Trump This!

It's not too early to start thinking of the 2020 election.

As President Trump looks over the west portico of Trump House, as he has renamed the White House, he ponders a run for a second term.

The thing is, he spent one fortune winning in 2016; can he afford another fortune to finance a campaign to remain in office? Did he convince the Republicans they should finally back him, or do they still think Jeb Bush is electable?

It's a sure bet the Democrats have given up on Hillary so there's no strong contender against him.

On the other hand, Vice President Carson has done an excellent job keeping out of the spotlight the last four years. But he still thinks he deserves a shot at the top job. He's already sent out feelers to his supporters pledging to replace the gold “Trump House” billboard with a silver caduceus, symbolic of his healing powers.

Will the brain surgeon supplant the brainless? America awaits.

Where the hell is it?

I spent about 30 minutes this afternoon looking for a receipt I had in  my hand when I walked into the kitchen. But suddenly it wasn't there.

That's ridiculous, I thought, It has to be here. Where did it go? What's the big deal, you ask.

Here's the back story: the receipt was from our supermarket and it should have shown we had reached the purchase threshold that entitled us to a free turkey for Thanksgiving. But when we checked out the total was further from the threshold than when we started.

Not possible. So we went to customer service and the attendant looked up our account. She said we had been credited with a return of $160 TODAY in a branch store more than 90 miles south.

This called for a chat with the manager. He was very nice and explained that all to often people who don't have a store card use a phone number to verify their account. Unfortunately, today someone chose to use ours. The manager also said this was not uncommon. He gave us credit for the turkey and, at his suggestion, we changed the phone number associated with our account.

As a courtesy, I called the store that refunded someone $160 and told him they used a false phone number. The manager gave me what I interpreted as a verbal shrug, saying, "it happens."

So that explains my anxiety about the receipt, which we finally found. And the free turkey is heading for a food bank.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone, except the phone number thief.

Stay Tuned

I'm thinking of coming back after a hiatus of almost two years.

How's that for a writer's block. But I'm not there yet. 

My target date is the first of the year, assuming I can get a keyboard that won't run all my words together. The keyboard problem was a comedy of errors, mostly mine so I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say I'm in the market for either a satellite keyboard or a new machine altogether. 

Anything for the sake of art.

Bye for now.

"Murderer's Row"

What better time to think about warm weather than when you're snowed in.

It was the 1940's into the early 50's. I lived on the first floor of a six-story brick apartment building in The Bronx (note the capital T, please). Whenever weather permitted, a group of older women would sit in a line on the sidewalk in front of the entrance to the building.

I called it “Murderer's Row” because I had to walk past them whenever I entered or left. I could feel their eyes on me all the way. Although we lived in the same building, I didn't know any of them. They never said anything to me nor I to them. But they made me feel self-conscious.

To be fair, these were pre-air-conditioning days and fresh air was where you found it. If it meant sitting outside for an hour or two with friends that was what you did.

A few years ago, on the way home from the Bronx Zoo, I drove past the old neighborhood. No one sat outside buildings. Instead, there were iron gates across the entrances to most of the old apartment houses.

That was then, this is now.

I’m Psyched for Super Sunday

My costume is ready:

Down coat

Fur hat with earlaps

Wool muffler

Mittens

Heavy socks

Storm boots

Field glasses

Can’t wait for the day to begin

Eyes on the prize!

Ready to cheer

Ready to moan

Ready to thrill

For Punxatawney Phil!

IT'S GROUNDHOG DAY!

The State of My Mind

As I prepare to ignore tonight’s State of the Union Address and all those TV shots of fawning or fuming politicians sitting through it, I wonder how the “new media” will he playing it. Chances are I won’t know because I don’t get my news from new media.

Yet, according to David Carr in yesterday’s New York Times, “web news is thriving.”  Really?

Vox Media, BuzzFeed, Upworthy, ViralNova are experiencing explosive traffic, writes Carr. I’m sure I've left out others and for that I apologize. I just can’t keep up with them. In fact, the only time I come across these new names is in the newspaper. Yes, the newspaper, stolid old media.

My impression is these digital domains move content so fast they can’t possibly have time to digest or impart meaning or context to their posts. I also hope their speed doesn't compromise their accuracy. I suspect I’ll never know, since I’m wedded to getting my news from more established, credible sources.

Hence, I’ll scan tomorrow’s newspapers in print or on line to read the predictable reactions to President Obama’s State of the Union speech.

My mind will be in its usual state of muddle. 

Good News

I'm out of the wi-fi rabbit hole.

I returned the recalcitrant printer and for a few bucks more replaced it with one that works well with my laptop. Proving once again that cheap is cheap.

My first order of printing was to go back to the article that triggered my descent into what for me is internet hell. Yes, I printed via wi-fi a 2005 article from the New York Times that I no longer need.

The satisfaction was perverse, but satisfaction nevertheless.

Speaking of perverse, how's this for perversity: I just finished reading today's New York Times on the web and then went into the kitchen to wash the newsprint from my hands. Yikes!