King Trump's Malevolence Rolls On

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

King Donald John Trump ascribes to the old business model of "to the owner (or boss) go the spoils, and screw everybody else."  He has always been disrespectful and even scornful of his employees - everyone from hotel housekeepers to contractors to even his own lawyers and accountants - and if any of those bottom-feeders dared to ask for a raise or any other improvement in their employment situation,  then they were scheming to take something from him.  In Trump's worldview, all of the little people that he employs should consider themselves fortunate just to walk in his shadow - and they are all very, very expendable.

And they'd better not shoot any of his deer, either!

It should not be a surprise to anyone that King Trump entered the White House two years ago with much the same attitude toward the employees who work for the federal government.  A new king was in town and they were now officially his serfs.

The new king took care of himself by keeping his own private businesses flourishing, often through activities generated by the federal government or by foreign governments seeking to ingratiate themselves to the king.  He found paid government positions for some of his relatives, and used government money to fund an almost endless string of vacations and golf-outings to resorts that he owned.  Then, to frost the cake, the king lobbied for and signed an enormous tax-cut bill that benefited himself and all of his wealthy courtiers.

The king said that the new tax bill would ultimately benefit the little people, but he knew better.  King Trump, in his whole kingly life, never had any interest at all in helping little people.   The lot of little people was to serve their betters - and nothing more.

After two years of ceaseless bragging over how well the economy was doing thanks to his kingly leadership, King Trump suddenly changed his tune this week and sought to cancel planned pay raises for federal employees based on a statutory authority that he has to do so in cases of a "national emergency or serious economic conditions affecting the general welfare."  The across-the-board raises of 2.1% were to have gone into effect in January.

The country was doing wonderfully, but if the pay of the serfs who operate the government was raised, it would apparently create a national emergency.  Cancelling those paltry planned raises would save the economy and right the ship of state.  Raises for the little people, the king said, were "inappropriate."

And now over 2 million federal workers will begin next year just like they began the last, struggling to make ends meet with no hope of an increase in salary - or even respect.  And the king, meanwhile, will usher in the New Year at Mar-a-Lago playing golf and eating the world's best chocolate cake.  The king, you see, had the foresight and good judgment to be born rich - and living well is his divine right.

Arizona Prepares to Step into the 21st Century

by Pa Rock
Former Sand Rat

Arizona joined the union as the 48th state on Valentine's Day in 1912, and, in the one-hundred-and-six intervening years, the Scorpion State has only had eleven United States Senators - all white males.  That show of patriarchal muscle will definitely be at an end next January when the new senator is seated to replace retiring Senator Jeff Flake.  The race to replace Flake has clarified into two major party candidates, both currently serving as members of Congress - and both female.

Democrat Kyrsten Sinema, a former college professor at Arizona State University, is unabashedly progressive in her politics, a stark contrast to Republican Martha McSally, a Trump-touting, former military officer and combat pilot.  Arizona has been a traditionally Republican state, but it has had occasional lapses in which it elected Democrats to statewide office - with former two-term governor Janet Napolitano as one example that leaps to mind.  The contest between Sinema and McSally promises to be a real horserace.

But there is an outside chance that the winner of that election will not be Arizona's first woman to serve in the United States Senate.  Between now and the time that either Sinema or McSally is seated in the Senate, Governor Doug Ducey will appoint a replacement to Senator John McCain who passed away last weekend.   Ducey could conceivably bust the gender barrier and select a woman to take McCain's place - thus relegating Sinema or McSally to becoming the Arizona's second female senator.

Ducey, who is facing his own election challenge on the November ballot, has said that he will announce his appointment to replace McCain after the late senator's funeral this weekend.  The state's constitution requires that he choose someone from McCain's own party - a Republican - but other than that one limitation Governor Ducey is pretty much free to select whomever he pleases - except, of course, for the fact that if Arizonans are not happy with his selection they can almost immediately register their displeasure when they begin casting mail-in ballots for governor in mid-October.  Ducey is being challenged by David Garcia, a university professor who is a combat veteran (marksman) and an educational expert - and that race, like the one for the U.S. Senate, could go either way.

The governor has two obvious female choices to replace John McCain in the United States Senate.  Former Arizona state senator, Kelli Ward, ran against McCain in the Republican primary in 2016 and lost decisively.  This year she ran in the Republican primary to replace Senator Jeff Flake, and lost that race as well.  Ward earned a bit of well-deserved public scorn last week when she opined that John McCain's announcement that he was ceasing treatment for his brain cancer was some sort of sabotage against her campaign.

The other obvious choice to replace McCain would be his widow, Cindy.  Cindy Lou Hensley McCain is an heiress to a major Arizona beverage distributing company and is well-known in her own right.  It has been fairly commonplace for widows to succeed their husbands in the Senate, so that move could be seen as somewhat predictable.

The odds of Ducey appointing a controversy-inducing, two-time loser like Kelli Ward just before he faces the voters would seem to be slim, and while appointing Cindy McCain might resonate well with his Arizona constituents, it would not pass muster with the McCain-Hater-In-Chief, Donald Trump - and a pissed-off Donald Trump could also wreck Ducey's hopes of reelection.

Best guess:  either Kyrsten Sinema or Martha McSally will be the first female United States Senator from Arizona - and his former Arizonan's money is on Sinema.

The Death Dog

by Pa Rock
Traveling Fool

Last week I posted an entry in this blog highlighting some unusual things that I observed on my trip to Oregon.  One item that I mentioned in that posting was about an old hearse with a large plastic hotdog attached to its roof.  This morning I received an email from my daughter in Oregon along with a photo of the unusual vehicle that I had written about.

Molly found the picture on the internet and did some research on the oddity.  She said that the fellow who owns it lives and works in Salem - and that some of the locals refer to it as the "Death Dog."  Then my very observant daughter reminded me that "Oregon is always very entertaining."

She's got that right.  Salem and Portland both have more pot shops than coffee shops!

Two Funerals and a Wedding

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Democracy is generally regarded as a good form of government, one which, in the ideal, seeks to draw all of its adult citizens into the process through voting and being able to run for office.  But, like any system based the the vagaries of human beings, it occasionally coughs up a hairball.

I'm not sure why it is, but many of the hairballs seem to be at home in the political arena, and some manipulate the democratic system so well that they rise to the absolute pinnacle of American power and political prestige:  the presidency.  In my lifetime I have seen several doozies:

• Richard Nixon, a paranoid who never felt that laws necessarily applied to him.  Not only did Nixon let the war in Vietnam drag on for a couple of more years after promising to end it, he also led the country into the ugly political maelstrom known as Watergate;
• Ronald Reagan who turned his back on tens of thousands of Americans fighting a new disease called AIDS - as well as involved the country in a series of two-bit international intrigues that would have embarrassed Boris Badenov and Natasha;
• Bill Clinton, a man with the morals of a not-too-particular alley cat and who also struggled with the truth;  and,
• George W. Bush whose limited intellectual abilities and desire to outshine his father led to a military boondoggle in the Middle East that persists to this day.

But even in the worst of times brought on by some of the more sordid occupants of the White House, there was never a serious concern about the survival of the Republic.  Today, however, under the leadership of Donald Trump, a man who seems to be openly taking guidance from the leader of Russia and Rupert Murdoch's Fox News, that may no longer be the case.  Trump seems to be ignoring the advice of the subordinates whom he chose to advise him, and he tends to react, often through impulsive tweets, rather than to carefully formulate plans and policies through contacts and discussions with knowledgeable diplomats, policy experts, and stakeholders.

Trump is speeding along on a roller coaster of bad information with the safety bar up - and he is drunk on his own self-importance.  It is no longer a question of if the roller coaster will fly off of the rails, but when.

Is it any wonder then that this train wreck-waiting-to-happen, Donald John Trump, can't get any respect?  One thing I remember about past presidents, from Truman through Obama, is that they garnered a certain amount of positive attention for just being the President.  That is not so with Trump.

Senator John McCain, an American patriot of note for both his service in the military as well as the more than three decades that he served in the United States Senate, died last weekend.  One of the final decisions of consequence that McCain made prior to his passing was to let it be known that he did not want Donald Trump, a politician from McCain's own Republican Party, to attend his funeral.  The petty Mr. Trump likely would not have attended anyway, but McCain beat him to the punch by declaring that he would not be welcome to attend.

Back in April of this year the Bush family had also requested that Donald Trump not attend the funeral of their matriarch, Barbara Bush.  And a month after that, in May, the Prince Harry of the British royal family let it be known that he and his fiancee did not want Donald Trump at their nuptials.

Even Richard Nixon was welcome at funerals and weddings.

But not Donald John Trump.  He has to spend his days deciding whether to raise or lower the White House flag - and checking in with Sean Hannity.

Monday's Poetry: Two by Claude McKay

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

This weekend marked the passing of two American giants, one a war hero and indomitable political force, and the other a man of letters whose works enlivened television, movies, and the American stage for decades.   American fighter pilot and statesman, John McCain passed away Saturday evening after a long and brutal battle with brain cancer, and playwright Neil Simon died on Sunday.

John McCain, the son and grandson of U.S. Navy admirals, was shot down and captured by the Viet Cong and served five years in North Vietnam's most notorious prison, the Hanoi Hilton, where he refused to accept an early release based on his family prominence.  McCain, who was tortured during his captivity, became a fierce advocate against the use of torture, and especially water-boarding, by American military forces during the thirty-two years in which he served in the U.S. Senate representing Arizona.   McCain made two runs for the U.S. presidency as a Republican.  In the battle of 2000 he was defeated for his party's nomination by George W. Bush, the eventual winner of that election, and even though he managed to secure the Republican nomination in 2008, he was defeated in the general election by Barack Obama.

Both George W. Bush and Barack Obama will be eulogizing John McCain at his funeral.  McCain made a point of letting Donald Trump know that he would not be welcome at his funeral.

John McCain was eighty-one at the time of his death.

Neil Simon, who passed away at the age of ninety-one, was a scriptwriter who had an ear for dialogue and could find humor in almost any situation, no matter how mundane.   He began his professional career writing for the new medium of television, but by the 1960's Simon was cranking out hit Broadway comedies almost as fast as he could type.   In 1966 he had four plays running simultaneously on the Great White Way.  He later became a strong presence in the movie industry.  Simon's forte was comedies.

Today I have chosen works by Claude McKay, a pivotal figure in the Harlem Renaissance, to honor John McCain and Neil Simon.  The poem for McCain, "If We Must Die," previously appeared in this space in 2015.  It is a poem about courage, and , in McKay's case, resistance to lynchings and racial violence.

For Senator John S. McCain
The Maverick

If We Must Die
by Claude McKay

If we must die, let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursèd lot.

If we must die, O let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

O kinsmen! we must meet the common foe!

Though far outnumbered let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one death-blow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!

And, for Neil Simon

The Bard of Broadway

On Broadway

by Claude McKay

About me young careless feet 

Linger along the garish street; 

Above, a hundred shouting signs 

Shed down their bright fantastic glow 

Upon the merry crowd and lines 

Of moving carriages below. 

Oh wonderful is Broadway — only 

My heart, my heart is lonely. 

Desire naked, linked with Passion, 

Goes trutting by in brazen fashion; 

From playhouse, cabaret and inn 

The rainbow lights of Broadway blaze 

All gay without, all glad within; 

As in a dream I stand and gaze 

At Broadway, shining Broadway — only 

My heart, my heart is lonely. 

Norse Mythology

by Pa Rock
Reader

Nearly twenty years ago I enjoyed the rare privilege of being able to take part in an educational adventure to Russia and Sweden.  Our group, graduate social work students and professors from the University of South Carolina and the University of Missouri, visited Moscow and St. Petersburg, and then boarded a flight across the Gulf of Finland to Stockholm, Sweden.

We had one "free" afternoon during our brief stay in Stockholm, and while my friends rushed off to visit the royal palace and enjoy other activities in the Sweden's capital city, I walked down to the waterfront and bought a ticket for a boat ride to visit Birka, a Viking island that lies a couple of hours out into the Stockholm Archipelago.    Birka was the object of an on-going archaeological dig at that time.  I enjoyed a fascinating afternoon as I viewed exhibits in the island's museum and walked many of the same rugged trails that the Norsemen had trod centuries before.

That afternoon did much to pique my interest in the Viking culture - and when I recently came across Neil Gaiman's new book, "Norse Mythology," I knew that I was destined to enjoy some time absorbing his insights into that unique era of world history.

Professor Gaiman's book is largely what the title suggests, an overview of the complicated lives and interactions of the old Norse gods.  It is populated with gods, goddesses, dwarfs, elves, giants, a trickster, and even an enormous serpent - along with an assortment of mere mortals who help to move the stories along.  Gaiman, who has long been a devotee of the mythologies of the Nordic world, spends time laying out a careful map of the mythic world and terminology of the Norse gods, and then he resurrects several tales of the gods that have been passed down through the centuries.  Gaiman presents those stories in a more-or-less modern vernacular.

The main characters highlighted in this work are Odin, the one-eyed King of the Gods, his son, Thor, the God of Thunder (and a bit of a goof) whose ultimate power lies in a mighty hammer that is always within his reach, and Loki, the Trickster, whose treasonous activities ultimately help to bring about an end to the time of the Gods.

Reading these stories put me in mind of the time a few years ago when I read the complete collection of the Brothers Grimm.  The Norse tales are, like the stories collected by the Grimm's, morality tales wrapped in wonder and adventure.    They lead the readers to unique vistas while imbuing those travels with cautions and moral restraints.

Like the tales of the Brothers Grimm, the tales of the old Nordic gods have had an impact on our folklore and traditions, and now with the efforts of people like Professor Gaiman, the fullness of their unique contributions to our western culture may finally begin to be realized.

"Norse Mythology" is quite an enjoyable read, and it opens doors to a better understanding of the human animal.

Nuts!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

U. S. Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos (nee: Elisabeth Dee Prince) was born into one of the one hundred wealthiest families in America and went on to marry the heir to the Amway sales racket where she acquired a second butt-load of money.  Betsy was educated in private schools and has long exhibited disdain toward America’s public schools.  

She is also a major contributor to conservative, right-wing political candidates where she blatantly buys influence for cash.

DeVos, the only cabinet member in U.S. history to require a tie-breeaking vote of the Vice President in order to be confirmed by the Senate, has spent much of her time at the Education Department promoting schemes to channel government funds away from public schools and into the more exclusive private school domain through gimmicks like vouchers and school choice plans.

Earlier this year Congress, in reacting to calls from some right-wing quarters for arming teachers, passed a school safety bill which specifically prohibited funding for firearms in schools or funding to train school personnel in how to use firearms. Schools might choose to arm teachers, but they would not be doing it with federal funds.

But Betsy DeVos had other ideas.  This week she floated a plan for using a special pool of money, the Student Support and Academic Enrichment Program, to provide grants to states to arm teachers.  The program was passed by Congress a couple of years ago and was designed to “increase access to education, improve conditions for learning, and bolster digital literacy.”    Congress neglected to mention whether the money in the special program could or could not be used to arm teachers.

Betsy, one must suppose, would argue that guns in school would “improve conditions for learning.”  But others see bringing guns into schools differently.  Randi Weingarten, the President of the American Federation of Teachers, said “Betsy DeVos wants to turn schools into armed fortresses and make kids and educators less safe.”  She then added, “Betsy DeVos wants to turn the U.S. government into an arms dealer for schools.  That’s insane.”

Randi Weingarten is right. Betsy DeVos is NUTS!

Erik Prince is Betsy DeVos’s baby brother, eleven years her junior.  Erik is a businessman (of sorts) who specializes in organizing and marketing mercenaries for action on the world stage.  He was the founder of Blackwater, the “contracting” agency that carried arms while “helping” with the Bush Oil Wars in the Middle East.   For the past several months Erik has been promoting a plan to replace U.S. armed forces in Afghanistan with civilian contractors (mercenaries).  Congress has shown no interest in Erik’s initiative, and the U.S. military is openly opposed to it.  But Erik Prince is far smarter that Congress and the military, and he has taken to promoting his business venture on right-wing news programs – the type of programs that Donald Trump enjoys watching on a daily basis.

Erik Prince is promoting the old adage that says “War is good business.”  He is the Milo Minderbinder of his generation.

Erik Prince, like his free-spending older sister, is NUTS!

This week Donald Trump launched one of his big distractions by tweeting about a story that he had seen reported on Sean Hannity’s program on the Fox News channel.  Hannity had repeated a conservative meme that alleged white farmers were being murdered by black militants in South Africa.  The story said that large numbers of white farmers were being killed by blacks who wanted their land – and that the government of South Africa was turning a blind eye to the whole matter.   The story was false, but that never stops Fox.

Donald Trump tweeted that he was concerned and that he was asking Secretary of State Mike Pompeo to look into it.   One snarky national journalist commented that it looked as though Donald Trump was getting his foreign policy briefings from Fox News.

Donald Trump blatantly used a false news story from Fox News to fire up the white nationalist elements of his political base – and to distract attention from his ever-increasing legal problems.  He fanned the flames of bigotry to take the heat off of himself.

Donald John Trump is NUTS!

It’s all madness and it all must end – or soon, very soon, we will all be as nuts as they are!  Donald Trump and his followers have lead us down into America's darkest recesses, places where we historically hid our insane relatives, and they have told the world that this is now who we are - a bunch of Lovecraft mole people digging through garbage and human waste in the moldering darkness beneath what was once a great civilization.

Donald Trump is NUTS, and if we continue to stumble along behind him, blind and silent, then we are as nuts as he is.

Resist - and register - and vote.  It's the only way out of the Trump nightmare!

A Day at the Beach

by Pa Rock
Traveling Fool

Yesterday morning I joined my daughter’s family on a trip to Salem’s (Ray and Joan) Kroc Center where young Judah was completing two weeks of swimming lessons.  Very soon all of the kids will be back in school, but summer is the time for special things – like swimming lessons.  Judah appears to have no fear, and he was quite at home in the big pool.

In the afternoon we all loaded into Molly’s van and headed fifty miles west to the Pacific seacoast community of Lincoln City.  It had been cool in Salem, but the weather on the coast was warmer and the kids had a great time playing at the seashore.  Besides enjoying the water, all three of the youngsters had fun playing in a large hole in the sand that kids in another family had spent quite a bit of time digging.   Sometimes the greatest pleasures in life are the simplest!

I enjoyed throwing a stick for a little dog who was playing on the beach.  He never tired of fetching and returning the prize to me - until his owner showed up and took the little fellow away.  Again, simple pleasures!

Lincoln City in located on the Pacific Coast Highway 101.  Our family drove the entire Oregon coast thirty years ago and I remember passing through that tourist community.

The drive out to the west was beautiful.  We went through a long agricultural valley where some farmers were plowing and stirring up large clouds of dust, and others were baling hay.  The hay bales were longer than the ones back in the Ozarks, and they stacked them five-high in the middle of their fields.  Most of the drive, however, was through hills forested with tall, beautiful evergreens.

In some ways Oregon is poor, like my area of the Ozarks – so we also saw small gatherings of rusty mobile homes and other signs of rural poverty, but much of the drive was picture-perfect postcard views of the Pacific northwest.

Portland later today –and home tomorrow.

Postcards from the Edge - of Salem

by Pa Rock

Tourist

When I travel I’m always on the lookout for unusual things.  Yesterday I came upon a couple of sights that would make perfect postcards of street life here in Salem, the capital city of Oregon.  As an overview, the city is a actually a sprawling small town with no skyline or public transportation system.   The downtown area is home to a variety of small businesses that thrive off of the proximity of state government offices, and there are many homeless individuals on the streets.

One of the sights that I encountered yesterday that was worthy of note in this blog was a biker riding his noisy motorcycle through the center of town.  He slid his machine in front of my rental car and I followed him for several blocks.   The guy was obviously a “professional” biker, a fact that would have been evident even without the insignia on the back of his dirty sleeveless shirt.  The shirt pictured the head of what appeared to be an Egyptian god, along with the words “Anubis Ridans.”  Last night I looked it up and learned that Anubis Ridans is a motorcycle club that originated in Eugene, Oregon – a group that, although fearsome in appearance, apparently is known for stepping forward and working for the public good.

But for a few blocks I felt that I was heading toward a rally (or rumble) with the Sons of Anarchy!

Later, pulling onto my hotel parking lot, I encountered a young fireman, in uniform, standing out by his pickup truck and enjoying a beer.  I'm old enough to remember hotels that had their own doctors - and even detectives - but for one to have a resident fireman - well that was different.  Notice to guests: In case of fire, yell very loudly because the fireman has had a few!

Another interesting sight presented itself when my grandson, Sebastian, and I were riding through a McDonald’sparking lot.  “Hey,” he said suddenly, “there is a hotdog on top of that car!” And sure enough there was a large plastic hotdog strapped to the top of a vehicle – so big that it covered the entire top of the car.  When we got closer, I realized that the big hotdog was riding atop a classic older hearse!

Then, of course, Sebastian had a bunch of questions about hearses.

One never knows where the day will take them, especially if grandkids are along for the ride!

Two More Witches in the Bag

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Since removing myself from the cable television rat-wheel several years ago, I have had to rely on the internet for most of my "breaking" news.  About the only times that I am exposed to live coverage  of special events on television is on rare occasions when I am traveling and staying in a motel.

Last night was one of those rare occasions - and the news stories were exciting - overpowering - reminiscent of the stuff that was happening back on the national scene when I was in my twenties.  Yesterday, at almost the same time, two stories broke that rocked the political world and have the ultimate potential to lead to the dismantling of a presidency - much like the Watergate stories that were exploding across the political landscape back during the 1970's.

Paul Manafort, Donald Trump's former campaign manager, was found guilty in a Virginia courtroom on eight charges of tax evasion and bank fraud - and the jury was not able to reach a conclusion on the remaining ten charges.  Manafort, who has until now steadfastly refused to implicate Donald Trump in any of his nefarious dealings, could be heading toward several years in prison - and he faces another trial on more charges in Washington, DC, a month from now.

Meanwhile in New York City, Trump's former personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, pleaded guilty to charges of tax evasion, falsifying submissions to a bank, and campaign finance violations - and he implicated Donald Trump as being an active participant in the campaign finance violations.  One of Cohen's lawyers, Lanny Davis, made the rounds of several television talk shows last night and this morning saying that his client has information which would be of interest to special prosecutor Robert Mueller - and that he would be willing to talk to Mueller.

Cohen's specific pleadings with regard to the campaign finance violations were that he paid off two women to keep them quiet and thus not harm Trump's election chances back in 2016, and that he did that at the bidding of Donald Trump and was reimbursed by Trump - all in direct violation of campaign finance laws.

Back nearly fifty years ago when Nixon was imploding, we had to wait for regularly scheduled news casts to learn the latest - or "special bulletins."  Today, with 24-hour news on some channels, as well as the internet, we can be brought up-to-the-minute every minute.  It's all very exciting!

I'm still glad that I don't have cable.  With the crap that continually oozes from the Trump administration, I would be glued to the tube 24-7 and would never be able to get my mowing done!

The New Amsterdam

by Pa Rock
High Flyer

This blog posting is going out exceptionally late today because I have been in the air traveling between Kansas City and Portland, Oregon, and then battling traffic for the drive from Portland down to Oregon's capital, Salem.  Add to that the time I sent with my daughter and three Oregon grandchildren, and it has been a busy day indeed.

The three-and-a-half-hour flight was uneventful, but I did sit next to the nicest people, a young woman and her toddler daughter and a man who appeared to be the little girl's grandfather.  The child, who was young enough that she did not require a ticket, was a sweetie.  Her name was Elowyn - and she referred to herself as "Ello," much like a Brit answering the telephone.  (It's Irish.) This was Elowyn's sixth flight, and she was a perfect traveler!

The drive south to Salem was uneventful.  I pulled over in Wilsonville hoping to have a quick (and late) lunch at the Wendy's which I saw advertised along the Interstate.  I didn't find it - and had to settle for Sonic.   There I learned that Sonic is much pricier in Oregon than it is back home in the Ozarks.  A simple cheeseburger and a large drink totaled north of eight dollars.  On the plus side, it was a very good  cheeseburger, and there is no sales tax in Oregon.

Oregon is a very progressive state, and I suspect they make up for the loss of a sales tax through increased taxes on income and property - as God intended.

The grandkids are all fine.  Tomorrow they are coming over to my hotel for a swim in the pool, and we are going to Costco (next door to the hotel) where we will have lunch and shop for some school clothes.  Pa Rock brought prezzies and everyone seemed to enjoy what they got.

Back to the thread about Oregon being a very progressive state.   I pulled up next to a nice car that had a magnetic sign on the driver's door identifying the business as "Canna Medicine" and below that a motto about the company's friendly people and friendly service.   Later, at the hotel, I found a pamphlet in the rack of tourist materials entitled "Oregon Cannabis Guide and Map."  The color photo on the front showed an attractive young couple sitting on a park bench along the river facing the Portland skyline.  Their shopping bag was hung over the corner of the bench.  It was an upscale-looking bag emblazoned with a cannabis leaf and the words:  "The New Amsterrdam."

Can't make it to The Netherlands?  Not to worry, Portland is waiting for you!  All that the New Amsterdam needs are some colorful tulip beds and a store that sells wooden shoes.    Everything else is already being sold in a thriving market!  And if Salem makes you sick, well, Canna Medicine is just a phone call away - and they have at least one delivery vehicle.

Jeff Sessions would not feel at home in Oregon!

"For the times they are a-changin'!"

Monday's Poetry: "Oregon Trail"

by Pa Rock
High Flyer

This afternoon finds me in the Kansas City area resting up for a flight to Oregon tomorrow where I will spend the better part of the week having fun with grandkids.  I have written about this before, but the flight to Oregon basically covers the same path that hearty American pioneers followed in the 18th century as they made their way from Independence, Missouri (roughly Kansas City) to the Willamette Valley (roughly the Portland/Salem area of Oregon).  The flight from KC International to Portland will take about four hours, whereas the pioneer wagon trains struggled to complete the trip between the time one winter ended and the next began.

And all of that puts me in mind of the first - and one of the few - computer games that I ever played:  The Oregon Trail, a travel adventure in which players assumed the roles of pioneers and had to make the perilous journey while encountering many obstacles along the way.  Players were confronted with issues like what part of their money to spend on food, clothing, supplies, ammunition, and a whole host of items, while never knowing when Indians or the forces of nature would throw their careful planning out of whack.   For someone like me who loved history, the game was almost hypnotic.

Today's poem, "Oregon Trail" by Nate Marshall slides across time and space to touch on the history of pioneer hardships as well as early computer games - all the while still traversing essentially the same rugged route.  The poet does a masterful job of tying divergent strands of thought into a meaningful braid of history.

Meanwhile Pa Rock will ponder whether he has stuffed all that he will need for the coming week into his one checked bag - and whether that bag will arrive at the same airport as he does.  Same destination, different concerns.


Oregon Trail
by Nate Marshall

my first venture west was in Windows 98

or Independence, Missouri. class in the computer lab

& we were supposed to be playing some typing game

or another. the one i remember had a haunted theme.

ghosts instructing us on the finer points of where 

to put our fingers. these were the last days 

before keyboards as appendage, when typing 

was not nature. i should’ve been letting an apparition 

coach me through QWERTY but rather 

i was at the general store deciding between ammo & axles,

considering the merits of being a banker or carpenter.

too young to know what profession 

would get me to the Willamette Valley 

in the space of a 40-minute period. 

i aimed my rifle with the arrow keys, tapped the space

bar with a prayer for meat to haul back to the wagon.

this game came difficult as breathing underwater after

trying to ford a river. 

                                        i was no good at survival.

somebody always fell ill or out into the river.

each new day scurvy or a raid was the fate of a character

named for my crush or my baby sister.

this loss i know, how to measure what it means

to die premature before a school period ends.

i can’t understand the game coming to a late end. 

an elderly daughter grieving her elderly mother. 

reading the expansive obit in a suburban 

Detroit church is a confusing newness.

when the old do the thing the world expects

i retreat into my former self. focus on beating

video games I’ve always sucked at, brush up

on Chicago Bulls history, re-memorize

the Backstreet Boys catalog, push 

away whatever woman is foolhardy enough 

to be on any road with me. i pioneer my way away

from all the known world. i look at homicide rates 

& wish we all expired the way i know best. i pray

for a senseless, poetic departure. i pray for my family

to not be around to miss me while i’m still here.

i want a short obituary, a life brief & unfulfilled,

the introductory melody before a beat’s crescendo into song,

the game over somewhere in the Great Plains.

i want to spare my descendants the confusion

of watching a flame flicker slow. keep them from being

at a funeral thumbing the faded family pictures like worn keys,

observing the journey done, the game won, the west

conquered.  

Eat More Tofu!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

As of the latest market reports, Donald Trump is still losing his trade war, bigly.

Trump, who once naively described trade wars as "easy to win," undoubtedly knows better by now.  He began his experiment in high school economics early this year by announcing tariffs on Chinese steel and aluminum, and quickly expanded his economic cleverness to cover a variety of goods from not only China, but the European Union and our American neighbors - Canada and Mexico - as well.  Donald, the master negotiator and bully, knew that leaders get their way throwing tantrums and hurling threats.

But sadly for the big orange menace, trade was not that simple.  Each of the countries that Trump targeted with import duties, retaliated in kind - and they cleverly selected products to tax that would affect Trump's voter base.  The EU began imposing duties on American bourbon (a slap at McConnell's Kentucky) and Harley Davidson motorcycles, a move that caused Harley to move some manufacturing overseas and left bikers for Trump struggling with conflicting loyalties.

But perhaps the cruelest rebuke of all came from China when it swiftly imposed import duties on some American agricultural products - including massive imports of soybeans - and made a decision to begin buying most of its soybeans from Russia and Brazil.  That market shift had a stunning impact on U.S. soybean growers who had been supplying a third of the world's demand for the hearty legume.  According to the latest reports, U.S. soybean prices have dropped 13% this year and are now at a 10-year low.  The Chinese tariffs also hit corn, cotton, and pork.

That's important to my friends and neighbors in southeast Missouri because some of our biggest agricultural concerns focus on corn, cotton, pork, and, of course, soybeans.  And it's also relevant to note that this area of rural Missouri voted overwhelmingly for Trump.  The Chinese delivered a laser-focused counter attack and hit Trump right where his sheeple live.

Donald Trump, who is all about saving the government's money and fighting welfare, responded to this economic attack on his supporters by promising government subsidies (welfare) in the amount of $12 billion to help make up for the losses that they would endure due to his ill-advised trade war.  Most economists, however, say that amount will be nowhere near enough to compensate the farmers for their lost revenue.  And, by the time the $12 billion filters its way down through the various levels of government bureaucracy before it gets anywhere near actual farmers, it is likely to suffer major siphoning and evaporation.

Soybeans are used primarily for livestock feed, but they also work their way into the world's food supply through things like soy flour, soy milk, and tofu.  Perhaps now the truly patriotic Trump-loving Americans will come to the rescue of soybean farmers by rolling up their sleeves and eating more tofu - and washing it down with a big glasses of soy milk.  It's the absolute least they can do!

Elections have consequences, you betcha they do!

Adventures in Mowing

by Pa Rock
Yard Master

This week I completed the seventh mow of the summer here at Rock's Roost.  Normally I would be into double digits by now, but this summer has been exceptionally dry.  Instead of putting all of the effort into mowing, a task that takes seven or eight hours, a lot of my time has been dedicated to carrying water to the young trees that I have planted over the past couple of years.  If it's not one thing, it's a couple of others.

But we have gotten some rain over the last week or two, so I was able to let up on the tree-watering. The downside of the rain is, of course, that the sweet summer showers have caused the grass to green-up and start growing again.  I am headed out next Monday for a week in Oregon, and the yard needed to be buzzed before I could leave with a clear conscience.

Normally the biggest challenge that I face while mowing the monster yard is watching out for rocks, souvenirs from the last ice age that poke up through the ground like terrestrial icebergs and pose a danger to the blades and functioning of my massive mowing machine.  I have spent much of the summer digging those mini-boulders out of the ground - and I now have a very nice pile of rocks.

This week while mowing I edged the big rider up next to the well house hoping to give it a close trim.  However, my good mowing intentions came to a halt when the earth beneath the mower suddenly collapsed leaving one of the back tires dangling in a large hole and a front tire waving impotently in the air.  Somehow I managed to get myself free of the machine, but the riding mower remained stuck in the hole until my son showed up several hours later and helped me to free it.  When we finally got the mower out of harm's way, the extent of the hole was revealed.  It was a cavity about two feet deep,  two feet across, and three or four feet in length.  If it would have been much larger I could have opened it for tours!

Yesterday I hauled three wheelbarrow-loads of rocks and dumped them into the hole.  (The rock pile has come in handy on several occasions.)  Later today I will buy some pea gravel and small river rocks to finish the job - and I have half-a-bag of cement that I may add to the mix.

I have filled several smaller holes this year, and I am getting quite good at the process.  Some day my large yard will resemble a golf course - and I am sure the next owner will appreciate all of my efforts.

That's my summer - mowing and filling holes - and carrying water - and taking care of the animals - and blogging.  It's full-time work on a part-time salary, but fortunately the job suits me.

Oregon next week, then another mow, and Salt Lake City in early September - followed by a couple of more mows.  The secret of life is to keep moving!

Trump's Vanity Parade Fizzles

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

More than a year ago Donald Trump got to witness France's massive Bastille Day parade, an event which featured a major presence of the French military.  Trump, who was still new to all of the frills and fancies of being a world leader, was impressed - mightily impressed - and decided that he needed his own big military parade, something to show off his personal power and muscle to his adoring American fan base as well as to the rest of the planet.

And so Trump made a few late-night phone calls, subtly coerced the military's top brass, and banged out some tweets - and a parade was scheduled to be held in Washington, DC, this Veteran's Day.  The initial price tag was a horse-choking $30 million.

Some members of the military did not like the idea, nor did many veteran's groups, nor hardly any politicians of the Democratic stripe - and even a few red-faced Republicans.  In fact, a goodly number of ordinary American's were mortified that Donald John Trump, a man who took five deferments during the Vietnam War in order to not have to wear mass-produced and highly un-shiek military uniforms - and rub elbows with young men who had gone to public schools, and many of whom were not even white - that Donald John Trump - a.k.a. Cadet Bone Spurs - would want to have his own massive military parade!  The hypocrisy was astounding!

But Vlad in Russia had military parades, damned big ones, and so did Kim in North Korea.  If they could stand and watch the tanks roll by, and return smart salutes, then by God Donald could, too!

It was all going to be so very grand, an event to glorify the already glorious Donald Trump.

But yesterday Trump's vanity parade suddenly unravelled.  The Pentagon announced that it was postponing the boondoggle for a year.  Trump then grabbed his iPhone and tweeted that he was "cancelling" the event.  Pentagon cost estimates had tripled from $30 million to $90 million, and Trump raged that the costs were due to the city government of Washington, DC, (a largely black entity), hiking fees and prices of things.  Some analysts noted that a big part of the higher costs was the amount that military was having to spend to put jets in the air for strategic cover of the event.

So the parade is either postponed or cancelled, or some combination of the two, but the important point is that it won't be happening this November, on Veteran's Day, a day traditionally set aside to honor those who served.  Generalissimo Trump never wore his country's uniform, and he damned well should not be allowed to stand on a platform high above those who do and bask in their forced adoration.

Pa Rock, an actual veteran, salutes whoever was ultimately responsible for letting the air out of Trump's vanity parade.  If we have $90 million just laying around let's use it for things that matter like health care and housing and educational opportunities for real veterans, and ending the practice of putting migrant children and families in cages.  America is in need of more humanity, not some ridiculous, ego-massaging, tribute to a huff-and-puff tyrant!

The Petty Potentate

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Yesterday in this space I expressed my disgust with the way Donald Trump had treated his former aide, Omarosa Manigault Newman, who recently published a book detailing her insights regarding some of the inner-workings of the Trump White House.  To increase sales of her book, "Unhinged:  An Insider's Account of the Trump White House," Omarosa has been on a promotional tour, one in which she stirred interest in her work by occasionally releasing tapes of conversations that were held in the White House during the time she worked there.  She had been secretly taping within the confines of the Executive Mansion while doing government business - the legality of which will certainly be hashed out in court at some point in the future.

But Donald Trump, an impetuous soul with a history of stiffing his own lawyers, does not possess the personal restraint necessary to sit back and wait for a legal ruling.  Trump, the bully, reacts automatically - he strikes back - hard.  Donald Trump began tweeting his venom full force.  He called Omarosa "wacky" and "deranged," referred to her as a "lowlife," and hit his crescendo by calling her a "dog."  Some saw Trump's bizarre remarks as being about his own ego, while others felt the level of vitriol in his tweets had more to do with the fact that he had been attacked by a woman, part of a group that Trump has traditionally maligned - and still others felt that the extreme level of his wrath had more to do with the fact that Omarosa is black than with anything else.  And then there were those of us who suspected that his out-of-control wrath was due to a combination of all of those factors.

Whatever inspired Donald Trump to call out a soft-spoken, highly intelligent, black woman with  a string of schoolyard taunts, it was not anything presidential.  Trump's actions were those of a child.  They were immature and they were petty.  Sadly millions of good people - people who as parents would have been outraged and appalled if their own child had behaved in such a manner toward a child of lesser means at school - stood aside and did nothing.  It was just Trump being Trump, and the nation has become desensitized to his vulgarity and pettiness.

Sadly, examples of Trump's pettiness abound.  Here are a couple of more from just the past week.

Trump was in upstate New York at Ft. Drum, a U.S. Army installation, where he held a public appearance and signed the John S. McCain National Defense Authorization Act, a spending bill named in honor of Arizona's Senator John McCain.  McCain has occasionally expressed criticism of Trump, but has generally voted the Republican Party line on most major legislation.  A bigger man would have overlooked McCain's occasional criticisms and would have praised the dying senator as he signed the legislation - but not Donald John Trump.   Trump spoke for twenty-five minutes at the signing ceremony without ever once even mentioning McCain.

Petty, petty, petty.

And then yesterday The Donald was again all about getting even as he yanked the security clearance of former CIA Director John Brennan for what appears to be Brennan's impudence at criticizing Trump.  The leader of the free world, instead of ignoring criticism as bigger men would have done, reacted like a ten-year-old and began snatching up his toys.

It's bad enough that our country is being ruled by a child despot, but what truly makes the situation tragic is that so many otherwise intelligent adults are content to just stand by and watch it happen.  Nothing good will come from a government that is fueled by tantrums and twisted tweets.

Donald Trump is a petty potentate and a menace to civilization.  He needs to be put in a long, supervised time out.

Mr. Mueller, America is waiting!

Dog Bites Bully - Again and Again!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Omarosa Manigault Newman became somewhat famous as a contestant on Donald Trump's self-aggrandizing television show, The Apprentice, and she parlayed that fame connection to the orange blowhard into a job as a political adviser to Trump in the White House.  But nothing that sweet lasts forever, particularly in Trumpland, and late last year the soft-spoken black woman was quietly escorted out the door by Chief of Staff John Kelly while her boss and mentor, The Donald, claimed to have had no knowledge of her dismissal.  Omarosa, ever the lady, left with her head held high and went home to quietly lick her wounds - and write a book!

Omarosa, who at one time held such august titles as "Assistant to the President" and "Director of Communications for the Office of Public Liaison," had enjoyed (?) vast access to Trump both as a candidate and during his first year in the White House, and it would be safe to assume that she had a wealth of first-hand knowledge from which to draw as she wrote her memoir.

Over the past few weeks Omarosa has been plugging her new book, "Unhinged:  An Insider's Account of the Trump White House," a tome which was officially released this past week and is already an Amazon "best seller."  Part of her promotion tour includes backing up some of he good bits with tapes that she surreptitiously made while she was still working for Trump - and Trump predictably is not pleased.

Trump's people have announced that they are preparing to take legal action against Omarosa for violating the confidentiality agreements that the Trump organization routinely makes everyone with access to The Donald sign.  Many of Omarosa's tapes were apparently made inside of the White House, and at least one - the one in which she recorded General Kelly firing her - occurred in the Situation Room - a place where it is absolutely verboten to tape anything.  So questions are also stirring about the legality of Omarosa's tapes.

Quiet legal challenges are at least being talked about, but Donald Trump has never been one to sit back and wait on lawyers to resolve things.  When Trump feels that he is under attack, his automatic response is to lash out - and, predictably, he soon exploded on Twitter.  In one short verbal blast he referred to his former political aide as being "wacky and deranged."  But that was not enough to satisfy Trump's bloodlust, and yesterday, or the day before, he blasted Omarosa with this "unhinged" gem:

"When you give a crazed, crying lowlife a break, and give her a job at the White House, I guess it just didn’t work out. Good work by General Kelly for quickly firing that dog!"

Trump has a history of racist remarks and behavior, and he has long been critical of successful women, so that poisonous tweet seemed to tightly package and gift wrap two of his favorite prejudices.   Add to that the fact that he chose not to have a dog (an actual dog) in the White House, and Trump's tweet comes off as a perfect trifecta of hate.

Donald Trump, the stable genius, has done no lasting damage to Omarosa, and he has unwittingly helped her sell a ton of books.  Each time Trump begins to calm down, Omarosa plays another tape and Trump takes to twitter to howl his rage.  More tweets, more tapes, more book sales.   Donald Trump may be barking mad, but Omarosa is a biter!

When and where does this end?  How has America slid to such a degrading position that it is acceptable for our President to refer to any citizen as a "dog," and why do we ignore the ugliness of his nasty verbal explosions?  Donald Trump's attitude and language would get him fired at a Missouri poultry processing plant, but the country tolerates it in a President.  Surely we can't go much lower than this.  When and where does it end?

A Dictionary of Disease Names

by Pa Rock
Family Historian

I have been doing amateur work in the field of family research - genealogy - for forty years now, working primarily on discovering the ancestors of my children and grandchildren and learning their stories in the never-ending pageant of history.  For five years during that time I even penned a newspaper genealogy column that was featured at one time or another in seventeen rural Ozarks' newspapers.  In addition to all of that, I had several articles published in genealogical and historical magazines.

Recently I signed up for a trip that will take me to Salt Lake City in September for a week of genealogy research at the famed Mormon Library, one of the world's largest repositories of family tree information.  In preparation for that trip, I have been hard at work getting my files in order and preparing a series of specific research goals to pursue while I am at the Mormon Library.

As a part of that push, I unearthed an obituary on a grand-uncle of mine who died more than a century ago.   He was a brother of one of my great-grandmothers.  At the time of my grand-uncle's death, his sister, my great-grandmother, has left her home in Missouri and traveled to rural Kansas to be at his bedside.  She stayed on in Kansas until after the funeral, and I suspect, by the complete nature of the obituary, was instrumental in writing it.  One of the items noted in the obituary was that my grand-uncle had died of "Bright's Disease."  I made note of that because, although I had no idea what Bright's Disease was, if it turned out to be hereditary, I wanted to know more about it.

I put learning about Bright's Disease on my genealogy "to do" list, but before I could even get to it, some good information arrived in my email in-box that alleviated my concern.  The website Newspapers.com, which is owned by Ancestry.com, sent out a copy of its blog, an informative publication called "The Fishwrap."  In the latest issue was a posting entitled "Historic Causes of Death" which listed the historic names of several maladies and diseases.  And one of the entries on that list was "Bright's Disease."  The posting was by Trevor Hammond.

In doing family research, and especially in scouring death certificates from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, I routinely encountered certain causes of death that were rather common, yet which seemed to no longer be in use.  Terms like "consumption," "apoplexy," and "dyspepsia" had become as rare and antiquated as "fainting couches" and "thunder pots."  I was indebted to Mr. Hammond for his work in collecting and identifying these terms that were common in death notices and literature - and decided to help share the medical wisdom by preserving it in my own blog.

Here then is a bit of history.

• Ague:  Malarial fever;
• Apoplexy:  Unconsciousness resulting from a cerebral hemorrhage or stroke;
• Brain Fever:  Meningitis;
• Bright's Disease:  Kidney Failure;
• Childbed:  Fever due to an infection after childbirth;
• Consumption:  Tuberculosis;
• Canine Madness:  Rabies caused by the bite of an animal;  (I remember it being referred to as "hydrophobia" or "hydrophobic.")
• Chin Cough:  Whooping cough;
• Diphtheria:  Contagious disease of the throat;
• Dyspepsia:  Indigestion and heartburn;
• Dropsy:  Edema caused by kidney or heart disease;
• Falling Sickness:  Epilepsy;
• Inanition:  Starvation;
• Lockjaw:  Tetanus disease that affects muscles in the neck and jaw;
• Milk Leg:  Painful swelling after giving birth caused by thrombophlebitis in the femoral vein;
• Mania:  Dementia;
• Mania-a-potu:  A mental disorder caused by alcoholism;
• Quinsy:  Tonsilitis;
• Ship Fever:  Typhus;  and,
• Spotted Fever:  Meningitis or typhus.

There it is, something to keep close-at-hand for the next time you are enjoying Jane Austen or trying to make it up Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain - or digging your way through a stack of old death notices.  Happy reading!

Monday's Poetry: "The Sky Is Falling"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Having grown up in Missouri I have fallen off of my share of turnip trucks – but none recently. Yesterday I received an emergency email from my state’s senior senator, Democrat Claire McCaskill.  The headline was alarming – or at least intended to be: BREAKING:  LATEST POLL SHOWS CLAIRE TIED WITH TRUMP –ENDORSED JOSH HAWLEY.

God almighty!

The message continued just below a big, red “DONATE” button.  I read on:

“Rocky, you need to hear this:  A new poll revealed that Missouri’s Senate race is now deadlocked.”

Holy frickin’ moly! But I digress.

“The Washington Post already reported that this Senate seat is the one most likely to flip red this year – so with momentum now on the GOP’s side, Republicans are now spending MILLIONS to replace Claire with a rubber stamp for the worst parts of President Trump’s agenda.”

That was followed by a red, white and blue graphic showing Hawley and McCaskill tied at 45% each – with another big, red “DONATE” button.

Biting my fingernails in pure angst, I kept reading.  The final paragraph had this to say:  

“Claire is a critical check on the worst parts of President Trump’s agenda, and we NEED her voice in the Senate – but she will lose if you don’t give right now:  Rocky, please rush $5 right now so we can stop Republicans from flipping Missouri’s Democratic Senate seat!.

Who even suspected that we had a “Democratic" Senate seat? I knew that we had two senators because every state does – but I thought they belonged to the people and were subject to changing parties with any election.

But the thing that intrigued me the most was the reference to a poll along with the results.    I completed a minor in political science back in the day and have always had an interest in polling.  One of the courses that I took even focused on polling.  I have discussed results of various polls in this space on many occasions – but with each of those polls I knew two things – which group did the polling, and the margin of error in the results – or, roughly, how correct it was likely to be.  

Claire’s “the sky is falling” alarmist email had no particulars about which poll she was citing. Was it something reputable such as one from Charlie Cook’s organization, or Gallup, or work by Larry Sabato’s people at the University of Virginia?  Or was it something that one of her interns conducted by going barstool-to-barstool in some trendy DC watering hole?  As the person holding the $5 bill, I would like a little more information – and I should not have to go digging for it on my own.

Today’s poetry selection is “The Sky Is Falling” by Chris Tusa, the last two stanzas of which sum up how I felt about Claire’s latest entreaty for a cash transfusion.  She can have this simple verse with my regards, but for now I will keep a firm hold on my wallet.

Claire McCaskill is a seasoned politician and a ruthless campaigner – and she is about to drop down on young Josh Hawley like an angry B-52 attacking a young sparrow who is still in flight school!    Take cover, Joshie, your sky is fixing to fall!

The Sky Is Falling 

by Chris Tusa

The sky is falling.
And Henny Penny is nowhere to be found.

There is no bright blue cartoon sky,
no pop-up green grass.

Only a grey horizon with a single black cloud
drifting like a hole in the sky.

Minutes later, I watch rain disappear from the radar,
watch the sun blink through the clouds.

And I feel like some dumb chicken,
panic knocking against my purple chicken heart,

the seed of some silly fear
planted deep in my tiny bird brain.

Trump's Golf Never Stops

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

If Donald Trump manages to stay healthy and avoid impeachment without being carted off to prison by federal marshals, he will have served 1,461 days when his term of office ends on January 20, 2021.  So far he has been in office a very long and insufferable 569 days – well,  “in office” but not actually in the office.

Donald spends quite a bit of his time away from the Oval Office, often staying at vacation properties which he owns.  He currently at his resort, Trump National Golf Club, in Bedminster, New Jersey, an outing that began nine days ago.   In fact, as of today, Donald Trump has spent 62 days of his time as our nation’s leader at Bedminster, 59 of which were consumed with playing golf.  He has also spent 124 days at other Trump properties and used most of those government-funded vacations to play golf as well.

Trump has spent over 25% of his days in office playing golf, and lounged around on Trump properties nearly a third of the time that he has been in office.  He was accompanied on all of those trips by Secret Service personnel and a legion of assorted bureaucrats and flunkies, all of whom enjoyed first-class accommodations and dining on the public dime!

Scattered among the Trump never-ending stream of vacations were also trips to twenty foreign countries and thirty-six states and territories – again, always with an entourage clerks, cuties, and assorted presidential parasites, all of whom require quality board and bedding - and occasionally involving - yes - more golf!

To imagine aloud that Trump, the pampered politician, does not enjoy life in Washington, DC, would be an embarrassing case of understatement.   The denizens of DC are not Trump’s type of people – and many are not even white.   And the noise must be insufferable compared to the serenity of his private clubs. Protesters have been holding evening rallies outside of the White House for weeks now protesting Trump’s coziness with Russian leader Vladimir Putin – and today American racists have a rally in DC planned to mark the one year anniversary of the carnage in Charlottesville, Virginia, that was a result of their presence in that city last August to defend Confederate statues.  

Counter-protesters also plan to be in DC today.

Trump spurred the racists on, but even his presumed allegiance to their cause - whatever the hell it is - does not obligate him to have to remain in the vicinity of the ruckus.  The alt.right circus is just another good reason to be out of town playing golf.

Donald Trump seems to be much more comfortable rubbing elbows with the privileged members and guests at his expensive properties.  Many of those rich folks, both American and foreign, have learned that buying memberships at Trump properties is the most expedient way to gain access to the leader of the free world.  It is “pay-to-play” at the highest level.

The people whom Donald Trump associates with at his exclusive properties may be there for access, and they may have agendas that are not necessarily in the public interest.  But they are a quiet sort, and white, and they pay their dues.  If they fail to secure their advantages with Trump today, they know that they will have many, many more future opportunities to lobby in his golden shadow.   

The White House may shut down for vacations, but Donnie's golf never stops!

Joyriding in the 21st Century

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist 

Last night an as-yet-unidentified young man stole a passenger airplane from the SeaTac International Airport near Seattle and went for a joyride.  He was in the air more than an hour during which time he flew around Mt. Rainier and out over the islands of Puget Sound.  He also "shot the shit' with air traffic controllers and joked about possibly getting a job with Alaska Airlines (the plane's owner) as a pilot after completing his flight.  He also did some aerial acrobatics including, according to some reports, a loop-de-loop, before finally crashing on Ketron Island.  The outlaw pilot is believed to have died in the crash.

One air traffic controller called the high flyer "Rich," and some reports indicate that he was a 29-year-old airplane mechanic with the Alaska Airlines Group.

Most news reports are saying that the young flyer was likely to have been suicidal, but there are also strong indications that he was a disaffected youth who was out for a good time and perhaps to make a point or two.   During his chatter with the air traffic controllers he referred to himself as "Just a broken guy.  Got a few screws loose, I guess."  He also lamented that his actions were going to disappoint people who knew him.  At another point, however, the outlaw pilot also seemed be signaling that his action was a protest against minimum wage.

But he was also having a good time.  The young man circled Mt. Rainier in his stolen 76-passenger aircraft and said he might check out the Olympics (mountains) as well.  He also asked for coordinates to help him locate the mother orca who has been carrying her dead calf off of the coast of Washington for more than two weeks.

The sightseeing and aerial acrobatics ended when two fighter jets out of Portland, Oregon, caught up with renegade flyer and began controlling his flight path.  He soon crashed on Ketron, apparently not shot down by the pursuing fighter jets.

But for an hour or more last night a young outlaw ruled the skies around northwest Washington state. He was making a statement, one that may never be fully understood, and the world was listening.  He ruled it all - the lord of the skies - a flying god who ripped trough the darkness and then lit the night as he crashed to earth.

Rich went for a grand joyride - and he flew high.  Perhaps he still is flying high.