Shootout in Indy

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The National Rifle Association's annual convention has come to an end and by now most of the hookers and conventioneers have found their way back to the respective homes.  This year the NRA held its rolling orgy of paranoia and gun lust in Indianapolis, Indiana.  Aside from the aforementioned hordes of hookers and clown cars of conventioneers, the affair also brought in gun merchants, the media, and enough politicians to staff and operate the Sinaloa Drug Cartel.

Donald Trump was there, his fourth NRA convention in as many years, and he took the opportunity to throw red meat to attendees with dire warnings that Democrats want to take their guns away, and he also used the occasion to whine about how unfairly the opposition party has treated him.  He is Donald Trump, after all, and the bottom line is always all about him.

The NRA conventions are usually standard fare with politicians like Trump trying to scare the rubes into voting for know-nothings and buying more guns, and gun manufacturers proudly showing their wares to the gun-loving attendees.  Then, in the evenings, all of the convention-goers, many from the small towns and the backwoods of rural America, head out into the streets to have their yearly dose of fun.

This year's convention, however, strayed from the script.  When the members and merchants met in Indianapolis last week the NRA was coming off of a very hard year.  There had been stories in the press indicating that the organization was experiencing some daunting money troubles, as well as a set of stories indicating that Russia may have funneled money to the NRA for it to surreptitiously move into Donald Trump's 2016 election campaign.  In fact, while the convention was going on, Russian agent Maria Buttina was sentenced to eighteen months in prison  for that very offense.

During the preceding year the NRA had also been suffering a barrage of bad publicity that was generated in large part by a group of angry Florida high school students who had managed to survive a mass shooting at their school in February of 2018.  The NRA, itself used to controlling the news, sent some of its member goons to attack a few of those students, a strategy that backfired spectacularly and helped to firm public opposition to the gun rights' group.

But the real "high drama" of the convention boiled down to a personal dispute between two of its more powerful members:  Wayne LaPierre, the long-time Chief Executive Officer and Executive Vice President of the Group, and Oliver North, the group's temporary and unpaid ceremonial president.  As the week began, LaPierre, who has ruled the NRA with an iron fist for longer than most members can remember, sent a letter to the organziation's 75-member board of directors in which he stated that North was trying to blackmail him into resigning over alleged financial improprieties which reportedly including a $200,000 wardrobe purchase that LaPierre enjoyed at the group's expense.

At some point the board must have addressed the matter internally, although those machinations remain clouded in secrecy, and toward the end of the week North presented the board with a letter in which he stated that he had learned that he would not be nominated for a second year as the NRA president and was therefore submitting his resignation.  He did, however, volunteer to come back if the group again needed his guidance.

Wayne LaPierre, whose annual salary has fluctuated between one and five million dollars over recent years, has apparently dodged a bullet and has retained command of the National Rifle Association, at least for the time being.  But a warning shot has been fired, and LaPierre would be wise not to ignore it.

The New York State Attorney General, Letitia James, is opening an investigation into the National Rifle Association apparently to have a look at its finances as well as to see if it is adhering to rules regarding non-profit organizations - thank you Oliver North - and those students from Parkland, Florida, maybe moving off to college, but they are still mad as hell!

Wayne LaPierre would be well advised to sleep lightly because the winds of change are finally beginning to blow into his aging face!

Monday's Poetry: "The Gardener"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

For the past two weeks my kitchen cabinet and patio table have alternately served as the gathering place for a cluster of young garden plants - tomatoes and peppers - that I have been waiting to plant.  My efforts to get the plants in the ground have been hampered by spring rains and an abundance of weeds that need to be pulled in order to find the beds where the new plants will reside.  Yesterday it all finally started to come together and I managed to get twelve tomato plants in the ground and eight pepper plants.  I still have four pepper plants to go, but with today's beautiful weather, I should have those planted by lunchtime.

Then, perhaps as early as this afternoon, I will begin putting some seed crops into the ground.  I have two beds reserved for corn, one for squash, and a nice trellis under which I will plant sugar snap peas.

I love the hopeful nature of spring when everything starts its climb toward the heavens, vibrant and fresh.  By late summer, of course, as the crops begin to wither and turn brown and the weeds start taking over - despite my best efforts to keep them at bay - and gardening will have lost much of its luster.  But right now, in early spring, planting a garden in a magical experience!

Today's poem "There Gardener"  by Robert Louis Stevenson, portrays an old gardener hard at work in his patch through the eyes of a child.  Can their be any truer vision than that of a child?


The Gardener
by Robert Louis Stevenson

The Gardener does not love to talk,
He makes me keep the gravel walk;
And when he puts his tools away,
He locks the door and takes the key.

Away behind the currant row
Where no one else but cook may go,
Far in the plots, I see him dig,
Old and serious, brown and big.

He digs the flowers, green, red, and blue,
Nor wishes to be spoken to.
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay,
And never seems to want to play.

Silly gardener!  summer goes,
And winter comes with pinching toes,
When in the garden bare and brown
You must lay your barrow down.

Well now, and while the summer stays,
To profit by these garden days
O how much wiser you would be
To play at Indian wars with me!


And that is Pa Rock's problem in a nutshell:  too much time pushing the barrow and not enough play!

Jason Smith, My So-Called Congressman

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Saturdays are special here at The Roost because that's when I usually receive the highly partisan and always entertaining email newsletter from my Republican congressman, Jason Smith.   Smith, who once famously yelled at a group of Democratic congressmen that they should "go back to Puerto Rico,"  uses these weekly communications to maintain a strong connection with his district, Missouri's 8th.  The emails are chock-full of photos of various constituents meeting with the congressman, and lots of pictures of livestock and farm machinery.  The weekly newsletters are a critical element in Jason Smith's connection to the folks back home because he never, ever, hosts any town halls or pre-announced public meetings where he could be subjected to the questions and concerns of the people whom he represents.

The only opinions that Jason Smith wants to hear from the folks back home are his own.

This week's newsletter from Congressman Smith offered a clear example of how the politician seeks to conflate his own opinions with those of the public.  Approximately halfway through the newsletter there was an item entitled:  "Do You Support the So-Called 'Green New Deal?'"   Nice wording, huh?  Even in the title of the piece, Smith touts his bias with the words "so-called," an implication that the name of the proposal is misleading.  The item was bordered by a photo a a farm tractor on one side - and a cow on the other.  Classic Smith!

The item continues, "Take the Survey and tell Congress what you think.   The new majority in the US House of Representatives is pushing the $93 trillion 'Green New Deal.'  Tell Congress what you think about this plan."  Then there is a link to the 'survey' which has already been tainted with Smith's personal and party biases - a well as a price tag which Smith's Republican Party undoubtedly drew out of thin air.

The Green New Deal Survey itself has two questions.  The first is:  Do you support the so-called 'Green New Deal?'   Respondents have three choices:  yes, no, or undecided.  Those who choose to answer "yes" or "undecided" are finished with the survey at that point.  Congressman Smith has no interest in  the reasoning behind their opinions.  Those who answered 'no' get a second question, one that explores their specific grievances with the plan.

The second question is:  "If no, what concerns you about the $93 trillion plan?"  (Note the way the GOP made-up figure of $93 trillion has now made it into the survey a second time!)  The persons who are opposed to the 'Green New Deal' may choose any of the following as their reasons for disliking the measure:

• Raising taxes to pay for it
• Its impact on rural agriculture (Presumably worse than the impact of Trump on rural agriculture!)
• The end of air travel. (Really, Jason?)
• Having to replace your cars and tractors
• Energy becoming more expensive
• Being forced to rebuild your home to Washington standards

Scared yet?   That's the whole point of scare tactics like those enumerated in the above list.

The letter then asks respondents for their email addresses and promises all who respond to the survey will begin receiving Smith's weekly newsletter, presumably whether they want it or not.

This is an example of a push-poll, or a survey whose primary purpose is to disseminate a message rather than to collect actual input form the respondents.   The people taking the poll are led to the conclusions that the pollster, in this case Congressman Smith, wants to hear.

The only opinions that people conducting push-polls want to hear are their own.  If Jason Smith had any real concerns regarding what his constituents wanted, he would have asked.  Some of Jason's folks back home do support the 'Green New Deal,' but their opinions don't matter.  The congressman didn't want to hear anything about rising temperatures and sea levels, preserving clean air and water for future generations, providing real affordable healthcare for every American (like the government-funded healthcare that Congress already has), working toward a world powered by renewable energy, paving the way for the post-gasoline era of American transportation, repairing and replacing America's crumbling infrastructure, and providing workers with a living wage.  Things like that do not appeal to a political party funded by big oil, insurance companies, and multi-national corporations - and those are definitely not Republican talking points. 

Congressman Jason Smith, a thirty-eight year old bachelor who sleeps rent-free in his Capitol office, a major job benefit on which he pays no taxes, has paid healthcare and a nice six-figure salary.  He does very well on the government dime, thank you very much, and he works very hard at insuring that the rest of us receive as few benefits from his government as possible.

The world is changing, Congressman Smith.  Americans are no longer willing to sit quietly and let a group of elitist congressmen tell us what we should think about things.  Business as usual in Washington, DC, is quickly coming to an end as new voices are being heard.  Some of us are concerned about the survivability of our planet - whether you are or not - and our voices deserve to be heard, too.

Stuff your push-poll, Jason, and get out in your district and hold some real town halls.  That is where you will learn what your constituents actually think about things - if you want to know what they think.  But if all you want to hear are your own opinions echoing back at you, then buy a parrot!

Do your job, congressman!

Evangelicals Keep It Classy

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Evangelical Christians would like for us to believe that they set the points on the humanity's moral compass and that their attitudes and behaviors are examples that other mere mortals should strive to emulate, if for no other reason than to eventually score immortal salvation.  But as evangelicals mix their piety with the political realities of the modern world, some invariably wind up  looking anything but pious. As a handy example, just this past week former Minnesota congresswoman, Michele Bachmann, managed to get herself quoted in the national press as describing thrice-married, pussy-grabbing Donald Trump as "biblical" and "godly."

Now, not to be outdone by the ramblings of a former member of Congress, evangelist Franklin Graham has gone on record as describing Melania Trump as the "classiest" First Lady ever.  (Complete photographic evidence of Mrs. Trump's unabashed classiness is available throughout the internet - but it should not be viewed by minors or people with weak hearts!)

The bottom line, of course, is that evangelical "Christians" are so anxious to have a conservative in the White House who will give voice to their biases and bigotries, that they are willing to overlook the most fundamental character flaws.

The irony of these moral windbags trying to tell anyone else how to live is very rich indeed, and the evangelical movement is literally home to more depravity that any novel by the Marquis de Sade.  Consider these embarrassing indiscretions:

Ted Haggard, the founder and leader of the New Life (Mega) Church in Colorado Springs, was serving as the president of the National Association of Evangelicals in 2006 when his male prostitute boyfriend turned him in for using the services of a prostitute and for purchasing and using crystal meth.  And then there was Jim Bakker, a famous television evangelist whose secretary accused him of drugging and raping her.  Bakker was ultimately sentenced to 45 years in prison for accounting fraud.

Or Fred Phelps, a Bible-thumper and family church/cult leader from Kansas who earned his evangelical stripes by demonizing gays and protesting at funerals and gay pride events.  Old Fred died a couple of years ago, but his family is still out there terrorizing decent people around the globe.

Jimmy Swaggart was a nationally known television evangelist who was eventually brought low by a fondness for pornography, prostitutes, and compromising positions involving BDSM.

Tony Alamo was also another evangelical minister who found it hard to stay out of the news.  Brother Tony went off of the deep end when his wife died.  He kept her embalmed body on public display for four months as he patiently awaited her resurrection.  Then, after the poor woman was finally buried, the righteous pastor turned his attention to young girls.  He married an eight-year-old girl and was eventually arrested for child sex-trafficking and pedophilia.

Those are just a few of the many fallen evangelicals whose sexual indiscretions and twisted moralities litter the Highway to Hell.  As any basic internet search will reveal in short order, there are many, many more.  The people who are the quickest to tell the rest of us how to live are often the most likely to fall into the flames of moral depravity and hypocrisy.

If you want to determine someone's godliness or classiness, ask yourself if you would let them babysit your grandchildren.  If they fail that test, no amount of religious puffery will make them truly righteous.

Twitter's Low-Hanging Fruit

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

In a few weeks I will have been on Twitter for ten years, a full decade.   By the time that dubious anniversary rolls around I will have "tweeted" thirty thousand times, with roughly two-thirds of those being just simple "retweets" where I clicked on the mouse and helped to spread someone else's original snark, but probably a full third of my tweets have been my own original snark.  So far I have been able to insult the rich and famous without getting myself placed in Twitter Jail (having my account suspended) or barred from the social medium.  The fact that my little efforts go unnoticed by the powers-that-be at Twitter probably speaks more to the banality of my jibes than it does to my cleverness in wording insults so that they slide under the radar of the Twitter Cops.

Twitter is a great place for average people to vent their spleens on the political and economic tyrants who work so tirelessly to insure that the little people remain small and insignificant in the world's social order.  If Donald Trump makes me mad, as he does most of my waking hours, I can craft a clever barb and send it out over Twitter, a barb that shows the world just how clever and outraged I am - and I can address it specifically to Trump and have the satisfaction of knowing that my well-polished insult has landed directly in his Twitter feed.  And I can do all of that without going through the abject humiliation of directly "following" Donald Trump on Twitter.

(My Dad told me years ago - probably when Eisenhower was in office - that actors were not allowed to even mention the president in movies.  That was on the tail-end of the McCarthy era, so things were different then, but they certainly have changed since.  Now American presidents routinely serve as plot devices in movies, and a hillbilly nobody can say almost whatever he pleases about our current president on Twitter and feel as though he has somehow become the man's equal.

Donald Trump is the equivalent of low-hanging fruit on Twitter, a large, rotten apple that is dangling just inches above the ground - and begs to be kicked every time someone walks by.  He is an easy, easy target.  And Trump is surrounded by many other rotten apples that also make for tempting and easy kicking - and I, for one, find it hard to resist taking an occasional potshot with the toe of my tennie as I stroll through the fruit-laden trees of the Twitter orchard.

Unfortunately, I am burdened with the notion that I am clever, but Twitter usually relieves me of that misconception in short order.   Often I will spend ten minutes or so creating and then polishing what I consider to be a highly relevant observation or an extremely clever put-down, only to find that after my sparkling tweet has been posted for an hour or two that is has garnered absolutely no responses - "comments," "likes," "retweets,"   And when some of my words do manage to gain some small amount of attention it is usually just a handful of people who click on the little red heart to let me know that they "liked" what I had to say.  It is a rare, rare event when I score double digits on any measure - and when that does happen it is almost always in conjunction with a tweet that I just banged out with little or no forethought.

That happened last night when I did a quick response to a tweet that someone posted about White House Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders.  They noted that she is being paid $175,000 per annum and hasn't held a press briefing in forty-some days.  Just what, the tweeter inquired, was she being paid for?  I agreed and threw in a response which noted that in addition to the $175,000 each year, she was also receiving the services of a government-funded make-up consultant.

(Donald Trump, who  doesn't give a rip doubt women's rights in the workplace, does want his ladies looking nice - and his administration recently hired a make-up consultant to doll-up Sarah Sanders and presidential advisor Kellyanne Conway - seriously.)

My reply to the tweet about Sarah's unearned salary was off-the-cuff and snarky, but it resonated better than any of my insults of recent memory.  The hits started coming in, and by this morning it had received 6 comments (all humorous), 33 likes, and 19 retweets.

That response proved two things:  1.  Every dog - even Pa Rock - will eventually have his day, and 2. Sarah Huckabee Sanders is definitely low-hanging fruit!  And it may also be an indication that Americans would like to have some tangible returns for the money that they pay out in salaries and benefits to government employees.

Tweet on, America.   Your work may not get noticed, but at least it's therapeutic!

Trump's Transparent Manure

by Pa Rock 
Citizen Journalist

Earlier this week Donald Trump boasted that he had been "the most transparent president and administration in the history of our country by far."  That statement was, like so much of what flows from the mouth of Trump, complete nonsense and a bald-faced lie.   The grand falsehood was immediately torn apart on Trump's favorite social medium, Twitter.  One very popular tweet pointed out that Mr. Transparency was fighting to keep his tax returns secret, as well as his school grades, the results of his physical examinations, financial records, and transcripts of his meetings with Vladimir Putin.

At about that same time the White House announced that it would not be complying with any subpoenas from Congress as its various committees investigate Trump's job performance and financial dealings, that White House aides would not be testifying before Congress, and that Trump might use "executive privilege" to keep former White House counsel Don McGhan from testifying before Congress.

All of that is on top of long-standing secrecy measures such as trying to keep White House visitor logs from public view, keeping presidential contacts at Mar-a-Lago private, and using physical barriers to keep photographers from snapping pictures of The Donald on the golf course.

Trump's claim about being transparent may be a big, fat lie, but that does not mean that it lacks value.    Used in moderation, it could help the roses grow.

Old Joe's Last Hurrah

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Former Vice President Joe Biden has let it be known that he will announce his candidacy for President of the Untied States tomorrow.    He previously ran for the Democratic nomination for President in 1988 when he lost to Michael Dukakis and in 2008 when Barack Obama won the nomination.  One must assume that this will be Old Joe's last hurrah.

(In other news, Cher is currently playing to sold-out crowds on her third "farewell" tour.)

When Biden declares, he will become the 20th candidate for the Democratic Party's presidential nomination.

Some political prognosticators are blatantly declaring that the 76-year-old Biden will be "the" or at least "a" front runner as soon as he declares, and there are some reports emanating from the Trump White House that Old Joe is the candidate that they most fear.  (And we all know those self-serving vote-suppressors and manipulators wouldn't lie!)   Others see the contest quickly devolving into a two-man race between Biden and 77-year-old Bernie Sanders.

Bernie Sanders, a self-proclaimed "Democratic Socialist," is running from the progressive wing of the party, and Biden is claiming the mantle of "centrist," which some see as code for being a "business-as-usual" Democrat.  Joe is entering the race with no campaign cash in the bank and is reportedly deploying a group of corporate lobbyists to collect and bundle checks from business interests.  He also has solid ties with America's unions.  Other prominent Democrats, like Senators Kamala Harris, Elizabeth Warren, Cory Booker, and Kirsten Gillibrand - and former Rep. Beto O'Rourke, are declining to take any corporate donations in funding their campaigns.

This year the Democratic field is blessed with a wealth of youth, energy, and diversity, yet the party apparatus seems to be hellbent on casting its lot (and ours) with a white guy, Joe or Bernie, who is older than Donald Trump.  If the convention delegates fail to select a nominee on the first ballot, the superdelegates will swoop in on the second ballot and hand the nomination to someone they see as safe - most likely Biden.

And Donald Trump will sleep well that night, and so will Stephen, Sarah, Betsy, and the rest of the gang.

If Joe Biden is the Democratic presidential nominee in 2020, this tired old typist will vote for him.  And as I cast my ballot I will be thankful that I am not in the running for a job as demanding as President of the United States.  My seventy-one-year-old body would not be up to the challenges, and my seventy-one year-old mind is certainly not as sharp and clear as it was twenty years ago.  I'm past my prime and I know it.

God knows how decrepit I will be when I am Joe Biden's age!

The Border Vigilantes are the Real Criminals

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This past week a very small band of armed vigilantes who were on a self-appointed mission of patrolling the U.S.-Mexico border near El Paso, Texas, were finally confronted by the FBI - and their self-declared leader, 69-year-old Larry Mitchell Hopkins (also known as "Johnny Horton") was arrested for being a felon in possession of firearms and ammunition.

Hopkins was previously arrested in Oregon in 2006 for possessing a firearm and suspicion of impersonating a police officer.  Old habits apparently die hard.

Hopkins and a few of his friends, all members of a group calling itself the United Constitutional Patriots, seemed to believe that owning guns made them law enforcement officers.  In videos posted to social media, members of the group were shown detaining immigrants at gunpoint, and one of the "patriots" falsely  identified himself as a "Border Patrol" agent.

The vigilante group was operating on a desolate piece of ground where Texas, New Mexico, and Mexico come together.  New Mexico's governor, Michelle Lujan, had been strongly advocating for the federal government to step in and bring these border-marauding domestic terrorists under control.

The members of this vigilante militia group see their patrolling and detaining of illegal border crossers as being the equivalent of making a "citizen's arrest," and justify their armed interference with the law as an effort to keep America safe.

Jim Benvie, a spokesman for the group - which some estimate as having only four members - said that the United Constitutional Patriots have "helped" the U.S. Border Patrol detain over 5,600 people during the last two months.  That has not been confirmed by the Border Patrol.

One way that independent militia groups raise money to go on extended camping trips like this one to the southern border is through crowd-funding sites on the internet.  After all of the adverse publicity surrounding the United Constitutional Patriots this week, two sites that had  been used by the group to raise funds, PayPal and GoFundMe, have both announced that  they have banned the UCP from using their fundraising platforms.

Not surprisingly, there has been no condemnation whatsoever from the White House regarding this vigilante interference with the activities of the U.S. Customs and Border Patrol at the border - and many argue that Donald Trump's rhetoric, in fact, exacerbates the already dangerous situation.

Armed vigilante groups roaming at will along our southern border with the implicit blessing of the Trump administration create a danger not only to the lives of refugees trying to reach safety and sanctuary in the United States of America, they also put others at risk including American citizens living in the area and the official law enforcement agents charged with patrolling and protecting the border.  The vigilantes pose a serious and on-going threat to American lives, values, and even property - and their actions completely undermine the rule of law.

It's time that the United States government got serious about protecting lives and commerce along the border from the illegal activities of armed militias and vigilantes.  They are the real criminals - and they are provoking a true crisis at the border!

Monday's Poetry: "Earth Day"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Today is Earth Day, the 49th anniversary of the holiday designed to honor Mother Earth that was first celebrated in 1970 just as the world was coming to grips with the new realities that were brought forward during the social turbulence of the 1960's.  As this Earth Day comes around there seems to be a new urgency fomenting on the subject of climate change, and elements of the United States Congress are seriously putting forth a package of environmental proposals that is being referred to as a "Green New Deal."

This week there have been stories in the news about a survey showing that a majority of Americans want their children to be taught about climate change in schools - and a new report that some of Hawaii's beaches are at risk from rising ocean levels.  New threats are being found in water supplies, and species of plants and animals continue to disappear - forever.  As the years slip by, the cumulative harm that mankind inflicts on the Earth grows and becomes harder and harder to control - and it becomes more and more obvious that we are destroying the only home we have.

David Leonhardt, a columnist for the New York Daily News, used the following quote this morning in the on-line edition of that newspaper.  He took it from Nathaniel Rich's new book,  Losing Earth.  The quote is the final paragraph of the book:

"Everything is changing about the natural world and everything must change about the way we conduct our lives.  It is easy to complain that the problem is too vast, and each of us is too small.  But there is one thing that each of us can do ourselves, in our homes, at our own pace -  something easier than taking out the recycling or turning down the thermostat, and something more valuable.  We can call the threats to our future what they are.  We can call the villains villains, the heroes heroes, the victims victims, and ourselves complicit.  We can realize that all this talk about the fate of Earth has nothing to do with the planet's tolerance for higher temperatures and everything to do with our species' tolerance for self-delusion.  And we can understand that when we speak about things like fuel-efficiency standards or gasoline taxes or methane flaring, we are speaking about nothing less than all we love and all we are."

All we love - and all we are.  That's fairly damned inclusive, and fairly damned damning!

Today's poetry selection is "Earth Day" by Jane Yolen.  It's a simple verse with an important message.  Read, heed, and then go outdoors and clean up a patch of the environment - or plant something!

Happy Earth Day!


Earth Day
by Jane Yolen

I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.
Each blade of grass,
Each honey tree,
Each bit of mud,
And stick and stone
Is blood and muscle,
Skin and bone.

And just a I
Need every bit
Of me to make
My body fit,
So Earth needs 
Grass and stone and tree
And things that grow here
Naturally.

That's why we 
Celebrate this day.
That's why across
The world we say:
As dear, as free
I am the Earth
And the Earth is me.

The Roost at Easter

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Spring

It's Easter Sunday here at Rock's Roost - and to celebrate I will soon head out to the chicken coop to look for the daily egg that my little red hen has suddenly begun hiding.  There are a couple of dozen nesting boxes available for the solitary hen, but several weeks ago she came off of a laying hiatus and began dropping one egg a day on a hard board shelf, invariably cracking her achievements and making them unusable for human consumption.  But I outsmarted my plump feathered friend and made a nice nest of wood shavings over the spot where she had chosen to do her business - and for a few weeks I was collecting one uncracked brown egg a day.  But over the past few days Little Red has gotten crafty and the eggs have disappeared.

So on this beautiful Easter Sunday Pa Rock will be hunting an egg.

I will also be pulling weeds in the garden spot, getting ready to set out the tomato and pepper plants which are in boxes on the back porch patiently waiting to be stuck in the ground.  Last year I planted a really nice garden, and my geese enjoyed the young green plants immensely.  This year the geese have moved to someone else's farm, and I will try planting a garden again.

I didn't get any baby chicks this year which is just as well because Fiona chose to use the nursery in the chicken coop to have and raise her third family.  The mama farm cat gave birth to five little ones on April 6th.  So far they are still curled up in the corner of the room in which they were born, but I am hopeful that they will soon be out exploring their new home.  Fiona's new litter consists of one yellow kitty, one gray-striped, and three blacks.   They should be ready to place in another month.

For the past few days I have been moving several small wood piles located in various places around the farm into one big wood pile out front by the road.  From there it will either be sold or given away to use as campfire wood or heating wood for next winter.  My goal in moving all of the little piles was to make the yard easier to mow.  I have mowed once already, and the yard could stand another good mow right now.

There is a young dogwood tree in the front yard is loaded with beautiful white blossoms, and it is a spring showpiece.  I have planted several dogwoods over the past two years, but this one, in particular, has made all of the digging worthwhile.    It is a blooming proclamation of spring!

Enjoy this magnificent spring day . . . and have a happy Easter!

To Impeach or Not to Impeach

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Yesterday Massachusetts' Senator Elizabeth Warren added her name to a growing list of prominent U.S. politicians and patriots who believe that the House of Representatives should begin impeachment proceedings against Donald John Trump.  No one, at least no one with any marked political clout in this country, actually believes that there are the votes or resolve in the United States Senate to remove Trump from office, but many would like to see him officially impeached by the House nonetheless.

The impeachment of Trump by the House of Representatives would be, they hope, a soothing balm for the nation's tortured soul.

The young Turks in the House seem to be lining up in favor of impeachment, but the old hands like House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and House Majority Leader Steny Hoyer, both verging on becoming octogenarians, are pulling on the brakes with all of their might.  They prefer the more calm and guarded approach of waiting until the fall of 2020 and letting the American people attempt to rid the country of the Trump administration through the ballot box.

It's been a mere two decades since the country's last impeachment crisis, that of Bill Clinton.  The House officially impeached Clinton over his sordid sexual conduct within the White House with a barely-legal female intern.  The House actually passed two impeachment charges which were the result of Clinton's sleazy sexual behavior:  one accused him of perjury before a grand jury, and the other was for obstruction of justice.  The House of Representatives was controlled by the Republican Party at the time Clinton was impeached.

The Senate was also controlled by the Republican Party (55-45) when the impeachment charges came before the Senate.  In order to remove Clinton from office, two-thirds of the senators (67) would have had to vote in favor.  Only 50 senators voted in favor of removal on the obstruction charge, and a mere 45 went along with the perjury charge.   A senate controlled by Republicans failed miserably in an attempt to remove a President whom many of them literally hated.

A Democratic House might impeach Donald Trump, an act that would merit a footnote in the history books, but the chances of a Republican Senate voting to remove him from office are virtually non-existent.   Bill Clinton's popularity rose after the failed attempt to end his presidency by a process other than an election, and Trump's popularity would also undoubtedly inflate as he used the failed attempt at political removal as yet one more example of how he was being persecuted by those terrible, awful Democrats.

An attempt to remove Donald Trump from office at this time through the impeachment process might make many of us feel better, but it would also play right into Trump's political hand.  He's a pig, not a victim - and making him look like a victim gives him a strength that he has neither earned nor deserves.

I hate to agree with Pelosi and Hoyer, my God I hate to agree with them, but impeaching Donald Trump at this time is the wrong move.  It's less than nineteen months before Trump stands for re-election, and right now the efforts of all Democrats need to be focused on things like recruiting superior candidates for office and registering voters.  This is the time to organize!

Donald Trump and the malignancy of Trumpism must be eradicated at the polls, cut from the body politic by the aggressive show of electoral force from the voters.  Only then will we be able to begin the self-healing that our country so desperately needs.     America without Trump can once again be on the road to greatness!

More Great Minds Tie Trump to God

by Pa Rock
Burgeoning Heretic

A couple of days ago I used space in this blog to address former Congresswoman Michele Bachmann's blasphemous claim that Donald Trump is both "biblical" and "godly."   Yesterday, in a television segment, Lou Dobbs of Fox News, went on a tirade about the Mueller investigation which he labelled a "conspiracy to overthrow the president of the United States."   Dobbs then elevated the his defense of Trump to an astral plane with this gem:

"Pastor Robert Jeffress always talks about this president.  God sent this president.  He is a person of providence.  And I'll tell you the evidence is accumulating mightily to support the pastor's views."

Crackpots quoting crackpots -  proof positive of Trump's divine credentials!

White House Press Secretary Sarah Sanders, the daughter of a very rural Arkansas hill preacher, has also weighed in on the notion that Trump might be on some sort of mission from God.  In an article in "Premier Gazette" which ran on February 4th of this year, Sanders presented a notion that God chooses different people at different times to do His bidding, and then went on to suggest that in the fall of 2016 God had deliberately chosen Donald Trump to carry out His mission here on earth.

To counterbalance that malarkey, a writer for the "Premier Gazette" in the same piece said this:

"Mr. Trump is a rule breaker.  He's a chaotic and sleazy real estate developer who found a black hole in the Republican Party.  And just like a Boa Constrictor looking for a good meal, Trump slithers across the sands of democracy and body-squeezes the constitution and the rule of law."

One article - two very different views of Donald Trump.

Here is yet one more view of Trump, the man of God:

David Lewicki, the pastor of the church in New York City where Donald Trump is on the membership rolls, reported that in the five years in the early 2000's in which he ran the Marble Collegiate Church, Donald Trump never entered the church doors, "not one time."

That's sad, Pastor Lewicki, truly sad.  But given the right set of circumstances, Donald Trump might yet stand outside of the church and sign a few Bibles!

Rocky Mountain Boys: Camping in the Big Game Country

by Pa Rock
Reader

I will admit to being a fan of the adventure books for boys which were often published in a series format at the beginning of the 20th century, and, in fact, I have read and reviewed many of the Hardy Boys mystery novels that were cranked out by various authors - all writing as Franklin W. Dixon - during the last century.

Five years ago I read and reported on an adventure novel set in the Canadian north woods entitled "Canoe Mates in Canada" by a writer calling himself St. George Rathborne.  It was a compelling narrative with a writing level that far exceeded that presented in the books about young Frank and Joe Hardy and their friends.  Recently I have come across another book by St. George Rathborne, and this one, too, tells about a series of adventures experienced by two older teen boys - or perhaps young adults - as they spend part of a rough winter camped in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains of Wyoming.

The new book is "The Rocky Mountain Boys:  Camping in Big Game Country."  It was published in 1913, a year after "Canoe Mates in Canada," and is 248 pages of relatively easy reading.  The copy that I have has a handwritten inscription, in pencil, on the inside cover which reads:  "Ivan Welch.  Merry Christmas 1923 from Grandpa."  I would be happy to forward the book to anyone who can prove a relationship to young Ivan - who would likely have been born sometime around 1910.  The book found its way back into circulation at a flea market in West Plains, Missouri.

"Rocky Mountain Boys" tells the story of two cousins who were on the verge of manhood.  Tom, the country cousin, lived and worked on his family's ranch in Wyoming.  Felix is the city cousin from back East who came to Wyoming seeking adventures and hoping to improve his health.  The young men made a plan to spend part of the winter in a dugout/cabin in the Rocky Mountain foothills that has been abandoned by an old trapper who was a friend of Tom's.   As the story opensed they were being deposited on the banks of a river by a friend - and they began an arduous march into the hills - laden with food and gear - to find and claim the former abode of the old trapper - and to reclaim and use the old man's traps.

When the young hikers finally reached their destination they were kept from unlocking the door of the cabin/dugout by an angry growling coming from the inside.  A large cat of some sort had apparently climbed in through the chimney and was claiming the accommodation as his own for the coming winter.  When they awee finally successful in smoking the creature out, they discovered it to be a large bobcat - which Felix then shot and Tom skinned and worked at preserving the pelt.

The bobcat proved to be the first of many animals that were killed and skinned by these young men out seeking adventure.  The senseless killing and carnage, while undoubtedly far more acceptable at the time the book was written, definitely suffered a lack of declining social acceptance over the ensuing century.  However, to the author's credit, the young men themselves began to sense that there was a lack of fairness in killing just to be killing - and Felix, in particular, began germinating a bit of a moral conscience with regard to hunting.

There is also a point early on in the story where Tom discussed the local Indian population with his cousin and made a generalization that the proud Red Man often suffered from the effects of drink.  That stereotype was put to rest later in the book when Felix is befriended by a family of Native Americans shortly after he had helped to save the life of the family's father - and before the book came to an end the Indians and the campers developed an acceptance and trust of each other.

There were a pair of villains in the book as well, white poachers  who confronted Felix on the trail after he has shot and killed their dogs which were trying to kill him.  The poachers beat Felix, stole his rifle and supplies, and left him for dead.  Fortunately the Indian family helped Felix to right that score.

Other adventures in the book included dealing with a pack of angry wolves, Felix being attacked and thrown up into a tree by a large buck that he had wounded but failed to kill, the killing of an elder mountain goat for its trophy horns, and Felix killing a grizzly bear.

A subtext of this book dealt with the development of boys into men.  Felix was described as somewhat frail when he arrived in Wyoming, but by the end of the book he was every bit as much of an outdoorsman as his rural cousin.  The author described the transformation like this:

"It appears that, no matter what a fellow may seem like at home, when he lands in the wilderness, the veneer is bound to drop off and the true elements that go to make up his real nature are quickly apparent."  P. 150

"Rocky Mountain Boys" was artfully plotted and tightly written.   It was successful in its description of a time, and a place, and a culture in our country's past that feeds into a vision of America today, a vision that much of the country struggles to maintain.  It shows us who we were, and it gives clues as to why our country has developed the way that it has.

I'm glad that I took the time to absorb this bit of our past. 

She's Back!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

I am loathe to admit this, but I really, really have missed Michele Bachmann.   Ever since the Minnesota congresswoman retired from politics in January of 2015, the national discourse has suffered from the loss of her absurd pronouncements and hate speech veiled in religious twaddle.  But now, praise the GOP white Jesus, she's back!

And she's just as daft as ever!

This past week Ms. Bachmann was a guest on a conservative "Christian" radio program called "Understanding the Times" where, among other things, she claimed that Barack Obama had ordered the military to "recruit" transgender members, and the prattled on about how expensive it was to provide gender reassignment surgery to those troops.   Fortunately, from Michele's point of view, Donald Trump (who never served a day in the military himself) was elected and able resolve the military's transgender problems - by summarily tossing those patriots out of the service.

Bachmann is the wife of "Dr." Marcus Bachmann, a "psychologist" who has practiced "conversion therapy" with his LGBT patients.  She is also a past member of Trump's "evangelical advisory board," a group of twenty-five or so television hucksters and religious pickpockets like Kenneth and Gloria Copeland, Ralph Reed, James Dobson, and Jerry Falwell, Jr (presumably without his pool boy).

Michele Bachmann continued to puff Trump in the radio interview by also touting his support for Israel and labeling him as "highly biblical."  She expounded:

"And I would say to your listeners we will, in all likelihood, never see a more godly, biblical president in our lifetimes, so we need to be not only praying for him;  we need to support him."

Donald Trump:  biblical and godly?  Somewhere Jesus is weeping.

But Pa Rock is smiling, happy in the knowledge that the Republican Party has not lost its moral compass after all!

Hey, Michele, is Melania "biblical" and "godly," too?  And what about the two wives Donald Trump divorced - and Stormy Freaking Daniels?  Are they biblical and godly as well?  And how about the Russian hookers at the pee party?  Were they offering up some sort of kinky baptismal service?

Enquiring minds want to know!

House Democrats Seek to Thwart Challengers

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, the political arm of the Democratic Party in Congress, moved this past week to thwart candidates who have the temerity to run against sitting Democratic members.  In a shameless show of brute force, the DCCC, headed by centrist Rep. Cheri Bustos of Illinois and over-lorded by House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, announced that it would no longer do business with political strategists and vendors who work for congressional candidates who are seeking to unseat current House members.

This was seen as a particular affront to progressive candidates who are trying to advance into Congress - and a distasteful attempt by those in power to maintain their power.

It is also being interpreted by some as an attempt by Speaker Pelosi to limit the number of sudden stars - like Representatives Alexandria Ocasio Cortez and Ilhan Omar - with whom she must contend for the attention of other members - and for control of the political talking points and the overall agenda.

New people bring fresh ideas, and fresh ideas are not apparently what the leadership of the Democratic majority in Congress wants their party to be about.

Not only is the DCCC trying to gag independent campaign strategists and vendors, it has also reversed an Obama-era ban on donations from federal lobbyists.  Corporate lobbyists are now bundling checks from corporate interests for the DCCC, and Democratic members of Congress are once more beholden to the likes of hospitals, insurance companies, and oil, gas, and coal interests.  At a time when many members are openly talking about single-payer healthcare and the Green New Deal, corporate money is once again gushing into the equation in an attempt to quash the will of the people.

Good work, Rep. Bustos!  Looking good, Speaker Pelosi!  Keep pulling on those brakes with all of your might and once again you may just be successful in keeping Congress from actually being productive.

Oh, and Speaker Pelosi, when you asked "Who will pay for that?" in an attempt to tamp down support for single-payer health care, I would respectfully ask who pays for the wars in the Middle East that have been going on for more than a generation?  Who pays for Congressional junkets?  And who pays for Donald Trump's weekly golf outings?  If we are going to have deficit spending, as we have had for decades now, let's at least use it to benefit the general population - for a change.

Instead of trying to derail new candidates for office and stop the spread of bold ideas, Democrats in the House should be concerned with developing principles and priorities.  Congress, like America itself, will become stronger with new members and an openness to "radical" ideas for a better future.

Embrace the future - don't try to bury it!

(This former donor to the DCCC will no longer support it.  But, of course, with its new influx of corporate money, the DCCC no longer needs the money or views of individual Americans.  We are not who they work for.)

Monday's Poetry: "Drill"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Several days ago while I was driving my ancient Saturn Vue north on Porter Wagoner Boulevard (a main thoroughfare in West Plains, Missouri), I pulled up to a stoplight just after it had turned red.  Suddenly the passenger door on the car in the other lane opened and a teenage girl jumped out.  She ran around the car in front of the one in which she had been a passenger, and then back around her own car before opening the door and jumping in.  When the light turned green, she and her driver drove off as though nothing had happened.

And I knew, based on knowledge that I had acquired during my prolonged wasted youth, that I had just witnessed a modified version of a Chinese Fire Drill.  (And yes, I realize that terminology is politically incorrect on a couple of levels, but it is still the most commonly used label for this particular type of road shenanigans.)

The standard Chinese Fire Drill back in the day involved one person in the car - sometimes specifically the driver - suddenly calling "Chinese Fire Drill!" at a stoplight, and then everyone quickly exiting the vehicle and running around it in a complete circle and getting back into their proper seating arrangement.  You failed the drill if the light changed before you were back in the car.

The Urban Dictionary describes a couple of variations to the standard drill.  One involves everyone jumping out of the car, running around the stopped vehicle, and then getting back in - in a different arrangement.  The other has two cars working in tandem.  When they get lucky and hit a stoplight, everyone jumps out of both cars and then rushes to get in the one in which they had not been riding.

The primary object of this silly sport is to shock people in the other cars.  But the old coot puttering down Porter Wagoner Boulevard wasn't shocked - he's been around!

(Warnings:  Exiting any vehicle in a traffic situation is dumb and dangerous - and should never be attempted while the vehicle is in gear or has the engine running.)

Today's poem, "Drill" is by Michael Collier and is featured in his 1995 collection entitled The Neighbor by the University of Chicago Press.  The poem describes a fire drill and an atomic attack drill in a classroom at a parochial school sometime in the 1950s or 1960s.  And the scenes - particularly the one of children hiding under their desks to escape death and destruction by an atomic bomb, bought back memories to this aging typist.

I particularly liked the image of the nun struggling to get out from under her desk!

This is actually how it was, way back when:


Drill
by Michael Collier

    When the fire bell rang its two short, one long   

     electric signal, the boys closest to the wall   

     of windows had to raise the blinds and close   

     the sashes, and then join the last of our line   

     as it snaked out the classroom onto the field   

     of asphalt where we stood, grade-by-grade,

     until the principal appeared with her gold Timex.

     We learned early that catastrophe must always   

     be attended in silence, that death prefers us   

     orderly and ordered, and that rules will save us   

     from the chaos of our fear, so that even   

     if we die, we die together, which was the calm   

     almost consoling thought I had each time

     the yellow C.D. siren wailed and we would tuck   

     ourselves beneath our sturdy desktops.

     Eyes averted from the windows,

     we’d wait for the drill to pass or until

     the nun’s rosary no longer clicked and we could hear   

     her struggling to free herself from the leg-well   

     of her desk, and then her call for us to rise   

     and, like herself, brush off the dust gathered   

     on our clothes. And then the lessons resumed.   

     No thought of how easily we interred ourselves,

     though at home each would dream the mushroom cloud,   

     the white cap of apocalypse whose funnel stem   

     sucked glass from windows, air from lungs,   

     and made all these rehearsals the sad and hollow   

     gestures that they were, for we knew it in our bones   

     that we would die, curled in a last defense—

     head on knees, arms locked around legs—

     the way I’ve seen it since in nursing homes

     and hospices: forms bedsheets can’t hide,   

     as if in death the body takes on the soul’s   

     compact shape, acrobatic, posed to tumble free   

     of the desktop or bed and join the expanse   

     and wide scatter of debris.

Coco

by Pa Rock
Movie Fan

This week I took time out from my busy retirement schedule to watch a children's movie.  "Coco," by Disney/Pixar, was something that I had been intending to view since the movie's release in 2017.  I finally caught it on Netflix, better late than never one must suppose.

The movie deals with the Mexican holiday that is popularly known as Dia de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead.  It is a two-day event which falls on November 1st and 2nd, bumping up against the day on which people in the United States celebrate Halloween.   Like Halloween, Day of the Dead involves people dressing in costumes and behaving as other beings.  But while Halloween may feature people dressed as witches, and bums, and fairies, and pirates, and all manner of creatures and even objects, participants in the Day of the Dead celebrations are paying homage to their ancestors - as skeletal dead people!  In most respects it is more akin to the American Memorial Day than it is to Halloween.

The Day of the Dead celebrations originated several thousand years ago in the Aztec civilization.  Today it is commonly celebrated across Mexico, particularly in the central and southern regions of the country.  Skeletal Day of the Dead figurines and decorations can also be found in gift shops across the southwestern United States.

The movie, "Coco," tells the story of a young Mexican boy, Miguel, who lives in a traditional Mexican village with his parents, his maternal grandmother, and "Coco," his maternal great-grandmother.  Miguel often goes to the town's plaza where he shines shoes for a living and listens to the local musicians.   He has an intense interest in playing guitar and singing, but is not allowed to pursue that interest because his family, under the firm control of the grandmother, will not allow music in the home.   Her anger is based on the fact that Coco's father, an itinerant musician, left home when Coco was very young to perform his music for the world - and never returned.

Miguel becomes convinced that his missing g-g-grandfather was Ernesto de la Cruz, the most famous singer in all of Mexico, and on the Day of the Dead when ancestors traditionally return from the land of the dead to celebrate life with their living relatives, Miguel somehow manages to cross the bridge between the two worlds and winds up in the land of the dead.  There he meets Ernesto de la Cruz as well as another man, Hector, who proves to be an important person in Miguel's lineage - and he solves a couple of family mysteries.

"Coco" is a very well scripted presentation about a holiday that is rich in significance to much of North America.  It is presented as an engaging story wrapped in tradition and history - and it offers a cultural education in a manner that is easy to absorb.  I regard it as a "must see" for people who want their children to grow up with open minds and accepting hearts.

Our better selves - and our futures - are rooted in our past.

Racist Bully Trump Targets Sanctuary Cities

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

It has been another week of confusion and disinformation within the Trump White House.

Earlier this week Minister of Propaganda Sarah Huckabee Sanders and Reichsfuhrer Stephen Miller both went before the press and assured journalists that their boss, Donald John Trump, was not planning to literally dump thousands of immigrant asylum seekers into America's self-described "sanctuary cities."   But Trump, sensing the amount of anger that the idea generated, quickly undercut Sanders and Miller and said that he was giving serious consideration to the notion of placing asylum seekers in those pesky sanctuary cities.

Trump and his administration have long regarded the sanctuary cities - those with announced policies of not assisting federal authorities in the identification and collection of undocumented immigrants - of being less than patriotic.   They see the funneling of these new arrivals into those sanctuaries as a way to effect political payback.  They also see it as a way to fire up Trump's know-nothing base before the 2020 elections.

Immigrants would be political pawns.

Of course many have been political pawns their whole lives - and when they finally built up the courage to flee  a dangerous tin-pot dictatorship, they quickly found themselves being vilified and humiliated in another.

For those fortunate enough to find a home in one of the United States more humane and progressive urban areas (sanctuary cities), live long and prosper - and know that this great country will not always be mired in the hate and dysfunction that abound today.  The United States was once a great and noble country, and after Donald Trump's reign of terror has ended, it will be again.

Believe that - and help us make that future happen.  Work hard, as you always have, send your kids to school, register, vote, pay your taxes, and help us make the United States great again!

Suspected Louisiana Terrorist Is Behind Bars

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

A week ago today I posted a piece in this space regarding a recent spate of black church burnings in rural Louisiana, crimes that harkened back to an uglier era in American history.  Fast action by local and federal law enforcement agencies brought a quick end to this apparent racially-inspired crime spree.   Yesterday an arrest was made.

The suspect is the 21-year-old son of a sheriff's deputy in the Louisiana parish where the crimes occurred.  The young man appears to have been an adherent to Norse mythology and an admirer of Varg Vikernes, a Norwegian musician and neo-Nazi who served several years in prison for murder, manslaughter, and the arson burning of three Christian churches in Norway.  Vikerenes described his music as "black metal."

The reputed American church arsonist had posted comments on Facebook regarding the portrayal of Varg Vikerenes in a recent movie.  He also posted a photo of himself standing in front of a wall on which the words "Black Metal" had been spray-painted.  The current on-line issue of Time describes that musical genre thusly:

"Black metal is an extreme subgenre of heavy metal with lyrics that often espouse Satanism and Paganism.  A small subset of black metal bands feature Neo-Nazi beliefs.  The black metal scene was associated with Christian church burnings in Norway in the 1990's."

Whether the accused Louisiana arsonist turns out to be an up-and-coming neo-Nazi, a garden-variety racist, or some drug-addled miscreant - or all of the above - is yet to be determined, and law enforcement as of this point have not labeled the criminal actions as hate crimes.    This much, however, is certain:  those crimes terrorized a community and reminded a nation of an ugly chapter in its past.

The crimes amounted to terrorism by almost anyone's measure.  The young man who stands accused of the crimes is not a Muslim - and he is white.  And Donald Trump, the man who signs Bibles in white southern churches, is shamefully silent on the whole matter.

Unlike Trump, the suspected arsonist's father did not have the luxury of ignoring the situation.  He fulfilled his duty to the community, and perhaps to his God as well, by assisting in the capture and arrest of his son.

That deputy's signature in a Bible might actually mean something.

The Triangle Factory Fire Project

by Pa Rock
Theatre Fan

This past week I have been hosting an out-of-town friend, a person with whom I worked overseas a few years ago and someone who has a great deal of experience both in traveling and living on the international scene.  Murphy has been to my modest home in south central Missouri on a couple of previous occasions, and he always finds things of interest to do, but I still make every effort to insure that he has some memorable experiences while he is here.  Murphy is well versed in our local tourist sights, and has become a familiar face in area flea markets and other small unique shops,  but there has been a signature lack of cultural events to enjoy during the times that he has been here.

This trip, however, we were able to catch the final performance of an extremely well-performed play that was put on by the local high school, and it was an experience that both of us thoroughly enjoyed.

But before I begin a brief discussion of that production, the Triangle Factor Fire Project, I need to provide some personal background because a lot of my own history impacts how I came to regard the overall quality of this local production.

Over the past several years I have been fortunate to live in an assortment of locations in the continental United States while working as a civilian social worker at various military bases and locations.  I also resided for two years doing that same work in Okinawa, Japan, where Murphy and I were colleagues.  My travels in life have taken me to England, Sweden, Russia, across most of Asia, as well as several countries in Central America and much of the Caribbean - including a week in Cuba.

Throughout those adventures one of the constants in my life was an on-going appreciation of theatre. I have enjoyed plays on London's West End, several remarkable performances on Broadway, ballet at the Bolshoi in Moscow, and many fine shows at regional theatres across the United States.  In my time I have seen a lot of really great theatre!

And forty years ago, before that life on the road, I spent a couple of years teaching history and speech and drama - and putting on a few truly awful high school plays - about twenty miles north of where I ultimately retired.

All of that background was respectfully provided here to serve as my credentials for making a few remarks regarding the play that Murphy and I attended last Sunday.  I have some observations, and I want it known that I am qualified to make those insights.

First, the history.

The Triangle Shirtwaist Factory was a sweatshop where teenage girls, mostly immigrants who spoke little or no English, worked long hours (usually 12-hour shifts) at sewing machines making shirts in cramped conditions.  It was located on the top three floors of a large building in New York City.   There were two doors in and out of the sweatshop and a narrow staircase connecting the three floors.  Of the two doors, one opened inward, and the other was normally locked from the outside during the workday to prevent stealing by employees - although the door being locked was denied by the factory owners and supervisors during the subsequent court trial.   A fire broke out in the factory on March 25th, 1911, and due primarily to the limited escape routes, 145 individuals lost their lives either in the smoke and fire, or as a result of jumping from the upper stories of the building.

The Triangle Fire was the worst industrial disaster in U.S. history and it served to heighten demands for increased worker safety and better working conditions.   The disaster also became part of the fabric of the on-going suffragette demand for a national women's right to vote, and it led to a strong demand for union representation of workers.

The fire was a significant event in the history of the United States

As a high school history teacher - and later as history teacher with a community college - I lectured on the causes and impact of the Triangle Shirt Factory Fire on several occasions.  I probably told the tale of the fire to a couple of hundred students over the years, and today I am confident that most, and possibly all, of those enthusiastic learners have completely forgotten the important knowledge that I tried to impart regarding the tragedy of the fire and its social and economic aftermath.

But today there is a group of thirty or so high school students in West Plains, Missouri, who have been educated on that same facet of American history, and I will wager that forty years into the future, each and everyone of those young people will still have have an intimate knowledge of what went on that awful day back in 1911, why the tragedy occurred, and what social movements were initiated or strengthened because of the sad event.

The students at West Plains will remember that long-ago inferno because they experienced it.   They were challenged by a talented director, Andy Hanson - and his assistant, Jennifer Callahan - to absorb and then perform a remarkable script by Christopher Piehler and Scott Alan Evans - and to do it from a variety of perspectives (multiple roles) and with the added challenge of adopting various immigrant dialects as they gave voice to factory workers and other people involved in the awful affair.

The. West Plains Zizzer production of the Triangle Factory Fire Project was amazing - a totally unexpected and mesmerizing performance of a thoroughly researched and extremely well written script.  The student actors, in period costumes, gave clear insights into the lives and motivations of not only immigrant sweatshop workers, but also the factory supervisors and owners, lawyers, judges, politicians, reporters, union activists, and suffragettes.  They soaked up a slice of real life from urban America in the early twentieth century, and then shared it with a contemporary audience in a realistic and gripping production.

West Plains is a quiet and comfortable place to live, but it is not a community at the forefront of progressive thought or action in America.  There is plenty of room for growth in the understanding of topics like the importance of unions in securing worker protections and rights, and in the continuing need for the empowerment of minorities, and women in particular.  Those areas of social concern were brilliantly brought to life with this local production of the Triangle Factory Fire Project.  

The students and the audience undoubtedly all got more from the show than they had bargained for.

The Triangle Factory Fire Project was more than just a great high school production, it was a brave choice of material for West Plains, Missouri, and it created a powerful learning experience that will likely remain with all involved for many years to come!

Well done, Director Hanson!

Great job,  Zizzers!

Orient Express

by Pa Rock
Reader

I first became familiar with the writing of novelist Graham Greene rather late in life when a street vendor in Old Hanoi sold me a copy of The Quiet American, a tale of American spies and their schemes to influence geo-politics in the lead-up to the U.S. entry into the Vietnamese civil war.  Most of the action in that novel took place in and around colonial Saigon.

In Greene's novel, Orient Express, the action, like the train in the title, travels across Central Europe during a few wintry days in the early 1930's.   A group of disparate passengers board the famous train in Paris.  They are headed to various destinations in Germany, Austria, and the Balkans, and some are riding on to the train's final destination in Istanbul.  As the Orient Express chugs onward and the winter snows increase, the lives of the passengers slowly start to become entwined. Histories are given, plots revealed, and relationships are altered.

Myatt, a Jewish businessman, is heading to Istanbul to complete an important merger.  He meets Coral, a young dancer who is traveling in a crowded economy coach and has become ill.  Myatt gallantly gives her his private compartment and then spends the night sleeping in a corridor. The next night they share Myatt's compartment where Coral, who is not all that young, loses her virginity.  The following day she disappears from the train along with a doctor who is returning to his home in the Balkans to lead a communist uprising - and another man who committed a murder the previous day and then sneaked aboard the training an effort to escape.

There is also a drunken, lesbian newspaper reporter who hopped aboard in Paris at the last possible moment when she recognized the Communist doctor getting on the train.  The reporter's girlfriend, who appears to be fleeing the relationship, is also on the train heading to Istanbul.  And there are some other persons of interest as well on the Orient Express.

Much of the criticism directed toward this book is that the author tended to flit between situations too frequently and did not spend adequate time delving into the personalities and motivations of his characters.  To me that seemed to have been intentional.  The characters, like true passengers on a train, caught glimpses of each other and heard snatches of conversation, but they were usually not in positions to interact on an in-depth basis.  And when they did hook-up with one another, stories and lives changed.

The book, like the train, began one place and ended in quite another.    The lives of the characters were revealed and shuffled along the way.  Some completed their journeys exactly as they had planned, others saw changes in their circumstances that would follow them throughout their lives - and a couple were rerouted onto completely new paths.

Graham Greene's excursion on the Orient Express was an eventful journey, one that I enjoyed sharing.  Through his skilled writing I felt the train cars gently rocking and watched in rapt attention at lives fell apart and then regrouped, often in surprising ways.  Mr. Greene took an ordinary train ride across the wintry landscape of Central Europe and made it memorable.

Trump's "Acting" Ensemble

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This week Donald Trump's Wicked Witch of Homeland Security, Kirstjen Nielsen, resigned, was forced to resign, or was fired - depending upon your news source, and Swampmaster Trump has already appointed a replacement to serve in an "acting" capacity.    Regardless of Nielsen's abrupt departure, and the sudden naming of a replacement zombie to keep her office chair warm, there should be no significant policy disruptions because Trump's senior advisor charged with creating and implementing racist policies,  Stephen Miller with the spray-on hair, remains in place.

Trump and Stephen Miller should be able to keep the "acting" Secretary of Homeland Security, Kevin McAleenan, in line with the administration's evil and half-baked anti-immigration schemes until a new secretary is named - if and when that ever happens.

There are twenty-four cabinet-level positions within the executive branch of government, and during the first two years of Donald Trump's so-called administration, those positions experienced a 65% turnover rate.  In fact, keeping track of the arrivals and departures of Trump cabinet members is almost as challenging as counting the lies in his speeches and tweets!

Currently there are at least seven acting department heads (cabinet secretaries) and important agency administrators serving in an "acting" capacity - and my list may be incomplete.   Some of these border on being shocking.

For instance, the "acting" head of the Federal Aviation Commission, an agency which safeguards the very lives of America's air travelers, has been at his post since January of 2018.   The "acting" head of the Environmental Protection Agency, another agency which makes decisions and takes actions that affect the lives of most Americans, has been performing his leadership theatre since last July.

The Departments of Defense and Interior have had "acting" leaders since the beginning of this year, and our Ambassador to the United Nations has also been serving in an "acting" capacity since New Year's Day.  Trump's Chief of Staff, Mick Mulvaney, has also been "acting" since the first week of January.

These important positions are staffed by temporary leaders because Trump has not sent nominations for their replacements to the Senate for confirmation - a Republican body that routinely acts as a rubber stamp for the Trump administration.

What gives?   Are these departments and agencies secretly being run by East wing rodents and cockroaches like Stephen Miller, and there is no need for permanent leadership to keep the engines of government running smoothly?  Or are there other factors at play.

Donald Trump has said that he likes having "acting" administrators because they provide him with more "flexibility."

As it stands, having a big cadre of "acting" leaders gives Trump an important advantage, and it helps him to stack the deck against congressional oversight.   All cabinet level appointees have to be approved by the Senate, and "acting" leaders do not.    Trump might prefer some totally hideous appointment for an important position, someone the caliber of a Betsy DeVos, for instance, and he could send that person on over to occupy the office by declaring him or her to be an "acting" administrator.  Even some Republican senators might be offended by the ignorance or cruel tendencies of the candidate, but they would have no say in the matter.    Donald Trump would reign supreme!

And if a potential administrator did not have to go before the Senate for confirmation, that would be one less opportunity for Congress to openly question Trump policies before the television cameras.

Hiring "acting" department heads does give Trump more flexibility - the flexibility to hire even bigger nincompoops!

Wouldn't it be sweet if he appointed "acting" judges!

Monday's Poetry: "Kansas"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

A friend loaned me a copy of Nice Fish, a collection of "prose poetry" by Louis Jenkins.   I was not overly familiar with the concept of prose poetry, but quickly grew fascinated with the uncomplicated gems that Mr. Jenkins has put to paper.  Prose poems give the feeling of poetry but in a more accessible style.  The poet said this about prose poetry in the introduction to Nice Fish:

"It was the freedom of the prose poem which first attracted me, its flexibility which makes it hospitable to images from the unconscious and to conscious narrative, which allows language that is lyrical to coexist with that which is prosaic.  I loved the idea of a poem that worked without rhyme, meter, or predetermined line breaks, things which insist that the reader should be having a poetic experience.  Yet in some ways the prose poem seems to me to be a very formal poem."

All I can say is that I was very moved by many pieces in this collection. Here is a sampler, one rich with relevance to rustic rural scenes that I have trod:

Kansas
by Louis Jenkins 

As she smells that clean sheets the farmer's wife thinks of the 1930's.  Wind shifts the clothes on the line, blows her dress tight against he heavy legs. 

The farmer in his dirty overalls searches through years of broken machinery behind the barn, searches through tall sunflowers, through the nests of rabbits and mice with a wrench in his hand, looking for exactly the right part or one that might do. 

Seven skinny cows lie in the mud where the tank overflows.  Through the long afternoon the windmill continues to pump long draughts of cool water.

Arrivals

by Pa Rock
Host with the Most (Cats)

Yesterday morning well before daylight when I made my regular trip out back to open the chicken coop and to give the cats their breakfast, all three cats were prancing around and ready to chow down.  I have had three farm cats, Fiona, the matriarch, and two toms, one from each of her first two litters.  She has one litter a year, always in the spring, and yesterday morning this year's group was still in the oven - although she has looked overdue for the past couple of weeks.

When I went out yesterday evening just before dark to close the chicken coop and give the cats their supper, all three, mom and the two boys, showed up again, but this time Fiona was deflated and looked as though she had had a rough day.  And she was very, very hungry.  So there is a group of newborn kitties in seclusion somewhere around the farm, and in a few more days I will probably get some sense of where the protective mother has hidden her new family.

No sooner had I determined that the farm family here at Rock's Roost had expanded than my good friend Murphy pulled into the drive for his first visit to the farm in nearly three years.  Daniel Murphy is a psychologist with whom I worked on Okinawa for two years from 2010 to 2012.  While we were there we had many adventures and explored much of the Far East together.  He spent several days at The Roost visiting from Okinawa shortly after I moved here five years ago, and the in the fall of 2016 he came here for a few days from his new assignment near Tokyo in Japan.  Our mutual friend, Valerie, also came from her new job in Hawaii and joined us during that autumn Ozark respite.

Now Daniel is semi-retired and drove over from Indianapolis where he has dropped his own anchor after leaving Asia.  He will be here for a few days enjoying the calm farm life and then head north to visit other friends in the St. Louis area.

That was my yesterday here at the farm, a day filled with arrivals.   We shall have a few days of visiting and catching up on old times - and perhaps finding the new kittens - and then, all too soon, Daniel will have left, the new kittens will be underfoot, and Pa Rock will be back to mowing.  (The neighbors tried to shame me by starting their spring mowing this weekend, but too bad for them because I have no shame!)

But I do have plenty of cats - and will deliver nationwide!

The Windmills of Trump's Mind

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The sun is shining, birds are singing, and Donald Trump is lying . . . and lying, and lying, and lying.  The fact-checkers who sift through Trump's constantly flowing stream of odoriferous malarkey now estimate that he is up to around two dozen lies a day.  Trump lies, and lies, and lies -and it would probably be much simpler to tally the few times that he states the truth.  He lies when he thinks he needs to shape a story his way, and he lies at times when there appears to be absolutely no need for him to stray from the truth.  It almost seems as though he enjoys lying - and that lying is a significant component of who Donald Trump really is.

George Conway, the much, much, much better half of  White House adviser Kellyanne Conway, has recently noted that Trump lies for his own entertainment and to amuse his rube supporters who recognize and enjoy his lies.  It's his shtick, thank you very much.

It's one thing to quantify Trump's never-ending stream of bullshit, but it would also drive the point home by recognizing the quality of his whoppers, perhaps with weekly ribbons or some such.

This week he came up with two that deserve their own illuminated  crevice in Trump's eventual unpresidential library of shame.  Yesterday he told an audience of government employees and other sycophants in Calexico, California, that the United States is full and no longer has room for immigrants.  Presumably he was talking about immigrants from south of the border - those originating in "shithole" or "Mexican" countries - and not the acceptable white immigrants like those from Norway or the countries where two of Trump's three wives came from.

Donald must have not looked out of the windows of Air Force One during his trip to southern California because almost the entirety of the western United States folds out as a virtual empty wasteland.  The whole of the western United States wreaks of empty - as do wide swaths of of the American northwest.  But our Donald imagines only what he wants to imagine - and his hillbillies whose lives are made even more insufferable by Trump's whimsical economic policies chuckle as they make their way up and down the aisles of Walmart because their God substitute really stuck it to those Mexicans - or liberals - or Democrats - or the fake media - or whatever enemy de jour Trump is thumping this week.

The other award-worthy lie that Donald Trump coughed up this week was a little jewel in which he stated that the noise from windmills causes cancer.  It turns out this lie has its origins in one of Trump's business dealings.  Back in 2006 he got into a row with the government of Scotland over a proposed "wind farm" that would be within view of his golf course and country club in Aberdeen.    Trump argued to the Scottish Parliament that the wind farm would be an eyesore that would devalue his property.   The Scottish government went ahead and built the wind farm over Trump's objections - and he has been anti-wind energy ever since, often using it to mock other candidates for office.

Trump argues that not only do wind farms (large tracts of wind turbines) decrease property values, but that they also kill birds - so many birds that the grounds beneath these big windmills are littered with the bodies of the feathered deceased - and that the noise from wind turbines causes cancer.  The very large windmills, like most big man-made structures probably do cause the demise of some birds over time, though there is a lack of photographic evidence to back up Trump's claims of mass murder of birds.  In fact, some skeptics claim that Trump's obnoxious "towers" are far more deadly to birds than windmills.

And as for the claim that the "noise" from windmills causes cancer . . . well, that is just nonsense, or, as Stephen Colbert pointed out, "It must be true because everyone in Holland is dead!"

(There was a very large wind turbine on the Okinawan seacoast when I was living there a few years ago.  My apartment was close by, and on several occasions I sat on a bench at the base of the turbine and enjoyed the view and sounds of the sea while eating my lunch or reading a book.  Never, during my visits to that American-style wind turbine did I ever see any dead birds - not one - and the skies were full of gulls and other island birds.  And while the birds may have been noisy, the turbine was not.  And, as far as I know, I do not have now, nor have I ever had, cancer!)

Steven Colbert further noted that while windmills are unlikely to cause cancer, he suspected that listening to Donald Trump might cause brain damage.

And I strongly suspect there is plenty of available evidence to support that notion!