Whatever happened to shame?

I’m old, old enough to remember when getting a tattoo was a sign of rebellion, not a sign of conformity. I’m also old enough to remember when people felt shame.

In 1968, faced with a catalog of well-documented and proven abuses, Richard Nixon, for all his faults, faced the music and resigned from office. After fighting all the Watergate charges, he realized that, in addition to losing the trust of the American people and with impeachment imminent, there was no way out of the corner his illegal, unconstitutional activities had painted him into. Finally, he admitted defeat and, waving to the crowd with his trademark double peace sign (a peace he had held hostage for most of his term of office), flew off into infamy aboard Marine One, then on to Air Force One, which lost that call sign somewhere over Missouri on its way to California.

He, along with most of his staff, had been shamed out of office and deservedly so. We as a nation put them behind us and moved forward. This kind of thing had happened before, from Boss Tweed to Joe McCarthy to George Wallace to the embarrassing but more benign shenanigans of the likes of Anthony Weiner.

Things have changed today. In spite of all the charges and failures and lies and convictions and scandals, not to mention a failed overthrow of the American government, no one seems to want to admit defeat or take responsibility. (A friend who is in the know about these things told me that a certain current president has had a Watergate every month and has never been held to account.) The crazies just keep on pushing nonsense about stolen elections, DEI plane crashes, fake news, Democrat controlled weather, birthers, dog-eating immigrants, alternate truth, and countless more inanities.

I doubt these corrupt, shameless scoundrels or their cowardly enablers would bat an eyelash at the accusing words with which Joseph Welch brought down another bully, Joe McCarthy, when he declared,

“Until this moment, Senator, I think I never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness… You have done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?”

These people have no sense of decency, so those words would disappear into the vacuum where their consciences should be.

Now those same thugs are running the show again. And they’ve brought along their trillionaire friends (None of those, you say? Just wait; with extensive graft happening already, it’s only a matter of time.) to wreak havoc over the entire globe. Unlike Nixon, whose own party at that time had the ability to distinguish right from wrong and thus ran him out of office, these miscreants are being empowered and encouraged to perform their nefarious acts by their equally unprincipled, spineless accomplices. Now millions around the world will pay for our sins with their lives.

Shame on them.

Shame on us for letting this happen.

Two candidates…

One of the candidates

…has promised us we’ll never have to (read: “get to”) vote again.

…has already fomented an attempted coup, which he later called a “love fest”. Six people lost their lives and 174 police were injured in the love fest.

…sat watching TV while everyone around him begged him to call off his mob of supporters who were on a rampage in the Capitol threatening to hang his Vice President.

…has threatened military action against his opponents.

…agreed with a supporter who told him that nuclear war isn’t so bad because Hiroshima and Nagasaki are back.

…suggested one of his opponents should stand before a firing squad.

…claims to know more than anyone about technology, drones, courts, campaign finance, TV ratings, ISIS, social media, trade, visas, renewable energy, taxes, debt, money, borders, Democrats, the economy, and a whole lot more. But he knows nothing about his own party’s Project 2025, David Duke or white supremacy, or the Proud Boys.

…repeats unsubstantiated stories he reads on social media and never recants when they are proven false.

…has been selling sneakers, coins, bibles, crypto, watches, and a whole lot more while campaigning.

…has been convicted of 34 felonies and lost many civil cases, being fined hundreds of millions of dollars.

The other candidate

…is a woman. The US has had as many female leaders as the Taliban.

Speaking of Speaker…

Many people were relieved when the House of Representatives finally selected a Speaker of the House. I, for one, was not. Writing about this could sound as if I’m boasting, but it’s my duty as an American citizen to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth… as I see it… which could mean anything in this culture. And the truth is…

I was fourth in line after “Mike Johnson” (yeah, like that’s his real name) to be nominated as Speaker.

Yes, it’s true. The Republicans were working down a list according to qualifications. After McCarthy, Scalise, Jordan, Emmer, Bergman, Hern, and a swarm of other no-names who either couldn’t get the votes or dropped out (because they couldn’t get the votes), “Mr. Johnson” was elected before the next names on the list were revealed.

Now it can be told.

After “Johnson”, Attila the Hun’s name was to be put on on the table. Sadly, even though he had secured the votes to be elected, someone had the audacity to point out that Mr. Hun had been dead for 1570 years. He lost six votes after that fact was revealed, which was enough to put his election into question. This came as a major disappointment to Republican presidential favorite Donald the Hun.

Another Trump preference was the next candidate on the roster. Milburn Pennybags, a.k.a. “Rich Uncle” Pennybags, mascot of the popular Parker Brothers board game, Monopoly. He has a few key character traits in common with the presumptive Republican nominee: First, he’s two-dimensional, possibly one dimension more than Mr. Trump. Second, he appears to be rich but his money isn’t real. Finally, he never shows up on the “Pay Income Tax” space.

The final name on the list before me was Bozo the Clown. He was never a serious consideration because Mr. Trump rejected him on two counts: (1) He’s afraid of clowns and (2) Bozo is considered too much of an intellectual (“a egghead”, as Mr. Trump puts it) who wouldn’t appeal to mainstream Republican House members.

That would have brought me to the front of the line. The fact that no one knows who I am certainly worked in my favor. It’s not clear whether I would have been able to muster the votes to be elected but I’d give it my all, which is all a guy can do.

If, Heaven forbid, I failed to be elected, a small selection of the many names that would have come after me were Captain America, Gumby, Taylor Swift, the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, Popeye the Sailor Man–never underestimate the draw of a man in uniform–and Goofy… or was that Dopey… or “Mike Johnson”? Six of one…

Stevie Wonder: Prophet

It’s patently obvious that Stevland Hardaway Morris, a.k.a. Stevie Wonder, is a musical genius. I can’t think of many people in history who have created such an extensive catalog of brilliant music. Three consecutive albums of his won “Album of the Year” Grammies, a feat never achieved before or since. I’m just scratching the surface of his prowess, both musical and personal. Scan his Wikipedia entry for more details of his incredible contributions.

It boggles my mind to think that one of his masterworks, the album “Innervisions”, my personal favorite, was recorded when he was only 23 years old!! (What were you doing at 23?) Not only was it an outstanding musical tour de force, it also revealed one of his heretofore unknown gifts, that of prophet.

Read these lyrics from the great song, “He’s Misstra Know-It-All” and tell me whether this guy precisely described our 45th president 43 years before he was elected:

He’s a man
With a plan
Got a counterfeit dollar in his hand
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Playin’ hard
Talkin’ fast
Makin’ sure that he won’t be the last
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Makes a deal
With a smile
Knowin’ all the time that his lie’s a mile
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Must be seen
There’s no doubt
He’s the coolest one with the biggest mouth
He’s Misstra know-it-all

When you tell him he’s livin’ fast
He will say what do you know
If you had my kind of cash
You’d have more than one place to go
Ooh

Any place
He will play
His only concern is how much you’ll pay
He’s Misstra know-it-all

If he shakes
On a bet
He’s the kind of dude that won’t pay his debt
He’s Misstra know-it-all

When you say that he’s living wrong
He’ll tell you he knows he’s livin’ right
And you’d be a stronger man
If you took Misstra know-it-all’s advice oh oh
Ooh

He’s a man
With a plan
Got a counterfeit dollar in his hand
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Take my word
Please beware
Of a man that just don’t give a care no
He’s Misstra know-it-all (look out he’s coming)

Dum bum bum ba bum bum,
Dum bum bum ba bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum say
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Can this line, take his hand
Take your hat off to the man who’s got the plan
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Every boy take your hand
To the man that’s got the plan
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Give a hand to the man
Don’t you know he’s got the plan
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Give a hand to the man
You know damn well he’s got the super plan
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Give a hand to the man
You know damn well he’s got the super plan
He’s Misstra know-it-all

If we had less of him
Don’t you know we’d have a better land
He’s Misstra know-it-all

So give a hand to the man
Although you’ve given out as much as you can
He’s Misstra know-it-all

Check his sound out
He’ll tell it all
Hey you talk too much you worry me to death
He’s Misstra know-it-all

(Although I’d never noticed this until hearing the song recently for the first time in a long while, I’m not the first to make this connection. It bears repeating, however, because it serves us all well to (1) be reminded of Stevie’s brilliance and (2) further expose the target of these lyrics as the scoundrel he is.)

The other pandemic

We’re all about coronavirus for the past year and a half. Something most of us had never heard of or considered before 2020 is now the fulcrum on which everything in our lives turns. Our conversations invariably revolve around the pandemic, the Delta variant, masks, and vaccines. Yet, there is another pandemic sweeping through our land whose effects are equally tragic. I’m talking about…

The Obliviousness Pandemic!

Yes, obliviousness has taken our country, and possibly the entire world, by storm, leaving death, destruction, ignorance, and oppression in its wake. I see the symptoms of this deadly condition everywhere I look.

  • The person who hears “Black lives matter” and scornfully replies “All lives matter!”
  • The one who doesn’t believe in vaccines even though vaccines have effectively wiped out (or at least ameliorated the effects of) some of the most deadly and contagious conditions the world has ever known: smallpox, polio, measles, chickenpox, influenza, tetanus, hepatitis A & B, and many, many more. And yet they suddenly fear the Covid vaccine. Can you spell o-b-l-i-v-i-o-u-s?
  • If you’ve disabled the muffler on your car, motorcycle, SUV, or pickup truck thinking it would make you (1) cooler, (2) safer, and/or (3) more of a man (sexist, yes, but what woman would be foolish enough to do such a thing?), seek professional help right away. You’re a victim of the oblivious epidemic. And everyone else within earshot (i.e. a mile or so) of wherever you drive is a victim of your obliviousness.*
  • Anyone who thinks Donald Trump gives a flying fig about anything but himself and wouldn’t slit their throat if he thought it would add to his bank account and he could get away with it. Or that he’s a conservative.
  • If you never considered the possibility of a pandemic hitting us, as so many have throughout history, you’ve been struck with this condition.
  • Smokers.
  • The billionaire who thanks the people he has exploited for financing his insane space boondoggle. Oh, and the people he exploited who don’t recognize it.
  • Anyone with a “Coexist” bumper sticker who runs red lights and cuts off people in traffic.
  • Me, much of the time.
  • Then there are the obvious, longstanding examples, such as the person hauling a month’s worth of groceries through the 10-items-or-less line, the clown going below (or even at) the speed limit in the left lane of the highway, and the Jeopardy contestants who always start at the top left of the board instead of intentionally trying to find the “Daily Double” by choosing higher value clues early in the game.

There are millions of examples, at least as many as there are people. I’ve expounded on this general topic before but realized I could create a whole new post by repackaging it. 🙂

Where have you seen obliviousness? Or are you oblivious to it?


*One of the most heinous aspects of this epidemic is that it doesn’t cause the victims any ill effects. It only harms others! Imagine if contracting Covid didn’t hurt you at all? What if only other people, some of whom you might never come in contact with, who might even live half way around the world, had to go on ventilators? (Right now, the oblivious among us are thinking, “That would be great!” sigh)

The Comeuppance Factor

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about comeuppance.

First of all, who doesn’t love such a wonderful word? It’s so much fun to say. That’s half of what I want from a word. I have several favorite words. Nefarious, detritus, and capricious—yeah, I know, they all sound like ancient Greek politicians—are among those near and dear to my heart, tongue, and virtual pen. “Ne’er-do-well” is in the running as my favorite word of all.

Sounding good, as important as that is, isn’t enough. To gain my seal of approval, a word must also express major, complex concepts clearly and powerfully all while rolling playfully off the tongue. Comeuppance fills the bill in every way. All you have to say is, “I hope that guy gets his comeuppance,” and people nod their heads in complete understanding.

This is one of the primary ways I judge a film, book, or story in any form. It’s a cardinal rule of mine for action films, especially. The bad guy must get his comeuppance. (Forgive the sexist terminology; it’s just that the best bad guys are in fact guys.) What does a true quality comeuppance entail? Here are a few characteristics:

  1. The bad guy must lose. He can’t ride off into the sunset with the girl, with the booty, or with his head held high. He’s done, finished, end of the line. He’s either dead or demoralized or both. And he can’t come back. Countless terrible sequels have taught us that lesson.
  2. The bad guy must know he lost. At the end of the day, said miscreant has to be saying or thinking, “Curses! Foiled again!” He can’t be allowed to rationalize away his defeat. He blew it and he knew it. While it’s true that he might change his ways in response to his failure—that’s a Good Thing in real life—it’s anticlimactic in a story. Special dispensation is given in the case of Ebenezer Scrooge.
  3. It’s best of all if he knows it’s coming and can’t do a thing about it. This gives the wretched reprobate a chance to beg for mercy or melt down to the lump of evil that he is. (Here the “guy” thing falls apart. It’s the Wicked Witch who literally melts.)

Some examples are in order at this point.

Two of the best comeuppance scenes form the climaxes of two of the best action movies: “RoboCop” and “Die Hard”. In fact, they end the exact same way. The primary antagonists have a long descent from the upper stories of skyscrapers to consider the error of their ways and accept their comeuppance. Do they? We’ll never know because they end up as stains on the sidewalk.

A less violent but just as satisfying comeuppance is that of Prince Humperdinck in “Princess Bride”. Having lost all, he’s left tied to a chair with nothing to do but mull over his ignominious but well-deserved defeat. The comeuppance of Christopher Guest’s six-fingered man, on the other hand, could be the ultimate in cinematic comeuppance. It doesn’t get much more satisfying than watching a sadistic scoundrel beg for his life at the point of his demise.

It could be said that Donald Trump, a stereotypical bad guy of the worst order, got his comeuppance. Sadly, it was far from satisfactory. He lost the popular vote twice, he cost his party the Senate and the House, he never built his cherished wall, he failed to overthrow the government, he lost the White House, and he lost countless business deals because this time he couldn’t sweep his shenanigans under the rug. Failure doesn’t get any more blatant or comprehensive than that. To use his own words against him, the guy is a loser.

The problem, of course, is that his malignant narcissism blinds him to reality. As far as we can tell, he still thinks he won those elections and accomplished all his goals. Mental illness is a sad thing. I wish him healing and recovery.

And comeuppance.


Does anyone else find it frighteningly ironic that, in his attempt to rid the US of foreign terrorists, Trump has bred a crop of domestic terrorists, kind of like Saruman’s senseless Uruk-hai, who will almost certainly wreak more havoc on this country than all those Muslims and Mexicans he likes to rail against?

Or that, in spite of the religious right’s inexcusable devotion to him, he has probably paid for more abortions than he has prevented?

Just sayin’, is all.

As if we needed more evidence

I was going to skip another week in this blog. Novel number two is occupying my time and mind lately. It’s hard to tear myself away from the story and its characters. I like spending time with them.

But I saw something last night that stirred up the creative juices. (Disgusting pun intended.)

As if we needed more evidence beyond a Trump candidacy that America’s depravity has hit a low from which it may never recover, last night I saw the most obscene commercial I’ve ever watched. It was for a product by turns called “GlowBowl”, “BowlLight”, or my personal favorite, “IllumiBowl”. That last one sounds like some sort of bizarre superhero. It lights up your toilet at night so you aren’t, as the commercials put it, blinded when you turn on the bathroom light.

You’ve probably heard of this beast by now, but it just came to my attention. Upon seeing it, I was at a loss as to how to respond. Laughter was my first reaction. Is this a joke? You know you’ve lived too long when you can’t tell a real commercial from an SNL lampoon. Can the Love Toilet be far behind?

Upon further consideration, I’m pissed. (Pun once again intended.) Can there be any doubt that Americans have too much money? Everyone (especially talking heads on Fox News) want us to believe our economy is in a shambles, yet we have money to spend on such dreck? Has no one heard of the $2 nightlight??

What can we expect from a nation that uses what the rest of the world calls drinking water to flush its toilets? In a world where 40% of its people have no access to modern sanitary facilities, we’re spending money that could be used to save the lives of some of the 1.5 million children who die from diarrhea every year to light up our johns.

I’ve had it. Back to something that at least resembles reality: my novel.