Wednesday, July 18, 2018

A Democratic Faceplant in 2020.

     Despite Trump doing all he can to prove that he must not be reelected in 2020, It wouldn't surprise me if the Democrats do a face plant and end up losing in 2020, because  they spend all their time fighting over themselves about who's more liberal-than-thou.
       I see the problem as: Many Democrats will all hunker down into their little closed minded tribes, listen to the people who resonate with them, read the books and media they agree with, and turn up their noses at those whom they disagree with.
       They won't give up anything, but will expect others to concede to the greater cause.
       They'll spend precious time and money  giving litmus tests to fellow Democrats, telling them that they are either too liberal or not liberal enough.
        All the while, Trump and his minions will lockstep into another four years in the White House. 
        If Democrats want to take back the White House, they need to gather their disparate tribes together, put aside their differences and everybody has to be willing to swallow their pride, and unify.
         They need to stop thinking that politics is a zero-sum game.  They need to put out a message that will attract the Trumpies who voted for him, but aren't seeing him as the answer they thought he was.  They need to stop bashing Trump and give people a reason to vote FOR them, other than to be anti-Trump.
          A lot of the people who voted for Trump were part of the original Democratic constituents before the party decided to sidle up to the elites on the coasts.  Working class/middle-class people in the heartland, the so-called flyover states.  They may be a little more conservative than the elites, but they were reaching out for a lifeline and the Democrats threw them an anvil.
          Trump threw them a lifeline and they grabbed for it, not seeing that the lifeline ended up being a noose.
           Democrats need to get their collective heads out of their butts, stop worrying about safe spaces for coddled millennials, and get their hands dirty.

Saturday, July 07, 2018

The Devil You Know.

     The Democrats are fractured. The Bernie crowd have everybody thinking that if they give everybody free stuff, that'll work.(It won't) 
     The rest of the party just puts out the same old tired assed anti-Trump message and they don't tell people what they are for.
     Hillary and Pelosi should be put out to pasture. If there was a real need for a legitimate third party that takes the moderate views of the Democrats and the Republicans and leaves the full mooners out on their own respective islands, it is right now.
     I find the extreme left and right equally annoying. And I'm not interested in listening to either of them.
     I have a feeling that the Dems probably will not win much in the midterms, and they better get their disparate wings together or else we'll have another four years of MAGA or MAWA.
      I'm registered Democrat, because they are the devil I know. And in Pennsylvania, if you want  to vote in a primary election, you have to belong to a registered  political party. Which I feel is vaguely unconstitutional.
      But if a legit moderate third party were to come into existence, I'd kick the donkey to the curb in a heartbeat. But the Dems and Repubs make it difficult for a third party to make headway in this country. They don't want third party to fracture their chokehold on the electoral process. Too bad. Both of them are two sides of the same coin.

Saturday, June 30, 2018

A Bitching Sailor is a Happy Sailor.

If there was one thing I could take away from my six years in Uncle Sam's Boat Club, other than the propensity to drink copiously, spout vulgar language at the drop of a hat, and a bad habit of constantly referring to my service of teh Facebook whether people wanted to hear about it or not, was that I learned how to cook.
      My job officially was called a Mess Management Specialist. Which is a 50 cent word for a cook. It wasn't what I originally enlisted to do, I go into that long convoluted spiel at a later date.  But I ended up going to school in San Diego for six weeks in 1981 to learn how to cook, Navy style.
      'A' School, as it was known then was an entry level school designed to insure that when you got to the fleet, you weren't completely useless. You could go into any Navy galley and at least know what to do with a knife and could identify a copper (large steam jacketed kettle used to make soups, sauces, etc), a griddle, a fryer, and an oven. 
       Of course, OJT is how you really learned how to get down. And get down is what we did. A lot of long hours, sore feet, bloody and burnt appendages, and bad backs from throwing around boxes of No. 10 cans, 70 lb steamship rounds, and 50 lb bags of flour. 
       But by the end of it all, I learned to cook. Not Bobby Flay or Anthony Bourdain level of Food Network culinary wizardry, but at least I won't starve. Breakfast was always my favorite meal to cook. I was the egg man on my carrier and cruiser. I'd man the griddle on my chow line and guys (Combat Navy ships were all male at the time) would call out how they wanted their eggs, and by the time, they got to me, their order would be ready.
      I got so that I could have a dozen orders on the griddle at the time. Scrambled, omelets, eggs to order. I got pretty good at it. It was about keeping that line moving. Dudes didn't have time to eat leisurely. So they wanted to get in, eat, and get out.
       And when I wasn't cooking eggs, I was backing up the line when stuff ran out. On my cruiser at sea, we fed 500 guys three times a day. Seven days a week. Multiply that number by 8 on a carrier. Easily putting in 80 hours a week.  It was a grind. We worked our asses off.
     And we got a lot of compliments, but also a lot of complaints too. A bitching sailor is a happy sailor. But we got it done.  I won't say that I can cook like a chef on Food Network, but give me a recipe card, and the appropriate ingredients, and I can whip up something that's edible, at least to me.

Friday, June 22, 2018

This S**t has to stop!

     I refuse to look at the comments left after the posts re: the shooting of Antwon Rose. Either the incident itself or the protest.
     Because I know what a lot of them will say. It'll be a lot of nasty back and forth. Some of it will be borderline, if not outright racist. Enough dog whistling that even the deafest dog on the planet couldn't help but respond.
     A lot of rage, anger and foulness from both sides. I'm tired of it.
     And in the middle of it all. A scared young man caught up in a bad situation gunned down. And the 99.99% of us who weren't there will take up sides and lob verbal grenades at each other. 
     All along, two lives have been sacrificed. The young man, and the cop who shot him.
     One will never live to see his potential fulfilled.
     The other will have to live with his decision knowing that the life that was planned out for him will have changed permanently, most likely for the worse
      This f*****g insanity has to stop.

Tuesday, June 05, 2018

2018 World Cup...zzzz

The World Cup starts next week and being that the US ain't in it, I personally don't care.  I don't even know how the groups are set up.        Which is the 'group of death'?
      And the fact that FIFA gave the tournament to Russia is a real turnoff. If you think that's bad, they gave the 2022 World Cup to friggin' Qatar. An insanely rich desert country with no soccer history and where it gets to 120 degrees in the shade during the time the World Cup is traditionally played. One wonders how many palms at FIFA were greased by Qatar to land that gig? 
      Put a gun to my head and ask me to pick a winner, I'd tell you to pull the trigger. I'll go with the safe bet of Germany and Brazil or Argentina in the final. And if the US were in it, depending on what group they would have ended up in, I would have predicted they'd have gotten out of the group stage, and either lost in the first or second knock-out round.
      I am more interested in the local side these days. The Hounds are in second place in their conference, our defense is playing lock-down, and we have two weeks to rest up, heal up and prepare for the long summer slog.  Now we just have to get the offense to get moving.  I'm pretty sure we can make the playoffs and get a home playoff game, but that's down the road aways. We keep playing the way we are and start jump-starting our offense, playoffs are a given.

Saturday, June 02, 2018

Trump is about Trump

     Boys and Girls. If you learn one thing, learn this. Trump is neither a liberal nor a conservative. Trump is neither a Democrat nor a Republican.
     Trump does not give two shits about anything except Trump. Whatever gets him over, to use a wrestling term,  he is about. All he cares about is what people say about him and what he can say to make himself look good to others.              Doesn't make a difference what he says and to whom he says it. It is all about what makes him look good.
     He rewards and respects those who talk good things about him and makes him look like a big noise, and he punishes those who talk bad about him and make him look like a loser.
      Right now, he's got the Republican party digging his song and dance, but if parroting Democratic principles made them fawn all over him, he'd switch sides in a minute.
      And Democrats would fall in line behind him. Why does he inject himself into things that should have nothing to do with him?  Because he is a Mark 1 Mod 1 narcissist.  He only cares about himself. And if what he does helps others, that is gravy to him. A mere side effect. 
     Trump is about Trump, first, second and last. And the quicker the country learns this and acts accordingly, the better. #JustSayin

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Where Others Zig, I Zag.

What others reject, I embrace. I'll dance with the homliest girl at the party, and date her too. If I lived in Chicago, I'd choose the White Sox over the Cubs. When I lived in the Bay Area, I chose the A's over the Giants.
     I'd have bought the bumblebee Stiller throwbacks just because so many people hated them. I support Everton when everybody pulls for Liverpool. When the crowd zigs, I zag.         Whatever the cool kids flock to, I run from. I hung with the geeks, and those who had no clique to run with in high school. We made our own damn clique. 
      I celebrate what others turn away from. If I had the cash to buy a Stiller or Penguin jersey, I wouldn't get a Roethlisberger, Brown, Crosby, or Malkin jersey. I'd show love for the obscure players. Those who's name would have never been seen on the back of a fan. I once had a Stiller jersey  from Chris Fuamatu-Ma'afala.  How obscure is that?
      I went to the college that was considered the 5th horse in a 4 horse race among Pittsburgh area D1 colleges. Yes, Robert Morris is a D1 college, as hard as it is for some of yinz to comprehend.  I don't do cool. I don't do trendy, anyone who's ever seen the way I dress can attest to that.
      Instead of going to some big honking megachurch with a staff listing resembling a Fortune 500 company that used live animals at their Christmas pageant, that pulls in an offering at one service what  my church pulls in a year, and where the pastor drives a Bentley, I go to a small, working Episcopal Church in Homewood where the pastor drives a Volkswagen. I don't follow crowds. I take the path less traveled.