2016 Nov 8^th

This is election day. (As if any sentient person doesn’t know that.) So the networks big and absurd will start regaling us with the opinions of their very well paid commentators many hours before the polls close. Ah, but some polls have already closed. In New Hampshire, there are some tiny precincts with so few voters that the polls can be closed because everyone eligible has already voted. Clinton won the very first contest…with four votes to Trump’s two votes. Stay tuned.

For those sufficiently addicted, the analysis will begin at 2 PM on CNN a full five hours before any polls close (excepting the afore mentioned New Hampshire rurals). Most of the analytics have Clinton winning handily; Daily Kos, a rabidly left wing outfit, but one still priding itself on getting it right, also has the senate tied, but with a reasonable shot at a 51 vote majority. Without a majority (Remember, the VP votes in the case of ties.) in the senate, a Clinton victory would be worth a lot less. In fact, without at least a tie in the senate, a Clinton presidency would be paralyzed no matter how large an Electoral College majority she can accomplish.

It would be interesting to watch Fox News tonight. I looked at them recently and their “Surrounded” program placing two short-skirted women on either side of a male “guest” continued with faux outrage at the Clinton emails. (It is fascinating that “Surrounded” never has two young men sitting on either side of a female guest.)

I remember four years ago when Fox showed Carl Rove running down a hall outraged that Fox had called Ohio for Obama and insisting that they had made a mistake. How will they handle tonight’s disaster? We have a hint: last night a polling place in Las Vegas was kept open to allow those already in line to eventually vote. This is common practice everywhere voting occurs but apparently not in Trumpland, The Trumpsters want those ballots held is a separate pile so that their legality can be questioned. The “rigging” complaints have begun.

There is a rumor that Trump has selected his Attorney General and his Secretary of State. They are respectively, Rudy Giuliani and Newt Gingrich; nothing like a Secretary of State who has anger management issues. Oh well, first Trump has to get elected. I think we’re safe.

2016 Nov 7^th

Back to politics…and not a moment too soon! The signs and portents are that a blowout is coming.

First off, the stock market is up over 300 points at 2 PM as I write this.  It had been moribund and slowly sinking when it looked like Trump was closing the gap. The market does not like uncertainty and it despises Donald Trump.

Comey, the beleaguered FBI chief, has declared that the newly discovered cache of 650,000 emails has been reviewed and there is no there there. Trump accuses Comey of skullduggery because all of those 650,000 emails could not possibly have been reviewed this quickly. They can be, given certain algorithms to assist the process. Of course why this review wasn’t done before Comey made his initial announcement is known only to Comey…and possibly not even to him. It will take the vaunted FBI some time and much propaganda to recover from this goof.

Trump has recently agreed to allow one of his surrogates to monitor what he sends out on his Twitter account. Say what? The President was quick to point out that if his staff can’t trust him with Twitter why should we trust him with the nuclear codes. What a monumental screw-up for the Trump people. This was reported by the New York Times on Sunday so of course the Trump people are screaming “lies, all lies.” What else can they do? Trump’s tweets have suddenly become much tamer than they had been.

His staff must have assumed that this would become public and if it did it would be lovely ammunition for the Clinton camp…but they went with it anyway. What could Trump have twittered in the 48 hours before the election that could possibly have damaged him as much as having his staff treat him like a ten year old who writes naughty words on fences?

There is also a change in the betting odds offered by Paddy Power, the Brits betting parlour that offers odds on most anything including our presidential election. On November 1^st  Paddy Power’ odds on Clinton winning the election were 4/11, meaning that you risked 11 dollars to bet on a Clinton win and if you were right you’d be five dollars richer. That was then, now the odds have changed. Previously the odds were 36.3 percent chance of a Trump win, now a five dollar bet on Hillary Clinton will net you just one dollar if you’re right; in short the odds of a Trump win have declined from 36 per cent to just 20 percent.

2016 Nov 6^th

Today calls for another non-political entry. This is a little personal memoir from anther collection of essays, “A Double Dozen and Six,” I wrote some years back.

Embarrassment

Everyone has the occasional awkward moment.  Once you get old enough to forget your friends’ names the potential for social embarrassment increases considerably. Fortunately, as one ages concern about these events decreases. The maximum susceptibility to embarrassment probably peaks in males at about age sixteen.  At that time, many events can produce the red face, upper lip perspiration, sweaty hands, and stammer so abhorrent to the adolescent. It is a positive feedback loop: The more red faced and sweaty the young man becomes, the more embarrassed he gets and the more… you see the predicament.

 I, myself, was once sixteen, and a potentially embarrassing event happened to me. It was during World War 2, a thrilling time to be alive. Many of my slightly older friends were going off to war. The Navy was a very popular haven for those who preferred to be comparatively comfortable until they were killed.  Because of the Navy’s popularity with the local youth, a Sea Scout troop was formed for older boys and was very heavily subscribed. It was just like the Boy Scouts except it concentrated on seamanship instead of woodman-ship. Many of my friends were members.

I was a newcomer to the community. I lived in a hamlet five miles from the high school and took the school bus to and from school.  I was a Boy Scout and the junior assistant scoutmaster of the local troop.  Indeed, I was an Eagle Scout with many, many merit badges. These emblems are sewn onto a sash that is worn over the shoulder of one’s uniform. The Eagle award itself is a very attractive silver eagle dangling from a red, white and blue silk ribbon attached to a silver wreath and pinned above the left breast pocket of the uniform.  An Eagle Scout in full regalia is a dazzling sight.

In due course, the Sea Scout troop decided to have a dance and they were kind enough to invite me. This was the Christmas Dance and was to be a very posh affair indeed.  I accepted at once. Now a problem arose; how do I get there and how do I get home? There was a war on.  Fortunately, another Sea Scout offered to do the driving. His father was the publisher of the local paper and he had little trouble getting the “C” stamps needed for the rationed gasoline. The war not only killed members of the armed services; it greatly inconvenienced many of the civilians left at home.

Now I had to get a date. I was not dating anyone at the time and asking a stranger to this event was daunting.  A girl and boy seen together there would be considered a pair. This was a commitment. I was nervous. I decided to ask Betty. She sat just in front of me in biology class and was a year ahead of me in school. She was seventeen. We chatted quite a lot when we really should have been looking into our microscopes.  Neither of us particularly liked biology. All I could see in my microscope was my own eyelash, and I could not stand the odor of the formaldehyde pickling solution used to preserve the specimens. I decided early on that I would not go to medical school. I did become a doctor but as my sweet sister continually pointed out, “Not a ‘real’ doctor.” Younger sisters are God’s attempt to deflate male hubris.

  

I felt comfortable with Betty, she lived close to the high school, and she was pretty, but not the cheerleader type, so I stuck my neck out and asked her. She agreed to go.  Spectacular! It still amazes me how easily a female can make a male feel like “King of the World.” My wife still does that to me. Don’t tell her I said that!

Stewart, my friend with the car, came out to my house, picked me up, then we picked up his date and finally, Betty, then off to the dance we went. The dance floor was a wondrous sight; the boys all in their sparkling white Sea Scout uniforms and the girls in their best party dresses, and I in my Boy Scout uniform. Just before we left to take the girls home, Stewart told me that he would drop Betty and me off at her house first, and then take his date home. He said that he might be sometime getting back for me. No problem.

Naturally, Betty’s parents were waiting for us, as was her older sister. It was then shortly after midnight. (It was a different time you know.) About ten minutes later came a knock on the door; it cannot yet be my ride home. It wasn’t: Surprise, Surprise! It was Betty’s boyfriend home for two weeks Christmas leave from Great Lakes Naval Training station. He looked quite gallant in his Navy uniform and Betty could not have greeted him any more enthusiastically given that her parents were watching. I am in my Boy Scout suit with my colorful merit badge sash over my shoulder and would very much have preferred to be elsewhere, any elsewhere.

It was suggested that Betty’s sister and I go in the kitchen and scramble some eggs. It is an age-old solution to any embarrassing situation--- offer food. Eventually, my ride home “honks” from the street. I say my good-byes, shaking hands with Betty and the boyfriend I didn’t know she had. I got in Stewart’s car to tell him my hilarious tale. We were both laughing when I finished. It is almost impossible to feel truly embarrassed when you don’t believe the event is your fault. I was just a victim of circumstance. I was, I really was.

2016 Nov 5^th

As promised, no politics today. Today is a piece about ice fishing. (How’s that for a segue?) This is from “And Yet Again,” a collection of short essays I did five years ago. It is available on Amazon and in your local bookstore: enjoy!

Ice Fishing

Winter in northern Michigan lasts and lasts. Fortunately, there are many delightful outdoor activities. One of these with appeal for some hardy folks is ice fishing. No, you aren’t fishing for ice, you are fishing on ice. Make sure the ice is at least three or four inches thick so you stay on top of the ice. Staying on top of the ice is very important; finding yourself under the ice can ruin your day and that of your relatives as well, particularly if you are under-insured.

This winter sport is so popular that Houghton Lake, a huge inland lake in northern Lower Michigan has an ice fishing festival called “Tip-up Town.” (A tip-up is a small ice fishing rig I’ll write about later.) Many, many people come to Tip-up Town. The lake is dotted with fishermen and women, all with their plastic buckets and canvas wind screens. This festival has moved well beyond ice fishing: There are hayrides, snowmobile races, dog sled races, and a polar bear swim. The most popular “event” is the beer tent; it is well known that winter dehydrates people and makes them thirsty.

A spectator sport not mentioned in the festival’s brochure is watching the occasional car or truck drop through the ice. Drivers, apparently thinking that there is safety in numbers, tend to drive their vehicles toward other vehicles already on the ice. This can be unwise. Sometimes one hears a series of cracking sounds. The ice buckles and slowly the front end of the truck sinks into the lake. Most drivers are aware of this possibility and take appropriate precautions. They don’t keep their trucks off the ice; they drive with the truck door open so if the worst happens they can jump out immediately. If the rear of the truck is above the ice, a tow truck can extricate the vehicle. If the vehicle has sunk to the lake bottom the owner must wait for spring to retrieve it and will face considerable expense. Spring sales of used trucks draw very skeptical buyers in this part of Michigan. The beer tent plays an important role here, but whether as cause or effect is unclear.

Let’s assume you are a beginner and will be fishing a local lake. Begin by acquiring a white, five-gallon plastic bucket. All ice fishermen have one of these. You keep your gear in it and you sit on it during the interminable periods when you are not doing anything but waiting interminably. You also need an ice spud, or an ice augur. The ice spud is a heavy iron bar about five feet long with a sharpened chisel on one end. You will use this to chip a hole in the ice. If you have a gasoline powered ice augur this chore will be much easier, but this sucker is heavy and you had best get a sled to pull it and the rest of your stuff to the best spots on the ice. You can tell the best spots by noting where the other ice fishermen are. Locate yourself about in the middle of the group and spud your first hole. Pay no attention to the hostility coming from the other fishermen. They may have run out of schnapps.

Once your hole has been spudded, put your tip-up in place. A tip-up is a wooden crosspiece that rests on the ice above the hole. A third wooden arm, vertical to this cross piece and containing a spool of line goes into the water.  A wire leader at the line terminates in a hook impaling a small helpless minnow. The vertical stem has a long metal spring with a red flag atop it. This is bent and attached to the reel so that if anything grabs that minnow and swims away with it the spring will be released and the flag will pop up; thus the tip-up. All you have to do is run over to the tip-up, and pull in the line and the likely undersized pike attached thereto. Make sure you have pliers to remove the hook from the pike lest its teeth remove skin from your fingers. Once the pike has been returned to the water, you reach into your minnow pail, retrieve another minnow and try your luck again. Your hands are now numb with cold so you unzip your jacket and slide your hands up under your armpits to warm them up thus transferring some of the fish slime from your hands to your shirt. Not to worry, your wife will probably move laundry day up a bit.

After sitting on your white pail for about an hour with no action you decide to move a short distance away and spud another hole. The law allows you to have several lines in the water at one time. You decide to jig for perch. Other fishermen have been pulling in perch. Fishing for perch is done differently. You have a small two-foot-long rod with very light monofilament line attached to a spinning reel. At the end of the line you have a tiny weighted pearl colored lure. You drop this in the water and let it go down about twenty feet. Now you bounce the rod tip up and down, just enough to keep the lure moving. If a perch takes the lure it will be barely noticeable and you must set the hook immediately. This is unlike the tip-up where the pike must be allowed to run with the bait before you set the hook.

Time passes, the sun is very low, almost on the horizon it is nearly four in the afternoon and the temperature is falling. You have taken off your gloves because it is hard to feel a perch taking the bait through gloved fingers. It is also hard with fingers numb from cold. Time for schnapps; several healthy gulps trigger a massive acid reflux attack partially offset by the application of mint anti-acid. The schnapps does its work. You notice a nice warming of the hands as the blood flow to your extremities increases. You don’t notice the slight decline in your core temperature. Other fishermen are packing up and leaving. You check your tip-up and discover that the hole you spudded a few hours ago has frozen. You scoop the ice away with a device designed for that purpose.

Now back to the perch hole; you have a nibble, you strike and begin reeling in a nice perch. Suddenly the line tightens and begins to fly off your reel. Wow! Must be some perch. It isn’t a perch; a perch may have grabbed your lure but then a pike must have grabbed the perch. There isn’t much chance that you’ll land the critter. It grows in your imagination to at least ten pounds. When you are about out of line the pulling stops and you reel and reel and finally up through the hole comes your lure attached to the front half of a perch. It would have been a dandy catch. Once cleaned it might have gone all of an ounce and a half. You pack up and head back to your car. No one is left on the lake. Perhaps next time you’ll get a nice mess of perch, or a couple of legal pike.

 Once you get home your wife asks you how you did. “You certainly smell as if you’ve caught something.” she said. I know she doesn’t like fish so I replied, “Yes, I did. I got several pike but I know you don’t like their odor so I gave them away.” She smiled seductively and went to prepare my martini. I felt no shame.

2016 Nov 3^rd

Five more days of this idiocy and then we will be subjected to an idiocy of a different kind: Will the Republican controlled House of Representatives start impeachment proceedings before Clinton takes office or will they wait until January 21, the day after she is inaugurated. Maybe the FBI will arrest her the instant she completes the oath of office. There are just no end of entertaining possibilities awaiting us. Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

Speaking of the FBI, these crimefighters claim to have discovered 650 thousand emails on a computer shared by Huma Abadin, a Clinton assistant, and her estranged husband, Anthony Weiner. Let’s do a little elementary school arithmetic. Abedin was married to Weiner from 2010 to 2016; then they separated. Maybe they were sharing things before they were married, so let’s give them seven years of computer sharing. That means 92,857 emails a year over that seven year period. We’ll call it 90 thousand a year for easy figuring. Let’s assume a work week of 50 hours a week and 50 weeks a year. If we divide 90 thousand by 2500 hours we get 36 emails an hour. That’s about an email every one hundred seconds. That’s also ridiculous! It’s certainly possible to write an email in 100 seconds, but writing one every 100 seconds fifty hours a week, every week for seven years is silly. Why don’t the crimefighters at the FBI give some thought to how those emails got on this computer in the first place.

Trump has gained ground in the polls and in the well-regarded 538, a blog that factors in all of the available information to come up with a prediction about the election’s outcome. If we look at the prediction for November 1 by Nate Silver, the 538 guru, we find Clinton and Trump almost exactly where they were a month earlier. Within the month of October, Clinton had pulled well ahead of Trump, only to fall back to where she was on October 1 by the first of November.

The Brit’s betting site Paddy Power has nearly identical predictions. On October 2 PP has Clinton at 4/11, meaning that you must risk eleven dollars to make four dollars if Clinton wins. On October 15^th Clinton was at 1/6, much more likely to win. Then On November 1^st Clinton is back to 4/11,  exactly where she was a month earlier. 

2016 Nov 2nd

What follows might sound like a bad script for an afternoon soap opera, but it is not fiction; it has all really happened.

Here is the update on Jim and Ann, but first some more background:  Ann, Jim’s wife, is a Chinese immigrant and a naturalized citizen. Her English is flawless although some illogical idioms can stump her. As I said, she and Jim are both graduates of a regional public Colorado college.  Ann is handicapped by intractable knee pain occasioned by multiple arthroscopic knee surgeries, each by surgeons claiming that his technique would cure her; none did. Ann receives a stipend of about $700/mo. for her disability. Jim lost his sales job some years back due to advancing technology. One thing led to another and that led to bankruptcy and the loss of their house. Jim was able to find very temporary odd jobs and got some income from selling his plasma twice a week. That’s how they came to be in a cheap apartment the evening a year ago when Jim had his stroke.

The important update is that they are still alive. In this past year, Ann had a mastectomy after a breast cancer diagnosis. Then she had gall bladder surgery. She was able to share a condo a couple of bus rides from the Boulder, Colorado, facility where Jim had been placed. Within the last week she has moved into a splendid new building available for the aged and the handicapped. She has is a one-bedroom apartment and is bringing their furniture out of storage to furnish it, She hopes that Jim will recover enough to join her soon. The residents here are charged on third of their income for rent. Ann pays less than 200 dollars a month. This is the government’s HUD Section 8 housing program for poor people doing its job. Republicans claim that if elected they would abolish HUD “on day one.”

Jim is recovering slowly. The skull piece that had to be removed to relieve brain swelling was replaced but had to be removed again because of infection. A plastic device was obtained that was supposed to fit perfectly but it caused bleeding and it had to be removed, now another plastic device has been obtained and it seems to be working.  Jim had been doing fairly well recovering some speech and walking with help. His right leg and arm are virtually useless. He has also lost a lot of weight. Then he had some seizures and his progress regressed a bit.

Ann spends time with him every day she is able. He gets speech, occupational and physical therapy several times a week. No one has given up on him, certainly not Ann who follows up on the speech therapists’ routines pushing Jim all she can.

Strokes can cause some personality changes. The brain has an inhibitory function; this is demonstrated in the uninhibited behavior of a drunk. When the drunk becomes sober the disinhibition goes away. The stroke victim has a similar problem but the disinhibition is much slower to resolve. This can be a problem for a caretaker who doesn’t understand what is going on. Jim is lucky to have a devoted caretaker like Ann.

Jim and Ann have no money, so all of this very expensive medical care is paid for by the government. There has not been the least hint that Jim’s care or Ann’s surgeries were skimped on because they weren’t paying customers. If this kind of care is to continue for the less fortunate it will depend on the outcome of this election. There is little doubt about which party would like to abolish it.

2016 Nov 1^st

Here is the update on Jim and Ann, but first some more background:  Ann, Jim’s wife, is a Chinese immigrant and a naturalized citizen. Her English is flawless although some illogical idioms can stump her. As I said, she and Jim are both graduates of a regional Colorado college.

*** This update must wait until tomorrow…sorry about that!