The More Things Change...

Original title: Republicrats v. Depublicans (7/29/15)

Image by chayka1270 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 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 

"Politicians and diapers must be changed often, and for the same reason." 

                                                                                                       -Mark Twain

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

I'm spending the summer in a cabin on a beautiful lake somewhere in the Swiss Alps, working on my memoirs, and trying to decide if this column will resume post-Labor Day. The market has found me wanting; I'm buying all of my own coffee. So be it, I remain an unrepentant supporter of capitalism. 

My big brother Eddie is my only financial supporter so I'm starting to feel like Van Gogh... without the world-class talent but with both ears. I'm also considering publishing only when the spirit moves me. Cranking out columns week after week, while enjoyable, is hard work — well, intellectually speaking — at least for me. 

{It sure ain't roofing or the like you whiney b...}

In the meantime, I'll be republishing (relatively) gently edited columns with updated statistics and facts in [brackets].  

With apologies to JFK, I ask not why the federal government is so jacked up, I ask why it works as well as it does. I'm not an anarchist, only a sorta/kinda libertarian. I believe we need rules on the playground as well as an intelligently designed safety net. I would like the rules to be as few in number as possible and rationally conceived to maximize fun and minimize stepping on each other's toes. 

In light of our national debt, 57,000 [92,000] bucks each as this is being written and steadily increasing as you read this, cutting spending [prior to modern monetary/free lunch theory anyway] is always on the agenda. Both parties define cuts as spending a little less on planned increases over a ten-year period, to make "cuts" appear larger.

Think about that. Congressperson Stumblebum looks into the camera and with steely resolve states that if re-elected she'll [he'll/they'll] battle to get government spending under control. How? Simple. Increase spending by slightly less than already planned, over the next decade, and call it a spending cut. She won't put it like that though. She'll tell you that under her plan spending at the Department of Bonkercockie will be reduced by a billion dollars a year. With a little luck, Congressperson Stumblebum will be a lobbyist long before that decade is up and she'll no longer have to dirty her hands running for office in order to get her dirty little hands on other people's money.

She, and most likely the media source that provides you with this information, won't bother to mention that we don't have ten-year budgets. We have one-year budgets, at least in theory. Congress hasn't actually passed one since 1997. The one currently proposed is a product of the Republicrats, Depublicans don't support it and if it is passed in its present form, Mr. Obama has made it clear he will veto it.   

President Obama created the bipartisan Simpson-Bowles Commission in 2010 to study and make recommendations for fixing our financial problems. You may have noticed The Fedrl Gummit has maxed out its credit cards, but the issuer (themselves) keeps sending out new ones (to themselves).

The commission was originally a provision of a bipartisan law that would require Congress to vote only up or down on the commission's recommendations since apparently Congress long ago lost its ability to compromise on virtually anything. The law didn't pass because some of the original Republicrat co-sponsors voted against their own bill.

Mr. Obama decided to set up the commission by executive order. The commission came to the conclusion that if we were to plug enough loopholes and eliminate enough special favors and social engineering from the tax code we could lower everyone's taxes. Toss in some real spending cuts and entitlement reform and now we're getting somewhere. Mr. Obama, and Congress, stuck the report in a drawer and returned to job one, staying elected. 

Mismanaging our money is not the only task the federal government excels in. No private entity can hope to match the government when it comes to creating Rules&Regs. The Federal Register (which contains 70,000+ pages as of 2020) lists all the rules and regulations you're supposed to follow if you have the good fortune to live in the USA.

If there was a board game called, "Life In a Free Country," in addition to the instructions on how to play the game there would be a multi-volume set of books [PDF files?] containing all the Rules&Regs you need to follow in order to remain on the straight and narrow as determined by Congress and the 2,711,000 [2,878,000] non-military employees of the federal government. 

How many Rules&Regs are there in the land of the free?  According to the Competitive Enterprise Institute's 10,000 Commandments 2021, "Since the Federal Register first began itemizing them in 1976, 208,155 final rules have been issued."

How on Earth did Congress find the time to write so many Rules&Regs? That's where the 2,711,000 [2,878,000] bureaucrats come in. Realizing that writing all those Rules&Regs themselves would be inefficient and detract from time on job one (see above), Congress passes legislation that authorizes the bureaucrats to create the Rules&Regs needed to put the brilliant ideas of their overlords into effect.

This practice helps to stimulate the economy by providing work for registered lobbyists [12,137]. Never let it be said that our fearless leaders can't hold their own when matched up against the folks that ran the Roman Empire into the dirt.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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A Temporary Third Party

The pop-up political party is born.

Image by Septimiu Balica 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

"There is only one basic human right, the right to do as you damn well please. And with it comes the only basic human duty, the duty to take the consequences." -P.J. O'rourke

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

As my gentlereaders are already aware, although my write-in campaign to become America's first (but only temporary) king failed and I was considering trying again in '24. 

{Aw geesh, here we go...} 

I have a better idea, Dana.

Come 2024, thousands of us should simultaneously run for the House of Representatives as (temporary) third-party candidates for a brand-spankin' new, pop-up political party, the Party of the People, the P.O.P. This gives us plenty of time to organize, fundraise, and have fun. 

{Fun?}

What could be more fun than saving America from the current partisan Swamp Dwellers by promising to only serve two terms and then rejoin the real world — as heroes. I already have a slogan perfect for campaign buttons, bumper stickers, and chanting. 

"Only four, not a single day more!"

{Thousands?}

Although there are only 435 possible job openings, anyone that wants to is welcome to apply for the job of representing a given district in the House of Representatives. Let the cream rise to the top. Let there be so many candidates that the partisan media, the Depublicans, the Republicrats, and the tech oligarchs are overwhelmed and have a hard time knowing who to support/throw money at. 

The P.O.P. doesn't endorse candidates and it doesn't expect candidates to swear fealty to a party platform; the P.O.P. is more virtual than actual. The P.O.P. embodies a notion of the Founding Pasty Patriarchs that there wouldn't be political parties, just free people freely choosing their representatives to The Fedrl Gummit.  

There's no self-serving, hidebound party apparatus to vet candidates, get their names on the ballot, and funnel money their way, if, they behave and do as they're told. All that's required is that a given candidate declare that they're running, that they are a write-in candidate, and that they will abide by self-imposed term limits. Their policy positions are strictly up to them. 

{Wait-wait-wait. Why two consecutive terms?} 

Everyone knows that congresspersons spend a good deal of their time raising reelection money and that the second year of their two-year term is focused on getting reelected. For all intents and purposes, Poppies are running for a four-year job that doesn't include a pension program, effectively establishing term limits.

Without an end-run around our current situation, federal term limits will never happen. Without federal term limits, the nation is fecked. A class war is breaking out in America and the oligarchs, with good reason, think they've already won; the "Deplorables" are ripe for exploitation by hustlers and demagogues.  

{But what if...}

The voters can can 'em, replace them after the first two-year term is up before they can do any more damage.  

{But what if...}

I must warn you that I'm prepared to deploy the phrase, "the voters can can 'em" indefinitely. 

{Okaaay, but the...}

Yes, The Fedrl Gummit is HOOOGE, and employs roughly 2,000,000 people, so yes, for now at least, we need professional pols that excel at getting reelected, and know where the bodies are buried.

They're called Senators, and each and every state gets two. Poppies that prove themselves to be faithful public servants who are capable of fulfilling their commitments will provide a deep bench of potential Senators. 

And I don't know (not sure I want to) how many of those 2,000,000 souls are professional congressional staffers...

Big BUT,

I think we'd all feel better knowing that this particular component of the deep state was subject to the same sort of occupational churn as the rest of us and that Poppies will be judged on who they hire and how well they manage the help. If you're prone to hiring weasels your political opponents and wannabe replacements will be delighted to call you out. 

A Poppie is a Citizen of the Republic — Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Wokie, Greenie, etcetereenie that holds that a democratic republic — the system set up by the Founding Pasty Patriarchs and that is the foundation of the American experiment — is the best form of government we imperfect and fragile H. sapiens have come up with so far and would like the experiment to continue, not be burned to the ground by the Wokies. 

 

{But a pop-up party consisting of former members of Team Red, Team Blue, and who knows who could eventually become permanent, or quickly wither away, or...}

After hopefully getting the Republic unstuck and back on the road to sanity. Perhaps even forcing the two traditional mainstream parties to reform if they want to survive. 

In the — New and Improved! — American republic, you do you and I'll be me. We'll hammer out the rules and then go get a beer. Or you go your way, I'll go mine, and we'll agree to... 

{Disagree, right?}

I was going to say leave each other the hell alone. That's what people in a free country should do, need to do, if they wish to remain free.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Politics Without Romance

Human nature is the nature of humans. 

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  

"There's a reason that there are oodles of young Aussies, Germans, Japanese, even Chinese backpackers traipsing around the world. They are unencumbered by debilitating student loans. No such luck for the American Theater Arts major with $120,000 in loans." -J. Maarten Troost

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

The public-choice school of economics, a.k.a public-choice theory, is, well...  'As James Buchanan artfully defined it, public choice is “politics without romance.”' -econolib.org 

For the record, I can't find exactly where or when Mr. Buchanan actually said that. I did find dozens of versions of something along the lines of 'As James Buchanan said, public choice is "politics without romance."'

{And this matters because?} 

Well, the dude won a Nobel Prize for his work in the field, you'd think that... 

{You really need to get out more, Sparky.}

Anyways... This normally would be a good place to quote the Wikipedia entry on the subject at hand, assuming, of course, it wasn't clearly crafted by a Wokie (it wasn't), but since it reads like it was written by an impoverished grad student who will never be famous for his/her/their prose stylings...

{Seriously, dude, you're not that old, find the car keys and...}   

Instead, I'm going to post the video below, because I'm cool like that and it does an excellent job of explaining public choice theory.

Now, for those you that are wandering in the wilderness and following the locusts and honey diet, or the Luddite like gentlepersons among my vast hordes of regular readers that rely on some intrepid soul to print out my column (not to mention any names, Ed), permit me to vastly oversimplify. 

Public choice theory holds that the politicians (sleazy and otherwise), and bureaucrats (and bureauons) that constitute the group of H. sapiens that run or work for the government at any level are subject to the same drives, incentives, and motivations as we mere mortals. 

{That's just common sense.}

Not necessarily. There's an awful lot of people that maintain that they're just humble but lovable public servants, grateful for a chance to serve. 

{Sure, but nobody actually believes...} 

So you say, but there are also an awful lot of people who say that we need a government solution for this, that, or that other thing — which can be true.

Big BUT.

As the video points out, instead of just asking what government policy is needed to solve a given problem, we also need to consider what policy is likely to actually emerge from "real-world democratic politics," and take that into consideration. 

To which I would add: before we pass yet another law on top of the thousands of other laws that, so far, have not led us to the promised land.  

Which is to say: since the H. sapiens in the government business are just as prone to temptation, egotism, and screwing up as you and me, what we want is often not what we get — that's politics without romance. 

And it gets worse: people in the government business don't suffer from an inconvenient constraint that most of us do, they pay the bill with other people's money.  

{This would be a good place to supply an example...}

For example, on a recent Joe Rogan podcast, Rogan had a guest, Ben Burgis, a writer for Jacobin magazine. Mr. Burgis is a socialist who, like Mr. Rogan (a democratic socialist), supports things like universal healthcare, a universal basic income, free college, etceterage. 

{Impossible, Rogan is a card-carrying member of the alt-right, just ask Neil Young.} 

They both agree that college should be free, and consider that the cost of a college degree nowadays, as well as kids going into debt up to their... butts is completely unacceptable. I don't agree with the free part — free is rarely actually free, and "free" is often perceived as having little value — but I do agree that kids just beginning their adult lives deep in debt is unacceptable.

But one of the many reasons college is so expensive is the result of several decades of The Fedrl Gummit handing out easily obtained loans to children (which can't be discharged via bankruptcy) and then the higher education business raising their prices faster than the inflation rate to absorb the money. 

This isn't an open secret, it's not even a secret. 

{They're not children! Well, not exactly, they...}

Simultaneously, education incorporated is top-heavy with administrators who are teaching nothing to no one, and many of these positions are mandated by The Fedrl Gummit. What about taking a machete and thinning out the ranks of all those people that don't actually teach anyone?

{You mean their jobs, right? Not actually the...} 

Isn't reforming the bloated education business the place to start?

{Bloated?}

Schools with well-fed endowments are currently fighting a 1.4% tax on their investment incomes if their cash stash is worth more than $500,000, per student! Leaving that tax in place is not just politics without romance, it could also be called common sense.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

P.S. How about college grads having to take a standardized, general knowledge test to graduate and prove they didn't slip through with inflated grades, and publishing the aggregated results? 

What about students who are often taught by absurdly underpaid "instructors" and "teaching assistants" (often as not in debt up to their eyeballs in student loans) that help to prop up the system? 

What about charging the NFL for running a minor league for professional football wherein the coaches are often better paid than the professors? 

What about... 

{We gotta go, folks.}

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You May Not Be Interested In Politics...

But politics is interested in you

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.   

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

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"Politics is war without bloodshed while war is politics with bloodshed."

                                                                                              -Mao Zedong 

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

{Wait-wait-wait. Leon Trotsky's famous quote isn't "You may not be interested in politics..." it's "You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you."}

Actually, it's not. Being a semi-responsible columnist I've done my research and it appears highly unlikely that Trotsky should get the credit. It's a very complicated story that I'll spare you and my gentlereaders. 

{We appreciate that, and ain't you the clever little columnist for cashing in on it anyway?}

Thanks, Dana, I think so too, which brings us to congressional redistricting by the legislature of my beloved home state, Ohio. One of the ten American states that have full-time legislatures. Lucky us! 

{It does? And didn't you recently write a column about Ohio and 35,000 misprinted license plates? And isn't Ohio the same state you never tire of reminding people that you're only temporarily residing in — for the last 35 years? Is this column now only about the goings-on in Ohio?}

Yes, it does. Yes, I did. Yes, I do. No, it isn't. Think of this as a sequel if you like. Ohio part two, Politics. Read on, Macduff! 

{And now you're deliberately misquoting another misquote?}

Good point, mayhaps a theme is emerging. If it pleases the court, I need to supply some background information. 

The majority of the current 135 members of the Ohio legislature, 98.6% of the members of the executive branch, and...

{You pulled that percentage out of your...}  

Technically speaking, mayhaps, but it still serves...and four of the seven current Ohio Supreme Court justices are Republicans.

{Hold on there, Sparky. The supreme court justices are non-partisan!}

All that means here in the Buckeye State is that although they're creatures of the party that nominates them, there's no tiny R. or D. next to their names on the ballot when they're running for office. 

{Is mayhaps the word of the week? Is it even a real word?}

Mayhaps. 

Not long ago the legislature approved, and the governor signed, a law that redraws Ohio's congressional districts. I shall spare my gentlereaders (and Dana) all but a minimum of the gory, insanely complicated details.

Suffice it to say that Otto Von Bismark's famous quote, "Laws are like sausage. Better not to see them being made" comes to mind.

{Let me guess, he didn't actually say that, right?}

Apparently not, but I don't recommend following this link. The article from Quote Investigator that it links to is rather, um, sausage-like. 

Bottom line: The redistricting, which is supposed to last till the next national census in 2030 will only last for four years when fresh sausage will have to be made. That's assuming it withstands the legal challenges that are already being litigated. 

The new law could be used to teach gerrymandering 101. Starting next year my current congressional district (a weakening but still Democratic stronghold) will have grown a tail that's seven Republican counties long.

As my late father-in-law would say, "A blind man could feel it with a walking stick." 

{Let me guess, he didn't actually say that.} 

Sure he did, why do you ask? 

Fun Ohio Fact: Our Republican governor's son is a Republican Ohio Supreme Court justice who has made clear he doesn't see any need to recuse himself from the law's challenges before the Ohio Supreme Court.  

{You're a Republican, shouldn't you be glad that...}

No, I'm not, and I'd be embarrassed if I were. 

As of now, I'm America's only official Neorepublican, and I'm running for king in 2024 — follow this column for details. The Democratic party is controlled by Wokies; the Republican party is a personality cult in thrall to the Donald.

For now, let me just point out that we Neorepublicans are primarily motivated by reviving America's founding principles. Reluctantly, I must step in to save the Republic.

{Gee, thanks. but what about the vaguely menacing title/subtitle of this missive?} 

Everything above has been about building to my big finish which the citizens of any given state can relate to, not just the citizens of Ohio. 

The story of the in-your-face sleazy politics perpetrated by the Ohio Republican Party has vanished faster than the story about the driverless rogue SUV that attacked a Christmas parade in Wisconsin.

If the blatant gerrymandering isn't stopped in court the people here in Hooterville, and certain other now-former Democratic strongholds in Ohio, are going to be very unpleasantly surprised come November 28th, 2022.  

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Can You Hear Me Now?

A random randomnesses column

                                      Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.

Please Note: If ya click on an Amazon ad, thus opening a portal to Amazon, and buy anything, Lord Jeffrey will toss a few pence in my direction and you won't have to feel guilty about enjoying my work — well, hopefully — for free. Win/Win.  

About 

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"In Hollywood a marriage is a success if it outlasts milk." -Rita Rudner

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

Since delaying the Stickies access to smart(?)phones any longer was becoming impractical, and,

Since my hardworking daughter needs a cutting edge smartphone for her job, and, 

Since my family wanted their beloved Pasty Patriarch to start carrying a smart enough phone since crises, major and minor, randomly occurring to geezers of a certain age are not unheard of, well...

My daughter went to a local Verizon outlet a few years back and came home with a bunch of phones.

A few years go by and Verizon's been the beneficiary of a not inconsiderable chunk of our change. A few months ago my daughter revisited the same outlet, dealt with the same clerk, a.k.a. the kid, and revamped our personal communications system. A reduction in monthly outgo was achieved and we were (momentarily) delighted.

However, she made the mistake of arranging for the automatic monthly payment to be deducted directly from my checking account for logistical reasons. Our finances are mingled and it was the logical thing to do at the time. 

[Mistake?]

HOOGE mistake, Dana. Deep breath... 

The store closes temporarily due to plague problems, the kid moves on, and since the phones are in my daughter's name they won't/can't take money out of my checking account even though the kid said they would, their website says they are, my bank says they're not, and endless hours are spent on the phone to their support people who say they will, but they don't, and eventually say they can't, but, we owe them all sorts of penalty fees and the new deal is canceled, so we also owe them the difference between the old price and the new one and going forward we have to pay the old price, and...

[You're making this up, right? This is one of your goofy "literary devices".]

 

Nope. But suffice it to say that we're now happy T-mobile customers, saving a small fortune on our phone bill, and Verizon can kiss my SIM card.

I'll leave my gentlereaders to draw their own conclusions. 

"The problem isn’t Trump, or Joe Biden, or Kamala Harris, or any other politician: It is the popular response to the gut-wrenching realization that America is hollowed out, that it is living on borrowed money (which is to say borrowed time)..." 

"Americans are frightened for their future, with good reason. They see enormous rewards accrue to a handful of tech companies, and stagnation and decay in large parts of the rest of the country. Donald Trump gave them a frisson of hope, and the Establishment reaction against Trump confirms the popular suspicion that a malevolent global elite has seized control of their country. Trump shamefully exploited this suspicion to direct a popular storm against the Congress." (My emphasis.)

The two quotes above are from a column written by a gentleperson you may, but likely haven't heard of, named David P. Goldman. Mr. Goldman, a.k.a. Spengler, wrote this particular column for PJ Media, an online conglomeration of right-wing takes on politics and news. Mr. Goldman's work, unlike your humble correspondents, is published by all sorts of people.  

Mr. Goldman is a polymath who has had success in multiple jobs. Wikipedia describes him as, "...an American economist, music critic, and author, best known for his series of online essays in the Asia Times under the pseudonym Spengler.

Mr. G., like me, is not a Never Trumper and has voiced support for some of the Donald's efforts, but is hardly a fanboy.  

Mr. G., unlike me, can use words like frisson with a straight face being slightly more intelligent, sophisticated, and cosmopolitan than I am. 

[Slightly? You thought frisson meant sliver, as in a sliver of hope. It means...]   

Yeah, yeah. I now know it means a brief moment of emotional excitement, at least according to Merriam-Webster.

[And everyone else. Why are you extensively quoting from a David P. Goldman column anyway?] 

Because if one ignores the elephant in the room one will, inevitably, wind up shoveling elephant excrement. 

Mr. Goldman's thoughts about the events of 1/6/20 are the same as mine. Since I'm sick of the Donald, the "Resistance," and the endless, often self-serving and deliberately inflammatory coverage of the Purple Press I've borrowed a cup of words to avoid spending any more energy than absolutely necessary on this subject just now. I hope he doesn't mind. 

Ever feel like you're the last person on Earth who doesn't give a damn what a given Hollywood celebrity thinks about a given issue or politician? Considering what a mess so many of them seem to make of their lives (multiple marriages and drug/alcohol abuse come immediately to mind) why does anyone care?

Why are people that wear their virtue on their sleeves, decry "toxic masculinity" and declare their allegiance to the Me Too movement but are perfectly willing to get naked for softcore porn scenes in movies taken seriously?

[Porn!?! You unsophisticated philistine, the woke ones only participate in pseudo sex if it's an essential element of a realistic plot.]

So in the real world, seeing other people having sex is no more unusual than say, um, sharing a meal with them? 

[You just don't understand.]

You're right.

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

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My First Triggering

Image by engin akyurt from Pixabay

[Gentlereaders, Mr. Mehlmauer is currently busy in Washington D.C. attempting to ascertain why he's been subpoenaed to testify in the Donald's impeachment inquiry, please accept our apologies. This column was originally published on 2/18/11.] 

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

                  
This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and approximately 39.9% of all grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. 

                                                  Glossary  

                                                    About

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"I am quite sure now that often, very often, in matters concerning religion and politics a man's reasoning powers are not above the monkey's" -Mark Twain


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

When my first triggering occurred, that is to say, the first time I (accidentally) triggered someone, the oldest of you that have arrived so far was only seven.

When I was but a wee lad... No, actually till I was at least in my late twenties, it was possible to engage in mildly heated political discussions, as much for the fun of it as anything else, without feeling that civil war was inevitable.

Not that it was possible to do so with everyone. There's a reason many people recommend against discussing politics (and religion) at the dinner table and elsewhere.

However, with certain relatives and friends, particularly with a bunch of individuals I didn't go to college with, late-night political debates, that were often as not fueled by alcohol, were a thing.

Lines had to be drawn and observed but it was the intellectual equivalent of a friendly sports rivalry. No need to take it particularly seriously.

                                               

I married in my early thirties after a couple of years of managing a fleet of someone else's ice cream trucks in Texas. As to Texas, there was much in the way of partying, little in the way of debate, intellectual or otherwise. Hello Tom and Kitty, wherever you are.

Once married the endless party ended. My bride came pre-equipped with a kid and marriage, serious partying, and kids don't mix very well in my semi-humble opinion.

Late-night passionate debates didn't make a comeback either. I married a sick chick (I'm talking physically sick, but a veritable force of nature...) and betwixt helping to keep her alive, supporting my daughter (your mother or grandmother) and my gift for working my ass off while avoiding the burdens of financial success—I usually went to bed early.


Then I blinked three times and I was a widower and a grandfather. One evening in 2008 I found myself having dinner with a friend and a traditional married couple (one male, one female) in their mid-twenties.

This was my first encounter with triggering someone and triggering wasn't even a thing yet. I've always been a man ahead of my time.

After dinner, and over coffee and pie, a debate broke out over I remember not what. Although there's a slight chance that I may not be entirely correct, I have a vivid memory of intellectually dominating.

It was me v. my friend and the male half of the young couple. I was thoroughly enjoying myself and was confident that there was no danger that my opponents would challenge me to a duel. But I confess I neglected to note that storm clouds were building in the psyche of the young woman in question.

Hooge mistake.


In my defense, her participation in the discussion was virtually nil. However, I still might have been convicted had she charged me with political incorrectness which was, and remains, in vogue. Is political incorrectness subject to a statute of limitations?

Fortunately, Twitter and Facebook were still picking up steam and weren't yet that big a deal, at least here in Flyoverland. Trolls were merely malevolent mythological monstrosities.

And for that matter, Trigger was the answer to a trivia question. What was the name of Roy Rogers's horse?

[Roy who?]

Never mind, Dana.


Anyways, at some point, while I was not paying the attention that I—a man who had been successfully married for 21 years and who had learned many lessons the hard way—should have been paying, there was an explosion and I and my dining companions were riddled with psychic shrapnel.

"She leapt to her feet and stormed out of the restaurant in a huff." That's not a quote from a selection of mediocre fiction, that's exactly what happened. Really.

Although he was young and, relatively speaking, they had not been married very long he knew the rules. He leapt to his feet and followed.

"Now see what you've done," said my remaining companion, reacting to the no doubt baffled look on my face. "Hey, is that our server?"

"Did we just get stuck with the check?" I replied.


The young husband returned to the table as my older friend and I were in the process of splitting the check, calculating the tip, and discussing which one of us, if either, was going to act as a collection agent to recover the cost of their food.

The young wife had decided to wait for him in their car. Although the storm had apparently passed, ominous dark clouds lingered.

He, politely and diplomatically... well, long story short, it was explained to me that she passionately disagreed with me.

Although she lacked the rhetorical skill—and most importantly in my semi-humble opinion a command of the relevant facts to contest whatever it was I was on about—she knew she was right and she knew I was a bully. Case closed.

That's not exactly how he put it but that's exactly what he said.

Although I confess my heart wasn't in it, I apologized for being a boor and fled the scene of the drama ASAP.

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

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©2018 Mark Mehlmauer