Who’s Next?

After a day which saw Matt Lauer and Garrison Keillor both brought low by the swift scythe of the sexual harassment reaper, a natural question is...Who’s Next? I mean seriously, if Garrison Keillor can go down, literally no one is safe. So as a public service, I have compiled a list of powerful men who might be and handicapped each of their chances. I present them here in alphabetical order:

Stephen Colbert.

- Comedian. Host of Late Night, and hater of all things Republican. Devout Catholic and devoted family man, married to only one woman and father of three kids. If he were to fall, would be an excellent candidate for swanky Beverly Hills rehab facility. Odds 100:1

Ted Cruz

-Senator. Former Presidential Candidate. Southern Baptist and devoted family man, married to only one woman and father of two kids. High creepiness factor and support of “traditional family values” would make his fall especially embarrassing for tradition families everywhere. Odds 50:1

Tom Hanks

- Actor. Beloved. This generation’s Jimmy Stewart. Married twice. Divorced once. Four kids. Please God, no. Odds 75:1

Rush Limbaugh

- Radio talk show host. Conservative. Currently on fourth wife. Hater of all things Democrat. Odds 25:1

Joel Osteen

- TV preacher. Prosperity Gospel Icon. Writer of vapid books. Possessed of very white teeth and a blond wife. If this guy goes down, comedy writers in Hollywood will give themselves hernias churning out jokes at his expense. Odds 50:1

Paul Ryan

- Speaker of the House. Allegedly conservative. Devout Catholic. Married to one woman and father of three kids. Passionate P90X devotee. Squeaky clean image. Uh-oh...Odds 30:1

Bernie Sanders

-Eewww...Gross!!

Jon Stewart

- Comedian. Former host of Daily Show. “Destroyer” of all things Republican. Tepid response to news of fellow comedian, Louis C.K.’s fall doesn’t look good right now. Odds 10:1

But, because this is 2017, I would be remiss for assuming that the next big name to fall will be a man. At some point, a powerful woman is going to find herself swept up in this tsunami. Who will she be? What powerful American woman will most likely be the trail blazer? Here are a few possibilities. I will leave it to you, the reader, to set the odds.

Ellen DeGeneres

Ann Coulter

Sarah Palin

Oprah Winfrey

Elizabeth Warren

Rosanne Barr

My Creeping Ambivalence

This man has been on the Today Show for twenty years. In that time he has endeared himself to millions of Americans, including my wife. So, we were both astonished to hear the news this morning that Matt Lauer was unceremoniously fired by the suits at NBC news. Samantha Guthrie, misty-eyed, announced the shocking news this morning, that one of the most popular and beloved morning news personalities had been fired because of an allegation of sexual misconduct by an employee of NBC. There would be no leave of absence, no investigation, no stint in rehab, and as of 8 am this morning...no details. My wife had only two things to say about this turn of events...I’m very disappointed. I thought Matt was one of the good guys. And then...This is how women are going to take over the world.

I might have added...Apparently due process is officially dead...but didn’t. Just a few minutes ago, I learned that reporters from the New York Times had been working on this story for weeks. Perhaps they presented the higher ups at NBC news with their findings last night. Maybe the story was so damning, so devastating, that they felt they had no choice but to fire the man. If so, I’m not looking forward to the details.

The Matt Lauer bombshell comes on the heels of the announcement that two especially obnoxious loudmouths, Keith Olberman and Joe Scarborough have decided to back away from Twitter, in Scarborough’s case, and retire from political punditry, in Olberman’s case. One can’t help but wonder what secrets reporters are busy uncovering in their cases. At the rate we are going, it might be wise to invest in sexual addiction therapy centers, since clearly the demand will soon outstrip the supply. 

I must here admit to a creeping ambivalence. My instincts, such as they are, favor the accusers here. This is the result of the fact that I’m a man and therefore know a thing or two about the piggishness of my fellowman. I also know that whenever there is an imbalance of power in a work environment, that imbalance is likely to be exploited. There is a reason that no female officers of corporations have come forward complaining that they were sexually harassed by some dude in the mail room. But, as the pace of allegations has quickened, to the point where it can now fairly be described as a frenzy, I’m starting to have some doubts. Although I have always held firm to the belief that you should never underestimate the human capacity for evil, and that nobody has ever gone broke betting against the bad faith of powerful men, my trick knee is starting to tell me to be careful here. Introduce some skepticism into each new allegation. While it’s true that abused women deserve to be believed, this is only true when they are telling the truth. This is where due process comes into the picture. An allegation is not the same thing as a conviction. The seriousness of the charge does not equal guilt. There is a reason our parents warned us not to rush to judgement. Justice requires deliberation, a testing of the facts. But, deliberation doesn’t sell papers, the wheels of justice grind too slowly to goose overnight ratings. 

Maybe Matt Lauer is guilty as sin and deserves to be fired. But, something about this feels hasty and wrong. Time will tell, I suppose.

Whatever happened to the face slap?

Between the Thanksgiving holiday, the installation of a new kitchen floor, work contingencies, an attempt to secure a lake house for our 2018 Maine vacation, the deluge of leaves in my yard, and the download of another Richard Russo novel...I have had little time and even less inclination to write anything over the past week. I will attempt to remedy that here.

Since we last visited, several more allegations of sexual misconduct have been brought against high profile men by newly empowered women, who have suddenly discovered the courage and fortitude necessary to speak up against their tormentors, five, ten, sometimes twenty years after the fact. The latest reprobate being Congressman John Conyers, described as an icon by Nancy Pelosi in a strange interview given by the fossilized former Speaker, who couldn’t seem to make up her mind whether Conyers was a saint or a sinner. Meanwhile, Senator Al Franken continues his apology tour by vowing to learn lessons from past gropings which he says he can’t remember. His latest tact seems to be his confession that... he’s a hugger. I get that. I’m a hugger too. But, I do my hugging with my arms, not my hands, and always take extra care to make sure that my hands don’t end up full of the butt cheeks of the person I’m hugging...but that’s just me. I’m no Senator. 

Still, it seems to me that that an accusation of ass grabbing isn’t the same thing as an accusation of rape, or even standing naked in front of a women who has not requested your nakedness. In other words, there are degrees of debauchery, and while all of these behaviors are deplorable, all are not equally so. Rape gets you jail time. Grabbing an ass should get you slapped across the face. (whatever happened to those women?) 

I listen to these reports and read the stories of these women. I believe most of them. Some seem overblown and even silly, but who knows, maybe their stories are true too. But the one thing they all have in common is this...none of them slapped the men across the face. Not only that, on the many occasions when they reported the assault to their boyfriends, not a single one of these alleged boyfriends tracked down the assaulter to punch his lights out. Not a single one. This is profoundly disturbing to me on many levels. I can assure you without equivocation that if someone grabbed my wife’s behind, that someone would get the s**t beaten out of him, not because she isn’t capable of defending herself, but because he would deserve said beating, and nothing short of a beating would assuage my wrath. If this makes me a knuckle-dragging misogynist, then so be it. Although the prospect of a sound thrashing  would in no way deter a rapist, it just might make the Al Franken’s of the world think twice about copping a feel. When as a society we have evolved past the physical confrontation of groping, bullying and other small time thuggery, the gropers, bullies and thugs are emboldened. There was a time when loutish behavior was often outed publically with a dramatic slap across the face, to the profound embarrassment of the lout. Many a fine 1940’s movie scene featured this device. I say, let’s bring it back.

The Hardest, Longest Wait

There are big, consequential days coming up. If your children all grew up and moved away, you know what I’m talking about. One of mine lives in Columbia, South Carolina, the other in Nashville, Tennessee. We vacation with them one week a year. They come to visit us, we go to visit them. But twice during the year, we get them here, under our roof at the same time together...Thanksgiving, and Christmas. So, this is a big deal. 

Kaitlin and Jon will breeze through this afternoon around 3 o’clock, drop off their lummux of a dog, Jackson, then continue on to Maryland to spend Thanksgiving with Jon’s family. They will come back Friday afternoon and stay until Sunday afternoon. Patrick and Sarah will get here sometime late tonight, probably after 10 o’clock. They will have to head back to Nashville sometime Saturday mid morning. So actually, we will have all of them here together for approximately 15 hours...which will feel like 15 minutes.

Today will be the hardest part. When my kids are on the nation’s highways at the same time, I am always a mess inside, but especially so today on the worst traffic day of the year. I have shut down the business for the week, so I will busy myself getting the leaves up from the yard. But, my mind will be elsewhere. Traveling mercies...

I have looked forward to this weekend for quite some time now, not just because I get to see them, but because Thanksgiving gives me an excuse to be officially grateful. Of course, I shouldn’t need an excuse, official or otherwise. Gratitude should be my default position. But, let’s be honest, for most of us, it isn’t. 2017 has contributed mightily to my ungrateful heart, creating, as it has, a bull market for bitchiness throughout the fruited plain. This blog has reflected this zeitgeist. From politics, to sports, and now to the runaway train that is sexual harassment allegations, our world has managed to gravely disappoint us all like no other time I can remember.

But then...Thanksgiving comes, and families gather. We see them climb out of their cars, run to them with hugs and smiles, help them drag their suitcases inside. You examine them carefully, while you smile and hug. Are they looking well? Have they lost weight?  Gained weight? Do they look worried? Tired? Do they look happy? What do they need? Do they need anything? Surely they need something...

Then you calm down and just enjoy them. On the big day the whole extended tribe will gather and the welcome scene will be repeated. Hugs all over the place. Kisses and hugs. The food will be incredible. There will be football. Rumor has it that there might be some sort of slipshod Beatle concert performed by several of the Dunnevant men. Pies will be eaten. Later on, while decorating the Christmas Tree, turkey sandwiches will be served. No one will want to go to bed. Who wants to waste time sleeping when the kids are all home? But we eventually have to because we are all exhausted. It’s the very best kind of exhaustion.

So, for the next several days, I’m going to let this dysfunctional year stew in its own juices. I’m not going to have time to whine about the latest crazy thing happening in the world. I’ll be busy being thankful for every good and perfect gift I have been given in this life. Every single one of them.

You do the same.

2017.

By any measure, 2017 has been a mind blower, an assumption destroying mass of hypocrisy, an unending reel of civilizational outtakes, patched together to resemble an actual year. I found a photograph and a Far Side cartoon the other day which did a nice job of summarizing this entire miserable failure of a year:

In the climate of 2017, the year of raging disappointment, I half expect Donald Trump to Tweet this out with a caption...What do you bet these guys are talking about what a bad guy Roy Moore is? Sad...

I read a quote the other day from some alleged pastor in Alabama, who while defending Roy Moore, made the following crucially important point, “Some of these 14 year old girls, the way they dress, could pass for 20.” This from a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. So, out of some dark tribal place, a representative of the church suggests that if a teenager walks out of the house in tight jeans and a low neck sweater, 32 year old judges can’t be expected to restrain themselves. New Zealand has never looked more attractive.

I remember years ago there was a very famous television evangelist named Jimmy Swaggard, most famous for being a cousin of Jerry Lee Lewis and for weeping while singing. This dude was quite the headliner. He could deliver hour long empassioned sermons decrying the decadence and sexual debauchery of America, and somehow tie it all back to when they ripped the Bible out of the schoolhouse. The man built a media empire around this theme, his face filling cable television from Maine to California for nearly a decade. Then, it all fell to pieces when he was busted with a prostitute. My Dad was furious that such a man would bring such shame to the Gospel. I remember watching a 60 Minutes piece about Swaggard with him. He turned to me and said, Sometimes, the people who yell the loudest about something do so because they’ve got something to hide.

I’ve thought of those words a lot lately...

Maybe these liberal icons who are constantly touting their feminist bonifides...are overcompensating for something.

Maybe these pastors complaining about how 14 year olds too closely resemble 20 year olds know this from personal experience.

Maybe Charlie Rose can arrange to moderate a debate between Al Franken and Roy Moore on the subject...Too Young To Grope?

Or maybe, just maybe...we all should just give up on 2017, and promise to do better next year.

Lucy’s Scary Day...Part Two

Lucy: Seriously? You’re calling me weird? You’re a spaniel. You have a three inch tail which is like physically impossible to catch, yet you chase it anyway!

Facilitator: Lucy, we’ve talked about this...no body-shaming!

Howls of dog laughter...

Doberman: SILENCE!!! Lucy, continue.

Lucy: My humans are just a little bit off, that’s all. I mean, their hearts are in the right place and all, they feed me and give good scratches and everything, but I don’t know, I’m worried about them.

Facilitator: Can you be more specific? Maybe someone else in the group has had a similar experience with their humans. Let’s turn this into a growing opportunity!

Lucy: Ok, like I said earlier, I really love them. They let me climb up on the sofa with them when I’m downstairs and, they even let me sleep with them in their king sized bed every night!

...lots of enthusiastic yapping and a simultaneous shout out of KING SIZED BED!!!!!

Lucy: But, the thing is, my humans aren’t exactly the sharpest knives in the drawer...

Pug: Oh puhleeze, we all have dumb humans!

Black Lab: Spoken by a runny-nosed imbecile who doesn’t even know how to shake!

Facilitator: I must say, I’m sensing an awful lot of hostility in here today, and frankly, I’m ashamed of all of you! Now, let Lucy finish without these triggering interruptions.

Lucy: Here’s one thing...every day around 5 o’clock this scary man driving a weird car without any doors drives up like way too close to my human’s Street box. Then, he never fails to stuff things, god only knows what, into the box. Of course, I warn my humans of this clear and present danger, every single day...and then, without fail...my human pats me on the head and walks right out there into harm’s way, and without hesitation, sticks his hand right in the box and pulls out whatever the man jammed in there. It’s like he has no fear, and like he can’t even hear my warnings. Seriously, one day it’s gonna be like a bomb and it’s going to blow his hands off. When that happens, he better not come running to me.

Border Collie: Wait...Lucy, that’s a mail box... And the man in the doorless truck is the guy who delivers the mail. Chill out.

German Shepherd: Lies!! The man in the doorless truck is the avowed enemy of all dogs on earth!!

Beagle: Don’t fall for that Collie’s lies! Next he’s gonna tell us that cats are our friends!

...wails of protests...

Border Collie: Idiots....I’m surrounded by idiots.

Lucy: But, it’s not just the doorless car man. Sometimes my humans like totally forget my name. Most of the time, of course, they butcher the heck out of it...instead of Lucy, it ends up being Lucy the Goosey or some such thing. But, here’s the thing...at least once a day, one of them will look me straight in the face and ask me “Who is my good girl?? I’m like, come on people. You guys know this one!!

Affirmative groaning....

Lucy: But, the worst thing is my Dad. He has this round thing called a frisbee which he LOVES SO MUCH. Seriously guys, every time he takes me out into the yard he brings that thing with him...but then he does the oddest thing. He throws it away!! It starts flying up in the air and I’m sure it’s going to escape, so I run like the wind and catch it before it disappears forever. I mean, he’s lucky I’m kinda fast and am really good at retrieving things. Of course, instead of being grateful, as soon as I give it back to him he DOES IT AGAIN!! So, 

like eventually I just stop giving it back to him, if that’s how he’s going to be. And what does he do? He gets mad at me!! Its like he doesn’t even understand how close he is to losing his frisbee forever. 

Facilitator: I can certainly understand your frustration, Lucy. But remember the first rule of being a dog...No dog gets to pick their humans. We just have to learn to be thankful for who we end up with. I’m sure they’ll come around. You’re only what...3? 4?

Lucy: I’m 3.

Poodle: I’ve got news for you Lucy, if you haven’t whipped them into shape by now, it’s never going to happen. I knew your humans were slow the minute you walked in here. Look at you...who lets a dog wear an orange collar after Labor Day??

Pit Bull: Hey Pal...you ever get tired of putting up with them, look me up. Let’s just say...I know a guy.

A Scary Day For Lucy

This morning, Thanksgiving week gets started off right here at the Dunnevant house. In approximately 45 minutes, a crew of skilled carpenters will descend on the place to rip out the hard wood floors from our kitchen and breakfast nook. Then they will bring in a pallet load of new flooring and dump it in the breakfast nook where our kitchen table used to be. I’m not sure about this next part, but I think they will then reinstall the kitchen cabinets which they had removed over a month ago when this whole mess started. After Thanksgiving is over, they will come back and install the new flooring. At that point, everything will be placed on hold until the first of the year, since neither Pam, Lucy nor I care to spend a week in a hotel right before Christmas while our entire downstairs floors get resanded and stained. Speaking of Lucy, the Psycho-Dog....

It’s going to be interesting to see how she handles today’s proceedings. I’m sure the sounds of wood being ripped up from the downstairs will be a delight. Of course, after the crew leaves is when it will really get interesting. Then, when Lucy goes into the breakfast nook to eat her dinner she will find subfloor where her hardwood floor used to be. That means that her dinner dishes will be sitting on a scary new surface. The old surface was bad enough, what with its terrifying tendency to randomly startle the bajesus out of her while she was trying to eat.(don’t ask) Now, she will have to deal with not only this rough new sunken floor but also the horrifying pile of wood over in the corner. 

Sometimes I try to imagine what it would be like if Lucy could talk. Suppose she attended an encounter group for troubled dogs once a week at the Canine Wellness Center and Spa...

Facilitator: Thank you all for coming today. As we all know, Thanksgiving is this week, and our humans have been known to lose their minds a little during the holidays. Is there anything any of you would like to share with the group? Anyone?

Silence....with occasional scratching

Facilitator: Lucy? You look particularly troubled today. Anything strange going on at your house?

Lucy: You don’t know the half of it. My humans have decided to start tearing the house down. They’ve started with the floors downstairs, but I have a feeling that eventually they will be gunning for the bedrooms upstairs too. They're just crazy enough to do it, I swear!

...the sound of sympathy whines break out around the circle...

Lucy: It all started when we got back from Maine. One minute I’m asleep on the sofa, and the next thing I know, my humans have opened the dishwasher and let water everywhere into the kitchen. The next day they went out and bought three of the most hideous machines you can imagine and put them in the kitchen for three weeks where these machines screamed out 24 hours a day. I mean, what were they thinking?? I mean, I love my humans, but sometimes they seem so confused. Then, then...they let these very loud and smelly men come into our house and steal the kitchen cabinets!! It was like one minute they were there and the next minute...GONE! The worst part is...I think my humans actually paid these smelly people to do this thing!

...barking and growling...

Facilitator: That sounds unsettling Lucy. But, remember what we have talked about...what coping mechanism have we been working on?

All dogs in unison: When all else fails, chase your tail!

Lucy: Yeah well, that’s easier said than done at my house. You try having delirious fun in a house filled with dark shapes and random scary bags everywhere.

Spaniel: Dude, you’re weird.