“Banana Republicans”

May 20, 2018


“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” — British Philosopher Edmund Burke (1790)

My Republican friends in Oakhurst are good men and good women. I wish they were in Congress. Tom Wheeler would make a fine Speaker of the House.

My Republican friends in Oakhurst properly proclaim faithful adherence to the Ten Commandments all year long, not just Easter Weekend when Charlton Heston parts the Red Sea one more time on ABC. Among other notable items, that means no toleration for lying, adultery or lying about adultery.

My Republican friends in Oakhurst are thoughtful, hard working, tax-paying, God fearing Americans – dependable friends in need who don’t think twice about offering a generous helping hand when hard times come. I’ve seen it time and time again.

Donald J. Trump is none of these things.

In economics, a Banana Republic is a nation that has primarily become the private enterprise of a ruling class (think “one percent of the one percent” – the crowd getting those new killer tax breaks) with profits for the few on top and public debt for everyone else.

Trump toleration has become a way of life for Banana Republicans in Congress. They’ve added a trillion and a half dollars to our national debt to pay off rich pals at the country club, while slashing Medicare and scores of federal programs aimed at helping the poorest among us – those Jesus called, “the least of mine.

Banana Republicans in the House and Senate are sitting there with gawking Alfred E. Neuman-like grins signaling no discomfort as they are led like sheep to the slaughterhouse by an impulse driven, morally bankrupt, pathological liar. What? Them worry? Sure, the guy’s nuts, delusional and dangerous, but he’s leading the pack now – a mad puppeteer who pulls all the strings. Don’t be a crank or he’ll give you a yank.

Who cares if the Russians are alarmingly ahead in a winner take all cyber war with nothing but empty Washington words in their way? Forget about caving in to the Chinese on trade. Be prepared to “get a win” with North Korea at any cost. Abandon old alliances, shred traditional standards and cripple consumer protection. Love Big Brother. Keep Trump at ease. Stay on your knees.

Banana Republicans should know that circling the President with defensive unity places a metaphoric noose around the political neck of every individual. The drop will be ugly. Enough chickens are flying home to darken the sky with relentless retribution. Look out below.

The most recent example of Trump’s campaign promise to staff his White House with nothing but “the best of the best” is new lead attorney, Rudy “America’s Nightmare” Giuliani. Rudy’s hopelessly hysterical, wild-eyed, asylum quality raves attacking Special Counsel Robert Mueller are a national embarrassment, shamefully authorized and painfully pathetic. Mr. Giuliani is back in the spotlight, gleefully relishing renewed attention as the king’s favorite fool.

Last week 80 Palestinians were killed with over 2,000 wounded by live Israeli bullets, but Ivanka and Jared got to give a little talk. 8 students and 2 teachers were dead in Santa Fe, Texas in the 23rd American school shooting of the year, but many still say the only solution is more guns. Trump saved face for China’s President Xi Jinping by saving 70,000 Chinese jobs making potential spy phones, but what are friends for?

There must be good Republicans in Congress. Come out. Come out – wherever you are. And meet the young lady who fell from a star — enlightening the world in New York Harbor.

La Liberté.














May 6, 2018


It’s one of those words deeply subjective in nature. What qualifies as “hardcore” is completely dependent on individual perspective. It’s like “pornography.” Combined, the meaning gets even more elusive.

“Hardcore pornography is hard to define, but I know it when I see It.” – Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart –1964.

Dictionary definitions are equally obtuse, reflecting intensity rather than intent with “hardcore” referenced as “unrelenting”, “uncompromising” or even ”extreme” without evaluation on merit.

All of the above is meant to qualify my personal take on what has passed through our lives as “hardcore” these recent days. I know it when I see it. Perhaps you do too.

Comedian Michelle Wolf’s brilliantly bitter appearance before the White House Correspondents’ Dinner on April 28th was supremely hardcore, offering no quarter and taking no prisoners. 32 year-old Wolf graduated from William and Mary College in 2007 with a Degree in Kinesiology. I looked it up. Kinesiology is the scientific study of body movement dealing with strength. I’m certain both William and Mary would have strongly turned purple blushing at Michelle’s blistering 19-minute presentation, timidly ended halfway through on C-Span Radio due to fear of FCC retaliation – C-Span arguably displaying a discouraging profile in the process. Cable TV hung right in.

Receiving particular attention was Presidential Press Secretary Sarah Hucklebee Sanders (no relation to Bernie) sitting only a few feet away, hearing Wolf observe, I actually really like Sarah. I think she’s very resourceful. She burns facts, and then she uses that ash to create a perfect smoky eye.” Due to the room’s strained acoustics, most folks thought they heard that Sarah “burns fat”. I did at home.

This brought subsequent accusations that Wolf made fun of Sarah’s weight, offering unintended verification of that fact about fat.

On a hardcore scale of 1 to 10, Michelle Wolf scored a perfect 10, faithfully mirroring the coarse, blunt, vulgar, vile and disgusting essence of Donald J. Trump and his entire administration.

The same night as the Correspondents Dinner, Trump appeared at another of his circus rallies, this one in Macomb County, Michigan – final frontier of white flight from Detroit. The clamoring crowd screamed to lock Hillary up. They would make Trump King — no matter what. The whole scene was frighteningly hardcore.

The very day Los Angeles Dodger Albert Pujois scored his 3,000th hit, the Washington Post offered irrefutable documentation that Donald Trump has told 3,000 separate public lies since taking office. The count continues. That’s hellaciously hardcore.

Although he is now the subject of eleven separate federal investigations, EPA Secretary Scott Pruitt remains on the job, raving evermore in that $43,000 soundproof office phone booth you paid for and grabbing a $100,000 Moroccan trip with two nights in Paris on a mission that had nothing to do with his assigned responsibilities. These and dozens of other inexcusable improprieties on Pruitt’s part are heavy hardcore.

A long-negotiated seven-nation pact signed in 2015 between Iran, China, Russia, The United Kingdom, France, Germany and the United States has temporarily halted Iran’s development of a nuclear bomb. The President has signaled his willingness to abandon the agreement, leaving the U.S. isolated and alone other than consistently surreptitious support from Jerusalem. Benjamin Netanyahu’s right-wing Israeli regime is aching for all out war with Iran. Hardcore hysteria.

It saddens me to submit that our own California District Four Congressman, Tom McClintock, has doubled, tripled and quadrupled down time and time again on his Trump love. How an educated, intelligent, sophisticated man such as Mr. McClintock can stoop so tragically low in craven support of a moral midget is beyond my understanding.

Heartbreakingly hardcore.



“I Like Mike”

April 19, 2018


 Elect the clown – expect a circus.

Our Philanderer-in-Chief never fails to disappoint –offering three ring spills, chills and thrills as he enters his second year of dazzling degeneration.

Abandonment of governmental perspective and social policies established by our World War Two warriors of “The Greatest Generation” are accelerating exponentially, almost unnoticed.

Distraction dominates. Our eyes and ears are filled with daily head spinning details of the latest outrages, each replacing and erasing the last. Paying true attention with appropriate response requires strength, stamina and stability beyond levels of normal human experience and expectation. That’s why Michael Avenatti is my new media hero.

“There are results. Then there are excuses.” – Michael Avenatti, — (2018)

47 year-old Michael Avenatti is a professional racecar driver who has competed in dozens of events in recent years, including the American Le Mans Series, the FIA World Endurance Championship, The Porsche Supercup and United Sports Car Championships in the United States and Europe. But that’s a hobby. His day job is attorney – an occupation in which he has displayed decades of excellence. With a porno star as client, Donald J. Trump is now in his cross hairs.

“Stormy Daniels” says she spent some adult time with Trump back in 2006, shortly after First Lady Melania gave birth to Barron, even as the boy’s father was also sharing special moments for an extended period with Karen McDougal, Playboy’s 1998 Playmate of the Year.

Just before Trump was elected our 45th President in 2016, Stormy received $130,000 supposedly to be quiet about their liaison. That’s fancy French for you know what. While exactly who coughed up the cash for precisely what is now the subject of a major federal investigation or two, Mr. Avenatti has leapt to the forefront in defending Ms. Daniels and defining one of Trump’s closest confidants, personal lawyer Michael Cohen, as a spectacular screw up and potential nightmare for the White House.

Avenatti has recently logged more TV time than Johnny Carson in his prime. Mike’s really good at it – enthusiastically engaging. And he’s committing the most unforgivable sin of all in grabbing the spotlight from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, holding the stage with Donald enraged. That’s entertainment. So is this.

The current #1 best seller,” A Higher Loyalty”, is not about Keith Richards. The very thought of comparing Donald Trump with the former Director of the FBI in matters of truth, honesty and integrity is patently absurd. Look in the nearest mirror. Ask your image, “Who would I trust with my family’s lives? Jim or The Joker?”

Mr. Comey is now a private citizen. Those complaining about his brief subjective and marginally unflattering references to the president in “A Higher Loyalty” might reflect that (a) these things make the book much more interesting and (b) Comey was fired in a ham fisted, devastatingly humiliating manner. It’s no wonder a certain amount of cool attitude comes shining through.

I hope to see you tonight at Yosemite High School for a major debate between our three candidates for Madera County District Attorney. It will be our current DA, David Linn, facing off against worthy opponents Paul Hornick and Sally Moreno. Doors open at 6 with the program kicking off at 6:30. The Oakhurst Democratic Club is sponsoring tonight’s debate with assistance from Yosemite Mock Trial Team Members. They’re just back from doing us proud representing Madera County in State Competition.

I moderated the 2014 debate between Mr. Linn and Michael Keitz and was honored being asked to repeat such tonight — as an old fire horse slides down the pole again.




“A Children’s Crusade”

March 30, 2018


The original “Children’s Crusade” seems to have taken place in the early part of the 13th Century when well-intended but ill-advised European Christians attempted to regain The Holy Land from Muslim rule by sending children to peacefully initiate conversion. Most ended up being sold into slavery.

A next instance of encountering the phrase happened when my favorite author, Kurt Vonnegut, used it as a 1969 subtitle in his most influential and popular semi-autobiographical work, “Slaughterhouse-Five, or The Children’s Crusade: A Duty-Dance with Death.” I believe Vonnegut’s point was that it’s youth who often pay most for sins of the old.

Perhaps not this time?

Happy Easter Week.

And they brought young children to him, that he should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” Matthew 19; 13-14

I was magnificently stunned by the awesome participation generated by our young in their “March for Our Lives” dramatically manifest with over a half-million attending at The National Mall in wintry Washington and even many more at almost a thousand sites around the world.

The kids are alright. Dialed in. They get it.

I love how Trump frump Sarah Huckleberry Sanders kicks off virtually every response to White House reporters with the word, “Look”. It’s something Sean Hannity started a few years ago with “Look” functionally positioned by tone and temperament to mean, “Listen, Stupid!”

But, look — my use of the word intended to “please reflect upon the following with fairness:”

The right to privately bear arms separate from a regulated militia was only affirmed once by the Supreme Court. This was just a decade ago in “District of Columbia vs. Heller” — 2008 — and by only a single vote (5-4.) Even then, Justice Anton Scalia wrote in his majority opinion that, “Like most rights, the Second Amendment right is not unlimited. It is not a right to keep and carry any weapon whatsoever in any manner whatsoever and for whatever purpose.” The minority position presented by Justice John Paul Stevens states, “The Court would have us believe that over 200 years ago, the Framers made a choice to limit the tools available to elected officials wishing to regulate civilian uses of weapons…. I could not possibly conclude that the Framers made such a choice.”

 So much for the “Sacred Constitution Right to Bear Arms.” There’s no such thing, unless all majority opinions automatically carry divine sanction and heavenly endorsement.

In 1994, then-President Bill Clinton signed a federal ban on the manufacture, sale and possession of assault weapons and large-capacity magazines. The law specifically banned certain semi-automatic weapons, including the AR-15, as well as rifles that could accept detachable magazines. That ban lapsed in 2004, when Congress did not reauthorize it. Several serious attempts to do so in the wake of subsequent massacres have been block by Congressional Republicans led by the NRA.

According to a recent Harvard/Northeastern University Study, 3% of the American population own over 50% of our civilian guns. 7.7 million own between 8 and 140 guns.

I am not for confiscating anything from anyone at this point, but let’s heed the voices of our future.

Every good law should increase freedom. In this instance, let’s balance individual freedom to own, display and detonate weapons of war against a collective freedom to not get killed by such, particularly if you have most of your life still ahead of you.





March 10, 2018

Christmas DNA Results


Curiosity carried the day. Surrendering to irresistible and inexplicable primal forces, I spit in a tube and off it went.

Enchantingly enticed by a continuing barrage of alluring invitations to uncover my genetically traced geographic origins with state of the art precision, I received notice last Christmas Eve morning from Ancestry.com that magical machines had finished their work. Final results were a simple click away.


With St. Patrick’s Day 2018 not that distant, please allow me to share with you this outline of my bloodline:

DNA Story for Peter Cavanaugh:

Ethnicity Estimate – Ireland, Scotland, Wales – 88%

Highest Confidence Regions – Munster, Ireland and Connacht, Ireland.

Lowest Confidence Regions: Great Britain (4%), Scandinavia (3%), Caucasus (2%), Europe West (<1%) and Europe South (<1%). That’s it from the spit.

Eileen and I have visited Ireland twice for an extended period, in 1992 and again in 2002. It was like going home. There were familiar faces everywhere, but how could there not be? It is an enormous gene pool.

Our bus driver from Killarney looked just like my brother, Paul. A retired schoolteacher from Boston questioned him why some sheep in the countryside were marked with red dye and others with blue. With a perfectly straight face he replied, “That’s how we tell the boys from the girls.” The nice lady nodded. Of course. How else could such be known? Ireland.

In Kells, we stopped and asked an older man of many years where we might find a nice place for some tea and conversation. He brought us to his home. We were there for hours. Ireland.

Most Irish-Americans know very little about relatively recent Irish history. On Saturday the 17th, try streaming, “The Wind That Shakes the Barley” or “In the Name of the Father” or, best yet, a magnificent film from 1996 starring Liam Neeson as “Michael Collins”— Irish revolutionary, soldier and politician, ambushed and killed during the Irish Civil War of 1922 by men he had formerly led. 500,000 attended his funeral in Dublin, a full one-fifth of the Irish Republic’s population. Ireland.

Ireland was England’s first and last colony. Brutally oppressed for over 800 years, many of its native citizens came to America in the 1840’s during the “Great Famine” on “coffin ships” – poor, illiterate, subject to every indignity known to man.

Although the Cavanaughs seem to have remained proudly Catholic on the paternal side of things, William McClasky, my Mom’s Dad, was a MacClasky for many decades, being a “Mac” rather than “Mick” offering significant career advantages when “No Irish Need Apply’ signs sprang up from coast to coast. He finally informed his four daughters, “We’re Irish and we’re Catholic.”

 “Dad McClaskey” gained substantial notoriety in Syracuse during his final years training a track team of Mohawk Indians from The Onondaga Indian Reservation and winning a number of New York State championships. He was also quite an amateur boxer in his time.

With our four daughters and our first grandchild being our first little girl’s first little girl, the gender dam finally broke when our second grandchild (from daughter Colleen) was – a boy! Named – William!

Of our twelve (I believe we’ve stopped counting now) grandchildren, seven are male and five are female. That doesn’t include a great granddaughter and great grandson.

William is a senior at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio, an Eagle Scout and a proud member of our National Guard.

We slept in William’s room during our recent Cincinnati visit.

I was supplied in advance with a note from Will as to where he stashes his Jameson’s.


Happy St. Paddy’s Day straight ahead.


Postcard From Ohio

February 17, 2018
  26850365_10212725645789080_1692600142382133391_o                                    Colleen Cavanaugh Pyron

“Twilight Zone”

February 1, 2018

Rod Serling

“There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.” – Rod Serling – “The Twilight Zone” — CBS Television Series — (1959 – 1964)

Rod Serling was from Syracuse. He became a renowned screenwriter, playwright, television producer and narrator. His aunt lived next door to us on Hawthorne Street. Every so often he would stop by to visit her. This is before he became famous. He was always active in progressive politics.

It’s 2018 and here we are – in his Twilight Zone.

A super conservative friend of mine who shall go unnamed (Ray Krause – Westbrook Wine Farm) just sent me an essay entitled “The Feel of Sincerity in a Handshake.” It’s about Donald Trump visiting a severely wounded warrior and, as he notices both of the man’s arms missing, he empathetically brushes the soldier’s face in lieu of a handshake.

In praise of this, the writer passionately states, “In his stead, I certainly couldn’t imagine Hillary (or Bill, for that matter) or Obama making anything close to this gesture. He closes with,  This is what I see when I think of Trump’s motives. He gave up a billionaire lifestyle to now be insulted, dragged through the mud, and lied about in the media on a daily basis. All to save this country and people he loves.

Ray sends this stuff all the time to drive me crazy. It works. I always return the favor offering a differing perspective.

As readers know, I consider Trump to be a malignant narcissist and active sociopath completely unfit for office, a threat to our country and an imminent danger to the entire world. That’s for starters.

The point is — I don’t doubt for an instant the honesty and validity of Ray’s clearly expressed opinions – as I would hope he regards my own observations and overviews as functional, if not fanciful.

Friends, neighbors, relatives, beasts of the field and small domestic pets are now living in vastly separate political realities – different Twilight Zones. Watching Trump’s Mistake of the Union Address brought this into terrifying perspective.

Sticking to the teleprompter and limiting his signature wheeze to passing gurgles, Donald delivered one of his finer moments in maximizing content and minimizing contempt. One could tell different writers at work by the volume of venom – toned down, but not turned off.

While Pouty Pelosi didn’t help her Party, Poodle Pence was pleasantly present. He does have perfect hair. Don’t tell the boss.

Russia wasn’t mentioned much at all – not a bit as far as the “witch hunt” is concerned. There wasn’t anything said about Trump not initiating harsh sanctions against Moscow for election interference within the legally established time frame as ordered by Congress. That vote was 97 to 2 in the Senate and 419 to 3 in the House. But when Putin says, “No” — Donald the Debtor delivers. When you owe hundreds of millions to the wrong kind of folks, one does what one must.

Then came the “four page memo” debacle courtesy of Dimwit Devin down the road. He wasn’t alone. Our own congressional representative, recklessly pandering for promotion, went on record supporting an expanded investigation “involving actions of senior officials” of the FBI and Department of Justice.”

Tom McClintock? You embarrassed us all.

Come back into the light.





“Too Many Teardrops”

January 25, 2018


“”96 Tears” is the best Rock ‘n Roll song ever” – John Lennon (1972)

I was talking with Question Mark just this morning.

 “Q” remains somewhere between 7 and 77 years old, his physical essence having originated on Mars and transported to earth in a brilliant flash of timeless metaphysical transcendence – as it always was and forever will be. He clearly remembers walking on this very planet with dinosaurs. That’s his story and he’s sticking to it.

 The name on “Q’s” Michigan Driver’s License is Rudy Martinez. His Martian name can’t be spelled nor visually depicted and is completely unpronounceable.

When I was a young DJ in Flint, Michigan back in the early ‘Sixties, Rudy and his band would play at my record hops and rock concerts. I paid them twenty bucks apiece and would spring for pizza and beer after the gigs.

Members of the group were the sons of Mexican-American migrant farm workers seeking a better life for themselves and their families “camino hacia el norte” – “way up north” in Michigan.

When the group recorded a cover version of Wilson Picket’s “Midnight Hour” for their debut 45 single on March 13th of 1966, they needed something to put on the other side.

Rhythm player Robert Martinez introduced a curious organ riff into a tune he and Rudy had been working up. They recorded it in mere minutes. At WTAC we thought it was cool — even better than “Midnight Hour” – so we played it experimentally. The proverbial phones started ringing off the walls. At the time, Rock Critic Greg Shaw wrote that the deceptively simple song delivered “amazingly precise execution.”

By October, “96 Tears” by Question Mark and The Mysterians had sold 2.5 million copies and was #1 in the world.” It’s still heard by hundreds of thousands everyday on FM “Oldies” stations all over the planet.

In 1968, their record label, Cameo-Parkway was raided and shut down by the Security and Exchange Commission for stock manipulation, taking the band’s accumulated royalties and contracts with them. The group was left with nothing from that relationship. Not even pizza and beer.

The band has broken up and reformed many times through the years offering many new tunes — most disappearing in the competitive fire and frenzy of modern rock. But their “Can’t Get Enough of You Baby” (1967) proved to be a monster hit for San Jose’s “Smash Mouth” in 1999.

In January of 2007, Question Mark’s house just north of Flint burned to the ground, destroying all of his irreplaceable memorabilia. A number of benefits were held across the country, including a major concert in San Francisco. Having moved to California and Oakhurst only months before, I was amazed at how familiar West Coast musicians were with early Michigan rockers, particularly Question Mark.

“Q” and I have kept in touch through the years. He has his plans and projects and these words for this column:

“No matter what’s happening in your life, just Rock & Roll, Babe. Enjoy the romance of who you are and share with others the love, the caring, the kindness and so much more that you carry in your heart.”

I have a special place in my heart for Rock & Roll Pioneers such as Question Mark, the fleeting fame and fortune of careening careers often leaving many, in the defining words of Billy Squire, with lifetime pensions limited to “loneliness and alcohol.” But that’s not “Q.”

He promises to still be performing in 10,000 more light years all over the Universe.

That wouldn’t surprise me for a nanosecond.

“Misery Accomplished”

December 31, 2017


“Some people continue to defend trickle-down theories which assume that economic growth, encouraged by a free market, will inevitably succeed in bringing about greater justice. Meanwhile, the excluded are still waiting.” — Pope Francis – “Evangelii Gaudium” (2013)

We let it happened on our watch – a trillion and a half borrowed dollars making the rich yet richer at the expense of the old, sick, powerless and poor – Americans all.

Shame on you for abandoning integrity and joining the moneychangers, Tom McClintock.

Record crowds are already turning out in Roseville, Mariposa, Oakhurst and elsewhere in the Fourth District to hear from Democratic contenders dedicated to driving you out of the temple. And as Senator Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass) might happily observe, they’re all GIRLS. Newspapers in LA and San Francisco already agree that we are in serious play for the first time in decades. These ladies are resisting, persisting, insisting and — enlisting.

Donald Trump signed the “Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017” into law before leaving for an expensive Christmas vacation at Mar-A-Lago, his private club in West Palm Beach. It wasn’t long before he was bragging to millionaire friends in his bar, “You all just got a lot richer.” He might have been looking in the mirror. The law puts many new millions into Trump’s own pocket in the immediate future with lots more saved for the Trump family not that far down the road.

But after all is said and done, it turns out you’re as dumb as you look, Donald. With a single signature, you made yourself functionally obsolete, having served your primary purpose as President of the powerful by signing into law the most massive transfer of wealth in our nation’s history. Republican donors unheard of, but not unheeded, wanted no more, but would accept nothing less. Your services are no longer required. “Poodle” Pence will be encouraged to pounce. His obeisance is proven. He’ll stay curbed.

For the one percent of our population at the very top, a mission of misery for the masses has been accomplished.

83% of the new Republican tax “reform law” benefits will go to folks on top of the hill after ten years, but 60% will actually go to the top one percent of the top one percent. That’s one out of ten thousand citizens grabbing 60% of the action, leaving the remaining 40% to 9,999 others. Do the math yourself.

92 million middle-class Americans will end up paying more in taxes by the end of a decade, 8 million this year alone. 13 million Americans will lose their health insurance as the rest face sharply rising premiums for significantly less coverage. The devastation won’t stop there.

Here come “responsible” Republican cuts to Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid and other vital social programs in the name of “deficit reduction” and “budget balancing.”

Infrastructure investment? Bring back toll roads.

Universal health care? As long as it’s The “Star Wars” plan – offered

in a galaxy far, far away.

Food stamps? Let them eat cake!

Free cake? Only as paid for!

Never before in the history of our Republic have so few robbed so many so ruthlessly under the guise of free enterprise — dollars returned for pennies invested at the very top of the pyramid.

Feel the trickle?

Or was it a trick?

Jessica Morse, Regina Bateson and Roza Calderon say it was tragic.

Tom McClintock offered the measure his “enthusiastic support” on behalf of California taxpayers. Tom also claims that those who insist that “trickle down” doesn’t work are Marxists.

Such as Pope Francis?







“Here Comes The Sun”

December 17, 2017


I bet you never felt a thing.

At precisely 8:28 this morning (Oakhurst Time) – the Northern Hemisphere of Earth once again tilted back toward the sun as our darkest day of the year dawned with Winter Solstice 2017.

Perhaps these dire days of Trump will soon find similar end.

“With flames from the dragon of darkness, the sunlight blinds his eyes” – Led Zeppelin – “Battle for Evermore” (1971)

The rats have been cornered and are attacking.

Fox News has moved from truth to treachery to treason.

California Representative Adam Schiff’s’s chilling call for alarm last Friday is ignored at great peril.

“I’m increasingly worried Republicans will shut down the House Intelligence Committee Investigation by the end of the month. We have dozens of outstanding witnesses on key aspects of our investigation that they refuse to contact.”

 Schiff is burdened by being forced to deal with the embarrassing inadequacies of his Committee Chairman, Devin “Nitwit” Nunes, who had yet to explain his extraordinary involvement several months ago in dramatically holding a major press conference, then bringing to the White House documents he had obtained in the dark of night – at and from — the White House. Move over, Bozo. A new King Clown was thus self-crowned. Watch him closely. Furtive eyes tell no lies.

 Republicans in Congress have willfully abandoned any pretense of proper protocol in a desperate end of the year rush to give the grabber his pathetic “win” with a tax bonanza for the rich and corporations they control. Damn democracy — full greed ahead! The old and poor can pay for it. They’ve been coddled long enough.

Meanwhile, the Internet is now open to bidding by power players thanks to last week’s 3-2 party vote to abandon “Network Neutrality” and allow broadband suppliers to throttle speeds and/or refuse competitor content.

Virtually every cabinet position is held by those dedicated to governmental destruction, the only saving grace being that many of Trump’s choices are proving to be grossly incompetent at anything they do. See that candidate for a lifetime appointment as Federal Appellate Judge on TV? It’s a miracle he remembered to put on his pants before testifying. I rest my case.

Yet I sense we are finally reaching a brilliant crescendo as Special Counsel Robert Mueller and his team relentlessly pursue ultimate, healing truth with sworn loyalty to the American people and commensurate accountability by all.

It should not be overlooked that Robert Mueller is a lifelong Republican who ran the FBI from 2001 to 2013. George W. Bush appointed him to this position. President Barack Obama extended his original ten-year term for two years, making him the longest serving FBI Director since J. Edgar Hoover. Mueller was a Marine Corp Officer in the Viet Nam war. He received the Bronze Star with Combat “V” for Heroism and a Purple Heart for wounds incurred in heavy combat. Folks, he ain’t afraid of Donald “Draft Dodger” Trump.

It is undeniably evident that insidious Russian interference in our 2016 election cycle took place nationwide with surreptitious sophistication. The Trump Administration not only denies this. They have unforgivably done nothing about it.

My own summary suspicion on this whole deal is that Trump became heavily entangled with Russian financial alliances and potentially deadly obligations way back after he filed his six business bankruptcies when no legitimate bank would lend him another penny.

For any practical purpose, Donald J. Trump is now functionally an agent of Vladimir Putin’s global agenda as Sean Hannity obstructs justice on a criminal level with kindred souls equally lacking fundamental integrity.

As the world turns.