This Was the Week That Was

The wild week that ended on 7/1/23 

Image by Mark Thomas from Pixabay

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted.  

Trigger Warning: This column rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in debilitating psychological trauma.  

About 

Glossary 

Featuring Dana: Hallucination, guest star, and charming literary device  

"Whenever you put a man on the Supreme Court he ceases to be your friend."  -Harry Truman                                                                                                                                                  

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

With apologies to the various versions of the TV show from which I stole the title of this column, permit me to say: That was some kinda week, eh? The Supremes, still under fire for pointing out that the Constitution actually has nothing to say about abortion — thus forcing the sorta/kinda united states to decide for themselves — were at it again. 

Now they've ruled against colleges and universities using affirmative action when deciding which credential-seeking students to let into top-rated, wildly overpriced colleges and universities top-heavy with administrators, amenities, and bias response teams.

And if that's not bad enough, they also ruled that Uncle Joe, the head of the party of the little guy, didn't have the power to bypass Congress and permit us all to share in the joy of providing student loan relief for students who majored in Critical Pottery theory and the like, and all those bartenders and baristas with Master of Fine Arts degrees.     

{Speaking of abortion, I've got an idea! What if Congress were to pass a law regulating abortion, a compromise (say 15 weeks?) that will satisfy neither side but allow those of us caught in the middle, and the entire nation for that matter, to move on?}  

Actually, that was my idea but since we're... never mind. But there are all sorts of rabid people on both sides that will...

{Yes, there are, and yes, they will. Let 'em march and protest and boycott and decry and submit legislation till their bums fall off. After all, this is a democratic republic. If you want me, I'll be in the bar. There's a really cute new bartender working there.} 

The Supremes also ruled that anyone who self-identifies as LGBTQQIP2SA+ can't force someone who doesn't identify with any of those letters, a number, and a plus sign to provide various and sundry services. 

{You love getting a chance to use the phrase various and sundry, don't you? I think ya got too many letters there, Sparky.}

Well, let's see. lesbian, gay, bisexual, transexual, queer, questioning, intersexual, pansexual, two-spirit, asexual, plus a marginalized minority to be named later. Nope, I'm good. I thought you went to the bar?

{Not open yet. What about furries?, why isn't there an F? Are you a furry phobe?}

Not me, some of my best friends are furries. 

I've emailed a friend of mine, my go-to person for this sort of thing, who works at the headquarters of the IUPPPP&PVTTOT about that very thing but I haven't received a reply. I'm guessing they're covered by the +, as are all sorts of folx we're likely to eventually hear about. 

{IUPP... etc?} 

I've mentioned them once or twice, but it's been a minute. International Union of Perpetually Protesting Protestors and Perpetual Victims of This, That, and the Other Thing. It's a nonprofit that likes to keep a low profile and concentrate on raising money and providing services for all of its many nonprofit member organizations, making sure all the paperwork and permits are up to date and all potentially applicable taxes are legally avoided.     

However, unlike the endless wailing, teeth gnashing, and garment rending that's occurred, and continues, over the repeal of Roe v. Wade things have settled down relatively quickly. 

I'm sure there are any number of plausible reasons I could promulgate as to why but my official, Crank-sanctioned reason is that summer is upon us. It's being widely reported that Normies are taking vacations in record numbers. I think they're putting the perpetual crises promoted by the purple press and social media on hold as best they can, and stocking up on sunscreen.

Multiple polls have been conducted (of course)... 

{By various and sundry polling organizations?}

But I double-dog dare you to read any article that reports on the results of more than one particular poll and claim that you feel confident about the mood of the American people. I'm starting to think all the news is fake.     

As best I can tell we seem to be about evenly split on student loans and forcing businesses to accept work from folx whose lifestyles they don't condone. It looks like a clear majority of us think it's time to end applying affirmative action when deciding on who's worthy of attending the sort of schools mentioned above. 

But given that some of our elite educational institutions have recently declared that there's more than one way to skin a Supreme Court ruling if you're clever/devious enough, this controversy, like the one around abortion, will never go away. 

The Supremes made another ruling that for some mysterious reason didn't get much publicity. Evangelical Christian Gerald Groff quit working for the USPS back in 2019 because the Fedrl Gummit refused to give him Sundays off to observe the sabbath because they wanted him to deliver packages — for Amazon. 

   

He's been battling the Post Office in various and sundry courts ever since to get them to change the rules in what turns out to be a very complicated case. Unfortunately for Mr. Groff, all he "won" was his case being kicked back down the road to a lower court. Follow the link for details. 

The USPS has vowed to keep on fighting this right-wing kook till balance is restored in the Force with the help of your money. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share my work/access oldies. Tip me, or Join Cranky's Coffee Club (and access my condensed History of the World), here.    

Comments? I post links to my columns on Facebook and Twitter so you love me, hate me, or try to have me canceled on either site. Cranky don't tweet.   

 

        

The Never Ending Abortion Debate

Howsabout a compromise?

Image by Augusto Ordóñez from Pixabay 

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted. Best perused on a screen large enough for even your parents to see and navigate easily.   

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating meltdown.  

About

Glossary 

Featuring Dana: Hallucination, guest star, and charming literary device

"Wait a minute! Perhaps we should hold off on deciding this [issue] until cheap birth control is available at every convenience store and science develops a morning-after pill that’s available over the counter." -me

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

This is the third time I've written a column about abortion, "but I'll repeat myself at the risk of being crude..." -Paul Simon, from the song 50 Ways to Love Your Lever.

{Wait-wait-wait. It's leave your lover not love your lever, and there's no such word as howsabout.}

Po-tay-toe, po-tah-toe. 

{And I only recall one column.}

Well, the first was written in 2015, and you hadn't been born yet, Dana. It was the first time I suggested that perhaps a civilized compromise was the best way to resolve a controversy that's been raging since 1973 when the Supremes, invoking pretzel logic, declared that the Constitution guaranteed a woman's birthing person's right to have an abortion. 

{Well, it's obvious where you stand on the matter.} 

Yes, obviously the Constitution doesn't guarantee the right for birthing persons to have an abortion any more than it guarantees the right for gay Homo sapiens to get married. 

{I meant that you're obviously pro-life.}

I mean that I'm pro-Constitution. 

The founding pasty patriarchs codified the fundamental Rules&Regs — including a bill of rights — that apply to all the kids on the playground and that can't be altered without going to a great deal of trouble. 

They were aware of the power of the K.I.S.S principle (keep it simple stupid) more than 150 years before the late, great engineer Kelly Johnson named it and applied it masterfully in the middle of the last century before America started losing its mojo. 

The unspecified details were left up to the individual states, where the people actually lived, for the sake of what nowadays might be called that liberty thing. But I drift.

{Goes without saying. Hey, what do have against gay people?}

Nothing, and I don't care if gay H. sapiens get married. In fact, if I were king, I'd authorize generous (means-tested) tax deductions for every child gay couples were willing to adopt that had been created by illegitimate parents and/or were innocent victims of circumstance. 

{And?}

And what?

{This is where you would normally mention that you had a gay roommate back in the late 70s long before having gay friends was officially cool, a fact which you never seem to tire of mentioning.} 

I don't know what you're talking about.

I'd also proclaim that unrestricted abortion be available for the first trimester, with exceptions for rape, incest, and health problems beyond that. It just so happens that a majority of my future royal subjects feel the same way, and I'm a very responsive and benevolent monarch. 

{But meanwhile, back in the real world...} 

Let the people decide, state by state. 

{But the pollsters say most people don't want Roe v. Wade overturned.}

Well, then the people's representatives to the Swamp are going to have to pass a law. But given that Congress these days tends to be more performative than productive, don't hold your breath. Twice a year, year after year, they threaten to decide whether to make daylight savings time permanent or get rid of it and save us all a lot of unnecessary trouble and aggravation.  

So far, no good. And speaking of threatening...   

{I knew it! You're an alt-right extremist!}

Nah, just a center-right, slightly cranky (more or less) Normie endlessly striving to keep my epigenetic mordancy under control so as to retain some semblance of the cardinal virtues — as passed on to me by the late, great Sister Mary McGillicuddy  — in the midst of a culture currently in decline.

{Doesn't Pfizer make a pill for that?}

Now, where was I? Oh yeah, speaking of threatening, Uncle Joe has recently announced his support for pro-choice members of the IUPPPP&PPVTTOT (International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protestors & Perpetual Victims of This, That, and the Other Thing) taking it to the streets. 

The streets where the judges and families of the Supreme Court of the United States of America live — as long as the protests are peaceful.

However, according to federal law...

"Whoever...with the intent of influencing any judge...pickets or parades...in or near...a residence occupied or used by such judge...shall be fined under this title or imprisoned not more than one year, or both."

It would appear that Uncle Joe has encouraged people to break the law.

{That sounds eerily familiar... Maybe Congress should launch an open-ended investigation.}

I just hope that the protesters are more peaceful than the mostly peaceful protesters of 2020.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share this column/access oldies. If you enjoy my work, and no advertising, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal/credit-debit card.    

Feel free to comment and set me straight on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my latest columns on Saturdays, other things other days. Cranky don't tweet.  

 

The Supremes Poor Performance

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids (who exist), and my great-grandkids (who don't) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

                  
Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering

                                       -Image by 272447 from Pixabay-
                                                  
                                                   Glossary  

                                                    About

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"I never want to be in the business of predicting what the U.S.Supreme Court will do." -Neal Katyal 

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies (& Gentlereaders),

Please Note: I wrote the original version of this column prior to the tragic death of George Floyd. It fell behind the shelf I stack my columns on and I just found it while doing some late Spring cleaning.

While "columns shelf" is just a charming metaphor, I did write it over a month ago and promptly forgot about it. I've decided to tweak it and publish it now because it's about something conservatives, liberals, and progressives should be able to agree on.   

Having come across the word cert in the course of my relentless pursuit of current events and having only a vague notion as to its meaning, I went a-googlin'. Cert is an abbreviation for the word certiorari, a Latin legal term that means to be made certain in English.  

[What are you...]

One of the reasons I'm a current events junkie is because Sister Mary McGillicuddy taught me that paying attention to what's going on in a complicated world enables you to function optimally.

[Cool, however...] 

WARNING! Fading Boomer Cultural Reference Ahead

For example, I accidentally discovered that Certs:

"It's a breath mint!" 

"No, dumb bum, It's a candy mint!" 

[The second quote is wildly inaccurate, you added...]

I discovered that Certs, a 62-year-old product was quietly deleted last year, most likely (I was unable to confirm) because they contained partially hydrogenated cottonseed oil, a health hazard, which is now banned by the FDA.

The bad news is that Crisco, from 1911 to 2004, was made primarily of partially hydrogenated cottonseed oil. Therefore, if your childhood, like mine, included no shortage of Crisco, well, good luck buddy.

[For the love of God! What has any of this to do with the Supremes?]  

Well, nothing really, Dana. In fact, the title of this missive is clever clickbait (or at least one hopes). This column is about the other Supremes, as in Supreme Court judges.

The point of the preceding was to illustrate that Sister Mary was doubly correct. Not only does paying attention enable you to function optimally it can lead to additional and useful information.  

[Certs and Crisco ain't...]

Facts about Certs and Crisco are useful and interesting to me (and anyone wondering if their arteries are lined with Crisco). The fact that the Supreme Court recently passed on a chance to reconsider a previous decision that promotes injustice is useful and interesting to everyone. 

[More clickbait?]

Sadly, no.   

Now, while the Purple Press and the Orange One were busy proving that so-called real life is high school with money — in the midst of a global pandemic — your friendly neighborhood crank was busy trying to get occasional peaks behind the curtain. 

While you were (hopefully) social distancing America's sweetheart, and possibly the anti-Christ, Alyssia Milano was showing off her crocheted face mask which triggered a frothing flock of twitterers. She then revealed it cleverly concealed a charcoal filter, which triggered a secondary Twitter triggering... 

The Supreme Court of the United States of America turned down the legal equivalent of a whole roll of certs asking them to reconsider what something called Sovereign Immunity is doing to the republic.

Long story short (I'm in the middle of a Charmed binge): 

The certs that I'm referring to are the certs pilled up in the Supreme Court asking that they reconsider a 1984 ruling that gives "qualified immunity" to gummit officials. You can't sue cops, for example, in civil courts for taking a shyte on your life unless they violate "clearly established law." 

[You're making up words again, and, it sounds like the Supremes got this one right so why...]

Actually, its an alt-spelled version of a real Irish word that's the Irish version of a crude English word. In my semi-humble opinion, it almost renders it poetical.  

The problem is with a legal phrase, clearly established law. Lower courts, I know not why, have interpreted this to mean that unless there's a specific law against, say a couple of cops turning a police dog loose on a suspect kneeling on the ground with his/her/their hands up you can't sue him/her/them.

[That would never happen.]

It happened. The cops were granted qualified immunity because there's no specific law against what they did. This and 12 other cert petitions asked the Supremes to take up the problem. They said no.

[Why?]

They don't have to say why they accept some cases and refuse others.   

[Somebody needs...]

Congress could fix it, today, with legislation. 

[Nevermind.]

Update, 6/14/20: From CBS News: "Senator Tim Scott, a Republican from South Carolina, said Sunday that limiting qualified immunity for police officers in future legislation that aims to address officer misconduct would be a 'poison pill' for GOP lawmakers and effectively sink the measure."

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Please scroll down to react, comment, or share. If my work pleases you I wouldn't be offended if you offered to buy me some cheap coffee.  

                                                   *     *     *

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. 

Cranky don't tweet.

  

      

Kavanaugh v. Ford, Trial By Ordeal

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader

"Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin."
                                                                                  -Barbara Kingsolver


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

[This week's column was supposed to be the fourth and final part of my short story, Abducted, but I couldn't resist commenting on the current kerfuffle concerning the Supreme Court.]

Legal Definition of Trial By Ordeal: a formally used criminal trial in which the guilt or innocence of the accused was determined by subjection to dangerous or painful tests (as submersion in water) believed to be under divine control. A tip of the hat to Merriam-Webster (.com).


H. sapiens are subject to false memories, this is settled science.

If you live long enough I guarantee that at some point (probably several points...) in your life this factoid will jump out from behind a rock and bite you on the bum.

"Memories can be distorted, or even completely made up."


BOMS (boring old man story) No. 39,339. Oh, for the record, I don't think I'm a boring old man. You are permitted to (respectfully) disagree. However, there's a 57.092% chance that any given story, about any given thing, by any given old man -- rut-roh, Raggy -- um, person, will be boring.

[BOPS it is then, far be it from me to inadvertently trigger a delicate flower in an era of delicate sensibilities.]

Long story short, when I was 16 I engaged the services of a friend, and his Ford Falcon, to drive me and a cool chick (hey, it was 1970) on my first real date. Cost: a set of spark plugs.

Given that it was my first real date I remember all the details vividly. Except for the drivers last name and what he looked like. And except for the name of the movie theater. And... well, I do vividly remember the name of the movie, Klute, starring Jane Fonda.

One problem.

While discussing this important milestone of my adolescence with the cool chick in question, who is back in my life after an interlude of 40 years or so (we've both been a little busy...), I discovered that I vividly remember the wrong movie.

I know for an absolute certainty that Klute is not only the wrong movie, but it also came out a year later, while I was living approximately 300 miles from the movie theater I can't remember the name of.

However, the unalterable fact that I have a vivid memory of the wrong movie has had no effect on my vivid memory.

Now, if you refuse to acknowledge that you -- or yours, or theirs, or _______ -- are as capable of significant memory distortion as any other H. sapien, you can stop reading here. Good luck to you, you're going to need it.

At the moment, the Republic is knee deep in a drama titled He Said/She Said. No matter how it's resolved, Grandstickies will probably remember it, probably inaccurately. Great-Grandstickes will learn about it in history class.

Plot summary: A SCOTUS nominee -- having emerged from a trial by ordeal chock full of senators running for president and daily dramas performed by some, um, excitable citizens exercising their free speech rights, apparently unscathed -- is this close to being approved.

Suddenly, a female H. sapien steps out from behind the curtain and accuses the nominee of having tried to have his way with her. 36 years ago. When she was 15. When he was 17.

Hilarity ensues.


As this is being written the Swamp Dwellers League, the Infotainment Industrial Complex, the International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protestors & Perpetual Victims of This, That, and the Other Thing (IUPPPP&PVTTOT), and social media, are at DEFCON 1.

Were I the king, and asked to apply some Solomonic wisdom, this would be an easy one.

A Proclamation

Given that no amount of investigation could possibly come up with a definitive answer,

And, given that the Republic already has more than enough apparently unresolvable issues,

(And, given that the brain of the average H. Sapien doesn't mature till the age of 25)

And, given that Mr. Kavanaugh has a lengthy, proven track record, Mr. Kavanaugh may join the Supremes.

Let's move on people, nothing to see here.


P.S. A note to my subjects: While I hope that we recover before things go too far, we're a republic that is currently in decline. Without compromise, and the willingness to lose gracefully, a democratic republic will collapse.

No shortage of factions regards their opinions, beliefs, and sensibilities as unquestionable dogma. No compromise is possible as compromise is a sin. God -- or a God-substitute for those who have lost their religion -- is on their side.

Sticking a finger and each ear and loudly proclaiming la-la-la-la-la-la-la! didn't work when you were kids and it won't work now.

Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.
Scroll down to comment or share

[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it?]


©2018 Mark Mehlmauer   

May You Live In Interesting Times (No. 4)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) — the Stickies — to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader

"I would not look to the U.S. Constitution if I were drafting a constitution..."                                                                           Ruth Bader Ginsburg, 85  

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

As you (and my gentlereaders) may have noticed, I mostly confine my political musings to making fun of politics, politicians, and/or bureauons that work for the gummits or The Gummit.

[For the record: I'm not an anarchist of any stripe; I acknowledge the need for government and the fact that not all bureaucrats, in fact, probably/hopefully, are not bureauons.]

However, the current kerfuffle over the Donald's impending choice of the next Supreme concerns me enough to activate my preachy/opinionated side. You've been warned.


When I was a callowyute I was taught that The Gummit (which at the time was called the federal government) consisted of three coequal branches: Executive, Legislative, and Judicial.

I was told that this was a feature, not a bug, and that divvying up the power provided us with a system of "checks and balances" to ensure maximum freedom, minimum government.

Congress, our freely chosen representatives, would create the Rules&Regs and decide how the dough was spent.

The president and the minions of the Executive branch would enforce the Rules&Regs, spend the dough, and take care of the day to day stuff.

The Judicial branch would determine if the Rules&Regs had been violated, and if so, administer the appropriate penalty. Penalties for a given offense are spelled out ahead of time, you can't make 'em up as you go.

Sounded/sounds good to me.


The system above is based on a set of ground rules called the Constitution of the United States of America. It not only spells out how the federal government is to be structured it spells out what the three branches are permitted to do. Any powers not granted -- are not granted.

And of course, the fundamental rights of all Citizens of the Republic are spelled out as well.

The Supreme Court, made up of nine judges that are appointed for life (tenure on steroids) so they're beholden to no one, has the final say on ground rules disputes.


Still sounds good to me. But, why are the kids on the left side of the playground freaking out over the fact a Supreme Court judge has just resigned and the Donald, who hangs out on the right side of the playground (well, sorta/kinda), per the rules, gets to choose a new judge?

Well, at least nominate one, he or she has to be approved by the Senate. The United States Senate, wherein every state of the republic has two duly elected representatives -- no matter how large, or small, or rich, or poor, or powerful, or weak a given state happens to be.

Which also sounds good to me, in fact downright clever... and fair. So why...

[Aw c'mon! Everybody knows that! Trump can, and will, nominate a conservative. This'll mean the court's got five conservative judges and four liberal ones.]

Exactly, Dana, and that's my point. 

[Huh?]



Liberals, particularly the ones that call themselves progressives, believe that if you don't like what the Constitution says about something, you can just put an updated spin on it and do what you want -- as long as you're on the side of the angels. 

The end justifies the means as long as you mean well. What could possibly go wrong?

It's hard to change the ground rules, on purpose, and that's as it should be. In order to keep a democracy from devolving into a mobocracy or a tyranny, it's necessary to make it hard for a well-meaning (or malevolent) majority to change the ground rules to avoid the law of unintended consequences. 

This protects a given minority from a given majority, and a given majority from itself.



Our good friends on the left are freaking out because, as usual, they're determined to pass whatever laws they deem necessary to save us from ourselves. If they have to do it by end-running the Constitution and Congress by legislating from the bench, so be it. 

But without a majority of the Supremes on their side, or at least someone like our soon to be retired Justice Kennedy to act as a swing vote, this is much more difficult.

After all, when you're trying to save the world who has time to wait for Congress to pass the appropriate laws, much less change the Constitution? If you need to bypass the democratic process to save our democracy, as long as you're certain you're right, a lefty's gotta do what a lefty's gotta do.

If they don't draw a red line, the next thing you know important matters that need to be decided on, but that aren't mentioned in the Constitution, will be left up to the individual states. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2018 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to comment — or react (way cooler than liking, and Facebook doesn't keep track) — please scroll down.