Matt Damon and SNL Cast Skewer Kavanaugh

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

As I was preparing to hit the hay last night stories were beginning to circulate on the internet alleging that Donald Trump was imposing restrictions on the newly announced FBI probe of the sexual abuse allegations that were mounting against Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh.  Those stories had a strong ring of truth if for no other reason than they fit with Trump's long-standing rage toward the FBI and the Mueller investigation.  It sort of made sense that  Donald John would try to hobble the work of the FBI, even though he, himself, had ordered the latest investigation of Kavanaugh.

NBC and the Wall Street Journal both reported that Trump was limiting which allegations the FBI could investigate, and that reports of Kavanaugh's youthful drinking was completely off limits - even though his immoderate use of alcohol seemed to be at the very core of all of the sexual abuse claims.

But like everything else associated with this rolling sideshow, those reports quickly changed.  Sometime later in the evening, while I was sleeping peacefully, Trump issued a tweet saying that the FBI was free to investigate as they pleased and that the NBC story had been wrong.  He apparently chose to cast no aspersions on the Wall Street Journal, a newspaper owned by Trump's occasional friend, Rupert Murdock.

The other thing of significance that occurred while I was sleeping was that Saturday Night Live launched its 44th season on NBC.  As a veteran at-home viewer of the program, one who was on-hand to see the very first show back in 1974, I have a long standing affinity for SNL and their wonderful take-downs of the American gentry.  But now, being 44 years older than I was back then - and requiring more sleep - and no longer willing to pay the cable/satellite monster so that it can pump the home shopping channels into my peaceful abode, if I catch SNL, it is through clips over the internet.

This morning I treated myself to watching the opening skit from last night's season premier of Saturday Night Live.   The skit was the show's take on Kavanaugh's appearance before the Senate Judiciary Committee this week which immediately followed the testimony of Dr. Ford.   Matt Damon was Brett Kavanaugh - boy, howdy, was Matt Damon ever Brett Kavanaugh!  Damon was a very angry Kavanaugh who sneered and raged and promised retribution as he navigated the senators' questions, and then punctuated those anger outbursts with tearful spasms about how unfair the whole affair was to him.

Damon was funny, very damed funny, as he wound his way through the visible emotions and obvious flaws of a man whom the Republican Party feels possesses the intellect, character, and emotional stability to be a Supreme Court Justice.  The people watching in the live studio audience obviously recognized his shortcomings, as did, I suspect, millions of Americans at home who were glued to their flat screens.

Brett Kavanaugh may yet take a seat on our nation's highest court, but if that happens his tenure will be impacted every day that he serves by America's lingering knowledge of his troubled and toxic youth, and every statement he makes and every decision he supports or rejects will be measured against the enraged individual who appeared before the Senate this week.

Given a preference, I suspect that more Americans would prefer to see Dr. Christine Blasey Ford sitting on the high court making decisions that will impact our county and its citizens for generations than they would Kavanaugh - an angry and repellant individual who takes no responsibility and shows no shame.

Matt Damon would also be preferable to Brett Kavanaugh.   He, at least, was acting - while Kavanaugh was his own real deal - a very ugly deal!

America deserves better.

Kavanaugh's Wall of Silence is Cracking

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Things changed rapidly after I hit the "publish" button on yesterday's blog posting.   At the time I completed my beloved, yet painful, morning chore, Senator Jeff Flake had just folded and announced that he planned on supporting the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court.  The Republican steamroller had been fired-up and it looked as though Kavanaugh would be approved by a partisan vote in the Senate Judiciary Committee within the hour - as he ultimately was - and that he would be narrowly approved by the entire Senate within the next day or so.

The fix was in;  the deed was almost done.

But then the Republican locomotive to glory suddenly went off the rails.

Two concerned women spotted Jeff Flake getting onto an elevator in the Capitol, and they proceeded to block the door open and verbally hammer the beleaguered senator on his support of Kavanaugh.  One of the ladies recounted a sexual assault that happened to her and used that incident to challenge Flake's support of Kavanaugh to sit on the nation's highest court.  The emotional encounter, which was filmed and quickly spread on social media, was very compelling.

Soon after that Flake met with some other senators who were not firmly cemented to Kavanaugh, and then he and Alaska's Senator Lisa Murkowski telephoned the FBI headquarters and got a confirmation that the agency could do a cursory investigation of the sexual abuse claims against Kavanaugh and complete that process within a week.  That gave him a bargaining chip - and Flake used that chip to secure a deal with Senate leadership which would allow the FBI to conduct a brief review of the matter.  Donald Trump concurred and ordered the quick and limited investigation - even as he blamed Flake for delaying the process - and the full Senate vote on Kavanaugh was put off for at least a week while the FBI looks into the claims by up to four Kavanaugh accusers.

I'm not a lawyer, but I have seen several fine actors play lawyers on television - and with that sterling legal background I see three distinct areas of concern regarding the Flake nomination.  The first thing that seems to clash with the notion of wanting to get at the truth was the reluctance of the Republican majority on the judiciary committee and the nominee himself to push for an FBI investigation of the sexual assault allegations against Kavanaugh.  There were questions that needed to be asked and answered, and clearly the Republican senators and Kavanaugh did not want to hear those answers.

The next curiosity was the nominee's reluctance to take a lie detector test - as his primary accuser had voluntarily done.  As a former child abuse investigator who has worked with mechanical means like polygraphs (lie detectors) for getting at the truth, I know they are not perfect.  But lie detectors are indicators of a person's truthfulness, and a good result would have put Brett Kavanaugh in an almost unassailable position and likely guaranteed his confirmation.  But Kavanaugh demurred, noting that federal courts don't accept lie detector results.  That position runs counter to a legal stance that he once took as a judge - one in which he approved of the use of lie detectors by potential employers.  It was all exceedingly troubling.

And finally there was Mark Judge, Kavanaugh's bosom buddy from adolescence.  Dr. Ford clearly stated that Mark Judge was present and watching as Kavanaugh tried to rape her, yet neither the GOP members of the judiciary committee nor the nominee himself had any interest in hearing from the one witness who could have conceivably sorted the entire matter out and put it to rest.    And Mark Judge judiciously avoided telling his tale any place where he would have been put under oath.  People who lie under oath are committing perjury, a crime.

It was all a wall of silence - no FBI investigation, no lie detectors, no testimony from a witness who was reportedly in the room and watching the incident.  But now that wall is beginning to crack just a little.  The FBI is looking into the matter, but Trump has limited their efforts in time and scope.  It's not much, but it's far better than what we had yesterday when I hit that "publish" button.

Bless those two fine ladies who stormed that elevator and  gave Jeff Flake a dose of humanity.  Resist, persist, and insist on the truth - that will make America great again!

Clarence Thomas Redux

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Mitch McConnell is smiling smugly somewhere in the U.S. Capitol this morning, secure in the knowledge that the Kavanaugh nomination to the Supreme Court has been rescued and that his white, patriarchal form of justice will continue to prevail in America - while at the other end of Pennsylvania Avenue Donald John Trump is wolfing down a few cheeseburgers for the road as he prepares for another grueling weekend of golf.  Trump, too, is smiling because he knows that right has prevailed and he was personally responsible for stopping the con-job (or was it a witch hunt?) that those crooked Democrats tried to pull in derailing his nominee to the Supreme Court.

Happy days are here again.  Huzzah, huzzah!

Well, both of those good ole boys, McConnell and Trump, had better luxuriate in the feelings of euphoria while they can - because they ain't a-gonna last long.   Yesterday's day-long melodrama with Dr. Ford's compelling, tear-stained testimony followed by Brett Kavanaugh's extended rage and Lindsey Graham's histrionics, will leave an indelible mark on the American psyche, and one that will haunt and ravage the Republican Party for a generation or more.

McConnell, and Trump, and Grassley, and all of those other pasty old white men won the battle that was fought in the OK Judiciary Committee Corral, but damned if they didn't lose the war.  Americans heard what was happening on their radios - and they watched it unfold on television - and Americans were appalled.

Dr. Christine Blasey Ford came prepared to tell her story.  She took a lie-detector test conducted by a former FBI operative prior to the big event, gave a heart-wrenching account of the night a young Brett Kavanaugh attempted to rape her, and then sat through a lengthy interrogation of which the Republican portion was conducted by a professional prosecutor instead of the cowardly GOP members of the Senate Judiciary Committee.  And through it all, Dr. Ford remained calm, even as she occasionally fought back tears while reliving that terrible night.

Not so with Brett Kavanaugh.   Within minutes of beginning to speak he was in full rage mode, showing the world what a mad drunk looks like.  As Kavanaugh climbed the heights of outrage in defending his honor, his demeanor and hostility reminded many women around the world of the wrath that they had themselves endured at the hands of controlling men.  But Kavanaugh was not speaking to impress women.  He was speaking to Donald Trump and imploring him not to pull his nomination to the Court - and he was speaking the the eleven GOP male members of the Judiciary Committee begging them to stand by him.

And it looks like he was successful.  Trump, himself a pompous male with a history of abusing women, is gushing with praise for Kavanaugh's performance yesterday, and it looks as though all eleven Republican members of the Judiciary Committee will hold the line for Kavanaugh as well.

But yesterday was the very definition of a pyrrhic victory, one that is certain to cost Republicans dearly at the polls in just a few weeks.   The central players themselves are also destined to be defined by yesterday's events for the rest of their lives.  Thirty years after the Clarence Thomas hearings, Americans still remember the clarity and courage of Anita Hill as she faced down a roomful of stodgy old white men in similar circumstances.  Anita Hill still has the respect of the nation, a respect that Clarence Thomas never did garner.

It will be the same with Dr. Ford and Brett Kavanaugh.  She will go down in history as a martyr who stood up to an entrenched patriarchy - even if it was on its last legs, and Brett Kavanaugh will go through the rest of his life being regarded as little more than a stain on the Supreme Court of the United States of America - Clarence Thomas redux.

Thank you, Dr. Ford, for having the grit to fight this battle.  Your courage in coming forward to tell you story will help to move America forward into a brighter future, one in which the lanterns of justice will be held aloft by people other than drunken frat boys and will shine on more than just those born into privilege.

Christine Blasey Ford risked her safety and reputation yesterday to make America better, and come November we can tell her "thank you" in a way that will be remembered through the ages.

Register, vote, and throw the bums out!

World Diplomats Laugh AT Trump

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The rolling embarrassment that is the Trump administration took a significant hit on the world stage this week when Donald John himself decided that the United Nations General Assembly could benefit from his wit and wisdom.  Trump, who was scheduled to speak at the gathering on Tuesday morning, nonchalantly showed up thirty minutes late without explanation and then proceeded to insult the intelligence of the assembled diplomats by treating them to snippets of self-aggrandizement like he uses on the hillbilly miscreants who attend his campaign-style rallies.

Near the beginning of his remarks, Trump set the tone for his appearance when he verbally patted himself on the back as he declared:

"In less than two years my administration has accomplished more than almost any administration in the history of our country."

People started laughing.

"It's true,"  he insisted.

More laughter.

"I didn't expect that reaction, but that's okay."

Still more laughter.

Donald Trump cannot be embarrassed because he has no sense of shame, so it is up to the rest of America to be embarrassed for him - and for us - the people who allowed this shallow, self-serving, blowhard to assume the reins of leadership of a country that was once seen by the rest of the world as a leading power.

In "less than two years" all that the Trump administration has really "accomplished" is to make the United States a laughingstock on the world stage.  Literally.

Putin won our last election - America must win the next one!

Trump Calls Us to Prayer

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The fix is in.

Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, the first woman to come forward and accuse Brett Kavanaugh of sexual assault, will testify before the Senate Judiciary Committee tomorrow morning, Kavanaugh will rebut, and then before the Capitol custodial staff has time to even air-out the room, the committee will meet again on Friday and give the poor, beleaguered Judge Kavanaugh a vote that will more than likely move his nomination to the full Senate.  Senators are being told to hang around town this weekend because they may be called in to cast the final vote in this stacked-deck of an approval process.

Rush, rush, rush.

Time is of the essence, and there is certainly no time to waste.  There is no time - and presumably no need -  to hear from the other two (or is it three?) Kavanaugh accusers.  The starchy old white men who hold down all eleven Republican spots on the Judiciary Committee are being more than fair in letting even one of these troubled women take up the committee's valuable time and rant about a party that got out of hand more than thirty years ago.  Boys, after all, will be boys.

And to be totally fair, the starchy old white male Republicans on the Judiciary Committee will not even question Dr. Ford themselves.  They have hired a sex crimes prosecutor from Arizona, a woman who spent many years working shoulder-to-shoulder with Trump-pardoned criminal Joe Arpaio..  Perfect, just damned perfect.

Why run the risk of offending college-educated, suburban women through poorly worded questions that might get tossed about in a testy hearing - especially questions being proffered by men?  Bring in a little lady to score those points,  Keep the hands of the committee members nice and clean and oh so pristine.

Let another broad string the bitch up, and then vote.  What could be fairer than that?

Donald Trump, who, as usual, missed the entire point of the hearing, issued a long tweet blasting Democrats interfering with his appointment of Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court, and he ended his diatribe with a plea to "Pray for Judge Kavanaugh and his family."

The notion that Donald John Trump, a proud adulterer who has bragged about sexual assaulting women, calling anyone to "prayer" is beyond hypocritical - it is sacrilegious to the umpteenth degree.  Somehow we have devolved into a society where the biggest scoundrel can usually be spotted holding the cross and piously railing on the sins of everyone else.  Donald Trump certainly fits that moldy mold.

Republicans are hellbent on packing the Supreme Court, and to that end they must work with what they have - the Kavanaugh nomination - and they must work quickly - before the November election when they could lose their weak majority in the Senate.  The stops have all been pulled out, the fix is in, and the vote is imminent.

The Supreme Court of the United States of America is about to be stained, yet again - and the election in November may literally be our last opportunity to reverse the savage immorality and sheer madness of the Trump administration.  It needs to be a blue wave - a mighty damned big blue wave.

That is what I'll pray for - that and the victims of sexual predators like Brett Kavanaugh and Donald John Trump!

Eating Out is a Risky Business - for Republicans

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Last June, as was noted in this blog post at the time, three prominent members of the Trump administration were met with protests as they attempted to enjoy a meal at a public restaurant. Homeland Security Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen and a friend were bonding over guacamole dip at a trendy Mexican restaurant near the White House one day during a "working lunch" when a fellow diner recognized the cabinet secretary, surreptitiously took her picture, and then sent it out - along with the restaurant's location - over social media.  Within mere minutes a group of protesters showed up and began heckling Secretary Nielsen over her department's treatment of Mexican families trying to enter the U.S. across our southern border.    The protesters questioned her commitment to motherhood - in reference to her department locking child immigrants in cages - and noted the irony of Ms. Nielsen choosing to dine at a Mexican restaurant.

That same week another group of protesters showed up at another Mexican restaurant in the D.C. metro area - this time making a scene about the presence of Trump aid, Stephen Miller, the architect of Trump's effort to make America whiter and restrict immigration from Latin America and other third world nations.  Again, the irony of the white nationalist, Miller, trying to eat at a Mexican restaurant was unmistakable.

A third incident, also in that same time span, happened when Trump Press Liar Sarah Huckabee Sanders and her family showed up at a fried chicken emporium in a Virginia suburb of Washington, DC, and were soon asked to leave by staff because they were making other diners uncomfortable.  Sanders and her group left - quietly - and she then spent several days whining about the incident to any press outlet that would listen.

Then, inexplicably, the stories about politicians and the rigors of dining out died down for awhile - but now they are once again surging.

Last week Florida Governor Rick Scott, a former medical charlatan who is now in a tight race for a U.S. Senate seat from Florida, was "booed" out of a Cuban restaurant in Venice, Florida (Scott's hometown).  Protesters were angry with Scott over the red algae that is plaguing much of Florida's Gulf Coast, a condition they blame on Scott's de-funding and debasement of the state's environmental programs.  The embattled Republican politician was forced to flee the restaurant through the back door.

A few days after Rick Scott's dining debacle, Texas GOP Senator Ted Cruz and his wife were forced to leave an Italian restaurant in Washington, DC, after hecklers surrounded their table peppering the senator with questions about his support for embattled Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh.  Cruz's opponent for re-election, Congressman Beto O'Rourke, later issued a statement supporting the Cruz family's right to dine peacefully.

Some are regarding these very public protests as impolite and unfair to working politicians who just want to get away from the pressures of their jobs and enjoy a meal in semi-private circumstances.  But others would counter those arguments by noting that the titular leader of the Republican Party, Donald John Trump, is quite likely the most impolite human in the history of politics, and that he has created an America where polite discourse appears to no longer be an option.  People flaunt their anger in public because that's the way it's done in the Time of Trump.

Meanwhile, if politicians want to relax away from home over a quiet meal, they should brown-bag it and eat at their desks - like many of their constituents do.

Monday's Poetry: (Once Again) "Still I Rise"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Last May I used this space to commemorate the dogged determinism and bravery of the students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, for standing up to bullies like the National Rifle Association and assorted politicians in the pocket of the NRA.  Many of the young people from that bullet-riddled school were protesting America's lax gun laws - and they were doing it beautifully.  The poem that I chose to mark the power and resistance of their protests was Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise," a true song of inspiration.

Today I am repeating that selection, this time to honor all of the victims of sexual assault who are voluntarily opening their old wounds in the hope of fostering a better America.  These victims are surrendering their privacy and peace in an effort to right old wrongs and insure that their pain and suffering will have not have been in vain.

Many people who considered themselves patriots and good Americans jeered the kids from Parkland and belittled their efforts as being naive and selfish - and many of those same people are now speaking out against the victims of sexual abuse who are ending decades debilitating silence and fear and are finally speaking out about the sexual assaults and human indignities that they endured.

When the disadvantaged and downtrodden speak, we must listen.

Victims are rising and shattering America's once comfortable silence.  A new day is at hand.

Still I Rise
by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

Tim Macy Reaches the Age of Jack Benny

by Pa Rock
Proud Father

The late comedian, Jack Benny, spent most of his life being thirty-nine, a false fact that was often written into the comedy routines that he performed on his radio and television shows.  Benny's other running gags revolved around his persona as a tightwad who could give Scrooge McDuck a run for his money, and the fact that although he was the boss, two of his co-stars (Mary Livingstone and Eddie "Rochester" Anderson) were the de facto brains of the outfit.  Jack Benny died back in 1974, but today he is most likely sitting on a cloud somewhere reliving old vaudeville routines with the likes of George Burns and Gracie Allen and rocking the heavens with laughter.  And through it all, he is still undoubtedly just thirty-nine years old.

I remember my mother once saying that she cried when her father turned thirty-nine (she would have been six at that time) because someone had told her that people die when they are forty - and she realized that her father just had one year left to live.  Fortunately for his passel of kids and grandchildren, Granddad lived out that year - and more than forty others to boot!

Today my youngest child, Tim, turns thirty-nine.  He has had some amazing successes in his life, including writing two brilliant full-length motion pictures, but his greatest success was in marrying Erin and, with her, bringing two amazing youngsters - Olive and Sullivan - into the world.

At the very young age of thirty-nine Tim has already done more to make the world a better place than many of the rest of us will ever even contemplate, and I suspect that the next several decades will undoubtedly bear witness to an increasing shine to his legacy.

Happy birthday, Tim.  Your old dad is very, very proud of you!

Reaping What We Vote

by Pa Rock
Curmudgeon Philosopher

As the Earth takes its annual voyage around the sun, it spins its way through four distinct seasons, each occupying roughly a quarter of the journey:  spring, summer, fall, and winter - or in historic agrarian terms:  sowing, growing, reaping, and rest.  Today marks the beginning of the time set aside for gathering what has been sown and grown over the two preceding seasons, and the annual labors of the harvest will, in fact, be ushered in by the Harvest Moon which begins two nights hence on September 24th.

American politics have been crafted over the centuries to roughly fit the agrarian cycle of the seasons.  Candidates often announce their intentions to run for office in the spring, grow their electoral prospects during the summer months through a cycle of hard campaigning, and stand for election in the fall where they harvest the votes that they have been cultivating.  When the winter finally overtakes them, it is used as an opportunity to rest up and renew their strength.

This year has been an exceptionally hard time for those tilling the soil and for those trolling for votes.    American farmers who cast their lot with Donald Trump, suddenly found their overseas markets drying up as Trump initiated spur-of-the-moment trade wars, often with no obvious long-term strategy.  School shootings last winter and spring fired up a student revolt against the ready availability of guns - a popular uprising that left politicians who had been comfortable in the pockets of the NRA suddenly rethinking their positions on guns.  The "#MeToo" movement strengthened and began to bring down pillars of the patriarchy.   And politicians who were once seen as politically invulnerable have been defeated in primaries by enthusiastic political novices.

It's been a hell of a summer - but summer ended yesterday.  Today is the first day of fall.  Leaves are falling and so are institutions and individuals that were once seen as the guardians of the status quo.  This past spring and summer have been turbulent, coughing up seismic changes in how we see ourselves and our leaders.  And now it is fall - and fall will tell the tale and show us if the change that many of us have been sensing really happened - or if it was all merely a noisy illusion.

And if change did happen, how consequential will that change prove to be?

The new ideas that were sown in the spring, and cultivated throughout the summer, are now waiting to be reaped and weighed - and the ultimate worth of the harvest will depend on how many of us get out into the fields and help to bring it in.

We will reap what we vote.

A Pig Flies

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald John Trump, a man who has bragged about his own history of sexually abusing and harassing women, spent part of yesterday evening and this morning castigating Dr. Christine Blasey Ford for not reporting Brett Kavanaugh to the FBI thirty years ago after the drunken frat boy - and future Supreme Court nominee - tried to rape her.  Trump is downright indignant that she did not report the crime back in the day, even though his own experience with the numerous women who have made sexual allegations against him would indicate that such crimes rarely are reported at the time they occur.   Women often don't report because they fear they will not be believed - just as Trump busies himself today questioning Dr. ford's motivations and veracity - or they fear that they will be blamed for the crime.

Donald John is busy being a male chauvinist - and a pig, identities from which he derives great comfort.  He believes in the innate superiority of the male animal, and he takes pleasure in seeing women put in their place.   He also understands the importance of keeping blacks and people of color in their place as well.  In Trump's world, certain people are born to own hotels, while others are born to clean them.

One man is born to golf, and another is born to carry his clubs.

In Trump's world people's fates are determined by their race, parentage, and gender.  Trump is a bigot on the order of the ones who ran America during the first half of the twentieth century, a throwback to what he see's as the American ideal, and a period that many others remember for its cruelty and lack of opportunity.

This morning, after righteously trashing Dr. Ford, Trump met with supporters at one of his properties in Las Vegas where he is trying to prop up GOP incumbent Senator Dean Heller.  This afternoon he flies to Springfield, Missouri, where he will speak at the largest venue in town, the John Q. Hammons arena at my old alma mater, Missouri State University.   Trump will speak in support of Josh Hawley, the Republican Senate candidate in Missouri, and then quickly fly out to New Jersey where he will spend the night - and the weekend - at his golf resort in Bedminster.

Donald Trump has an exceedingly rough life, flying between his personal resort properties, dragging an entourage along to rent rooms and dine on the public dime, and playing endless rounds of golf - all the while trashing victims of sexual abuse and campaigning to keep his potential accusers and inquisitors from gaining control of Congress.

He is all of that - and a squeal.

Yes, Flo, it appears that pigs really do fly - aboard Air Force One!

McCaskill Decides to be a Democrat

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Missouri's senior United States Senator, Democrat Claire McCaskill, has been locked in a tight re-election race for the past several months, a situation that has left her grappling for positions that will offend the fewest voters.  McCaskill, in fact, portrays herself as part of the "blue dog" coalition in the Senate, a group of Democratic "moderates" who are obsessed with not making waves.

The latest Supreme Court vacancy could not have come at a worse time for Claire McCaskill.  She had somehow marshaled the courage to vote against Neil Gorsuch, Trump's first Supreme Court pick, and she hoped that enough time had passed to diffuse any anger back home that was stirred up by that vote.  But along comes the Kavanaugh nomination, due out for a vote just weeks before the senate election in Missouri, and poor Claire was in a quandary.   Should she stand with her party and cast a vote against this rushed nomination, or should she profess to a bit of "moderation" and support it - and hopefully keep a slice of Trump's suburban vote?

For weeks Claire sat meekly on the fence and declined to say what she would do.  At one point she even indicated that she might not make up her mind until the vote was called.  But then fate intervened.

Now, with the attempted rape allegation being leveled against Kavanaugh by a woman that he knew in high school, public opinion regarding the nominee is shifting - and not in a good way - and Claire has found herself in a position where she can speak honestly.  Now suburban housewives in St. Louis County are beginning to change their minds about Kavanaugh - and that new political dynamic gives Claire room to maneuver herself back into the rank-and-file of the Democratic Party.

Welcome home, Claire.

Claire McCaskill's reemergence as a Democrat may or may not have a significant impact on her electoral hopes, but the shift back to her roots has won her at least one vote - mine!

Jack Danforth Shows his Ass, Yet Again

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

There was a time when the Honorable John C. Danforth truly was honorable, but that ship has sailed.

Danforth, an heir to the Ralston-Purina fortune and an ordained Episcopal priest - as well as a lawyer, was considered a wunderkind when he was elected Attorney General of Missouri  in 1968 at the age of thirty-two.   His win signaled the first crack in a Democratic Party domination of Missouri state offices that went back for generations.  He was young, dynamic, and regarded by many as a sign of the future of the Republican Party.

Friends from both political parties commonly referred to him as "Jack."

Interestingly, three of his assistant staff attorneys in the Attorney General's office were Kit Bond (a future governor and U.S. Senator),  John Ashcroft (a future governor, U.S. Senator, and U.S. Attorney General), and Clarence Thomas (a future U.S. Supreme Court Justice.). It was Danforth's association with and promotion of the latter, Clarence Thomas, that put an indelible stain on his once choirboy reputation.

Jack Danforth recommended Clarence Thomas to George H.W. Bush to fill the seat on the Supreme Court that had been vacated due to the resignation of Thurgood Marshall, the Court's first black justice.  Bush, seeing some warped symmetry in one black jurist replacing another, even if Thomas was unfit to iron Marshall's cloak, much less wear it, went forward with Danforth's suggestion and nominated his Missouri friend to the U.S. Supreme Court in 1991.  Soon, as those of us of a certain age remember all too well, the political maneuver went to hell in a hand-basket when Anita Hill came forward and told, under oath, a raft of sordid stories about being sexually harassed by Clarence Thomas.

Thomas, who otherwise would have been handily confirmed by the Senate, instead squeaked by on a 52-48 vote - and garnered a tarnished reputation that persists to this very day.

Danforth finished out his term in the Senate following the Clarence Thomas debacle - and then retired, never to run for public office again.   (He did serve as Ambassador to the United Nations under George W. Bush, and he performed the service at Ronald Reagan's funeral, but other than that Jack Danforth has lived a very private life back home in St. Louis.)

But now another Supreme Court confirmation vote is on the horizon, and like the one that was held for Clarence Thomas way back in 1991, this confirmation process also appears to be revolving around allegations of a sexual nature directed toward the nominee - and many journalists are drawing strong comparisons between the nominations of Clarence Thomas and Brett Kavanaugh.

Jack Danforth still reads the papers, even at the advanced age of eighty-two, and he still bristles over the treatment that his friend Clarence received back in the day.  He can't let it go, and now, with the attacks on Brett Kavanaugh, Danforth is not only getting wound up, he is also becoming vocal.

Here is a clipping from a news story that circulated yesterday.  I borrowed it from the Twitter account of Missouri State Representative Stacey Newman:

Former Senator John C. Danforth, Republican of Missouri, who was one of Justice Thomas's most prominent defenders, said that he sees a tragic repeat.  "I just feel so terribly sorry for Kavanaugh and what he's going through," he said.  "Here's a man who's just had a marvelous reputation as a human being and now it's being trashed.  I felt the same way about Clarence." 

He added that the presumption of guilt has only grown since 1991.  "With the #MeToo movement, it makes it even harder for him," Mr Danforth said.  "It was bad enough for Clarence, but this is really going to be difficult."

Heads up, Jack.  It's also difficult for the women who have to stand before a room full of crotchety old men, like you and me, and recount their most horrifying memories - and lay themselves open to criticism and prejudices rooted in 1950's America.   Those brave women have strong reason to feel that they will be treated with the same level of distrust and disdain as was apparent in your statement.

You sir, have aged into a disappointment.

"Lost Child" Is Available at Amazon

by Pa Rock
Proud Papa

"Lost Child," a new film written by my son, Tim, and filmed here locally in West Plains, opened in select theaters last week - and today it becomes available in a DVD format from Amazon.com.

The movie focuses on a young woman who is returning home after serving in combat in the Middle East.  While her main impetus in coming back to the Ozark hills is to be at her father's funeral, she is also focused on finding her troubled younger brother whom she has not seen in years.  While Fern is still getting reacquainted with life in the rural Ozarks, she encounters a young boy living alone in the woods.

The story of Fern and her ward-of-necesity, Cecil, wends its way through Ozark superstitions and the horrors of  child neglect and foster care as the unlikely pair struggle to conquer their own fears and become a functioning family.  They are assisted in the bonding process by a state social worker who doubles as a bartender by night.

It's a good story, and one that rings especially true to this retired child protection worker who spent too many years traipsing the hills and hollows of Ozarks trying to insure the safety and survival of children living in circumstances ranging from merely unfortunate to totally tragic.  "Lost Child" does a superb job of capturing the struggles and hard realities of the child protection system in a rural setting.

"Lost Child" was directed by Ramaa Mosley.  This is Tim and Ramaa's second collaborative film venture - the first being 2012's "The Brass Teapot."  The new movie stars Leven Rambin, Jim Parrack, and Landon Edwards, as well as several amazingly talented local actors from the West Plains area.

This morning I went on Amazon and ordered a copy of "Lost Child" and "The Brass Teapot."   Bring on the popcorn!

Monday's Poetry: "I Hear America Singing"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

If one forgets just how rich and beautiful the human tapestry of America really is, it just takes a few days on the road to serve as a reminder.  Utah with its friendly people, grand natural vistas, and impressive architecture has etched a significant wrinkle in my old brain.  Yesterday, well before dawn, I was sitting at a light rail terminal in Salt Lake City enjoying the company of two young people.  One was a college girl recounting a party she had been at the night before, and the other was a young man who was following the movement of our advancing train on his cell phone - and keeping the girl and I posted on the train's stops and its imminent arrival.

The city train dumped us at the airport twenty minutes later, and the place was aswirl with travelers grabbing hurried breakfasts, checking emails, making last-minute telephone calls and soaking up the morning news through television and the local newspapers.  One older couple had their little dog, Skippy, on a long leash that allowed him the reach to get out and introduce himself to many of the other travelers.  It was a hurried series of brief encounters as we all scooted past one another in our rush to get someplace else.

My horizons were widened by the trip out west, and all of those new experiences go into making me a little more representative of what America is all about.

Three years ago in this space I printed Julian Bond's famous reply to Walt Whitman's "I Hear America Singing,"  a beautiful verse entitled "I, Too, Hear America Singing."  Then last year, on Juneteenth, I ran another famous response to Whtiman's poem, this time "I, Too, Sing America" by Langston Hughes - a strong reminder that America encompasses more that just the caucasian race and culture.  Today, in looking back on the Bond and Huges' postings, I realized that I had been remiss and had never served up the original work to which they were responding.

Here then are all three, and taken together they truly do give a sense of the large and diverse nature of our great nation.

"I Hear America Singing"
by Walt Whitman

I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear,
Those of mechanics, each one singing his as it should be blithe and strong,
The carpenter singing his as he measures his plank or beam,
The mason signing his as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work,
The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat, the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck,
The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench, the hatter singing as he stands,
The wood-cutter's song, the ploughboy's on his way in the morning, or at noon intermission or at sundown,
The delicious singing of the mother, or of the young wife at work, or of the girl sewing or washing,
Each singing what belongs to him or her and to none else,
The day what belongs to the day -  at night the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,
Singing with open mouths their strong melodious songs.


"I, Too, Sing America"
by Langston Hughes

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.
They send me to eat in the kitchen
When company comes,
But I laugh,
And eat well,
And grow strong.

Tomorrow, 
I'll be at the table
When company comes.
Nobody'll dare
Say to me,
"Eat in the kitchen,"
Then.

Besides,
They'll see how beautiful I am
And be ashamed - 

I, too, am America.


"I Too, Hear America Singing"
by Julian Bond

I too, hear America singing
But from where I stand
I can only hear Little Richard
And Fats Domino.
But sometimes
I hear Ray Charles
Drowning in his own tears
or Bird
Relaxing at Camarillo
Or Horace Silver doodling,
Then I don't mind standing
a little longer.


America is far more complicated and beautiful than just the view from my front porch.

Trains, Planes, and Automobiles

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

Sunday morning and Pa Rock is headed back to the farm.

The day began before daylight in my hotel room in downtown Salt Lake City.  Because my hotel, the Plaza, falsely advertised that it would transport me to and from the airport in its free shuttle, I had to quickly make other plans yesterday, a full 24-hours in advance of my departure, when I learned that the first two shuttle runs were already completely booked.  I bitched to anyone who would listen that "shuttle service" meant "shuttle service" and that the hotel should not advertise the amenity if it was unable to deliver it to all of its customers.

But then the God of Brigham Young smiled kindly on me.  I discovered that the light rail, which has a station directly in front of the hotel, runs to the airport every fifteen minutes or so.  The trip was easy-peasy, and with a senior discount I was able to get to the terminal for a minimal $1.25 - which is less that the tip that the shuttle driver would have expected.

Nevertheless, Plaza Hotel in Salt Lake City you still suck!

Now I will take a plane to Kansas City where I will be met by my youngest son, Tim.  After passing out presents to the grandkids, I will most likely get in my trusty old car and then make the four-plus-hour drive back to West Plains.  If all goes well, I could be back on my mower early tomorrow afternoon!

Elderberries, a Mormon Book Store, and Johnny Rocket's

by Pa Rock
Wandering Agnostic

Travel is always a learning experience, and this week in Salt Lake City has certainly proven the rule.  One subject that I have been immersed in during my stay here has been Mormonism, or, more properly, the religion known as the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.  Mormons are extremely quick to explain that their religion follows the teachings of Christ and is a "Christian" religion.

The basic way in which the religion differs from main stream Christianity is that it focuses on the time after the crucifixion when Christ supposedly did his North American tour.  One of the early Mormon saints wrote the story of the visit on golden tablets which were then buried and remained underground for several hundred years until a fellow named Joseph Smith dug the tablets up and translated them into modern English - and a new religion was born.  Smith, who had an eye for young girls, made polygamy a basic tenet of his new religion, but the practice of multiple wives did not sit well in the communities beyond Smith's church.   In fact, Joseph Smith and his brother, Hyrum, were killed by an angry mob in Carthage, Illinois.

Succumbing to outside pressure, the Mormon believers packed up and left multiple communities before finally traveling way out west to the Great Salt Lake Valley in July of 1847.  There, on a patch of land that is now downtown Salt Lake City, the group's new leader, Brigham Young, climbed down from his ox-drawn wagon and declared "This must be the place."  And it was.

Within three years of the Mormons' arrival in the area of the Great Salt Lake, enough other people had shown up in Utah for it to officially form itself into the Utah Territory, with Brigham Young serving as the first governor - along with his fifty-some first ladies!  Forty years later when the prospect of statehood was on the horizon, the elders of the Mormon religion officially gave up polygamy, a practice that was abhorrent to most citizens of the United States.

Speed forward to today.

The Mormon's have a strong sense of public service and are adept at promoting and spreading their religion around the world.  Most of the young men become "missionaries" at the age of nineteen and work for two years in voluntary service to the Church - often in foreign countries where they proselytize and try to recruit new members.  These young men are called "Elders" - Elder Smith, Elder Jones, and so forth.  Occasionally Mormon girls become missionaries as well, and these girls go by the title of "Sister."

Many of the young helpers in the Mormon Library are actually "missionaries" in service to the Church.  When I donated my book, the collection of "Rootbound" columns, to the Church this week, I was assisted in the paperwork by Elder Shaw, an extremely knowledgeable and capable young man who could not have been more that a week past his nineteenth birthday.  Later in the day Elder Thomas, who looked like he could be attending a local junior high school, spent about an hour helping me to print a legible copy of an old document.

Some of the older guys are also called "Elders," but they are "priests" of the Church, an earned position.

All of the elders have one thing in common - they are very agreeable and helpful, and exceptionally good faces for their church.  They are so nice in fact, that I am dutifully ashamed of myself for occasionally referring to them as "elderberries."  God will get me for that!

Gene Taylor, a former congressman and retired car dealer from southwest Missouri, once told me that he never passed up a bathroom.  I'm the same way with bookstores.  It I see one, I have to roam in and look around - even religious bookstores like Deseret Books in downtown Salt Lake City.  Most of the volumes in the large structure relate to the Mormon Church and its history.  There are a couple of monstrous piles of a new book of "teachings" by the Church's current president.  There are also toys, primarily with a religious theme, and a nice selection of candies,  The one incongruity that I encountered in the store was the complete Harry Potter collection which was prominently displayed in an area dedicated to children.   The Mormons must regard Harry as a "good" witch, like Glenda.

One more place of interest here in Salt Lake City:  Johnny Rocket's!  I was surprised and delighted yesterday evening when I came across the 1950's themed hamburger and malt shop.  The last one I had visited was in Toronto six years ago.  I'm pleased to report that it is still a great place to eat!

Heading home tomorrow - early!   Daddy's coming, Rosie!

The Long Climb to the Capitol

by Pa Rock
Tourist

Utah's capitol building sits on a hill at the end of State Street, not too far from the center of Salt Lake City.  It is a prominent feature in the city's skyline - and is a focal point in the view from my hotel window.   The building is a domed affair with wings extending to the left and right, very similar on the outside to the capitol buildings of the United States and my home state of Missouri - but not as large as those buildings.

Yesterday, after a quick lunch at the downtown food court, I determined to make the long climb up to the Capitol and absorb a bit more of Utah's unique history and culture - and it was a mighty long climb.  The trip up the hill, on foot, took about half-an-hour.  Once I made it to the property I sat for several minutes to catch my breath - and then climbed the forty-one steps to get to the large, brass front doors.

The legislature wasn't at work (it was Friday) and the building was largely empty, but a large banquet was being set up on the main floor directly beneath the dome.  Several Japanese tourists were strolling the halls and taking pictures, though there was little in the way of art work on the walls.  One couple stopped and visited with me.  They were surprised at the lack of security throughout the building.

The structure, all marble and granite, was impressive, but it was also cold and relatively unadorned.  Overall, I was not impressed.

The good news was that the walk back to town - downhill all the way - took less than ten minutes!

Salt Lake After Dark and Underground

by Pa Rock
Sound Sleeper

One of the members of our group asked me this morning if I had heard the gun shots the night before.  I had not.  He said six rounds were fired in the parking lot behind the hotel sometime around 2:00 a.m. As we left the hotel and walked toward the library, I took a quick glance around the parking lot - but did not see any crime scene tape.

Parking lots in Salt Lake City are often underground.  During our garden tour Wednesday evening the guide mentioned much of Temple Square sits above a massive parking garage where many of the employees who work at the Church headquarters park their cars.  Most of the large buildings owned by the Mormon Church also have multi-level basements.  There are two basement floors below the library.

Perhaps the most famous "basement" in Utah is the Granite Mountain Records Vault where the Mormon Church stores its most important documents - including originals and copies of their entire genealogy collection - literally billions of images on microfilm, microfiche, digital media, and printed matter.

And, a family in the Church told me that they have to maintain a stockpile of six months of groceries in their homes.

Whether it's due to preparation or paranoia, the good Mormons seem to be focused burrowing and hoarding.  There is a survivalist feel to the religion of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young.

A Beautiful Evening with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir

by Pa Rock
Tourist

Members of our group attended the weekly rehearsal of the famed Mormon Tabernacle Choir last night, a free affair that is open to members of the general public.  Rehearsals are held in the Tabernacle, a smaller venue than the 21,000-seat auditorium at the Visitor's Center where the choir also performs.  Both venues have massive pipe organs which back-up the world famous choir.

Last night's rehearsal featured the entire choir - in street clothes - as well as a full orchestra - also in street clothes.  It was an actual rehearsal with the conductor leading the performers in fits and starts until they mastered each piece to his demanding satisfaction.  I didn't get an accurate count, but a good guess would be that there were seventy-five or so people performing in the orchestra on the floor of the stage, and a choir of three-to-four-hundred up higher along the wall and in front of the pipe organ.

The music was angelic.

After an hour or so of rehearsal, the conductor turned and talked directly to the audience.  He introduced one dignitary in the audience - the Philippine ambassador to the United States - and two singers from Europe who were sitting with the choir.  The conductor invited people to come back to the Tabernacle on Sunday morning to attend the Choir's weekly radio broadcast, a thirty-minute program that has been on the air for over ninety years.

Beautiful music, beautiful weather, and a beautiful evening in Salt Lake City!

"Lost Child" A Critical Success

by Pa Rock
Proud Papa

It's been awhile since I've written about my son's second movie, a cinematic effort that was filmed in and around my adopted hometown of West Plains, Missouri.  The movie was originally titled "Tatterdemalion," but it has recently been renamed "Lost Child," apparently so that viewers won't have to work so hard to glean the meaning of the title.

(Just for the record, I liked the original title better - but nobody asked me!)

The movie premiered last October at the Heartland International Film Festival in Indianapolis and has since been featured at numerous other festivals.  A high point of the showings occurred when it took first place at the Kansas City Film Festival last spring.

"Lost Child" opens Friday in a few major markets, and reviewers have had the opportunity to watch the film over the past few days.  I understand that of the first fifteen reviews, all but one have been very positive.  What follows is a review that was penned by Kevin Crust for the Los Angeles Times.  I am shamelessly stealing it in its entirety to post here.

The reviewer liked it - and so did Pa Rock!

Review:  Thriller "Lost Child" Thrills to the Bone 

by Kevin Crust
The Los Angeles Times 

A film about a physically wounded vet reluctantly bonding with a child may sound like something you've seen before, but you haven't seen "Lost Child."   Directed by Ramaa Mosley from a script that she wrote with Tim Macy, the slow-burning thriller walks a fine line, balancing elements of psychological drama and the supernatural, with a surging undercurrent of social commentary that sneaks up on you. 

In a breakout performance, Leven Rambin stars as Fern Sreaves, a recently discharged soldier returning home to the Ozarks following the death of her addict father.   She's looking for her brother Billy, whom she hasn't seen since she ran away as a child, and instead finds a little boy named Cecil (Landon Edwards) all alone in the woods. 

Suffering from PTSD with no plans for staying around once she connects with Billy, Fern fends off the suggestions of a friendly social worker (Jim Parrack) that she keep Cecil for more than a few days.   Fern's desire to stay disconnected from everyone and everything conflicts with the horrors she knows await Cecil in the foster care system. 

The film's largely naturalistic style and Fern's fervent nonbeliever stance provide fertile context for the regional stories of a tatterdemalion - a demon child - to get under your skin (and hers), leading to a breathless final 30 minutes.  Gently adjusting the tension throughout, Mosley knows exactly when to turn up the flame and make a point in the process.

More Street Views from Salt Lake City

by Pa Rock
Streetwalker

This posting is coming to you directly from the third floor of the famed Mormon Library.  That's right, Pa Rock is getting burned out on research and decided to take a break by blogging.

Last night I joined a "garden tour" which was conducted by one of the thirty professional gardeners who plant and maintain all of the beautiful flower beds, shrubbery, and trees that adorn Temple Square.  Everything is in full bloom and the weather is marvelous.  It was an hour or so very well spent.

One of the sights that we encountered on the tour was a group of young people posing in front of the Salt Lake Temple.  Each took turns holding up a large foreign flag - they each had their own distinct flags.  I assumed the kids were foreign exchange students displaying the flags of their home countries, but after another member of our group asked the leader about the activity, she said the young people had just received their missionary assignments, and the flags represented the countries where they would be assigned.

We also circled the original home of Brigham Young, now a museum just off of Temple Square.  The house was undoubtedly one of the fanciest around back in its day - and it is very large.   Of course, with fifty-five wives and fifty-seven kids it had to be.  His office was next door - in a separate building - no explanation necessary!

That's one way to "grow" a church!

But back to the gardens:  Each flower bed is designed by a professional, and the gardeners grow their own seedlings in greenhouses and do all of the planting.  When it is time to rip up a garden for the winter, school children come in to help with that.

The landscapers start putting up the Christmas lights on August 1st, and supposedly by the time they turn them on during the holiday season, the effect is spectacular.  Many of the trees are already covered with lights for this winter's big show.

The kids with the flags were my heroes for yesterday.  Today's hero is the young man that I saw walking a German Shepherd on a leash along a busy street just a block from Temple Square.  He was clad only in a pair of boxer briefs!  The funny part was that everyone just walked on by like his appearance was the most natural thing in the world!

I guess that I have lived out in the woods too long!

More later.

Younger, Lighter, Healthier, and Hairier

by Pa Rock
Ego Maniac

Doing research in the Mormon Library is having a surprisingly positive impact on my self-esteem.  I stumbled into the large gray building Tuesday morning feeling each and every one of my seventy years, but now, less than forty-eight hours later, I am sensing more of a spring in my step and a lightness of being.

Tuesday I was an old man struggling to hold onto everything as I hobbled from place to place.  Today I am one of the younger people doing research at the library - quite literally.   Yesterday I was concerned with my long-standing inability to lose weight, but today I am one of the skinnier people roaming the stacks in the library.   And when going outside back in Missouri I am always careful to wear a hat so as not to sunburn my head with its thinning hair, now I am in the enviable position of having more hair on my head than many of my fellow researchers - including some of the women.

And all of the people that I have met here, particularly the ones who live in Utah, are so calm, and friendly, and helpful, and well-mannered.  It's hard not to feel good about myself while walking the streets of Salt Lake City.    Why, if it wasn't for that white power and patriarchy things, and the prejudice against caffeine, I might even see myself becoming Mormon!

But for now I'm happy just to feel younger, lighter, healthier, and hairier!

Streetwalking in Salt Lake City

by Pa Rock
Tourist

Late yesterday afternoon after a full day of grave-robbing in the Mormon Library, I hit the streets of Salt Lake City.  I was heading in the general direction of the food court that I had discovered on Monday, but somehow got turned around and managed to see more of this fine city than I had originally intended.  Finally I found the food court, dined at McDonalds, and then went into Macy's to find a pair of walking shorts.  (The weather is much nicer than what I anticipated or packed for.)

I found what I was looking for in Macy's - and then had some fun with a flustered store clerk.  She asked if I would be paying for the purchase with my Macy's card.   Of course, I said - and then handed her Rocky Macy's credit card.  She failed to appreciate the humor.

After returning to the hotel, I joined  a group for a tour of the LDS Conference Center, a modest little affair that has a 21,000 seat auditorium as well as a pine forest on the roof.  The building has lots of oil paintings - including one that had originally been owned by Napoleon's brother - and many of which depict scenes from The Book of Mormon - the actual book - not the play.

There are also oil paintings and busts of all of the past presidents of the LDS Church as well as paintings of all of the present church apostles.   Significantly, all were are are old white men, with the exception of the two newest apostles - an old oriental man and an old Hispanic man.  One of the women in our group asked when the church would begin giving leadership positions to women, and our guide, an old white man, replied, with an embarrassed smile, that the matter was above his pay grade.

Don't hold your breath, ladies!

The forest on the roof was especially beautiful.  When the building was built in 2000, the intention had been for the rooftop park to be a place of relaxation that anyone in town could use at their leisure.  Our guide, a volunteer who works by day at a local bank, said that he would go up there each day to eat his sack lunch.  However, then 9-11 happened and the church decided to no longer let people roam around the park-in-the-air unaccompanied as a security measure.

And, as if to highlight that, we encountered another guide showing a single man around.  The two guides, his and ours, visited briefly, and then our guide mentioned that the young man was on the roof looking for his lost drone!

Its a beautiful city.  Tonight we are taking a walking garden tour.

More later.

First Morning at the Mormon Library

by Pa Rock
Family Researcher

I'm back in my hotel room having lunch and relaxing after a morning of doing family research at the Mormon Library.  The first couple of hours in the library was moderately productive, in spite of the hour that our group spent getting "oriented" this morning, a waste of time, at least for me, that I will never get back again.  I learn by doing, not by having someone drone on and on about how to do something - while a pair of magpies sitting behind me never shut up!

This morning I went through some books about counties in southwest Missouri where I unearthed a bit of history on two branches of the family - and - I found a photo of my mother's maternal grandparents (my great-grandparents) that I had never seen before.

One of the researchers working with our group stopped by my work area to see if I needed any help.  I didn't, but while we were talking I mentioned that I had computerized all of my old newspaper genealogy columns (242 in total) and indexed the entire collection.  Would the Mormon's like a copy for their library, I asked, and she said yes before I had even finished asking.  So, if you're ever at the Mormon Library here in Salt Lake City, look for "Rootbound in the Hills."  It will be on the third floor.

Speaking of ancestors - I just saw Jimmy Swaggart on the local television station.  He looks about as old as Pat Robertson - and just a couple of years younger than God!

More from Salt Lake City later.

On the Streets of Salt Lake City

by Pa Rock
Traveling Fool

Arrived safely at SLC - on time - and caught the shuttle to my hotel, The Plaza in the very heart of the city.  My room is on the 12th floor (on the backside, with the riffraff) and overlooks the roof of the Mormon Library, the building where I will be furiously working all this week.

I got out and went for a walk-about early this afternoon, seeking sustenance.  My first stop was at the hotel restaurant for lunch - a mistake that I won't be repeating except possibly in emergency circumstances.  Then I strolled the main thoroughfares looking for a mini-mart or someplace to buy a few groceries and some iced tea to take back to the room.  The only thing that I came upon in this ritzy part of town was an outdoor/indoor food court at a local outdoor/indoor mall.  I stopped by a Sbarro and asked about iced tea, only to learn that they did not sell it "because, sir, we are Mormon."

Well, hell, thought I.

I finally found a McDonalds in the food court where they did sell iced tea.  That must be where the Baptists work.

But still no mini-mart or grocery.

There were lots of panhandlers, particularly around the gates to Temple Square.   There were also many people riding green electric scooters and bicycles  that they seemed to access through their phones.  I'm not always smart enough to even make a call on my phone, so don't look for me to putt by on a green scooter!

On the way back to the hotel I wandered into the famous library to get a feel for the place.  It was overwhelming, but a young Mormon guide wearing a suit and tie showed me how to sign into their computer network.  Tomorrow when my group officially gets started, we will have people dedicated to us who will help guide our research.  I heard from someone who came with the same organization on an earlier tour that our research guides are very good.

Joseph Smith drew up the plans for this city a century-and-a-half ago, and when he did he designed it with very wide streets.  That was amazing foresight on his part.  The streets are, of course, still wide, and crossing them at the signals requires one to hurry.  I step it off fairly quickly, or so I thought, but I can't quite make it across before the red hand starts flashing.

So, I noticed lots of people jaywalking.  That is a bit on the risky side because not only is there car traffic, but there are also a pair of very busy light rail lines running down the center of the busier streets.

On the way back from the library I saw a commotion at the corner about thirty feet ahead of where I was walking.  A hysterical lady was on her phone talking to a 911 operator and an older lady was lying in the street.  I heard the lady on the phone sobbing that she had just turned the corner and hadn't seen the pedestrian step into the street.  A crowd was gathering, and since I had not witnessed the accident, I got out of the way.  I still haven't heard a report on the victim's condition, but when I left the hotel over an hour later, the driver was sitting in her car along the curb next to where the accident had occurred - with her hazard lights flashing.   The poor lady was on the phone, undoubtedly telling her story for the umpteenth time.

The accident certainly made the point with me about how suddenly a person's life can change.

That's my day so far.  I'm heading out now to a "meet and greet" with the other members of the group, and then we are walking to a pre-arranged dinner at the old Hotel Utah.  I will definitely look both ways before crossing any streets, and I will hurry to get to the other side.

More tomorrow.

Westward Ho!

by Pa Rock
High Flyer

Another day, another airport.

This morning I am back at Kansas City International preparing for a flight to Salt Lake City.  I will be out there until next Sunday, and most of my time will be spent doing genealogy research at the famed Mormon Library.  My focus will be one filling gaps in my existing tree - which is posted at Ancestry.com as "Rocky Macy's Roots, Branches, and Weeds."  This week I expect to be well into the weeds portion of the tree.

My big tree, which features a lot of related lineage for my grandkids, has over 4,600 names - many are spouses and children of ancestors.  Anyone who fears that they may be a blood relative of mine can have access to the tree if they contact me for an official "permission."

I am excited about this trip.  Researching at the Mormon Library has been on my bucket list for the past forty years, and now it is actually going to happen.  The Kansas City area also has a relatively new facility dedicated to genealogy, the Midwest Genealogy Center at the Mid-Continent Public Library in Independence, MO.    I plan on visiting it later this year.  Now, after this trip to Salt Lake, I will have a point of reference for judging the facility here in Missouri.

While in Salt Lake I will also visit Temple Square and enjoy re-learning some of the history of the city's original Mormon settlers.  It should be a rewarding and relaxing get-away.

More later from Utah!

Let Them All Take Lie Detector Tests!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald John Trump and his entourage of relatives, lobbyists, Fox News hosts, cronies, crooks, and general purpose enablers are now floating the idea of giving lie detector tests to the alligators who work closest to Trump in order to ferret out the gator who wrote last week's anonymous editorial for the New York Times.  Never mind that the country is. going to hell while Trump golfs, and that dozens of issues need the urgent attention of a tuned-in leader - Trump, when he isn't on the golf course, is hellbent on finding out who dared to call his incompetent administration "chaotic" and "amoral."

The fat blowhard is roaring that calling him names amounts to treason.

By calling the editorial and its writer treasonous, Donald John apparently believes that anyone who shares something about the workings of the government is revealing secrets that would be harmful to the nation if they were to become known to our adversaries.  Well, most of the literate world already knows that Trump is a tempestuous and incompetent boob - so it's hard to fathom what could possibly be "treasonous" in that rather tame editorial.  The writer seems to have withheld his or her name because he or she wants to maintain their position in the White House to help keep the crazy in check.

That doesn't sound like treason to me.  It sounds like patriotism!

But bring out the lie detectors and let's identify the patriot once and for all.   Since Trump has no faith in the Justice Department or the FBI, how about getting an independent party to ask the questions?  Robert Mueller is extremely busy right now, but he would probably work it into his schedule.   But regardless of who asks the questions, since America is funding the interrogation, all of the results should be made public.  Strap every single White House bigwig to a lie detector and let the citizens of the United States see the outcomes.   I'm betting the extravaganza of political double-speak and malarkey would wear out multiple lie detectors.

One caution:  Lie detectors are very sensitive machines - and if Trump were to wander too close to an active one, it might explode!  Do the interrogations on a weekend when Donald John is certain to be playing golf.   Any Saturday or Sunday ought to be safe!

Sure the editorial writer, once identified, will be fired - immediately - and accused of all types of heinous crimes by intellectual giants like Sean Hannity, Sarah Palin, and Donald Trump - but, in the end he or she will certainly have the last laugh as Robert Mueller, playing a flute, leads the real treasonous vermin from the White House, in shackles and chains.

It is then that Trump will see what a truly enormous crowd looks like!

Rep. Jason Smith, Trump Barometer

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

My congressman, Rep. Jason Smith, is a young Republican lawyer who harbors ambitions to move into the House leadership - where the real money is.   He doesn't ever have "town halls" or announced public meetings where people might show up and air honest opinions that could make him uncomfortable and vulnerable.  Instead, Smith will occasionally hold public phone-ins, where he can speak to a whole group of people at one time over the telephone - a stunt he refers to as "town halls."

The wily politician's favorite and most used form of communication with his constituents is an email newsletter which he sends out every Saturday.  The newsletter only goes to people who have signed up for them, most likely solid members of his own party, and obviously anyone who does not have access to the internet misses out on Smith's weekly dose of political wisdom.

I have taken to using Jason Smith's newsletters as my weekly barometric reading of how well Trump is doing.  Quite often Smith, who was once an unbridled Trump fanatic, fails to even mention his hero.  In this week's installment he did not use Trump's name on the main page, but he did continue a diatribe about Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh, on an attached page, and there he did use the name of Trump - though in a surprisingly limited manner.

The distance that Jason Smith seems to have put between himself and Donald Trump this week would indicate that Trump's star has dimmed, at least for the time being.  That's not surprising, one must suppose, given the fact that the now infamous New York Times anonymous editorial and Bob Woodward's new book have both been in the news this week - and both were extremely critical of the Trump administration - using words like "chaotic" and "amoral."

Jason Smith's promotion of the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh was interesting - and shameful.  He lamented about the outside groups and Democratic senators who gave the jurist a hard time.  One wonders where Smith's indignation was when his party kept Supreme Court nominee Merrick Garland from even being allowed a vote.

"Politics," is apparently "statesmanship" when it is being employed by your party, and disingenuous postering when the other team is controlling the action.

Anyway, it has been a bad week for Donald John Trump - Jason Smith told me so.

Pa Rock's $7.77 Club

by Pa Rock
Easy Touch

The time was, in times past when I was working full-time and had a couple of side incomes, that I could quell my urges to get out and do more for my country than just vote.  In those personally good economic times I would quite often donate money to candidates whom I felt were particularly worthy of being elected to office.  Sometimes my donations might total three or four hundred dollars - spread over several candidates - in an election year.  (Cue the music to Sweet Charity's "Hey Big Spender!")

Now, being retired, my resources are far more limited, and even in the Time of Trump when there are so many elected troglodytes who need defeating, it is hard to muster much in the way of donations to oust them from office.  Certainly the $25 and $50 contributions that I used to occasionally cough up are out of the question.

Bet, even so, I felt the urge to do something.

Last week I decided to send contributions to two U.S. Senate candidates whose elections I considered to be critical to the survival of the Republic.  I saw Kyrsten Sinema speak at an outdoor rally one evening in Phoenix several years ago, back before she had ever run for public office, and I was very impressed.  Professor Sinema was speaking on immigrant rights, and the rally was to see a couple of bus loads of Dreamer supporters off to rally for the cause in Washington, DC.  Sinema could very well become Arizona's first Democratic senator in decades and the state's first female senator ever - but she is in a tough race.

Beto O'Rourke of Texas is challenging Republican incumbent Senator Ted Cruz, easily one of the most repugnant members of that august body.   O'Rourke is young, thoughtful, forceful, and eloquent - and he is giving Cruz one helluva race.

But deciding to send some money to Sinema and O'Rourke presented the problem of how much should I (and could I) donate.  Clearly there would be other candidates who would also like for me to put some cash in their collection plates, so my donations could not be large, yet I did not want to be the $5.00 "minimum" Joe.   I finally decided to go with a low amount that carried with it a wish of good luck - $7.77.

Over the past few days I have made five of those "lucky" contributions:  Senate candidates Sinema and O'Rourke, House candidates Sharice Davids of Kansas (who will represent two of my grandchildren in Congress) and Angie Craig of Minnesota, and gubernatorial candidate Andrew Gillum of Florida.  I know that I will make a few more donations to other candidates before the November elections.  The amount may be small, but the intent is enormous - and I am assuming that every bit helps - and I feel good about doing something to stop the evil machinations of Donald John Trump.

That's my $7.77 club so far - but it has room to grow before November, and I feel good about helping to preserve decency and democracy for my grandchildren - and their grandchildren.

Get registered and vote in November.   It's damned important - now more than ever!

The Root of the Problem Is Trump's Amorality

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

For a public figure who seems to believe that if something wasn't covered by Fox News, then it probably didn't happen, Donald Trump appears to have an almost obscene fixation on CNN, NBC, The Washington Post, and The New York Times - and for the past twenty-four hours his wretched wrath has been almost solely directed toward the "Gray Lady" of journalism, The New York Times.

Yesterday the NYT did something that it and most respectable newspapers would normally be loathe to do:  it published an anonymous editorial, an unsigned opinion piece that purported to be written by an insider who is playing a significant role within the White House.  The piece, which focuses on confusion and chaos in the West Wing, was printed just after excerpts from Bob Woodward's new book which made similar claims hit the news shows.   Not surprisingly, Trump, who is always more focused on protecting himself than he is with defending democracy, reacted badly and even implied that "treason" was afoot.

For those who haven't read the now infamous editorial, it is well worth the five minutes that it takes to mentally consume.  (Unless, of course, you have already accessed your ten free articles of the NYT for the month!)

The anonymous editorialist for the NYT shared that:

"Meetings with him (Trump) veer off topic and off the rails, he engages in repetitive rants, and his impulsiveness results in half-baked, ill-in-formed and occasionally reckless decisions that have to be walked back."   

But any semi-literate person who has been paying even a modicum of attention to the feckless Trump administration already knew that.

In addition to his impulsive nature and tendency to rage, there is a more sinister component to Trump's problematic governing.  The anonymous writer put it this. way:

"The root of the problem is the president's amorality.  Anyone who works with him knows he is not moored to any discernible first principles that guide his decision making."

Or, in words Joe the Plumber or even Sarah Palin would understand:  The man ain't got no morals!

Donald Trump has been running the country like the pettiest of dictators whose sole objective is to further his own glory and increase his own assets - and to hell with everyone else!  He has turned the presidency into something resembling a sleazy reality show whose primary purpose is to sell time-shares, reverse mortgages, and "gold" jewelry that will turn your skin green.

But it's more than just the way Trump has debased the presidency and weakened our nation in the eyes of the world.  He has worked tirelessly to divide us as a people.  The editorial writer lamented:

"The bigger concern is not what Mr. Trump has done to the presidency but rather what we as a nation have allowed him to do to us.  We have sunk low with him and allowed our discourse to be stripped of civility."

He has divided us and brought us low, very low - and pointing that out is not treason, it is truth.  Sadly, Donald Trump is not a man who can readily tolerate the truth.  It offends his lack of morality.

Nike Hires Kaepernick, Trump Explodes

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Nike, a U.S. corporation with over $36 billion in total revenue last year, has just announced that it is hiring controversial former National Football League (NFL) quarterback, Colin Kaepernick, to be the face of its 30th anniversary "Just Do It" campaign.  Kapernick made his mark on the national consciousness in 2016 when, while playing for the San Francisco 49er's, he chose to kneel rather than stand for the national anthem.  His protest was meant to draw attention to the series of killings of young black Americans by police - shootings that often go unpunished in the courts.

Kapernick, who is now a free agent in search of a team, is suing the NFL claiming that the owners are colluding to keep from playing professional football.  He contends that they are retaliating due to his act of conscience in taking a knee.  Even without Kapernick, the act of taking a knee in support of the victims of police violence has spread to other teams.   Donald Trump, capitalizing on the fact that almost all of the protesters are black, quickly painted the act as some sort of unpatriotic refutation of the flag and/or national anthem and began demanding that the NFL owners take action against what he deemed to be an un-American activity.  In his rantings, Trump referred to the protesting players as "sons of bitches" and suggested they leave the country.

But then along comes Nike, an iconic corporate sponsor of the NFL, and hires Kaepernick!  Donald Trump, the king of terrible messaging, quickly aired his imperial opinion that in hiring Kaepernick, Nike had sent a "terrible message."  To illustrate his wrath, Twitter soon lit up with photos of MAGA maggots burning their Nike footwear.  (One caustic observer noted that they had to burn shoes because they didn't own any books.  Others suggested that the protest might have been more effective - or at least more charitable - if they had given those problematic shoes to homeless veterans or shelters.  And still others drew attention to the fact that shoes and socks were easy targets, but as of yet there are no photos on Twitter of people destroying their unpatriotic Harley's.)

Nike, unlike Trump, does not develop its marketing strategy while sitting on the toilet responding to irritable bowel syndrome - or the taunts of other tweeters.  Nike polls, and market tests, and spends inordinate amounts of cash to take the pulse of the public.  Nike did not hire Colin Kaepernick on a whim.  The manufacturer and retailer of upscale athletic gear thinks that in the long run Colin Kaepernick will be a winner - and the company will not be bullied by a racist politician who is hellbent on dividing America.

The motto for the current "Just Do It" campaign is:  "Believe in something even if it means sacrificing everything."   Colin Kapernick has lived those words - and now Nike is preparing to live them as well.  They are playing the long game, one in which America changes - albeit slowly - but in a positive direction.

And meanwhile Donald Trump fights like hell to revive a Jim Crow version of America that has been on life support for decades.

Nike knows winners, and it's got one in Colin Kaepernick!