Happy Memorial Day?


    I wonder how many of you say that without realizing the last Monday in May is really not about the unofficial start of summer?

    NOTE:  Okay, I’ll grant you that June, July, and August are pretty cold in the Southern Hemisphere, which sounds like a crappy deal for our friends down under.  Until you stop to consider they also don’t have Joe Biden and Donald Trump.

    NOTE FOLLOWING A NOTE:  That last sentence is sure to tick off both sides of the aisle.  You’re welcome.

    On the other hand, Australia does have Olivia Newton-John.

"Not anymore!"

Too soon?

    Lost among the hoopla of Bud Light-free backyard barbecues, fireworks (for those looking to get a jump on Independence Day), trips to Jersey beaches (to watch the annual washing ashore of mob hits), and tropical storms (in Florida) is the true purpose behind Memorial Day.

Some celebrate in their own way.

    Originally called Decoration Day, recognition of those who gave their lives in the recent Civil War was officially proclaimed on May 5th, 1868, by General John Logan of the Grand Army of the Republic (weren’t they all full of themselves?).  Planned for May 30th, it drew former foes together to plant flowers and otherwise spruce up graves of war dead from North and South alike at Arlington National Cemetery.

    NOTE: Which, incidentally, was on the site of Robert E. Lee’s home.

"Vindictive pricks."

    To be sure, women in the South were also “decorating” gravesites of their dead from the “Great Cause,” when they weren’t saying “Bless your heart” or “Kiss my grits.”  In fact, some sources state that those practices even predated the end of the war.  What’s more, some states in Dixie even had their own Decoration Days, mostly in May.

"You know, Letitia, after we're done, I could use a hot dog."
"Oh, bless your heart! They haven't been invented yet."
"Well, kiss my grits!"

Told ya.

    NOTE:  For my non-American friends (and products of the Mississippi school system), the American Civil War (or “War of Northern Aggression”-sheesh, those people can really hold a grudge.  At least they weren’t vindictive pricks, though.) took place between 1861 and 1865 between the “North” and the “South.”  I could bore you with the whys, whens, and whats about one of our most horrific conflicts (this side of a San Francisco CVS), but I won’t (no sense cracking a book).  Let’s just put it this way:  a lot of people died and the blue team won.  Oh, and it wasn’t technically a “civil” war.  Because, let’s face it, there’s nothing civil about getting your head blown off by a cannon ball.

"If'n we survive this thing, we'll get a three-day weekend!"
"Bless your heart, the Yankee Congress hasn't invented it yet."
"Well, you kin kiss my grits!"

Well, whaddya know?  Even the guys.

    Decoration Day remained an observance of Civil War dead up until after the First World War.  Following one of history’s most idiotic conflicts (which didn’t end up being the “war to end all wars” after all.  Suckers.), it was decided that May 30th would be set aside to honor all American war dead.

    NOTE:  And those who lost their lives during peacetime in service to their country.

    The name, however, stuck until it officially changed to Memorial Day in 1967.  No matter what it was called, though, Americans throughout the nation took time out to honor those who had fallen.

    What seemed to many to be a civic duty began to fade after Congress passed the Holiday Act of 1971.  An effort to consolidate some federal holidays into three-day weekends, it shifted Memorial Day to the last Monday in May.  The inexorable transformation from solemn tribute to summertime bacchanal had begun.

    I try my best not to be a crank about the avalanche of car commercials, barbecue tips shows, or “ABBA to ZZ Top-The Memorial Countdown of the 500 Most Popular Hits of the 70s, 80s, 90s, and Whatever the Frik We Call the First Decade of the 21st Century!”  It’s hard not to get caught up in the hype of a country poised at the brink of gloriously warm weather (sorry, Aussies) and summer reruns.  Hey, I like to walk around with my shirt off and scare wildlife like any other middle-aged guy.

    Still, I remember when Memorial Day used to be about the Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine, and Coast Guardsman.  Parades, wreath-layings, air shows, flag-raisings:  those were what I remember.

    But, if I think back really hard (you could take that dirty), I also remember my shirtless father (I’m still in therapy) incinerating hot dogs from Shop Rite on the grill while listening to Best of the Ventures on his 8-Track player.  All while we played fetch with our dog-using my little brother’s bathing suit.  With my little brother still in it.

Like this.  But, not as tasty.

    When we weren’t playing catch with the Lawn Darts, that is.

"Those damn kids and their lawn dar....ooh.  Hot dogs."

    Ahhhhh, good times.

    So, when I get up tomorrow morning, I’m going to fly my flag before heading off to see the Memorial Day parade.  I’ll place my hand over my heart when the national anthem is played at the wreath-laying.  And hang on to every word spoken by a veteran from either the American Legion or the VFW.

    It is then when I’ll remember.

    Then, I’ll go home to see if I can cook a hot dog better than my dad.

    Now that I think of it, I guess the saying fits:

    Happy Memorial Day!

    Still, never forget it should also be Blessed Memorial Day.

    Two things can be true at the same time.       

Back In My Day

     My original intention for this blog was to make millions offset the occasional serious post with some which were a little more lighthearted.  In essence I wanted the “nonsense” posts to outnumber the  “stuff” ones. 

    Well, sadly, there’s far too much in the way of serious goings on which compels me to throw my two cents in.  I still won’t make millions, you understand, mostly because hardly anyone reads these things, but at least I get to voice my opinion.  Then, having spouted off like a drunk uncle (or Trump) at the end of the bar, I’ll disappear into the Internet in search of the odd Karen video or an “Everything Wrong With [insert movie title here]” review.

    NOTE:  You should seriously check out the “Everything Wrong With” videos.  They’re pretty funny.

    In fact, the absurd comes at me so fast that, as soon as I decide on a topic, something equally ludicrous leaps into the headlines.  The good news?  I have no shortage of topics.  The bad news?  I have to decide which of these I’ll tackle.  That would work if I wrote a  column every day, but I try to keep these to once a week.  I mean, my two readers have lives to live, after all, most of which involves attending to things that  actually matter, rather than the insane ramblings of a “back in my day” old grump.

    Most importantly, I don’t get paid.

    To demonstrate what I mean, I had originally intended to write about my experiences with free online college courses at Hillsdale College.  Then, the androgynous lunatic Dylan Mulvaney wrecked Bud Light as a brand.

The title would have been
"Dude Pretending to Be a Chick On a Can of Clydesdale Pee Pretending To Be Beer.".

     But, then?  Something else equally crazy rears its deranged head.  Thus is the topic of today’s essay.  Don’t worry, I’ll get to it.  But, first, a word from our sponsor…


Official sponsor of NCAA Womens Sports

    As the two of you who’ve read It’s Not Just a Job, It’s An Adventure, and my latest opus, Tony the Pony  know, I spent quite a bit of my life in the United States Navy.  Far be it from me to bore you with a rehash of events you probably haven’t read about, but let me say that this chapter of my life is one of which I am very proud.

Still available by the truckload on amazon.com

    To call it the most meaningful would not be an accurate statement, though.  Hands down, the birth of my two children was.  That they turned out to be wonderful human beings is a credit to their mother, despite her shocking lack of taste in men.

    My time in the Navy does come in at a solid number two.

    From service aboard two aircraft carriers to flying above the Arctic Circle on antisubmarine warfare patrol missions, I felt that I was a critical part of a national defense team.  Nobody would dare challenge us, I thought.  The men and women with whom I served had my back just as much as I had theirs.

"That look like a nice, clean, gas station to you?"

    For over twenty-five years, there was no doubt in my mind that the United States was an unquestioned, unchallenged superpower, especially after we outspent the Russians into oblivion.

    Yessiree, the big bad Soviet Union had almost overnight become the trailer park of Europe.

    Before we became the trailer park of North America.  Another story for another time, though.

    Sure, once I retired, I lambasted those who came after me as softees who didn’t quite rise to our level.  (I really did use to say “back in my day.”). I mean, we didn’t have the internet, cell phones, or turn-down service in the barracks (oops, sorry, that’s the Air Force).

    That all said, I never doubted that, if the call came, the United States military would rise to the occasion.  Even though  I was no longer in uniform, the "youngsters”  had the watch.  We were leaders of the free world and those who challenged us did so at their peril.

    However, all services, including the Navy, have lately experienced recruiting shortfalls.  Apparently, a life of service is not as attractive as it once was.  Not nearly as many young men and women want to enlist or are even qualified to do so.  A serious dilemma, to be sure, one which the military desperately wants to address.

    One solution adopted by the Navy, one which causes me to doubt whether we can field a robust fighting force anymore, is to designate an active-duty drag queen as a digital ambassador for recruiting.  To Navy brass, doing this will surely boost numbers and polish a tarnished image.

"It's Not Just a Job," indeed.

    Don’t get me wrong.  I have zero problem with drag.  Good grief, it’s an art form which has been with us for a very long time.  Even though it’s nothing I am remotely interested in, if you want to play dress-up and belt out Liza Minelli tunes, go for it, my man.  Knock yourself out.

    But, a campus coffeehouse is not the same as the South China Sea.

    As the face of an armed service whose sole purpose in life is to break things and kill people, yeah, no, I’m Stevie Wonder.  I can’t see it.

"Betcher ass.  Who is this again?"

    Unless the Chinese, Russians, North Koreans, and Iranians are deathly afraid of a Sailor wearing pumps and a blonde wig cavorting with a broom on the mess decks of a nuclear aircraft carrier, this has got to be the biggest brain aneurysm in Naval history this side of the schizophrenic unform changes. 

"Hey, check out the caboose on this swabbie."

    I'm sorry.  That was an uncalled-for cheap shot.  Forgive me, Jesus.

"I'd love to, but you make it so difficult."

    You may not like it, but the world is a very dangerous place.  And people prepared to visit violence, not mascara, on the wolves out there is just an absolutely critical part of it.

    Facts trump (no pun intended) feelings.  All day, every day.

    Who does the Navy think this will attract?  The thousands of teenage drag stars out there who are itching to wear lingerie and stilettos under their Dress Blues?  Certainly not Kansas farm boys who will now think that the Coast Guard is the smarter way to go.


Not drag.
On a personal note, how crazy is it that this seems normal??

    Good grief, I never in my life felt that hollowing out of the military was being done by design.  I’m not so sure now.

    The biggest worry I have is…who is going to be afraid of the American military now?  Hey, be all kinds of woke and inclusive you want.  Feel good about yourself, cupcake, while those who protect you have become a joke.

    DO NOT get hung up on that this is a gay thing at all.  Homosexuals have been part of the world’s militaries for millennia.  They have served honorably and with distinction.  Part of what I was going to speak on about my Hillsdale college courses was that the Spartan military established and nurtured physical relationships with each other, to the detriment of wives they didn’t see all that often. 

    If you think that made them any less dangerous on the battlefield, tell that to the tens of thousands of Persians they slaughtered on the plains of Plataea in 479 B.C.

    I daresay not a single drag queen was in their ranks, though.

"Seriously, we had enough to worry about."

    In essence, I sincerely hope I’m wrong.  I’d love to be an old crank who just harps about the good old days.  In the past, I dispensed good-natured ribbing to those who followed me in service.  Even though I kidded about them being soft, I never really felt that way.  At no time did I feel this country wasn’t in good hands.

    However, it pains me to say that I’ve grown old enough to see my beloved Navy become an object of ridicule.

    Part of me yearns for “back in my day.”

"Yer darn right!  I'd love to remember where I was again. 
Speaking of, where am I?"


To Impeach Or Not To Impeach

     That is the question.

    The “I” word has been rearing its ugly head for nearly all of my adult life.  Okay, that’s really not true.  I’m pretty old now.  It first entered the public domain in earnest when Bill Clinton (aka “Boner-in-Chief”) was indicted (which is really what impeachment is) for lying to Congress.

    But, come on, we know the real reason.


    But, come on, can you blame him?


    Then, “impeachment” gained even more steam with the accession of Evil Orange Man to the White House.  The first time for some sort of ridiculous “quid pro quo” (no time to explain that term just now-I can’t do everything, you know) regarding Ukraine.  Unlike the real Ukrainian quid pro quo that Vice-President (now president) Department Store Dummy bragged about.

    How in the world people don’t see that is beyond me.  Like I said, though, no time to discuss.  We’ll let that one go for now.

    Anyway, after four impeachments (the first being that thrown for Andrew Johnson), a lot of folks are trotting out the wisdom of impeaching the Eggplant-in-Chief.  That some of this blather comes from members of the House of Representatives strikes me as nothing more than political posturing.  They know that, while Biden may, in fact, be impeached, there is no way he would be convicted in the Senate.

Picture of Andrew Johnson used only
because the poor dead guy doesn't get any press.

    They merely want to throw red meat to their constituents.

"Say it isn't so!"

    First, let me say, that the Delaware Pine Cone should be impeached and removed from office.  In my opinion, this would be the first time in American history that those drastic measures are warranted.  The others were pure political kabuki theater.

"I remember, as a boy sitting at a kitchen table in Scranton with my dad, that I invented kabuki theater before I went to the local Shinto shrine shortly after Commodore Perry's visit to Nissan.  Or was that Datsun?  Or Nippon?  Or a 7-11?  What was the question again?"

    NOTE:  Richard Nixon probably would have been justifiably impeached, but he resigned.  And Gerald Ford pardoned him for any perceived crimes.  Call me a conspiracy theorist, but…quid pro quo.  Once again, no time...we carry on...

    I’m not saying that there is not an element of partisan hatred for this guy.  But, any clear-thinking American has to see that the occupant of the White House is desperately bad news.  Of course, there are more than a few nitwits who see nothing wrong with dudes competing against women, either. 

"Who you calling a nitwit? 
Trust me, it takes a lot of balls to swim against women! 
And wear this suit."

    I am aghast at the stupidity out there.  Not ignorance.  Stupidity.

    To be fair, while there is stupidity and ignorance on the Left, there is also stupidity and ignorance on the Right.  Some folks loudly bleat that Biden should be impeached because, in their minds, that means he is gone.

    What they fail to realize:
    Andrew Johnson:  Impeached.  Served out his term.
    Bill Clinton:  Impeached.  Served out his term.  In fact, I think he got even more popular.

    Donald Trump:  Impeached #1.  Served out his term.  Impeached #2.  The guy had already lost the election, for crying out loud.  Nope, nothing political there.

    So, my point is, just impeaching an individual is only half the game.

    For those who do not know (and you know who you are)….Once impeached, the president (other federal officers can be impeached, as well, but we’ll just concentrate on the Executive for now), is referred to the Senate for trial.

    This trial, presided over by the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, requires 2/3 of its members to agree on whether to convict or not.  If convicted, he will be thrown out of office and the vice-president (and, dear Lord, you know what that means in this administration) will take over.

"I'm your dingle...err...huckleberry."
    Since my math is often suspect, 66 Senators are required for a conviction.  Since the Senate is controlled by the Democrats, you’d have a better chance of seeing Jesus at a nudie bar than seeing Biden go off to a nursing home to eat chocolate chip ice cream and watch reruns of “Matlock” while pooping his britches.

"So, I still can't go?  I have a lotta singles just burning a hole in my robe."
"How many times do I have to tell you?  No!  You have an image to keep up.  Jesus!"

"And that is precisely why you're going to Purgatory, boyo!"

    Plus, I would bet that more than a couple Republicans wouldn’t vote guilty, either, as they'd view relieving a president of his duties would throw this country into a catastrophic tailspin.

Probably not this guy, though.

    I’d have to agree with that.  Because, even though justified, it would be a bad thing.

    If acquitted, like Johnson, Clinton, and Trump, he will carry on as before.

    So, in my opinion, an impeachment would be a colossal waste of time and money, no matter how warranted.

    After all, this country has a lot more important things to worry about.

Like a guy pretending to be a woman
on a can of Clydesdale pee pretending to be beer.

    Okay, that’s not important.

    The line just makes me giggle.



Happy Easter!


"You mean we're still on the Julian calendar? 
I gotta wait another frikkin' week??"

    Okay, I realize this is wildly blasphemous.

"That it is, boyo, that it is.  Knuckles if ye, please."


    I know what you're thinking.  Easter!?  Didn't that already happen?  Doesn’t  Ken know how to read a calendar?  Or has he lost his mind? 


   Well...yes (mostly), kinda (as long as it has funny pictures), and no (well, not here, anyway).


    Believe it or not, there are other Christians out there besides Roman Catholics, Baptists, Presbyterians, Episcopalians, Mormons, Joel Osteen, Methodists, Quakers, Quaker Oats, Congregationalists, Lutherans, Lex Lutherans, Calvinists, Calvin and Hobbists....okay, now I'm getting silly.



    Told you.

    My point is that other branches of the same tree don't celebrate Easter on the same day that the rest of us and Walmart do.  These folks are adherents of what are called the Orthodox or Eastern Orthodox faiths.  Whether Greek Orthodox, Russian Orthodox, or Romanian Orthodox Episcopate (I never knew there was such a thing...thank you, Internet!).


    These people observe Easter in accordance with the Julian Calendar, which means that the two days have never coincided (I could check, but I don't feel like it).  To my knowledge, Orthodox Easter usually falls after Easter Bunny Easter, not before (once again, I could check.  Don't feel like it).


NOTE:  This is the part when I rely on what I can remember from History Class at the Penguin Academy.  Don't use the knowledge herein to take a History Advance Placement test, though.  If you do, people will think you're a moron.  Which is pretty much how the rest of the country views Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.


    The Julian calendar was designed by Julius Caesar (surprise!) many years before the birth of Christ.  Apparently, Julius wanted to be known for more than birthing procedures, salads and Julienne Fries (this is probably not true).  He wanted the calendar to more accurately reflect the seasons since what the Romans used (i.e., entrails of an owl) didn't account for the fact that it could snow during beach season.  Frankly, Julius should have also inserted a "save the date" for the Ides of March:  "Stay indoors."


    But, I digress.


    Anyway, this calendar was used throughout the Christian world for hundreds of years (while the Chinese were inventing gunpowder) until that know-it-all, Pope Gregory XVII (some Roman number…whatever), decided that the calendar designed by the perforated dead dictator sucked.  So, he decided to make his own calendar, which he called the "Gregorian Calendar" (surprise!  Try and keep up) in 1582 A.D.


NOTE:  I use the "BC/AD" convention rather than goofy politically correct "BCE/CE" one.  Because screw anyone who doesn't like it.


   But, instead of gradually breaking the new system in, Greg just lopped eleven days off the calendar.  Just like that, October 4th magically went to the 15th.  Ta da!!  Kind of abrupt, to be sure, but let’s be frank, it was the 16th century.  Most Europeans were digging around in the mud or dying of the plague and wouldn't know the difference anyway.


NOTE:  Yes, yes, I know.  The Black Plague mostly took place in the 14th Century.  Would you have preferred I wrote, "Giving smallpox to Indians"?  Didn't think so.  Shut up.

ALSO NOTE:  Calling it the “Black” Plague may be racist.  Serious, who can tell anymore?  We’ve got dudes swimming against women nowadays .  And pictures of them on beer cans.  So, yeah, it’s probably racist.


  What this all meant was that, besides effing up Washington's birthday (look it up…I can't do everything for you), stubborn people would wind up observing events like Easter on different days.

"Still, your hats?  They're kickin'!"

"PFFFTTTTT!  Amateurs, amirite?"

    Actually, though?


   I think it’s because the Romanian Orthodox people just take advantage of the fact that Easter candy is on sale.

"You hear that?  Peeps are on sale! 
Oh, yeah, Happy Easter!"




Here We Go Again


                As of this writing, Donald Trump has been indicted by a Manhattan Grand Jury for the crime of not being named Biden or Clinton.  Quite a few people swear this guarantees he’ll be the next president (if we're still around, that is).  We’ll see.

                Anyway, I thought I’d give my thoughts on the once and possibly future leader of the Free World,  partisan witch hunts notwithstanding.

                As I considered how to approach this, I read an essay I wrote only last summer.  Much of what I wrote then still applies.  So, rather than repeating myself, I thought I would just update it.  I don’t think too many people will notice that this is, by and large, a repeat.  It’s not like I have a huge following, you know.

                Even though the primaries are still almost a year away, the heat has been turned up in the quest for the Republican nomination.  Sure, there are others vying for the honor of hearing “Hail To the Chief” whenever  they walk into the room.  However, it’s really only one man who is the 400 pound gorilla on the national stage (even though said gorilla has lost some weight...so maybe 350).  In fact, Trump’s only real competition, Governor Ron DeSantis of Florida, hasn’t even officially tossed his hat into the ring.

                If you think the whole thing is just a bit surreal, you would be correct.

                That said, I’ve rejoined the civil war sure to come between  Republicans/Conservatives (not always the same thing) who are for The Donald and those, who while not necessarily against him, would rather anyone else run in 2024.

                Like six years ago, I’ll be spatting with those of my friends who see Trump as the savior of the nation.  They’ll think I’m nuts that I would rather the aforementioned governor get the nod.  I fully acknowledge the successful policies of the Trump Presidency and the fact the United States wasn’t a global laughingstock between 2017 and 2020; I just cannot abide Orange Man’s antics.  His narcissism, big mouth,  and demands for absolute loyalty turn me off.  To be sure, he’s better than that demented pine cone presently in the White House, but I wish he would just shut up.

                Worse, he’s running down challengers, most barbs launched at a man who hasn’t declared his candidacy yet.  Punking fellow Republicans is not the way Reagan would have done things.

                Still, if it comes to pass that he runs against Joe Biden, Gavin Newsome, or an eggplant (would you notice a difference?) come November 2024, I will pull the lever for Donald Trump.  I just hope my friends will once more become my friends.

                I’m just afraid that he will have poisoned the well enough so that he is unelectable in the general election.  Independents, and some Republicans (spare me the RINO crap), may not want another four years of drama.  Or, if he somehow doesn’t get the nomination, enough people will refuse to vote for the Republican candidate or may not vote at all.

                Even worse, if Trump, believing his bombast, forms a third party, that will be all she wrote.

                Teddy Roosevelt formed a third party in 1912 and H. Ross Perot in 1992.  The results?  Woodrow Wilson in 1913 and Bill Clinton in 1993.

Bottom line, Trump is a polarizing figure.  More than a few people have challenged my belief by writing that Trump is only polarizing because the media and his enemies have made him so.

True, but it doesn’t matter why.  All that matters is that he is.

It reminds me of a pedestrian who insists that he has the right of way and so is perfectly safe walking in front of traffic.  True, they may have the right of way.  That will be small comfort when they’re dead, though.

And that is why I predict  a return to the infighting which marked the primaries of 2016.  I won’t lie and try to convince you I was for Donald Trump back then.  In fact, he would have been my third or fourth choice to face the Wicked Witch of Chappaqua.

I wanted Ted Cruz to be president.  However, one of the people I worked for when I was an Environmental Services Associate (now I’m just a cranky old retired guy) told me that Cruz was polarizing in a Grampa Munster kind of way.  Yeah, I could see that.  But, to me, Cruz seemed more stable than the mercurial businessman from New York.

Those of us who expressed reluctance about Trump-we even hyperbolically compared him to Mussolini-were savaged by  our friends who considered themselves real conservatives.  It got kind of nasty.  Luckily, we all eventually pulled together.

 When all was said and done, I pulled the lever for Trump.  I would have preferred the Libertarian candidate, but he seemed nuts to me.

NOTE: he was nuts.

As far as Hillary?  Good grief, AYFKM?

Of course, things were quite different in 2020.  Trump had been a president with a record of success and really didn’t have any serious competition.  Many people considered him a lock to return to the White House come January ’21.

Then, the Chinese Flu happened.  Mistakes were made along the way and what seemed like a sure thing wasn’t so much come election night.

Sure, there looked to be more than a few monkeyshines (e.g. mail-in balloting) and I find it hard to believe the incontinent idiot from Delaware got 81 million votes.  But, I personally don’t think the election was stolen.  I just think more than a couple people had grown weary of the Donald Show, me included (Full Disclosure:  I voted for the Libertarian) . 

In my estimation, Trump rested on his laurels, figuring he had it in the bag.

It’s like when Bart Simpson ran against Martin Prince for class president.  Look, I don’t have enough patience to tell you what happened.  Look it up on You Tube.

Since he lost, he has a real problem zipping his lip.  While his base continues to be in his corner, I’ve no doubt that a lot of people are just tired of his egotistical bombast.  Look ahead, you knucklehead, not in the rear-view mirror.  Your 2016 act won’t work in 2024.

While people (sane people) won’t vote for the demented dumpster fire of the Democrats, they may just stay home.  And the GOP can’t afford that.

                So, here we go again.  The run-up to the presidential election of 2024 (which, unlike in the past, will be the most important election in U.S. history, with the exception of 1860) will be nasty.

In the meantime, though, there will be people like me who’ll wish Trump would just “go away.” He won’t, of course.  The man’s ego won’t allow it.  Therefore, infighting will be unrelenting.

To my Liberal (a word I do not think an insult) friends, I’ll say this.  Enjoy the show.  We’ll get to you eventually, tough guy.  Much like I wanted any other NFC team (except Dallas) to go to the Super Bowl, when it came down to it, I pulled for the Eagles.

NOTE:  Yes, I get the irony that Philadelphia lost.  

It is my earnest desire that we get the band back together after the Republican convention in 2024.  The country can’t afford to continue careening off the cliff.

For the time-being, I’m looking at the governor of Florida to lead us out of this mess.  To me, he has Trump’s skills without the sophomoric histrionics.  Maybe someone else will jump into the fray, though (or, like Chris Christie, eat the fray).

In any event, I gotta hope the Republican candidate eviscerates anyone the Democrats throw up (“throw up” being the operative phrase).   Unless far too many people think Socialism, toddler drag shows, open borders, money-laundering, and big government are the ways moving forward.  In that case, check please?  I want to get off the planet.

I guarantee this, though.  People like me will be lambasted if we express even a whiff that we’re not “all in” for Trump.  We’ll be accused of being anti-Americans who refuse to see what he did for our country.  Yes, he did a lot for our country, but I’d like a return to a society which isn’t seething with theatrics and paranoia.

And I can’t possibly be the only one who thinks that.

Happy Memorial Day?

       I wonder how many of you say that without realizing the last Monday in May is really not about the unofficial start of summer?    ...