March 2, 2019--New Feature: Saturday's Rats

Viewed from his perspective, after the worst week of Trump's presidency, the wall that counts, the one he built around himself and his family is collapsing.

Michael Cohen's powerful testimony and corroborating evidence, the collapsed summit with Kim Yong-un, his despicable comments about Kim not knowing about the torture and murder of Otto Warmbier, and the story about how Trump overrode his senior advisors to unilaterally grant son-in-law Jared Kushner top secret security clearance is a brief summary of this week's self-inflicted troubles.

Sensing this is the beginning of the end, expect to see how those who claim they would take a bullet for Trump rush for the gangplank.

As a new Saturday feature I will try to chronicle this--"Saturday's Rats."

First deserting the SS Trump is my almost favorite snitch, Devin Nunes.

Numes, chair until January of the House Intelligence Committee (when it comes to him that's an oxymoron) was a very useful butt boy for Trump, passing along to him copies of any incriminating documents he thought Trump could use to defend himself.

For someone famous for skulking around in the shrubbery on the White House grounds so as not to be seen when hand-delivering these documents, at this week's CPAC convening, out of character, he called for the entire Mueller report to be publicly released.

He said--

“I want everything that Mueller did made public. I want every email, everybody that they wiretapped, every warrant that they got.

“I think the White House is going to ultimately have to get involved in declassifying all documents,” Nunes said, adding that he doubts the Justice Department will declassify all the documents, based on its previous reluctance to declassify other documents related to the investigation. 

Expect to see along the way, as things get more dire for Trump, that even Mark Meadows will be pushing his way to the front of the gangplank. And how could I forget Lindsay Graham.

March 1, 2019--Diplomatic Ju Jitsu

One thing about which we are certain--Trump has an insatiable need for adulation.

He is indiscriminate about where it comes from or what it is about. He doesn't much care as long as he can bask in the spotlight and feel the love.

He must, then, by some measures, be feeling quite satisfied by the reaction to his "failed" summit in Hanoi with Kim Yong-un.

Conservatives are praising him for not taking the deal the North Koreans put on the table--they would dismantle one or two nuclear weapons plants in exchange for Trump agreeing to declare the end the Korean War and removing the sanctions that are crippling the North Korean economy.

Trump rejected the offer. Conservatives such as Ann Coulter (who is on the record as saying she doesn't care if Kim nukes Seattle) can't get enough of macho leaders who stand up to blustering strongmen, especially, oxymoronically, weak strongman.

And then moderates and liberals alike such as foreign policy experts such as Richard Haas and David Ignatius are also offering begrudging praise for Trump's refusing to give up too much (like the withdrawal of U.S. troops from South Korea) in exchange for too little (the elimination of one or two nuclear facilities). 

Since the collapse of the talks, they have been praising him publicly for holding his fire and behaving as a responsible chief executive. Most, prior to Thursday, thought, distracted by Michael Cohen's testimony before Congress, that Trump would commit to almost anything to assure a bold headline. Even if he agreed to a bad deal.

Here's what I've been thinking--

Though Trump and his team are being criticized for not doing enough prep work to help assure positive outcomes, I am feeling that they may have done just enough for them to get the result they most desired--an obviously flawed deal that would allow Trump to "walk," as he put it, and thereby be viewed as either tough or moderate enough to reap the positive responses he in fact received from diplomats, world leaders, and (most important to him) the media and opinion makers.

Rather then seeing him as stumbling ineffectively he is now, about Korea if not Michael Cohen, receiving the praise he most craves.

Or maybe he just stumbled onto some fools luck.

June 13, 2018--Trumped In Singapore

He couldn't wait to get out of town. 

After a total of about three of hours of meetings--first a one-on-one 45 minutes with Kim Jong-un, then a brief lunch and another meeting that included advisors (John Bolton among them so Kim and the North Koreans could see the man who most wants to nuke them), then, like a couple of kids who stole their parents' car, after showing Kim the interior of the president-mobile (called the Beast by the Secret Service), and a brief press conference where all the questions were about North Korea and not Stormy Daniels, Trump hustled up the steps to Air Force One, told the pilot to put the pedal to the metal, and raced away before he could trade more away to the North Koreans than he already had. For example, casually agreeing without a quid pro quo to end annual "war games" the U.S. has for decades engaged in with the South Koreans.

What had occurred and who won and who lost was revealed in the maximum leaders' two faces--Kim's was all private smiles for what he had accomplished (getting the president of the United States, the president of the most powerful nation in the entire history of the world, to fly 18,000 miles for a few hours of handshakes and, especially, thousands of photographs) while not needing to agree to anything much less actually having to give up anything such as his intercontinental nuclear missiles that are capable of reaching Chicago.

Trump's face, on the other hand suggested that he was either choking on what they served at lunch or knew how snookered he had been by that 34 year-old nut-job who, it turns out, is no nut-job but a brilliant manipulator who should not be laughed off but taken seriously, very seriously.

Kim is the one who channeled The Art of the Deal while the coauthor forget its dos and don'ts.

Why this might be is worth thinking about.

Both men needed this meeting. Many assumed it was Kim who leads a country that is beyond falling apart. He doesn't even have a plane that could get him safely from Pyongyang to Singapore. Forget providing electricity or food for his people.

Trump was holding all the cards, it was thought, including the crazy card--his advisors whispering to Kim that Trump is so deranged and uncontrollable that unless he was genuflected to might actually bomb North Korea back to the Stone Age. Though most of the country already is in the Stone Age.

The truth is that Trump is the desperate one. 

Kim might have a few more generals and family members who want to topple him but he can take care of that pretty easily--poison them or let his dogs literally tear them apart.

Trump, though, has Robert Mueller. Does more need to be said?

As further evidence that Trump is off his feed was his pathetic attempt the day before the summit to trash Justin Trudeau, who, as a result, is not just off the charts in popularity in Canada but I have friends who want to lure him to the U.S. so he can serve as our president.

But the evidence I want to share about Trump's mental health, in case you missed it, was the semi-coherent spritz he offered about North Korean real estate.

He actually said--

They have great beaches. You see that whenever they're exploding the cannons into the ocean [Huh?]. I said look at that view. Wouldn't that make a great condo beyond that?
You could have the best hotels in the world right there. Think of it from a real estate perspective [!]. You have South Korea, you have China, and they own the land in the middle. How bad is that? Right? It's great.

In spite of myself I'm beginning to feel sorry for him.

September 8, 2017--Audiologist In Search of An Author (Part 2 of 2)

The evening, after talking with Dr. Schwartzberg earlier in the day, even without a glass of wine with dinner and a sliver of Klonopin at bedtime, I was soundly asleep by 9:30. I had as usual with ear buds plugged myself into my radio but was so deep in sleep that I didn't even hear how the Yankees fared against the Orioles.

But things soon resumed their puzzling course. 

Alone after breakfast, with Rona in the garden weeding and repairing damage to her perennial garden from the heavy rain of the day before, I again thought back over my experiences with hearing aids and how good they have been for me--how I feel more connected to the world--and also how they, with Dr. Schwartzberg leading the way, have led me into an unexpected and ongoing adventure.

As I sometimes do, late in the morning, I retrieved my hand-sized portable radio to check the local news and gather the late-night sports results. The signal was strong from New York City so I was able to pull in WFAN and learned that the Yankees had been rained out and would play a double header with the Orioles and that it was looking as if at the U.S. Open tennis tournament there was a strong likelihood that the final four women would all be Americans. I made a note to find out when the semifinals were scheduled to be sure not to miss them.

There is also a local Maine all-news radio station, WGAN, 560 on the dial, that I routinely check in with for the latest weather news. I turned to it since I was feeling hurricane anxiety as I aways do this time of year. My nervousness, though, was not unfounded as Texas had already been battered by Hurricane Harvey and Irma was bearing down on South Florida. 

Unable to control my fears I began to obsess about where Irma might turn after making landfall in the southeast and what would become of Jose, roaring across the Caribbean right behind Irma. Was the Gulf of Maine in any way a possible place where either would make initial or secondary landfall? Our rickety, 90-year-old cottage is not more than twenty yards from the Gulf. Thankfully, Rona recently renewed our flood insurance. But insurance doesn't assure peace of mind. I was anything but feeling peaceful.

I caught myself at this--getting all riled up well in advance of when it might be appropriate to think about boarding up the windows and retreating inland to avoid the worst of one storm or another. Or, worse, both.

I thought I need to stop all this worrying. I need to overcome my addiction--because that's what it is--to news and talk radio. Sports I can handle, but not all the other breaking and dire news. I found myself again fretting about my dependence on news radio, and the print and TV variety as well, as if they offer the kind of distraction for me that I am seeking. In fact, they offer the opposite. Their relentless and repetitive reporting for me make things worse.

Agitated as I was, listening to news about North Korea on WCBS--880, also out of New York City, that broadcasts news, sports, and weather 24 hours a day, the signal, which had been strong suddenly went dead. Not unusual considering the distance and the rapidly rising sun affecting the atmosphere, I switched quickly to 1010AM where WINS Radio, which also covers the news 24/7, was also in the middle of a report about China and North Korea. After not more than a minute or two, the station too went silent.

Again, this was not entirely a surprise--the very same thing over the years had happened--so I ventured again to WGAM, Portland Maine's all-news station. They focus on local news, mainly drownings, boat accidents, fires, and occasional fatal accidents and murders. The usual mix of bad news. So it is not my go-to source for news unless I want the latest local weather forecast.

But, for the first time in my experience, though the signal emanates from less than 100 miles away, I lost that signal as well.

Maybe I need new batteries, I thought, and so I popped two double-As into the battery compartment. But still there was nothing from WGAN, 1010, or WCBS.

I couldn't find any news at all. Could it be that the North Koreans had hacked into our broadcast system? In my agitated state even that seemed possible.

Alone, shaken, and shaking I let the radio slip from my hands and collapsed back into my pillow.

I really need to do something about my dependence on the news media, I thought. As I age, my inability to handle what is now routinely reported is not being offset by being so wired up. It is not working to shield me from my anxieties. Again, I was coming to conclude that this dependence was only making matters worse. I needed other forms of escape. I needed . . .

As these thoughts were crystalizing, from my radio, dialed to what I was sure was still one of my news stations, I faintly heard music. Classical music. Chamber music. Bach I was certain. From his Unaccompanied Cello Suites. Among my favorites.

From WINS? From WGAM? Impossible! But when I checked the dial I saw that I was in fact tuned to WCBS, my first choice of all-news stations.

Quaking, I in turn checked the other two news stations and, incredible as it may seem, both also were broadcasting Bach! All three the same Suite!

Frantic, I thought of John Allan. He's about the most knowledgeable person I know. About virtually everything. He is also understanding and empathetic. If I called him to ask what he thought was happening and what he would recommend I do, I felt certain he would take me seriously, not judge or make fun of me, and would undoubtedly have any number of sound insights about what might be going on as well how I might think about what was happening and what to do.

So, I called, told him what I had been experiencing, and asked if he would try his radio to see what he might discover and since he, I was certain, would have similar experiences to mine, it would help calm and assure me that stranger things have happened. That nothing untoward was going on. North Korea was not engaged in cyberwarfare with us and that the loss of normal radio signals was simply a temporary technological aberration.

But all three news stations on John's radio were broadcasting normally. My radio alone was affected.

I was shattered. Sensing that, John said, "Look, you've been under a lot of stress lately. Family issues. Some heath scares. Exhaustion. You told me you haven't been sleeping. That you've been up all night listening to the radio. Maybe . . ."

"Yeah, maybe I'm going crazy. That's one kind of maybe."

"First," John unflappable said, "take a deep breath and perhaps take one of those pills of yours. Klono something  And then why not call Dr. Schwartzberg, your audiologist? He knows a lot about broadcast signals. After all, hearing aids are kind of like radio stations. They take in and then in a sense broadcast sounds to listeners. In this case to you. I of course don't literally mean they are radio stations, but they do have things in common with them. Hearing aids of course don't broadcast radio shows, but rather they transmit sounds from around where you are at any given time. In the house, or a car, and even the sounds in the diner. But, I think . . ."

"As usual, brilliant!" I said, feeling hopeful, "I'm hanging up and will call Schwartzberg right now. It's about the time he takes a brief break for lunch. I'm sure he'll answer the phone."

And he did on the second ring.

"Am I bothering you?" I asked, "I know at most you have only a minute so if OK, can I run something by you?" I didn't give him a chance to say no, I needed help, and thus raced ahead.

Breathlessly, I told him what had been going on and what John said about hearing aids being like radio stations--at that he chuckled--and therefore there's nothing for me to be concerned about. It's just that I haven't been sleeping and as a result I'm exhausted and susceptible to . . .

"You need to slow down," Gary said, in his calmest doctor voice, "You're overwrought. Even in danger of going over the edge. I mean, I don't want to unduly frighten you or make you feel even more anxious than you are, but as your doctor and friend I urge you to back off. Stop reading about politics, stop watching the Weather Channel, stop staying up all night for the latest news from Pyongyang or Kim Yong-un. There's nothing you can do about any of this. If I were you, rather than tuning in to talk radio in the middle of the night I would look for stations that broadcast music. Not rock and roll but something classical. Or, get yourself an iPod and load it up with Bach or . . ."

"Sorry to cut you off," I said, "But did you just say something about Bach? Johann Sebastian Bach?"

"I did," Gary said.

"I hadn't mentioned him, right? About that I'm not crazy, right?" I was screaming.

"That's right. You didn't . . ."

"And so, it's just a coincidence that you referred to Bach? Any particular work of his you think I should be listening to?" He didn't respond. "Like maybe some of his pieces for solo instruments? For violin? Especially for cello?" I was taunting him.

Not dealing with that directly, he said, "That's my best advice. You need to have different sounds in your head. I'm an audiologist. What do you expect me to say? Go to the gym? Walk along the water? Read a trashy novel? I'm not principally about that. I'm about sound. About hearing sound as naturally as possible. And about how certain kinds of sounds can cause alarm, or anxiety, or contribute to serenity and peace of mind. And so . . ."

*   *   *

I took his advice and spent the rest of the day listening to Bach on any one of my three all-news radio stations. And then, later that night, where on the dial the old WINS would have been, the sounds I heard through the night were of the woodlands coming alive as dawn approached.

I slept like a baby.

Pablo Casals

September 6, 2017--Jack: Trump's Two Faces

I hadn't seen Jack in what felt like weeks. And then on Tuesday, when we arrived at the Bristol Diner, sitting in his favorite booth, he was all smiles.

"So, how you been?" he bellowed. 

I wasn't ready for all the energy he was exuding or all his good cheer. I knew we would inevitably get to talking about Donald Trump and I wasn't in the mood for that either. Hurricanes were on my mind and, if you pushed me, North Korea. What with their recently claiming to have exploded a hydrogen bomb and us with an embattled president who lacks impulse control. 

I ignored him and headed for another table. Rona poked me in the back as if to say, if you let him get under your skin, he wins. Wins what? I wondered.

But, resigned, with a shrug, I turned toward Jack and slid onto the bench opposite him. Deb had already brought me a cup of half-caf coffee.

Without preliminaries, he said, "It looks as if you've given up on my boy."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, but it seems like a month since you've written anything about him. You appear to be obsessed with this audiological business and other irrelevant stories. I can't believe . . ."

"You may not believe me," I grunted, "But a lot of people seem to like my irrelevant stories. Especially the ones about my audiologist." I started to get up to leave, but, under the table, Rona pulled me back into my seat.

"This is hard to believe," he said, "But I sort of believe you." He grinned at me.

I couldn't resist and said, "Why are you so euphoric? You think things are going well? Half of Trump's people have either resigned or are about to. I doubt if chief-of-staff Kelly will stay on for more than another month and secretary of state Tillerson will not be far behind. So you think if things deteriorate further with North Korea your so-called boy has the finesse and temperament to handle the situation? I really believe we're close to a big-time war with them. Maybe with nukes. Nukes deployed by both sides. I can't understand how you seem to feel so bouncy."

"Trump's got everything under control. With need someone with his cojones to handle Kim whatever-his-name-is. You'd rather have your Obama dealing with this? Or Bill Clinton, of, for that matter, Bush? Either one of them? They're a bunch of wimps who had nearly 30 years between them to deal with this. If they had done something years ago do you think that crazy, fat fella would have such an arsenal?"

"It looks like you've moved on from what we talked about a few weeks ago. Charlottesville and Trump's cozying up to the white supremacists. When you told me that weepy story about your father in the Second World War and what he came to feel about the Nazis after seeing the Buchenwald concentration camp, I suspected you were shedding crocodile tears."

"Unfair," he shouted, "The Nazis are disgusting. They're animals. Including the ones here in America. But not everything is about Nazi this, Nazis that. Things are also about the economy, immigrants, the infrastructure, and, yes, North Korea. Tell me the truth, do you care more about the neo-Nazis or North Korea?"

I thought about that for a minute. It was a fair question. "I care about both," I finally said, "but more about North Korea."

Jack just smiled at me, rocking back and forth on the seat.  

I tried to pivot, "You really think he's up to handling all of this? The Russia probe by Mueller is clearly heating up and the noose is getting tighter around Trump's neck. Forgive the image. A lot of that was pushed out of the headlines because of the hurricane in Texas, but it's festering and I am sure the closer it gets to Trump the more scared he's becoming. One way to make even Mueller irrelevant to what you call the liberal media is a big war with North Korea. I confess I'd then turn all my attention to it and hope for the best, even with this president."

"Glad to hear you're so patriotic," Jack said.

"North Korea is a big problem. A very big and dangerous one. And, to tell you the truth, I don't have good ideas about what to do, how to proceed. I don't think anyone else does either. It may come down to war. Sometimes, when all else fails, and it looks as if that may be in the process of happening this time, war becomes the best option. We can't just let things proceed. Our technical people said it would be a few years before Kim would have functioning ICBMs that could reach our west coast and years more before he would have an H-bomb. But it looks like they're wrong and he may already have both. So I don't want to be glib or ideological about this. Trump is our president, and though I hate that, it will be up to him and whoever he listens to to decide what to do. I hope there are a few decent options available that we don't know about."

"Now I'm depressed," Jack said, "I was feeling so good until you arrived."

"We come here for coffee pretty much every day so our showing up should be no surprise. And, for the life of me, I still don't understand why you were so pumped up. Maybe, considering all the messes Trump continues to make you're more hysterical than euphoric and you're putting on a show to cover up what you're really feeling--that he's a disaster."

He smirked.

"And, in fact," I continued, "I've written quite a few pieces about him. Especially considering his various about-faces after the nightmare in Charlottesville. Which, by the way, seems like a pattern to me."

"A pattern?"

"Yeah, how Trump is frequently two-faced when it comes to situations like Charlottesville. How when he speaks off the cuff he gets himself in trouble with most of the media, including at times even with Fox, and much of the public. And then a day or two later he tries to clean things up and, tightly scripted, revisits the story and tries to pave over his true feelings. I'm coming to conclude that he does this semi-intentionally. To literally have it both ways--red meat for his base and seeming reasonableness for others."

Jack sat there not saying a word. Collapsed in the banquette, he looked exhausted. His ability to ignore unpleasant truths about Trump no longer working.

I added, "Even how he dealt with the hurricane was a version of the same thing--first he shows up and speaks extemporaneously, forgetting to mention the victims of the storm or even visiting an area that was struck by the hurricane, commenting about one of his obsessions, how big the turnout was for his visit. But then a few days later, using the teleprompter, he delivers much more measured and appropriate comments. But we know from this two-facedness what he really feels. And it's not attractive."

"I'm ready to order," I said to Deb. She had been hovering close by to listen in.

Jack roused himself, "All the stuff you're focused on doesn't mean a thing. Remember, you heard it here, it's now all about North Korea and you'll be thankful soon that Trump is your president." He resumed his grinning.

"Unlikely, but for the sake of the world, I hope you're right. And by the way--you're sort of right. I have been writing a bit less about him. He is so outrageous in almost everything he does that it's hard to keep up with him. To have the stamina to pay attention, think, and deal with it. I'm suffering from Trump fatigue. Another thing I'm sure he's enjoying--how he seems to be able to silence his critics. He simply wears us out."

Jack, with a sly smile, slid out of the booth, leaving money on the table and headed for the bathroom. It's right by the side door and I wasn't expecting him to return.

Jack, Rona and Steve @ the Bristol Diner

May 24, 2106--Kim Jong-un

Donald Trump told Reuters last week that he is open to negotiating directly with North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un. After 30 years of failing to contain North Korea's nuclear ambitions, under Republican as well as Democratic administrations, Trump called for a different approach.

He said--

"I would speak to him. I would have no problem speaking to him."

The foreign policy establishment, including Hillary Clinton, immediately seized on this as more evidence that Trump is not qualified to be either commander in chief or the nation's chief diplomat.

For example, "experts" concluded that if Trump somehow managed to become president, a policy review by him, no longer shooting from the hip on the campaign trail, would lead him to "take a similar approach toward Pyongyang as a Clinton administration."

That of course is possible. That of course is speculation. This has happened in the past. During the 1960 campaign, for example, John Kennedy cited a dangerous "missile gap" between the U.S and the Soviet Union. A missile gap that looked a lot less threatening once JFK assumed office and "discovered" it didn't exist. Something he actually knew at the time and thus, during the campaign, he was, well, simply lying to score political points.

And in 2008, during the primary campaign that pitted Hillary Clinton against Barack Obama, when during one debate Obama said he would be comfortable talking directly with the dictators in control of Iran and Cuba, Clinton called him out, saying that exposed how naive Obama was when it came to foreign policy. Sound familiar?

Now, after the Obama administration negotiated deals directly with Iran and Cuba--something Clinton is eager to take half-credit for (she claims it was her leadership while Secretary of State that prepared the ground for these initiatives)--she is once again chastising her opponent for being diplomatically irresponsible. Deja vu all over again.

But as with so many of his shape-shifting positions, Trump with this offhand comment about North Korea, is also getting under Hillary's skin. This time in her area of policy primacy--foreign affairs. So she is now scrambling to come up with policies in regard to North Korea that aren't more of the same-old, same-old.

So just what would be wrong with Trump "speaking" with Kim Jong-un? It could actually work. And what's the downside? Kim has a public infatuation with odd-ball American celebrities. The ever-bizarre Dennis Rodman is a personal favorite. This might then be one example where Trump's celebrity and cartoon-like persona might be an asset.

Considering the threat North Korea represents, I'd consider giving it a try.

And, if Hillary wins, since she too is a larger-than-life star of the decades-long Clinton reality show, she also should look for an appropriate way to talk to Kim.

December 10, 2014--One Jong-un

Isn't it frustrating that we know so little about what's going on in North Korea.

With all our human and technological intelligence assets we don't really know who's in charge, who is slated for execution, what's happening with supreme leader Kim Jong-un's health (minimally he seems to be limping), how his sister has seemingly somehow wheedled her way into his inner circle--assuming he even has one--and what's with those Kim family bouffant hairdos?

OK, so his father and grandfather, as well as Jong-un himself were barely five-feet tall. Not that impressive when it comes to leaders-for-life. The hair adds another inch or two of stature. On the other hand, Napoleon and Hitler weren't much taller and they both sported comb-overs. No wonder Jong-un likes 6' 7" Dennis Rodman so much.

More important, we're not sure if North Korea has two or ten atomic bombs or how close they are to being able to miniaturize them enough to stick one on top of missile capable of reaching our West Coast.

But one thing I do know is that I'm happy not to be Kim's uncle. We do know what that gets you--the firing squad.

Now there's another thing publicly known--there will be no more Jong-uns.

According to the New York Times, back in January 2011, soon after Mr Kim took office (if that's the proper way to describe his ascendency) there was a government document that declared that there can be no more Jong-uns in North Korea. Since it's a common name, anyone with it was required to change it to something else and now no new babies can be named Jong-un.

This should have come as no surprise because the North Koreans did the same thing when his father and grandfather took over.

How charming. But also disturbing. Disturbing because it took nearly four years for the South Koreans, who should have some idea about what's going on in the north, to find out. If we can't keep track of what names are or are not allowed in North Korea how will we ever get a line on their military capacity and intentions.

I suppose one reason that there is no electricity anywhere in the country except the capital, Pyongyang, is to keep both the North Koreans and the rest of us in the dark.