Good Guys With Guns Run

1468100638-open-carryA week after a brain-fried miscreant in Newtown, CT shot and killed 26 people including 20 children, Executive Vice President of the NRA Wayne LaPierre exclaimed at the organization’s annual meeting in response to another mass shooting, “The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun.” The implication was that if only schools employed armed guards, if only teachers could carry weapons into 3rd grade geography class, such mass murders could be a thing of the past. Reinforcing LaPierre’s prescription was Larry Pratt, executive director of Gun Owners of America, who said days later, “No teacher, no administrator, no adult had a gun at the Newtown school where the children were murdered. This tragedy underscores the urgency of getting rid of gun bans in school zones.”

We’ll probably never have a better laboratory to test Wayne’s hypothesis than the site of this week’s massacre of five white Dallas police officers by a racist ex-Army Reserve soldier named Micah Johnson. Deployed in Afghanistan, Johnson was well-trained by the Army in urban assault tactics which he applied in downtown Dallas during a “Black Lives Matter” protest. And at that protest, more than a dozen people along the march route were carrying AR-15s and other long guns as is their legal right in Texas.

Dallas Mayor Mike Rawlings said that about 20 people in “ammo gear and protective equipment and rifles slung over their shoulder” participated in the rally last Thursday. According to Dallas Police Chief David O. Brown, “They were wearing gas masks. They were wearing bulletproof vests and camo fatigues, for effect, for whatever reason.” Rawlings went on to say, “It’s logical to say that in a shooting situation, open carry can be detrimental to the safety of individuals.” Rawlings is a Democrat, so of course whatever he has to say on the subject is addled bullshit anyway.

But the item I found interesting was not the presence of wannabe Rambos outfitted for combat, but that when the shooting began, they ran. And because they ran in the middle of the shooting, Brown said the police on the scene viewed them as suspects. “Someone is shooting at you from a perched position, and people are running with AR-15s and camo gear and gas masks and bulletproof vests, they are suspects, until we eliminate that.” I wonder how many of them, if any, came to the rally expecting to be considered suspects in a deadly shooting rampage. How conflicted would the sentiment have been among the pro-gun, pro-cop segment if one of the men there carrying a semi-automatic rifle had been shot and killed by a police force that thought he was aligned with the killer Micah Johnson?

But let’s go back – why were they running? Wasn’t each of these 20 or 30 people a “good guy with a gun”? Why weren’t they scoping the assailant and leveling him with their heavy weaponry? If their instinct was to run instead of fight back, why did they bring the guns in the first place? Was it all just for show – a middle finger to guys like Rawlings and Brown?

Dallas posed a prime opportunity for the good guys with guns to stop a bad guy with a gun – and it didn’t happen. Just like it wouldn’t have happened in an Orlando disco; or in a theater in Aurora, CO; or on the campus of Virginia Tech. It’s a fantasy.

Concealed-carry proponents will argue the opposite, but every story I can find about armed citizens saving the day deals with an individual confronting another individual – the drunk who wanders into someone’s home, the petty thief who threatens a couple in their bedroom, a ruffian bent on stealing the take at a Seven-Eleven, the husband who shoots his wife’s nunchuck-wielding ex-husband.

Read “The Armed Citizen: Proof Guns Save Lives” in The Daily Caller. Or Armed Citizen Stories in The Armed Citizen. Or 10 Stories That Prove Guns Save Lives in Townhall. Or any of the plethora of reports assembled on the NRA’s website.

All fine stories of good guys stopping a bad guy – but none involving a mass-shooting. None involving an active shooter wearing body armor and loaded to the gills with weapons and ammo firing away in a dark, crowded public venue.

That’s a fantasy that one day will get a law-abiding, AR-15-toting dude a round between the eyes from a cop in the fog of urban war.

Wretchin’ Carlson


You really can’t blame Gretchen Carlson for suing Fox if what she said about her ancient and doughy boss, Roger Ailes, is even remotely true. How could anyone perform on TV with the thought roiling near the surface of their brain of the sweaty, bulbous, jowly, flatulent, cheese-toed Ailes struggling to extricate his piece of sclerotic pork from under a vast, hanging shelf of a belly?

Her case is even better than those doomed souls who were forced to sweep the floors of the reactor the day after Chernobyl melted down.

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Britain’s Flaccid Johnson

borisIt was only in the past few weeks that anyone in America paid serious attention to Britain’s looming vote whether to leave the European Union (aka. Brexit) which finally took place on June 24 with a shocking “yes” outcome. After all, it seemed that the forces behind Brexit consisted largely of yammering xenophobic yahoos who like nationalists in the mid-20th century blamed all woes on foreigners. The betting money was on the “Remain” cohort if for no other reason than to leave the 28-nation EU would be to enter never-visited territory fraught with peril, both economical and security-wise.

As of the Monday before the June 24 vote, world stock markets were in positive territory. Hell, even the hedge fund managers – the smartest people in the world, just ask them – were lulled into false complacency. After the results were revealed, markets lost a couple trillion and the British pound got pounded – proof that most people were absolutely certain Brexit would go down in flames.

And when I say most people, I include many of the strident proponents of Brexit who by their complete lack of a plan to deal with a “Leave” outcome showed they also believed the vote would fail. Behaving like so many fraudulent and craven politicians, they ginned up catastrophic imagery to scare dimwitted voters and to buff their nationalistic bona fides while secretly hoping the UK would stay in the EU. Chief among the frauds was Boris Johnson, former mayor of London.

Despite a well-documented position in the past of keeping the UK in the EU (“We can’t leave Europe. We’re part of the European Continent. What is the English Channel? It’s a primeval river that got slightly too big … We’re always going to be a part of Europe psychologically.”), the toe-headed Johnson more recently latched onto the notion that the EU had become too dysfunctional for Britain to remain. He and his ilk conjured doomsday images of roaming hoards of swarthy immigrants trampling the heath. And they massaged numbers to make it appear the UK was being duped out of billions in subsidies to the continent.

In any event, when “Leave” trumped “Remain,” the received wisdom was that Johnson could become the next prime minister, replacing the disgraced David Cameron who announced his resignation moments after the vote tallies were completed. Like many crafty politicians, Johnson positioned himself on both sides of an issue so he could claim vindication no matter which way it went. Tony Travers, a professor of government at the London School of Economics said, “He’s presumably calculating that even if Britain stays, he’s the kind of election-winning politician that Cameron would want to embrace, to show that the Tories are a big happy family. And if he’s leader of a winning campaign, he’ll be seen to have had excellent political judgment.”

So, after flip-flopping on the Brexit issue, exaggerating the problem, and energizing enough rural euro-skeptics to favor “Leave”, Johnson got what he wanted: a vote to exit the EU opening a clear path to lead the UK.

Then just days later, big Boris Johnson went flaccid. Once his colleague, justice secretary Michael Gove threw his hat into the ring, Johnson withdrew. Boris interruptus. Some say Gove betrayed Johnson, but what self-respecting politician would drop out so quickly in the face of a new challenger? Seems BoJo (as Johnson is known in the tabloids) is more bluster than substance, a BoJo with no MoJo.

Who knows how the whole Brexit melodrama will play out in the coming months and years. Already the US stock market has largely recovered as though nothing ever happened. No doubt the rest of the EU will impose serious pain on the UK, and Britain will suffer for it. Scotland may likely bolt as well, leaving behind a diminished Great Britain.

But one thing’s for sure. BoJo would make a great Vice President for Donald Trump. The hair combo alone would justify the choice.

Trump to China: Fuck off (and speed up my order, will ya?)

Speaking of Trump, the man is on a tear to rip up trade treaties and chastise evil China for currency manipulation and unfair trade practices. Which begs a question. To whom will he turn to for his junky merchandise once he cuts the cord with China, which supplies the bulk of it?


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Trump Does the “Walk on Back”

trumphatA headline in today’s Washington Post reads Trump, amid criticism, walks back suggestion that armed clubgoers could have prevented Orlando massacre. Apparently the notion of several dozen clubbers – many no doubt at least half-drunk – simultaneously opening fire in a crowded venue in the dark against an unknown assailant was too loopy even for Donald Trump to support for more than a day. Trump asserted after the tragedy, “If in that club, you had some people — not a lot of people, ’cause you don’t need a lot of people — but if you had somebody with a gun strapped onto their hip, somebody with a gun strapped onto their ankle and you had bullets going in the opposite direction, right at this animal who did this, you would have had a very, very different result, believe me, folks.”

Almost certainly the very different result would have been even more people shot and killed as every person shooting would appear to be the “active shooter” to all the other shooters. Shortly after, Trump did what he always does – he walked it back.

“When I said that if, within the Orlando club, you had some people with guns, I was obviously talking about additional guards or employees.” Obviously. He did forget, however, to note that indeed an armed guard was present at the Pulse club in Orlando that evening, and fired some rounds at Omar Mateen, the assailant.

If you have any doubts that Donald Trump is the corporeal incarnation of an IHOP waffle, consider these headlines documenting his numerous walk-backs:

Fund Raising:
Trump fundraisers walk back goal of raising $1 billion for campaign link

Attacks on Republicans:
Donald Trump’s campaign tries to walk back his attacks on Republicans link

Trump attempts to walk back abortion comments link

Trump Tries To Walk Back Comments On Registering All Muslims In A Database link

Tax Plan:
Donald Trump Walks Back Tax Plan, Saying ‘It’s Going to Be Negotiated’ link

George Bush:
Trump walks back attack on George Bush link

America’s Debt:
Trump walks back pledge to eliminate debt in a decade link

Abortion Punishment:
Donald Trump Walks Back Statement on ‘Punishment’ for Women Who Have Abortions link

Trump quickly walks back remarks on visas link

Bathroom Law:
Donald Trump Walks Back Criticism Of North Carolina’s Anti-Trans Bathroom Law link

Trump University:
Trump Walks Back Trump U Comments link

Supreme Court:
Trump Walks Back Supreme Court List link

Hillary Clinton:
Donald Trump Walks Back His Past Praise of Hillary Clinton link


USGA Duffs it Bad

golf tweet

As 2016 U.S. Open victor Dustin Johnson stood over a par putt on the fifth hole of the final round Sunday, his ball imperceptibly rolled backward toward him about 5 degrees. Because he had not placed his putter on the surface of the green behind the ball, and did not cause the ball to move (according to him), that should have been the end of it. But in the hyper-anal world of the “Rules of Golf,” all professionals know to consult the army of circulating rules officials rather than make a decision on their own that could cost them a trophy or push them down the leaderboard. Better to inform an official that the ball moved on its own and let him or her give a blessing to proceed, than make an assumption. (Johnson more than most can appreciate that, as he took a two-stroke penalty on the final hole of the 2010 PGA Championship and lost a chance to win because his club touched a worn out spot on the course that had been deemed a sandtrap.)

The rules official at yesterday’s U.S. Open concluded on the spot that the movement was not caused by Johnson; DJ putted out for par and moved on.

Now, lay people may ask what possible difference could it make if a golfball moves a millimeter prior to being struck – and they would be correct. The USGA finally softened the rule recently which used to penalize players when, through no fault of their own, the wind kicked up and waggled the ball. Now, the rule stipulates that the player must be the culprit in causing the ball to move.

In Johnson’s case on number 5, it seemed pretty clear from the grainy video that he was not the culprit.

Watch for yourself.

Seven holes later, however, the USGA informed Johnson that, on second thought, he might get a 1 stroke penalty after all, despite the exoneration of the rules official (essentially the closest thing golf has to an umpire). Just keep playing and we’ll let you know when you’re done. A USGA official joined the TV sportscasters to give a laughable explanation of the situation, and yet neither Joe Buck nor Paul Azinger at the desk bothered to point out what an asshole-ish position the USGA had taken.

How can a sporting contest proceed if players don’t know the outcome of a ruling until after it’s all over? This is especially the case in golf where trophies are often won by a single stroke – the amount that hung in the balance for Johnson.

It turns out the USGA did assess a penalty on Johnson, but his margin of victory was sufficient to weather the ruling body’s retardation. (Sidebar: imagine if Johnson had signed his card with a par on 5, before the USGA belated assessed the penalty . . . would they have DQ’d DJ for signing an erroneous card? Did I mention golf’s rules are hyper-anal?)

The issue really isn’t that the USGA most certainly incorrectly assessed a penalty, but that they dithered forever to make that incorrect call.

If the USGA was running the NBA, we may not yet know whether the Cavs beat the Warriors because they’d still be trying to determine whether LeBron James traveled in the first quarter. And the USGA wonders why interest in golf is flagging. Morons.

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McCain Insane in the Membrane

jKhN3faIt went widely unreported that prior to the commission of mass murder by Omar Mateen at an Orlando dance club, Barack Obama picked up Mateen at his home, gave him a few hundred rounds of ammo, and drove him to the club. If it hadn’t been for a tax-and-spend briefing back at the White House that evening, Obama would have carried in Mateen’s AR-15 assault rifle for him.

Thanks to an increasingly addled John McCain, we now know that in regards to the massacre, “Barack Obama is directly responsible for it.”

However, in the interest of national security McCain kept the sordid details under wraps, instead blaming Obama “because when he pulled everybody out of Iraq, al Qaeda went to Syria, became ISIS, and ISIS is what it is today thanks to Barack Obama’s failures — utter failures, by pulling everybody out of Iraq, thinking that conflicts end just because you leave. So the responsibility for it lies with President Barack Obama and his failed policies.”

Not a bad cover story, except that McCain forgot that a Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) calling for the withdrawal of United States Forces from Iraq was signed by Obama’s predecessor in 2008. Article 24 of the agreement states “All United States combat forces shall withdraw from Iraqi cities, villages, and localities no later than the time at which Iraqi Security Forces assume full responsibility for security in an Iraqi province, provided that such withdrawal is completed no later than June 30, 2009.” It also states that “All the United States Forces shall withdraw from all Iraqi territory no later than December 31, 2011.”

McCain’s foggy brain also seems to have leeched the memory that by 2008 – five years after the “cakewalk” Iraq War was kicked off – the citizens of the United States by and large were beyond weary of military conflicts paid for and led almost exclusively by Americans in the Middle East. Most people just wanted the U.S. to get the hell out of Iraq, knowing that, like Vietnam, the country would fail whether we left in 2009 or 2099.

The SOFA of 2008 also acknowledges that “the United States recognizes the sovereign right of the Government of Iraq to request the departure of the United States Forces from Iraq at any time” which they did in 2010.

The idea was that following extensive training by the Americans, the Iraqi forces would be able to manage on their own. Article 27 of the SOFA anticipates that the Iraqis would likely face military opposition from terrorist organizations like Al Qaeda: “The Parties agree to continue close cooperation in strengthening and maintaining military and security institutions and democratic political institutions in Iraq, including, as may be mutually agreed, cooperation in training, equipping, and arming the Iraqi Security Forces, in order to combat domestic and international terrorism and outlaw groups, upon request by the Government of Iraq.”

Well, as soon as the Iraqi military faced ISIS they dropped their guns and ran – leaving perfectly good U.S.-supplied heavy weaponry like tanks and rocket launchers for the terrorists to confiscate and use against them. But let’s not forget – Obama was directly responsible for the massacre in Orlando.

Which raises an interesting point: it was not until the night of the massacre that the perpetrator made a claim of aligning with ISIS. He did not travel to the Middle East for ISIS training, attend radical Mosques, or write rants against infidels. It is very possible that Mateen’s primary motive was to kill gays, whom he associated with the “filthy ways of the west.” And now the press is reporting that Mateen’s wife has claimed the man so enraged against gays was himself gay; could this massacre be more about self-loathing than ISIS?

If so, McCain will have to modify his claim that Obama is “directly responsible” because he failed to prevent the Stonewall Riots in 1969.

Sadly, John McCain has lost his mind. The man is so desperate to win re-election this fall in a tight race that he’ll say and do anything. Donald Trump specifically belittled McCain’s suffering as a POW at the hands of the North Vietnamese who held him captive for years following the downing of his plane. McCain at the time registered modest offense, but now he endorses the draft-dodging Trump.

I say McCain finally goes down in November. And then he can retire to one of his many homes in Arizona and watch cartoons all day.

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Cut That Man a Check
Mass murderer Omar Mateen when he was only just a douchebag

The moment the stock market opened on the Monday after this past weekend’s horrific mass shooting in Orlando, the share prices of prominent arms makers – Ruger, Smith & Wesson, and Olin (which owns Winchester) – all popped. The boards of directors of each of these publicly traded firms should cut a check to Omar Mateen – the perpetrator of the mayhem that cost 50 people their lives, and wounded more than another 50. Or to his family, as Mateen is now thankfully deceased. Smith & Wesson’s market cap went up $90 million in the first few hours that anxious investors could place orders. Ruger is up $100 mil.

Once again, like counter-intuitive clockwork, the fiscal health of gun makers improves dramatically following gun-related tragedies. If the same thing happened in the pharmaceutical industry, the stock price of Pfizer would skyrocket after discovery that dicks fall off of men who take Viagra.

Every time a fucking nutcase commits mass murder with assault rifles and semi-automatic handguns, the gun-owning public shudders at what they believe will be the start of a complete government confiscation of personal weaponry. Fifty people are murdered by a crazed gunman, and hundreds of thousands of people immediately rush out to Gander Mountain to purchase another 10 guns to add to their collections before Obama can swoop in on his black helicopter.

Forget the fact that since 2004 it’s never been easier to acquire any and all manner of weapons, ammunition, and assorted accessories to shooting. Gun laws in most states are as lenient as they’ve ever been: stand your ground laws let you shoot anyone who makes you feel threatened; conceal carry laws let you take guns into movie theaters, bars, schools; laws bar enforcement agencies from collecting and sharing gun violence info.

So the knee-jerk reaction to bid up gun-makers’ share prices after every mass gun shooting makes no sense, but as with much that happens on Wall Street, it’s not the business fundamentals that drive the market – it’s the folkloric “received wisdom” that initiates the lemming-like behavior.

Mass shootings are good for business – and that’s sadly outrageous.


RIP Gordie Howe

Muhammad Ali has received near-unprecedented coverage for a sports star following his death last week – probably 1,000 times more copy than Gordie Howe received following his death on June 10. As a youngster in the 1960s, I had much greater respect for Howe who dominated the sport in his time than I had for Ali who seemed defiantly anti-American – what with the Nation of Islam stuff and the draft dodging. Later on, when it became crystal clear that the Vietnam War was a mistake and an outrage, Ali could claim vindication – but I still cannot get on board with the encomiums in the obits about Ali’s “sacrifices” during the three years he was absent from boxing. Three years when 10,000+ men lost their lives in Southeast Asia.

I much preferred to read obits about the amazing number 9 – Detroit’s Howe who broke records, mentored great players, and continued to skate in the professional leagues into his 50s. Growing up in northwestern Pennsylvania where it was possible to pick up Canadian television broadcasting nonstop hockey and curling, I became a hockey fanatic, attending local hockey matches each week pitting the Erie Lions against other hapless teams from Scranton, or Youngstown, or London, Ontario. I saw so many games in my youth that I actually could sing the Canadian National Anthem.

Gordie Howe and someone named Gretzky

My heroes at that time, in addition to Gordie Howe included Bobby Hull, Bobby Orr, Stan Mikita, Gerry Cheevers. I had a foosball-like table game in which two players manipulated two-dimensional spinning players up and down the particle-board “ice” – and of course, I named each player after my faves (going so far as to affix Howe’s name on the right-winger with an old-time DYMO label gun.)

In one of the post-mortems on Howe that I read, an avid fan named Bruce Picken recalled a memorable play when Howe was 42 years old. “He was at the right side of the net on a power play and started to shoot the puck. Joe Daley was in net for the Sabres. Howe saw he couldn’t score because of the angle, so he switched from his right-hand shot to his left hand and fired the puck into the far side of the net — left-handed.”

Now that’s why I read obituaries – and why I found Howe’s minimal coverage more compelling than the barrels of ink spilled on Ali.

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Hulk and Erin: A Lesson on Double Standards

hulkerinFox Sports host Erin Andrews recently won a court judgment in March for $55 million in a civil case against the Nashville Marriott hotel and a cretin named Michael David Barrett who secretly filmed a naked Andrews through a peephole in a locked door connecting her room to his, and posted the grainy video to the internet where it replicated onto untold numbers of websites. No doubt millions of voyeurs saw the unsuspecting Andrews in the nude. How Barrett came to occupy the room next to Andrews was fairly simple – he manipulated a clerk at the Marriott front desk to divulge in which room the sportscaster was staying, and then later requested a room next to hers.

After a two-week trial in which a teary Andrews was called to testify about the emotional damage inflicted upon her, the jury decided to award the multi-million dollar damages – although not the $75 million she had petitioned for – to be split almost evenly between the two defendants. Barrett had years earlier completed a jail sentence in the criminal case that was filed in 2009.

After the judgment was made public, I noticed that quite a few observers commented on what they considered an outrageous sum of money to lavish on someone for what they suggested was hardly a crime at all. Many mocked Andrews’ appearance as not “hot” enough to justify $55 million – a position that seems hopelessly irrelevant and downright stupid. Here is a sampling of commentary to an ABCNews story :

  • She is a gold-digging floozy. Her salary went up 5 TIMES, as a result of that stupid video. Give us all a break Erin.
  • $75 MILLION?? They don’t reward that much money in a MURDER TRIAL. Get a clue. The video is grainy and blurry anyway……… And her body is NOT that hot. – not even CLOSE.
  • This happened over 9 years ago…and she’s coming out now how tormented and harmed she is? She seems pretty fine to me – DWTS hostess and sideline reporter for the World Series and the NFL. Not to mention dating a series of athletes. I guess we’re in the age of PC.
  • This lady obviously just wants money and more attention than she was getting before.
  • She owes the guy who shot the video several million dollars … these celebs today make all their money of negative media attention, whether she likes it or not.
  • She is nothing but an opportunist. Comes out of nowhere to bump a professional like Pam Oliver off the # 1 team calling NFL Football games at Fox Get to dance on national television on another reality type entertainment show.
  • Now looking to get 75 million dollars from a hotel chain because her skinny naked body appears on the internet. She ain’t that great looking and her body is only fair wearing designer clothing. Just absolutely amazing.

Around the same time another lawsuit cut from similar cloth was resolved in a case brought forward by Hulk Hogan against the slimy Gawker media property after a surreptitiously-captured video of him having sex with the wife of a close friend was posted to their website. A jury in Florida awarded the former professional wrestler damages totaling $140 million. Gawker argued they were protected by the First Amendment – which would seem to carry more weight than any argument Barrett could have conjured in his own defense – but the jury concluded that Hogan’s privacy rights trumped Gawker’s constitutional protections.

Clearly both Andrews and Hogan deserve privacy protection, but to me Hogan seems to be the lesser-aggrieved of the two. Hogan is a well-known public figure, making him less able to blunt attacks from the press, and Gawker was not the perpetrator of the illicit filming, unlike the person sued by Andrews. And Andrews was outed by a private citizen who broke laws to acquire his footage, whereas Gawker simply posted content acquired from a third-party source.

In any event, unlike the tenor of commentary accompanying reportage of Andrews’s so-called outsized or undeserved award, observers of the Hogan-Gawker confrontation seemed to concentrate more on vilifying Gawker than ranting about the obscene amount of money awarded to Hogan. Some comments again from accompanying ABCNews coverage :

  • We need solid consequences for irresponsible journalism.
  • Cough up Gawker! That’s a body slam!
  • Anyone with even a hint of common sense would know that posting a video of someone else having sex (without their permission) is not considered free speech, yet they did it anyway. Since their motive was money, the punishment is money, although frankly I think they should be prohibited from ever working in the news field again as well.
  • Gawker is filth for the misinformed, misled masses of 20-somethings with no morals. News is news, Gawker is mindless distractions.
    What they did wasn’t “Free Speech”. What they did was take an illegally recorded video [neither party was aware they were being recorded] and post it to their website to generate money for their company.

A woman is awarded $55 million after her privacy is violated and the chatter is about how ridiculous the payout is; a man gets $140 million under similar circumstances and the chatter is about how fucked up the perpetrator is.

Truly thought-provoking.

End Note: Turn that thing off!

The photo below taken in a neighborhood Chinese restaurant is that of a diorama depicting boats and planes zipping past a scrolling Manhattan skyline. And every now and then the planes seem to strike the now-demolished World Trade Center. I get creeped out every time I pick up my General Tso chicken.


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El Al Can’t Help Us

State of the art in airport security: TSA checking for C-4 in man’s ball-sack

Another modern jetliner fell out of the sky yesterday into the Mediterranean Sea, and considering its origin (France) is a top target of ISIS (Islamic State of Insanity Squared) and its destination (Egypt) is likewise a target of Islamic militants, it’s fairly safe to say EgyptAir flight 840 was sabotaged. After all, aircraft like the reportedly well-maintained Airbus 320 piloted by men with 9,000 hours of flight time between them traveling at cruising altitude in perfectly clear weather don’t just malfunction without warning.

Terrorism involving commercial aircraft is on the rise; add Metrojet Flight 9268 out of Egypt (Oct 31, 2015) and Daallo Airlines Flight 159 out of Somalia (Feb 2, 2016) to yesterday’s tragedy. Perpetrators are getting better at developing harder-to-detect explosives in smaller packages and circumventing ever more sophisticated and intrusive detection methods. The latter has of late become fodder for opprobrium by pedestrian air travelers (and members of Congress who are partly to blame for the growing mess) suffering hideous delays at major airports resulting in missed flights and unexpected overnight stays in no-star rated airport hallways.

Experts warn that behind the TSA’s iron wall that regular passengers must crawl through half-naked to board a flight exists a poorly-policed back door through which all variety of potential miscreants pass largely unmolested: maintenance workers, food service employees, baggage handlers, private pilots and their elite passengers, dudes who mow the grass around the runway. I can readily believe that. Anyone who has ever worked for a company that requires a badge to enter the property knows that Joe will happily hold the door open for Sam, if Sam has been his co-worker for any length of time. This gap certainly must be tightened.

Where I depart from some aviation experts who come out of hibernation to appear on CNN, Fox and MSNBC whenever tragedy strikes is the subject of emulating Israel’s El Al. (Read Britain’s The Week for a typical argument.) Such experts, following a terrorist attack on aircraft often call upon the TSA to adopt El Al’s methods and procedures. It appears to be sound advice. Just one El Al flight has ever been hijacked (1968), and the airline is the only one in the world that equips its planes with missile defense systems. Passenger scrutiny by Israeli government officials, the IDF and El Al personnel is famously rigorous, including comprehensive baggage inspection, passenger profiling, and psychological analysis to go along with physical examination of person and property. Airport security guards operate both in uniform and undercover. Wait times are extensive, but given Israel has long been the target of fanatics who call for the nation’s destruction, passengers happily take it all in stride.

What is often left out of the argument for emulating El Al in America is the tiny footprint the Israeli national airline occupies, which allows it to implement its strict regimen. El Al serves just 45 destinations and flies 4 million passengers a year. American Airlines offers an average of nearly 6,700 flights daily to 350 destinations in 50 countries and flew 146 million people in 2015; Southwest flew 144 million and Delta flew 138 million. Israel boasts one major airport: Ben Gurion which handled about 16 million passengers last year (the next five biggest Israeli airports combined handle a bit more than 2 million). Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta, one of 30 airports in America that handle more passengers annually than Ben Gurion does, manages to squeeze through 96 million souls a year.

Israel and El Al deserve tremendous credit for the air safety system they’ve created, but to the aviation experts: stop pretending such a system could ever work in America.

Phil Mickelson: A Master from Tee to Greed


I guess the multiple millions in income from winning more than 40 professional golf tournaments, including five major championships, and the payoffs from sponsorship deals derived from an illustrious career on the links was not enough for Phil Mickelson. According to Forbes , Mickelson takes down $48 million a year as a shill for Callaway, Barclays, KPMG, Exxon Mobil, Rolex and Amgen. That’s in addition to whatever he wins on tour and accrues in investments. Pretty healthy, and yet Mickelson deemed it necessary to turn to insider trading to buttress his cash flow by at least another million bucks, according to details of an SEC complaint released yesterday.

But don’t immediately assume it’s all about greed (despite the cocky headline above). Apparently, Mickelson has been leaking serious coin for a number of years thanks to a string of bad luck at the games of chance.

A CEO of Dean Foods named Thomas Davis owed huge sums from gambling losses to Las Vegas sports betting impresario William Walters, and tried to work down his debts by feeding Walters inside poop on the comings and goings of the company he ran. Walters threw some of the proprietary info to Michelson. At the time, Mickelson also owed money to Walters for a gambling debt. The SEC claimed profits Mickelson made on trading shares of Dean Foods went to reimburse Walters. Both Walters and Davis were charged with crimes, but the SEC passed on nailing Phil as they concluded he was blissfully ignorant of the situation. Phil’s penalty was to disgorge about a million in ill-gotten gains.

Is Mickelson another John Daly with a better golf game? ( TMZ reported, Daly, a two-time major golf champ, lost $90 million gambling.) Mickelson might not be too far behind Daky – who knows. He’s dumped property, including a fire-sale on a 9,200 square foot mansion in Rancho Santa Fe for $5.75 million in 2015, a sum that is almost a quarter of a million less than what he paid for it all the way back in 2001. And Phil has groused a little too vocally about the high taxes he pays, suggesting it’s more than just a sore point harbored by a rich bastard who can afford it but simply hates the principle of the thing.

Is the man is on the verge of financial pain? Will one or more sponsors exit stage right? Kinda sad, but I can’t say I have much sympathy.

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In Prs of Brvty

pascal-258170A favorite quote from a favorite mathematician, Blaise Pascal: “I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.” Also attributed to the likes of Mark Twain and T.S. Eliot, the seemingly paradoxical statement sums up nicely the obstacle that confronts so many writers, to wit, the challenge of trimming florid prose and multi-page, depth-plumbing narration down to the bare essentials. Driven by a sense that quantity equals quality, writers and artisans have long devoted their talents to producing works of stunning detail bordering at times on dreary pomposity. Charles Dickens may have at one point in his illustrious career been paid by the word, but by the mid-Twentieth Century, the elegance of simplicity in design and execution became the beacon for writers, artists, architects, industrial designers and musicians.

The ethos of “less is more” – expounded by famed architect Ludwig Mies Van der Rohe – pervades Walter Isaacson’s biography “Steve Jobs.” More than any other trait, it seems Jobs’s maniacal focus on intertwining technology with clean design separated him and his companies from the rest of the pack. His drive to smooth lines, eliminate buttons, screws and seams, toss away user manuals and simplify the user experience led to blockbuster consumer products, some of which wound up in the collection of the Museum of Modern Art.

In literature, Ernest Hemingway is credited with writing the shortest short story of all time (although evidence suggests he may have appropriated the idea from earlier incarnations):

“For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”

Now that’s a terse story. It conjures up curiosity for what might have happened to the baby who never wore the shoes, or speculation as to whether a baby ever existed. And if not, why not? And what about the mother who decided to sell the shoes? Or was the seller an unrelated player in the tale? So much to contemplate in just six words.

I took on a challenge recently by Novel Writing Festival to write a story of 400 words or less, which is a bit easier than confining to six but still a frustrating task. I clipped an element in a chapter from my first novel , “RonnieandLennie” and recast it into a more-or-less complete story. Writing a coherent story of 400 words is like taking off and landing on the same runway. No sooner have you introduced characters and set up back-stories and motivations when it’s time to wrap up in a satisfying way for the reader.

My submission, “Together and Separate” was one of several chosen for citation – they even assigned an actor to read the story. Watch the video of Sean Kaufmann performing what I cheekily labeled a noirish dramedy.

For those who prefer reading to being read to, here is “Together and Separate” in its entire 400 word glory.

Conjoined brothers Ronnie and Lennie drove into Statesville, North Carolina – a stop on their way to visit the gravesite of the most famous Siamese twins of all, Chang and Eng Bunker. Lennie drove because he was the twin on the left. Lennie on the left and Ronnie on the right. It was a simple mnemonic invented by their uneducated mother.

AAA recommended Charlotte as the best place to divide the trip, but Ronnie abhorred the notion of walking into a big city hotel crowded with gawkers eager to point and take snapshots of two people – freaks – tethered to one another by a rogue band of flesh. As they neared the exit for Charlotte, Ronnie exclaimed, “Keep driving.” Lennie complied. From the moment the boys began to crawl, when the leg of the table got between them and they couldn’t pass, Lennie complied.

“Pull into that Travelodge up ahead,” Ronnie announced suddenly.
Lennie squinted. “Where?”
“On the left. Jesus, Lennie. The sign with the sleep-walking bear.”

Lennie parked in the motel’s crumbling asphalt lot, and as the two slid out of the car in a remarkably coordinated fashion, Ronnie declared, “After we check in I’m going to that bar we passed a half mile back.”
“Is that necessary? I’m beat.”
“You can stay in the room if you want, but I need a drink.”
Lennie scowled as he retrieved a valise from the trunk.

Ronnie drank shots and beers, bemoaning the state of life. “Remember those old bags joined at the ass in the grocery store? The ones in the ‘Freaks’ movie?”
“The Hilton Sisters?”
“I don’t wanna wind up like them, Len. Packing sacks next to you when I’m 70.”
Lenny shrugged.

Ronnie downed another shot. Lennie sipped club soda but it didn’t matter; he got drunk anyway. Sharing a liver was another burden the conjoined twins bore; it was the reason surgeons had opted against separating Ronnie and Lennie.

Around midnight, certifiably inebriated, Lennie drove away from the bar directly into the grill of a passing truck hauling hogs. An ambulance transported the crumpled twins to a rural hospital. When he was well enough to travel, Ronnie rented a car and left Statesville for home where the body of his brother Lennie awaited. On the long ride back, Ronnie contemplated an unexpected future. For certain it would not involve a visit to the grave of the Bunkers.

RIP St. Sava Cathedral

St. Sava Cathedral on 26th Street in Manhattan erected in the1850s and formally known as the Serbian Orthodox Cathedral of St. Sava was completely gutted by a fire on May 1. The extent of the damage is essentially total.


Apparently, following an Easter service the cathedral’s custodian packed up candles that had been previously lit into cardboard boxes. Prudence would suggest this procedure does not comport with standards embraced by fire departments nor the insurance and casualty industry. Sadly, the flames quickly enveloped the largely wooden interior infrastructure and roof, leaving a smoldering masonry shell in its wake.

I mentioned St. Sava’s in my second novel, “Architect’s Rendition” as a central place for Serbians to gather, and a hub of Serbian culture that also drew a few bad apples. One such nasty character became the bane of existence for the lead character, a cunning architect who lusts after a younger woman who was once entangled romantically with the Serbian bad guy. I particularly liked that St. Sava’s was designed by Richard Upjohn, the first president of the American Institute of Architects – thus lending additional relevance to the story.

As expected, clergy leaders vowed to rebuild at the site, but the extent of the devastation would seem to make that goal a daunting and expensive proposition.

So, for now, RIP St. Sava’s.

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Jaw-Dropping Clickbait

WillieEver since content aggregators on the web began delivering links to original news reported and written by professional outlets for free, journalists and publishers have wrung their hands over the dim future of traditional newspapers. Subscribers have cancelled out, local newspapers have contracted or folded up, weekly news magazines are relics. Everyone expects to read news on the web for free, and despite the obvious problem that absent some form of payment quality content cannot be developed, the readers have largely rejected every attempt to extract money from them. Thank god for clickbait.

“Clickbait” is the perfect term for those ubiquitous ads masquerading as must-read-right-now shocking revelations about celebrities, medications, dogs and cats, secret government programs, little-known looming disasters, anything. A typical clickbait come-on might look like this: “15 things you didn’t know about Elton John’s urologist! #7 will freak you out!”

Because so many news aggregators and fluff peddlers like Yahoo, Gawker, Daily Caller, TMZ and even serious outlets like Fortune rely on by-the-click-fees paid by the advertisers behind clickbait, they are practically impossible to ignore. For awhile, the common clickbait seduction centered around the “one weird trick” phenomenon. “65 year-old shlub loses 25 lbs in 3 days using this one weird trick! Woman buys groceries for 27 cents a week using this one weird trick! Pay off your mortgage in 60 days using this one weird trick!” Eventually, the “one weird trick” trope ran its course and was largely withdrawn from the headline writer’s arsenal.

Lately I’ve noticed that “jaw dropping” has become the tease line on much clickbait. Apparently the thought is that resistance is futile when the subject matter is so astounding that all you can do is stare at it like a slack-jawed nitwit. In reality, based on the several times I checked, most of the material linked to from clickbait is run-of-the-mill stuff, neither shocking nor even obscure. But like the “wet paint” sign that compels people to touch the shiny object, clickbait must work. After all, how can you resist finding out what Marcia Brady looks like now?


Above the Fold: RIP Prince

The multi-talented Prince who died this week at the untimely age of 57 received the ultimate honor in death: an above-the-fold obituary with a photograph on the front page of the New York Times. I was a bit surprised, not because he doesn’t deserve it, but because David Bowie, who was at least if not a more influential artist than Prince, got a front page obit below the fold. I suppose the placement decision is a combination of the importance of competing news on the day of publication, how close to the deadline the subject succumbed, and the whim of the editors.


A few years ago I wrote a blog with dozens of predictions of “above the fold” candidates; I had Bowie penciled in as a long-shot – I guess I was right. Then again, I didn’t have Prince on my list – but maybe I thought he was immortal.

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Architect’s Rendition: A New Screenplay by Herb Schultz

NEW YORK, NY, USA - JUNE 9: Aerial view of Flat Iron building, b

Gerald and Wren look up at the building.

I just love the detail.

Yeah. Daniel Burnham went a little overboard on the dentils and pilasters and those things at the top that look like cartouche. Pretty much the opposite of what my firm designs. Still, it’s a marvelous structure.
It’s like a mighty plow in one of those Depression-Era WPA murals, furrowing Manhattan into Broadway and Fifth Avenue.

I never thought of it that way.

It’s more apparent from my office. Would you like to take a look?

Love to.

Architect’s Rendition Synopsis

“Determined to marry his mistress, an architect enlists three associates in a complex scheme to murder his wife, and each other.”

Set in Manhattan in the early 2000s, the action opens with a series of shots of some of New York City’s finest architectural gems: Guggenheim Museum, Seagram Building, Lever House, Whitney Museum, TWA terminal, Standard Hotel, New Museum, Hearst Building, IAC Building, Plaza Hotel, The Oculus, Chrysler Building, The United Nations Building. The final shot is of the Flatiron Building illuminated at dusk in the manner of Edward Steichen’s famous photograph. From there the action moves across Madison Square Park toward an office high-rise a couple blocks away inside which forty-something Gerald Pfalzgraf works at his desk. Gerald is the handsome, well-dressed proprietor of a high-end boutique architecture firm catering to wealthy clients in the market for sleek homes with bold lines.

Disgusted after discovering one of the architects in his high-end boutique firm in Manhattan has downloaded illegal pornography, Gerald walks the street in contemplation of how he might exploit his compromised employee, Oscar. Gerald happens upon a domestic argument and witnesses a physical altercation between a young woman, Wren and her brutish ex-boyfriend, Sinisa. Smitten with Wren from the moment she took a shot to the jaw, Gerald follows Wren at a distance until she ducks into the bar where she works. Gerald resolves to find out more about her.

With time, Gerald, a handsome man in his mid-forties develops a romantic relationship with Wren, a real beauty half his age with smooth alabaster skin and shoulder-length golden hair. Gerald knows Wren is the one for him, but his pursuit of happiness is impeded by a rocky 20-year marriage to a wealthy, manipulative woman, Morcilla. She rarely passes up an opportunity to remind Gerald that it is her largesse and influence that helped him build and grow his architecture firm, Pfalzgraf Associates. And of late, Morcilla has signaled a growing disinterest in offering further support for her husband and his business interests. If only Gerald could move Morcilla aside and confiscate her wealth.

At the bank to secure financing for office expansion, Gerald spots Tom, an old school chum whose highway construction firm is in financial trouble. Gerald recalls that Tom had been a sharpshooter in the Army. He offers to help Tom who mistakenly presumes Pfalzgraf Associates requires some form of construction service.

Wren informs Gerald that Sinisa has stepped up his abusive harassment, convincing Gerald that the ex-boyfriend poses one more impediment to his happiness. After he concludes Sinisa must also be moved aside, Gerald architects a complex enterprise of mayhem. Guided by Machiavelli, his childhood hero, Gerald wields the tools of deception, manipulation and opportunism; he knows that men who seek to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived.

Gerald coerces sharpshooter Tom to shoot Morcilla from afar in what would appear to be a random act of violence in the manner of the famous DC sniper. Holding the threat of incarceration over Oscar’s head, Gerald manipulates his employee to push Tom into the path of an oncoming subway train. Under the guise of a fixer for a client, Gerald meets Sinisa at a casino where he hires him to kill Oscar and stage it to look like suicide. In the briefcase containing Sinisa’s payoff, Gerald includes a complimentary bag of cocaine laced with poisonous ricin, knowing Sinisa cannot resist snorting the contents post haste. Within hours of dispatching Oscar, a choking Sinisa stumbles from his apartment to seek medical attention. Instead, he tumbles down a flight of stairs, suffering a mortal blow to the head at the bottom.

While convening with a big-time client far from Manhattan, Gerald learns that Morcilla has been killed, and that a deranged hillbilly has taken credit for shooting her. This unexpected turn of events is more than Gerald could hope for. By the time Gerald returns home, his plan has been flawlessly executed. But when Wren finds a casino chip in Gerald’s suit pocket, she begins to suspect Gerald may be connected to the sudden deaths of both his wife and Wren’s tormentor. Gerald convinces Wren he knows nothing.

Gerald and Wren get married. After a long honeymoon they return to Manhattan to take up residence in the luxury Fifth Avenue apartment formerly occupied by Gerald and Morcilla. All is well – until the district attorney informs Gerald that the hillbilly who confessed to the killing has recanted. And with new evidence in hand they intend to re-open the investigation of the sniper shooting. Where it may lead, nobody knows.

As his new, young wife admires the view of Central Park from the balcony, Gerald drinks a cocktail and considers his next move.

Read the screenplay.

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NC Rednecks Legislate Doody Time

Strangely, this is still legal in North Carolina

The State of North Carolina has taken a serious beating in the past week or so following the signing of a Neanderthal law that prohibits localities to enact their own anti-discrimination laws, as well as makes it a crime to enter a bathroom if the gender on your birth certificate does not match the male or female icon on the door. North Carolina is a fairly diverse state with pockets of forward-thinking Americans in places like Charlotte, Chapel Hill, and the Research Triangle Park area that are surrounded by inbred relatives of the Clampetts and Bodines. Following the path taken by such enlightened states as Indiana and Mississippi, the timid governor of NC, Pat McCrory inked House Bill 2 under pressure not to appear too focused on actual problems facing his state.

Reaction from businesses was swift. PayPal announced a moratorium on building out a facility in Charlotte that would have employed hundreds. Deutsche Bank said it will halt plans to add 250 jobs in North Carolina because of the law. The NBA may relocate their 2017 All Star Game. Already the smell of political fear is wafting in the air, as McCrory tries to make the case he wants some softening of the terms. But much damage has already been done. And NC’s reputation has fallen behind those of Georgia and Louisiana whose governors quashed attempts to enact similarly foolish bans.

But I ask all men out there on the highways and byways of North Carolina. If any of the people below who were born male entered the Men’s Room, what would you do?


Gwyneth Paltrow Adds to the Celebrity Cookbook Glut


Frequent readers know that we at Major Terata loathe the celebrity recipe book segment (just read our motto). These fatuous and largely derivative products crowd out limited space in bookstores that could be better stocked with works by struggling authors. After all, who really needs yet another goddamned cookbook – especially one that includes recipes for such exotic dishes as breakfast crepes, avocado toast, chicken piccata, and fried egg sandwich (honest to god, see page 9 of Gwyneth Paltrow’s new book, “It’s All Easy: Delicious Weekday Recipes for the Super-Busy Home Cook”).

Gwyneth explains her motivations: “When I sat down to start this book, I had been polling my friends and colleagues on what sort of cookbook they were looking for. These friends all seemed to have a common culinary yearning. They wanted a collection of recipes that they could prepare easily.” I would say her friends all seemed to have a common malady as well – an extreme lack of curiosity in trying to locate one of the 10,000 cookbooks already published that offer easy recipes.

Naturally, Gwyneth doesn’t undertake such a challenging project alone; she collaborates with Thea Baumann who no doubt was assigned the grunty work of conjuring up the details of the recipes. For that, she gets her name on the cover in type that is about one-tenth the size of Gwyneth’s name.

A reviewer on Amazon wrote, “I noticed that by page 24, there were 8 photos of Gwyneth; by page 56, there were 15, by page 91, there were 21 and all in all, there are about 40 of her in this cookbook if you count the front cover. If this were really about food, why does it appear more to be a lifestyle photo-essay about Gwyneth Paltrow, her home, her kids, her tastes and her aesthetics?”

The answer: it’s a vanity project for the rich and famous. The reviewer goes on, revealing her true genius: “Maybe that’s why many of us will buy her latest book – to see and emulate her style.”

End Note: Fuck You Mozilla!


If it’s not allowing zombie scripts to run amok, chewing up your computer’s cycles, then Mozilla’s Firefox succumbs to faulty plug-in containers that crash the feeble browser. Give me back my Netscape!

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Norman Agonistes

Norman96Thirty years ago this week at Augusta National Golf Club, Jack Nicklaus pulled off an improbable upset over several top professional golfers to win his sixth Masters tournament and his record 18th major tournament at the “advanced” age of 46. Written off at the time as being over-the-hill, Nicklaus was viewed as one of the several emeritus Masters winners who are allowed to play in the tournament by virtue of a lifelong exemption. It wasn’t until the 9th hole on the last day of the tournament when Nicklaus started to bomb birdie putts on his way to a back nine of 30 that the gallery and whispering commentators took notice of the Golden Bear’s surge. This week the Golf Channel broadcast a nice, succinct reflection on what might be the most exciting and famous professional golf contests of all time.

For those who know a little about golf, it is understood that players compete against each other, but unlike in other sports, they have no direct influence on the performance of those challenging for the title. Nicklaus’s victory obviously depended on his superb play, but equally important was the faltering of top players who had been in much better contention: Seve Ballesteros, Tom Kite, and especially Greg Norman.

While focusing on Nicklaus’s unlikely march to the Green Jacket, the Golf Channel feature called ’86 served to remind viewers once again of Norman’s cruel fate in golf’s major tournaments. In this particular episode, Norman was just as amazing as Nicklaus coming down the stretch.

After apparently falling out of contention with a double bogey on 10, Norman made a remarkable string of birdies at 14, 15 and 16. And on 17, Norman managed to thread the ball through two closely situated pine trees to within 8 feet. He sunk the putt and was now suddenly tied with Nicklaus who had already finished and was nervously sweating it out in Jones Cabin. Norman struck a perfect drive on 18 – all he had to do was land the ball on the green. A birdie would bring a win, a two-putt would tie. Instead, Norman flew the ball into the gallery in what had to be, pound for pound, the worst shot of the tournament. He flopped the ball close, but failed to make the par, leaving Jack Nicklaus to stroll out of the cabin to pick up his sixth Green Jacket.

Painful, but that’s Norman’s M.O. Whether through untimely gaffes or cruel run-ins with Madame Fate, Norman has managed to lose so many major tournaments that rightfully belonged to him. Eight times the man has come in second in a Major tournament. Here is a summary of some of the more painful exhibitions.

Masters 1996

In what is considered by many to be the biggest collapse in the history of golf, Greg Norman blew a 54-hole lead of five strokes ahead of the next contender, Nick Faldo. Norman started the final round at 13 under par and was considered by everyone to be on his way to redemption after failures in 1986 and 1987 (see below). Instead, the wheels fell off Norman’s game. He posted a horrifying 79 to Faldo’s spotless 67. Norman hooked tee shots, lipped out putts, threw shots into the water – he almost missed coming in second, for god’s sake. Norman’s golf-pro buddy Nick Price was quoted as saying, “I can’t stand to watch” as he headed for his car. That was an understatement. It was like watching a train wreck – painful and fascinating at the same time.

Masters 1987

Exactly one year after throwing away a chance to snatch a Green Jacket from Jack Nicklaus by pushing the ball into the gallery on the 72nd hole of the contest, Norman suffered another mortal stab to the heart. Norman could have won outright on the 72nd hole had he made a 20 foot birdie putt, but that didn’t come to pass, forcing a three-way tie and a sudden death playoff with Seve Ballesteros and Larry Mize. After the first hole of sudden death, Ballesteros was out, leaving just Norman and the underdog Mize to duke it out. On the second hole, Norman watched as Mize hit his approach shot well right of the green. In response Norman hit a conservative shot that landed on the fringe, well within range for a two putt par. The 110 foot shot Mize faced was ominous – just keeping his pitch shot on the sloping green would be a challenge. But we’re talking about Greg Norman, and his eerie aura that seems to draw in misfortune. Sure enough, Mize holed out to deny Norman the Green Jacket he never got to put on in his career.

1984 U.S. Open

Once again, we go to the final hole of regulation in a Major tournament. Norman is tied for the lead, this time with now-disgraced Fuzzy Zoeller who is playing behind him in the final two-some. And once again, Norman flies his approach shot off course into the grandstand. He gets a free drop but the ball takes up a dicey lie in Winged Foot’s notorious rough. Norman skulls the ball across the green leaving him a lengthy 40 footer for par – which he makes! – forcing a tie with Zoeller. Under U.S. Open rules, the two must play an entire 18 hole round the next day to choose a winner – and Zoeller cleans Norman’s clock by eight effing strokes. Imagine if Norman for once could just stick the ball close when it mattered.

1989 British Open

At Royal Troon, Norman started the final round seven shots behind leader Wayne Grady, and proceeded to shoot a course-record 64 to get into a tie with Grady and Mark Calcavecchia. The rules this time called for a four-hole playoff – best score wins (if still tied, they start sudden death.) After the first three holes of playoff, Calcavecchia had carded two pars and a birdie; Norman had two birdies and a par. That means that after 20 holes of golf that day, Norman was 10 under. Then we come to the final hole of the playoff– and guess what? Norman hits out of a bunker, over the green, and out of bounds. Out of the running, Norman picked up and carded a DNF.

1986 PGA Championship

Heartache once more for poor Greg Norman, this time at Inverness Club in Ohio. Norman started the final round with a four shot lead and kept it up through the first nine holes, then trouble. A double bogey at 11 and a bogey at 14 and Norman was tied with Bob Tway. The two co-leaders remained tied until the final hole when Norman hit an approach shot to 25 feet just off the green, and Tway plopped his shot into a green-side bunker. Advantage Norman? Have you not been paying attention? Once more, the Satanic ripples that surround Norman on final holes of Major tournaments increased in strength. Tway holed his bunker shot for a birdie, putting pressure on Norman to make his putt from the fringe. He didn’t. (Sidebar: Norman led all four majors in 1986 after the third round, but won only the British Open. )

1993 PGA Championship

Back again at Inverness, Norman was the leader coming into the final round just a stroke ahead of Paul Azinger. Azinger got hot though and shot a course record 30 on the back nine to tie Norman at the end of regulation play – familiar territory for Greg. Off to appropriately-named sudden death. Norman and Azinger tied the first hole, but on the second hole Norman needed to make a four foot putt to extend the contest. He lipped it out, of course, by order of Satan himself.

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This Week in Unintended Consequences

manintreeNo word modifies “consequences” quite like “unintended.” When a strategy is comprehensive and the associated plan is executed well, people talk about results and outcomes. If people are talking about consequences, then they’re probably unintended.

Government Proves Apple is Mortal

After the heinous terrorist attack in San Bernardino last December perpetrated by deluded jihadis Syed Farook and Tashfeen Malik, the FBI came into possession of an Apple iPhone that had been issued to Farook, an employee of San Bernadino County. The FBI had good reason to believe valuable information useful for tracking co-conspirators and unraveling future plots might reside on the iPhone. As Apple had devised a supposedly foolproof security feature defending access to the iPhone, the FBI sought Apple’s assistance in cracking open the phone, fearing the stored data might be permanently lost if a clumsy attempt to unlock the phone backfired.

Apple has long touted both its commitment to privacy and its prowess in encryption technology, and in the spirit of preserving its brand image, refused to help the FBI. Apple execs believed that by helping the FBI crack into an iPhone, they would tarnish their reputation as a strident advocate for personal privacy, and raise skepticism among their loyal customers – no matter that data on the iPhone in question could very likely thwart a future attack. To many Americans sick and tired of mindless jihadi outrages, Apple’s position seemed obtuse but still within the realm of being defensible. After all, intelligence agencies of the U.S. government have had a colored history of toying with peoples’ privacy and lying about the depth of their intrusions – just ask Martin Luther King, Jr.

Finally, without the assistance of Apple the FBI managed to crack into Farook’s iPhone. Suddenly, Apple execs were keenly interested to know how such a thing could have been accomplished. The vaunted Apple security regimen had fallen to the hacking of mere second-class technicians.

Apple requested the FBI share the hack with them – but don’t be surprised if the FBI says, in diplomatic euphemisms of course, “fuck you.” After all, now that the FBI knows how to get into an iPhone, it’s not about to give Apple clues on how to close the backdoor. If another wacko jihadist were to commit a terrorist act tomorrow and left behind an iPhone, the FBI will be poised to use the hack to peer inside.

The unintended consequence
: Apple’s hifalutin attempt to preserve its image as a protector of privacy and an innovator in cryptology forced an FBI known for bumbling to go another route, and in doing so proved Apple was far less a protector and innovator than people had given them credit for.

Oklahomans Frack Themselves

In many corners of the United States – North Dakota, Pennsylvania and Oklahoma in particular – hydraulic fracturing (aka. fracking) has been lauded as nothing less than a salvation handed down by God: a boon for jobs and a technologically advanced way to extract domestic oil and gas, thus allowing Americans, after 40 years, to finally shove a derrick up OPEC’s ass.


The unintended consequence: Oklahoma now rivals California as the earthquake capital of North America. According to findings in a U.S. Geological Survey report, “Along with the economic boom from oil and gas exploration, Oklahoma has experienced a rising number of earthquakes. In an average year, Oklahoma has historically had fewer than two quakes of magnitude 3 or greater — roughly the level at which a tremor can be felt. But last year, Oklahoma recorded 907 quakes at magnitude 3 and above.” As Jerry Lee Lewis once said, there’s a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on!

It should be fun to watch Oklahoma’s Cro-Magnon Senator James Inhofe who calls global climate change a hoax twist himself into a pretzel when begging for Federal aid to repair human-caused damage to Mother Nature.

Trump Accidentally Exposes the Anti-Abortionists

Anti-abortion groups have always maintained that life begins at conception, and that a divided cell is logically a human being deserving of all rights guaranteed in the Constitution – including the right not to be killed. Naturally, that would mean abortion equals murder. Since Roe v Wade legalized abortion in the early 1970s, the anti groups have pushed to criminalize abortion – but surprisingly, they’ve largely skirted the obvious question of who should be punished and what that punishment should be. When pressed, they’ll say the person performing the abortion is the culprit. And that would make sense. But the pregnant woman? She’s just a clueless victim of the “system,” incapable of understanding the motivations which have driven her to pursue abortion. Her victimhood alone exonerates her.

Enter Donald Trump. In an interview on MSNBC the other day, Trump accidentally broke from anti-abortion dogma and suggested the woman seeking an abortion (which would be illegal under a Trump regime) should bear some responsibility, and endure some form of punishment. Later, Trump’s team revised their boss’s statement by a full 180 degrees, but the damage was done.

The unintended consequence: The leading presidential candidate for the Republican nomination – a position that for decades has included obeisance to the anti-abortion league – floated an opinion at serious odds with the established trope. And in doing so, he drew unwanted attention to the quandary the anti-abortion groups have faced from the beginning – to wit, the impracticality of their positions should Roe v Wade ever go down in flames.

Try as he Might, Obama Just Can’t Kill Jobs


Despite Obama’s attempts to kill jobs through stifling regulations and cockamamie government programs, the economy just won’t listen. Conservatives have been predicting since 2008 that everything Obama touches will turn to shit. Every action he takes is preceded by the words “job killing.” Job killing taxes, job killing regulations, job-killing Obamacare.

The unintended consequence
: The 215,000 jump in payrolls in March reported by the Labor Department on Friday capped the best two-year period for hiring since the late 1990s, while the proportion of Americans in the labor force hit a two-year high.

Taylor Swift Falls Flat

In a new ad for Apple Music, Taylor Swift is shown rapping while running hands-free on a treadmill. The camera pulls back to show a full body shot of the Grammy-winning singer in full stride. Then… she falls flat on her face onto the conveyor belt and is swiftly kicked off the machine. CUT!

The unintended consequence: Apple uses the “funny” fail footage, and the ad becomes a social media sensation – viewed more than seven million times on YouTube.

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RIP George Kennedy

georgekennedycoolhandlukeBurly George Kennedy, winner of the 1968 Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in the always-fresh “Cool Hand Luke,” died the other day at age 91. Kennedy was one of those rare supporting character actors whose both face and name were instantly recognizable, even when not accompanying each other. If you caught a snippet of “The Dirty Dozen” or “The Eiger Sanction” when Kennedy was on screen, you instantly recognized the face and recalled the man’s name.

Kennedy started in motion pictures in 1960 with an uncredited part in “Spartacus” and soon began to bang out three, four, sometimes five movies a year. And many were damn entertaining: “Charade” with Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn and James Coburn; “Thunderbolt and Lightfoot” with Clint Eastwood and Jeff Bridges; and of course, “Cool Hand Luke” opposite Paul Newman. His portrayal of Dragline, a prisoner on a chain gang in the deep South served as the encouraging force behind Newman’s character Luke who has a powerful wanderlust and inventive capacity for escaping incarceration. That same year he put his heart and soul into the Dragline character (winning an Oscar), the indefatigable Kennedy performed in three other films.

It’s probably safe to say George Kennedy’s career moved in a new direction after he starred in the first of many disaster films to hit the cinemas in the 1970s: “Airport.” (Sidebar: Kennedy also appeared in the ridiculous “Earthquake” – although no more ridiculous than 2015′s “San Andreas.”) Despite its many flaws, “Airport” was a decent nail-biter, and it established the disaster genre. And “Airport” went on to become a franchise in its own right. Kennedy played rough-hewn Joe Patroni in every incarnation of the “Airport” saga, starting in the original 1970 film as a ballsy supervisor of runway maintenance workers. By the time the final episode, “The Concorde – Airport ’79”, screened, Patroni had been promoted to pilot of the supersonic Concorde. Whoever steered Joe Patroni’s career should be in the Mentor Hall of Fame.

Eventually, the disaster movie industry ran its course and jumped the shark – probably no more egregiously than in “Airport ‘79” when the Concorde is being chased by fighter jets. Patroni executes a barrel roll (!) to evade missile fire, and then steers the sleek aircraft into a backflip. The best part: Patroni actually rolls down the window in the cockpit (is that even possible, and what’s it like to hang your arm out the window going a few hundred MPH?) and fires a flare to confuse heat seeking missiles. Forget that the engines of a Concorde flying at Mach 1 are probably 1,000 times hotter than a flare – the heat seekers leave the scene to chase the decoy.

Watch the foolishness in all its glory.

The Zucker brothers took comedic inspiration from the progressively outlandish “Airport” franchise and produced the popular and hilarious spoof, “Airplane.” “Airplane” revived careers for many of George Kennedy’s peers: Lloyd Bridges, Leslie Nielsen, Robert Stack and Peter Graves. Each of these fine film actors found new careers playing parodies of themselves – and Kennedy soon followed suit in “The Naked Gun” series as Capt. Ed Hocken. The last episode, “Naked Gun 33⅓: The Final Insult” came out twenty years ago, and after that George Kennedy finally began to slow down – although he continued to act in film and TV off and on right up to 2014.

I remember watching “Cool Hand Luke” in high-school – sort of a holiday treat for us overworked prep boys – and absolutely loving the car-wash scene featuring the whole chain gang. The maniacally horny Dragline is the best – slobbering over himself while the buxom blonde gets soaked in suds.

Enjoy it again. RIP George Kennedy.

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The Logic Behind the Trexit


You’ve heard of the Grexit: Greece’s exit from the EuroZone.

You’ve read about the Brexit: Britain’s exit from the European Union.

Now, allow Major Terata to introduce the Trexit: Trump’s exit from the GOP presidential nominating race.

Last summer, I predicted Trump would not be in the race by the following summer. His staying-power and primary contest successes since then would seem to dash that prediction, but I’m sticking to it. And here’s why.

First, Trump’s entry into the contest along with more than a dozen others was purely a ploy to elevate his brand, and draw renewed attention to his name – which is, after all, his core business. No longer a real-estate developer, Donald Trump draws almost all his income from licensing the Trump name to practically any commodity that its producer wants to associate with luxury. (My personal feeling is that the “Trump” name implies obnoxious garishness more so than the beautiful trappings of an elite life-style, but I’m probably not the target audience for stuff plastered with his logo.) And as any brand manager can tell you, preservation of the brand is paramount. Products come and go, but a brand must endure for the company to survive over the long term. That means careful stewardship to maintain its meaning, protect it from being tarnished, and keep it vital.

More than once, Trump publicly floated the idea of running for office – governor of New York in 2006 and 2014, and president on the Reform Party ticket in 2000 – and although he never jumped in, he timed the activity to coincide with projects (books, reality TV) designed to buff the Trump brand. Most likely, Trump examined the dozen or so misfits who had tossed their hats into the GOP ring last summer and concluded he could dominate the scene for a while, and polish up the “Trump” brand in the process. I suspect he presumed that the establishment Republicans would lavish huge sums on preferred candidates (which they did), and someone like Jeb Bush or Scott Walker would ascend. Trump would then declare that the party was a fucking mess undeserving of his brilliance, and drop out.

Consider his almost-candidacy for president in 2000 on the Reform Party ticket. Even though Trump boasted, “if I ran and spent a lot of money I could actually win, I could beat that Democrat-Republican apparatus,” he eventually shit-canned the idea, complaining, “the Reform Party is a total mess! You have Buchanan, a right winger, and you have Fulani, a Communist, and they have merged…. I don’t know what you have!” In 2014, in advance of the governor’s race in New York, Trump pulled away, again slamming the party. “I have clearly stated that if the New York State Republican Party is able to unify, I would run for Governor and win. They can’t unify – SAD!”

So, I conclude that Trump would have done the same thing this time – use the media coverage of his vanity campaign to buff the “Trump” brand, then when others pulled ahead, he would drop out in a huff, blaming the establishment idiots for not appreciating him.

But in a bizarre twist, Trump has maintained his lead and vaulted into position to take the nomination. No matter what asinine things the man says, no matter how vaporous his “policies” are, a certain non-negligible slice of the electorate loves his shtick and continues to propel him and his ego.

Still, I predict he will drop out – for the simple reason that he doesn’t actually want to be the President of the United States. It’s too hard and involves way too many responsibilities for Donald Trump to divert from his country-club life-style. Put aside the bluster. Can you really see Trump running stultifying cabinet meetings, and parrying with moronic congressmen, and simultaneously balancing 100 foreign policy disasters, and facing realities that he ignored on the campaign trail – like actually building a wall from the Gulf of Mexico to the Pacific Ocean? No, Donald Trump just wants to prove he could be president, not actually take the job.

So how does he get out? Of course, he’ll rely on the old tried-and-true method of trashing the party for incompetence. And the GOP will hand him this excuse on a silver platter in a month or so when talk ratchets up about overturning the primary results at the convention. The establishment hates Trump so badly that, if necessary, they’ll go nuclear at the convention and force delegates to switch.

But Trump will also pull a Howard Stern and claim that the demand to see his detailed tax returns is a deal-killer. Howard Stern once ran for Governor of New York but dropped out when forced to expose details of his wealth. Trump will do likewise. He’ll deny wrong-doing, or shiftiness. Rather, Donald Trump will maintain that publishing his tax documents for all to see would be to reveal business trade secrets and give competition an unfair advantage. His genius-level business acumen would be compromised, and Trump, Inc. can’t allow that.

Hey, Trump would have won. He would have made America great again. But they just wouldn’t let him do it.

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For Best Film … the Dictionary, Please

dictionaryEight films have been nominated for Best Picture at this year’s 88th Academy Awards. A top contender to take the Oscar this coming Sunday is The Revenant, an adventure tale that takes place in the badlands of the Dakotas in 1823. Great film, but I wonder how many people who first saw trailers and advertisements for it knew what the hell a “revenant” is.

Screenwriting guidebooks often encourage writers to give their scripts a title that is both catchy and indicative of the movie’s overall mood or theme. According to the experts, the title together with a pithy, descriptive tag line should convey at first glance what the movie is about. One movie held up as a good example has the following log line: “When a blonde sorority queen is dumped by her boyfriend, she decides to follow him to law school to get him back and, once there, learns she has more legal savvy than she ever imagined.” The title: “Legally Blonde.” I suppose these titles also meet the good title standard: “Cowboys and Aliens,” “Bonnie and Clyde,” “Rebel Without a Cause,” “Saving Private Ryan,” “Titanic.”

On the other hand, it could be argued that many of the best films ever made have titles that provide no clue whatsoever as to the plot, theme, genre, or anything else: “Dr. Strangelove,” “A Clockwork Orange,” “The Hurt Locker,” “Zero Dark Thirty,” “The Men Who Stare at Goats,” “The Cider House Rules.” And if you hadn’t read the book would you know what these movies were about: “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” “A Streetcar Named Desire,” “To Kill a Mockingbird”? If you had never heard of Erin Brockovich, what would you think the movie “Erin Brockovich” was about?

What I’m most often curious about when it comes to movie titles is why filmmakers would choose words that are rarely, if ever, heard or spoken, and whose definitions are widely unknown. Consider these (answers at bottom):

1) Road to Perdition – A 1930s mob thriller starring Tom Hanks, Paul Newman and Daniel Craig.
Perdition is:
a. Another name for purgatory
b. A state of eternal damnation where a sinful and impenitent person passes after death
c. A fictional town in Illinois
d. Forgiveness for committing a heinous act

2) The Revenant – Nominated for Oscar gold this year, starring Leonardo DeCaprio.
A Revenant is:
a. A holy man
b. A clairvoyant person
c. A man bent on revenge
d. A person who has returned, possibly from the dead.

3) Synecdoche, New York – The oft confusing film starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman as a theatre director who struggles with his work, and women, as he creates a life-size replica of New York City inside a warehouse as part of his new play
Synecdoche is:
a. A literary device in which a part of something represents the whole
b. A misspelling of Schenectady, NY
c. The name of a fictitious playhouse
d. A word used to describe another thing is closely linked to that particular thing

4) Krampus – The tag line would give it away, so perhaps the odd name doesn’t matter.
Krampus is:
a. A mythical creature from the depths of the ocean
b. A disease caught by passing contact with a zombie
c. A horned figure who punishes bad children on Christmas
d. The name of the creepy neighbor who torments the lead character

5) Harbinger Down – A low-budget movie.
Harbinger is:
a. The name of a boat in the movie
b. A person or thing that announces or signals the approach of another
c. Someone who overeats when depressed
d. A weather phenomenon that causes rapid lowering of temperature in a narrow column of the atmosphere

6) Bartleby the Scrivener – Low budget movie based on the Herman Melville story, later remade and titled simply “Bartleby,” presumably because too few people know what a scrivener is.
A scrivener is:
a. A professional or public copyist
b. A carver of whale bone
c. A miser
d. A hoarder of tiny objects

7) Koyaanisqatsi – A 1982 experimental film with music by Philip Glass.
Koyaanisqatsi is:
a. A revered demi-god of the Hopi Indians
b. A Hopi Indian word for “life out of balance”
c. A lost city in the American Southwest
d. A disease that almost wiped out the Hopi Indian tribe

Cruz Fires His Geppetto


Ted Cruz has taken a beating from Donald Trump for his alleged prevarications on the campaign trail. In a recent televised debate Trump called Cruz “the single biggest liar,” and he continues to broadcast the message that Cruz can’t be trusted (despite the tagline “TrusTed” that Cruz humps with him to every appearance.)

Such angry mudslinging should be expected in today’s political environment, and I suppose many observers would consider calling an opponent a “liar” as just another sound-bite ginned up for repurpose by the cable news outlets.

In the case of Cruz, though, I’m afraid Trump is on to something. In the whirlwind that is a modern presidential campaign, anyone can make a mistake and claim something is true when it’s not. But for Cruz and team, battering opponents with falsehoods seems to be the policy. Cruz’s campaign sent emails out in Iowa falsely claiming Ben Carson was dropping out, and that rather than waste a ballot on the good doctor, voters should instead vote for Cruz. And again in South Carolina, Cruz’s apparatchiks tried to influence voters by claiming Trump was polling worse than expected; Trump went on to win all the delegates there. Each time Cruz is caught, he pleads ignorance and apologizes after the damage has been done. And people move on.

But Cruz may finally have run into a brick wall. The other day, Cruz’s communication director, Rick Tyler, pimped a “report” posted by some asshole blogger at “The RightScoop” that claimed rival Marco Rubio made a derogatory comment about the bible. Right in front of Cruz’s clergyman father! A video tape of Rubio supposedly caught him opining that there are not many answers to be found in the bible.

Of course, the “report” was bullshit. In fact, Rubio said that all the answer could be found in the bible. Anyone who would think holy-man Rubio would say otherwise is deluded.

But Cruz’s team led by marionette-master Tyler is so primed to slime the competition with lies that they mindlessly latched onto something that should have been obviously false. Rather than exhibit a hint of dubiousness, Tyler leapt upon the “report” as proof of Rubio’s evil core and evidence that he’s unqualified to suck votes from Evangelicals.

Only someone predisposed to lie over and over would attack using a garbled video with an impossible premise.

Cruz fired Tyler – what else could he do? – but the episode served as prima facie evidence that Cruz is the biggest liar, just as Trump said.

1b, 2d, 3a, 4c, 5a&b, 6a, 7b

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Opioid Induced Constipation – the Invisible Killer

ibs-c-With regularity the pharmaceutical industry pumps out one after the other miracle drug to address a problem no one knew they had. A-Fib, psoriatic arthritis (Phil Mickelson disease), dry eye syndrome – big pharma has taken notice. And now through an ad aired during the Superbowl, the world learned that AstraZeneca, the London-based multi-national, has taken on the mission to vanquish OIC: opioid induced constipation. The miracle drug this time is called MOVANTIK – a name presumably derived from “movement,” as in bowels. Apparently, many people who take opioids like OxyContin, Vicodin and Percocet for chronic pain suffer when the drugs interfere with their ability to take a shit.

The ad for MOVANTIK has also taken some shit from critics who believe the existence of the drug will lull people into believing long-term opioid usage is a normal activity. Gov. Peter Shumlin of Vermont is one such critic. His state is overrun by opioid addicts, and he’s not happy with the cheeky ad. Shumlin railed against “advertising a drug to help people take even more opiates during the most watched sporting event of the year.”

The ad in question is actually more gross than provocative of drug abuse. It features an actor who plays a shit-clogged opioid user who is surrounded by people who are content in their ability to move their bowels. The actor, sitting in a diner and struggling with a balky sugar shaker, takes note of a dude exiting the men’s room, hiking his pants and sporting the satisfied grin of one who has just pinched off a substantial loaf. He later encounters a woman with a piece of toilet paper hanging off her shoe. She tosses him a sly smile, as though she knows he’s constipated and he wishes he could drop a deuce like she just did. She almost takes delight in his jealousy. Hell, the guy’s even envious of a dog, for god’s sake.

So here we have a new drug to deal with the effects of another class of drugs. But what about the side-effects of MOVANTIK? Those who take MOVANTIK to overcome the side effects of opioid use may suffer from hyperhidrosis, chills, diarrhea, abdominal pain, anxiety, irritability, and yawning (?). Which pharmaceutical company will be first to develop a drug to offset the effects of MOVANTIK? How long before a person who injures his back shoveling snow will be on a regimen of Vicodin for the pain, MOVANTIK for the constipation caused by Vicodin, an anti-sweat drug for hyperhidrosis caused by MOVANTIK, another drug to deal with skin irritation caused by the anti-sweat drug, and on and on.

Better to just hire someone to shovel the walk.

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Scalia Ducks Out

justice-scalia-lifelong-hunterDuring a hunting expedition in Texas this week Antonin Scalia croaked at age 79, leaving a big hole in the Supreme Court. Depending on your point of view, Scalia was either a beacon of judicial brilliance or a piece of work. Undoubtedly the man was talented and scholarly; he was confirmed by the Senate 98-0 in the pre-Bork era. He also fancied himself an “originalist,” approaching Constitutional questions as though he were riding a carriage and wearing a tri-corn hat.

The voluble, acerbic, toad-like Scalia often teamed with his mute doppelganger, Clarence Thomas to issue concurrences and dissents that often seemed to be on the wrong side of the popular zeitgeist. But I guess that’s what can happen when you take a hardline, literal interpretation of the original intent of the Constitution – a great document that has served the country well, but was written in consideration of the state of things as they existed more than 225 years ago. Trying to read the minds of the original framers on subjects like same-sex marriage, television commercials, international air travel, cloning, internet communications and virtual currency might be an interesting parlor game, but it doesn’t help advance things in the current era.

Other times, Scalia seemed to abandon the constitutional rigor so as to affirm a position to comport with his prejudices. He would strike down same-sex marriage even though the definition of marriage is clearly a right left to the states in the Constitution – and the Constitution in its “full faith and credit clause” requires states to recognize marriages granted in the other states.

His position in Bush v. Gore clearly indicated his naked desire to see Bush become the next president. In that notorious decision, the majority on the court put a stop to Florida state’s vote-counting process before the deadline for completion had passed. Scalia declared, “The counting of votes that are of questionable legality does in my view threaten irreparable harm to petitioner Bush.” In essence, it was better in Scalia’s mind to interfere with the state of Florida’s constitutionally protected process and to force them to stop counting votes early rather than continue for another three days because some of the votes might not have been cast properly. How this “harms” petitioner Bush, other than keeping him from becoming president, is a mystery.

And in Citizens United v. FEC (2010), in which Scalia was in the majority, the Supreme Court took on the narrow question of whether an organization can air a political hatchet piece right before an election, and blew it up into a sweeping declaration that campaign contributions should essentially have no limits. The case was not about campaign contributions, but the Court took the opportunity to strike down laws going back a century. Doesn’t seem too constitutionally sound, given the deference the founders placed on the voice of the people – the Legislature.

Ever since the rejection of the patchy-bearded Robert Bork in 1987, the nomination and confirmation of Supreme Court justices have been overly fraught with partisan politics. Knowing that a justice will likely sit on the court for decades – well past those who did the nominating and confirming have moved on – the decision whether to seat the person has generated gladiatorial-like conflict between the sides. This is especially true when the President and Senate are from competing parties, as is the case today.

The Republicans in the Senate are laying down the gauntlet in front of Obama: don’t bother nominating a replacement for Scalia. They believe that right belongs solely to the next president – again an extra-Constitutional idea dreamed up by partisan hacks. Such obstruction would leave a vacancy on the court for at least a year, resulting no doubt in numerous unsatisfying 4-4 split decisions. The whole charade in outrageous, but refusing to hold hearings and grant a vote would be an apt capstone to the Republican’s eight-year theater of hatred for Obama.

Here’s the salient question: Would the Senate Republicans take this stance if Mitt Romney were president?

I think you know the answer, which is why the Senators in question deserve all the opprobrium they’ll receive for the rest of the year.

In the “be careful what you ask for” category, it is quite possible that the Republicans could engineer the following scenarios:

  • Obama nominates someone of intense interest to a segment of the population the Republicans need to win (eg. Asian, Hispanic, woman) – and by obstructing the person they alienate a critical constituency and lose in November.
  • Key cases of interest to conservatives in 2016 that would normally be decided in their favor by a 5-4 majority will fall to a 4-4 tie.
  • Clarence Thomas dies, leaving just seven justices who will vote 4-3 in favor of stuff the conservatives despise.
  • Either Sanders or Clinton win in November and nominate someone more loathsome to conservatives than Obama would have put forward.
  • A Republican wins the presidency, but the Democrats take back the Senate and return the favor.

Should be fun to watch the media hump the story. So much fun in fact that Americans will forget all about less-important concerns like the nuclear-nutballs in North Korea.

If we get hit, it will be our own fucking fault.

Rubio: Boy Blunder


Toeing the line, Senator Marco Rubio jumped on board to deny appointment of any replacement for Scalia. According to the youngster, “I do not believe the president should appoint someone. And it’s not unprecedented. In fact, it has been over 80 years since a lame-duck president has appointed a Supreme Court justice.”

First of all, Obama isn’t a lame-duck until after the election in November. And he doesn’t appoint people, he nominates them. Secondly, in 1988 the Senate confirmed Anthony Kennedy in Reagan’s last year in office.

And as far as I can tell, not having a calculator handy, 1988 was not 80 years ago.

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O Christie, Where Art Thou?

christie1Portly Chris Christie, governor of New Jersey and hopelessly deluded presidential candidate, bashed Marco Rubio at the recent Republican debate for being inexperienced and overly scripted. To drive the point home and pimp his own cred in the process, Christie claimed the executive nature of being a governor was better preparation to be president than being a first-termer senator.

“Every morning when a United States senator wakes up, they think about what kind of speech can I give or what kind of bill can I drop? Every morning, when I wake up, I think about what kind of problem do I need to solve for the people who actually elected me?” Christie went on to bloviate, “When you’re president of the United States, when you’re a governor of a state, the memorized 30-second speech where you talk about how great America is at the end of it doesn’t solve one problem for one person. They expect you to plow the snow. They expect you to get the schools open. And when the worst natural disaster in your state’s history hits you, they expect you to rebuild their state, which is what I’ve done.”

(Sidebar: Christie said, referring to senators, “… what kind of bill can I drop?” If only Rubio had countered Christie, referring to the bloated, sometimes-governor with “… what kind of deuce can I drop?” he might be leading the pack by 20 points.)

The funny thing though is that in 2015 Christie spent fully 191 days out of the state he purportedly runs pursuing the quixotic party nomination. Poor Lt. Gov. Kim Guadagno has had to run the state in Christie’s absence for more than half the year. If you count day trips out of the state, Christie was gone all or part of more than 250 freaking days. Christie’s admonition to Rubio kinda rings hollow: how important is a governor’s job if the guy can phone it in half the time and it doesn’t matter?

Unless the state is suffering – which certainly seems to be the case in New Jersey – while he spends all his time traveling back and forth between Iowa and New Hampshire. Nine times since Christie took the reins New Jersey’s credit rating has been downgraded. He still presides over some of the highest property taxes in the country, and he squandered money needed to improve rail transit under the Hudson River so he could perpetuate a ridiculously low gas tax. And even when he’s in town shit happens – just ask the poor slobs in Fort Lee, NJ who got to sit in calcified traffic while Christie aides closed lanes leading to the George Washington Bridge. (And in the minds here at Major Terata, Christie knew at least a little about it in real time.)

My personal feeling is that Christie is correct: politicians who have a full time job to represent constituents at any level should not spend inordinate amounts of time campaigning for another position – especially if, like Christie, they’re sucking wind at the back of the pack with no chance of winning. And it’s particularly galling when the politician campaigns for higher office while running for re-election for his current position (ala. Joe Lieberman in 2000) – shouldn’t be allowed.

If Christie wants to snipe at Rubio, he should follow the lead of the media and drill in on something of substance – like Rubio’s terrible haircut.

Who’s the Victim Here?


It was reported today that a Chicago police officer, Robert Rialmo sued the estate of Quintonio LeGrier for $10 million for actions that caused the officer “extreme emotional trauma.” Rialmo has to sue the estate because LeGrier is dead; he’s dead because Rialmo shot him (and an innocent by-stander.) Rialmo claims he fired in self-defense when LeGrier came at him with a baseball bat, but no one is around to bear witness to the encounter – mainly because they’re dead.

Maybe LeGrier posed an actual threat, and therefore Rialmo was justified in firing (although his aim is clearly suspect). Still, why the lawsuit? At best, the cop did his job. Why should he become a lotto winner in the process.

The episode reminded me of an even more bizarre lawsuit that happened in 1987 after a war protester named Brian Wilson was run over by a train hauling arms to the California Naval Weapons Station in Concord. Wilson and others sat on the tracks in a defiant effort to interfere with the shipment – a tactic commonly deployed with success. (Just ask that dude in China who stood in front of a tank outside Tiananmen Square.) However, this time the crew proceeded directly through the protesters phalanx and severed both of Wilson’s legs. Documents revealed later that the crew had been told not to stop.

A sad incident indeed. And as if Wilson hadn’t suffered enough, he was stung by a lawsuit by none other than the train crew demanding punitive damages for the “humiliation, mental anguish, and physical stress” they suffered as a result of the incident.

Luckily, the suit was dismissed, but goddamn, on this one those train crew “victims” got a sac the size of a cantaloupe.

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Iowans – Step to the Rear

Change the nominating process, keep candidates from deep-throating corn-dogs

Once again, a couple hundred thousand mostly white, mostly conservative, mostly religious caucus-goers in tiny, rural Iowa cast votes and steered the 2016 election all out of proportion with their place in the United States – which most of the time is in a backwater corner of the nation. And let’s not forget that the Iowans are also angry. The New York Times interviewed 71 year old Esther Toney who exclaimed, “Oh, I’m very angry. I’m extremely angry. We’ve got politicians that are just there for their own gain. They should be thinking about how they can make our lives better. And they don’t.” She went on to seethe, “They vote on things to support their PACs or whoever gave them money.” Given that Iowans benefit tremendously from government boondoggles like undeserved farm subsidies and the ridiculous ethanol mandate (because of the very things she excoriates) Esther’s anger seems a bit misplaced. But hey, being the first state to vote – every fucking election cycle – is a cross the Iowans must bear to save another state from having their issues heard and attended to by every presidential wannabee.

People have groused forever about the inanity and unfairness of giving Iowa and another bush-league state, New Hampshire the first votes. No point in rehashing all that here. How about a recommendation for change?

Why not create five partitions of the country made up of the 50 states, DC, Puerto Rico, and the four U.S. Territories – each partition roughly equal in population, and made up of a mix of states in different geographic regions. We’d have five primaries that would take place on the first Tuesdays of February through June. And every four years, a different partition of states and territories would go first – rotating around until every one got a shot at being first.

An example of a partition might consist of Texas (big, South), Pennsylvania (big, mid-Atlantic), Tennessee (medium, Appalachian), North Dakota (small, mid-west), New Mexico (medium, Southwest), Maine (small, New England), Kansas (small, Heartland), Minnesota (medium, Great Lakes), Colorado (medium, Rockies), Alaska (small, out there), and Guam (small, territory). That’s ten states and a territory with a combined population of about 66 million, or one-fifth of the U.S. population. People in these states would vote first in 2020, second in 2024, etc. until they voted first again in 2040.

Candidates would be forced to address a variety of national and local issues. And they wouldn’t have to pander so much to corn-belt cretins. Just the thought of eating something besides corn-dogs washed down with a pint of ethanol has got to be appealing. Furthermore, decent candidates of more than one-dimension could survive longer.

I know this type of sensible set-up would never happen because the parties are too timid to offend the tiny front-loaded states. And deep down, the circus that accompanies the run up to the Iowa caucuses drives a shit-load of money into advertising, polling and campaign coffers.

Besides, everyone knows Iowans have tremendous clairvoyance when it comes to choosing the party’s eventual nominees, like such presidential timber as Dick Gephardt, Tom Harkin, Bob Dole, Mike Huckabee and Rick Santorum.

Ominous Prediction from the Groundhog


Yesterday – Groundhog Day – Punxatauney Phil made a stunning prediction: next year, with President Cruz in office, we’ll see six more years of nuclear winter.

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