Meg Sonata

Media Recreates Fifties

2017-12-15T22:10:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

The mysteries of the mainstream media include hyping hysteria over Russia as if the USSR still existed and the Cold War were about to turn hot at any moment. Are American children still practicing national defense drills by hiding under their desks? Are JFK and Khrushchev still engaged in debating the future of Cuba? Do Marilyn Monroe and Elvis Presley reign over the nation's attention like Queen and King of Disney World?

Newsflash for those not in the know: Diversity and Multiculturalism policies have brought so many international citizens to this country that your neighbors may be from every place on the globe. In MD alone, this writer encountered the virtual equivalent of the United Nations between 2007 and 2012. What was the media doing while this academic was teaching alongside the former residents of the Middle East, the Far East, and every East including Russia?

Does the media realize that The Manchurian Candidate was not released last week? Is this fact a big secret which they hide from their audience, lest somebody discover they haven't updated their databanks in fifty years? It really isn't helpful to international relations, you know, to keep Americans in the dark about the breakup of the Soviet Union, the tearing down of the Berlin Wall, and Nixon's rapprochement with China.

Surprise! The Media Are OFFENSIVE

2017-12-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

Friends tell me they ignore the news This behavior marks a major change in the American lifestyle. Was it that long ago when citizens rose with the news and fell into bed after it, too? Of course, Walter Cronkite is one thing--endless repetition of the DC soap opera is another--and the latter deserves to earn no ratings wars.

Meanwhile, the internet treats us to this information, hot off the information pipeline which Americans may be incapable of reading for these reasons:

"According to a recent study conducted by the U.S. Department of Education, 32 million of American adults are illiterate, 21 percent read below a 5th grade level, and 19 percent of high school graduates are functionally illiterate, which means they can't read well enough to manage daily living and perform tasks required ...Sep 13, 2016

Did Public Schools Really Improve American Literacy? - Foundation ..."

For more information, please see: https://fee.org/articles/
did-public-schools-really-improve-american-literacy/

Is it offensive to observe that the American Declaration of

Independence and Constitution were not written for a children's

book bizarre?

Is it offensive to observe that illiterate residents cannot read the

announcement that they are illiterate--and their fellow illiterates

may not care?

Is it offensive to realize that American media professionals are

getting paid to serialize the adventures of celebrities' and

politicians' genitalia?

If the American media were designed to tell us the same outrageous story for a thousand years, they might earn forgiveness for being
hot on the trail of the Kardashians and every other celebrity whom
they can interview. Until they report the state of American literacy, journalists earn the suspicion that they have never heard that truth
is stranger indeed than fiction--and truth functions as the lifeblood
of democracy.

Are reporters illiterate, too? How else could they endure repeating the word "Russia" ten thousand times a day for a solid year while their audience learns nothing more than they knew when US astronauts could and did land on the moon because Americans can be superb at communications, engineering, and math, too?

Hot Dogs and Beans--Best Ever?

2017-11-28T23:46:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

Let's see if I can blog without somebody taking political umbrage? Are hot dogs and beans a political topic? Are they too upper class or lower class to keep every reader happy?

I found this tiny can on a store shelf at eye level--obviously a plant designed to make me spring for a trial at least. The label presented this product as exceptional all right: "Hickory smoke" flavor had been added, so I wasn't getting the straight scoop.

Ask me if I care. Nope! That snack was so delicious that my only complaint was that I didn't invest in an annual supply immediately--but how could I when I hadn't tasted franks and beans--that's the old-fashioned term, isn't it?--in decades?

My yogurt kick may just be over! Is brown sugar the secret ingredient--and no, that isn't a political reference!--which transforms an every day convenience into an exotic meal so good that it beats out my former favorite, Chinese chicken and peanuts--and, no, that isn't a political reference, either.

Ask me if I care again. I dare you! While public snipes may be reviewing every word we speak for a chance to jump on our verbiage, I'm just plotting my return to that store whose owner was smart enough to stock a food which reminds us of a time when camp fires and spooky stories kept kids happy--and begging for more and more hot dogs, beans, and hickory smoke memories.

A Word for Our Times: Funitude

2017-10-14T03:32:00.000-07:00

by Meg Sonata

A Word for Our Times: Funitude

That word actually exists in the Urban Dictionary. I thought I made it up this morning after reading the news until I couldn't endure further enlightenment on America's current obsessions. In an act of intellectual rebellion, I checked out the Charleston Gazette-Mail, and found this marvelous column by Garrison Keillor, which I recommend if your funny bone is aching for humor, too: "Welcome to the Abyss."

https://www.wvgazettemail.com/opinion/gazette_opinion/columnists/garrison-keillor-welcome-to-the-abyss-gazette/article_d8b367a8-7fee-5c73-a8a4-4601f58c38be.html

Must we act grim and nearly apocalyptic to prove our brains are functioning? Garrison Keillor says, No! It's comic relief that we need to demonstrate our frontal lobes haven't cut out completely. It's that little poke in the ribs from a friend who suggests that maybe the world won't end today--at least not until we've finished a decent meal and shared a joke--or not until we've gone for a walk where the Grim Reaper never spends his time--like a Mad Tea Party perhaps, or a song from childhood like "Mersey Dotes and Dozy Doats," which spins us round and gets us off this news cycle of bedlam and hell and unfunitude.

So, here's to a decent weekend: That means we seek that little surprise from a forgotten source like Garrison Keillor, who keeps right on diagnosing modern life as a cup short of sanity. He reminds us that we don't prove our brilliance by acting all snarly and constantly finding fault with the human race. That behavior takes no talent at all. No! It's the capacity to see the big picture which demonstrates even the most basic aptitude for health and happiness. In that big picture of life, there ain't no yin without a yang. So, go for the bright light of morning, even if carrying one's own flashlight comes with the territory.

Calling Agatha Christie to Las Vegas

2017-10-05T18:55:00.000-07:00

With all the hubbub over guns, Congress, terrorists, and gambling addicts, the Las Vegas shooting has created a new variation on the one puzzle sure to rivet mystery readers from here to Australia and back. Even the shooting victims--in a most painful kind of extortion of the dead--have been hijacked to distract attention from one key fact in the Las Vegas atrocity. This hideous crime creates a locked room mystery.

From the first reports to the most recent accounts of the awful tale, versions accumulate of the final 70 minutes of waiting before the SWAT team breached the gunman's door--and discovered his body. Perhaps video recordings will resolve discrepancies, but so far, readers have heard that HE shot through the door at the SWAT team; he killed himself after killing 58 victims and injuring 520 strangers below his windows; and his body, along with 23 weapons, lay on the other side of that door, waiting to be discovered by police.

The police have explained that they were under orders to wait for the SWAT team to arrive before breaching the door. Meanwhile, no information has so far been released indicating the state of that body which awaited discovery. Was it warm or cold? Had rigor mortis set in, turning the flesh rigid? Analysts have observed that a single individual could not fire 23 weapons and accomplish a massacre of those proportions in the eleven minutes of recorded firing. So, who besides Agatha Christie could solve a crime this complex and baffling?

Why Create Robots to Replace Ourselves?

2017-09-12T03:32:00.000-07:00

By Meg Sonata

When Harvey and his girlfriend Irma are not trashing the American

landscape, the skies fill with unemployment alerts. Jobs in restaurants,

warehouses, and delivery systems are supposedly about to go to robots.

Uber has announced its thrilling conversion to robot drivers. Educators

have been warned that they, too, will soon be replaced by mechanical

substitutes. Sex robots have even popped onto the scene. Meanwhile,

where are the protests over this scandalous development?

In the college classroom, I once asked students to vote on these

scenarios. If they were in the hospital, would they prefer to be comforted

by a robot or a human being? If they were choosing supervision for their

children, would they prefer their offspring's guardians to be mechanical

or human? Unfailingly, their hands shot up to indicate their choice to keep

society and civilization within the human domain. So why does the media

now storm us with enthusiastic crusades for robots?

Have unemployment lines suddenly become THE place to be? Is

America recruiting H-1B visa immigrants to stand in unemployment lines

along with their buddies, mechanically replaced American workers? If

mental health experts want a new project, how about this? Can they

discover why anyone would support his/her displacement in their own

lives? No matter how cute a robot may be, it is not YOU! Isn't that point

obvious? So how about campaigning—for such a delightful change—

to keep life on this extraordinary planet obnoxiously and surprisingly

human?

Removing Statues Is Stupid Economics

2017-08-17T04:53:00.000-07:00

by Meg Sonata

Will you visit Atlanta and Charleston if they look just like Dunkirk, NY? The latter has no grand statuary to attract tourists--unless they trek off to nearby Jamestown, NY, which indulged in a rare kerfuffle over a commissioned statue of Lucille Ball, the town's guardian saint, since Western New York is NOT famous for its sense of humor.

Okay, once we've taken down all the grand statues and put up the trigger warnings, what is left of an attractive community in the United States? Do you enjoy seeing film of yourselves shoving and being shoved in political contests completely devoid of historical accuracy? No one dares mention Northern carpetbaggers now. They may have been too colorful and unscrupulous to pass the ratings tests.

Of course, hysterical historical current events are a bonanza for students who always hated history--and the poor teachers assigned to teach history through the seasons as parents complained about "unfairness"--and administrators whined about budgets and buildings and declining revenue. Who needs dates anyway? Aren't they just a fruit which sticks in your teeth?

Milo Hits Bottom

2017-02-21T06:38:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

Milo's latest interview may have shattered his career as a popular provocateur. Critics are divided between assessing the flamboyant speaker as "going a bridge too far" or supporting pedophilia. Commentators need to check a dictionary for the distinction between "pedophilia" and "pederasty." The former word contains the root for "love." The latter is the clergy's nightmare.

This web address allows readers to judge for themselves: <http://www.tabletmag.com/jewish-news-and-politics/203888/donald-trumps-little-boy>.

So far, the consequences of sticking his well-heeled foot in his mouth include the loss of his CPAC presentation, as well as his book contract. The public awaits the drop of his sophisticated shoe: Will Breitbart fire the glamour boy for hoof in mouth disease? Reports claim that at least six coworkers threaten to walk if Milo is not fired. Will he giggle his way out of a trap which he set for himself?

Milo's recorded words appear to support pederasty. The larger question remains: Has Milo's performance all along been a parody of a stereotype, or an in-your-face confrontation with the stereotype itself? Why wear pearls looped around his neck if he supports equality in the workplace? Why would he paint his fingernails unless he's determined to launch his own drag queen network?

If he is a parody, what is he parodying? His rapid manner of speech and ability to quote academic sources at length appear to mark him as an intellectual. But what college lecturer comes to class decked out in costume jewelry while he's conducting a philosophical discussion? Maybe his audience got the nature of his attack on sobriety wrong from the start.

If Milo's going to parody a college lecturer, he better be an honest-to-goodness intellectual, or he's going to get caught by his students, who are not dummies, after all. The most obvious conclusion is that Milo was never doing what his publicity said he was. Does he hide a grudge against stereotyped academics behind that famous smirk and raised eyebrows? It's time to come out again, Little Boy.

See also: <http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/breitbart-fire-milo-yiannopoulos-senior-editor-pro-paedophilia-child-sex-video-footage-alt-right-a7591281.html>.

Speculation continues: <http://www.redstate.com/sweetie15/2017/02/20/breitbart-employees-demand-milo-yiannopoulos-fired/>.

Update: Milo resigns from Breitbart: <http://www.slate.com/blogs/the_slatest/2017/02/21/milo_yiannopoulos_resigns_from_breitbart.html>.

Wonder Bread and Political Circuses: Are We Rome Yet?

2017-02-17T06:00:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

A new book is shaking up the academic empire of Edward Gibbon's The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. That masterpiece of history is available now through the Gutenberg Project. Its complete title is

HISTORY OF THE DECLINE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE

Edward Gibbon, Esq.

With notes by the Rev. H. H. Milman

Complete Contents

1782 (Written), 1845 (Revised)

For the first time maybe readers may pay attention to the date of composition for this classic: 1782, just six years following the founding of the United States of America, when the British Empire was under a siege of rebellion. .

Now, an impressive British author lends his pen to a subject which was often considered conquered and owned by Gibbon. The Fall of the Roman Empire: A New History of Rome and the Barbarians is authored by Peter Heather and published by Oxford University Press. This volume creates a new duality: Instead of "Decline and Fall," readers are prompted to examine "Rome and the Barbarians" together.

Before anyone feels it necessary to lecture readers on identity, diversity, and multiculturalism, Maria Khodorkovsky provides the derivation of "barbarian" at this blog address: <https://www.altalang.com/beyond-words/2008/10/08/etymology-of-barbarian/>. "Barbarian" originally referred to anyone who did not speak Greek. To Greek ears, foreign languages sounded like "bar-bar."

Peter Heather offers expertise in his subject for an obvious reason: He has also written Empires and Barbarians: The Fall of Rome and the Birth of Europe; The Restoration of Rome: Barbarian Popes and Imperial Pretenders; The Goths; and The Visigoths from the Migration Period to the Seventh Century: An Ethnographic Perspective--enough literary adventures to last until the Fourth of July.

The FBI and the MIL Game

2017-02-16T05:10:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

Did Bloomberg actually claim that police states destroy reputations by releasing private information to the public? This writer thought that activity was known as "The Mother-in-Law Game." Don't MILs infamously interrupt conversations with thoughts like, "Oh, Jimmy, when you took a bath as a baby, didn't you always...." (At this point, Jimmy leaves the room--quickly, which was the whole point of the MIL game).

Some MILs even ask: "Who's in charge here?" Don't EVER take this question seriously. A correct English translation of that question should read: "Do you mean that, after I changed your diapers for two whole years--cuz you didn't catch on quickly like your cousin Ramone--you are relegating me to Second Chair?" If the FBI and NSA don't already torture suspects this way, they should take notes on the MIL game.

And then there's the MIL confidence variation of the MIL game: "You really shouldn't have children right now. I'm only telling you this for your own good." or "His father went through a similar period when he hit middle age and lost his mind." Congress and the media have already studied this game-plan since they create parallels with World War II's "greatest generation" or those "insane Nazis" at every untidy turn of the record.

The last lap of the MIL game is the old "Just tell me what you need. I'm here to help" routine. Just remember: the FBI and the NSA are ALWAYS here to help. So is Mimi, Grandma, Nana, or whatever you call her. And that's why Mike Flynn resigned, and senators are calling for investigations: Because, if the FBI and NSA are collecting private information, and not keeping it to themselves, then there's a whole new reason for calling this pitiful country a "Nanny State."

* * *

For additional information on Bloomberg's insights into America's unfathomable politics, see: Lake, Eli. "The Political Assassination of Mike Flynn." BloombergView: National Security. Valentine's Day, 2017. <https://www.bloomberg.com/view/articles/2017-02-14/the-political-assassination-of-michael-flynn>.

How to Save Money on Dog Treats

2017-02-15T03:36:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

,

Does your dog turn up his nose at costly packaged dog treats? Does your kitchen counter contain a canister full of bones and biscuits supposedly chock full of peanut butter and cheese which that dog won't touch, no matter how much you beg? Welcome to my house!

My dog Mickey, a nearly two year-old basset hound, craves cheese for rewards, but he can't live on cheese alone. He's a great dog, and deserves rewards for excellent behavior, as well as his patience. He hasn't called me "stupid" yet for buying those unused dog treats.

He doesn't call them "inedible." He just literally turns his nose up at them. Then he looks away, as if to say: When will she learn that my standards are higher than the US standards for pet food? When will she take action because too many dogs are suffering from bizarre illnesses, and dog treats are a simple way to institute a correction?

Our solution began accidentally. I ran out of string cheese, his favorite treat. So I offered Mickey a tiny bite from a homemade biscuit. He licked my hand and asked for more. A light flashed in my mind: Can it be this easy? I had baked a batch of Bisquick biscuits, making them tiny and splashing a hint of Christmas sprinkles over the dollops of dough.

Well, I was smart enough not to allow him to finish off the batch. This is not an advert for Bisquick. It is a reminder: When it comes to treats--which come second to a sound diet overall for dogs--the solution is right at hand. Your dog may enjoy Southern biscuits as much as you do. He may prefer the Yankee variety. Either way, your ability to improve his diet is as easy as that Frank Sinatra classic. You can do it your way--and make your canine pal ecstatic, too!

Red Herrings in a Sea of Red Ink

2017-02-12T10:23:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

That title describes the state of US education, defense, and journalism. If US students can't read at a proficiency level, does it matter that teachers are employed? If the US military lacks necessary equipment, does it matter how many soldiers march in parades? If US leaders don't know where the country begins and ends, what is left to debate?

The only winner in the current American chaos is the red herring--and that's not a trendy cocktail treat imported from Norway. Salted herring comes in creamy sauces, and it's delish. Even people who despise fish snatch up this delicacy to impress party guests. Unfortunately, the variety of herring most commonly set before the American public doesn't come in a jar, and it's more expensive than Trump Tower.

The red herring is the specialty of magicians who trick their audience to look THIS WAY when the big event is happening OVER THERE. Meanwhile, what they've got up their sleeve becomes a rabbit, a scarf, or just a giant predator they've slipped onto the stage from under their Congressional table. In fact, red herrings are the specialty of our most famous entertainers. That's how they get clicks, while the rest of us wonder what happened?

The red herring is also one of the most famous rhetorical fallacies, meaning that it will undermine an argument from beginning to end. Its existence in the American media demonstrates the state of American education. Yes, this is a cyclical dilemma: if readers are going around in circles, trying to learn what IS or IS NOT news, they are NOT prepared to vote to preserve the American experience, which cannot be going around in circles, unless hula-hooping has become our national sport.

So, when confronting the news media, the solution is to ask three key questions:

1. Is this news or cheer-leading? If a presenter is using more adjectives and adverbs than nouns and verbs, this ain't news, Honey. It's paid advertising.

2. Is this news or prophecy? If a presenter is predicting what WILL happen, instead of what DID happen, s/he needs to go into the Old Testament prophet business.

3. Is this news or advice? If a presenter keeps insisting on what the government SHOULD do, instead of what it DID do, sh/e needs to submit a bill for services rendered to somebody--and it's probably not the American taxpayer.

Bathroom Talk and the Election

2016-12-01T14:31:00.000-08:00

by Meg Sonata

While democrats bang their collective heads against walls in DC, the media conduct surveys to discover the in-depth answer to such a difficult question: Why did the democrats lose the 2016 election? Perhaps myopia is the real challenge. Out here in the real world, Americans have a real problem with a president, party, and candidates who spend more time on bathrooms than they do on national security. Perhaps Americans are also tired of hearing more talk about sex and women than they would encounter at women's clubs, the PTA, and any sorority that we can name. A campaign which focuses on women to the exclusion of men loses half the population in the voting booth. Is that fact hard to understand?

Whether Donald Trump is a genius or not, he must be smart enough to recognize that the national conversation has been boring for, oh, about eight years now. We are talking about "boring" with a super-sized, inflated and pixilated capital B. How many hours do we devote to talking about bathrooms in our everyday lives, oh America? The obvious answer is not any more than we can help! If they are functional and clean, that's good enough for the majority in this land of the free and the very brave--except when it comes to talking about bathrooms, unless we are shopping at Sears or Home Depot, and they are having a great sale on hot tubs and sauna installations in our own home, and we never saw prices like these.

Has anyone noticed? Donald Trump does not do boring. This analysis may seem too simple for the modern mind to embrace, but he won, and the Bathroom talkers lost. Does it get any simpler than that? Since the founding of this republic, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and even that Parisian sophisticate Benjamin Franklin did not make headlines by chattering on and on about bathrooms. Maybe, just maybe, this country does have its own distinctive culture, and one of its basic principles is that Bathroom Talk is always out of order. We can settle problems concerning lavatories out of the public eye, and with considerable attention to details in discussions with plumbers. Otherwise, upgrade the dialogue and get on with life.

Women and Rock Stars

2016-10-09T03:49:00.000-07:00

Ever since the sixties at least, females have been following rock stars around. The word for this phenomenon is "groupies." Elvis' fans, among others, were filmed screaming in ecstasy at the mere sight of big league male entertainers. Rumors spread of females throwing their underwear on stage in tribute to Las Vegas performances.

Yet now when a certain candidate in the American political circus claims that "they let you do it [fill in the blank with your imagination], too," American politicos sigh to heaven as if the Virgin Mary reigned here from coast to coast, and all our citizens were modest nuns and priests. If they are, I haven't seen this propriety in the twenty-first century.

Instead, a steady parade of body parts rules the internet. Its purpose supposedly is to cast body-shaming aside forever. Right. That's why its practitioners wear nearly invisible and see-through clothes, creating a never-ending peep show of "side-boobs," "under-boobs," and cleavage to the navel before they display their "pert derrieres."

Even as this practice by females has become common place in cyber space, males have also joined in the parade, displaying their "six-packs," "bulging biceps," and "toned thighs," because they just returned from fitness centers which they only use to prepare for the next Mr. Universe contest, and never to impress bubbly sidekicks on the internet.

Meanwhile, an American election progresses toward decision day on November 8. The bottom line is a choice between devotion to globalism or the right to be a nation-state. Eye doctors are waiting for US citizens to schedule eye exams to ensure that we know what we are seeing and doing on that remarkably significant day. Wear your glasses, please.

Five Tricks to Survive the Inferno

2016-07-28T09:51:00.000-07:00

by Meg Sonata

While the heat wave of 2016 is setting records, consider these five ways to outwit Nature's fury. Consider also that Nature is a Mother of one sort or another. She comes with lakes and blue skies as well as deserts and tornadoes. So, while you are reading Dante's Inferno, on this perfect occasion, keep in mind that Dante could see the universe as a whole, and it is dimes to donuts that Mother Nature functions that way, too. Dante did not stop with the Inferno. He wrote the Purgatorio and Paradiso to complete his vision of the Divine Comedy, so those are next after we climb out of this swamp of sweat and fire.

First, if you experience dizziness, this symptom may result from excessive exposure to political party conventions. Don't worry. It's dimes to donuts, too, that their participants have never heard of Dante's Inferno, or Virgil, who would have reminded those inebriated in sweat not to dive to conclusions. Keep in mind that Christian thinkers have promised for centuries that "this too shall pass." History texts verify that this promise is valid. If there is the slightest chance, however, that your dizziness results from heat exhaustion, then remember to EAT. Your body may lie to you, and claim it just can't swallow a single bite during this heat wave. Offer your body donuts for breakfast or cherry pie. Swallow those down with your favorite beverage, and stay hydrated. Then, see if dizziness retreats. If it hangs around, check with your doctor to see if s/he is reading Dante's Inferno, too.

Second, get the jump on the fire swamp by rising early. Walk your family pet as far as both of you can stagger. Take photos if you need to, in order to record this landscape as still green and breathing. Later, your eyes may trick you into believing that humidity has conquered all. Allergies may also produce tears which convince you that you are crying, but that's just your body lying to you again. If you are going to reach TOMORROW, you can't believe liars, no matter how cute or familiar they are. Remember where Dante puts liars: in the Inferno. Instead, it is your task to get to Dante's Purgatorio, where suffering at least accomplishes something, and at last to reach the Paradiso, where suffering disappears.

Third, jump into that car, and take it for a spin as early as possible. Schedule all your errands as early as possible. Open those car windows, and let that cool breeze whip away those tears and sweat. Make your purchases at stores where the exhausted proprietors are open and ready for business before the day's Inferno begins. Share your misery with them, too. You may be surprised to discover that, as ever, we are in this weather debacle together. That's not just a political slogan, to meke rioters jump and cheer. It's actually a truth of human experience. If you can comfort a single soul in misery, you may forget that your dog had to wake you from a wicked torpor which seemed endless. Mother Nature's call means more than finding a convenient tree or fire hydrant--and that creature hears it.

Fourth and fifth, turn off that TV, and recall a time when people walked everywhere they went--or chose an animal for their means of transportation. Dante fears the great beasts which live in the forest because he was a city man. So, he never knew the pleasure of your favorite hound or beast of burden accompanying you on life's journey. So, even for Dante, there was always more to learn. His Divine Comedy
challenges us to see more than tragedy everywhere we look.That dog by your side will keep you exercising, come hell, high water, and warnings from physicians to slow down during the heat wave, but keep exercising on your schedule, in order to complete your trek to the Paradiso Only in the Paradiso do heat waves of every kind surrender to the inspiring light of truth everlasting.

Oz Comes to Manhattan

2016-07-21T23:29:00.000-07:00

Where has America's sense of geography gone? It was intact when Obama
and Biden campaigned, was it not? With their nominations, the democrat
party married the interests of Illinois and Delaware--not the greatest
spread in the political alliance business, but clear nonetheless. That
particular pair avoided all identification with the powerful Northeast
and the defiant South. It avoided all talk of the Civil War because
that pair never dipped below the Mason-Dixon Line, which forms
Pennsylvania's southern border, as well as Delaware's western border.

The most famous case of a political marriage for convenience occurred
in 1960. of course, when Massachusetts wed Texas with the democrat
presidential race of John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Baines Johnson. Under
the heading of the presidential campaign of 1960. Wikipedia even
notes: "Kennedy relied on running mate Lyndon B. Johnson to hold the
South, and used television effectively." Each pair of candidates can
thus clearly be seen as a strategy to hold the country together by
means of the geographical distribution of the interests, resources,
and votes which both candidates offer as a dowry of sorts.

In the case of Kennedy and Johnson, according to the media at the
time, the pair seemed constantly on the verge of divorce. The cause
was not political, but cultural. Comments about Johnson's handling of
his dog--lifting him by the ears--made headlines in the media, which
also featured lengthy coverage of personal quirks. Photographs
appeared of Johnson displaying his belly scars; his nickname for his
wife, Lady Bird, also received repeated treatments, as if Lyndon did
not enjoy the privilege of calling his wife by any nickname that the
two found acceptable and endearing.

The reason for this public ridicule was not hard to find. The dialects
of the two candidates were so distinctive that they could not open
their mouths without announcing their origins. In addition, Jacqueline
Kennedy served as a walking advertisement for the most sophisticated
apparel designers, while the Johnsons lived on a ranch, and fancied
barbecues. Such observations might appear as the height of fluff
pieces in journalism, except they were not. They testified, instead,
to the country's consciousness of its own geographical divisions and
the trouble it took to combine alliances across America's great East,
North, South, and West.

The contrast between the media's coverage of the 1960 presidential
election and the 2016 presidential election could hardly be more
significant. To hear the media describe Trump and Pence, a viewer
might conclude that they came from nowhere in particular, unless the
set for interviews includes Trump Tower, and the Trumps point to the
New York skyline. Otherwise, the media appear not to notice that
combining the forces of the Empire State and the Hoosiers is an
obvious strategy to wed America's most outstanding urban interests to
this country's grand Midwest.

Current media headlines might read: Oz Comes to Manhattan, or
conversely, The Yellow Brick Road Leads Trump to Indiana, which has
plenty of Dorothy's famous tornadoes. Instead, viewers of the
Republican National Convention hear constant nagging about Trump's
manner of speech, or they are plagued by vague descriptions of
convention attendees as inattentive or unenthusiastic. Would it be too
much to expect that journalistic coverage reflect the barest
historical knowledge, along with relevant statistics? Viewers deserve
more than another visit with Watter's World on Fox News, where people
in the street reveal they haven't a clue where they are or what's
happening. This is a national election. Dippy media coverage is NOT
funny.

Two Hands, Two States, One Deal

2016-07-21T09:28:00.000-07:00

When Donald Trump shook hands with Mike Pence at the Republican
National Convention, both men were making history. On July 20, 2016,
Pence accepted Trump's bid for the pair to become the seventh US
president from New York and the sixth US vice president from Indiana.
In short, the odds are on their side if the past predicts the future, a
favorite motto in psychology and statistics.

The Archive of alloveralbany.com lists the six US presidents from New
York for history fans:

1. Martin Van Buren
2. Millard Fillmore
3. Chester A. Arthur
4. Grover Cleveland
5. Teddy Roosevelt
6. Franklin Roosevelt (x4)

Dan Carden tracks the math at www.nwitimes.com. "Indiana is the mother of vice presidents," declares Carden, quoting the fifth vice president of the United States.

These five US vice presidents seal the remarkable record from Indiana:

1. Dan Quayle
2. Schyler Colfax
3. Thomas Hendricks
4. Charles Fairbanks
5. Thomas Marshall (quoted above)

Now comes Carden's zinger: "Should Pence, a Columbia native, win in November and succeed the 70 year-old Trump for any reason, he would become the first president born in Indiana." Math renders the 2016 US presidential election more exciting than anyone might expect. When the Empire State combines forces with the Hoosiers, they are on a historic roll. Could a casino owner miss the challenge of completing the data started 200 years ago?

Bring Johnnie Carson Back!

2016-06-05T21:04:00.001-07:00

Okay, we get it. Democrats find Republicans offensive. They identify Republicans exclusively with the Great White Satan, and there's little that Republicans can do about that mistake, except to say with a famous movie character: "You talkin' to me? You talkin' to ME?"

But where did this attitude originate? If Republicans are offensive, it sure didn't bother Johnnie Carson and Don Rickles, who laid out their diverse subjects for humor like a grand smorgasbord. And didn't we laugh--all of us? Didn't we invite Johnnie into our homes night after night so he could enlighten us with his sparkling wit?

If Johnnie ogled a woman, who pounced on him for political incorrectness? We were free then, weren't we, in a way that we aren't now, and we are the poorer for it. Humor deprivation needs to be on the top of both parties' platforms. I will not vote for a party which considers itself above the humor channel.

And what political commentator now is as smart as Johnny? Brian Williams? I don't think so! Megyn Kelly? Nope! Obama? Hillary? Trump? Not a chance. All of them can get laughs occasionally, but none of them can entertain us like JFK or Ronald Reagan--or, for that matter, like W, with his Bushisms.

Obama thinks he's funny, but a man who thinks he's funny isn't. Johnny and JFK and Reagan KNEW they were funny, and there is a difference between someone who's always taking potshots at his rivals and a talent-blessed comic who laughs WITH his audience, not AT them. Johnny knew that the human condition meant that he could be as absurd as any other mortal. It's called humility, and it's been too long since that dish has been served to America.

Do Dynasties Rule America?

2016-05-25T07:12:00.000-07:00

The family business is going gangbusters in the US. No sooner do
republicans have a presidential candidate than they've got sons and
daughters coming down the track. Have we seen this phenomenon before
in American history? Adams, Roosevelt, Kennedy, and Bush clans are
the most famous, and they're not done. But what happened to Carter,
LBJ, and Nixon? Shouldn't their daughters be running for something?

While the American family as a traditional unit has fallen on
extremely hard times, and the family farm, too, has virtually
surrendered to corporate America, the secret to keeping a family
together here appears to be: Run for office! Drag the kids along! Get
the spouse in on the act--if s/he can wear designer clothes but not
like a Kardashian. Multiple marriages just mean more kids and spouses
to add to the entourage.

Clinton's problem is that she has enough offspring and in-laws to
create a soap opera but not a basketball team. She didn't divorce
Bill, though, so now she's encumbered with a spouse whose legacy she
must defend, while he muddles along with his track record in the Oval
Office. If he had divorced Hillary, how many ex-wives would now be
endorsing Bill for the position of America's ambassador to the United
Nations?

Maybe the cartoon Adams Family created the real American dream. They
lived in a haunted Victorian pile. They accepted their relatives'
flaws as entertainment. They never divorced because who else could
manage their kids' careers? Cousin It handled their communications
systems, and Uncle Festor could always be counted on to relieve
boredom. "Swanky is as swanky does" could have been their campaign
slogan.

Hillary Is No Wrestler

2016-05-22T09:45:00.000-07:00

This point is fact: For months, Hillary Clinton evaded competition. What was she doing while the republican candidates snarled and circled--having her nails and hair done? In sports, if a competitor doesn't show up, s/he's OUT! This observation especially applies to wrestling. Whether a competitor participates in professional, Olympic, or amateur wrestling, that athlete must get into the ring before he can be thrown OUT. Refusing to compete is a major fault. It suggests cowardice, lack of readiness, procrastination, and/or tardiness.

It doesn't matter if Debbie Wasserman-Schultz, the DNC chair, plotted a strategy to favor Hillary over other democrat candidates. Wrestling is merciless in shining a spotlight on the individual. If s/he doesn't show up, fans see a big empty space. Immediately, frustrated fans get restless, just as they did waiting for Ray Charles, who was notorious for lateness, too. If a late competitor does show up eventually, then fans expect a performance which justifies their investment of time and anticipation: They demand the most outstanding exercise of skill, finesse, and even elegance in hoisting the opponent and whipsawing him/her outta that ring!

So, with a limited schedule of matches, Hillary looked like a loser BEFORE she ever made a visible move. When she finally did appear smiling and waving to a crowd--or at carefully arranged sit-downs with a few friendly souls--she looked like the girl who'd arrived at the prom without her date. Her smile was forced; her corsage had wilted. No one could quite remember what the fuss was about. Wrestlers don't behave this way, if they plan on winning anything--and Donald Trump has not participated in World Wrestling Entertainment for years without learning something.

The Donald takes care to move like a heavyweight. He plants his feet. He signals briefly with sharp hands to security or assistants. Whether he's entering or exiting an event, he is accompanied by a sturdy crew. His words are sharp, too, like hand chops. "Lying Ted!" he jabs. "Crooked Hillary!" he jabs again. His phrases are short, so no one can forget them. He eschews complexity for a crowd that's longing to boo and rave. He courts the spotlight because that's where the wrestler always is. His behavior speaks volumes, and voters get the message: The medium IS the message, said Marshall McLuhan.

It is not accidental that the business world is littered with former athletes. They come renowned for perseverance, teamwork, and a competitive spirit. They show up not only because it's expected, but because they live to win. Before anyone protests that everyone's a winner one way or another, consider how it felt to lose four Americans in Benghazi. Consider, too, how it felt to see the opposition retake Fallujah after American lives had been lost so memorably there. Do Americans want to spend another four years whining and complaining? Or do they just want to see the US get back into the ring?

* * *

For more complaints, see also Borchers, Callum. "Why Hillary Clinton should go on Fox News again." The Washington Post. <https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2016/02/22/why-hillary-clinton-should-go-back-on-fox-news-again/>.

Three Priceless Aids to Education

2016-05-10T16:25:00.000-07:00

How can a parent set a child on the road to genius status? The most important choices cost nothing. Nevertheless, they will determine success or failure in that child's record.

1. Socialization begins with awareness that a child needs to pay attention to fundamentals. Thus, a parent needs to direct a child's attention to priorities: Is that child looking up, ready to learn, or is that child dragging around a bag of candy, intent only on a sugar fix?

2. Readiness to learn appears the second that children open their mouths. Are their favorite words obscenities, slurs, and baby talk? Or have they mastered those signals of constructive interaction with the rest of society: Hello? Please? Thank you!

3. By the age of three, if not before, does a child understand that a cardinal role in learning requires listening to instructions, following warnings, and rejoicing in rewards for cooperation with adults? Or does that child dash into traffic, screaming, "I wanna play!"

Teachers know what a child has been doing since birth from the first moment of encounter. Does the teacher's lesson result in love at first sight, or get me the heck out of here? Make constructive learning fun, and then throw a great party for parents who love their kids into life!

Bringing up a Baby Basset

2016-05-10T16:20:00.000-07:00

My twelve week-old basset hound puppy climbed into my lap today. He needed a boost because he's two feet long but only about eight inches high.

He looks like an El Greco painting as he snoops his long nose up my arm. The closer he comes, the longer his nose appears. Then he stabs me with those luminous eyes: brown as dark opals and gleaming like pearls.

He makes me realize what El Greco does: that artist extends arms, robes, and flames like an intake or sigh of breath which simply escapes intention. He draws our eyes up, and then he closes them. From his perspective, everything is too long, and we don't care. We just want this vision to continue like mist rising with dawn.

For the first time, my new dog came to me just to snuggle. He lapped his ears over my knees. He pressed his colossal feet against my arms. He kept juggling his back legs until I offered a corner of my chair. Then, he slid his head slyly so he could look me in the eye sideways: I'm happy here, he announced in his elongated language.

I had to slide him down from his perch, of course, to take another puppy trek around the lawn. Then, he could contain himself no longer. In true basset fashion, he leapt in every direction, and completed two flips, I am sure. He actually chose me as a playmate today, over his collection of toys.

Now, the only question is this: How will I juggle him on my lap when he is five feet long and weighs seventy pounds? Since he's so sly, and I am so curious, we'll have about a year to find out. By then, maybe El Greco will supply the answer.

A King-sized Flub by The Donald

2016-04-19T08:18:00.000-07:00

The New York Post is headlining the colossal blooper which came out of The Donald's mouth last night in Buffalo, NY. Hey, Donald, this was The Blooper of All Time!

Check this video for the full horror as the audience asks: "Hey, Don, what just happened?" See: <http://nypost.com/2016/04/19/donald-trump-confuses-911-with-7-eleven/>.

How could the Don confuse 9/11 with 7 Eleven? Could anyone located anywhere near Ground Zero on that fateful day make that mistake?

This writer was living in the Lehigh Valley in Pennsylvania on that occasion. For six weeks, the local population expected more attacks, since they are near Philadelphia, which expected more attacks, too. The atmosphere was so poisoned with emotion that just to smile was out of the question.

The response to that event was different for folks located elsewhere. This writer talked to relatives in Florida and Louisiana. Both parties exhibited none of the extreme angst which characterized that moment for residents so close to the devastation.

Maybe it's time for a re-take on The Donald's claim that he saw the Towers fall. That experience knocked people for a loop, as well. Emotional authenticity cannot be fabricated, unless by actors. And The Donald does not win an Oscar for his grimaces and smiles as the wrong words leaped to public attention.

The timing of this mistake by The Donald could not be worse for his campaign. Real New Yorkers remember 9/11. It was worse than the worst horror film they ever experienced, because it was real, too--in spite of the fact that it was beyond imagining. No way could that event be confused with 7 Eleven for anyone who was anywhere near America's Prize Big Apple.

Baltimore's Children

2015-04-29T09:58:00.000-07:00

Investigators of the recent Baltimore riots need to speak with Charm City's children. They also need to inventory the childhood activities of both rioters and protestors.

Descriptions of a Baltimore childhood run the full gamut from charming to deadly. One young woman told me she studied ballet for fourteen years. A phalanx of young men told me they spent their childhood setting fires.

Drugs played a significant role in all discussions I witnessed on this subject. Some young Baltimoreans admitted they sold drugs from the age of ten. Others described being on Ritalin for so long that they did not remember their childhood.

Gang membership was a given in some neighborhoods. "Snitches get stitches" was a common saying among gang sympathizers. Gang members may also admit they will NEVER report crimes out of loyalty to their gangs.

In this context, it is worth remembering that gangs fight over turf and drug clientele. The above reports only came to me as I worked in the Baltimore area for five years. More thorough statistics must surely be available from the Community-Organizer-in-Chief.

A Dog's Strategy

2015-04-11T12:56:00.000-07:00

by Meg Curtis

He left his last bone on my balcony. He licked it a couple of times, and then moved it to the location where he wished it to stay. It remains in that position because I refuse to throw it away.

That dog suffered from canine T cell lymphoma for at least six months. At the end he would not, could not, eat. He turned up his nose at the treats he had begged for as his just reward for filling a hole in the universe the size of Texas at least.

He spent his last two weeks on that balcony. Once I allowed him to go out there by himself, he stretched out flat on the cool concrete. If snow had invaded the concrete, he ate it. If snow filled the air, he greeted it like the best shower on earth.

Steroids kept him alive for six months. For that time, he remained active, although lymphoma was creeping up on him. He began panting heavily, however, and rolled in the snow every chance he got. Walking him got to be a search for the disappearing white stuff.

His passion for my balcony only became clear on Easter morning. Then I stood directly behind him, inside my windows, watching to see what kept his head planted between the protective rails on the balcony. Until I called him regularly, to prevent freezing, he didn't move.

A light snow had descended on Easter morning. Only then did I realize that he wasn't looking at the ground or road nearby. He was pointed across the road, where the snow outlined every branch and bramble. The snow made visible what had been there all along: a rabbit shape.

I kept as still as he did. I waited to see if my imagination was creating fantasies in the snow-lit landscape--until that rabbit took off like a bullet. The dog remained as calm as his breed requires: half cocker and half cavalier, he showed his hunting instincts could never be quelled.

So, I suspect that he dragged that bone out there and planted it exactly where he planned to return--if biology can keep up with the passion of a hunting dog. I told him there are lots of rabbits in heaven. What kind of a place would heaven be without rabbits?

In heaven, of course, a hunting dog doesn't eat rabbits--unless God decides they're overrunning the place. A hunting dog just points them out, waits for his director to decide their fate, and then hands them to God as tenderly as that dog brought me a forgotten slipper.

God speed, my hunter. His breed serves by keeping his eye on essentials. Now, the snow has gone, so the rabbits are still there, along with God-knows-what across the road. The vision he gave me remains: to see through the falderal to the truth, no matter the confusion cleared by Easter.