Category Archives: Wrong on some level

My Alma Mater makes the National News

There was some big, noisy trouble at my Alma Mater last Thursday, yet another ugly, festering consequence of the current political climate in this country. I’m going to write a lot more on the political climate (ouch) much later, and how I agree some of my favorite people think we should do, but for now I’m going to paste below – when I’m done ruminating – what I wrote this morning on the FB feed of an old Midd buddy, a conservative and Trump voter. I’ve actually been arguing with him about this for a while, as I don’t think he appreciates how extreme the R team, his own team, has suddenly and chaotically become. He even said to me a month ago, when I pointed out that Republican voters didn’t even seem to be listening to their own historical leadership like GW and Cheney, Nd he said without hesitation, ‘ you’re right, we really aren’t Republicans anymore’. The question that I didn’t ask – ‘what the heck are you know?’ – is going to play out whether I like it or not.

But I really don’t like this whole normalization narrative when it comes to it being ojay far-right to simply shill the sales techniques of dictatorships to get votes. I abhor the notion that vile, nationalist views (thinly veiled white supremacist and racist views) should be anywhere in our culture, not to mention ascendent. 

As I have explained in detail here, what this old beat-up Yankee believes – please disregard my utter lack of experience on the matter, lol – is that our best bet for success on this beautiful blue planet is to willingly and purposefully live in peace and harmony, including all people of all colors and from all walks of life, simply because they are interesting, kind, and beautiful. In my extensive travels around the world I have found most people to be super friendly and, I will say, surprisingly accepting of my bizarre old self (even more bizarro lately, I got stories).

If I were TPrez, I would make a law that people all over the world should be memorizing the Declaration of (human) Independence and the Constitution of the United States, making them better every day for every one on the planet, thinking of one new idea a day (unless you’re a guy like this, then you could probably handle up to 10 or more), fixing the fuck out of nature and starting listen to, look at, and live with birds, trees and rocks a lot better, be better friends and custodians to all of them, and try to keep every last one of them that we can alive forever, if we can.

That would be a simple, decent, healthy promise for humans to make to our roommates. It’s the least we can do our animal friends. We love them so. (I love Jasper so much, I can tell you honestly I wouldn’t be writing this blog if he were not here right now. If he had not stood by my with deep loyaly through some difficult times. That’s what the animals do for us. I won’t even start with the trees ( *hint: actually man’s best friend. And I told you I love my dog. But it’s not even close). And there are millions more, animals – and trees – that we haven’t even met. I can’t even get to them all in my own backyard.

Anyway, that’s if I were TPrez, and I know, dumb idea. But anyway, once we got all that done, my mind would naturally turn to what I think is a human’s real business: liking yourself, your family, your friends, your community and your life, as best we can, helping them to grow and get better where we can, chilling, creating art and music, watching old movies with the kids, enjoying a little smoke and wine, making babies, taking the afternoon off and napping, and learning guitar (or origami?), even if you’re no good at it, and for absolutely no reason at all.

That’s my ancient dream of the hippie utopia, and I’m still clinging to it as the flesh sags from my stoned-out, yellowing and – surprising I know – 20-goal-a-year scoring bones. That’s my ridiculous, unDad-like but Mom-like, un-pragmatic, stupid, unrealistic, daisy-toting wet dream for the world – the that one everyone else in the world, for their own bizarre internal reasons – or maybe just out of annoyance and impatience – has been trying to talk me out of for my whole life.

In my little woodsy corner of the planet, I secretly and usually silently believe that in fact language is actually the biggest barrier to global harmony (esperanto anyone), and that fear (and it’s nasty cousins, hate and greed) are the only true enemies in the world (huh, that rings a bell). Further, I believe that often, if not every time, it’s better in the end to just let go of ancient, self-serving, and otherwise smelly-old-rotten ideas that even Jasper wouldn’t swallow, and have, by some estimations, killed – I don’t know, about a zillion? – human beings in the last couple of millennia. Now, there’s some real fake news. Tomorrow, this at the water cooler:

Bill Bob, quizzically: ‘ You online last night? I saw an article that like a zillion people were killed last week by muslim terrorists. You got any idea why we’re still here?’

Jim John, perturbed: ‘You think I have the first clue? I fell at sleep at 7:00 last night watching porn. I haven’t seen any Muslims around all da, armed or not. Amof, I don’t see anyone around. What IS up with this? Is it a company CTO day? The door wasn’t locked. It’s just you and me and we’re both white, last time I checked.’

Bill Bobb: ‘So you fell asleep with your dick in your hand in the man cave again last night? No wonder those terrorists didn’t find you. They probably did find you, got grossed out and booked it.’

Jim John: ‘Fuck you. The dog would have barked. Want me to make some terror on you with this? (points). Besides your ass is still a gianter black hole than mine. (pauses to scratch momentarily) Hey, I have to get back to my cube. Later BillBob’ (heads off)

Bill Bob, watching J.J. walk away: ‘Yo dickhead – steak and cheeses for lunch @ Waterfall or are you still broke?’

Jim John: ‘Dude. I found a 20 on the floor of the truck this morning. ThankGod Rita didn’t find it first thing looking for smokes. Hey, wait … you still got that half a Twix in your pocket? It isn’t melted yet, is it?’

Bill Bob: ‘No, it’s fine, here…’ (digs in back pocket.)

And so on … and so on …

Hell, even us Americans were able to learn a few tricks and do ourselves a few healthy favors in the 20th century. We outgrew littering ( the youngsters don’t even remember the convenience of throwing your used coffee cups out the car window), and public butt smoking (ewwww) in about 20 years. Even this ever-puffing lung-killing numb nuts was able to hang up his pack a day butt habit after 25 years. I changed. Never thought it could happen, butt it did. And look – we’re all still here and apparently standing, if a little dazed and confused.

From my house, it seems that as for making war in the 21st century, really, I gotta tell you I just ain’t seeing the point anymore. You can see Jasper’s last 12 dumps from space – maybe more if it weren’t for the recent snow – you really think somebody can start a new war without us knowing? In 25 seconds? Why don’t we just turn off the TV for a sec, shut down all the listening devices, stand up in our glass house, walk over to the glass door, lean out the door to the wide open yard and say, ‘Hey you – get the fuck off my lawn?’

Why don’t we just do that, right now, with satellites, an android and an app? The End War Entirely Project. Hey, Google, can I set up an alert by text & email if black suited soldiers come up my driveway – let’s say, between 8:00 am and 6:00 pm – on weekdays? Click, click, scroll, scroll. What’s up with war even being possible in this century, anyway? Am I missing something? Is it just that we have so many guns left to get rid of, we just gotta keep shooting ’em? Why don’t we just … stop? Duh. Look in the Bible. Ask the man from Nazareth for some instructions, I’m sure he’d be happy to fax them to you, or send you a link. Your always talking about him anyway. Let’s put him to work.

We humans figured out Space travel, for Christ’s sake. Let’s unleash the power of the imagination of our these best scientists and thinkers and artists and let them do their job, and figure out a way that we can stop desecrating a sacred planet, for money and fear, stop killing each other in the face, and get over, once and for all, this ancient white-guys-gotta-be-the-boss, everyone’s-gotta-hide-their-money, everyone’s-gotta-look-and-act-just-like-me BS? Doesn’t anybody even watch Start Trek anymore? Are you that busy with that smartphone? This is classic stuff! This is learning!

And while we’re at it, we may as well just git on and quit all this believing in ghosts and magic also, these ghouls and goblins and Gods and Monsters.  What say ye? Bzzzz. ‘What is, never gonna happen in this lifetime, Alex?’. I ask you: can we possibly start afresh with reason and logic as our temporary base of operations? Maybe you should start at the beginning on that. Those folks may help. Or at least, can we agree to agree, can we just all throw up our hands and say ‘Well, okay, I guess, maybe Dave’s right on this’: that believing ain’t knowing and knowing ain’t believing. Believing a thing isn’t enough to ever make it actually be true. You just aren’t ever going to know. You just can’t.

Or, as my Mom used to say, ‘It’s very hard to know for sure, dear. Very hard.’ Right on, Sheila. I still get all my wisdom from you.

No, Jasper, calm down … I didn’t mean real BS. lol


Dave’s comment on Gma’s post:

This is a complicated story, but I think it’s a legitimate concern and argument that the right wing – and not the left – has become dangerously extreme in this country. After all, the Libs still voted for a traditional standard-bearer of the party. Rebbubs voted for a white supremacist, nationalist and xenophobic billionaire narcissist with a nasty grudge and a lot of vague Russian connections. Not the same league at all.

From a policy perspective, the country has not moved left but way way right. Trump is now in the process of undoing years of compromise and progress hammered out by both parties. That is, at a minimum, and enormous waste of time that’s going to cost us years of effort to get back. If people were not protesting that angrily, I would actually wonder if we were okay.

Next week, Midd, invite a speaker to talk about the benefits of an 80% tax rate on anything over 10M, free utilities for all, free health care coverage, and instituting a maximum income in the US, and see what happens. (Budget wise, I’m guessing we’d be ahead fyi- and though TPrez and his cronies might have to sell a yacht or two, they’d still be millionaires.) Protecting the excesses of the rich is actually the sacred cow in the room. The minimum wage raises the cost of products? Holy crap. Half of what you pay for your cheeseburger is just a cover the raises that CEOs have gotten since 1970. Are you happy with that?

Alternatively, just put Whoopi Goldberg in the White House and see how Rebbubs react. This is the world Liberals find themselves in today. Keep trying to convince us that your calorie-free nonsense is actually a healthy cheeseburger, and it may get bad.

What does Jeff Sessions know anyway?

About marijuana? Absolutely nothing. Of course. But nonetheless, he has just announced he’s not a ‘fan’ of pot, and so our Attorney General wants to wage a new crackdown campaign against that dangerous, pestilent national scourge – stoners. Here is another defining example of Trump admin putting cronies in charge of something they know absolutely nothing about (See Ben Carson at HUD, Rick Perry at DOE, Scott Pruitt at EPA). I mean, who needs knowledge, experience, or data? Who needs to know enough about what they’re doing to analyze the data in the first place? In any other context these guys would be called hacks. I’m calling ’em hacks right now. You have to know something about the topic. 

Okay …. friends with kids: I know this is a squirmy conversation, and no parent wants to have an honest reveal with their less-than-20 year old kid about weed. But I’m kinda losing it here. I am now officially living in some kinda matrix. This pervasive, mindless, incurious absence of logic, knowledge, data – as well as common sense and basic humanity, I would argue – is mindblowing and dangerous. The continued criminalization (and general demonization) of the ancient, miraculous, and endlessly friendly hemp plant has actually risen to a level of serious social injustice. Not to mention, intelligence-disqualifying joke. Forget the endless usefullness (carbon sink, textiles, chemicals, fuel oil, fabrics, paper) of the hemp plant (the supression of which may actually be the real story), it’s amazing history (can you say, like, enabled ancient sailors to control their boats with hemp rope and discover the world?) or the health benefits of ingesting it (glaucoma relief, parkinsons relief, appetite enhancement, pain relief, relaxation, and reduction of aggression and increase of passivity). Forget all that meaningless, unimportant stuff.

Zoom out, and still – here’s a cheap, simple-to-grow, inexpensive, common plant you could grow in a sunny window that, when ingested in tiny harmless amounts, makes you feel kind of relaxed and peaceful, thoughtful, creative, goofy, and a little hungry – in other words, happy, fun and nice; it also wears off quickly, has few side effects, doesn’t cause cancer, and kills fewer people than alcohol, driving, baseball bats, baseball, football, small objects cast asunder by tornadoes, terrorists, bathtubs, guns, or angry husband’s fists by about a million to one. It kills exactly no one – except perhaps the random enthusiast, temporarily and mildly besotted with a friends donation of nice Kush hashish, caught in the sudden blinding glare of an oncoming semis headlights while absentmindedly upping the volume on Friend of the Devil in his VW Beetle, and driving into a ravine. I mean, even the most adept toke-master can only manage so much chaos on the road at night. Especially when it’s freakishly raining, and you’re driving on tires that could have been brand new except for the fact that it’s illegal-ness makes weed so damn expensive. Also, psssst – as you can see, it turns you into a genius and makes you funny as a motherfucker. I’m dead serious. That and Sundays in the tub with the weekend Boston Globe and this week’s New Yorker magazine. And some middling genetics.

Personally, I truly believe this, and it may sound wacko: we could get rid of all the Ritalin, Prozac, Symbalta, cocaine and heroin that you and your kids are pumping into yourselves and each other tomorrow, call a national bake sale, barbecue, and frisbee toss, and everybody would be smiling, happy, well-fed, laughing with each other, and the only argument would be in the bbq line and about whether to have the cheeseburger or the dog. The other heated argument to break out might be whether to show the chick flick love story or the sci-fi swashbuckler later against the barn. I’d go sci-fi, but whichever one it was, afterwards I know what would happen – everyone would make love in the grass with weird and exotic intensity, have a shuddering orgasm they never knew they could have, and fall asleep – except those folks were already feeling too spacy and tired and had wandered off to the edge of the field to doze. Or gone skinny dipping. Of course, it goes without saying – weird phrase there, but I’ll sideline that thought – that if we did end up going for the sci-fi movie, most of the women would already be asleep by the end of the movie. In the morning everyone would wake up early, sleepy cute and cheerful, give each other a hug and say ‘hey let’s get rid of the those firearms today, whaddya think’? Quote me on that. And this: you can smoke weed 24/7 for a month and not kill yourself. And remain quite sane. You will simply wind up never wanting to kill anyone else. Trust me on this. I experimented, and yes, I inhaled. That is, after all, the point.  Thomas Jefferson and George Washington grew the stuff and loved it. Look it up.

Then, here on the OTHER hand …. in the ‘what’s legal and loved by, every good red blooded American and enshrined in our Constitution?’ column – what can guns do? What is the one and only thing they were ever designed to do? Well, that is to shoot things full of lead. To kill, and kill, and kill. They are, after all, killing machines. Guys get paid big money to sit at drafting tables and think these things up, and how to make them kill better and faster, I kid you not. So what can you do with one that’s useful? You can shoot your neighbor with it, or anyone else who pisses you off for a random reason. You can shoot animals with it. If you’re a pacifist with a gun, you can avoid the live stuff entirely and just shoot a bunch of lead into the earth or the surrounding arboreal life-forms for fun. That’s a good time. Trees are sturdier beasts than us, so they generally don’t die from a couple of shots (I guess that’s the good thing I have to say about guns – trees don’t die when you plug em) but most everything else we care about does. My buddy Kevin’s daughter’s beloved pet got really sick a few years back, so I now oddly know for a fact that with a 12 gauge Remington you can – as Kev put it – “evaporate” a gerbil. Turn it into a ‘pink mist’, as Kev described it. Lately, however, I don’t have any gerbils that need to be mistified, lofl.

Of course, on the other other hand, in the ‘what else is weirdly legal?’ column, there is our savior and salve, the great emancipator: alcohol. Do I really even take the time to write another long-winded paragraph? I know you don’t want me wading into this sacred swamp. Forget the health effects, the costs, the death caused directly; forget the damage that drunk parents do to their kids, to their families, and to themselves. Just for a moment, imagine this hypothetical scenario: it’s 2017, May graduation weekend, a bunch of drunken frat boys from the Crimson Tide – crimson tide, indeed – riding around in their pickup truck on a Saturday night loaded with a cooler of Bud Light, a bunch of shotguns, a case of ammo and a mildly frenzied zeal for a good time. I’m not saying something bad’s gonna happen.  I’m just saying they might not be my first choice for our reps to the annual Oslo Peace accords to work out the next IPLDA (International Peace, Love, and Disarmament Agreement).

I’m not saying that I’m a saint. I have drunk my share o’ wine, beer, and booze – again, I inhaled greatly and dug it, that’s the point – and I’ve even got a couple of nights back there in my youth that are kinda hazy – but I’ve been told by friends that I was a friendly, peaceful drunk and, in fact, funny and entertaining as hell, while I lasted. I also gotta say, I did buy an airgun for pest control,  so I’ve sprayed a little lead myself.  I just can’t bring myself to shoot a chipmunk – just can’t do it – even though they annoy me, and I’ll grant you, guns are wicked fun generally. Okay …. I did actually end up shooting one chipmunk, I admit. But it wasn’t a clean kill: he bled out slowly, his weak chirps fading as I wept, until he fell from the tree with a thump. I felt so bad, I sent checks to his widow for a year. That being said, I guess it is handy to have the security of knowing you can kill anyone you want at any time. Perhaps I’ll need to do that someday, but I certainly hope not. I certainly hope you hope not too.

Human aggression, in general, and war and violence –  with the help of cannons, drones, bombs, missiles and guns – kill hundreds of thousands of people every year. But the soldiers out there doing all that killing are heroes; in fact, they are the most beloved and heroic Gods of our popular culture. They leap dramatically from choppers into our sporting events, and we are dazzled  with the drama and power of it all, and with ourselves. We cheer with pride and glory and we pat the soldiers on the back for their service, and ourselves on the back for our loyalty and patriotism.

But me? Your pal Dave? Sitting in my house reading a book, watching the birds, snuggling with Jasper on the couch, and waiting on the next Chelsea game? I’m an outlaw. A renegade. I have a criminal record. If I get caught again you can visit me in the Belknap County Jail. Bring me a ham sandwich and my multi-tool. Oh, and maybe some duct tape, I might have to bind some guards while I make a run for my Beetle. 

Who are we, America? Why don’t we make sense any more? It actually scares me sometimes. Why do we think war is good, and peaceful relaxation at home or wandering around in nature is bad? Is worthy of incarceration?

The only possible explanation I can come up with is money. Money and fear. That’s all I can figure so far. Perhaps you can do better. Run with it. But for me, those are the only possible reasons. Why? Because most every human being out there is just good kind folks who want to do good, be happy and be left alone with those they care about. So someone’s trying to sell us something. Or we are deathly afraid of something. Or both. That’s what I think. For real.

I believe a question vitally needs to raised at this point in American – in world – history. Are we humans ever going to govern ourselves with reason and logic again, or are we going to let the swirling miasma of our yet reptilian emotions – and, especially, our fears – doom us for all eternity? It’s time to ask this basic question. It’s become key. Fire up a medium doob and just think about it for a bit, I believe you will see the light go on. Of course if you’re the AG or some other closed-minded fabulist, we might have to break out the power bong or even eat a few shrooms. Some minds are simply a bear to crack open. 

Soon (if he’s still around), our aforementioned AG Jeff Sessions is going to try and sell you a line of bullshit that stoners are dangerous, violent criminals and everyone else is a law-abiding halo-wearing do-gooder. That’s just smelly, stinking hokum. And not the good kind. I hope I’m not the only one around here calling him out on his utter, ignorant pile of crap (Jasper, lifting head: ‘crap? huh? where?’). If I were you, I’d watch for those kids careening around blasting mailboxes with their shotguns from the back of the pickup. Someday they just might miss your PO box and evaporate a beloved pet. How would you feel then, huh? That just might get you thinking.

So, anyway. Don’t take this the wrong way. I can sometimes be a little sarcastic and have even, on occasion, been called a prick. I bet you’re surprised by that, lol. I cop to whatever you’ve heard and more. I actually have never given much of a rat’s ass about having a horse in this weird, messed-up race. I’ve got nothing I ever wanted to prove. That’s why I’ve never said anything in the past. Well, actually, I was also busy working and I can get pretty consumed. Ask the ex. Don’t worry, we’re all good. Of course. As a matter of fact, she’d probably be happy to know that I’m pretty darn focused on word-wrangling in this moment. Slippery little buggers. What’s great for me, though, is that these days I can do what I want, and I can say what I want, and I pretty much plan to be left alone to hang with only my friends from now on  (though my friends would probably tell you they haven’t heard from me in months, bless them). That’s why there’s a lot of dog walking, Chelsea fandom, and Netflix in the schedule.

But after all these years, and in spite of the fact that I absorb a lot of TV, I still have a pretty good brain in my head, darn it, and I tell you this: I’m getting extremely tired of utter nonsense being passed around as if it’s not the kind of nonsense* my dog can detect from across the room. It’s like we’re at Fenway and there’s a guy coming down the aisle yelling ‘Hey!! Total Bullshit Heeeeaaah!!’ and everyone’s forking out five bucks like it really was one of those awesome Fenway franks, and gleefully chomping it down, while I’m sitting here drinking my beer watching Pedro strike out the Yanks and going ‘what the f*ck?’. Hey there, pal, heads up – I think there’s mustard all over your face. Just saying.

I ask you, Red Sox fan, and every other sports fan in this seemingly God-damned world: have we become zombies? Let’s just say for the moment, for the sake of argument: there’s a remote possibility that my thinking here might be way better than yours. I mean way better. In addition? Voila: I might just have the statistics to back it up. Call in the scientists and we’ll prove this thing tomorrow. You can probably do it on your smartphone with an app. In the end, here’s what I’m saying: I think there might still be a little Reefer Madness afoot in America. It’s just not the type of madness you think. Duh.

That about wraps it up. By now, you may have guessed that I’ve been pondering this particular issue awhile, and I can’t help thinking I have a pretty good point. I think my facts are solid. I think my arguments are sound. You may call me a peacnik idealist, but I have always also simply believed – total Jodie Foster/Carl Sagan fave movie reference, told you I was a sci-fi nut – that the world is what we make it. What we want to make it. We get to choose. We do. We get to choose, and create the world we want to live in. That’s what free will is. That’s what creation is.

So, let me know what you think. I’d be curious. But know this: You better have your sh*t wired tight. I do not suffer ignorant or drunk fools anymore, I’m too old and got no time, whether they are pointing guns at me or not. Of course if you’re pointing your gun at me I will not be hanging around for long. I won’t be shooting back with my little airgun either. I’ll be outta here. Here’s another thing for which you should be on alert: I no longer just go along with folks shouting uninformed BS at me really loudly and persistently in the hopes I’ll just give up and believe them. Ain’t gonna happen. Those folks just never gonna get it. Not ever.  Not enough time for that, and besides, I have always had a latent but potent aversion to authority. I will likely just walk away and go talk to my dog instead. At least he’s consistent. At least he has a worldview.

So, are we done? Cuz the sun’s out and I got a barbecue to go to.

Field Trip with the Prez

Take a look at this picture. Something about this is very wrong. Or, at least I think it is, though what do I know? I live up here in the White Mountains (and I’m not talking about the snow).

I wonder if Ben Carson (pictured, back left) is going pack his lunch every time the president attends a ‘black’ event, like his recent trip to the African American Museum in DC. Wasn’t Carson actually hired by the aforementioned World’s Best Businessman as HUD secretary, a position overseeing a 40 billion dollar budget, with a nifty salary of over $200,000 – which you and I are paying, even though he doesn’t need it, because he is already a surgeon, loaded, and living in a mansion?

Are they telling me that part of my taxes – and time from your grind today too – is going to pay for Ben Carson to take a day OFF from his job, to accompany the Prez on a photo op to a place he’s undoubtedly already been, all so the President can get some badly needed – forgive me for saying this – brownie points, with a constituency he doesn’t know and isn’t curious about, and even embarrassingly insists on referencing in the same breath as ‘Chicago’ and ‘violence’ and ‘gangs’ constantly? As they say everywhere except DC and the rust belt, puhleeeze…

Let me ask you this, Mr President: as a manager, is that the most effective use of an obviously brilliant resource when that resource has a job to do? That we’re paying him to do?

And don’t you also you also have a job to do?

If I go missing, my guess is that I tripped on reality, OD’d, stumbled Into the fire, and my head is ablaze. Darren, you’re a fireman … Trish, your son also. Please have them come and collect my body, feed Jasper, and stop at Meredith Village Savings Bank on the way home to make some arrangements, my rent’s due on the 15th. 🙂


Ed note: I know lots of folks are stressed and don’t want to hear the political stuff. I get that, I really do. I may be an elitist (eliteness used to be a good thing), but I try not to be some snotty elitist who doesn’t listen. But in the end… sorry, can’t help you. You’re going to have to pull the trigger yourself.

First, blessed as I am in life – and I do feel blessed, every day – the loss of my wife, dad, family unity (since back), cool job, dream of being an astronaut, sanity, cat, house, and almost my rights (oops..busted) since 2010, in conjunction with my recent 60th birthday, has left me feeling …. I don’t know, unrestrained in hithertoo profound ways. And I was pretty profoundly hithertoo unrestrained before, as many of you know. Lofl. R.L.: “no, Dave, you’re not really a dick. Though sometimes you do have a dickish personality”. Mic drop.

Second, the ‘other’ side – perhaps that’s your side- won and is now in control. Got that. But don’t relax and break out the beach chairs. And I do kind of feel like there’s a lot of people sitting in their beach chairs, watching the show. But… now is when the actual reality of governing begins, and now the Winners are making arguments that are supposed to make sense, used to set policy which will determine our future. The future of our country. I believe that many of the arguments being made are extreme, simplistic, self serving, and dangerous. If you disagree with me, let’s go – let’s have at it, let’s have that discussion. But I have never before in my life believed more strongly that some things need to be said. And right now. And loudly as we can. Something about us is being lost. Time is of the essence.

One of the things that needs to be said immediately and loudly in every corner of our great land is that the practice of judging whole groups of people by color, by race, by nationality, by sexual preference, by gender, by political party, or hey, by whatever category is simply bad logic (nonsense) as well as bad morality and bad politics. It’s a simple question of random distribution, sample size, genetics, historical patterns, and probabilities. You don’t know diddly about a person, trust me, and if you do run those numbers we Yanks look as miserable as anyone.

It’s also – I believe, and I used to think – a matter of basic Christian values. If you judge folks, they are going to come back and judge you. And you may not be happy with their judgment. Loving your neighbor and working with them is a smarter, more positive, and more elite thing to do than fearing your neighbor and arming to the teeth. You’re always going to be safer with a friend than with an enemy on the other side of a wall. Heck, it’s way cheaper too. Fewer bombs, walls, guns, missing limbs.

So, more to come. Interesting times and there is no shortage of things to reflect on. But unlike our fear-filled leader, I try not to take it personally, or make it personal. I try to keep it funny and light as I can. Some topics are just not light. But I believe we are being oversold the big divide. We are still in agreement about 98% of the governing functions of America. But agreement doesn’t sell newspapers, Trump Tower suites or Mar-a-Lago memberships. Just my 2 cents, for what it’s worth.

Who’s shot is it? What color am I? 🙂