Count your blessings

It started out like most Mondays.  Kiss Sweetie good-bye, hop into the truck, get some gas and pull into the Help of Ojai lot.  As usual, it was cold and damp.  Not just outside, but inside Little House where the aging heating system can’t keep up with the drafts and takes its toll on the fragile ones toiling at their desks.

Eyeballing the bus manifest revealed a pretty full morning.  Most of the riders were regulars but a sprinkling of new names promised a welcome diversion.  My first pickup was Shirley, a spry 82-year-old and accomplished pianist living in a mobile home park.  “And you are?” Shirley said as I opened the automatic door and went to help her up the steps.  The reason Shirley asked who I am is not because she has memory problems.  She is blind.  Living alone, she and I have been bus pals for several years. No complainer she,  I look forward to her bus trips. Bright and bubbly, she makes me ashamed of what a whiner I can be.

We arrived before Kristy’s Nails opened.  I helped Shirley find the donut shop next door where she was warmly welcomed and offered the delicacies of the house while she waited for Kristy’s to begin its day.

Rarely do I get two clients going to Kristy’s on the same day.  But my next rider, Myrna, was headed there too.  A pedicure was in the offing as she can no longer personally handle that chore.  Arriving at St. Joseph’s I once again stared at the open area where majestic oaks once held sway.  Having been cut down before they could injure anyone, I’m anxiously awaiting some miracle that will accelerate the growth of the saplings planted a couple of years ago.  Maybe St. Joes is the right place for that miracle.

Myrna needed the lift to get aboard.  After setting her walker where neither she nor I could be impaled, we got to know each other a bit better.  “I’m 91 and my husband is 90.”  A cradle robber, I said.  “He had a stroke about eight months ago.  I live in the cottage over there and he is in the nursing building just across the road.”  Noting her English accent, she volunteered that she was born in England where she served in the RAF as an ambulance driver.  Visions of a Hemingway novel flashed through my head.

“I was worried last night and this morning that you might not be able to get this big bus and the lift into the parking lot at Kristy’s.  Didn’t want to cause you any inconvenience.  I assured Myrna that it was my solemn mission to get her nails done.

On to At Home in Ojai where I got my first wheelchair client of the day.  Margie, who professes to be at least older than my bus, arrived with an aide.  Fastening the chair in the catbird spot in the van, I asked if everything was OK.  I meant the positioning of the safety belt but Margie had a somewhat broader interpretation of my question.  “I’ve been better.”  All in all, a mild response for someone plagued by any number of old-age maladies.

Cliff was in the usual spot, leaning on his walker at the Gables.  Pushing 90 and one of the youngest pilots in World War Two, he had fallen a few months ago and was still trying to regain his old stamina.  A regular at Swanner PT, he works out a couple of times a week.  My hearing is not as good as it used to be and the squeaking and drafts of the old bus make it even harder to hear what my clients have to say.  Bless his heart, Cliff rattles on regardless of my ability to understand what he is saying.  My occasional uh-huh keeps him motivated.  Arriving at Swanner, Cliff, his cane and his walker descend from the bus and he offers his usual “Thanks so much.  I’ll call when I’m done.  Drive carefully and fasten your seatbelt.”

Toward noon I retrieved Shirley from Kristy’s and began what is affectionately known as the “lunch bunch” pickups.  Isabel, who at 94 is one of the most loving and ripest of my clients, sat down next to Shirley.  Able to climb the steps of the bus without assistance, Isabel suffers from extreme hearing loss.  Shirley, who is blind, spent the better part of two minutes trying to relate this fact to Isabel.  Having successfully communicated, Isabel both apologized for her hearing loss and offered her heartfelt sympathy for Jeanette’s blindness.  And so it went.

The bus was filled to capacity as we arrived at Help’s West Campus.  My clients clambered down the steps.  Each said thanks and wished me a Merry Christmas.  It already was.

I’ve seen enough

OK, I admit it.  I didn’t watch Saturday’s debate.  Too busy watching the Food Channel’s Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives and folks who shove greasy burgers, fat-laden chili-fries and lots of bacon into their mouths.  Yummy.

I think I’ve seen three of the debates going back to the time when Rick Perry was still the Republican savior.  Now he’s demoted himself to junior savior status and is currently running ads that remind us that he is a devout Christian, that gays should remain in the closet, and isn’t it a God-awful shame that kids can’t pray in school instead of learning what the legal voting age is and  how many Supreme Court justices there are.

I’ve always felt that I should know what the opposition is up to.  Even to the point of  occasionally listening to Rush Limbaugh.  It used to drive Sweetie nuts.  “How can you listen to that ignorant blowhard.  Haven’t you got better things to do.  Like picking up your clothes?”  So that’s why I watch the debates, that in some cases are more exciting than watching the Broncos’ Tim Tebow genuflect after gaining yardage, thanking God for letting his team beat those godless bastards and reminding us that only devout Christians will go to heaven…while me and my ilk baste in the fires of hell.  But that’s another story.

Poor Mitt is stuck in second gear while the Newt is laughing his way to the nomination.  Pretty good for a guy who, not long ago, was left for dead at the Tiffany counter.  I used to think about running for public office, never seriously but sort of in a day-dreamy kind of way.  But I’d quickly dismiss it when I remembered the various immoral acts that might be uncovered during my campaign.  Starting with cheating on various Latin exams in Mrs. Beck’s class, lying to my mother when she asked if I went to Hebrew school today, and setting fire to the vacant lot in Albany Park while roasting potatoes with my friends.

But if Newt is any example, the sky’s the limit.  Abandoning two previous spouses (one suffering with cancer) while diddling with others…and all the while promoting the impeachment of a fellow lothario…appear to be forgivable sins.  Playing fast and loose while Speaker of the House resulting in a few hours of standing the corner can be best classified as boyish enthusiasm.  His “Contract with America” should be retitled a “Contract on America” given the regulatory and financial disasters that it gave rise to.

To know him is to love him apparently does not apply in Newt’s case.  As Maureen Dowd noted in her NY Times column…Joe Scarborough, one of the House plotters against Speaker Gingrich back in 1997, quipped, “Let me just say, if Newt Gingrich is the smartest guy in the room, leave that room.”  Or as Senator Richard Burr of North Carolina, who worked with Newt in the House, noted, “He’s a guy of 1,000 ideas and the attention span of a 1-year-old.”  Congressman Peter King of New York told CNN’s Erin Burnett that Newt’s “inflammatory” statements, his “erratic” and “self-centered” behavior, and his “Armageddon language” wear people out.   And those three guys are all Republicans.

Which neatly summarize Newt’s qualifications to be President of the United States.  He’s a quick-draw smart-aleck who’s a legend in his own mind.  And it seems to me that we had one of those for eight years not too far back.  And we are still trying to pull ourselves up from the abyss he created.   Are we ignorant or what?  Maybe it’s no wonder that the polls of likely Republican voters show Newt leading the pack by substantial margins.

And if that isn’t enough,  Thesaurus.com defines Newt as a cold-blooded vertebrate.  Where’s the Snow Queen when you need her?

What a Bunch of Bozos We Are

I see where the Congressional Supercommittee that was punted the job of deficit reduction is, big surprise, at a loss about what to do about it.  Duh.

I also note that the disparity between the haves and have-nots is greater than it was when Dickens wrote Oliver Twist.  At least we had soup kitchens and comfy debtors’ prisons back then.  Now all we get is the pronouncement from Herr Herman that poor folks got into trouble because they were too lazy or too stupid to do anything about it.  In his scholarly opinion they, like he, should simply grope their way to the top (or to the bottom depending on your point of view.)

Additionally, I congratulate the Republicans for doing a masterful job rewriting history.  Obliterated, after little more than two years, are the memories of how we got into this mess.  Bush tax cuts, two unfunded wars, wildly imaginative regulation dismantling and an unpaid-for-grab-bag drug program for old folks are but ancient myths vaguely remembered only by those who are presently protesting by sitting in front of Goldman Sachs, the Bank of America and Libbey Bowl.   Most of the rest of us are positive that this whole thing is Obama’s fault along with the sinking of the Titanic.  Short term memory impairment run amok.

As if that weren’t enough, our priorities also seem to be a bit skewed.  A New York congressman gets booted from public life for taking photos of his dick while Republicans are ready to anoint a masher who wants to enshrine his wanger on the ten-dollar bill.  Or maybe a $9 bill to go along with his remarkable Alice in Wonderland tax proposal.

But let’s not pick on Herr Herman.  He’s in excellent company along with Social Security privatizers, let-the-old-folks-eat-cake Medicare demolishers, child vaccines will kill you advocates, global warming naysayers, debt default or die lunatics, and God will save us crazies.  Even Mitt Romney, once the voice of a modicum of moderation, has donned the one-size-fits-all mantle of “Hey, I’m as nutty as they are…so vote for me.”  No statement is too ludicrous and no act too perverse for this group of Keystone Kops.  The end justifies the means.  Assaulting and capturing the Oval Office like Kamikaze pilots requires sacrifice, even if it’s our sacrifice not theirs.

So back to the Congressional Supercommittee.  Democrats, being the fools that they are, assumed that Republicans, being the crazies they are, would come to their senses.  The Party of No would become the Party of Maybe.  Laughing all the way to the bank, the Republicans could point to the twelve bazillion dollars in entitlement cuts they grabbed in return for twelve cents of tax increases reluctantly imposed on the 1% of the population owning 50% of the country.  But no, the Party of No never met a tax increase they liked.  All or nothing.  Never ones to learn from history, the Dems would repeat it and fold.  Business as usual.

As for me, I’m going to switch parties and vote for Herman in the primary.  I’ve always wanted to see a sitting President carted off to jail right after his inauguration for groping Ruth Bader Ginsburg.  Then we can get the President we really deserve.  Sarah Palin.

Regulations? Who needs ‘em?

I was trying to enjoy the pizza that had come out of our oven five minutes ago.  Topped with yesterday’s crumbled turkey burger and some fresh spinach that I haven’t quite mastered cooking, it looked yummy.  Sweetie was enjoying her usual root beer and I was having my second glass of red wine.  All in all it promised to be a pleasant evening.  Until I clicked to our local PBS station.

Confronted with smoke and fire, we were in the midst of a documentary that chronicled the Triangle Shirtwaist Company disaster.  On March 25, 1911 the fire that consumed nearly 150 people became the fourth largest industrial taker of life in our history.  Mostly girls and women, the youngest to die was 14.  The oldest 48.  Nearly all were recent immigrants.

You’ve probably read about the awful circumstances that caused their deaths.  A stairway door that was locked to prevent thefts by the workers.  Non-existent alarms.  A flimsy, broken fire escape that collapsed from the weight and tossed victims a hundred feet to their death.  The fire department arrived but their ladders were thirty feet short of reaching the fire.  Louis Waldman, later to become a state assemblyman, gave this account…

Word had spread through the East Side, by some magic of terror, that the plant of the Triangle Waist Company was on fire and that several hundred workers were trapped. Horrified and helpless, the crowds — I among them — looked up at the burning building, saw girl after girl appear at the reddened windows, pause for a terrified moment, and then leap to the pavement below, to land as mangled, bloody pulp. This went on for what seemed a ghastly eternity. Occasionally a girl who had hesitated too long was licked by pursuing flames and, screaming with clothing and hair ablaze, plunged like a living torch to the street. Life nets held by the firemen were torn by the impact of the falling bodies.  The emotions of the crowd were indescribable. Women were hysterical, scores fainted; men wept as, in paroxysms of frenzy, they hurled themselves against the police lines.

The company owners who escaped the fire were indicted for manslaughter but, because there was no proof that they knew the doors were locked, were found not guilty.  A subsequent civil suit against them exacted a $75 penalty per victim. By 1915 the state of New York, having identified 200 other companies with conditions conducive to a similar disaster, had developed commissions, laws and regulations to address the situation.

Fast forward to 2011.  It has become clear to all but those who live in a fantasy world that the overriding Republican mantra is the downsizing of government.  Starving the beast through lower taxes on the wealthy, debt limit obstinacy and refusing to fund government for more than a month at a time are the tools of this diminution.  Waving the flag of deficit reduction, spending excesses are to be eliminated even if suffering is the result.  Commissions are to be abolished.  The myth of global warming lends ammunition to the destruction of the EPA.  Ben Bernanke and the Federal Reserve are leading us to financial perdition.  Businesses will only hire people if they are freed from the regulatory yoke of government.

Yes, we’ve all met a regulation we didn’t like.  The intrusion of government in our lives is unforgivable.  Inspectors and bureaucrats lurk around every corner.  Gotta go to Mexico to get that drug the FDA won’t approve.  Have to take my shoes off at the airport.  FTC truth in advertising laws that interfere with the free market.  The SEC sticking its nose in my business.  Minimum wages, equal opportunity, job safety and privacy laws that make us inefficient and less competitive.  Can’t even build a fire hazard on my own property.

As Mitch McConnell put it while referring to the large number of government employees in Washington…“We’re a boomtown,” he said, adding he’d like “fire the bureaucrats” so that the private sector can have a chance to lift the economy out of its slump.

Those Triangle Shirtwaist girls were sure lucky to be living in a free country.

My nephew is a really sweet kid

My brother-in-law Sandy sent me an e-mail today.  Which is unusual in itself since he is still mired in the Mesozoic era when it comes to computers.

Sandy is on a grandfatherly mission on behalf of his grandson Adam, i.e. the son of his son Tom, and my nephew-once removed.  That relationship, all by its lonesome, commands my immediate attention and your willing assistance.  Adam is a pretty special kid having progressed through all the stages you read about in the child-rearing books.  He fortunately now resides in the good kid phase of his development, much to the relief of his father Tom (my nephew-not removed).

This positive development did not come easily, especially given his father Tom’s turbulent childhood.  Tom, in addition to being a somewhat burly and difficult child, wore steel-toed boots in a purported effort to correct a mysterious foot malady.  The addition of these boots to his already menacing arsenal of flailing fists and strong teeth made him a bear to deal with.  I should point out that, since I myself was an angel of a child, dealing with Tom was for me a character building experience…made somewhat easier by moving from Chicago to California.

Tom benefitted greatly from my departure and prolonged absence from Chicago.  He, now an aging adult, turned out to be a heck of a guy.  I’m proud to introduce him to my friends without fear of retribution.  The removal of the steel-toed boots also helped.

In any event, here’s what you can do to enhance my stature with Sandy, Tom and Adam.  Go to the White House We The People website  by clicking on the link.  There you will find a petition to increase the minimum wage (not a bad thing in these difficult times.)

Sign it and I promise that Tom will never come to your house with his steel-toed boots.

Don’t Ask Do Tell

I stumbled across the Republican debate in Orlando the other night.  Used to be that, given my political bent, I’d quickly switch to the Cooking Channel, Home and Garden TV, or some other mindless pursuit.  But I find that the best shows currently on the tube are the Republicans beating up on one another.  Democrats don’t seem to have yet mastered that skill.

My new most favorite candidate is Rick Santorum.  A nice looking young man who throughout his career has turned insults to minorities into an art form.  This evening was no exception.

Playing to the baser instincts of his base he splendidly called for the reinstatement of “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell”.  This mind-numbing bit of flim-flam occurred right after viewing a video of Stephen Hill, a soldier in Iraq, who had to lie about his sexual preferences in order to keep his job.  Hill asked the arrayed candidates whether they, if elected, would turn back the progress that had been made in dealing with gays and lesbians in the military.

Santorum, looking quite presidential and assuming the pole position, said…and I paraphrase…”Damn right.  You guys are weird and I’m not going to spend good money giving you sickos some undeserved preference.”  He added, to the astonishment of many of the old WWII geezers in the audience, that sexual activity of any kind has no place in the military.

Applause, applause for Santorum.  Boos, boos for Hill.

In addition to the slightly weird candidates, the debates have left the impression that those in the audience are strange at best, a crazy mob at worst.  Cheering when Perry expressed his satisfaction with the Texas executions, and the “let him die” answer to Ron Paul’s feelings about folks without health insurance, are now a grim trifecta with the addition of Santorum’s anti-gay bigotry.  Nicely done.  And not one Democrat needed to get his hands dirty.

I’d like to believe that the folks attending the debates are not representative of the majority of Republicans and it is to the credit of some Republican pundits that they took Santorum to task.  On the other hand, not one of the other candidates standing on the stage had the courage to say something in defense of Hill or even suggest that what was important was his service to the country and not his sexual appetite.  They stood there full well knowing that they would be booed if they dared defend someone who was defending them.

William Kristol, one of my favorite conservative Republicans, was honest in his assessment of Santorum and the reactions of the attendees.  His Weekly Standard column opined…The e-mails flooding into our inbox during the evening were less guarded. Early on, we received this missive from a bright young conservative: “I’m watching my first GOP debate…and WE SOUND LIKE CRAZY PEOPLE!!!!” As the evening went on, the craziness receded, and the demoralized comments we received stressed the mediocrity of the field rather than its wackiness.

I suppose I should be glad about the impression this leaves on those who are truly on the fence.  It makes Obama’s job easier.  But what if someone like Santorum really isn’t just playing to his base?  What if he really means what he says?  What if he or someone like him actually gets the nomination?  And what if he wins the election?  Don’t ask don’t tell will be the least of our worries.  And I can spend all my time with the Cooking Channel.

And a Good Time Was Had By All

Paul called me a little after 5.  “Are you watching the debate?  It’s about to start.”  I had intended to watch the Tea Party party but had let it slip away as things have a habit of doing at my age.

Grabbing the clicker, I switched to CNN and saw the Wolfman.  Mr. Blitzer looked as though he had sharpened his fangs and was ready to tear into the smiling faces on the stage.  There they were, the Republican version of salvation, prepared to deal with the questions posed by the 99% white multitude gathered before them.

Sweetie picked up on what I was watching.  “How can you listen to that?”  I promised her that it would be entertaining, amazing and fun…just like going to the circus.   Even the promise of a glass of chardonnay had little effect.  And then she marched off to something much more challenging, her jigsaw puzzle.

I enjoyed seeing the Tea Party crowd as much as I did watching the debaters search for open wounds in their opponents’ somewhat checkered histories.  It was as though the crowd was a school of circling sharks waiting for blood to spill into the water.  They were not disappointed and had lots of opportunities to either boo lustily or cheer without reservation.  Sometimes at the same time.

For those of you who were also fitting pieces into a jigsaw puzzle or, like Bob, watching the Patriots trash the Dolphins, I offer the highlights of the evening.

Assurance by all debaters that Social Security would be sacrosanct for those currently feeding at that trough (aka the folks who always vote.)  Only young people who are preoccupied with making a living need be concerned.  And even those kids will be better off investing their retirement funds with Bernie Madoff instead of trusting the Federal Government.

Further assurance by all that Obamacare was dead once the new president found his or her way to the Oval Office.  A competitive health care marketplace will do a much better job of controlling costs than any death panel could.  Just like it’s done for the last fifty years.

Governor Perry, as the current poll leader, was the chief recipient of pointed queries by the audience and his friends on the platform.  As a result, he managed to turn himself inside out just like my shorts…not a pretty sight.   A particularly entertaining segment involved Bachmann and Santorum taking him to task for signing a Texas executive order ordering little girls to be inoculated with a vaccine to prevent cervical cancer.  A very colorful Santorum said “Perry is allowing big government to run amok over 12-year-old girls.”  Ms. Bachmann nearly called for his impeachment, accusing the Governor of taking a $5,000 political donation from Merck, the vaccine developer.  An equally glib Perry responded “If you think I can be bought for only $5,000 then I’m really offended.”

A few more quotes…more or less…

Gingrich…the way out of the budget mess is to get rid of waste and fraud (he obviously does not keep up with current events.)

Bachmann…I was a tax lawyer.  I can figure out how to deal with that mess.

Perry…The first Obama stimulus produced zero jobs.

Bachmann…Obama stole $500 billion from Medicare to fund Obamacare.

Cain…Throw out the tax code.  Implement my 999 plan.  Nine percent corporate tax, nine percent personal income tax, nine percent national sales tax.

Santorum…Zero corporate tax.

Cain…Fix the Fed.

Perry…The Fed is used to cover up Obama’s bad financial policy.  Bernanke is dead meat.

Gingrich…We’re in the middle of the Obama depression.

Romney…Fix the health care problem by making folks more accountable for their care.  Health savings accounts and higher co-insurance.

Paul…The government shouldn’t pay for health care insurance.  If a thirty year old chooses to have no insurance and gets a major illness, let the church and his neighbors take care of him.

Santorum, et al…Cure the immigration problem by more fences, storm troopers, boots on the ground.

Perry…The president has a constitutional duty to secure the border with Mexico.

Perry…I did sign a bill to provide higher education tuition benefits to children of illegal immigrants.

Bachmann…Screw the children of illegal immigrants.  It was the liberal members of Congress who changed the immigration laws.

Cain…The way to achieve energy independence is to get rid of bureaus like the EPA.   Appoint a Regulation Reduction Commission and pack it with the kind of people who’ve been abused by the EPA.

Santorum…What a country!  We can do no wrong.  Nuts to people who complain about us while praying to the east.

Ron Paul…Ya know, we may have contributed to the reasons why people in the Middle East hate us.  He was lustily booed by the assembled multitude.

The debate ended with each candidate saying what single thing they would bring to the White House to improve it.  Perry would bring his wife. Romney will bring Churchill’s bust. Cain his obvious sense of humor.  Bachmann, in an heroic effort to win over the undecideds, promised to bring the Declaration of Independence, The Constitution and The Bill of Rights…nothing else.

Too bad.  I’m not voting for anyone who won’t bring a jigsaw puzzle.

The President Speaks on Thursday

The President speaks on Thursday.  Should be easy to remember since that’s when the real NFL TV season begins.  My hunch is that even Obama may be more interested in getting blitzed at some tailgate party instead of standing in front of a testy Congress and a raft of TV cameras.

Nevertheless, I intend to have the minimum number of beers and pay strict attention to our Commander-in-Chief.  I will take notes and be prepared to discuss the speech with Yoram, Shed, Harry and anyone else who may have had nothing better to do.

There have been lots of leaks about the speech and most of the talking heads have already blasted something they haven’t either heard, read or divined from their tea leaves.  However, just so you can be as informed as they are, the conventional Beltway wisdom is that Obama will either:

1. Propose some specific plans to spur job growth…which have zero chance of passing a Congress that is either afraid to do anything significant for fear of alienating a sizable number of morons in their home states or actually improving the mess we’re in before November, 2012, or
2. Be fuzzy about what he thinks  so that no one can criticize the specifics of the non-existent plan before November, 2012, or
3. Tell everyone he’s going to do whatever the hell he pleases without asking Congress, so long as he can’t be impeached before November, 2012.

On the other hand, he could simply say, ya know, there’s really not much point in me being up here spouting things that you either don’t believe, hate, have a rat’s ass chance of passing, or that interfere with you getting ready to watch the Packer-Saints game.  So, I’ve decided to lighten up and give you some of the current ideas espoused by one of my potential Republican adversaries, Rick Perry who, God willing, will be running against me in November, 2012.

Governor Perry has ordered Texas universities to come up with a plan to cut the cost of a BA degree by two-thirds.  Following that, he intends to focus his attention on reducing the cost of colonoscopies which, in his case, require a wide-screen TV.

Citing the astounding success of his recent prayer meeting in bringing the average temperature in Dallas down from 110 to 108 degrees, Governor Perry intends to hold a second meeting focused on moving the remaining Arctic glaciers to San Antonio via transubstantiation thereby eliminating the laborious search for water in his state…which will be seceding from the Union anyway.

Having labeled Social Security a Ponzi scheme as illegal as the fraud perpetrated by Bernie Madoff,  the Governor will next direct his attention to eliminating the Department of Motor Vehicles because it is not specifically mentioned in the Constitution.  And the Highway Patrol too since there is no speed limit in his state anyway.

The Governor has called Obamacare the closest thing to Socialism we have ever had and has promised to obliterate it the moment he can put down the bible used at his inauguration.  He believes that the only way to salvation, once Jerusalem is in Christian hands, is to eliminate all health care regulation including the Food and Drug administration.  However, mindful of the need to maintain the health of a large underpaid working class, clinical trials of new drugs shall continue but will consist of a single dose  administered to Texas cows.  If they live, it’s good to go.

Now let’s party!

No Time to Wait for Superman

We went to the movies with Yoram and Bert yesterday and saw Sarah’s Key.  A somewhat schizophrenic movie, it vacillated between engrossing and boring.  It should have ended thirty minutes earlier.

As is our custom, the forty minute ride to Ventura went quickly as we made the rounds of politics, the economy, the British riots, the astoundingly dopey letters-to-the-editor in the Ojai Valley News, and my recent, somewhat less dopey, Waiting for Superman blog.  We especially marvelled at the inability of the Democrats to mount an understandable, mind-grabbing offensive to counter the simple-minded missives delivered by the bad guys.

It appears that lots of folks are waiting for Superman, including Timothy Egan who wrote a similarly named New York Times article on the same day I penned mine.  Egan compiles a compelling, and basic English list of points that should be taped to every Democrat’s refrigerator door and repeatedly shouted from their windows much like crazy Peter Finch did so eloquently in Network.

As Egan points out, given the present composition of the House of Loons, the Senate’s sixty vote obstruction provision and the upcoming (isn’t it always upcoming) election, any economic solutions offered by Obama will never see the light of day.  You can read Egan’s column, but to save you time and to make the list compact enough to fit on your refrigerator, I’ve taken the liberty of providing a Fredified version of it.

Rich people should pay more taxes.  Period.  Leave the rest of the folks alone.  Let the Republicans be the champions of the rich in a country where 5% of the population owns 60% of the assets.  Even more amazingly, 1% of the population owns about 33% of the wealth.

Higher taxes never stopped a business owner from trying to sell more and make more profits.  It’s better to make an extra buck even if you gotta pay half of it to the IRS.  Let the Republicans do the math.

Higher taxes never stopped any owner from hiring people.  As long as they made money for him, he hired them.  Let the Republicans prove the opposite.  Oh, and point out their intent to reduce corporate income taxes.

And, while we’re talking about the unemployed, ask anyone to name a single jobs creation bill proposed by a Republican since Obama took office.

Instead of falsely claiming that the financial stimulus bill was a failure, you might point out that Obama created more jobs in 2010  than Bush did in eight years.  If anything, the stimulus should have been three times larger.  Instead, the Republicans focused on debt reduction in spite of its job killing effects.

Nearly 50 million people don’t have healthcare insurance.  Obama’s healthcare reform act, though imperfect, chips away at that contemptible situation.  Let the Republicans tell us why these folks should go without insurance.  Rick Perry might be qualified for that assignment since 1 in 4 Texans have no insurance.

Repeat the mantras of the leading Republican candidates.  Especially those dealing with reliance on the bible for solutions, the age of the planet, disputing man’s contribution to climate change, the abolishment of the Federal Reserve (accompanied by the guillotining of Ben Bernanke), a moratorium on environmental regulations  (leave it to God),  the claim that Social Security is a Ponzi scheme, their refusal to allow a woman to determine how to manage her own body, elimination of the minimum wage, getting folks to be more responsible starting with the elimination of federal disaster relief, and their ideological shackle to the National Rifle Association and single-minded Tea Party dim wits.

If all that doesn’t work, try scaring the undecided with the prospect of more Supreme Court justices like Thomas, Scalia and Alito…or worse.

So take that blanket off your face, quit being a woe-is-me wuss,  get up off your duff, and be more like Peter Finch…even if he was a loon.  Oh, and stop worrying about getting the facts straight.  They don’t.

Waiting for Superman

Now that Muammar Gaddafi is toast I wonder if we could focus on the next candidate for the I’m Done, Butter Me Hall of Fame.   It took Muammar forty-two years to finally realize that he should have retired to the French Riviera twenty  years ago.  Like wasn’t ten billion dollars enough for room service?  Did he have to stick around just because he wanted to bequeath Libya to his kids?  So now he’s got nothing to show for it other than looking suspiciously like Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler.

Which brings me to the Prez.  Yes, I know that the country was in the shitter when he took office.  Yes, I know he’s a lot smarter, quicker on the uptake and more compassionate than his predecessor.  He can even say nuclear without making it sound like he’s from Bolivia.   Yes, I know that he had little to do with our sixteen gazillion dollar deficit.  Yes, I know that Obama has accomplished more than we realize.  But I want him to enter the phone booth, shed his glasses, remove his tie and leap tall buildings in a single bound.  Two, even three, bounds would be acceptable.

Why do I feel blah when he appears on my TV screen?  Why do I feel that he needs lessons in Excel so he can put his plan on paper?  Why did the Republicans get everything they wanted when they control only one part of government…the House of Loons.  Why am I still waiting for Superman?

The presidential campaign has begun (or maybe it never ended).  The Republicans have fielded a sorry mess of candidates.  They are even killing their young.  The latest entry into the fray is a governor who thinks his home state should secede from the Union.  A guy who has so many lies to live down that his nose length precludes him from using the supersized revolving door at LAX.  While bemoaning the size of government, this guy shleps big bucks  from supporters in return for appointments to a bushel of commissions that he, the sworn enemy of big government, established.

People still flock like adoring groupies to see the Snow Queen, and she laughs all the way to the bank.  There is so much duct tape on Ms. Bachmann’s mouth that she has to be fed intravenously.  Yet she wins the Iowa straw poll and proclaims herself the messiah who will lead us back to $2 a gallon gas.  Then there’s the party’s token black, a Clarence Thomas act-alike ready to pack the Supreme Court with little Clarences.

And a guy who might be on the cusp of agreeability has been tied in knots by Tea Party take-no-prisoners and other folks who think Mormons are from Mars.  And how about Ron Paul who famously said Capitalism should not be condemned, since we haven’t had capitalism.  If he wasn’t running for President, he’d do a great job of making the trains run on time .

So, with all this mediocrity vying for the Republican pole position, why am I pouting about someone who is head and shoulders above them?  Maybe Superman is just a dream.  Maybe I should thank my stars that we’ve at least got Mighty Mouse to save the day.