“…my old friend John…”*

            Fifty years after John Kennedy was killed, the memory still brings tears.  Yes, I remember when I heard the news I was on my way to class at UNL.  And I remember it took a while to sink in.  It was 1963.  We didn’t shoot presidents in America in the middle of the twentieth century.

            But it sank in, and brought along some emotional depression to keep us company.  I remember thinking, ‘We finally got a good one and some moron kills him!’  Of course, the story wasn’t nearly as simple as my thinking.  Revelations in the intervening years have clouded the clear Camelot sky, and there has been a bumper crop of buskers with the one true tale of who and what and why.

            We know that Lyndon Johnson accomplished many things under the aegis of JFK’s martyrdom, things that his predecessor wouldn’t have walked to fruition.  In the shadow of Kennedy, it is easy to forget that LBJ was a good one too.  He showed us that Texas wasn’t as reprehensible as it seemed to us in 1963.

            Kennedy’s assassination took away America’s childhood.  It scattered some cherished hopes into shards and hurled us toward the way things really work.  Who among us cannot grieve that?

            “Anybody here seen my old friend John?”*                                                                            *–“Abraham, Martin and John” –Dick Holler, 1968

Who In Blazes Was Saul Alinsky?

            If you are ever drowsy and turn to talk radio to avoid caffeine pills, you will hear the “Right’s Reverend Mr. Bluster” disparagingly refer to Saul Alinsky as if everybody who is conscious knows he was the personification of evil.  This always makes me smile, and here’s why:

            Saul Alinsky was a champion of the downtrodden, the disenfranchised, the poor, and the politically excluded.  He wrote Reveille for Radicals.  You should read it.  In that book he contends that people can solve their own problems if they will just work together.  He goes on to describe how to organize local people into powerful working groups that get things done.  Alinsky was a 20^th Century organizational superman.  Many of today’s leading corporations use his concept of bringing diverse opinions together to achieve success.

            He also wrote Rules for Radicals.  You’ll find the tactics it describes in wide use by conservative legislators and interest groups as they pursue their objectives.  (The “haves” have hijacked Alinsky’s methods from needy “have not” Americans.)

            Unlike anyone you will suffer on talk radio, Saul Alinsky was a great American, who taught underdogs how to overcome evil.  And he did it without preaching that the wealthy of our country are abused by our tax system.  He helped ordinary people cope with the political and economic abuse they encountered in their hard daily lives. 

Around here, Saul Alinsky was a blessing.  Strutting martinets notwithstanding, anyone who is conscious, and paying attention, smiles with me.    

Feckless Followers*

            Liberals are fond of stating that political nihilism in congress is driven by about sixty (some say ninety or more) radicals who are dragging the remainder of their party’s people along, out of fear of primary challenges if they don’t cooperate.  There is some reason to accept this explanation, especially with the Hastert Rule dominating Boehner’s management of the House.

            This leads to the sad possibility that most Republican Representatives in the House are merely feckless followers of a bully minority.  If ever there was a need to end bullying, it is in the kindergarten we know as the House of Representatives.  Too many are simply napping with their heads down on their rugs.  When they are not doing that they are mouthing talking points that reflect the mean-spirited selfishness the House has portrayed for years.

            While they push for austerity, hunger remains an obscenity.  While they stridently slash costs, unnecessary sickness is still obscene.  While they grab for more business perks, the deterioration of the world’s climate, the depletion of our resources, the abandonment of crumbling infrastructure, and the excuses for high unemployment are obscene.  They are offensive to decency. 

            If you elected a feckless follower, one who will not stand up for decency, who meekly mouths others’ words, keeps a low profile, and goes along with the bullies, you should be demanding answers.  And you should be finding her or his replacement.   Around here we think taxpayers pay these people way too much to accept mediocre performance. 

feckless followers: those who go along with congressional radicals for personal benefit.  --rrclark

feckless: 1.weak; ineffective; spiritless; 2. thoughtless; careless; irresponsible.

                                                                                                --Webster’ New Twentieth Century Dictionary

West Nihil Virus*

            These days, you hear from a lot of politicians who have The Answer.  Some of them will tell you the only way to put things Right is to do away with the Department of Education.  Nobody with any sense, they seem to suggest, needs the government to supply educational standards.  What self reliant American can’t independently learn all he or she needs in order to find personally rewarding minimum wage work?    

The Answer also includes doing away with Social Security.  The investment returns are so shamefully low, albeit consistent.  Those who didn’t suffer in the Great Recession or know about the Great Depression, think it should be commercialized.  Everybody should be in the Great Roulette Game called Wall Street.  If nothing else, it’s good for Wall Street (and sadly, nothing else is exactly what investors can expect from this scheme).

Food Stamps, the S.N.A.P. part of the Farm Bill, are another absolute waste of taxpayers’ money for those with The Answer.  SNAP must be slashed, but not the noble subsidies that provide some in agriculture with multimillion dollar gifts.

Those with The Answer are sorting through all of our stuff.  Unemployment insurance?  Dumpster.  National Parks?  Garage sale.  Congressional perks?  Keep.  Health care?  Dumpster.  National infrastructure?  Dumpster.  Natural Resources?  Garage sale, or give away.  Government services?  Dumpster.  Whew!  Time to cut taxes.

Around here, we call this the West’s version of political nihilism that captivated Russia from the late 1800’s to 1917.  We all know how that virus worked out. 

           

*The intellectual sickness that single-mindedly seeks to dismantle large parts of our government. --rrclark

nihilism:  in politics (a) the doctrine that all social, political, and economic institutions must be completely destroyed in order to make way for new institutions; specifically (b) (N-) a movement in Russia (c1860-1917) which advocated such revolutionary reform and attempted to carry it out through the use of some terrorism and assassination.

                                                                                                  --Webster’ New Twentieth Century Dictionary

Sending Out For Starlight

            “I work for a big retailer,” the guy said.  “Minimum wage, paid by debit card.  It costs me $5 to transfer it into my checking, but bank accounts are rare.  It’s $1 just to get the balance on your card!  There’s a fee if you take cash.  Lots of us wind up spending $25 on fees each pay period.  Keeps the merchandise cheap, I guess, and my living standard low.  My wife’s unemployment was cut, and we’re afraid we won’t get food stamps soon.  We don’t pay income tax.  With the kids, we don’t earn enough.  But we’ve got skin in the game.  That’s what they say about us—everybody should pay taxes—have skin in the game.  For them it’s a game.  For us it’s just hard work till you’re sick sometimes.  And no, I don’t vote.  If I’m lucky, I’m too busy working.  The kids got bumped out of head start, so we need every dime and every minute…”

****

“I’m not worried about any of that,” Crumb said.  “Obamacare is ruining this country!  Life was great once.  Oil companies would fly you anywhere in the world.  Insurance would arrange luxury golf weekends.  Lobbyists would take you fly fishing and hunting.  Those days, we had our way in Congress.  We had stature.  Now you worry about reelection till you’re sick sometimes. 

“How do you keep a positive attitude,” I asked?

“When you’re this deep in a hole,” Congressman Crumb observed, “sometimes you have to send out for starlight.

Maybe Trucking

            My financial advisor, Titus Boogerworth, called with excitement in his voice to tell me he had placed nearly half of my vast fortune in a new venture.  I can smell a cloud of sarcasm when it wells up like that into a thunderhead and darkens my day.

            “Let’s see,” I retorted, “that would be roughly $48 dollars if I read my last statement correctly.  Why is that exciting?”

            “It’s a great investment,” he continued, ignoring my rude interruption.  “Why, in a matter of months, you’ll need a two wheel cart to move all your money around!  You’re gonna make loan sharks jealous!”

            “Not really even wanting to be noticed by loan sharks, Titus,” I offered.  “What exactly is this A+ investment you’ve found?”

            “It’s Maybe Trucking!  You’re gonna be a rich…

            “See here, Boogerworth,” I snapped (48 bucks is a lot of money).  “It’s maybe trucking?  What else might it be, maybe?  Maybe coin laundries?  Maybe vending machines?”

            “No! It’s trucking.  The owner is my cousin, Fersher Maybe.”  At this point, Titus just faded.  In a tired voice, he said, “Read about it in the trades,” and the signal died like a dropped call.

            I searched out a copy of Cookin’ And Bookin’, the go-to weekly for shippers and truckers.  When I saw the quarter page ad for my new investment, I knew Titus had done it to me again.  I sank into granny low:

Around The World

Around The Clock

Around The Time You Need It

Fersher Maybe

Seems Like Home

            Home, where the heart is, feels either more, or less comfortable based on the surroundings we experienced at a particularly pleasant time in our lives (my theory).  After 1900 until mid century, many middle class city kids grew up in modest single-family dwellings with sizable yards and plenty of trees.  If you ask them what feels like home, those who had a carefree childhood will tell you it’s a house with a nice yard and some trees.  Maybe one with a fireplace.  And a family pet. 

            These predispositions toward places that remind us of happy times affect our choice of homes or the architectural features with which we surround ourselves as adults.  If you grew up happy in a house with a fireplace, you value having a fireplace.  Do you remember a Christmas tree brightly lit in front of a multi-paned picture window?  Does that feature in a prospective home appeal to you?  An extra lot, or a particular view?  A certain kind of tree, or trees generally?  A terrace or a screened porch?  Lots of neighbors, or not very many?  Your subconscious mind is leading you to remembered happiness.

            Of course, happiness comes from within.  True happiness does not come from things.  It’s a function of attitude and losing one’s self in work that brings joy or in service to others.  It is a function of love.  Still, around here we think that surrounding yourself with what provides these elements of comfort can make you really feel at home.