Vacation

The literary world will hardly notice.  But I am checking out for the rest of 2021.  

I hope that everyone has a good rest of the year.  Merry Holidays, Happy Christmas and all of that.

God bless us all in the interim.

See you next year! 

My Sunday Post Thanksgiving Hangover Feeling

It’s been a busy last 4 days or so. I have nothing to allow except to express my amazement that LSU is bowl eligible.  I hope your Thanksgiving was good. I will talk to you later.

My Sunday Feeling

 I am no criminal lawyer.  At least not of the street crimes variety.  About all I know about are money crimes against the government.  But I had a feeling that the Kyle Rittenhouse case was going to be tough to prosecute when they charged it a year or so ago.  So I can’t say that I was terribly surprised when the jury acquitted him of all charges stemming from the deadly shooting that fateful night in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

He was barely 18 at the time of the incident.  He had arrived in Kenosha from his home in Illinois during a time of racial unrest, packing an AR 15 and an expressed desire to help “defend property.”  This despite the fact that he wasn’t from there and that his presence there was pretty much unbidden by any of the locals.  

In so doing he became both the poster child for white privilege and vigilantism on one side.  For armed citizen patriots doing their duty to support law and and order and to protect property from the mob on another.  

Kyle was lucky.  If you’re going to be a poster boy, be one for the side that has a lot of money.  And lots was raised by right wing groups for his defense. Able counsel was hired to represent him.  He was prepared well.  Hell, they had enough money to “focus group” two trial scenarios; one in which he testified and one in which he took the 5th.  He came out better with the mock jury when he testified than when he did not.  He also had investigators and a jury consultant.

Think he would have had these sort of resources with a public defender?  If the answer is “Are you kidding me?” then you answered correctly.

He also got lucky in that Wisconsin does not have the crime of manslaughter on its books.  Off the top of my head, manslaughter is basically defined as “acting in reckless disregard for the value of human life.”  Or as one of my law school professors memorably put it, the difference between negligence, gross negligence and manslaughter is the difference between “a fool, a damned fool and a goddamned fool.”  And I think many of us might say that only a goddamned fool would have inserted himself into a riot in another town in another state while armed to the teeth.  

But it’s apparently not against the law to be a goddamned fool in Wisconsin.  

He also got lucky in that it is vastly easier to sell a self defense theory when you killed two of the potential witnesses against you and the third one pulled a gun on you.  It’s also a fortunate thing that Rittenhouse is of the Caucasian persuasion and not only because this fact instantly made him less likely to get rung up by the system.  A black man bearing an assault weapon would have been shot  5 minutes after entering the city limits under these facts.  

At the end of the day, it is not much more complicated than a mostly white jury in an open carry state refused to send an 18 year old kid to prison based on the facts and the jury instructions on the law.  

Did the jury get it right?  Well.  They didn’t get it wrong.  The outcome is defensible as a matter of law.  

Was it justice?  That’s a far more elusive question. 

And, the Rittenhouse case is ample proof, once again, that money can buy a defense.  

So.  Where do we go from here?  Will the outcome in this case empower disaffected white folks, drunk with the notion that they are “good guys with guns” to take the law into their own hands?  What does it say about our country that a nobody punk like Kyle Rittenhouse is viewed as a hero in some quarters?  What will be the response of law enforcement going forward?  And where was Kyle’s mother all this time?  I’m around 18 year old boys a lot.  There generally is no filter between their brains and their mouths.  Are you telling me that these grandiose hero delusions that evidently compelled him never leaked out of her son at any time? There was nobody in this boy’s life that could set him on a better path?

I don’t have any answers to these questions.  

But this much I do know.  

Kyle Rittenhouse may have been found not guilty as a matter of law.  But he is not innocent.  

There is a distinction.  

And he’s no hero.  

  

My Sunday Feeling

Last Thursday was Veteran’s Day.  For the last 10 years at least I have gone out to the National Cemetery downtown to see my dad on that day.

I am not given to superstition or to magical thinking in the slightest.  And Buck, while certainly a patriot in a very real sense in that he wore the uniform, fought in the Great War, and was generally proud to have done both, never waved the bloody shirt.  Indeed, he didn’t have much to say about his experiences as a Seabee in the Pacific Theatre.  This is in keeping with other military men and women who have seen terrible things. They tend not to talk about it.  

No, he never hung out at the VFW.  Neither did he join the American Legion.  Never mind that these are fine organizations.  Buck Bowen was done with the Big One and the United States Navy when he returned to Indiana.  

As some of you may know, he passed along some wonky (to use my wife’s word) genes to his 4 sons as all of us have experienced cardiac stuff to one degree or another.  This “stuff” runs the gamut from thus far fingers-crossed asymptomatic (me) to absolute worst case scenario (Dave).   And Buck’s father died of a coronary, just as he would.  Undoubtedly, he had this genetic destiny in mind when he told me, who was all of 16 at the time, not to take him to the VA hospital here in case he ever had a heart attack.  Like I said, he was done with Uncle Sam once he got back stateside.  

Buck probably would not expect a visit to his final resting place on Veteran’s Day, or any other day for that matter.  But it seems like the least that I can do under the circumstances.  Especially since I never wore the uniform and have only had one weapon pointed at me.  And that was some girl’s irate father back when I was in high school.  I talked my way out of that one.  The Japanese were undoubtedly a little more unreasonable.  

As I stood over Buck’s white stone, I thought about how his second boy David left us about a year ago. The first of the brothers to achieve escape velocity from this vale of tears.  Buck, Donice and Dave.  All lost and gone forever.    

Last Thursday was sunny and crisp at that beautiful and hallowed patch of ground due east of my house adorned as it is with white markers as far as my old eyes could make them out. I found myself being touched by the fragility of it all.  Which is a place I rarely go.  

Life is altogether a Duke’s mixture of the wondrous and the soul crushing. I have recently written that I am struggling to make sense of it all-how God permits wonder to walk hand-in-hand with the soul crushing.  And I am having absolutely zero success.  

But yesterday morning was not a good time for such idle college dorm room theology.  Folks were gathering at the pavilion on the grounds there to formally commemorate the day and the men and women that slumber beneath those grounds.  Besides, I figured somebody could use my parking space. 

As I said, I am not remotely superstitious and I do not engage in magical thinking.  But I told Buck goodbye and I thanked him for his service.  I also asked him to tell Mom and Dave “hello.”

Maybe he heard me somewhere on that distant shore.  Maybe he didn’t.  Probably he didn’t.  

But still.  I could not help but think of the wonder of it all.  And in a universe where wonder still makes cameo appearances from time to time maybe it’s OK to give in to it when it does.   

Like when I’m standing over my father’s grave on Veteran’s Day.        

  

Day Pass

 I have nothing to allow today except that I’m looking forward to watching a Hendrix College basketball game in person for the first time in at least a year. 

Later…..

My Sunday Feeling

 I’ve made enough trips around the sun by now to learn which things they say about growing older are true and which are malarkey.  One of the things that is true is that at a certain point time has a tendency to get away from you.  

Sometimes I feel like I’m looking through the wrong end of the telescope.  Sarah and Joe should still be in high school.  But they are not.  She’s working at the UN and Joe’s a senior at Hendrix.  Henry is beginning his career in the arts at Bravo Vail.  You get the idea. As for me, I woke up 2-3 weeks ago to the realization that Uncle Sam and I got divorced 10 years ago.  Seems like yesterday. 

And according to the Coroner’s best guess, my brother Dave passed away a year ago yesterday.  A year has passed since that bomb got dropped. That’s hard to believe.  

I guess it’s good that time seems to be accelerating for a geezer like me.  If the last year and a half, with the pandemic, the blizzard and Dave’s death wasn’t the worst time of my life I’m not sure that I want to see the one that tops 2020-2021. But it’s over thank God.

I still can’t quite wrap my head around it all.  About where Dave’s passing fits in the great scheme of things.  Assuming there is a great scheme in the first place.  I know I shouldn’t think like this.  But I can’t help myself.  

I can name you, off the top of my head, 10 guys that had it coming if anyone did.  10 guys-make that 10 humans for diversity’s sake-that are at the minimum taking up space and wasting oxygen when they are not actively fucking with other people for the sheer sport of it.  

Dave was kind and generous to a fault.  He was an unassuming kind of guy who loved his craft, his spot in the Ozarks and the folks with whom he worked.  If, as the old saying goes, a gentleman is also a useful man, Dave was the finest gentleman in that region.  He could fix anything, cook anything and do theatre tech like nobody’s business.  He was as good a friend brother and uncle as they come.  

And he’s gone while those other 10 folks I mentioned above will live to be 150.  You show me the fairness in that.  

I am trained in the Bible and in theology and philosophy.  I know that I am comparing apples and oranges.  I know that such thoughts are illogical.  I actually wondered-for some reason- around September of last year which one of us brothers would be first to go.  I don’t usually engage in magical thinking-and I’m not sure I’m doing that now-but I wish I had not entertained those thoughts. I know. It’s crazy.

If you think I’m angry you are right.  I’m mad at myself.  I’m mad at the universe.  I’m mad at God.

I am angry in spite of the fact that anger is useless and counterproductive.  I’m still sufficiently on the rails to recognize that.  And to recognize that Dave would not want that.

Dave was not the kind of guy to stand on ceremony.  He didn’t want a funeral.  He just wanted his ashes scattered at the cemetery in the Quitman community over by Heber Springs.  Mother is buried there along with most of her people.  Nephew Max scattered some of his ashes over the trees of the Ozarks that Dave loved so much.  This is because Max was the only one brave enough to get on a zip line.  

Bravery will not be required when we spread David across the burial ground in Quitman next month.  It will require a commitment to sad duty and final things.

There will be no place for anger on that solemn day.  I hope I’m man enough to put that aside.  

I’m not sure that I am.

     

  

My Birthday Feeling

 Today is my birthday.  And the birthday of my brother Bob and our buddy Ray.  Not to mention the late, great Uncle Ralph. 

So no blogging for me today.

My excellent wife is making brunch.  Depending on the weather I hope to play golf.  

A much better birthday this year than last year.  That’s for damn sure.  

Talk amongst yourselves….

  

My Sunday Feeling

 I don’t know about you.  But I’m glad that I don’t have a kid enrolled in the public school system in Texas.  Particularly in the Carroll Independent School District which is about 30 miles northwest of Dallas.  

First some background.  Texas recently passed a law that requires educators to present multiple perspectives when discussing “widely debated and currently controversial issues.” Now, let me state that as a general proposition I have no problem with this concept.  Indeed, having actually taught before, I like to think that I did just that.  If there were legitimate opposing viewpoints on whatever issue was before the class.  In fact, being a lawyer I was in my glory at times like those because I could basically take any side of an issue and argue for it.  And if I couldn’t do that, then I would challenge the positions taken on either side.  There aren’t many 17 year olds that can stand up to cross-examination.

Indeed one of my proudest moments was when a kid that I had eviscerated earlier in the day came up to me in the hall and said, “You know, just when I think you’re a liberal then you sound like a conservative.  And then after sounding like a conservative, you say stuff that sounds like you’re a liberal. I can’t figure you out.”  I put my arm around him.  “That must mean I’m doing my job,” I said.

Education rarely consists of indoctrination.  At least not to my way of thinking. You need to let kids kick stuff around.  Come to their own conclusions.  But just because you encourage robust debate in a classroom does not mean that all positions/theories/what- have- you rise to a sufficient level of seriousness or credibility to be given equal dignity in the classroom.

Which brings me back to the Carroll ISD whose director of curriculum, during a trading on the new law got caught on tape saying “Make sure that if you have a book on the Holocaust that you have one that has an opposing, that has other perspectives.”

There have been Holocaust deniers since before I was a little kid.  And they have, at least up until now, been rightly regarded as a bunch of bigots and kooks.  And now in Texas their lunacy has to be taught if a teacher introduces a class to Elie Wiesel or Anne Franke?  

I assume we are talking denial of the most documented (Germans being Germans after all) act of genocide in the history of the world.  I confess that I am not widely read in “other perspectives” on the Holocaust.  Perhaps there is literature out there that suggests that while it may have happened “it wasn’t as bad as all that.” Or maybe that given what Hitler knew at the time he thought it was an expedient strategy.  I have actually heard of this one. As for me, I reject any theory that requires me to walk around in the head of Adolf Hitler to make it work.

But you get the point I was belaboring.  What other intellectually defensibile perspective on Shoah can there be?  There is none.

But arguing for “perspective” or “fairness” has long been the special provence of those on the wrong side of history.  When I was a kid I was told that the slaves were “better off” over here than in their native lands.  When it comes to the Civil War, one man’s act of treason is another man’s “Lost Cause.”  And most recently, there is about a hard core third of the country that believes that the 2020 election was stolen despite absolutely no evidence in that regard, that horse de-wormer works just as well as the COVID vaccine and that the insurrection of January 6 was an act of peaceful protest.  

And that Donald Trump will be “restored” to the Presidency despite there being absolutely no machinery for that action in the United States Constitution.

The inestimable Charles P. Pierce referred to the prevalence of this kind of thinking as “Idiot America” in a book by the same name he wrote some 10 years ago.  Boy, did Uncle Charlie see this coming.   

I hope the lady from the school district got crossed up or maybe just made an exceedingly invidious comparison. But rightly or wrongly she was the mouthpiece for the school district. Where they are required to teach idiocy as just another “perspective”in Idiot America.  

Can the Arkansas state legislature be far behind?  

Sick leave

 I have been under the weather the last 2-3 days.  Haven’t stirred much from my chair in the living room or the front porch.  Actually went to bed @ 9 Friday night which is unheard of for me.  

I’m much better now.  But didn’t much feel like fooling with blogging.  Even with low hanging fruit such as Urban Meyer available for easy pickings.

Anyway, y’all take care.  I will catch you later.

My Sunday Feeling

 I got the COVID booster shot at my pharmacy last week.  Business was good.  I was originally told that I could just get one on a “walk up” basis.  When I acted on that advice I was told that this instruction was, basically, “inoperative” to use the immortal phrase of Ron Ziegler Jr.   I viewed the fact that the pharmacy had underestimated the demand for the product to be a good sign that folks were taking this seriously.  At least in my part of town.  For all I know, syringes are gathering dust in pharmacies across Saline County.

As I sat outside the shot room, a lady and a little kid, 7 or so, dressed in her school uniform, checked in at the cash register.  I was called in by Phil, the pharmacist who would be puncturing me that day.  He was wearing gloves and a plastic visor which I thought to be a bit much.  But it doesn’t hurt to be too careful I suppose.  Especially when you are administering assembly line inoculations.  

It was pretty uneventful.  Especially for a medical procedure that a third of the country thinks represents an unwarranted intrusion on its personal liberty.  He asked me if I had experienced any side effects from my last dose.  I told him that I had experienced chills and fatigue.  But nothing major.  He allowed as how I would probably experience more of the same.  As that was not a problem for me, he proceeded to fire away.  Afterwards he handed me a sheet with a bunch of legalese on it and told me he needed me to wait outside for @ 30 minutes.  I guess this was to make sure that I did not produce a magnetic field or something.  Or one of the other rumored side effects of the vaccine.

When I returned to my seat, I happened upon one highly agitated little girl.  

“I don’t want the shot, Mommy.  It’ll hurt. Pleeeeeeeze Mommy!”

The mom in turn had her lips to the kid’s ear murmuring stuff at her in a futile attempt to calm her down. Of course, the mere plaintive sobs turned into screams of sheer terror when Phil, clad in white and wearing that stupid shield, opened the door to call them in.

“Nooooooo!” She screamed as Mom dragged her into the shot chamber.

He needs to rethink his mode of attire for future pediatric cases.  

Anyway, after awhile they reappeared the kid merely sobbing now.  She stood next to me as her frazzled mother gathered up her things.

“The shot hurt Mommy, she said. “My arm hurts.”

This was more than I could stand.

I gave her a slow clap followed by a thumbs up.

She giggled and wiped her eyes.

“Big girl!” I said. “You and me got our shots today.  Way to go.” And I gave her another “thumbs up.”

“High five!”  Boom.

She laughed again.  She was still rubbing her damn arm.  But the crisis was over.

“Thaaaaaaank  yoooooooooou,” the mom sang to me under her breath as she walked by.  

No problem.  Just call me Benjamin Frigging Spock.  

Now, I understand why a little kid is reluctant to take a vaccine.  Any vaccine.  Shots hurt.  And they hurt a lot when your experience with the world of pain is as constricted as her’s probably is. When my little partner in inoculation gets older she will learn that an ankle sprain hurts a whole hell of a lot worse than an injection.

But for the life of me, I do not understand why an adult, with no underlying conditions contraindicating same, doesn’t accept the shot.  It is beyond my comprehension.  I can maybe understand if it were really just a matter of “personal choice.”  But it’s not.  It’s about public health.  

But I ramble.  

I read where Squibb has developed an pill that seems effective in treating COVID.  This is indeed great news.  Let’s see if the science deniers turn that down too in favor of horse de-wormer or faith healing or something.  Then we will know that a large portion of the public belongs to little more than a death cult at that point.

At least the little girl with me that day had the child’s reason to be scared.  She’s a kid.  She’s not a fool.

Shots hurt.

And to be honest, Phil does look kinda scary in that get-up. There’s a reason why a pediatrician friend of mine doesn’t wear a white coat.  Or a face shield come to think of it.

 

My Sunday Feeling

If Norm Macdonald, who died last week, (and yes that’s the way he spelled it) was not the funniest man who ever drew a breath, I don’t know who was.  I took a mental inventory the other day of other comedians that I found to be hysterical. It was a short list: Rodney Dangerfield, Richard Pryor, Chris Rock, early Steve Martin, occasionally David Letterman and Joan Rivers.  That’s about it.  Norm was better than them all.  As someone said upon his passing, “He did comedy they way other people do breathing.”  

BTW, I owe a debt of gratitude to David Letterman for telling The Greatest Joke Ever Written in an interview with Esquire magazine.  As this is a family blog, I shall not repeat it in this space.  Ask me about it sometime though.

Macdonald’s highest and best use (as we say in real estate) was as the Anchor on SNL’s Weekend Update.  His flat affect, his slightly nasal accent of no fixed abode and sense of timing was perfect for that role.  That and his dadesque wordplay in the service of reading the “news.” A personal favorite? With the face of the Chicago Seven’s Jerry Ruben superimposed in the background, Norm gleefully shouted out “Yippee! Jerry Ruben is dead!  Oh. Wait. I read that wrong.  Yippee Jerry Ruben is dead.”  He also famously attributed the breakup of Marie Presley and Michael Jackson to Wacko being “a child molesting homosexual.”

Someone asked me back then if I thought NBC and Macdonald were worried about getting sued for slander by Jackson.  Uhhhh no.  I mean, c’mon. Wacko couldn’t stand up to discovery.

After SNL he worked in movies, did voice work for cartoons, did guest appearances on  talk shows and returned to standup.

Here’s another thing I admired about Norm.  At the time of his death it was disclosed that he had been suffering from cancer for the last 9 years.  He never made that fact public knowledge.  According to his publicist, he didn’t want his illness to distract from the jokes.  He was a comedian first and foremost. Maybe he thought that people wouldn’t laugh at a guy they pitied.  

Perhaps I am projecting based on what we all know now, but he doesn’t look good in recent videos.  He was slender man.  But his face was puffy in his last images. I’ve known people with cancer and lupus who had to take massive doses of prednisone.  Their faces looked like that.  

But who knows?

Anyway, how many celebrities lives are closed books?  Pretty rare.  That was a major point concerning the documentary of Ronald and Russell Mael of Uber strange band Sparks.  The flick lasts some 2.5 hours and we don’t know anymore about the Mael brothers than we did going into it. That’s pretty rare.  My friend Philip Martin wrote in his review of the movie something along the lines of “Ronald and Russell Mael think their personal lives are none of our damn business. And they’re right.”

Me? I don’t have any particular need to know about a celebrity’s personal life.  For every Michael J. Fox, whose struggles with Parkinson’s Disease is both inspirational and instructive, there’s Kim Kardashian trying to pass the California bar without benefit of a law degree on reality TV.  Or, God forbid, Caitlyn Jenner who just tried to run for Governor out there, undeterred as she evidently was by a lack of political experience and/or introspection.  And, we now know why Elvira called herself the Mistress of the Dark. That is because she was in the closet.  Well, no more.  She along, with her fright wig and pushup bra, have come out.  Did I need to know that?  Do I give a rat’s ass? No. I could go on.  So could you.

I have all the respect in the world for a guy like Norm who went out on his own terms.  Perhaps he thought revealing too much about himself was undignified. Or un-Canadian. We now also know he had no use for war as a metaphor for coping with cancer, saying that a bad outcome is no worse than a draw since the disease entity dies when the patient does.  Nobody wins. Nobody loses. It’s a draw. Maybe, like the Maels, he simply thought it was none of our damn business.  And he was right.  

Gold standard source Wikipedia reports that Norm died from leukemia.  The legit press evidently “scooped” by Wikipedia.  How about that?

Imagine what Norm Macdonald could have made of that.  

My Sunday Feeling

I’m not feeling it today.  

Talk amongst yourselves until I get back. 

My Sunday Feeling

 Not to put words in the President’s mouth, but I think Joe Biden has had it.  Last week he signed an Executive Order requiring all businesses with over 100 employees to require said employees to get the COVID-19 vaccine or to get tested for the disease on a regular basis.  The EO puts enforcement of the mandate-there I said it-on OSHA, which has plenty of enforcement tools in its  toolbox.

Personally, I think it’s about time.  This pandemic which is draining resources and clogging up hospitals is a scourge created by the unvaccinated.  The stats don’t lie.  In every state, the vast majority of folks that acquire the disease or the delta variant thereof are not vaccinated.  The overwhelming majority that die from it are likewise unprotected.  This public health crisis is susceptible to amelioration by proven medical intervention.  Which does not include horse de-wormer or whatever Jim Bakker is hawking at the moment as one of its protocols.

Predictably the gasbags on the right-gasbagitis having no known cure-have denounced this as “government overreach” and “dictatorship.”  3 or 4 governors have threatened legal action.  To which President Biden has said, “Bring it on.”

He’s got the better argument based on what us lawyers call venerable case law.  In 1905, there was a smallpox epidemic.  The City of Cambridge, Massachusetts mandated that all of its citizens be inoculated against the disease.  A local pastor named Jacobson took umbrage at this notion.  He sued claiming that forcing he and his son (as I recall) to take the medicine violated his 14th Amendment rights to “life, liberty and property.” In other words, considerations of personal liberty come above all else.

Does this sound remotely familiar?

Anyway, the Supreme Court upheld the actions of the government in this case, stating that  “[u]pon the principle of self-defense, of paramount necessity, a community has the right to protect itself against an epidemic of disease which threatens the safety of its members.”

Now, unless the US Supreme Court is going to ignore over 100 years of settled law in the case of Jacobson vs. Massachusetts -and who knows with this bunch?- Joe Biden is on pretty solid legal ground I would say.  

So what will happen as a matter of practicality?  Will folks quit their jobs en masse as a matter of what passes for principle?  Doubtful.  Just look at it from the unemployment compensation angle. An arguable “voluntary quit” would render one ineligible for unemployment. Further, refusal of a lawful request by an employer-which this would be-is insubordination which would likewise render an employee ineligible.  OSHA hasn’t promulgated its regs on the issue yet (and this will most likely be where the action is at legally) but I imagine that the “closely held religious belief” exception (or legitimate medical condition exemption) to getting the shot will still be available.  But as far as I know that exception would not apply to getting tested. Just because you are a Christian Scientist doesn’t mean you get to come to work sick.

And it bears repeating, even to those with deaf ears, asking you about your vax status or requiring you to be tested does not violate your rights under HIPAA, or, for the most part, the ADA or Title VII. It just doesn’t.

Here in Darkansas you can expect our Trumpian Attorney General to join in the flurry of lawsuits that will be filed.  You can expect the Ledge-which is permanently in session (or so it would seem)-to produce something equally idiotic.  Like introducing a bill that bans OSHA enforcement actions anywhere within the borders of the Natural State or something.  You wait and see.  I’m guessing they will be back in Little Rock by Monday week.  Besides, the holidays are coming up and those freeloaders could use the per diem to buy presents.  

Joe Biden has evidently had it.  The Supremes have held that protection of the community is a “paramount necessity.”  That’s pretty solid ground upon which to pick a fight. 

We shall see what we shall see.  

Program Note

No Sunday blog this weekend as I will returning from-God help me-Branson.  

If I happen to run into Wayne Newton I will pass along your regards. 

My Sunday On High Ground Feeling

 I think the outer outer bands of Ida have reached our fair city.  There is a pretty good breeze coming out of the south.  I’m sitting on the porch where it’s actually comfortable under the fan.  The temp has been @ 100 up until today.  The white clouds are low and moving north.  They resemble the gulf clouds I used to watch when I was at Tulane.  They appear to be low enough to where you could reach out and touch them.  Just like I remember.  

And here’s the sure sign that something’s up.  My ears are popping and I’m experiencing sinus pain under my right eye.  Rapid pressure change will do that.  I guess it’s good to know that some things stay the same.

Of course, I can afford this reverie.  When Ida hits here Monday (I think) it will be just 15-20 mph winds accompanied by rain.  If it hits here at all.  The maps indicate that Little Rock may be just west of Ida’s path in the state.  Just close enough to make us wish for fall.

It didn’t occur to me that today is the 16th anniversary of Katrina.  That’s surreal.  Down in south Louisiana folks have been celebrating by evacuating since yesterday. Check the online edition of the New Orleans Time-Picayune/Advocate to look at the parking lot that is I-10.  Ida has a chance to be dangerous.  It may hit my buddies in Thibodaux as a Category 4 storm.  According to NOAA, at Cat 4 she may be packing 130 mph winds.  This will likely result in “catastrophic damage” as in “well built homes sustaining severe damage.” “Trees snapping or becoming uprooted.” Power outages for “weeks or month.” Not to mention water levels of up to 11 feet or so.  Sounds like fun, non?

Of course, as if this would not be misery enough, we can predict that some of the pumps will fail.  If they turn on at all.  ‘Twas ever thus.  My first experience with that was during my first year of law school.  I walked out of my apartment to go for a run.  I heard it rain through the night but I didn’t think much about it because it rains a LOT in New Orleans.  Anyway, I walked out to see Napoleon Avenue completely flooded.  Cars were parked on the neutral ground or median as we call them up here and everywhere else for that matter now that I think about it.

But what was really amazing was watching guys in pirogues rowing up and down Napoleon.  Toto, I don’t think we’re in Mabelvale anymore.  That was just after a hard rain.  And that wasn’t the last time I saw this particular phenomenon.  Believe me.  Some of the pumps will fail.

As for my friends, they have been through this drill before.  Trina and her son made it to Atlanta Saturday morning @ 1am.  Riley and her boyfriend made it north Louisiana.  Chris is staying put.  Then again he’s on duty at the Volunteer Fire Department until the coast clears.  Pardon the expression.  His son George is on duty with Coast Guard.  Andrew and Michelle headed for Oxford.  Cindy and her husband are going to ride it out in the local hospital. Flynn and Ronnie are sheltering place as is Gus who is counting on his supply of guns and alcohol to see him through.  

Tonight will most likely find me glued to the Weather Channel sending texts and doing FaceTime.  With those that have power and Internet that is.

What to us is the first taste of fall has a chance to be dangerous as hell to folks in the Pelican State.  If you say your prayers, please pray that Ida cools down to a Cat 3.   

And don’t buy any used vehicles whose point of origin is Louisiana or Mississippi for the next 2 or 3 years.  Trust me on this one. 

 

My Sunday Feeling

 The Los Angeles Dodgers have a problem.  His name is Trevor Bauer who pitches for them.  Or did before he was suspended.  

Trevor Bauer seems to like rough sex.  And it’s now a matter of public record.  

Now while I am about as kinky as tapioca pudding, I understand that this kind of stuff goes on between consenting adults.  Indeed, a realtor friend of mine once told me years ago that occasionally she stumbled across romantic hardware when she showed houses.  Her personal favorite was a trapeze in the spare bedroom of a home she was showing. “You would be surprised,” she said.  

Undoubtedly I would given the rather boring life that I lead.  But to each their own between consenting adults.  The renowned sexologist Joan Armatrading put it best in her song “I Love It When You Call Me Names.” 

“It’s their way of lovin’ not mine,”   That pretty much sums it up for me.

Back to Trevor Bauer.  He spent 3 days in Court last week defending against a former lover’s Petition to ripen a Temporary Restraining Order (or Order of Protection) to a permanent one.   The woman testified that she feared Bauer after he allegedly assaulted her during “rough sex.” Bauer’s defense was to the effect that he choked her into unconsciousness and punched while she was unconscious because she “didn’t say no.”  

The Judge ruled in Bauer’s favor. She held that Bauer was not a future threat to the woman because he respected her boundaries-such as they evidently were-while they engaged in what everybody agreed was consensual sex. 

I didn’t think you could consent to anything while unconscious.  But that’s why appellate courts are part of God’s plan.  

Now this is all pretty unseemly stuff.  Is it grounds to terminate his contract?  I don’t know.  And as I tell folks all the time, I don’t know is a good answer when I don’t know.

The standard Major League Baseball player’s contract states that a club may terminate a contract, among other things, if a player shall at any time “fail refuse or neglect to conform his personal conduct to the standards of good citizenship and good conduct…”

Is this sufficient grounds for the Dodgers to get rid of him?  I don’t know.  Probably not.  He wasn’t accused of domestic violence which has gotten numerous players suspended in the past.  The sex, however revolting it may be to you and me, was consensual.  And the Judge-a female judge- ruled against the victim. 

But wait. There’s more.

The Washington Post has reported that Bauer was also under an Order of Protection in Ohio back when he played for Cleveland.  The alleged victim in that case alleged that although Bauer allegedly punched her and choked her without her consent, she didn’t become afraid until he had allegedly sent her two text messages.

One allegedly said, “ I don’t feel like spending time in jail for killing someone.  And that’s what would happen if I saw you again.”

The second one allegedly sent to her-and heavily edited for this space- is even more charming. “Like the only reason I would consider seeing you again is to choke you unconscious punch you in the face shove my first(sic) up your a**… and kick you out naked.  And obviously I would never do that to anyone. So I can’t even enjoy the one thing that I sometimes enjoyed with you.”

Bauer’s lawyer denied that these messages are authentic.  The authorities in Ohio are investigating as are the authorities in California. He’s entitled to the presumption of innocence just like you and me.  

But the standard in the player’s contract is not as high as that in the criminal law.  We know the allegations against him in California are true.  If he really did beat the other woman up and then send her menacing text messages do these behaviors in the aggregate add up to a failure of Trevor Bauer to “conform his personal conduct to the standards of good citizenship and good conduct?” You can make a case for it being in the same zip code. It’s one thing-I suppose-to have a harmless taste for rough trade.  Bauer’s likely a sociopath. What he’s alleged to have done ain’t exactly a frolic on a trapeze in a bedroom in west Little Rock.

Bauer is radioactive for business.  The Dodgers most likely can’t get rid of him because no team in their right mind would touch him.  I say “most likely.”  Because we are talking baseball here where the front offices are not typically composed of highly evolved beings. 

He’s suspended until the end of the month.  I say-at the minimum-suspend him for the rest of the season.  Make his return contingent on psychiatric treatment.  Dare the Player’s Union to grieve it.        

But you can also make the case that he needs to be terminated if both allegations are true.  There’s the argument that he violated the conduct clause of the player’s contract.  If for no other reason than women make a lot of money in our society.  And a good number of them are sports fans.  Or enjoy going out to the game. How many women or parents of daughters are going to shell out good money to watch Trevor Bauer take the mound?

Does Major League Baseball and the Player’s Union want to die on that hill?

I guess we’ll see.  

Oh.  I forgot to mention this.  His own teammates?  They don’t want him back.  

If you’re too freaky for a locker room of baseball players you need to be gone.  

 

My Sunday Feeling

 Tomorrow is Opening Day for the schools in this state.  Or most of them anyway.  Some of the country schools started earlier.  

Catholic High School for Boys will be in that number.  I will be there bright and early for the Opening Assembly.  I’m trying to remember how long I’ve been associated with those folks.  I’m guessing @ 7 years by now.  That seems kind of hard to believe until I realized that one of my own history boys is on the faculty now.  Duncan is going to coach football and teach world history for Freshmen.

That will show him by God.  

I tend to wear different hats over there depending on the situation.  I’ve taught history and choir.  And I get to do a good bit of pedagogy when I sub for folks in the Liberal Arts.  I’ve done History, Literature, Politics, and Econ.  I have bluffed my way through occasional classes in 1st Semester Freshman Latin.  I might could do the same with French if given adequate notice.  

Due to COVID I pretty much missed all of last year.  I took the shot with the rest of the faculty last March.  But by then the school year was pretty much over.  About all I did was proctor AP exams.  Which is not the most exciting gig in the world.  But I did get to finish a book I had started in between casting baleful glances at the examinees.  

They didn’t have an Opening Assembly last year.  They didn’t have choir or Theology Club either.  I’m not sure if we will have the latter two activities this year.  But at least things will seem more normal while the Principal lays down the law for the school year to his captive audience tomorrow. Even the dullest of the dull will soon realize that he is now subject to a reasonably benign yet indisputably authoritarian regime for the next 4 years of his life.

That must be an awful feeling.

The local law school is going to crank back up week after next (I think).  I guess I will be a mentor over there again.  At least nobody from the dean’s office has told me that the honor of my presence is NOT requested.  I will be doing mock job interviews with second year students tomorrow afternoon.  I’ve done stuff for the law school about as long as I have been doing stuff at Catholic.  This will be the first time I have done the ersatz interviews virtually rather than in person.  

Quite frankly, I’ve about had it with virtual stuff.  At first, I was all for it.  Getting stuff done without having to actually deal with other people?  Where do I sign up?  But you lose something online.  Things seem more forced.  Less spontaneous.  You can’t read a room if there’s no room.  And whenever you do a group there’s always somebody that has their mic or camera off.  Or is doing something weird.  But I believe we are stuck with it.  At least in the lawyering line of work.

I enjoy-mostly enjoy-all of the various students I am privileged to be with.  When I left the government I was given the same advice-word for word-from 2 guys that do not know each other from Adam.  One is the Maximum Dictator at Catholic High who I mentioned earlier.  And the other is a prosecutor with the US Attorney’s office.  The both told me to stay involved with kids because “You’re good at it and it will keep you young.”  And so I did. And they were right. At least the part about it keeping me young.  I don’t know how good I am at it. But it keeps me young.

While I enjoy being with the law students they remind me to count my blessings.  I mainly consider myself to be blessed to not be a law student in the time of COVID and dismal job prospects.  Law school is sufficiently stressful in and of itself without the added stress of looking at a big honking student loan bill. Or counting on sufficient cash flow from doing cut rate divorces to pay it back.  On the other hand as far as I can tell-at least from the legal aid side of things- divorce work is up.  I have a theory.

A lot of married couples were forced to be with each other 24/7 during the shutdown.  Some of them came to realize that they can’t stand each other.  Or as a young woman explained it once to me, “For richer. For poorer. But never for lunch.”  “General indignities” were never so elegantly described.  

Anyway, tomorrow I will be back with students of all various kinds of stripes. I will show up on time.  I will do no harm.  It will seem normal again.  I could do with some normal after the past year that was pretty much the worst of my life.  

I hope that your day is normal too.  Please wear a mask wherever you go.  And get the damn vaccine if you have yet to do so.   

Things aren’t that normal yet.       

And remember.  For richer. For poorer.

But never for lunch.

My Sunday Feeling

 “ In this new media age, everybody is a historian, or a scientist, or a preacher or a sage. And if everybody is an expert, than nobody is, and the worst thing you can be in a society where everybody is an expert is, well, an actual expert.” 

            Charles P. Pierce, Idiot America: How Stupidity Became a Virtue in the Land of the Free

The Arkansas Legislature reached a new low, if that’s even possible, last week.  I will try not to belabor the point overmuch. Last Spring, the Legislature passed Act 1002, which reserved the sole right to impose mandatory face coverings with itself.  Not the Governor.  Not the State Department of Health.  Not with local school administrators on the ground.

Itself.  The Legislature. The Governor, evidently reposing trust in the downward trend of COVID cases at that time, signed the damn thing into law.  

Well guess what?  Not only did COVID come back, but it came back packing a brand new variant which is even more spreadable than the earlier strain.  As a result, hospitals throughout the South and Missouri (which is a lot crazier place than I ever gave it credit for being) are jam packed with COVID patients.  If you plan to have a heart attack or fall off the roof while cleaning the gutters you might want to hold that thought.  Not unless you don’t mind waking up in an ICU in Maine.  Because there’s no room for you here.

And, the vast majority of these admissions are of people that were not vaccinated.  Like over 90%.  More on this later.  But first, back to the Solons of Woodlane Avenue.

School starts in a week.  Kids 12 and up can be vaccinated.  But what about the little ones?  How do we protect them? A mask or face covering mandate makes sense.  But the locals can’t impose it due to Act 1002.

Governor Hutchinson called the Ledge back in special session in hopes of undoing this crisis-in-the-making that he helped create.  After all, every credible medical expert in the known universe was calling for the reinstatement of the mask requirement in the classroom for the unvaccinated little children until we get over this spike.  

The Ledge was presented with data from the CDC.  The superintendent of a little district up in the country where school has already started testified that he has 800 people quarantined already in the second week of the semester.  The second week!  

Of course it did not matter.  Emergency proclamations and Health Department directives represent “government overreach” in matters that should be left strictly up to parents who “know better” the needs of their children.  Thus saith the pious adherents to “limited government.” 

There’s an old saying that law enforcement largely depends on the cooperation of the citizens.  As somebody once told me, all it takes is a hard core 25-30% of the population to screw everything up. 

I believe that recent experience dictates that we can likewise apply this dictum to public health.  There is a hard core group of people out there that refuse to get vaccinated or wear a mask.  Well over 90% of the admissions due to COVID are unvaccinated patients.  Something like 98% of the deaths are in that group. These are cold hard facts. 

The response that I have seen from these folks to this data?  Get a shot?  Of course not.  Close the borders.  

The real cause of the spike according to them, or so I have read, is that about 7000 migrants/day (that is the number the talking points consistently bandy about) are flowing unchecked across our southern borders where they are allegedly neither tested or treated and are then “flown around” or “driven around” all over this great land of ours where they spread germs unchecked.  

Now I believe that it is worth mentioning just for the sheer hell of it that none of this is true.  As in factually correct.  People are being apprehended at the border.  They are being tested, treated and isolated before they can be admitted to go freely.  Many are turned back.  

And even if this were true (And trust me.  It’s never good when the Judge says “Even assuming you’re correct.”) how in the Sam Hill do folks crossing the border in Texas and California translate to a spike in COVID cases in Marion, Arkansas?  Here’s the answer. It doesn’t.  

The medical experts point out a virtual one-to-one correlation between people who balk at simple public health measures and the recent spike.  These people are the reason you might wake up in that ICU in Maine if your shotgun goes off while you are cleaning it.  

But no.  Who cares what the experts say?  The unvaxxed are the victims here.  Not the folks who complied with sensible public health directives in hopes of eating out again.  Or going to the concert or the ballgame.  Or safely sending their young children to school again.

No.  They can talk to each other on social media.  They can blame the immigrants, they can blame Joe Biden, they can blame the stolen election.  They can tell each other that they are being scapegoated by the MSM. They can send money to the “My Pillow” guy.  In the nut bar echo chamber where everybody’s a regular they can blame everybody but themselves for the fix their irresponsibility and narcissism has put the rest of the country.

Former Arkansas Surgeon General Joe Thompson (whose car I once wrecked but that’s another story) put it this way: “If the Legislature takes no action and allows the ban on mask mandates to remain in effect in all schools while the Delta variant rages in our communities, children will be unavoidably exposed to the virus, some will be hospitalized and likely some will die.”

Why listen to Joe Thompson?  He’s just a physician and a former public health officer.  In Idiot America he’s no more an expert than the guy on the Internet that will sell you hydro chloroquine.  Or that preacher in Tennessee who won’t let you walk into the church house if you are wearing a mask.  

Go online.  Do your own research.  Handle snakes while you are at it.

You have a right to your opinion and it is as good as anybody’s.  Right?

Right?

Footnote: Last Friday the Circuit Court of Pulaski County, Arkansas  issued a Preliminary Injunction against implementation and/or enforcement of Act 1002 pending further proceedings and Orders of the Court.  We may safely assume there will be masks in the hallways when school cranks up on the 16th.  At least for awhile.  

  

Sick Leave

 Good news. Bad news.

Or vice versa.

I am struck down with a sinus infection and don’t feel like messing with this.

The good news is that it is my first one in almost two years and that I feel much better after the doc sent in the usual horse pills and steroids.  

Wear your mask.  Keep your distance.  Be safe out there.  

My Sunday Feeling

 They must be mad enough to spit over in College Station.  Or gig somebody.  Or whatever it is Aggies do when they are high pissed.  

You see, Texas A&M joined the Southeastern Conference 10 years or so.  Sure they did it because the SEC helped their brand more than the Big 12 did.  There is that.  But mainly they did it just to get out from under Texas and Oklahoma.  Particularly Texas who they hate worse than poison.

Imagine the amusement in Aggieland when the news came out that the Longhorn and Sooners brass had made overtures to the SEC to join it.  And that, depending on who and what you read, it’s pretty much a done deal.  

It gets even better.  It’s not clear that the President of Texas A&M or any of the other “member institutions” of the Big 12 knew anything about it.  Which if true represents the biggest snub since Trump failed to check on Mike Pence during the Great Insurrection.  

This is all very interesting.  First of all, if this goes down it is really bad news for Arkansas.  The Razorbacks recruit Texas pretty hard.  Part of the pitch is their membership in the SEC.  If UT and OU get in, the exclusive allure of that argument goes out the window. 

Still this is more proof that the conferences, especially with the prospect of players having NIL rights, will be aligned between the “haves” and the “have nots” with conferences blowing up and schools looking to knife their former colleagues in the back.  This is all good news for, say, Notre Dame if it decides to lift it’s skirt and quit being independent in football.  It is bad news for, oh I don’t know, Tulane comes to mind for some reason.

Still, OU and UT are used to pretty much calling the shots over there in the Big 12, as Tommy Tuberville, I mean the distinguished United States Senator Tuberville, discovered when he left the Chair of Football at Auburn for Texas Tech.  If , indeed, they join the SEC, they will soon learn that they left their fiefdom for an autonomous collective.  

See, in the SEC it is share and share alike.  For example, gridiron punching bag Vanderbilt gets the same cut of the swag as Alabama.  It is a charter member of the SEC and will never get shown the door if for no reason than everybody schedules their homecoming games against the Commodores. Then again, the Commodores are as good as anybody in baseball.  

It will be interesting to see how this all shakes out.  The notion of the Longhorns playing in Tuscaloosa or the aforementioned Commodores taking on the Sooners in Norman just doesn’t seem right. 

But I shed no tears for the Aggies.  They got damn near as much money as Texas.  They will figure this out. And you know? Texas is but a shadow of their former self.  They were doing good to go, like, 7-4 in the Big 12.  Here’s a prediction: Arkansas kicks their ass up here when they play them in September or so.  Welcome to the SEC Bevo!

But it sure is funny-at least to me- if all of this caught the Aggies or anybody else in the Big 12 by surprise. Snake dens are not confined to OPEC. And bidness is bidness.

As an aside, it is my honor-if you want to call it that-to be covered up with Vanderbilt people in my life.  I called my law school buddy Don, who has known futility both as a fan of the Commodores and the Tulane Green Wave.  Being in Los Angeles, he does not have his finger on the day-to-day pulse of SEC football, UCLA not being in the center of the known football universe. But he was raised up in Georgia, Tennessee and Alabama.  He understands the pathology.  

I called him up the other day to inform him that it looked like Oklahoma and Texas were going to join the SEC.

Don had not heard this news. He burst out in what sounded like helpless laughter.  I think I heard his phone land on his desk as he most likely covered his eyes with his hands.

Bidness is bidness.  And the world has gone crazy.  

Maybe Tulane can end up in the Mountain West.  Stay tuned as they used to say. 

 

 

My Sunday Feeling

 When I was a kid I used to watch the political conventions.  I thought they were pretty exciting.  Nowadays you couldn’t catch me dead watching one.  Or a Presidential debate either.  Although I have to say that I watched the first Biden-Trump debate.  But that was only after my late brother Dave texted me an oedipal description of the Republican standard bearer.  He was pretty non-political.  If Donald Trump could get that kind of rise out of my usually phlegmatic brother I figured I had better go see what the fuss was about.

Anyway, I remember the first time I ever saw Edwin Edwards.  It was back when he was a Congressman.  Before he had established a stranglehold on Louisiana state politics.  The chairman had asked for a roll call vote of the state delegations for some reason or another.  Edwards, resplendent in a gold blazer with fleur des lis festooned thereon, took the mic. 

“Le grande etat de Louisianne dit NON NON NON,” he thundered.  

I thought he was drunk.  In any event, I was pretty sure, judging from the raucous cheering behind him, that a good number of his fellow delegates were hammered.

Turns out that Edwin Edwards neither drank nor smoke.  He made up for these overtly abstemious attributes with a negotiable relationship with various other temptations.  And I will let it go at that.

I don’t know where to begin.  I won’t bore you with a factual recitation of his history.  You can go read any of a number of obits for that.  

Edwards wasn’t in office when I was at Tulane.  The governor during my tenure there was a Republican named Dave Treen of whom Edwards once said was so slow “it takes him an hour and a half to watch Sixty Minutes.” Actually Treen was nothing of the sort.  He made Moot Court and Law Review while at Tulane.  He also had a pretty good sense of humor.  He was once asked by some ole boy at a town hall if the State would add another month to the deer hunting season.  “What would we call it,”Treen replied. “Y’all already hunt 12 months a year.” 

Treen was the first Republican elected Governor since Reconstruction.   And, although nobody knew it at the time, he was the herald of Louisiana’s shift to becoming a red state.

Like I said earlier, I don’t know where to begin.  So I will just make an observation.  Edwin Edwards was the last of the old time populists in the tradition of the Kingfish and Uncle Earl.  Say what you will about the Longs and Edwards, and there is much to be said, they were “populists” is the sense that they believed in making Louisiana government work for the average guy.  Huey Long taxed the hell out of the oil companies from that revenue built roads and schools.  Earl Long continued the policies of his brother and was the first governor to put blacks in government.  Edwards’ core constituents were African-Americans and Cajuns.  He put blacks and women in important positions in state government.  He streamlined the bureaucracy and was a major force behind updating Louisiana’s Constitution.   

Did they take these solely actions out of the goodness of their hearts?  Of course not.  Each were ruthless in their pursuit of power.  None more so than Huey, who pretty much continued to run the State of Louisiana from his office in the US Senate while he plotted a run for the presidency. Indeed, he might have wound up in the Oval Office if he had not gotten himself shot during a visit to Baton Rouge.

And we have to be frank.  Edwin Edwards screwed up big time.  After his final turn in office, he got sloppy.  He also got caught on tape agreeing to a bribe in order to facilitate the grant of casino and hospital licenses in his capacity as a private attorney.  For this he got sent to Federal prison in his late seventies where to his everlasting credit he taught prisoners how to read and helped them attain their GEDs.  And typical Edwards, while in the joint he corresponded with a woman who eventually became his third wife and whom bore him a child in his eighties.

But let us now consider someone else who is occasionally referred to as a populist. Donald Trump is, was, a populist only in the sense that he has a feral ability to arouse the passion of a certain sector of the electorate that is either disaffected by politics and/or is fearful of its place in the changing demographics of the present age.  People that Donald Trump would otherwise have nothing to do with.  He is not motivated by anything other than his juvenile ego needs and toxic narcissism.   

Of Edwin Edwards, flawed as he was, we can say this.  He cared about Louisiana.  He, like the Longs before him, believed that the greater good was also politically expedient.

They were true populists.  And who knows when we will see their kind again. 

 

My Sunday Feeling

I’m wearing a mask again.  

Not everywhere.  But anywhere there is a crowd.  Like the grocery store or the baseball game.  Unlike well over 50% of my fellow Arkansans I’m completely vaccinated against COVID.  And based on my doctor’s advice I am also recently vaccinated against pneumonia.   So I’m pretty much good to go.  So why the mask?  Am I going to start knocking over liquor stores? Do I enjoy relative anonymity?

No.  I’m putting the mask back on because it’s not about me.  

Arkansas is pretty much setting the land speed record for spikes in the Delta Variant of the disease.  Am I returning to the mask because I’m afraid of catching it?  Not so much.  Certainly with asthma and coronary artery disease I sure don’t need it.  But if I were to catch it the odds are good that the symptoms would be relatively mild since I am vaccinated.  

But here’s the deal.  If I catch it, I could spread it to some Joe Blow at the Target store.  And this would not be good for him because the odds are, if Joe Blow is an Arkansan, he or she is likely to have not received the vaccine.  Especially if Joe Blow lives in a rural area.

For the life of me, I do not know how, to my mind at least, a public health crisis became politicized.  It seems pretty simple to me.  The stats show that the vast majority of COVID infections incur in people that are not vaccinated.  Unfortunately that holds true for those that die from COVID or COVID related complications as well.  Does the vaccine make you bulletproof and invisible?  Of course not.  But it sure increases your odds.

The vaccine is safe.  It is plentiful.  It is effective in preventing a fatal disease.  It is free.

I mean, c’mon.  

A lot of Arkansans would rather repose trust in advice from social media or jackleg preachers than people with actual expertise.  Like doctors. I’ve read various “arguments” against getting the shot.  The most recent, at least to me since I don’t spend a lot of time in Crazytown social media sites, is that the government’s vaccine program resembles the experiments performed by the Nazis on captive humans.  Some damned fool actually signed a pleading in the Houston Methodist case raising this argument which the judge rightfully rejected as “reprehensible.” As for me, there are two “N” words I never use.  “Nazi” is one of them.

But the lion’s share of the “arguments” against taking the shot center around some misguided notion of personal freedom that taking the shot would imperil. As someone put it the other day “the government doesn’t have an interest in my personal health.”

Which amusingly enough sounds like it’s in the same area code as the “pro choice” argument.  Which most folks making the argument in the context of mass inoculation of the populace- at least around here-could not possibly agree with.

The government has an interest in the public health.  The government has an interest in trying to keep this fire tamped down before we are back in lockdown mode.  The government has an interest in keeping the economy growing.  

And so yeah, it has an interest in your personal health to the extent that your health might be vital in stopping the spread of a deadly disease which has demonstrated downstream ramifications for all of us.  Why is this so hard for some people?

So I’m putting the mask back on in public as bad as I hate to.

Because it’s not about me.  And it’s not about you either.

It’s about all of us.

My Sunday 4th of July Feeling

 No blogging today.

Enjoy the holiday!

My Sunday Feeling

 Like many people, I watched the Derek Chauvin sentencing hearing Friday. I am no criminal lawyer but I’m friends with people that are.  On both sides of the line.  That and I know a thing or two just from being around as long as I have been around.  

Cases like these serve like unto a national Rorschach test in that people look at the outcomes and see different things that are largely personal to them.  And naturally they put them out there on Facebook.  The responses seem to be as polarized as anything else in the national zeitgeist. 

Chauvin caught 22 and a half years from Judge Peter Cahill.  The minimum sentence according to the Minnesota Sentencing Guidelines would have been 12.5.  The Prosecution wanted an upward departure to 30.  The defense wanted probation as Chauvin was a first time offender.  The 22.5 year sentence meted out was decried by some as too light and too harsh by some.

If I were the King of the World I would have given him 50.  The video was shocking.  Mr. Floyd was accused of passing a counterfeit bill.  And according to the medical evidence that was adduced at trial, Mr. Floyd was executed for it.  I would have put Chauvin away forever to serve as a warning to bad cops everywhere.

But I’m not the King of the World and neither are you.  

As I mentioned above, all states (I’m pretty sure) and the United States sentence defendants pursuant to guidelines.  These guidelines, hopefully, take into account the Defendant’s criminal history, the crime committed and the harm to the victim.  They represent a final product after input from the Prosecution and Defense bars in order to remove as much discretion from judges in sentencing albeit for different reasons.  

Judge Cahill attached a Memorandum to his Order in which he explained his reasoning.  In short, he that the aggravating circumstances present in the case warranted an upward departure from the sentence of 12.5 years called for by the Minnesota guidelines and he considered 10 years to be appropriate rather than the 18 requested by the State.  This was based, in part, of his analysis of similarly situated Defendants who had been sentenced for the same offense. You can read the memo if you want to.  It’s a matter of public record.  

In short, this is my take of his reasoning in layman’s terms.  Derek Chauvin was never a candidate for probation.  I mean, c’mon.  Secondly, Chauvin may have picked a particularly heinous and gruesome way to stray from the straight and narrow, but he was a first time offender.  That carries a lot of weight in the sentencing guidelines.  And without walking around in his head I’m guessing that the judge didn’t want to get reversed for maxing out a first time offender no matter how much he deserved it.  But he gave him 10 more years to do which he found to be within an acceptable range.

People forget something very important.  Guilt (or innocence for that matter) is a conclusion of law.  This is why when one pleads guilty the Court advises the Defendant that “the Court accepts your plea and hereby FINDS you guilty.”  Similarly speaking, a sentencing order is a conclusion of law.  Judge Cahill struck me as a sober minded jurist.  Lance Ito he is not. His reasoning for how he ruled is clear and likely to be bulletproof on appeal.

Bottom line:  No cop that gets videoed choking to death an otherwise subdued suspect will get probation.  Period.  No first time offender that doesn’t commit a capital offense is gonna get maxxed out.  

It was not a perfect resolution based on a precise mathematical formula.  But it was one based on facts and the law.  And that’s the best we can ever hope for from our judges.

                                                        ***

The Deacon is kind, patient and slow to anger.  We may add “long suffering” to her list of virtues.  Yesterday afternoon she sat through “The Sparks Brothers” documentary. All two hours and twenty minutes of it.  Say what you will about Sparks-and up until I watched the documentary today I had no idea that they were the most influential act in the history of rock music-Ron and Russell Mael are two strange dudes.  Especially Ronald.  

She claimed that she enjoyed it despite her not quite having the appreciation for serious weirdness that I have.  So we can also add “polite” to her list.  But I’m also guessing that she will not appreciate me singing “Pretending To Be Drunk” in the shower anytime soon.

My Sunday Post-Pandemic Father’s Day Feeling

 Funny.  I don’t remember much of anything that went down this time last year.  Maybe it’s some sort of COVID related amnesia syndrome without my ever actually acquiring the disease itself.  Which is OK by me.

Not that there would have been much to remember.  As I wrote in the paper last year I am merely the “local dad.”  And I think that title still fits.  Joe and Sarah don’t need a father.  They have one already.  He just doesn’t live anywhere near here.  But they stay in pretty constant touch with him through the miracle of cell phone and zoom.  I can’t visit with Buck unless I invest in a Ouija board or go see that psychic lady outside Mayflower.

No. I don’t remember Father’s Day of last year because there is no point.  Being a stepfather is mostly an honorific conveying no real power or duties.  So I’m certain that nothing resembling a fuss was made over me.  That, too, is OK by me.  I’m not one to stand on ceremony around here.  Or anywhere else for that matter.  

But I don’t remember much about last year period.  And what I do recall ain’t real good.  So much fear.  So much anxiety.  So much misinformation. So little to do.  

I was visiting with a friend at her business yesterday.  And she allowed as how it feels as if she and her husband have to re-learn how to “do” other people.  To be social again.  She and Chris bought a big house just in time to not be able to open it up to others.  

I can relate.  We had only been here @ year before we were in the same boat.  One of the things the Deacon liked about our house was the potential for entertaining, especially on the porch and the deck.  

And yet, now that we and all of our friends (that we know of) have been vaccinated, we still seem not to be able to get out of that inert state.  We still order out instead of going out.  And we still haven’t had many folks over.  Or been invited to that many people’s homes.

It’s like we are all still “comfortably numb” as Pink Floyd once put it.  It’s like we aren’t really doing what we said we would do once the plague has passed our doors.  

So maybe this is the best way for a quasi or pseudo dad such as myself to “do” Father’s Day. I hit some sales.  Will either play or watch golf today.  Maybe participate in the “form” of Father’s Day as Plato might put it, since the true import of the day is nothing that applies to me.  Or some damn thing.

And like I said.  That’s OK by me.  I’m in a good spot.  We are all coming out of the fog.  

Maybe I’ll go see that lady over to Greenbrier.  Perhaps paying to communicate with the next world can become my particular Father’s Day tradition.

Better to consult a professional because fooling with a Ouija board on this or any other day is to indulge in rank superstition.  Right?

Happy Father’s Day!  

 

My Sunday Feeling

 All of us tend to take the convenience of stuff we can do on the Internet for granted.  QAnon conspiracy theorists and porn addicts aside, there are many ways the Internet has made conducting our lives more convenient.  We use the ‘Net to shop, to consume media, and to play games.  I made the counter on my old house on my iPad at a Catholic High baseball game out at Lamar Porter for one more example.

And if you are also like me you probably pay a lot if not most of your bills online.  I might write 3-4 checks a month.  A box of checks will last me a year if not longer.  Really convenient.  But every now and again something crazy pops up that takes some time to unwind.  This is what happened to me a week or so.

I was looking at my checking account when I noticed that the balance seemed low.  Lower then usual even.  Like most banks, the one I use lets me look at the actual copies of paper items (as us commercial lawyers say) drawn against my account.  When I started poking around to try to stop the bleeding, I discovered two checks written on a Trust account opened at my bank’s branch up in northwest Arkansas that were paid by me in the total amount of @$3000.00.  Paid by me.  Not written by me.  Not a forgery.  Checks written on a Trust account, signed by the Trustee (completely unknown to me) and charged to my checking account.

The first thing I did was to call my banker.  Actually the first thing I did was to text my wife to tell her not to deposit the check I wrote her for my half of the monthly nut as it was now, well, hot.  I then called my banker who said she would look into it.  

Eventually she called.

“Evidently the account he wrote those checks on has your account number on them,” she said.

“What?”I exclaimed. “How could this happen? I’ve never heard of this guy and I just paid his state and county taxes.”

“Maybe the check company made a mistake.  I don’t know.  The branch manager up there is trying to get ahold of his customer.  The good news is that the gentleman doesn’t write many checks on that account. In the meantime, I’ve restored the money to your account.  Hopefully this will solve the problem.”  This was on a Friday.

So, imagine my amusement the following Monday when I saw a -$17,000 overdraft and overdraft charge on the account.  Evidently my twin up in the Ozarks bought or paid off a vehicle with an Electronic Transfer of Funds through that Trust account.

I sent my banker an email.  

“It’s bad enough that I am now, at least on paper, destitute,” I wrote.  “But I resent highly being assessed an overdraft fee when I’m not the one kiting checks and ETFs all over northwest Arkansas.”

She assured me that she would get to the bottom of this.  

“OK, this looks like fraud,” she said. “But I’m reluctant to push that button just yet.  If I push that button I lose all control, and security will shut down all these accounts for the time being.  You pay a lot of bills automatically.  This would be a real pain for you.  I’ve got a call into the manager up there.  I’m gonna tell him he really needs to get his arms around this situation.”

The money got restored the next day and the overdraft fee was removed.  Even better, the check I wrote my wife cleared. My banker called with the explanation.

“Here’s what happened.  Apparently the man on the Trust account is an older man.  He tried to save some money by ordering checks online rather than through the bank and wound up inputting your account number by accident.  After you discovered the error, he was told by the branch up there not to write any more checks on that account until they could get it fixed.”

“So he did an ETF instead?,” I said. “That’s missing the point ain’t it?”

“Yes it is.  But that account has been closed and his old account with the correct number has been restored. Surely this little problem is solved.  Just keep an eye on your account just to make sure.”

So far so good.  The only suspicious transactions I’ve noticed since then are the usual ones I perform on a weekly basis.  As usual, I have no one to blame but myself. Which is the way it should be.

This story is proof that we should all keep an eye on our financial accounts.  People get hacked. Or an old man might be paying off his truck through your account number. The Internet has made our lives much more convenient.  But when something gets screwed up in the present age the ripple effect can be pretty large.  You never know.

And whenever you get a new box of checks, you will note that the first thing you will see inside is a warning that you should examine them to make sure the information engraved thereon is correct.

Take my word for it.  You should do it.