It's Time

I'm trying to gauge the pathos in a year with 298 mass shootings, especially when only 247 days of that year have passed. Any idiot capable of inhaling and exhaling without a prompt could see it for the horror it is.

But there are special kinds of idiots aligned with the NRA, and one of the most prominent is Mitch McConnell.

The witless lap dog of Donald Trump, the senator from Kentucky resembles not so much a freely-elected representative to the United States Senate, but actor Lincoln Perry's Stephin Fetchit character, a bumbling, eternally fearful man terrified of upsetting the boss man.

Like Perry's character, McConnell is scared shitless of his boss. That's why he makes no statements without first clearing them with the Trump-whore.

After Wal-Mart grew a pair and decided to apply even a moderate amount of pressure to the gun-control brake pedal by refusing to sell ammunition for assault weapons and hand guns, Mitch couldn't comment. “Oh no. I have to check and see with the boss first.”

Translated, this means I need to know what he thinks before I know what I think.

Of course the NRA, in its time-honored myopic fashion, lambasted Wal-Mart for caving to the so-called gun control 'elites' and potentially compromising the rights of law-abiding gun owners.

Gosh.

Is there anyone among us—anyone at all—who believes that tens of thousands should be fatally shot or wounded every year in service of the Second Amendment?

That's what I thought.

The NRA opposes each and every piece of gun-control legislation, no matter how sensible or respectful it is of “law-abiding” gun owners. The NRA's vocabulary consists of but a single word: no.

And for decades, we have accepted that.

What we have to show for our compliance is a country with more guns than people. A country where the paranoid, the disenfranchised and the mentally ill can amass weapons stores capable of hideous acts of mass murder. A country where anyone is able to buy any kind of gun they want because anything less is a violation of the NRA's interpretation of the Second Amendment.

It's time for the rest of us to land a gut punch to the NRA.

In the early-nineteen-eighties, when drunk driving became a recognized social problem, legislators didn't hem and haw about pending legislation, fearful of reprisals from liquor manufacturers and their lobbyists.

No. They went ahead and did the morally-responsible thing. In the face of a mounting public slaughter, they increased awareness of the toxic effects of drinking and driving and dramatically increased the penalties for those who continued to violate drunk driving statutes.

No one gave a second thought to the impact on “law-abiding” drinkers. Simply put, the greater good was served.

That isn't the case with gun violence. The NRA has made it crystal clear they are comfortable with any amount of collateral damage, so long as the rights of “law-abiding” gun owners are protected.

I cannot overstate this: the NRA refuses any and all efforts at gun reform. In other words, they are okay with Odessa and El Paso and Dayton and Gilroy. You get that, right?

This is why Democrats need to stop playing nice. They need to stop being respectful of “law-abiding” gun owners and act on the realities of 2019 America.

America is a shooting gallery. A place where anyone—no matter the state of their mental health or personal inclinations—can buy an assault weapon and wage war on whoever happens to be around.

And again—the NRA is fine with that.

Can't get laid? Got fired? Spouse got custody of the kids? Thanks to the NRA, you can go out and purchase an assault weapon and seek (real or imagined) revenge with no more effort than squeezing a trigger.

And again—the NRA is fine with that.

Is it okay with you?

Representatives and Senators are refereed to as elected representation because they are elected to represent people from a specific geographic area. It is presumed they will act on the wishes of that electorate. And yet, I don't recall the electorate expressing a preference for inaction on gun control in a very, very long time, if ever.

And yet that is exactly what we have.

A two-thirds majority has consistently desired stronger gun-control legislation and deeper background checks in the face of our mounting carnage. But the NRA's hold on Republicans is stronger than ours.

Let's be clear: if you vote Republican, you are endorsing gun violence.

Vote Democrat, and perhaps one of these options might see the light of day:

Repeal the Protection of Lawful Commerce in Arms Act. When gun manufacturers are held accountable for the carnage they enable, I'm guessing they'll develop a sudden interest in developing safer weapons and meeting gun-safety activists half-way than hiding behind the sneering petulance of the NRA.

Tax guns and ammunition the way we do alcohol and tobacco. We now understand the latter two are responsible for an inordinate amount of public expense due to the destructive and easily abused nature of these products.

Guns are no different. Let users pay for the carnage that goes hand in hand with our over-abundance of firearms.

Let's mount a gun buyback. This would be hideously expensive due to a quarter-century of Republican largesse, but it was hugely successful in Australia, and as a result suicides and fatal domestic disputes dropped dramatically.

Of course, Australia isn't burdened by the likes of the NRA, who would no doubt oppose a drop in suicides and fatal domestic disputes.

We've done it the Republican (er, NRA) way. This is what we have as a result. We really need to try something different, like steering around the iceberg.

Republicans prefer an 'A' from the National Rifle Association over your safety and your entirely-reasonable desire not to die while attending a concert, a festival, school, church or work. Or while sitting on your porch, in a parked car or while waiting for a bus.

We can cut off the head of the gun monster and begin to work back towards making America a safer place to live.

Or we can vote Republican.

Ja'quan Swopes and Dahleen Glanton

Dahleen Glanton is a columnist for the Chicago Tribune. She advocates, often quite effectively, for people of color.

But Michael Jordan reportedly missed shots. LCD Soundsystem released middling albums. And we the people elected Donald Trump as president.

Like the bumper sticker says, shit happens. So it's only natural that Ms. Glanton occasionally knocks out a clunker of a column.

Early on the morning of August 13^th, five teens descended on a rural home near the Illinois-Wisconsin border. They arrived there in a stolen Lexus, and were intent on adding to their bounty.

The home-owner, a seventy-five year-old man, awoke to find the teens in his driveway, attempting to steal his car. He called the police to report a crime in progress.

What happened next is unclear. Did the teens, aware they were in an isolated area, assume they had time to steal the car before the police could respond, ignoring the old man in the process?

After one of them approached the property-owner with a knife, the elderly man discharged his gun, fatally wounding the would-be assailant.

Heightening the drama is the fact that the old man was white and the miscreants were black.

While I abhor guns and gun violence and the industry trade group that works so very, very hard to sustain it, I wasn't overly upset by the news. It struck me mostly as a case of live by the sword, die by the sword.

Ms. Glanton saw it differently, and committed her feelings to print.

She was outraged not only by the death of fourteen-year-old Ja'quan Swopes and the felony murder charges brought against Swopes' accomplices, but by the public reaction to Swopes' death.

After voicing her concerns, Glanton reported her inbox was overflowing with the most-extreme opinions our society could generate. She railed at references to Swopes as a 'thug'.

Apparently, it was a surprise to Glanton that people weren't publicly flagellating themselves in the aftermath of his death.

I also e-mailed Glanton, but her e-mail account had been shut-down for “maintenance.”

I wanted to tell her that yes, the law that permitted authorities to charge the four remaining thieves with felony murder ought to be revisited.

But I also wanted to tell her that Ja'quan Swopes is not Emmet Till, and that the two should never, ever be confused.

Swopes was not the victim of racial hatred—he was the victim of his own stupidity. If there's anything to lament, it's that Swopes considered stealing cars a worthwhile and risk-free endeavor.

Again, I hold nothing but contempt and derision for our gun culture and its enablers. I feel similarly towards crooks—be they in the White House or an old man's driveway at one A.M.

Like many teenagers, Swopes wanted to taste forbidden fruit. He wanted a glimpse of life on the other side.

Needless to say, he got it.

So no. My heart does not bleed for Swopes. If that makes me a racist, fine. But know this: I would feel no differently if his skin were white. Or brown.

My heart bleeds for the truly innocent. Those killed at work. At school. At church. Or while passing a summer evening doing nothing more inflammatory than sitting on their front porch.

Ms. Glanton, let's advocate for the innocent and rail against the guilty. You seem (at least temporarily) to have confused the two.

Are the 2019 Cubs the 1987 Minnesota Twins?

For the second time in three nights, the Cubs balled-up a gorgeous pitching performance and tossed it into the trash. They may not be able to hit the side of a barn with men on base, but they're Mark Price when it comes to swishing the circular file.

Tuesday, Jose Quintana pitched six innings, allowing five hits while striking out fourteen. Owing to their clutch-averse batting, the score upon Quintana's exit was tied at two. Naturally, the Cubs went on to lose, allowing a run in each of the seventh and eighth innings.

Tonight, it didn't matter that Yu Darvish, who in this up-is-down-and-down-is-up season has emerged as the staff's ace, pitched a seven-inning, ten-strikeout, four-hit shut-out. The Cubs' bullpen, as hapless as it is overworked, again found a way to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory by allowing a run in the eighth and six in the bottom of the ninth.

(Wednesday's outcome didn't require the services of the bullpen, as starter Cole Hamels saved them by allowing an unfathomable eight runs in just two innings of quote-unquote “work”.)

If it even needs to be said, the Cubs are on the road, where they should labor under the name Doctors—because they make everybody better.

Miraculously, the Cubs remain tied for first in the National League Central Division—even with their odorous 23 – 38 (.377) road record. It has been a long time since a division contender possessed such a Jeckyl and Hyde personality; dominating at home while practically soiling themselves on the road.

In the fifty seasons since divisional play began, many clubs have cinched a division title with mediocre road records. 38 – 43. 40 – 41. You get the picture. But only one featured a Cubbish road record and still seized the division crown.

And that team would be the 1987 Minnesota Twins.

For those of you lacking both age and perspective, the late-eighties and early-nineties were great times for Twins' fans. With the 1987 edition featuring starters like Bert Blyleven and Frank Viola with fire-breathing reliever Jeff Reardon coming out of the bullpen, and a line-up studded with folk like Kent Hrbek, Gary Gaetti, Kirby Puckett and Tom Brunansky, the Twins could be a handful.

Especially at home.

Road games were another matter, as the team struggled to a 29 -52 record.

Yet they managed to defeat the 98-win Detroit Tigers in the ALCS, taking two out of three at Tiger Stadium.

In the World Series, the Twins faced-off against the mighty 95-win Cardinals of St. Louis.

In a seven-game classic, the Twins jumped out to a quick two-games-to-nothing lead, taking games one and two at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome.

In typical fashion, they surrendered games three, four and five at Busch Stadium before rallying to take games six and seven at the Metrodome. Thusly, the 85-win Twins won a world championship.

I believe it's called home field advantage.

Without that option, hope resists the corrosive effects of reality and sustains the belief that, yes, the Cubs could somehow do some damage in the post-season.

After all, the 2008 Los Angeles Dodgers had the worst road record of any team in that year's MLB playoffs yet still managed to defeat the Cubs twice (outscoring them 17 -5) at Wrigley Field in the opening games of that year's NLDS series.

Yes, dreams die hard.

There Is No Lie I'm Too Ashamed to Tell

“Hate has no place in our country.”

In between the rallies and the tweets wherein he provokes precisely that, Donald Trump had the gall to put on his sincere face, stand in front of TV cameras and say this in the wake of another racially-motivated mass killing.

Aside from his base, who is he kidding? The Trump-whore has built his presidency on the exploitation of hate.

If hate didn't have a place in our country, Donald Trump would not be president.

And another thing. I hate to go all caps on you, but for those of you rightly disturbed by the fact that we can be shot anywhere at any time (even if we're a hundred-eighty degrees removed from dealing Oxycontin on dank ghetto street corners), know this:

AS LONG AS THE NRA IS WRITING OUR GUN POLICY THIS IS HOW IT'S GOING TO BE.

Think about it. We not only have a president stoking hatred, but a trade group doing everything in its considerable power to put a gun into the hands of every would-be hater out there. It is, after all, good for business.

For their immediate and formidable ability to wreak domestic terror, I'm more concerned about Donald Trump and the NRA than Kim Jong-un and Iran.

Together they are a duo only Republicans deserve. 

If only Republicans were the only ones to suffer.

Wither the Cubs?

A little over four months ago, I gamely predicted the 2019 Cubs would shrug off the weirdness of 2018 and play to their abilities. They would run, hit, pitch, catch and throw like the World Series contenders they are.

Or more specifically, were.

While the Cubs have largely pulled down the curtain on the one-run-per-game act that plagued them throughout 2018, they own one of baseball's worst batting averages with men on base, which gives their brittle bullpen precious little to work with.

Which is why they are among the league leaders in blown saves.

Several Cub notables (former MVP Kris Bryant among them) are barely hitting their weight with the bases occupied.

Never mind what happens when a left-hander shows up on the mound.

Furthermore, the Cubs' 21-33 road record translates to an anemic .388 winning percentage—the winning percentage attained by the much-feared Florida Marlins. Despite killing them at home (.678), their awful road record sabotages any chance they have of winning the division.

Could the Cubs even split their road games, they'd be sitting pretty in the National League Central—and on their way to 95 wins. But that would be doing it the easy way, and as these Cubs have made clear, doing it the easy way somehow corrupts their sense of Cubbishness.

Hair shirts, anyone?

Granted, the Cubs labor under media scrutiny known only to the New York Yankees, Los Angeles Lakers and Notre Dame and Alabama football programs.

But the 2019 Cubs are punching way below their weight. Top to bottom, they are the most-talented club in the division.

Something is very, very wrong.

Unlike the 1969 team, it hopefully won't take fifty-years to figure out what.

Creeped Out

Recent child sex trafficking charges against billionaire hedge fund manager Jeffrey Epstein have re-ignited interest in him, as well as his high-flying circle of friends.

Prominent among them is current president Donald J. Trump.

When asked about Epstein in a 2002 New York magazine article, Trump said “He's a lot of fun to be with. It is even said that he likes beautiful women as much as I do, and many of them are on the younger side. No doubt about it—Jeffrey enjoys his social life.”

Is your skin crawling yet?

Questioned about the newly-filed charges against Epstein, Trump said “I don't know about it.” His attorney previously claimed in 2017 that Trump “...had no relationship with Mr. Epstein and no knowledge whatsoever of his conduct.”

Sounds a little defensive to me.You?  I mean, how else would Donald have known how much fun Jeffrey was to be with?

Cynics like myself wouldn't normally question Trump's claim of ignorance, given his general cluelessness about, well, nearly everything. But doing the math on his uncensored comments about women, his behavior and those winking comments about Epstein and you have to wonder.

I certainly hope this isn't the last we've heard about Donald J. Trump and Jeffrey Epstein.

My NBA Free-Agent Afterflow

For whatever reason, NBA free-agents do not want to play for the Chicago Bulls. It can't be the weather, as past signings by the New York Knicks, Boston Celtics, Philadelphia 76ers and Detroit Pistons have shown.

The Brooklyn Nets proved it again last Sunday.

It can't be that the Bulls lack credibility, as the legacy of their Jordan-era dynasty continues to resound across the NBA landscape.

So what is it, then?

My two cents says long-time owner Jerry Reinsdorf continues to be perceived as the guy who let unpopular general manager Jerry Krause break-up the Bulls. While this is a vast over-simplification (there was an abundance of blame to share), it remains a free-agent toxin.

Krause's actions said management is in charge here—not you.

Compounding the damage is the fact that with two hand-picked successors still making player-related decisions, this (wrongly or rightly) screams AND WE HAVEN'T CHANGED A BIT!

With his death and subsequent election to the Hall of Fame, you could say Krause has successfully rehabilitated his image. It isn't so easy for Reinsdorf. In a player's league like the twenty-first century NBA, how does an owner answer the question how could you fire Michael Jordan?

In retrospect, Reinsdorf's biggest mistake was not creating a buffer between Krause and his players. However gifted Krause was at assessing talent, he was a frequently insufferable human being with a cloying need to be one of the guys.

Despite his considerable sway within the organization, this puppy-like need for inclusion made him an easy target. It exploded into outright derision after his universally-misquoted comment about an organization's role in winning championships.

So without a popularly-accepted transformation, the Bulls remain cast as a management-heavy franchise where even a once-in-a-lifetime player like Michael Jordan was kicked to the curb to suit management's desires.

It's not accurate—or fair. But so little in life is.

So the Bulls go it alone. With a hugely-talented core of young (albeit injury-prone) players and another smart pick at number seven in Coby White, the Bulls again appear on the verge of greatness. Even without visits from Kawhi Leonard and Kevin Durant.

But I'd be lying if I said I didn't care that the Bulls aren't the favored destination of big-name free agents, a la the Los Angeles Lakers. My fandom would be made immensely more comfortable if the Bulls needed only to clear cap space and wait for favored suitors.

Alas, that isn't a luxury destined to be theirs.

The Bulls have become something of a (cough) square peg. An outlier. An entity that, when confronted with a very public and very unpleasant bruhaha, held fast to the people it knew best and longest.

In other words, Jerry Krause was a longtime employee of Jerry Reinsdorf. Right or wrong, it was very unlikely he was going to throw Krause under the bus to save the skins of Johnny-come-latelys like Phil Jackson and Jordan.

If loyalty is a crime, the Bulls can give you a line-by-line itemization of the sentence.

In their stints as GMs, Jackson and Jordan have shown their criticisms of Krause to be baseless. Indefensible. Comically ignorant. Neither had (or in the case of Jordan, has) a clue.

Karma is a bitch.

And in their clunky, old-fashioned way, the Bulls' M.O. remains firmly rooted in the past. Much as my antiquated, sixties-liberal, greatest-good-for-the-greatest-number politics do.

So yes, I remain a fan.

Even when their free-agent signings amount to Thaddeus Young, Luke Kornet and Tomas Satoransky.

Lacking the sun-kissed glamor of the Lakers, their crosstown rivals the Clippers and the Miami Heat or the mega-market promotional opportunities of the Knicks and Nets, the Bulls possess just one thing: heart.

As the world of sport is increasingly subsumed by the complexities of contract management and the endless search for new revenue streams, that is something.