Friday, February 24, 2017

RUSALKA Live from Metropolitan Opera tomorrow Feb 25

I love fairy tales and Dvorak music and opera. This mermaid fairy tale is showing locally tomorrow morning here on PST at 10 am. Looks incredible.


With great and happy anticipation I went to the live showing of Rasulka in Imax at my local movie theater at 10 am PST. How amazing it was to find the theater more than half full at that hour of the morning for opera. That did my heart good.

It was a lovely experience, not perfect, but lovely. I was drawn to this particular opera because it's based on a fairy tale and I am a devotee of Bruno Bettelheim's book and theory, "The Uses of Enchantment" about how important telling children fairy tales is to their emotional development. As a mother, I found it very useful and fun to use with my son. But that's another story. However, one of Bettelheim's key points is that fairy tales have many levels of meaning which vary according to the interpretation of those who are responding to them, usually children, but in the case of a professional performance, it is the director and singers who are interpreting the tale for the audience.

First, I must confess that I am a musical ignoramus, pure and simple. What I love about opera is the passion mixed with singing, great music and dramatic stories. I'm sure they could sing the whole performance off key and I would never notice. That being said, I really didn't care for opera on Imax. I found it odd and unpleasant for the camera to take us so often up close to someone singing to reach the upper balcony of Lincoln Center. I found it jarring.

Still, I enjoyed the whole look and feel of this production very much. It was fresh and modern, without violating the fairy tale genre. For instance, this opera was staged in another production to look as if it took place in Paris. Well, that's okay, fairy tales are made to be interpreted, but I prefer my fairy tales told straight, with magical ponds, intriguing wood nymphs, frog kings with pods for hands and a mermaid with real mermaid hair and a fish tail.

I thought Kristine Opolais as Rasulka the mermaid was marvelous, very appealing and very moving. Her voice seemed pure, soaring and capable of emotional subtlety as well as gorgeous passion. She is a more than competent actress in a role that has some real challenges which neither the music nor the story provide much help to make believable. Rasulka the mermaid falls for a Prince, but in order to be able to be human, mortal and have legs, she must give up her voice. She will not be able to speak to the Prince.

Sadly, once she has done this, she is repulsed by his animal need for her passion. This is hard to understand, as even another member of the audience commented. She wanted him so badly, and then she doesn't. The libretto really doesn't justify this. Things like this do happen in fairy tales, but this is a more modern fairy tale, not a classical Grimm tale, so it feels like there is some emotional trigger missing.

As the Prince, I liked Brandon Javanovich's performance very much. His singing and voice seemed superb to me, but I have read some criticism by people who know better. As an ordinary opera lover, I found his voice and acting very affecting and thrilling.

I'm afraid the subtlety of the Dvorak score went right over my head. It seemed pale and uninspiring. Puccini and Verdi are more my line. I confess that for a week after seeing this opera, I kept humming the Vilja song from the Lehar's operetta "The Merry Widow", which is a song about a wood fairy seducing a hunter. Lehar is just so effortlessly melodic and it seemed to sum up Rasulka's feelings. Oh, well. I'll have to find another way to get my opera fix. But it was awfully nice to be at an opera performance.

What I missed quite a lot was the enthusiasm of the crowd that occurs at a live performance. How I love it when, thrilled by a Pavorotti any great performance, the audience leaps to their feet shouting Bravo or Brava at the top of their lungs. Oh, my! The human voice with great singing is just a sublime pleasure beyond almost anything.

Thursday, February 23, 2017



By sheer coincidence, I happened to watch these two movies back to back, which proved to be very revealing in that both are explorations of extremely psychologically damaged characters, and both movies unintentionally illuminate Hollywood’s darkest secret. One is terrible, the other is terrific.

In MANCHESTER BY THE SEA we get the same nasty, foul-mouthed, violent, intentionally obnoxious New England punk we have seen ad nauseam done by Matt Damon, who was originally scheduled to do this film, Leonardo DiCaprio, and Ben Affleck, brother of the actor who plays the lead, Lee Chandler, Casey Affleck. 
From the first scene, which takes place in the distant past, Affleck’s Lee is just as obnoxious as he is post tragedy, with mannerisms and an uninflected vocal delivery that makes everything he says irritatingly defiant of anyone who dares to try to engage him. He is a hateful, hate filled man. We get the picture. When we arrive at the present, he’s the same dead-faced, angry man who won’t even allow you to see a scintilla of his real self.

He is just as crude and obnoxious to his wife. Everything he does is a deliberate insult to her. She is sick; he jumps on her with his cool designer work boots still on. She is tired; he wakes the baby for no reason other than for us to see him hold the child he will later burn to death. The same is true of his meaningless interaction with his two daughters.

He is such a loathsome all around punk that when life gives it to him good and hard, in a drug fueled, drunken, angry act of negligence he accidentally immolates his three children, no one can say he didn’t get exactly what was coming to him. This character must die, if not physically, then emotionally, if there is to be a reason to continue to watch this movie. But he doesn’t. He stays exactly the same as he was before. Oh, there is a little bit of bromance with his nephew, who is the softer, more philosophic, obnoxious tough guy, much like Matt Damon in GOOD WILL HUNTING.

In a chance, final encounter with his wife, who tries to sympathize with him, he says, “There’s nothing there.” This is the key to the theme of this movie. There is nothing there because Lee is only half a character; he’s acting out the suppressed rage of Hollywood elitists who are unintegrated personalities. The other half of their personality is the super “Liberal” snowflake, Goody Two-Shoes, who must always remain perfect and above criticism

In order for there to be “something” there, you have to integrate your personality so you can feel for yourself and others. Any normal person, who’d gone through what Lee had, would at some point rage against something. What he raged against would tell us a lot about who he was, his past, his understanding of his life and his life choices. His rage would have shown that either he was heading toward redemption or locked into some mental squirrel cage, going round and round, heading toward death.

But that never happens because Lee is not a whole character; rather he’s Hollywood’s alter ego. It is this alter ego that they hysterically project onto Red State America. They look at others who dare to criticize them and feel a senseless, inchoate fury rise from their subconscious into their consciousness. But they cannot acknowledge that rage as their own, because it violates their super talented, highly sensitive snowflake identity.

Certainly, this Lee Chandler character is interesting as a psychological phenomenon, but he doesn’t for a moment come close to being interesting as a real person, because he has no story, just a horrible present that he can never escape. All his fights are bickering over nothing. No narrative explanation is or can be given, because the people who made this movie and celebrate it don’t know the explanation for this mad man Lee, their nightmare self, who they must project onto outsiders, a very common cause of prejudices of all types. Hollywood's darkest secret is that hidden in their subconscious is a violent, hate filled persona they project onto Trump and his supporters.

Juxtapose this with the biopic LOVE AND MERCY about the life of Brian Wilson of the BEACH BOYS and the contrast is almost embarrassing. Geniuses are allowed to have pasts, failures, and recoveries. Yes, Brian Wilson was a real super-sensitive and highly talented artist, but given what he endured in his life, he was no snowflake.

Nevertheless, the movie is excellent. Yes, it drips with hero worship, but when your hero is Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys, who’s eminently worthy of that worship, it makes for a very eloquently realized film.

Don’t get the wrong idea that this is just a high brow movie. Exactly the opposite. It’s pure movie mesmerism. They tell Brian's story so well, you think it’s the best documentary ever, and that you were there with them as it happened.
The casting is touched by magic. Paul Dano is absolutely, flawlessly superb as the younger Brian Wilson, whose genius keeps the group on top, but success draws not only wealth and fame, but malice, especially from his father, who knows every vicious way to wound his son. John Cusack as the older Wilson is just as magical. I haven’t seen this much brilliant acting in years. And Melinda Banks is a leading lady to reckon with. She has only to shift her gaze for you to know her thoughts and deepest feelings. Paul Giamatti plays a marvelously crazy psychiatrist/villain.

Wilson’s mental breakdown is not dwelt upon beyond what is necessary to understand the second act of his life; nor do they over explain. The director and screenwriter wisely let you watch Melinda, a car sales person, encounter, fall in love with and fight for Wilson’s sanity. Interwoven with their love story is the Wilson and the Beach Boys past of success, fame and creativity. I know nothing about music so the several scenes showing Wilson's budding talent exploding in the studio as he learns to orchestrate his songs was fascinating. I, like millions of others, always loved the Beach Boys music, but I never had any idea how musically complex, innovative and orginal their music is.

For me, the movie was winner in every category. It's a great pop music success story. It's a great show biz rags to riches story, with tragedy and triumph. It's a love story, and it's the story of a man fighting for his sanity in a very crazy world. And the music is THE BEACH BOYS. It doesn't get better!!!

Sadly, in contemporary Hollywood, they simply cannot muster any sympathy for the ordinary man. He must be a genius, or he’s a threat and must get it good and hard, just like he deserves. Sad.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017


Picture yourself in an old time piano bar on Madison Avenue, sharing a martini with your one and only, under the enchanted spell of the sensationally talented Bobby Short. Happy Valentine's Day

Friday, February 10, 2017



 At the Trump rally in Lynden, when I heard Trump say the media are ‘liars’, in that wonderful way he says the word ‘liars’, savoring every syllable, I’m embarrassed to confess something inside me recoiled. Such a blanket condemnation seemed excessive. Sure, I’ve known for decades that the media was biased, obsessed with whatever story furthered their agenda, and that they regarded the public they supposedly served with complete contempt, but out and out liars? Wasn’t that going too far? But I, of all people, should have known better, because I’d worked in the television industry for over forty years and knew it from the inside out. But, watching Trump’s campaign progress and the MSM, NeverTrumpers, Democrats and everyone in DC relentlessly smearing Trump and inventing totally false stories to make him into a monster, and watching Trump as he exposed every last one of their sly, cunning tricks, it sank in that calling them liars was no exaggeration; indeed, it was a very polite word for what they are.

Perhaps, because we are innately social animals, it takes a lot to believe the worst of your fellow man. I remember my husband, who was a paratrooper in the US Army before he became an actor, used to tell me that they had to train soldiers to absolute obedience, because it’s very hard to get a normal person to shoot to kill another person. It took Trump daily confronting the bad guys and revealing their lying fraud against the American public for me to finally mentally pull the trigger and eradicate the media’s power over my thinking.

 The MSM, Hollywood, and the rest of the liars are always talking about reflecting back at us something to make us better, but, as Trump has magnificently and amply demonstrated, what they were reflecting back at us was a lie that they wanted us to believe about ourselves as a populace. They wanted us to believe we were low class, mean-spirited, vulgar, racists, etc.; you know the list by heart, if you are a proud deplorable.

Inspired by the tremendous example of our great President Trump, (Oh, how I love to write that! President Trump!) I want to stand up against the dirty smear and fraud my own industry, Hollywood, has also perpetrated against the public and our American culture. My husband and I spent forty years making a living in television, so I have seen up close and personal in my checkbook how it works. Here is the accusation I level against Hollywood: it’s decadent and dying.

There is no low, crude, coarse, lewd, violent, or gruesome spectacle that Hollywood won’t resort to. They claim this is because, as Creepy Streepy says, you Trump voters are slobbering, deplorable World Wrestling fans. America is the unwashed masses who deserve the swill that Hollywood reflects back at them. They claim they have to fill our movie theaters with such depraved and decadent entertainment because that’s the only thing we will go to see. It’s what they have to do to make money, so it’s our fault. But the truth, yes, the truth, is that Hollywood isn’t making any money.

I spent forty years watching Hollywood studios grab at anything to bring the ticket buyers into the theaters: porn, never-ending car chases, endless shoot-em ups with piles of dead bodies, non-stop acrobatic stunts, fantastic computer effects and just about any gimmick they could dream up. Nothing worked. Today, movie attendance is at an all-time low and studios now only provide ten percent of the profits for their mammoth, corporate parent companies, which is an insignificant percentage, probably generated by local libraries buying DVD’s and a few pennies from Netflix. In other words, movies from today’s Hollywood make bupkiss. And publishing houses and television stations aren’t doing any better. (See Why Hollywood As We Know it Is Already Over, by Nick Bilton in Vanity Fair. )

Any normal human being would naturally assume that dwindling profits would have prompted them to offer something different. Instead, failure only served to increase their contempt for the audience. They can afford the luxury of arrogant contempt because they are financially supported by huge global corporations who only want some shiny new thing to fill production quotas.

Here are the excuses they offer for their lackluster performance: it’s the audience, it’s technology, it’s piracy, it’s the weather, it’s the election, it’s the economy, it’s Bush’s fault, it’s the Russians, it’s racism, sexism, blah, blah blah. Wrong. What comes out of Hollywood is the ever more putrid bile from Hollywood losers.

Okay, you say to me, how about the Kardashians? Doesn’t their popularity prove the debauched nature and low tastes of the middle class? Kim Kardashian is nothing but a reality star who seems to have no discernible talent other than a well-endowed physique, many husbands, a whole family of people with oversexed libidos, and lots of money from being famous for having lots of money, wickedly spent on every frivolous and immoral indulgence.

Well, at least on reality TV, the outcome is not the endlessly repeated for over thirty years foregone conclusion that Liberal is good; conservative is bad. That really is very, VERY stale and boring. So even the talentless Kardashian are way more interesting than another liberal admonishment to be just like us wonderful Liberals, even when that admonishment is dressed up as George Clooney or undressed up as Ashley Judd, neither of whom can open a picture, nor can any other “star” in Hollywood these days. Why does no one race to the movie theater to see any Hollywood star anymore? Because those ‘stars’ aren’t stars because the audience loves them and finds value in watching them, they’re ‘stars’ because Hollywood has chosen them.

Though I have never managed to catch their act, those Kardashians look as if they’ve got some zumpfh! Which is more than you say for Creepy Streepy, Looney Clooney or a lot of the #FakeStars in Hollywood. We all need a bit a zumpfh in our day and we certainly weren’t getting any from the broken records that kept repeating the joys of Liberalism, with their predigested plots and stereotypical characters. People desperately need something interesting and stimulating to take their minds off their worries, frustrations, disappointments and griefs, and some relief from life’s many problems and injustices.

Sadly, what Hollywood and the rest of the purveyors of Liberal culture are serving up to distract us is pure decadence, with a side order of sleaze. Decadent is the opposite of wholesome, thus it’s easy association with chocolate. The definition is decay, decline, self-indulgent, and morally corrupt. You know, like the Romans in the latter days of the Roman Empire. The rise of the Nazi’s in Italy and Germany was partly attributed to decadence. This theory was dramatized in the movie CABERET where the nightclub patrons are delighted by the cynicism and dirty jokes of the performers as contrasted with the purity of the peasants singing “Tomorrow Belongs to Us.”

Decadence is a morbid interest in irregular sexual practices, an inversion of normal standards of beauty and harmony, embracing the repulsive, and an obsession with freakish things and people, etc. Now, we all indulge in decadent tastes sometimes, with no ill effects, but when decadence becomes the pervasive culture, it seems to precede the fall of a nation.

Today’s Hollywood is a parade of decadence, because the fix is in, and what masquerades as a free market of ideas is in fact a setup, an illusion, where all the plunder has already been divided up among the elites and their globalist buddies. The audience is a powerless nullity whose input is neither required nor wanted.

The pervasiveness of our totally decadent culture is perfectly visible in humble supermarket checkout lanes, where even the nicer, more expensive, lady’s magazines constantly feature ever more unsavory articles. Nowadays, every cover tease promises strange sexual depravity and bizarrely freaky people and events. The degraded world of the Liberal malaise and decadence saturates our every waking moment. Our intellects are bombarded with tragic, bizarre tales of barbaric foreign cultures and homegrown, deranged and sickening subcultures. It is a world where sadistic men in primitive foreign countries sexually torture, molest and murder innocent children and adults of both sexes, or drug addicted, imprisoned, domestic murderers have sex and illegitimate offspring with their underage mentally disabled sisters; each publication frantically pursuing some new weirder, more depraved, freakish, licentious, tantalizing thrill to outdo each other. And sales continued to plummet in every venue of culture.

Let me state that I firmly believe that those sorts of stories do have their place and should be told, but why the unvarying and constant appeal solely to prurience? Face it, Hollywood, it’s not technology that has sunk you, it’s your lack of talent as artists. You are bored and boring. You offer no fresh variety of thought, no stimulating new designs for living, nothing inspiring, nothing amusing, nothing heartwarming, nothing emotionally touching or moving, no romance, just bawdy sex jokes, lewd sex scenes, trash and a fascination with freakishness, repulsiveness and weirdness, that is your constant, cynical refrain.

Decadence occurs when a culture is intellectually stuck, when the means of communication and change have become ossified, frozen, and unresponsive, when there are no new ideas to bemuse the human mind, so people are left to amuse themselves by satisfying their lower appetites, since no wholesome dish is anywhere in sight.

Yes, if my years in Hollywood taught me nothing else, it taught me that the fix was in. So, I shouldn’t have been so surprised when Trump called the MSM liars. Hollywood is also run by liars who are protected by global corporate power from facing the truth that when it comes to creating good, interesting, compelling movies, books, television and music, they have lied, cheated and faked their work for so long, they actually believe the audience is the problem, not their own sorry, useless selves.

I’m not saying there are no talented actors or artists in Hollywood, there are many, but they are constantly paraded before us in junk by the liars and frauds who run that town. I would like to close this piece by saying as loudly as possible, vociferously, vehemently with great passion WHERE THE F*** IS MORGAN FREEMAN’S KING LEAR? Come on! you rotten bastards and lazy cowards in your fancy offices snorting coke and shagging brainless honeys of many genders, challenge yourself for once, you owe us that, at the very least. But that will never happen because they aren’t up to the job.

Someone had to break the log jam, so our increasingly decadent society didn’t end up like the Romans or the Nazis, in the ash heap of history. We needed to draw breath, to make ourselves heard. We are not a country of haters, we are not smutty, debauched, drug and debt addicted losers. We still believe in ourselves and believe that there is something good in us, no matter how evil a picture Hollywood reflects back at us of who they think we are. If Trump is nothing else, he is a new idea that has shaken up all the hoary, cynical old powers that be. They are on the run. It’s our time to grow and change again. Spring is here. New shoots, new blooms, new life. God Bless us, everyone.


Tatania in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream
by Frederick Howard Michael

 In my youth, the public school day began with the Pledge of Allegiance followed by the Lord’s prayer. Today, my entire school would be arrested and thrown in jail for daring to offend America haters, God rejecters, or some such malcontents who feel it is their duty not to go along with the crowd. I can’t recall anyone ever being scolded for not reciting these two inspirational messages, but I can’t recall anyone making a stink about it, either. I’m sure I moaned and groaned about it as much as or probably more than most, but the sentiments expressed in those two recitations have been touchstones in my life that I am glad I have.

Until just yesterday, I had always interpreted the part of the Lord’s prayer where we pray that God’s will be done as a real downer. Like, your mother is crazy but you’ve just gotta put up with it, because it’s God’s will. Or you can’t go to the movies because you are sick, so it’s God’s will that you don’t get to spend ninety minutes in the dark with your latest onscreen heartthrob. Whenever you had to suck it up and accept defeat, disappointment, illness, disaster and all kinds of pain, you submitted because, you know, God’s will, not mine.

But only yesterday, well into my gray-haired dotage, it dawned on me God was getting a pretty bad rap from this idea. It was then that I remembered the second part of that phrase in the Lord’s prayer, “thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Now, I’m aware that there are many variable interpretations of biblical translations, but it seems pretty clear that God’s will is that we do things on earth more like they are done in heaven. This is not about sucking it up, suffering and blaming God. God’s will is that earth shall be more like he wills things to be in heaven, and it’s a pretty safe assumption that your crazy mother won’t be making you miserable in heaven, God will find a way to bring her into compatibility with heaven, not the other way around. So our job is not to suck it up and soldier through, but to make earth more like heaven, somehow.

This is why I do no fear the robot. Bring on the robots, let them do the drudgery, the boring, repetitive jobs; free humanity to make earth more like heaven. Encourage our imaginations to run riot, and let the things we imagine be profitable in every way, intellectually, emotionally and financially. Bring on more dancing and singing, more beauty, more song, more paintings, more gardens and flowers everywhere, more games, more poetry, more books and more time to read the, more romance, more time for delight in children and raising them and telling them stories, more theaters and play acting, more family excursions, more of making earth like heaven. Whatever your heaven is, as long as you’re not hurting someone or taking away their freedom to find their heaven, please go ahead.

But, look around. We live in a shabby world of sensory deprivation, a world that lacks personality, sensibility, decoration, grace, charm, and individuality. Go to a mall and it’s vast, and physically comfortable, but lifeless, and every damn mall from coast to coast is interchangeable. They all look exactly alike with their potted palms and tiled walkways. Where is the singing and dancing, where are the choirs harmonizing like the old barber shop fellows? Nobody has time for the small, but vital art of living anymore.

And Good God, merely stepping into the cold sterility of a hospital is enough to rob the heartiest soul of the will to live. I know hospitals have to be sterile, but do they have to look that way, too? No. I spent some time with a sick relative in a hospital in Spokane where the walls were painted in soft pastels and decorated with ivy covered crumbling bricks, willow trees and children on swings. It made turning every corner interesting and delightful, instead of terrifying.

Break up the global cartels, let them be the Morlocks running the machines and tinkering with the robots, we humans have better things to do. Bring back humanity with all its joy of living, something a robot can never take away from us or share with us.

Spoken by Oberon, the Fairy King in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,
Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,
Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,
With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine:
There sleeps Titania sometime of the night,
Lull’d in these flowers with dances and delight;

More of this, please.

Wednesday, February 8, 2017


Red, red wine, it makes me feel so fine

Around about this time of year, as I stare out my window at yet another snow storm which will cover my car in ice and snow that has to be dug out again, when it is so cold that if the battery turns over, it’s worth a thank you prayer to God, when my feet are cold, when it’s slippery as hell, when trying to get anywhere is risking your life, I never fail to be impressed that the Democrats managed to sell the idea of global warming as a VERY VERY BAD DANGEROUS PHENOMENON. I mean, come on, really?? Is there anyone anywhere in the world to whom the concept of endless summer doesn’t sound like paradise?

Nobody vacations in the Arctic, we go to the Caribbean or to Hawaii. We want to be with Bob Marley drinking red, red wine that makes us feel so fine, smoking ganja, sleeping in a hammock and listening to the gentle slap of warm tropical waters on sugar sand. I do. Don’t think I’ve ever met a single person who’d turn down a tropical vacation. Have you?

You really have to hand it to the Democrats. They are so good at scaring people and inspiring them to do things that contradict basic human instinct that I’m convinced they could make children hate ice cream, women give up jewelry, men learn to knit, and just about anything unpleasant and inhospitable, if they set their minds to it.

But let me tell you, though I’ll admit snow is darn pretty to look at, I’m happy with a few screen shots of Greenland, thank you very much. Bob, here I come. Fire up a doobie for me and let the reggae roll, man, get barefoot and be happy, the world is heading for endless summer. I can’t wait. If I leave my SUV engine running 24/7, can I make it come sooner?

Monday, February 6, 2017


Budweiser's anti-American Super Bowl ad

 I have arrived at a truism about the political parties over my many years of voting Republican and Democrat. The defining quality that a candidate for each party must have can be summed up as “Never an upright Democrat or a fallen Republican.”
Far left Democrats are people who function best with hierarchies. They like to know their place and want others to accept their place, without becoming upstarts. This is because they have weak egos and superegos which are threatened by anyone who may appear to be better than they are, which makes leveling effect of socialism very appealing. Therefore, their candidate must never on any account, seem to be morally superior to them. Hence, scandal and corruption in Democrat candidates is not only not a barrier to getting the Democrat vote, it’s a requirement for getting the far left vote. Even the slightest hint of superiority enrages them. This is why Democrats hate anything that is pro American. No one can ever claim to be better than anyone else, or a Democrat head explodes. What?!!! You think you’re better than a foreigner who eats from the trash, sells drugs, rapes women and kills children? No, you are better than no one, and especially not me!!!  Anyone who feels good about themselves is trying to be better than me, thus, being pro American is trying to be better than everybody who isn’t American. Verboten. It’s quite difficult to find a candidate debauched and debased enough not to be a threat to the Democrat left and yet who is also acceptable to the general population, but championing a true reprobate is their greatest joy and is the only thing that makes them feel good.
Far Right Republicans, on the other hand, don’t need hierarchies to protect their ego and superego. What they have are people they idolize who must be perfect and in perfect accord with a fixed set of ideals. However, their egos and superegos are so weak that at the slightest criticism of their idol, they instantly throw that person under the bus and find someone else to idolize. What supports their ego is their complete devotion to their ideals as personified in one person. I refer to their idols as little tin gods. Championing their little tin gods against all comers becomes their sole raison d’etre in life, as long as the tin god's image remains unsullied. Thus, finding a candidate who can pass the Republican sniff test is a mighty hard proposition. As we all know, perfect human beings are few and far between. Consequently, it has always been easy for Democrats to deliver a knock-out punch to Republicans by searching out some scandal to smear them with, sending the devoted flock into horrified dismay, disarray and flight. They tried this with Trump, of course, relentlessly, and I’m looking at you Rupert Murdoch, you dirty old man with your NY Post nude photos of Melania.
I’m amazed that so many Democrats were able to look at Trump without feeling the need to slap him down because he was more successful than they were, and saw him as a regular guy, who just happened to be richer than they are; and I am equally amazed that so many Republicans were able to view nude photos of a potential first lady and hear locker room braggadocio and not to disappear into the woodwork: Trump? Trump who? Never heard of such a person. We have turned a big psychological corner in our culture to have overcome the mental complexes of the left and the right. Bravo and Brava for us!!!!
Perhaps because my mother was second generation German and from St. Louis, I was particularly offended by the Budweiser commercial. Hey, Adolphus, if Germany was so freakin great, why did you come here? And furthermore, you came here and America made you rich. How dare you act as if this country was anything but welcoming and good to its legal immigrants!!! Never forget, Adolphus, Americans beat the pants off your freakin Kraut relatives twice, so just shut up your face. And I’m a Kraut, too, so I can call you that. Okay?

Sunday, February 5, 2017



How revealing that Robert Reich has accused Milo Yiannopolous of staging the Berkeley riots as a false flag operation. I’m almost afraid to write this post for fear the lefties will stop their insanity and try to use persuasion, instead of beating people up and smashing property. However, one Kristallnacht where the authorities merely look on as rioters violently assault designated scapegoats is already one too many. To the surprise of no one, but Reich, there is now evidence that points once again to arch villain Soros, who has funded one the groups who organized the riots to the tune of $50K.

However, Reich is right that violence, riots, obstruction of free speech, property destruction, and assault and battery only make the current administration stronger and more beloved by more and more of the nation. I will illustrate why from my own personal experience.

I attended the Trump rally in Lynden, WA. I stood online for three hours and sat waiting in eager anticipation of Trump’s arrival for several more hours. As the time passed and we in the crowd bonded, people would shout reports from the news on their iphones. “He’s landed!!!” Wild cheering!!! “They’ve stalled cars across the I-5.” Boos!! “They’ve chained themselves across the I-5 bridge!” Boos!!! And at last the loud and triumphant cry, “He’s on the Bay-Lyn Road!!!!!!!!!!! Wild, wild, frantic cheers! Once he was on the Bay-Lyn Road, we knew nothing could stop him. When we the crowd, who had gone through so much to show our support for our guy, at last saw that white SUV round the corner in approach to the stadium, as one we leaped to our feet and cheered our hearts out.

I will confess that now, every time I cross the Bay-Lyn road, I get a great big lump in my throat remembering the man who gave up every comfort that civilization can offer a human being to help the USA be a great country where dreams can come true again. Trump is going to make the USA a safe country for us ordinary Joes and Janes, where malcontents, violent anarchists, criminals, obstructionists, career politicians, greedy lawyers and their friends in Congress happily passing laws to keep their lawyer friends rich, the lying media, the greedy pundits, the war mongers and every other maggot that was feeding on the dying carcass of a once great nation is going to be outed and routed.  

No, no one but Soros and his ilk have to pay others to carry out their dirty deeds, but every battle they fight in their usual nasty, malicious, obstructionist, and violent fashion is an insult to all decent people and makes Trump stronger and more beloved. I have learned from Trump that in life you must stand up for yourself, and that change is much harder to accomplish by loving and persistent persuasion than by ugly, frightening and repulsive violence, but the victory achieved by virtuous means is all the sweeter and more indelible and gathers goodness to its cause. Whenever I lose heart and feel the forces of darkness are winning, I will always remember, “He’s on the Bay-Lyn Road!” and take courage.