Monday's Poetry: "A Sycophant, a Narcissist, and a Sociopath..."

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

While surfing the net this week I came upon the following short piece that seemed to encapsulate the personality of our Dear Leader, a man who lies with abandon, only listens to praise, and never accepts responsibility for bad news or botched decisions.



A Narcissist's Prayer
(author unknown)

That didn't happen.
And if it did, it wasn't that bad.
And if it was, that's not a big deal.
And if it is, that's not my fault.
And if it was, I didn't mean it.
And if I did...
You deserved it.


And a little further digging unearthed the following gem, a twisted blend of personalities that seems eerily familiar. 

Godspeed, Robert Mueller!
 

A Sycophant, a Narcissist, and a Sociopath...
by Tiffany Simar

A sycophant, a narcissist, and a sociopath walk into a bar
The sycophant is the best dressed by far
He sweet talks the bartender for a while
She only brushes him off and offers a free smile
The narcissist says he refuses to pay
The sociopath steals a drink while the two have the bartender distracted
The guys eventually look on in awe
But the sociopath has no shame for what he has done
The sycophant tries to put a two dollar tip in a waitresses bra
She slaps him up and then carries on
The other two laugh louder than they should
Then the narcissist pulls another waitress in and whispers something in her ear
In that moment the sociopath steals another beer
As the night carries on the three men get bored
But just then as they get ready to head out the door
Guess who walks in...
A guy named Jake with his buddy Rich
And behind them stumbles in another guy who whines like a little bitch
They cause a stir as they push their way through
So the other three men know just what to do
They start a brawl by pushing poor Jake
He hits the first waitress and she spills her drinks
Then they trip Richard who falls into waitress two
And the whiny bitch is already holding up the bartender with all of the crap that he spews
So in all of the commotion the three men rush in
The each grab an armful of beer and race to the nearest exit
They are greeted in the parking lot by a priest, a Jew, and some guy named Lou
They only look on at this crazy crew
The priest says a prayer, the Jew is in shock, and Lou would rather be hanging out with this      crazy lot
But it is too late
For the sycophant, narcissist, and sociopath are taking off with their drinks
Driving into the distance
As they often do
A suck-up, a selfish bastard, and a no-shame fool!

Under the Stars: An American in Paris

by Pa Rock
Theatre Fan

The outing to Kansas City is over, and Rosie and I are safely back at The Roost.  The three kittens are in good homes and are reported to be adjusting well to life in suburbia.   Fiona doesn't appear to be stressed over the forced removal of her offspring, and her only concern when we arrived back at the farm today was letting me know that she was powerful hungry.  That situation has been remedied.  The little black kitten who hid in fear as I was snatching his siblings Friday morning, is now back to playing underfoot.

Stopped in Springfield on the way home to visit with a dear friend who is in the hospital after suffering a stroke last week.  Those of you who know Mertie H. can email me and I will give you a more complete account of her situation.  She is a wonderful person!

The major news out of the Kansas City area is this:  Little Olive, age five, went the the pool with her mother and little brother yesterday evening while her dad and I were at the theatre.  While at the pool, she climbed the ladder and stepped boldly off of the high diving board!  Mother caught it all on video.  This was Olive's first time jumping from the high dive, and she showed no hesitation at all!  Way to go, Olive - you rock!

Tim and I spent yesterday evening at Kansas City's beautiful Starlight Theatre enjoying a Broadway touring version of "An American in Paris," a recently developed musical stage production based on the 1951 film of the same name that starred Gene Kelly and Leslie Caron.  Tim secured two separate seats for us - one of the best in the house and one of the worst.  He put me on the front row near the center where I had a great view not only of the stage, but of the orchestra pit as well.  It was kind of a bifocal situation where I could alternate views of two distinct shows.  Youngest son got himself a seat in the nosebleed section and then moved down into decent seating once the show was underway.

The show was good, in fact, it was a very solid production of song and dance numbers woven into a story about three young men who met in Paris immediately after World War II - two Americans and a rich Frenchman who had been in the resistance during the war.  Unfortunately the three new friends all managed to fall in love with the same young woman - a dancer.  The Frenchman's family funded a special ballet to showcase the young lady's dance skills.  One of the Americans designed the set for the production, and the other wrote the musical score.

The play, of course, revolved around which lucky young man will wind up with the beautiful dancer.

I'm a bit jaded when it comes to ballet because I have been fortunate to see some of the world's finest - the Bolshoi in Moscow and the Kirov in St. Petersburg - and while the dancers in last night's show were skilled in their craft, none approached the caliber of a Natalis Osipova, Rudolf Nureyev, or Mikhail Baryshnikov.  To be fair, I did hear several members of the audience praising the dance performances after the show, with a couple saying it was one of the best nusicals they had ever attended.

The second act contained an eighteen-minute ballet sequence in which the young woman's true love interest was finally clarified,  And while that was the dance highlight of the entire production, I was more impressed with  a tap number set in a nightclub earlier in the same act.  The tap dancing scene had some of the best costuming of the show, and the dancers seemed to be more comfortable hoofing across the stage on their toes and heels instead of just their toes.  The segment ended with kick line that energized the show as well as the house.

The musical score was by George and Ira Gershwin - and it doesn't get any better than that!

The stars were sparkling at the Starlight Theatre last night, on the stage and across the heavens.  It was a beautiful evening!

The Second Coming of Clarence Darrow

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

There is a new controversy brewing in the small town of Dayton, Tennessee, the community that became world famous in 1925 for being the scene of the Scopes Monkey Trial, a legal test of a Tennessee law which forbid the teaching of evolution in public schools.  And much like that courtroom drama of the last century, the new maelstrom pits fundamentalist Christians against some of the more open-minded members of the community.

The original trial, which went on to stir nearly a century of profitable tourism for Dayton, was a colorful legal battle between two of America's best known lawyers and orators of the time, William Jennings Bryan and Clarence Darrow.  Bryan, a former United States Secretary of State and a three-time Democratic nominee for President, acted for the state as prosecutor and defender of the law.  Darrow, an agnostic, represented John T. Scopes, the young high school teacher who was on trial for teaching evolution to his students.  Much of the trial focused on Bryan's strong belief in a literal interpretation of the Bible  - and of Darrow's mockery of Bryan's rigid religious standards.

Bryan won for the state, but the judge minimized the victory by only levying a one hundred dollar fine against the teacher - and the verdict was soon overturned on a technicality.   Clarence Darrow had scored major points with the public as he pilloried Bryan, whom he put on the stand as a "Biblical expert," over literal truth of such things as if Eve was created from Adam's rib, where did Cain get his wife?  At one point when Darrow was questioning Bryan, the angry Bryan flared that Darrow's purpose in questioning him was "to cast ridicule on everybody who believes in the Bible."  Darrow shot back, equally angry, "We have the purpose of preventing bigots and ignoramuses from controlling the education of the United States!"

Hello, Donald John Trump and Betsy DeVos.

Throughout the famous exchange, which actually took place on the courthouse lawn due to overcrowding and the insufferable heat, William Jennings Bryan kept insisting that Darrow was "slurring" the Bible, and Clarence Darrow kept responding that Bryan's defense of the religious tome was "foolish."  The animosity between the two old friends was so intense, and the summer heat so unrelenting, that Bryan fell ill at the close of the trial and died in Dayton a few days later.

Fast forward to current times:

A statue of William Jennings Bryan was erected on the courthouse lawn in Dayton in 2005 by Bryan College, an evangelical Christian school that was established in the town a few years after the famous trial as a namesake of the famed orator.  After that statue was unveiled, some interested individuals and the county historical society began raising funds to place a statue of Clarence Darrow on the courthouse grounds as well.  That $150,000 project came to fruition last week when the new statue was unveiled and presented to the community.

Of course, it's still rural Tennessee, and a lot of people currently living in and around Dayton are just as close-minded as their grandparents were nearly a century ago.  One resident told a recent meeting of the county commission that she feared the presence of the Darrow statue might unleash a plague or a curse on the community.  She pleaded, "I rise in opposition to this atheist statue, all right?  This is very serious, folks!"

And on the other side of that coin, the co-president of the "Freedom from Religion" atheist group mused at the Darrow statue's unveiling that it represented a "missing link" in the courthouse display, proving beyond doubt that while atheists may be godless heathen, they do possess a sense of humor, a quality the religious right has never seemed to be interested in cultivating.

And in the soft breezes of a Tennessee evening, perhaps two old friends are once again sparring about the literal truth of the Bible - on the same lawn where they originally argued so many, many years ago - happy at last to be together again.

On the Road with Cats

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

(Pig Update:  My second trip to try and coax the young sow up the road to The Roost yesterday was a bust.  She was gone - hopefully to a good home somewhere.  

The opposite side of the road from the farm has been trashed as of late by some of my good neighbors who don't believe in paying a trash service to collect their waste, and after failing in my quest to secure the pig, I spent a half-hour climbing  through the ditch, in the scorching heat, picking up aluminum cans.  I came up with thirty-four cans in about half-a-block.   I have several large containers full of crushed cans that I have been collecting for the past three-plus years.  If the price of aluminum gets right, I will sell them and use the proceeds to dine on some fine pig at a tourist luau when I visit my friend Valerie in Hawaii this winter.

Perhaps that is why the little pig yesterday wouldn't follow me home.  She sensed a "luau"vibe!)

Rosie and I are in Kansas City.  Three of our little farm kitties came along for the ride and are now at a new home in Merriam, Kansas, where one will live and the other two will await further placement.  They were not happy about being taken from their mother and the tranquility of The Roost.  I was scratched and bitten multiple times while getting them loaded into a large and comfortable traveling cage.  Once in the cage, however, they were perfect travelers and didn't make a sound on the 277-mile journey.  (In fact, Rosie did not seem to realize that they were even in the car.)  And, even though the little cats enjoyed a large breakfast before the trip, there was zero mess in the cage upon arrival in Kansas.

Costco tomorrow, then tomorrow night Tim and I have tickets to see a live production of An American in Paris at Kansas City's beautiful outdoor venue, the Starlight Theatre.  It is a show that I have always wanted to see.

Donald Trump is in Paris today.   He made news for making an inappropriate remark about the fine figure of France's First Lady.  Years from now when a movie is filmed based on that visit, expect the title to be An American Pig in Paris.

Trump is no Gene Kelly - Emmett Kelly, maybe, but not Gene Kelly! 

Here Pig, Pig, Piggy!

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Summer

I let the dogs out before daylight this morning to do their business, but they immediately started making such a racket that I had to hustle them back inside.  Something was out there - something about which Rosie and Riley had very strong feelings.

We have had several skunks in the neighborhood of late.  My son killed a couple, and the neighbor got rid of two more with his bush-hog.  Skunks often carry rabies, so I am very cautious when they are about.  Both dogs are up-to-date on their rabies shots, but Pa Rock is not!

About an hour ago a neighbor whom I did not know pulled up in the driveway and came to the door - which again set the dogs off.  I struggled to get past the overly protective canines and out onto the porch to see what the man wanted.  Once I was outside, he told me that there was a small pig loose on the road and he wanted to know if it was mine.  It wasn't.  He pointed out the poor creature a hundred or so yards to the north, wandering on and off the roadway.  I thanked the man and told him that I would attempt a rescue.

The young pig, a sow weighing fifty pounds or so, let me pet her, but she would not be coaxed into following me back to The Roost.  Her snout was green from rooting through the grass, and she appeared to have been well taken care of.  I eventually retreated to my air-conditioned home to put some more thought into the matter.  I don't need a pig, but I fear that someone will hit her with their vehicle.

A pig along the road is an oddity,  Unlike a stray dog or cat, pigs have some street value - they can always be taken home and stored in a freezer!  Or, a smart piggy can make it to Pa Rock's Roost and live pampered life of luxury that would shame a Trump!

And now I am heading back out into the insufferable heat to engage in a battle of wills with a pig.  This was not the day I had planned.

In Praise of Good Neighbors

by Pa Rock
Farmer in Summer

Basically I live alone on a ten-acre farm in rural Missouri, and my responsibilities include mowing slightly more than half of the acreage with a rough-and-tumble riding mower, and taking care of small drabs of livestock:  dogs, cats, guineas, chickens, peacocks, and geese.  It's all that I can do to keep up with things during the best of times, and when something unexpected arises, such as the sprawling maple tree outside of my front window suddenly decides to start dying - or two peahens get viciously killed by predators, the emergencies take all of my available energy and the necessaries get pushed aside.

Last week things had piled up to the point that I was actively planning on getting rid of most of the livestock and placing the farm up for sale.  But that was then . . .

Toward the end of the week my neighbor from across the street, a man who grew up in the house where I now reside, came over and offered to mow a few strips of the yard that borders the paved road between our houses.  That land is on a slant, and I mow it with a push mower because I don't trust my rider not to turn over or involuntarily careen out into the road.  It takes me about an hour, and the neighbor said he could do it in ten minutes with his rider.  (He is a braver soul than I am.)  The neighbor said he felt sorry seeing me push my way up and down the edge of the road, particularly on the hot days like those currently bearing down on us.  After a bit of playing hesitant, I finally agreed to his request - and I will do something for him in the near future to repay the kindness.

Then I began mowing.  It took three days of about three hours a day to get the rest of it under control.  I mow more of the land than any previous owners because I want to keep the snakes at a safe distance - and even with that caution, one four-foot charmer kept popping up to watch as I mowed the area around the pond.  It would have been easy to mow over him, but that's not the way I roll!

About the time I finished the every-two-weeks mowing chore, another neighbor who lives a couple of miles down the road showed up to bush-hog the rest of the property - a task which he completes twice a year.  I pay that neighbor, though he charges me well below market rate.  After he finished a morning of mowing, I took him out by the new storage buildings to point out a very high limb that was interfering with the wiring going to the buildings.  I was seeking his advice on how to remove that particular limb, and he said not to worry about it - he could take care of the problem in just a few minutes with his pole saw.

That neighbor came back the next morning to finish the bush-hogging, and while he was here he took out the bothersome limb, cut down a large dead tree and cut it up, and even moved a brush pile with his tractor.

Now, with all of that done, the place looks amazing!  I may be able to last another year - and much of that change in attitude is due to good neighbors!

Thanks Doug and Rex.    You are the best neighbors ever!

Breeding Tells

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

After eight years of stories about the presidential children being a couple of sweet girls struggling to lead ordinary lives under the glare of the White House floodlights, shifting gears to deal with the Trump children, particularly the three oldest - Ivanka, Donald, Jr., and Eric - is more than a bit disconcerting.  It is almost as if the families raised their kids on two different planets.

Ivanka, Donald, Jr., and Eric appear to be anything but sweet.  If the White House is, as it is often characterized, a "fish bowl," the Trump children are more closely related to sharks than they are to goldfish.

Ivanka does seem to have an interest in some issues that are of particular importance to women, such as paid maternity leave, but her statements have had little or no impact on the actions her tempestuous father.  Ivanka maintains a status, of sorts, as a label for a line of apparel manufactured in the third world by extremely low-paid individuals whom some describe as modern-day slaves.    Ivanka, the daughter and granddaughter of slumlords, married a slumlord, and seems to be well acclimated to her status in life - which is higher than the status of almost all other Americans.

Eric Trump had made a bit of a name for himself as a promoter of a charity that addresses childhood cancer, and, in fairness to him, much of the money that his charity raised has gone to respectable causes - such as St. Jude's Children's Hospital in Memphis.  But it is also beginning to become clear that some of the money raised by Eric's charity has been plowed back into enterprises run by the Trump family.  New York's attorney general has been investigating that situation.

And then there is Donald, Junior.   The young Donald has been in the news for the past two weeks regarding a meeting that he had with a Russian lawyer right after his daddy became the nominee-apparent last summer.  The story has developed in drips and drabs, and Donald, Jr. has adjusted his version as more and more of the tale became public.  The latest version is that a former tabloid reporter approached Trump via an email saying that a Russian lawyer wanted a sit-down with Donnie, Jr., and that she had political dirt to share on Hillary Clinton - and that the Russian government had an interest in the senior Trump winning the election.

His reply to the invitation:  "If it's what you say, I love it!"

Donald Trump, Jr., did not bother to tell the FBI that he had received information that a foreign government was talking about influencing the American election.   Instead, he jumped at the chance to meet with the lawyer and brought along his brother-in-law, Jared Kushner (Ivanka's husband) and Trump campaign manager Paul Manafort.  Trump, Jr. is apparently still maintaining that nothing related to the election was discussed at the meeting - no matter how much he may have wanted to hear some dirt on Clinton.  Some wags are describing his behavior in the matter as "treasonous."

So Sasha and Malia be gone!  The times have changed and the goldfish have swum out of view.   Now we are seeing a different type of presidential offspring.  The Trumps aren't cute, they're sharks - inept sharks, but sharks nonetheless.

Breeding tells.

Monday's Poetry: "Dog"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Today is Rosie's third birthday, and while my little Chihuahua receives royal treatment every day, I thought this might be a good time to feature a poem with a canine theme in honor of Rosie's big day.   I was looking for a verse that stressed the close bond between dogs and humans, a bond that has developed and strengthened over countless millennia, but opted instead for a poem simply titled "Dog" by San Francisco poet and peace activist, Lawrence Ferlinghetti.  Instead of highlighting a dog's dependence on man, or vice-versa, Ferlinghetti chose to focus on the independent nature of a San Francisco street dog.

Ferlinghetti's "Dog" is a charming creature who traverses his world as a curious spirit, one who is living a life unchained with a level of freedom that most of us humans will never get to experience.

Rosie's life is quite different from the one described in this poem, but, I suspect, she, too, is enjoying a level of peace and contentment that eludes most humans.

Happy birthday, Rosie!  May we celebrate many, many more special days together.


Dog
by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The dog trots freely in the street

and sees reality

and the things he sees

are bigger than himself

and the things he sees

are his reality

Drunks in doorways

Moons on trees

The dog trots freely thru the street

and the things he sees

are smaller than himself

Fish on newsprint

Ants in holes

Chickens in Chinatown windows

their heads a block away

The dog trots freely in the street

and the things he smells

smell something like himself

The dog trots freely in the street

past puddles and babies

cats and cigars

poolrooms and policemen

He doesn’t hate cops

He merely has no use for them

and he goes past them

and past the dead cows hung up whole

in front of the San Francisco Meat Market

He would rather eat a tender cow

than a tough policeman

though either might do

And he goes past the Romeo Ravioli Factory

and past Coit’s Tower

and past Congressman Doyle

He’s afraid of Coit’s Tower

but he’s not afraid of Congressman Doyle

although what he hears is very discouraging

very depressing

very absurd

to a sad young dog like himself

to a serious dog like himself

But he has his own free world to live in

His own fleas to eat

He will not be muzzled

Congressman Doyle is just another

fire hydrant

to him

The dog trots freely in the street

and has his own dog’s life to live

and to think about

and to reflect upon

touching and tasting and testing everything

investigating everything

without benefit of perjury

a real realist

with a real tale to tell

and a real tail to tell it with

a real live

              barking

                         democratic dog

engaged in real

                      free enterprise

with something to say

                             about ontology

something to say

                        about reality

                                        and how to see it

                                                               and how to hear it

with his head cocked sideways

                                       at streetcorners

as if he is just about to have

                                       his picture taken

                                                             for Victor Records

                                  listening for

                                                   His Master’s Voice

                      and looking

                                       like a living questionmark

                                                                 into the

                                                              great gramaphone

                                                           of puzzling existence

                 with its wondrous hollow horn

                         which always seems

                     just about to spout forth

                                                      some Victorious answer

                                                              to everything

Oh My God, It's Obama!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Barack Obama will no doubt go down in history as one of our nation's most out-going and approachable Presidents.  He truly enjoys interacting with ordinary people.

Several years ago as I was standing in a long line outside of a Phoenix bookstore waiting to have a book signed by Jimmy Carter,  I began chatting with the strangers who were next to me in line.  Our topic of conversation centered on the times that we had actually seen U.S. Presidents, and each of us had a few stories to tell.  The most memorable tale, at least the only one which I remember to this day, came from the lady who was standing behind me.  She said she had run into Barack and Michelle Obama on the grounds of a hotel in Colorado during the very brief time that he was a United States senator from Illinois.   It was after Obama had delivered that memorable speech at the 2004 Democratic convention, when it was obvious that he was a rising star in national politics.

The stranger beside me said that she had introduced herself to the Obamas and that they had cordially shook hands with her.  She then asked if she could get her picture taken with the senator, and Michelle obligingly took the woman's camera and snapped a couple of shots of Barack and his fan.  The lady ended her recounting of that chance encounter by pulling up those photos on her camera and showing them to the gaggle of very impressed on-lookers.

Barack Obama had been approachable before he got to the White House, and his open nature did not close when he assumed the highest office in the land.  Over the eight years of his presidency America bore witness many times to Obama interacting with ordinary Americans, and particularly with babies and children, always with that infectiously happy smile on his face.

Earlier this week the former president was traveling inauspiciously when a surprised woman spotted him in a terminal for private planes at the Anchorage International Airport.  Jolene Jackinsky said that she was walking across the terminal holding her six-month-old daughter, Giselle, when she spotted a man in casual attire that she thought bore a strong resemblance to President Obama.  As she got closer, Jolene thought, "Oh my God, it is Obama!"  At that point the still active statesman approached her and asked, regarding Giselle, "Who is this pretty girl?"  The still stunned mother handed her daughter over to the delighted ex-president, and then proceeded to snap a few pictures of the two.

And with those snapshots of Barack Obama and little Giselle, America was given a brief glance back into happier times.

It's More Than Just Potholes

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

President Barack Obama tried on numerous occasions to address the problem of America's crumbling infrastructure, a wise use of money that would not only have repaired the roads, bridges, rails, and airports on which Americans depend and travel daily, it would have also provided thousands and thousands of good jobs and benefited the economy immensely.   Republicans in Congress, all of whom represented constituents who would have personally benefited from government spending on  improving the nation's infrastructure, nevertheless stayed in lockstep with their leaders and refused to move on the issue, primarily out of fear of doing anything that might make President Obama look good - even though their inaction was causing injury and death to people they were elected to serve.

When Donald Trump came into power it was suddenly permissible in Republican circles to start talking about infrastructure again, and in the process try to blame the steadily growing problem on Democrats.  Why hadn't their President done anything while he was in office? Why indeed!

Trump made a campaign pledge saying that he would spend one trillion dollars on infrastructure.  After his first budget came out, that campaign promise appeared to be largely smoke and mirrors.  Trump's plan called for reducing infrastructure expenditures from $250 billion by twenty-percent to just $200 billion, and then developing a plan where private companies would fund the remaining $800 billion over the next ten years.

Hello turnpikes and toll bridges - and goodbye Amtrak.

So basically the federal government is planning on doing even less in regard to repairing our failing infrastructure than it was able to accomplish during the Obama years when Congress was actively blocking improvements to roads, bridges, and airports.  The federal government, at best, will continue to dribble out money to the states to keep filling potholes.

But it's more than just potholes.

A few weeks ago the rural area in which I live, an area that voted overwhelmingly for Donald Trump, suffered what has been referred to as a five-hundred-year flood.  Massive amounts of damage were done to local homes and businesses, most of which were not covered by flood insurance.  And, not surprisingly, serious damage was also suffered by local infrastructure.

The extent of that damage was brought home to me last weekend when I took my out-of-state visitors out to a favorite swimming hole.  I wanted my daughter and her children to enjoy the beach at Devil's Backbone State Park in Ozark County, about fifteen miles from West Plains.  I hadn't been there in several months, not since my son and his family enjoyed a swim at the scenic spot last fall.

As were were driving down the final hill toward the park, a sign suddenly appeared along the roadway warning, "Bridge Out."  The large highway bridge just past the park had been completely destroyed by the recent flood waters.  To complicate the situation, hundreds of large trees had also been pushed over by the flood waters.  It was Armageddon on the North Fork.

I had heard that some of the rural bridges had been washed away, but this was a major highway bridge.  It turns out there were others.  The repair and cleanup costs would be astronomical.

Then a day or two later our local newspaper reported that the state had let contracts on that particular bridge and one other.  The contract price for the highway bridge out by Devil's Backbone was $2,797,915!   That was just for one bridge of several that will have to be replaced, expenses that had not been anticipated or budgeted - an expenditure of near three million dollars which means a helluva lot of potholes will have to go unfilled.

Smoke and mirrors won't fill the potholes, Donald, and they damned sure won't resurface roads, rebuild bridges, fix and extend runways, or even build a useless wall.  America's infrastructure requires real money  - and it requires it now - and if that means unplugging a war somewhere and bringing that money home, so be it.  Maybe if you would get out of your bubble of privilege and ride around on some real American roads and cross some shaky, old American bridges you would get a sense of what life in the rest of these United States is actually like.

Real life happens where the rubber hits the road, and the quality of that life is directly related to the quality of the roads.    People who voted for Donald Trump down here in the Ozarks are busy figuring new ways to get across the river so they can get to work or just buy groceries.  That's real life in America, and it's a lot more complicated than just hopping from one private golf course to another on government helicopters.

Come see us, Donnie, and enjoy a drive across our beautiful hills and hollers - but bring some comfortable shoes in case you have to get out and walk!

Masters of Understatement

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Last week Donald Trump went on yet another Twitter rampage, one in which he viciously and sadistically attacked a pair of American television journalists, Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski, the co-hosts of the MSNBC news program, Morning Joe.  In addition to their proven abilities as competent journalists, Scarborough is a former Republican congressman from Florida and Brzezinski is the daughter of Jimmy Carter's Secretary of State, the late Zbigniew Brzezinski - one Republican and one likely Democrat, a nice balance.

But it is hard for anything to stay balanced when operating in the orbit of Donald Trump.  The supposed billionaire from Manhattan has outspoken issues with CNN, MSNBC, The New York Times, The New York Post, The Washington Post, and most other national and international news organizations - with the possible exception of Fox News.    Any time a story airs or is published that Trump doesn't like, he yells "Fake news!" and begins tweeting insults at the journalists who dared to confront or expose him.  

Donald Trump grew up in a protected shell of privilege from which he was safely able to bully and heap scorn on anyone, and he maintains that arrogant sense of self-entitlement to this day as he goes about life a snarling and bitter old man yelling down at the world from his golden penthouse high atop his delusion of grandeur.

When Trump attacks it is seldom with facts.  His usual modus operandi is to hurl insults in the manner of a schoolyard bully.  That was in evidence in last week's tweets when her referred to Scarborough as "Psycho Joe" and tagged Brzezinski as "low I.Q. Crazy Mika."

But it didn't end there.  Donald Trump has a long history of attacking women with insults (and has bragged about attacking women physically), and he seems to have an obsession with the notion of women and blood.   Last year he described then Fox journalist Megyn Kelly as having "blood coming out of her eyes and blood coming out of her wherever" because she had asked him pointed questions during a debate.  And in last week's tweet about Brzezinski he said that she had shown up at his private club in Florida with her face bleeding as the result of a bad face-lift.  The remarks about Kelly were obviously just crude hyperbole, but Brzezinksi and Scarobrough both denied the story of her bloody face and said she has never had a face-lift.  They said Trump was lying.

Scarborough and Brzezinski, in fact, issued a lengthy reply to Trump's tweets, categorically refuting and dismissing all of his claims as false.  The title of their rebuttal was "Donald Trump Is Not Well," leading some to surmise that the two journalists are perhaps masters of understatement.

About the same time, singer and actress Bette Midler posted a tweet showing Donald Trump clad in tight white shorts playing tennis - and displaying a rump the size of a pair of prize smoked hams, a view the Divine Miss M characterized as "lard-ass."

Perhaps Bette is also a master of understatement.

Donald Trump has defined his life by ridiculing and tormenting others, and he continues to do so.  Now that he has finally succeeded in getting to the very pinnacle of power and attention in America, Trump is going to have to toughen up because not everyone will sit by quietly and let him yell at the little people of the world unchallenged. 

Trump is likely to find that his bully pulpit is facing into an echo chamber, a place where all of his disdain and derision of others will intensify and come roaring back at him.  Buckle up, Donnie, it's going to be a bumpy ride - and one that you brought on yourself.

With Apologies to Real Pigs Everywhere

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

It occurs to me that the Republican Party might want to rethink its mascot.   While the enormous mammal, the elephant, has served the party well for over a century, and it was perhaps truly representative of the obese titans of business and industry who did much to foster the growth and success of the party during America's first gilded age, the elephant is a bit too docile and endearing to reflect the values of the individuals who run today's Republican Party.

This past holiday weekend, Chris Christie, the governor of New Jersey, displayed modern Republican values to the rest of the world by behaving like a royal potentate - and then lying about it.   Governor Christie had closed all of New Jersey's state beaches as retaliation in a budget conflict that he was having with the state legislature, but then, in a dazzling display of arrogance and hubris, he flew off to one of those closed beaches where he and his family - and their friends - spent a nice weekend in the sun and surf.  To add insult to injury, Christie flew there in a state-owned helicopter, thus avoiding traffic which he had been known to help intentionally snarl - for political payback - in the past.

The world was his oyster, and Chris Christie was a shining pearl.

When reporters asked the governor if he had gotten any sun over the holiday weekend, he went with his big gut instinct and lied, a fabrication which was soon ripped apart when some aerial photos of the governor and his spawn sprawled out on the largely vacant Atlantic beach made it into the press.  The poor beleaguered governor apparently had no drones at his disposal to keep the air space over his beach safe from intruders.

It was so unfair.

Governor Christie, who like former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee, also a Republican, has undergone weight-loss surgery, is still a man of considerable girth - as measured by anyone's axe handle.  And, to be completely fair, he was not the only rotund politician wallowing in highly exclusive privilege in New Jersey last weekend.  Donald Trump and his entourage were holed up at Trump's private golf club in Bedminster, NJ, a trip funded at taxpayer expense and which also generated a tidy profit Donald Trump and his family.  Thanks, suckers!

The elephant is obviously too sweet and lovable to represent these modern Republicans, and even though a beached whale would come closer to the mark, especially representative of Chris Christie, it too lacks the greed and avarice that are so characteristic of today's GOP.   Perhaps the pig would be more suited to the task of symbolizing what the Republican Party has become - and not just any pig, but some angry 800-pound boar who wants to control and consume everything within its range of vision.

And it truly has to be a boar, because a GOP sow's place is in the sty feeding litter after litter of little piggies - just ask the boars who run the party.

Christie wallowing on a beach that he was able to empty, Trump playing golf and eating steak in a rarefied setting where he did not have to interact with the masses - and it's all paid for by the public.  And closer to home there were GOP congressmen and senators avoiding holiday events so they didn't have to answer questions about why they are hellbent on destroying health care in America - those are the modern Republicans behaving like . . . well  . . . pigs.

The appropriate mascot for the modern Republican Party is so obvious that it stinks.

Happy 10th Birthday, Sebastian

by Pa Rock
Proud Grandpa

My second oldest grandchild, Sebastian Files, is no longer a single-digit midget.  The young resident of Oregon is ten-years-old this very day.  He is celebrating the big event at his paternal grandparents' home in Oklahoma.  I understand that lots of family will be there, people who rarely get to see him on his birthday, and the party will even have a water slide!  That sounds like a blast!

I remember my tenth birthday, Sebastian.  My family had just moved to the tourist town of Noel, Missouri, the summer before, and I was in school on the big day.  My sister Gail, who was seven, had a teacher walk her to my classroom so she could tell me "happy birthday."  That made the day extra-special for me, and I know that having your siblings, Judah and Willow, at your party today will make your day special, too.

I really enjoyed seeing you, Sebastian, and all of your family when you were at my farm over the past weekend.   The visit had some good times - like our trip to the river, and the party we had for you at my house.  I hope we have many good times together for years to come.

Happy birthday, Big Guy!

A Few More Reasons to Celebrate the Fourth of July

by Pa Rock
Citizen of the World

In addition to this being the 241st anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, a whole host of other less famous events occurred on this date across the centuries and throughout the world.  Related to the famous Declaration, two of the principals who were instrumental in its drafting, and later served as President - John Adams and Thomas Jefferson - both died on July 4th, 1826, the fiftieth anniversary of the signing.   Another future U. S. President, Ulysses S. Grant, led Union forces to victory over the Confederates at the Battle of Vicksburg on July 4th, 1863 - and still another future President, Calvin Coolidge, was born on July 4th, 1872.

American nineteenth century literary giant Nathaniel Hawthorne was born on the Fourth of July in 1804.

Italian freedom fighter Giuseppe Garibaldi was born on this date in 1807, and a century-and-a-half later he was honored by the United States in its "Champions of Liberty" postage stamp series.

Today is the ninetieth birthday of a pair of entertainment icons.  Playwright and screenwriter Neil Simon was born on this date in 1927, as was the post World War II Italian sex bomb Gina Lollobrigida. 

Stephen Foster, who was once considered to be "America's composer," was born on July 4th in 1826, and circus ringmaster, James Anthony Bailey of Barnum and Bailey Circus fame, was born on this date in 1847.  Cartoonist Rube Goldberg, who made exceeding complex drawings of bizarre contraptions designed to do very simple tasks, was born on the Fourth of July in 1883.  American distiller Hiram Walker was born on July 4th,  1899.  Mitch Miller, the musician who encouraged American television audiences to "sing along," was born on July 4th, 1911, and American folksinger Jimmie Rogers came into this world on the same date four years later in 1915.

Ron Kovic, a former Marine sergeant who saw service in Vietnam before returning home and becoming a dedicated anti-war activist, was born on July 4th, 1946.  Kovic authored the book and the screenplay, "Born on the Fourth of July."

And finally, the young girl who moved into the White House, America's fish bowl, at the tender age of ten and survived eight years of relentless observation and commentary with remarkable style and grace, Malia Obama, turns nineteen today.  Happy birthday, Malia - you still make us proud!

And happy Fourth of July to one and all!

Monday's Poetry: "Nothing Less than Heroic"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

Today's poem, "Nothing Less than Heroic" is by Ryan Nguyen of Massachusetts and was first published as part of an editorial in the New York Times.  It serves to remind us, on the eve of our Independence Day, that most people who live in America and enjoy its protections and benefits are but a few generations removed from immigrants who came to these shores in desperate circumstances.   Those brave souls who forsook all they knew to take a chance on a better life in a strange place were indeed nothing less than heroic.

Immigrants have always made our country stronger.    America's "greatness" is thwarted by closing doors, burning bridges, building walls, and banning visitors.  We are so much better than that.

Happy Independence Day to all of us, the off-spring of immigrants.


Nothing Less than Heroic
by Ryan Nguyen

They say I am “only a 4-year-old — a refugee”

But my parents said

We are nothing less than heroic

For like Columbus, I can swim

Through international waters

Through the sea, ocean, and endless waves

Like astronauts, I can smile and even sing

Through a dark story

Through threatening, perilous voyages

Like zombies of the world, I can rise

Through scars from working 12-to-14 hour days

Through memories of being rejected, cast out, and shot

The world may proclaim I am “only a refugee”

But I know that we are nothing less than heroic

Grandkids, Grandkids, Everywhere!

by Pa Rock
Proud Grandpa

My three Oregon grandchildren, Sebastian, Judah, and Willow, arrived at The Roost late yesterday evening along with their parents, Scott and Molly.  So far the kids have been very busy getting used to the farm and all that it has to offer.

The first thing Willow asked was if I had any cats.  We walked out toward the chicken coop where all of the little kittens came tumbling out to greet her.  She was delighted!  Judah, on the other hand, was most impressed with the geese - whom he continued to call "ducks."   Just after everyone got out of the car following their arrival, the geese came running at the farm visitors, wings flapping, in a formation about twenty-feet wide,  It was an awesome and intimidating show of goose-power, but Judah wasn't afraid.  He took off chasing the big birds and within a few minutes had worn them out.  Judah taught the geese that he is no one to mess with!

Sebastian brought me a birdhouse from Oregon that he built himself.  We placed it out on the picnic table, but this morning it was still empty.  It is a very nice birdhouse, and I am sure some lucky bird will soon discover it.  Sebastian's tenth birthday is next week, and Pa Rock has a present for him that he will receive later today.

And, there were presents waiting for all of the kids which they played with last night.

Willow seemed to be impressed with the peacocks, and she learned which ones are the "daddy" peacocks.  This morning all of the kids helped Pa Rock to feed bits of bread to the chickens and the peacocks.

This afternoon we are going to go swimming in the river - a first for these children - and something that Pa Rock really enjoys.  We'll have fun, fun, fun - splashing in the water, skipping stones, and looking for crawdads!

Life doesn't get any better than this!

Letter to Missouri Secretary of State Jay Ashcroft

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

A few years ago I lived in Arizona while working as a civilian for the military.  It was during my time in the desert that I became acquainted with the machinations of a political rattlesnake by the name of Kris Kobach.  He was the man who authored Arizona's infamous Senate Bill 1070, a.k.a. the "show me your papers" bill -  a legal pretext for every Barney Fife in the state to harass citizens who happened to have brown skin pigmentation.  The bill was an outrageous affront to civil liberties and the rights of good people to go about their daily routines without living in constant fear of being confronted by uniformed gestapo.

Sheriff Joe Arpaio loved SB 1070 - he loved it so much so that he followed Kris Kobach to Kansas in 2010 and helped him campaign to be elected Kansas Secretary of State, an office which he won.  Kobach has spent the intervening years crafting new and ever more clever ways to keep people of color and other minorities from voting.  He is America's acknowledged king of voter suppression.

Kobach is such a tool in the fight to suppress the votes of minorities that Donald Trump has named him to the new commission on "voting integrity," a forerunner to anticipated national efforts to curb voting by minorities and any other groups that might lean Democratic.

This past week the "Voting Integrity" commission, a group under the formal leadership of Mike Pence, issued a call for every state and the District of Columbia to provide detailed information on all registered voters to the commission - information like full names, voting history, felony convictions, and the last four digits of voters' social security numbers.  Many states have responded saying they will provide only information that is already publicly available, and a growing number are declining to provide the commission with any information whatsoever.  Interestingly, Kobach's home state of Kansas has announced that it will not provide the last four digits of voters' social security numbers.  (Trump, ever the bully,  has already begun taunting the states that are protecting their voter's information with calls of "What are you trying to hide?")  Sadly, a few states appear to be complying with the Pence/Kobach request.

All of that political intrigue has, of course, given this blogger a full head of steam.  The following letter will go out in this afternoon's mail to Jay Ashcroft, Missouri's Secretary of State - as well as a copy to my local newspaper.

Honorable Jay Ashcroft

Missouri Secretary of State

600 West Main Street

Jefferson City, MO  65101

Dear Secretary Ashcroft,

I am a retiree currently living on a small farm near West Plains, Missouri., a community that you know well.   As a native of the “Show Me” state, I pride myself in staying current on what’s happening around me, and, in particular, safeguarding my rights in a society where they seem to be constantly eroding.

I am particularly concerned about the recently announced “Election Integrity” commission that is being spearheaded by Vice President Pence and Kansas Secretary of State Kris Kobach.    This commission, which has been formed to address a problem that many, including myself, do not believe exists, is requesting a wide range of personal information on voters from all fifty states as well as the District of Columbia.

It is my understanding that this commission is requesting that states provide information on voter registration rolls to include full names, addresses, voting history, party affiliation, felony convictions, and the last four digits of each voter’s social security number.

That request represents an astounding “Big Brother” overreach by the federal government, as well as an outrageous affront to democracy.  The idea of a small bureaucratic entity with partisan roots having access to that much personal information on American voters is as frightening as it is reprehensible.

Also, I am particularly concerned with Secretary Kobach’s involvement in this project.  He is a known champion of voter suppression, an activity that by its very nature is un-American and the antithesis of democracy.

I understand that a broad range of states are declining to provide any voter information to the commission – including places as diverse as Kentucky, Virginia, California, and Mississippi.  I would encourage Missouri to do the same.

As a resident of your state and as a registered voter, I am emphatically requesting that none of my personal information be turned over to the Pence/Kobach Commission.  Should your office ignore my request, I would like to be informed of the exact content of any of material that is transferred to the commission.

Thank you for your attention to my concerns and for your anticipated response.

Sincerely,

Rocky G. Macy