Mr. Trump, We Are Sorry

("Trump Wants His Own Apology After 'Roseanne' Uproar")

Mr. Trump, we apologize. We are sorry you didn't grow up black, poor, a Muslim, living in a shithole country. We are sorry you learned from Roy Cohn how to treat other people. We are sorry for your life of privilege, for your golf courses, for the buildings with your name on them, for your helicopters and planes. We are sorry that your bankruptcies, your lawsuits, your lying did not serve as teachable moments for you. We are sorry for your tweets, sorry for your constantly feeling you are the one aggrieved, sorry for what you have done to the standing of this nation, sorry for the permission you have given us to exercise our worst tendencies in broad daylight, sorry for your sexual improprieties, sorry for your demeaning ways, sorry for your cruelty, sorry for your hatreds. We are sorry you believe you are entitled to a free pass for all of your intolerable indiscretions.

Yes, Mr. President, we are as sorry as we can possibly be for giving the ultimate compliment we can bestow upon a citizen of the United States to one so lacking in morality and basic human decency.

For all of that, and for so very much more, we are deeply, deeply sorry. For all of that, we take a knee and humbly pray for forgiveness.

Roseanne

 AN EDITED VERSION OF THIS POST APPEARS IN THE RECORD, A BERGEN COUNTY NEWSPAPER

Please don't treat ABC as if they deserve sainthood for dumping Roseanne. They took on a keg of dynamite and it exploded.

They swiftly decided to walk away from the resulting destruction, in a time when the Matt Lauer's, Bill O'Reilly's and Charley Rose's have turned from princes to pariahs in a heartbeat. It is a moment in this arena when it is not prudent for networks to seem indecisive in the face of reprehensible behavior.

So goodbye and good riddance to a show that soft pedaled ugliness of the type that emanates from the very seat of power in this nation. One that allowed those who think much as our President to take comfort in the notion that they were somehow harmless, that their biases and prejudices were not really so bad after all, that in reality they were nothing worse than cranky. ABC bought into this narrative, they owned it and now they are forced by circumstance, not conscience, to bid it farewell. 

I neither shed tears for their loss nor applaud their swift sword. When you lie down with dogs....

Who Is Hogan Gidley and Why Do We Care?

("The Risky Business of Speaking for President Trump")

"All for one... and, well, that's pretty much the whole statement."

It is like "Fifty First Dates" or "Groundhog Day" working P.R. for this President:

1. Wake up

2. Put out fire

3. Throw yourself under bus

4. Get up, dust off and

5. Repeat 1 to 4.

The job description:

a) absolute loyalty, not that phony "honest loyalty" of James Comey

b) a complete repudiation of your moral compass - thank you Ms. Conway for demonstrating the proper technique

c) a past that is littered with failure, or at least no notable success in this line of work (this lineup of "never wases" is too numerous to mention, and to name names would be to risk offending anyone who was inadvertantly omitted)

d) a gymnast's body, for you will surely have to twist yourself into a pretzel almost daily.

Hogan Gidley is an interchangeable part, a mere instrument here today and gone to Spicer land tomorrow. Young or old, man or woman, they are all but as one. Swearing an oath of fealty to the devil, selling their soul for nothing more than a momentary illusion of power.

Seeking their 15 minutes of fame at the king's pleasure until one day they forget to lie and then "poof" they vanish. Turned back into a frog. Or maybe a snake. Yeah, a snake would definitely be more apt.

Why Katy Tur Stayed Home on Election Day

In the name of journalistic integrity. 

I attended a talk given by Katy Tur last evening, the woman who followed the Donald around from the first escalator ride when he descended upon us as a one man locust invasion, to his maddening final ride when he elevated to the top of the political universe. And the reason above was what she cited for failing to cast a ballot, to hang a chad, in the 2016 Presidential election. 

This woman who, when asked what we could do to insure 2020 was not mere reprise of what happened that terrible Tuesday night in November, said we should volunteer our time to make absolutely certain people got out and voted.

I don't for a moment buy that a journalist, or an FBI agent, can't divorce personal distaste from professional duty. Mr. Trump has repeatedly suggested that the Mueller probe is driven not by evidence but animus. That a negative comment between workers means that the entire investigation into Mr. Trump is inevitably, irreparably damaged. It is this damning lie that is perpetuated when Ms.Tur, and others in her profession, fail to exercise their most critical constitutional right in professed fear of losing their capacity to deal with impartiality, with objectivity, on their subject.

Don't get me wrong, I love the woman the Donald referred to as little Katy. A political neophyte when she began her Trumpian journey, she showed strength of character and an inexhaustible supply of words as she reported on the bizarre rise and the even more bizarre failure to fall of the equally political neophyte who became king.

If she didn't have the strongest of reasons, the most encyclopedic basis to pull the lever for Hillary who did? And did she really believe that this most basic act would color her opinion, change her reporting, even a smidge? 

Come on Katy, you and I both know exactly how you feel about Donald sitting on the throne and yet you won journalistic plaudits and landed your own MSNBC show based on your "fair and balanced" comments about the tragedy that is Mr. Trump.

So, to all those reporters, all those FBI agents, all of you whom we rely upon for your honest effort and your truthful recitation, tell us that you have done your sworn task with honor even though you hate everything about this man and even though you would never vote for him for dog catcher, no less President. 

You are entitled to act upon your preferences as an American citizen in deciding who will lead this country forward. And in fact it strikes me as more than a little repugnant if you fail to do so.

So don't cop out and tell us to get to our polling booths while you stay at home on election day. It sends the absolutely wrong message and the fundamental obligation of a journalist or a member of the FBI is to never send the wrong message.

Play Ball! (Or Why We Should Stop Playing the National Anthem)

("The N.F.L. Kneels to Trump")

I have a solution to the vexing problem of the national anthem and the kneeling, hand holding or other response of athletes. Stop playing the song at these events.

Blasphemy? Not really. This is a tradition, not a mandate, more of a habit than anything else, like brushing your teeth before bed. And if we are aggrieved at the insertion of issues unrelated to sport into our arenas and stadiums, then just leave the patriotic fervor firmly planted at home.

Come to watch a game? Watch a game. No "all rise and take off your caps." Keep your cap on, it is protecting you from a sunburn anyway, and instead get the first pitch, the kickoff, the tip off, the face off underway without having to first remind ourselves how much we love this nation.

We can't hide our problems by wrapping ourselves in red, white and blue. Whether we are on our feet, on our knees or lying down, the ills of this country will follow long after we leave the cocoon of wherever we find ourselves rooting on our team. So don't pretend this is all about whether or not we "honor America." Let us not go down that road.

When you go to the movies or a concert are you offended if you aren't first asked to stand and give grateful thanks to this star spangled land? 

Cut off the dilemma at its source and instead focus on what you came for. The food. And you have a lousy voice anyway. Need I remind you that you started clapping well before the end of the song?  

Grow up America.

Play ball.

Thank God for Donald Trump

("Trump Backs Away from Demand for Immediate North Korean Denuclearization")

What, you mean dealing with a country on the issue of nuclear weapons is not as simple as suggested, that an all or nothing attitude will surely lead to nothing, that time and patience are required to try to achieve one's aims? 

Thank God we have a leader with such perspective, with an understanding of the great and terrible difficulties, the compromises and concessions that one must anticipate when trying to negotiate the kind of agreement that is good for everyone and no one in confronting such an enormous and volatile subject. Thank God he knows better than to throw away an opportunity for a better, safer tomorrow in pursuit of a perfection that does not exist in the real world.

Think if we had a leader without such a supple mind. Think of the possible damage he could do, the progress that would never happen. Think of what a destructive force he could be.

Think of Donald Trump. On second thought, don't.

And we have guns, guns, guns

Well he got his daddy's gun

Took it to the high school now

Maybe thought about the library

But chose the art class now

And with those bullets blasting

Shooting as fast as he can now

And we'll have guns, guns, guns,

'Til the Congress takes the damn things away

(Guns, guns, guns, 'til the Congress takes the damn things away)

Well the kids can't slow him down

As he shoots up the place now

Aiming right for the heart or maybe the face now

Gotta lock down the school

As we all give him chase now

And we'll have guns, guns, guns

'Til the Congress takes the damn things away

(Guns, guns, guns, 'til the Congress takes the damn things away).

Well they knew all along

We were wise to this game now

And their votes were all bought

What a  damn crying shame now

Just another in a river of tears

As he shoots for his fame now

And we have guns, guns, guns,

Cause the Congress won't take them away,

And we have guns, guns, guns

Cause the Congress won't take them away

And we have guns, guns, guns

Far too many have seen their last day

Guns, guns, guns

Far too many have seen their last day

Guns, guns, guns,

And with our blood we all pay

Guns, guns, guns,

And with our blood we all pay

Guns, guns, guns

What else can we say

Guns, guns, guns

What else.............

Say It Ain't So

("Robinson Cano's Suspension Wounds the Mariners, and His Hall of Fame Chances")

Say it ain't so, Robby Cano. At the risk of sounding like a combination of a bad John Sterling home run call and a possibly apocryphal tale of a young boy and Shoeless Joe from Hannibal Mo., I can't help but be saddened by the thought that now both of the C and C boys have been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

I remember the forever smile on the face of the young Robby, as he and Melky Cabrera emerged as future stars of a team in the midst of a seemingly dynastic run. Enthusiasm, exuberance and innocence permeating their very beings. Now in retrospect, your photo of Robby and Melky high fiving with A-Rod close at hand, stands not so much as testament but question mark.

He was and will forever be a great player, possessed of such an easy grace around second base that it made it appear, at times, he wasn't even trying. His bat whipping through the zone as the reincarnation of Rod Carew. The game played with the skill and joy with which it was intended.

But now there is a stain upon his legacy that neither time nor distance can ever erase. As we look back on a career that led this man to unfathomable riches, we wonder how much of the loot was pilfered and how much earned. And worse, how much of our love for everything Robby, was based on a lie.

The Hall light, and the one in our hearts, may just have been turned off. Say it ain't so, Robby Cano. 

The Swamp

("Only the Best People")

This is not death by a thousand cuts, but by thousands. The positions left vacant, the reassignments. This is Mr. Trump's real version of draining the swamp,  ridding or at least neutering those in the system whom James Comey might suggest have a "higher loyalty" to the truth rather than merely to protecting and promulgating the President's intended goals no matter their legal or ethical shortcomings.

And the hiring patterns follow the lead of a leader who has a disdain for study and in depth analysis, who certainly has spent more time concentrating on his golf swing than contemplating the effect of withdrawing from the seven nation agreement with Iran. 

So too, the financial abuses of those like Mr. Pruitt and Dr. Carson cannot be considered aberrations but consistent with the dictate and demeanor of a President who believes rules of protocol and practice were not intended to apply to him.

Everything that is ill and ill intended flows from the head of the state, the head of the snake. Firings, hirings, misfirings all fit a pattern, all a product of a distorted vision of what government is intended to be.

Not of the people, by the people and for the people. But of, for and by one person only.

Signed in Disappearing Ink

("An Indecent Disrespect")

We elected the ugly American to lead us into battle. That talk loudly and carry a big schtick, half crazed, take what is mine and what you thought was yours caricature of everything that people across the globe despise.

This is Mr. Trump tearing down Atlantic City and building it back up in his image, only this time it is not merely a small slice of our own universe that suffers from his moral bankruptcy and total lack of vision and understanding.

Trump treating other nations like he has those bankers he left holding the bag, make a better deal with me or fall into the abyss. 

His word is your bond. His promise is he makes no promises. His contracts have only your signature. He commands not with his presence but with his commands. All for one and that one is me. 

It is a recipe for disaster, maybe not today but there will be a reckoning tomorrow. If not now, certainly not never.

He is playing Russian roulette seemingly with everyone but the Russians, a second Amendment gun pointed only at your head.

This is not policy, it is unmitigated chest pounding of the worst kind. Dangerous, reckless. Not making America great, merely making it grate.

I Elected Donald Trump

("Liberals, You're Not as Smart as You Think")

Are 60 million people racist, misogynistic, xenophobic, climate change denying idiots? No, but they knew or should have known what they were unleashing upon the world that Tuesday night in November of 2016. And that was a monumental error in judgment now playing out in agonizingly slow motion.

God forbid we do anything to turn a four year nightmare into an eight year sentence without the possibility of parole. But what are we permitted to say without deeply offending everyone who is considering voting Republican in November?

You have put us on the defensive with your piece, made us consider that we may be to blame for the mess we see before us. We liberals have driven conservatives away with our haughtiness. We have created Frankenstein. We are the true idiots.

Yes, it is wrong to lump all people in one boat. Like say all Muslims and Mexicans. But am I allowed to ask what you find so attractive in this President, in a man who is an insult to the office and to this nation? Or do I sound too aggressive in my tone, too demeaning in my inquiry?

Tell me what I must do to turn your heart and head around. I know Mitt Romney's 47 per cent remark was matched by Hillary Clinton's deplorables comment. That for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. 

Please help me get it right. Tell me what to say. You see I am not as smart as I think I am.

Sports in Black and White

("How Did Our Sports Get So Divisive?")

Patriotism covers up many sins. We are all as one, joined in heart and head against some terrible enemy hell bent on taking away what is ours by birth. I saw it in the stands of Yankee Stadium shortly after 9/11. The red, white and blue, the symbolic holding of hands. With us or against us. Black and white. 

But I realized then as I do now, that it is not that simple, that we are united in name only, that when we leave the stadiums and arenas we enter a universe that tells a far different tale, that God does not bless all Americans equally, that our prejudices and hatreds against one another did not vanish when the twin towers tumbled, that this coming together was but facade. Black and white with a very different meaning. 

And the constant tributes, the fly overs, like one giant recruiting poster for the military. Apple pie a la mode, our sporting events as complement to our surge of national pride. With us or against us.

And for the unforgivable sin of telling this country it should take a hard look at the reality of who we are, for informing us of the hypocrisies we don't want to admit, for saying there is a far more complicated truth then is being revealed, that if you want our sporting events to be venues for reciting more than statistics, if you are really asking us to look into our souls we should do so in unvarnished terms, for this ultimate blasphemy both Mr. Kaepernick and Mr. Reid have been stripped of their livelihood and, in the minds of many, deemed traitors to our very nation. 

All just a question of black and white. 

On Canceling My Subscription to the New York Times

There was an article on page 2 of today's New York Times on the gathering I attended last week of the most "accomplished" of the letter writers to that newspaper.

https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/09/insider/new-york-times-letter-writers.html

There was one unforgivable omission. No picture, reference or quote relating to me.

Only Donald Trump and I truly know what it is like not to be fully recognized for our brilliance.

Is There Something Less Than Damning with Faint Praise - 3 Men Come Home

("Trump Welcomes 3 Americans Freed from North Korea")

The return of the 3 men imprisoned in North Korea is a triumph, for which we should all be grateful. But it gives me agita just thinking of Mr. Trump receiving plaudits for anything on his watch.

He was certain to mention the Nobel Prize (he would never speak of it, he merely noted that we did). And here we go again counting crowds (the most media ever at 3 AM). This was not all about him, until it was.

I can't even quantify the level of my distaste for everything Trump and the wrecking ball he has taken to this nation's standing in the world, destroying relationships and dismantling agreements at every turn. 

And yet, whether by sheer luck (even a stopped clock is right twice a day) or maybe, just maybe because his one flew over the cuckoo's nest strategy with Kim Jong Un proved effective, we find ourselves staring directly at the possibility of the easing of tensions with North Korea.

Is there something less than damming with faint praise? If so, that is my sentiment as Mr. Trump takes a victory lap while those, like me, who find every second of his presidency mind boggling wrong, shudder.

Killing the Deal with Iran

We have been witness to the attempted unraveling of everything Obama by Mr. Trump. Just as Mitch McConnell swore his party's overriding task was to stop President Obama from accomplishing his goals, so Donald Trump's obsession has been to take away every last success of his predecessor.

Mr. Trump failed in his first attempt, as his efforts to kill Obamacare ended in repeated defeat, the last at the hands of his own party with the deciding vote cast by John McCain.

But if Obamacare was the signature domestic achievement of his predecessor (although righting the sinking ship of the economy might be considered as well), the seven nation deal with Iran was its foreign policy equivalent. It's essential purpose, understood by all who took part in the years long negotiations, was to temper the flames and allow space for the possibility of better days. 

But Mr. Trump recognizes none of this. He merely sees red, a bull in a China shop, wherever and whenever he looks at a deal engineered through Barack Obama. And neither logical argument nor the entreaties of our allies and signatories to the pact with Iran will keep this courier from his appointed rounds.

Mr. Trump will kill this deal, smug and satisfied as he crosses off a big item on his to do list. A man on a personal vendetta not to make America great but to diminish the legacy of a former President who had the audacity to treat Donald Trump with the amount of respect he deserved. None.

John McCain - In the Dying Light

("John McCain Battles Donald Trump with His Dying Breath")

John McCain's heart was always in the right place, even if his head might not have been. Bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb Iran? Sarah Palin??? But mistakes of judgment could not hide his deep and abiding passion and commitment to the welfare of this country.

His mission was to be of service, and to be of service with honor. To meet his responsibilities with unfettered devotion, to be able to stand proud not only of his accomplishments but the manner in which he comported himself in battle, whether on the fields of war or the halls of Congress.

I did not vote for Mr. McCain in 2008, not because I thought he was the wrong man for the job, but because I thought he was not the right one.

And with his last breaths, if these are indeed to be the same, he stands strong and determined to call out a President who has little regard for the welfare of anyone but himself and who does a grave disservice to the ideals upon which this nation was founded.

John McCain may not share many of my political beliefs, but he did possess a grace and dignity that made him near saint to those on both sides of the aisle. 

And when he is no longer, it will feel as if we have lost far more than merely the light shining from a single soul.

A Night at the New York Times

There was an angry mob gathered on the 15th floor of the New York Times building last evening. The crowd, close to forty strong, vented their mounting frustration at the speaker who sat before them. He was an editor of the Op Ed pages of this venerable newspaper and he had personally wronged virtually all who filled the room.

We had assembled at the invitation of the Times. We were those men and women who had most often badgered the editors of the Letters page into submission. Our names had appeared with repetition as authors of letters worthy of publication. We were simply the best of the best, or so our egos reported. We were there for our accomplishments to be noted and applauded. Thank you, the New York Times was saying, for saving us from ruin.

And yet those in charge of the Op Ed page had clearly not received the memo about how accomplished each of us was. The questioning of the speaker began politely enough. What is the secret handshake needed to move from the left page to the right? Is it a wink and a nod, a $20 bill slipped into your hand while no one is looking, an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner? 

But when the answer was not forthcoming in easily digestible terms, the mood of the crowd darkened. We know how to write and we have opinions about everything. If two plus two doesn't equal four then what does it add up to?

Getting a letter published even once in the New York Times is incredibly hard. And for those of us who have had the good fortune to be selected for that honor, we should be astonished and grateful. And call it a day at that. But for the select few who have been repeat offenders in the letters section, there is clearly the fever of fame that envelopes many of us. And it leaves us dissatisfied when we don't get more. We are better than mere writers of 150 words, more or less. We are the articulated sounds of America and we deserve, we are entitled to 850 or 900 words. Because, well just because.

I am among those who has tried and repeatedly failed to impress these judges. I, like the others, feel like nobody turned their chairs around on The Voice. But listen to me sing that high note.

But I have an expertise. I am most well versed in Yankee baseball and if you would only open up your closed mind you will comprehend that the history of the favorite games I have attended over six decades would make fascinating reading.

 But I know Donald Trump better than he knows himself. I eat, drink and sleep (albeit, fitfully) the man. I can write 1000 words on his small hands for God's sake. Give me a few op-eds on him, and I will rid the country of this vermin once and for all.

But I am a lawyer. Okay, I mainly do house closings, but still I am as qualified to muse on Constitutional questions as Mr. Trump is on the pros and cons of the deal with Iran.

But my mom recently died and I can write a compelling piece on the issue of dementia and outliving one's life.

But I am soon to be a first time grandfather. But I have a love hate relationship with golf. But I have been published many times in Chicken Soup for the Soul and Purple Clover (you don't have to go to these sites to read my work, trust me).

The list of topics is endless. And useless. I have as much chance of seeing my name on the Op-ed page as do you (unless, of course, you actually do have a chance). I may know how to put 150 words together, or even 850, but that in no way qualifies me to jump from one side of the page to the other.

One must possess both the ability to express an opinion coherently and a depth and breadth of knowledge on a matter of interest and concern. One without the other is merely the sound of one hand clapping.

My take on my mother's decade long descent from her illness might make for an interesting tale but a piece by a doctor who had spent decades studying the brains of those impacted by this disease would certainly capture the attention of the editorial staff. Or Mike Pence weighing in on what a Trump presidency is getting right rather than what I continually suggest it is getting wrong. Or Doug Glanville looking at baseball from the inside, rather than me peering in through the window.

And this was the gentle message that our speaker tried to convey. But we wanted none of that. We were here to be recognized, not to be anonymous in his eyes. We were here to be feted, not continually rejected. We were here because we deserved it.

And that meant getting the secret code. Or at least his direct email address. I left without either.

Hillary Clinton, a verb and 911

Possible book titles for the Donald and Rudy show:

1. A tale of two liars

2. The buck stops somewhere else

3. The world according to dumb and dumber

4. We do it our way

5. The art of the slow reveal

6. 911, a verb, Hillary Clinton

7. Inmates number 10001 and 20001

8. You say collusion we say confusion

9. 911, a verb, Hillary Clinton (this is always worth repeating anytime, anywhere there is trouble)

10. Lies, injustice and what used to be the American way

12. The Fools on the Hill

13. Stormy Daniels had sex with that man, Michael Cohen

14. Cutting down George Washington's cherry tree

15. The art of the comb over

16. Our lips aren't moving

17. A bargain on a bridge in Brooklyn 

18. Donald and Rudy join Fox News

19. The art of the cover up

20. Hillary Clinton, a verb, and 911 (Donald gets top billing)

Tangled Webs and the $130,000

AN EDITED VERSION OF THIS POST APPEARS IN THE RECORD, A BERGEN COUNTY NEWSPAPER

It turns out to be this generation's version of  "I did not have sex with that woman." But Mr. Trump did have sex with that woman, Stormy Daniels, and did in fact repay Michael Cohen the $130, 000 hush money, apparently with a vig added.

Someone in the President's ever revolving corner will undoubtedly try to turn Mr. Trump's "know" into "now know" and linguistically attempt to resuscitate their leader. And remind us that Mr. Trump may have misspoken but not to Mr. Mueller, merely to reporters on Air Force One. And that this constitutes neither perjury nor obstruction of justice but at worst a technical failure to comply with federal reporting requirements. And the timing of the repayments is of paramount import and fully exonerates a wrongly accused and deeply aggrieved President. And we owe this man our sincerest apologies.

But we know what lies sound like, what a cover up looks like. We have lived through Richard Nixon. 

Shakespeare had to be contemplating Donald Trump when he wrote "oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive."

Practice does not make perfect Mr. Trump.

The Fail-Pass Exam

("Mueller Has Dozens of Inquiries for Trump in Broad Quest on Russia Ties and Obstruction")

Robert Mueller has been fierce and relentless in his pursuit of the truth, which has clearly led to Mr. Trump's doorstep. And here he is with four dozen inquiries meant to pierce the veil of uncertainty and get to the heart of what, where, when, why and who. Only that will never happen.

Donald Trump is a buffoon, full of false bravado, believing he can bluff his way through any situation, dancing a little two step, misdirecting and misleading anyone anywhere he wants. And sitting in the White House makes a pretty compelling argument for Mr. Trump's success in this undertaking.

But even he can intuit the risks in taking this approach with Mr. Mueller. For surely Mr. Mueller already holds the answers to the questions posed. And the President cannot score a 100 on this test with half truths and outright lies. 

This is where the road ends for the special counsel. With a "I would love, just love to set the record straight, but upon the advise of my attorney (not named Michael Cohen) I refuse to answer your absolutely stupid questions on the grounds that they are absolutely stupid", the President will inform his most obstinate critic to take his toys and go home.

Even getting the questions ahead of time, the smartest President, strike that, the smartest person who has ever lived, will never take an exam he would surely fail. So he will merely pass.