Widows, Orphans, and Strangers

Thirty-seven days in to reading the Bible in 90 days. Some days it’s been encouraging, other days...not so much. Some days what I read feels like wise instruction, other days like a stern rebuke. Some days I can’t even recognize the characters, they seem otherworldly and remote. But then I see someone who seems just like me, immediately familiar and identifiable. It’s very much a mixed bag.

There is one theme which has been consistently communicated from Genesis to Job. Actually, I’m sure there have been several such consistent themes, I’ve just been too obtuse to find them. But, at least I’ve caught on to one of them and that is this...God expects us to take care of the poor, provide for widows and orphans, and be kind to strangers. This message is literally all over the place, in practically every single book I’ve read so far. God takes a very dim view of people who ignore these powerless groups of people. The sins of pride and selfishness seem to be extremely high on the list of things that infuriate God Almighty.

So, we can have long, boring arguments on what care for the poor, widows and orphans should look like. We can debate the proper roll of governments in this endeavor. We can argue about whether or not the taxes we pay to fund the 21st century welfare state constitute obedience to this command, or serve to make the problems worse. Are there no poor houses?

But, setting aside the comparative virtue of Socialism vs Capitalism as the most effective poverty fighting tool, it seems to me that the one thing I am certain of is that...regardless of my political views, I find no escape from the personal responsibility I have as a child of God to care for the poor, widows and orphans, and to be kind to strangers. Period. There is no dispensation that I see from living in a country with a social safety net. Whatever collective actions governments may take in these areas, do not absolve me from my own responsibility. To whom much is given, much will be required seems the overriding theme.

When I examine my own record in this regard the results are mixed. I feel like I’ve always given generously to charities. The percentage of my income that winds up in the hands of my church and other philanthropic organizations far exceeds the national average. But, somehow I think that this is the wrong measuring device. For one thing, who ever wants to be merely average? For another, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can do more, I can be more generous, more helpful to the less fortunate...and so can you. Examining myself with regards to how I am treating the least of these has been, so far, my number one takeaway from this Bible reading exercise.

An American Tradition

I’m a baseball guy. But I’m also an American, which means that I am a full participant in its many cultural traditions. One of the most enduring of those traditions is the Super Bowl. So, there I was last night, in front of my television, taking it all in. A few observations...

My wife isn’t a sports fan. She does enjoy the Olympics but that’s only because of the heart warming biographical vignettes that the television producers come up with about the athletes. She’s also a huge fan of the Opening Ceremonies since they are essentially fashion shows. However, despite having zero interest in the contests, she does an amazing job of preparing the game time feasts. Last night, for example, she whipped this up:

   

That’s pigs-in-a-blanket, some sort of amazing Mexican guacamole dip, and my personal favorite, baked Parmesan Pepperoni Pizza crisps. 

Pink performed the national anthem and made a hash of it. Woman was a mess. I learned later that the poor thing had the flu, so hats off to her for making the effort.

Then, a group of Medal of Honor winners were brought out to midfield for the coin toss. Very cool, but seemed a thinly veiled attempt by the NFL to make up for all the kneeling. But, whatever.

Then, the game. Having no rooting interest makes for a dull experience. So, I just relaxed and tried to enjoy watching terrific athletes doing their thing on such an enormous stage. Nick Foles, the career backup, slugging it out against the G.O.A.T. The first half featured neither defense making a single play. On 4th and goal from the two yard line, with time running out, the Eagles ran a trick play for the ages for a touchdown. Coolest play and gutsiest call ever.

Then the halftime show. Here, I must be careful. My wife is constantly criticizing me for the fact that my musical tastes haven’t  evolved since my college days, in fact, she would argue that they have regressed. (She considers the fact that I remain devoted to the Beatles, and Frank Sinatra, a personal failing). Anyway, all week, the advertisements for the halftime show assured me that Justin Timberlake was a global superstar. As I watched him prancing around on the field I asked my much hipper wife whether he was a singer, a dancer, or a rapper...to which she answered, Yes. My review? He was energetic, enthusiastic, handsome...and I’m sure there was a song in there somewhere.

One of the great charms of the Super Bowl has always been the commercials. For some, they are more enjoyable than the game itself. In past years there have been some classics. I watched this year’s offerings in a state of befuddlement. Half the time I couldn’t figure out what they were trying to sell, the other half left me with the distinct impression that the American advertisement industry has run out of ideas. The best ones were the ones that told stories of the great courage of ordinary people in times of crisis, but then at the end when you would see, say, the Verizon logo, you would recoil and think, eww...when was the last time Verizon did anything heroic?? Until you guys can figure out how to show up for a service call on time, get off your moral high horse!

Back to the game. Everything was set up for yet another bedtime story for Tom Brady’s future grandkids. The Patriots get the ball with two minutes to play, down by six. Tom drives them down the field and throws the winning touchdown pass with no time left on the clock. Cue shot of Gisele crying tears of joy in her luxury box. But then a defensive player finally made a play, stripping Brady of the ball and sealing the upset victory for the Eagles. Good for them.

For me, the very best thing about the Super Bowl is the fact that it’s conclusion marks the official beginning of....baseball. Pitchers and catchers report for spring training in ten days!

An Astounding Number

Late yesterday afternoon, an announcement was made by the chairman of Apple. CEO Tim Cook gave the stunning news during a conference call while discussing the computer company’s fourth quarter/2017 results. While all the news wasn’t great for Apple, (there was some underachievement in certain areas), this one particular report staggered me. Are you ready for it? Ok...in the fourth quarter of last year, Apple raked in the largest profit for any company in the history of enterprise, a whopping 20 Billion Dollars.

Let that number sink in for a minute...

Trust me...you still can’t possibly comprehend such a number.

Put another way, during the 90 days of the fourth quarter of 2017, Apple earned $222,222,222....every single day. With each passing hour, a fresh 9 million dollars jingled into Apple’s vaults. 

I hear lots of people complaining about how large Apple’s cash stash is, 295 billion and growing. The people complaining the loudest always seem to be the kind of people who couldn’t sell hacksaws in a prison, people for whom large companies are the sworn enemies of all humankind...an opinion they will proclaim 24/7 to anyone who will listen...from their iPads!! Wherever there exists insanely profitable companies, there will also exist people who will complain about how those companies chose to spend their money. But seriously, if you were an enterprise that was churning up 222 million dollars every freaking day, you’d wind up with a huge cash stash too. Even if you wanted to reinvest all that money, it would take you a while to figure out...where and how! 

And to think that this money making juggernaut was started by a brooding genius with an idea that all the smart people were convinced was foolish. Computer pioneer, Ken Olson’s famously dismissive quote...There is no reason for anyone to have a computer in their home...was what once served as conventional wisdom. There is a huge life lesson lurking in that quote.

Here’s the deal...I’m not one of those guys who worships business. I’m fully aware of the corrupting influence of large sums of money and the reckless pursuit of same. I understand the tendency towards monopoly and the insidious cancer of crony capitalism. But I also know this, one of the things that differentiates people from one another is the question of attitude. This world is divided into two groups, those who create and those who criticize. There are doers and there are talkers. There are those who blaze trails and those who bitch about how rocky it is. There are people who either by force of will, great intellect, or superior vision launch world changing businesses and movements, and there are people who stand on the sidelines taking potshots, filled with the conceit that they could have done it better if only...

So whether you’re an Apple guy or a fan of Samsung, whether you use an iPad or a PC, take a minute today to marvel at the number 20 billion. Pause a minute this morning to consider how infinitely easier and more efficient your life has been made by the existence of this company and others like it. 

The Saga Continues...

It occurs to me that I have failed to inform all of you about the final outcome of the great hole in the wall saga. In past dispatches I have shown you the damage...

I’ve also shown you the first pathetic attempt at a remedy, courtesy of the alleged workers from the Helen Keller Drywall Repair Company...

After an interminable delay, a new attempt was made to fix the hole which was only marginally better, forcing Pam to try her hand at spackling. Unfortunately, the finished product wasn’t even close to being acceptable. My library wall looks like it’s in it’s first trimester...

So now we find ourselves in the unenviable position of having to report our displeasure to the powers that be. The reason this is so difficult is because the two workers responsible for such pathetic work happened to be two of the nicest guys you would ever want to meet. The piano mover responsible for the hole to begin with could not possibly have been any nicer or more contrite. His buddy, who he recruited to do the actual drywall repair was also kind and earnest almost to a fault. Making matters worse, each evening when they showed up to work, the piano mover would bring along his two year old son, who he had just picked up from daycare, one of the most adorable little boys ever. So, what we have here are two hard working guys doing the best they can, and being extraordinarily kind in the process. Oh, and they were both African-American. That shouldn’t have anything to do with this, but it does. Why? It’s complicated. 

Here’s the thing. I don’t go in for all this collective white guilt claptrap. I am not responsible for the evils of slavery any more than Mexicans are responsible for the human sacrifice of the Aztecs. Past generations have done some horrible things throughout history, but we evolve and move on, hopefully getting better with each generation. But I do feel an obligation as a white American to go the extra mile when it comes to doing business with African Americans. Some of you are probably rolling your eyes at this point out of either frustration at my misplaced paternalism or my willingness to tolerate shoddy work because of someone’s race. That’s fair. I’m confused by it myself. I guess at the end of the day, you don’t do anyone any favors by letting them get by with poor workmanship. On the other hand, I hate to be the one who lowers the boom. It would have helped if they were both jerks.

So, now a full two weeks after the piano accident, we still have no resolution. Our contractor will have to now intercede and redo the work, delaying further that happy day when we will be free of workers traipsing through our house.

My Case Against The SOTU Show

Yesterday, in the lead up to the State of the Union Show, my sister was saddened to read all of the ridicule of the thing on her Facebook wall. She responded by essentially telling all of those who claimed that they would not be watching that they should be ashamed of themselves. A fresh debate arose from that suggestion. 

First, I feel obliged to defend my sister’s position, even though I disagree with it, on the grounds that I know from where her sentiments come. My sister is a patriot. She loves her country and has always been enthralled with it’s pagentry and the many totems that fill our capital city. (She has never lost a love of the British monarchy either!) No matter who occupies the White House, she can be depended upon to be glued to her television set to watch the State of the Union speech. She feels it is her patriotic duty, and holds a dim view of those who boycott. Fair enough. But here’s where we part company...

George Washington started this spectacle of a yearly address to Congress when he showed up to give his first speech. But, leave it to another great Virginian, Thomas Jefferson, to put an end to this silly monarchical pretense. Instead, Jefferson, ever vigilant against anything that smacked of the imperial yoke that we had fought a war to throw off, opted to send his address in writing to be read aloud in the chamber. It was thus so for over a hundred years, despite a civil war and several financial panics, the yearly Presidential address was read to Congress. Then, Woodrow Wilson (sadly another Virginian) perhaps the president with the most authoritarian instincts ever, decided to bring back the pomp and ceremony of the live appearance of the President in the house chamber. It was in keeping with Wilson’s exalted view of the Presidency and his desire to lift that office above the two other branches in both influence and power. Thus saw the birth of the modern imperial presidency. 

Now, a hundred years in to this debacle, the American people get treated to the most partisan spectacle that a Republican form of government could possibly produce...the president striding into the house like a modern day king to the uproarious adulation of his partisans, the opposition party, their arms folded petulantly across their chests like school children, ridiculously tedious standing ovations for even the most pedestrian proclamations, stone-faced disgust from the opposition in cut away shots to even the most positive news. If the United States government were to intentionally hatch a plot to make itself appear impotent and unserious, it couldn’t possibly come up with a better plan than this televised embarrassment. 

I’m not against a televised address by the President in the House Chamber, but I think that they should be reserved for truly momentous occasions, like a declaration of war, or the announcement of the end of such wars. But, this annual festival of partisanship needs to stop. How about this? How about somebody run for President who promises to end The Speech, and go back to the Jeffersonian example of the yearly letter? Maybe if we weren’t reminded every stinking January of how childish and silly our political leaders are, perhaps we would start holding them in higher regard.

Getting Ready for the Taylor Awards!!

I read an article this morning about the Grammy awards show and it’s abysmal ratings. It’s the latest in a long line of cratering ratings for awards shows in general. Everything from the CMA’s to the Oscars have seen a drop in viewership in recent years. The article didn’t offer an explanation for the across the board decline in interest...so I will attempt one.

Of course, the easiest explanation would be to blame it all on the politicization of the entertainment business. The vast majority of American entertainers are people of the left, and can never quite resist an opportunity to remind us. Every political movement of the day gets wall to wall air time during the awards show season, from Black Lives Matter to #MeToo, the American people can count on our most glamorous members to lecture us about all of our multiple failings, dressed in $20,000 gowns. On top of that, the glitterati themselves seem constantly out of sorts...with themselves, with #OscarsSoWhite and #GrammysSoMale offering plenty of self loathing.

But, I don’t think politics is the primary reason for the decline in ratings. I think that we’re just not using their products like we used to. In general, people aren’t going to the movies, or watching TV or buying music like they used to. In this regard, I can only speak for myself, so you’ll have to take my anecdotal evidence with a grain of salt. But, when I was younger, going to the movies was at the top of my entertainment hierarchy. I would comb through the green section of the News Leader every Friday morning to see what was playing and make my decisions for the upcoming weekend. Now, I check out what’s playing at Cinebistro every once in a while since if on the outside chance there’s a movie I want to see, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a regular movie theatre, what with the sticky floors and rude patrons. Television? With the exception of Andrew Frieden’s weather forecast, baseball games and an occasional network show like Parenthood or This Is Us, I’ve turned into a Netflix guy. And...I literally can’t remember the last time I purchased music. Why, when everything I want to hear is available for free on Pandora or Spotify? Sure, the commercials are annoying, but it’s hard to argue with...free. Now, I don’t know for sure if my story is being widely repeated out there in flyover country, but I also don’t think of myself as an outlier either. In 2018 America, we have about 10,000 more entertainment options available to us than we did back when these awards shows were in their monopolistic heyday. So, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that fewer people are watching.

People will always watch this guy. But we’re never going back to the days when Hollywood was king. Oh and by the way...expect this Oscar statue to get a remake soon...featuring a more androgynous physique. And the name Oscar will have to go, replaced with a more gender neutral name like...Taylor or Morgan.

I’m Feeling Very Old Testament-ish

Once upon a time in the land north of the James River, east of the mountains of the Blue Ridge, south of Ashland, there lived a humble servant who had just returned from a long journey to the northern kingdom of Maine, when behold, his dishwasher was afflicted with a discharge which visited great devastation on his household. In the course of time, the Lord of hosts, with the assistance of the insurance company, sent legions of workers to repair the damage to the humble servant’s house. Among the workers sent to repair the damage to the humble servant’s house were two men charged with the removal of the humble servant’s piano for safe keeping. 

Suddenly, there was a great earthquake which caused the piano to be shaken to its very foundation. Great was the shaking of it. So much so that it tilted heavily from it’s Dollie and ripped a hole in the wall of the house of the humble servant. The workers were sorely vexed at this calamity which had happened and immediately ripped their garments and covered themselves with sackcloth and ashes. Vowing that as God Lives they would repair this abomination and remove the blot from the humble servant’s library wall...

Verily, my Lord, we will return on the seventh day to repair this hole at the fifth hour.

On the seventh day, on the fifth hour, the workers appeared. But behold the hole was too big to be patched, for the workers had judged poorly the size of the hole and had not brought with them the required pieces of sheet rock to remove the blot from the humble servant’s wall. Much lamenting and ripping of garments ensued and once again the workers swore by their ancestors that this hole would be fixed the very next day at the fifth hour.

The humble servant was greatly troubled in his spirit at the continued existence of the hole, and began to despair at the unfaithfulness of the workers sent by the insurance company, but he held his tongue.

The next day, at the fifth hour, the workers arrived with sheet rock in hand to repair the hole. But behold, the piece of sheet rock brought was too thick and did not match the sheet rock of the existing wall, causing the repaired piece to jut out noticeably.

Why do you workers trouble me in this way? shouted the humble servant...Have you not vowed twice before me that you would remove this blight from the wall of my library and twice you have failed miserably to do so? What sin have I committed that you should deal with me with such incompetence?

The workers immediately prostrated themself on the floor before the humble servant, beseeching him to have mercy on them...We vow here this day to return tomorrow again at the fifth hour to repair this abomination of a hole. We beg your humble servant’s forebearance and ask you to have patience with us because we are weak of mind and our skill level embarrassingly low. But as God is our witness, the third time will be the charm. If not, let your humble servant deal with us ever so severely if we fail on our third attempt.

Then the humble servant went to his bed with a troubled spirit, having had all confidence ripped from him that his hole would ever be repaired. Then he prayed with a loud voice...Oh God of Abraham, Issac and Jacob, deliver me from workers who are weak of mind with embarrassingly low skill levels.