What Happens After Noon January 20, 2029

I’m not sure if I should be relieved or angry that my cable company somehow failed to process my desire to record Donald Trump’s State of the Union address Tuesday night. Though saved the angst of watching the blowhard distort reality with his weave of falsehoods, lies and obfuscations, I retain my journalist’s drive to witness events firsthand. I know I could easily conjure up the specter on several Internet channels, but I really do not have the stamina to subject myself to this aberration of American politics. So, no hard feelings, FIOS. 

The reality is, Trump is a force larger than nature, the likes of which America has not seen in nearly a century. 

Few people are alive from the last time an activist president transformed America and our government. 

In just his first and second terms of office, Franklin Delano Roosevelt created watershed legislation and federal programs that raised the spirits of a country humbled by the Great Depression: Social Security. Unemployment compensation. Minimum wage regulations. The National Recovery Administration. The Civilian Conservation Corp. The Tennessee Valley Authority. The National Labor Relations Board. The Works Progress Administration. The Securities and Exchange Commission. The Public Works Administration. 

Reviled by the upper class, FDR was revered by many, so much so that his picture hung in many households. He achieved almost cult-like status. 

Like the present day occupant of the White House, Roosevelt was among the richest of Americans. But his focus was on improving the lives of the common man and woman. He did it not with bombast or ridicule but with savvy communication skills of the era, through fireside radio chats. 

I know three looooong years remain before a new president is to take office. But it is not too early to ponder what might transpire if a Democrat succeeds him, either in 2029 or later. Does he or she immediately strike Trump’s name, picture and other vestiges of his inglorious self-aggrandizing tenure from all official buildings, monuments and other federal properties? 

Will we as a nation demand radical change, such as:

*18-year term limits for House and Senate office holders;

*Supreme Court justices may serve up to 25 years or until they turn 80 years old, whichever comes first;

*Mandatory financial disclosure statements from all presidential candidates within two weeks after nominating conventions are held or they are barred from appearing on ballots;

*A more energetic enforcement of the Emolument Clause; 

*Will Democrats have the Federal Communications Commission review the licenses of Fox News and other right wing broadcasters that regularly air proven falsehoods;

*Put into law that no buildings, monuments, coins or other entities can be named for living politicians; 

*Require all federal agents, from the FBI to Homeland Security, to visibly display their badges and faces while wearing functioning body cameras.

These are all tactile corrections to Trumpmania. Our recovery from Trump-induced trauma will take years. But they’re a start, hopefully January 20,  2029. 

Picky, Picky, Picky Eating Habits

 I read with interest the recent New York Times article on the diminished appetite of American children towards vegetables and other healthy foods (https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/15/opinion/junk-food-picky-eaters.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share).

I can relate to that pickiness. Growing up in the 1950s I was a poster boy for underweight kids, though I didn’t have the distended stomach one sees in the truly malnourished. Despite my mother’s nudging and cajoling I partook few foods that would fatten me up beyond the skin and bones that earned me nicknames such as “skinnymalink.” 

My parents, mostly my mother, tried hard to fatten me up. They had my sister make me daily milk shakes spiked with a raw egg. They threatened to send me to a fatten-up farm instead of a traditional summer camp. They relented on that threat but arranged with the camp mother to give me a double portion of afternoon chocolate milk and cookies. 

Nothing worked. 

To this day I am overly conscious of my thin arms and legs. I developed a defense mechanism of joking about my “chicken legs” before others tease me. 

I am convinced I never learned to swim because I hated being seen wearing just a swim suit. Of course, by the time I was an sports-minded teenager I had no shame playing softball, volleyball, soccer, and basketball wearing just shorts, socks and sneakers. 

Ultimately, my thinness paid off. As related in previous blogs, I flunked my Vietnam War era draft physical because I was underweight for my height. The Armed Services required at least 131 pounds over my six foot frame. I tipped the scale at 124 pounds during my physical at Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn. I’m forever indebted to Dr. Stillman for his protein and water diet that enabled me to lose 10 pounds during the 10 days prior to my physical (https://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2019/12/139-memories-of-draft-lottery-50-years.html).

Though my culinary tastes became more refined after marrying Gilda, I retained aversions to many cooked vegetables. 

TWA changed my diet. Upgraded to first class for a transcontinental flight in the early 1980s, I was served cold asparagus as an appetizer to a steak entree. My only prior experience with asparagus was the limp overcooked version my mother served once. My father was a strictly meat/chicken/potatoes-with-Jewish-rye-bread man, though our preferred baker was in fact Polish. Nothing green graced his dinner table. I followed in his footsteps despite Gilda’s attempts to broaden my palate.

So when a TWA stewardess placed a green asparagus appetizer on the tray before me, I figured I had nothing to lose trying it. The stalks were cold, crisp, delicious. I was converted, so much so that one of the favorite meals I recall included thick, white asparagus served during a business dinner near Dusseldorf, Germany, with executives of Boston Retail Products attending a EuroShop convention in early 1990s. 

Expanding my diet did not mean I forsook some—or any—of my lifelong favorites—breads, cookies, cakes, chocolates. Though I didn’t put on pounds, my cholesterol and triglycerides numbers skyrocketed. 

On a plane on our way to Prague for a speaking engagement in the mid-1990s, Gilda informed me she was tired of my always needing to stop at a bake shop for a quick nosh. Prague is known for its baked delicacies, but Gilda decreed we were immediately starting the Dr. Atkins diet that restricted sweets and carbohydrates in favor of proteins. For the next 10 years we ate a modified Atkins diet, modified in that we consumed fruits and vegetables, but no starches and carbohydrates. My only permitted indulgence was whipped cream, a savory concoction still part of my daily breakfast ritual of nuts and fruit.

My triglycerides, which had peaked above 1,000, are now down to 157. My cholesterol, 139. I’m still a picky eater, but I enjoy a much more well rounded, balanced diet, thanks to Gilda, Dr. Stillman and Dr. Atkins. 

All Hail the Gopher State: Minnesota

And so it appears to be over. For now, we hope. A federally run terror campaign in Minnesota’s largest metro area has been called off, leaving behind two dead American citizens, a Venezuelan shot and wounded, and countless others traumatized by masked thugs ostensibly functioning as security officers seeking to capture the “worst of the worst” undocumented immigrants. 

The Trump administration says some 3,000 agents  arrested more than 4,000 undocumented immigrants in Minnesota, some of whom had been convicted of serious crimes.

How do we know they were killers and rapists? Were they convicted and out on bail, or escapees from prison? How are we to accept the government’s word when time and again it has skirted and violated due process norms? 

CBS News reported that among the 4,000 arrested during Operation Metro Surge few had criminal records beyond their illegal status inside the United States. The dragnet, in fact, mistakenly took into custody many American citizens.

Meanwhile, three known killers wearing federal uniforms are freely roaming the country while tens, perhaps hundreds more, maybe even thousands, also have been relieved of accountability for violating ICE protocols by manhandling and pepper spraying American citizens lawfully expressing their constitutional right to protest.  

The people of Minneapolis/St. Paul fought for us all. In harsh weather most of us would shun by staying sheltered from frigid air, Minnesotans reminded us of the patriots who outlasted a Valley Forge winter nearly 200 years ago. Minnesotans endured not just natural elements but a blizzard of evil actions by the henchmen of a despicable, desperate demagogue intent on bending the knees of those who resist tyranny because of their love of democracy, the rule of law and the belief that government can and must be held accountable by the governed. 

Trump has inflicted incalculable damage to our collective dignities, our freedoms, our civilities. If there is any consistency to his actions, it is his refusal to ever admit culpability. He can never admit to any wrongdoing. He was taught by Roy Cohn, the agent provocateur of the McCarthy era and his consigliere during the 1970s-early 1980s, to never back down, never show weakness. Always attack. Overwhelm your opposition.

Minnesotans outlasted Mother Nature and Donald Trump. The Gopher State deserves our praise for showing the rest of the country that authoritarianism can be checked by collective action. Renee Good and Alex Pretti earned their places in the pantheon of American patriots. 

Standing Up for "Funny Girl"

The local production of “Funny Girl” was supposed to start at 2 pm Sunday. By 2:15 the audience was getting antsy. From behind a side curtain out stepped the executive director of the theater company to apologize for the delay and to explain that the star of the show playing Fanny Brice had an untimely ailment. Her understudy needed a few minutes more to get makeup and costumes in order.  

Most of the audience had read or heard rave reviews about the now incapacitated Fanny. They, including Gilda and me, naturally wondered if we would get our money’s worth. 

We were about to experience first hand a version of “42nd Street” wherein an unproven “young, naive chorus girl, Peggy Sawyer, gets her big break when the leading lady of a new musical breaks her ankle, forcing Peggy to step into the spotlight and become an overnight star.”

We needn’t have worried. 

Though Emma Mischel generally performs as one of the ensemble of the Arts Express Theatre of Tucson, she seized her moment, fully embodying the role that catapulted Barbra Streisand into a tour-de-force star when it opened on Broadway March 26, 1964. 

Streisand was a month shy of her 22nd birthday when “Funny Girl” premiered. Emma Mischel is two years older. 

If there were any mishaps in her performance I couldn’t detect them from my front row seat. She blended seamlessly with cast members, all of whom hugged her after the finale. 

Now, I am not predicting national stardom for Emma. But for one day she fulfilled the role every understudy secretly aspires to embrace. 

As I was composing this blog I was struck by Emma’s last name. It sounded familiar. And then I remembered that the recent “Funny Girl” revival on Broadway had its lagging sales revived when Lea Michele took over the Fanny Brice role from Beanie Feldstein. 

Michele. Mischel. Sounds too true to be believed if I hadn’t experienced it myself. 

Trump Dumps on His Stellar Achievement

Of all Donald Trump’s actions during his five years in office, perhaps the most far reaching humanitarian accomplishment was his push for Operation Warp Speed, the development of Covid vaccines that stemmed the spread of the deadly virus and saved millions of lives in the United States and the world. 

Now, for some unfathomable reason, Trump is permitting his Health and Human Services department to impugn the efficacy of the vaccines https://www.nytimes.com/2026/02/06/health/vaccines-covid-acip-malone-kennedy.html?smid=url-share). 

Once again, Trump chooses disinformation over scientific facts. 

A Message Truly for All Religions:

“When we Christians are 

more known for our 

support of presidents 

than we are for our 

support of the poor, the

immigrants, the abused, 

the marginalized, the 

sick, the hungry, and the 

oppressed, that is when 

we know we are following 

someone other than Jesus 

and we have a lot of 

repenting to do.”

—The Reverend Benjamin Cremer

(Read more of Rev. Cremer’s thoughts on Facebook. Here’s a link to a recent post: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1VUS2bGyA2/

Trump’s compunction to denigrate friend and foe has alienated allies and adversaries, leaving America isolated and distrusted by traditional democratic protagonists while repulsed by its antagonists. Trump’s word cannot be trusted to be his bond. 

Some people think Trump’s threat to annex Canada as our 51st state was far-fetched, merely a distraction to deflect repeated calls for release of the Epstein files. But for those old enough to remember it, a film from the late 20th century spoofed a cross-border invasion. 

“Canadian Bacon” (1995), written, produced and directed by Michael Moore, featured John Candy, Alan Alda and Rip Torn. Google’s overview: “In a desperate bid to revive his abysmal peacetime approval rating, the president of the United States agrees to a scheme proposed by corrupt cabinet member and launches a top-secret propaganda campaign to vilify Canada. As U.S. citizens get caught up in a xenophobic hysteria, a group of residents of Niagara, N.Y., wielding machine guns, organize a vigilante invasion that could trigger a real war with America's gentle neighbor to the north.”

As long as we’re on the subject of filmdom, here are a couple of pithy movie reviews of the “Melania” movie:

“If they showed this film on a plane, people would still walk out.” —Variety

“Melania’s film is so bad they’ve released the Epstein files as a distraction”—Marie Graham 

Enough Is Enough! It's Time He Goes

With his latest assault on civility against the Obamas, Trump is beyond actions that demean the presidency. He is demeaning the United States. Every elected and public official, corporate leader, legal professional, artist, entertainer, athlete, educator, military officer and enlisted person, public safety member must immediately and publicly repudiate the racist ravings of a degenerate narcissist who has the power at his fingertips to blow up the world. Those who stay silent are enablers of his lunacy. The 25th Amendment provides an off-ramp for the tragedy unfolding before our eyes. 

Impeach Trump. It Alone Wouldn't End the Chaos

Impeach Trump. 

How cathartic that sounds. 

How inconsequential it would be if the purpose is to stop Donald Trump’s policies, his meanness, his repulsive behavior, his grifting, his demeaning of the office of the presidency and his devaluation of America’s standing among democracy-loving nations.

Putting aside how realistic getting an impeachment and conviction would be, with the expectant euphoric satisfaction of humiliating Trump, does anyone seriously believe vice president JD Vance and second in line House speaker Mike Johnson would be any more compassionate and effective in curing our ills and leading the free world?  

Vance reached a new low on Holocaust Memorial Day on January 27, the anniversary of the liberation of the Auschwitz-Birkenau death camps. He failed to note the Nazis killed six million Jews and millions of other persecuted people during World War II. It is through such indifference, purposeful or unintentional, that antisemitism and neo-Nazi fascist ideology flourishes. 

Lately, I’ve been struggling to return to sleep between the hours of 1 to 4 am. I lie in bed finger-typing on my iPhone the dissolution of an America I learned to love. Sure, as in many romances there have been bumps along the way. Assassinations. Kent State. Watergate. Clarence Thomas. Mitch McConnell. Donald Trump. 

I’ve been blogging since I retired in mid 2009, well before Trump consumed the attention of America and the rest of the world with his now openly manifested imperial presidency and new world order. 

My sanity, my equilibrium, is taxed because I have fears that Gilda and I will, when our times come, not leave to our children and grandchildren a country better than the one we grew up and matured in. 

I do not mean better materially. I have confidence in our overall economy and in their abilities to be gainfully employed. 

Rather, I worry that in pulling out blocks of the Jenga-like values and support systems developed over the last 90 years Trump will destroy what made America great, the envy of the world, the place where everyone aspired to live, free and with unbounded opportunity. 

I have a confession. I have been blogging a lot lately because I am depressed about the state of our union.

Specifically, I am depressed not because Trump has been taking an axe to our charter oak—and has another three plus years to savage even more constitutional planks. No, I am depressed because six jurists who should be the most intelligent and far-sighted of our leaders have accorded him (and his successors) carte blanche to turn our country back into a monarchy. Not a symbolic monarchy like that practiced by King Charles III of the United Kingdom, but like a real dictator, like Vladimir Putin, Russia’s modern day tsar. 

Unless the Supreme Court reverses itself, our days as a beacon of democracy are numbered. This Supreme Court has dismissed precedent. Those precedents were from prior tribunals, decades in the past. This bunch of justices is not likely to reverse the damage it has wrought. 

Besides, Trump has postulated he is above the law, that he need not adhere to any encumbrance passed by the court. Surely a military eviscerated of any patriotic leaders will not challenge him. 

Nor will a Congress run by Trumpians. Half of our country has lost the ability to discern truth from propaganda. Half of our elected senators and representatives do not speak out against autocratic tyranny. They apparently have not read the Constitution and the Federalist Papers or have not understood and retained their meaning, their warnings. They are content to take our money—their salaries, their health care, their pensions, their privilege—and vote the Trumpian party line. 

I am no fan of Stephen Miller. Nor of Kristi Noem. Or Marco Rubio, Lindsey Graham, Kash Patel, Karoline Leavitt, Pam Bondi and the rest of the sacophants installed by Trump. They should not be aides in an administration. They are demons. But simply removing them would not end Trump’s evil, any more than impeaching and convicting him would. There are too many fellow travelers in the shadows eager to replace them. 

Some believe the only thing that will reverse Trump’s influence is the election of Democrats to the House and Senate. I hope so. But I wonder if after the midterm elections later this year Trump will be emboldened if Republicans hold on, or desperate if Democrats succeed. 

Ten months until November 3. Will enough Americans wake up to the reality facing us all?