Breaking News - Donald Trump Receives Payment from ISIS

Would you believe Donald Trump is on the payroll of ISIS?

A report from a reliable source within the current administration who requested anonymity stated that, in response to last week's executive order, the terrorist organization had forwarded a letter expressing gratitude to our President and praising him for his "great courage."

 In the envelope was a one dollar bill which had replaced the face of  George Washington with Mr. Trump
 

"To the true father of America, and to the best recruiter our cause could hope for. Thank you Mr. President and keep up the great work. Believe us. (We cannot tell a lie)."
 

(This is an alternative fact tale)

I am an Immigrant

AN EDITED VERSION OF THIS POST IS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR IN  LETTERS TO THE EDITOR IN THE NY TIMES

I am an immigrant.

I may have been born in the United States but this country is foreign to me. 

This land is not my land.

I do not share it's beliefs, I do not countenance it's actions,  I do not even recognize it's methods.

I am not an American, not this America..

The country I lived in did not treat human beings with such utter contempt, did not 

display a depraved indifference to other's welfare, did not inflict such needless pain and suffering.

There are no words that can fully describe my alienation from the unconscionable mandate that now brands millions of people as unworthy of entry upon our shores. The very heart of this nation is being torn out. 

This is not who I am. This is not who we are. I am a stranger in a foreign land .

I am an immigrant.

Trump Unhinged and Unleashed

("Trump Bars Citizens and Refugees of 7 Muslim Nations")

And we shuddered at his delusional demand for investigation of "voter fraud."

And we denounced his delusional mandate to build the Wall to keep out citizens of a country "filled" with rapists and criminals.

And we thought his first week in office, with its endless series of executive ordered delusions was as bad as it could get.

But we were wrong. With one stroke of the pen Donald J Trump has officially turned this country into an unmitigated disaster, his delusions of dystopia now fully engaged, occupants of nation after nation now labeled undesirable, unsafe and unwanted by this, our once great country.

In just seven days, Donald Trump has made us wholly unrecognizable.  His ugliness no longer an abstraction, his darkness ingrained, his delusions forming our very essence.

Is there any way to imagine the depth and breadth of the damage he is capable of causing over the next 1453 days? Our nation trapped in a nightmare unfolding before our unbelieving eyes.

Donald Trump - A Man of His Word

 ("President Trump's War on Women Begins", "I Think Islam Hates Us" and " A Lie By Any Other Name")

Well, at least he is keeping his campaign promises.

For all who thought Mr. Trump couldn't possibly govern in as frightful a manner as he said he would, his first week all out assault has proven those assumptions a lie (read as alternative fact).

Where to begin? Emasculating Obamacare, building the Wall, threatening trade sanctions, shrinking the First Amendment, bringing back torture, suspending immigration, declaring war on women, seizing Iraqi oil, destroyng our environment, investigating non-existent voter fraud. A dizzying series of  contemplations and executive orders intended to demonstrate that this President is indeed bad talk and even worse action.

While we ponder whether to call a lie a lie, the sickening unvarnished truths of Donald Trump's presidency unfold with dizzying rapidity. 

Talk loudly and carry a sledgehammer.

The President's To-Do List for His First Week in Office

1. Walk on Water

2. Part the Red Sea

3. Learn how to play the piano

4. Cook spaghetti

5. Binge watch all previous seasons of Homeland

6. Screw up America

7. Teach his staff how to speak perfect Mandarin

8. Go on a diet

9. Call Melania at least once

10. Invite Putin to dinner.

11. Work on his short game

12. Start and finish construction on the Wall - ahead of schedule and way under budget

13. Find a good barber in Washington

14. Order a nuclear strike

15. Go see Hamilton 

16. Rewrite the Constitution.In tweets

17. Call Barron at least once

18. Close Guantanamo. Reopen as Trump Taj Mahal Guantanamo at $1500 per day, single occupancy

19. Screw up the planet

20. Cancel his subscription to the New York Times

21. Cancel Congress by executive order

22. Try the Chinese restaurant around the corner

23. Learn to play guitar

24. Ask Chris Christie how it's going

25. Read a book

26. Buy a mansion in Jerusalem

27. Learn to play chess

28. Invite Le Pen to dinner.

29. Try on the shoes just sitting in his closet

30. Cancel the European Union by executive order

31. Binge watch the Home Alone movies

32. Stop snoring

33. Try combing his hair sideways

34. Declare war

35. Get a new toothbrush

36. Take a vacation

37. Count the number of people at his Inauguration

38. Make every Tuesday Trump day by executive order

39. Become the ninth Justice on the Supreme Court

40. Take a walk around the block

41. Move Kellyanne's office to Moscow

42. Try sushi

43. Learn how to pronounce "China"

44. Buy gold. All of it.

45. Gargle before bed

46. Buy Twitter. All of it

47. Start the Trump Television Network

48. Memorize one new word a day

49. Declare himself King by executive order

50. Resign as President

And on the seventh day, he will rest.

The March in New York City, January 21, 2017

We came to this place in strollers and wheelchairs. We came in all shapes, all sizes and all colors. We came not in the hundreds or the thousands but in the hundreds of thousands. But we came as one heart.

The march in New York City was no different from the one in Washington or Boston, no different in the largest of cities or the smallest of hamlets. It was comprised not of man or woman, not of black or white, not of rich or poor. Its very being was in the idea that this nation was going to fight for the rights and privileges long fought and richly deserved. The resolve that no despot was going to impose his will upon this nation and bring it to its knees. The belief that when we joined hands we were forever strong and formidable. The unshakable determination that one flawed election could not and would not mark an inevitable destiny for this nation.

There are wrongs committed upon us by those who should know better, those to whom we entrust our care and the care of this planet. There are lives to be protected, rights to be safeguarded, victories to be preserved and defeats to be reversed. There are voices that need to be heard, tears that require solace and pain that must be tended. 

Each step on this route was taken not with my feet but by the waves of people who descended on this place in common cause, by those throughout our country who cried out, by those throughout the world who marched arm in arm with me today. There was a tidal wave of emotion, a tidal wave of sound, a tidal wave of humans demanding humanity in its best sense be preserved. 

And Mr. Trump should understand that we will not disappear because he refuses to see us, we will not be quieted because he refuses to hear us, we will not go gently into the night because he has made it dark. For we will march today and tomorrow and for as many days and nights as we have to, for there is no other way. One heart, one head, one foot in front of the other, we move inexorably forward.

Mr. Trump's Greatest Hits

It was a package of his greatest hits. His hits on on our crime and drug infested nation, on a Washington establishment that he will do nothing but perpetuate, on a universe ready to pick the pockets of America and take our jobs, on the threat of ISIS whom we would swiftly annihilate even as our 45th President announced in certain terms that we would no longer be the world's policeman.

There was no soaring vision, only those small dark places that Mr. Trump calls home. An America in decline, in disgrace in dismay.

Here was a man, totally unequipped for what lays before him, unable to muster up an idea that we could cling to. This was a campaign stump speech, a 16 minute tweet, without the puerile insults but with the same damning of enemies, those Mr. Trump sees everywhere he looks.

"America first" is a warning not only to foreign lands but to those in our midst who are "foreign" in the eyes of our new leader. Be you of the wrong color, of the wrong nationality, of the wrong religion, beware.

For better or worse, and if Mr. Trump is allowed to proceed unfettered then the latter shall surely prevail, we are now in the tiny hands of a preening, prevaricating, clueless catastrophe, destructive, demonic, incomprehensible and insufferable, always but a moment from raising a terrible swift sword, always but a thought away from calamity. 

We must summon the strength and the courage to persevere and to prove that we are better than this. That we have made a mistake but that there are not inevitable consequences. That we are not powerless but must demonstrate our resolve in the streets and in our every action. That we still have a voice, we still have a heart that beats and a brain that works, we still have a reason, a purpose and a chance to make certain that Donald J. Trump does as little harm as possible.

 Mr. Trump's inaugural address was our call to arms. Let us not grow weary or forlorn. Let not the darkness overtake us or make us fearful. Let tomorrow be a better day. Let us get to work.

Letters to the Oval Office - The Voice of a Nation

("To Obama With Love and Hate and Desperation")

It is emblematic of the current President that the letters he read each night reflected not merely unadorned admiration but also the voice of a nation confused, scared, angry, hurt, in pain.

Mr. Obama heard and listened to the words of the disillusioned, the downtrodden, the discouraged and the dismayed. He understood his failures as well as his successes.

Can we imagine Mr. Trump engaged in a similar undertaking? For he is nothing if not a man who discards bad news as rubbish, who denies dissent, who is seemingly unwilling to reflect upon his shortcomings or respond to the voices of despair. Mr. Trump resides in his own ivory tower, in his own bubble where it is hard to imagine even those closest to him challenging or questioning his judgment or pointing out moral dilemmas.

I fear that the the many thousands of letters to the next Oval Office will not be read nor will the best of them, representing the essence of our collective being, with its many complexions and complexities, be heard by Mr. Trump.

For on January 20th  the light will grow dim in the White House and the office in charge of listening to the pleas of the American people will grow as dark as the heart of the incoming President. 

Breaking News - Trump to Have Translator with Him at All Times

The Republican party has continually been making excuses for the Twit in Chief. It has been a full time job defending the oft indefensible remarks. 

We have been advised to ignore his words but rather look into his heart, yet we do not possess the necessary medical equipment. And so from China to Germany, from NATO to the news media, the Offender in Chief has done almost incalculable damage. 

Anonymous sources have now confirmed that rather than allow the ill formed phrases of the Idiot in Chief to go unattended for even a minute, Mr. Trump will never be left alone with his thoughts.

Instead, a new position has been created, Translator in Chief. The principal function is to defuse each nit-wit like phrase and turn straw into gold, or at least make it less flammable. 

There are several leading candidates. It is rumored that the favored choice of the President-elect is Sarah Palin. Something to do with her ability to see Russia wherever she looks. And that she and Mr. Trump apparently share the same reading list. And similar vocabulary. And she has nice legs.

But there is also the strong possibility that this post will be held not by man or woman but by computer. Watson, the machine that first rose to fame as a contestant on Jeopardy (the TV star in Chief's favorite intellectual program) has been recently interviewed. 

While no final determination has been made, I am informed that there is a seat reserved for Watson next to Mr. Trump when he delivers his Inaugural address this Friday.

But when asked if it was up to the challenge, Watson said there were some tasks that were just too hard. Even for it.

Proof of Life

("Wait. Is that Hillary Clinton? Let's go say Hi")

Mark Twain. Paul McCartney and now Hillary Clinton. Reports of their deaths all greatly exaggerated.

In the early morning (mourning) hours of November 9, we wondered how we would survive the night. After the Thrilla in Manila, Muhammad Ali informed us that his battle with Joe Frazier was the closest thing to dying he had ever known. For many of us, metaphorically this felt just as close. And we all presumed that for Hillary Clinton, it was not only her political epitaph, but her personal one as well.

We thought that if she somehow survived she would surely become a Howard Hughes recluse. There would be false reports of her sightings every few years. We would never have incontrovertible proof of life, just a partial image or a message that could not possibly be verified. Even if she somehow persevered, she would spend this darkest of all her winters in deep hibernation.

But, she actually took a walk OUTSIDE even before we could muster the energy to do so. And we are told she is taking regular sustenance, doing grandmotherly activities, and most incredibly  I don't know how say this gently, attending HIS inauguration.

Wherever Hillary Clinton ventures these days, she is treated with a reverence she was never able to fully attain during the long, often torturous slog that has been the last quarter century of her life in the spotlight. Always looked upon with suspicion, always a little too cold, a little too remote and a lot too cautious with every word uttered for us to find the Ali in her.

But with this cataclysmic defeat, and her ability to rise up from the canvas so quickly, Hillary has shown all her remarkable resolve. She has been hit with the mother of all haymakers and yet here she is, come take a look.

Surely, the applause will soon die down and images of Hillary Clinton being part of the fabric of our country, will draw less and less attention. But for today she is a celebrity, cherished  for giving us permission to move forward. She is not dead, and if this didn't kill her, it surely shouldn't kill us.

Breaking News - Donald Trump to Rent Out the White House

In a startling development, President-elect Donald Trump today announced that he would not be moving into the White House after his Inauguration, but would instead be renting it out on a daily, weekly or  monthly basis.

Trump has stated that while he is President he will continue to reside in his luxury residences in New York City and Florida.  At a press conference Mr. Trump advised that "when I am in Washington, I will be staying in my new great hotel, it is the best, believe me."

When asked how he could conduct  the business of this country from remote locations he answered as follows: "I am the business of the United States. It comes to me."

As to his plans for who may occupy the White House and the terms and conditions of any rental, the real estate mogul took over: "Who wouldn't want to say that they had stayed in the Lincoln bedroom? It is almost unimaginable the money that I will be able to generate, especially during Christmas and when the cherry blossoms are in bloom."

"But who", a reporter from CNN inquired, "will the revenue go to?"

Mr. Trump responded as follows: "I will not answer that question, as you will only report fake news. And, just so you know, I will never release my tax returns as they are not for your prying eyes."

When pressed further, Mr. Trump, in a semi-shout exclaimed, "the money will be paid to a trust run by my son and all profits, after he takes his cut as trustee and I take mine as proprietor and manager of the establishment, will be donated to a charity run jointly by my wife and daughter."

So, if you are planning a trip to Washington DC this year, you might want to consider a stay in a residence that is more than 200 years old, with plenty of history attached to it. But please don't steal the bathrobes. It is a Federal offense.

PS -this is a fictional tale with sadly too much truth attached

Fair or Foul

("Fair Weather Fandom")

He should wear the scarlet letters FWF like a badge of shame. How dare he exult in a team's success when he hasn't spent the last 108 years desultory and thoroughly depressed.

I have lived more than six decades bleeding Yankee pinstripes. Well, maybe not so much bleeding as lauding. Excellence was in fact my promised right. The fallow years, the Horace Clarke, CBS days, were hard to watch and even harder to swallow, but I persevered. Well maybe I turned away for a second or two, OK a decade, but I returned to Reggie and Catfish and then Derek and his Rat Pack. I died a thousand deaths in 2004 when the Curse of the Bambino was lifted. And I suffer the apparent ode to mediocrity that has become the now Bronx Bummers.

So I may decide not to drag my body to the House that Ruth Did Not Build and I may even choose to turn my attention elsewhere rather than subject myself to another game filled with men left ninety feet from home and a starting staff in search of a starter.

But I still wake each morning and determine my mood based on last night's box score. In a world that is more bewildering to me with each passing day, I know there is one constant: my beloved and, for the moment, beleaguered Yankees. Like the game itself, I am ready for fair or foul.

Blind Trust

Despite his naysayers, Donald Trump does believe in the concept of a blind trust. In fact, it is the very reason he was elected.

For Mr. Trump, blind trust is encapsulated in one phrase: "believe me." It intends that those who listen have faith not so much in his words as in his very being. It is the predicate for the seemingly bizarre and twisted logic of his personal Cruella de vil, Kellyanne Conway, that we should judge Mr. Trump not by what comes out of his mouth but what's in his heart.

And so when Mr. Trump informs us that he is not bound by long held ethical guidelines to divest himself of holdings or even to separate himself from continued control of them, except for the paper thin veneer of transfer to his children, we have to believe. For if we have abiding faith that, in his heart, Mr. Trump will build a wall (paid for by Mexico) between himself and his family, then we have nothing to fear but fear itself.

We now start down the perilous path of a Trump presidency with virtually nothing to hold onto for assurance that our country will survive this man. Nothing, that is, except blind trust.

A Farewell to Barack Obama

AN EDITED VERSION OF THIS POST IS SCHEDULED TO APPEAR IN THE RECORD, A BERGEN COUNTY NEWSPAPER


Long after the echoes of his last words had died, the crowd remained. As if by holding fast in that great arena they could stop the passage of time. As if it was Chicago, 2008, not 2017. As if, instead of the promises of yesterday, it was the promise of tomorrow.

As Barack Obama left the stage for one final time, as we fear that all the good he has done will soon be but history, as we lament the passing of the torch to one who casts a shadow of ugliness on this great nation, as we sense we are becoming less than we can be, less than we should be, less than we must be, as the light recedes and the dark reality descends, our hearts are heavy.

We listened to what he had accomplished in the face of unrelenting opposition. We struggled as he told us that a democracy and all it offers is not an absolute, but something we must be ever vigilant to protect. We cried as he saluted those who had made his life and ours fuller.

He was not perfect. No man is. Not all the blame for his failures lays at the feet of others. But he was relentless in pursuit of his task, noble in his effort, and pure in his desire to see that the basic promise of this country,that all are created equal and are endowed with certain inalienable rights, be fulfilled.

Tomorrow we will awaken to a new world, one in which the contrast between the current President and the next could not possibly be starker. And we wonder how we could have fallen so far in our vision, in our concept of the qualities that we revere and the qualifications that we demand in the one chosen to lead, to be our example to those scattered across the globe of what America is and what it means.

And so we wish we could press the pause button, or more accurately, rewind. And that we could awaken tomorrow with a sense that the day filled us with excitement, not dread, that the hours passed with joy, not pain, and that the President was someone  to whom we could point with pride, not disdain.

We will sorely miss Barack Obama for everything he intended and everything we dreamed.

Breaking News on the Wall

Donald Trump announced what will be the first major infrastructure project during his presidency. It came as little surprise. The Wall.

But there was an apparent significant change in the specifics. Where Mr. Trump had earlier been insistent that the Mexican government would pay for the cost of construction, that no longer appears the case. Last week, Mr. Trump stated that he could not wait for Mexico to agree to fund this work. Now he said he has a new approach.
 
"I will round up illegal immigrants, thousands and thousands of them and give them a choice: either immediate deportation or building the Wall, without any charge for their work."

"It is going to be great", Mr. Trump stated, "we get what we want and don't have to pay a penny for it."

When it was pointed out to Mr. Trump that slavery was abolished in 1865, he dismissed the argument. "You and your political correctness. Illegals will make America great again."

PS- the above events did not happen, but they definitely could have (or maybe will)

 

Another Letter in the New York Times - But This One Comes with an Asterisk

On early Friday afternoon, a comment of mine appeared in the on-line version of the New York Times letters to the editor (an unedited version is set forth below).

But owing to the fact that Mr. Trump is, well Mr. Trump, what he once said was the truth about the total incompetency of our intelligence agencies was "modified"after a Friday briefing (quite an accomplishment since Mr. Trump has an allergic reaction to briefings) and his subsequent conversation with the New York Times.  By late Friday afternoon Mr. Trump had conceded that Russia might have, could have, possibly did have something to do with the hacking epidemic that preceded the election, but still steadfastly maintained that this absolutely, positively, certainly had nothing to do with his ascension to the throne.

Anyway, as a result of his semi- flip floppery, my letter (and the others that castigated Mr. Trump for castigating his intelligence - no not castigating his intelligence, castigating his intelligence) disappeared from the Saturday hard copy of the Times.

Just another example of the illusion that is Mr. Trump.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------




("Donald Trump Casts Intelligence Aside")

If the truth get in the way of Mr. Trump's narrative, then the truth must go. It is the world according to Trump. No agency is going to control his thinking.

From the first, his alternate reality prevailed. When he questioned Barack Obama's place of birth, Mr. Trump invented a non-existent secret trove of documents that buttressed his fabrication. Last week he spoke of the fictional information he would soon reveal that supported his denunciation of the conclusion of the intelligence agencies, and by extension, the agencies themselves. Why rely on experts when the answers within your head are all you want or need?

For most of us, facts dictate our determinations. For Mr. Trump, his determinations dictate the facts.

Eternity

"You missed the exit for Route 23".

That was not true. I had actually missed the last three exits.

It was a trip I had taken literally hundreds of times before. I could say it was night, that I was distracted by our conversation, but those are not reasons, only excuses. The truth is I was just being me, always a half step from some head shaking error.

I could feel my son furiously texting this latest disaster to his sister. "Are you ok" he asked?     "Should I be worried?"

Just earlier in the day, I had jokingly asked my wife why she was not as emotionally invested in me as I was with her.

"If you had been married to you for 40 years, how would you feel?" 

I got it.

The next exit was about six miles up the Taconic. Thanks to the latest mapping ap,  my son was advising me of all the back roads that would cut a corner on our return route.

From the first turn off the main road, it felt like an awful mistake. It was not just dark back here, it was DARK. The paved road ended, the width of our passageway narrowed to what seemed but a sliver to my old eyes and our course meandered through ever denser forest.

"Go slow. Watch out for the deer" my wife warned.

"Don't worry", I replied, "it is far too remote out here for deer."

"That's right", my son said, "you should watch out for the bear."

You know that feeling when a minute seems like ten and a mile seems like infinity. This was exactly what this moment seemed to be. It was not that there were no houses here. It was that there was no sign of life.

"Doesn't anybody live out here?" 

I drove along, noting how beautiful it probably was in daylight, but I was as far from daylight as I think I had ever been.

I could tell my wife was worried. How? She said so. But there was no retreat, no turning back, because this was theoretically the fastest way home. If we ever got there.

After about 15 minutes, or as I like to refer to it, eternity, we spotted lights coming from the trails set up for night skiing at Catamount, a local ski area. It was as though god himself had cast a beam from heaven. 

Did you ever experience a moment where you were driving but distant objects appeared never to get any closer? 

"Catamount seems to be moving at the same speed as we are" I advised as time passed but the car had somehow frozen in place. I knew we were closing in on civilization but I couldn't figure out how to actually get there.

Suddenly a car appeared traveling towards me. I wanted to get out of my slow moving vehicle    and hug it, as if I had been stranded on a desert island and had spotted my rescuer. We were going to make it after all.

Finally, the road was paved beneath us. The forest disappeared and we were released by our captor. When we came upon Route 23 joy and exhilaration exuded from me, as if I were Moses and just stepped out of the desert.

"That wasn't so bad", I exclaimed, "it probably only cost us about 20 minutes." 

I wondered what my son's follow up text would report to his sister. As for my poor wife, I think she long ago gave up hoping for anything more than she was now saddled with. Just ask her about each minute seeming its own eternity. I dare you.

Three Billion Seconds

My mom begins her journey into her hundredth year on Sunday. She has now breathed the air on this planet for over three billion seconds. Billion is a number that attaches to vast wealth, to the population of China, to far away galaxies and to national debt. But to a single life, how can that be?

 

What lives have been changed by her presence among us? For my sister and me, we owe her our every breath, every laugh, every tear, every sunrise and sunset. For my dad, she stole his heart and kept it tucked neatly against hers until the day he died. For her grandchildren, she is the sun.

 

For her sisters and brother, they were as one being, sharing each other's joys and pain as their own.  For their offspring, she was the glue holding us tightly together.

 

For her students, she taught lessons that went far beyond the reach of any classroom.

 

And for her friends, far too numerous to count, and each one seemingly the most important, she was always a person of substance and compassion to whom they could turn.

 

Emanating from each of the lives she has touched in her 99 years, the ripples have gone far and wide. Her beauty, grace, intelligence, warmth, strength and joy has impacted all who have entered her sphere. And in turn, all she is has radiated outward from each person changed by her very being.

 

So I suggest that my mom may have altered the course not of a few lives, but of thousands, millions or maybe even billions.

 

And thus billions is not such an overwhelming number after all. For, as big as it seems, it all actually starts as just one. My mom.

What Makes Football Good Makes Football Bad

("Can Football Be Saved")

It is a tale of the yin and the yang of the sport. Of life lessons taught, of bonds forged, of strength, endurance and love. Yet the setting is one whose central theme is violence, mayhem and destruction. Not a sport for the faint of heart or body.

It is the clash of these two universes that makes this story so compelling. Much like Buzz Basinger's "Friday Night Lights" we are drawn into this world where the game is to be both revered and questioned.

Will we legislate away concussions from football? The NFL protects quarterbacks like the league itself is an extra blocker. And the popularity of the sport has not suffered. But at its core, football is and will forever be about big men beating each other up for our entertainment.

So though we can legislate around the edges, and try to pacify it's harshest critics, football, for all the good it has to offer, will now and forever be an undertaking replete with broken bones, damaged brains and shattered dreams.

Chauncey Gardiner, President

("Secret Admirers")
 

Is it Trump's ideas or the idea of Trump that is the appeal? As Trump's thoughts are but enigma, borne not of intellectual pursuit but sleepless nights, it is hard for any diligent observer to weave a cohesive and coherent pattern from his mental peregrinations.
 

Maybe, owing to the lack of core, those who find merit in Trump create their own logic to his words. We have been advised that voters took him seriously but not literally, and recently we were informed by a member of his transition committee that Trump should not be taken literally but symbolically. In the huge space that exists between what he says and what we say that means seems to lie the very essence of a non-ideology ideology.
 

Trump is Chauncey Gardiner, full of statements without meaning that others infuse with a seriousness that does not exist, or at least did not exist without straining every muscle in one's brain to the point of exhaustion. And so some Republican intellectuals try to fit Trump's round peg into a square hole, convincing themselves that there is something of substance brewing behind the incoherent  tweets and the teleprompter speeches.
 

But in the final analysis, as in the final words to your article uttered by Mark Bauerlein, I fear that all of us, supporters and foes alike, will have to "suck it up" and deal with the uncertainties and inconsistencies of a President making it up on the fly.

The No Rules President

("The Snapchat Presidency of Donald Trump")

He is fundamentally incapable of meeting the dictates of his office. He lacks vision, knowledge and understanding of the maze of complexities that lay before him. He has no intellectual curiosity, and an undeniable antipathy to study and reflection. He is easy to incite and hard to calm. He is unpresidential in every fiber of his bearing and his being.

He has said he wants to keep his enemies guessing, but what about his friends?  There is no agenda for him, merely tweets and slogans. No central theme except using the office to perpetuate the myth of Donald Trump. No rules to follow except that there are no rules to follow.

This is him, this is us for better or worse til death (impeachment or the 2020 election) do us part.

The Blind Eye Entry into the Hall

("Shunned Stars of Steroid Era Are on Deck for Cooperstown")

Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens were the two most dominant ballplayers of their era, their mind boggling statistics among the best this game has ever seen.

But this sport is about more than numbers, it is about the integrity of the undertaking itself. From the time of Shoeless Joe, to the days of Pete Rose, there was a code written into the very DNA of this endeavor. These players were cheating the basic beauty and the fundamental pledge of baseball, it's ode to purity and to perfection without taint. Their actions reflected not a lack of moral strength outside the lines but rather within them.

The Hall of Fame is the ultimate shrine for those who have met the highest of all standards in performance. If use of performance enhancing drugs does not act as barrier to enshrinement then an integral element of what make baseball great will have been lost, and the Hall of Fame should come with an asterisk, a/k/a the Hall of Shame.

The Carrier (Pigeon) Explosion

("Trump Promises a Revelation on Hacking")

"It's very important, if you have something really important, write it out and have it delivered the old fashioned way, by courier because I'll tell you what, no computer is safe"

There was a huge uptick in the value of the Carrier Pigeon Company today. President-elect Trump's ringing endorsement of couriers for crucial messages sent the stock soaring.

After completely resolving our vexing "job deportation" dilemma with his masterful work at the "other" Carrier, in which a few jobs were to temporarily remain in Indiana at a cost of only, well kind of a lot to our government, Mr. Trump now has reinvigorated the dormant carrier pigeon industry. Mike Tyson has been named by the President-elect as the new czar of the fly by night industry.

I also have insider information that "Smoke Signals Are Us Inc." is launching a new ad campaign featuring the President-elect (he apparently has an undisclosed interest in the company).

And you wonder how anyone could not have voted for this genius.