September 5, 2019--At Moody's Diner

A friend asked me to repost this. It appeared first on May 31, 2016 and is set in one of Maine's iconic diners.

Down at the end there were two seats at Moody's counter. Moody's in Waldoboro is a Maine diner legend. In season, a slice of their blueberry pie is worth a detour.

And so is the turkey salad, at least according to Rona. I agree as long as we also order some well-done French fries.

It was perfect timing, therefore, to find ourselves in the vicinity when in the mood for a turkey salad on rye and maybe a slice of pie.

"Let me make room for yuh," a bulky man who looked about 45 said, "I'll move down one seat and cozy with Shauna here. My lady," he winked.

Excited just to be there, I uncharacteristically said, "No need for that. It's chilly out and you look like someone good to cozy with."

"You mean I'm fat?" he said, pretending, I happily saw, to be offended.

"No, only . . ."

"It's OK. I just playin' with yuh," he said to assure me, deciding to stay perched on the stool next to where I lowered myself. "Truth is, I am fat and a lot older than I look." He pulled his tee shirt up to show me his considerable belly. "Shouldn't be eatin' this corn bread." He held it up for me to see, crumbles falling onto the countertop. "But they give it to yuh if you order the chili. Which I recommend."

"We're here for the turkey salad," Rona joined in with an extra-friendly smile.

"And the French fries," I said, "Well done."

"And a slice of blueberry pie," Rona added to make sure he understood we weren't dieting and that he wasn't the only one eating a lot.

"I know what you're thinking," he paused then added, "A grease monkey."

"No, I . . ."

"That's OK. No need to pretend with me. 'Cause that's what I am. No shame in that." He held up his hands so I could see the full extent of the grease that covered his hands and forearms like a second skin.

"Workin' on his transmission," he said nodding toward another over-size person at the very end of the counter. He too was woofing down a huge bowl of chili and didn't look up in acknowledgment. He kept stirring the bowl to distribute the corn bread he had crumbled on the chili as a topping.

"Where you guys from?"

"From three places really," I said. But for the next five months we have a place down at the Point, Pemaqud Point."

"Nice out there," he said, "What about the other two?"

Rona looked at me as if to say, "You need to be talking about this over-privileged lifestyle to someone who's an auto mechanic?"

Picking that up, I stammered, "Well we . . . I mean . . ."

"I'm cool with that," he said with a wave, "Shauna and me are thinkin' about our version of the same thing. I'm doin' pretty well and we have a nice house here in Nobleboro and a little place not far from the water--a lake actually--in Kissimmee."

"Florida?" I said, "Not that far from Orlando?"

"Right you are," he said, and slapped me hard on the back. "For the winters. It gets real cold up here and I have no love for snow. Never did, never will. But all my family's here. Been here nine generations. One of the first families. I mean of white people. When my great, great, great whatever showed up from England there were plenty of other families around. But not white ones, if you get my meaning."

"I do," I said, "There were lots of Indians around. From what I've read, they had no problem with feeding themselves what with giant oysters that you needed two hands to lift and, standing on the shore, fish you could scoop up out of the water. No need for nets or anything."

"There are lots of stories about that that were passed down in my family. Some been written down in dairies from the early 1600s. One so extensive and detailed that it's down there in the Smithsonian collection."

"Wow," Rona said.

"Pretty good for a grease monkey," he said thumping his now puffed-out chest. "And if you're wonderin', there are two governors, Maine governors in my family--Benjamin Ames and Joshua Chamberlain. You wouldna guessed that about me, would yuh?"

"I wouldn't have thought that about anyone," I said, feeling good about taking what he said in stride and not stereotyping him. "I mean, how many people have two governors in their families?"

"Mitt Romney's kids, for example," he said, "And to be fair and balanced, Mario Cuomo's."

"And that dopey Brown family in California," the fellow at the end of the counter mumbled, still shoveling in his chili. "Governor Moonbeam."

"I guess it's not so rare," I said.

"You're being silly," Rona said, "Even though these are good examples it's still very unusual."

"No need to give him a hard time, ma'am. We're just getting to know each other. By the way, my name's Dana," he said, thrusting his right hand at me. As I reached to take it, he pulled it back, "Look at me, covered all in transmission fluid and I'm thinkin' to shake hands with you who are about to eat a sandwich." He began to wipe his hand on his shirt. I kept my hand extended toward him and finally he took it and we shook hands, smiling broadly at each other.

"I guess that makes us friends," he said looking me straight in the eye.

"I'm Steve," I said, "And this is Rona."

She reached across my chest with an extended hand and without hesitating Dana took it, saying, "Nice to be your friend, Ro, Ro . . ."

"Na, Rona," she said.

"Like Jaffe and Barrett?" he asked.

"Yes, but hardly anyone knows those Ronas anymore," Rona said.

"The novelist and gossip columnist," he said. "I seem to remember readin' some of her stuff. Rona Jaffe, I mean. Wasn't she ahead of her time? Wrote a lot of racy stuff from a female perspective?"

"I'm ashamed to say," Rona said, looking down, "that I've never read anything of hers. But, yes, I think you're right. Sort of a Helen Gurley Brown type."

"I think better than that," he said, "She was a real writer. More like an Erica Jong."

"Sounds right," Rona said.

"Changin' the subject," he said, "You folks followin' the election?"

By then our sandwiches and fries had arrived and rather than risk spoiling our lunch and the thus-far warm conversation, not wanting to get into a harangue or argument, we both took big bites to fill our mouths so we couldn't be expected to talk.

"Minimally, whatever you think, it's been entertainin'. Seems these days no one pays attention to anythin' serious unless it's entertainin'. I mean Trump, hate 'em or love 'em, is fun to follow. I mean, to tell you the truth, I'm more in the 'hate 'em category,' but almost every night when I tune in to Fox and MSNBC he's good for some laughs."

Releived, still with a full mouth, I nodded.

"He's like one of those fools in Shakespeare. He speaks his mind and because no one in the media at least takes him seriously but  have to admit that some of what he says is true, politically incorrect, he gives folks permission to laugh at things they don't feel comfortable saying out loud or in public. It's kind of embarrassed laughter. You feel a little guilty admitting you are paying any serious attention to him but can't help yourself and laugh at what he has to say. Which I suppose is what a lot of entertainment is about. Comedy at least."

"I agree with all of that," I said after swallowing my half-chewed turkey salad, "So, who . . ."

"Can't say I have a dog in that fight. At least not yet. Maybe never will. Sad, but I'm feelin' I don't trust any of 'em. I mean, you can't believe a word Trump says. He sometimes contradicts himself twice in the same sentence. I've seen him do that. And, he's not wrong to call her Crooked Hillary 'cause that's what she is. I mean she's smart and all that and has a big resumé but tell me one thing she's said about herself that you believe?"

"She does have that problem," Rona said.

"Forget all the stuff when she was the First Lady. That's old news, though there's plenty of smoke from that time. I'm talking about where her and Bill's money comes from. Goldman Sachs? Give me a break. And all that hanky-panky with their foundation--forget her continuing to put up with his philandering--and the email business. To me that's a big deal. A very big deal. Everyone knows she's lyin' about that. She knew what she was doin' and put a whole lot a people at big risk. Then I fear if she wins she'd be looking' for an opportunity to show how macho she is once she's commander in chief. I have problems with all of that. Also what Trump would do with the military really scares me. So . . ."

"So what about Bernie?"

"Another liar. Different kind. I agree with him about the rigged economy and government but the lies he tells are about being able to carry out any of his policies if by some miracle he gets nominated or, God help us, wins. He knows practically nothin' about the world. Only a little more than Trump, and there is no chance of getting Medicare for all through Congress much less free college tuition. First of all the federal government doesn't have any power to tell the Univeristy of Maine what to do and even if he could get all he wants it would, what, double the deficit. I'm not antigovernment like most of the knuckleheads around here, like old Jim over there, but I do care about controlling spending and worry about the deficit. What is it, 19 trillion?"

Jim had finished his chili and was now listening to what Dana had to say.

"So, like I say, I have no one to vote for. If Ralph Nader was running' maybe . . . But he's a jerk. 'Cause of him we got George Bush. W, not HW. That puppy has a lot to atone for."

"At the moment, I'm with you," I said with a shrug and sigh, "At the moment, I'm considering not voting in November. Maybe that'll change. Maybe there'll be a real miracle and Hillary will be indicted and someone like Joe Biden would get in the mix and somehow get nominated and . . ."

"Now you're talkin'," Dana said, "He's my man! Flaws and all. He can also be a jerk. But that sort of makes him authentic. And wasn't he right about the Middle East? Iraq for example? Let it become three separate countries? But that's for another day. Got to get back to Jim's transmission. Next time we're all here, I'll tell you about my meetin' Ronald Reagan."

"Really? Where?" I really wanted to hear about that.

"At the White House."

"Fantastic!"

"I was among a group invited there to get our Silver Stars from the president. I told you I'm older than I look. It was one of the highlights of my life. Not that I thought that much about Reagan. Irangate and all that. Hey, I'd love to hang out more with you guys but a transmission awaits. I'm here with Shauna every day. Down at the end of the counter. So if you and Miss Rona want to stay friends, you know where to find me."

With that, he hoisted his considerable body off the stool and shuffled toward the cashier. Rona and I got up as well and followed after him so we could get in a couple of more handshakes.

February 14, 2018--Hence, Donald Trump

In case anyone is still wondering why Donald Trump was elected, in a few words, in her Sunday New York Times column, Maureen Dowd, who has recently turned more attention to interviewing celebrities (Uma Thurman last week) than writing about our depressing politics, returned to biting form and supplied as good an answer as I have seen. 

Here are the first few paragraphs--

Donald Trump slipped into the Oval Office through a wormhole of confusion about American identity.  

We weren’t winning wars anymore. They just went on and on and on, with inexplicable and deceptive aims and so many lives and limbs and trillions lost.  

We couldn’t believe in our institutions, with breaches of trust and displays of ineptitude.  

We were moving from a white-majority, male-dominated country and manufacturing base to a multicultural, multilateral, globalized, P.C., new energy, new technology world, without taking account of the confusion and anger of older Americans who felt like strangers in a strange land.  

Among many, the allure of Barack Obama’s brainy nuance had given way to a longing for a more muscular certainty.  

With the Russians sowing confusion, Trump surfed those free-floating anxieties, that fear of not knowing who we are, straight to Pennsylvania Avenue.

February 12, 2018--Our Best Hope

What else is new. Over breakfast Saturday Rona and I were again talking about Donald Trump. This was in the midst of the Rob Porter fiasco. 

The fiasco was not about his two battered ex-wives (that was tragic) but about the way chief of staff Kelly handled, no, ignored the situation and tried to cover up the fact that Porter was denied a security clearance because the FBI found he was a spousal abuser. 

Additionally distressing, no one on the Trump team, including its supreme leader, did anything about it until it became publicly known and the White House was reluctantly forced to fire him. 

Reluctantly, not because Porter did such a good job, which was to manage the paper flow to Trump. Considering the fact that Trump does't read, that suggests Porter's was less than a full time job, which--gossip--meant he had the time to fool around with Trump uber-insider Hope Hicks. 

Trump and his Praetorian Guard handled his firing very gently--praising Porter highly as he was marched out the White House door because Trump and his inner circle feared he might show up on Robert Mueller's witness list and they didn't want to do anything further to incite him. 

Oh the stories Porter could tell Mueller from his vantage point right outside the Oval Office.

"You remember" Rona said, "the first person we knew who said he was not only putting out a Trump lawn sign but predicted that Trump would secure the nomination and also win the election?"

"I do remember that. It was up in Maine, it was Joe, and most amazing, he got it right even though Trump had just announced he was running and everyone, everyone, apparently including even Trump and his family, thought he had no chance. People were sure he was running half-seriously to build his brand. In other words, to make more money.

"We thought Joe was crazy."

"But he turned out to be right. Do you also remember what he said when we asked him why he was supporting Trump?"

"I do," Rona said, "It was because he felt Trump knew how to get things done. As a successful builder and businessman he had skills that would translate well in the White House. He'd be CEO-in-chief. And that's what we needed after eight years of Obama, where, Joe claimed, very little that was needed got done.

"I asked him to give us an example of Trump getting things done that qualified him to become president much less a successful one."

"He talked about the iceskating rink in Central Park. How the city couldn't make it work--the ice for years wouldn't freeze solid and though over six years they spent $3.0 million dollars of taxpayer money they couldn't fix it. After two years of agitating Trump finally got the mayor to agree to let him try, charging the city only for the cost of materials. In four months, 25 percent under budget, it was working fine and is now called the Trump Iceskating Rink."

"We were surprised that Joe knew so much about it. But he told us that not only did he but so also did a lot of others and that they would become his voters and defenders."

"Obviously Joe was right about the nomination and election but he was dead wrong about Trump being able to 'hire' only the best people or 'get things done.'"

"It turns out Trump's better at making messes than accomplishing things. Take Rob Porter as the most recent example."

"Can you imagine," Rona said, "How much worse it would be if Trump was actually competent and able to get things done? I hate to think what that would look like. At the moment, ineptitude is our best hope."

"One thing Trump accomplished."

"What's that?"

"After all the messes Joe's no longer willing to talk about politics or Trump."

February 5, 2018--How Sick Is This?

The Dow Jones Average Friday plunged 666 points. (Note the number.)

Searching for reasons, I found a few--

Since the Devin Nunes memo turned out to be what Bret Stephens in the New York Times called a nothing-burger it is thought that this means it wasn't going to be the get-out-of-jail card Donald Trump's enablers were hoping for. (Talk about a nothing-burger.) If Trump continues to be in peril, it's by definition bad for business.

Then, Alan Greenspan (remember him?) warned that there are currently two bubbles in the financial market--a bond bubble and a stock bubble. That about covers it.

When chairman of the Fed, except when he wasn't, he was considered to be infallible. Partly because of his job but also because, perhaps more important, his words were often intentionally incoherent and thus considered to be as if they were coming directly from the Oracle. As to why incoherent riddles might be considered to be wisdom, it is because the original Oracle's words were in Classic Greek, not Greenspan's metaphoric Greek, as in "It's all Greek to me."

Finally, most put forth as the explanation for the slide in stock values, was the clear evidence that after decades of frustrated waiting, workers are finally seeing an increase in their wages. Up 2.9 percent in January as compared to a year ago.

How sad, how sick is it that what's good for the struggling middle class is bad for business. That's not a nothing-burger. It's a whopper. 

January 26, 2018--Trump vs. Obama

Donald Trump launched his political career by savaging Barack Obama, beginning with the birther racism to accusing him of being a stealth Muslim to doing all he could first as a candidate and now as president to discredit and dismantle everything that was accomplished during the Obama eight years in the White House. 

It is as if Trump wants to nullify Obama's presidency (more racism) and delete his name from history. To make it as if Obama was not president. Forget that--to make it so that he never existed. 

For Trump's most ardent followers this is the definition of how to make America great again: Purge the country of people of color and anyone who is not Christian. Actually, not a Protestant. 

If one is looking for the Trump policy agenda all that is needed is to take out a list of Obama's achievements and invert them. Voilà, the Trump agenda is revealed. For example, most recently, most dramatically Obama-annihilating, Trump allowing all states bordered by our oceans to license oil companies the unfettered right to drill.

Try as Trump might to pull off this campaign to overturn Obama's record and place in history, the facts, assuming anyone is interested in them, present a very different picture.

Case in point, a recent Joe Scarborough op-ed column in the Washington Post, "The Damage Trump Has Done, Documented."

Drawing on data about the state of the economy from a January article in Forbes Magazine, not exactly a Bernie Sanders endorsed publication, "Trump's Economic Scorecard: One Year Since Inauguration," Scarborough compares how the economy fared during each presidency.

Most self-vaunted is the run up of the stock market. Trump claims there is no better evidence that his economic policies are working and that this is in contrast with the "failed" Obama record. During the first year of the Trump presidency the run-up in the Standard & Poor's average was a noteworthy 19.4%. But, though he never fails to reject the idea that he inherited a heating-up economy from Obama, the market did even better during Obama's first year--rising on the S&P an astonishing 23.5%.

In regard to jobs created Trump's numbers were lower in 2017 than in any of the first six years of Obama's presidency. And the unemployment rate declined faster under Obama than during Trump's first year in office.

The budget deficit last year was $666 billion, whereas it was a declining $585 a year earlier under Obama. And the national debt, a favorite target of conservatives, is now accruing at a more rapid rate than during the years of the Obama administration.

Then the trade deficit, an important indicator of economic health, was worse last year than in any of Obama's eight years.

There are things to criticize when it comes to the Obama record about the economy (for example the unrelenting growth in the gap between the wealthy and middle class), but things with Trump in regard to the economy, acknowledging its early achievements, are for the most part not as noteworthy as during the Obama years. 

One thing is certain, President Obama's record, which, in spite of Trump's obsessive assault on it, continues to endure while we may soon see the dismantling of the Trump presidency itself. And over time we will also see how history regards each of them. The outline of that, regardless of the Trump posturing, is already clear.

January 11, 2018--In A Matter of Minutes

After three excruciating hours of trying to stay awake during the Golden Globes--the pervasive feeling of self-congratulations exhausting my willingness or ability to endure--suddenly on screen there was Oprah! 

She was wearing serious eyeglasses so I assumed we were in for a treat. She wasn't about to announce cars for everyone but something better: Hope.

An immediate feeling of hope that she was not running for president but was about to be inaugurated and thereby release us from our long national nightmare.

Immediately, except for the Fox News channel, all of media lit up. They were already talking about what a Trump-Oprah contest would look like and, since they assumed Oprah would win, who she would name to key positions in her administration.  

Forget getting down to measuring the drapes in the Oval Office, would Dr. Oz become Surgeon General? What about Dr. Phil and best friend Gayle King? A new cabinet position, Secretary of Mental Health, for the doctor and maybe chief of staff for her pal? What about Stedman? First Escort?

These feelings of deliverance persist so I should try to calm down and take this seriously. Unlike Trump Ms. Winfrey is an accomplished and self-made billionaire. A real billionaire. And she could have the right personal qualities to be a healing president. Most important, she could actually win. Which, considering the alternative, is a very big deal. During her presidency I could hold my nose for all the self-esteem building preaching. Over my political lifetime I've held my nose for a lot worse.

It took all of eight minutes for this wave of enthusiasm to build during an otherwise dreary awards show. Going viral doesn't begin to tell the story. We almost elected a president in those few minutes.

Then on Tuesday, on live TV, direct from the Cabinet Room in the White House, there was that bipartisan 55-minute meeting about immigration President Trump held with Republican and Democratic members of Congress. 

During meetings of this kind the press is usually allowed to be in the room for a few minutes of innocuous schmoozing. They are then dismissed and the meeting occurs behind closed doors. Tuesday was different.

The purpose of allowing the press to send out a video feed of the meeting was not to showcase transparency but to allow the country and world to see that Trump was in control of his mental faculties. That he was capable of acting like an adult--in this case talking and listening--not the nine-year-old he was represented as being in Michael Wolff's new book, Fire and Fury. With Trump embodying both the fury and the fire.

The subject was DACA, the move to allow a path to citizenship for the 800,000 young people who, through no fault of their own, were brought to America illegally. This should not be too controversial an issue since many Republicans in Congress favor it. Nonetheless, most of the GOP base of voters resist agreeing to even this commonsensical compromise. So it was actually refreshing to see Trump, who has demagogued the subject of "illegals," mostly coherent and seemingly on board for a quick and just fix. 

And, beyond that, more surprisingly, Trump, who wants to build the Wall and deport pretty much anyone here either illegally or without having undergone what he calls "extreme vetting," Trump appeared open to an even more ambitious solution to the problem--a possible path to legal status for all10 million illegal residents. He spoke about "taking the heat," the political heat for such a tricky issue.

Was this simply telling whoever's in the room what he thinks they want to hear? Perhaps. But, then, maybe not, since a version of amnesty is not any Republican's favorite subject.

So, what's going on with this?

It could be that the "liberal," New-York Trump some people thought they were electing has finally appeared. Perhaps made easier for him with the decline and fall of his Svengali, Steve Bannon. If so, for moderates of all persuasions, this could be a rare dose of good news.

Minimally, he once again managed to change the subject when seemingly cornered--no one was talking about the Wolff book, most of the chatter about the dossier and Mueller was on the back burner, he dispelled some of the talk about the need to get ready to roll out the 25th Amendment, and even Oprah was pushed from the headlines. Minimally, as a tactic, this performance was politically adept. 

Rona suggested that perhaps Trump was able to put on such a good show because he was on camera. His favorite place to be. 

If so, let's set up cameras in the Oval Office, Cabinet Room, and in the room in the residence where he watches TV. In other words, have him on camera 24/7.

The first year of his presidency, or in TV terms, the first season, which ends in 10 days has been Steve Bannon & Friends. This coming season, let's hope it will be Oprah. 

January 3, 2018--He's Lost His Mind

We are witnessing the beginning of the end of Steve Bannon. 

There is thus much to feel good about.

He has been on such a grandiosity trip that he forgot he is not the president (though he clearly would love to be) but rather another of those who serve the president. He felt that without him there would be no president Trump. In fact, if there were no Donald Trump there would be no Steve Bannon.

Anyone hear of him before he hooked up with Trump?

Gossip and leaks from inside the White House snake pit aside, the fall of Steve Bannon--who Trump rightly says has "lost his mind"--the big deal is that Bannon will no longer be feeding Trump's paranoia. 

And isn't it delicious to contemplate how Mueller now will subpoena Bannon to talk about the money laundering he claims is the central activity of President Trump and his crime family.

January 2, 2018--Required Reading

I've been working my way through Dan Carter's richly detailed and very well written, George Wallace: The Politics of Rage, The Origins of the New Conservatism, and the Transformation of American Politics.

Anyone interested in understanding the Trump phenomenon (like it or not, that's what it is) needs to do the same. It shows how economic hard times for many, xenophobia, and racism have previously been an incendiary mix in America culture and politics. 

Not just during the time when the bigoted but compelling George Wallace was a serious contender for the presidency but earlier as well. We have a long and full history of anti-intellectualism and demagoguery. Trump is the latest example.

Here's a brief taste to hopefully pique your interest--

After doing unexpectedly well in Wisconsin's1964 Democratic presidential primary, winning more than a third of the votes, Wallace was euphoric.

Wallace, constantly manipulating television's infatuation with visual action, dramatic confrontation, and punchy sound bites, effortlessly set his own agenda. The usual [nightly] two or three minutes of air coverage [by the three TV networks] allowed only a colorful charge by [Wallace] in a highly visual setting and a complex defensive reaction by [his opponent, favorite son] Governor Welsh. "Without any conscious bias," fumed the editor of the Nation, "the television cameras automatically focus on him and he projects very well."

Sound familiar?

Wallace--Standing In the Schoolhouse Door (University of Alabama)

August 22, 2017--Steve Bannon: A Picture Is Worth 1,000 Words

Anyone wondering what happened to Steve Bannon, why Donald Trump fired him after declaring many times in public that Bannon was an invaluable and loyal advisor, need only look at the photo on the cover of Joshua Green's revealing page-turner, Devil's Bargain: Steve Bannon, Donald Trump, and the Storming of the Presidency. 

When it comes to Trump a picture is worth many thousands of words.

If Trump hated the idea that Time Magazine put Bannon on its February cover anointing him "The Great Manipulator: Second Most Powerful Man In the World"--with us left to draw our own conclusions about who was being manipulated--one can only imagine what Trump thought when Green's book is so much more about Bannon and his perverse brilliance than Trump, who is largely described as an intuitive political prodigy.

Bannon is not quite labeled Trump's brain, but Devil's Bargain comes pretty close to asserting that he is. But again, if the cover of the book featured Trump, just Trump, I suspect Bannon would still be in the White House.

It turns out, as Trump put it to the New York Post, "I'm my own strategist. Steve's  just a guy who works for me." And as hired help,  like one of Trump's immigrant golf course workers, he's gone.

When I ran this idea by Rona, she said,"Since we read from left to right, if the image of Trump on the book jacket had been on the right, where our eyes come to rest, I suspect Trump would have less of a problem with the book, since as everyone knows, he doesn't read."

August 21, 2017--Jack: Missing In Action

"I was wondering if I'd ever hear from you or see you again."

It had been a couple of weeks since Jack called or showed up at the Bristol Diner. I had a feeling why that might be, but I didn't want to let him off the hook. So I phoned to give him the business.

Sounding chipper, Jack said, "I've been busy with visitors. You know, it's the busiest week of the summer and, if you can believe it, I had 18 house guests. People were sleeping everywhere--some in the barn where I set up a kind of dorm for the young ones. They had a ball. Still are. About 10 remain. I've been running around stocking up on food and drinks and snacks." 

I let him rattle on. He never brings up domestic matters. All we ever talk about and spat about is politics. Especially how Trump is doing.

"We're having a cookout later today so I don't have a lot of time. I need to get to Hannifords before they run out of chopped meat, hot dogs, and all sorts of accompaniments. Then, over to Reilly's for corn. They have the best corn in the area and I need about a bushel. If I don't get there soon they'll run out and our friends will be disappointed. We do this every year. The corn and Mrs. Chase's pie are the hit of the weekend. So, I have to get three pies. And of course ice cream. People love Gifford's ice cream. Chocolate and vanilla for the pies. And . . ."

Since it was only 9:30 I knew there was no danger of anything being out of stock. So, I said, "I won't keep you, but we know each other well enough for me to see you're vamping."

"Vamping? That's a new one. Actually, sounds funky. I like funky."

"Meaning you're dodging the issue at hand. I would have thought you'd be all over me. What, with everything that's been going on. You of course know what I'm talking about and why you haven't been to the diner. I know about all the guests you have every year in mid-August. In fact, it's during those times that you always come to the diner. To take a break. To hide out for a couple of hours. So don't try to sound so innocent. It's not working with me. If you didn't want to talk you could have ignored my call--I assume you have caller ID. All this bull about hot dogs and corn is a distraction. But then again, you did answer the phone. So what's the story?"

Jack was uncharacteristically silent.

"You have nothing to say about Steve Bannon being fired? Nothing on your mind about Charlottesville? Nothing about what Trump had to say? His initial comments, his phony written statement on Monday and then on Tuesday at that scary news conference when he spoke about what he really believes? About all this you have nothing to say? You, who for two years haven't been able to stop talking about 'your boy' Trump? If you had any integrity you would have been eager to talk about all this. I'm sure, spouting White House spin. Placing blame on the counter demonstrators. Blaming the whole thing on the Black-Lives-Matter people. Maybe even trying to work Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton into the scenario. How it was all their fault that there was violence and murder."

I was furious about what has been going on and Jack's silence.

"So, you're just going to sit there listening to my ranting, pretending you have to go food shopping? The country is coming apart at the seams thanks to the person you helped elect and have been pimping for for two years and you have nothing to say? The world is in turmoil, North Korea hasn't gone away, nor, thank God, has Mueller and his investigators, and you're talking to me about chopped meat?"

I thought I heard Jack groan.

"I'm about finished with you," I said, almost spitting, "Either you start talking or stop coming to the diner and never call me again. I too have caller ID. I'm being serious. You have 10 seconds and then I'm hanging up." I began to count down--"10, 9, 8, 7 . . ."

"I'm also . . . " He was speaking so softly that I couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Speak up, Jack, you know I don't hear that well. I think you mumbled something." I resumed counting--"7, 6, 5 . . ."

In a hushed voice, he said, "My father, bless his soul, was in the army. In combat. The Second World War. In Europe. He landed in Normandy in the third wave. A lot of his comrades were killed even before they reached the beach. They fought their way across France. Pushing toward Germany. Then the Jerries counterattacked. It was the Battle of the Bulge. My father's division was almost surrounded. Cut off. Decimated. More buddies blown up and wounded. 

"He was only 19 years old. I have grandchildren that old. It was a miracle he made it through. Many of his guys were captured and spent the rest of the war in German POW camps. Somehow, the others managed to break out of the trap and kept pushing east. Toward Germany. Along the way, they came to Buchenwald. The concentration camp. Where he learned later 43,000 mainly Jews were exterminated. They liberated the survivors. Who were like living skeletons. More than half dead."

I could hear Jack breathing deeply.

He resumed, "My father, like many GIs, never talked about any of this. Not until he was dying from cancer. When he was 81. That was the first time I heard what he had experienced. The hardest part for him was not what happened to the boys in his platoon. That was hard enough. But Buchenwald, about that . . ."

Jack couldn't finish the story. I waiting for a least a minute, not saying anything, listening to his breathing.

Finally, he said, "Now maybe you understand." Again, he paused.

"I think I do, but I need to hear you say it."

"You're torturing me."

"Not really. I want you to tell me what's going on with you about this."

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Yes and no."

"OK. I really need to go shopping, so here goes--

"I hated, yes hated, what Trump said at that so-called news conference. He never even served though he went to military school and fancies himself a tough guy. And I wonder how many of those KKK and neo-Nazis served. My guess, none of them. Not that that's the meaning of life. Being in the army. But you can't pretend to be a warrior and hide behind deferments. Trump, I think, had four or five. But that's a distraction--about who served and who didn't. 

"The problem is," Jack continued, "that you can't, no one can, particularly a president cannot say anything whatsoever good about the Ku Klux Klan and especially the Nazis. Nothing. How are the people on TV talking about this? As Morally equivalent?"

"Equivalency. Moral equivalency."

"There is no such thing as that when it comes to Nazis. There's nothing equivalent. Nazis are evil. Anyone calling himself a Nazi today is also evil. It's that simple. Maybe those guys in Charlottesville didn't have anything directly to do with concentration camps and killing Jews. But if you're a self-proclaimed Nazi that becomes part of your baggage."

After waiting another half minute, I posed the really biggest question--"Does that include Trump? Is that also part of his baggage?"

I let a minute pass. "Does it? He's your boy. Whatever he is or isn't, he's yours. You bear some responsibility for him. I mean for his being president."

" . . . "

"I didn't hear you. As I told you . . ."

Jack rasped, "It does. It does include him."

"So what are you going to do?"

More silence.

"I don't know. I still like a lot of things about him, but . . ."

"But what?"

"Like I said, I don't know."

Buchenwald Liberation Photo

August 12, 2017--Messianic Calling

On 9/11, President George W. Bush spoke in apocalyptic terms about how he felt God calling upon him to respond to the terrorist attack on America. And how in this way he found his purpose in life. To combat evil, he said.

He was comfortable with messianic references because they derived, as a born again Christian, from his evangelical faith.

We know how that worked out. We are still, 16 years later, fighting the wars he initiated.

Now we have our current president also talking in apocalyptical terms as he threatens North Korea with old-testimental "fire and fury."

We know that this choice of words did not come from religious belief. As best as we can determine, he lacks any. But, as with Bush, they come from deep within him.

His is a secular narcissistic messianism.

Colloquially, he speaks about North Korea and his calling--

"Bill Clinton didn't get it done. Bush didn't get it done. Obama didn't get it done. Someone has to do it. It might as well be me." As with everything else, between rounds of golf, he shrugs his shoulders and matter-of-factly indicates it will be easy. He tells us and them he is "locked and loaded" with nuclear weapons.

I suspect, if he pushes the button, we know how that will work out.

Among other things we won't any longer be talking about Obamacare or collusion with Russia and, at least initially, his approval ratings will soar.

July 26, 2017--"I Know You're Going Crazy"

Skipping the hello, that's what Jack said.

"I'm sure you're calling out of concern."

"Of course. You know, 'Do unto others' and all that. I'm a very compassionate fellow. I know you're an atheist, but even you know about the Golden Rule." Chuckling, he sounded especially chipper.

"I'm not an atheist and if you're calling to torture me just tell me so I can hang up."

"Don't hang up. Really, don't. I know you're very upset and since I actually like you I want to share some things with you that might make you feel better."

"Share away, but I doubt it. And I'm busy." I really wasn't, but I was very upset. Not crazy, but almost.

"It's about the pardons, right, that Trump was talking about over the weekend?" I didn't say anything, but Jack knows me well enough to know what was making me crazy. "OK, no need to say a word. Just listen. I'm about to enlighten you. About how my boy operates and what's behind this latest flap."

I may have mumbled. In any case, he said, "Let's start with Jeff Sessions and then we'll move on to the pardons."

At that I did mumble something incoherent. "Good," he said, "you're still on the line and from the sound of you presumably alive." He liked that. "I read what you wrote on Saturday. That's how I knew you were upset. You never write anything on Saturday. Am I right?" I managed not to utter a sound. "About how Trump seemingly just figured out--as if he's that out of it--the connection between Sessions recusing himself from the Russia stuff and the Mueller appointment. If he hadn't recused himself, he would have been able either not to appoint a special prosecutor or if he did to find someone who would go easy on Trump. Including not subpoenaing his tax records. Because you're right. If there's a smoking gun in this it's about, as you put it, the money. Donald Trump money."

"You read my stuff?" I broke my silence.

"Every day. Even on Saturday if you post something. But though you wrote about how this is unfolding you didn't give Trump enough credit for thinking three moves in advance. Like a chess player. Sessions did recuse himself. That's a done deal. And because he did so his deputy secretary, Rod Rosenstein, is the one in charge of Mueller. Rosenstein is the one who would have to do the firing. But if Trump can get Sessions to resign, and I see that happening in a few days or at most a week or two, Trump appoints someone else who isn't recused who then takes control of the investigation. He doesn't even have to fire Rosen-whatever.  The new attorney general would do the firing."

I let him continue, "I know you're skeptical that Trump could find someone to do that because he or she wouldn't want to ruin his reputation. But remember how Nixon, who was in even more do-do, got Robert Bork to file special prosecutor Archibald Cox? You can always find someone to do anything. Even commit a murder. Just ask the Clintons," he paused, "Of course about that I'm joking. . . . Sort of."

"That would be the end of Trump," I said.

"Oh, really? People thought he was dead 20 times during the campaign from slurring John McCain to the pussy business to saying he could shoot someone and it wouldn't make a difference. But there he is in the Oval Office."

"This is crazy," I said.

"All right, let's forget Sessions and Mueller because Trump may not want to mess with them, especially with Mueller who is equally respected by Republicans and Democrats. But he floats these kinds of ideas out there through his tweets as versions of trial balloons. To see how they go down and if they do to follow through."

"You're exhausting me," I said.

"Five more minutes," Jack promised, "Let's move on to the pardons. At the end of last week as if out of the blue he began talking about them. I think it was the Washington Post that reported about that, that he was exploring with his lawyers what his pardon powers are. And then over the weekend, again by tweets, he signaled he has wide latitude even to pardon family members--did you hear that Jared, Ivanka, and Junior? He even said he believes he has the power to pardon himself."

"I wrote about all of this on Saturday. And now you're parroting it back to me. I thought you had something new to say."

"I'm getting to that."

"Please, I'm tired of all this. Which I know is part of the point. To get people to give up in exasperation."

"But in what you wrote you didn't say why he began to talk about pardons."

"True."

"So here's my point. Why I called. He did it to preview his thinking about pardons. To have them batted about for a few days in the press so that when he finally begins to issue them it's no longer breaking news. Half the people who are out to lunch will think he already pardoned everybody and will blame the liberals and the media for picking on him again. The now familiar FAKE NEWS defense. So he takes a few days of heat, the ground prepared by his previewing his thinking, and then everyone will move on to something else. Likely something he does that's intentionally outrageous to help change the subject. Like bombing North Korea."

"What?" I shouted, "Bombing North Korea?"

"About that I'm half joking," Jack said, which didn't reassure me, "But at changing the subject he's a certifiable genius. I mean, he does that two, three times a day."

"To me," I said, "he's a certifiable something else."

"Have it your way," Jack said, "You've been wrong about him before. Actually, almost always." He roared with laughter and hung up the phone.

July 5, 2017--Midcoast: Counting to 30

"I can count to 30."

We were in the waiting area while our car's wheels were again being aligned. With the battered roads in Maine we have to arrange for this two or three times a year. So I was not feeling happy. In fact, I was grumpy.

And so when the little girl sitting with us proclaimed her arithmetical abilities I buried my head deeper into the paper. And what I was reading did not lighten my mood. Half the front page was devoted to the obscene things Donald Trump had said about Mika Brzezinski and Joe Scarborough. And turning to the distraction of the sports page, I read that the Yankees had been trounced again, losing their substantial lead in the 8th inning.

Altogether, I was not having a good morning.

"15, 16, 17, 18," the girl chanted, squirming with pleasure in her chair. Rona was already having a wonderful time.

She looked to be about five and was wearing a dress and patent leather shoes. She was all alone.

She can't be waiting for a car, I thought, indulging my cynical self. Her parents must still be at the service counter.

Back to the Times I tried to ignore her and Rona. If I were honest, the Yankees more than Trump were getting under my skin. They started the season so well and now they were losing almost every night. Following the Yankees was one of the ways I could block out some of the agita engendered by Trump's daily outrages. But not for the past four weeks. The Yankees were supplying plenty of agita on their own.

"21, 22, 23." At 23, the girl paused and looked up at the ceiling as if searching for answers.

To help Rona said, "24."

After a moment of additional struggle, the girl gleefully said, "25!"

"You're doing so well," Rona said. "What comes after 25?"

"26," the girl smiled and got up to get a cup of water from the cooler.

"You really know your numbers," Rona said.

The girl picked up where she left off and, now grinning, said, "27!"

"You're getting close to 30," Rona said, seeing she was beginning to struggle again. "What's next? After 27? I'll bet you know."

The girl, curled up in her chair, began counting on her fingers and said, "28," and, gushing, immediately added, "29!"

I put the paper down to listen and observe and was actually beginning to enjoy myself. I could sense Rona tensing, trying to not be too helpful but yet not wanting to cause the girl to become too frustrated. It was a complicated balance to strike.

"30!" she exclaimed, now bouncing in her chair. "I told you so. I can count to 30!"

"You did it," Rona said, all excited, "How about more? Can you keep counting?"

The girl shook her head, but, looking skeptical, still tried, "30-30?" She knew she had hit a wall.

"You want me to help?" Rona asked. Shyly the girl nodded her head, "30, 31," Rona paused, the girl said nothing and so Rona said, "32."

And before she could continue the girl quickly added, "33, 34, 35, 36." She was grinning broadly.

"I knew you could do it," Rona said.

Now all excited the girl counted, "37, 38, 39," she paused, then said, "30-10."

"That's very interesting," Rona said, "Very clever." The girl stared at her. She knew she hadn't come up with the right number and thus was curious why Rona was praising her.

"It's probably a little too complicated for me to try to explain to you why, though 30-10 doesn't come after 39, in many ways, what you said was, as I said, interesting."

The girl seemed satisfied with that. "After 39," Rona said, "comes 40."

The girl repeated, "40," and with that asked, "How old are you?"

Before dealing with that, Rona said, "My name's Rona. What's yours?"

"I'm Julie," she said, reaching out to shake hands.

"Julie is one of my favorite names," Rona said.

"How old are you, Roma?" she repeated.

"How old do you think I am?" Rona asked.

Julie stroked her chin, looking carefully at Rona out of the corner of her eye. "25?" she said.

"I like that," Rona said, "But I'm older than that. Take another guess."

Julie now was peering at her, "27?" Still happy with her guess, Rona shook her head. "20-12?" Julie asked.

"Do you mean 32?" Julie now was bouncing in her seat. With that a man approached us to ask if Julie, his daughter, was being a bother.

"Not at all," both Rona and I said, "She's showing us how good she is at counting."

"She made it all the way to 40," I said. "How old is she? She's very precocious."

"I'm precious," Julie said, again smiling.

"That too," Rona said. "How old are you?"

"Six," Julie said, holding up five fingers of one hand and one of the other, "I'm waiting for my mother. We're going to a parade."

"Are you OK with her?" her father said. He indicated that he worked at the auto dealership.

"Absolutely," Rona said, "Our car won't be ready for at least another half hour. She's is delightful."

When her father was back at his desk, Julie, leaning closer to Rona whispered, "Do you know how old Jesus is?"

"Who?" I said, not sure I had understood.

Still looking at Rona, Julie said, "Jesus. From the church."

"No one's ever asked me that," Rona said, "That's a really good question. Do you go to church?"

"Just on Sunday," Julie said. "But I don't like it there. They won't let me sit with my father. My brother can. He's nine."

Being a little cautious about the subject, Rona said, "Maybe when you're nine they'll let you sit with him." And then to change the subject back to counting, Rona asked, "If you're six and he's nine, how many more years will it be until you are nine?"

I tried to catch Rona's eye to suggest she not frustrate her with a question too difficult for someone her age. Even someone as obviously bright as Julie.

"Is Jesus a man or a woman?" Julie asked, ignoring Rona's subtraction question.

Not looking directly at Julie, Rona said, "I don't . . ."

"There's my mommy," Julie said, all excited. She hopped off her chair and ran over to her. She grabbed hold of her mother's jacket and tugged her to us, "This is my friend Roma," she said, "And he's her father," Julie said, pointing at me. I am in fact nearly 20 years older than Rona so this was not such a bad guess. Many others had assumed the same thing.

"Nice to meet you," Her mother said, "I hope she didn't talk your ear off. She can do that."

"Not at all," Rona said, "She's delightful. And very smart."

"Are you ready for the parade?" her mother asked?

Julie squealed and ran toward the door. When she got there, waiting for her mother, she turned to wave goodbye. And then they were gone.

As it turned out, the wheels did not need realigning and there was no charge.

June 13, 2017--Jack: Stolen Elections

"I know you're fed up with me and I assume so are most of your readers." Jack was more than half right.

"Most for sure, but not all," I said. "I don't know this for certain, but most people who read my stuff are on the progressive side of issues and, I suspect, don't have too many people like you among their friends or acquaintances. In fact, some tell me that political things have gotten so heated and ugly that they don't want to have anything to do with Trump supporters. That would include people like you."

"'People like me'? I think I know what you mean, but enlighten me."

"Arch conservatives. Donald Trump voters. People I hear from tell me that you aggravate them. You upset them with your willingness to overlook and rationalize the crazy things Trump does. I know you won't admit it, but a lot of what he says and does is really crazy."

"To tell you the truth I am not so eager to talk to them either. They look down their noses at me. To them, maybe you too, I represent the uneducated unwashed. You think you understand me, have me all figured out. Actually, you have me stereotyped and . . ."

"You don't have your own stereotypes?"

"Could be. I'll have to think about that. But there is one thing I am certain of."

"What's that?"

"When it comes to being obsessed with the Russians meddling in our elections your people are a bunch of hypocrites. You too."

"This doesn't concern you?" I said, "That Russia, which could be considered and enemy of ours, may have interfered with our presidential election? Maybe even influenced the outcome? You're OK with that? You call that hypocrisy?" I was outraged.

"You guys have a big problem with this because your candidate lost. If she had won, I'll bet you and they wouldn't be so apoplectic about the Russian hacking business."

"I beg to differ. As an American, not as a Democrat or Republican, this is a very big issue."

"Let me come at this a different way. You're old enough, right, to remember the 1960 election? Kennedy versus Nixon?" I nodded. "Tell me how Kennedy won?"

"What do you mean? He won the popular vote and the Electoral College vote."

"And how did he manage to do that?"

"I think I know where you're going with this."

"A lot of credible historians, and not just liberal ones, feel that his running mate, Lyndon Johnson, rigged the election in Texas and Kennedy's father Joe paid off Mayor Daley in Chicago to steal the vote in Illinois. With Texas' and Illinois' Electoral votes Nixon would have had enough to get to a total of 270, one more than the 269 needed to win a majority in the Electoral College. In other words, plain and simple, your party stole the election."

"First of all, there's a big difference between a foreign power meddling in our election and . . ."

"And," Jack said, finishing my thought, "if the candidates win by playing conventional dirty tricks on each other, like buying votes in Chicago, that's OK with you? To me this sounds like splitting hairs."

"This is something we'll never agree about. I see a big difference between the two situations."

"And I see hypocrisy. OK, so answer me this, and tell the truth--you're sort of all right with what happened in 1960 because your guy won but are furious now because your candidate lost? If Hillary had won with Russian help, would you be so insistent that we have to get to the bottom of this?"

"I hope so."

"One final thing--back in 1960 did any Democrats or liberals speak out about how essential it was to find out if Johnson and Daley cheated? Stole the election for Kennedy?"

"I don't remember it that well," I said, not feeling I was on solid ground.

"Well," Jack said, "I looked it up and couldn't find anyone from your side of the aisle clamoring for an investigation or anything like that. Maybe I missed something. Perhaps one of your friends who read what you'll write about our conversation will find something to contradict me. My two dollars says they won't."

May 19, 2017--Jack, Not In a Good Mood

"I'm not in a good mood."

"If true, I could take a pass on talking to you right now. I'm feeling good, the weather's perfect, I have a lot to get done, and to tell you the truth I don't want you to bring me down."

Jack said, "I only need 10 minutes. Start the timer."

"I'm OK but, really, just for 10 minutes. If you're calling about Trump I can imagine why you wouldn't be feeling very happy." I couldn't resist poking him.

"It's not what you think. With all this Comey business and now a special prosecutor or counsel you might be assuming that I want to talk about that. Suffice it to say, I agree with Trump--it's a witch hunt, plain and simple."

"The people involved with this now, Robert Mueller especially, do not engage in which hunts. But feel free to believe whatever works for you."

"I want to talk about why Trump supporters are sticking with him. People like you expect that his favorabilites will plummet. Well, think again. They're pretty rock solid. Still about 40 percent."

"I have been wondering about that."

"Well, it's pretty simple. Basically, he's doing exactly why we sent him to Washington to do. To tear everything down. Even if he has to put a blowtorch to things. That's why they're going after him. Even Republicans, though they won't admit to that out loud. We've grown fed up with everything. Both parties are at fault. All they want is to keep the gravy flowing in their direction. They don't care about the people, they only care about feathering their own nests. To continue to do so. Trump is a threat to that. That's what we wanted and that's what we still want from him. Bring it all down. Start all over."

"None of this surprises me. There's a lot of frustration out . . ."

"Listen to yourself. Frustration? It goes way, way beyond that. We're talking rage, fury. Not frustration."

"You got me. I underestimated it. A lot of people are furious. They deserve to be. I share some of that, but no way is Trump the solution. In fact, he's part of the problem. He's on the gravy train too. He's all about wanting the government to do things to the tax code, for example, that will yield to him and people like him more and more money. At everyone else's expense. At the expense of the rest of us."

"Furthermore," Jack rolled on, ignoring me, "people like you and the elite media think they know how to make sense of this. You have your conventional wisdom that you apply to what's going on but that gets in the way of your understanding what's really at work. In fact, your conventional wisdom is a good place to begin because everything you assume to be true isn't true. It's the opposite of true. Take any example, and I'll show you how the reverse of what you think you understand is not what's going on. Go on, try me."

"I'm not sure I'm following you. So why don't you give me one example."

"Sure. You value leaders who are thoughtful and restrained. You think that's what voters want. You assume that's what we want, what everyone wants. Well, we don't. We want a leader who goes with his gut and is the opposite of restrained. We don't value that. Restraint. We value the opposite of that. Reasonable leaders think they can negotiate their way to good deals for people. What they wind up negotiating is worthless to us. Worse than that. It is harmful to us. So we like it when Trump goes off script and tells it like it is. Especially when it comes to what's politically correct, which is another example of how the conventional wisdom is all wrong. We're OK with the outrageous. In fact we value it."

"This sounds totally crazy to me."

"We're also OK with crazy. Not totally crazy, but a decent amount of crazy. Crazy also shakes things up. We like it when everyone is scared about the next things coming out of his mouth. I'll admit it, I would prefer if he toned it down. Not all the way down but a little bit. It would make him more effective."

"'Trump' and 'effective' don't belong in the same sentence."

"One more thing from the conventional wisdom," Jack said, ignoring me again, "About economics. I don't mean big-picture economics but personal economics. People like you think that a big motivator for people is concern about their personal finances. Of course to some extent that's true. Everyone has to pay rent and eat. But even truer is that people like me don't follow what you assume about us--we're not primarily motivated by what's 'good' for our bottom line. 'Good' in quotes. Money doesn't trump everything for us. Bringing everything down, bringing everything to a halt is what motivates us. That's what we care about. Bring it down so we can start all over. Enough tinkering around the edges. Even if the tinkering puts a few more dollars in our pockets. Blowtorching it, that's what we wanted from Trump, that's what we still want even as the witch hint unfolds."

"I have to run in a minute," I really did, "so cut to the chase--what do you want to see happen? I mean for him to accomplish."

"What I just said--to bring things to a grinding halt. A lot of people are saying, including conservative people, that if Trump is forced out of office--and I don't see that happening; to be a loser would kill him so he's not quitting--if Pence took over, people are saying, he'd sign the same kind of bills Trump would sign. But Pence fits the conventional wisdom so with him it would be more of the same. We're in a crisis and, don't quote me, we need to be in one. As I see things a bigger mess would be even better."

He paused for breath, "My 10 minutes are up," Jack said. I could sense him smiling, feeling good about himself. That he got all this off his chest.

"I have one more thing to share with you," I said.

"What's that?"

"You may hate it, viewing it as another example of the conventional wisdom. But you remember when Trump was first elected how so many people of my persuasion were worrying out loud, fearing that he was like Mussolini and was going to bring fascism to America?"

"I remember that. I thought you and people who thought that way, who were so afraid, feeling so smart about yourselves and how you looked down you noses at us, showing off what you thought history taught, well, I thought you were a bunch of jerks. Sorry, but that's what I thought."

"I felt that people who thought that way were way over-reacting. But whatever we thought at the time, one thing I said, and this was conventional wisdom too, was that no one should underestimate the power of checks and balances built into our system. Look around, take a look. As of two days ago we have a special counsel and Trump is on the ropes. I don't know where this is headed but his strongman days are over. That's one thing I'm sure about."

"We'll see," Jack said, "People of you persuasion counted him out before, all the way back to the first days of the primaries, but he won the nomination and the election and he's still standing. A little weaker at the moment, but keep you eye on North Korea. I'm not suggesting anything, but if things get out of control there, it will be commander-in-chief time."

As usual, after having the last word, Jack hung up.

April 19, 2017--Crazy-Fat-Kid

That's how John McCain last week referred to Kim Jong-un, president of North Korea.

It's understandable that Senator McCain would be feeling frustrated. Most American are. Kim may be crazy or crazy like a fox, but it is indisputable that he is a very dangerous threat to peace in the region. And then some.

Even the Chinese finally seem to be taking the situation seriously. Until now they have been his principal "ally," largely responsible for propping up the collapsed economy of North Korea through their involvement in multiple trade deals that are of sustaining benefit to the North Korean leadership class.

Perhaps because of coming to some sort of agreement to work together during Chinese president Xi Jinping's visit with Donald Trump two weeks ago in Palm Beach, or because the Chinese are concerned that Trump is a crazy-fat-president and might, if provoked, decide to bomb North Korea's nuclear facilities and missile delivery systems. This would mean all-out, possible nuclear war on the Korean peninsular, resulting in millions of refugees crossing the Yalu River to seek sanctuary in China.

The Chinese crave stability and predictability and Trump represents neither and so they may be taking the lead to see if there is a way forward, out of this unfolding doomsday scenario.

I do not think of Kim as leading a suicide cult. War would likely mean we would go after him and his elite followers--the one's who get fancy uniforms, electricity, cars, and food to eat. They and he like living and have many of the good things life offers. And they are not ideological. Fanatical, yes, but in a materialistic way that suggests they might be more interested in living and enhancing their national stature than going down in martyrs' flames. We saw that with the Japanese during World War II, but Korea is no Japan.

If Kim and his followers desire recognition perhaps we should move carefully to begin to provide that as part of a deal that would have them, under Chinese monitoring, begin to phase out their nuclear program. Muammar al-Gaddafi did this is Libya, surprising many who thought he would never agree to such a thing. He saw the writing on the wall and din't want to be obliterated. Of course he eventually was, but that's another story.

During the campaign Trump said he would be willing to meet with Kim Jong-un to see if a deal is possible. Kim might jump at this chance. It would have to be after a number of other conditions were agreed to to test Kim's seriousness. The process would not begin with a Kim-Trump summit but would be a reward when the two parties were, say, halfway to an agreement.

When Barack Obama said during the 2008 campaign that in pursuit of peace he would be willing to meet face-to-face with Iranian leaders, Hillary Clinton's mocked him, claiming he was naive and suggested this demonstrated that he was unsuited to serve as commander in chief. But then, during his first term, Hillary Clinton, as Secretary of State, worked hard behind the scenes to bring this about. A year or two later, with John Kerry having replaced her, the U.S. and Iran made a deal and as of today much of Iran's nuclear weapons program has been shut down. It is not perfect (as Trump took relish in pointing out almost daily during the campaign) but so far we are not at war with the Iranians. And, as a demonstration that Trump may not always act impulsively, he has not (yet) abrogated the treaty.

My scenario may be a stretch, but most analysts who attempt to understand what is going on in North Korea and what Kim is thnking are feeling pessimistic. The New York Times has concluded that we are moving to a confrontation similar to the one the world faced during the Cuban Missile Crisis. But this time with a potentially unstable leader on one side.

It is generally agreed that it will be two to three years before the North Koreans develop the missiles and miniaturized atomic warheads to reach South Korea, Japan, and the west coast of the U.S. But as they are moving inexorably and rapidly in this direction, we need to figure out how to make a deal well before then that provides at least some enhanced sense of security.

Otherwise . . .