Lucy the Lunatic

I haven’t written about my dog, Lucy the Lunatic, in a while. That’s not because she hasn’t done anything interesting, more like there have been other things crowding her out. But, exactly a week out from the Election seems like a good time to get you all caught up on the status of her mental health, which I can faithfully report is largely unchanged. She remains a lunatic.

Lucy is throughly enjoying having Bernadette living here. Actually, it would be more accurate to say that she has enjoyed having Bernadette’s boyfriend here. Whenever Bern comes home, Lucy gives her the welcome home jiggles for 15 seconds or so. But when Isaac shows up she goes into full scale pandemonium. Still, Lucy loves people, so the more the merrier.

We have advised Bernadette that she should place a gate in front of her bedroom door whenever she leaves the house to prevent Lucy from pilfering her belongings, as she has been known to do from time to time. But, every once in a while she forgets. When she does, the following happens...every single time:

This has been a long time habit. We have never figured out the purpose of this particular idiosyncrasy. Is it some sort of hoarding instinct? Why only one sock? Who knows? All I know is that whenever she gets the opportunity Lucy will carefully remove one sock from wherever we left it and take it with her to our bedroom and place it on the bed. That’s it. She doesn’t destroy it. She merely removes it from the shoe or the floor, places it softly in her mouth, then relocates it to our bed. Sometimes she parades by us to show us what she is doing before finishing the job. Bernadette has learned the hard way. She has found one of her socks missing on many occasions since she has lived here, finding them near Pam’s pillow on our bed every single time. If there are any dog psychologists out there who can clue us in as to what to make of this behavior, I would appreciate it. A few days ago she added a new twist. I had left my Cappy’s hat on the floor beside my recliner the other night. When I went to retrieve it, it was nowhere to be found. Then I walked into our bedroom and there was Lucy taking a nap...and my Cappy’s hat right next to my pillow.

Lucy the Lunatic strikes again...

Godspeed, Joe.

We have a new chief executive. Joe Biden is the 46th President in our country’s short 244 year history. It took a while for the verdict to arrive, but it finally has. Many of you are elated, others are disappointed, even others apoplectic. As of this hour, five days after the election, there has been very little in the way of violence, so far making my apprehension from November 2nd’s post seem overwrought. Thank God. What follows are my disjointed thoughts about everything that has happened since Election Day, in no particular order of significance.

-  I watched a bit of the Biden-Harris acceptance speech thing last night. There were many images of people in various stages of emotional rapture, tears flowed from some like water. Other faces beamed with what can only be described as ecstasy. I have seen images from the other side in recent days as well, full of gravely downcast faces etched with pain and disappointment mixed in with the occasional image of an angry face screwed up in spittle-spewing rage. I see the images and recall similar ones from previous elections and remain completely puzzled by it all. If I understand the whole privilege-check movement, this is where I should admit how lucky I am to feel so secure in life that I don’t have to worry about mere politics. The problem with that is...its not true. My life, my livelihood, even my future is indeed impacted by whichever party is running the country and whoever is in the White House. So, yes, I do have a stake in who wins and who loses. But for the life of me I can’t imagine ever being moved to tears or spurred on to ecstasy by the election of...anyone. Don’t misunderstand, I do not mean to disparage those who do, it’s just not something that I can imagine. I mean...its like...politics. If I were ever to write an autobiography, I can’t imagine referencing a single politician in my lifetime as someone who made even the slightest difference in how my life turned out. Credit for whatever accomplishments were worthy enough to mention would be spread around to many, many people, but not a single politician. Blame for my many missteps would fall almost exclusively on myself for some of the mind-numbing bonehead decisions I made along the way. Again, I needed no help from the Democratic or Republican parties on that score either. I simply cannot summon the depth of emotional attachment that the partisans bring to these elections. 

-  It hasn’t surprised me, nor should it have surprised anyone else that the current President has claimed that massive voter fraud has cost him re-election, and not just the cold mathematics of 4 million votes. He persists in his years long claim that the fix was in and thousands of volunteers throughout the country have conspired to not count his votes and double count Biden’s vote...or something. So far no evidence has been produced to demonstrate how these cheaters pulled all this off. I doubt it ever will, because the fact of the vote stealing isn’t nearly as important as the accusation of the vote stealing. This fresh new conspiracy theory will never die as long as I live, evidence or no evidence. People will make millions writing books about it. Someone will give it an iconic name like Mail-Gate, and it will end up being the 21st century’s grassy knoll/ second shooter boondoggle.

-  Joe Biden winds up being just the second Democrat I have voted for on the Presidential level. I’m not thrilled about that fact. I am fully aware that his party (if not him) is opposed to me on many issues facing the country. I suffer no illusions when it comes to the real damage that some of the more radical parts of the far left agenda could do to the finances and prosperity of the country. However, I have known all about Joe Biden for 47 years now. Although he has been almost comically wrong about a whole host of things in his interminable career, Joe Biden is not by any reasonable definition a leftist. For most of his time in public service he has been a decidedly unserious man who’s one great gift has always been making friends and working out compromise. One of his friends from his time in the Senate was...Mitch McConnel. The best case scenario is that his propensity for wheeling and dealing over a game of poker and bourbon with old friends in the Senate will forge some actual, you know, legislation that will do the country some good. The much thinner majority that his party holds in the House and a deadlocked Senate might actually produce some humility. Maybe with the removal from the scene of Trump’s epic toxicity, people in government will be just slightly more trusting of one another. On the other hand, Biden could end up being the Manchurian candidate some on the right have claimed him to be. This is, after all, 2020.

-  Not long after the election I started noticing people on Facebook talking about something called Parler. It is advertised as a Facebook alternative for Conservatives who want no more of Mark Zuckerberg’s censorship. Pam was curious so she visited their website and sent me this summary which she found at the bottom of the page:

I’m all for “moderating my world”. Who wouldn’t be in 2020? But a closer inspection reveals that what this amounts to is exactly what The Social Dilemma warns about...let’s all cordon ourselves off from anyone who might disagree with us. Let’s all erect our own truth wall and block anyone who might have a different take. My gut instinct says that this is the very definition of...snowflakes. On the other hand, maybe it’s just as well. Nobody convinces anyone of anything on Facebook anyway, so why not just flee to the ideologically calmer waters of a place that encourages people to “do your own shadow-banning!”

-  A lesser discussed consequence of this election needs to be shared to my readers, and that is the happy fact that after a four year absence, dogs will once again roam the halls of the West Wing. I believe that Joe Biden has German Shepherds, not my favorite breed, but a vast, immeasurable improvement over nothing. In addition, one of Biden’s Shepherds is a rescue, another White House first.



-  Four Seasons Total Landscaping in Philadelphia became the site of a press conference by President Trump’s legal team at literally the exact moment that all major networks declared Joe Biden the winner of the election. Absolutely, positively only in America...

- Tomorrow morning, all of us will wake up, take a shower, grab some breakfast and head off to work, exactly like we did before Election Day. Some of you will have a little extra spring in your step. Some will not. Some of my favorite people on this planet voted for the other guy. I am proud to say that I have not lost a single friend over this contest...at least before this post! Hopefully it’s still true.

- I wish our new President every success. I pray that his health will be able to hold up against the relentless demands of his office. I have my doubts which means that I must pray for him even harder. Although I can think of at least a dozen democrats who would probably make a better President, none of them won. Joe’s the guy. He’s my President now, like it or not. Godspeed, Joe.

A Wonderful Discovery

I still have nothing to say about the results of the 2020 election. Which is just as well since everyone’s Facebook feed is chocked full of opinions. Who needs one more?

However, I do have something important to say. Yesterday at roughly 12:30 in the afternoon, I may have had the best Reuben sandwich of my entire life. I found myself on route 522 in Powhatan County after an ill-advised, spur of the moment decision I had made to go fishing on the James River. Note: don’t go to the James River to fish anytime after a drenching rain. The resulting mud bog makes it nearly impossible to get close enough to the water to fish without having your feet fly out from underneath you, throwing you flat on your back gazing up at the clear blue skies—which may or may not have happened. But, I digress. 

So after my misadventure, I realized I was hungry. As I drove down 522 in the general direction of Maidens, Va. I was thrilled to discover this little hole in the wall:

A converted gas station, in business since 2009, The Cafe at Maidens, is in the middle of nowhere. Nevertheless its parking lot was full, always a good sign. I counted one Mercedes Benz, two pickup trucks, a motorcycle, and now my Cadillac, among the eclectic assortment of vehicles at this unimpressive dump on a country road thirty minutes from my home in Short Pump. Their one unisex bathroom was clean as a whistle, good thing since it took me several minutes and half a roll of paper towels to remove all the mud from my hands and clothes, the result of the unfortunate incident at the river which I can neither confirm or deny actually took place. After cleaning up I took my place in a line of very happy people who all seemed thrilled to be at The Cafe at Maidens. It appeared that everyone except me was a regular, each greeting the other with cheerful familiarity. The woman behind the counter taking orders seemed positively ecstatic to be doing so, smiling from ear to ear, suggesting that everyone try the potato salad which she described as “extra delicious today!” As soon as I saw the Reuben on the chalkboard menu, there was no need to look anywhere else. I have a long history with this particular sandwich. Simply put, the flavor combinations of aged Swiss cheese, Thousand Island dressing, sauerkraut and corned beef on perfectly toasted rye bread is possibly the most delectable such combination yet devised by the culinary arts. At least most of the time. Too often, by the time this classic arrives at your table, the toast has gotten soggy...one of my pet peeves. No worries at The Cafe at Maidens. This thing was a masterpiece, beautiful to the eye with its stacked corned beef, generous and perfectly placed, and a feast to the taste buds as well. Even to the last bite, the toast remained crispy and stout. Appropriately, my fingers were dripping with dressing after the last bite. Oh, and the claim by Miss Sunshine about the potato salad? On point. It was divine.

So, if you should ever find yourself on a whimsical drive in the country on state route 522 between the James River and route 60, between the hours of 6:30 am and 2:30 pm, drop in to the dumpy looking ex-filling station for a bite to eat. 

You’ll thank me later.

State Slogans That Came In Second Place

State Slogans that came in second place:

• Alabama: Hell Yes, We Have Electricity

• Alaska: 11,623 Eskimos Can't Be Wrong! 

• Arizona: But It's A Dry Heat 

• Arkansas: Literacy Ain't Everything 

• California: By 30, Our Women Have More Plastic Than Your Honda 

• Colorado: If You Don't Ski, Don't Bother 

• Connecticut: Like Massachusetts, Only The Kennedy's Don't Own It Yet 

• Delaware: We Really Do Like The Chemicals In Our Water 

• Florida: Ask Us About Our Grandkids 

• Georgia: We Put The "Fun" In Fundamentalist Extremism 

• Hawaii: Haka Tiki Mou Sha'ami Leeki Toru (Death To Mainland Scum, But Leave Your Money) 

• Idaho: More Than Just Potatoes...Well Okay, We're Not, But The Potatoes Sure Are Real Good 

• Illinois: Please Don't Pronounce the "S" 

• Indiana: 2 Billion Years Tidal Wave Free 

• Iowa: We Do Amazing Things With Corn 

• Kansas: First Of The Rectangle States 

• Kentucky: Five Million People; Fifteen Last Names 

• Louisiana: We're Not ALL Drunk Cajun Wackos, But That's Our Tourism Campaign 

• Maine: We're Really Cold, But We Have Cheap Lobster 

• Maryland: If You Can Dream It, We Can Tax It 

• Massachusetts: Our Taxes Are Lower Than Sweden's (For Most Tax Brackets) 

• Michigan: First Line Of Defense From The Canadians 

• Minnesota: 10,000 Lakes... And 10,000,000,000,000 Mosquitoes 

• Mississippi: Come And Feel Better About Your Own State 

• Missouri: Your Federal Flood Relief Tax Dollars At Work 

• Montana: Land Of The Big Sky, The Unabomber, Right-wing Crazies, And Very Little Else 

• Nebraska: Ask About Our State Motto Contest 

• Nevada: Hookers and Poker! 

• New Hampshire: Go Away And Leave Us Alone 

• New Jersey: You Want A ##$%##! Motto? I Got Yer ##$%##! Motto Right Here! 

• New Mexico: Lizards Make Excellent pets 

• New York: You Have The Right To Remain Silent, You Have The Right To An Attorney... 

• North Carolina: Tobacco Is A Vegetable 

• North Dakota: We Really Are One Of The 50 States! 

• Ohio: At Least We're Not Michigan 

• Oklahoma: Like The Play, Only No Singing 

• Oregon: Spotted Owl...It's What's For Dinner 

• Pennsylvania: Cook With Coal 

• Rhode Island: We're Not REALLY An Island 

• South Carolina: Remember The Civil War? We Didn't Actually Surrender 

• South Dakota: Closer Than North Dakota 

• Tennessee: You Need Our Help Where 

• Texas: Si' Hablo Ing'les (Yes, I Speak English) 

• Utah: Our Jesus Is Better Than Your Jesus 

• Vermont: Yep 

• Virginia: Who Says Government Stiffs And Slackjaw Yokels Don't Mix? 

• Washington: What Rain? 

• Washington, D.C.: Wanna Be Mayor? 

• West Virginia: One Big Happy Family... Really! 

• Wisconsin: Come Cut The Cheese 

• Wyoming: Where Men Are Men ... and the sheep are scared!

You’ll Have To Give Me a Minute

As the worst case scenario plays out in front of me I am forced to retreat to the safety of Gary Larson. You guys will have to give me a few days to sort everything out. In the meantime:

Let The Eagle Fly

I have been dreading my voting experience for weeks now. Not the pitiful options, mind you, but rather the actual physical act of voting. I have been stubbornly holding out of the 2020 early voting craze. No, I would not slog down to the Courthouse and stand in line for an hour and a half to vote three weeks before Election Day. No, I would not place my ballot in an envelope and trust it to the United States Postal Service. I had been determined to not be hoodwinked into a panicked early vote. But honestly, the closer it got to Election Day, the more worried I have become over my stubborn refusal to adapt to 2020. So, there I was this morning at 9:50 am backing out of my parking space at the office to begin the four minute drive to Short Pump Elementary School, my polling place for the last 24 years. I was fully prepared to endure no matter how long the line or how long it took. In a scene worthy of a Frank Capra movie, as I pulled onto Church Road I happened to glance upward only to catch a glimpse of a magnificent bald eagle soaring a couple hundred feet above me. He followed me all the way to the corner of Church and Three Chopt. I attempted to take a picture of him but my cell phone camera wasn’t clear enough...

Trust me everyone...that’s a bald Eagle, and I took it as a positive sign.

First place I went was Publix to pick up some gift cards for the poll workers. Those people do the dirty work of democracy and I felt that this year especially they could use tangible evidence of our appreciation...

The first thing I noticed upon arrival was how empty the parking lot was. Normally I have to make a couple of laps before a space becomes available. Not this time. I parked and begin walking towards the school, under the breezeway in front, then around the corner to the side entrance of the gym. I saw zero voters. Another first. When I entered the gym I got in line. There were probably seven or eight people in front of me. There were easily two poll workers for every voter. The first worker I saw approached me to let me know the drill. I instantly recognized him as one of my neighbors from around the corner. I glanced to my right and saw what looked like at least 15 individual voting booths, each one having been throughly scrubbed down with germ-killing disinfectant by an earnest looking college student. In less than a minute I was being summoned forward by a serious looking black woman in her 60’s who verified my identity, squinting at my drivers license, then me, and mumbled with a smile, I guess that’s you! She then passed me on to a middle aged white man wearing bifocals who gave me my paper ballot and pointed me in the direction of the college student who was in the process of cleaning out my booth. She greeted me with a big smile and said, Here you go, sir.

Pam had pulled up a sample ballot online the night before, so I had already had time to get up to speed with the constitutional amendments on the ballot. Voted YES on both, the first one because anything that takes power away from politicians is fine with me and the second one because why isn’t it already the law?? How come people who serve in the military and suffer a complete and permanent disability are still being charged property taxes on their vehicles in the first place?? Geez. 

Moving on from those, I marked my ballot for my “preferred” candidates...but not before noticing something that made me smile and sigh at the same time. There has always been a soft spot in my heart for the Libertarian Party. On many issues important to me their positions and mine are virtually identical. There was a time when I hoped that perhaps one day the Party would become a viable third way, a party able to compete with the two big boys and provide people like me with...a choice not an echo. But, I looked down at their candidates and notice that the Libertarian Party actually ran someone for Vice President whose middle name was in quotation marks, “Spike”. Heaven help us.

Each of the five poll workers who I came into personal contact with got a gift card. Each of them were surprised and thanked me profusely. One was an immigrant, two were white men, one a black women, and one a female college student. Among the other workers I noticed scurrying around the place were middle aged women and men, one who looked like ex-military, another who looked like a farmer from the sticks, yet another an elderly woman who walked with a cane. As I walked outside the gym into the bright sunshine I thought to myself...Yep...That’s America. That right there is my country.

Now, we all wait for the results. Unlike most political television, I will actually watch the results for as long as my blood pressure, heart, and general mental health can withstand the thing. An adult beverage or two might be consumed. But, no matter what happens, it won’t take away the feeling I had inside that gymnasium, one of pride in and love of my country. May the eagle fly every Election Day.

The Words of Children

I’m not exactly sure what it is but the words of children are getting to me of late. Yesterday I posted a picture of a Thank You note delivered to my mailbox by the kids next door. I found out later that their mother had no idea they had written it and had been reduced to tears upon seeing it on Facebook. This morning I shared it with my friend in Buena Vista. Her response was to show me a note that her granddaughter had sent her after her COVID diagnosis had placed her grandmother in quarantine...

“Can we be together again becues I lov you and it fells like frever sins we herd the news The Cronuvirus and I miss you and love you.”

As a writer I love the way children express themselves on paper. There’s no embellishments, no unnecessary words or phrases. There’s no agenda, no hidden meaning. With phonetically correct spelling they just pour out exactly what is on their minds and when we read their words they cut us to the quick. What if all written communication was this crystal clear and honest?