worry and wonder

The longer I have been interested in the politics of this nation, the more I have become wary of certain signals politicians provide the public, in trying to temper the mood, the temperature and the general environment of acceptance or rejection. I of course am not speaking about the die hard Trump lemmings, the men and women whose own parents fought in WWWII against the Nazi’s and who who somehow believe a good American now a days can zig heil, or the families whose loved ones died or fought in Korea and Viet Nam and think embracing Putin’s Communism is pure apple pie, and I am not speaking about the Southern rednecks who want God to Bless America, but the Confederate States of America…I am speaking about the average America, the person who still wants to see the tax returns…who still wants checks and balances…and who realizes that Hillary, Hillary, Hillary was not why Trump is sitting in the Oval Office…

On Thursday, that monumental waste of time, when the Senate Intel Committee divided by partisan lines interviewed James Comey (This man actually WAS the Director of the FBI, what a willy nilly spineless person), only to find the results they were always looking for…if you were a Dem, Trump lies has lied and will continue to lie, or if you are a GOP, Trump is new at this, just like his Christianity, he is a baby Christian and a baby President…nothing major was uncovered, but for me something was discovered…the discovery came from an interview by Senator Angus King of Maine, and Independent of all things. Senator King, was petty vociferous in his description of Comey’ interview, and stood firm on the conviction that Trump was up to something. But it was after that discussion that I heard Senator King INSIST and INSIST in that government voice (where his lips are not really moving, but words are coming out of his mouth) Senator King INSISTED too many times that even though the Russians attempted to hack into the polling stations of this nation in November, they were not successful. The Senator, for whom I have great respect, disappointed me in his non answer response. It seemed to me Senator King just didn’t want to discuss the drama, trauma and consequences of finding the truth, that perhaps the November election, not just for Trump but for the entire Congress had been hacked and planned by Russia.

I will not recall in detail that horrible night of Trumps victory, but the shock of some key Senate races, the determination of who the majority would be seemed to suddenly turn to the right, and almost each and every talking head on the planet and statistician were INCORRECT. Too perfect of a surprise, and still the saddest news of current history for me. So, I have to wonder, now with more and more information being collected on Trump and the Russians, if Senator King was just trying to buy us off, trying to not open Pandora's Box of chaos. Sometimes when a politician tells me not to worry and repeats it over and over and over, I worry, and I wonder

Bupkis

When I first began my career as a Jewish Communal Worker, I had the pleasure of working with some very smart, informative and funny people. One woman, Rachel, had one of the most hysterical senses of humor and often time would introduce to me, some Yiddish expressions, even I had never heard of. Often times when the week was winding down and in the Jewish Communal, that meant Friday night, the one night of the week a worker most likely would NOT be asked to work, Rachel and I would  gather in my office, around the bewitching hour of 5:00 (enough time to be home before Shabbat, yet finish up some last minute details), and we would either joyously celebrate our upcoming weekend plans OR, if nothing was really exciting, Rachel would say “Bupkis, I got Bupkis.” We would lament our lonely weekend plans sympathize for a few moments then hug each other good night and exit the building. “I got Bupkis, as far as Rachel and I were concerned, meant, NOTHING, NOTHING at all. But I stand corrected for all of those years thinking the wrong concept, when in turn it seems the Yiddish translation of Bupkis often means small round fecal pellets, referring to the shape of goat droppings. A colorful usage, though a more emphatic expression (in Yiddish more so than in English) is "bupkis mit kaduchas” translating roughly to "shivering shit balls”. Who knew!

I finished watching an attempt by some sane Senators trying understand exactly what happened between the guy in the Oval Office and James Comey. I watched as the Dems seemed intent on discovering some kind of truth, while at the same time, the GOP pretended that Trump, being some kind of amateur should perhaps be slapped on the wrist, but more so, should be understood to be the inept fool he always has been. I listened as John McCain seemingly had a mild stroke, thinking that Hillary was on trial and watched as Marco Rubio dressed himself in a slick oily looking suit some newly purchased tie and hardly moving his lips said, nothing of any substance. I watched, waited and broke my rule (Since the Russians hacked the election I refuse to listen to any talking heads..talk) and observed the GOP thinking by supporting Trumps lies they were doing the patriotic thing, and how frustrated the Dems were because the entire idea of checks and balances no longer exists.

I was not going to blog about this fiasco, trying my hardest to realize we may never find that knight in shining armor to save the day, and in NOT doing so we remain fucked. And then my mind wandered to happier times (perhaps my way to handle the stress of this country) and I remember my friend Rachel telling that she had Bupkis going on. I then hurriedly looked up the meaning of bupkis discovering that in deed the real definition suited this day in the Senate more profoundly and efficiently. Today, I learned that Trump and the GOP are BUPKIS!

Where to

Where to begin: The Zombie Plague has now officially been witnessed by millions of Americans as having invaded the brains of the Republican Senate Leadership. It is demonstrated by the refusal to ask any question regarding Trump’s inappropriate behavior but to instead repeat the mantra, of but you said Flynn is a good guy, you said there is no background review regarding Trump, and you are a leaker yourself. The Zombie Plague was best presented by McCain who somehow managed to presume the Committee was talking about Hillary. After having dined with Trump two nights earlier Rubio and Cotton must have had a bit more of the Zombie Plague introduced in their meal as both men were more concerned about Comey’s reaction to being asked a stupid question of loyalty to the president…sort of like the question are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party (However in 2017 rather than in the later 50’s, answering yes to that question will get you more slush money from Trump toward your re-election)

Where to begin: You needed no names to understand which Senators, in asking their questions were not Republicans as they expressed concern about Country first, the GOP Senator’s responses started out with thank you Mr Comey, but that Party (either the Republican or Communist) comes before country, and loyalty to the president is the priority before loyalty to the Constitution. 

Where to begin: It was in regards to Senator King’s questions where a very big worry erupted, but one that of course the Republicans will avoid. In answering a question about the efforts by the Russians in the 2016 election, Mr King asked if the hacking would no come to end end. Mr Comey responded, something as big, bold and artful as the 2016 hacking was just a start. Where to go from here: We will once again hear the he said/he said commentators in a partisan voice respond that nothing ever happened worth the worry or effort of the American people. We will hear lots of TMZ like criticisms of Comey. We will hear that Trump is new to this, like he is new to Christianity and like he is referred to as a Christian in training, he is a president in training. So where do we go from here?

The End

I am a MAJOR fan of Stephen King. (His novel ‘Salem’s Lot’ was one of my favorites, it was so scary that when I finished reading it for the night, I actually had to take the book place it in the top drawer of the kitchen drawer with something silver resting upon it for fear of what might creep out of the pages and attack me.) There are two main reasons why I find Stephen King so enjoyable to read, the first is that he lets you know exactly who the villain is, always in plain sight, and even so, you never quite understand just how much damage the villain can inflect to all of the so very naive other characters in his novels. The second reason is how horribly horrible his villains are and how they manipulate others to become almost as bad. It seems for me, Stephen King, believes in a division a choice in life we decide to take… you can be good or you can be bad, you can do the right thing or you can do one major wrong thing, and never see the light of good glowing in your life.

Today, the American public will get a glimpse of our governmental overseers, (the Senate), attempting to address the demise of democracy as directed by Trump and his league of sinister supporters. We should hear from James Comey, who must certainly find himself in the hot seat usually reserved for Hillary, and wonder if Mr Comey will spill his beans regarding Trump and if this beans will be refried or just discarded by a partisan panel or a panel of and by the People (Not the Corporation type of People.) By now, there is so much overwhelming coincidence (It is really evidence, but since its all about politics anyway, we pretend its here-say) to assume who the villain is…and so much coincidence (Evidence, I say, EVIDENCE) by RNC and their leadership in enabling the villain all we have to wonder, as in a Stephen King novel, will the townsfolk believe the truth or will they be hoodwinked by one of those (Please God set a term limit) GOP Senators who will shrug his red, white and blue shoulders, and slowly say but Mr Comey that is your word against Trumps’s. (And every televangelist  worth his first million dollars has sworn Trump was sent from Jesus), so who are you going to REALLY believe!!!

Stephen King is so good at keeping the reader on the edge of his/her seat, we all know how bad the situation is, we all know there are good guys, we all know that evil seems to have no limits, and we all know that even what we think is the next thing to happen in a Stephen King novel, it quite ends up the way we assumed it might. I am not sure what is next. On Wednesday the four Chairmen of the four highest ranking national security agencies in America refused to answer a yes or no question about Trump’s interference in dealing with Russia…I am hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel, but then I think about a Stephen King novel, and know if the bad guys gets it, IT usually happens right before the last two words in his novel, THE END

Is It Really

The Liberty Movie Theater located in the East Liberty neighborhood of Pittsburgh, was one of those grande dame movie palaces built back in the day when glamorous, glorious, decadence meant plush red velvet seats, thick red carpeting and the most ornate of architectural gems hung, projected, and  adorned were all waiting for the audiences viewing pleasures. The Liberty Theater in its day had not one but three balconies, reaching into the dark recesses of a gothic castle, with hidden entrances to private box seating and archways leading to hallways highlighted with chandeliers bouncing with the colors of wither a pale red or mush violet bulb leading to doorways and stairwells where only your wildest dreams might find refuge. back in the day the Liberty Theater was an opulence adventure. But in Pittsburgh back in the late 50’s and early 60’s movie theaters began to change, and budgets were less kind to the palaces of the big studios, and soon if a theater like the Liberty still managed to survive its interiors began to decline, and instead of glitz and bling, rust, ruin and once was remained. Top rate movies no longer found their way to these large cavernous museum pieces, but the best scary movies around did find a nice resting place, and the Liberty Theater welcomed them with open arms.

My father loved horror movies, and ignoring the warning by my mother that my sister and I would surely have nightmares if we went to see them, my father would take us to each and every ‘flying saucer”, creature feature, and ghost story that the Liberty Theater would screen. I remember standing outside the dark and dingy brick building, still with its witches peaks in place and my father would point saying, maybe Dracula was here tonight. Once we got inside the grand old palace, brought our popcorn and soda dimly lit in soft purples and reds, my father would ask us if we had to pee, (he reminded us it might be safer to do so as ghosts re always arriving late to the movies), and told us that you never know what might be lurking in the hallway later on. We used the restrooms immediately and then found out seats. My father told us the safest place to sit while watching am horror movie was the middle row and the middle three seats. Ghost, and creatures like to pick off the audience members who sit at the end and who fall asleep. There was one rule however that my sister and I had and that was my father sit in the middle with each of his strong and protective arms either around our shoulders or close enough to grab. Right before the movie would start, my father would turn his head and pretend to look up at then highest balcony, in the corner of the balcony to be exact. My sister and and I would fall for the same schtick time after time asking him what he was looking at only to have him say, I was just wondering if any THING was looking at us.

We saw all of Vincent Price’s movies, two of the best for me were 13 Ghosts and The House on the Haunted Hill. True to form the black and white images and the extra heavy organ and tortured woman’ voice singing in high soprano falsetto for background terror, made the movie even more terrifying. But there were two things about Vincent Price movies, the first was that it ended with the creature or ghosts destroyed, which was good news, but somehow right before the credits and the barely working exit lights in the Liberty Theater came on, there would always be one character whose face would appear, mostly it was a male and he would say, “IS IT REALLY THE END”, causing a chill so sever to claim my sister’s and my bodies that we would race up the aisle to the safety of the lobby.  Thursday, we are told that James Comey is to speak to the Senate in a public hearing. As anything Trump has felt to me like a Vincent Price movie, I have to ask, first of all will the monsters, creatures, ghosts find their demise, or on Thursday evening will some long drawn Republican treasonous politician’s face find its way on the TV screen asking: “IS IT REALLY THE END” The thought still scares me!

Pooh-Pooh

My maternal grandmother was born in Braylia Romania. She and her sisters arrived in the United States bringing with them the hope of a new generation, the hard work of beginning again and one very importantly awful thing, the superstition of the Pooh-Pooh People. I first learned about the Pooh-Pooh People during the once a month family poker nights held at our home. Our house would smell of lily of the valley perfume mangled with the sinister odor of someone’s finest cigars melded with Peach Schnapps and some very old but stringent scotch seemingly dripping and oozing from the sweaty garments of our company. The highlight however of the one Saturday night month poker-fest, was that, if we (my little sister and I) had been good (and goodness knows the rewards for being good were WONDERFUL), we could walk down from the upstairs bedroom and have a corned beef sandwich (homemade by my mother), a dill pickle from my mothers own, and two pieces of homemade chocolate cake. My little sister and I knew exactly when to enter the dining room, it was the AROMA of everything homemade, and everything that my mother baked or cooked wafting upstairs almost tugging at us to come on down and eat some nush.

Of course there was the duty to say hello to the family, shake the Uncles hands, kiss the aunts, and save the best hug and kiss for my grandmother, who, since it was her daughters home, could lord over HER grandchildren. There was a routine, my little sister would first greet my grandmother, every one would say how pretty, then it was my turn, the king, the GRANDSON, the ooh’s and ahh’s were louder and more pronounced. But it was while in the grasp of my grandmothers arms that I was given the low down on who was winning and who was losing. I would dully be turned left or right to see the faces of Uncle this or Aunt that, and as my body was tossed, my grandmother would remind me,(really for the benefit of the rest of the family) why some won and some lost. My grandmother would say, Uncle Shrul did not say pooh-pooh when he won his third round, so he lost his fourth round. Aunt Mima, knew better, even when she came close not winning she would say pooh-pooh-pooh and the say out loud that both bad news and good news could come her way. Then my grandmother would turn me to face her and right before the corned beef was placed on the table next to the most delicious plate of pickles and sauerkraut, my grandmother would look me in the eye and pointing her very ruby red index finger tell me. bad news is a sure thing, good news not a sure thing. Even with bad news say pooh-pooh-pooh, so god doesn’t think you take anything for granted. then good news will follow. If you don’t notice the pooh-pooh people they will get you.  My grandmother would then kiss me and low and behold my mother had my little sister’s and my tempting and mouthwatering sandwich and chocolate cake plates ready and off we went.

This week in America, supposedly on Thursday, we might finally receive some good news, regarding everything dishonest about Trump and his treasonous enablers. Thursday seems so close, but regarding anything Trump it might as well be miles away. Since I heard that James Comey is going to testify, publicly, I have been saying a pooh-pooh-pooh every night, wishing, hoping and praying justice finds its way back home. But my grandmother warned me, never take good news for granted!

termites

Your house, large structure, lots of wood for the framing and foundation. One day you notice on the carpeted floor of your office, the place where you conduct work, the kind of business which helps pay for this fine mansion, one you inherited from your parents, and the same place you hope the next generation of you will inhabit, that the plush blue carpet has a pile of what looks like sand, only to discover as you make the effort to bend down and investigate, is not sand at all but fine, fine, teeny, tiny pieces of wood. Your first response, what the hell. You then investigate, the items on your desk, anything broken, anything out of place. Noticing nothing, you create a C shape with your thumb and index finger placing that C concoction under your chin, wondering aloud, as that A-HAH moment roils up your throat with a gurgle at first, the gurgle motivates your cheeks, instigating your tongue to fervently rattle inside your mouth and immediately you shout out loud, to no one but yourself, TERMITES! The words cause great consternation, a bit of an itchy sensation as if those damn vermin are now crawling up your pant legs, you do the right foot then left foot shuffle just to make sure, and still creeped out you pace the entire office, looking for more piles of sandy fine wood, actually hoping to find none, and suddenly you feel invaded, the next words are a choice of a few, “how the…” “but I hired the bug guys…” “I have always been proactive…” and finally not seeing any other clue as to the invasion of the termites, you swear you will call the termite people and keep the checks and balances so necessary for the continuation of a home with peace, purpose and prosperity. But as you exit your office, your spouse, reminds you of a dinner engagement, a child’s play at school, a retirement dinner for a friend, or that the movie the two of you MUST see is finally on pay per view. You shut your office door, and you assume your life and the life inside your house will go on as planned! 

Trump is still an embarrassment to this nation. He can use the Constitution as his personal lower extremity means of hygiene, yet somehow he is protected to do so. He acts as the Imperial President, Obama had been accused of, and no one Dem or Republican has gone on each and every news outlet to protest. His popularity poll numbers are low. He lies, owns up to spreading false reports, is an idiot who thrives on ratings. He has left piles and piles of termite dust in the White House, we know it is infected…yet with each new day we act surprised as if THIS time it is the final straw, and some how like home owner whose mansion is falling silently apart, we do nothing, we say a lot threat a lot, but do nothing…as if life will somehow go on as planned!