News That Staggers

There is news that staggers you, not news of politics, business, or some celebrity, but word of a dear friend taken suddenly, grievously ill. A certain disorientation falls over you upon hearing it, as if it can’t possibly be true. Didn’t we just have lunch last week? They seemed so happy, appeared so healthy. You are taken aback by the dramatic arrival of calamity. The mind gets rocked with questions. Why this should happen to one so virtuous? Why do the worst, most despicable people in our world seem to skate through their unremarkable lives without this sort of trauma? You know that it’s not really true, but it seems that way when something bad happens to those you love.

Wasn’t it just yesterday when our 90 day bible reading project landed us in Isaiah? Hadn’t we just read these humbling words...

 Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown,

scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth,

when he blows on them, and they wither,

and the tempest carries them off like stubble.

So, we are staggered by the news. But, the good doctors work hard. It is left to the friends, we helpless friends, to pray and provide what comfort we can summon for the family. In our prayers we are aided by the fine character of our friend. We have much to brag about where our friend is concerned. God couldn’t possibly find a better, more deserving person to heal. 

And then, there’s this. Despite how small and insignificant we feel when confronted with verses like the one quoted above, there is always a glimmer of hope, and when we find it we are overcome...

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you have set in place; What is man, that you should care for him? You have made him a little lower than the angels and crowned him with honor and glory.

Jesus in America?

Over the weekend, a gun control debate broke out on my Facebook wall. It was mostly my fault, since I was the one who brought up the subject. As is often the case in such social media debates, it was a rambling affair, with many chased rabbits and its fair share of non sequiturs. But, at one point a friend of mine offered this observation:

Let me ask this hypothetical question to everyone on this thread as it appears most of which profess to be Christians...if Jesus were alive today living in America, do you think he would be a gun toting, NRA member, and AR-15 owner? The Jesus I read about doesn’t seem like the type.

Of course, my immediate response was deflecting and pithy...Maybe not, but he might be pretty handy with a sling shot.

However, the more I think about my friend’s hypothetical, the stranger it seems. Jesus Christ, alive today, living in America. Imagine.

First of all, he would have to get here, and being a swarthy middle eastern man, that might prove a challenge what with no fly lists. But assuming he could manage that, then he would have lots of other challenges. An itinerant carpenter with no fixed address, no possessions, and a band of 12 equally transient followers sound like the textbook definition of a sleeper cell to me! Add to this mix his tendency to practice medicine without a license, the manufacture of alcoholic beverages without a license, and his disturbing habit of associating with the underclass, and I’m thinking the FBI’s dossier would get thick in a hurry.

To my friend’s point, no, I can’t imagine Jesus being an NRA member or owning a firearm. But I can’t even imagine Jesus living in America either. But, the point of his question is flawed because it attempts to enlist him as a prop in a political debate. We all assume that we are on the side of the Angels, and what better proof than shoehorning Jesus into your political theories? In his three year ministry on this earth he had multiple opportunities to rail against the corrupt, brutal occupation of the Roman Empire, but he failed to do so. But that hasn’t stopped both sides of the American political spectrum from claiming Jesus as their champion. From the left we hear that Jesus was an avowed social progressive, his admonition to take care of widows, orphans and the poor a clear endorsement of the modern welfare state. From the right, Jesus is proclaimed the original pro-lifer, and author of our devotion to God rather than the state. But then I see that grotesque painting of our Lord and Savior, ghost-like, his vaporous form hovering behind Donald Trump, guiding the pen in his hand as he signs some bill in the Oval Office...and I shudder at the horror of such a thing.

The truth is, attempts to co-opt Jesus Christ into political service is a fool’s errand. Politics is the business of coercion, the building of coalitions, the cobbling together of imperfect compromises, a grubby exercise of temporal power plays designed to exploit every human emotion into a political movement best expressed by that most vacuous phrase...the personal is political. The gospel, by contrast, doesn’t much concern itself with the corporate, but rather tells of Jesus standing at the door knocking, of leaving the 99 to pursue the 1 who is lost, of being stirred by one troubled soul touching his garment amidst a throng of people crushing against him. While his teachings can and should inform our beliefs about politics, the savior himself isn’t a political spokesman, and attempts to make him one are doomed to failure.

Rocks vs. Guns. Let’s Have This Debate!

I have run across the following photograph more times than I can count since the Florida school shooting...

It is always accompanied with the caption: Cain killed Abel with a rock. It’s a heart problem, not a gun problem. Then comes the scripture reference of Jeremiah 17:9...

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?

Ok. Listen up people...I am not a gun zealot by any stretch, either way. But, this argument is specious and a classic example of trying to be too clever by half. Let’s deconstruct this reasoning, shall we?

Human beings have been killing each other for all of human history. The Prophet Jeremiah was onto something, the heart is indeed wicked. However, are the people who post this sort of thing trying to suggest that guns don’t matter? 

Suppose that Nikolas Cruz had entered Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School armed with a bag of rocks as opposed to an AR-15? Does anyone seriously believe that we would be dealing with 17 dead teenagers? Tools matter. If I were tasked with cutting down a tree in my back yard and was offered a choice between a paring knife or a chainsaw, my choice would be an easy one. And while it is true that the paring knife turned against another human being could become a deadly weapon, the job of killing another human being is made manifestly, inarguably easier with the right tool for the job...a gun. Further, if the goal is to kill as many humans as possible, as efficiently as possible, that task is made still easier with the right gun...an AR-15. Yes. Cain did kill his brother with a rock. If I were mad enough, I could kill someone with a coat hanger. The issue with semi automatic rifles like the AR-15 is the sheer killing power they present to the unhinged mind. If every deranged psychopath had to content himself with a bag of rocks to act out his murderous fantasies,   we would not lead the universe in dead school children. Besides, despite the potential for death that exists by being hit upside the head with a rock, school children aren’t kept awake at night by visions of rock throwing deviants in their midst. 

I have serious misgivings about the effectiveness of the various “gun laws” that get proposed after each of these horrific shootings. In my opinion, anything short of confiscation would only be marginally effective, if effective at all, and confiscation could only be accomplished by amending the constitution, if we still consider ourselves a nation of laws. Nevertheless, to dismiss any attempt to fix this epidemic of gun violence with such a logically flawed argument like this rock vs. gun photo is rediculous. To add insult to injury, enlisting a bible verse as an ally in such a moronic effort just makes it infinitely worse.

If Nothing Else, I Can Serve as a Bad Example

Have you ever done something really, really stupid? I mean like something transcendently dumb, so epically careless as to defy comprehension, a blunder of incandescent incompetence? Well, pull up a chair and listen to my latest...

Ok, so I am a signatory of three checking accounts at two different banks. One is a business account from which I pay all of the expenses associated with running an office which I own with my partner. Once a month, I make a deposit into this account from rent bills I send out to everyone in our building. Once deposited, my assistant then pays the monthly bills associated with Richmond Financial. Simple enough.

Well, yesterday I wrote my own check for my share of January’s expenses from my personal checking account. The amount of the check that I wrote I took from the billing statement that my assistant had left for me, since she was away on a well earned vacation this week. The problem arose when I wrote a check based on December’s billing statement. Just before I was going to leave to make the deposit, I noticed the error. So, I wrote another check, this time for the correct amount...then rushed off to deposit the checks before the bank closed. Unfortunately, I neglected to rip up the first incorrect check, which remained hidden in the stack of checks. So instead of depositing the right check, I deposited both checks.

This morning, at 6:05 am, I was greeted with a disturbing ping from my iPad informing me that my personal checking account was overdrawn by an alarming amount. (It ain’t cheap operating Richmond Financial). Imagine how surprised you would be if your automatic mortgage payment that comes out of your account on the 15th of every month suddenly doubled up on you? Then imagine how angry you would be when you discovered that it wasn’t because of a bank error, rather, it was a human error...that human being YOU!!

My weekend is off to a rousing start!

My Long, Strange Day On Twitter

I’ve been on Twitter since 2012. I don’t have many followers, and I don’t follow that many people. Although I publish all of my blogposts on Twitter, I don’t often post much of anything else. I use it mostly for keeping up with people or things I find interesting. I follow people like Jake Tapper and Jonah Goldberg...and, of course, Andrew Freiden, ( everyone follows Andrew, right??)I also follow The Far Side, so I get a new cartoon every morning. It’s relatively entertaining, actually, since it features some of the most unhinged people you could ever hope to meet, if you go in for that sort of thing. But today something really bizarre happened that I still am having a hard time wrapping my head around...

Ok, early this morning during my routine news roundup,  all I read about was the horrific mass shooting in Florida. I began thinking of how many times over the past ten years or so we have read similar stories. It’s heart breaking, infuriating, and depressing. Once again I felt the familiar frustrtion that nothing would change, that despite wall to wall coverage for a day or two, we Americans would eventually move on to some new outrage and the status quo would remain intact. Then I logged on to Facebook and summarzied my thoughts this way:

Quick quiz: Do any of you remember Stephen Paddock? No? He was the guy who killed 58 people in Las Vegas just 4 months ago, already forgotten. So too will Nikolas Cruz be forgotten 4 months from now. Such is the state of the American attention span and the casual routine of mass shootings in our country.

Then, almost on a whim, I decided to post this thought on Twitter. I cut and pasted, only to discover that the Twitter format would not accept the entire paragraph...so I cut off...and the casual routine of mass shootings in our country. I hit send and then stepped into the shower. By the time I got out of the shower, my phone was pinging off the hook, one notification after another in rapid fire succession. I picked up the phone and thought, what the heck is all this?

To make a long story short, at this hour, that simple, innocuous observation has been viewed over 260,000 times. It has been “liked” 3,400 times, and retweeted 1500 times. At this point nearly 90 people have felt moved to comment and their nearly unanimous verdict is that I am an: idiot, ignorant, moron, dickhead, dipshit, and turd...the first three indictments possibly true, the last three up for debate. The objections to my Tweet fall into several categories. The first one is a legitimate point of contention, ie.. that we shouldn’t remember the killers in these mass shootings, only the victims. This is a fair and valid point. The fact that I used the Las Vegas shooter’s name merely as a proxy for mass shootings in general seems to have gotten lost in translation. Then there were those who vehemently denied having forgotten a thing about Las Vegas, and me pointing out America’s short attention span was beyond the pale. Here, I feel to be on more solid ground. We have endured so many of these killings, it would be almost impossible not  for them all to become muddled in our heads at this point. Then there were those who felt compelled to refer to me with scatological descriptors...which I kinda enjoyed. I had particular fun pointing out to one of my detractors that , in point of fact, “dickhead” was one word, not two!

In my almost 60 years of life I have written many things. I’ve written far better sentences. I’ve said things far dumber, far smarter and certainly more controversial than this in my life, but nothing has ever provoked so much reaction. Nothing else has even come close to this. I suppose it’s true what they say...there’s no accounting for taste.

I stand by my Tweet. Maybe it’s intent would have been clearer if the last few words from the Facebook version had been included. Or maybe not, since subtlety isn’t a concept that mixes well with a platform like Twitter. But, just in case anyone out there is still confused...I am horrified by each and every mass shooting in this country, but I’m not overly optimistic that anything substantial will be done to stop any of them anytime soon... no matter how temporarily outraged we all are at the moment. 

Life Without Labels

Words and ideas, like fashion, fall out of favor over time. Bell bottom jeans used to be a thing. Now, jeans are mostly skinny. Having a gay old time might carry a different meaning today than it did when it was a lyric to the Flintstone’s theme song. The term fiscal conservative used to carry real meaning. Over time the meaning of words can change, turning once innocuous expressions into loaded, fighting words. But, just because the public perception of a word, phrase or idea may change, that doesn’t mean I have to like it. There are times that I want to reclaim the English language, to rescue it from its bastardized torment. However, this is a job which is much bigger than I am. So for now I can only wish that certain words didn’t carry around such baggage...

I want to enjoy the benefits of wealth without being thought of as wealthy.

I want to live out my Christian faith without being considered religious.

I would like to advocate for a less intrusive and oppressive government without being labeled a conservative Republican.

I would like to support a more humane and compassionate immigration policy without being branded a liberal Democrat.

I would like to enjoy golf without it being assumed that I must be a member of a country club.

I wish to continue reading tons of books every year without being thought a book nerd.

I would like to be more careful about what I eat without becoming a food Nazi.

I want to continue to work out and take care of my body without succumbing to vanity.

I want to experience the wisdom that comes with age without getting old.

I want to develope greater empathy for others without turning myself into an easy mark.

I want to demand professionalism and accountability from law enforcement without being accused of being anti-police.

I want to be able to condemn lawlessness, violence and thuggery wherever it exists without being called a racist.

I want to continue to be an unrepentant baseball fan without being dismissed as old school.

I believe that wanting American troops brought home from their foolish deployments isn’t the same thing as isolationism.

I want to cultivate more generosity in my life without becoming a spendthrift.

I want to strive for consistency without it turning into stubbornness.

Desiring to keep more of my hard earned money instead of having it confiscated by the government does not mean I’m greedy.

The Search Begins

Yes baseball fans, it’s that time of year again, time to get past the last remaining hurdle before the full throated beginning of spring training...Valentines Day. Long time readers of this blog will recall my checkered past with respect to this particular day. I have shared with you many times my epic romantic failures down through the years, including but not limited to...my many card shopping difficulties:

https://doug-thetempest.blogspot.com/2017/02/the-card.html

And...

https://doug-thetempest.blogspot.com/2017/02/me-and-george.html

This year will be no different. Although I have already purchased her gifts, I have been putting off card shopping, delaying the inevitable as long as humanly possible. Even though I figure that my chances of buying her the exact same card as she buys me again are infinitesimal, that does not mean that I’m not capable of some other ghastly choice. I must remain vigilant against complacency. If I let my guard down for even a second, I might come home with one of those seven page pop up cartoon cards and all will be lost!

Of course, this Valentines Day is more fraught with peril than most because it happens to coincide with Yoga Night, and you know what that means. Yes, I’m in charge of dinner. I think it safe to say that jambalaya will not be on the menu. I will take special care in seeing to it that dinner consists of something besides starches. No rice and rice combinations, no bean soup with a side of baked beans. I’ve learned that lesson.

Here’s the thing...as hard as Valentines Day is to pull off, my wife is so worth my best effort. Even after 33 years, she’s still the most enchanting, unfathomable woman in the world to me. I still feel compelled to try my best to impress her lest she wake up with a start and realize she has made a horrible mistake! So, over the next couple of days I will rummage through the poetic offerings at Hallmark looking for some combination of Shakespearean sonnet and Lord Byron love verse suitable for such a woman. 

Wish me luck!

Should We Have a Military Parade?

Our President has made it known that he wants to have a military parade in the nation’s capital. When he recently visited France, he was greatly impressed by their Bastille Day parade. It has been suggested that he wants one in Washington to demonstrate his commitment and admiration for the military. His opponents claim baser motives, suggesting that the parade idea is just another manifestation of his authoritarian instincts. What to make of all this?

It has been true in my lifetime that the countries with the grandest military parades have been authoritarian regimes...the Soviet Union, China and North Korea. But it is also true that several democratic countries have military parades, France and Great Britain. It is equally true that we have had a few of these parades over the years. Harry Truman threw one after the end of WWII, John Kennedy during the Cold War, and most recently, George H. W. Bush back in 1991 to celebrate the end of a war we are still fighting. But in America, military parades have been the exception rather than the rule.

Some of the criticism that the parade is getting is hypocritical horse s**t. Democrats and some Republicans complaining about the cost of such a parade make me want to throw up. Seriously? A bunch of people who just voted for trillion dollar deficits for all of eternity have the nerve to complain about how much something, anything costs??? I’m sorry, but anyone on board with this ghastly two year budget deal has lost all credibility on matters of public finance. Also, those who claim that having a military parade in America would put us on the same moral plane as the North Koreans are silly idiots. Having an occasional parade as an expression of gratitude for our nation’s military is not an abandonment of democracy for God’s sake. Chill out, people.

Having said all of this, I would prefer that we not have a parade for a variety of reasons. First, Senator John Kennedy from Louisiana (no relation) said it well, Strength is silent, Insecurities are loud. But, my instincts on this subject were best articulated by the former Navy Seal, Robert O’Neil...the guy who killed Osama bin Laden...A military parade is third world bulls**t. We prepare, we deter, we fight. Stop this conversation.

This is the crux of the matter for me. When our President sat with French President Macron and watched the French military marching by he saw grand uniforms with ostentatious displays of feathers and flourishes, colorful plumes and thousand dollar swords. In other words, he was watching soldiers who are best known for killer uniforms, not...actual killing. Even the dress uniforms of the American soldier can’t come close to the finery on display in Paris. That’s because our military is an actual working military. We rightly honor our military on Veteran’s Day with countless small town parades. We remember those who gave the ultimate sacrifice on Memorial Day, as we should. Do we need a bunch of military hardware up and down Pennsylvania Avenue? I don’t think so.

This is not an issue which I am inclined to lose a lot of sleep over. If the parade happens, that’s fine. It just strikes me as unnecessary and a bit out of character for a country with the most powerful military on the planet. The very reason we do not need a parade is the fact that we have the military we have. 

Silence is strength.

Doug Makes Dinner

As many of you know, Wednesday night here at The Dunnevant house has always been a night fraught with culinary risk. This is the night where I am tasked with preparing dinner. My wife has a Yoga class that doesn’t let out until 7:30, so it’s my job on this one night to have dinner on the table when she gets home. Generally it works this way...Pam picks out something for me to make, does most of the groundwork in advance, stages everything on the counter with easy, often moronically simple written instructions, then leaves me to it. Well, yesterday I was feeling oddly adventurous, and when she asked me if there was anything in particular that I wanted to make, I replied..How about you let me do dinner by myself? I’ll plan a menu, go the grocery store and then make everything myself without any of your help! There was a pregnant pause...then she answered...Oooooo-K? The questioning intonation in her voice being no accident.

It was only later when I got to the office that the folly of my actions became apparent to me. Who was I kidding? I don’t know the first thing about planning a menu. Look, I’m great at ordering takeout. I have no peer when it comes to heating up soup. But when it comes to making a dinner, my past record did not offer much in the way of confidence. Panicked, I asked my assistant for help:

Me: Kristin, I promised Pam that I would make dinner tonight myself with no help from her. What do I do??

Kristin: What were you thinking??

Me: That’s not important now...what do I do??

Kristin: Why don’t you go to the grocery store and get one of those Zatarain’s dinners? It will list everything you need right on the box.

Me: That’s genius!

So the next thing you know, there I am at Publix standing at the Zatarain’s display, when I spot this:

Score! I love jambalaya! Ever since I was a kid and lived in New Orleans for three years, I have had a fondness for anything Creole. The back of the package suggested that I add either shrimp, or sausage. I decided on both. Pam was going to be so proud of me!! Then I happened to spot this on the same aisle:

What luck! Two of my favorite foods in one meal. This was gonna be great!

When it came time to prepare the meal, I laid everything out just like my wife does, everything handy and in its spot. Then I read the first line of the instructions...pour 2 and a half cups of water into a 3 quart saucepan. Oh crap, what’s a 3 quart saucepan look like? We must have ten pans in our kitchen...which one is 3 quarts?? Quickly, I fired off a text with this picture to Kristin,(since she had been the one who had gotten me into this)...

Me: Is this a 3 quart saucepan???

Kristin: I think so...

An inauspicious beginning. But, I rallied and soon the house was filled with the aroma of Cajun spices. The best part was that I timed everything out perfectly, the rolls coming out of the oven the very second that Pam walked through the door. Something smells good, she observed correctly! 

Ok...the jambalaya was very good, although a bit sticky. The red beans and rice were passable. The rolls were tasty. I was very pleased with myself. I did, however, notice that Pam wasn’t exactly devouring the feast set before her. Don’t you like it? I asked.

Then a very familiar expression came over my wife’s face. I know it well. It starts with a smile that is trying not to look dismissive. This is the look she gets when she’s about to correct me or point out some dumb thing that I have done. The smile is a disarming defense mechanism and basically means nothing. Then she says...No honey, it was very good, and it was really sweet of you to do this...

The word BUT had just taken out a full page advertisement in the Dunnevant Dispatch newspaper and was about to enter the conversation...

Pam:....but....there were no vegetables...just, like, two rice dishes and...bread....no vegetables.

Then, she broadened the smile and tilted her head to one side, and I knew that one of those bless your heart moments had arrived:

Pam: What in this world would you do without me?

So, there you have it. I had prepared the perfect meal for a third grade boy. But, on the bright side, we’ve taken care of our starch requirements for the rest of the month!

Is Winning Everything?

I watched a clip on one of the cable news shows yesterday. Actually, I found the thing while browsing through Twitter. Congressman Trey Gowdy was being interviewed about his surprising decision to leave politics and return to his former occupation as a prosecutor. Of course, the cynic in me always wonders whenever anyone decides to leave Washington, if the real reason is because A. They fear a pending defeat in the next election or B. They are being blackmailed by private scandal. Such is my low opinion of elected officials. 

In Congressman Gowdy’s case, I confess that I don’t know much about him except for his work on the House Benghazi investigation, and his odd hair style. He’s a Republican from the south so I can safely assume he is conservative. I don’t know where he stands with respect to the President. I qualify all of this because I don’t want anyone to say, Yeah but, he’s a            . So, here’s the quote that caught my ear:

...We live in a culture that values winning...but I don’t think that winning is the ultimate objective, the ultimate objective is to lead an honorable life.

No wonder he’s quitting politics!

The rest of this clip I will paraphrase. Mr. Gowdy began by giving several examples of great men from our past who lost...repeatedly, and a few who were actually killed for their unpopular, losing ways. Then he opines that process matters, and how we conduct ourselves in that process matters. With respect to our justice system he even offers the view that even a guilty person can and should go free if we violate that process. But then he compares the justice system to politics and politics comes out on the short end because in a political race it matters not whether an accusation he might make against his opponent is true, only that it works, and that it results in a win.

The late Al Davis, owner of the Oakland Raiders famously said, Just win, baby!  Vince Lombardi made famous the words, Winning isn’t everything...it’s the only thing. One of the most dreaded put downs in modern American life is the epithet, Loser. Ask any passionate sports fan and they will tell you that there is no such thing as a moral victory. I read some guy on Twitter after his team lost that losing is ...a grotesque irritant. I get it. I hate losing, always have. The question becomes, is winning so important that rules that make it harder to win should be cast aside? Some crew chief in NASCAR once made the observation that, If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying!

I cannot see into the heart of Congressman Gowdy to determine his true motivations. But...if his decision to retire from politics comes from his refusal any longer to participate in a process that elevates and rewards lawlessness and lying, then good for him. If, in his future work as a prosecutor he abides by the principle that process matters and that living an honorable life is the ultimate objective, then...double good for him. 

Widows, Orphans, and Strangers

Thirty-seven days in to reading the Bible in 90 days. Some days it’s been encouraging, other days...not so much. Some days what I read feels like wise instruction, other days like a stern rebuke. Some days I can’t even recognize the characters, they seem otherworldly and remote. But then I see someone who seems just like me, immediately familiar and identifiable. It’s very much a mixed bag.

There is one theme which has been consistently communicated from Genesis to Job. Actually, I’m sure there have been several such consistent themes, I’ve just been too obtuse to find them. But, at least I’ve caught on to one of them and that is this...God expects us to take care of the poor, provide for widows and orphans, and be kind to strangers. This message is literally all over the place, in practically every single book I’ve read so far. God takes a very dim view of people who ignore these powerless groups of people. The sins of pride and selfishness seem to be extremely high on the list of things that infuriate God Almighty.

So, we can have long, boring arguments on what care for the poor, widows and orphans should look like. We can debate the proper roll of governments in this endeavor. We can argue about whether or not the taxes we pay to fund the 21st century welfare state constitute obedience to this command, or serve to make the problems worse. Are there no poor houses?

But, setting aside the comparative virtue of Socialism vs Capitalism as the most effective poverty fighting tool, it seems to me that the one thing I am certain of is that...regardless of my political views, I find no escape from the personal responsibility I have as a child of God to care for the poor, widows and orphans, and to be kind to strangers. Period. There is no dispensation that I see from living in a country with a social safety net. Whatever collective actions governments may take in these areas, do not absolve me from my own responsibility. To whom much is given, much will be required seems the overriding theme.

When I examine my own record in this regard the results are mixed. I feel like I’ve always given generously to charities. The percentage of my income that winds up in the hands of my church and other philanthropic organizations far exceeds the national average. But, somehow I think that this is the wrong measuring device. For one thing, who ever wants to be merely average? For another, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can do more, I can be more generous, more helpful to the less fortunate...and so can you. Examining myself with regards to how I am treating the least of these has been, so far, my number one takeaway from this Bible reading exercise.

An American Tradition

I’m a baseball guy. But I’m also an American, which means that I am a full participant in its many cultural traditions. One of the most enduring of those traditions is the Super Bowl. So, there I was last night, in front of my television, taking it all in. A few observations...

My wife isn’t a sports fan. She does enjoy the Olympics but that’s only because of the heart warming biographical vignettes that the television producers come up with about the athletes. She’s also a huge fan of the Opening Ceremonies since they are essentially fashion shows. However, despite having zero interest in the contests, she does an amazing job of preparing the game time feasts. Last night, for example, she whipped this up:

   

That’s pigs-in-a-blanket, some sort of amazing Mexican guacamole dip, and my personal favorite, baked Parmesan Pepperoni Pizza crisps. 

Pink performed the national anthem and made a hash of it. Woman was a mess. I learned later that the poor thing had the flu, so hats off to her for making the effort.

Then, a group of Medal of Honor winners were brought out to midfield for the coin toss. Very cool, but seemed a thinly veiled attempt by the NFL to make up for all the kneeling. But, whatever.

Then, the game. Having no rooting interest makes for a dull experience. So, I just relaxed and tried to enjoy watching terrific athletes doing their thing on such an enormous stage. Nick Foles, the career backup, slugging it out against the G.O.A.T. The first half featured neither defense making a single play. On 4th and goal from the two yard line, with time running out, the Eagles ran a trick play for the ages for a touchdown. Coolest play and gutsiest call ever.

Then the halftime show. Here, I must be careful. My wife is constantly criticizing me for the fact that my musical tastes haven’t  evolved since my college days, in fact, she would argue that they have regressed. (She considers the fact that I remain devoted to the Beatles, and Frank Sinatra, a personal failing). Anyway, all week, the advertisements for the halftime show assured me that Justin Timberlake was a global superstar. As I watched him prancing around on the field I asked my much hipper wife whether he was a singer, a dancer, or a rapper...to which she answered, Yes. My review? He was energetic, enthusiastic, handsome...and I’m sure there was a song in there somewhere.

One of the great charms of the Super Bowl has always been the commercials. For some, they are more enjoyable than the game itself. In past years there have been some classics. I watched this year’s offerings in a state of befuddlement. Half the time I couldn’t figure out what they were trying to sell, the other half left me with the distinct impression that the American advertisement industry has run out of ideas. The best ones were the ones that told stories of the great courage of ordinary people in times of crisis, but then at the end when you would see, say, the Verizon logo, you would recoil and think, eww...when was the last time Verizon did anything heroic?? Until you guys can figure out how to show up for a service call on time, get off your moral high horse!

Back to the game. Everything was set up for yet another bedtime story for Tom Brady’s future grandkids. The Patriots get the ball with two minutes to play, down by six. Tom drives them down the field and throws the winning touchdown pass with no time left on the clock. Cue shot of Gisele crying tears of joy in her luxury box. But then a defensive player finally made a play, stripping Brady of the ball and sealing the upset victory for the Eagles. Good for them.

For me, the very best thing about the Super Bowl is the fact that it’s conclusion marks the official beginning of....baseball. Pitchers and catchers report for spring training in ten days!

An Astounding Number

Late yesterday afternoon, an announcement was made by the chairman of Apple. CEO Tim Cook gave the stunning news during a conference call while discussing the computer company’s fourth quarter/2017 results. While all the news wasn’t great for Apple, (there was some underachievement in certain areas), this one particular report staggered me. Are you ready for it? Ok...in the fourth quarter of last year, Apple raked in the largest profit for any company in the history of enterprise, a whopping 20 Billion Dollars.

Let that number sink in for a minute...

Trust me...you still can’t possibly comprehend such a number.

Put another way, during the 90 days of the fourth quarter of 2017, Apple earned $222,222,222....every single day. With each passing hour, a fresh 9 million dollars jingled into Apple’s vaults. 

I hear lots of people complaining about how large Apple’s cash stash is, 295 billion and growing. The people complaining the loudest always seem to be the kind of people who couldn’t sell hacksaws in a prison, people for whom large companies are the sworn enemies of all humankind...an opinion they will proclaim 24/7 to anyone who will listen...from their iPads!! Wherever there exists insanely profitable companies, there will also exist people who will complain about how those companies chose to spend their money. But seriously, if you were an enterprise that was churning up 222 million dollars every freaking day, you’d wind up with a huge cash stash too. Even if you wanted to reinvest all that money, it would take you a while to figure out...where and how! 

And to think that this money making juggernaut was started by a brooding genius with an idea that all the smart people were convinced was foolish. Computer pioneer, Ken Olson’s famously dismissive quote...There is no reason for anyone to have a computer in their home...was what once served as conventional wisdom. There is a huge life lesson lurking in that quote.

Here’s the deal...I’m not one of those guys who worships business. I’m fully aware of the corrupting influence of large sums of money and the reckless pursuit of same. I understand the tendency towards monopoly and the insidious cancer of crony capitalism. But I also know this, one of the things that differentiates people from one another is the question of attitude. This world is divided into two groups, those who create and those who criticize. There are doers and there are talkers. There are those who blaze trails and those who bitch about how rocky it is. There are people who either by force of will, great intellect, or superior vision launch world changing businesses and movements, and there are people who stand on the sidelines taking potshots, filled with the conceit that they could have done it better if only...

So whether you’re an Apple guy or a fan of Samsung, whether you use an iPad or a PC, take a minute today to marvel at the number 20 billion. Pause a minute this morning to consider how infinitely easier and more efficient your life has been made by the existence of this company and others like it. 

The Saga Continues...

It occurs to me that I have failed to inform all of you about the final outcome of the great hole in the wall saga. In past dispatches I have shown you the damage...

I’ve also shown you the first pathetic attempt at a remedy, courtesy of the alleged workers from the Helen Keller Drywall Repair Company...

After an interminable delay, a new attempt was made to fix the hole which was only marginally better, forcing Pam to try her hand at spackling. Unfortunately, the finished product wasn’t even close to being acceptable. My library wall looks like it’s in it’s first trimester...

So now we find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to report our displeasure to the powers that be. The reason this is so difficult is because the two workers responsible for such pathetic work happened to be two of the nicest guys you would ever want to meet. The piano mover responsible for the hole to begin with could not possibly have been any nicer or more contrite. His buddy, who he recruited to do the actual drywall repair was also kind and earnest almost to a fault. Making matters worse, each evening when they showed up to work, the piano mover would bring along his two year old son, who he had just picked up from daycare, one of the most adorable little boys ever. So, what we have here are two hard working guys doing the best they can, and being extraordinarily kind in the process. Oh, and they were both African-American. That shouldn’t have anything to do with this, but it does. Why? It’s complicated. 

Here’s the thing. I don’t go in for all this collective white guilt claptrap. I am not responsible for the evils of slavery any more than Mexicans are responsible for the human sacrifice of the Aztecs. Past generations have done some horrible things throughout history, but we evolve and move on, hopefully getting better with each generation. But I do feel an obligation as a white American to go the extra mile when it comes to doing business with African Americans. Some of you are probably rolling your eyes at this point out of either frustration at my misplaced paternalism or my willingness to tolerate shoddy work because of someone’s race. That’s fair. I’m confused by it myself. I guess at the end of the day, you don’t do anyone any favors by letting them get by with poor workmanship. On the other hand, I hate to be the one who lowers the boom. It would have helped if they were both jerks.

So, now a full two weeks after the piano accident, we still have no resolution. Our contractor will have to now intercede and redo the work, delaying further that happy day when we will be free of workers traipsing through our house.

My Case Against The SOTU Show

Yesterday, in the lead up to the State of the Union Show, my sister was saddened to read all of the ridicule of the thing on her Facebook wall. She responded by essentially telling all of those who claimed that they would not be watching that they should be ashamed of themselves. A fresh debate arose from that suggestion. 

First, I feel obliged to defend my sister’s position, even though I disagree with it, on the grounds that I know from where her sentiments come. My sister is a patriot. She loves her country and has always been enthralled with it’s pagentry and the many totems that fill our capital city. (She has never lost a love of the British monarchy either!) No matter who occupies the White House, she can be depended upon to be glued to her television set to watch the State of the Union speech. She feels it is her patriotic duty, and holds a dim view of those who boycott. Fair enough. But here’s where we part company...

George Washington started this spectacle of a yearly address to Congress when he showed up to give his first speech. But, leave it to another great Virginian, Thomas Jefferson, to put an end to this silly monarchical pretense. Instead, Jefferson, ever vigilant against anything that smacked of the imperial yoke that we had fought a war to throw off, opted to send his address in writing to be read aloud in the chamber. It was thus so for over a hundred years, despite a civil war and several financial panics, the yearly Presidential address was read to Congress. Then, Woodrow Wilson (sadly another Virginian) perhaps the president with the most authoritarian instincts ever, decided to bring back the pomp and ceremony of the live appearance of the President in the house chamber. It was in keeping with Wilson’s exalted view of the Presidency and his desire to lift that office above the two other branches in both influence and power. Thus saw the birth of the modern imperial presidency. 

Now, a hundred years in to this debacle, the American people get treated to the most partisan spectacle that a Republican form of government could possibly produce...the president striding into the house like a modern day king to the uproarious adulation of his partisans, the opposition party, their arms folded petulantly across their chests like school children, ridiculously tedious standing ovations for even the most pedestrian proclamations, stone-faced disgust from the opposition in cut away shots to even the most positive news. If the United States government were to intentionally hatch a plot to make itself appear impotent and unserious, it couldn’t possibly come up with a better plan than this televised embarrassment. 

I’m not against a televised address by the President in the House Chamber, but I think that they should be reserved for truly momentous occasions, like a declaration of war, or the announcement of the end of such wars. But, this annual festival of partisanship needs to stop. How about this? How about somebody run for President who promises to end The Speech, and go back to the Jeffersonian example of the yearly letter? Maybe if we weren’t reminded every stinking January of how childish and silly our political leaders are, perhaps we would start holding them in higher regard.

Getting Ready for the Taylor Awards!!

I read an article this morning about the Grammy awards show and it’s abysmal ratings. It’s the latest in a long line of cratering ratings for awards shows in general. Everything from the CMA’s to the Oscars have seen a drop in viewership in recent years. The article didn’t offer an explanation for the across the board decline in interest...so I will attempt one.

Of course, the easiest explanation would be to blame it all on the politicization of the entertainment business. The vast majority of American entertainers are people of the left, and can never quite resist an opportunity to remind us. Every political movement of the day gets wall to wall air time during the awards show season, from Black Lives Matter to #MeToo, the American people can count on our most glamorous members to lecture us about all of our multiple failings, dressed in $20,000 gowns. On top of that, the glitterati themselves seem constantly out of sorts...with themselves, with #OscarsSoWhite and #GrammysSoMale offering plenty of self loathing.

But, I don’t think politics is the primary reason for the decline in ratings. I think that we’re just not using their products like we used to. In general, people aren’t going to the movies, or watching TV or buying music like they used to. In this regard, I can only speak for myself, so you’ll have to take my anecdotal evidence with a grain of salt. But, when I was younger, going to the movies was at the top of my entertainment hierarchy. I would comb through the green section of the News Leader every Friday morning to see what was playing and make my decisions for the upcoming weekend. Now, I check out what’s playing at Cinebistro every once in a while since if on the outside chance there’s a movie I want to see, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a regular movie theatre, what with the sticky floors and rude patrons. Television? With the exception of Andrew Frieden’s weather forecast, baseball games and an occasional network show like Parenthood or This Is Us, I’ve turned into a Netflix guy. And...I literally can’t remember the last time I purchased music. Why, when everything I want to hear is available for free on Pandora or Spotify? Sure, the commercials are annoying, but it’s hard to argue with...free. Now, I don’t know for sure if my story is being widely repeated out there in flyover country, but I also don’t think of myself as an outlier either. In 2018 America, we have about 10,000 more entertainment options available to us than we did back when these awards shows were in their monopolistic heyday. So, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that fewer people are watching.

People will always watch this guy. But we’re never going back to the days when Hollywood was king. Oh and by the way...expect this Oscar statue to get a remake soon...featuring a more androgynous physique. And the name Oscar will have to go, replaced with a more gender neutral name like...Taylor or Morgan.

I’m Feeling Very Old Testament-ish

Once upon a time in the land north of the James River, east of the mountains of the Blue Ridge, south of Ashland, there lived a humble servant who had just returned from a long journey to the northern kingdom of Maine, when behold, his dishwasher was afflicted with a discharge which visited great devastation on his household. In the course of time, the Lord of hosts, with the assistance of the insurance company, sent legions of workers to repair the damage to the humble servant’s house. Among the workers sent to repair the damage to the humble servant’s house were two men charged with the removal of the humble servant’s piano for safe keeping. 

Suddenly, there was a great earthquake which caused the piano to be shaken to its very foundation. Great was the shaking of it. So much so that it tilted heavily from it’s Dollie and ripped a hole in the wall of the house of the humble servant. The workers were sorely vexed at this calamity which had happened and immediately ripped their garments and covered themselves with sackcloth and ashes. Vowing that as God Lives they would repair this abomination and remove the blot from the humble servant’s library wall...

Verily, my Lord, we will return on the seventh day to repair this hole at the fifth hour.

On the seventh day, on the fifth hour, the workers appeared. But behold the hole was too big to be patched, for the workers had judged poorly the size of the hole and had not brought with them the required pieces of sheet rock to remove the blot from the humble servant’s wall. Much lamenting and ripping of garments ensued and once again the workers swore by their ancestors that this hole would be fixed the very next day at the fifth hour.

The humble servant was greatly troubled in his spirit at the continued existence of the hole, and began to despair at the unfaithfulness of the workers sent by the insurance company, but he held his tongue.

The next day, at the fifth hour, the workers arrived with sheet rock in hand to repair the hole. But behold, the piece of sheet rock brought was too thick and did not match the sheet rock of the existing wall, causing the repaired piece to jut out noticeably.

Why do you workers trouble me in this way? shouted the humble servant...Have you not vowed twice before me that you would remove this blight from the wall of my library and twice you have failed miserably to do so? What sin have I committed that you should deal with me with such incompetence?

The workers immediately prostrated themself on the floor before the humble servant, beseeching him to have mercy on them...We vow here this day to return tomorrow again at the fifth hour to repair this abomination of a hole. We beg your humble servant’s forebearance and ask you to have patience with us because we are weak of mind and our skill level embarrassingly low. But as God is our witness, the third time will be the charm. If not, let your humble servant deal with us ever so severely if we fail on our third attempt.

Then the humble servant went to his bed with a troubled spirit, having had all confidence ripped from him that his hole would ever be repaired. Then he prayed with a loud voice...Oh God of Abraham, Issac and Jacob, deliver me from workers who are weak of mind with embarrassingly low skill levels. 

“Stormy” Weather

For the past week or so, there has been a story circulating concerning a certain porn star and her past dalliance with the current occupant of the White House. This ten year old relationship ended as all such relationships end, in acrimony. A six figure settlement was reportedly paid to her by the President’s lawyer just months before the 2016 election in an unsuccessful attempt to silence her story. Despite this payment, the porn star is now all over the place with salacious details of her decade old romp with the future President.

There isn’t a single solitary detail of this story that surprises me. All of us knew what kind of man our President was when we elected him. He made no attempt to hide his sexual conquests, in fact, openly bragged about them. But, there are two things about this story that are interesting to me. First, that this story isn’t really a story. It’s nothing more than a TMZ segment on entertainment television. It doesn’t even qualify as a scandal in the new normal of 2018. What...the President was boinking a porn star while his wife was at home with his newborn son?? That’s a story?? Ppsshhtt!

The second interesting part of this episode for me has been the reaction of prominent evangelicals. News that a sitting President had paid hush money to a porn star with a stage name of Stormy Daniels, whose most famous film was something called Good Will Humping, has been met with a collective evangelical yawn. Tony Perkins, a big shot at the Family Research Council, declared that The President gets a mulligan in this case, partly because evangelicals understand the concepts of mercy and forgiveness.

Ok.

But, ask yourself a question. Suppose that this story was about Barack Obama. Suppose that it had been discovered that Obama had carried on with a porn star while Michelle was at home nursing Malia, and had then instructed his lawyer to fork over a six figure hush money payment to her a month before the 2008 election to keep the public from discovering the truth. Try to imagine the hue and cry that would have exploded out of the evangelical community over such behavior. Franklin Graham and Jerry Falwell Jr. would have been apoplectic with rage.William Bennett would have had a coronary at such deviance. There wouldn’t have been any of this, We aren’t electing a Pastor, business. There would have been no temporizing language about the distinction between private virtue and public policy. No, Obama would be the reincarnation of Caligula, and evangelicals would be called out to stand against this fresh outrage of decadence.

I didn’t vote for Obama. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged me to a polling place to vote for Hillary. But, the evangelical embrace of the  45th President of the United States has forever destroyed in my mind their credentials as a moral voice. When virtue gets trumped by pragmatism, then you become just another garden variety lobbying organization.

No thanks.

Absalom, Oh Absalom!!

Day 23 finds me in 2 Samuel where I am confronted once more with the sordid tale of Amnon, Tamar and Absalom. I will spare this audience the more graphic details of debauchery found in this narrative except to say that incest is involved. But, what I want to talk about is a verse that I have always missed in previous readings. First, let me set it up...

Ok, Amnon is Absalom’s brother, both are sons of King David. They have a sister, Tamar who is described as beautiful. Amnon commits premeditated rape against her. Absalom takes in his sister after the shameful assault. Then this from 2 Samuel 13:22...

...But Absalom spoke to Amnon neither good nor bad, for Absalom hated Amnon because he had violated his sister.

The very next verse descibes a plot that Absalom launches to kill Amnon...a full two years later.

I had never noticed this particular detail of the story before. Here, Absalom goes along for two long years quietly enduring family dinners, and other casual encounters with his rapist/brother, all the while burning with hatred, plotting his revenge. Two years is a long time to carry around such a heavy weight. No wonder Absalom eventually goes off the rails. Hatred, especially private hatred, is a deadly thing. Hatred, so meticulously groomed and nursed, can become perhaps the most lethal force in the universe. In Absalom’s case, the trajectory of his life was altered by his hatred to the point where it costs him his life and provoked the famous cry from his anguished father, Absalom, Oh Absalom!!

Reading the story this morning made me examine my own life. Is there anything or anyone that I hate as much as Absalom hated his brother? Thankfully, the answer is no. I’ve never had cause to hate anyone with anything approaching this sort of passion and intensity. There have been plenty of people who I haven’t cared for, people who I would prefer not to be around, people who get on my nerves. There are famous people who I don’t know personally who I truly can’t abide...mostly politicians and entertainers, but even those people don’t arouse Absalom level hatred. But, honestly, when I read through my Facebook feed some mornings, I wonder about the hatred I encounter there. How much of it is real and how much is just bandwagon jumping or virtue signaling? I remember some of the vile things I used to read about George W. Bush. I remember the endless stream of invective poured out towards Barack and Michelle Obama. And now, it’s Trump’s turn. 

I understand. I get it...politics can be intensely personal. People can get worked up and carried away. Political beliefs run deep, along with the passionate assurance of our own righteousness, our own exclusive possession of the truth. But, the story of Absalom’s burning hatred and it’s deadly result should serve as a wake up call to all of us. This is especially true considering the fact that Absalom had every right to be angry, after all, his brother had raped his sister! But, even when we are right about something, that doesn’t grant us a license to hate. Hatred ultimately leads to bitterness and resentment, and these two burdens can turn us into the very people we claim to stand against.

It’s Not Fair

Sweat is starting to slide down between my eyes as my legs pump furiously on the new elliptical machine at the gym, this one designed to simulate the strides of a speed skater. My thighs and calves are burning and I’m only fifteen minutes in. It is my 4th such workout of the week, the 13th of the year, and most likely the 5000th of my life. Why do I so consistently volunteer myself for such torture? It is a complicated question which has many answers, none of them satisfactory. It is a stress relief. It does prevent me from ballooning to 300 pounds. It is, by all accounts, good for my heart. But mostly I do it because it gives me some sense that I am at least making an attempt to fight off the ravages of time, the slow, inexorable decline of physical and mental dexterity that comes with age. I mean, you can’t just shrug your shoulders and accept the inevitable, right? That would be entirely too logical and pragmatic. I much more prefer the illusion of control, the doomed notion that I, by sheer force of will and commitment, can keep the reaper at bay.

The television screen on the wall above me was broadcasting a football game. The New England Patriots were in trouble at the beginning of the 4th quarter of the AFC title game against the Jacksonville Jaguars. They had been outplayed the entire game by the younger, more athletic looking Jaguars. The closed caption script across the bottom of the screen is telling the viewer what a hard place that Tom Brady has found himself in, down 10 points to the league’s number one pass defense, having lost his best receiver to a concussion. Despite the growing pain in my legs from this brutal machine, I manage a smile. I think to myself...Where have these announcers been for the past 18 years?? Hard place, they say? 

The sweat stream that started as a trickle was a full blown river by the time the 40 year old Brady hit Danny Amendola with a dart in the back of the end zone to win the game for the Patriots. The screen is then filled with the ridiculously handsome Brady surrounded by a bevy of cameras and reporters, all eager for a word from the man who will be making his 10th appearance in the Super Bowl. We have just watched him throw for 138 yards and two touchdowns in the 4th quarter of a championship game, saving his heroics until his back was against the wall for what seemed like the 1,000th time. My workout was over so I headed to the shower. I didn’t need to see the interview. I knew what he would say before he did...all the right things.

It is very easy to hate someone like Tom Brady, he of the matinee idol good looks, the super model wife, all the money in the world and a strangle hold on the title, Greatest of All Time. There’s plenty of nits to pick if you care to look. But, he has had a bullseye on his back in a violent sport for over nearly two decades now...and nobody has even come close to laying a glove on him. The fact that he is doing this at age 40, is perhaps the very easiest reason to hate the guy. 

I sit in the steam room alone with my aching muscles. Every week these workouts get harder. With each passing year, their power to keep my weight under control weakens, my recovery time gets longer. Meanwhile, Tom Brady keeps on playing football at the highest level. Yes, he’s 40 and I’m getting ready for my 60th birthday. But, he plays football...while the most physically demanding part of my occupation involves putting paper in the copier.

I’m no longer a big pro football fan. I prefer college football and, of course, baseball. But, I watch when the playoffs come around. That means that when I’m watching, Tom Brady is most likely playing. I watch him engineer comeback after comeback with a mixture of resentment and admiration...resentment at his hoarding of unrivaled success, and admiration for his tenacious and so far victorious battle against time.

What Does Non Essential Mean?

So, our elected representatives failed to come up with a workable compromise last night, mearning that the government has shut down. Consequently, a relatively small percentage of the federal workforce deemed non essential has been furloughed. My Facebook wall has been peppered with comments about my use of the term non essential, so I’ve decided to clear up any confusion and misunderstanding of this controversial term.

First of all, no one with an ounce of self respect wishes to be thought of as non essential. Everyone likes to think that what they do for a living is vitally important work.( My own occupation is not immune to this calculus.) The problem is, it isn’t true...and it never has been true. But, just because something isn’t essential doesn’t mean that it is worthless either. The guy who drives the school bus in the morning is essential to getting your kid to school. The guy who washes the bus and cleans the bus out every day, not so much. But let that school bus go unwashed for a couple of years and never cleaned out, and before long you’ll have a storm of angry parents screaming at the board of supervisors meeting. In the case of my son-in-law, who happens to be the hardest working, most enthusiastic and able park ranger east of the Mississippi, the classification of his job as non essential by the government bean counters is a source of great frustration. While the job of park ranger might not be as essential as someone making life or death decisions about our nuclear arsenal, try telling that family from Nebraska who scrimped and saved for five years to be able to take the family to the Grand Canyon next week only to discover the gates locked because of a government  shutdown...try telling them that a park ranger’s job isn’t essential. 

Here’s the thing...we all do work that is essential to someone. In addition, all work is noble and honorable. Having said that, when you live in a country with a federal work force of 2 million people and that government spends 4 trillion dollars a year, the notion that all 2 million of those employees and every dime of that 4 trillion is absolutely essential and absolutely none of them can be spared and not a nickel of that money can be done without is a laughable suggestion. Yes, it is true that the last time the government shutdown, for 16 Days, it cost us 24 billion dollars. But, to put that in perspective...24 billion dollars is .006% of 1 percent of what this government spends in a year. By any definition, that is a negligible number.

But, getting back to this essential vs. non essential thing...there is one thing I know, any organization, private businesses included, get more inefficient the larger they become. A friend of mine posted a comment to my last blog suggesting that government was worse in this regard than private enterprises are. He might be right in a broader sense, but not completely. I rather believe that even large, for profit companies, fall victim to bloated payrolls. The following photograph might help illustrate my point:

There is only one essential employee in this photograph...and it sure isn’t the Human Resources manager!

Let it be known that I consider the government shutdown a complete political failure. It is never a desirable outcome to furlough hardworking employees who are supporting families. While I have spent lots of time in this space criticizing government waste and malfeasance and will continue to do so, a shutdown should be an embarrassment to the citizens of this Republic. If any government employees should be furloughed, it should be the 535 members of Congress and the President of the United States. Let a few of them go weeks without a paycheck and see how they like it. 

Government Shutdown?

Today, Friday, the 19th of January, 2018 holds the promise of a government shutdown. If it happens, it will be the 18th or 19th such shutdown since I graduated from high school in 1976, depending how you count such things. The short term impact will be negligible with only a handful of non essential government personnel getting their temporary pink slips. If the shutdown were to drag on for weeks or months, pestilence and devastation would surely sweep across the land. 

Government shutdowns, since the bicentennial year, have occurred when there is a funding gap between what is required to run leviathan and how much actual money the Congress has authorized the government to spend. The government’s fiscal year starts on October 1st of each year. Prior to 1976, that’s when a Budget was passed. But since then lawmakers have instead relied on continuing resolutions, a short term fix that funds operations for shorter periods of time amidst great rancor and namecalling between politicians.

Here’s a fun chart. If you’re keeping score at home, that’s 112 continuing resolutions over the last 20 years, 2001 being an especially dysfunctional year. The federal budget is made up of 12 individual appropriation bills. The last time all 12 were passed by October 1st was in 1998, so our federal government hasn’t functioned with a proper budget in over two decades. Not coincidentally, the federal debt has skyrocketed from 5.5 trillion in 1998 to over 20 trillion today. Many acts of treachery, malfeasance and perfidy have contributed to this mind-boggling amount of red ink, but none more than the continuing resolution, which is a code word for incompetence.

So, what’s the cause of this potential shutdown? Depends on which echo chamber you’re stuck in. It’s either the Republican refusal to grant amnesty to the dreamers, or Democratic refusal to fund the CHIP program for six years. Oh..also, somebody hates our troops and wants them to die for lack of funds. I can’t remember who though. The greatest debate among the political class has been, Who will get the Blame? I don’t know what the fuss is about. I’ve lived through 18 of these things, and I can say with complete confidence that the Republican Party will get the blame, not because they don’t deserve it, but because, the Democratic Party has never gotten the blame for a government shutdown in my lifetime and never will. That’s because the people who are charged with assigning blame in these matters are the Press, and with very few exceptions, the Press runs with Democratic Party talking points. This isn’t a scandal, it’s just the way things have always been. I don’t care who gets the blame. Actually, in this 2018 shutdown, it’s hard to argue with the blame landing squarely on the GOP since they control both houses of Congress  and the White House. If they can’t get this done, it’s on them.

Maybe they work something out today, cobble some ridiculous deal together and vote for it late this afternoon so they can all catch their flights home, since there is absolutely nothing that politicians hate worse than working on the weekend. Or maybe the government will shut down. Whichever way it goes, I have to go to work, since I don’t have a printing press in my basement and can’t rely on a continuing resolution to pay my mortgage.

Day Four

Snowing outside, temperatures falling, wind starting to gust a bit. A couple of inches on the ground with a couple more to come. It’s our third snowfall of the winter here in Short Pump, Virginia. Yesterday, my wife headed over to the new Publix mere hours before it was to begin and texted me: Publix is so quiet...either Richmonders have stopped freaking out about the snow, or this store is doomed...

I feel reasonably confident that my fellow Short Pumpians have not stopped freaking out about the snow.

Day Four at Shangri-La, Short Pump finds me getting more antsy by the minute. Our two bedroom, two bath suite seems to have shrunk considerably since Sunday. But, it’s the little things that are starting to annoy me. In case you’re wondering, we still have a blanket-covered stack of luggage in front of the vent to nowhere, having decided that our makeshift solution was preferable to having to pack up and move to a room with a more logical HVAC plan. I’ve moved on from the big things and started to obsess over the smaller annoyances...

- a coil top stove with burners that will not lay flat, leaving every pan deployed on them tilted manically 

- showers and sinks which feature dial turned spigots which go from arctic cold to scalding hot within a millimeter of each other

- trash cans so small, they are filled up halfway through the preparation of one meal

- a sofa which can’t decide if it’s a sofa, futon, or chaise lounge, but regardless of which it is, declares war on the spinal column of anyone sitting on it.

While all of these things are incredibly annoying to someone like me, I must admit that when you write them down and read back over what you’ve written, it practically screams back at you...First World Problems!!!  Here I am, four days into a stay in a hotel suite which is bigger, and more luxurious than the bedrooms of the world’s richest Kings two thousand years ago, and considerably more luxurious than the homes of over half of the world’s present population. I’m agitated about the scalding hot water while 2.5 billion people on this planet would give just about anything for clean running water at any temperature. So, yeah...I’m a spoiled American.

Something else has occurred to me during my stay at the Residence Inn...Network and cable television is doomed. Each night of our stay, we have had three televisions to choose from for the night’s entertainment. The standard cable package along with HBO is available, free of charge. Not once have we chosen to turn them on. Instead, we sit close together, huddled around my wife’s laptop to watch the latest episode of Black Mirror...on Netflix. We do so despite the tiny eleven inch screen and the inadequate speakers which require extreme concentration to hear. Sure, we watch Andrew Freiden in the morning, and we did watch the end of the Vikings / Saints game Sunday night, but that’s about it. I don’t think we’re alone. If I worked for one of the major networks or a cable television company, I would be looking to acquire a new skill set. Their days are numbered...