5 Months Old

So, I am 5 months old today. Hey, can anybody hear me. What am I, yesterday's news? When I was a baby everyone made such a big fuss over each month's passing. Now, it is like, oh really. Just a big yawn. Well this does not make me happy. Not in the least.

I know you care but step up your game a little. I want to feel that first day love every day.

Just recently, grandpa let me cry a full three seconds before rushing in my room to pick me up. What, I thought, does a woman have to do to get some attention around here.

And yes, I understand that I must now become involved in group activities, like music class, but did I really have to learn at such a tender age that there are other children who seem equally important to their parents as I do to mine?

And play dates? Am I supposed to pick out a best friend already? I am not even quite sure of the difference between head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, so choosing who I really want to spend my time with is a daunting task.

This whole undertaking is more complicated than I originally thought. It turns out there is a lot more to each day than just eating, sleeping and pooping.

Just an aside, but is this a particularly strange winter? First it is so cold, then it is warm and rainy. Sometimes I am just cooped up inside all day. Personally, until I am old enough to ski, I think this will have to be considered my least favorite season.

Anyway, I don't want to sound ungrateful. I am learning what love is and it is a pretty awesome feeling. Those smiles I give to mom and dad are real, and the laughs that come from deep inside me do mean I am very, very happy.

I am just putting everyone on notice. I have a big birthday coming up next month. A half year old. I am already hoping for a surprise party. I think I will really like chocolate. Maybe I can taste it for the first time then. And can I see the guest list? I like that little girl downstairs.

One Year After Parkland

("Would Congress Care More If Parkland Had Been a Plane Crash")

Welcome to the brutal reality of this our universe, where money and power corrupt our morality. For these children who witnessed the sights and screams of death, who were irreparably altered and who believed the depth of their pain and the urgency of their pleas would pierce even the coldest heart, this year must have been terribly hard and, in our responses from Washington, tremendously disappointing.

For those of us who have long watched in dismay as one mind numbing tragedy after another was met with immediate horror and soon thereafter with indifference, even contempt, by those at the Federal level who had the capacity but not the will to find a remedy, we have long since abandoned our expectations.

There may come a day when we meet this danger head on when, like the opioid crisis, it touches too close to home for too many of those in power to continue to ignore, or a time when the long reach of the NRA no longer extends deep into the pockets of so many politicians, or a moment when those who would turn a blind eye to the blood and tears are no longer the ones in control of our destiny.

And I hope when that happens that these children will not have lost their faith, but will have persevered in their quest. That they will be the ones leading the charge. That they will be able to rest a little easier knowing that their children and their nation is safer because of them.

But that day, at least in the nation's capital, seems very distant one year after the Parkland shootings.

Selling the Brooklyn Bridge

("Republicans Got Us Into This Mess, and They Have to Get Us Out of It")

This concept is all well and good until you realize Mr. Trump has, for the main part, merely carried out the Republican agenda: feed the rich, leave crumbs for everyone else, deregulate, give all your love to white men and dole out your enmity to the rest of the masses.

Yes, his trade tariffs have not necessarily endeared him to the powers in his own party and he has trouble deciding if he is hawk or dove (although he exhibits no hesitation in expanding the defense budget for development of new toys), but his is very far removed from a tear down our own house presidency.

Certainly he is extremely dangerous and as unprepared for this office as a nudist is for standing outside in a blizzard. Clearly he is personally repugnant, exhibiting none of the trappings that someone in his office should have.

But if you believe this group of Republican leaders will bite the small hands of Mr. Trump, well I have a nice bridge in Brooklyn I think you might be interested in acquiring.

Mr. Trump will not be gone unless and until the walls ( including that one) cave in on him, courtesy of Mr. Mueller or a Democratic led investigation. The Republicans will not cannibalize their own leader for, deep in their hearts, in places you don't want to know about sonny, they understand he is largely a reflection of their own beliefs.

The Phone Call

So, the wait time to speak with you is estimated to be 47 minutes? And the hold music will be like fingers scratching on a chalkboard? And there is a 97 per cent chance if I do stay on the line that entire time that I will then either be disconnected or I will be put on hold for 6 more minutes while you check with your supervisor and then you will apologize when you return and inform me that I am calling the wrong department and you will give me the correct number to call and you will apologize for not being able to transfer me to that department and then you will tell me I should not speak in that tone of voice because you were only trying to assist me and then I will feel guilty for yelling at you, a person who I don't know who was just trying to do your job and is probably not very happy in this particular position and has already been yelled at far too many times today and is not making enough money to be subjected to the abuse that I and others similarly situated give you each and every day and then you will ask politely if there is anything else you can do for me today and then I will say no and then you will thank me for calling and wish me a good day and then I will realize that this was an hour of my life I can never retrieve and I will hang up the phone and wonder why I subjected myself to this?

And if I decide not to make this call I will be mad at myself all day knowing that I should not have to pay the balance of that bill because it was not processed correctly and I know that the company is counting on me not spending the time and effort to fight over such a small amount and I know this is why they make so much money and I know this is wrong and this will never change if I don't pick up the phone and spend an hour getting nowhere and then make that call to the second number and maybe the third and fourth until finally I get someone who says that he or she will authorize the payment of this bill and then he or she will apologize for my inconvenience and wish me a good day and I will say thank you and hang up.

So you can appreciate my dilemma, can't you? Thank you for taking my call  today. Do you have any other questions?

ReplyForward

A Response to the State of the Union

Did President Trump attempt to obstruct justice in his state of the Union address?

Was his "no peace and legislation if there is war and investigation" a not so veiled threat for Democrats in Congress not to try to rough him up if they want him to compromise on say his obsession with the Wall, on meaningful immigration reform, on gun control, on giving more than empty promises to taking on the massive infrastructure debacle, on health care protections for the many millions still uninsured, on actually aggressively addressing our rampant opioid crisis, on acknowledging that climate change is not a fiction and seeking to at least slow its progress, on not treating allies as enemies and enemies as allies, on providing relief to those struggling with a mountain of educational debt, on dealing with real voter protection issues instead of fictitious voter fraud, on making those best able to afford to share in the burdens as well as reap the benefits of this nation do more to meet their obligations, on allowing people to organize and unions to be brought back from near demise, on recognizing the crying need for sensible financial regulations, on mandating a living wage for each and every worker, on protecting Social Security and Medicare benefits and pushing to expand Medicaid to those states who have refused to allow many of those in most dire straits the aid that this program can provide? On doing what sanity, morality and reason dictate?

I noted but the most cursory or perfunctory of discussion on any of these topics in the 5100 words of the President.. Rather I heard him direct a warning to lay off him or he will treat the needs of those under his care with the same disdain and contempt has he has these past two years.

We know how this plays out in the tomorrows to come. The investigations will move forward, Mr. Trump will refuse to do anything but snipe and tweet on any matter of import and lay blame at the feet of the Democrats for obstructing the justice this nation deserves.

Only, as usual, he will have everything bass ackwards.

Black and White

("Blackface is the Tip of the Iceberg")

Let us not wonder the future of the Governor of Virginia for, unlike one of the nine Justices of the Supreme Court, his yearbook page has made him a dead man walking. Maybe if he had just admitted that he liked to drink beer he too could have survived the scrutiny.

Yes, some Democrats are racists. But unlike those on the other side of the aisle who circle the wagons around every Congressman King in their midst, the Dems have been unified in their condemnation and call for the resignation of the man who couldn't quite remember if that was a picture of him in blackface or if he was just mixing this up with the Michael Jackson dance contest he won.

Tonight we will be subjected to a state of disunion speech by the man who made lying great again as he demonstrates to the country he is getting better reading off a teleprompter. If only the Governor had the President's skill in misdirection, maybe he could have turned his debacle into a discussion about why we don't need to build the Wall in Virginia.

Man is an imperfect being as we are reminded each and every day in a land beset with perfidy. Racism our constant companion, even if no longer in blackface, still hiding in plain sight.The Governor the latest, but certainly far from the last, to show that those in whom we place our trust and faith are often far from deserving.

But the distinction between how the two parties address the matter when it rears its ugly head is as different as black and white.

The Sheer Cruelty of the New York Times

("How I Learned to Love the Patriots (Again)")

Is there anything more discomfiting than having to endure a semi self examination turned gloatathon from a conservative columnist rekindling his love for the New England Patriots on the page of the New York Times. It is the sheer definition of the very wrong person at the extremely wrong place at the absolute wrong time.

Mr. Douthat, who heretofore I had little love for, is now to be the recipient of almost Trumpian disdain from me. To revel in the Patriots, with an extra dollop of Red Sox for good measure is beyond cruel.

My Giants are giants no more and my much beloved Yankees have become  almost annual fodder beneath the red socks of my most hated tormentor.

Pitchers and catchers report in but a few days and I can only hope to then begin the arduous process of flushing the bad taste of Mr. Douthat's words from my mind. 

But until I can stand directly on the chest of a New England sport fan, holding aloft proof of World Series #28 for my Yankees or Super Bowl #5 for the Giants I will not rest easy.

Thanks to you Mr. Douthat and to the New York Times for starting my day off on a horribly wrong foot. 

My Worst Nightmare

In today's NY Times there is a long letter to the editor asking the paper to publish more letters from women. There is then a joint response from the editors of the letters department, Tom Feyer and Sue Mermelstein, agreeing that this is a worthy idea. They make a plea for more women to raise their voices (their pens).

Below is my note directed to Tom and Sue, setting forth my (tongue in cheek) horror at this concept, 

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

("A Woman's Plea: Let's Raise Our Voices")

Wonderful to see both your names in print, but it was like your pen was a dagger to my heart. Equal voice for women, if my math is right, means less voice for men, and in particular, one man.

Now not only do I have to deal with the cruelty of my 60 day detention every time I am in print (and if we are to be truly democratic then shouldn't each letter, each day be judged on its own merit and not subjected to preordained demise based on an arbitrary prohibition), but I must now face the reality that more women, many with far more talent than I, will likely leap over me in the hierarchy of your affection.

Woe is me. Here is a man's plea. Do not forget me, your loyal and trusted friend for a decade now. Maybe you could just cut H.L. back a little and leave me unscathed. Yeah, that could definitely work. (to protect the guilty for purposes of this post, I have only set forth the initials of my mortal enemy, the man who is the most prolific writer of published letters to the Times)

Sincerely (and I mean it)

RSN

Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

("No People. No process. No policy.")

This is the fear that haunts us every day. That some enormous stress test will arrive at the President's doorstep and he will be wholly incapable of meeting its demands.

Mr. Trump has been playing President, at least in his own uniquely warped vision of what this entails, for these past two years. But he has not been called upon to act as President, demonstrating the capacity to address a crisis, not of his own making, with dexterity of mind and certainty of purpose.

There are so many arenas where calamity can arise. I shudder to conceive how Mr. Trump would have addressed the Ebola outbreak. I dare say he would have shut our doors, refused to provide our aid and expertise and watched as the death toll exploded and moved far beyond its borders, into our own homes.

Why can we not allow Mr. Trump a second term? Beyond anything else is that the odds increase every day that our luck will run out, that our nation will be faced with a serious problem that requires so much more than that of which Mr. Trump is capable, and that the results will prove cataclysmic.

It is not death by a thousand cuts that is the real jeopardy of this presidency. It is the tsunami that we will have no answer for that should keep all of us awake at night. Staring into the darkness, contemplating our own glaring weakness. And waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The Rejection

Dear Shouts TNY:


Yesterday I received three notes from you, all identical:

"Dear Robert,

We're sorry to say that your piece wasn't right for us. Thank you for allowing us to consider your work.

Best regards

The Shouts Department

The New Yorker" 

Well now I feel better, knowing that you took the time and energy to personally sit down and soothe my wounded psyche.

Couldn't you at least have created a series of different clever responses? After all, you are The New Yorker, this is the Shouts and Murmurs column, allegedly home to some of the finest wit in the nation. Start with a joke, or maybe even a riddle. Or, at a bare minimum you could have placed a smiling emoji at the end of each reply.

And what is this, sending out all these rejections at once? Are you trying to send me a subliminal message? Am I supposed to get the hint buried somewhere deep in this trifecta? I submitted the three pieces over a number of months. What do you do, alphabetical rejections? That is just cruel.

Am I really supposed to believe you are grateful for having been given the opportunity to read my words? If so, you have a funny way of making a person feel appreciated.

The polite response would have been to pick up a phone and call. I left you my number. Ask me what's new, how the family is, do I have any vacations planned. Let me know how much you care about me and that you are terribly saddened that I was not chosen.  That you lost sleep wrestling with this decision. Ask if I am free for dinner next week.

Tell me it came down to whether to accept my work or that of a Nobel Prize winner whose mother called you to beg on behalf of her only son. Lie to me.

I remember, a half century ago, getting multiple college rejection letters on the same day. This was worse.

Did you ever consider giving out trophies for everyone who takes the time and effort to submit to your publication? Something to assure us that we are all winners, that you didn't turn us down, you just ran out of room.

I am shocked that you are still in business given the way you treat those most loyal to you. With friends like you, who needs enemies? 

What would it take for you to print my words? A thousand dollars? A million? A horse's head in your bed? I know a guy.

You know, many others consider me a great talent. I could send you letters of recommendation from some very well regarded people. Very well regarded. Would that help? 

If you really want to show your appreciation, scribble little comments on any piece you turn back. Write things like "this sentence is hilarious" or "I laughed so hard I could barely breathe."

Even better, send me your thoughts in French. It will be an acknowledgement by you of the level of my sophistication.

I am going to end this letter now. My psychiatrist's office just called to remind me my appointment was supposed to start ten minutes ago.

I am sorry if I sound aggrieved. I really think you are the best. And that horse's head you may be receiving is just a joke. 

Very truly yours,

Your best friend Robert (but you can call me Rob)