Sunday, July 24, 2016

My Sunday Feeling

That didn't take long did it?  

Yesterday former KKK leader David Duke crawled out from under a rock somewhere in St. Tammany Parish to announce that he was running for the  Senate seat vacated by the equally loathsome David Vitter down there in the Pelican State.  In his remarks to the press after filing he stated that he was running "because the climate in this country has moved in [his] direction."  The nomination of Donald Trump as the standard bearer of what was formerly referred to with a straight face as the "Party of Lincoln"was all the proof he said he needed of this.  

I've written about Duke before.  Back when I was at Tulane, Duke owned and operated a bookstore in Metarie which specialized in white supremacist literature in Metro.  I seem to recall that he and some other "boys in the hood" came on campus for a demonstration which didn't amount to anything.  Tulane, being a private school, did not have-shall we say?-the constitutional duty to let Duke exercise his First Amendment rights on its campus.  Also, rumor had it back in those days that he was an informer for the FBI.  

So actually, there's nothing you could tell me about Mr. Duke that I wouldn't believe.  I think he's a stone con artist who may or may not believe the stuff he puts out.  But don't take my word for it.  

Because David Duke is a felon.  He did time as a guest of the Feds after pleading guilty to mail fraud and filing a false income tax return in 2002.  During 1993 to 1999, he convinced his weak-minded followers who weren't otherwise tapped out from giving to televangelists that he was broke and about to lose his home.  

This, of course, was not true.  

Indeed he had sold his home for a profit.  So what did he use the money for?  Gambling at casinos for the most part.  Really. And now he has the gall to run for the United States Senate.  

Then again, this is Louisiana and he is running to replace a scumbag like Vitter.  

Anyway, you would think that disavowing the candidacy of a racist criminal like David Duke would be the easiest thing in the world.  Indeed, it is for this reason that the Louisiana GOP and the Republican National Convention swiftly did just that.  I'm writing this at 5:30 CDT Saturday evening.  I checked before sitting down at the laptop and as of this writing we haven't heard "boo" out of the Trump campaign on this issue.

I mean, what is so hard here? Is it easier to refer to Hillary Clinton as "crooked?" How so?  David Duke DID TIME FOR SWINDLING HIS CONSTITUENTS OUT OF MONEY.  "Hillary as crook" may be a meme that resonates to those in the GOP that require red meat in their diets.  Duke's criminality, along with his racism, real or showbiz, are a matter of public record. 

So what's so hard Donald?  Maybe sometime tonight I will read that you indeed joined the GOP establishment (for once) and that you have denounced David Duke's candidacy.  Good for you.  What took you so long?

To me, that's the issue.  Duke does not have a snowball's chance in Hell of pulling this off.  He's been running for statewide elections and losing down there for as long as I can remember.  

Nope. To me the issue is what's taking Trump so long to denounce David Duke and his assertion that the advent of Donald Trump as presidential timber proves that the country has moved in Mr. Duke's direction?

How is this hard?

I mean really?

Sunday, July 10, 2016

My Sunday Feeling

Sometimes words are inadequate.  Or at least they are in the hands of someone as unskilled as me.  

What a terrible week for institutional America.  Or what is left of it.  

I'm just kind of numb.  

M said that she just wants to gather her family in and protect it.  She graciously includes me in that number.  But we both know she can't do that.  We know we have to go out into the world.  

But what a world.  

The Presidential election has already worn me out.  And it is not yet August.  The presumptive nominee of the Republican party is a xenophobic narcissist par excellence who consorted with mob types in his real estate career.  He is easily the least qualified candidate for the Presidency since-I dunno-I'm thinking-I dunno.  Hellfire.  Even Aaron Burr had qualifications. And now what the R's refer to still with a straight face as the "Party of Lincoln" even as their presumptive standard bearer is the second coming of IL Duce.  

On the other side of the coin, Hillary and her omnipresent shadow Bill, can't keep from shooting themselves in the feet when they could be coasting to the finish line.  My original plan a couple of days ago was to give a lawyerly explanation of why there was no criminal case against Hillary.  As in nada.  Zero.  Not from the criminal side.  Not from the Constitutional side.  Complete probable loser from the prosecution trial prep side of it.  

But that would have resulted in the usual Facebook explosion.  And I don't care enough about somebody who can't seem to stay out of her own way at times to waste time defending her.  Not that I would be defending her.  I would just be explaining things.

But then again, facts don't matter.  

Really.  Facts don't matter.  Not in a world where some folks consider it unfairly divisive to consider that a disproportionate number of black folks seem to get whacked during routine traffic stops.  Not when a Trump billboard around Morgan says that "The Only Reason That Hillary Isn't In Prison Is Because She Is A Female Democrat."  

Really?  That's what politics have dumbed down to?  

And then in Dallas cops, providing security for a peaceful march protesting the aforementioned, get gunned down by an African-American Army vet trained in the use of a tactical weapon who wanted to kill white cops.  Parse that sentence if you will. Oh. And get this.  There just happened to be an African-American guy wearing camo in the vicinity who was openly and legally carrying an AR-15.    Which in Texas you can do.  Talk about timing.  He immediately became a suspect.  As the kids say, "Yeah, right?"

Yeah, no.  This idiot, who is lucky that he wasn't blown into next January, is talking about suing for defamation.  Of course he is.  Is this a great country or what?

The police eventually sent a robot armed with a bomb to explode in the area in a parking garage in which the shooter had barricaded himself.  

Predictably, there was stuff on FB about how this was excessive force.

Like hell it was.  The line between law enforcement and war got really thin at that point.  I'm good with the resolution.  Then again I'm a law enforcement person.  I'm also widely considered to be what passes for a "liberal." I see no contradiction. Why is everything a zero-sum game?

I'll tell you why.  Because you don't have to think when you reduce the world to black and white. 

M is a woman who in the words of a friend upon meeting her said she "radiates peace." M's immediate reaction to all of this madness is to express a desire to, as I said, gather us all unto herself.  

But she is a Deacon in the One True Universal and Apostolic United Methodist Church. She knows the world must be confronted.  Me too.  We just confront it in different ways.  

But for now, with all of this sadness.  With all of this lunacy on the Internet passing for journalism.  With all these experts in the criminal law popping off on Facebook. 

I'm just numb.  

So I'm good with M pulling me and her kids within the arc of her long arms.  

I'm lucky.  It passes for safe.  It will do for awhile.  

Sunday, June 26, 2016

My Sunday Feeling

The Washington Post referred to it as "economic insanity."  Stephen Marche of Esquire Magazine referred to it as "economic suicide."

The "it" referred to hereinabove is Great Britain's inexplicable decision rendered by its body politic to leave the European Union.  Well, the decision is explainable.  It's just not a very good explanation.  What it came down to is that the people that backed Britain leaving the EU, or "Brexit" to use the acronym, convinced a slim majority of British voters that a vote to exit was to cast off a meddlesome and officious foreign bureaucracy from the back of John Bull. It was also a referendum on the EU's liberal migration policies within the 28 nation bloc.  

Except there is this.  As Laurie Penny wrote in the New Statesman Friday morning, the vote was a not a referendum on the EU.  "It was a referendum on the modern world, and yesterday the frightened parochial lizard-brain of Britain voted out, out, out and today we've all woken up still strapped onto this ghost-train as it hurtles off the tracks."

The ghost train to which she refers is the one that left an economic bloc with a population of 508 million and a GDP of 17 trillion to go it alone.  The ghost train left in its wake-which, of course, assumes that trains leave wakes-a pound note that went through the floor almost immediately as prophesied by experts,more on that later, and has the Scots and Northern Ireland looking at ways to stay in.

God what a mess this could very well turn out to be.  

But I believe Ms. Penny is on to something.  The vote to exit the EU was a vote against the modern world with its emphasis on empiricism and expertise.  A world which is not exclusively white, male and straight.  

Predictably, as night followeth the day, Donald Trump, speaking in Scotland for God's sake, a Scotland that voted to stay in the EU, claimed that the vote was proof that "people want to take their country back" a none too subtle variant on his campaign promise to "Make America Great Again" a theme which resonates for a goodly number of voters here on this side of the pond.  Overwhelmingly older, less educated and white voters.  

So, in light of the stunning events in GB last week, the question not an inconsiderable number of folks are asking is whether a vulgarian like Trump can seize upon the momentum generated over there and get propelled into the Oval Office here?

Probably not.  It is because the Founding Fathers, particularly Alexander Hamilton, did not especially trust the electorate when it came to electing a President.  They feared that the masses could be manipulated by a future tyrant.  So the Electoral College got put into the Constitution.  And the states with the greatest number of electoral votes have not been in play for the Republicans for years.  It is hard to believe that this will change with a narcissistic xenophobe (Or one who panders to xenophobes at least. Who knows if Trump actually believe a third of this crap he's putting out?) at the top of the ticket.

Populist nationalist fervor can get issues like Brexit passed.  It is not enough-and least not in my lifetime-to get a President elected.

The vote on this year's Presidential race, like the vote on Brexit, will be a referendum on the modern world.  Will we look backward or forward? 

The Founding Fathers were always looking forward.  And we can thank them for ordaining a Constitution that protects us from ourselves.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Blows Against The Empire

I came back from the gym this morning to discover that my PC was running Windows 10.  This upgrade was completely unbidden by me.  

The only reason I still fool with the PC is because the government and the legal worlds have not yet migrated over to the Mac universe.  But I have Word for Mac. And the PC users can open my docs.  The folks at the paper that are in the world of Mac can't open stuff I send them from Pages.  

Go figure.

Anyway, I uninstalled Windows 10.  Microsoft asked me why.

"Because I was perfectly happy with Windows 7.  I didn't want this.  Didn't ask for it.  And you guys imposed this on me anyway.  What is wrong with you people?"

I'm not holding my breath waiting for a reply.  


This was at the Field Day at Holy Souls School last month.  This guy wasn't the only performer in the circus act that was there for the kids.  But these were the best pictures.   Or some of the best.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

My Sunday Feeling

As most folks that know me and/or follow this page have come to realize is that my relationship with the game of golf is problematic most of the time.  In Facebook relationship status terms," it's complicated." 

I have a trip coming up to Louisiana here pretty soon and the plan is to pretty much play golf for 3 or 4 days.  So you can imagine my abundant great joy at my last two outings being utter disasters.  As in barely getting the ball into the air.  As in looking like I had never touched a club in my life.  

People sometimes say that tennis is a lot like golf.  People who say that are idiots.  Tennis is nothing like golf.  

Even while enduring my worst ass kicking on the tennis court a spectator could deduce that I could play tennis at a certain level of skill and that maybe the other player was just too good that day or I was having an off day.  That would be about it.  

There are days on the golf course where it looks like I don't know which end of the club to grasp.  Last Sunday was one of those days.  This is not good seeing as how I have this trip coming up which is largely dedicated to playing the damn game.  So I contacted my friend Jerry to see if I could get a lesson in.

Jerry is an interesting guy.  Seventies.  First met him through his brother-in-law who is my Baptist preacher golf buddy.  Jerry also competes on the Senior long drive tour.  He knows a thing or two about striking the golf ball.  And he has a tendency to make things very simple.  Simple is what I need.  

"What have you done to yourself this time?" he said by way of greeting as I approached the lesson tee.  

I told him that, quite honestly, I was playing like radioactive dog shit.  He nodded.  Told me to step up and hit a few balls.  I was topping them and pulling them.  You know.  Radioactive dogs hit.

"You're delofting the club again," he said. "You've got that forward press going with your hands again."

He pulled a wedge out of my bag.  He held it up in front of me.  

"The Ping iron is a marvelous feat of engineering," he said. " It will do exactly what you make it do.  And you are making it hit worm burners."

Check ball position.  Pull hands to in front of right hip.  Start right shoulder going before the backswing.  

Bang!  Nothing to this game.

"Now we are gonna change how you set up.  What did you teach over there at Catholic?"


"What did you teach?"

"History and choir mostly."

"Ah! An artist. Not a technician. Did you sit behind the desk when you taught?"

"Well no.  I walked around the room when I taught.  What's this got to do with golf?"

"This.  I've known you a couple of years now.  You can't stand still.  You walk around or rock back and forth while I talk."


"So when a guy as fidgety as you spends a lot of time over the ball he starts fooling around with his grip and everything else.  You try to think the ball down field.  We're gonna change that. This is how you set up from here on out."

He took a club.  Walked over by me.  He started walking to the ball.  

"I'm looking at my target.  I'm not looking at the ball.  I stop at the ball.  I hold the club straight out to get my alignment.  I put the club on the ground and I aim the bottom part of the club at the target.  I take one more look downfield.  I hit it."

Bang.  He hit it.

"And I let it go. Whatever happens I let it go. I let the swing go.  I let the result go.  I let it go until the next shot. And I do it all over again."

Now this was pretty zen stuff for an older Baptist.  But I have to admit this approach made a lot of sense.  He's right.  A fidgety guy like me doesn't need to commune over the ball.  Bad things start happening when I have to time to think about it.  

Walk up and hit it.  And let it go.  

"This is supposed to be recreation right?" he said. "Go have fun with your buddy down there.  Eat a bunch of good food.  Call me when you get back and tell me about what all you did down there."

Let it go.

M doesn't always go clergy on me but she says there's a larger metaphor at work here as well.  I don't always go "touchy feely" on her but I think she's right.  

The game of golf can impart life lessons.

OK. Maybe that's not what M is getting at.   And I don't much believe that anyway.  

But I get Jerry's larger point.  And I'm gonna let it go.  

Maybe next I can cut down on my cussin' out there on the course.

Nah.  Some things aren't possible.   

Sunday, June 05, 2016

My Sunday Feeling

One of the things that I really like about my station in life since leaving government service is that I get to be around young folks a lot more than I used to back when I was slinging paper in the Federal Building.  I think it keeps me young.  And I think I'm so much outside the little boxes of a lot of these kids that they like being around me.  What little success I managed to obtain as a faux teacher last semester was for this reason alone.  I firmly believe this.  

There were days that I wore a suit to school.  I was terra incognito.

Anyway, I heard through the grapevine that one of my young adult friends had sustained "a broken heart." These are his words.  

Bummer.  Been there.  Not lately, Praise God.  But I have been there.  As have we all.  

I knew that he liked this girl.  His face always lit up when he spoke about her. Gone on at least one trip together of which I was aware.  And then something happened I guess.  

And now the boy's heart is broken.  

I did not let the fact that he had not actually applied for solace from me deter me from horning in.   In my text, as I said totally unbidden by the kid, I told him that I was sorry.  I told him that he would get over it.  That I was here for him.  What else can somebody say?

Well, "what else" might be something like unto this.  Pain is pain and I am not discounting his.  He's a sensitive guy.  And I mean that in the best artistic sense and not in the "Why do you hate my cats?" sense.  

But one of the good things about being my age instead of 25 is that I know the sun will come up in the morning.  I have the balm of 35 years of perspective to get me through the rough patches.  He doesn't.  I've been 25.  Don't want to go back.

I remember that 60 Minutes did a story on some famous soprano whose name escapes me.  She was videoed doing a master class for young singers.  A young woman sang something by Stephen Sondheim for her.  Nothing as dreadful as "Send In The Clowns" but something equally overwrought and New Yorkish.  

The famous soprano said something along the lines of "Dear, you were just wonderful.  But you will not be able to really appreciate what you just sang until you have experienced the losses that will come your way the next 20 years." There's something to that.  

Been texting back and forth tonight with my friend B.   She lost her husband about a year ago.  She's getting through it. But her grief at times is like unto heat waves coming off a country road in August.  

When you get to be my age you reach an uneasy accommodation with pain and loss because it is the way of the world.  Mother's people are not going to be around forever.  I know this.  It is the natural order of things.  I hate it.  But I expect it.  

That's perspective.  You don't have that at 25.  My young buddy is neither a narcissist nor a pain in the ass. He would not equate his pain with the pain of someone who has lost a spouse of 40 years.  But still. He's a hurtin' cowboy and I feel badly for him.

What to do?  We're guys.  We don't really do post-mortems when shit like this happens.  Most likely I will eventually offer to buy him some kinda crafty beer somewhere.

And I won't say much to him other than "It will be alright.  Really it will."

The sun will come up in the morning.  Just like it has every day the 60 years I have graced this planet.

It will be alright.  Really it will.  Been there.  Lived to tell about it.  And I'm glad that I'm not 25. 

Sunday, May 22, 2016

My Sunday Feeling

It now can be revealed.  And many of you know it already.  

From the date of the last post on the blog up until the end of March I taught at Catholic High School for Boys here in Little Rock.  A member of the faculty had to take an emergency leave of absence for reasons of his health.  So one day I was looking into forming a PA and getting malpractice insurance.  The next day I was teaching American history to Juniors and Marketing to Seniors.  Although the boss told me to teach business law since I did not know the first damn thing about Marketing.  

And I'm not kidding.  The teacher went away on a Thursday and the next day I was there for real.  And that's pretty much all I did for 3 months.  I spent my evenings preparing or grading.  It was all encompassing.  I didn't write.  I didn't play music.  I hardly played golf.  

I don't want to write about the experience too much right now.  For one thing, I never had a proper exit interview.  That's for a couple of reasons.  The principal still has way too much on his plate right now.  I need to talk to him before I write about it.  For another thing, I never really exited.  I still go in for an hour or so each day to help with the small boys choir over there which is known as the Schola Cantorum or "Schola" for short.  They are doing their first concert ever next Thursday.  I am basically the tenor section.  And I help run rehearsal when the director can't make it.  So I'm kinda busy myself.

Also, I'm still sorting the entire experience out in my head and in my heart.  And I don't really know where to begin.  I can say to you out there in the audience what I say to folks that have asked me about it.  

"Teaching ain't easy. Overall it was an amazing and humbling experience.  When it was good it was really really good.  But when it was bad it was really really bad."  And when it was bad I'm sure it was, at least in part, because I wasn't much good.  That's the way I always felt about it.  On the other hand, the real teachers there could not possibly have been kinder or more tolerant even.  It was a tough situation for everybody.  For the kids especially.  

And I think I will leave it at that for now.  

So, what have I been up to since April?  Not much.  Seriously.  It took me a good month to completely decompress, for lack of a better word, even after I started going back in to help with Schola or sub for somebody.  Ot both. 

 I think that I learned that teaching high school is not a switch you can turn on or off.  And it took awhile to adjust back to my former life after being amped up all the time.  It was weird.  I was done at spring break.  I thought about my boys a lot the first week that school started back up.  And I did consider them as "my boys." I still do.  

I got to where I could hear their voices as I read their papers.  As Melissa said, "You got attached to those kids."  Yeah I did.

So shoot me.  I'm not a terribly emotional person.  But you can't turn it on and off.  At least I can't.  Which I guess means I'm not a total sociopath.  So I have that going for me.

So what now? I still practice law a little bit.  I still plan on incorporating myself in some fashion and I intend to get malpractice insurance.  People are all the time wanting me to do stuff for them.  So why not?   I don't particularly need money.  But I see a car note in my future along with continuing with the home improvement stuff I started back in January which got put on hold due to one thing or the other back then.

My young friend Lucas Murray and I have resumed playing guitar.  I'm going to start doing the Wednesday night Open Mic Night which is now at the Next Bar and Bistro due the closing of the late and greatly lamented Afterthought.  

Melissa, last time I checked, hasn't come to her senses yet and we are still together.  We spend a lot of time going to Joe's AAU basketball games.  Which is fine. Joe is a nice player and I enjoy watching the kids play.  

Resumed working out in the day which I prefer.  Resumed getting some golf in during the weekday which is nice.  More and more of my friends are starting to retire.  I look forward to meeting them for lunch or going for walks.   I like being able to do whatever the hell I want to pretty much whenever I want to again.  

And I'm going to write more including returning to this blog.  Not sure if I will post every Sunday as I have in the past.  But I will return to blogging.  And I plan to write about sports for the newspaper's blog "Blood, Dirt and Angels." That was the original plan before I became Mister Chips from Hell last January.  

Many of the kids, and some of the teachers ask me, if I am going to "come back" as it is invariably put.  That's nice to hear.  The principal told me the other night that I need to be at graduation next Friday.  "The boys will want you to be there," he said.  This comes as a surprise to me as there were 2 or 3 that I would have liked to have strangled.  And I'm sure the feeling was mutual.  But that, too, is nice to hear.  

So in addition to getting a business license, along with all the other stuff I will need to get street legal to do the lawyer thing, I'm going to look into the requirements for getting a teacher's license on a non-traditional basis.

Because like I said.  You can't turn it on and off.

We will visit again soon.