Commies, Liars, and Gay Prostitutes

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald Trump, ever the magical thinker, has taken to blaming Bernie Sanders and his followers for all of the taunting and brawling at Trump rallies - rather than his own bellicosity and tendency to incite the rubes.  It's all Bernie the Communist's doing - and Trump has taken to routinely describing Sanders as a "communist' and waxing wistfully about how nice it would be to face the Senator from Vermont in the "finals."

Senator Sanders, not one to be steamrolled by a blustery and portly character like Trump, has fired back that the former reality television star and consummate windbag is a "pathological liar."

Sanders, of course, has a point, as any speech by Donald Trump sends a platoon of fact-checkers into a dangerously over-heated frenzy of activity.   Donald's disingenuous name-calling, however, harkens back to the very darkest days of the 1950's when demagogues like Joe McCarthy and Richard Nixon built their political careers on labeling decent, hard-working Americans as "commies."  Now, as then, people using the term had little more than the foggiest notion of what it actually meant.

There is a state school board candidate in Texas who is gaining some national attention over comments that she has been making on Facebook.   The candidate's statements are bizarre, and, not surprisingly, she is running for office as a Republican.  Mary Lou Brenner is a sixty-eight-year-old retired kindergarten teacher who has posted on Facebook that the believes "Ahab the Arab" (President Obama) worked as a gay prostitute in New York City in his youth while living there with his gay partner - and that is how he paid for his drugs.  She said she heard it from a "reliable" source.  Ms. Brunner also believes that the Democratic Party had JFK assassinated and that the United Nations is hatching a plot to depopulate the world.  And Muslims?  Why she's against them, of course, and thinks they should be banned.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

If Donald Trump is a pathological liar, he has apparently found a warm and accepting home among his own kind.

Trump Provokes the Hate and Owns the Violence

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald Trump wants to be known as a "unifier," but his campaign events routinely disintegrate into public brawls with his out-of-control supporters being egged on by the candidate himself.  Trump's massive ego channeling the fury and fists of his legions of simpleton supporters is a recipe for tragedy - on a monumental scale.  Several news sources have predicted that it's only a matter of time until all hell breaks loose and there is blood in the streets.

Yesterday, in fact, hell did break loose at a couple of Trump events.  First, police were called in to place barricades between Trump supporters and protesters in St. Louis, and later in the day things were so out-of-control in downtown Chicago that a Trump speech there had to be "postponed" until another time.

Regardless of who appears to be at fault in these public disturbances, they all go back to Trump, a man who seems to be relishing the commotion and free publicity.  Trump has railed that protesters "deserve to be taken out!" 

One Trump supporter, a seventy-eight-year-old white man "sucker punched" a young black man as he was being removed from a rally in North Carolina by police.  The white guy, who was later arrested himself, said he liked "knocking the hell out of that big mouth," and that the "next time we see him, we might have to kill him."

The candidate himself has used the "knocking the hell out of someone" parlance.  In Iowa he speculated to his supporters at a rally that there might be protesters present who would attempt to throw tomatoes at him.   He fired up the crowd with, "If you see somebody getting ready to throw a tomato, knock the crap out of them, would you?  Seriously.  OK?  Just knock the hell - - I promise you I will pay the legal fees!"

How very presidential!  What a unifier!

Breitbart News reporter Michelle Fields has filed charges against Trump's campaign manager for allegedly manhandling her and leaving bruises - an act that was witnessed by other journalists.

Racial slurs seem to be commonplace at campaign events for the man who declined to publicly disown support from a leader of the Ku Klux Klan, and the campaign has been accused of having people removed from its rallies based solely on the color of their skin.  An Arab reporter covering a Trump rally was peppered with taunts of being a "terrorist."

It could all be seen as juvenile behavior on the part of a mass of under-educated, backwater hooligans - if it wasn't for the tacit approval and encouragement of the candidate himself - behaviors that are starkly reminiscent of the rise of fascism in the 1930's.

There will be blood, and when there is - Donald Trump will own it.

Tom Nutt's First Trip to the Coast

by Pa Rock
Legend Master

Four years ago this month I wrote a piece for the Ramble about my great-grandfather, Thomas Franklin Nutt, and a memorable, yet harrowing, road trip that he took with my family to California in the mid 1950's.  Grandpa Nutt, who was forced upon us by one of his Missouri daughters just as our family was pulling out of the drive to head to California on a vacation, became disoriented and volatile while on the road, and we finally had to abandon him at a care facility in Arizona until his son could drive from Los Angeles to fetch him.

What I didn't realize at the time I wrote the piece was that was not Grandpa Nutt's first trip out west.  He and his wife, Etta, had lived in Los Angeles during the World War II years to be near some of their grown children - and he had made a trip to the coast as a single man much earlier in his life.

It is Tom Nutt's first trip to the Pacific Coast that I find to be so personally captivating.  I learned about that trip a few weeks ago while doing a bit of basic internet genealogy research.  There I discovered some Nutt family history that incorporated what appears to be a set of notes written by Tom's granddaughter (and my dad's cousin), Maryruth Nutt.  Maryruth, several years deceased, was a nurse in the Kansas City area who never married and maintained a lifetime passion for genealogy.  She and I exchanged a couple of letters many years ago, and we met briefly one time, but during those contacts she never told me the story of Grandpa Tom's trip west as a young man.

Here is my summation of what she had to say in her notes:

Thomas Franklin Nutt was born in 1870, and though his parentage is unclear, he did grow up in the household of his grandparents, Henry and Celana (Rutledge) Nutt of Neosho, Missouri, a community where Herny ran a sawmill and served for a time as the town constable.  Tom Nutt was married on March 31, 1893, to Etta Orvilla Griffith in Neosho, and their first child, Claude Nutt (Maryruth's father) was born to the couple six months later.

According to Maryruth's notes, sometime not too far ahead of that marriage and quick baby, Tom Nutt and one of his Rutledge cousins decided to go on a walkabout and check out the land situation in other parts of the country.  The young men probably started walking west from Neosho, Missouri, in the very early spring of1889, 1890, or 1891 - and they walked all the way to the Pacific Coast!

In later years Tom recalled segments of the trip including the wide expanses of prairie that gradually rose into the foothills of the Rockies, the beautiful Arkansas River Valley that was visible for miles, the groves of cottonwood trees along the river banks, and the glimpsed tribes of Indians and sporadic views of Indian encampments.  Tom found some land that he liked near Wichita, Kansas, and filed a claim on it, but after eventually returning to Neosho he decided not to "prove" his Kansas claim but instead to marry Etta and remain in Neosho near friends and family.  His logic was that Kansas was still too wild and untamed, and Neosho was better suited to raising a family.

So perhaps that is a clue as to why Grandpa Tom Nutt had a meltdown in the backseat of our family car and began swinging his cane at Gail and I and our parents.  He was remembering the old times and wanted to get out and walk!

Rest in peace, Grandpa Nutt.  I'll think of you the next time I dread getting on a treadmill!

Hillary Is Winning in All of the Wrong Places

by Pa Rock
Election Junkie

Hillary Clinton won the Democratic caucus in American Samoa.  She won it big, trouncing Bernie Sanders  68% to 25 percent.  Hillary will take four delegates from American Samoa to the convention this summer, while Sanders will only have two.  But the problem Hillary faces is this:  none of her followers on American Samoa will be able to vote for her in November.   The island is a United States "territory" and therefore unable to vote in the general election.

And sadly for Hillary, that is a variant of a problem that has been dogging at her heels throughout this election season.   Many of the places she is winning will not be able to help her win the big election in the fall.

The American presidency is, as we all remember so vividly from the election of 2000, won and lost with the electoral college, a voting arrangement where states cast votes equal to the number of congressmen and senators that they have - usually as part of a block of votes.  If a Republican carries Missouri, for example, even by only a vote or two, all of the state's eleven electoral votes go to that Republican - and the Democrat gets zip.  It' an archaic process designed to give an extra bit of power to very small states - and it is a process that needs to be abandoned in favor of one person - one vote.

In addition to American Samoa, Hillary has won twelve other states so far during this primary season.  Of those, she should be able to carry two easily in November:  Iowa and Massachusetts, with Virginia and Nevada as "maybes."  She stands no chance in hell of winning any of the other eight in a general election - Tennessee, Arkansas, South Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas.

Bernie Sanders, on the other hand, has only won nine states so far, but at least seven of those should fall into the Democratic column in November.  While Sanders won Oklahoma and Kansas in primary battles, they will likely vote Republican in the general - but his other victories so far - Colorado, Nebraska, Minnesota, Michigan, Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine - should all be part of a Democratic victory in the fall.

By and large, Hillary is winning in the Deep South, states which she cannot possibly win in November, while Bernie is winning in states that are an important part of the Democratic victory package.

Of course Hillary has a commanding lead in delegate totals - or presumed delegate totals - due primarily to another arcane bit of "old politics" called "super delegates."  These are elected officials who get to go to the convention by virtue of their positions in the government, and not due to being sent their by members of the voting public as they express a preference for one candidate or another.  This wad of political cronyism is designed to stifle the democratic tendencies of the Democratic party - and it is likely to succeed in that affront to democracy.

Hillary has swept the Deep South, an area of the country that she can never win in a general election.  Now she better break out the old Hoover and start sucking up votes where they will actually count!

Missouri Legislature Continues to be a Waste of Space

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Missouri Legislature, a body of lawmakers not known for its unbridled intellectualism, is out trying to pass one of those red-herring bills whose primary purpose is to stampede low-information voters and angry rednecks to the polls.  The bill, actually a proposed amendment to the Missouri Constitution would offer "protections" to certain classes of people and enable them to discriminate against others.

Senate Joint Resolution 39 would prohibit the state from "penalizing clergy, religious organizations, and certain individuals for their religious beliefs concerning marriage between two people of the same sex."  It will be eventually be passed by both houses of the Missouri Legislature, go before the voters where it will receive a whopping big approval, and ultimately be ruled unconstitutional by the federal courts.

It's all just a game to get certain people to rush to the polls.  The result will be a temporary infusion of an unnecessary bit of hate in the state constitution, anger on both sides of an issue that needs to be healing, and, most likely, an expensive economic boycott of the state.

This week a small group of Missouri state senators made national news when they began a filibuster of the discriminatory measure.  Governor Jay Nixon, in praising the valiant senators, said they were "standing on the right side of history."  And they were.  The filibuster ended as a result of a political ploy by Republicans after thirty-nine hours, and the measure passed 21-11.  It still must pass the Senate one more time before heading on to a vote in the House.

And then the people will have their say - God love 'em.

I saw a post on Twitter this morning suggesting that some people should have given up hate for Lent instead of chocolate.   Missouri legislators, of course, probably did not give up anything - it's not in their nature.

Stepping Out

by Pa Rock
Walking Fool

This past December, at the insistence of one of my kids, I invested is a little wrist device called a "Fit Bit."  The gizmo, which looks like a very thin wristwatch, does keep time, but it also does so much more.  It tells me how many steps I have walked since midnight, how many miles I have walked, how many sets of stairs I have climbed, and my heart rate.   There is one other set of numbers, currently at 855, which I have no idea at all what it means.

Being a bit OCD and also being retired with occasional stretches of "free time" drifting through my day, I spend some time each day recording numbers.  I keep a legal pad on my desk with three columns of numbers - my daily weight, my blood sugar, and now, thanks to the Fit Bit, the number of steps I take each day.  Although I have yet to perform a statistical analysis on the sheets and sheets of numbers which I have recorded, I strongly suspect a correlation exists among the three sets of numbers.  It probably goes something like this:  the more I walk, the lower my blood sugar dips, and the lower my weight is.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I had never used any type of pedometer before getting the Fit Bit, primarily because I failed to understand how a wrist device could count the number of steps that my feet were taking - but it does!  Now that I wear one religiously, I find that I am constantly thinking about ways to increase the amount of steps that I take.  It is having a motivational and psychological impact on my daily routines. 

Everyone should wear some sort of pedometer, and while a name-brand "Fit Bit" is rather pricey, just a standard pedometer is not - and, in fact, I have even received them free at health fairs.

Yesterday marked a walking milestone of sorts for the short period that I have been tracking my steps.  When I began keeping track of how much I walked, the daily total was usually around 5,000 steps.  Of course, it was the dead of winter, and much of my walking was done in the confines of my small home.  As spring started approaching, the daily totals increased to around 7,000 steps for most days, and one day I even broke 9,000.  I set a goal of 10,000 - but that seemed to be very elusive.

But yesterday was a beautiful day, and I rushed around the farm trying to accomplish several tasks before the expected rains set in.  Somewhere around four in the afternoon my wrist started to tingle, and then I noticed that the Fit Bit was vibrating.  It had never done that before.  I stopped my activity in the chicken coop and looked at the wristwatch-and-more.  It showed me that I had just passed the 10,000-step mark!  By the time I headed to bed a few hours later, the total was 11,558.

Today it is finally starting to rain, so yesterday's record may not be broken for awhile.

The time is 9:25 a.m. and I have walked 1,560 steps since midnight - .71 miles - and I have climbed no stairs.  My heart rate is 67, and the other number has climbed to 886.  It's time to get busy!

Monday's Poetry: "Planting a Dogwood"

by Pa Rock
Tree Hugger

Yesterday I stopped by a local gardening center and bought three small dogwood trees, two reds and a white.  Today, before the anticipated rains come, I will be selecting planting sites for the little trees and then doing the back-breaking work of digging very big holes to accommodate the new farm greenery.

With that rewarding work waiting before me, I thought that a poem about trees and tree-planting might be in order.  That criteria led me to "Planting a Dogwood" by Nebraska poet Roy Scheele.  It reminds us that for every tree which we see lifting its branches skyward, there is its twin, an ever-expanding root system, digging deeply into the dark soil to sustain the green tree growing above the ground.  (That's why I must dig such spacious holes today!)

Roy Scheele published a book of poetry in 2010 entitled A Far Allegiance.  The publisher is Backwaters Press.

Please enjoy.


Planting a Dogwood
by Roy Scheele

Tree, we take leave of you; you’re on your own.

Put down your taproot with its probing hairs

that sluice the darkness and create unseen

the tree that mirrors you below the ground.

For when we plant a tree, two trees take root:

the one that lifts its leaves into the air,

and the inverted one that cleaves the soil

to find the runnel’s sweet, dull silver trace

and spreads not up but down, each drop a leaf

in the eternal blackness of that sky.

The leaves you show uncurl like tiny fists

and bear small button blossoms, greenish white,

that quicken you. Now put your roots down deep;

draw light from shadow, break in on earth’s sleep.

Traveling Politics

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

The Macy war wagon made it safely back to West Plains around noon today.  Rosie slept most of the way home while I rocked out to tunes from a classic rock station.  This time we did not have one of those odious Arkansas Highway Patrolmen interrupt our journey.  (I doubt that last year's fine and subsequent expense of safe driving school are deductible, but I gave the information to my tax person just in case.)

I stopped at Lowe's in Mountain Home, Arkansas, on the way back where I used my veteran's discount to purchase three dogwood trees (two reds and a white) as well as topsoil, compost, and mulch.  I'm sure the young deer around Rock's Roost will find the dogwoods to be delicious!

Okay, here's what I think about Ted Cruz winning two election events yesterday:  he's almost as dangerous and reprehensible as Trump.  I fear that it's the old six-of-one versus half-a-dozen-of-the-other.  The absolute worst candidate still left in the Democratic field (that would be Mrs. Clinton) is nevertheless head-over-stacked-heels above anything the Republicans seem to be able to dredge up.

I love the sobriquets that Donald Dumbass has placed on his two major opponents:  "Lying Ted" and "Little Marco."   I've called Santorum "Little Ricky" for years, which is much kinder than what Wikipedia has to say about his unique last name.

Condolences to the Reagan family on the loss of Just-Say-No Nancy.  For those who might have missed it, her son, Ronald Reagan, Jr, endorsed Bernie Sanders last week.

Many people in southern Missouri and northern Arkansas had the opportunity to see my "Bernie" bumper sticker putting down the road this weekend.  During that four hundred miles of driving I saw absolutely no other political bumper stickers.  Apathy, apathy, apathy!

The Missouri Presidential Primary will be one week from this coming Tuesday on March 15th.  Pa Rock will vote early.

Taxes and Eggs

by Pa Rock
Road Warrior

Rosie and I are on the road today delivering eggs to friends and family in southwest Missouri and northwest Arkansas.  The primary purpose of the trip west was to bring my tax material to the accountant who has fought my skirmishes with the government for over forty years.  The past few years I have had to pay obscene amounts to the feds - and I suspect this year will be heart-stopping also.

We are in Fayetteville, Arkansas, at my sister's home for the evening.  Gail's daughter, Tiffany, stopped by for awhile, and her son, Justin, came by with his family.  Later Gail's youngest son, Reed, joined us for dinner at a nice Oriental restaurant.   It is always good to see my nieces and nephews.  They are all such nice people.

Justin and I have been talking politics and watching Saturday caucus results on CNN.  CNN is set up at the Democratic Caucus in Roeland Park, Kansas - the suburb of Kansas City where my granddaughter, Little Olive, resides with her mommy and daddy.  I look for them and their neighbors every time the caucus pops up on the television machine.

And the politics Justin and I have been discussing?  We have both been jawing about how much we dislike Donald Trump.  Our conversation has been peppered with words like "blowhard," "bully," and "thug."  Most of my relatives are remarkably intelligent!

Back to West Plains tomorrow.

A Little Southeast of Bora Bora

by Pa Rock
Conspiracy Theorist

Way back on the 18th of March in 2009 I posted a piece on this blog entitled "Ken Lay is Alive . . . and so is Dan White," which suggested that those two individuals, a con-artist and a murderer, might not have died the natural deaths that had been reported in the media, but instead might be alive and in hiding with new identities and most likely with new faces.

Ken Lay had been the boss at Enron, a large energy company in Houston, and a benefactor and friend of the Bush family.  When Enron suddenly went belly-up, many investors suffered grievous harm to their personal fortunes, and more than a few state governments were also hurt in the financial debacle.  Ken Lay, as CEO, was indicted on 11 counts of fraud in 2004, and two years later after one of those counts had been dismissed by a judge, he was convicted on the remaining ten. He was three months away from sentencing (a sentence that could have amounted to 20 or 30 years in prison) when he suddenly died while on vacation in Colorado.

Linda Lay, the tearful widow, went on national television sobbing about how the family had lost all of its money in the Enron collapse, and now all she had left was the family home.  It took awhile for the public to learn that Lying Linda had misspoke and the Lay family actually had clear title to eleven homes.

Paramedics were called to the Lay vacation home in Colorado to collect the body.  A quick autopsy and cremation followed, and the ashes of the man President George W. Bush referred to as "Kenny Boy" were buried in a secret location in the Rockies.  A public funeral was held later in Houston with former President George H.W. Bush in attendance.

One, two, and Kenny Boy was gone - or was he?  Lay's death had profound positive legal ramifications for his survivors (or family co-conspirators) because they no longer had to worry about paying back any Enron debt from their personal monies.  Ken was dead and the lawsuits went away.  The internet began percolating with rumors that the death of Ken Lay was a bit too convenient.  The prevailing notions were that the Lay's had the means (money) to come up with a dead body that resembled Ken, and then fire up the crematorium and burn the evidence before anyone got too nosy.  People also assumed that someone as rich as Ken Lay could acquire the services of a great plastic surgeon and completely transform his facial features.

Kenny Boy's ashes might be buried in the Rockies, or his alive-and-breathing body might be holed up on a small tropical island somewhere sipping rum drinks and playing footsie with the native girls.  There was some natural skepticism of the death story.

There is also a group of people who remain skeptical of the "death" by suicide of former San Francisco City Supervisor Dan White.  White, a one-time San Francisco policeman who had issues with the city's emerging gay rights' movement, shot Mayor George Moscone and Supervisor Harvey Milk in cold blood one afternoon in City Hall.  He was convicted of the murders but given an embarrassingly light sentence on only five years for the double homicide.  The San Francisco police appeared to go to great lengths to support Mr. White during his trial.

Dan White served his sentence and was living in the Bay Area under an assumed name when he killed himself by asphyxiation.  His death ended efforts by some locals to find and hound him over what they saw as his getting away with murder.  Local law enforcement, White's former employers and co-workers, handled matters resulting from the death.  There was, of course, some speculation, that White had staged a phony death, with an assist from the police, to evade his relentless pursuers. 

Now comes another story of a mysterious death of another person who had the motive and the means create a timely, though fictional, self-demise.  Aubrey Kerr McClendon, the former head of Cheasapeake Energy Company, was killed in a single vehicle accident on March 2nd, one day after he was indicted by a federal grand jury for  conspiring to rig bids for the purchase of oil and natural gas leases in northwestern Oklahoma.  McClendon, the only occupant of the car, reportedly died when the vehicle his a concrete embankment and was engulfed in flame.

McClendon might have had his telephone in one hand and a cheeseburger and a letter from his lawyer in the other, and a hot cup of coffee between his thighs - and not paying attention to the road, much the same as millions of other Americans do when they go barreling down the highway each day, or he might have hit that embankment intentionally to take his own life - or he might have not been in the car at all and made other arrangements for it to have appeared to have been him who went up in flames.

Who knows?

Perhaps all three deaths were as they seemed - and the world is down two corporate con-artists and one cold-blooded killer, or perhaps we live in a country where the ultra-rich and those with solid gold connections have options of working well beyond the system that controls the lives of the rest of us.

Perhaps Kenny Boy and McClendon are sitting under the palms on some warm atoll a little southeast of Bora Bora, telling tales and reliving their glory days, while Dan White rubs sunscreen on their backs and freshens their drinks.  It would all be just perfect, and while those three may not deserve to live an idyllic life, two of them, at least, could afford it.

And yes, I am still working on who really shot JFK!

An Ostentation of Peacocks

by Pa Rock
Peacock Rancher

Spring is fast approaching and with it my eager anticipation that I may soon be in the baby peacock business.  Last spring my six peahens and two peacocks were apparently too young to mate, but this year they appear to be ready to rock and roll.   The males have been sporting their fans and doing their happy dances for several days now, all to gain the attention of the so-far-indifferent hens.

In preparing to write a few notes on peacocks today, I looked them up on-line to determine the proper collective noun.   Three are listed in various sources:  ostentation, muster, and pride.  Peacocks are exceedingly proud birds, and, as such, a "pride" of peacocks is not only the most alliterative collective noun, but it makes the most sense as well.  But I guess the lions have dibs on that because it appears to be only the third most common collective noun for peacocks.  Ostentation seems to be the most popular name-grouping for the colorful birds.

The Oxford American Dictionary defines "ostentation" as a "vulgar display of wealth."  The peacocks at Rock's Roost have no wealth to display, vulgar or otherwise, but they do spend the better part of each day posing and preening - so I guess they are more than a bit ostentatious.

My ostentation stays penned up all day - in a barn and an attached screened-in aviary - so they do not have the luxury of working the yard for bugs, grass, and other treats like the chickens and guineas do.  That necessitates my bringing them their meals, much like the servants do on Downton Abbey when they wheel in the grub for their social betters.  Instead of breakfast, lunch, and dinner, my very special birds get breakfast, brunch, and tea.  Breakfast, at first light, is a modest serving a grain and hen scratch.   Brunch, served around 10:00 a.m., consists of two or three slices of bread torn into very small pieces and scattered about in the barn (if it is raining) or in the aviary when the weather is nice.  Tea is at 3:00 p.m.  It begins with some protein-rich dry dog food followed by a large cup of sunflower seeds, all scattered about for easy access.

Whenever I feed the peacocks, the chickens and guineas invariably follow along to watch and beg for scraps.  They have great fun peering at their big, colorful cousins through the wire mesh of the aviary, and the peafowl, in turn, also like looking down their beaks at the peasant visitors.

Yes, in reflection, I would have to admit that the peacocks and peahens at Rock's Roost are very ostentatious.  Their chicks probably will be, too!

Wasserman-Schultz Climbs into Sewer to Protect Payday Lenders

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Debbie Wasserman-Schultz, a congresswoman from south Florida who also happens to be the chair of the Democratic National Committee, has found herself in a tight primary race this year.  Her opponent, a progressive law professor and political activist by the name of Tim Canova, has quickly proven to be a very popular alternative to the politically-entrenched Ms. Wasserman-Schultz, and he is raising a formidable campaign war chest through small donations from individual contributors.

Ol' Debs, who lacks the mass appeal of Canova, has instead turned to Wall Street for her campaign cash - a much sleazier easier way to amass large amounts of money quickly.   However, the largess of corporate America is never free, and Wasserman-Schultz has already begun paying for her "donations" through political favors.

Just a couple of weeks ago the DNC, under the artful leadership of Ms. Wasserman-Schultz, rolled back restrictions on lobbyists and political action committees making donations to the committee - restrictions which were brought about through the efforts of presidential candidate Barack Obama during the 2008 campaign.  Now, thanks to the efforts of the chairman and her cronies inside the DNC, it will be much easier for outside interest groups to purchase the influence of those hoping to be elected (or more likely, re-elected) to office as Democrats.  It was a stunning move to open the floodgates of corruption.

This week Ms. Wasserman-Schultz used her position in Congress to deal an even more sinister blow to America's poor and working-class families.  According to an article in yesterday's Huffington Post, Wasserman-Schultz is co-sponsoring a Republican-backed piece of legislation that would stop the regulations that the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau is proposing to place on the predatory payday loan industry - loan sharks with offices.  The Huffington Post had this to say:

"Wasserman Schultz is co-sponsoring a new bill that would gut the CFPB's forthcoming payday loan regulations. She's also attempting to gin up Democratic support for the legislation on Capitol Hill, according to a memo obtained by The Huffington Post.”

Debbie Wasserman-Schultz is not representative of the modern Democratic Party, and she is, in fact, a throwback to the Tammany Hall era of government.   She needs to be removed from her position as party chair by a quick and decisive meeting of the National Committee, just as Tim Canova will soon remove her from her cushy seat in Congress.  Perhaps as a private citizen Ms. Wasserman-Schultz will finally be able to connect with working-class people and gain an understanding of how the other ninety-nine percent lives.

Democracy should be about empowering people - not corporations or loan sharks.

A Coronary with a Side of Fries

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

While I may not always make the smartest nutrition choices, I do have a basic knowledge of the subject - much of it gained by necessity since my open-heart surgery three years ago.  I've lived my life in the drive-thru lane, feasted on garbage, and begun to pay the piper.  I guess that's why I am so insulted by a recent advertisement that is pouring over our local radio airwaves like so much artificial syrup over a stack of pancakes.

The ad promotes an "extra-long buttery cheeseburger," two of which can be purchased for just five dollars.  Well, hold the pickle, hold the lettuce - and shove a couple down my gullet!  The price, of course, does not include tax - nor does it include the cost of EMT responders, life-flight to a decent hospital, open-heart surgery, or follow-up cardiac rehab - just two delicious warm, buttery, extra-long cheeseburgers!

That particular burger joint  is just giving the public what it craves - along with salt-laden, buttery fries - all to be washed down with a large cup of sugar-soaked chemistry calling itself a soda.  There is a place next door that has a signature sandwich which also features double meat and double cheese, but instead of being extra-long, it is round and served on a three-part bun that is slathered with a "special" sauce.  And another nearby eating establishment, this one across the street from the other two, sells fried chicken that is awash in artery-clogging warm grease.

The advertisers tell us we want it, and the salt, sugar, and grease act as addictive agents to keep us coming back for more.

Our bodies used to be temples - now they are little more than public dumps.  My generation has made it's mistakes, but should that compel us to sit idly by while American business fattens its next herd for the hospital market?   Junk food is as dangerous and deadly as cigarettes, and its advertising should be banned.

God bless Michelle Obama for fighting this battle.

Monday's Poetry: "Let Me Die a Youngman's Death"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

One afternoon last week while taking a break from typing and playing footman to the farm's poultry, I heard an amazingly insightful poem emanate from the television machine.  The show was one of the later episodes of the British detective drama, Inspector George Gently, and the poem was recited from memory by a young boy who was speaking at the funeral of a friend - an adult with mental issues who had instilled a love of poetry in the boy.

The poem that the boy recited was "Let Me Die a Youngman's Death" by Liverpool poet and performance artist Roger McGough.  In the piece McGough argues his case stepping smartly off of the mortal coil rather than just quietly slipping away.   I was taken with the message and felt it offered something to aspire to - even for an old codger like me.

I hope that it resonates with you as well.  Be of good tumor.


Let Me Die A Youngman's Death
by Roger McGough

Let me die a youngman's death
not a clean and inbetween
the sheets holywater death
not a famous-last-words
peaceful out of breath death

When I'm 73
and in constant good tumour
may I be mown down at dawn
by a bright red sports car
on my way home
from an allnight party

Or when I'm 91
with silver hair
and sitting in a barber's chair
may rival gangsters
with hamfisted tommyguns burst in
and give me a short back and insides

Or when I'm 104
and banned from the Cavern
may my mistress
catching me in bed with her daughter
and fearing for her son
cut me up into little pieces
and throw away every piece but one

Let me die a youngman's death
not a free from sin tiptoe in
candle wax and waning death
not a curtains drawn by angels borne
'what a nice way to go' death

Arizona Politicians Split on Trump - for the Time Being

by Pa Rock
Former Desert Rat

During the several years in which I called the arid wasteland of central Arizona my home, I was represented in Congress by Trent Franks, a Republican and a member of the "Freedom" Caucus.   Trent was deeply fixated on two things:  keeping the Air Force happy and women's vaginas.   He was, and I sure he remains, one of the most extreme anti-abortion members of the United States House of Representatives.


Now I see where Trent's interests have drifted over the realm of presidential politics.  He would like to see a Republican win the White House, and, more importantly, he does not want to run the risk of the next President coming equipped with a vagina.  Trent, like so many of the other "leaders" of his party, is beginning to sense that Donald Trump is rushing headlong toward the nomination, and that prospect scares the Arizonan because he fears that Trump would lose to Hillary Clinton - and a woman President would be very bad news for the legions of old white men who have built their careers on legislating controls over women's bodies.

Trent Franks came up with a plan that he hopes will derail the Trump Express.  He has drafted a letter to Trump's only two serious rivals, Marco Rubio and Ted Cruz, asking that they please (and quickly) meet between themselves and decide on one of their number to remain in the presidential race and the other to become the acknowledged running mate . . . a Rubio-Cruz or a Cruz-Rubio ticket.  The Arizona congressman figures that the combined forces of the two kids of Cuban immigrants might be enough to defeat Donald Trump for the GOP nomination - and it might be enough to keep Hillary in the kitchen baking cookies for her grandchildren - as God intended.

And if The Donald goes on to win the nomination despite the skulduggery of of Trent Franks?  Well, in that case, the less-than-morally comitted congressman says that he would support the New York billionaire "robustly."

Two other prominent Arizona politicians, both far better known than Trent Franks, have announced their support for Donald Trump.  Joe Arpaio, the decrepit sheriff of Maricopa County (Phoenix), came out for Trump several weeks ago, and the finger-pointing former governor of the state, Jan Brewer, gave her blessing to the loud-mouthed reality TV star yesterday.

By this November all three - Franks, Arpaio, and Brewer - should all be singing from the same hymnal, and it won't be a pretty tune.  Of course with those three, it seldom is.

Domestic Abusers and Guns

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

In a past life I was a state child protection worker with a responsibility for investigating child abuse and sometimes taking children into protective care.  It was often a hard and ugly job.   Many of our cases necessarily involved police and law enforcement agencies, and as a part of the job I often was called out to ride along with officers when they responded to calls alleging dangerous circumstances in the home, such as the manufacture of drugs, or violence and unsafe conditions.  I know from my personal involvement in those experiences that there is absolutely nothing that most law enforcement officers fear more than incidents of domestic abuse.

Violence in the home is often extreme.  One partner feels ownership of the other, and/or there is a fear of one partner leaving and taking the children.    Threats are made regarding the kids, personal property, and even the safety of family pets.  ("If you leave I'll kill your dog!")  Often alcohol or other drugs have lowered inhibitions and made the conflict even more intense.   A policeman (or a social worker) knocking at the door of a home where abuse is part of the household dynamic never knows exactly what he or she will encounter.

Entering an abusive home is a very dangerous proposition.

Congress passed a law in 1996 whose aim was to reduce the level of carnage in domestic violence situations.  That law, commonly known as the "Lautenberg Amendment" prohibits persons who have been convicted of domestic abuse from buying or owning guns.  It is a law that tends to make people who have a history of being easily angered - even angrier.

Currently two men in Maine have a case that is about to be heard by the U.S. Supreme Court.  The men, both convicted domestic abusers, are unhappy about not being able to own guns.  They are arguing that loss of gun privileges is acceptable in cases where abuse is premeditated, but should not be used in cases that were spur-of-the-moment - such as when one partner might suddenly strike or slap the other.  The fellows believe there should be a hierarchy of abuse, and not all abuse should warrant the removal of the abuser's guns.

Research has shown that in cases where the abuser has access to a gun, chances are five times greater that a death will occur.

Now, almost at the same instant that the two men from Maine were climbing the front steps to the Supreme Court building to plea their case, comes a story out of Kansas that demonstrates just how dangerous and volatile domestic violence situations can be.  A man who was described as a nice guy by co-workers was viewed in a more dangerous light by an ex-girlfriend who filed for an order of protection against him.  The fellow was served with the permanent order at his workplace on Thursday.  He calmly left the factory, so quietly that the man working next to him did not notice him leaving, went home, got his guns, and then went on a shooting rampage.  The nice guy wound up killing three and wounding fourteen before being killed by a courageous policeman.

Should any domestic abuser be allowed to own a gun?

Hell, no.

Mass Shootings Not an Issue in GOP Debate

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

All five of the remaining Republican presidential candidates - Kasich, Carson, Rubio, Cruz, and Bozo the Clown - are firmly on record as opposing any tightening of America's criminally ineffective gun laws, so it is little wonder that CNN failed to ask a single question in last night's debate about the day's mass shooting in western Kansas - or the other two mass shootings earlier in the week in Glendale, Arizona, and Kalamazoo, Michigan.

No news there, folks, not when we can focus instead on the Great Wall of the American southwest that has zero chance in hell of ever getting built.  Just pile those dead bodies out of the way someplace while the serious debate dialogue continues.  Now, where did the producers put those super-soakers?

Four people died and fourteen more were wounded (ten critically)  in a mass shooting at and near a factory in Hesston, Kansas, yesterday, and yet all of that carnage did not merit a single mention during the debate.  No one, including sleepy Ben Carson, was put on the spot and asked to give a defense to their position in support of lax (or no) controls on the dangerous spread of weapons in the United States.  Three mass shootings this week and somewhere between twenty and forty nationwide this year - and it's only February!

That's disgraceful!

That's despicable!

And I'm talking about CNN's avoidance of the subject as much as I am about the lax gun laws and the shootings themselves.   As long as America keeps its collective head buried shoulder-deep in the sand, the shootings and carnage will keep coming right at us - and we will continue to look for leaders from the likes of that chorus line of meat-heads who danced across the stage in Houston last night.

Deporting the Final Five might be the key to making America great again.   And CNN, you might as well be Fox.

Donald Trump and the American Way

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

It is more than a bit ironic that former Republican presidential nominee, Mitt Romney, who fought tooth-and-nail to keep his tax returns secret in 2012, now favors the major candidates of his party releasing their tax returns.   Romney, who it turns out had paid less than fifteen percent in taxes to the federal government over several years, thinks Rubio, Cruz, and Trump should be a bit more forthcoming than he was.  Romney has even taken a page from the old Harry Reid playbook (the one where Reid claimed Romney hadn't paid any taxes in ten years) and piqued the public interest by stating that the Trump tax returns could be a "bombshell!"

Of course, he could be right.  There appears to be a certain class of Americans who feel that paying taxes is a bit beneath them.  Hotelier Leona Helmsley once famously remarked that only the "little people" pay taxes.   Helmsley went to to leave the brunt of her considerable fortune to her dog.

The Donald, also a hotelier who bears an uncanny resemblance to Ms. Helmsley, flaunts a bit of an attitude regarding taxes himself.  He has noted that he pays as little in taxes as possible because "that's the American way."

The man who has a flaming desire to be President feels that it is perfectly alright to shirk on his financial responsibility to the country that gave him the opportunity to amass obscene piles of wealth.

What if every American shared your penchant for letting the other guy pay the bills, Mr. Trump?   How great would America be then? 

When it comes to supporting America, the IRS Form 1040 is where the rubber hits the road.  You, Mr. Trump, need to put up or shut up.

Senate Judiciary Committee Dances to "Dixie"

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Republican majority in the less-than-esteemed Senate Judiciary Committee wrote a letter to Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell yesterday informing him that they intended to follow his lead and not have a hearing on any Supreme Court nominee put forward by President Obama.  Not only that, the Republican senators also said that they would not even grant any Obama nominee the courtesy of an introductory visit to their respective offices.

There is no word yet on how many crayons the petulant senators burned through in composing their letter.

I did some basic research to determine just exactly who this group of dunderheads is and learned, not surprisingly, that almost to a man (and they are all older white men) they come from the southern United States - and a solid majority represent states that were part of the old Confederacy.

The only Republican member of the Senate Judiciary Committee from a northern state is its chairman, Charles Grassley of Iowa.  Grassley initially made news by stating flat-out that his committee would not give a hearing to an Obama pick, but then reversed himself and said the committee probably would hold a hearing before voting the appointment down.  Now Grassley appears to have bounced back into line with the party's extremists.  His committee will do, or not do, whatever the hell the Republican majority wants - and the Constitution of the United States of America be damned!

The seven of eleven Republican committee members who are from the old Confederacy include Jeff Sessions (Alabama), Lindsey Graham (South Carolina), David Vitter (Louisiana), David Perdue (Georgia), Thom Tillis (North Carolina), John Cornyn (Texas), and Ted Cruz (Texas).  The remaining three (not counting Chairman Grassley of Iowa) are Jeff Flake (of the old Confederate Territory of Arizona), and Orin Hatch and Mike Lee of Utah.  (Mike Lee's claim to fame is being Ted Cruz's only friend in the Senate.)

So, while the Republican members of the Senate Judiciary Committee may be completely colorblind when it comes to the President and his appointments, they still have to go home and pander for votes from people who see the world in terms of race.

The ten Democratic members of the Senate Judiciary Committee are from the other end of the nation's cultural spectrum, and all, except for the member from California, are from states solidly within the old Union.  They are Patrick Leahy, the ranking member, (Vermont), Dianne Feinstein (California), Charles Schumer (New York), Dick Durbin (Illinois), Sheldon Whitehouse (Rhode Island), Amy Klobuchar (Minnesota), Al Franken (Minnesota), Christopher Coons (Delaware), and Richard Blumenthal (Connecticut).

I would like to think that the Civil War is over and has been consigned to the history stacks in the library, but that pickup truck that just roared down my country lane flying a Confederate flag says otherwise - and so does that Judiciary Committee letter to Mitch McConnell.

It's time for the country to grow up.

The Diminishing Returns of the Expectations Game

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

One of the pleasures of being off of the television grid is not having to suffer blood pressure fluctuations as various media gasbags struggle to get me to see the world through their eyes.  Generally I take my news from the internet in small, calm doses, and allow myself plenty of time to digest it sensibly so as not to cause undue heartburn.

This past weekend, by virtue of being away from home and in a household infested with cable service,  I mainlined some television coverage of the Nevada Democratic caucuses and the South Carolina Republican primary.  It was, at best, a disturbing experience.

Camps in both parties were playing the expectations game - with willing and eager complicity from the media.  Bernie lost the Democratic caucuses in Nevada by around five points, but his team was busy trying to paint that as a victory because just months ago they had been trailing by forty points.  To hear them tell it, Hillary lost by not winning big enough.  Two points in defense of that surmise:  first, they were right, and Bernie's team made up much lost ground against the inevitable Hillary - just not enough - and second, Bill Clinton was a master craftsman of the expectations game, so it is kind of fitting that it be used to minimize a Clinton victory.  But, no matter what the expectation was, Hillary still won.

The most egregious assault on public sensibilities, however, came out of South Carolina with Marco Rubio's never-ending self-lauding for coming in second - well behind Donald Trump.  Rubio looked and acted as though he had just won the Big Kahuna itself and would be moving into the White House just as soon as he and the Missus could get their stuff out of storage.  He gave a flat-out victory speech with a stupid grin spread ear-to-ear, with South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley standing (nearly dancing) center in his backup chorus line beaming like the Hatteras Light House.  It was a complete spectacle of pomp, and glamour, and showmanship - and yet he lost.

There are only so many of these little "expectations" victories to be had before the final votes are tallied - and each one rings just a bit more hollow.  The only way to win is ultimately to win - and candidates can't win by constantly coming in second.  Bernie has one big win - New Hampshire - but he damned well better be focused on achieving several more.  Marco has a pocket full of high-dollar endorsements, but he has yet to win squat.

The ability to claim victory over expectations diminishes with every contest.   The race quickens - and very soon claiming victory will require victory.

Monday's Poetry: "Late February"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

The past few days have been beautiful, a most welcome break from cold weather and the ice storm that came through a little more than a week ago, seemingly to punctuate the end the winter.  The ground hog said we were done with winter, and he appears to have been right.

Today's poem, "Late February" by Ted Kooser,  looks at the precise moment when winter scoots out of the way and the world opens itself to spring.

Bring on the warm breezes, and baby chicks, and farmers suddenly appearing in their gardens as unexpected as tulips!


Late February
by Ted Kooser

The first warm day,   

and by mid-afternoon   

the snow is no more   

than a washing

strewn over the yards,

the bedding rolled in knots   

and leaking water,   

the white shirts lying   

under the evergreens.   

Through the heaviest drifts   

rise autumn’s fallen   

bicycles, small carnivals   

of paint and chrome,   

the Octopus

and Tilt-A-Whirl   

beginning to turn

in the sun. Now children,   

stiffened by winter   

and dressed, somehow,   

like old men, mutter   

and bend to the work   

of building dams.

But such a spring is brief;   

by five o’clock

the chill of sundown,   

darkness, the blue TVs   

flashing like storms

in the picture windows,   

the yards gone gray,   

the wet dogs barking   

at nothing. Far off   

across the cornfields

staked for streets and sewers,   

the body of a farmer   

missing since fall

will show up

in his garden tomorrow,   

as unexpected

as a tulip.

Kansas City in the Rearview Mirror

by Pa Rock
Traveling Fool

Rosie and I just returned from a weekend visit to Kansas City.  This time we had no pressing personal agenda for the trip, such as one of those bothersome medical appointments, and spent most of the weekend visiting with Tim and Erin and playing with Little Olive.

Tim and I did something interesting yesterday.  We toured Kansas City's World War I museum.  The museum, reportedly the only one in America dedicated solely to World War I, opened in 1926, at a time when thousands of veterans of that war were still around to share their memories and artifacts with the historical project.  The two buildings house hundreds of weapons including some large cannons and field artillery pieces, uniforms, medals and decorations, flags, photos, an old army ambulance, bi-planes - you name it and if it was part of the war, the museum has one - or a dozen..

The museum also has a gift shop which contains many books - some fiction, some not - about World War I.

A highlight of our visit to the World War I museum was a trip up the observation tower at the center of the complex.  The museum and tower rest atop a hill near downtown Kansas City. and the view from its top is spectacular - taking in the skyline of the entire downtown.

For you old hippies, AC/DC will be at the Sprint Center in Kansas City on February 29th, and tickets for the 20,000-seat venue have already sold out.   Who knew the highway to hell crossed America's heartland - and that it was so well traveled?  Rock on, geezers!

Bumper Sticker Update:  It is 275 miles of almost entirely four-lane highway between my house and Tim and Erin's.  I saw one political bumper sticker on the way there - one promoting "Obama 2012," and one Bernie yard sign - both in the Missouri suburbs of Kansas City.  Saturday while we were doing our running around I saw three Bernie bumper stickers on a total of two cars.  I really regard those numbers as fairly anemic for late February of a general election year.  Of course, countless people got to see my Bernie bumper sticker.

Fun Note:  Last night after Hillary won the Nevada caucuses - kinda, sorta, barely - I got an email from her thanking me for my support and saying "I couldn't have done it without you."  If her campaign is dependent on support from me, or people like me, she might as well throw in the towel!

All Over But the Shouting

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist 

Donald John Trump may have proven his financial chops by mastering the intricacies of bankruptcy court, and shown his leadership abilities by mesmerizing morons from his reality television perch - and when it comes to practicing diplomacy, the Trump standard approach of mocking and yelling seems to also be working well with Republican primary voters.

This week the man with the bad toupee loosed his wrath on Pope Francis after the pontiff questioned the billionaire's basic Christianity.   The Donald called the Pope's remarks shameful.  Then, before the stink from that little tantrum had time to rise and drift away in cloud of lightening and hot air that seems to be constantly enveloping the Republican race to the White House, the imbecilic Trump moved on to another twenty-first century icon, Apple, Inc.  The billionaire blowhard determined that since Apple was refusing to develop a technology that would allow the FBI to unlock iPhones and invade our privacy even further than it already has, good patriotic Americans - like him - should boycott the company.

That's right, America.  Take your pansy little iPhones and throw them in the trash!  Put that in your pipe and tweet it, Tim Cook!

What a man our Donald is - what a man!  He has figured out that you don't have to be smart to be President, or compassionate, or even truthful.  The key to success in politics today is simply this:  be LOUD!  Bash the poor and defenseless, call your opponents names, threaten lawsuits - and do it all very, very loudly.  And if it ever gets to the point where being loud fails to fire up the knuckle-draggers, bring in Sarah Palin and overwhelm them with STUPID!

Loud and stupid.  The Republican party has been slowly sliding into the sewer ever since Eisenhower chose Nixon for his running mate way back in 1952.  Now, sixty-four years later it would seem that the Grand Old Party is neck-deep in its own greedy, racist, misogynistic, homophobic bile and must either begin extricating itself from the loud and stupid, or drown in its own ignorance and float out into the mists of history.

My sense is that the party is ending - and it's all over but the shouting.

Me and the Prez Are Heading to Cuba!

by Pa Rock
World Traveler

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President Obama announced yesterday that he will be traveling to Cuba next month, the first sitting President to do so since Silent Cal Coolidge went there in 1928, and Harry Truman stopped by the U.S. military base at Guantanamo on the island in 1948.  Right on cue, certain members of D.C.’s politically entrenched class began wailing over Obama’s flouting of liberty and all that jazz by meeting with a totalitarian despot.  Obama countered that he is visiting the island nation in an effort to encourage Raul Castro and his government to make basic reforms in their treatment of the citizenry.

Obama is going to Cuba to seek reforms from within the nation.  He has replaced Teddy Roosevelt’s big stick with a big smile.   Obama is going to do what Pope Francis encouraged our politicians to do earlier this week – build bridges instead of walls.

The President’s sudden announcement of his Cuban trip provides me with a classy opening to announce my own upcoming visit to Cuba.  I will be traveling there on an educational tour with The Nation magazine from April 23-30.  Our group will spend six days in Havana learning about life in Cuba from a wide variety of individuals, and also have one night in a private residence out in the countryside.

During my life I have been fortunate enough to have visited many exotic locales, a few of which, like Germany, Japan, Russia, South Korea, and Vietnam, shaped much of the news of the twentieth century.  Cuba has long been on my bucket list, and when this opportunity arose, I jumped at it.

But, hear this Big O:  There is still time for me to get my trip money back from The Nation, if you could give me a hop over on Air Force One.  I could take Bo to the beach and for runs along the Malecon while you try to talk some sense into Raul.  And in the evenings we could discuss Supreme Court picks over rum drinks and genuine Cuban cigars!

Think about it.  Us tourists should stick together.

Viva Cuba libre!

Macho, Macho Cruz!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

There is a reason that people, including almost the entire United States Senate, don't like Ted Cruz - and it isn't his pleasing personality or his natural-born Canadian-ness.  The reason folks can't warm up to the junior senator from Texas is because he is so damned mean.  Cruz's macho posturing has led him outrageous positions that offend thoughtful people at every strata of society.

Senator Cruz is an immigrant and the son of an immigrant who opposes immigration and vilifies people who are trying to enter this country for a safe and productive life.  He has a wife and daughters yet stands in righteous opposition to women having control of their own bodies.  He is a graduate of Harvard Law School who interprets the Constitution exactly as it was written, as strict and hard as cement, unless the Constitutional topic at hand is a duly elected President (whom Cruz does not personally like) filling a Supreme Court vacancy.   Senator Cruz is against crime, but gleefully supports policies and legislation that would arm everyone and let them carry weapons everywhere from stores, to taverns, to church on Sunday.

Ted Cruz is one tough hombre.

Now the man who wants to be commander-in-chief is formulating plans to toughen our military.  Cruz has announced that under his leadership the United States military would not be serving any gluten-free meals.   

Celiac disease is an autoimmune disorder that is thought to be genetically predisposed.  It is a reaction to gluten in food that has a particularly devastating effect on the small intestine.  Celiac disease is thought to effect one in 200 people worldwide.   The standard way of combating celiac disease is by avoiding gluten in the diet - a dietary practice that some speculate would be good for us all.

But celiacs beware, there's hate in the air.  Macho Ted ain't having none of that namby-pamby, politically-correct stuff in his military.  His soldiers, sailors, airmen, and marines are all going to be tough - like himself.  You won't find any of them walking the aisles of a whole foods store.  Bring on that there gluten!

Never mind that the military doesn't currently allow celiacs to enlist.  Never mind that the military does not now, nor has it ever, served any gluten-free meals to anyone.   Never mind that Generalissimo Ted, the pride of Calgary, Canada, has himself never served one day in uniform for any country - he still knows what's best for the troops - and by God he will have his way!

In an age when sound bites are everything, Ted Cruz bites with the best of them.

It is a small wonder that he is so unloved.

Trump Erupts from Every Orifice

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Donald John Trump is a man unencumbered with statesman-like demeanor, diplomatic skills, or even basic good manners.   The past few days, in fact, have born witness to an almost constant stream of verbal sleaze and bile blasting forth from the Republican presidential front-runner.  Trump continues to pillory the Bush family, recently calling George W. Bush a "liar" over his reasoning for taking the United States into a war with Iraq, and strongly implying the Jebya, as governor of Florida, gave safe harbor to the 9/11 terrorists while they attended flight school in Florida.

When The Donald takes a breather from Bush-bashing, he directs his fire at his most serious opponent for the Republican nomination - Ted Cruz.  Trump calls Cruz a "liar" over his campaign's reckless whispers in Iowa that Ben Carson was about to drop out of the race - and please vote for Cruz instead.  Poor Ben.  Trump is also threatening to sue Cruz over his claim to be a "natural born" citizen and thus eligible to run for President.  Trump claims Cruz is not a "natural born" citizen.

Trump is also now claiming that the Republican Party has failed to live up to its part of an agreement that they had with him because the party is not treating him fairly - and, consequently, the door now appears to be open again for him to run as an independent candidate if he so chooses.

Yesterday Donald Trump broke new controversial ground during an interview with conservative radio host, Michael Savage.  Trump, who is apparently a regular guest on Savage's show, responded in an enabling manner when asked if he thought the death of Supreme Court Justice Anonin Scalia might have been murder - and would he support a Warren Commission type of investigation into the matter? Trump, without climbing completely on-board the Nutville Express, did say that he had heard that Scalia had been found with a pillow over his face - and he noted that was an unusual place to have a pillow.

Calling Agent Mulder!  Calling Agent Scully!

One thing that Donald John Trump has proven beyond a shadow of a doubt this political season is that there is absolutely no reason to waste millions of dollars on political advertising.  If a major candidate says bizarre things and behaves in an outrageous manner, the media will promote him, wall-to-wall and cover-to-cover, completely free-of-charge.

Buying television time is for losers.

Coronet

by Pa Rock
Reader

Coronet was a magazine very similar to Reader's Digest both in size and in scope that was published from 1936 to 1971.  I recently come into possession of four old issues, two of which were published before I was even born.

The two oldest issues - November of 1947 and February of 1948 - have mailing labels on the back covers addressed to Mrs. Otis Albert of Moffatt, Colorado.  The one from November 1947 has a Norman Rockwell-type of illustration on the cover featuring an old man all bundled up preparing to watch a college football game - undoubtedly featuring his alma mater.  The story highlighted on the cover is "God Was in My Corner:  Barney Ross tells the full inside story of his fight against dope."

The February 1948 issue had another Rockwell-type of cover featuring a young man preparing to give a heart-shaped box of valentine's candy to his girl.  The cover story was "Is Eisenhower the Man for the White House?"  He wasn't - not until 1952.


Coronet appears to have been modeled on Reader's Digest which preceded it into publication by over two decades - with human interest stories, feature pieces on things of importance like medicine and politics, and even sections devoted to jokes and humor.  One place where the two publications seemed to have diverged, however, was in the area of photographic content.  While I don't remember much in the way of photographs in the old Reader's Digests of my youth (if any), Coronet had a hearty reliance on the medium of photography.  Each issue had a special section labeled "Picture Story" in which several pages were dedicated to photographs of a particular topic.

The photo essay in the "Picture Story" of November 1947 was entitled "America's Kid Brother."  It contained over twenty black and white photos of American boys being boys, a la Tom and Huck.  The introduction to the segment read:

"At the bubbling center of almost every household in the land, there is, or was at one time, a boy between the ages of 6 and 13.  We are all familiar with him.  He's a child utterly without fear, a child with boundless curiosity and joyful optimism.  Capturing the essence of this boy's youth, his heart's vibrant happiness and the fresh effervescence of his indomitable spirit, Coronet presents on these pages some of the finest pictures ever published of the boy called America's kid brother."

We had a "kid brother" at our house in the 1980's - one who fit that description very well!

The "Picture Story" a few months later in the February 1948 issue dealt with the realities of a world changing from a footing of war to a time of peace.  It was entitled "The Grim Face of Peace," and as the title suggested, the photos went deeper than just a glance-over of joyous reunions after the war.   The introduction to that photo essay read:

"When peace came in August, 1945, most Americans looked forward to a golden era of ease and prosperity.  But now, after two and a half years, we find ourselves face to face with some of the most perplexing problems the world has ever known.  It is time to look around and see where we are.  To help the average citizen measure the troubled state of the world Coronet this month devotes its entire pictorial section to a stirring forty-page summary of the peace, told with some of the most provocative photographs taken since VJ-Day.  Here you will see what the peace today means to you as an American."

These old issues of Coronet offer, both in words and pictures, clear insight into what America looked and felt like at about the time I parachuted in.  The old magazines convey a bit of the world that my parents knew and experienced as young adults - a trip down memory lane just beyond the reach of my own memory.

(If descendants of Mrs. Otis Albert would like to have her old magazines, please contact me.)

Monday's Poetry: "Pop"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

It may come as a surprise to many, but several of our country's Presidents did, at one time or another, take pen in hand and endeavor to write poetry - and fortunately for our national psyche, most proved to be better at penning poetry than George Dubya Bush is at painting.

This, being President's Day, I felt might be an opportune time to showcase a presidential poem.  I used a couple by Lincoln a few years ago, and today have selected a piece by my other favorite President, Barack Obama.  The poem talks about the relationship between a son and his father.

The Obama's have held several poetry events at the White House over the years, and poetry selections were also read at each of the President's two inaugurations.  President Obama has even, on occasion, referred to himself as a "teen poet."

Here is how President Obama describes the importance of poetry in our lives:

"Poetry matters. Poetry, like all art, gives shape and texture and depth of meaning to our lives. It helps us know the world. It helps us understand ourselves. It helps us understand others, their struggles, their joys, the ways that they see the world. It helps us connect...

I think it's fair to say that if we didn't have poetry that this would be a pretty barren world. In fact, it's not clear that we would survive without poetry."

And now, "Pop" by our Commander in Chief and pre-eminent poetry appreciator:


Pop 
by Barack Obama

Sitting in his seat, a seat broad and broken
In, sprinkled with ashes,
Pop switches channels, takes another
Shot of Seagrams, neat, and asks
What to do with me, a green young man
Who fails to consider the
Flim and flam of the world, since
Things have been easy for me;
I stare hard at his face, a stare
That deflects off his brow;
I’m sure he’s unaware of his
Dark, watery eyes, that
Glance in different directions,
And his slow, unwelcome twitches,
Fail to pass.
I listen, nod,
Listen, open, till I cling to his pale,
Beige T-shirt, yelling,
Yelling in his ears, that hang
With heavy lobes, but he’s still telling
His joke, so I ask why
He’s so unhappy, to which he replies...
But I don’t care anymore, cause
He took too damn long, and from
Under my seat, I pull out the
Mirror I’ve been saving; I’m laughing,
Laughing loud, the blood rushing from his face
To mine, as he grows small,
A spot in my brain, something
That may be squeezed out, like a
Watermelon seed between
Two fingers.
Pop takes another shot, neat,
Points out the same amber
Stain on his shorts that I’ve got on mine, and
Makes me smell his smell, coming
From me; he switches channels, recites an old poem
He wrote before his mother died,
Stands, shouts, and asks
For a hug, as I shrink, my
Arms barely reaching around
His thick, oily neck, and his broad back; ‘cause
I see my face, framed within
Pop’s black-framed glasses
And know he’s laughing too.

And Then There Were Eight

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

It was a busy day at Rock's Roost yesterday, a day which included several rounds of farm chores, a couple of trips to town including one long stint at the library, and an hour or two of unwinding in front of the television.  I surfed through the headlines in the morning, harvesting a few nuggets for the blog, and then basically disconnected from the world of news and information.  It wasn't until I was getting ready for bed and checked the internet one last time that learned of the death of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia.

That was a shocker!   Scalia, easily one of the most intransigent conservative jurists in the history of the Supreme Court, had left the building - permanently - and at a time when the Court docket was packed with significant cases, many of which were likely to have been decided by a one-vote margin.  This term the Court was looking at abortion, birth control, immigration, unions, and affirmative action.  

The country may have just been spared one of the most destructive terms in the history of the Supreme Court of the United States.

The process for replacing Justice Scalia (I'm sorry, but the term "Justice Scalia" still feels like an oxymoron) is two-fold.  First, according to the Constitution, the President of the United States - that would be Barack Obama - selects a person to nominate to the post.  Then, also according to the  Constitution, that venerable institution, the United States Senate, has to vote on the nominee.  There is, of course, a third option, one not mentioned in the Constitution, and that is for the Senate to delay or refuse to act on the President's nomination until a new President takes office.

Republicans seem to be of the mind that since the President is now in his last year in office (barely) that he should not even sully the process with a nomination, but should rather sit it out and let the next President name the successor - someone sensible like a Trump or Cruz appointee.  Obama short-circuited that plan and has announced that he would be using his Constitutional prerogative and mandate to propose a successor to Scalia.

Mitch McConnell, the Republican leader of the Senate, has already indicated that he and his colleagues won't consider a nomination before the next President is sworn into office, and the Republican clowns who are still left in the Presidential chase are all encouraging the Senate to delay action on any Obama nomination.

Whether the Senate is able to keep the seat on the Court open for a year or more is only part of the equation.  Barack Obama is still likely to have a very good year with the judiciary as the Supreme Court is forced to function with only eight members - and the Republic may just be saved.

The presidential election of 2016 has suddenly become about the Supreme Court, a body that, as of late, could certainly stand some prolonged public scrutiny.  President Obama will name a nominee, someone with a sound judicial mind and impeccable credentials, and that person will go through a thorough vetting process.  If the Senate refuses to act or rejects the candidate, that will say far more about the Senate than it does the judicial nominee - or the President, for that matter.

And then there's this possibility:  If McConnell and his GOP obstructionists in the Senate thwart the President's Constitutional right to name a successor to fill Scalia's vacancy, come next January President Sanders or President Clinton might just nominate Barack Hussein Obama, a gifted Constitutional scholar, to sit on the Supreme Court.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Mitch!

The GOP Really Is the Stupid Party

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

This coming Monday, the day after tomorrow, is President's Day, and to help mark the occasion a former President will be making a speech in Charleston, South Carolina.  No, it won't be a grandiose verbal tribute to the history and glory of America's past Chief Executives, nor will it be any type of memorial to the nine black Christians who were shot to death while praying in a Charleston church last summer.

No, the speech that former President George W. Bush will be giving will be a family-self-promotional affair intended to revive the flagging presidential candidacy of his younger brother, Jebya.  That's right.  George W. Bush, a man who, if there was any justice in the world, would be standing, chained and shackled, before a war crimes tribunal at The Hague, will instead be trying to convince a state packed with bigoted religious zealots that his baby brother is every bit as extreme as Donald Trump and Ted Cruz.

It will be a tough sell, but if there is one person who could proudly carry a flag of stupidity into Dixie without having a clue as to what a joke he is out in the real world, that person would be George W. Bush.  He's the logical choice, and a blood relative, and besides, Sarah Palin is already committed to Trump.

Hey South Carolina, never trust people with an IQ of over one hundred.  They'll fix your roads and bridges when you aren't paying attention, make your employers provide living wages and safe working environments, and try to give you health insurance!  Protect your liberties and support the Stupid Party!

People like George and Sarah know what's best for you - yes they do - you betcha they do!

A Special Place in Hell - Where the Boys Are

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Hillary Clinton won two demographic groups in the primary election in New Hampshire earlier this week:  people making over $200,000 a year, and people over the age of sixty-five.  One important demographic that she did not win was that of women.  Bernie Sanders won fifty-five percent of the women's vote - primarily due to his popularity among young women.

Two nationally prominent women, both of whom fit into each of the demographics that Hillary won, had some rather unkind things to say about those young women who supported Bernie.  Madeline Albright, the first female secretary of state in our nation's history, snapped that there is a "special place in hell for women who don't help each other," and feminist icon Gloria Steinem postulated that the young women had flocked to support Bernie because "that's where the boys are."

Neither the 78-year-old Ms. Albright nor the 81-year-old Ms. Steinem  seemed to have much respect for the younger women's abilities to make sound judgments on their own, and their anger over this perceived lack of commitment to achieving a major feminist goal seemed reminiscent of the wrath expressed by Geraldine Ferraro when she learned that her daughter had voted for Obama in a primary in 2008 - again to the detriment of Mrs. Clinton.

Ferraro's daughter said that Obama had inspired her, and, regardless of where the boys are, one suspects that Bernie also inspired many of the young women who voted for him.  Perhaps instead of trying to corral and correct the course of their younger sisters, Ms. Albright and Ms. Steinem should step aside and let the youthful energy lead us into the future.

Madeline, Gloria, there's a special place for you at the pinochle table.  It's where us old men are.

Bring your own seat cushions!

The High Cost of Ancestoring

by Pa Rock
Amateur Genealogist

I became involved in digging through my family roots nearly forty years ago.  At that time records had to be meticulously and laboriously entered into forms with a typewriter, and most government records had to be accessed through the mail - for a fee.  Today, of course, it is much easier.  Scads of stuff is now available on the Internet, and computers make collecting and storing information much, much easier than it used to be.

But there is still a greedy troll hiding under the bridge to the past, and he is much more aggressive at shaking time-travelers down for money than the government ever thought about being.

The troll, of course, is Ancestry.com, a large corporate entity that has assembled a multitude of handy records and made them easy to navigate over the Internet.  Ancestry also shares the family trees of most of its members with other members.  The result is that anyone can come to the Ancestry site and, with just a little bit of patience, find a great deal of information on their family history.

But that easy access to one's personal heritage comes at an eye-popping price.   Access to U.S. records on Ancestry - along with the family trees of others - is a pricey $198 for a year.  A "World Explorer" membership, with includes Ancestry's U.S. and international records is a hundred bucks higher at $298 per year, and an membership in their Cadillac "All Access" program which includes all of the above plus entry into three other programs that Ancestry owns is a whopping $398 a year!

When I started slipping back into genealogy a few years ago I subscribed to Ancestry.com.   I realized at the time what a gold mine it was - for the owners - and looked into buying a few shares because it was being publicly traded.  Before I could get my purchase made, however, it was bought out by others who also recognized the company as being a grand champion cash cow - and taken private.  The money was so lucrative that they did not need the pennies of peasants and outside investors.

Today Ancestry is everywhere.  Google any name on the Internet, and it is almost inevitable that some of the choices generated by the search engine will be connected to Ancestry.com - and the company will provide just enough information to entice the researcher to "join" so that he can get the remainder of the material he is seeking.

One problem that I have with Ancestry is that it accepts anything that its members cough up in the way of family tree material - and then shares that information - sometimes flawed - with anyone who shows a connection.  I found an instance once where a mother's date of birth was more recent than that of her child, an egregious error that was sopped up by a bunch of other researchers, without question, and then incorporated into their trees - leaving me to face information from a half-dozen trees or so that was all built on the same basic error.  Garbage in, garbage out.

Another concern that I harbor is that when something good in genealogy comes along, it tends to get gobbled up by Ancestry.  I spent lots of time sorting my dead relatives into a software program called "Family Tree Maker."  It was the best on the market, so good that Ancestry.com just had to have it.  As the yearly updates came out, I was again sending more money to Ancestry.

I recently began going to our local library to do a bit of family tree research.  When I asked a lady in the genealogy room about census records - she referred me to the public computers and told me to get on the bookmarked "Heritage Quest" site.  The was both exciting and nostalgic for me because thirty some years ago when "Heritage Quest" was a new family tree-oriented magazine with a national circulation, I had sold them a few articles, including one which was featured on their cover.  The library subscribes to "Heritage Quest" now for a fee, and it is a basic research site.  It does things like root through the entire United States Census and dig up dead relatives that years ago would have taken weeks to unearth.  That afternoon I found several who had been misplaced for generations, e-mailed those census forms to my home computer by an easy feature on the site, an then went home to print out my finds.  When I got home and pulled up the results, an emblem on the screen and on the printouts told me that "Heritage Quest" is now a part of Ancestry.com!

It's everywhere!  It's everywhere!

Ancestry.com is an excellent resource for research, much like Walmart is an excellent resource for shopping for day-to-day necessities - and gradually each is becoming the only game in town.  Ancestry is priced way too high, and for that it should be dutifully ashamed, and it harbors much personal genealogy that has not been carefully fact-checked and is therefore dubious at best.  But, for those who can afford it's services, Ancestry.com, is a great place to start the hunt for those elusive ancestors.

I'm sure at some point I will have to suck it up and rejoin.