Eating Well

I'm generally not a foodie. I don't often feel compelled to take pictures of what I'm about to eat, then plaster it all over social media to make other people jealous. But, I'm about to make an exception. Now, if you are on some sort of trendy diet, or gluten-free, or vegetarian, vegan, or into juicing or souping, or some such thing, you may want to go to your safe space right about now...

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, from where I come from, this is fine dining. First of all, it was a delightful 72 degrees with a heavenly breeze wafting across the confined back yard of our suburban estate. Any meal served al fresco is better than what you're eating inside.  Secondly, those are two New York strip steaks seasoned with some sort of amazing herb rub and grilled on my Commercial Series Char-Grill 2000, 7 minutes a side, flipped only once. There's also a serving of fresh corn, scraped off the cob fifteen minutes ago, then sautéed up in a pan of butter.

Now, I know what all of you are thinking...who eats pizza with steak?? Actually, I would be willing to try such a combination..what's not to like? But, that gorgeous pizza-shaped dish is not pizza at all. It's perhaps my favorite summer meal, number one on a long list of delicious concoctions that my sainted wife of 32 years is known for whipping up. It's called a Caprese Tart. It features tomatoes, mozzarella and parmesan cheese, with fresh basil and olive oil enveloped by a delicate, crispy crust. It tastes like summer exploding in your mouth.

I have no earthly idea how good or bad this meal was for us. I don't know the calorie count, am clueless whether or not the cow who gave the last full measure of devotion for this meal was free-range or not. For all I know, the corn and tomatoes might have been (gasp!) genetically modified!

Here's what I know, until fifty years ago this meal would have been literally fit for a king, since regular, ordinary people have historically never eaten this well. All of the ingredients for this feast were obtained at reasonable prices from a clean, well lit grocery store four minutes from our house. The line Pam stood in to buy this bounty was three deep at the high end. The entire shopping trip consumed twenty minutes of her time. I remember when the old Soviet Union introduced the world to three hour waits for daily bread rations. Today I read about the people of Venezuela standing in lines literally all day for enough food to keep them alive long enough to stand in line tomorrow. Over half the world is malnourished and we Americans beclown ourselves obsessing over the latest paleo/cro-magnon  diet while sipping our artisan craft water from environmentally sustainable containers. Instead of feeling guilty for living in a country of such abundance, how about we shed all this phony baloney false consciousness, and be grateful?

Oh yeah...that's sweet iced tea. And yes, with real sugar. God bless America.

Hope For America

Today, I would like to lay to rest two pernicious lies that have been circulated among the American people. Number one...that the Internet is a cesspool of worthless information that is making us all dumber, and number two...that Americans don't create things anymore, that we have forgotten how to innovate.

As many of you know, as a suburbanite, I fight a never ending battle to protect my house and my vegetables from squirrels. Up until now, my weapon of choice has been my Daisy Powerline 35...effective but inefficient, and increasingly unsatisfying. But now, thanks to the glorious Internet and good old American creativity and know how, I have discovered the greatest invention since the cheese straightener. For some reason the inventor has not (yet) attempted to name or mass produce this beauty, but a few suggestions immediately come to mind...

The Ejecto-Pest

The Critter Cattapult

Squirrel-be-Gone

Loser Launcher

It's easy to look around, especially in an election year, and fall into despair at the state of our nation. But then you stumble upon an example of the full flower of American ingenuity, and suddenly...all is right with the world. If America is still capable of this, then we can survive anything that Clinton and trump can throw at us!

I'm Actually Gonna Miss Bernie

The always vigilant American media are unanimous this morning, something truly historic happened last night. I have read three breathless accounts of how Hillary Clinton has become the first woman in history to win a major party nomination for President of the United States. It might even be more historic than when Barack Obama became the first African American to do so a mere eight years ago. If Hillary were a black woman, American journalists would all be needing smelling salts. The only things standing in the way of her relentless 16 year quest for the White House is that pesky FBI investigation and an increasingly unhinged Donald Trump. In the year of the outsiders, Hillary is holding the banner of the Oligarchy high.

I never thought I would say this, but I'm feeling a little sorry for Bernie this morning. I'm gonna miss the guy. At a time of obscene amounts of corporate money and mega donors, this 74 year old Socialist raised a boatload of cash...$25 at a time. He energized an army of millenials despite the fact that most of his policy prescriptions would have eventually bankrupted all of them. On policy 80% of his ideas were based on the premise that the wealthiest 5% of Americans would sit still for handing over 60% of every dime they earned, that this new level of income confiscation would have zero impact on the economy, and that the government could be trusted to do nothing but fabulous things with the new trillions flowing happily into the Treasury. But, there was more to Sanders than 1960's left wing Asshattery. He was actually right about some things. Modern America is controlled by a small group of Oligharchs. Very rich and very connected people in business and politics do successfully thwart the will of the American people. There is way too much money in politics. The most powerful and important  street in America isn't Pennsylvania Avenue or Constitution Avenue. It's K street. So, what did we do? We just nominated an admitted influence peddler and buyer of politicians, and the single most bought off politician since Boss Tweed. Crazy Bernie, indeed!

So, pretty soon we won't have the Vermont Socialist to kick around anymore. No more of this...

Or this...

I'm betting that shirt was bought off the wrack at J.C. Penney, and I also bet he paid for it with his own money. And that hair? If the guy had any Madison Avenue political advisers in his crew I'm sure they were constantly handing him a comb. But what's endearing about Bernie is that he obviously didn't care how he looked. Until last night, we had three candidates left. Only one of them was honorable, and he has now left the building.

Hillary. 6-6-16.

In a remarkably fortuitous turn of events, Hillary Clinton has clinched the Democratic nomination exactly 24 hours before the last big round of primaries, by somehow flipping a handful of super delegates. The story broke last night. Upon reading it at the Politico, I could practically hear that maniacle cackle of hers as she celebrated by drowning kittens in a marble bowl full of blood...it was 6-6-16 after all!

My son texted me the news. He was angry and suspicious...and had a right to be. He considered it a dirty trick designed to suppress turnout in today's California primary, and was convinced that the alleged persuasion of the super delegates involved several large checks. I reminded him that Bernie's supporters would walk through fire to vote for him, Hillary's supporters wouldn't walk through a gentle rain for her. If anyone should worry about voters not showing up because of this bombshell eleventh hour news, it was Hillary. This point seemed to calm him down a little. In fairness to my son, he isn't a full-on Bernie socialist. He disagrees with some of his positions. But Patrick rightly points out that Sanders is the only candidate who has campaigned against the culture of corruption and big money that has overtaken the system. Now, he's about to be vanquished by the Cruella de Vil of corruption, the Nurse Ratchet of cronyism. Disgusted, Patrick moans, "So, now I'm left with voting for either the Corruptor or the Corrupted."

Of course, there is a third choice...one that would put us all out of our misery, the Sweet Meteor of Death, or SMOD 2016. But, that's in God's hands. For now, ladies and gentlemen...your Democratic and Republican Party nominees for President of the United States...

My Trials and Tribulations

My Dad took this picture of me last night. He does this a lot, takes pictures of me for no reason. I haven't felt well lately. My shoulder hurts. I went to the very scary Vet last week and she said I hurt it chasing the frisbee. So now Dad won't throw it to me anymore. Plus, every time we go outside, I have to stay on the leash, even in my backyard! It's terrible. The worst part is, they have blocked off the stairs. That means I have to sleep downstairs by myself. I don't understand why I can't go upstairs. It's not fair! Oh, and Kaitlin came home yesterday and because of this new stair rule, I can't even wake her up by jumping on her bed and scaring the crap out of her like I love to do. No wonder I look sad in this picture!

Well, last night was the last straw. There I was sleeping in the library where they have banished me...when suddenly I felt it. There was a thunderstorm coming! My humans are the bravest people ever. They sit there watching television or reading even in the middle of the most horrifying downpours you've ever seen! Even when the yellow flashes come, they hardly look up from whatever it is they are doing. I've never seen such valor. But just because they aren't concerned about the instant death that these storms bring doesn't mean I have to go along with their madness. No sir! At the first hint of trouble, I head for Mom's walk-in closet. It's nice and dark and not nearly so noisy. I stay there shaking until the terror is over, then come out to find my humans acting like nothing ever happened. I worry about them sometimes.

Anyway, last night this terrible storm came through and I instinctively headed upstairs to save myself when I realized that there was a piano bench blocking my escape route. I have to admit, I panicked a little. I thought about peeing for a minute but thankfully got ahold of myself. I tried whining, but they couldn't hear me. My Mom could seriously sleep through anything. So I knew it was either me or that piano bench. Even though my humans have both told me a thousand times this past week not to jump or run, I knew it was my only hope. Besides, they were both fast asleep and couldn't see me. First I thought about grabbing the bench by one of its legs and dragging it out of the way, but thought better of it. My humans have this thing about chewing on the furniture. I know, they're weird that way. I knew that my only solution was going to be jumping over the bench and somehow landing on the stairs beyond without jamming up my shoulder even worse than it already is. So, I went for it. I landed it like a boss, I must say!

Soon, I was shaking safely in my storm closet and eventually the killer storm passed. Dodged an enormous bullet, I did. But I have a feeling that my horror isn't over. I keep picking up dark rumors of a long trip in my future...something about a lake, and a place called Maine. It sounds sketchy. 

The King is Dead

Muhammad Ali died last night. I'm sure that all of social media will soon be awash in testimonials, and most of them will be over the top with high praise. I don't intend to fall into that trap. While Ali was perhaps the greatest athlete I have ever seen in my life and without question the greatest fighter, that's pretty much where the accolades should end.

Ali was a contemporary of Martin Luther King and the two were a universe apart from each other. The day that Cassius Clay embraced the Nation of Islam and its maniacally racist leader, Elijah Muhammad, Ali chose segregation over integration...King's words, not mine. Ali's relentless narcissistic chanting of "I'm the greatest of all time!!"...flew in the face of what most Americans wanted in their heroes. No one wanted their own children to develope such levels of self regard. When he decided that his "religious convictions" prevented him from fighting for his country, while allowing him to fight for money, well, most people didn't buy it. 

Still, I was a seven year old kid living in New Orleans when he stood scowling and defiant over a fallen Sonny Liston in this iconic photograph. Over the next three years I watched most of his fights on our old RCA Victor black and white television in our cramped apartment. We always cheered for his opponents...Floyd Patterson, George Chuvalo, Zora Folley, Jerry Quarry. It was like watching a man fighting little boys. Ali was a thing of beauty, graceful, perfectly built, with lightening fast hands. They didn't stand a chance. After the fights there was no salute to the fallen, only semi-poetic gloating.

So, I was no fan of Ali the man and will not engage in the revisionist history that will rise up over the next few days about him. But, I was amazed at Ali the fighter who actually was the greatest of all time. So that is how I will choose to remember him, a great and iconic boxer...and nothing more.

On a happier note, my sweet daughter finished her third year of teaching yesterday and this morning is headed to Short Pump to attend the baby shower of one of her best friends...which means that she will be staying here for the next two days. I fully intend to spoil her rotten.

Trump and the Press

Part of me really doesn't want to write this. Regular readers are aware of my views on Donald Trump. Generally speaking, I find him to be an embarrassment. Despite what follows here, I still have no intention of voting for the man...but... I have to say that I do enjoy watching him with the press.

For as long as I can remember, I have loathed members of the fourth estate. I understand their importance in a healthy democracy and have zero interest in silencing them. But, I still hate them for several reasons. First of all, I know basically what their world view is, and it isn't mine. The vast majority of the White House press corp voted for Obama and would never even consider voting for a conservative anything. They all insist that their near unanimous liberal voting record in no way effects their reporting. I don't believe them. Well, I believe that they believe that, but I don't because it's impossible. My political beliefs certainly have an impact on what I think about politicians, and so do yours. But reporters expect us to believe that the fact that practically all of their colleagues believe the same thing about politics doesn't in any way affect the way they report the news, the type of questions they ask, and the questions they don't ask. It's a ridiculous notion.

Most of the presidential candidates I have supported over the years have been eviserated by the press at every opportunity, and with very few exceptions my guys have mostly just taken it as a given. Now comes Donald Trump. Practically every member of the national press has made it clear that they despise him...and with good reason. But instead of meekly submitting to their hatred, he has decided to dish it right back at them. Gone are the polite non-responses. Gone is the false pretense of friendship. It's like Trump is thinking, "Ok, you want to destroy me? Not if I destroy you first!"

Couple of days ago he called one reporter a sleeze, another a real beauty. One breathless reporter asked him if he had a problem with scrutiny and if he becomes President will his dismissive treatment of the press continue. Trump shot back..."I love scrutiny, what I don't like is lies. I find that political journalist are the most dishonest people in the world, and if I become President, yes I will continue to dismiss you guys"...or words to that effect.

Now, set aside for a moment the irony of Donald Trump lecturing anyone about honesty, when I watch him interacting with the pampered elitist national press corps this way, something in my heart thinks..."damn right!!!...and finally, somebody has the guts to call out these biased hacks!"

Of course in Trump's case, he also threatens to try to pass laws that would make it easier to sue the press, which is a horrible idea, not to mention unconstitutional. I don't want the press censored in any way. The fact that most of them are Democratic Party water carriers is just the way things are and will probably always be...and I'm ok with that. But it is refreshing to listen to a Presidential candidate treat them accordingly.