Private Citizens Lead the Relief Effort in Puerto Rico

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The American island of Puerto Rico remains in dire straits after last week's devastating Hurricane Maria.   Electricity is still out across most of the island, effecting homes, relief centers, and hospitals, and those with generators are having trouble finding diesel to power them.  Drinking water is also in short supply.  Many of the relief supplies that have made it to the island are stuck at the port without trucks to move them inland where they are desperately needed.

The mayor of San Juan, Carmen Yulin Cruz, has issued calls for immediate humanitarian aid, saying that residents of her city and the rest of the island are dying.  The situation is, by all accounts, unimaginably horrible.

Mark Cuban, the billionaire owner of the Dallas Mavericks, this week loaned the team's private plane to Maverick's point guard, J.J. Barea, a native of Puerto Rico, to take emergency supplies the island and to bring survivors back to the mainland.

Rap singer Pitbull also sent his private plane to Puerto Rico loaded with relief supplies.  Pitbull will be bringing cancer patients in need of chemo back to the United States in his plane.

Meanwhile, the Boeing 757 which Donald Trump owns sits idle.

Trump initially resisted lifting the "Jones Act" which would have gotten more supplies to Puerto Rico quicker because he didn't want to cause financial harm to U.S. shippers.  Trump, who also claims to be a billionaire, has now decided that his most effective course of action in this tragedy is to lash out at Mayor Carmen Yulin Cruz of San Juan and accuse her of "poor leadership."  Meanwhile, he fantasizes aloud that his administration had organized a response by federal workers who are doing a "fantastic job!"

Donald Trump also used the situation to launch some tweets regarding Puerto Rico's on-going debt crisis, not letting the islanders forget that once they get past the hurricane they will still be in a precarious legal situation.   Puerto Rico's debt was made worse a few years back when a Trump-branded golf course on the island went bankrupt there and left Puerto Rico's government holding the bag for nearly $33 million.  

Trump will fly into Puerto Rico next Tuesday for a quickie tour.  Here's hoping that Melania wears sensible shoes and that The Donald pays attention while he is there.  So far the disaster response from Trump and his team has been less than spectacular - to put it charitably.  The United States can and must do better in taking care our territory and our people.

God bless our private citizens like Mark Cuban, the Dallas Mavericks, and Pitbull - and everyone else who have reached into their hearts and pockets to save lives in the Caribbean.  They are foraging down a path that our government should have already cleared.

Stay strong, Puerto Rico, more help is on the way!

Pumpkins and Walnuts and Atomic Bombs, Oh My!

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

Rosie and I are back in the Kansas City area this weekend.  We had a nice drive up this morning - 375  miles of sunshine, blue skies, and autumn scenery.

The Amish were out in full force, especially around Seymour, Missouri, where we encountered four individual buggies of the hard-working religious agrarians.   One buggy was driven by an older woman dressed in black and wearing a dark bonnet who seemed to be in a hurry to get to wherever she was going, and another was under the control of a bearded young man, also dressed in sensible Amish garb.  The other two buggies were being driven by married couples with young children on board - and both of those buggies were pulling long, wooden trailers which were loaded down with pumpkins.  One also had what appeared to be some blooming home-grown mums that were heading to a fall market.

We pulled into a quick stop just north of Springfield, Missouri, where I noticed a parked pickup truck that was hooked up to a trailer that was full of walnuts, still in their hulls.  There are many places in the rural Midwest now where people can take walnuts and have them hulled by a machine - with a buyer standing at the ready to purchase the hulled nuts in bulk.  Most small town feed stores have a hulling process in operation this time of year.

When I was young we would gather walnuts in their thick green hulls and spread them out on gravel driveways.  As the cars drove over them during the course of the fall and winter, the hulls would gradually be worn and ripped away by the car tires.  We cracked the hulled walnuts by placing them on an old anvil and then striking them with a hammer.  My sister and I would help our mother pick the "goodies" (nut meat) out of the broken walnut shells.  Mom kept the goodies in quart jars, and she would use them to make cookies and candy throughout the rest of the year.

One other bit of walnut trivia:  My dad's favorite flavor of ice cream was "Black Walnut," which was made with delicious walnuts like those grown throughout the Ozarks.  During the summer we would often make homemade ice cream with a hand-cranked ice cream freezer, but I don't remember ever making any using mom's hand-picked walnut goodies.  I do remember making homemade ice cream with fresh peaches and strawberries - and both flavors were delicious!

We also made homemade ice cream in the winter when there was a good snowfall.  A very delicious concoction called snow ice cream could be whipped up in a hurry using milk, sugar, vanilla, and, of course, snow.  Enjoying that delicacy came to an end around 1960 or so when the government began warning us not to eat snow because of possible radiation from all of the atomic testing that was going on at the time.

One other bit of radiation trivia:  Our family drove to California from Missouri twice during the late 1950's and I remember being stopped by military roadblocks in the desert at least twice.  Long lines of cars waited in the hot desert sun for what seemed like hours until we were cleared to move along.  At one of those stops our car was either first in line or very near the front, and my dad asked one of the young men in uniform manning the roadblock what was going on up ahead.  He said that the government was testing a weapon.

Fortunately, I don't remember seeing any mushroom clouds!   Things are better today, though we still run the risk running into pumpkins or walnuts as they come bouncing down the highway!

The Geriatric Senate

by Pa Rock
Youngster

Aging politicians are like barnacles - damned hard to remove.

Franklin D. Roosevelt had been President less than one hundred days when Dianne Feinstein was born in June of 1933.  Today she is the oldest serving member of the United States Senate and is seriously considering running for her fifth full-term next fall.  Should she win that election, Feinstein would be ninety-one at the end of the new term.

When the founding fathers - James Madison and the other wealthy white landowners - drafted our Constitution, they were careful to include minimum age requirements for various federal offices.  A member of the House of Representatives had to be at least twenty-five years old, a senator thirty, and the President had to be at least thirty-five.  They didn't want a bunch of kids taking over the levers of government.   Sadly, the Constitution drafters failed to include any provisions that placed a limitation on the maximum age a person could be who held those offices.

Dianne Feinstein, the senior senator from California, is eighty-four-years-old and she is seriously considering running for another six-year term in the Senate.  A new poll conducted by the Public Policy Institute of California found that fifty-percent of that state's likely voters feel that she should not run, but Feinstein seems inclined to share her political skills with Californians for another six years, whether they want her to or not.

Currently six other U.S. Senators are also over the age of eighty:  Chuck Grassley of Iowa is eighty-four (less than three months younger than Feinstein), Orrin Hatch (Utah) and Richard Shelby (Alabama) are both eighty-three, James Inhofe of Oklahoma is eighty-two, and Pat Robers (Kansas) and John McCain (Arizona) are both eighty.  Thad Cochran of Mississippi will celebrate his eightieth birthday this December 7th - and then there are more than twenty other senators who are currently in their seventies!

With age comes wisdom - and mule-headedness, incontinence, and senility.  The United States government offers a choice of good retirement plans, and more Senators need to be taking advantage of them.   Those over eighty should lead the way to the exits.

The United States Senate is a political entity that barely functions as it is.     The time is overdue for a transfusion of younger blood and more vitality.   The kids need room to move up - and the dinosaurs need to be put out to pasture!

Palin Takes Trump to the Alabama Wood Shed

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Though Donald John Trump would be loathe to admit it, he is apparently not the be-all and end-all when it comes to backwoods politics in America.   Yesterday a candidate whom Trump personally campaigned for lost his senate seat in a brutal Alabama run-off election.   Yup,  The Donald, God's gift to poor white voters, had flown into Alabama the previous week and put a big pile of political capital on the table in support of the state's appointed incumbent senator, Luther Strange - and it turned out to be a losing bet!

Trump was a big gun, and by God he was going to tell those crackers what to do and who to vote for.  Vice President Pence flew in later with the same message - and Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell spent about a bazillion dollars also backing Strange.  The big guns were all locked and loaded and aimed squarely at the white voters of Alabama.

Strange's opponent in the run-off election was Roy Moore, also a Republican.  Moore is a colorful bigot who doesn't like Muslims or gays, and has twice been removed as Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court for political stunts.  Moore had far less money to campaign on than Strange, but he did ride to the polls yesterday on horseback, and he did campaign relentlessly portraying his opponent as part of the status quo in Washington, DC - a gator in the swamp.   Roy Moore was also actively supported in his campaign to unseat Luther Strange by white supremacist Steve Bannon and former Alaska governor Sarah Palin.

Trump's man lost yesterday by ten full percentage points, enough to thoroughly embarrass a normal human being.  Trump, who likely will remain unfazed, might do well to have Ms. Palin back to the White House for another meal and perhaps a  lesson or two in how to speak cracker.

It looks as though Sarah Palin may rise again, and for that we can thank Donald Trump.

Glory, glory hallelujah, Her truth is marching on!!!

McCaskill Is on the Beg

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The days when I don't get two or three desperate entreaties from Claire McCaskill begging for a campaign donation are rare days indeed.  The senator is relentlessly on the beg for campaign cash as she stokes the fears of Missouri citizens and Democrats nationwide.  The fate of the nation hangs by a thread, and that thread is Claire.   Those evil Trump Republicans have painted a big target on her backside, and if she loses, the country is doomed.  Doomed, she tells us!

The sky is falling and only Claire McCaskill can save us!

One thing Claire McCaskill fails to mention in all of her desperate and shameless begging is that, as of yet, she does not a credible Republican opponent. Republican Governor Eric Greitens has said he will not run against McCaskill, as have U.S. Representatives Vicky Hartzler and Ann Wagner.  State Treasurer Eric Schmjdt has also said that he is not interested in taking on McCaskill.  Tony Monetti, a relatively unknown retired bomber pilot and college professor is running, and so is Austin Petersen who ran as the Libertarian candidate for President in 2016.  Both Monetti and Petersen are running as Republicans, and neither has much of a campaign organization.  Also, neither pose a serious political threat to the wily McCaskill.

McCaskill's most likely GOP opponent is Missouri's newly-elected attorney general, Josh Hawley.  All living former Republican senators from Missouri are openly encouraging Hawley to challenge McCaskill, and he seems to be the most promising horse in the right wing of the state's political stable.  Josh Hawley, however, is hobbled by a campaign promise from his 2016 race for state attorney general, a promise that he made to voters to be focused on that job and not use it as a ladder for higher office.

But a politician's gotta do what a politician's gotta do - and Hawley recently announced an "exploratory" committee to look at a run against McCaskill.  That move was not lost on Claire.  She immediately sent out an appeal for more money.  An "exploratory" committee!  OMG, the sky really is falling!

McCaskill sold her soul to Hillary early in the last election cycle, undoubtedly hoping to secure a cushy cabinet position so she wouldn't have to come back to Missouri and press the flesh in yet another Senate campaign.  But that plan crashed and burned, and now if she wants to stay relevant she will have to struggle to hold her senate seat.

So far I have been able to resist all of McCaskill's unhinged begging, and I will stand firm at least until the two major parties select their candidates.  If the choice is - as it is likely to be - between Claire and some Trumphead, I will vote for Claire, - and maybe even send her a dollar or two - but not many.   I would be more generous if Claire's office had better constituent services or if she could resist the urge to get involved in Democratic politics in other states, but those patterns are fairly well established and unlikely to change any time soon.

The Republicans will nominate Hawley or some other Trumphead, and The Donald will rush into Missouri and try to control the election.  He's popular here, especially in the rural areas, and will have an impact on the election.  Claire McCaskill is likely to lose.

But that doesn't have to be the case.  Missouri has a much stronger senate candidate waiting in the wings, one who could and would defeat the strongest GOP challenger.  Jason Kander, Missouri's former secretary of state came within a hair's breath of defeating established Senator Ol' Roy Blunt in 2016 - in the same election in which Donald Trump trounced Hillary in Missouri by over eighteen percentage points.

Kander, of course is expressing no interest in putting up a primary challenge to McCaskill, which is sad because he is by far the more dynamic candidate of the two.  McCaskill, for her part, would have little room to whine about a primary challenge because she took on Governor Bob Holden, a Democrat, back in 2004 and defeated the incumbent in a primary.  She later lost the general election to Ol' Roy Blunt's sensitive son, Matt.

So, for the time being, Democrats in Missouri are stuck with Claire, while Republicans are still mulling the situation over.  But, the sky is falling - make no mistake about that - and Claire desperately needs those dollars!

Monday's Poetry: "Puerto Rican Obituary"

 by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Puerto Rico, one of the larger islands in the Caribbean, has been an American territory since the Spanish American War at the end of the 19th century.  The United States took Puerto Rico and the Pacific island of Guam as part of the spoils of that war, and our country still controls much of the governance and daily life of those two islands today.  There is sporadic talk of each becoming a state someday.


Puerto Rico is, or has been, one of the lovelier jewels of the Caribbean.  Old San Juan and the massive Spanish fort along the coast draw millions of tourists annually, and El Yunque, the rain forest of Puerto Rico, is an amazing experience.   With English in common usage and the dollar as the official currency - as well as an array of American businesses and medical and educational professionals residing on the island, many Americans see it as a viable retirement option. 

This past week, of course, Puerto Rico was devastated by Hurricane Maria, a gargantuan weather event that left the entire island tattered and without electricity.  Reports are that it will take months to get the power back on throughout the island, and years to rebuild.

That is so sad because it is a charming and beautiful place.

Shamefully, our national government does not seem to be engaged with helping Puerto Rico recover from the massive hurricane damage the way that kicked into gear with the tragedy in Houston.  Puerto Ricans are Americans, too, albeit marginalized ones.

This poem, "Puerto Rican Obituary" by Pedro Pietri, is a lengthy look at what it means to be a Puerto Rican struggling to get by while residing in New York City's Spanish Harlem.  It idealizes life back home on the island, and portrays a sad, soulful longing for a place where people could live as human beings and not just workers toiling their way toward the cemetery.

Stay strong, Puerto Rico.  You are in my thoughts and prayers!


Puerto Rican Obituary
by Pedro Pietri

They worked

They were always on time

They were never late

They never spoke back

when they were insulted

They worked

They never took days off

that were not on the calendar

They never went on strike

without permission

They worked

ten days a week

and were only paid for five

They worked

They worked

They worked

and they died

They died broke

They died owing

They died never knowing

what the front entrance

of the first national city bank looks like

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

Olga

Manuel

All died yesterday today

and will die again tomorrow

passing their bill collectors

on to the next of kin

All died

waiting for the garden of eden

to open up again

under a new management

All died

dreaming about america

waking them up in the middle of the night

screaming: Mira Mira

your name is on the winning lottery ticket

for one hundred thousand dollars

All died

hating the grocery stores

that sold them make-believe steak

and bullet-proof rice and beans

All died waiting dreaming and hating

Dead Puerto Ricans

Who never knew they were Puerto Ricans

Who never took a coffee break

from the ten commandments

to KILL KILL KILL

the landlords of their cracked skulls

and communicate with their latino souls

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

Olga

Manuel

From the nervous breakdown streets

where the mice live like millionaires

and the people do not live at all

are dead and were never alive

Juan

died waiting for his number to hit

Miguel

died waiting for the welfare check

to come and go and come again

Milagros

died waiting for her ten children

to grow up and work

so she could quit working

Olga

died waiting for a five dollar raise

Manuel

died waiting for his supervisor to drop dead

so he could get a promotion

Is a long ride

from Spanish Harlem

to long island cemetery

where they were buried

First the train

and then the bus

and the cold cuts for lunch

and the flowers

that will be stolen

when visiting hours are over

Is very expensive

Is very expensive

But they understand

Their parents understood

Is a long non-profit ride

from Spanish Harlem

to long island cemetery

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

Olga

Manuel

All died yesterday today

and will die again tomorrow

Dreaming

Dreaming about queens

Clean-cut lily-white neighborhood

Puerto Ricanless scene

Thirty-thousand-dollar home

The first spics on the block

Proud to belong to a community

of gringos who want them lynched

Proud to be a long distance away

from the sacred phrase: Que Pasa

These dreams

These empty dreams

from the make-believe bedrooms

their parents left them

are the after-effects

of television programs

about the ideal

white american family

with black maids

and latino janitors

who are well train—

to make everyone

and their bill collectors

laugh at them

and the people they represent

Juan

died dreaming about a new car

Miguel

died dreaming about new anti-poverty programs

Milagros

died dreaming about a trip to Puerto Rico

Olga

died dreaming about real jewelry

Manuel

died dreaming about the irish sweepstakes

They all died

like a hero sandwich dies

in the garment district

at twelve o’clock in the afternoon

social security number to ashes

union dues to dust

They knew

they were born to weep

and keep the morticians employed

as long as they pledge allegiance

to the flag that wants them destroyed

They saw their names listed

in the telephone directory of destruction

They were train to turn

the other cheek by newspapers

that mispelled mispronounced

and misunderstood their names

and celebrated when death came

and stole their final laundry ticket

They were born dead

and they died dead

Is time

to visit sister lopez again

the number one healer

and fortune card dealer

in Spanish Harlem

She can communicate

with your late relatives

for a reasonable fee

Good news is guaranteed

Rise Table Rise Table

death is not dumb and disable—

Those who love you want to know

the correct number to play

Let them know this right away

Rise Table Rise Table

death is not dumb and disable

Now that your problems are over

and the world is off your shoulders

help those who you left behind

find financial peace of mind

Rise Table Rise Table

death is not dumb and disable

If the right number we hit

all our problems will split

and we will visit your grave

on every legal holiday

Those who love you want to know

the correct number to play

let them know this right away

We know your spirit is able

Death is not dumb and disable

RISE TABLE RISE TABLE

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

Olga

Manuel

All died yesterday today

and will die again tomorrow

Hating fighting and stealing

broken windows from each other

Practicing a religion without a roof

The old testament

The new testament

according to me gospel

of the internal revenue

the judge and jury and executioner

protector and eternal bill collector

Secondhand shit for sale

learn how to say Como Esta Usted

and you will make a fortune

They are dead

They are dead

and will not return from the dead

until they stop neglecting

the art of their dialogue—

for broken english lessons

to impress the mister goldsteins—

who keep them employed

as lavaplatos

porters messenger boys

factory workers maids stock clerks

shipping clerks assistant mailroom

assistant, assistant assistant

to the assistant’s assistant

assistant lavaplatos and automatic

artificial smiling doormen

for the lowest wages of the ages

and rages when you demand a raise

because is against the company policy

to promote SPICS SPICS SPICS

Juan

died hating Miguel because Miguel’s

used car was in better running condition

than his used car

Miguel

died hating Milagros because Milagros

had a color television set

and he could not afford one yet

Milagros

died hating Olga because Olga

made five dollars more on the same job

Olga

died hating Manuel because Manuel

had hit the numbers more times

than she had hit the numbers

Manuel

died hating all of them

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

and Olga

because they all spoke broken english

more fluently than he did

And now they are together

in the main lobby of the void

Addicted to silence

Off limits to the wind

Confine to worm supremacy

in long island cemetery

This is the groovy hereafter

the protestant collection box

was talking so loud and proud about

Here lies Juan

Here lies Miguel

Here lies Milagros

Here lies Olga

Here lies Manuel

who died yesterday today

and will die again tomorrow

Always broke

Always owing

Never knowing

that they are beautiful people

Never knowing

the geography of their complexion

PUERTO RICO IS A BEAUTIFUL PLACE

PUERTORRIQUENOS ARE A BEAUTIFUL RACE

If only they

had turned off the television

and tune into their own imaginations

If only they

had used the white supremacy bibles

for toilet paper purpose

and make their latino souls

the only religion of their race

If only they

had return to the definition of the sun

after the first mental snowstorm

on the summer of their senses

If only they

had kept their eyes open

at the funeral of their fellow employees

who came to this country to make a fortune

and were buried without underwears

Juan

Miguel

Milagros

Olga

Manuel

will right now be doing their own thing

where beautiful people sing

and dance and work together

where the wind is a stranger

to miserable weather conditions

where you do not need a dictionary

to communicate with your people

Aqui

Se Habla Espanol

all the time

Aqui you salute your flag first

Aqui there are no dial soap commercials

Aqui everybody smells good

Aqui tv dinners do not have a future

Aqui the men and women admire desire

and never get tired of each other

Aqui Que Pasa Power is what’s happening

Aqui to be called negrito

means to be called LOVE

Trump Goes to War - Against the NFL

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This week in a sure sign that the Mueller investigation is having a negative impact on Donald Trump's pleasant disposition, the fat man in the White House launched yet another diversion to take the public's attention away from the ever-expanding Russia scandal.  Trump doesn't want us to waste our time focusing on the potentially treasonous activities of his administration and various family members, so he instead whipped up another sideshow to capture our attention.  Now, the matter of greatest national urgency must be athletes who kneel during the national anthem.

Football free agent Colin Kaepernick began drawing some attention to himself more that a year ago when he chose to kneel during the national anthem as it was being played at an NFL game.  Kaepernick was using that form of free speech (dubbed "taking a knee" in the popular press) to protest the growing incidence of white policemen shooting and killing unarmed black men, crimes which, more often than not, went unpunished.  In the intervening year, other professional athletes have followed Kaepernick's brave lead.

Last week while campaigning in Alabama, Trump went on a tirade and attacked the athletes who were using their constitutional right of free speech to bring attention to racism.  The Trump family made much of its early money through the ownership and management of properties which they steadfastly refused to rent to blacks, and polling shows most of America's contemporary angry racists are politically aligned with Trump.  By attacking Kaepernick and the other kneeling athletes - whom Trump referred to a "sons of bitches" - he was shamelessly throwing red meat to the racist elements of his base.  Trump also encouraged his peer group, the NFL owners, to fire athletes who choose to exercise their free speech through kneeling during the national anthem.

But, perhaps more importantly, Trump was giving America another outrage to focus on - something besides Russia.

This afternoon upwards of fifty professional football players are anticipated to "take a knee" while the national anthem is played during their games - and Donald Trump will undoubtedly explode all over Twitter.  But in spite of all of the patriotic fervor and noise, the Mueller team will still be digging.

Robert Mueller is focused, and while Donald Trump may sit on his golden thrown typing tweets with wild abandon, Mueller will not be distracted.

Godspeed, Robert Mueller.  America is depending on you!

It's Tim Macy's Birthday!

by Pa Rock
Proud Father

Screenwriter Tim Macy was born thirty-eight years ago today at St. Francis Hospital in Mountain View, Missouri.  It was a Sunday, just after noon, and the delivery room was crowded with EMT trainees who were there to witness a birth.  Baby Tim arrived safely through the calm and skilled efforts of Dr. Jon Roberts, a family friend.

Today Tim lives in the Kansas suburbs of Kansas City with his wife, Erin, and their two bright and loving children, Olive and Sullivan.   Tim is within a month of seeing the premier of his second full-length motion picture, and he has several other promising efforts circulating through movie and television production companies.

His future is so bright he ought to wear shades!

Happy birthday, Tim.   May you be around to enjoy many, many more!

McCain and Graham Split the Sheets, but ACA Still Remains in Peril

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Senate's long simmering bromance between John McCain and Lindsey Graham seems to have hit a rough patch with McCain's declaration yesterday that he cannot support the Graham-Cassidy bill to repeal Obamacare.  McCain's defection, along with that of Kentucky's Senator Rand Paul, means that the GOP would have to muster the votes of each of its remaining fifty senators in order to pave the way for Vice President Pence to save the day by casting a tie-breaker in favor of taking health care away from millions of deserving Americans.

So close, but yet so far.

The Senate Republican leadership had unreasonably high hopes that by letting Lindsey Graham champion this repeal effort, that would be enough to keep McCain, Graham's cantankerous BFF, in line.  But the blatant attempt to cast the Lindsey lure failed to work.  Some are saying that McCain is using the issue to polish up his image as a maverick - or a statesman, while others remain a bit more cynical and believe the cagey Arizona senator is simply getting even with Trump for his taunts back during the campaign which defamed McCain's military service. 

I'm more of a mind that John McCain doesn't get mad, he gets even.

Donald Trump only has one diplomatic "skill," and that is to bully - and the more he tries to bully John McCain the safer, and the healthier, America will be.

Trump also tried to bully the other GOP defector, Rand Paul, and the result of that attack ended badly as well.  In a tweet yesterday Trump bloviated:

"Rand Paul, or whoever votes against Hcare Bill, will forever (future political campaigns) be known as 'the Republican who saved ObamaCare.'"

To which the junior Republican senator shot back a tweet saying that he didn't regard Graham-Cassidy as a true Obamacare repeal - and that he would not be "bribed or bullied."

Donald Trump may be comfortable trying to bully his way through what he has termed "the swamp," but the Republican's biggest alligator in the Senate, Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, is a master of bribery.  McConnell has two remaining worries with regard to the way his caucus votes on Graham-Cassidy.  One is Susan Collins of Maine, and the other is Lisa Murkowski of Alaska.  Both of those senators voted against the Senate's last effort to kill Obamacare, along with pissed-off John McCain - and thus kept the vote to repeal at forty-nine, denying Mike Pence the chance to rush in and vote to insure that Americans in need remain that way.       

During the last vote, Republicans tried bullying Murkowski with threats toward the energy economy of Alaska.   This time around the GOP leadership seems to have changed its tactics with Murkowski and will try bribery instead.    The senator has apparently been told that if she will vote to repeal Obamacare through Graham-Cassidy, an exception will be carved out within the bill that will essentially allow Alaska to keep Obamacare.  Think about that.  If Murkowski votes to take affordable health care away from the forty-nine other states, her state will be allowed to keep it.  What is a political animal to do?

Once again we are at a moral and political crossroads in America watching helplessly as the health and well-being of millions of our fellow citizens dangles by a thread.  We shouldn't have to live in constant fear that illness or injury could first render us impoverished - and then dead.  

Stand tough, senators.  You are our last line of defense against the bullies, and bribers, and greedy charlatans who are striving so desperately to make America hate again.  If you have our backs, we will have yours.  Protect America by making health care affordable and keeping it that way!

Gay Nazis Need Love, Too

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

A few days ago an article on the Truthout website (www.truth-out.org) caught my attention as it introduced me to an aspect of fascism in America of which I had almost no knowledge.  The piece entitled "White Nationalist Groups Are Splitting Over Gay Inclusion," was written by Portland-based researcher Shane Burley.

Burley's article was an examination of some of the growing pains that the alt.right (American fascist) movement is undergoing as it deals with the growth spurt in membership brought on by having a friend in the White House.  It seems that when a broad movement is primarily based on intolerant attitudes, some natural fractures are bound to appear as it expands and brings in more people.   One of these fractures plaguing the leaders of American fascism is what to do about the gay white nationalists who want to be part of the movement.

That caught me as a bit of a surprise because I couldn't fathom why individuals who identify as gay would have a desire to be included within a much larger group which had historically demonized gays, and subsets of which had even called for their execution.  It brought to mind a the handful of prominent black Americans who Fox News trots out whenever they want to showcase minority opinions with which cranky old white Americans can feel comfortable.  I don't understand those folks either.

But, as a graying child of the sixties, I also adhere to a personal philosophy of "whatever floats your boat" - as long as I don't have to step over you on the sidewalk while you are doing it!

So, gay Nazis.

Anyone who would like to learn more about the crazy quilt of groups that crowd under the alt.right umbrella should begin their quest with this excellent piece by Shane Burley.  Through it you will encounter alliances of macho men who refer to themselves as "masculinists" and prefer the tribalism of life with other men over cavorting with women, fascist groups which allow gay members only if they keep their sexuality secret (don't ask, don't tell), and other groups which spout the Bible as they openly condemn homosexuality.    Somehow they all come together to perpetuate their core belief in the superiority of white people of European descent.

And, just so you know, Truthout is a superior venue for staying abreast of progressive thought in America.   It deserves the support of all who truly value a free and unfettered press.

Congressman Smith Sneaks into West Plains

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Missouri's 8th District congressman, Jason Smith, made a surprise visit to West Plains yesterday and brought with him Ajit Pai, the Chairman of the Federal Communications Commission.  Mr. Pai was apparently here to speak on issues related to rural internet service and to answer questions from the general public.  As a consumer of rural internet services, it was a meeting which I would have liked to have attended, but as I received my copy of yesterday's The West Plains Daily Quill, the issue that announced the visit, five hours after the event occurred, I missed the meeting.

I called the newspaper after reading the article that announced the meeting and learned that Congressman's Smith office had not given the local press word about the event until after the previous day's paper had already gone to press.  The person I spoke with noted that last minute announcements of public meetings seemed to be a "pattern" with Congressman Smith, a fact with which I was already familiar.

Apparently upwards of two hundred people did learn of the meeting in time to attend, including some school officials and representatives of local government who were likely individually informed of the "public" event by the congressman's office - but average citizens who rely on the print edition of the local newspaper for their news - well, not so much.

Ajit Pai, a Trump appointee and a native of the small town of Parsons, Kansas, was on a three-day, four-state tour to hear public comments about rural internet services and to push his (and Congressman Smith's) belief that "free markets have delivered more value to American consumers than highly regulated ones."  Or, in other words, to justify the dismantling of "net neutrality" measures and to open an unregulated internet to domination by big corporations.   The hogwash of Ajit Pai and Jason Smith will cost consumers dearly.

But that is just my opinion - one that was not heard thanks to the tightly controlled nature of the event.

This year the House of Representatives will only meet one-hundred-and-forty-two days, a most agreeable work situation that should leave Congressman Smith with ample time to come home and hold public meetings with constituents, yet when he is back here in rural Missouri he appears to studiously avoid arranged public meetings, and when he does show up he exhibits a "pattern" of sudden appearances with little advance notice.

What is Congressman Smith afraid of?  Is he concerned that if he stumbles into an unstructured situation somebody might ask him a question that would make him uncomfortable - a question such as how can he, in good conscience and as a Sunday School teacher, keep voting to take affordable health care away from thousands of his constituents? 

Americans have questions, and citizens of the "show me" state by their very nature want to be shown why certain solutions are better than others.  If Congressman Smith values the concerns of the voting public as highly as those of his corporate donors, then he needs to make an effort to hold some town halls and give voters access to their representative.

We've had enough of your surprises, Congressman Smith.  If you really want to know what your constituents are thinking, schedule a meeting - one with plenty of advance notice.

I'll be there.  You can count on it!

Another Day, Another Call to Ol' Roy Blunt

by Pa Rock
Voter

The prevailing strategy to relieve millions of Americans of their healthcare seems to be entirely focused on wearing down the resistance.  Republicans don't even try to pretend that they are crafting legislation that would adequately replace the plan that they are so hellbent on destroying.  They just keep throwing out inadequate proposals hoping that this time they will somehow or another reach the magic number they need to destroy one more piece of Obama's formidable legacy.

The Senate is now on its fourth attempt to repeal and replace Obamacare, with the emphasis on "repeal."  Most of the Republicans in the Senate don't care what, if anything, replaces Obamacare as long as they can manage to deprive healthcare to the working poor.   It is almost as though they are on a quest from God, albeit a mean and perverse God.

Graham-Cassidy, the latest Senate attempt at repeal and replace, promotes a replacement that would rely on "block grants," or federal money given to the states so that they could establish their own programs.  The grants would be underfunded and unworkable, but still the states could spend that money however they danged well pleased.

Today I phoned the office of my state's Republican senator, Ol' Roy Blunt.  Ol' Roy didn't answer the phone, of course, because he's too busy puttering around his three-million-dollar Washington, DC, area home and making sure the Senate passes no bills that would harm Kraft Foods, but his man "Andy" did pick up on the first ring.  Andy listened politely as I voiced my concerns about the inadequacy of underfunded block grants to provide medical care to Missourians, and my contention that this bill would result in the closure of rural hospitals, like the one here in West Plains, and shut the doors of many rural clinics.  When I had finished venting my spleen, Andy said, "Thank you, Rocky.  I'll let the senator know that you are opposed to the bill."

Yes, I am opposed to the bill - and the previous three - and probably the next three as well.  Doesn't the Senate have anything constructive that it can be doing?  Blunt is the de facto head of a coven of lobbyists.  Surely they have other interests that could benefit from some attention by the Senate.

Give it a break, Goobers.  Don't expect America to sit back and quietly give up its healthcare coverage until you are ready to give up yours.  Show me that bill and then maybe I'll quit calling.

But probably not.

Could Things Get Any Moore Strange in Alabama?

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

There is a Republican primary election next Tuesday in Alabama that will determine which of two ambitious politicians will ultimately earn the right to represent their party in the race to fill the Senate seat recently held by Jeff Sessions.  The race is between the appointed incumbent, Luther Strange, who, as the state's attorney general, was widely thought to have abandoned an investigation of the state's governor so that that same individual would appoint him to the vacant senate seat - which he did, and a Bible-spouting lawyer, Roy Moore, who has twice been forced out as Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court due to conflicts that he created over religion.

Strange, by virtue of his brief incumbency, has attracted lots of campaign cash and the support of such "strange" bedfellows as Donald Trump and Mitch McConnell.  Moore, who has far less funding than his opponent, also has some noteworthy public support from political powerhouses like Steve Bannon and Sarah Palin - as well as one of the Duck Dynasty hillbillies.  With only seven days left in which to campaign, most polls show Roy Moore with a significant lead.

The Senate race in Alabama is mean and getting meaner.  Both sides are accusing the other of being a part of "the swamp," with Strange being portrayed as carrying water for Mitch McConnell and Moore being cast as a part of the Mobile (Alabama) corrupt political machine.  And whoever ultimately prevails will still not be assured of six years at the public trough because the Republican nominee will still have to face a Democrat , former U.S.  Attorney Doug Jones, in the fall.  And with feelings this bitter, it is not inconceivable that Jones could win.

Donald Trump is planning a trip to Alabama this week to personally campaign for Luther Strange, a journey that will give the blowhard New Yorker some degree of ownership of Strange's ultimate success or failure.  It is a risk, and apparently one that Trump deems worth taking.  It could be a smart political move, or, perhaps more likely, Trump's trip south could be a sign of things to come - a very, very long midterm campaign season in which Republicans fight ruthlessly to rip each other asunder.

2018 may be a year of bloody Republican primaries - and, if it is, it couldn't happen to a more deserving bunch of folks.  Here's hoping The Donald makes time to personally become involved in each and every one!

Monday's Poetry: "The Wanderlust"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

From my perch by the living room window I am struck by the wandering nature of the fowl who reside here at Rock's Roost.  There are four varieties of domestic farm fowl who call The Roost home, and each has its own distinctive roaming patterns.

The chickens, which in reality are two hens and eight roosters, stick very close to the chicken coop during the day, and it is rare when they drift more that twenty-five feet from their abode.  The two little hens, in fact, spend most of their time inside of the coop, perhaps due to the pronounced gender imbalance within their community.

The five geese also sleep in the chicken coop, reluctantly allowing themselves to be shooed in right at dark and then bursting forth in gleeful anticipation of a new day when the coop door is opened just before dawn.  They roam the entire yard, but have the good sense to stop at the road.

The guineas, who for the past couple of years have numbered only three, also sleep in the coop, generally going in voluntarily as it starts to get dark.   During the day they roam much of the neighborhood, and are not afraid to cross the road, albeit quickly.  Guineas establish a touring pattern and can generally be found in the same locations at the same times throughout the day - seldom varying from their schedule.

The peacocks, who were confined in an aviary and barn for their first three years at The Roost, have been running free for the past few weeks, and they are busy establishing their roaming patterns.  The first few days the peacocks (two actual peacocks and five peahens) were loose, they would return to their pen each evening to be locked up for safety.  Soon the two peacocks and four of the hens decided that they preferred to roost in the treetops, and they gave up the pen.  One hen, however,  continued to show up each evening to be locked safely into the pen.

Now one peahen, perhaps the one who was sleeping on her own in the pen, appears to have taken up residence on down the road.  I hear her calling the others most mornings, but they ignore her pleas to come visit.  The remaining six roam the neighborhood, much as the guineas do.   They still sleep at The Roost in a pair of their favorite trees.

Rock's Roost, it would seem, has become the home base of a multitude of feathered wanderers.  To honor these free spirits, I have chosen as this week's poetry selection, "The Wanderlust," by one of my favorite poet's - Robert W. Service.  It is an introspective piece in which the poet discusses his lifetime of wanderings and anticipates his final trek, the one that will lead him into the unknown territory of  eternity.

Please enjoy this piece by America's gold rush poet who did so much to chronicle life on the Alaskan frontier.  There is much to be said for wanderlust.


The Wanderlust
by Robert W. Service

The Wanderlust has lured me to the seven lonely seas,
Has dumped me on the tailing-piles of dearth;
The Wanderlust has haled me from the morris chairs of ease,
Has hurled me to the ends of all the earth.
How bitterly I've cursed it, oh, the Painted Desert knows,
The wraithlike heights that hug the pallid plain,
The all-but-fluid silence, -- yet the longing grows and grows,
And I've got to glut the Wanderlust again.

Soldier, sailor, in what a plight I've been!
Tinker, tailor, oh what a sight I've seen!
And I'm hitting the trail in the morning, boys,
And you won't see my heels for dust;
For it's "all day" with you
When you answer the cue
Of the Wan-der-lust.

The Wanderlust has got me . . . by the belly-aching fire,
By the fever and the freezing and the pain;
By the darkness that just drowns you, by the wail of home desire,
I've tried to break the spell of it -- in vain.
Life might have been a feast for me, now there are only crumbs;
In rags and tatters, beggar-wise I sit;
Yet there's no rest or peace for me, imperious it drums,
The Wanderlust, and I must follow it.

Highway, by-way, many a mile I've done;
Rare way, fair way, many a height I've won;
But I'm pulling my freight in the morning, boys,
And it's over the hills or bust;
For there's never a cure
When you list to the lure
Of the Wan-der-lust.

The Wanderlust has taught me . . . it has whispered to my heart
Things all you stay-at-homes will never know.
The white man and the savage are but three short days apart,
Three days of cursing, crawling, doubt and woe.
Then it's down to chewing muclucs, to the water you can eat,
To fish you bolt with nose held in your hand.
When you get right down to cases, it's King's Grub that rules the races,
And the Wanderlust will help you understand.

Haunting, taunting, that is the spell of it;
Mocking, baulking, that is the hell of it;
But I'll shoulder my pack in the morning, boys,
And I'm going because I must;
For it's so-long to all
When you answer the call
Of the Wan-der-lust.

The Wanderlust has blest me . . . in a ragged blanket curled,
I've watched the gulf of Heaven foam with stars;
I've walked with eyes wide open to the wonder of the world,
I've seen God's flood of glory burst its bars.
I've seen the gold a-blinding in the riffles of the sky,
Till I fancied me a bloated plutocrat;
But I'm freedom's happy bond-slave, and I will be till I die,
And I've got to thank the Wanderlust for that.

Wild heart, child heart, all of the world your home.
Glad heart, mad heart, what can you do but roam?
Oh, I'll beat it once more in the morning, boys,
With a pinch of tea and a crust;
For you cannot deny
When you hark to the cry
Of the Wan-der-lust.

The Wanderlust will claim me at the finish for its own.
I'll turn my back on men and face the Pole.
Beyond the Arctic outposts I will venture all alone;
Some Never-never Land will be my goal.
Thank God! there's none will miss me, for I've been a bird of flight;
And in my moccasins I'll take my call;
For the Wanderlust has ruled me,
And the Wanderlust has schooled me,
And I'm ready for the darkest trail of all.

Grim land, dim land, oh, how the vastness calls!
Far land, star land, oh, how the stillness falls!
For you never can tell if it's heaven or hell,
And I'm taking the trail on trust;
But I haven't a doubt
That my soul will leap out
On its Wan-der-lust.