Blog Archives

Day 314

11/29/2017

THE CODE TALKERS' LESSON:
Steer Clear of Donald Trump's White House

Nov. 29, 2017

   “DO NOT go there,” I said to Cat. “Do not go inside.”
   “Where?” Cat said.
   “Nothing ever good comes of it," I said.
   “Phoebe, what are you talking about?" Cat said. "What people? Shouldn’t go where?”
   “It always ends badly. It’s simply too dangerous. It’s very likely to end badly,” I said.
   “WHERE? WHAT?” Cat yowled. “What are you talking about?”
   “The White House,” I said. “The Trump White House.”
   “I don’t think that’s anything we have to worry about,” Cat said. “Trump doesn’t even like animals – there are no pets in the Trump White House. And talented as we are as writers and photographers, when it’s all said and done, we still are just a cat and dog.”
   “What about the annual White House Holiday Party for the media?” I said. “It starts at 2 p.m. on Friday – that’s just the day after tomorrow. What are we going to do? I mean, since we write this blog about national politics, I would think that we’d be expected to show up.”
   “No worries,” Cat assured me. “It’s an invitation-only party, and unless you scared off the mailperson with your insane barking, I can say with great confidence nothing’s been dropped in our mailbox indicating that the “On Trump’s Trail” staff is on anyone’s invite list.”

   "BUT LET'S SAY we were – or are – on the list, Cat, then what?” I asked.
   “I’d say maybe we should have our nails trimmed and our coats cleaned and brushed, and that we send out that foul green collar of yours – you even sleep in the disgusting thing – to the cleaners,” Cat said.
   “That’s idiotic,” I said. “Why would we even consider such a thing? Why would we, why would any sentient creature with a semblance of free will give it a second thought?” I said. “Why would we voluntarily be in the same room with a man like that?”
   “Because he’s the president of the United States, the commander-in-chief, leader of the Free World, all the usual reasons," Cat said. "Betcha’ the First Lady has the place decked out for the holidays; probably made the Holiday Tree decorations herself. It’s history, and Christ’s birthday.”

CBS News

   "BUT LOOK WHAT happened with the Code Talkers,” I said.
   “You’re talking in code, now,” Cat said.
   “You slept through another big story, didn’t you?” I said.
   “Day before yesterday, Trump had some of the few living Navajos over to the White House, honoring them for outfoxing the Japanese during World War II by sending messages to U.S. Marines in their language, which the Japanese couldn’t understand.”
   “Seems like a nice gesture,” Cat said, “Especially for a guy who generally likes to hang with his fellow white people.”
   “Nice gesture?” I said. “Out of nowhere, Trump brings up ‘Pocahontas’ – that’s his put-down name for Sen. Elizabeth Warren – and it's a name that happens to be considered by many Native Americans as a slur. She had nothing to do with the Code Talkers. But seeing a bunch of Native Americans, who popped into Donald Trump’s mind but Pocahontas.”
   “And here’s the kicker,” I said. “The ceremony took place in front of a painting of President Andrew Jackson.”
   “Well, it is the White House – you’d expect picture of historic presidents,” Cat said.
   “Jackson is a despised president by Native Americans, Cat,” I said. “He signed the Indian Removal Act, which was used to force Native Americans to leave their lands, including the horror-filled ‘Trail of Tears’ during which thousands died.”

   "BUMMER,” said Cat.
   “And it happens all the time with Trump. There’s no occasion when he won’t insult someone, turn a happy moment into a disgraceful one.”
   “But he IS the president,” Cat said. “And the White House is where presidents do their thing. People – generals, cabinet members, Senators, members of the House of Representatives, Russian ambassadors Wall Street tycoons – anyone who does business with presidents, have to go to the White House.”
   “Agreed,” I said. “But ordinary people don’t have to go to the Trump White House. You don’t have to go to the Easter Egg Roll, a Holiday Tree lighting, a White House concert, a Medal of Honor ceremony. If you're a tourist, go to the Smithsonian. If you’re on a college championship team, go for a run, but not to the White House. If you are a Girl Scout, a Young Republican, or a retiring astronaut, don't go to the White House. If you’re a cat being honored on National Cat Day, you don’t have to go to the White House, go to PETCO.”
   “Actually, National Cat Day was celebrated last Oct. 29, so it’s not an issue right now,” Cat said.
   “This man dishonors America every single day with his attacks on Muslims and kind words for white nationalists, his war on the media, his poisoning of the air and the water, his traitorous embrace of Russia and Putin. And beyond being mean, he may be unstable. He is still doubting the authenticity former President Obama’s birth certificate and now he even is saying that the “Access Hollywood” tape in which he boasted about grabbing women’s vaginas may be faked."
   “I think he said ‘pussies,’ which isn’t necessarily a bad word,” Cat said.
   “With Trump, it always depends on the context,” I said to Cat, “the setting, the place. And when you are anywhere near Donald J. Trump, you are in a very bad place.”
   "Meaning the White House," Cat said.
   "A very bad place," I said.

Day 309

11/24/2017

A Truly Trump Thanksgiving

Nov. 24, 2017

   “WHAT DO WE have to be thankful for this year?” I asked Cat.
   “That Thanksgiving was yesterday,” Cat said. “So we don’t have to listen to any more drippy What-We-Have-To-Be-Thankful-For-Lists.”
   I told Cat that as far as I was concerned, Thanksgiving lasts as long as leftovers, maybe through the weekend.
   Not that Cat or I get any of what traditionally are known as “table scraps.” Our Humans adhere to the Consistent Diet Theory, meaning pets should eat the same manufactured food day after day after day to maintain nutritional balance, while Humans keep every crumb and tidbit of real food for themselves.
   “Okay, let’s get it over with,” Cat snapped. “What is on the little bitty thing that passes for your mind this Thanksgiving weekend?”
   “I’m thankful that President Trump called the father of one of the three basketball players who got caught shoplifting in China 'a poor man's version of Don King and an 'ungrateful fool' because the Dad wasn’t thankful enough to Trump for keeping the kids from an overlong stay in a Chinese dungeon,” I said.
   “Yes, Trump made a good point,” Cat said. “That Dad is a cad of the spotlight-seeking kind.”
   “Cat!” I hollered. “ Number One: Donald Trump never, NEVER makes a good point. And Number Two, what Trump meant, especially with the Don King bit, is that the Dad is an ungrateful black jerk, who doesn’t know his place. It was a racist putdown.”
   Startled, Cat said: “So why is that something to be grateful, I mean THANKFUL for?”
“Because it’s a reminder that the President of the United States likes stirring the pot when it comes to America’s terrible racial hatred,” I said.
   “And that’s a good thing? Cat said, incredulously.
   “No, it’s a terrible thing,” I said.
   “So why are you thankful for a president’s racist Tweets?” Cat said, growing increasingly hysterical.
   “Because it’s a reminder of what a horrible person is haunting the White House these days,” I said.
   “And who needs reminding?” Cat said.
   “We all do,” I said. “Because it seems impossible that a President can act like a racist, and therefore IS a racist. It’s hard to get your mind around. We’re used to Presidents bringing out the best in us, not the worst. We can’t let ourselves ever get used to Donald Trump.”

    “AND YOU THINK there’s a real danger of anyone thinking that Trump is actually nice?” Cat asked. “Who do you have in mind?”
   “Elephant lovers,” I said.
   “You speak in tongues, or tusks, My Friend,” Cat said. “We’re grateful for elephants on Thanksgiving?”
   “Are you so deliberately, annoyingly obtuse?” I said. “You remember that the

Administration announced that it was ‘deregulating’ the ban on bringing trophy elephant parts from Africa to the United States – essentially, encouraging the killing of elephants. And then after the elephant-huggers cried a river, Trump Tweeted that he would keep the ban.”
   “Now, surely, THAT’S something to be thankful for,” Cat said.
   “Did you leave your brain at the shelter when you were adopted,” I said.
   “The possibility of Trump saving the lives of elephants is one of those miscues that might make some people say: 'Well, maybe Trump's got a soul, after all. Or a fragment of a soul.' Very dangerous.”

    CAT SAT back on his couch and thought a little
   "So when Trump suggested that the serial sex-abuser and shopping mall trolling Republican Roy Moore would be the better Senate candidate in Alabama than the Democrat, Doug Jones, who successfully prosecuted Klansmen for a church bombing, Trump’s endorsement is something to be thankful for?” Cat said.
   “Cat, I think you are catching the drift,” I said. "The more consistently Trump acts his true self, the better the chances of more and more people realizing how wretched he actually is, so that eventually, we'll be rid of him.”
   “Well then, it turns out that Americans have so much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving, Phoebe," Cat said, "I can't even count the ways."
   “Tragically, Cat. Tragically.”

Day 296

11/11/2017

IN '18, HE'll BE JUST AS MEAN
What's Donald Trump's Plan for Next Year?

Nov. 11, 2017

I ASKED CAT what he thinks Trump’s mean program is for 2018.
“Assuming he’s still president,” Cat said.
I congratulated Cat for continuing to indulge in the national fantasy – that Trump will be gone from the White House before you can say “Nice dog” or “Look at her cute eyelashes.”
What do I know, I'm just a dog? But of all the ways in which we’ve underestimated Trump, the most delusional is that some big event, maybe some constitutional mechanism will expel him, just because he’s unqualified, unprincipled, inexperienced, immoral and repulsive.
Not happening. We're at Day 296, on the 11th day of the 11th month of the fast-fading first year, and it’s time we began looking around the corner.
So I said to Cat: “What mean things will Trump do next year?”
“What’s left?” Cat said. “He’s done so much already.”
True. It's a long list, too much time just to type it all here. But the general theme is clear:
Afflict the afflicted; comfort the comfortable.
Pick on the sick. Send immigrants “home,” even if they’ve lived here most of their lives. Suffocate asthmatics with coal fumes. Suck up to dictators. Praise neo-Nazis. Paper-towel the Puerto Ricans. Bully the press. Insult war widows...."
“So our assignment is - what? Cat asked.
“To imagine the unimaginable,” I said. “Think like Trump.”

The Pedestrian Menace

"I'VE GOT ONE," Cat announced.
“Let's get rid of this pedestrian menace once and for all," he said.
“Think of all the harm that pedestrians do,” Cat explained.“They slow down everything, all those old people shuffling across the crosswalks, scaredy-cat parents inching their baby carriages across the street at .0002 miles an hour."
"Meanwhile, 18-wheelers, Porches and armored cars stuffed with money are backed up for blocks, just because the feeble, the lame, the young and the crippled choose to creep from one side of a road to the other.”
“You’ve clearly done a Vulcan mind-meld with the Orange One,” I said. "These are the kind of laws that make America the laughing stock of the world."
“Instead of coddling pedestrians – especially in Blue States, where they give presumptive rights-of-way to pedestrians, I say: "No more! Put the responsibility where is belongs: on flesh and bone. It will make for a great applause line on the GOP side during the State of the Union:
"Tomorrow, my fellow Americans, I will send to the Congress The Pedestrian Watch-Your-Step & Responsibility Act of 2018."
Any state that requires placement of any sign or device directing motorists to “yield" or even worse, "stop” for pedestrians in any crosswalk, shall be designated as a Loser State when it comes to federal transportation funds.
Postings, if any, shall alert such pedestrians as do damage to any motor vehicle either by means of physical contact, baby carriage, stroller, walker, cane or other such implement designed to aid the feeble and the slow, that they shall pay treble costs to the owner of a vehicle so compromised.
“Sounds right to me,” I said. “And fits in perfectly with our - I mean Trump’s - deregulation philosophy."

Special Interest Provision

"I WONDER IF I could inject some personal concerns here?" I asked. "I know that this sounds like the kind of special interest stuff that adds more muck to the Washington Swamp, but it's a matter of principle."
“Be my guest,” Cat said.
“Well, there are all those pick-up-your-dog's-poop rules, to say nothing of leash laws that are so ubiquitous wherever you are these days,” I said.
"Just more Nanny State rules," I said, "that are making our country the laughing stock of the world: 'Pick this up. Put that there.' "
"I couldn't agree with you more," Cat said.
"Let's just let dogs go where they want," I declared.
"Perfectly reasonable," Cat said.

The ER Loophole

"SPEAKING OF REFORM," I said, “what about closing the emergency room 'loophole?’ ”
“What’s that?” Cat said.
“Goes back to the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labor Act of 1986, a terrible law that has made the United States the laughing stock of the world,” I said.
"It means that hospital emergency rooms have to treat anyone who walks in the door, regardless of whether or not they can pay.”
“It's enough to make any Republican sick,” Cat agreed.
"What's the point of sabotaging Obamacare, if you simply let a poor child, man or woman walk through a loophole that's as big as one of those revolving hospital doors that never seem to work?" I said
"It goes right back to personal responsibility," Cat said. "If you are stupid enough to need emergency care, you should be ready to pay for it. Also, clearing the destitute out of the ERs will reduce waiting times for the rich.”
"We are on a roll, Cat," I said.

Harasser Rights

“HOW ABOUT SEX abusers?” Cat said, proving once again that even an old pussy can be up to date on today's news.
“Seems that just this past week, the pendulum has swung way, way too far - in favor of so-called ‘victims,’ ” Cat continued. “I mean, who speaks for the predators?"
"And how can the movie producers, comedians, fast-food managers, the coaches and team physicians who make America great, 'get any,' if the rest of us simply stand around and do nothing? Are we going to become the laughing stock of the world?"
"Let's not let these men be driven out of their positions of power, influence and control, just on the say-so of some used-to-be girls, who back in the day were just as young as Mother Mary when she and Joseph were, or were not, doing something? Before you know it, even the President of the United States won’t be allowed to grab whomever, whatever, whenever.”
“Depressing thought,” I agreed.
“If there’s any justice, The Protect America’s Imperiled Predators Act of 2018 will be getting a big Standing-O at the State of the Union faster than you can say 'Good dog.' ”
"USA! USA! USA!" Cat chanted.

Epilouge

“THIS MUCH IS CLEAR," said Cat, America will be singing this song next year: “Trump In '18? Just As Mean.”
“Nobody channels the 45th commander-in-chief like you do, Cat," I said admiringly.
"Thank you, Phoebe," he said. "It's not often that we can have a civil conversation in these polarized times."
And so it came to pass that, at least in one household, in the nation's smallest state, that different species, with different kinds of ears, different length tails, were able to come together and, in a respectful and considerate way, completely freak out about what's just around the corner.
True, we are just one dog, one cat, but here's what we expect next year:
When it comes to Donald Trump and being mean, there's no equal.
There's no ceiling.
And no floor.
There are no limits.

A "sweet dog" and a smart opossum consider a nation at risk.

The writers

PHOEBE, a "sweet dog" who came to Rhode Island in 2010 as a stray puppy from Missouri, was a political agnostic until Trump's catastrophic election. She tracked his presidency in a blog, which she decided to resurrect it this year when it became obvious that Republicans are committed to Trump's destructive policies

MR. O, an opossum, showed up in Phoebe's backyard somewhat mysteriously. He turned out to have genuine insight into political matters, and he agreed to assume co-author duties of the blog after Phoebe's previous writing partner, Cat, a cat, died.

CAT