Is It Over Yet?

Donald Trump had a terrible week. In perhaps the most conservative place in America, he spent the week calling all of his opponents liars, accused the beloved(in South Carolina) George W. Bush of lying about WMD's, got in a dust up with the Pope, came out as a fan of the individual mandate in Obamacare, and was caught lying about his own opposition to the Iraq war.

Didn't matter. Won anyway. Big.

Meanwhile, in Nevada, Hillary found a way to not totally blow what had been a huge lead a month ago. She eked out another victory over a 74 year old Democratic Socialist, while managing to look as if she had lost. Apparently, blacks are not warming up to the Bern. Perhaps his endless yapping about class and income equality, and his comparative silence about race has convinced blacks that he isn't down for the struggle. But, a Pyrrhic victory is still a victory, so Hillary marches on in her joyless slog towards the nomination.

It's becoming harder and harder to imagine a fall election that doesn't feature Trump v Clinton. On the Democratic side, despite the exuberance of the Sanders faithful, one gets the feeling that Hillary Clinton is simply too diabolical to be stopped by something so hopelessly futile as mere...voters. Amoung Republicans, anti-Trump forces have been reduced to bragging about finishing second more consistently than anyone else, and finding hope in keeping Trump's margin of victory under the crucial 15 point threshold. The people who keep assuring us that at some point Trump will say something truly beyond the pale, have now been proven wrong at least 30 times. 

So, next comes March 1st, Super Tuesday, when I will get the chance to cast a ballot here in Virginia. I will vote for the candidate who has the best shot at defeating Trump, admittedly a long shot. Right
now, I believe that candidate to be Marco Rubio. Although, it will no doubt be difficult to overcome the devastation of Jim Gilmore's withdrawal from the race, I simply can't gather up all my marbles and go home! I'm not gonna lie...if Jim would make an endorsement, it would make this decision a whole lot easier.

Some of you might take exception to my irreverent attitude about all of this. Many of you are all in for a particular candidate and view the proceedings with a much more vested interest and a far greater emotional investment. Others may resent my efforts at humor...don't you know what's at stake??!! And you're right. This is serious. But, at this point in the contest, my defense mechanism of choice is sarcasm, or gallows humor, depending on your perspective. I'll move on to anger and grief later.

"We are gathered here because of one man..."

I was in the midst of an exhausting workout at the gym, dripping with sweat, slugging away on the treadmill when I noticed that the funeral for Antonin Scalia had just started on the television just in front of me. It was closed captioned so I had to read along as the words were typed out at the bottom of the screen. At first it was just ornately dressed priests walking up and down the aisles of the great basilica carrying a richly detailed crucifix of highly polished silver and gold, a black priest out front swaying the thurible back and forth sending gray plumes of incense everywhere. The typist pecked out two musical notes.

Several dignitaries read scripture passages. The other justices were there, the Vice-President, and many of the famous and infamous. Then, the judge's son, Paul Scalia, himself a priest climbed the steps to the pulpit. I wondered how he would eulogize such a brilliant but controversial man, especially with so many of his political opponents in attendance. I thought of the pressure he must have felt. Then he spoke these words:                                                                                                                          

"We are gathered here because of one man. A man known personally to many of us, known only by reputation to even more. A man loved by many, scorned by others. A man known for great controversy and great compassion..... that man of course is Jesus of Nazareth.”

The rest of his words were about the role that faith played in the life of his father. It was tender, well written, warm and touching. But it seldom strayed into mere tribute. This would be a summation of a life of faith, and I can't recall hearing a clearer presentation of the gospel of Christ anywhere, at any time. It was an amazing demonstration of hope and peace. I benefitted just by reading the script at the bottom of the screen, while sweat poured off my nose. Such a strange place to attend church.  

The FBI vs. Apple

http://www.nationalreview.com/article/431491/apples-tim-cook-right-resist-governments-demand

Read this. No, seriously. Read this now.

I have seldom used this blog to promote the work of others, but in this case I am forced to make an exception. When I first read the story of the government's demands of Apple in the case of the San Bernardino terrorist's cellphone, my BS detector went into overdrive. Something about the story gnawed at me, something didn't add up. I mean, other than my knee jerk inclination to get pissed off whenever the federal government starts throwing its weight around trying to bully a member in good standing of the business community, a business in Apple's case which has created more jobs and more wealth than a billion Bernie Sanders could in a hundred lifetimes. But it took Kevin Williamson over at National Review to identify the reason for my unease. 

So, do yourself a huge favor and read this piece then ask yourself this question. Where, after hundreds of billion dollars in spending on security and law enforcement, does the government get the nerve to demand that Apple do its dirty work for them? Tim Cook is worried that this type of technology might fall into the "wrong hands?" Too late. The FBI is the wrong hands.

My Own Private Museum

I'm told that an awful lot can be learned about a man by walking through his library. If, for example, an entire couple of rows is occupied by biographies of Hitler, you might want to look for the nearest exit. Currently there are upwards of 400 books scattered about my house and my office. It has been great fun deciding which of them to reward by placing them in my new library. I'm sure that over the years new ones will be added, and maybe a few that didn't make the first cut will make an appearance at some point down the road. But for now, 152 titles have made their way onto these magnificent shelves behind my desk:

                            

                                                    

I have gone to the trouble of taking a written inventory. The following are a list of the most represented authors...

Dean Koontz, 15

William Shakespeare, 10

P.J. O'Rourke, 9

William F. Buckley, 7

Dumas Malone, 5

Jeff Shaara, 5

Christopher Buckley, 4

Pat Conroy, 3

Then there are a score of authors who have two titles represented:

Jon Meacham, Ernest Hemmingway, John Updike, John Feinstein, Marc Eliot, E. L. Doctorow, Stephen Ambrose, William L. Shirer, Burke Davis, G. K. Chesterton, Peggy Noonan, and Mark Twain.

Then comes the writers with one book each:

Edgar Allen Poe, Voltaire, Cervantes, Robert Louis Stevenson, Aristotle, Stephen Crane, Nathaniel Hawthorne*, Jonathan Swift, H.G. Wells, Herman Melville, Charles Dickens, Thomas Mann, Jonathan Franzen, H.W. Brands, Amity Shlaes, James Bradley, Winston Churchill, Alf J. Mapp, 

Fyodor Dostoevsky, David McCullough, Jonah Goldberg, Joseph Heller, Jack Kerouac, Homer, Robert Penn Warren, Dashiell Hammett, Truman Capote, Aldous Huxley, Harper Lee, Dylan Thomas, Saul Bellow, Thomas Sowell, J. D. Salinger, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Thomas Wolfe, John Steinbeck, C.S. Lewis, Sun Tzu, and Erik Metaxas.

One thing I noticed as I was putting this all together, and I would wager a rather large sum that my English Major daughter noticed the same thing....there are only four books in this collection authored by women, To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, two books by Peggy Noonan and one by Amity Shlaes. This is profoundly embarrassing to me, especially considering the thousands of brilliant writers out there who happen to be women. Good grief, how did this happen? I probably have a dozen or so upstairs that didn't make the cut, but still...I've got to broaden my horizons.

Anyway, I can't tell you how much I love this new room. I've spent practically every waking moment in here since the furniture was delivered. Everyone of these books have meant something special to me at some point in my life. Having them gathered together in one place feels like walking into a museum of your life, only you're the only one for whom the displays make any sense. I remember being mesmerized by Catcher In The Rye, shamed by To Kill a Mockingbird, astonished by the questions in The Brothers Karamozov. I was terrified by The Nightmare Years, enchanted by The Prince of Tides, humbled by The Everlasting Man, and inspired by Bonhoeffer. Each book made a bold mark on my memory which still remains all these years later. 

Monetizing My Blog....a bust!

What I was hoping would become a major source of my retirement income has turned out to be a bust. That's right, faithful reader, monetizing my blog has turned out to be the empty pot at the end of the rainbow. After six weeks of the great experiment, I have netted a whopping $28.14. Put another way, at this rate after a year I will have earned enough money to pay 25% of one month's premium for my Obamacare health insurance policy! So, I guess my dream of retiring in three years will have to wait. In Google Adsense's defense...the process was quick and easy. But, fear not dear reader. Let not your heart be troubled. The purpose and therefore the motivation for The Tempest has never been financial. I write this blog for entirely mental health reasons, as in...maintaining mine!

Having a public forum for the purposes of self expression is about the coolest thing ever. The fact that people actually enjoy reading is even cooler, astonishing in fact. Having come up with something to write about 1,100 times in five years might suggest to some an unhealthy obsession with the written word. To others it might fairly be viewed as someone who perhaps values too highly his own opinions. But here's the thing...until you go to the trouble of writing down for public scrutiny your opinions of events, you don't realize how contradictory and biased they are! If anything, these past five years have illustrated the flaws in my thinking more so than the virtues. I have often contradicted myself. I find that my mind can be changed on a matter after reading an old, uninformed opinion. Keeping a record of one's opinions can be embarrassing and humbling, but it can also help reinforce the truth. Some truths are timeless, after all.

The fact is, there's a part of me that enjoys controversy. I actual like stirring the pot. If these blogs don't irritate at least one person, then where's the fun in that? Opinions provoke, and provocation can be great fun. But according to Google Adsense, fun will have to be my only reward. 

This is the day...

Dreary rain falling outside has melted yesterday's snow. It's a Tuesday and the clock is ticking. A man who lives to age 80 gets 29,100 days on this earth. After each one is done, they never come back. A man who is 57 has fewer days ahead of him than behind him, 20,000 already spent days stretching behind him obscured by the dust of the road. Today is what we have. Dreary, rainy Tuesday is the moment that counts. Tomorrow might be better. The sun might be shining tomorrow. But tomorrow might never get here. Today is the thing.

Most days carry with them no memories. The vast majority of them are uneventful, indistinguishable units of time on a calendar. Then something spectacular happens and a day becomes plated in gold, the birth of a child, a wedding, an anniversary. Others are marked in black, someone dear gets sick, an accident, someone beloved slips away unexpectedly. But most days lack drama, nothing of consequence happens and one blends into the next like water colors. 

But is this as it should be? Is life to be lived in long seasons of sameness interrupted by the spectacular and the heartbreaking? I think not. Maybe everyday should be gold plated, everyday an adventure. If our hearts could take it, wouldn't living everyday as if it were our last make a difference? Sure, it would be exhausting, but maybe each day should end with us collapsing in bed completely spent. Maybe we're all supposed to arrive at the end with scars all over us, battered by an energetic life, not as a well preserved corpse about whom people say, "Oh, he looked so good for his age."

"This is the day that the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it."

Why President Obama is Not My Enemy

Writing a blog is sometimes fraught with peril, especially when the subject is politics. It is very easy to be misunderstood. My limitations as a writer can sometimes result in people jumping to conclusions that I never intended to convey. Today's topic might very well be one of those times, but here goes.

I'm not terribly fond of the Democratic Party, have never been a big supporter of the current President. This will come as no surprise to any of you. But what may surprise some of you is this truth...President Obama is not my enemy. 

In this hyper-polarized and divided nation, compromise and accommodation have somehow become synonymous with weakness. Any compliment paid to the other side feels to some like a betrayal. Well, in my opinion, this graceless, scorched earth style of politics is toxic and may very well eventually kill this country.

Over the weekend, after the sudden passing of Justice Scalia, social media almost immediately erupted into a volcano of bad faith, some on the right voicing accusations of assassination by dark leftist forces, some on the left positively gleeful at the death of such a powerful enemy. It was shameful and unworthy of us.

The thing is, I have no enemies in politics, I have opponents. Even Donald Trump isn't my enemy. Neither is Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders. They are politicians with whom I disagree, nothing more. Here's how it works:

President Obama is a good man. There are things to admire about him. We are human beings first, and as human beings go, there's a lot to like. He's a good father, for one thing, and by all accounts a fine husband. As the first family, they model all of the right qualities for our nation, a very good thing. As President, he has had some terrific moments. The speech he gave at the funeral of those killed in the attack on Gabby Gifford was beautiful. When speaking about the youngest victim of that tragedy he said, "I want us to live up to her expectations. I want our democracy to be as good as Christina imagined it. All of us, we should do everything we can to make sure this country lives up to our children's expectation." Those were beautiful words that put a lump in my throat, worthy of a President.  Although his gifts as a speaker were oversold, he has moments of brilliance, and the spoken word is one of a President's most valuable tools. The fact that I disagree with him about policy cannot and should not blind me to his gifts or force me to actively delight in his failure. 

Listen, President Obama and I, by and large want the exact same things for this country. We both want a robust economy, more and better paying jobs, better and cheaper health care, a peaceful world. In other words, we share common goals. Where we part ways is over tactics, not strategy. He is of a political philosophy that values centralized planning. His default assumptions about the problems we face are that no problem is without a government solution. In his mind, government is a positive, transformative, benign force for all things good. I totally and completely reject that line of thinking. For me, central planning bureaucrats are not agents of progress, but obstacles to progress. In my opinion, a government large and powerful enough to provide for your every need is a government large and powerful enough to take from you everything you have, and if history has taught us anything it is this...centralized power in the wrong hands is the most dangerous thing on earth.

So, I try to vote for those least enamored with blind faith in the redemptive power of government. But, as is often the case in a democracy, sometimes my guys lose. When that happens, I don't immediately start praying for my political opponents to all suddenly die in their sleep! I have never wanted President Obama to be a failure, largely because if he is a failure, my country fails. My faith instructs me to pray for my leaders. It makes no exception for party.

In November, we will elect a new President. At this point, I have no idea who it will be, although at this writing, the favorites are Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders and Ted Cruz. None of them will be my enemy on innauguration day. We have a system of government that provides checks and balances on our worst instincts. I will trust that system of government to protect me from their worst policy prescriptions. Whoever the next President is will be the beneficiary of my prayers. I don't think this makes me naive or soft. I think it makes me a good citizen. Does it mean I am insufficiently partisan? I can only hope so.