Stark Raving Mad Like A Fox

Little something from the culture corner today.

A novel, entitled "Night Of Camp David", features an unhinged American president who falls victim to his own paranoia and conspiratorial fantasies as people around him struggle to rein in his worst impulses.

Ring any bells, there, Alexander Graham?

Here's one plot twist you might not be expecting, though.

The novel was written, and originally published, in 1965.

Now, more than 50 years after it was released, “Night of Camp David” is getting a new life. Later this month, Vintage Books, a Penguin Random House imprint, is re-releasing the novel, as a paperback, e-book and audiobook.  

The publisher isn’t shying away from drawing parallels between the novel and our current overheated political climate, with a dramatic black cover flap that reprises the tagline on the original novel: 

“What Would Happen if the President of the U.S.A. Went Stark Raving Mad?”

“It’s got the perfect balance of escapism and that haunting touch of reality,” said Anne Messitte, publisher of Vintage Books.

Messitte said she first became aware of the novel in early September, when Rachel Maddow spoke about it at length on MSNBC, and noted the eerie similarities between the fictional plot and the biggest political story of the day: the anonymous op-ed in The New York Times by a Trump official, who wrote that members of the administration were working to undermine the president’s agenda and had considered invoking the 25th Amendment to remove him.

“Dystopian thriller books and movies like that invite us as Americans to imagine what we might do with a presidency gone that haywire,” Maddow said. “It turns out, that all might have been good training because today’s news invites us Americans to consider the same.”

Interest in the novel soared. The presidential historian Michael Beschloss tweeted about it. In an interview with The New York Times, Bob Woodward mentioned he had recently reread it. Used copies on Amazon were priced at more than $100. “I read this book a long time ago back in the late 1960s,” a reviewer wrote on Amazon. “Today, we should just change its name to a “Night of Mar-A-Largo.” It’s the same plot only the characters are different.”

The novel centers on a young Iowa senator who grows worried about the president’s mental health when he is summoned to Camp David in the middle of the night. During deranged monologues, the president — a liberal Democrat named Mark Hollenbach — rants about his perceived political enemies and imaginary plots against him. He rails against the media and accuses a newspaper columnist of leading a “conspiracy” to discredit him. He tries to undo America’s longstanding alliances with Western Europe, and arranges “a high-level conference with the Soviet Premiere that could damage our national security,” according to The New York Times review. (Bizarrely, there’s even a Supreme Court justice in the novel whose last name is Cavanaugh.)

I read this novel when I was 14. Back in the day, the "political thriller" was the flavor of the month. Titles such as "Seven Days In May" (co-written by Fletcher Knebel, the author of "Night Of Camp David") and "Fail Safe", among others, showed up frequently on the best seller lists and many found their way to the big screen.

I had forgotten "Night Of Camp David" until news of the re-release surfaced on social media, the memory of it triggered by the news article featuring a picture of the actual cover from the 1965 paperback edition, an edition I owned for a long time...a long time ago.

Obviously, you don't need to be a scholar or political expert to recognize the parallels in the fictional President named Hollenbach and the truth is stranger than fiction president named Trump.

That said, with the perspective I enjoy from having been both a fourteen year old reading a "what if" thriller in 1965 and, fifty years later, an experienced political observer living smack dab in the middle of a real life playing out like it was a "what if" thriller, it occurs to me that there's a critical difference between a "President" with diagnosable psychological illness and a demagogue who, while arrogant, spoiled rotten and convinced of his own infallibility, is more likely nothing more, or less, than an opportunist with a world class ability at pulling off the con.....by flawlessly accomplishing the two things necessary to pull off the con:

You scare gullible (read: uninformed, often uneducated) people into believing any/many demons are at the door.....

And, then, convince people that you are the only hope they have of defeating the demons.

In it's fun, entertaining form, it's a Professor Harold T. Hill hustling people to buy 76 Trombones they can't really afford ("because....we got trouble.....right here in River City....)

In it's current form, it's an arrogant, spoiled rotten, self convinced infallible, getting even with the black President who made fun of him at dinner a few years back, who NEVER truly wanted to be President, let alone believe he would ever ACTUALLY get elected.......whose primary psychological problem is his total and absolute inability, therefore, refusal, to ever, ever.............ever...........be wrong about, responsible or accountable for anything....ever......while incapable of hearing (let alone accepting) ANY CRITICISM OF ANY KIND AT ANY TIME............EVER...........the absolute WORST character/personality for somebody in the job he decided to "play around" at getting......

There's an element missing in Fletcher Knebel's 1965 novel that is in our ears, eyes and faces on an hourly basis in 2018.

The fictional president's psychosis is known to a few, in particular, one, the protagonist of the novel, adding to the protagonist's list of challenges making the public aware of the danger......

This "real" president tweets his con man credentials to a global audience, 24/7.....

A friend and I have conversed frequently on the "he's mentally ill" riff being frequently cranked out by more and more every day folk as the Trump story plays itself out. Neither of us are trained or credentialed as mental health experts, but, instincts, even hunches, being what they are, we find ourselves in agreement on one educated guess.

We don't really believe that Trump is in the throes of madness.

That's giving him an air of Shakespearean drama that does a disservice to Shakespeare.

And drama.

We're also in agreement on the "ist" factor when it comes to hardy har-har Hamlet, here.

I was tempted to find a pun using Macbeth, but, as the first thing that popped to mind was MacDonald, I decided to err on the side of not slandering fast food that doesn't deserve the diss.

My pal and I agree that...  

Donald Trump is.....

...not a racist.....

...not a supremacist...

...not, really, even a "nationalist"

He is, in our opinion and you'd think to anyone with a working brain cell...

...a misogynist...

...a narcissist...

...and an egotist....

But more than any of the other "ists"....

He is an opportunist.

Often used as a five-dollar word that means con man.

If his "base" suddenly embraced minorities tomorrow, he'd fire his Cabinet and staff and replace them with blacks and Hispanics and Jews and women before end of business.

That's not stark raving mad.

That's just textbook playing to the crowd.

At least, in our book. 

The Difference Is As Clear As The Day Is Long

Veterans Day.

Lot of people just don't get it.

Even a lot of people who are passionate about observing it, honoring it and clearly, even loudly, declaring their respect for it.

And by "get it", I mean understand exactly what it really is and exactly what it really means.

That's not a criticism, per se', by the way, it's just an honest observation of one of the glitches in our human software.

We often confuse things. With other things.

Here's some examples.

Jam.

Jelly.

Jam is made from fruit, so is, as a rule, somewhat chunky.  
 

You know...from the fruit.

Jelly, on the other hand, is made from fruit juice....and is, therefore, smoother, with a tendency to be jiggly.

Yeah, yeah, must be jelly cause......we all know the punchline, but we're trying to clean up our act in the era of #metoo, okay?

Alligators.

Crocodiles.

Gators have a stubbier, u-shaped snout

Crocs, meanwhile, have a long, pointier, v-shaped snout.

And, of course, gators will see you later.

While crocs will see you after while.

Here's one for the geography connoisseurs in the crowd.

Great Britain.

United Kingdom.

Great Britain is, actually, just part of the United Kingdom, which includes the countries of England and Scotland and Wales.

It's like how we say "New England", when what we mean is Maine and Vermont and all those states where the syrup comes from.

And, not to wear out the welcome, but because it's just fun to expand our medulla database....

Crows.

Ravens.

Crows are little, have longer, thinner beaks and are believed to be as smart as 7 year old children.

Maybe even Tomi Lahren, too.

Ravens, in fact, are much bigger than crows, with much thicker bills and longer tails or, depending on your particular interests and hobbies, a group of men that residents of Baltimore would like to see in the Super Bowl, even though they're already finding knocking the Steelers out of first place to be in danger of becoming insurmountable.

Oh, and "the" raven? Well, that dude is down with poetry of a dark shade.

Nevermore...and all that.

And, then, there's Veterans Day.

And Memorial Day.

While it's obvious that both days have something to do with those who serve the nation, it seems like it would be relatively easy to know and deal with the difference between the two.

Then, again, we are talking about a country filled with folks who cannot, without a lot of stop/start/stop/start indecisive confusion negotiate their way through a four way stop.

Or a traffic circle.

Or roundabout.

Which is, actually, just another name for traffic circle.

But, then, it gets even more confusing when you factor in fans of 70's English rock, the group, Yes, in particular.

Meanwhile, back at Veterans Day and Memorial Day.

And the difference between the two.

By the way, to any city planners, Department of Transportation officials, traffic engineers or those who name the names that go on our byways and boulevards, you're totally not helping at all when you, good intentions aside, go designating new thoroughfares as Veterans Memorial Blvd.

In an already too confusing world, that's like suggesting we enjoy our Thanksgiving Christmas Dinner in eager anticipation of next year's Valentine's Easter Dance.

Here's the deal on the days in discussion.

Veterans Day is the official United States public holiday, observed annually on November 11, that honors military veterans, that is, persons who serve and/or have served in America's Armed Forces.

Memorial Day is the official United States public holiday, observed on the last Monday in May. that honors those who died while serving in America's Armed Forces.

Couple of quick notes.

First, no word, yet, on how America's fun, forthcoming Space Force will factor in to the observing and honoring, whether they will be included in the Veterans Day/Memorial Day dealio or get their own individual holiday.

Space Day. Sounds a little contrived, even a little like a day that's about those who are, well, spaced.

And we already have Black Friday for that.

Second, that thing about holidays being "observed"? As in Veterans Day is "observed annually on November 11"?

Uh, yeah, the correct grammar, we respectfully suggest, would be, for example, "Veterans Day falls on November 11, but "observing" is reserved for whatever day the government, courts, post offices and any other part or parcel of the bloated beyond recognition bureaucracy decides they want to shut shit down and take the day off.

There's a whole nother' conversation to be had about the idea that every day should be Veterans Day and Memorial Day, but that gets into deeper discussions about concepts that ponder the more existential.

And then, you can bet your paid holiday, that some Senator or Congressperson, looking to make some noise, will submit a bill calling for an "Existential Day"...one in which we observe and honor that in our life which is beyond comprehension, inexplicable, even an impossible to believe phenomenon.

Lately, though, we already have Election Day for that.

Which brings us back to Veterans Day.

And Memorial Day.

And the difference between the two.

One honors the living who serve America in the military.

One honors those who have died while serving America in the military.

It's not really all that complicated.

But we have a way of confusing things that are seemingly not all that complicated.

Like jam...and jelly.

Gators...and crocs.

Oh. Almost forgot. Left a couple out.

Courage.

Many believe that courage is doing something frightening and not being afraid.

When, in fact, courage is doing something frightening despite being afraid.

 And cowardice.

Many believe that cowardice is, simply, a lack of bravery.

Like being brave enough to run into the fire and not away from it.

Brave enough to face the gunfire and put a stop to it.

Brave enough to stand in the rain to honor the dead on a day set aside to honor those who died in service to the military.

That one, though, that has nothing to do with bravery.

Or even cowardice.

That one is all about "ish"

And "less"

And "ment"

Selfish.

Classless.

Embarrassment.

And it makes no difference whether it's Veterans Day, Memorial Day...or just another day.

Those things are what they are....

..every day.

You Extend The Pinky....We'll Cover You On The Other Finger...

Special announcement today.

Presenting, for the first time anywhere, a brand new addition to the list of four letter words in the English language vocabulary.

Black.

First, yes, I'm aware that the word black has five letters and not four.

Second, no, the usage of the word in today's sharing has absolutely nothing to do with race.

Clarification of said usage coming up momentarily.

Fun pop quiz.

What do a combative, soon-to-be ex or actual ex spouse and perusing social media have in common?

Wander around anywhere near either one of them and you're guaranteed to, very quickly, if not immediately, find something about them that will piss you off.

My dealing with exes days are long past.

Facebook, on the other hand, didn't let me down. Took only four or five minutes this morning.

This is the post that chapped the cheeks.

"..it's important to notice things that did NOT happen today regarding the Republicans losing The House....there are no conservative mob protests, riots, crying and screaming in the streets, no profanity laced rants, no kicking people out of restaurants, no tearing down of historical statues, etc Just civility. Interesting......."

Knowing better, I still couldn't resist taking a peek at the amens sprinkled liberally on that little pile of profundity.

"...I shared, also. I know, right? We know we're the people of true diversity, civility and common sense...."

And, here's our winner....

..."That's the difference between being mature and being a snowflake...."

First, rest assured I'm not going to waste my time or yours going into a long rant about how being snide, snarky, snotty and holier than thou is an obvious and immediate disqualification of anyone who lays claim to any form of "civility."

The oldie but goodie "talking out of both sides of your mouth" comes to mind. With, truth be told, a seriously significant primal urge to throw in a little "blow it out your ass" for good measure.

But, that would lack civility. So, I'll resist the urge.

Second, I'll just mention, ever so briefly, since we don't know what the reaction would have been amongst you more civilized, gracious and above reproach had the entire Congress been taken away from you, as opposed to only the House of Representatives, doing the "aren't we just the living, breathing definition of gracious losers?" shtick just doesn't play very well.

Or become you, at all.

Those little provisos notwithstanding, by way of contrasting that which you offered and self congratulated about NOT happening, here's what we know DID happen.

Your hero and Earthly savior didn't waste a single, snarky second Tweeting the Tweets like his life depended on it, first, ridiculing members of his own, wait, sorry, your political party who lost their election bids and straight up, no doubt about it, blaming that loss on their failure to pay homage to the boy king.

Oh...and if you're all set to volley back at me with "well, they did lose because their constituents truly want someone representing them who pays homage to our boy king, so what's so wrong about him saying so?"

Well, first, it's unnecessary. Second, it's rude. You do remember rude, right? I know it's been two years since your boy officially made "rude" something only we could be, not you, so you may be way out of practice.

Second, blow it out your ass.

See? That's rude. Thanks to you and your hero, I've been getting lots of practice.

Talking about Mia Love, the Utah Republican who lost her House seat, your supreme leader said "Mia Love gave me no love, but then she lost. Too bad."

Yeah, keepin' it classy, you guys are.

By the way, I'm also not going to waste my time or yours by bragging of my clear grasp of the obvious, a grasp that seems, for some bizarre, almost mystical reason, to elude all of you.

Donald's dissing and denigrating those in your own party who were passed over by the electorate, any first year psych student could condescendingly lecture you, is textbook "they didn't show loyalty to me, so they were dismissed" and that, gracious losers, is clear as glass transparently another way of saying "what's demanded is loyalty to me personally, not loyalty to a party or a political philosophy or even a common ground that we all can find a way to stand on."

Are you all so ignorant as to not recognize that "loyalty to a ruler and not the rules" is symptom numero uno when diagnosing a dictatorship?

No matter, though, right? You all are all about the civility. Dare, I say, dignity.

Finally, none of us, n-o-n-e of us have any reason to expect anything other than his resumption of the crude, rude, obnoxious, petty, vindictive, infantile name calling, bullying bullshit that has become to the presidency of Donald Trump what disrespect, even abuse for, and of, women has become to the careers of Weinstein, Cosby and, oh, yeah, Donald Trump.

Thanks and praise the living God that all of you, and your supreme leader, there, are showing the rest of us what civility is all about.

God help and save us if you all suddenly ever decide to flip off the civility switch.

And I won't waste your time or my mine by laundry listing the rest of the, by now, surreal list of unacceptable, unpardonable, unnecessary, inexcusable, tacky, tasteless, rude, crude and, at levels you haven't begun to understand, potentially dangerous to the nation and the world crap that Donald is going to pull for the remainder of his time in the wheelhouse.

At the same time, giving him credit where due, congratulating him on being the first, and, God willing, only, President of the United States to ever successfully take the very low road to cart his followers to what he has them believing is the moral high ground.

And, now, as you take pride, and credit, for the remarkable grace with which you have accepted the losses in the mid-term election of 2018 and done an even more dignified, almost angelic, job of putting in our place we who are clinically predisposed to "....mob protests, riots, crying and screaming in the streets, profanity laced rants, kicking people out of restaurants, tearing down of historical statues...", we find the addition of a new four letter word in the English vocabulary.

Give or take a letter.

Black.

As in there's an unprecedented amount of the pots calling the kettles..

At this writing, that little fracas that had Donald calling Jim Acosta a "rude and terrible person".

Pee Wee Herman just flew right smack dab into the middle of my consciousness.

"I know you are, but what am I"

Thank you again, Trump loyalists, for showing us the error of our etiquette and the deficiencies in our dignity.

I was going to throw in one last "blow it out your ass."

But I decided to take a pass.

I'm committed to my sobriety.

And working on my civility.

Ground Control to Uncle Sam

No ducks were harmed in the production of today's piece.

Bear with me for a few. That'll sound less silly shortly.

An op/ed appeared in the October 31st Washington Post, written by columnist Max Boot. The title of the ed left no doubt at all as to the op of Mr. Boot.

Vote Against All Republicans. Every Single One.

The piece is a clear, articulate laundry list of the flaws, both character and moral, to be found in Trump's baggage, hauled in, unpacked and thrown around the West Wing starting January almost two years ago, making hallowed halls look a lot like a third tier frat house after a kegger gone horrifically wrong.

I'll spare you the details. Suffice to say that Max Boot shows no compunction whatsoever about advising voters to give anyone with a capital R next to their name on the ballot...the boot.

Last rimshot pun using Max's name. Promise.   

I was impressed with Mr. Boot's essay, but, more because of what it symbolized as opposed to what he had to say about Trump's shortcomings.

Because while written, again, clearly and articulately, there was no new ground covered. Every one of Boot's criticisms of a Trump failing was simply yet another expression of, at this point in the timeline, a too familiar criticism of  the same, too familiar, failings Trump has exhibited day in, day out, hour in, hour out, since the moment he decided it would be fun to relieve the boredom of bankrupting hotels and casinos, scamming university students, stiffing vendors on their bills and treating women like bitches and hos and run for President.

Cause, he must have thought, no one with more than three living brain cells, any sense of honor, dignity or even simple human decency will go any farther than maybe casting a vote here and there for me, before the novelty wears off and they go back to politics as usual and I can get back to bankrupting hotels and casinos, scamming university students, stiffing vendors on their bills and treating women like bitches and hos. I give it two months. Four tops. Six months in the extreme.

Well, now, Donald, that three living brain cells thing turned out to be a bad case of underestimation on your part, now, didn't it?

So, Max Boot simply expressed how sick and tired he was at having to live with the result of Donald dramatically underestimating just how many folks are wandering around out there with two or less brain cells at their disposal.

Again, wasn't what he said that struck me. Or even how he said it.

What struck me was that Max Boot is an author, lecturer and military historian, a self described conservative who has worked for the Christian Science Monitor and the Wall Street Journal, two notches on the resume that, alone, would back up the claim of conservatism. And, until 2016, was registered, and identified himself, as a Republican.

Writing an op/ed in the Washington Post advising voters to "Vote Against All Republicans. Every Single One.

And what do you think happened in 2016 that made this lifelong conservative and Republican renounce both his party and their presentation.

Give you a hint. Rhymes with "the kresidenchul mandidacy of Fonald Jake Thump"

But, back to the op/ed. Inching ever closer to the ducks.

Suitably impressed, even appreciative, reading a clear headed, honest, but damning indictment of the demagogue dimwit written by a professed conservative with traditional Republican values, I posted a link to the op/ed on Facebook, happy to send it on and out for others to enjoy and ponder.

I added a short caption to my posting of the link to Boot's piece.

"...the author is a conservative...and Republican.....the fact that is is reasonable and articulate is the cherry on top."

You'd think, after the last three years, that I would have learned, by now, that nothing, literally NOTHING, gets spoken, verbally or in print, that dares even hint at impugning the majesty of the Trump existence on the planet without automatic, inevitable, ain't no chance in hell it ain't gonna happen pushback.

And I suppose, truth be told, even if I'm not consciously trying to provoke the MAGA minions, there's a little imp bouncing around the playhouse of my psyche always ready to make with the mischief.

Still and all, though.

The push back, in this case, came from a Facebook friend I have very little contact with. In fact, I honestly don't know the woman. Nor she me. It's one of those Facebook friend who's a friend of a friend of that friend of a friend who's a Facebook friend of mine kind of friend. We've all got em. I mean, come on, let's say you have 1000 "official" Facebook friends. How many of those people do you actually know?

Twelve?

And how many do you actually like, respect and/or give a flying fuck about any opinions they might have on the state of the world these days.

Three?

I kid. Big fan of Facebook. And love and respect all my Facebook friends.

The push back, meanwhile, consisted of the following.

"The author is not a conservative and clearly states in the article that he is a former Republican."

As a rule, I don't take the bait of comments posted in response to posts I post. Unless the commenter is a very good friend who I actually do like, respect and/or who is possessed of an opinion I actually do give a flying fuck about, it's been my experience that engaging the pushbackers is a lot like George Carlin's old line about cocaine.

What does cocaine make you feel like? It makes you feel like having more cocaine.

Pushing back at those who are pushing back results in one and only one thing.

More push back. It's enough, sometimes, to make you want to do coke.

But because the lady's appearance in my comment thread was a rarity and you just never know where you might find the next kindred spirit or, even more rare, might find the next mind you can change, I hit a gentle return volley, just enough to send it back over the net.

"Max Boot guested", I replied, "as recently as one week ago on HBO's Real Time at which time he as introduced, unchallenged, as a conservative columnist and author and he, himself, remarked that he was a traditional Republican but clearly denounced the hijacking of that party by the current extremist assembly of demagoguery".

The backhand came whizzing back at me fairly swiftly.

"Well, I can call myself a green Martian, but that doesn't actually make me one."

Note to self. Seriously, dude, you've just gotta put down that racket and stop swinging at those balls bouncing all over the damn court. You're gonna wear yourself out.

There's a good ten minutes I can do, without breaking much of a sweat, in dissecting her comeback, but, let me just do a quick synopsis/recap instead.

I described Boot as a conservative and a Republican. He, himself, live on the TV there, acknowledged being introduced as a conservative and he, himself, live on the TV there, spoke the words describing himself as a Republican who has denounced the current incarnation of the Republican Party.

Let me just be charitable and courteous in my read on the lady's backhand. I'm going to go with "thanks for your thoughts, maybe some further research would help you clarify where Mr. Boot stands."

And I'm going to take a pass on my original, primal, instinctive comeback..."lady, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about which kinda bonds us in a way cause clearly you don't know what the fuck you're talking about..."

Stay with me now. We're mere minutes away from the ducks.

In mid-October, Barack Obama gave a speech at a rally in Nevada. The content was politics, but the theme, not at all subtle, was truth, facts....and reality.

Among other things, he had this to say...

"I actually try to state facts. I believe in facts. I believe in a fact-based reality. And fact based politics. I don't believe in just making stuff up. I think you should say to people what is true."

What a remarkable thing for a former President to say. But, more to the point, what a remarkable thing for anyone to say. Ever.

And, even more to the point, that the current condition of the society in which we all live makes it necessary to even have to say something like that in the first place.

The thing about a lie has always been that it could be shot down by a truth.

A fiction could always be shot down by a fact.

The politics of 2018 America, no, let's call it what it really is, the demagougery of Donald Trump is nothing more, and absolutely nothing less, than the turning of truth and fact...into moving targets.

It's a master stroke of strategy, albeit a Bond villain/evil genius style strategy. But it accomplishes what it sets out to accomplish.


It's a dark, twisted, potentially harmful, even potentially fatal spin on Monty Python's Dead Parrot.

"...it's dead...."

"...no, it's not.....just sleeping..."

The author is a conservative. And a Republican who has renounced the current Republican Party.

He is not a conservative....and the article clearly states that he is not a Republican.

He, himself, acknowledged being introduced as a conservative and he, himself, remarked that he was a life long Republican who denounces the current party.

Well, Green Martians.

A long time ago, in a civilization far, far away......

...if it walked.....and swam.....and quacked.......

Not any more.

Could be a Green Martian.

Office Politics....Two Words....And One Word....

Old joke.

Hey! What do you do for a living?

I'm an actor.

Really? Cool. What restaurant?

One nice bonus accessory that comes with that particular ba-dum-bump model is the "plug-in" feature.

The punchline nicely fits a number of other occupations including, but not limited to, author, painter, sculptor, singer and two other pursuits I've personally pursued through the years....songwriter....and broadcaster.

Because, as those of us who have worked in any, or all, of those fields can attest, if you have ever worked in any, or all of those, fields, you have almost certainly spent time repeatedly announcing the daily specials, calmly explaining why you cannot provide a refund unless a receipt is involved or, perhaps, at the less sophisticated end of the employment chain, inquired multiple times as to whether an individual "wants fries with that?" or not.

Either face to face or via headset technology, depending on your particular age and the decade in which you were compensated to inquire.

All of this nine to five-ish backstory, such as it is, is by way of presenting credentials that attest to my being more than just a little knowledgeable on the subject of employment.

Simply put, to borrow from our friend, the TV pitchman for Farmer's Insurance, I know a thing or two...because I've worked a place or two.

If that pitchman seems particularly familiar to you, by the way, but you haven't been able to place him, he is the actor J.K. Simmons, whose resume includes an Oscar for the movie Whiplash, a stint in a couple of Spider Man movies as J. Jonah Jameson and more than just a few years as Dr. Skoda, the go-to expert shrink that Jack McCoy called upon when a go-to expert shrink was needed to go-to for twenty or so fun filled seasons of Law and Order.

That Simmons' main claim to recognition is playing a psychiatrist dealing with the seriously psychologically damaged turns out to be not just a little comedically ironic in today's piece, by the way. That doesn't make sense to you now. But, trust me, it will.

Owing to tens of years, now, of various and sundry employment adventures, I have, as you might imagine, a sizable stack of stories I could tell about the various work places, work duties, work peers and, of course, work bosses I have experienced and/or witnessed. And, thinking about it, I realize, looking back, that I have also acquired a stack of sensibilities about what makes for a healthy, pleasant, productive work atmosphere and workplace.

And, inevitably, the many, sharp, sorry, sometimes even savage conditions that define the difference between dream job....and nightmare.

Saving the "wow, I can't believe you actually got to do that" stories for what suddenly occurs to me will make a fine, hopefully, best selling book one of these days, indulge me, if you would, as I share the story of one particular operation, and one particular boss, that falls without fail into the folder labeled "horror stories".

The first real tragedy of the tale is that the work place itself was, actually, right up there at the top of the dream job list. Calling it landmark might be a little overly dramatic, but, it was certainly the kind of place that people generally recognize as notable, famous, even, fair to say, once in a life time. With an amazing record of accomplishment and contribution to the American success story, this place had rich history coming out of the woodwork in pretty much every office, hallway and meeting room.

Organizationally? Well, what workplace, filled with the brightest minds, most creative spirits and the egos of movers and shakers isn't inclined to worry less about messy desks and more about getting the important work done? Inspiration, innovation took precedence over neat and tidy, but, just like other groundbreaking operations, say, Microsoft...or Apple.....or even those crazy kids over at Nintendo, this place could honestly be described, charitably, as organized chaos. But that chaos was as much a part of the history of that workplace as the artwork in the lobby and portraits of past head honchos on the wall.

And the underlying theme of the whole operation? Well, from day one it had always been, serve people, effect change, make things better. It was that spirit, and the potential to achieve great things for the community, the country, even the world that made the idea of being a part of it so attractive to the thousands who had the chance....and the thousands who hoped to be given the chance.

Second old joke.

It ain't the school. It's the principal of the thing.

If that whole strong chain/weakest link riff is legit, then, and who amongst us working types can't relate to this, there's no doubt that the success of any operation and, accordingly, the atmosphere in that workplace, begins and ends, lives, or dies, with the he or she running it.

The "hall of fame" of successful entrepreneurs is distinguished and diverse, but there is a basic, even primal, common thread woven in the fabric of their operations and the success realized.

Richard Branson, head of Virgin Records, Virgin Airlines, Virgin Galactic..."if you take care of your workers, they'll take care of your business..."

J Wilfred Marriott, of the hotel chain..."take good care of your employees and they'll take good care of your customers...and the customers will come back..."

Angela Ahrendts , senior VP of Apple..."everyone talks about building a relationship with your customer. I think you build one with your employees first..."

Paul Orfalea, founder of Kinko's..."the people in the front lines are my customers. I need to keep them happy...and the best way to take care of your customers is to take care of your workers..."

Sensing a theme, here?

And that, right there, is where the aforementioned once in a lifetime opportunity went from "being the stuff dreams are made of" to a college level course in how to take a silk purse and turn it swiftly, sadly and even a little savagely, into a sow's ear.

You don't really have to be a Rhodes Scholar, or even a business major, to grasp the reality that workplace success is almost certainly not in the cards if the CEO is an S.O.B.

And I'm not talking about the kind of S.O.B we've all experienced at one time or another, in our personal lives and/or our professional lives, the "crusty on the outside, caring and can do on the inside" cranky uncle type. Sometimes creative genius and dynamic innovation come in a package wrapped in a little rougher than average paper, but it invariably doesn't take long to tell the difference between "way more bark than bite" and "authentically arrogant asshole".

A person's presentation, by its nature, being subjective, though, the reasonable thing for me to do here is simply describe a little of this boss's standard operating procedure and, then, let you decide if you feel like working for him would be your first choice.

Paul "Bear" Bryant was the legendary football coach at the University of Alabama in the 1960's and 70's. He offered this insight....

"...when you make a mistake, there are only three things you should ever do about it....admit it, learn from it...and don't repeat it."

Show of hands. How many of you have ever worked for, or, regrettably, are still working for, a boss who is, simply and bluntly, never, ever wrong about anything?

Yeah, no fun, huh?

And for those of you who have been lucky enough to have never had the experience, here's a simple, blunt truth. It makes the work day stressful from the moment you walk in the door. Because mistakes get made. We're only human. You know the speech and you know the drill and while no one is perfect, having the he or she in charge who makes it clear at all times that they're always right and never wrong is nothing less than a lit fuse burning down each work day to one detonation or another. This particular boss made never being wrong an art form.

Being an employer, of course, being a form of leadership, it's worth noting, again, that the most successful leaders understand the concept of inspiring and motivating their followers. This boss? Well, this boss had the very Charles Dickens era notion that the finest pearls can only come from friction, that playing one employee off another was some kind of business strategy savvy, that conflict kept the staff both off balance and on their toes, an uncomfortable, if not impossible, position from which to accomplish anything.

Hostile work environment? In the year 2018, this is the stuff of human resources intervening and employees being seriously heard and employers having feet firmly held to fire. In this particular operation, it was considered tough, decisive, innovative business management. At least, that's how the employer poisoning the well perceived it.

And since what's injury without a little insult added to it, let's not leave out the other colors on this arrogant asshole's palate.

A brutal, contemptible, crystal clear sexism, complete with chauvinistic attitudes about the woman's place in the work place, inappropriate, if not outright unacceptable, inferences, references, even comments about women's body parts and bodily functions. And just to add a little icing to the sour dough, not a single sighting of simple courtesy. Nary a door held open, nary a seat pulled out.

Verbal abuse? Got ya covered. Disrespectful, hell, denigrating nicknames assigned, and freely verbalized, to those who fell out of favor on any given work day, hour or moment. Open mocking and ridiculing of employees with physical challenges.

Politics? Bad enough to risk the frayed nerves and passionate tempers that result from bringing it into the work place, in the first place, but how about a boss, a leader, supposedly put there to create a camaraderie amongst people, who sees nothing wrong in neo-Nazis being given, at least, a certain respect. Who lets it be known. loud and clear, that he, like too, too many others, wholeheartedly buys into the ignorant lynch mob mentality that our courts and our intelligence agencies and our Federal law enforcement agencies and many other of America's most sacred and traditionally respected foundational institutions are to be ridiculed, disrespected, even disregarded.

And that the "free press" is not be be debated or challenged or questioned....they are, instead, to be branded as the "enemy of the people" and if violence occurs because of that kind of agitation, then, that's the way it goes.

Does it come as any surprise that, given the toxic atmosphere permeating every office, hallway and meeting room, the turnover, the heading out the door made the unlocking of the store on Black Friday look like a couple of friends casually strolling in to do a little shopping?

Add to that decision making at the "executive" level that not only put the employees in a permanent state of Def Con Contempt but put the operation itself at risk of complete and catastrophic failure, with operational policies that could cost consumers tens of thousands of dollars, subject them to dangerous consequences and do immeasurable damage to the community, the nation, even the world.

At this point, a fair question occurs.

Would you consider, for even a moment, wanting to be part of something like that?

And I'll go you one better.

Why, at this point, you have to be asking yourself, why, on God's green Earth, would anyone in their right mind not be moved to demand this boss be sent packing, let alone endorse this kind of behavior in the work place, let alone congratulate he or she on the horrific destruction of a once near majestic American success story?

Gotta be honest.

Beats the shit out of me.

Because 63 million people decided to give this guy the job of CEO two years ago.

An unimaginable number of those people still endorse, even celebrate the job he's doing.

And they wonder why they're not getting ahead in their lives.

Or can't find work that doesn't leave them stressed out and exhausted.

Maybe they just don't know the difference between a dream job....and a nightmare.

Sorry, Folks, Park's Closed....Bald Eagle Out Front Shoulda Told Ya...

Today, a little story time to pass the time.

When you take a break from Donald's fearmongering shit pot stirring about the "hoard" on the way to "invade" (read: rape, pillage, even kill and, some, I assume are good people), and come "pouring into the country through the WIDE OPEN border", relax and enjoy a little "what if" for the fun of it......

...if Twitter had existed in 1920 or 1900 or 1860 or 1850 or whenever the ****, your great, great, great whatever arrived on the shores of this country, you would either not be alive to read this in the comfort of your "land of the free, home of the brave" home or you would be living in England or France or Germany or Yugoslavia or Russia or China or Japan or Iraq or Iran or any of the hundreds of other countries on the planet where freedom rings. 

Or where freedom doesn't exist at all.         

         

Except in the dreams of those who live without freedom and would do anything, bear any burden, pay any price, make any sacrifice for the chance to experience life, liberty and pursuit of happiness.

Because, had Twitter existed then, you can bet the odds are good that, at least, one Native American, perhaps one who fancied himself a great chief when, in fact, he was nothing more than a poor excuse for a man, let alone leader, frightened and panicked with fear that his shallowness and weakness and cowardice would be found out, would be tweeting away desperately, even hysterically, to the masses of other members of his timid tribe, hanging on his every word, easily frightened, so easily deceived,  about the approaching "hoard" of "invaders" headed toward the "wide open" shoreline.....and how those invaders were coming to rape and pillage, even kill and some, he might assume, were good people.....

...and so,  those easily frightened, easily deceived, filled with fear and panic, hysterical, unreasonable, their heads filled with a thousand Tweets about raping and pillaging and killing and...even leprosy.....gave the weak, pathetic wanna-be chief power and authority to send tens of thousands of braves, in full warpaint, spears and knives and arrows at the ready, to form a great human wall to run the length of the shoreline....to literally block the oncoming invasion.....to turn them away, even kill them if necessary.

And when the invaders finally reached the shoreline, some were turned away, some were captured, families separated, children placed in wooden pens usually used to trap beaver in the streams...some might even be killed.....lying on the beach....or floating in the ocean, just a few excruciatingly close yards away from life....liberty....and the pursuit of happiness. 

Maybe your great, great, great whatever was captured.

Maybe they died.

Or maybe they were turned away...sent back to where they belonged.

England or France or Germany or Yugoslavia or Russia or China or Japan or Iraq or Iran or any of the hundreds of other countries on the planet where freedom rings. 

Or where freedom doesn't exist at all.

But, Twitter didn't exist then, did it.

Lucky for you.

Huh.