the Presidential Seal from his cold, dead fingers before he'll either be arrested and/or dragged out of there kicking and screaming.

And not just because he's a sociopathic narcissist incapable of respecting, let alone serving, any one, or any nation, other than himself and his world.

There's a practical method or two to his madness.

As long as "Hail To The Chief" is his sitcom theme song, he is "insulated" to a point from any of the indictments, trials, convictions, imprisonments, hangings (we don't actually do that anymore, but it was fun to throw that in) that are awaiting the civilian Donald Trump like Moses waiting for just the exactly perfect moment to un-part the Red Sea and send ol' Rameses on a permanent sea cruise.

It's really nothing more than the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue spin on "hiding in plain sight."

Add to that the mathematical reality that if he is re-elected, he will be almost 80 years old by the time his incarcera....sorry, make that second term comes to an end. And, again, if he can stay out of jail until 80, chances are good that the Happy Meals will finally spare him any imprisonment indignity before he does the best, the very best, terrific, just terrific job of shuffling off the mortal coil.

Not to mention, of course, the shit pile of money he and the rest of the Corelones are raking in, piling up and stashing away while the sands go through the Oval Office hourglass.....

Such are the days of our lives.

I totally understand that what I'm offering here is, either, falling on deaf ears or preaching to the choir.

I'm also experienced enough to know that offering all of this falls way, way outside the pages of the playbook one must utilize to successfully run for office in this country.

Because, in order to win office, in a room filled with ten people, I have to say whatever is necessary to say that will win a minimum of six people over to my side.

Given the diverse, eclectic, always entertaining variety of personalities and points of view in any group of human beings, here's the final, irrefutable truth.....

Winning requires lying.

And while I don't, for a second, have any illusions about my many failings, there are certain lies I simply will never tell.

Like "I see where you're coming from....and I promise you I'm going to make that happen....whether it's 1,954 miles long.....or just around your grandmama...."

One last props to Sir Paul....

"so I gave up any political aspirations / and got myself an honest job..."

 

The Road To Hell...Take A Right Off Wall Street...

More than once, I've had a day when my best source for putting things into a spot on perspective was artist/savant/songwriter Randy Newman.

Today is one of the days.

Trump's predictable weekly whine about how mean Saturday Night Live was to him this past Saturday generated the predictable online amount of same old same old "he's a pig/ he's a prophet/no, he's a meglomaniacal man/child / no, he's a dessert topping" back and forth.

One comment caught this commentator's eye for commentary.

"...I'm an outsider here guys. A Greek Aussie...so forgive me for any ignorance. I thought Hilary Clinton was self centered. She lost a totally un-losable election. I actually think she may have been worse. (not that the competition is great by the way). What i see is that American businesses (i work for one) and manufacturing are doing well and that unemployment in the US is at a record low. Leaving out all the "stupidities" of this leader, am i right in saying the US economy is in a good state? I am not at liberty to comment about the US healthcare, public safety, infrastructure and education system..." 

I appreciated the outsider looking in perspective and sincere curiosity. 

At the same time, a little disheartened that this point of view seems to be more common than not.

Because I've been of the mindset for a long time that this very common point of view misses the point.

Big time.

Here's what I offered to our Australian friend by way of an answer to his query.

And, at the same time, submitted to you, not so much for your approval....as your apprisal.

if I may....I'm not known as a "religious" advocate though I profess to be spiritual...

..that said:

"...For what profits a man if he gains the whole world but loses his own soul.."

...can easily, and correctly, be applied in a societal context....

"what profits a nation if it gains financial prosperity...but loses its own soul (humanity) to value atrophy, moral decay and the cancers of greed, narcissism and sociopathy...?"

and...waiting patiently in the wings...prejudice, bigotry, racism, sexism, misogyny....7


a nation whose well being is primarily (even solely) measured by its financial condition, is already dangerously at risk of collapse....

noted American songwriter Randy Newman penned a brilliantly sardonic piece some years ago entitled "It's Money That Matters"....

...it is.....it does....

...and there's the problem.

Russia And China Might Fear The Attack Of The Clones...The Clowns? Nah...

Today's commentary is brought to you by the word "prescient".

Adjective.

Having or showing knowledge of events before they take place.

And today's shout out for "Best Prescience From An Unlikely Source"...

...goes to a satirist, social critic, essayist and author who, resume' wise, knew from nothing about politics, sociology or the geopolitical perspective as it relates to the nations sharing breathing room on planet Earth.

Still, he knew exactly where we were going to end up at this very moment in the timeline. And he shared it with us, satirically, over fifty years ago.

And, oh, yeah, has been dead about eleven years now.

Who, when and what he professed presciently to be pondered promptly.

Here's a little something to get your blood pressure up to speed on another workaday world page of your life story.

A new U.S. intelligence report warns that both China and Russia are investing in weaponry that could attack U.S. satellites and assets in space and that both nations are now actively preparing to be capable of using space as a battlefield.

Well now, that probably knocks your annoyance at the ol' Interstate gridlock down a notch or two on the list of things that matter a hoot in hell today, wouldn't you think?

The details of which of our adversaries (or, of course, bestest buddies in the whole gol darn, golly gosh world, if you're still plopping that red cap on your head as you race out the door to the love me, need me, adore me rallies)...the details of who's designing this and building that and funding this and that are readily and easily available online.

And not just from the tin foil hat, Obama was born in Pongo Pongo, dammit, Hannity, Hannity, he's our man, club, either.

We're talking reputable, mainstream media organizations.

What we of the boomer generation still nostalgically refer to as "the news".

You know, the ones Donald whines "fake news" at as he bangs his Binky against the podium at the love me, need me, praise me, adore me rallies.

So, I'll spare you the details here. And just give you credit for being able to find the necessary information yourself.

Helpful hint: just Google "uh-oh..."

By way of offering a little context, meanwhile, let me share some history with you. Again, for those of us of the boomer generation, and prior, we take our history with a splash of Deja Vu.

Cause, cue, David, Stephen, Graham and Neil......

...we have all, it turns out, actually been here before.

In 1957, the world's first artificial satellite was launched and began orbiting the Earth.

It orbited the Earth for three weeks, until its batteries died. It then orbited silently for two additional months before falling back into the atmosphere.

It was the size of a large beach ball. And cost about 70 million bucks in today's dollars. 

It was not a weapon. Not even a communicative device per se'. Given the times and the primitive state of space exploration in 1957, it was, of course, in 1957 a history making phenomenon but, in the perspective of 2019 technology, it was little more than a two hundred pound AM radio broadcasting a beep back to the planet's surface.

The smart phone you probably have in your hand or in your immediate proximity does a whole lot more. And weighs a whole lot less. And probably costs less. Well, depending on your data plan.

And unless you're a space geek and/or you've peeked ahead because you're one of those people who just can't stand not knowing everything ahead of everybody else, the satellite was named.

Sputnik.

No, it was not Klingon. Or Romulan. Or even Cardassian.

Cardassian, not Kardashian. Try not to splash Kim, Khloe or Kourtney all over things for a change.

It was funded, designed, built, launched and orbited by...well, go figure....one of our adversaries.

Or best buddies if, you know, red cap, love me, praise me, yada yada.

The Union Of Soviet Socialist Republic.

Better known to the current culture, most especially on those bumper stickers plastered on the cars of pretty much all the White House advisers....

Russia.

Three weeks of orbiting pings and two months of silently circling the globe didn't exactly shake our windows or rattle our walls...literally.....but, symbolically.....it was a game changer, baby.

The long assumed superiority of America as the leader of pretty much everything was gone like a flash of re-entry. The balance of power, if only emotionally, suddenly shifted away from the US of A and back towards the U.S.S, back to the U.S.S, back towards the U.S.S.R.

And it might seem silly, even, again, primitive, given our modern terabyte world, but it was a scary time. Because our enemy (and, unlike today, everybody, including the guy in the White House, was in agreement that they were our enemy)..our enemy now had the literal means to rain down on us whatever they chose to rain down on us. And we were in no position to either block that rain....or do our own version of the downpour.

Sure, we had nuclear missiles in 1957. Indoor plumbing and even frozen dinners, too, wisenheimer millennial. But the time between launch of our missiles and their arrival in Moscow, for example, was in the late fifties, in the neighborhood of twenty minutes. A lot less time than it would have taken for Russia to plop a big one on us from right over our flag waving, arrogant little heads.

The result of that scare was that Eisenhower, and then Kennedy after him, got busy gettin' busy bringing America up to speed, celestially speaking, launching what came to be known as the "space race" and within a few years, we had not only caught up and, once again, ahead of the Russians in the satellite department, we became the first nation on planet Earth to send, and safely return, living breathing humans to the Moon.

The same moon, by the way, that, back in 1957, Lyndon Johnson was referring to when he said America had to start kicking some Commie satellite ass, lest we, we being America, "go to bed by the light of a Red moon".   

Now, news that Russia is once again misbehaving up, up and away, not to mention China has decided to get a little ground control to Major Tom on us, should put anyone with half a brain, a fragment of foresight and/or a viddy bit of vision into serious time to get busy gettin' busy on the final frontier front.

Well, damn, there I had to go and put those pesky conditions on it like ...half a brain... and foresight...and vision.

Cause we ain't got time for no stinkin' foresight, man. We are the America of 2019. The America of Donald and His Great Again Orchestra.

And there's no room for technological chess on the to-do list of those charged with keeping us safe from all enemies, foreign and domestic (and, while we're at it, of course, let's update that to include galactic), not to mention a whole big slice of the general population,  America 2019 is racked up, stacked up and backed up with the really important issues of the day.

Getting those coal mines open again.

Trying to decide whether six months is long enough to wait between giving the rich and indifferent another tax cut that parties them hearty and pretty much fucks everybody else heartily.

Watching evangelicals and assorted other wing nuts scrambling all Chicken Little-ish around the barnyard squawking about that Muslim Congresswoman and how she is single handed-ly going to start the fire that will burn the words Allahu Akbar into every single place in America that words can be burned.

Hand wringing, flag waving, pissin' and moanin about a 30 year old Hispanic from New York who stumbles, misspeaks, sounds as naive' sometimes as Jimmy Stewart in a pants suit, but who has, in just one month, already shown more love of country and determination to do the right thing than Donald J. and his jolly morons have offered up since the day any of them were born.

While, in the background, you can hear the tap, tap, tap of construction coming from the starry night sky above us. And the muffled conversation of construction workers working. The accents...what are those accents....oh....right....Russian.....and Chinese.

Yes, I know they're not actually building anything. It's a metaphor. Take off that ridiculous goddamn red cap and let the blood start flowing to your frontal lobes again.

Well, hold on, there, libtard snoflake, you counter articulately. What about our president gittin' er done and making America great again by puttin' together that there (insert major echo for effect here) SPACE FORCE!!

Really?

No, I mean it. Really?

I tell ya, Luther. Your boy there doesn't have the "art of the deal" skills to get a simple concrete wall built.

And you're counting on him wheelin' and dealin' you out of the Death Star's line of fire?

The force is so not strong within you, Bubba.

Meanwhile, back on Earth.

Governing, especially at the global level, is chess.

And great chess players, great being defined as those who actually win matches, understand that the key to chess success is in ,first, seeing several moves ahead and, second, recognizing the weaknesses on display by the opponent and exploiting those weaknesses.

You guys still red capping and Trump clapping aren't at all like those stereotype doofuses in those Farmers Only dot com commercials. Because, as opposed to city folk, it's you who just don't get it.

Donald couldn't see several moves ahead if Fox and Friends broadcast it for him and used closed captioning to make it easier.

And Russia, and China (and, truth be told, my eight year old granddaughter) are so far out in front of him on the "recognizing an opponent's weakness" dealio, that they probably aren't even sweatin' that mainstream American media is publicly publishing that they are moving quickly and efficiently toward moving ahead of us in space.

Again.

Only this time, it's not about who first takes one small step for man. Or one giant leap for mankind.

It's about who gets to be the Empire.

And who has to realize, too late, that they don't have the means to strike back.

Prescient.

Having or showing knowledge of events before they take place.

A satirist, social critic, essayist and author was prescient as all giddyup over fifty years ago.

And although it really doesn't do him justice, he was also renowned as a "stand-up" comedian.

Who saw Donald Trump and his unparalleled inability to play chess coming light years away.

George Carlin.

"...well, I see a line of thundershowers on the radar......but, I also see a flight of Russian ICBM missiles....so, I wouldn't sweat the thundershowers, too much..."

May God be with us.

Because, from what we're hearing, it may already be too late to count on the Force. 

It's Not A Cliche'...Actually, It's A Code...

 Live and learn.

Well, that's the theory, anyway.

Learning, schooling, education, none suffer from any lack, whatsoever, of perusal, perspective and/or punditry from a plethora of erudite minds.

"Live as if you were to die tomorrow...learn as if you were to live forever"---Mahatma Gandhi.

"Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world"--Nelson Mandela.

The wittier amongst us have frequently weighed in on the subject.

"I have never let my schooling interfere with my education"--Mark Twain.

"You can never be overdressed...or over-educated"--Oscar Wilde.

But here's a big finish that delivers a sizable wallop of wisdom.   

"Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper..or your self-confidence"--Robert Frost.

Comparatively speaking, in the current cultural climate, very little occurs in the way of deep and/or meaningful debate, dialogue or discussion about education in America these days.

Oh, there's been a tabloid's worth of squeaking and squawking about how public schools are being given the stick's short end with the goal of making private schools the standard educational resource, said project spearheaded by Donald's always present genius savvy at finding the best people, the most terrific people, in this case,  Betsy DeVos as his Secretary of Education.

Just saying Betsy DeVos and Education in the same sentence reminds me I've got to hurry up and mail in my contribution to the "Oxymoron of the Month Club".

Which impishly reminds me that I just used Betsy DeVos and moron in the same sentence,, but, I digress.

Which, as long as I'm digressing, reminds me that those kids who were taken from their parents at the border who, we are now told, will not be re-united with their parents because finding out who belongs to who is just too much of a strain for the system in place (read: there is no system in place)..not to worry about those kids because they are being farmed out to a highly respected (you can't hear the sarcasm, but, trust me, it's there) adoption agency.

Which reportedly just happens to have major financial ties to....wait for it.....Betsy DeVos.

But, I digress on my earlier digression.

So back to the subject at hand. Or, in the spirit of keeping things entertainingly thematic, back to school.

Live and learn.

Historically, absolutely correct.

And, at the same time, not so much, no.

Paradox, you say?  Contradiction? Incongruity?

Uh, actually both of those mean the same thing as paradox.

But, in answer to your question and/or questions.

Yes.

At this point, the need for some education is indicated.

Allow me. Momentarily.

Log on over, baby, whole lotta meme-n' goin' on.

In the always amusing world in which technology has provided us with, literally, hundreds of ways to communicate with one another and yet actually connecting with each other remains the elusive butterfly, the meme is fairly secure in the top five of preferred methods of making contact.

Here's a fun fact to know and tell. "Meme" is from the Greek, mimema, "that which is imitated"...the dictionary def goes on to define as 'an element of a culture or a system of behavior that may be considered to be passed from one individual to another by non-genetic means....(this basically means that it's not inherited from your parents, like your blue eyes or red hair or your tendency to think your particular skin color is superior to any other skin color)...

And, then, of course, there's the more contemporary lowdown "a humorous image, video, etc that is copied, often with slight variations and spread rapidly by Internet users.

Again, boiling it down to basics....it's a text message with pictures.

Very often, even mostly, it arrives with some humor, parody, satire and/or snark attached.

Now and then, it offers up facts and/or figures and/or current life circumstances that the most of us would just as soon not be having to face.

This one came across my radar the other day. And it reminded me that I've been meaning to do a piece on education and its importance in the whole scheme of things.

The visual was simply a woman at a podium. Truth be told, I'm not really sure who it is. Young, black woman. Looks a little like Beyonce but it's not Beyonce. Looks a little like Tyra Banks but it's not Tyra Banks. All of this, by the way, highlighting one of the more subtle drawbacks of the meme format.

Sometimes, the message of the meme gets lost in the distraction of the delivery.

Not so much this time around.

"After two years of Donald Trump, I've wondered why conservative voters still support him. I though maybe they were still angry and afraid or just ignorant and in denial or racist, but that's not it. I've realized the reason they still support Trump and love him is not because of any of those things. They love him...because they ARE him. They have the same morals, the same prejudices, the same hatreds and the same insecurities he has. They're the same person he is and always have been. We see it in them now because Trump has given them permission to come out in the open and be who they really are. And...it's ugly."

What, I'm going to hazard a guess you're asking here, in the world does any of that have to do with education?

Well, I'm glad you asked. Because I been a itchin' to larn ya'll bout' that.


First, props to Donald and his much adored modus operandi, let me tell it like it is.

Educated people have been draggin un-educated people to safety, success, even survival since day one, dawn of time.

If you felt your blood pressure surge just a skosh at that, please, allow me to add this.

You're welcome.

It could easily, and correctly, be said that any chapter and verse or bullet point list of those things in life that are in this life through the efforts of educated, as opposed to uneducated, people would be both time consuming and, well, frankly, insulting to those who fall into that "un" category.

Yeah, well, first, I'm in no hurry here and I've got a few minutes.

And given what the un-educated are inflicting upon us in these days of the Donald, I'm not inclined to give a rat's ass one way or the other if what I offer insults you.

Put simply, if you're smart enough to realize you might learn something worth knowing by hanging in with me for the next few minutes, then, you won't be insulted anyway.

And if you're not smart enough to realize when some education might benefit you and you're feeling insulted by what I'm saying at the moment.....

Not a problem. See ya...see ya...wouldn't wanna be ya.

I learned that in or around the time I was in the first grade, memory serves, so, right there, already, we see the benefit of quality education beginning at an early age.

But, seriously, ladies and germs.

I'm not going to really shopping list the accomplishments of the educated mind that have benefited mankind, red, white and blue mankind, in particular, since that day one, dawn of time we mentioned earlier.

How about just a quick greatest hits? (And because I've got a few minutes but don't want to be at this all day, these are just some of the greatest hits of the 20th Century).

The medical technology that has given us antibiotics, starting with, say, penicillin, that have kept you or a loved one from dying an unnecessary death; vaccines that have prevented you or a loved one from contracting anyone of a number of diseases that could kill you sooner rather than later; the development of x-rays, allowing doctors to find afflictions and diseases and treat them to prolong your life; advanced cancer treatments; by-pass surgery that could give you ten to fifty years more of a life that a simple heart attack would have ended not so long ago.

The electronics technology that has given us computers that do all the amazing things that computers do and, if absolutely nothing else, keep you entertained, in contact and informed with that Marlboro Longs sized computer that you have in your hand probably most hours of every day.

And how about a couple of real biggies?

Sending man to the moon and back again safely. And that was fifty years ago.

Not your idea of a BFD?

Okay, how about the development of the atomic bomb which, historians agree, most likely gave the Allies the last victory they would need to end World War II...and made it possible for those of you who turn all hostile when somebody in your earshot doesn't "talk 'Murican" to never have to talk Japanese...or German...yourselves?

The airplane. As much a way of life now as sunrise and sunset.

Still not getting it?

Let's get basic, baby.

How about the automobile?

How about your Chevy Silverado?

There you go.

The thing about all those things, meanwhile? In one way or another, to one extent or another, every one of the ideas and/or implementations of those accomplishments, and all the other thousands and thousands of other advancements in our lives, were both encouraged...and rejected....accepted with thanks in celebration....and mocked, denigrated, resisted, even refused.

Two groups. Educated. Uneducated.

Pop quiz. Which group celebrated? Which group denigrated?

Really, if you're even having to think about it for a second. Really?

Which brings us to the here and now and what and why of today's commentary.

Think of education, the pursuit of it, the acquisition of it, the implementation of it in our respective day to day as a beautiful, crystal clear, fast and free flowing stream of hydration of the mind, even nourishment, making that mind healthier and more efficient and more productive and, as an inevitable result, making our homes and our neighborhoods and our towns and our cities and...say it with me...our country....better.

Safer.

More productive.

More efficient.

More compassionate.

More human,

Just....more.

Somewhere along the timeline, truth be told, in the not very distant past, somebody poisoned the stream.

The monkeys took over the zoo.

The inmates commandeered the asylum.

Pick a metaphor, any metaphor.

Education became the enemy.  I would have said enemy of the people, but, oops, sorry, that label has already been checked out and assigned to the free press.

To know, know, know too much about anything was suddenly a threat to the well being of hard working, God fearing Americans who passionately believed, and believe, that they've got all they need to live a full, rich, hard working God fearing American life by having a house, a job, a Sunday service, a God to pray to...and Fox News.

And no good can come, those folks say and believe, from all that libtard, snoflake, Commie soaked extreme leftist bullshit being shoveled out in those "institutions of higher learning". Cause we ain't fooled for a second. We all know what goes on in those classrooms, those lecture halls, those campus auditoriums.

You know what? You're right. There's a whole lot goes on in those classrooms...and lecture halls and auditoriums.

Young minds are being taught. And young minds are learning. And young minds are already dreaming of what's next.

The next antibiotic. The next vaccine. The next life saving surgery.

The next computer that will make lives more productive, more efficient, more effective.

The next mission. Mars, maybe? Neptune? How about that planet we don't even know about yet?

Young minds are taught and they learn and they dream and they theorize and they invent and they implement and civilization inches just a little further out of the darkness.

And the un-educated?

They still pronounce antibiotics and vaccines and surgeries as voodoo.

They still think that Satan is moving toward victory one Tweet at a time (well, on that one we could have a fun conversation, but, not now)

They still believe that if God had meant us to be on the moon or Mars or Neptune, He would have put us there.

All the while clueless to the truth that that's exactly what God did. And does.

By giving us the opportunity to be taught....and learn.....to be...educated.

Educated enough to save lives, communicate more effectively, travel more safely and efficiently.

And even find the wisdom, patience and compassion to make every effort to drag the un-educated amongst us along with us as we inch civilization forward.

Just like we always have.

Just like we always will.

Because we've been blessed with the gift of realizing what a spectacular gift has been offered us in this life with three words.

That many, if not most, think of only as a familiar catchphrase.

When those three words are, in fact, the secret instructions to a mortal life of accomplishment without limit.

Live....

...and learn.

It's Not The Wall You Need To Worry About...It's The Wall...

Everybody's talkin at me / I don't hear a word they're sayin'

Only the echoes of my mind.

In the parlance of oldies radio, that's what's known as a classic.

Some oldies on-airs even dot the I by referring to the song as "the Harry Nilsson classic".

Okay, first. Yes.

And second, uh, no.

Nilsson's recording of the song released in 1969 did reach the top ten on the Billboard Top 100 chart of the time and went on to win Nilsson a Grammy for best male pop vocal performance. His version was featured in the Oscar winning Dustin Hoffman/Jon Voight movie, Midnight Cowboy and is still closely identified with the movie to this day.  

Nilsson was, in addition to being a unique vocalist, obviously a pretty prolific songwriter, having penned such hits as Three Dog Night's "One", The Monkees "Cuddly Toy", another song that was used in Midnight Cowboy, "I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City" and the charming, if not more than just a tad gooey theme song to the sixties sitcom, The Courtship of Eddie's Father, "Best Friend".

But his two biggest hits were songs that Nilsson did, in fact, not write.

The first was the enormously successful ballad "Without You" which was written by Pete Ham of the sixties British pop band Badfinger.


And...wait for it......

Everybody's Talkin'.

Written, three years before Nilsson got his hands on it, by an eccentric and eclectic folk singer/songwriter named Fred Neil. I say eccentric because despite his highly respected writing and singing career within the folk industry and his obvious success as a songwriter, he chose not to tour and spent the last 30 years of his life assisting with the preservation of dolphins.

Even wrote a moving song about them, a song recorded by Neil himself and covered, to date, by a diverse group of talents including Richie Havens, Harry Belafonte, Al Wilson and Linda Ronstadt.

A song entitled, in a no nonsense style....."The Dolphins".

This edition of the story behind the song is brought to you for the purpose of backstory. And the backstory is brought to you by way of illustrating the primary point to be made in this piece.

That point would be this.

People in general and, for our purposes this time around, Americans, in particular, these days, in particular, have a habit of thinking they know a lot about, and talking a lot about what they think they know about, things that they don't really have much of a clue about at all.

Everybody's Talkin', the version recorded in 1969 and used in the movie Midnight Cowboy, is the Harry Nilsson classic.

Everybody's Talkin', the song written by Fred Neil in 1966 is not.

When it comes to illuminating the difference between what you think you know...and what you really need to know....well, this little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

Stand by for that.

I'm afraid I have some bad news to share, today, with the more zealous of those who march passionately and proudly behind every little cute, quirky and/or monumentally contemptuous thing that Donald Trump does.

The Constitution of the United States is not a buffet.

The Constitution of the United States is not even a menu, with a column A and a column B, ready for you to mix and match, pick and choose what you care to chew on and/or what you care to swallow.

The Constitution of the United States is, to risk metaphor overkill by giving it one more snark, is more like the meals Mom used to make. At least the moms of the fifties and sixties, maybe even the seventies, before the era of let's stop being parents to our kids and just be good pals with them kicked in.

The meal consisted of a variety of combinations from one evening to the next, but the underlying theme of the meal itself never varied an iota.

Eat what's on your plate. Or go hungry.

Donald's penchant for Big Macs and Flame Broiled Whoppers notwithstanding, the Constitutional "Specials of the Day" are the same as they have been since Jefferson did his majestic dome version of the golden arches.

And in the spirit of too many people talkin' about Everybody's Talkin' being the Harry Nilsson classic when it is, in fact, the Fred Neil classic as recorded by Harry Nilsson and a host of others, let's put the concept of misspeak into a Constitutional context.

Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you that most fundamental of foundations, that rock upon which the church of America is built, number one after twelve thousand and sixty four weeks at the top of the charts......the Thomas Jefferson classic....

The rule of law.

Here's the dry dictionary definition.

The principle that all people and institutions are subject to and accountable to law that is fairly applied and enforced, the principle of government by law.

For those of you who prefer pie charts and big block printing...

The Constitution is law, the highest law and the President, Congress and Federal Judiciary, not to mention all the little leaders and leadettes on down the flow chart, are bound by its terms.

And for those who prefer a more dummy friendly translation of these kinds of things.

The rule of law means that no person or government is above the law.

And this is where we circle ever so judiciously back around to the cute, quirky and, more often than not, contemptuous things that Donald Trump does.

Or, to be perfectly accurate, the things that Donald Trump threatens to do.

Because one of the unspoken plot twists, thus far, in the madcap adventure that is the Trump "presidency" is the comedic, and at the same time pathetic, fact that this guy really is big hat, no cattle. All talk, no action.

Less Commander In Chief. More Puss In Boots. And thank you for your cards and letters thanking me for not going down the Pussy Grabber in Boots road.

We're above that around here.

But not above the law.

Cause that's what the rule of law is all about.

And here's the first of a few things I'm going to get you down with when it comes to what you think you know but you don't. And what you don't know, but you really need to.

You don't want to live in a society without the rule of law.

If you're a Trump supporter...well, first, yeah, I don't know what to tell you anymore except I'm really sorry things are going to turn out for you the way they're going to turn out.

But, back to the business at hand. If you're a Trump supporter, you cheer Donald as he thumbs his nose and flips his middle finger in the direction of tradition and sacred institutions and if he doesn't literally disregard or even break laws,  you're not going to win any argument if you offer he doesn't flout law, disrespect law, show contempt for law.

The easy and obvious "well, now, how come he does that?" answer is that law is defined as a rule defining correct procedure or behavior.

Donald Trump only knows one definition of correct procedure and/or behavior.

Correct procedure/behavior. Noun. Whatever procedure or behavior Donald Trump feels like exhibiting or displaying at any given moment in the twenty four/seven cycle of an entire lifespan.

Overture, curtain, lights.

Whatever Donald wants. Donald gets. Or does. Or says.

And regardless of how many smoking guns, last straws, this is its, oh, he's finally gone and done it nows we experience until this little reality show/sitcom hybrid mutation comes to its inevitable end (and not a day goes by these days that we don't hear of a smoking gun, last straw, etc), the hard core truth/fact is that Donald is never going to be presidential, he is never going to be conciliatory, he is never going to be co-operative, compromising, reasonable or even common sensical.

There is one thing and only one thing that Donald will be. Today. Tomorrow, Forever.

And ever. Amen.

Donald.

He will, though, if only by the political and sociological spins on Newton's laws of motion, eventually run into a wall he cannot simply jump over or plough through with his trademark brand of bluster, bravado and bullshit.

The wall of law, baby.

And we'll save the whimsical irony of it being a wall that will eventually do him in for another time and another commentary.

Sooner or later, for no other reason than sooner or later a boiling pot boils over, an erupting volcano erupts, a shaken bottle of champagne pops its cork, Trump will be faced with fighting the unbeatable foe.

The law.

And he will be dreaming the impossible dream if he thinks for a second that when all he, and the law, have both gone all in and all the cards are on the table, he will not be "....subject to and accountable to that which is fairly applied and enforced, the principle of government by law...."

Meanwhile, though....

There is a growing rumble, a disturbing disturbance in the force that actually voices the opinion, edging now and then perilously close to belief, that when those chips are down and cards are tabled, that Donald will simply kick his standard operating procedure to yet another new level of outrageous unorthodoxy.

The law? The law?. Fuck the law. I'm the law, he said with a high quality porcelain smile, a comb-over a man of means should be embarrassed to settle for and a smirk that officially becomes the granddaddy of all smirks.

Not gonna happen, you say? Not possible, you say?

Hmmm.

I'd like to agree with you there, slick.

But I'm not prepared to do that.

You see, I lost a sizable amount of my faith that the impossible could never happen two years ago last November when the Electoral College proved yet again what a real burden it has become to the Republic for which it stands.

Put in a more dummy friendly style....

When it comes to Donald Trump....and the America that could even think about putting Donald Trump in the White House, let alone actually put him there....

I put nothing past either one.

I honestly can't tell you whether or not Donald would fold his arms, lean back in his ego plated chair in the Oval and say come and get me, motherfuckers.

Betting against that happening is a poor wager.

I do know this, though. And this is the next thing you probably don't know but you need to.

The day that happens, assuming it happens and, more insidiously in our little drama here, assuming that he isn't simply yanked out of that chair, shackled and hustled out of that sacred office as if it were any one of 452 episodes of Law and Order......that day will be day that the rule of law is broken.

And on that day, forget about wagers.

Because on that day all the bets are off.

And from there, round and round it goes and where it stops, nobody knows.

But what it's then called is already available in your finer bound copies of Webster's.

Anarchy.

A state of disorder due to absence or nonrecognition of authority.

Law? Law? We don' have to show you we care about any stinkin' law.

And that brings us to the last of those things you most likely don't know but need to.

Or, allowing for a little intellectual charity, maybe you do know, but you haven't really thought it through. Or even given it all that much thought at all.

There are two, and only two, conditions, states of being, if you will, that exist in a civilization when it comes to being civilized.

Or not.

Order.

Disorder.

And disorder, frankly, is much too nice and clean, even pretty a word. It evokes images of a sink full of dishes or a closet that needs to be cleaned out.

Maybe the way the living room looks on Christmas morning five seconds after the last wrapping paper has been ripped from the last gift of the season.

Oh, my. We have disorder, here.

That's not what happens if the rule of law is broken. And the bets are off.

There's no power switch or control lever to lessen or even divert the tsunami of water that comes roaring into the valley if the dam bursts.

Everything in the path is in immediate peril of being damaged or destroyed.

There is no remote control to dial down the intensity of the blast if the nuclear weapon detonates.

Everything in the vicinity is either instantly incinerated or subject to being blasted, burned and/or blown away for a radius of miles and miles...and miles.

If you're a Trump supporter, here's something very important you need to know. Or start thinking through.

If he breaks the rule of law and manages to benefit from it, whatever sense of victory, celebration, accomplishment you might experience because your primal instinct is to celebrate your boy's conquering of our traditions and sacred institutions and very way of life, you've forgotten something pretty fundamental in this life.

There's no such thing as a little bit pregnant.

And there's no such thing as a little anarchy.

And the only thing standing between you and disorder.....the only thing.....

...is the rule of law.

If that dam breaks, if that nuke detonates, if that rule is broken.....

Your life, as you know it, is over.

The lives of your spouses, children, grandchildren, families, loved ones, friends......

...are over as they know them.

Because this won't be about this law being bent or that law being broken.

This will be about the rule of law itself being broken.

Here's a pie chart, big block print explanation for you.

In every house there are walls that separate rooms.

Many of those walls can be removed for, say, a remodel with no effect on the integrity of the structure.

A load bearing wall, meanwhile, carries the weight of the roof and, if any, upper floors right down to the foundation.

Remove it and the building collapses.

A law is a wall.

The rule of law is a load bearing wall.

Not a buffet. Not a menu.

There is no picking and choosing involved.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

No rule of law?

Donald gets to do whatever Donald wants to do and you can celebrate that "victory" until you can no longer even see Mexico without a very very very tall ladder.

Until you find it a good idea to learn to speak Russian.

Until the billionaire closest to you forecloses on whatever small piece of property you might possess.

And, God forbid, someone you love with all your heart could be shot to death in front of your very eyes.

Oh. My. God. Call the police.

They're there to protect and serve.

To enforce...the law.

About that....

First, uh, yeah.

Second, uh....

...not any more.