Democrats? Vote Hard!

Fatigue. Anxiety. Depression. Rage.

For many of us, these are the words that characterize 2020. We've watched a radical conservative toss the one-percent (the one-percent!) a trillion-dollar tax break under the guise of a—wait for it—jobs act.

Watched him sneer as his servile lead bitch upends protocol and paves the way for Sir Lies-A-Lot to appoint three Supreme Court justices in a single term. We've watched him eliminate any and all constraints on business at the cost of the air we breathe and the water we drink.

We've watched him insult and disparage allies and befriend autocratic terrorists like Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un. Witnessed his winking approval of white supremacy and voter suppression. And relentlessly provoked chaos because it amuses him.

That it destabilizes nearly every element of life in the United States just adds to the fun.

We've witnessed him gut the post office's ability to sort and deliver mail in anticipation of a dramatic upswing in vote by mail. Seen him plunder his own charity, get convicted, fined and watched the lightly reported story disappear without a trace.

We've seen him blithely delete a much-heralded center for pandemic research merely because it had Obama's fingerprints on it. And besides, what ever goes wrong with cookware, anyway?

Even as the same continues to undermines his precious “fabulously beautiful” economy.

Cause and effect, Don. Cause and effect. Ever hear of it?

Most recently, we've heard him threaten to destroy Social Security and Medicare. Why? Because they fall into his hazy definition of socialism. And then there's the ongoing effort to declare the Affordable Care Act unconstitutional—in the middle of a pandemic.

Crazy Don lies like the rest of us draw breath. He's a supremely manipulative fraud who has succeeded in convincing banks, Congress and a sizeable chunk of the American populace he's the guy to loan money to. Shape policy with. And above all, blindly follow.

And when the Trump-whore isn't lying or self-promoting, he morphs into Whiny Don. The fake news media. Liberal hoaxes. The deep state. Tell me Poor Poor Pitiful Me isn't the number-one most-played song on his Spotify playlist!

Funny how the Indomitable One can stand in front of the hypnotized and let that smarmy smile creep across his face. But alone and minus the adulation, he cowers in the dark with his phone and issues a torrent of blind criticisms, unfounded—even paranoid—accusations and juvenile rants.

Can I add Needy Don to the repertoire?

A Republicant told me in 2016 he thought Trump would “shake things up.”

As we wonder when our kids can again resume their full-fledged educations and when (and if) we'll get our jobs back and how long we can stave off increasingly impatient landlords and when we'll be able to attend a ballgame or go out to dinner or a night club and when will there be a vaccine and when will life in general return to normal I must ask: are you suitably shaken?

We Democrats are a funny bunch. By nature we're diverse and have many agendas. Like our president, we also get a bit peevish when things don't go our way.

We must stop that.

For the time being, we must act like Republicants and become a herd. A bovine mass completely unaware of free will. We must ignore the polls (remember 2016?), the early returns (be they good or bad) and not focus on anything that isn't physically casting a vote against Donald J. Trump.

While I enjoy portraying him as a feckless clown, the damage he has wrought is considerable. Much of it will outlast him. He is the obedient servant of a selfish and extremely wealthy minority interested only in cementing and sustaining its power and its wealth at the expense of us.

They must be stopped. Shattered—like a ceramic figurine.

We can be the hammer. But we must vote hard. And with a vengeance.

And if you can't vote for Joe Biden can you at least vote against Donald Trump? And the party of Mitch McConnell? And of Lindsey Graham?

Given the amorality displayed by this moneyed minority, it's likely more-urgent than we even realize.

 

The Fair Tax Proposition

Here in Illinois, our governor is desperately seeking to stem the flow of red ink on state ledgers. One idea is to change the methodology used to compute our income taxes.

Illinois is one of just nine states to use what is called a flat tax. Under a flat tax, everyone pays the same percentage of their income to the state. So whether you're a struggling waitress who brought home eighteen-thousand or a professional athlete who made eighteen-million, each of you will forfeit 4.95% of your income to the state in income tax.

Governor Pritzker has proposed a 'fair tax'—an income tax with a sliding, income-based scale similar to that used by the federal government.

Predictably, Republicants loathe the idea on principle alone. But their attacks haven't ended there. As is their wont, oceans of misinformation are being distributed via any media capable of doing so.

And it's hardly a surprise that fear is weapon number-one. One hysterical ad alleges Pritzker's proposal will give Democrats new powers to levy taxes, even though the state legislature—composed of both Democrats and Republicants—already has that power.

I wonder if the Trump zombies even realize this. Probably not.

Furthermore, I'm wondering how many takes it took for the guy doing the voice-over to get through the script without soiling himself. I mean, he sounds profoundly and deeply perturbed.

Get some shut-eye, big guy!

Even more interesting than the fear-laden lies being disseminated over the airwaves is who is paying for them.

And guess what? It's the guys with the most to lose. The same guys Sir Lies-A-Lot gifted with a trillion-dollar tax break under the (cough) Tax Cuts and Jobs Act back in 2017. And not only did those guys get a big break on their personal taxes, but their businesses did as well.

Crazy Don not only sucked, he swallowed, too.

Ah. But I digress.

So after receiving this mountain of largesse, it must be a terrible shock to see one's tax bill threatening to swell rather than shrink. Don't we know who you are?

Illinois' most-prominent billionaire is a venture-fund capitalist by the name of Ken Griffin. He buys eight-figure penthouse properties like you and I do tube socks at Target. Which is another way to say yeah, he's loaded.

And to preserve that condition, Griffin is fighting tooth and nail against Pritzker's proposal. He'll tell you anything. Just don't let that proposal pass!

Now, if the fair tax proposal weren't aimed (as Pritzker claims) at the one-percent, why is Griffin pouring fifty-five million dollars of his own money into an effort to stop this thing?

Is he worried about our taxes? Nah. The folk who have essentially bought our government and steered a bevy of billionaire-friendly legislation through it have shown repeatedly they aren't terribly concerned about us. We're just profit-sucking rabble.

Nope. They're worried about staying rich and powerful. And getting richer. And more-powerful.

While I see the truth in Griffin's frenzied spending, I'm betting Illinois Republicants only see the threat of a tax increase and go into the same kind of lockstep stupor they do when they hear the words 'gun control' and will vote en masse to derail this.

Even if the only people affected are people far wealthier than themselves.

And battered, tax-fatigued Democrats may well do the same.

Out of all of this comes a strange and somewhat sickening realization. In our unthinking and knee-jerk distrust of politicians we unwittingly caress the hand crushing our larynx.

When you vote 'no' on the Fair Tax proposition, don't forget to raise a fist and shout “Save the billionaires!”

Truth.

The Undecideds

At this point in the run-up to the presidential election, we're hearing lots and lots about the undecideds. But who are they? At a time when the political divide is as great as its ever been, how do these folk remain betwixt and between in a race featuring two such starkly different candidates?

Do they see something we don't? Or are they only more confused?

I mean, even as a Democrat I don't embrace everything espoused by progressives. Here are some examples.

The cancel culture? Nope. My hesitation reached critical mass when the idea was floated that John Muir, the esteemed naturalist who provided the impetus to develop the national park system lest these jewels be forever despoiled by runaway capitalism, be castigated and denounced as a racist.

Okay. Does that mean we pull the plug on our national parks system as well, since the idea is inevitably tainted since it sprung from the mind of a racist? And what of Thomas Edison and the cornucopia of inventions that originated from his (presumably) racist mind?

Do we renounce both the man and his contributions? I mean, how far do we take this?

And what of democracy itself? Since it was shaped in part by slave owners, do we renounce not only those who took part but democracy itself? Do we comb the history of medicine and renounce not only the discoveries, inventions and vaccines of anything fouled with the whiff of racism but their creators as well?

Do we scour the classical music repertoire and forbid pieces composed by anyone with a trace of any kind of “ism” to be recorded or performed?

I could go and and on. You probably could as well. Like so many well-intentioned thoughts, this is an idea that should have stayed an idea and never, ever made it to thing-hood.

Defunding the police? My first response was are you serious? You mean we're all grown-ups and/or are ably provided with that which we need to exist and contribute to the greater good without that irksome distraction of poverty?

Sadly, we are not even close to either ideal. And interpretations of this policy are as widespread as our political spectrum.

They range from Ariel Atkins' pathetic justification that the looting of Chicago's Michigan Avenue merchants last May and August meant that her people were going to “get paid.” You mean none of those folk are employed or receiving any kind of aid whatsoever, Ariel? Because several had the wherewithal to rent U-Haul trucks to stash those pilfered goods from Gucci and Cartier and Tiffany. 

Adding that the police needed to be destroyed to your mindless diatribe contrasts greatly with more-reasoned constructs that perhaps instead of endlessly arming our police with more and more weaponry, we need to better enable those institutions which cope with mental health, addiction and homelessness and would likely lessen the load on police.

Hmmm. Okay. I can sign-off on that.

And before I move on, let me make one crazy, wild and stupidly-naive suggestion: beat cops. You know, cops on foot patrolling a neighborhood. People we recognize. Get to know. And who recognize and get to know us. People we have a relationship with.

Which is pretty much the opposite of 'stranger'. Which is the relationship we currently have with cops. And which cops currently have with us.

And we all know how easy it is to demonize/threaten/hate on/stigmatize strangers, right?

Like I said, just a suggestion.

Finally, let me toss one more issue out there: sanctuary cities.

I empathize mightily with the plight of the immigrant. Especially those seeking to escape violent hell-holes like Honduras or El Salvador. Providing them with asylum is nothing less than the fulfillment of our highest ideals.

And yet, not every immigrant is a political refugee, are they? Many are here illegally. And be they an asshole who lives in a white house and wears red ties or someone sleeping in an abandoned car while they attempt to find work unloading a produce truck at 3 AM, I am not especially fond of law-breakers.

And sanctuary cities essentially seem to be a reward for not being caught. And I'm not very fond of that, either.

The United States of America has a very schizophrenic relationship with immigrants, and the faster we can develop a holistic, comprehensive policy regarding them the better off we'll be. The extreme capitalism so many labor under is only serving the marketplace, and I thought we were better than that.

Aren't we?

So yeah, I'm not as knee-jerk a Democrat as the folk in the DNC would like.

But my skin begins to crawl when I consider the options. Libertarians? We already have one, thank you very much. The "official" party of Trump? Pence? McConnell? Graham? Barr? Barrett? Are you fucking serious?

Repulsed by two parties, mildly enthused by another. So it seems destined to be.

As Republicants so well know, we often vote out of fear. I fear Crazy Don and his plans to delete Medicare and Social Security and speed our decent into a hybrid mix of feudalism and oligarchy. The lies. The chaos. The ignorance.

At his willingness to destroy and manipulate anything to remain in power, and the brain-damaged folk who applaud this.

Huh?

This is our law and order president? Really?

Speaking for myself, despite my party affiliation I am voting against Donald Trump and not for Joe Biden. My contempt for Trump overwhelms any certainty I could possess that Biden is the best choice going forward.

Most importantly at this juncture, he's not the worst.

Perhaps the undecided are people not interested in voting against a candidate, but people looking to vote out of hope.

Which might be why they're having such a tough time.

Dodger-hating

Ah. I can't help it. There are just certain sports franchises I love to hate. The Los Angeles Lakers. The San Francisco 49ers. And the New York Yankees—to name three.

Then there are the Los Angeles Dodgers.

Yeah, I'm still holding a grudge from the 2008 play-offs, where the Cubs inexplicably lost two straight at home to a team with a 36 - 45 road record and just 84 wins overall. The Cubs never recovered, scoring just six runs in the series before going down 3 – 1 in game number three in L.A.

But there's more to it than that. It's their preening. Their presumptive arrogance by virtue of being the city's favored baseball team.

I was praying for a Dodgers-free World Series, even if watching them stumble on baseball's biggest stage has its benefits. But like Clayton Kershaw, the post-season seems to be the Atlanta Braves' kryptonite.

(I should note that 2020 did mark a breakthrough of sorts for the Braves, who won a post-season series for the first time since 2001 after nine straight first-round exits, and ten in eleven visits.)

Ratcheting up my Dodger-contempt is the fawning adoration on the part of our star-struck media conglomerates.

Sunday night, I thought the Fox network crew was going to bust out of the press box and plant wet kisses all over Cody Bellinger after his seventh-inning home run. And if the first dozen replays weren't enough, the pretty boy shot of Bellinger trying to look like a male centerfold was.

Jesus.

Enough!

But I'm happy to acknowledge the Dodgers' supremacy in one area—cute first names. Let's see, we have a Cody, a Kenley, a Mookie, a Corey and a Clayton. I mean, is this a baseball team or a casting call for a reconstituted version of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch?

Christ!

While Major League Baseball weeps with relief that at least one major-market team made it to the World Series, I'm all-in on the team they didn't want.

This team is the outsider that Sir Lies A Lot claims himself to be. The third-lowest payroll in the game, a half-interested fan base and a Q-rating that could barely fire the bulb in your kitchen's night light.

Like the candidates in this year's presidential election, the contrast between the Tampa Bay Rays and the Los Angeles Dodgers couldn't be more vivid. Like Paul Sullivan wrote in this morning's Tribune, this is Team Hollywood versus Team Walmart.

I love the movies, but I'm rooting for Tampa Bay all the way. Even if they weren't playing the #$!%@* Dodgers.

Relief Sought. Relief Found.

Trying to avoid the torrent of anxiety that is 2020, I turned to sport—be it in their distended (basketball and hockey) or truncated (baseball) forms.

Given that the local franchises (at least depending on your MLB franchise-orientation) have been as effective at reducing anxiety as caffeine, sports has mostly been ineffective.

The Blackhawks briefly derailed the overriding reality that the Cup window is closed by winning the qualifying round against the rejuvenated Edmonton Oilers. But the subsequent loss to Las Vegas Golden Knights reminded us that, yeah, the window is definitely closed.

Letting goaltender Corey Crawford go is the proof.

The Bulls continued to mismatch coaches with their talented, young roster, ending the shortened season with a dismal 22 and 43 record. But the recent dismissals of President John Paxson, General Manager Gar Forman and hapless coach Jim Boylen have given fans hope.

With the signing of new coach Billy Donovan and another lottery pick in the upcoming draft, there is finally more light than darkness.

The Cubs? Long story short—the less said the better.

Having recovered their lovable loser status, their mystifying ineptness regarding how to best employ a baseball bat in an actual baseball game didn't prohibit them from claiming another divisional title and with it, home field advantage.

But as they so expertly do, the Cubs turned advantage into disadvantage since they actually hit worse at home (.213) than they did on the road (.226). No matter. Two consecutive losses to the mighty Florida Marlins in the opening round of the playoffs put Cub fans out of their misery with due dispatch.

And the one-time Super Bowl-hopeful Chicago Bears?

The team has removed a negative (QB Mitch Trubisky) but done virtually nothing to shore-up a weak offensive line. TE Jimmy Graham has at least given the Bears production at the position; something they didn't enjoy last year.

But with an NFL-strength schedule the rest of the way and no running game to speak of, the 4 – 1 Bears will be hard-pressed to sustain their early success—accomplished against pro football's doormats.

On a national scale, things were brighter.

Even after losing Kawhi Leonard and Danny Green to southern California in free-agency, the indefatigable Toronto Raptors clawed their way to the second-seed in the Eastern Conference playoffs by virtue of their 53 and 19 record.

It took a five-point loss to the Boston Celtics in game-seven of the Eastern Conference semis to stop them. But what a ride!

And what a team.

Basketball continued to entertain via the Denver Nuggets.

A popular pick to make the Finals, the Nuggets evinced a disquieting ability to fall-out of games early before mounting second-half comebacks. It was enough to carry them through two seven-game series versus the Utah Jazz and Los Angeles Clippers and into the Western Conference Finals.

But it took the steadier and more-experienced Los Angeles Lakers just five games to defeat them, meaning the Nuggets still have miles to go before they pour champagne on each other.

But it was a ball watching them.

Which brings me to baseball.

As with the NHL and NBA, credit must be given to MLB for managing a very complicated dynamic with stellar results. It wasn't perfect, but excepting the circumstances that allowed Donald J. Trump to appoint three Supreme Court justices within a single term, what in 2020 was?

But here we are on the eve of another World Series.

My fandom of baseball is more deeply-rooted than any of the remaining “Big Three” sports. That being the case, there are deeply-rooted likes and dislikes. For example, I love the Cubs. I hate the New York Yankees.

Translated, it was a delight watching the Tampa Bay Rays bounce the Yankees out of the American League Divisional series. It occurred to me during that series the Rays might be the best franchise in baseball.

How many other teams have reliably remained so competitive? Has a farm system that has so reliably produced big-league talent? Made innovation routine? And even more remarkably, has accomplished this in a small market with skeletal fan support?

And with a moldy, dank cavern of a stadium that is the antithesis of 'revenue stream'?

By eliminating the Yankees and on the cusp of advancing to the World Series, the Rays have upended exactly half of MLB's dream. That the darlings of major league baseball—the mass-market Yankees and the mass-market Los Angeles Dodgers—assume their rightful places in baseball's annual showcase for a TV ratings extravaganza.

But that's how the Rays seem to do things.

If the medium is the message, is this when we'll start watching?

Proof

Donald Trump throws a lot of sticks and expects us to chase each one. His ability to feint, distract and stir the cocktail of chaos borders on a kind of genius. I mean, Trump couldn't lead a parade. But he can reliably be counted on to turn a group of Buddhist monks into a howling, finger-pointing mob.

On the surface, he appears to at least acknowledge women—even when he isn't grabbing their pussies. He's installed several within his administration and recently tossed the electorate a bone by naming a woman to the Supreme Court, even if she's as conservative as a pair of beige khakis.

He's also placed a smattering of minority males within his administration, having discovered outliers like Herman Cain and Hispanics who are somehow able to look past Trump's wholesale demonization and repeated attempts to bar them from entering the U.S.

But Donald is too misshapen, too angry, too transparent to hide his true feelings. No, those emerge like the creature that popped out of John Hurt's belly in Alien. They emerge, squawk and scurry off before anyone is able to recover and process exactly what they've seen.

Donald then plays a game of yes I did/no I didn't with the media and that sentient portion of America's citizenry who are disinclined to wear MAGA gear. When that doesn't work, he throws another stick.

But it's not so easy to walk back an executive order.

Whatever his skills at manipulation, President Petulant can't claim his was quoted out of context or misinterpreted when the words are from his own hand.

In a lightly-reported story buried in last week's Chicago Tribune, Donald Trump recently signed-off on an executive order demanding that all government contractors cease sensitivity and diversity training and that failure to do so will result in the cancellation of their big, fat government contracts.

The administration maintains that such concepts are divisive and anti-American and adds that any program Trump, Inc. deems divisive (which I imagine is anything that doesn't include your lips and his flabby, corpulent ass) will be stripped of government funding.

There it is, ladies and gentlemen. Trump laid bare.

Donald can hem and haw and play dumb about the Proud Boys and have his pretty little blonde designated liar lie until she doesn't know which end is up. But the next time you hear a Black person speaking of systemic racism or a woman speaking of institutionalized sexism, instead of sneering 'get a job' try rolling their words around in your head. 

Then roll the words in this executive order around the same space. Donald's tacit approval of white supremacy and misogyny oozes from every line.  

Hundreds of millions of years of success in the natural world aren't proof enough of the inherent value and viability of diversity.

No. Per usual, the biggest turd in the MAGA toilet knows best.

Physician Heal Thyself

Oh sweet irony. Oh sweet, sweet irony. The Denier-in-Chief has contracted COVID-19.

Of course, depending on the seriousness of the infection, he'll never have to worry about the shortage of hospital beds, ventilators and other medical equipment his inaction sentenced so many others to.

But watching him pull his “Virus? What virus?” act will certainly be made more amusing—not that the zombies who follow him would know the difference.

Gosh, Mr. President. Hurry up and (cough) get well soon. 

I mean that.

 

Kisses!

La Piazza Gancio