These People...

Decency.

I wake up this morning in the beautiful Smoky Mountains, read the news from overnight and my soul longs for...decency. Someone, anyone, man or woman, rich or poor, Democrat or Republican, just someone with an ounce of decency to rise up and be counted. I'm starving here.

The Great Unpersuadables

With the release of the Donald Trump locker room talk video, I have noticed something. It has changed nobody's mind. Trump haters hate him even more, and Trump lovers have somehow found more to love. The American people have become the Great Unpersuadables.

I actually read a tweet today from someone who was making the case post-video that it has always been men of great failings that God has chosen to use for his purposes, comparing Mr. Trump favorably to King David. Some lady declared that now that she has heard the video, she has found even more reasons to love him. Many evangelicals were quick to point out that they have never thought Trump to be a paragon of virtue. Still others have played the, but what about Bill Clinton's rapes?? Some were quick to compare Trump's video trash talk with Hillary's Benghazi failings, Trump's locker room talk didn't get anyone killed,  apparently meant as a mic-drop debate stopper.

All of this is setting up Sunday's debate to be possibly the single most disgusting gutter-scraping public spectacle in American history. It may be the first presidential debate which will require a bleeping censor. In the past 24 hours, the words p***y and f**k have been introduced as evidence in the case of U.S Press v. Donald Trump. Not to be outdone, the Trump camp has via the U.K. Daily Mail entered the phrase attributed to Bill Clinton that his wife had "***** **** p***y than he had" into the public record. So, try to imagine the dignity and decorum that will be on display when our two presidential candidates take the town hall stage Sunday Night. It will be Beavis and Butt Head meats the Jim Lehrer Hour. It has come to this . . . A presidential debate needs a disclaimer:

The following program contains adult situations and adult language. Parental discretion is advised.

My Weekend

This is our view for the next few days. That's Gatlinburg, Tennessee . . . or as it's known in some quarters, Hillbilly Vegas. 

This is the deck that overlooks the view. All things considered, better than laying down tar with the chain gang in Cool Hand Luke.

And, this is the main floor living room and kitchen where much baseball will be watched. Yes, that is a container of cowboy cookies, and yes, despite the early hour, I have already had one. Thanks, Paula!

Once all the kids get here, photographs of them may follow.

The Real October Surprise

Conor Gillaspie. You heard of him? Me neither. But this is playoff baseball and this is how it works, especially if you're the San Francisco Giants. I've been watching these guys do this for ten years now it seems. In other years it was Cody Ross or Marco Scutaro. In still others it was Joe Panik or Brandon Crawford. None of these guys are hall of famers. They won't make anybody's all star team. But once the calander flips to October, they come out of the woodwork in the city by the bay.

Conor freaking Gillaspie, who earlier this year was anonymously toiling away in the Pacific Coast league, who was a former first round pick of these same Giants back in 2008 only to be unceremoniously traded away a few years later, walked up to the plate last night in the ninth inning of a scoreless tie with two on and one out and turned around a 96 mph fastball from one of the best closers in baseball. He did this with a million eyes on him, just him. He was no nickel back in a prevent defense that blends in with the furniture in football. Baseball is the ultimate team game, but the irony is, the game features a series of 27 one on one matchups. Just you and the pitcher. And in October with the game on the line, those matchups feature the white hot glare of millions of eyes.

Sometimes it's the big stars who are the heros. Madison Bumgarner is a big star and he was a hero last night. Tuesday night it was Jose Bautista and Edwin Encarnacion, big stars who basked in the glory of the limelight. But baseball always gives us a Conor Gillaspie.

God how I do love this game.

Winners and Losers

Great baseball game last night. I picked the Bluejays to win despite the fact that they are an overwhelmingly unlikeable team. I'm not totally sure why this is. Maybe it's their beer can hurling fans, maybe it's the supremely arrogant, bat-flipping, look at ME star, Jose Bautista, or maybe it's just my xenophobic grudge against Canadian baseball teams. But, I make my baseball predictions purely on the merits, not with my heart. So I'm one for one. However, I might not have been if the Orioles had been managed by practically any other manager in baseball.

All of my baseball life I have been told about the brilliant baseball mind that dwells inside the dome of one Buck Showalter. Maybe so. Maybe the dude has forgotten more about baseball than I've ever known. But apparently last night he forgot that the best closer in baseball was on his roster. Instead of bringing Zachary Britton into the game with two on and one out and the season on the line in the bottom of the 11th inning, he decided to leave the hapless Ubaldo Jimenez on the hill, he of the ugly 5.44 ERA. The rest, as they say, is history. Nice job, Buck. That's like deciding to pick up your hot date in your rusted out 1975 Pinto and leaving the bright red Maserati in the garage. That's like deciding to serve the President of the United States corn beef and cabbage while there's filet mignon in the fridge. That's like . . . well you get it.

But that's the great thing about baseball. It's the great game of what ifs.

Yesterday was one of those days. I knew it was going to be a stressful pressure cooker long before the sun came up. It was set up for stress. I had three high anxiety appointments, and three administrative foul ups to mitigate, all before lunch. But, it's the paperwork stuff that's the worst. My invaluable administrative goddess, Kristin, was on vacation, which left me and my sledgehammer personality to try and deal with the sort of bureaucratic knitwittery that requires patience and forbearance. It had the potential to get ugly. But, some sort of miracle happened. I actually was able to steady myself, rein in my worst instincts, and spend an hour and forty five minutes on the telephone communicating with idiots and morons without so much as a "wait a gosh darn minute!" All three problems got resolved in my favor without acrimony or bloodshed. It was a beautiful thing.

Today will be equally stressful, as Pam and I prepare for our weekend getaway in Gatlinburg with the kids. Heading west and to higher ground seems like one of my better ideas considering the weekend forecast! Yep, watching playoff baseball on a 60 inch flatscreen in a luxury cabin high up in the Smoky Mountains with my family seems like a top five decision of 2016 to me!

Two Nightmares

Here's a couple of nightmare scenarios for you to ponder on this fine Tuesday morning five weeks from election day 2016.

Nightmare number one.

The final polls before Election Day show Hillary Clinton with a sizable lead as Donald Trump's campaign begins to unravel in an orgy of incoherent ramblings and eleventh hour kitchen sink vitriol. Every major national poll has Clinton winning by 7-10 points, with an electoral college rout in the making. But as the votes are counted, the punditry class is shocked to discover that the polls were wrong. The race is razor thin close. Apparently, an awful lot of people lie to pollsters. The number one trending topic on Twitter and Facebook becomes the Wilder Effect. The nation is shocked to wake up on November 9th to discover that Donald Trump has pulled off the upset of the century, eeking out a 49%- 47% victory. When the results are announced, riots break out in almost every major city in the country as an alliance of Black Lives Matter, Occupy Wall Street, the AFL-CIO, and  La Rasa take to the streets. Accusations start to fly. The election was stolen! The Koch Brothers are blamed for rigging the machines. The basket of deplorables are accused of depressing the black vote. Barack Obama declares martial law to quell the violence.

Nightmare number two.

The final polls don't give much comfort to either side. Some show Clinton ahead, others give Trump the edge. An exhausted country trudges to the polls to get the whole thing over with. To the surprise of literally everyone, Hillary Clinton outperforms her poll numbers in record breaking fashion, winning a huge percentage of not only the black vote, but the Latino vote as well. The much feared angry white hick vote fails to materialize, especially in rural areas where Trump had polled so well. A broad coalition of minorities and women rise up to deliver Clinton a landslide popular vote victory of 56%-42% and an electoral college blowout. When the election is called at 10:30 eastern standard time, news reports of violence begins to spread. Trump supporters are convinced that the fix was in. They take to the streets and begin attacking gatherings of celebrating democrats in every major city in the country. The nation is horrified to see the violence spill into hotel ballrooms on all the television networks. Barack Obama orders the networks to go dark and declares martial law.

Unfortunately, neither of these scenarios seem far fetched to me. I live in a country where either of these outcomes seem plausible. We are so decided. The rhetoric has gotten so shrill. The distrust and even hatred across the aisle seems so intense. Either of these could happen.

Here's what I hope. All I want is for whoever wins, to win convincingly and for there to be no shocking result either way. Because if somebody comes out of nowhere in this race, the other side isn't going to accept the result. Confidence in the system is at an all time low. We better have a clean decision, or it could get ugly.