In The Age of Trump Live for Today, Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring

Welcome on this Presidents’ Day, on this the end of the first month of a new presidency, to the Age of Trump where The Donald rules, where we live for today because who knows about tomorrow.

Don’t bother drinking the water. The Donald thinks it is okay to permit coal companies to flush their mining waste into our rivers. He doesn’t worry about pipeline leaks so he is okay with placing an oil line under the Missouri, longest river in our country.

Have you bought any TrumpAir bottles yet? You soon may have to as The Donald doesn’t believe in the Clean Air Act or the Paris climate change accords for environmental protection.

Those safeguards are based on science but Trump World doesn’t believe in science.

It also doesn’t believe in education. No reason clouding people’s minds with data that might conflict with the alternate realities Trump World is creating.

Speaking of creating, creationism is the preferred theory of Trump World. God must have ordained Trump World’s existence—those godless Russians couldn’t have had anything to do with The Donald’s election victory.

In the Age of Trump every black-skinned, brown-skinned, yellow-skinned person is a terrorist. They must be contained, kept out of America. Those who have managed to get here prior to The Donald’s ascension to leader must be watched, registered and, if possible, sent back to their country of origin.

Don’t bother looking to the media for information. Alternative facts form the foundation blocks of Trump World. All the media print or air are lies and fake news. Even media Trump believes support him, like Fox News, spread falsities, like reports of terrorist attacks in Sweden. You just can’t trust the media in the Age of Trump.

Most presidents and world leaders think of the future. In the Age of The Donald think only of the present. Don’t worry about retirement savings. Your investment counselor has been freed up to do as he pleases. He is under no obligation to invest in your best interest, so there’s no recourse if you question his judgment. 

Don’t worry about getting seriously ill and having enough money to pay medical bills. In the Age of Trump there is no affordable care while Medicaid and Medicare will be revised so only the rich may benefit, the better to limit our entitlement expenditures so we can spend more on the military and homeland security to keep all those terrorists on the other side of the wall that surrounds our 49 states.

Oh, did I forget to mention that rising ocean levels will swamp all but the highest points of Hawaii, so it no longer will be a state. And that we no longer will have to deal with that pesky issue of what to do with Puerto Rico—make it a state, keep it as a territory, or let it become an independent country. Well, it will join Atlantis under the waters of the Atlantic.

After the Eastern Seaboard, including sad to say Mar-a-Lago, flood from rising sea levels, Trump World will build a 30 -foot high sea wall along our eastern and western coasts and along the Gulf of Mexico. The sea walls will link up with the beautiful wall Mexico will pay for along our land border. Soon, the last section of our walled state will be completed across the 49th parallel as those refugee-loving Canadians cannot be trusted to keep terrorists from filtering down from their utopian land.

Don’t think this will all change with the next election or two. Trump World is cleansing voter rolls of his so-called three to five million illegals who voted in the 2016 election. He and his Republican-controlled state governments are also making it harder for any person of color to register to vote.

No matter. The Donald has set up presidential succession for the next three administrations, culminating with the first woman, first Jewish, president. Ladies and gentlemen, hail to the chief—Ivanka Trump Kushner.

Game Change, True From the Heart

Gilda and I watched a very good but very disturbing movie over the weekend. It made us angry and distressed. “Game Change” is a HBO film based on the book of the same name about the 2008 presidential campaign, specifically about the decision by Sen. John McCain to pick Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska to be his running mate and the consequences of that selection.

No doubt, Palin lit up the campaign trail. She electrified the conservative Republican base. She performed well in the vice presidential debate with Sen. Joe Biden. But, as the movie revealed, her appearances were performances, staged answers to conceal her almost complete lack of knowledge about the federal government, the economic crisis enveloping the country and foreign affairs. It was disturbing and distressing to think this woman could have been a heartbeat away from being president. It angered us that political hacks put party, not country, first. It disappointed us that so many of our fellow Americans could be hoodwinked into believing she was qualified.

It’s almost four years later and the level of deceit—even outright lies—politicians are willing to engage in taxes our ability to believe in them. Last year about this time, when Planned Parenthood was under attack as it still is, Arizona senator Jon Kyl asserted on the Senate floor that 90% of Planned Parenthood’s money is used to provide abortions. When the truth was revealed, that the figure is really just 3%, Kyl did not see fit to issue a retraction or apology. Rather, his spokesperson said the “remark was not intended to be a factual statement.”

Before losing the Puerto Rican primary last weekend, Rick Santorum said while campaigning on the island that before it could attain statehood it must comply with federal law, “that English (not Spanish) needs to be the principal language.” Trouble is, there is no such law. Santorum tried to contain the damage of his remark, but it is becoming painfully obvious from other statements the former Pennsylvania senator has made that he rarely thinks through how his comments will be received or perceived (for example, his statement that he almost puked when reading a copy of John F. Kennedy’s 1960 speech on the separation of church and state).

He speaks from the heart, his handlers say. At least that is how his press secretary whitewashed the following Santorum explanation as to why he opposes socialized medicine:

“In the Netherlands people wear a different bracelet if you’re elderly and the bracelet is, “Do not euthanize me.” Half the people who are euthanized every year, and it’s 10% of all deaths, in the Netherlands, half of those people are euthanized involuntarily at hospitals because they are old and sick.” (Here’s a clip of his comments: http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/02/22/dutch-puzzled-by-santorums-false-claim-they-practise-forced-euthanasia/)

As the article with the clip states, Santorum’s claims are highly inaccurate. Perhaps Stephen Colbert summed it up best last Thursday when he opined, “Yes, in Rick Santorum’s heart, Dutch doctors push old people up to windmills and let the blades chop their heads off. And then they grind them into a paste and use that paste to plug cracks in the dikes, and turn their skulls into wooden shoes.

“The point is, as long as it’s in your heart, it is true.”

Game Change, True From the Heart

Gilda and I watched a very good but very disturbing movie over the weekend. It made us angry and distressed. “Game Change” is a HBO film based on the book of the same name about the 2008 presidential campaign, specifically about the decision by Sen. John McCain to pick Gov. Sarah Palin of Alaska to be his running mate and the consequences of that selection.

No doubt, Palin lit up the campaign trail. She electrified the conservative Republican base. She performed well in the vice presidential debate with Sen. Joe Biden. But, as the movie revealed, her appearances were performances, staged answers to conceal her almost complete lack of knowledge about the federal government, the economic crisis enveloping the country and foreign affairs. It was disturbing and distressing to think this woman could have been a heartbeat away from being president. It angered us that political hacks put party, not country, first. It disappointed us that so many of our fellow Americans could be hoodwinked into believing she was qualified.

It’s almost four years later and the level of deceit—even outright lies—politicians are willing to engage in taxes our ability to believe in them. Last year about this time, when Planned Parenthood was under attack as it still is, Arizona senator Jon Kyl asserted on the Senate floor that 90% of Planned Parenthood’s money is used to provide abortions. When the truth was revealed, that the figure is really just 3%, Kyl did not see fit to issue a retraction or apology. Rather, his spokesperson said the “remark was not intended to be a factual statement.”

Before losing the Puerto Rican primary last weekend, Rick Santorum said while campaigning on the island that before it could attain statehood it must comply with federal law, “that English (not Spanish) needs to be the principal language.” Trouble is, there is no such law. Santorum tried to contain the damage of his remark, but it is becoming painfully obvious from other statements the former Pennsylvania senator has made that he rarely thinks through how his comments will be received or perceived (for example, his statement that he almost puked when reading a copy of John F. Kennedy’s 1960 speech on the separation of church and state).

He speaks from the heart, his handlers say. At least that is how his press secretary whitewashed the following Santorum explanation as to why he opposes socialized medicine:

“In the Netherlands people wear a different bracelet if you’re elderly and the bracelet is, “Do not euthanize me.” Half the people who are euthanized every year, and it’s 10% of all deaths, in the Netherlands, half of those people are euthanized involuntarily at hospitals because they are old and sick.” (Here’s a clip of his comments: http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/02/22/dutch-puzzled-by-santorums-false-claim-they-practise-forced-euthanasia/)

As the article with the clip states, Santorum’s claims are highly inaccurate. Perhaps Stephen Colbert summed it up best last Thursday when he opined, “Yes, in Rick Santorum’s heart, Dutch doctors push old people up to windmills and let the blades chop their heads off. And then they grind them into a paste and use that paste to plug cracks in the dikes, and turn their skulls into wooden shoes.

“The point is, as long as it’s in your heart, it is true.”

C'est Si Bonn

It was not among the most important stories in the paper, though it was among the most unique and entertaining. Seems the always disciplined people of Germany, at least in the city of Bonn, have devised a plan to capitalize on the legal presence of streetwalkers in their midst. Similar to receipts obtained from parking meters, hookers must now pay for their ambling along the city’s red light district thoroughfare (http://nyti.ms/occ3Vg).

Legal prostitution intrigued my friends Brian and David during our college sophomore year, so much so they decided to fly to the notoriously liberated Dutch city of Amsterdam during spring break. I agreed to join them, but my parents, who had no qualms about sending me to Israel, Italy and France for eight weeks two summers earlier, would not sanction (read that, pay for) the trip. They would, however, fund a romp in San Juan, Puerto Rico, as my brother Bernie had spent a spring break or two there.

It was too late to sign up for one of the college group trips. No problem. Bernie advised simply flying down to San Juan and finding a pensionne or guest house in the Condado Beach area. It would be much cheaper than a hotel, he assured me. Armed with his guarantee, I took a taxi from the airport to the Condado Beach district. With my heavy bag in hand (back then suitcases did not come with rollers), I started my search about noon under the hot Caribbean sun. Two hours later, I had exhausted all the possibilities. I was desperate, thirsty, hungry, and more than a little annoyed (and concerned) I had listened to my big brother.

Not one room was to be had anywhere within the Condado Beach area. Around 2:30, I realized I’d have to expand my search. Just outside the eastern edge of the district I spotted the Bell Inn Hotel. It was blue on the outside, kinda dark on the inside. When I asked, the clerk behind the desk said there was a room available, $40 for eight nights. As happy as I was to hear I would be paying hundreds less than I had expected, I asked to see the room first. As I walked up the stairs to the second floor, a Great Dane dog stirred in the lobby. The room was small, neat, with a private bath. I paid the $40.

After resting, I dressed to meet friends in the casinos along the main drag of the area. Now, back in 1968 San Juan was an open city, meaning the stretch of pavement between the La Concha Hotel and the Condado Beach Hotel was a virtual meat market of all shapes and sizes. One particular lady of the night attracted our attention. Overweight, she stood out in a hot pink pants outfit. We couldn’t comprehend how anyone could find her appealing.

Around 2 am, as I was returning to my room a few dollars poorer for my wagering, my eye caught a man leaving the Bell Inn Hotel with the pink pants-suited lady on his arm. Oh yeah. I immediately understood The Bell Inn Hotel normally charged by the hour, not the week. In renting me the room, management had set me up as the legitimating customer should the police decide to question if the Bell Inn was a true hotel.

No matter. They didn’t bother me. I didn’t bother them. They changed the sheets every day. Hot water spewed out of the shower. I came home a happy man.

Next year I chose San Juan without argument as my spring break destination. I immediately went to the Bell Inn Hotel. Closed. No matter how hard I banged on the door, no response. In the intervening 12 months, San Juan had cleaned up its public act. Not a hooker in sight. My renewed housing search again failed to find any vacancies. After two hours I returned to the Bell Inn Hotel. Almost 20-year-olds aren’t supposed to cry, but I was ready to let go a good sniffle when I spotted the Hotel Lux across the street.

Yes, there was a room, actually a mini-suite with a bedroom and sitting room. Mine for $60 for eight nights. A 50% increase in price, but well worth it, in my eyes at least. Not so worth it to my friends, who, upon seeing the modest Hotel Lux convinced me to move out and stay with them at the luxurious El San Juan Hotel near the airport. I will admit I felt safer there, but somehow think my stay at the Hotel Lux would have been more colorful.