How To Pick a President

As of 6:30am this morning, June 3, 2015,  there are over a dozen officially declared Presidential candidates, three Democrats and nine Republicans. There will be more to follow in the coming weeks. How in the world is a person supposed to make an informed decision from such a long and formidable list? How does a citizen do his civic duty to the Republic amidst all the media spin and misinformation? Fear not, for I have compiled a helpful list of questions to help with this monumental decision. I do so now, a full 18 months prior to the big event, for those of you who hate waiting to the last minute to make up your minds. As a bonus, this handy voter's guide is completely and totally non-partisan, as it applies to you no matter your political leanings. So, let's begin, shall we?

First, a little quiz. Below you will find a list of qualifications for the highest office in the land. Which ones are actual, constitutionally mandated qualifications and which are not?

1. Must be a natural born citizen of the United States.         TRUE

2. Must be a male.                                                              FALSE

3. Must have attained the age of 35.                                    TRUE

4. Must have resided in the U.S. for the past 14 years.         TRUE

5. Must not already have served two terms as President.     TRUE

That's it. That is the sum total of what our constitution has to say on the subject. Our founders cast a wide net indeed.

Ok, next, let's go over some of the other non-constitutional qualifications that have grown up over time. Some of these are in fact excellent requirements for potential Presidents, others not so much.

1. Must be a person of unimpeachable moral character.

We Americans desperately want to believe this one. Many of us insist on only supporting a cross between Andy Taylor and George Bailey. Who among us wouldn't feel better if all of our Presidents had Jimmy Carter's ethical core, Harry Truman's family life and George Washington's character? Well, the trouble is, moral fiber doesn't necessarily translate into great leadership. There never has lived anyone who possessed a more finely calibrated moral compass than my mother, but she would have made a perfectly dreadful President. My mother's unimpeachable moral character wouldn't have saved her from the demands of the office. She lacked the education and life experiences required to effectively lead something as large and unwieldy as a nation. (although she could have whipped up a batch of homemade biscuits that would have had the French Ambassador eating out of her hand!) Sure, being a morally admirable person would surely help in the Oval Office, but the history of the job is full of highly effective men who weren't exactly Boy Scouts...Thomas Jefferson and FDR spring to mind.

2. Must be a lawyer.

At first glance it would appear to be true since 25 of our 44 Presidents have been lawyers. But, in point of fact, those who haven't been lawyers form an impressive list, among them...George Washington, James Madison, Theodore Roosevelt, Harry Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, John Kennedy, Ronald Reagan, and both Bushes. It might interest you to know that we the people have seen fit to elect three school teachers, three farmers and a newspaper publisher to the highest office in the land.

3. Must have government experience.

Probably a good idea, but not necessarily FEDERAL government experience. Most Americans place FDR and Ronald Reagan at or near the top of best Presidents, many also add Bill Clinton to that list. All three men were governors first, with Reagan and Clinton having no experience on the federal government stage. There's something to be said for having the executive experience of actually knowing how to run something, how to delegate, how to build consensus, etc..something that being either a CEO or a governor provides. On the other hand, being a mere Senator offers zero practical governing experience since a Senator's job is essentially to talk.

4. Must have foreign policy experience.

......I guess so.

5. Must have served in the armed forces.

There was a time when military service was an unspoken requirement for the presidency, especially after World War II. After that war, we elected nine consecutive Presidents who had served in WWII. Not until Bill Clinton did the string end. In all, of the 45 Presidents we have elected,  fully 33 of them were former military. To be fair, it should be pointed out that FDR didn't serve, for obvious reasons, and did pretty well. Although the four Presidents we elected before FDR were all without military experience and none of them were exactly Hall of Fame material. So, who knows?

6. Must agree with me on the ALL-CONSUMING issue that is most important to me.

Each of us has that one big thing that we are passionate about when it comes to politics. For some it might be term limits, or taxes, immigration, or abortion. For others it might be Obamacare, drug laws, gay marriage, or the catastrophe that is the designated hitter rule. If you fall into this category, you're what is known as a single-issue voter. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) but, you need to understand that your big issue will occupy your new President for approximately ten minutes of his four year term. Then he or she will turn their attention to lots of other stuff. So, good luck with your pet issue.

7. Must be a member of the same church denomination as me.

As far as I know, only three of our Presidents were Southern Baptists...Harry Truman, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton, a decidedly mixed record for this strategy. We Americans have been rather even handed in the distribution of denominations. There have been two Congregationalists, three Disciples of Christ, four Methodists, eight Presbyterians and a whopping twelve Episcopalians. For good measure we threw a couple of Quakers in the mix, four Unitarians, one Catholic and five with no denominational affiliation whatsoever, amoung them Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln. So, I'm thinking that we should discount religious affiliation when shopping for a President....since we aren't tasked with electing a preacher.

Here are a few more things to consider when making this decision, although what follows might be considered a bit partisan, since they are personal to me. 

MAKE SURE YOUR NEXT PRESIDENT DOESN'T HAVE:

1. A criminal record.

2. An annoying facial tick.

3. Chronic acne.

4. A really irritating spouse.

5. A lot of inherited money.

6. A lot of shady friends.

7. A history of ill-health

8. An embarrassing, poorly qualified running mate.

9. A green card.

10. An infatuation with Taylor Swift.

That's all I've got, but I hope that this has helped serve as a check-list of sorts. The truth is that whomever we elect as our President in 2016 will be a mixed bag. He or she will have some excellent qualities and some glaring weaknesses. On some issues we will be in perfect agreement, on others we will be miles apart. When we vote for someone we do so largely on faith since we will know virtually nothing about who they really and truly are, so effective are their handlers. Sometimes it's a gut feeling, an intuition, indeed...a hope.  But, I'm thinking that if we all use this handy how-to guide to picking Presidents, we might actually get lucky. 

You're welcome.

Men of a Certain Age...

This is the picture that greeted me yesterday morning on every single news site I visited at 6 am. This was big news. The man whose Sports Illustrated cover photo once graced the walls of my bedroom in 1976 has been reborn as "Caitlyn" and lionized by none other than Annie Leibovitz.

I am told by sophisticates that what the former decathlete has done is "brave." Mrz Jenner her-himself has spoken of how he-she finally feels free, that for the first time in his-her life isn't living a lie. The fact that this picture is on the cover of Vanity Fair purportedly says something about our evolving culture, the chattering classes intone. The photographic talents of Ms. Leibovitz have at least saved us from the ghastly decision of whether to place "Caitlyn" on the cover of Playboy or Playgirl.

For men of a certain age, the spectacle of seeing perhaps the greatest American athlete of the past fifty years wearing a silk camisole is deeply unsettling. I count myself among this unsettled group. I harbor no ill-will towards Bruce-Caitlin. I want everyone to be happy. I can't imagine what it must have been like to train for the decathlon all the while hating yourself for being in a man's body. That's an existence that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. But, why must all of this truly amazing plastic surgery be proclaimed to the world below the masthead of Vanity Fair magazine? Herein lies the difficulty that I have. It seems like suddenly, irretrievably, we have decided to celebrate things that, historically speaking, fifteen minutes ago we prescribed therapy for. You can either view this phenomenon as some sort of supercharged burst of sublime progressive evolution, or you can worry that we have gone stark-raving mad. Seriously, who among us a mere twenty years ago would have thought that this sort of thing would get the sort of fawning treatment it has gotten today? A brave new world we have.

So, I wish Bruce-Caitlyn the best and hope for him-her that the remaining years of his-her life provide the happiness that he-she has been denied. 

One nagging question remains...I wonder why he chose to spell his new name with a "C" rather than the trademark "K" of his famous reality television family?

The Great Maine Lake House Adventure

Maybe the neck is getting better. Or maybe it's just wishful thinking. This morning it wasn't as stiff as it has been and I didn't feel the need to take three Advil as soon as I rolled out of bed, a good thing. We'll see.

June has arrived. For my business year, June the first is an important day. I devide my corporate year into three parts. January 1 through May 31 is the busiest time. I schedule and execute 70% of my client annual reviews during the first five months of the year. June 1 through August 31 is the slowest part of the year. My clients and myself are busy with vacations and whatnot, so things slow down. From September 1 through the middle of December things get busy again. Each passing year accentuates these divides. As a result of this happy condition of a mid year slow down, buying (or renting ) a summer vacation home has always been a goal. For the past ten years that goal has been deferred because of the monumental task of paying for the college education of my two smarty-pants kids, and then my daughter's fabulous wedding. But, thankfully all of that is behind us.

So, during our wonderful week in the Cayman's, Pam and I discussed the topic of a vacation home in earnest. We talked about the where and why and when of the thing and it became quite clear to me that her heart is still in Maine. A place in Hatteras or Nags Head would be more convenient, accessible for spur of the moment, last minute weekend getaways. But Maine is much more beautiful, and carries with it the allure of magical memories. With a lake house in Maine, the logistics are horrible, but everything else is sublime.

So, we have begun the long, hard search for our "Maine Family Compound." It will be much more modest than the Bush's place in Kennebunkport, and won't require the Secret Service, but it will hopefully be a place where my family will make a million memories. 

A Pain In The...????

It seems that I have made mention of my neck a lot lately. That's because it's my...neck, and necks get no respect in the best of times, let alone when they are killing you.

Redneck...a pejorative.

"I stick my neck out for nobody..." Rick Blaine, Casablanca bar-owner

Where is the dreaded albatross placed?   Around one's neck

When you are being hounded and harassed by a person or thing, it is said to be what?? Breathing down your NECK!

An extreme irritation is said in polite company to be a pain in the NECK.

So, my neck has been giving me fits for quite a while. This is the same neck that locked up on me at my Dad's funeral and had me sprawled out on the carpet in the balcony for the last thirty minutes of the service...THAT neck. I'm told that there are two bulging disks at various stages of decrepitude, along with the beginnings of arthritis. There is no remedy other than three or four neck excercizes, an occasional muscle relaxer regimen, and Advil. My doctor says not to worry since at some point it will get bad enough for surgery and that might help. I think he views my neck as part of his business inventory, a future accounts receivable. 

Meanwhile, I have these two to three week flair ups where there's quite a bit of pain and sleep becomes difficult. This morning It actually woke me up with a sharp pain at 4:30 am. "good morning, old man" were it's exact words I believe. Later this afternoon, I will apply ice. All day I will pop Advil like M&M's. I will hope nobody sneaks up behind me from the left side, since I can't turn my head that way. But, I will not follow my wife's advice to..." not do anything that might hurt your neck! " To comply with this particular edict would require me laying down on a stretcher all day with my head in one of those stint boxes. Not gonna happen.

Besides, it's a temporary flair up. Eventually, things will calm down up there and I'll be fine. She will roll her eyes at me and mumble, " idiot..." under her breath just like Deborah on Everybody Loves Raymond. Just the other day she says to me, " I don't want you power washing the deck with that neck of yours." Yes...because everyone knows that excessive power washing is one of the leading causes of neck problems in America. In fact, I'm sure that over 50% of all neck related emergency room visits are caused by men power washing their decks. Where do women get these ideas??

The Man is a Marvel.

This past Sunday, having just returned from vacation, Pam and I missed church. Later we discovered that Vander Warner had been the speaker since Mark Becton was away. So, last night I saw where his sermon was posted online. I settled into my recliner and pressed play.

There he was, in a dark suit and red striped tie, looking virtually unchanged from how he looked twenty years ago standing in that very spot every Sunday as pastor of a Grove Avenue Baptist. Now well into his 80's, he has lost nothing off his fastball, still confident and commanding. He's the kind of presence in the pulpit that makes you sit up a little straighter in your pew because he might be about to say something profound. It didn't take long...

" It is too late in human history to waste time on Sunday mornings, too late for feel good sermons, too late not to care..."

At that point he could have dropped the microphone and walked off the stage. 

In that one artful sentence, the man encapsulated every bewildered, confused thought I have ever had about the efficacy of the church over the past ten years. In that one sentence he summed up the reason for the decline of faith in the public square. 

Then it occurred to me that in all the time I have sat under his preaching, although I may not have always agreed with every interpretation, or cared for every emphasis, Vander Warner Jr. has never wasted my time. God has always managed to speak a nugget of divine truth through him, and I have always been able to hear it, because he has always communicated it with such grace and lyrical precision. 

Vander freaking Warner. The man is a marvel.

Keeping Up With the Dunnevants

Yesterday, I wrote a blog about the Duggar controversy. Ever since, I've been wondering what a reality show about the Dunnevant family when I was growing up would look like. You know what I mean, right? Lots of close shots of us kids being asked questions by off-screen interviewers, a narrator describing Mom and Dad's parenting style in a deeply concerned voice, an unseen camera recording the madness for millions of viewers every week. It would be must-see TV.

Narrator: The Dunnevant family is a loud and boisterous clan of opinionated hotheads. Although they seem to hold each other in high esteem, the parenting style of the matriarch, Betty can be summed up best with the term, laissez-faire.

(Scene shifts to a ten year old Doug preparing to walk out of the house after breakfast on the first day of summer vacation)

Doug: Mom, I'm going to ride my bike.

Betty: Well, that's fine, but you better be back here before dark. I'm not holding up dinner for you if you're not!! And if you break your leg, don't come running to me!

Tight shot of Betty's face as interviewer asks...

Many people would be appalled at the lack of supervision and oversight that you and Emmett demonstrate over your children. Does it not concern you that your youngest son has been gone all day on his bike with God knows who?

Betty: Look, Douglas was born at night...but not last night! He's ten years old for crying out loud. He knows how to ride a bike. He can take care of himself.

Narrator: But, he's been gone all day and you have no way to reach him, you have no idea where he is or who he's with. Doesn't this concern you?

Betty: Let me get you something to eat, that's crazy talk! I know where he is...he's somewhere in Elmont on his bike. He's probably either with that Puryear boy or one of the Toombs kids. When he gets hungry, he'll be back.

Narrator: Speaking of eating, some of the Dunnevant children aren't exactly fond of their mother's autocratic menu planning, since she completely ignores their suggestions.

(Tight shot of Linda, the oldest daughter.)

Linda: Mom is on a liver and onions kick at the moment, we have it once a week. No matter how many times we complain about it, she doesn't fix us anything else. We have to either eat it or go hungry.

Narrator: (breathlessly) You actually go to bed hungry??

Linda: Well, no...that would be...stupid. We eat the liver and onions.

Narrator: But, I thought you just said you hated liver and onions.

Linda: Well sure...but on Wednesday nights we either eat it or go to bed hungry and who wants to do that?

(A montage of footage appears showing the children performing various jobs around the house, many of which are physically demanding and excessively rigorous. cut to tight shot of Emmett)

Narrator: Are you at all concerned that by forcing your kids to perform so many arduous chores, you might be doing real physical and emotional damage to them and their development?

Emmett: No.

(Cut to scene of Betty clanging two pans together at the bottom of the stairs at 7 am on a Saturday morning)

Betty: Time for you kids to get out of bed and come down to breakfast! Half of the day is gone, a today is blind cleaning day!!

(Cut to scene of Linda and Paula placing dusty aluminum blinds into the soapy water of the bath tub)

Linda: Where is Douglas? How come he gets to go ride his bike all day while we slave over these stupid blinds??

Betty: Now, y'all leave Douglas alone!

Narrator: The work is relentless and seemingly never ending. The Dunnevant family hierarchy seems determined to break every child labor law ever written.

(Cut to scene of Betty and oldest daughter Linda in a steamy kitchen canning tomatoes)

Linda: Seriously Mom, why is it that you pick literally the hottest day of the summer to do this??

(Cut to tight shot of Donnie, the oldest child)

Donnie: Mom and Dad are children of the Depression, so they both think that we'll starve every winter unless we can vegetables from the garden. Generally speaking, they are both cheapskates when it comes to food. Vegetable dinners every Tuesday is a perfect example!

Narrator: You mean to tell me that you have a meal once a week of all vegetables?? No meat at all?

Donnie: Afraid so. But that's not the worst of it, breakfast is the worst.

(Cut to scene of the entire family around the table at breakfast. There's a plate of homemade biscuits, a dish piled high with bacon, scrambled eggs and some grapefruit)

Paula: Mom, why do we always have to eat homemade stuff. All my friends get to eat Captain Crunch. Why can't we have Captain Crunch?

Betty: (excitedly) Well, it just so happens that your father and I went to the grocery store yesterday and bought you kids some boxed cereal!!

Kids: WOO HOO!!!!

( Betty disappears into the kitchen and emerges with a huge box of Quaker Oats Puffed Wheat)

Linda: What the heck is this?? It tastes like styrofoam!! 

Paula: This is disgusting!!

Emmett: See Betty? There's just no pleasing these kids!

Donnie: (Grabs the box)...Give me that! Yeah, says here,"Guaranteed to induce vomiting or your money back." (throws the box to Linda)

Linda: "Made from only the finest North American styrofoam."

Paula: I wanna see, I wanna see!

(Linda throws the box to Paula, it glances off her outstretched hands and flies over her head, crashing into the china cabinet sending a fine china cup crashing to the floor)

Doug: Great hands Paula...E-6!!

Emmett: And THIS is why we can't have nice things.

The Josh Duggar Scandal

Anyone who knows me well knows of my distaste for reality television. Survivor, Big Brother, Keeping Up With the Khardashians...never watched a single episode. Although my sister never misses a chance to pester me about how great Duck Dynasty and TopGear are, I've still refused to watch. And don't even get me started on The Bachelor or Celebrity Apprentice! Part of it is my stubbornness and contrarian streak. Honey Boo Boo may be the funniest thing ever, but I'm just not going to watch, partly just to irritate it's fans. But mostly, as a writer, I refuse to believe that in 2015 we've suddenly run out of stories to tell and must resort to watching the very worst of human behavior paraded, unscripted, in front of us every night. To call what happens on the shows I have listed above, reality, is one of the most disingenuous descriptions ever conceived by the mind of man. Does anyone seriously believe that the 24/7 presence of television cameras has no ability to alter...reality? Please.

So, having confessed to my reality television ignorance, the reader must keep this in mind when considering the opinion I am about to give on the scandal du jour in America at the moment...the Josh Duggar child molestation brouhaha. Although I have never watched a full episode of the 19 and Counting show, I must confess that I have seen bits and pieces of it while walking through my living room. Pam sometimes watches it, mostly in bewildered fascination at the incredulous fact that there exists a woman who willingly gave birth to 19 babies and survived. The fact that, generally speaking, the kids all seemed to get along and love each other was a bonus. The values on display in the show were also in sharp contrast to the normal narscicistic dysfunction celebrated elsewhere in the genre. For those of us who try to live a life of faith, the family's commitment to theirs was refreshing and seemed genuine. So, when the magazine InTouch leaked a police report that revealed the molestation history of Josh Duggar last week, all hell broke loose in the culture wars. Many on the left have had a field day with the story, thrilled to finally have proof of the too-good-to-be-true Duggar's hypocrisy. Conservatives, on the other hand, have largely rallied to their defense, suggesting some sort of journalistic conspiracy and pointing out that he was a minor at the time etc...and has since reformed.

Ugh.....

I'm not about to judge an entire family by the actions of one of its members. How many of us would hate being judged to be just like our crazy lunatic Uncle Pete? Every family is a mixed bag of saints and  sinners. Actually if I had brought 19 kids into this world and wound up with just one child molestor, I would consider that fine parenting indeed. However, what I will judge the Duggar's for is allowing their family story to be exploited by Hollywood in the first place. What kind of father would agree to allow cameras to become a permanent fixture in his home? What kind of parents would trade the sanctity and privacy of their family's life for the fame and fortune of a television contract? If you allow the barbarians into your house, don't be shocked when fame starts exacting its pound of flesh. You set yourself up as paragons of biblical virtue, then you better be prepared to deal with the heat when it's discovered that one of your kids is a pervert.

I wish the Duggar family no ill will. I would hate to see the amount of dirt that could be dug up about the Dunnevant family if I made myself a target by becoming a reality television star. But, I'm sure that by now they have made enough money to provide for even their expensive futures. Maybe now is the time  to get off the fame treadmill and go back to just being the Duggar family, those crazy people stuck on the letter J.