Con Man Exposes Himself

Perhaps the biggest and longest running con game of all time was exposed by none other than the con man himself. Donald Trump has admitted he lost the 2020 election. 

After four years of claiming he won, after raising hundreds of millions of dollars to fund legal challenges and appeals of election denial, after inciting a riot at the Capitol that resulted in five deaths, more than a thousand arrests, hundreds of trials, guilty verdicts, incarcerations and ruined lives, as well as an assault on our Constitution, Trump has finally, publicly, confessed his election denial was a ruse. 

“I was told if I got 63 million, which is what I got the first time, ‘You would win. You can’t not win.’ And I got millions more votes than that and lost by a whisker,” Trump told Lex Fridman in Fridman’s podcast released on Tuesday (https://cdn.jwplayer.com/previews/ifv2ReSz). 

He didn’t lose “by a whisker.” Joe Biden got seven million more popular votes, 81.2 million vs. Trump’s 74.2 million. And, in the decisive Electoral College tally, Biden trounced Trump 306 to 232.   

With the debate next Tuesday with Kamala Harris in mind, Trump may be trying to soften his image, much as he has flip-flopped on women’s reproductive rights, in the hope of appealing to undecided independent voters. 

It will be up to ABC’s David Muir and Linsay Davis to force him to set the record straight, not on some obscure podcast but in front of tens of millions who will view the debate. 

The first question and plenty of followups should be on the false narrative Trump advanced. For her part, Harris must sharply rebuke him as her training as a prosecutor should instruct her. Indeed, his con duping the public into sending money for his deceitful cause may well have constituted an illegal act. 

Trump’s rally cry to “Stop the Steal” of an election should be turned on him—he should be charged in federal and state courts with stealing money from supporters who were led by Trump to believe that he won the 2020 election. 

Forget border security, the economy, Israel, Ukraine, energy—all those important issues and more are inconsequential compared to the rot Trump has implanted in our country, his rejection of the peaceful transfer of power, his bilking millions into believing in his honesty, fleecing them of hundreds of millions of dollars, corrupting the integrity of a political party, hollowing out its soul and replacing it with zombie-like allegiance. 

Yes, the whole 90 minute debate should be a deep dive into Trump’s malfeasance in his final days in office and the ensuing nearly four years. Do not let him soft pedal his actions. Expressing remorse would not be sufficient for his attack on democracy.

Catching Up with The Times

Time to reflect on some recent articles in The New York Times.

Two weeks ago The Times analyzed why Costco has become a retail juggernaut (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/20/dining/costco.html?smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare).

From the more than one thousand mostly favorable comments on shopping inside the company’s behemoth outlets I could not find the note I submitted based on my 32 years of reporting on the retail industry. So, here goes: 

“In November 1983, when Price Club had but 11 warehouses and less than $700 million in sales, Chain Store Age magazine explored “Wholesale Clubs: Retailing Behind Closed Doors.” Our reporting presaged the dominance warehouse wholesale clubs like Price Club (Costco’s predecessor name) would attain despite their offering just 3,000-4,000 items compared to the tens of thousands of stock keeping units sold in supermarkets, discount and department stores. 

“Successful clubs adhered to a formula that downplayed gross margins in favor of gross margin dollars that grew through the rapid turnover of inventory. Indeed, successful clubs sold out inventories before payment for the goods came due. They made money on the float. In addition, membership dues became paramount contributors to the bottom line. 

“Price Club opened its doors to retail customers after one of Sol Price’s business customers reportedly suggested he allow the customer’s employees to shop there, arguing they’re checks were as good as his. It was only after that egalitarian move that Price Club exchanged red ink for black and forever changed retail history.

“In 2023, Costco net worldwide revenues were $245.65 billion. Net income was $6.292 billion from 871 locations in 14 countries (600 in the United States and Puerto Rico).”

Pennies from Heaven: A one cent penny costs nearly three cents to mint. That’s one of the gems to be learned from an expansive article on the history and economics of the penny and reasons why it would make good sense to do away with the copper-coated coin (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/09/01/magazine/worthless-pennies-united-states-economy.html?smid=url-share). By the way, a nickel costs more than a dime to make. 

Of all the reasons cited for eliminating the penny from our national currency, none resonated with me because pennies were my gateway to poker heaven. 

Every Friday night from the time I was about eight years old until 14 or so, after sabbath dinner dishes were cleared from our dinette table and my brother’s friends would come to our home, the protective table cover would be flipped over to the felt side, cards would be taken out of breakfront drawers and pennies would appear before the the six or seven chairs surrounding the table, depending on whether one or two of Bernie’s friends showed up to complement my parents, brother, sister and me.

We would play until around 10 pm. Dealer’s choice, although most games were seven card stud, deuces wild. If my original stake was lost, I’d rush, usually with tears in my eyes, to shake more pennies out of an amber-glassed piggy bank. 

When I was 11 our father traveled to Japan on business and came back with a new card game, Fan Tan (https://www.google.com/gasearch?q=fan%20tan%20card%20game&source=sh/x/gs/m2/5). After a while we transitioned to a version of Hearts that included an aspect of Fan Tan.

We continued to play poker until Bernie started Brooklyn College. Our mother thought it would be more appropriate to engage in scholarly competition so she replaced the poker game with Scrabble. That did not appeal to anyone. 

Bernie and Lee would go out to parties with friends. None of my friends played poker. I wound up watching Jack Paar—don’t laugh. It was on his show that I, and millions of others, got our first look at The Beatles days before they appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show. 

Seeking Balance: Hala Aylan was given a prime spot in The Times Opinion section Sunday to urge Vice President Kamala Harris to shift her position on the Israel-Hamas conflict (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/28/opinion/kamala-harris-gaza-israel-war.html?smid=url-share).

Here’s my response: “Given a platform in The New York Times, perhaps Hala Alyan’s attack on American support for Israel would have benefitted from a more balanced assessment of Mideast peace opportunities. Does she, for example, recognize Israel’s right to exist? Does she condemn terrorism? Does she condemn decades of Arab intransigence to the State of Israel? In calling for an embargo on arms shipments to Israel does she simultaneously denounce Iran for shipping tens of thousands of missiles and rockets to Hamas and Hezbollah, and its now reported arming of militants in the West Bank? How would she suggest Israel defend itself against these weapons aimed at its citizens? Does she include Hamas among those she claims are responsible for “killing and starving Palestinians” in Gaza?

“Alyan hopes for a “worthy future” here in America. A similarly worthy future in the Mideast is desired, but it would take courage, trustworthiness and consistency, to paraphrase her words, from Arab and Palestinian leaders and their people to work with Israel to achieve the goal of a just and long-lasting peace for all parties.” 

Plus ça Change, Plus C’est la Même Chose

 “The more things change the more they stay the same.” 

So wrote Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr in 1849 (of course, he wrote it in French—“plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose”). 

Facebook provided a clear-cut example of that aphorism. Facebook sent a reminder Sunday evening of a posting I made exactly four years ago. Aside from replacing Joe Biden’s name with Kamala Harris’, it rings true throughout.

So here it is (with Harris’ name in parentheses):

This election is not between Donald Trump and Joe Biden (Kamala Harris).

This election is not between Republicans and Democrats.

This election is between fear and hope. 

The choices November 3rd (November 5) contain lists of names. For Republicans, the list is headed by Trump. For Democrats, Biden (Harris) tops the list.

Actually, we will not be choosing between two septuagenarians (Harris will be just 60 by Election Day). We will be choosing between their respective value systems that reward:

Indecency or decency

Fiction or non fiction

Lies or truth

Ego fulfillment or empathy

Alchemy or science

Voodoo doctors or medical doctors

Racism or equal opportunity

“It is what it is” or compassion

Self interest or national interest

Restrictions on voting or extended voting rights

Rejection of alliances or respect for allies

Distortion or reality

A bully or a mensch

Autocracy or democracy

A conspiracy believer or fact-based decision maker

Disrespect or respect

Both Trump and Biden (Harris) agree on one thing—this election could be the most important ever for its impact on the future of America. 

Voters will decide what type of country they want America to be.

Commenting on News of the Season

Barring any cataclysmic events that could transform the presidential race, I will be avoid writing about it until a day or two before or after the scheduled September 10 debate. 

Let’s instead focus on what’s truly captivating, at least to most men and an increasing number of women: the pending football season and the truly remarkable, extraordinary season Aaron Judge of the New York Yankees is having. 

Not since the love affair with Derek Jeter has any player captivated the hard to please New York fan. Every Judge at bat is must-see baseball. What is so fascinating is that in an ordinary season NY fandom would be gushing about Juan Soto’s MVP-type performance. 

Through Sunday, Soto has 37 home runs, 95 runs batted in, a batting average of .299 and OPS (on-base plus slugging) of 1.035. Amazing numbers. But they pale in comparison to Judge’s 51 homers, 122 RBIs, .333 batting average and 1.201 OPS. 

Today, in the 10-3 Yankees win over the Colorado Rockies, Soto hit a home run and knocked in two runs. Judge hit two home runs and had three RBIs. 

Sadly, Judge and Soto are not surrounded by sufficient quality hitters and pitchers to carry the Yankees past a first round playoff slot. A World Series spot, much less a title, is wishful dreaming in the extreme. 

Football-wise, dreams—actually, they’re nightmares—are my forecast for the New York Giants. Doubtful a season with more wins than losses is possible.  

Which brings me back to politics—oh, so soon after promising not to indulge. I couldn’t help it.

For all the euphoria emanating from the Democratic National Convention—at least for Democrats and anti-Trumpers—reality will set in as soon as they study an electoral map. 

Kamala and everyone else preached to the choir last week. But how many lost souls—voters who have crossed over to the dark side or are considering swilling the kool aid—did she and they reach? 

A look at the electoral map brings the euphoria back down to tension level. In addition to Blue State wins, Kamala has to secure at least 64 Electoral College votes from battleground swing states before she could call Mayflower trucking to move her and Doug into the White House. 

Here are the numbers: Wisconsin 10 votes; Michigan 15; Virginia 13; Georgia 16; Arizona 11; Nevada 6; Pennsylvania 19. 

It won’t be easy, even with an expected lift from pro abortion voters revved up by referendum ballots in several purple states. 

Tongue Biting: How often do you bite your tongue? I find I am doing it more often than ever before. 

Oh, I am not referring to the mishap of chomping down on your tongue while eating. No. I am referring to the colloquial biting of your tongue when refraining from commenting upon hearing something outrageous. 

During this heightened time of political disagreement, it is increasingly difficult to remain silent when hearing outright absurdities emanate from across a dining room table. 

Last week Gilda and I attended a memorial mass for the recently deceased brother of one of her co-workers. During an ensuing luncheon at a country club on Long Island, our table included a retired public school teacher. This seemingly sweet 80-year-old recited all the talking points of a Fox News commentary with some verbatim Donald Trump jibes (lies, actually, but I’m trying to be nice). 

My training as a reporter—to listen and not interject—helped me get through the ordeal. 

Several of my friends are Trumpers. Our friendships preceded the Trumpian era. For the most part we skillfully dance around our political partisanships. We all agree that friendship and civility are more important that the politics of divisiveness. 

Connections to Hollywood Squares, CT Flooding

Many of my blog posts can be attributed to my fixation with “six degrees of separation,” the catchphrase for someone’s connection with people or events beyond their immediate sphere of influence. 

I never met Peter Marshall, the sometime actor but long time host of “The Hollywood Squares” who died last week at age 98. But I had a two degrees of separation from him—my best friend from graduate school worked as a question writer for “The Hollywood Squares” (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/15/arts/television/peter-marshall-dead.html?smid=url-share).

After earning our master’s degrees in newspaper journalism from Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Public Communications in May 1972, Steve Kreinberg and I departed for separate coasts, he to return to San Francisco, I back to Brooklyn, where we respectively sought our first jobs as a reporter. 

I secured a spot on The New Haven Register, beginning in September. Steve could only manage a return to his pre-Syracuse employer, a public relations firm. After several months he opted to try his luck in Los Angeles. 

He nabbed one of five question-writing spots on “The Hollywood Squares.” Though each week’s shows were filmed on the same day, Monday, Steve and his colleagues were each required to submit 50 accepted questions every weekday. Questions were not revealed to the celebrity participants who included Paul Lynde, Joan Rivers and Jonathan Winters, but the comedians were counseled as to potential topics, allowing them to seemingly ad lib funny responses. 

Technically writer’s contracts restricted their ability to work on other television shows, but the prohibition was honored more in the breach than in enforcement. Steve and his outside writing partner, Andy, wound up becoming staff writers on several comedy shows including “Archie Bunker’s Place,” “Herman’s Head,” “Saved by the Bell,” “Head of the Class,” “Nine to Five” and “Mork & Mindy.”

Lunch with Steve and Andy at the Universal Studios commissary provided a classic example of why one should never order food one is not familiar with. A country fellow from Tennessee only recently living the Hollywood experience, Andy ordered what he thought was a well-deserved steak. He was quite embarrassed, even repulsed, when steak tartare was placed before him. 

More Degrees: Sunday’s extreme downpours produced “1,000 year” flooding in parts of Connecticut, specifically in four towns that were part of my reporting beats 50 years ago—Shelton, Seymour, Oxford and Southbury. Two women from Oxford were swept to their deaths by the flash flooding.  

Seventeen years before I began covering those Lower Naugatuck River Valley towns the area was devastated by two hurricanes, Connie and Diane, that dumped huge amounts of rain in just over a week in August 1955, causing what was considered the nation’s worst flooding along the East Coast. 

Prominent flood control embankments were constructed and an upstream dam was built by the time the Valley became my assignment. 

Marking What Will Happen on Tisha B'Av

Can you feel it? The collective holding-of-their-breadth by world Jewry as nearly 16 million await news from Israel and beyond. 

Will Iran avenge the deaths of Ismail Haniyeh of Hamas and Fuad Shukr of Hezbollah by striking back on Judaism’s ninth day of the month of Av (Tisha B’Av), the day Jews commemorate the destruction of the first and second temples, in 586 BCE and 70 CE, respectively, the expulsion from Spain in 1492 and other calamities through the millennia?

Tisha B’Av begins Monday evening. It ends Tuesday at sundown. 

Moslems have attacked Israel on Jewish holidays. In 1973, Syria and Egypt attacked on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the holiest day of the Jewish year. Last October 7, Hamas attacked on the sabbath that coincided with Simchat Torah, one of the most joyous of holidays celebrating the fulfillment of the annual ritual of completing the weekly readings of the Five Books of Moses. 

Unlike its mindset for those two surprise attacks, Israel this time would be ready, ready to defend and strike back in force. That doesn’t make holding one’s breadth any easier. 

Tisha B’Av retains particular relevance for the generations of Jews who spent their summers attending Jewish camps. Idyllic country settings were transformed into somber scenes filled with mournful dirges, respectful silence, fasting for at least half a day, even for the youngest campers, and a general feeling of thoughtful reflection on persecution. 

The ceremony commemorating my first Tisha B’Av at Camp Massad Aleph 68 years ago remains in my memory. Since Jewish days begin at sunset, we ate dinner early. After the meal the staff rearranged the dining hall, turning benches over on their sides. Lights were shut off. On top of every bench, four to a bench, candles inside scooped out potatoes were placed, to provide light by which we sang in Hebrew the Book of Lamentations. 

You can imagine the first impression this austere ceremony had on a boy of seven, and my subsequent 14 years at various camps. The fireworks of a Fourth of July did not hold a candle to the evocative sorrow of Tisha B’Av. 

I cannot say my adult observance of Tisha B’Av has been as encompassing. I haven’t fasted in years. Decades, actually. Still, I mark the day each year, this year more tremulously than in the past. Even after the day passes, whatever Iran does or does not, I will continue to hold my breadth. 

For Joe, Lessons from Pickleball

I play pickleball twice a week. Almost all the players in my games are five to eight years younger than my 75 years. I’m a good player but my physical deteriorations—I’ve lost more than a few steps and speed from earlier times—mean I don’t always get to well placed shots. On  dinks just over the net I often don’t bother trying to reach them. I’m amazed at the derring-do of fellow players who dive and sprawl out to keep a volley going. I’ve come to accept my limitations, especially compared to younger, more lithe players. 

All that by way of wondering what went through Joe Biden’s mind when he saw, if he did, the bravura, over the top performances by Kamala Harris and Tim Walz as the Democratic Party ticket for president and vice president during their first campaign rally Tuesday in Philadelphia? 

Was Biden envious of the enthusiasm they generated? Of the joy they exhibited and instilled in the crowd of 12,000? Was he able to recognize that even though he had championed many of the very same themes, Harris and Walz, both two decades his junior, were able to convey energy that his 81 years no longer could muster? 

The election is 90 days away. Will Harris-Walz maintain their momentum? Their stamina? Will the honeymoon with the party faithful last through November 5? 

I sure hope so. 

I am grateful for Biden’s imprint on American democracy, progressive programs and international relations. But if he needed further reinforcement that his decision to abandon his reelection bid was necessary to defeat Donald Trump, Tuesday’s rally was emphatic affirmation that he made the best decision for America.