Two Political Jokes For Your Friday

John Kerry walks into a bar.

Bartender says, "Why the long face?"

Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi are having lunch, going over the latest Congressional approval numbers when Chuck says, "These numbers are terrible. The American people think we have lost touch with them, that we are all a bunch of pampered elitists. Nancy comes up with an idea. "Hey, how about you and I rent a dog and show up at a bar somewhere in Wyoming or someplace and buy everyone drinks. That will prove to everyone that we are just ordinary people, just like them! And who doesn't love dogs?"

So, they find a yellow lab at the local dog shelter

Then they hop a private jet and pretty soon they walk into the Cowboy Bar and Grill in Gillette, Wyoming just in time for happy hour, walk up to the bar and exclaim, "Free drinks on the house!" About ten minutes later a grizzled old rancher walks into the bar, walks up to Nancy and Harry, then reaches down and pulls up the dog's tail and carefully inspects his rear end, shakes his head and walks out. Fifteen minutes later, another rancher walks in and does the same thing...looks at the Congressmen, then inspects the poor dog's behind, then walks out. After three more such strange encounters, Harry Reid finally turns to the bartender and asks, "What's the deal with all of these guys lifting up our dog's tail?"

 The bartender answers, "Well, there's a rumor spreading around town that there's a dog in here with two assholes."

We Are Better Than This.

I had a coach years ago who whenever we would do something wrong would say, "You're better than that!" That's how I feel about the United States right now. Surely, we are better than this. The trouble is that it's hard to find the evidence, since good news doesn't sell. Until this morning.

I posted the story on my Facebook page about a chance encounter between a mother who was about to go into labor and two strangers an hour away. To read about it is like taking a long hot shower after a day of yard work. Here's what happened:

A lady was about to go into labor at a hospital somewhere in Florida or Georgia. So she sent out a group text to family and friends appraising everyone of the situation. One of the people on her group text no longer used the cell number she had...so it was sent to someone else. The young man who received the text replied something like, "Ha, I think this text was meant for someone else, but congratulations!" When the expectant parents apologized for the mistake, the stranger replied, "no problem, my brother and I will come by later to get pictures with your baby!" What followed was about the sweetest, most decent thing I've run across in a very long time. Even though the hospital in question was over an hour's drive from the young man, Dennis Williams along with his brother Deorick not only made the drive, but incredibly, thought to stop at a store and buy some diapers, pacifiers and bottles as gifts.

Listen, we live in a screwed up world. Each morning's news paper is like a roll call of human failure. But, there are still good people all around us. Decent human beings who can take a half a day to drive an hour to bring gifts to a total stranger to help them celebrate the birth of their child. This story is made even more wonderful because these two stalwart human beings are African-Americans, and the new parents are white. 

God bless the Williams brothers for their generous spirits and for proving to all of us that we can be...better than this.

Brussels

This time, it was Brussels, another suicide bomb attack in an airport and a subway station. 30 killed, hundreds wounded. The bombs contained nails, we were told. There's a video showing terrified travelers cowering behind their luggage. There are grisly photographs of the carnage and one grainy one of the bombers walking through the airport minutes before the detonation. I stared at it for several minutes, wondering what must have been going through their minds at such a moment. Were they afraid? Ecstatic at the prospect of their virgins? Or simply ablaze with religious zeal, delirious at the thought of administering judgement on the infidels?

The President of France made a statement. Something about how an attack on Brussels was an attack on all of Europe. Our President inserted a 51 second diversion from his prepared remarks in Cuba to express solidarity with the Belgian people. Later, during remarks to an ESPN reporter at a baseball game, he mentioned how this latest attack was another reminder of how the world needed to stand together against terrorism and violence. Some commentator mentioned NATO and the words of it's charter which require us, the U.S. to respond militarily. Another pundit mentioned that these types of attacks seem to target European cities rather than American one's of late. Yet another spoke of the symbolism and propaganda victory it was for ISIS to pull off an attack in the literal capital of the European Union and headquarters of NATO.

Our Presidential candidates held to form. Donald Trump immediately called for tighter control of our border and tightened immigration. Hillary Clinton immediately dispatched a Tweet declaring that "Muslims are peaceful and tolerant people and have nothing whatsoever to do with terrorism." I would have thought that this Tweet might have sounded less rediculously clueless had she used the modifier..."most,". 

The European commentariat took to drawing touching cartoons of weeping Belgians being comforted by their empathetic EU brothers. The Eiffle Tower was lit up in Belgian colors last night. Soon, hashtag campaigns will sprout up like daffodils in April. My Facebook feed will become festooned with the Belgian flag. We will all become Belgian for a week. Then we will go back to our lives and wait for the next great city of western civilization to be besieged. Who will it be? Prague? Berlin, Budapest, Barcelona? Munich, Madrid, Valencia? Whoever it turns out to be, we can be relied upon to express solidarity with the victims, and to pledge to do whatever it takes to wipe out the scourge of international terrorism from the face of the earth.

That, and a couple of lira might buy you a cappuccino in Valencia.

Thinking Nervously About Noah

"Americans More Skeptical of God Than Ever..." was the headline that caught my eye on Drudge this morning. 

On a related note, God Isn't Terribly Thrilled With Us At The Moment Either, would have been a nice companion story.

Every few years we see these surveys taken which attempt to measure the religious beliefs of Americans. All of the trends seem to suggest that we have lost or are in the process of losing our faith. There is plenty of room for quibbling with the data. While belief in God is declining, interest in spirituality had been on the upswing...until this latest survey which has even that slipping away. In addition, belief in God and membership and identification with one of the many churches claiming to represent him are two different things. But even here, the numbers don't look good. Membership and attendance are way down across the board. All of which leaves me with the nagging question of, which came first? Have we abandoned our faith because we have become such horrible, selfish people...or have we become horrible, selfish people because we have abandoned our faith? I'll leave that one to the theologians.

As I survey the world around me, I come to the inescapable conclusion that if I were God, I would wash my hands of all of us. God is patient and kind and long suffering, we are informed by the book of Psalms. Well, it's a good thing, or we would all be toast. When I observe how we treat each other down here, the greed, the hatred, the ugliness, I've got to think that there's a part of God that is getting increasingly pissed off. Back in Noah's day, we learned that God's famous forebearence had limits. The stuff they were doing back then seems like entry level degradation compared to a typical Tuesday afternoon on the Internet today.

At this point, I'd settle for some basic human decency. Sometimes, I'll find some story of a homeless guy who stumbles across a wad of 100 dollar bills that has fallen out of someone's pocket. I watch the video of the guy spending 15 minutes trying to find the owner, then when that fails he finds some of his homeless friends and shares his largesse with all of them. On the one hand, the story warms my heart, on the other hand it shames me because I know that most "respectable people" in a similar situation might have tried (briefly) to find the owner, but afterwards would have pocketed every red nickel. Would I have sought out five of my friends to share the money with? Uh...no. This, I believe is at the root of our problem.mthe more stuff we have, the less important our fellow man becomes to us. The homeless guy has nothing, except those he shares his life on the streets with. They are his prized possessions. The words of Jesus ring true, "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

What Do I Want For My Birthday?

Exactly two weeks from today, I will endure another birthday. It will be my 58th. Pretty soon my wife will ask me what I want for my birthday. I will offer one of my famously frustrating answers, "I really can't think of anything. Whatever you get will be fine." She will rightly point out that this is not an answer. The problem is that everything that I want is either too expensive, or too theoretical. How exactly to you wrap up, calmness? In what size box do you place, peace?

Don't misunderstand me, I have many reasons to celebrate April the 3rd, not the least of which is that it sure beats the alternative. In ways large and small, I have lived a blessed life. It has featured more victory than defeat, more health than illness, and more wealth than poverty. It was my very good fortune to be raised by two extraordinary parents, and surrounded by three loving siblings. I married far beyond my station and brought two exemplary children into this world. I received a hard won education, started and built a business of my own from scratch. Along the way I have found friends to share it all with. And yet...

This is where one must be careful. It is difficult to speak of anxiety and disenchantment without sounding like a whiner. Indeed, it may be impossible. We are about to find out, I suppose. This year, as I approach April 3rd, I do so with an odd heaviness, a weight of doubt. Many things contribute to the weight, and none of them particularly stand out as the prime culprit. In no particular order, here they are...

1. I miss my kids.

My children are grown and gone, and this is a fabulous and happy thing. Both of them have become independent adults, valuable additions to their communities and terrific human beings. I am quite proud of both of them. My oldest, Kaitlin, a world class teacher of the English language to middle schoolers, married a fabulous young man who has proven his mettle both as a husband and provider. My son, Patrick, is a hard working businessman and musician who has carved out a nice life for himself the old fashioned way...by working hard and well. The trouble with all of this is that they are miles and miles away from us. Columbia, South Carolina and Nashville, Tennessee are not cities where you drop by for dinner when you live in Short Pump, Virginia. So, they live and build their full lives without us. Yes, we text, talk and FaceTime. Yes, we plan vacations together. But, neither of them are here, and that fact has left a vacuum. When they start having kids of their own the vacuum will become a canyon.

2. Running a business isn't nearly as fulfilling as starting one.

Establishing myself in the investment advisory business was no small feat. I nearly quit a hundred times. But eventually, I was able to make a go of it, and it has been a rewarding career. Of course, the hand maiden of my work is often debilitating stress. As a younger man, I never gave it a second thought. The older I have gotten, the harder it has become to manage. 

3. I miss my parents.

My mom died nearly four years ago. My dad followed her two years later. I have never fully recovered from their loss. I don't weep, I'm not paralyzed by depression. But hardly a week goes by when at least once I think of how much I want to pick up the phone and hear their voices on the other end of the line. There are so many things I wish I could tell them, things I want to ask them about. But, it's too late for that. Instead, I must rely on my increasingly faded memories.

4. I have become spiritually homeless.

It has been a long, slow process, but I have become disconnected from the Baptist denomination in general and my home church of 27 years in particular. Most of this disconnection is my own fault. There is nothing especially horrible about my church. In many ways it is a remarkable place with a proud and noble heritage of faith. For me, it has become irrelevant to the realities of life in 2016. Nothing much has changed about the place since I joined as a young man. As life has gotten more complicated and much more serious, it's casual air of informality has begun to irritate me. I guess I'm longing for spiritually sterner stuff, something which finds its roots in an earlier century, a liturgy that wasn't conjured up in the 1950's, but rather closer to AD 50.

But, enough with all of this self reflection. What do I want for my birthday? It's simple really:

I want a week in Key West, in a villa on Sunset Key where Jon and Kaitlin can have one bedroom, Patrick's wonderful girlfriend, Sarah, can have another, and Patrick can sleep on a pull out sofa in the den. Pam and I will have the master bedroom which has its own private deck overlooking the blue ocean. While we are there, the stock market will go up every day, and all of my clients will be deliriously happy with their portfolios in my absence. At the end of a sandy road in an obscure corner of the island, we will find an Evangelical-Anglican-Holiness church with a 100 voice choir and sixty piece professional orchestra, where the guest speaker will be a hologram of C.S. Lewis. After a thunderous adaptation of an anthem by Handel, special music will be supplied by Steven Curtis Chapman accompanying himself on a Martin six string after he shared the inspiring story of the lives of Emmett and Betty Dunnevant.

Got all that, Pam?

Worst Case Scenario

Ok kids, it's the day after St. Patrick's Day, the perfect time to contemplate worst case scenarios.

As I survey the dystopian carnage that is the political landscape of 2016, a couple of things seem apparent. At this point it no longer serves any purpose to pretend that the coming train wreck can be avoided, so let's dive into the abyss, shall we?

1. Donald Trump will either win the Republican nomination outright, or go to the convention with a majority of the delegates. In either case, the Republican Party hierarchy will come up with some way to deny him the nomination, either by way of some imaginative rule interpretation or outright thievery. If they stiff The Donald, there probably will be riots. Only, this time the riots will not be celebrated by the left or contextualized by the media like the ones in Ferguson and Baltimore. There will be no faculty lounge talk of legitimate expressions of rage by the dispossessed. No, these riots will be the old fashioned kind.

2. Upon leaving Cleveland, what's left of the Republican Party will be running someone like Jeb Bush, or John Kasich or Paul Ryan as their compromise candidate. The Donald will no doubt launch a third party bid for the Presidency. Having thus split the opposition, Hillary Clinton will sweep to an electoral college victory with only a plurality of the vote( just like her husband in 1992 ). She, of course, will misinterpret this as a mandate. On the heels of the Republican Party crackup, Democrats will take back both houses of Congress.

Admittedly, I paint a bleak picture, but isn't that what worst case sceneries are? Only this particular WCS isn't so far fetched. Which brings me to a question that I have privately been pondering ever since I heard Trump explain how highly educated he was by saying, "I have lots of words, I have the best words." What is to become of my country on November the 9th, 2016 when she only has one functioning national political party?"

As feckless and incompetent as they have often been, the Republican Party has at least provided a break on some of the more unhinged tendencies of the party of government. Although the Republican Party shares much of the blame for our 19 Trillion dollar national debt, can you imagine how high that number would be if Washington was only inhabited by people who wake up every morning salivating at the prospect of spending other people's money? And while examples of Republicans actually trying to reduce spending come along about as rarely as Thursday night sex, with only Democrats around, will the idea ever make another appearance in the public discussion? Having a political party in Washington that at least made an attempt to temper the boundless expansion of government, I like to think, has helped preserve what it left of the entrepreneurial instincts of this country. But when the Republican Party dies, then all that will be left is a triumphant, jubilant and emboldened Socialist project that no longer has to pay lip service to free enterprise. Thanks, Donald.

What are the alternatives to my worst case scenario?

1. Donald Trump wins the Republican nomination and sweeps into the White House with Republican majorities in the House and Senate.

2. Ted Cruz wins the Republican nomination on the second ballot in Cleveland, names John Kasich as his compromise VP, and this odd couple beat Hillary Clinton in November. Donald Trump, ever gracious in defeat, campaigns tirelessly for the Cruz-Kasich ticket.

The chances of either of these two coming to pass are roughly equivalent to Snoop Dogg's chances of landing the role of Captain Von Trapp in the coming remake of The Sound of Music.

So, until something more plausible comes along, I'll stick to doomsday.

Horrible Working Conditions?

Adam LaRoche is a left handed, power hitting, slick fielding first baseman for the Chicago White Sox...or at least he was until the other day when he suddenly announced his retirement from baseball at age 35. When the announcement came down I was shocked. He might not be in his prime, but he is still an outstanding player. Oh, and by retiring he will forfeit his $13,000,000.00 salary for 2016. The explanation he gave was "personal reasons."

I'm particularly interested in this story because LaRoche is a former Washington National, and I enjoyed watching him play there. By all accounts, he was not only a terrific player but a great clubhouse guy, popular not only with the fans but with his teammates as well. The little guy in the picture? That's Adam's son, Drake. They are practically inseparable. In his time in Washington, Drake was a constant clubhouse presence, sort of a team mascot.

It's not every day when a professional athlete voluntarily walks away from 13 million dollars. While it's true that during Mr. LaRoche's 12 year career he has banked nearly 70 million dollars, still...walking away from 13 more is rare. My first thought was...maybe his wife is ill, maybe some sort of family thing.

But then the story came out that the reason he was retiring from the game was indeed a family matter. White Sox general manager Ken Williams had apparently asked LaRoche to stop bring his son to work every day. It was Williams' position that a baseball clubhouse was not an appropriate place for a kid to spend all of his time, and besides, if every player brought their kids to work the place would turn into a zoo and somebody would end up getting hurt. LaRoche's response was, ok, if I can't bring my boy to work, then I won't come either.

Wow.

The reaction has so far been overwhelmingly positive in favor of LaRoche's stand. Former teammates have tweeted their support. Fans have hailed his devotion to his son. It's been a love fest.

So, why do I think he's nuts?

Listen, I love my kids, love being with them, love sharing life with them.  I've even brought them into my office on occasion. But is it an unreasonable request for an employer to ask an employee to leave their kid at home once in a while? No matter how much money LaRoche makes, he's still an employee. The boss gets to make the rules, and if he says no kids in the clubhouse, well, that's the way it's got to be, right? The White Sox planned their season assuming that Adam LaRoche was going to be their first baseman.  Now they've got to come up with a plan B because their guy got all butt hurt because Drake can't come to work with him? I'm sorry. Be a professional! Doesn't the kid have, like...school or something? 

The cynic in me is thinking that this is all a stunt to get LaRoche out of Chicago. Maybe he wants to play for someone else and he thinks that by threatening to retire, the Sox will trade him somewhere else. If not, and it actually IS all about the kid, sorry, it's stupid. Yet another pampered athlete that can't manage to play a game for which he gets paid an insane amount of money, unless he gets his way.

Is this yet another job that Americans won't do?