The era of Trump is coming to an end. I feel it in my gut. I embrace the discomfort. I stay present. I stay in the power of now. I am not my mind. It is an illusion. I stay safe. I stay strong. I stay focused, determined, and driven. I am the resistance. I vote.

Doubtless, the next two seasons of America’s favorite pastime are in danger of a colossal no hitter. All the same, we need to safeguard players, managers, and scouts; not to mention, a myriad of fans, vendors, and even batboys from the disease scorching the planet. Currently, halfway measures to stop the deadly virus from infecting players and coaches, do not work. Until scientists and researchers hit upon a vaccine to strike out the dread disease, the only way to protect players is to put the game of balls and strikes on hold. I love baseball. I’ve been a New York Yankee fan since the days when Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris were launching the stitched ball into the bleachers. Nonetheless, I don’t want to see my team and the visitors stricken with the toxic Covid-19 virus and perish.

I make no apology for opposing the war in Viet Nam. It was unjust and immoral; nonetheless, the men and women who fought and died in Southeast Asia and the warriors who were wounded and incarcerated in death camps are genuine American heroes. When Donald Trump told a reporter that the late John McCain was not a war hero because, “I like my heroes who don’t get caught,” I not only thought Donald Trump was insane, I was certain everyone who served in the armed forces, past and present, would condemn his words as feckless and reckless. Countless soldiers did, but many did not. When Donald Trump made his absurd statement about a decorated soldier who spent more than five years imprisoned in Viet Nam, Senator Linsey Graham, John McCain’s self-avowed “Best Friend,” never came to the Senator’s defense. Instead, Senator Graham became one of Donald Trump’s trusted toadies, a sycophant of major proportions. Presently, Jamie Harrison is making a bid to unseat Linsey Graham in the senatorial race in South Carolina. South Carolinians vote your hearts and send Linsey Graham packing. Just think Linsey, when you’re unemployed you’ll have all that free time to carry Trump’s golf clubs.

 

In every state in the Union, polls show that Joe Biden is far above temporary President Trump in his bid for the presidency; double digits in most states and even higher in others. Even Florida and Texas are on the plus side for the former V.P. The major shift in Biden’s popularity is the result of the Orange Scourge’s ineptitude throughout the hideous pandemic. Apparently, people have an aversion to dying and Trump is literally killing tens of thousands of Americans. This November, not only our freedom, but our very lives hang in the balance. We the people must unseat the White Supremacist in the Oval Office and hold him accountable for his shameful behavior. Shortly thereafter, we will have the best Thanksgiving we’ve had in four years. Get out the vote.

For decades, I’ve known that Harriet Tubman was a true American hero. Just the same, the magnitude of her heroism, bravery, and courageousness escaped me until I saw the motion picture, “Harriet,” starring Cynthia Erivo and Leslie Odom Jr. During this country’s darkest history, Harriet Tubman not only escaped the bondage of slavery, she traveled back to the deep south, again and again, risking her life to lead seventy others out of a world of servitude, oppression, and degradation. Harriet Tubman’s story could have ended there, but the strong black woman’s unceasing contribution to humanity continued throughout the Civil War. Standing on the front line, Harriet Tubman fought tirelessly against the hatred and dehumanization the Confederacy sought to preserve. Harriet Tubman is a genuine American icon; a symbol for everything our country is purported to represent. I believe Harriet Tubman’s likeness should have graced the twenty-dollar bill a hundred years ago. The original freedom fighter’s image should be imprinted on credit cards as well. The notion of a racist who displays the Confederate flag and views a statue of a treasonous Southern General as acceptable in a public park, carrying around a portrait of a powerful black woman in his Velcro wallet, makes me smile. Now, that’s what I call progress.

Keeping schools closed for six months will not turn your offspring into a glut of blathering idiots. Doubtless, a few teachers might argue that they’re already blathering idiots, so how can another six months hurt? Anyway, if your kids are anything like me, and god help them if they are, I cut classes from time to time. I even attended summer school three years in a row. At the end of the third year, the principal thought I was the janitor. If truth be told, there are a surplus of successful human beings who didn’t finish college, let alone high school. Bill Gates and Richard Branson didn’t receive a sheepskin; all the same, the Billionaire’s Boys Club knocked it out of the park. Jim Carey, one of my comedic heroes, dropped out of high school. Perhaps the greatest mind of any generation, Albert Einstein, struggled in the world of academia. “Imagination,” Dr. Einstein offered, “is more important than education.” I’ll bet even our prehistoric cousins were cave-schooled and they could still read the heavens and navigate the landscape. In effect, there are countless cultures who approach education from a vastly different perspective and their citizenry remains healthy in body and spirit. If you stop to think about it, the value of art, drama, and storytelling from a parent’s perspective may be far more important than sitting in a classroom learning Calculous and Intermediate Algebra. So, please keep your children home and healthy until we find a vaccine for this virus. Thanks, I appreciate it.

Pulling punches while Donald Trump attempts to renew his dictatorial reign over the country is no longer an option. It’s time to punch back with a flurry of lefts, rights, and uppercuts until the weasel in the White House is not only defeated but down for the count. A little more than a year ago, the media stopped using words like “Fabrication” and “Mendacious” when describing Donald Trump’s latest dishonest rant. After a long wait, pundits finally began to announce, “The President is a pathological liar,” and “The President lies every time he opens his mouth.” I would add that whenever the Grifter-in-Chief’s lips are moving, he is not only lying, his mouth sounds like it is falling down a flight of stairs. Not long ago, I was having a little chinwag with my neighbor at a safe distance when he said, “Every politician lies.”

“Yes, but that’s too easy,” I replied. “Twenty thousand lies over a span of three and a half years should be in the Guinness Book of World Records.”

“All politicians are the same,” he added with a thin-lipped smirk.

Whenever I hear someone say “all politicians are the same,” a cartoon balloon appears above my head. “I wish I was holding a flounder right now,” the words in the balloon spell out. “Then, I could whack you across your dentures with a walleyed fish, you blathering nimrod.” Of course, I let the words in the balloon fade away and offer the blathering nimrod something plausible like, “Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Adolph Hitler were both politicians. I don’t think they were the same.” Anyway, before I could turn tail, my obtuse neighbor mentioned that he and his wife were having friends over for dinner.

“That isn’t a good idea,” I said with a concerned look. “We’re in the middle of a pandemic.”

“We’re not all paranoid about the virus,” he replied. “You know? Masks and all that stuff.”

“You call it paranoia,” I offered. “I call it being responsible and smart.”

Clearly irritated with my retort and wearing a furrowed brow, he said, “Our friends are just like us.” Once again, the cartoon balloon appeared above my head. This time, instead of the fish across the false teeth routine, the words hovering above my head spelled out, “So, you say your guests for dinner are just like you? Stupid? Thoughtless? Dimwitted?” Once more, the words above my head faded, but this time I didn’t say anything. I just recalled Mark Twain’s adage: “No amount of evidence will persuade an idiot.” In the end, my little tête-à-tête with my neighbor ended with a simultaneous shrug. Doubtless, he’ll never read this piece. Just like Donald Trump, he probably hasn’t cracked a book or read an article since … well, forever. All the same, considering his behavior is reckless and irresponsible and not only puts his life in peril, but the lives of good and decent people who wear masks and maintain proper social distancing, I could give a rat’s ass if he does. One thing he will read every time he drives up to his house is the sign I just put on my front lawn: BIDEN FOR PRESIDENT.

 

 

Pulling punches while Donald Trump attempts to renew his dictatorial reign over the country is no longer an option. It’s time to punch back with a flurry of lefts, rights, and uppercuts until the weasel in the White House is not only defeated but down for the count. A little more than a year ago, the media stopped using words like “Fabrication” and “Mendacious” when describing Donald Trump’s latest dishonest rant. After a long wait, pundits finally began to announce, “The President is a pathological liar,” and “The President lies every time he opens his mouth.” I would add that whenever the Grifter-in-Chief’s lips are moving, he is not only lying, his mouth sounds like it is falling down a flight of stairs. Not long ago, I was having a little chinwag with my neighbor at a safe distance when he said, “Every politician lies.”

“Yes, but that’s too easy,” I replied. “Twenty thousand lies over a span of three and a half years should be in the Guinness Book of World Records.”

“All politicians are the same,” he added with a thin-lipped smirk.

Whenever I hear someone say “all politicians are the same,” a cartoon balloon appears above my head. “I wish I was holding a flounder right now,” the words in the balloon spell out. “Then, I could whack you across your dentures with a walleyed fish, you blathering nimrod.” Of course, I let the words in the balloon fade away and offer the blathering nimrod something plausible like, “Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Adolph Hitler were both politicians. I don’t think they were the same.” Anyway, before I could turn tail, my obtuse neighbor mentioned that he and his wife were having friends over for dinner.

“That isn’t a good idea,” I said with a concerned look. “We’re in the middle of a pandemic.”

“We’re not all paranoid about the virus,” he replied. “You know? Masks and all that stuff.”

“You call it paranoia,” I offered. “I call it being responsible and smart.”

Clearly irritated with my retort and wearing a furrowed brow, he said, “Our friends are just like us.” Once again, the cartoon balloon appeared above my head. This time, instead of the fish across the false teeth routine, the words hovering above my head spelled out, “So, you say your guests for dinner are just like you? Stupid? Thoughtless? Dimwitted?” Once more, the words above my head faded, but this time I didn’t say anything. I just recalled Mark Twain’s adage: “No amount of evidence will persuade an idiot.” In the end, my little tête-à-tête with my neighbor ended with a simultaneous shrug. Doubtless, he’ll never read this piece. Just like Donald Trump, he probably hasn’t cracked a book or read an article since … well, forever. All the same, considering his behavior is reckless and irresponsible and not only puts his life in peril, but the lives of good and decent people who wear masks and maintain proper social distancing, I could give a rat’s ass if he does. One thing he will read every time he drives up to his house is the sign I just put on my front lawn: BIDEN FOR PRESIDENT.