Doug Makes Dinner

As many of you know, Wednesday night here at The Dunnevant house has always been a night fraught with culinary risk. This is the night where I am tasked with preparing dinner. My wife has a Yoga class that doesn’t let out until 7:30, so it’s my job on this one night to have dinner on the table when she gets home. Generally it works this way...Pam picks out something for me to make, does most of the groundwork in advance, stages everything on the counter with easy, often moronically simple written instructions, then leaves me to it. Well, yesterday I was feeling oddly adventurous, and when she asked me if there was anything in particular that I wanted to make, I replied..How about you let me do dinner by myself? I’ll plan a menu, go the grocery store and then make everything myself without any of your help! There was a pregnant pause...then she answered...Oooooo-K? The questioning intonation in her voice being no accident.

It was only later when I got to the office that the folly of my actions became apparent to me. Who was I kidding? I don’t know the first thing about planning a menu. Look, I’m great at ordering takeout. I have no peer when it comes to heating up soup. But when it comes to making a dinner, my past record did not offer much in the way of confidence. Panicked, I asked my assistant for help:

Me: Kristin, I promised Pam that I would make dinner tonight myself with no help from her. What do I do??

Kristin: What were you thinking??

Me: That’s not important now...what do I do??

Kristin: Why don’t you go to the grocery store and get one of those Zatarain’s dinners? It will list everything you need right on the box.

Me: That’s genius!

So the next thing you know, there I am at Publix standing at the Zatarain’s display, when I spot this:

Score! I love jambalaya! Ever since I was a kid and lived in New Orleans for three years, I have had a fondness for anything Creole. The back of the package suggested that I add either shrimp, or sausage. I decided on both. Pam was going to be so proud of me!! Then I happened to spot this on the same aisle:

What luck! Two of my favorite foods in one meal. This was gonna be great!

When it came time to prepare the meal, I laid everything out just like my wife does, everything handy and in its spot. Then I read the first line of the instructions...pour 2 and a half cups of water into a 3 quart saucepan. Oh crap, what’s a 3 quart saucepan look like? We must have ten pans in our kitchen...which one is 3 quarts?? Quickly, I fired off a text with this picture to Kristin,(since she had been the one who had gotten me into this)...

Me: Is this a 3 quart saucepan???

Kristin: I think so...

An inauspicious beginning. But, I rallied and soon the house was filled with the aroma of Cajun spices. The best part was that I timed everything out perfectly, the rolls coming out of the oven the very second that Pam walked through the door. Something smells good, she observed correctly! 

Ok...the jambalaya was very good, although a bit sticky. The red beans and rice were passable. The rolls were tasty. I was very pleased with myself. I did, however, notice that Pam wasn’t exactly devouring the feast set before her. Don’t you like it? I asked.

Then a very familiar expression came over my wife’s face. I know it well. It starts with a smile that is trying not to look dismissive. This is the look she gets when she’s about to correct me or point out some dumb thing that I have done. The smile is a disarming defense mechanism and basically means nothing. Then she says...No honey, it was very good, and it was really sweet of you to do this...

The word BUT had just taken out a full page advertisement in the Dunnevant Dispatch newspaper and was about to enter the conversation...

Pam:....but....there were no vegetables...just, like, two rice dishes and...bread....no vegetables.

Then, she broadened the smile and tilted her head to one side, and I knew that one of those bless your heart moments had arrived:

Pam: What in this world would you do without me?

So, there you have it. I had prepared the perfect meal for a third grade boy. But, on the bright side, we’ve taken care of our starch requirements for the rest of the month!

Is Winning Everything?

I watched a clip on one of the cable news shows yesterday. Actually, I found the thing while browsing through Twitter. Congressman Trey Gowdy was being interviewed about his surprising decision to leave politics and return to his former occupation as a prosecutor. Of course, the cynic in me always wonders whenever anyone decides to leave Washington, if the real reason is because A. They fear a pending defeat in the next election or B. They are being blackmailed by private scandal. Such is my low opinion of elected officials. 

In Congressman Gowdy’s case, I confess that I don’t know much about him except for his work on the House Benghazi investigation, and his odd hair style. He’s a Republican from the south so I can safely assume he is conservative. I don’t know where he stands with respect to the President. I qualify all of this because I don’t want anyone to say, Yeah but, he’s a            . So, here’s the quote that caught my ear:

...We live in a culture that values winning...but I don’t think that winning is the ultimate objective, the ultimate objective is to lead an honorable life.

No wonder he’s quitting politics!

The rest of this clip I will paraphrase. Mr. Gowdy began by giving several examples of great men from our past who lost...repeatedly, and a few who were actually killed for their unpopular, losing ways. Then he opines that process matters, and how we conduct ourselves in that process matters. With respect to our justice system he even offers the view that even a guilty person can and should go free if we violate that process. But then he compares the justice system to politics and politics comes out on the short end because in a political race it matters not whether an accusation he might make against his opponent is true, only that it works, and that it results in a win.

The late Al Davis, owner of the Oakland Raiders famously said, Just win, baby!  Vince Lombardi made famous the words, Winning isn’t everything...it’s the only thing. One of the most dreaded put downs in modern American life is the epithet, Loser. Ask any passionate sports fan and they will tell you that there is no such thing as a moral victory. I read some guy on Twitter after his team lost that losing is ...a grotesque irritant. I get it. I hate losing, always have. The question becomes, is winning so important that rules that make it harder to win should be cast aside? Some crew chief in NASCAR once made the observation that, If you ain’t cheating, you ain’t trying!

I cannot see into the heart of Congressman Gowdy to determine his true motivations. But...if his decision to retire from politics comes from his refusal any longer to participate in a process that elevates and rewards lawlessness and lying, then good for him. If, in his future work as a prosecutor he abides by the principle that process matters and that living an honorable life is the ultimate objective, then...double good for him. 

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. 

“Stormy” Weather

For the past week or so, there has been a story circulating concerning a certain porn star and her past dalliance with the current occupant of the White House. This ten year old relationship ended as all such relationships end, in acrimony. A six figure settlement was reportedly paid to her by the President’s lawyer just months before the 2016 election in an unsuccessful attempt to silence her story. Despite this payment, the porn star is now all over the place with salacious details of her decade old romp with the future President.

There isn’t a single solitary detail of this story that surprises me. All of us knew what kind of man our President was when we elected him. He made no attempt to hide his sexual conquests, in fact, openly bragged about them. But, there are two things about this story that are interesting to me. First, that this story isn’t really a story. It’s nothing more than a TMZ segment on entertainment television. It doesn’t even qualify as a scandal in the new normal of 2018. What...the President was boinking a porn star while his wife was at home with his newborn son?? That’s a story?? Ppsshhtt!

The second interesting part of this episode for me has been the reaction of prominent evangelicals. News that a sitting President had paid hush money to a porn star with a stage name of Stormy Daniels, whose most famous film was something called Good Will Humping, has been met with a collective evangelical yawn. Tony Perkins, a big shot at the Family Research Council, declared that The President gets a mulligan in this case, partly because evangelicals understand the concepts of mercy and forgiveness.

Ok.

But, ask yourself a question. Suppose that this story was about Barack Obama. Suppose that it had been discovered that Obama had carried on with a porn star while Michelle was at home nursing Malia, and had then instructed his lawyer to fork over a six figure hush money payment to her a month before the 2008 election to keep the public from discovering the truth. Try to imagine the hue and cry that would have exploded out of the evangelical community over such behavior. Franklin Graham and Jerry Falwell Jr. would have been apoplectic with rage.William Bennett would have had a coronary at such deviance. There wouldn’t have been any of this, We aren’t electing a Pastor, business. There would have been no temporizing language about the distinction between private virtue and public policy. No, Obama would be the reincarnation of Caligula, and evangelicals would be called out to stand against this fresh outrage of decadence.

I didn’t vote for Obama. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged me to a polling place to vote for Hillary. But, the evangelical embrace of the  45th President of the United States has forever destroyed in my mind their credentials as a moral voice. When virtue gets trumped by pragmatism, then you become just another garden variety lobbying organization.

No thanks.

Absalom, Oh Absalom!!

Day 23 finds me in 2 Samuel where I am confronted once more with the sordid tale of Amnon, Tamar and Absalom. I will spare this audience the more graphic details of debauchery found in this narrative except to say that incest is involved. But, what I want to talk about is a verse that I have always missed in previous readings. First, let me set it up...

Ok, Amnon is Absalom’s brother, both are sons of King David. They have a sister, Tamar who is described as beautiful. Amnon commits premeditated rape against her. Absalom takes in his sister after the shameful assault. Then this from 2 Samuel 13:22...

...But Absalom spoke to Amnon neither good nor bad, for Absalom hated Amnon because he had violated his sister.

The very next verse descibes a plot that Absalom launches to kill Amnon...a full two years later.

I had never noticed this particular detail of the story before. Here, Absalom goes along for two long years quietly enduring family dinners, and other casual encounters with his rapist/brother, all the while burning with hatred, plotting his revenge. Two years is a long time to carry around such a heavy weight. No wonder Absalom eventually goes off the rails. Hatred, especially private hatred, is a deadly thing. Hatred, so meticulously groomed and nursed, can become perhaps the most lethal force in the universe. In Absalom’s case, the trajectory of his life was altered by his hatred to the point where it costs him his life and provoked the famous cry from his anguished father, Absalom, Oh Absalom!!

Reading the story this morning made me examine my own life. Is there anything or anyone that I hate as much as Absalom hated his brother? Thankfully, the answer is no. I’ve never had cause to hate anyone with anything approaching this sort of passion and intensity. There have been plenty of people who I haven’t cared for, people who I would prefer not to be around, people who get on my nerves. There are famous people who I don’t know personally who I truly can’t abide...mostly politicians and entertainers, but even those people don’t arouse Absalom level hatred. But, honestly, when I read through my Facebook feed some mornings, I wonder about the hatred I encounter there. How much of it is real and how much is just bandwagon jumping or virtue signaling? I remember some of the vile things I used to read about George W. Bush. I remember the endless stream of invective poured out towards Barack and Michelle Obama. And now, it’s Trump’s turn. 

I understand. I get it...politics can be intensely personal. People can get worked up and carried away. Political beliefs run deep, along with the passionate assurance of our own righteousness, our own exclusive possession of the truth. But, the story of Absalom’s burning hatred and it’s deadly result should serve as a wake up call to all of us. This is especially true considering the fact that Absalom had every right to be angry, after all, his brother had raped his sister! But, even when we are right about something, that doesn’t grant us a license to hate. Hatred ultimately leads to bitterness and resentment, and these two burdens can turn us into the very people we claim to stand against.

It’s Not Fair

Sweat is starting to slide down between my eyes as my legs pump furiously on the new elliptical machine at the gym, this one designed to simulate the strides of a speed skater. My thighs and calves are burning and I’m only fifteen minutes in. It is my 4th such workout of the week, the 13th of the year, and most likely the 5000th of my life. Why do I so consistently volunteer myself for such torture? It is a complicated question which has many answers, none of them satisfactory. It is a stress relief. It does prevent me from ballooning to 300 pounds. It is, by all accounts, good for my heart. But mostly I do it because it gives me some sense that I am at least making an attempt to fight off the ravages of time, the slow, inexorable decline of physical and mental dexterity that comes with age. I mean, you can’t just shrug your shoulders and accept the inevitable, right? That would be entirely too logical and pragmatic. I much more prefer the illusion of control, the doomed notion that I, by sheer force of will and commitment, can keep the reaper at bay.

The television screen on the wall above me was broadcasting a football game. The New England Patriots were in trouble at the beginning of the 4th quarter of the AFC title game against the Jacksonville Jaguars. They had been outplayed the entire game by the younger, more athletic looking Jaguars. The closed caption script across the bottom of the screen is telling the viewer what a hard place that Tom Brady has found himself in, down 10 points to the league’s number one pass defense, having lost his best receiver to a concussion. Despite the growing pain in my legs from this brutal machine, I manage a smile. I think to myself...Where have these announcers been for the past 18 years?? Hard place, they say? 

The sweat stream that started as a trickle was a full blown river by the time the 40 year old Brady hit Danny Amendola with a dart in the back of the end zone to win the game for the Patriots. The screen is then filled with the ridiculously handsome Brady surrounded by a bevy of cameras and reporters, all eager for a word from the man who will be making his 10th appearance in the Super Bowl. We have just watched him throw for 138 yards and two touchdowns in the 4th quarter of a championship game, saving his heroics until his back was against the wall for what seemed like the 1,000th time. My workout was over so I headed to the shower. I didn’t need to see the interview. I knew what he would say before he did...all the right things.

It is very easy to hate someone like Tom Brady, he of the matinee idol good looks, the super model wife, all the money in the world and a strangle hold on the title, Greatest of All Time. There’s plenty of nits to pick if you care to look. But, he has had a bullseye on his back in a violent sport for over nearly two decades now...and nobody has even come close to laying a glove on him. The fact that he is doing this at age 40, is perhaps the very easiest reason to hate the guy. 

I sit in the steam room alone with my aching muscles. Every week these workouts get harder. With each passing year, their power to keep my weight under control weakens, my recovery time gets longer. Meanwhile, Tom Brady keeps on playing football at the highest level. Yes, he’s 40 and I’m getting ready for my 60th birthday. But, he plays football...while the most physically demanding part of my occupation involves putting paper in the copier.

I’m no longer a big pro football fan. I prefer college football and, of course, baseball. But, I watch when the playoffs come around. That means that when I’m watching, Tom Brady is most likely playing. I watch him engineer comeback after comeback with a mixture of resentment and admiration...resentment at his hoarding of unrivaled success, and admiration for his tenacious and so far victorious battle against time.

What Does Non Essential Mean?

So, our elected representatives failed to come up with a workable compromise last night, mearning that the government has shut down. Consequently, a relatively small percentage of the federal workforce deemed non essential has been furloughed. My Facebook wall has been peppered with comments about my use of the term non essential, so I’ve decided to clear up any confusion and misunderstanding of this controversial term.

First of all, no one with an ounce of self respect wishes to be thought of as non essential. Everyone likes to think that what they do for a living is vitally important work.( My own occupation is not immune to this calculus.) The problem is, it isn’t true...and it never has been true. But, just because something isn’t essential doesn’t mean that it is worthless either. The guy who drives the school bus in the morning is essential to getting your kid to school. The guy who washes the bus and cleans the bus out every day, not so much. But let that school bus go unwashed for a couple of years and never cleaned out, and before long you’ll have a storm of angry parents screaming at the board of supervisors meeting. In the case of my son-in-law, who happens to be the hardest working, most enthusiastic and able park ranger east of the Mississippi, the classification of his job as non essential by the government bean counters is a source of great frustration. While the job of park ranger might not be as essential as someone making life or death decisions about our nuclear arsenal, try telling that family from Nebraska who scrimped and saved for five years to be able to take the family to the Grand Canyon next week only to discover the gates locked because of a government  shutdown...try telling them that a park ranger’s job isn’t essential. 

Here’s the thing...we all do work that is essential to someone. In addition, all work is noble and honorable. Having said that, when you live in a country with a federal work force of 2 million people and that government spends 4 trillion dollars a year, the notion that all 2 million of those employees and every dime of that 4 trillion is absolutely essential and absolutely none of them can be spared and not a nickel of that money can be done without is a laughable suggestion. Yes, it is true that the last time the government shutdown, for 16 Days, it cost us 24 billion dollars. But, to put that in perspective...24 billion dollars is .006% of 1 percent of what this government spends in a year. By any definition, that is a negligible number.

But, getting back to this essential vs. non essential thing...there is one thing I know, any organization, private businesses included, get more inefficient the larger they become. A friend of mine posted a comment to my last blog suggesting that government was worse in this regard than private enterprises are. He might be right in a broader sense, but not completely. I rather believe that even large, for profit companies, fall victim to bloated payrolls. The following photograph might help illustrate my point:

There is only one essential employee in this photograph...and it sure isn’t the Human Resources manager!

Let it be known that I consider the government shutdown a complete political failure. It is never a desirable outcome to furlough hardworking employees who are supporting families. While I have spent lots of time in this space criticizing government waste and malfeasance and will continue to do so, a shutdown should be an embarrassment to the citizens of this Republic. If any government employees should be furloughed, it should be the 535 members of Congress and the President of the United States. Let a few of them go weeks without a paycheck and see how they like it. 

Government Shutdown?

Today, Friday, the 19th of January, 2018 holds the promise of a government shutdown. If it happens, it will be the 18th or 19th such shutdown since I graduated from high school in 1976, depending how you count such things. The short term impact will be negligible with only a handful of non essential government personnel getting their temporary pink slips. If the shutdown were to drag on for weeks or months, pestilence and devastation would surely sweep across the land. 

Government shutdowns, since the bicentennial year, have occurred when there is a funding gap between what is required to run leviathan and how much actual money the Congress has authorized the government to spend. The government’s fiscal year starts on October 1st of each year. Prior to 1976, that’s when a Budget was passed. But since then lawmakers have instead relied on continuing resolutions, a short term fix that funds operations for shorter periods of time amidst great rancor and namecalling between politicians.

Here’s a fun chart. If you’re keeping score at home, that’s 112 continuing resolutions over the last 20 years, 2001 being an especially dysfunctional year. The federal budget is made up of 12 individual appropriation bills. The last time all 12 were passed by October 1st was in 1998, so our federal government hasn’t functioned with a proper budget in over two decades. Not coincidentally, the federal debt has skyrocketed from 5.5 trillion in 1998 to over 20 trillion today. Many acts of treachery, malfeasance and perfidy have contributed to this mind-boggling amount of red ink, but none more than the continuing resolution, which is a code word for incompetence.

So, what’s the cause of this potential shutdown? Depends on which echo chamber you’re stuck in. It’s either the Republican refusal to grant amnesty to the dreamers, or Democratic refusal to fund the CHIP program for six years. Oh..also, somebody hates our troops and wants them to die for lack of funds. I can’t remember who though. The greatest debate among the political class has been, Who will get the Blame? I don’t know what the fuss is about. I’ve lived through 18 of these things, and I can say with complete confidence that the Republican Party will get the blame, not because they don’t deserve it, but because, the Democratic Party has never gotten the blame for a government shutdown in my lifetime and never will. That’s because the people who are charged with assigning blame in these matters are the Press, and with very few exceptions, the Press runs with Democratic Party talking points. This isn’t a scandal, it’s just the way things have always been. I don’t care who gets the blame. Actually, in this 2018 shutdown, it’s hard to argue with the blame landing squarely on the GOP since they control both houses of Congress  and the White House. If they can’t get this done, it’s on them.

Maybe they work something out today, cobble some ridiculous deal together and vote for it late this afternoon so they can all catch their flights home, since there is absolutely nothing that politicians hate worse than working on the weekend. Or maybe the government will shut down. Whichever way it goes, I have to go to work, since I don’t have a printing press in my basement and can’t rely on a continuing resolution to pay my mortgage.