Wednesday, March 1, 2017

A TRUMP Post!!!

I made it. I managed to go the last 35 days without writing about politics and especially...Trump. It wasn't always easy, but a deal is a deal. Now that the self-imposed ban is over, I honestly don't have a lot to say. I mean, there was a speech last night and all, but I can't think of anything necessarily smart or even snarky to say about anything political. Maybe it's because, Donald Trump remains exactly who I thought he was, and so do his enemies.

In the first five or six weeks of his Presidency, he has done literally nothing that has changed my mind about him. He has been no worse and no better than I expected him to be. So far, everything he has done or attempted to do has been straight out of his campaign stump speeches. People who are acting all shocked by any of this were obviously not paying attention during the campaign. Sure, many of his cabinet choices were heavy on generals and billionaires, but what did you expect, professors from Yale and Harvard?  And yes, his first several weeks have been full of ill-conceived initiatives from which he has had to back track. Sort of what one would expect from someone who constantly reminded voters that he was "not a politician." Well, it turns out that if you're not a professional politician in DC, it shows.

Funny story. On the day of the Inauguration, I had a busy schedule at work. After two morning appointments I stopped by the house to have some soup for lunch. As I warmed the soup up on the stove I asked our new digital assistant, Alexa, to play WRVA. The very first words I heard were Trump saying, "So help me God." I had forgotten about the speech! So, I listened. By the time I finished my soup, it was over, a sixteen minute Inaugural speech with no poetry. But, around half way through, I ran into the library and found a piece of paper and wrote down four numbers...the Dow Jones Industrial average, last year's GDP growth rate, the inflation rate, and the unemployment rate. Then I dated it and stuffed it back into the top drawer of my desk.

Bill Clinton famously ran a campaign with the unofficial theme of "It's the economy, stupid." He was right and he won. While much of it was not his fault, the fact is that Barack Obama was the first president to serve eight years who never once presided over a nation with a GDP growth of at least 3%. As superficial and simplistic as this might sound, unfortunately, I believe it to be true...if his Orangeness can get this economy back to the 4-5% growth rates that we had become accustomed to for most of our history, he will be reelected in a real landslide as opposed to the one living rent free in Trump's brain. However, if he doesn't, the American people will soon tire of him and will drop him like a bad habit in 2020. One advantage(or disadvantage, depending on your politics) of such a short, direct, non-poetic inauguration speech is the fact that it will be easy to judge how well,(or poorly), he has done come 2020. When you don't cloud your objectives with soaring, flowered rhetoric, it's easy to find the promises. When 2020 rolls round, if we're still slumbering around with a growth rate of 1.9%  Trump will be history. If he succeeds, all the Hollywood preening, all the street demonstrations in the world won't be able to prevent his reelection.

But, honestly, hasn't it been an exhausting five weeks? It's the little things, really. When I saw the picture of Kelly Anne Conway sitting crosslegged on a sofa in the Oval Office, her heels digging in to the fabric, I thought, what fresh hell is this??  I wanted to slap her. I always hated seeing pictures of Obama with his feet all over the furniture like he was kicked back watching Caddy Shack or something, but this Conway dame takes the cake. There will be four years of this sort of thing. Four years of Trump's temperamental Tweets.

I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Finally Got The Car


Finally pulled the trigger. By the time we got out of the dealership it was dark and we were hungry so we drove over to Q barbecue for dinner. This is the only picture I've got. I'm sure Pam will have more today. It's a 2017 Hyundai Sante Fe Sport demonstrator with 2100 miles on it along with that sweet depreciation discount. It's got every bell and whistle and her coveted third row seat. Met a really good guy along the way...Scott, our sales guy who went above and beyond for us.

And that's about all I want to say about this ever again.

Monday, February 27, 2017

La La Land....indeed.

I cannot tell you when last I had a more difficult weekend. Sure, spending the better part of two days car shopping was the obvious culprit, but coming in a close second was a weirdly amorphous cold/flu which kept changing symptoms almost as often as my wife changed her car preferences. This is a woeful combination...car shopping and the flu. Almost as bad as buttermilk and ginger ale.

I'm anxiously awaiting my wife's decision, so I can go about the grubby business of actually buying the thing. Watching her agonize over this has been painful. She is so careful, so exhaustively comprehensive in her approach to decision making that she gives the phrase, "on the other hand" almost nuclear power. When I think about what must be going on in that head of hers, I imagine some guy spinning plates, while riding a unicycle on a high wire strung over a pit filled with rattle snakes. I've devoted less thought to my core spiritual convictions than she has to the purchase of this car.

Then, the Oscars happened. Did I watch any of it? Of course not. What, are you nuts? I was sick enough without exposing myself to four hours of celebrity self-love. But, the reviews have been hard to miss this morning. Sure, sure everyone competed with each other to see who could best demonstrate their virtue, by bravely trashing the one who shall not be named on this blog (until March first), but at the end, at the pinnacle moment, with all eyes focused on those two fossils from my youth, Faye Dunnaway and Warren Beatty, the best picture award was awarded to LaLa Land...only it was actually supposed to go to Moonlight. Now, if that's not the perfect illustration of latent, institutional racism, I don't know what is!! Even when Hollywood finally gives a best picture award to an African-American film, they can't even bring themselves to avoid throwing shade in the process!! Shameful!! Somewhere, in his heart of hearts, Steve Harvey is highfive-ing himself.

Is this it for the awards shows for a while? It seems like this time of year there's one after another. People's Choice, Golden Globes, Oscars, Emmy's Tony's, Grammy's. Our celebrity class never tires of celebrating themselves, and lecturing the rest of us about all of our moral and political failings. It must be quite the intoxicating drug, this adulation.

Just before Pam headed off to work a minute ago, I asked her if she had made her decision. She answered in several disjointed, run-on sentences, by saying....actually, I'm not quite sure what she said. But I think she's still undecided.

Bless her heart.


Sunday, February 26, 2017

Day Two of Car Buying Experience

Long day of car shopping.

All cars starting to look same...

Some too small...

Some too big...

None just right.

Feel like Goldilocks, only with temperament of hungry, pissed off bear...

Three test drives...

One annoying sales associate, one nice old guy...

Annoying one actually trotted out accursed line, but I cut him off mid-sentence with...NOTHING. Bright spot of day...

Third row seat option nixed...

But, then wife has bad dream about having only two seats in car with dozens trying to get in car...

Thought had narrowed down options to Cadillac or Enclave, but now Sante Fe back in picture...

Rumors flying of possible eleventh hour Mazda entry into sweepstakes...

Going to 9:30 service at church this morning to give us more shopping time for afternoon...

So excited....

Need to pick up new bottle of Tums...

Starting to see Joe Isuzu whenever eyes close...

Pam has fitful night, little sleep, looks overwhelmed...

So wish she drank....

All local car dealers on to us. Inbox overrun with hot deals on hot rides emails...

Will try to concentrate on sermon this morning, but most likely will spend sermon time imagining Pacifica blowing up when dealer take for test drive...

So exciting...

Car buying experience thing of beauty...

Saturday, February 25, 2017

Buying a Car in America

I should admit up front that I do not like the car buying experience. I don't even like the expression "car buying experience" since it sounds like so much touchy-feely claptrap. Purchasing a car is not an "experience" anymore than cleaning out the gutters is an "experience" Its just something that has to be done once every ten years or so, that's all. Surviving Auschwitz would be an experience, climbing Everest, an experience. Buying an automobile is a chore. A confusing, disorienting chore.

Consequently, I don't do it very often. I normally drive cars until they no longer are able to cooperate. Sometimes they begin emitting grayish, blueish clouds in their wake, other times they start leaving oily pools of industrial discharge on the garage floor every night. Other times, they like, literally blow up,(my poor, dearly missed Sebring convertible...God rest her soul). This time, it's Pam's valiant Chrysler Pacifica which is moaning out dire warnings of its impending doom. She has been a wonderful car, but is not long for this world. So, for about a month now, we have been laying the groundwork for purchasing a replacement vehicle. In this we have been greatly aided and baffled by the internet. Since last we bought a car, my Cadillac CTS seven years ago, the buzzword in the car game has become...no hassle pricing, a concept which exchanges the hassle over haggling back and forth with somebody's manager about the price with the far greater hassle of literally everything else!

To start with, what in the name of Henry Ford has happened to car names?? My first four cars had the following names:  Beetle, Beetle, Scirocco, Cherokee. Now, everywhere you look it's initials and numbers. You want a Cadillac you say? Which one? There's the CTS, DTS, XLR, STS, SRX, ESV and how could anyone forget the classic EXT? Interested in a Lexus, you say? Well, I can certainly understand why with such a variety of models and styles to choose from...the LS, GS, ES, IS, SC, LX, GX, and RX. Even when you find a car which has an actual name like the Sante Fe, or the Enclave, there's the dizzying array of modifiers that go with the name...touring, sport, premier, limited. What ever happened to naming cars after animals or indeginous peoples? I can remember when the most popular cars were named...Mustang, Maverick, Charger, Cherokee. But, I digress.

In our case, this is Pam's car we're talking about so this will be her decision. Anyone who knows my wife knows that making decisions isn't her greatest talent. In fact, except for the notable exception of deciding to marry me, she's horrible at it. She has never made a snap decision in her life. There is no such thing as an impulse purchase in Pam's world. She's a spreadsheet sort of gal. I avoid even writing the word "spreadsheet." After a month or so of extensive, exhaustive Internet study, she has narrowed it down to vehicles that use regular gasoline. (Just kidding!!) Actually, she has it narrowed down to the Chrysler SRX, the Buick Enclave, the Sante Fe Sport, and something made by Mazda. The sticking point has been the third row seat question. Her present car has one and it comes in quite handy on the half a dozen times each year when we use it. Also, having a larger interior helps whenever we travel to Maine with Lucy for a month.

So, this morning comes phase two of the process. Yes, we will venture out into the bizarro car dealership world to test drive some candidates.

If anybody says to me, "What have I got to do to get you into this car today?" I will battle mightily the urge to punch him/her in the mouth. Maybe I will counter with, "Well, for starters you can promise me to never, ever say that to me again, Sparky" My combative, no nonsense car buying style causes Pam no end of angst. She is so sweet and kind and in her heart of heart...desires to be nice to everyone, while I, uh, strive to, er, uh...ok, I can be a bit rude when dealing with car salesmen. I open my mouth and some borderline hostile sentence comes out, and she dies a little bit inside. I know this, but am basically powerless to stop it. I view the salesman in front of me as a hostile power intent on swindling me. I realize that this is entirely unfair and unreasonable. We all gotta make a living and all...

So, I will do my best to be as nice as humanly possible this morning. I will be patient, even kind. I will endeavor to make the car buying experience as comfortable as possible for my wife.

Wait a minute...Endeavor...now that's a car name if ever I've heard one!

Thursday, February 23, 2017

Having a cold with Lucy

So, I have a cold. Not the flu. Not some sort of bronchial disturbance. Not a sinus infection. A cold, that garden variety plague that has vexed mankind since the dawn of time and against which modern science and medicine have been powerless. As I write these words, I have industrial strength men's all cotton handkerchiefs at the ready, since the laughably inept tissues produced by Kleenex have proven completely worthless. Already, only one paragraph in, and I have availed myself of this handkerchief four times. It's been that sort of afternoon.

This day began with such promise. I actually slept reasonably well, and sneezed only once from 6 am until 8. I was breathing rather well, and all indications seemed to point to a productive day. All came a cropper around noon when my nasal passages became overrun by a host of microscopic organisms of unknown specie who gleefully began lashing the ends of my nose hairs with the tail feathers of the world's smallest bird. At each such lashing, which I felt from my cowlick all the way down to my in grown toenail, my body began its coiled response to the invader. I could feel the birth of each sneeze somewhere around my hip area, then the three or four seconds it took for it to climb up into my generously sized nose. The resultant recoil and noise from each sneeze was enough to awaken Lucy, who would lift her head with her ears pinned back in terror, until she realized it was just Dad sneezing for the 50th time since he got home.

Speaking of Lucy, our girl isn't what you would call a snuggler. Sure, she sleeps on the bed with us, and rests on the sofa with Pam, but usually at the opposite end. But, today when I got home for lunch, she took one look at me and knew that something was amiss. It may have been my red and irritated nose, or perhaps the fact that my voice had dropped three octaves, from Justin Beiber to James Earl Jones. Whatever, she knew that something was up and immediately began shadowing my every move. While I ate some warmed up lasagna, she laid on the floor at my side. When I then collapsed on the bed with my head tilted upward to stop the torrent of cascading post nasal drip...she jumped up on the bed and wedged herself as close to me as she possibly could, using my body as her pillow. This despite what became a deluge of sneezes, each more intense and violent than the next. She didn't budge until I finally, mercifully, dozed off to sleep. When I awoke, she was on the floor directly under my side of the bed, looking up at me as though she thought I was going to die.

For all of you who don't quite understand why some of us own dogs (and a few select cats), this is why. For all of their slobbering, butt-sniffing, idiosyncrasies they are so intuned to us. They notice when we are sick or sad. They know. Then they set about to do something to lift our spirits. They always succeed.

Nothing Else is Maine

Lucy wants to be here...






I want to be here...














Lucy is dreaming of this...









I am dreaming of this...






But, this is February and Maine is a full 28 weeks away, or 114 weeks in dog years. And I have come down with a cold. But February is a good time to pull out your Maine pictures and look at them while blowing your nose and coughing up yellowish mucus. There will be lots of fun stuff between now and  Maine. But, nothing else is Maine.