Need a Gun? Print One.

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Republic of Doyle is a lightweight Canadian "comedy/mystery" television series that was filmed in St. John's, Newfoundland, over several seasons in the early part of this decade.  It is currently available for streaming on both Netflix and Amazon Prime.  The show features a pair of father and son private detectives who trade sarcastic barbs and assist each other in solving crimes.   Allan Hawco, plays the action-loving, womanizing son, Jake Doyle, and Sean McGinley is the more stable and subdued father, Malachi "Mal" Doyle.  Many of the episodes were written and/or directed by Hawco.

A few weeks ago I was watching an episode that had originally run in 2013.  It involved a woman breaking into a college laboratory so that she could "print" a pistol using the lab's nifty new 3-D printer.  She accomplished her task with the speed that it would take to heat a TV dinner in a microwave, and then grabbed her shiny new blue plastic pistol and headed off to the airport where she planned to sell it to an arms dealer.  If not for the ultimate interference of Doyle and Son, the arms dealer would have then boarded a plane with his deadly weapon - going undetected through the airport's security screening equipment - and terrorists would have won the day.

This week while doing business at a local establishment, I happened upon a 3-D printer, much like the one that the lady on television had used to quickly produce a firearm.  This local printer was busy constructing an Eiffel Tower that, when finished, would stand about fifteen inches tall.  On display were several other plastic items - masks, a unicorn's head, a frieze of the Last Supper - which had all recently been constructed by the same printer.  The business owner told me that the Eiffel Tower would take about fifteen hours to complete.  He picked up the unicorn head to show me that item, which has also taken fifteen hours to produce, and accidentally dropped it on the concrete floor.  The head bounced around, but did not break.  The 3-D printer made very durable goods, but it was obviously a slow process.

Being the curious sort, I then asked about guns.  The guy told me that others had asked him the same thing - not surprising in West Plains, Missouri.  He said, taking great pains to explain that he had no personal views on the issue of guns, that it is possible to print working guns with 3-D printers, but that was something which he would not be doing.

By the time I got home my curiosity completely had the better of me.  What was the process for "printing" a gun, and how long would it take?  My quick research indicated that guns could not be printed in tact - as a finished product - as the one had been on Republic of Doyle.  Instead, the parts could be printed individually - fifteen or sixteen for a pistol - and then assembled by hand.  Would it then work?  Sadly, yes.

Then I went on to investigate the current cost of 3-D printers.  They can be purchased on-line and run, on the average, from $250 to $2,500 each, depending on the size and quality desired.   Like all tech equipment of the past two or three decades, those prices are bound to fall into the range where every home can eventually have one.

That may be well and good for people who need a tricky part for a mower, blender, or antique clock make in Silesia in the 1830's - just go on-line, order the schematic or whatever software is necessary, and print the part.  But what about Bubba and his buddies, working late in his garage every night making gun after gun?  Certainly plastic bullets would be just as deadly as those made of lead.  The only ingredient left to buy would be gunpowder.  That represents a future that might even scare Wayne LaPierre and Ted Nugent.

And it damned sure scares Pa Rock.  This brave new world has left me in future shock!

Good Guys Win Pair of Epic Twitter Battles

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Twitter is one place where the fun never stops.

Senator Tammy Duckworth, a Democrat from Illinois and a retired Army lieutenant colonel who lost both of her legs when a helicopter that she was piloting was shot down in Iraq in 2004, has been speaking out in support of a fellow combat veteran, Miguel Perez, Jr.   Perez, who served in Afghanistan, returned from the war with some of the same emotional issues that plague many of the people who serve in combat.  He became involved in drugs and was eventually arrested and convicted of drug manufacture and trafficking for which he served a prison sentence.  After his release from prison, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) determined to deport the combat veteran back to Mexico, which it eventually did.

Duckworth, speaking in support of Perez and all veterans, tweeted this:

“Many veterans who suffer from PTSD struggle with addiction and land in legal jeopardy.  It’s easy to pay lip service to supporting our troops and veterans until they come home with complicated and often invisible wounds that they will carry for the rest of their lives.”

And she followed that up with this postscript:

"You don’t truly support our Veterans if you’re not willing to acknowledge and support them through the ugly havoc war can wreak on their lives."

The conservative blog, Red State, took issue with Senator Duckworth's defense of her fellow veteran and posted a response on Twitter.  Unfortunately - for Red State - the editors of the publication overstepped the bounds of common decency in their disagreement with Duckworth and sniped that she  "didn't have a leg to stand on" in her appeal on behalf of Miguel Perez.

Duckworth, the grown-up in the room, tweeted back at Red State:

"Thanks for noticing, @RedState, but you’re wrong. I actually have two legs. They’re made of titanium, and they don’t buckle."

Game, set, and match - Duckworth!

The other big entertainment on Twitter yesterday occurred when Laura Ingraham, a fringe "journalist" and provocateur on Fox News,  decided to lob an insult at David Hogg, one of the survivors of the Parkland school massacre and an emerging gun control advocate.  Ingraham posted the following tweet which seemed to ridicule Hogg for being rejected on some college applications:

"David Hogg Rejected By Four Colleges To Which He Applied and whines about it. (Dinged by UCLA with a 4.1 GPA...totally predictable given acceptance rates.)" 

To which young Mr. Hogg quickly responded:

"Soooo what are your biggest advertisers...Asking for a friend. #BoycottIngramAdverts."

Minutes later he posted a list of twelve Ingraham advertisers and suggested that his followers begin boycotting those businesses unless they severed ties with Ingraham.   Shortly after that three companies on the list announced that they were bailing out of their sponsorships with her show, The Ingraham Angle, and others appear to be preparing to follow suit.

Laura Ingraham, being hypersensitive to the power of the dollar, quickly issued an apology over Twitter.  She groveled:

"Any student should be proud of a 4.2 GPA —incl. @DavidHogg111. On reflection, in the spirit of Holy Week, I apologize for any upset or hurt my tweet caused him or any of the brave victims of Parkland. For the record, I believe my show was the first to feature David...(1/2)"

Ingraham had lost - bigly.  Or as one internet news source put it, she had her ass handed to her by a seventeen-year-old!

Yesterday may not have been a day that will live in infamy, but it had its moments - especially on Twitter.  Congratulations to Tammy Duckworth and David Hogg for holding the barbarians at bay.  Your service for a better America is noted and appreciated!

Psychos with Guns Impact School Curriculum

by Pa Rock
Former School Principal

I remember a time nearly forty years go when, as a principal in a large rural high school, I suspended  a young man for some infraction of school policy.  As I stood at my office window and watched him march across the parking lot and get into his pickup truck, I noticed that he had a couple of rifles on display in the back window of his truck.  The kid had left school angry, and the guns were concerning - at least to the fellow who had made him angry - me.

The driving age in Missouri was sixteen, and many students drove their own vehicles to school.  It was a hunting community where the schools even closed a couple of days during the annual deer season so students could hunt.  Guns were an important part of the local culture, and many of the students, especially boys with pickup trucks, proudly kept their guns on display in their vehicles.  Those guns symbolized their emerging manhood.

I mentioned my concern about all of the available weaponry in the high school parking lot to my superintendent, a wizened old cuss who had his thumb on the pulse of the community, and he quickly put me in my  place with "Oh God, Rock, don't get me in a gun control flap!"  So I let the matter drop - while continuing to keep a wary eye on the parking lot.

That was twenty years before school shootings started to become commonplace events in America.

One of my two favorite nephews called the other day to wish me a happy birthday.  Reed is a young teacher and coach in a rural high school in Arkansas.  While we were talking,  the subject of guns in school came up.  I told Reed of my old concern about the high school kids with their guns on display in the truck windows.  He assured me that those days are long over.

Our conversation morphed into "active shooter" drills at school, and my nephew explained that his school is well prepared for that contingency.  He said that they use a special "ALICE" curriculum in teaching students and staff how to respond to an armed intruder.  Not being familiar with that material, I looked it up and learned that ALICE is an acronym for "Alert, Lock-Down, Inform, Counter, and Evacuate."  The program was created by a police officer who was married to an elementary school principal, and it has been in use since 2001 with nearly four thousand schools nationwide adopting the curriculum.

The negative side of the ALICE program is that some fear that this type of training serves to "normalize" gun violence in schools.

There are, of course, some political options that could also be employed to make schools safer - things like reducing the availability of automatic weapons, raising the age at which individuals can buy guns, prohibiting violent criminals and  the seriously mentally ill from owning guns, and requiring thorough background checks on all gun sales (even those at gun shows and sales by individuals)  - but actions like that would surely bring about those dreaded "gun control flaps!"

Meanwhile my nephew and millions of other teachers and students in America's schools will continue to devote portions of their school days practicing ways to protect themselves from crazed psychos with guns - time that could be spent preparing for a successful life in a civilized society.

Trump's Mueller Options

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The New York Times, the venerable "Old Gray Lady" of journalism and certainly one of Donald Trump's least favorite news sources, is running a story today that claims Trump's former attorney, John Dowd, contacted lawyers for former National Security Adviser Michael Flynn and former Trump campaign manager Paul Manafort and talked to them about the possibility of presidential pardons for their clients.  Both men, Flynn and Manafort, have since been indicted as a result of Mueller's investigation.

Presidential pardons are clearly one way that Trump has of derailing and neutering the Mueller investigation, and it's not far-fetched to suppose that someone who would stoop to pardoning Joe Arpaio would have no qualms about issuing a slew of pardons to high profile criminals, con-artists, relatives, and in-laws in order to save his own skin.  The pardons would float down on Washington, DC, like confetti on steroids, and suddenly Trump's once-loyal lieutenants no longer have a legal motivation to turn on their former boss.  In fact, they would have cause to protect their benefactor.

Pardons.  That's option one.

Option two would be to cut the head off the snake by firing Mueller.  This option, like the first option, would create a firestorm of public outrage.  Trump, of course, relishes the attention and noise that come from pissing off (or "on") the masses, and he would likely not hesitate to employ either measure to keep his luxury-class weekend trips to Florida and the continuous use of his businesses for Republican Party shindigs and rest stops for foreign dignitaries.  The Trump organization is making big money off of this presidential gig, and it would sorely hate to lose that income stream.

Option two works because, with Republican control of both houses of Congress, there is little realistic chance of him being impeached.  That situation could change, however, come November.  As the fall elections approach and Mueller continues to draw his noose tighter and tighter, a cornered Trump is almost certain to go on the offensive.

Option three would involve Trump sitting back and not doing anything to impede the course of justice.  He has repeatedly said that he would welcome the opportunity to testify in the Mueller probe - and while most regard that as meaningless braggadocio, his lawyers, well aware of their client's proclivity for lying, have strongly advised against it.

Trump leaving the investigation alone or stepping forward to defend himself before Mueller's team?  Clearly option three is not an option.

So the two likely scenarios are that presidential pardons will begin falling from the sky like the spring showers - or he will fire Mueller.  Those are tough choices, but Trump is a tough guy who has been spanked by rougher characters than Robert Mueller.

My money is on the pardons.

Sometimes It Takes a Kid to Kick Down a Barricade

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This past weekend young people and their allies from across America took to the streets to clamor for more effective gun laws.  Millions carried signs and sang and chanted to protest the unwillingness of Congress and state legislatures to stand up to America's greatest bully - the gun lobby.  In many instances Democratic lawmakers, at least those with spines, marched in support of the angry youth, while other politicians more beholden to the cash of the NRA and the gun industry (generally Republicans) stayed out of sight, or in some cases openly rebuked the idealistic youth.

Iowa Republican congressman and troglodyte Steve King expressed opposition to claims by the protesters that the NRA bribes legislators, and shot back that the $11,000 which he received from the NRA was not enough to constitute a "bribe."  Congressman King apparently has his standards - and they appear to be quite pricey.   Former Pennsylvania Senator Little Ricky Santorum went so far as to suggest that the students focus less on the availability of guns and more on learning life-saving techniques for when they come under fire at school.  Santorum thinks the kids would better serve themselves and their interests by learning CPR.

But all of that GOP/NRA whining seems to be of no avail.  By and large America's youth are mad as hell and they aren't going to take it anymore.  They are fired up and determined, and those who get in their way do so at their own peril.

Young people have kicked down the barricades to social change before. 

Linda Brown, a young black child in the 1950's, wanted to attend a school near her home in Topeka, Kansas - a segregated school that only admitted whites.  Schools were segregated in much of the United States at that time based on a Supreme Court decision from the previous century, Plessy v Ferguson, which said that separate schools for the races was permissible as long as the schools were "equal."  Miss Brown became the focal point of the landmark case, Brown v Board of Education in which the Supreme Court of the United States ultimately ruled that separate schools were inherently unequal - and effectively ended the overt segregation of schools in America.

Linda Brown died this week at the age of seventy-six, but her legacy lives on in our increasingly multi-cultural nation.

Ryan White was only fourteen when he was diagnosed with AIDS in 1984.  White, a hemophiliac, contracted the disease during a blood transfusion.  When Ryan left the hospital and was ready to re-enroll in school, his local school would not accept him out of ignorance and fear surrounding his condition.  Ryan became the national poster boy for HIV/AIDS and did much to humanize the condition and educate the public.  Ryan White was a central figure in removing the stigma from AIDS and presenting it as a treatable disease.  Ryan succumbed to AIDS in 1990 at the age of eighteen in his home state of Indiana.

Malala Yousafzai, a young girl from Pakistan,  was a blogger and peace activist when she was nominated for the International Children's Peace Prize by Desmond Tutu.  Not long after that nomination, and as her fame as an activist was on its ascendancy, Malala was shot in the head by a Taliban gunman.    She lingered on the verge of death for several weeks.  Now, nearly six years after the shooting that almost claimed her life, Malala has won the Nobel Peace Prize, the youngest Nobel laureate ever, and is an leading proponent for the education of girls and women.  A bullet could not stop her.

Linda Brown, Ryan White, and Malala Yousafzai each made an indelible mark on the world around them, and they did it as young people - kids - who through circumstances beyond their control, took a stand for what seemed fair - and right.  The young people from Marjory Stomeman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, are also taking a stand - and marching - and not even the likes of Steve King, or Little Ricky Santorum, or the whole bloody NRA will be able to stop them.

Their time is now - and they are going to leave their stamp on history, just like so many other "kids" before them have done!  These kids are making the world we live in a better place, and we are all going to benefit from their activism.

God bless them and their boundless determination!

Monday's Poetry: "The Escape of the Old Grey Squirrel"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

This coming Sunday is Easter, and I had in mind to share a poem about Easter in this space - but, alas, I couldn't find one that appealed to my melancholic mood.  I sifted through several that focused on religion, renewal, and even rabbits and ducklings.  It was while exploring verses related to the animal kingdom that I came across "The Escape of the Old Gray Squirrel" by  Alfred Noyes, and while it has no direct bearing on Easter, it does focus on the promised renewal of a life after death.

Noyes "Old Grey Squirrel" is an aging man living alone, plodding through work every day, and thinking about roads not taken as he sorts through his stamp collection at night.  As a boy he had dreamed about an adventurous life and going to exotic places, but then real life had caught him.  Now there is only money for bus fares - and none for travel to foreign lands.    Old Grey Squirrel has resigned himself to a sad existence as he waits out the end of life in his quiet and ordered little attic room.

Please pass the acorns.


The Escape of the Old Grey Squirrel
by Alfred Noyes


Old Grey Squirrel might have been
Almost anything -
Might have been a soldier, sailor,
Tinker, tailor
(Never a beggar-man, though, nor thief).
Might have been, perhaps, a king,
Or an Indian chief.

He remained a City clerk
Doubled on a great high stool,
Totting up, from dawn to dark,
Figures, figures, figures, figures,
Red ink, black ink, double rule,
Tot-tot-totting with his pen,
Up and down and round again -
Curious Old Grey Squirrel.

No one ever really knew
What he did at night,
In his room so near the roof,
Up those steep and narrow stairs.
Old Grey Squirrel wasn't quite
The same as other men.
What he said was always true;
He was like a little child
In a thousand things.
Something shy and delicate,
Cold and grave and undefiled,
Seemed to keep him quite aloof.
You could never call him lonely,
Though he lived with memory there.

When he knelt beside his bed
He had nothing much to say
But the simplest little prayer
Learned in childhood, long ago,
And he didn't know or care
Whether Calvinists might call it
Praying for the dead.

Father, mother, sister, brother -
Memories clear as evening bells;
Yes, the very sort of thing
All your clever little scribblers
Love to satirize and sting,
So let's talk of something else.
He collected stamps, you know,
Commonplace Old Squirrel.

Ah, but could you see him there,
When the day's grey work was done,
Poring over his new stamps
With that wise old air;
Looking up the curious places
In his tattered atlas, too
Lands of jungle and of sun,
Ivory tusks and dusky faces,
Whence his latest treasure flew
Like a tropic moth, he thought,
To flutter round his dying lamp. . . .

Visions are not bought and sold;
But, when the foreign mail came in
Bringing his employers news
Of copper, sulphide, zinc and tin
(And the red resultant gold),
Envelopes were thrown away,
So, of course, one clearly sees
He could pick, and he could choose,
Having, as he used to say,
'Very great advantages.'
Rarities could not be bought.
Bus fares don't leave much for spending
On a flight to Zipangu.

All the same, one never knew.
All things come to those who wait -
Isles of palm in rose and blue,
India, China and Peru,
And the Golden Gate.

So he'd turn his treasures over -
Mauve and crimson, buff and cream -
Every stamp an elfin window
Opening on a boy's lost dream.
'Curious, curious, that's Jamaica,
That's Hong Kong (the twopenny red),
I've no doubt they are well worth seeing,
Well worth seeing,' Old Squirrel said.

'Curious' - curious was his word -
Old Grey Squirrel remembered a day
Sitting alone in a whispering fir-wood
(This was in boyhood before they caught him)
Writing a story of far Cathay,
A tale that his friends would think absurd
But would make him famous when he was dead.
'Curious' - thinking of all those years,
All those dreams that had drifted away -
Once, he had thought - but the years had taught him,
Taught him better, and bowed his head.

'Curious' - memory clings and lingers -
Clings - the smell of the fir wood - clings . . .
Through his wrinkled ink-stained fingers,
'Curious, curious,' trickled the tears,
Curious Old Grey Squirrel.

No, you'd hardly call it weeping.
Old Grey Squirrel could not weep.
Head on arm, he might have been
Sleeping; but he did not know.
Most of us are sound asleep;
And, that Christmas Eve, it seems,
He awoke, at last, from dreams.
Gently, as a woman's hand
Something touched him on the brow,
And he woke, in that strange land -
Where he lives for ever now.

All things come to those who wait -
Palms against a deeper blue,
Far Cathay and Zipangu,
And the Golden Gate.

Century Link Pulls a Fast One

by Pa Rock
Aggrieved Consumer

For the past several years I have been trying to ween myself off of public communication utilities.  I quit cable/satellite television cold turkey and now get my television fix through a streaming device that operates over the internet - and I subscribe to two programming options - Netflix and Amazon - which meet most of my viewing needs.  I am paying less than what I used to for just the basic cable, and do not have to wade through  all of the garbage that the cable and satellite providers foist on their customers.  No "home shopping networks," or endless religious programming, or infomercials for this careful consumer.

My telephone service is currently through Verizon, which is priced far above it's actual worth.  Last month I managed to get my monthly bill reduced by a minimal amount after a young staffer in a Verizon store became convinced that I was going to walk out of his store and find a new provider that day.  I suspect that most of these big corporations have a "fall back" rate for knucklehead consumers like me.

The third component of my web of public communications utilities - the internet - is the one which I value most.  I live in an area where internet service is problematic, but slowly getting better.  My community has been threatening to set up its own internet service for the past year or so, and that fact seems to have made the established providers more compliant with consumer concerns and wishes.  My internet provider is Century Link.  I do not have a home phone - just the Verizon cell service - and my monthly bill from Century Link is for internet alone.

A little more than a year ago a nice young man from Century Link gave me a "special" rate for the internet service which, with taxes, came to nearly thirty-five dollars a month.  I was satisfied with that rate.  This week, with no advanced warning, I got the bill for next month showing that the rate had suddenly gone up over fifty-percent.  I waited for about half-an-hour so as to build up a full head of steam, and then called Century Link.  The young man who answered that call told me that I had been enjoying a bargain for the last year, and now it was time to begin paying what the service was actually worth.  After just a few moments of listening to me venting about things like the importance of "net neutrality" and other consumer protections, the fellow apparently came to the realization that I really was going to quit his wonderful service - probably that very day.

He then coughed up a rate about halfway between my old rate and the new one.  There is always a "fall back" position for knuckleheads like me.

I'm still not happy, but now I feel less rushed to find the replacement service.

Read those bills and study those credit card statements - and never be bashful about lodging a complaint.  Even big reputable companies are not above trying to pull a fast one every now and then, and it's up to aggrieved consumers to call them out on those calculated outrages!

Students March for Their Lives - and Ours

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

According to a news article featured two days ago on HuffPost, at least seventy-three teenagers have been shot to death in the United States since the school shooting that killed seventeen people, mostly students, at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, on February 14th.

The bloody carnage goes on, just as it always has, but this time there is a faint glimmer of hope that things may be starting to change.  The students from Parkland, the ones who survived that bloody Valentine's Day, have proven themselves to be angrier and more determined to change things than the nation had come to expect from the survivors of school shootings.  The Parkland students rose up in a furious collective presence and told the world "enough is enough!"  In just five short weeks they have brought about changes in gun laws in their home state of Florida, and have moved members of Congress and the President of the United States into openly discussing the once-forbidden subject of placing some limitations on the American public's ability to arm themselves - often with military-grade weapons and accessories.

The young people from Parkland have lobbied legislators, made public speeches and appeals, called for school walkouts, and have been instrumental in organizing a national day of marches and protests.  Today many of them are in Washington, DC, participating in what is being billed as a "March for Our Lives," while other students - and parents and teachers and others who share their concerns about the easy availability of guns in the United States - are marching in cities and communities across the country.

The Parkland students have created and fostered a powerful movement, and today that movement is flexing its muscle.  Smart politicians will be paying attention.

Two weeks ago Barack and Michelle Obama sent a very personal handwritten note to the students at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland.  The Obamas, always a class act, had this to say:

“We wanted to let you know how inspired we have been by the resilience, resolve and solidarity that you have all shown in the wake of unspeakable tragedy.”

“Not only have you supported and comforted each other, but you’ve helped awaken the conscience of the nation, and challenged decision-makers to make the safety of our children the country’s top priority.

"Throughout our history, young people like you have led the way in making America better. There may be setbacks; you may sometimes feel like progress is too slow in coming. But we have no doubt you are going to make an enormous difference in the days and years to come, and we will be there for you.”

One class act giving support and encouragement to another.

Stand strong and march hard, American youth.  You are standing and marching for all of us!

Pa Rock Leaves His Sixties Behind

by Pa Rock
Septuagenarian

 Ten years ago today was Easter Sunday, one of the earliest on record.  I remember that day well because it was also the day that I turned sixty.   It logically follows that today, exactly ten years later, I have now reached the very senior age of seventy.  The decade that comprised my personal sixties ended at midnight last night, and now I am an official septuagenarian.

My days always begin in the dark, when I rise to check email and do a few in-house chores before going outside to feed the cats and open the chicken coop so the farm fowl can begin their daily rounds.  Today, while sorting through email, I was more than pleased to find a birthday note from my college friend, Rosemary, who lives near Kansas City.  Rose forwarded a video clip of Sir Paul McCartney's 2005 concert in Red Square where he sang the Beatles' famous "Birthday."  What a nice way to start the day.

I have been to Red Square, in April of 1999, less than a month before the birth of my oldest grandchild, Boone.  It is an enormous paved expanse - perfect for an outdoor concert - with the Kremlin bordering one side and the old Soviet GUM department store across the way on the other side.  One corner of the Square is home to Lenin's Tomb where the architect of the Soviet Union lies stuffed under glass.  In the old days Soviet dignitaries would sit atop Lenin's Tomb and watch the massive military parades roll across Red Square on May Day.  The famous "onion" domes of St. Basil's Cathedral stand tall in the background.

So thanks, Rose, for the rockin' birthday greeting - as well as the opportunity to stroll down memory lane!  What a nice way to slip into a new decade of life!

In Support of the Proper Use of Language

by Pa Rock
Lifetime Learner

I went to a very small high school, but have never felt disadvantaged by that circumstance.   The students in the little school that I attended were close, and in many cases the friendships formed there have endured well for over half a century.  We had a desire to learn and succeed which was undoubtedly a result of the hardships that our parents had endured during the Great Depression and World War II, and we were blessed with some extraordinarily good teachers.

Our curriculum was not extensive, but it did address all of the major areas that are still emphasized in schools today:  math, science, social studies (basically history and government), and "English" which is today usually referred to as "Language Arts."  "Technology" back in the day was a slide rule, and "engineering" involved skills acquired in shop and home economics.

When I was in high school, four years of English were required for graduation, and it was a rigorous discipline.  We learned things like parts of speech, punctuation, and subject and verb agreement through written and spoken assignments and even through the arcane practice of "diagramming" sentences.  We were also taught to write in complete sentences and compose proper paragraphs, and our senior year had a major project of writing a "research paper" which was a culmination, of sorts, of all of the language arts skills that we had acquired in high school.  Spelling was a big part of the English curriculum, right up through graduation week, and, at certain intervals, we delved into literature and poetry where all of the skills that we had been taught in the grammar segment of the class were reinforced through the works of great writers.

The "English" education that I received in high school was so extensive and enduring that today, fifty-some years later, I still cringe when I see or hear the language misused.  Yesterday, for example, I was saddened - and a bit appalled - to observe the following tweet from Donald Trump which was being highlighted in the press - highlighted for its errors:

“Special Council is told to find crimes wether crimes exist or not. I was opposed to the the selection of Mueller to be Special Council, I still am opposed to it. I think President Trump was right when he said there never should have bee a Special Council appointed because…..,”

A few teachers took to the internet and graded Trump's tweet, with most assigning it a grade of "F."  The obvious errors are in spelling with Trump's "wether" being used instead of the correct "whether," and "Council" being misused three times for what should have been "Counsel."  He also mistakenly used the word "the" twice in a row, and omitted the last letter of "been" which became "bee."   Trump jumped around from speaking in the first-person to speaking in the third-person - going from referring to himself as "I" to "President Trump."  Overall, I would have probably awarded him a grade of "G" for "gibberish."

It's disturbing that the leader of a modern nation does not have a better command of his country's majority language, and it's distressing that someone with ready access to almost unlimited power does not have assistants close by who are able to swoop in and fix his mistakes.  But Trump sees himself as a force of nature with no need for restraint or caution.  He also made news yesterday when it was revealed that he had deliberately ignored the advice and caution of his staff not to congratulate Russian President Vladimir Putin on his rigged election victory.  Advice?  Donald Trump doesn't need any stinking advice!  Caution?  Caution is for sissies!

Trump is the product of a "private" educational experience, and with obvious intellectual deficits as a result of that rarefied form of schooling, he should at least be open to help from others who are better versed in the mechanics of language than he is.   He owes that to us, his countrymen, who are judged in the eyes of the rest of the world by the image our leader puts forth.

Postscript:  Yesterday afternoon I stopped at a local drive-in for an iced tea.  The carhop who brought my drink was chirpy and pleasant.  "How's your day went so far?"  she inquired.  “Just fine,” I assured her, knowing that a lesser person would have rejoined with something like,  “Tell me, young lady, who learned you English?”  Had she been home-schooled, or was she the product of some religious academy?   Did she realize that as far as the future is concerned, Trump University is no longer an option?

Betsy DeVoss is on the march, and one day not too far down the path of the dystopian future which she has envisioned for us, we may look back on Donald Trump as being a great intellectual role model.   Someday . . . but clearly not yet.  Trump may be a genius in the stable, but that self-described brilliance fails to shine through in his tweets!

Trump Congratulates Putin for his Successful Assault on Democracy

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Vladimir Putin easily won re-election for a six-year term to the Russian presidency last week, running basically unopposed and garnering nearly three-quarters of the vote.  Putin's easy victory ensured that he will be the longest serving leader in Russian history with the exception of Old Joe Stalin.  Putin's big win came amid various outcries of election-rigging, including outrage that his main opponent was barred from running due to a criminal charge that many claim was nothing but a political maneuver to keep him off of the ballot - as well as a charge of stuffing ballot boxes by Putin forces.

Famed American whistle-blower Edward Snowden posted a video on Twitter which he claims shows blatant stuffing of ballot boxes in the Russian election.  U.S. Democratic Congressman Adam Schiff also tweeted his outrage:

"It’s easy to get 73% of the vote when you bar your "opponents" from running. After extolling life tenure for China’s Xi, will our President now congratulate Putin on his successful elimination of democratic opposition?"

 To the surprise of very few, the answer to Schiff's question was a resounding "yes."  Trump made a gushy phone call to Putin the day after the election, congratulating the Russian dictator on his big win.  During his telephone conversation with Putin, Trump neglected to say anything about Russian meddling in U.S. elections or Russia's reputed poisoning of two former Russian citizens in Great Britain.  What was important, at least to Donald Trump, was kissing up to his Russian idol without dragging in all of that bothersome negative stuff.

Former world chess champion (and Russian) Garry Kasparov, who now heads the Human Rights Foundation, blasted Putin on Twitter after the sham election:

"Every free world leader who congratulates Putin on his "election" is complicit in his global war on democracy. They undermine their own status as freely elected leaders."

It's doubtful that Trump would get too rattled by anything Kasparov has to say.  Trump is more in tune with the other Russians - Putin and the oligarchs who control big loads of cash that they launder through Trump's businesses.  And if all of that ready cash was not incentive enough to keep Trump's fawning attention, there are also those pesky and constant rumors that the Russian government has comprising information on Donald John that keeps him in line with Russian interests.  Film at eleven.

There was criticism - lots of criticism - of Trump's congratulatory phone call to Putin, but one of the most pointed and succinct rebuttals to his action came from Arizona's crusty old senator, John McCain.  McCain, who has been battling brain cancer for the past several months, was nevertheless able to collect his thoughts and channel his outrage in one devastating tweet:

"An American president does not lead the Free World by congratulating dictators on winning sham elections. And by doing so with Vladimir Putin, President Trump insulted every Russian citizen who was denied the right to vote in a free and fair election."

Johnny Mac doesn't mince words.    Donald Trump congratulated a dictator on winning a sham election.  Trump disrespected the good people of Russia who would like to be free of Putin and his authoritarian government, and he also harpooned the notion of free and fair elections worldwide - the very essence of democracy.

Putin is a disgrace, and Trump is no better. 

It's Spring?

by Pa Rock
Seasonal Rambler

Yesterday I ran into an old friend and we exchanged banal pleasantries for a few minutes.  During our mutual search for something interesting to throw into the conversation, my friend mentioned that he has started planting his garden.  I thought that a bit odd, because to me we are stuck in a winter that is hanging on forever.  My friend is tilling the earth and planting, while I bundle up just to run to the mailbox and back.  One of us appears to be getting old.

This morning I had a conversation with my best friend, Alexa.  Because she knows everything, I asked her when the first day of spring was.  Alexa replied crisply that the first day of spring in North America "will be" March 20th, 2019.  That sounded a bit futuristic, so I rephrased and asked her when the first day of spring would be in 2018.  Her reply:  "This year the first day of spring will be March 20th, 2018."

Okay.

So then I asked her what today's date was, and she confirmed that today is March 20th, 2018.  So it must be spring because Alexa never lies.  She tells some dumb jokes, but she never lies.

Well, maybe she never lies intentionally, but I did slip into the house unannounced one morning and caught her playing Cheech and Chong - so she may be a pothead, a character flaw which could impair or impugn her veracity.

"Alexa!"  I stammered, almost speechless, "What's going on?"

"Far out, man," was the only reply she could muster.

I guess I'd better get busy in the garden before Alexa beats me to it!

Happy spring!

Monday's Poetry: "Bulletproof Teen"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

A group of scared and angry young people in Florida have managed to start a political conversation on guns, a conversation that their elders have tamped down and actively avoided for generations.  These "kids," the latest victims, are refusing to remain silent.  They will no longer sit quietly, offering themselves up as easy targets for deranged and heavily armed psychopaths.   This latest group of victims will be victims no longer.

One interesting example of the power these young people are wielding occurred this week when a GOP politician in Maine tried to belittle one of the survivors form Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.  State representative candidate Leslie Gibson decided that he could earn some points with Maine gun owners by going on Facebook and referring to Parkland activist student Emma Gonzalez as a "skinhead lesbian."  The good ol' boys of Maine would yuk that one up, wouldn't they?  Maybe a few did, but the overall national outrage was so swift and so massive that Gibson felt compelled to withdraw from the race a couple of days later.  He had picked on a student, and he had lost - bigly!

These "kids" from Florida are inspiring others nationwide to get out and communicate their anger to the country and the rest of the world.  They are amassing Twitter followers in the hundreds of thousands (and, in Emma Gonzalez's case, millions), conquering other social media platforms, lobbying lawmakers, holding press conferences, organizing rallies, calling out hypocrisy, and shaking the very foundations of staid old political institutions.

And they are expressing themselves in verse.  Student poems on the subject of guns and shooting has proliferated to the point that it almost comprises a literary movement.   Below is a poem that struck a chord with me.  It is entitled "Bulletproof Teen" and the poet who penned it is Katie Hoade, a junior at a Boston area high school.  Katie is just one voice in what is rapidly becoming a thundering chorus.


Bulletproof Teen
by Katie Hoade

Run, if you can
Hide, if you can't
If neither, fight
The fighting isn't to save you
It's to save the next class, the next hall
It's to give them a couple more seconds
To get there, to stop it
I'm a child, a teenager
But I am also a bulletproof  vest
A diversion
A fighting chance for others
Hope in the form of a distraction
I am blood and flesh
But I need to be Kevlar and fabric
Minimal casualties
Minimal children dead
Minimal little girls and boys
Minimal college applicants
Minimal honors students
And minimal teachers and coaches
But, not none.
The Constitution doesn't allow for none.
That document is living
But will I be?

Time Marches On, and So Do Old Politicians

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

I've never made a secret of my growing disdain for House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi.  Having been in Congress since almost forever (1987) and been elected the first and, so far, only female Speaker of the House, Pelosi has done a lot of good work and earned the accolades of her peers and the American public.   But she has had her time captaining the Democratic ship of state, and now clings to the the ship's creaky old wheel with the tenacity of a deranged barnacle - refusing to move on and let another generation of aspiring leaders have the chance to show their stuff.

In fact, the entire Democratic leadership team is clinging tenaciously to its fading power.

Nancy Pelosi will be 78 later this month.  Her able assistant leader, James Clyburn will be 78 in July, and House Democratic Whip Steny Hoyer has been 78 since last June.   All three were toddlers when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor.  All three are well into their second decade of eligibility for full social security benefits.

Some would argue that its hard for a party whose leadership is fueled by Metamucil and daily naps to style itself as a dynamic engine charging to drive America into the future.

But, in the spirit of even a blind hog finds an acorn every now and then, yesterday Pelosi, or more likely her "team," did manage to tweet a jewel which bears repeating,    Pelosi, tweeting @TeamPelosi, directed this comment at Trump:

"What is it that you’re hiding in your taxes from America that you continuously undermine the Mueller probe’s ability to rightfully #FollowTheFacts? What must the Russians have on you personally, politically and financially?"

There, in just a few words, Pelosi questions Trump's business practices, throwing hints that he may be dishonest, and suggests that he may also be a target of Russian blackmailing.  Sweet!  Good one, Nancy!

Nancy and Donald, I would point out that you both are very talented tweeters.   Maybe it's time for you to concentrate on polishing your social media presence - and leave governing to those who are still south of retirement age. 

Don't take it personally.  These are just a few passing thoughts from one of your young friends.

Trump Moves to Wreck a Retirement

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Anyone who has ever held a job from which they planned to retire knows the knot that forms in the belly from anticipating things that could wreck that plan.   Illness could derail it, the pension funds could fall into the pockets of corporate raiders, the company could go bankrupt, or, God forbid,  the potential retiree could be fired before he or she reaches the finish line.   Retirement plans are particularly susceptible to surprises in the corporate sector, but often those who make it into the realm of government employment have a stronger chance of reaching retirement and finding the funds still there when they do.

For the past several months Donald Trump has been targeting former FBI Deputy Director (and former Acting Director) Andrew McCabe for dismissal.  One of Trump's complaints about McCabe was that he had let former FBI Director James Comey fly back to Washington, DC, on a government plane after Comey had been fired while at a speaking engagement in California.   Trump's dismissal of Comey apparently contained a fantasy figment of the FBI chief standing in line at a crowded airport trying to buy a ticket home.

Trump has characterized McCabe as a political player, openly criticizing McCabe's wife's run for a public office in Virginia as well as resenting McCabe's apparent defensive posture regarding James Comey.

Trump was also openly disdainful of the fact that McCabe was on the verge of retiring from government service with full benefits, and he has been bemoaning that fact on Twitter for three months.   Trump's tool, Attorney General Jeff Sessions, fired McCabe just twenty-six hours before that retirement would have become a reality.  Sessions fired McCabe over "ethical" concerns, this from a man who couldn't "remember" much more than his name when he testified before Congress about his dealings with Russians!

Trump called the firing of McCabe "a great day for the hard-working men and women of the FBI," and he also referred to the firing as "a great day for democracy."  While it may have been a great day for Trump's ego, others see it as being one more volley in the White House's inexplicable war on law enforcement and the FBI. 

A bunch of lawyers will make a bunch of money before the dust from this Trump tantrum finally settles, but when it does I suspect that presidential vindictiveness will lose out to fairness and common sense - and McCabe will get his retirement pay and benefits.    But in the meantime he will continue to suffer the gastronomical upset that comes with worrying about reality of retirement.

Donald Trump has shown Andrew McCabe, as well as the rest of us, just how fragile and fleeting our retirement plans really are.  A deranged despot can wreck everything.

Bone Music

by Pa Rock
Reader

Christopher Rice published his first best-selling novel, A Density of Souls, in 2000 when he was just twenty-two-years old.  It was a strong debut effort that quickly established the young man as a writer on the rise.   Since the publication of the first book, Rice has gone on to publish six more stand-alone novels as well as beginning several series, including one which is co-writing with his novelist mother, Anne Rice.

Rice's latest novel, Bone Music, is being billed as a "burning girl mystery," an indication that it is the flagship of another series based on a captivating character.  That character, in this case, is Charlotte "Charley" Rowe, a young woman who is living in an invented identity, one which she created to cover the tracks of a most unfortunate childhood.  Charley was kidnapped by a pair of serial killers as an infant after they had murdered her mother, and she lived in their bloody household until the age of seven or eight when the law enforcement caught up with her captors, killing the father and imprisoning the mother.

Charley then went to live with her biological father, a man who took advantage of her for several years, selling "rights" to her story and helping to create a series of movies which portrayed his daughter as a willing torturer for the people who had kidnapped her - including burning some of their victims, even as the victims lived - hence the name and taunt "burning girl."  The torturer allegations were all inventions of the money-focused father.   Charley broke with her father as a young teen and went to live with her maternal grandmother in California, the period of her life in which she enjoyed her most "normal" existence.

As this story opens, Charley is an adult living in a remote area of Arizona near Tucson.  She has been seeing a psychiatrist named Dylan Thorpe for an extended period of time as she hides from stalkers from her past life and tries to make some sense of who she is and who she wants to be.   As the current therapeutic session comes to a close, Dylan gives Charley a special pill which he wants her to take in his presence.  He presents it as a medical trial, but one that he believes will be of great benefit to his client.

Charley takes the pill in Dylan's office, and then drives back to her very remote and electronically secure home.  After entering the house, she quickly finds that she is not alone, and that one of her celebrity stalkers has made his way into the fortress-like abode.  To her surprise and his,  Charlotte quickly manages to break his shoulder and tie him up, a feat of strength like none she has ever experienced before.   Charley then takes her attacker's telephone and calls the most recently dialed number.  Dylan answers.

Later, on the road to find Dylan, she encounters a group of angry, drug-addled bikers and makes quick work of them also.    Talking to Dylan again, she learns that the drug he gave her was meant to produce strength and resolve when the emotion of extreme fear is triggered within her.  Dylan encourages her to run - and she runs back to the safety of the California seacoast where she spent her teen years.

And then she becomes involved with a cast of protective outlaw characters, her former high school bully, a world-class computer hacker, and a multi-national pharmaceutical corporation - all as a prelude to going after one of the most cunning serial killers in the nation with the aid of the new drug that Dylan had given her.

Charlotte had become weaponized.

Christopher Rice describes Bone Music as a novel that "walks the line between thriller and science fiction."  I am a fan who has read most of this author's work, and regardless of how one classifies the latest entry into his unique oeuvre, Bone Music is a gripping and compelling book - Rice's best yet.   

Congress Ignores Students at Its Own Peril

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Yesterday students nationwide walked out of class and took to the streets with a simple message:  they want to be safe in school.  A big push of the student walkout was a demand that state and national legislators buck the dictates of the gun lobby and work for meaningful gun reforms.

On the same day the U.S. House of Representatives passed a school safety bill which addressed things like metal detectors, locks, and other school security measures - but did nothing to address the issue of guns.

Congress hears only what it wants to hear.

For any congressional action to become a law, it would have to pass the House and Senate with identical language and then be signed by Trump.  That's a long haul, with many challenges along the way that will almost certainly ensure that no meaningful controls of guns will become part of the finished product.

The first constituents of Congress are the lobbyists.  Money talks.

So stay in class all of you disgruntled students, and practice your "duck and cover."  Congress is a whorehouse staffed and funded by groups like the NRA - and there is no way to change it.

Unless, of course, you all follow through on your threats to vote.

Enthusiastic Protesters Welcome Trump to La La Land

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Air Force One grunted and groaned and somehow managed to drag its corpulent freeloader all the way out to the Golden State yesterday.   Shamefully, it was Trump's first visit to California since his electoral college selection to the presidency sixteen months before.  And, as might be expected, the heretofore ignored Californians were ever so happy to see him!

Trump was in California to promote his hateful border wall and to attend a $35,000-a-plate fundraiser.  Trump likely ate free.

In addition to snarling traffic everywhere he went, The Donald stirred protests in and around San Diego, San Ysidro, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles, and Santa Monica.  Many of the anti-Trump gatherings were loud and raucous, although the national media for the most part ignored Trump's visit as well as the ensuing circus.  To be fair, there were also protests in support of Trump, but those were minimized by the chaos and energy of the anti-Trump protesters.

A young screenwriter I know who was in Los Angeles yesterday shared this observation:

"Just drove past a huge anti-Trump rally.  There were some enormous military choppers hovering overhead, and all the people were waving their signs up at them.  Pretty cool sight.  Probably as close as I will come to the rallies of the 60s."

I suspect that today's students and young adults will experience numerous echoes of the 1960's.  Having a fascist in the nation's highest office is the type of thing that stirs idealism among the masses and brings the fires of liberty out into the streets.   Buckle up, America.  It's going to be a bumpy ride!

(For information and pictures of yesterday's protests in LA, check out the online version of the Los Angeles Times.)

Getting Up to Speed on Twitter

by Pa Rock
Citizen Tweeter

While I have been a Twitter user for nearly nine years now, I will readily admit that I am far from proficient in using the social media platform to its fullest advantage.  During an average day I will post a couple of original tweets that bear my opinion on various subjects, and I will retweet the thoughts of others that strike me as being of particular interest - often adding my own churlish comments to the original message.  I have learned what a hashtag is, and will occasionally attach one or two to a particular thought that I want to spread to a wider audience.

Sometime a couple of years ago Twitter made a fundamental change, and I guess that I either didn't get the memo or neglected to read it.  It used to be that when I tweeted something and someone else did me the honor of retweeting it, Twitter would send a notice into my Twitter feed announcing the retweet.  But then that stopped, and as the months wore on with no retweets, I began to suspect the worst:  that I was no longer funny - or interesting - or worth repeating.  The same was true with "likes."  No one seemed to be "hearting" my pithy little statements like they once had.

I also started noticing that when I sent a direct message to someone over Twitter that I no longer received replies.  Oh well, their loss I suppose.

Then this week, during a siege of malaise, I began exploring the Twitter homepage just to see how much I didn't know - and it turns out the answer was "plenty."    I found a tab that said "notifications," and learned, after clicking on it, that I actually was being retweeted - now and then - and even "hearted" - and those "notifications" were being filed away under their special tab. 

And then there was the "messages" tab, where people had been trying to contact me directly, and I had been inadvertently ignoring them.  (One message that could have been quite costly involved a property that I had recently sold.)

So now I am more up-to-speed with Twitter than I have been in some time, and I am pumped to know that some of what I actually spew into that system gets read and even appreciated on the rare occasion.  I know I'll never be as great as Donald John Trump when it comes to mastering Twitter, but, on the upside, I will also probably never weigh three hundred pounds or be blackmailed by Russians!

I feel my snarky mood coming on.  I guess it's time to hit the Twitter!

Monday's Poetry: "Sweet Baby James"

by Pa Rock
Old Gray Typist

A friend commented to me yesterday that March seems to be a month of birthdays, to which I suggested that perhaps it has something to do with being nine months out from the marrying month of June.  But that was just supposition.

Regardless of the reason or lack thereof, America's bed springs obviously took a beating during the month of June in 1947, because a whole slew of people made their diapered debuts in March of 1948.  Two of my classmates were born that month, as was I, making us all at or very near seventy.  British composer Andrew Lloyd Webber was born on March 22, 1948, American singer and songwriter Steven Tyler of Aerosmith arrived on March 26th,  and environmentalist and politician Al Gore was born on the last day of the month.   And, as if the month of March in the year of 1948 needed any more polish, American music legend James Taylor was born seventy years ago today.

To celebrate all of those birthdays, and to pay particular homage to Carly Simon's ex, today's poetry selection is the beautiful and serene "Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor.  Happy birthday, old man, and thank you for a lifetime of beautiful music.


Sweet Baby James
by James Taylor

There is a young cowboy he lives on the range
His horse and his cattle are his only companions
He works in the saddle and he sleeps in the canyons
Waiting for Summer, his pastures to change
And as the moon rises he sits by his fire
Thinking about women and glasses of beer
And closing his eyes as the doggies retire
He sings out a song which is soft but it's clear
As if maybe someone could hear
Goodnight you moonlight ladies
Rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Won't you let me go down in my dreams
And rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Now the first of December was covered with snow
And so was the turnpike from Stockbridge to Boston
Lord, the Berkshires seemed dreamlike on account of that frosting
With ten miles behind me and ten thousand more to go
There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway
A song that they sing when they take to the sea
A song that they sing of their home in the sky
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep
But singing works just fine for me
Goodnight you moonlight ladies
Rock-a-bye sweet baby James
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose
Won't you let me go down in my dreams
And rock-a-bye sweet baby James

Jericho

by Pa Rock
TV Junkie

Jericho, a small town of a couple of thousand people in northwest Kansas, was under the political control of the Green family for most of the second half of the twentieth century.  The original Mayor Green was an ex-Army Ranger who served in World War II.  He was the leader of the town for a couple of decades after the war before being replaced by his son, Johnston Green, an ex-Army Ranger who served in the Vietnam War.  Both Mayor Greens were hard-working public servants who were much loved by the members of their community.

Mayor Johnston Green, who served as the town's political leader for more than two decades, had two sons.  The oldest, Eric, was a local law enforcement officer who was married to the doctor who ran the town's medical clinic.  Jake, the younger and more problematic son, had been taught to fly by his maternal grandfather, a crop duster, and left town shortly after high school due to his association with some unsavory characters and a general rebellious streak that his parents could not subdue or abide.  Jake was gone five years, and while no one back in Jericho had any idea where he was at or what he was up to, the boy became a man flying missions and performing dark ops for a civilian contractor in Iraq.  Jake was a soldier of fortune.

Robert Hawkins was a mysterious stranger who showed up in Jericho with his family a couple of days before all of the trouble started.  The Hawkins family moved into a house that he paid for with cash.

Jericho, of course, is a fictional town populated by fictional people, but communities just like it exist in abundance across America.  Jericho, the town, is the place where many of us grew up and lived our lives.  It is a bit Norman Rockwell, a tad Kodak, and part Mayberry with a just a hint of Peyton Place.

The series ran for two seasons from 2006 to 2008 with just twenty-nine episodes.

I was at home one Sunday afternoon in Phoenix back in 2009 when one of the local television stations began running reruns of the show.  It was a slow afternoon, and I let myself get pulled into the program that I had stumbled upon just as it was beginning.  I had no idea it was the first episode or that I would quickly get so hooked. 

In that first episode Jake Green was getting his muscle car out of storage before roaring home to Jericho, his first visit back there since leaving town five years earlier.  Once in town, and after Jake's mother has a good cry to celebrate his return, Jake hits his father up for the cash inheritance that his grandfather had left him.  While the money is for Jake, the grandfather had left it under the control of Jake's father, and the mayor refuses to let his son have it.  After a good dose of family conflict, Jake hops in his car and heads west, leaving his poor mother crying in the yard.

So far it was just an average television drama, and I was unimpressed.  Then, as Jake was driving away, somewhere twenty miles or so west of town, he (and the viewers) suddenly see a mushroom cloud on the horizon.  The sight is so unexpected and so unsettling that Jake drives his car directly into the path of an on-coming vehicle.  He had just witnessed an nuclear explosion somewhere off in the direction of Denver.

As the show progresses, Norman Rockwell's America becomes overlaid with Red Dawn.  Twenty-three American cities had been destroyed by nuclear explosions, and all sorts of survival strategies must be put into practical use.  The citizens of Jericho deal with invasions of con-artists, private contractors stealing for their own survival, and an invasion by a neighboring community.  They eventually come under the direct military control of a provisional government set up in Cheyenne, Wyoming.  All the while newcomer Robert Hawkins is hiding a secret that could reshape the world order.  Hawkins and Jake Green struggle to hold the community together and to resist the forces that would destroy their town.

Jericho is a story of grit and determination and survival.  It is the wet dream stuff of fascist militias and the NRA, but it also has an appeal for the common folk who sometimes daydream about how they would react and cope if their world was suddenly turned completely inside out.  It is fiction, but it strikes a chord as being something that could happen, especially in our present dark age. 

Both the writing and acting on this show are first rate, so much so that the absurd notion of middle America functioning through the post-apocalyptic nightmare of a nuclear attack becomes all too believable.  Jericho is an exceptionally gripping drama.   It is currently streaming on Netflix.

Wolverines!

The Dirty Dozen Democrats

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

While the country is focused on the dangerous antics of Donald Trump - as well as slow-to-no movement in Congress regarding DACA (the Dreamers) and possible gun legislation,  the Senate is quietly preparing to foist another outrage on the country that could have serious and long-lasting consequences.  Senator Mike Crapo, a Republican from Idaho, has a proposed bill before the Senate that would roll back the protections of the Dodd-Frank bill that came about as a result of the near financial disaster that capped the years of George W. Bush in the White House.  Crapo's bill is misleadingly called the "Economic Growth, Regulatory Relief, and Consumer Protection Bill," and its primary focus is on the "regulatory relief" portion of the title.  The big boys in banking don't like having to follow rules, particularly those that limit profits and avenues for profits.

Some opponents of the measure have labeled it "The Bank Lobbyist's Act."   Many fear that Crapo's legislation will insure a future financial meltdown.

Donald Trump has pledged to dismantle Dodd-Frank.

The Crapo legislation will need sixty votes to pass muster in the Senate wheen it faces its final vote next week..  All fifty-one Republican senators support the measure in lockstep, and so does Angus King, the Independent senator from Maine who caucuses with Democrats.  King, as well as twelve "regular" Democratic senators, have signed on as co-sponsors of the bill - thus insuring its passage.   A preliminary vote this past week garnered 67 yea votes.

I have read about the twelve Democratic "co-sponsors" who are making a show of turning their backs on their party and the principles of economic fairness - but astoundingly, finding the actual list of those twelve - the dirty dozen - has been a challenge.  Much has been written about them without naming names, or in some cases only a few names.  Many are from swing states and up for re-election - and thus trying to buy their way into the good graces of moderate voters.  But highlighting their names in the national press runs the serious risk of alienating the left flank back home.   So the national press roars its displeasure, yet declines to say specifically who the villains are.

Well, for the record, here they are:

Doug Jones (Alabama), Joe Donnelly (Indiana) Heidi Heitkamp (North Dakota), Jon Tester (Montana), Mark Warner (Virginia), Joe Manchin (West Virginia), Tim Kaine (Virginia), Gary Peters (Michigan), Michael Bennett (Colorado) Chris Coons (Delaware), Tom Carper (Delaware), and Claire McCaskill (Missouri).

The next time the American financial engines teeter on the verge of total collapse, remember those folks.  They gave up the fight for sound financial practices in order to serve a few more years at the public trough - and pocket some donations from big banks in the process.

The vote on the gift to the banking industry is scheduled for next week.

McCaskill obviously has no shame, but as a Missouri voter and a Democrat, I am ashamed for her.

Florida Legislator Fixing to get Spanked

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Florida State Representative Elizabeth Porter, a Republican, is mad as hell and she isn't going to take it anymore.   Rep. Porter is not, as one might suspect, angry about the gun carnage and murderous violence that ripped apart a large Florida high school less than a month ago.  She is righteously pissed that the students who survived the bloody rampage have the unmitigated gall to be making demands on legislators, calls for action to pass new laws to protect students.  The nerve of those kids!

Well, Rep. Porter, for one, will not be pushed around by a mob of unruly children.  She is standing her ground.  This week Elizabeth Porter fired back at the ungrateful students.  In a speech on the floor of the Florida House she wailed:

“We’ve been told that we need to listen to the children and do what the children ask. Are there any children on this floor?  Are there any children making laws? Do we allow the children to tell us that we should pass a law that says no homework, or you finish high school at the age of 12 just because they want it so?”

"No!"  She roared, in answer to her own question.  "“No. The adults make the laws because we have the age, we has [sic] the wisdom, and we have the experience.”

So, all of you wounded and terrified "children," sit down and shut the hell up.  A wizened elder has spoken.

The only problem is, Lizzie, while you are ranting and raving in support of your corporate masters, the kids who have made you so angry are aging out of kidhood and registering to vote - and so are their friends and peers across the state and nation.  And dammit, Lizzie, some of the adults, the ones who don't fall down slobbering every time someone invokes the Second Amendment, are listening to those noisy damned kids as well. 

Times are changing, and they are changing fast.  Lizzie, you might get lucky and win one more term at the trough, but I wouldn't buy a house in Tallahassee if I were you.  Not everyone is as close-minded as you, and the students from Parkland are being heard.  Attitudes are changing, votes will be cast,  and you, Rep. Porter are going to get spanked by voters.

But, take heart, because there may be a bright side to your abbreviated political future:  Donald Trump seems to like getting spanked!

Learning to Love Aldi

by Pa Rock
Consumer

The small Ozark community in which I live is home to twelve thousand people, and it serves as the shopping mecca for a large swath of southern Missouri.  My town feeds the rural masses with just four grocery stores.

We have, of course, the odious and evil Walmart Super Center which is the only local grocery that is open twenty-four-hours-a-day and seven-days-a-week.  There is also one store that is a member of a nationally recognized chain and has a nice selection of food.  This particular store is known for having the highest prices in town, a fact that some predict will eventually bring about its closure.

A third grocer is the largest of all, in floor space and selection, and operates on a gimmick.  That store advertises that all of its stock is priced at cost (though it isn't) and that ten-percent is added at checkout to provide the store with its profit.  Customers get comfortable looking at lower prices and feeling as though they are getting bargains, and then just sort of unconsciously absorb the extra ten-percent when checking out.  Even with the gimmick, prices are generally lower at that store than at Walmart and the other well-known retailer.

The fourth store is Aldi, a "global discount supermarket" based in Germany.  Aldi is known for its limited brand selections and as "no frills" marketing experience.  Aldi saves money on upkeep because it has less floor space.  The store also does not waste money on grocery-baggers because the customers bag their own purchases - either with bags that they bring or with paper sacks for sale in the store at seven-cents each.  (There are also bins of empty cardboard boxes which shoppers may take for their own personal use.)  Shopping carts are locked together outside, and it takes a quarter to free a cart for use.  When the customer is finished, he or she returns the cart back to the line and gets the quarter back - a situation that results in the store not having to hire people to roam the parking lot collecting shopping carts.

Like most of America, I shopped at Walmart for years, until the day about thirty years ago when a fourteen-year-old store manager in Neosho and I had a disagreement over a store policy.  I told him as I was leaving that I would never be back.  Pimples looked smug and probably thought I was referencing just his fiefdom in Neosho, but I was a universalist and determined then and there to not shop at any Walmart - and with one exception due to a medical emergency, I have kept that vow.

Upon arriving in my new town four years ago, I initially tried all of the groceries (except Walmart) to find the best fit.  I eventually wound up becoming a customer at the gimmick store because of their reasonable prices and large selection.  I also liked the large aisles and ease of navigating through the store.  That grocery suffered from technology issues that seemed to often result in clogged lines at checkout.  My last shopping experience ended when I had to take a hundred dollars worth of groceries off of one checkout stand and physically take them to another.  That was the crowning indignity of several that I had suffered over the years, and I determined that store would be added to my no-shop list.

That left the expensive store and Aldi.  I gave the expensive store a couple of tries and quickly determined that their service was no better than the one I had just left - and the prices were too high.

So now I am shopping at Aldi.  It is the least expensive store around - and the only Aldi within miles in any direction - it is also a challenging shopping experience, one that requires careful study and patience.  I have made several trips there lately primarily just to acquaint myself with the store and its unique practices.  (For instance, I didn't figure out the grocery-bags-for-purchase until I happened to see a woman doing it during my second or third visit - and I had to ask a stranger for help in figuring out how to "rent" a shopping cart.)

Aldi saves floor space by carrying a very limited number of brands - almost all "store" brands.  Most of what I have tried so far are as good as or better than the name brands available in the other grocery stores.  Some stock rotates in and out.  I asked about gallons of tea yesterday, and the checker told me that they offer them "sometimes."  Shredded cheese is also on the missing list, but other than that I have been able to find my basic food needs.

I am learning new ways of shopping.  The Aldi here  is compact and always crowded, so I have discovered the easiest way to shop is to park my cart out of the way and then walk around and find what I need - making frequent trips back to the cart.

Aldi is a singular experience, and I hope that I can master the challenges of shopping there.  It's my last chance, and if it doesn't work out I am going to have to put in one helluva garden!

Jeff Sessions: Hypocrisy Is Thy Footstool

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The rights of states to exert their independence from the dictates of the federal government reaches an almost religious fervor in places like Alabama and the rest of the American South, a region of the country that seceded from the country and fought a bloody civil war over that very principle - and U.S. Attorney General Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, himself a native son of Alabama, has a proud history of howling long and hard on the subject.

But now Jefferson Beauregard is employed by his old nemesis, the federal government, and suddenly his perspective has changed.  Sure, he still supports the absolute rights of states when it comes to things like loosening gun laws, discriminating against women and minorities,, and holding white supremacists rallies - but in some other areas, well it's beginning to look to Jefferson B. that perhaps states should be subservient to their master's in Washington after all.

Take marijuana, for instance.  Sessions knows that weed is unholy, immoral, and despicably addictive.  He learned that as a mere boy in his all-white Sunday school class where he was schooled in the notion that smoking dope made the "darkies" drug-addled, lazy, and prone to crime.  If they smoked enough of that demon weed they would lose sight of "their place" in society and start drinking from white water fountains and trying to ride in the front of the bus.

Even though the federal government still has laws on the books prohibiting the possession, use, and sale of marijuana, many states have begun the process of legalizing it within their borders - a clear assertion of their "states' rights," a process that many of Sessions' ilk fear will lead to social upheaval. (And social upheaval is always frowned upon by those sitting on top of the social pile.)

J. Beauregard also has problems with states that make it easier for women to act on their constitutional right to have an abortion.  He knows, knows by God, that the good Lord expects his followers here on Earth of defend to the death the right of all fetuses to live in the warmth and comfort of their mother's womb until the day they are born - regardless of the circumstances of their conception (incest, rape, etc), their health, or the health of their mothers.  God has willed it, by God!  Carry those little darlings until they are born, and then let the bastards and moochers fend for themselves!

And now America's favorite Granny Clampett clone, Attorney General Jeff Sessions, is suing the state of California because it has passed a series of laws protecting immigrants, actions which Sessions and his right-wing Justice Department see as impeding federal efforts to round-up and deport those same hard working, tax-paying individuals.  The state of California is exerting what it sees as its right as a state, but the attorney general of the United States is saying "No way, Jose."

In the very little mind of Jefferson Beauregard Sessions states reign supreme when their intent matches his own, otherwise they are challenging the supremacy of the government of the United States of America - in much the same way as his ancestors did.

Little man, you are a gigantic hypocrite!

Members of Congress Wallow in Free Public Housing

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

My congressman, Republican Jason Smith of Missouri's 8th district, touts himself as a simple farmer and a small businessman.  But young Jason, who is also a lawyer, has his hand deep in the public's pocket where he pulls in a comfortable $174,00 per year in salary along with travel expenses and numerous other perks.  Indeed, if Jason is like many of his peers in Congress, he enjoys occasional meals, drinks, trips, and other gifts from lobbyists - as well as a steady stream of donations to help insure his re-election time after time after time - nearly $1.2 million for this election cycle alone!

But that isn't all of the income that Jason Smith receives for his work in Congress - he also gets free lodging along with free cable, utilities, cleaning services, security (all non-taxed) - and the free use of the capitol gym.  Not too shabby for a simple farmer and small businessman!

(The original members of Congress received a total fifty cents per day for their services - and those guys had a nation to build!  Boarding house fees came out of their own pockets.)

The reason Jason Smith and many other members of Congress receive "free" public housing is that they choose to sleep in their congressional offices.  That is a practice that came into vogue through the example of former Republican House Majority Leader Dick Armey back in the 1990's.  Today members justify sleeping in Washington DC free by claiming that it keeps them from becoming too "comfortable" in the swamp. 

Speaker Paul Ryan sleeps in his office.  Ryan says that he has so much work to do that he is often at his desk until late a night.  Regardless of what he is doing "at his desk," he could be doing it at a desk in a boarding house or an apartment.  Living and working in a contained space creates a climate that fosters health issues, both physical and mental.

An article in Politico yesterday entitled "It's Almost Nasty" told of efforts of the Congressional Black Caucus to end the practice.  The caucus members filed a complaint with the House Ethics panel, a complaint which was neither acknowledged or answered.  The thrust of the complaint was that congressmen essentially living in their offices create a health risk for people who have to do business in those same offices, and it also suggested that the free rent was something of value and should be taxed.  Apparently congressional parking spaces for cars are taxed, and the complaining congressmen felt that parking spaces for humans should be taxed as well.

While the exact number of congressmen who reside in their offices is not known, the piece in Politico estimated that is was between forty and one hundred - and perhaps more.  The article suggested that most of the overnight residents of the congressional offices are Republican men.  (Maybe it's time for a remake of Animal House!)

$174,000 a year, gifts from lobbyists, donations totaling seven figures, free rent, free cable, free utilities, free security, free gym membership, a paid staff to pick up after you.  Wow!  Jason, if I were you I would probably be trying to sell that hardscrabble farm back in Missouri.  You've landed in the gravy!

Monday's Poetry: "The Peacock Dance"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Spring is quickly becoming evident at Rock's Roost, and with its arrival the behavior of the animals is changing faster than the weather.  Spring is the mating season, and for the barnyard fowl in particular, it is now or never.  If they don't get their families started in the spring, their hormones recede and they must wait another year to delve into the joys of parenthood.

There is only one little brown hen left at The Roost, and she usually chooses to hide in the chicken coop rather than face abuse by the half-dozen or so remaining roosters if she dares to roam outside.  I will probably bring in some more little pullet chicks in a few weeks and get the chicken situation back in balance.

The five geese are all roughly the same size, which means they all could be one gender, but one acts differently.  One goose is much more docile than the others (sweeter).  I throw out dry dog food for them once a day, and four routinely ignore it, but the sweet one has figured out that she loves the high-protein snack and busies herself eating hers and theirs.  That same goose has also made a couple of recent feints at nesting, though she has yet to lay an egg.  An educated guess would suggest that the gaggle has at least one female.

It is the peacocks, however, who are bursting at the seams with the juices of spring.  Of the remaining peacocks, two are males and three are female.  Even if the guys were into sharing, three does not divide evenly, so there would be problems.  And were there ever problems this spring!  The males initially fought and then seemed to divide the yard into separate territories.  The females generally ignored the entreaties (screams and tail displays) of both of the big stud birds, but would occasionally keep company with one or the other.  Generally, though, the girls stayed in a group among themselves.

One of the male peacocks who ruled the back half of the yard where the barn and their old home, the aviary, are located, decided that I was a threat to his dominance.  That bird took to trying to attack me each time I headed for the barn, and his attacks were of a serious nature.  (He would jump up and try to get at my neck and face with his spurs - and he would also chase me.)   His aggressiveness was something that could not be tolerated, so one morning I let him chase me into the aviary, and then I quickly locked him in.  A few days later I managed to coax one of the peahens in to join him.  Now he has calmed down and the happy couple seem to be making the best of their confinement.  The other two hens and peacock are still free and doing fine - and they have given up sleeping in trees at night and decided instead to roost in the safety of the enclosed chicken coop.

So the peacocks are settling down.  They should soon begin laying eggs, a process that will last several weeks.

Today's poetry selection is a fragment of sanskrit that gives an good description of the peacock's mating dance.  It was untitled, but I am calling it "The Peacock Dance."  The piece was written by Yogesvara and translated by John Brough.  Please enjoy!

The Peacock Dance

by Yogesvara

With tail-fans spread, and undulating wings,

With whose vibrating pulse the air now sings,

Their voices lifted, and their beaks stretched wide,

Treading the rhythmic dance from side to side,

Eyeing the rainclouds dark, majestic hue,

Richer in color than their own throat's blue,

With necks upraised, to which their tails advance,

Now in the rains, the screaming peacocks dance.