Blog Posts

DAY 1379

10/31/2020

Days before election: 3

TRUMP – IN A SINGLE, SINISTER WORD

DONALD TRUMP IN ONE WORD.
   Just one.
   One word that describes him, clearly, honestly and absolutely.
   It’s harder than it seems. Usually, when you read something critical about the 45th president, many, many words are needed: an avalanche of adjectives, a list of labels, a series of stories. And together, they can form a reasonable picture.
   But is there a single word that sums him up?
   I’ve been trying to come up with one since he was inaugurated, and now that he is about to either be expelled from the White House, or invited back for four more years that may end the American experiment with democracy, the search for the right word seems timely.
   Obscenities are off limits.
   That’s in part because they’re the easy way out. Foul words are so uniquely utilitarian and perfectly suited to the purpose.
   “Shithead,” for example, works on several levels, and everyone instantly understands its many negative suggestions. It describes an unwanted and odious individual; one who is despised, unpleasant and possessed of primitive-brain properties; a character nobody wants to be near; who hints of a range of behavioral deficiencies, from poor manners to outright criminality.
   But it’s not the kind of word we’re looking for, in part because obscenities are just that: they can’t be used in general conversation, and moreover, they are part of Trump’s own arsenal of insults.
   We recall a 2018 Oval Office meeting in which the Commander in Chief referred to “shithole” countries in Africa, a remark made during a more innocent time, when we were still shocked by and wrote news stories about the president’s bathroom mouth.

SOME OF THE BEST descriptions of Trump are anecdotal.
   One is the way in which Charles M. Blow, one of our favorite columnists at the New York Times, explained why he boycotted a meeting between then President-elect Trump and editors and other Times officials at the newspaper’s building a few weeks after the 2016 election. Blow wrote:
   “The very idea of sitting across the table from a demagogue who preyed on racial, ethnic and religious hostilities and treating him with decorum and social grace fills me with disgust, to the point of overflowing.”
   “… You are an aberration and admonition, who is willing to do and say anything – no matter whom it aligns you with and whom it hurts – to satisfy your ambitions,” Blow continued, addressing Trump directly. “… You are a fraud and a charlatan …. I have not only an ethical and professional duty to call out how obscene your very existence is at the top of American government, I have a moral obligation to do so.”
   I was describing all of this to Mr. O, the politically proficient opossum who popped up in our yard earlier this summer, and I said that I half-expected that the paper on which Blow’s column had been printed would actually burst into flames. The marsupial agreed, suggesting we keep a fire extinguisher handy, given the fact that Blow’s white-hot anger has not diminished in the years since he wrote that.

ANYWAY, WE ARE looking for just one word.
   Only one. The right one.
   “Autocrat,” Mr. O suggested.
   “It’s suggestive of Trump’s drift as a leader,” I said. “But he’s not quite there. I mean, there IS an election Tuesday, so he’s not an autocrat yet. Also, ‘Autocrat’ is a brand of coffee, which might throw some folks off the scent.”
   “What’s better?” Mr. O said.
   “Rogue,” I suggested. The Merriam-Webster dictionary’s definitions include ‘vagrant’ and ‘tramp’ and especially with that the last one, you only have to change on letter to give it context.”
   “Plus, there are beneficial qualities to ‘rogue’,” Mr. O said. “Another of the dictionary’s definitions is ‘a mischievous person,’ and frankly, we all can use a little of the ‘rogue’ in our own personalities.”
   “And in our friends,” I agreed.

AS WE TALKED, ANOTHER of our problems in searching for the perfect word was that many excellent and appropriate choices fit one part of Trump’s personality – but not the rest. Some examples:

Liar.
Crook.
Bully.
Racist.
Misogynist.
Hypocrite.

   Take "liar." The Washington Post counted 22,247 "false or misleading claims" (the Post's catchall phrase for Trumpian lies) during 1,316 days, starting when he took office through Aug. 27.
   (You ask why the Post’s count isn’t more up to date? The newspaper wrote: “Down in the polls, the president has amped-up his rhetoric and often scheduled two or three rallies, interviews with friendly TV hosts and repeated press availabilities in a single day. That has left us swamped and exhausted as we plow through tens of thousands of presidential words a day.”)
   Lying may be one of the worst of Trump’s transgressions, because it weighs on everything else that he does, and has huge ramifications for the life of the country. Trump’s lies undermine his very ability to govern.
   For instance, when Trump was infected and hospitalized with Covid-19 earlier this fall, there were plenty of people who thought he made it up. The Tracking Trump blog was among the skeptics, and remains so, although we admit that we were, and remain, on weak ground in that regard.
   Similarly, if Trump announces, before or after the election, that the U.S. has found a Covid-19 vaccine, many people will have nothing to do with it, simply because the president has been advertising the possibility in political terms (i.e before Nov. 3). And that compounds the destructiveness of the overall anti-vaccine movement when it comes to legitimate disease-fighting agents.
   So “liar” is a very important word. But as a standalone epithet, it hardly encapsulates the many other despicable elements of Trump’s character. There’s Trump the tax-cheat, Trump the bumbling executive, Trump the draft dodger, Trump the failed developer, Trump the self-centered egoist.
   “Here’s one I like,” Mr. O chimed in, as he pawed through a Thesaurus, “it's ‘bounder.’ One definition is ‘One that bounds,’ which doesn’t work when he’s trying to walk down a ramp. But a second definition is ‘A man of objectionable social behavior.’ It works, but I guess doesn’t nail a lot of the other stuff.”
   "'Clown' seemed appropriate, at least in the early days,” I said. “But it didn’t take long for us to realize that there’s nothing funny about Donald Trump.”
   “Not in the least,” Mr. O said.

CREDIT: Frank Gerardi

“DEMAGOGUE,” is one of the words that Blow used in his per-inauguration column, and surely it gets us pretty far,” I said. “The Merriam-Webster definition fits like the proverbial glove: ‘A leader who makes use of popular prejudices and false claims and promises in order to gain power.’”
   “So why not use that?” Mr. O asked.
   “It’s hard to spell,” I said.
   “And not easy to pronounce,” Mr. O whispered.
   “Also, it sounds too academic,” I said, “and it lacks the stink of the cesspool.”
   “We did ‘psychopath’ a while back in the blog,” Mr. O noted. “In fact, it took two days of postings to go through all of the qualifying definitions.”
   “It’s also unfair to psychopaths,” I said, “and I think it lets Trump off the hook, implying that he suffers from an illness, and therefore can’t be completely blamed for steering the ship close to the rocks.”
   “Is there anything that you DO like?” asked Mr. O, who by now was getting a little frustrated, and sounding like he was getting a little low on gas.
   “Demon comes close, and it’s kind of fitting with the season,” I said.
   “You mean Halloween?” he asked.
   “No, the election,” I said. “The dictionary leads off with 1) ‘An evil spirit’ and 2) ‘A source or agent of evil, harm, distress, or ruin'. Certainly sums him up.”
   “But that’s another of those words that has some positive meanings, including: ‘One that has exceptional enthusiasm, drive, or effectiveness’,” Mr. O said.
   “You know, the election is going to be over before we get to the end of this,” I said.
   “There’s another possibility,” Mr. O said. "Maybe the best word for him is one that we already use. There are historical precedents: the last names of men whose depravity is so onerous that their very names become definitions of evil: ‘McCarthy’, ‘Hitler’ and ‘Stalin’.”
   “I see what you’re getting at,” I said. “Somebody might use it this way: ‘You’re nothing but a lowdown, slimy, underhanded, lousy, horrible TRUMP!”
   “Absolutely,” Mr. O said, “But just with all the other words that at first seem to fit, there’s a problem.”
   “Which is?” I asked.
   “Trump would really, really, really like to be remembered that way, “Mr. O said.
   “For years to come.”
                                                                * * *
                                       A WORD FROM OUR READERS?
   If you have an idea for the perfect word – just one, and it’s got to be a noun – that fully and fairly describes Donald Trump, please let us know. Submit nominations to our “Comments” section, just under this photo. The editors will be screening for unsuitable suggestions.

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DAY 1370

10/21/2020

0 Comments

Days until Election: 14
Cleaning up after Trump
OLD WORRY: BIDEN LOSES
NEW WORRY: BIDEN WINS!

“YOU LOOK WORRIED, PHOEBE.”
   It was Mr. O, the politically persuasive opossum, and his tone was sympathetic.
   “I’m sorry,” I said.
   “No need to apologize, Old Friend,” the marsupial said. “These are tough times.”
   “I just don’t want it to show,” I said. “A lot of people have real things to worry about – getting evicted, getting sick, getting laid off, getting kicked off unemployment. And let's not forget dying.”
   “Which doesn’t mean you have no reason to be anxious,” Mr. O said.
   “I suppose,” I said. “Maybe we can just drop the subject.”
   “Worried that Biden is going to crack up in Thursday’s debate?” Mr. O pressed.
   “Not particularly,” I said. “Joe's shown he can hold his own.”
   “Upset about Pennsylvania, the swing state that Trump/Biden ‘must’ win, but which is 'too close to call' and ‘within the margin of error’ -- that type of thing?”
   “Pennsylvania doesn’t keep me up nights," I explained. "My Humans went to college in Allentown, and actually, The Nice One was born there.”
   “Are you worried that Trump is going to win?” Mr. O asked, finally coming out with the most terrifying possibility of all.
   “Nope,” I said.
   “WHAT ARE YOU WORRIED ABOUT?” Mr. O said, finally losing his patience.
   “That Biden’s going to win.”

   “YOU'RE WORRIED that Biden is going to win?" Mr. O asked. "And we're talking about the same guy -- Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr.?” Mr. O said, swishing that long, rat-like tail of his, which he does when he's upset. "So this is what's on your mind, the possibility of victory? Success? Triumph?”
   “Afraid so,” I said.
   “You do remember that you, I and every other sane, nice, ordinary, thinking, pleasant, decent and kind creature on the planet,” Mr. O said, “have been saying for four dismal, frightening, miserable, horrible and long years that this is the election of a lifetime, it’s democracy’s last chance and that if Trump is reelected, the world is doomed?”
   “I do recall something along those lines,” I said.
   “But now you’re upset because it’s possible – dare I say, even likely – that J.R.B will become the 46th president of the United States, and that D.J.T is going to be headed up the 'up' escalator at Trump Tower, or even better, that he may flee to some place that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States?” Mr. O said. “And that worries you! Why?”
   “Look at what’s waiting for Biden shortly after noon on Jan. 20, 2021,” I said. “The Big Mess. A mess of immense, unimaginable, immeasurable, morbid immensity.”
   “You’re talking nonsense, Phoebe,” Mr. O said.
   “In case you’ve forgotten, Mr. O,” I said, “there’s a pandemic underway; 8,312,109 people in the U.S. have had Covid-19, and 221,694 of them are dead. There isn’t a vaccine yet; even when there is, it’s going to be months, even years, before enough people are inoculated. Meanwhile, Trump’s trained half the country not to wear masks and do the other simple things to slow the coronavirus until the science kicks in.”
   “Seems to be the case,” Mr. O said.

“AND THEN THERE’S THE ECONOMY,” I said.
   “Improving,” Mr. O suggested.
   “About to go over the cliff, Little Friend, because the Republicans in the Senate won’t approve the billions of dollars economists say is needed to prevent a wholesale collapse,” I said.
   “Anything else bothering you?” Mr. O asked.
   “Climate change,” I said.
   “Big on Biden’s to-do list,” Mr. O said. “He’s going to repair all the damage Trump’s done. Joe's going to get back into the international treaty; he'll jump into renewable and clean energy; this alone will put millions of people to work. Win-win, ” Mr. O said.
   “Maybe he’ll do a lot; he probably will,” I said. “But will he do everything that needs to be done? And fast enough? And even if he does, the damage that’s already been done means more floods, more hurricanes, more wildfires.”
   “You are the life of the party,” Mr. O said.
   “And look at all the people waiting to tear Joe Biden apart,” I said. “The Republican-Fox-Limbaugh-Hannity hate machine will get right to work, criticizing, misrepresenting, carping, complaining, naysaying.”
   “Seems likely,” Mr. O said.
   "But leading the charge,” I said, “will be the liberals, the progressives, the Left, all demanding ‘Real Reform' and ‘Real Justice' and, of course, they’ll have every right to do that, and often they’ll be absolutely right to complain about half-way measures, broken promises and the Unfinished Agenda.”
   “But," said Mr. O, "Biden, the Democrats, the Left and the left-out people who voted for him and Harris know that the problems are impossibly big. I mean, even without Trump's murderous bungling, these things would be big, nasty problems, no matter who's president.”
   “So what?” I said, “Biden and the Forces of Good will have just two years – until the mid-term elections – to show progress, real progress, real results measured by Ronald Reagan’s old question: ‘Are you better off today than you were on Nov. 3, 2020?' The answer better be 'I think so?' "
   “Or what?” Mr. O said.
   “Or else.”

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DAY 1366

10/17/2020

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Days until election: 17
SAVING DEMOCRACY,
ONE LETTER AT A TIME

“SO, WHERE WERE YOU?” Mr. O asked, after the Grouchy One parked the car in the driveway, and I wandered into the back yard, where the opossum and I sometimes hang out to talk politics.
   “At the Post Office,” I said. “Trying to sway the election.”
   “You mean, there’s still a Post Office?” the politically astute marsupial asked.
   “Still standing, despite Trump’s attempt to wreck yet another beloved, historic and essential American institution,” I said.
   “That’s good to know,” he said. “What was the occasion?”
   “The Big Send,” I said.
   “I’m supposed to know what that’s about?” Mr. O replied, annoyance creeping into his usually refined, if tiny, voice. "The Big Send?"
   “It’s the culmination of the Vote Forward initiative,” I said.
   “That explains it,” Mr. O said, sarcastically. “You are getting more obscure by the minute. What’s ‘Vote Forward'?”
   “Vote Forward organized a humongous letter-writing campaign to encourage people to vote, including those in battleground and other critical states," I said. “Volunteers have been preparing the letters for weeks, but holding them until the national mailing day, which is today: Saturday, Oct. 17.”
   “How many?” the opossum asked.
   “At least 15 million letters,” I said, “and maybe a lot more.”
   “I meant how many did Our Humans send?”
   “The Grouchy One did 40, and the Nice One 94,” I said. “Total of 134."
   “I can do the math,” Mr. O snapped. “And it figures that the Nice One would turn out lots more than Grouchy. But how are 134 letters supposed to ‘sway the election,’ as you put it? What can you say about Trump or Biden that people don’t already know?”

“THE LETTERS don’t mention either candidate,” I said.
   “Now, you're really losing me,” Mr. O huffed.
   “It’s actually kind of subtle,” I said.
   “I don’t think subtle wins elections,” he said.
   “The idea is not to harangue people about this candidate or that one, but just get them to vote,” I said. “And just increasing the numbers of people who vote can help Democrats.”
   “But what if the people who get the letters DO vote for Trump?” Mr. O asked.
   “Some people might do that,” I said. “But a lot of them might not.”
   “What makes you think that the letters will persuade people to vote?” he asked.
   “The organizers say that the letters do work, especially if they’re handwritten, hand-addresses and mailed with real stamps,” I said. “They tested it out three years ago in an    Alabama special election: places that got the letters had a turnout of 52.9 percent, compared to 'control' areas that didn’t get letters, where the turnout was 49.5 percent.”
   “That’s not much,” Mr. O said, “3.4 percent.”
   “You are the math wizard,” I said. “But in a close election, 3 or 4 percent is enough to, as they say, 'sway.' ”
   “It sure beats sitting at home and just yelling at the TV,” Mr. O said. “You get to write some letters, address some envelopes, attach some stamps - and you still get to sit at home.”
   “You’re not only a math wizard,” I said, “you’re a pretty good skunk-at-the-party, even if you're an opossum.”
   “But honestly, Phoebe,” Mr. O said. “Do you think the Nice One and the Grouchy One are kidding themselves about really making a difference?”
   “Nope,” I said.
   “Nope?” he replied.

“LOOK AT IT THIS WAY,” I said.
   “There are millions of people, just like Nice and Grouchy, who are really, really frustrated, because they really care about the election, but live in a state like Rhode Island, where the outcome is predictable,” I said. “Meanwhile, voters in ‘swing’ and other states like Florida, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, actually determine who wins. The Big Send gives everyone else something to do.”
   “That’s what I mean,” Mr. O said. “Maybe that’s all it is – an illusion of doing something.”
   “The Vote Forward people say it works,” I said. “And just as important, if Trump is defeated, it will be because lots of good people all over the country are doing whatever they can. Some people demonstrate. Some work for candidates. Some send money. Some carry pitchforks. Some make phone calls. Some pester their relatives. Some people pray. Some people post. But they’re all doing something.”
   “Point made,” Mr. O said.
   “This how democracies rescue themselves when they’re in trouble,” I said. “The letter campaign seems innocuous because it's so simple. But it’s part of something much bigger. It's part of an awakening, an uprising. It’s inspired. And, yes, it matters.”

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Day 1351

10/2/2020

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SPECIAL REPORT
A PRESIDENT’S PATHOLOGICAL PAST
PRODUCES PROBLEMATIC PROGNOSIS
FOR PANDEMIC’S POSSIBLE PATH
Can A Serial Liar’s 'Sick tweet' be believed?

PHOEBE AND MR. O met in an emergency session today to analyze news reports that Donald Trump tweeted shortly after midnight that he and his wife tested positive for Covid-19. From the back deck of the Rhode Island house where a sweet dog and an optopossumistic opossum come up with their hair-brained pronouncements on the Trump presidency, Phoebe and Mr. O issued the following statement:

UNLIKE MANY ANALYSTS, we at the TRACKING TRUMP blog have absolutely no special insight into this development.
   By now, we understand that it’s utterly foolish and a disservice to our ever-shrinking audience to shoot from the hip, run off at the mouth, leap to conclusions, before the facts are known.
   We believe the prudent course is to bide our time before we embarrass ourselves and our profession. But because we’ve had one or fewer persons text us for our analysis, we’ve decided to sacrifice credibility for immediacy. Here are our conclusions:

General propositions:
   1. Nothing that Trump says, or is purported to have said, can be presumed to be true.
   2. More likely, anything he says is a lie, in whole or in part.
   3. Nothing that the White House says in its official statements can be assumed to be factual, in whole or in part.
   4. Most presidents lie about their health. Trump lies about everything. You do the math.

Probable possibilities:
   a. The Trumps are not sick.
   b. The Trumps are much sicker than has been disclosed.
   c. Only one of the Trumps is sick.
   d. The other Trump is not sick.
   e. Only one of the Trumps is much sicker than has been disclosed.
   f. See item “d” and extrapolate.
   g. Something is definitely going on.

Implications of "something is definitely going on":
Whatever is going on is a ploy to affect the election. One way or another.

The Undebates: The least Machiavellian scheme is calling in sick will be a way of skipping further debates with Joe Biden, since his attempt to disrupt last Tuesday’s shout fest failed.
The Miracle: A “miracle” recovery will convince voters to elect Trump after all. He’ll disclose that the “Warp Speed” program to find a vaccine has had a second, but secret, phase: development of a cure. Trump will say he volunteered to be the first to try it as his sacrifice for the nation. “I could have been playing golf; but instead, I, and only I, have taken the miracle cure as my gift to Making America Healthy Again. I’m not saying that I truly had Covid-19, or that the miracle cure will work for anyone else than me, because I and only I is me. But my campaign will distribute millions of MAHA hats by the second week of October."
Nov. 3? LOL: A more likely strategy is another move to disrupt the election itself, such as demanding the date be changed “until such time as I get well.”
I Quit: Trump wants to withdraw from the election, because he believes he’s going to lose, and will move to have Vice President Mike Pence take his place.

For Trump, this has attractive sub-options.

Pardon me: With Trump out of the race, conservatives who were disgusted by him, will find Pence palatable and will vote Republican and overcome Joe Biden’s current lead in the polls. Pence, in turn, will pardon Trump, as Gerry Ford did Dick Nixon.
Pence will lose: Trump, now miraculously recovered, will be able blame the veep for the “pathetic” loss, and immediately begin planning “The Greatest Comeback in Fake History.”
Should Pence run again: Mike could turn out to be popular enough to run again, and Trump will invite him to Trump Tower in New York City, where, in the middle of 5th Avenue, he’ll put his famous test of popularity to the ultimate test.
Covid's revenge: Trump, who never had Covid-19 and was “too smart” to risk taking the new vaccine, suddenly will suddenly develop symptoms and cough, causing him to miss his 5th Avenue target.
Pence grows impatient: Now tired of the criticism that followed his original pardon of Trump, Pence will appoint a commission to advise him on whether he should consider clemency or a second pardon; but for never explained reasons, the panel will fail to achieve a quorum, and thus be unable to produce a final report.

Executive summary:
As you consider our report, please consider the source: a sweet dog and an optopossumistic opossum. We may or may not update this preliminary nonsense, based on further developments and what’s steaming now on Netflix.

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Day 1349

9/30/2020

2 Comments

Days to election: 34
THE DEBATE WAS AWFUL.
AND A REAL SUCCESS

“SO, THAT DEBATE WAS ... WHAT?" I asked my friend, the politically astute opossum, as we reviewed last night’s disturbing events.
   “A train-wreck, Phoebe?” Mr. O said. “A disgrace? As one commentator put it, a shitstorm? A mess?”
   “Plain and simple,” I said, “it was a success, maybe the best in the history of debates.”
   “Are you out of your mind?” shouted Mr. O, who’s as low-key and reserved an opossum as you could hope to find in your backyard.
   “Donald Trump showed up last night as a goon, a schoolyard bully, a predator, an abuser, a spoiler and a virtual psychopath,” Mr. O said.
   “I couldn’t have put it better myself,” I said.
   “But he absolutely wrecked the debate,” Mr. O said. “People who watched it said they felt sick; they said they were demeaned; some people couldn’t watch the whole thing and turned off their TVs.”
   “That's what happened,” I said.
   “Well, Phoebe, how is that successful debate?” Mr. O shot back. “And look what happened to Joe Biden, Trump’s election opponent, and Chris Wallace, the debate moderator. They were reduced to supporting roles, playing the parts of offended, but ineffectual victims of Trump’s boorishness.”
   “You got that right,” I said.

"BUT PHOEBE," the opossum shrieked, "how’s a mess like that a success?"
   “Because that’s what a debate is supposed to do,” I said. “It’s supposed to give voters a crystal clear picture of the choice they have to make.”
    “But nobody watching that show could tell what anyone was saying because of all the shouting, overtaking, and just plain meanness,” he said. “No exchange of ideas, no policy explanations.
   “Which means the debate perfectly reflected the America we’re living in right now,” I said.   “Donald Trump’s America.”
   “But it was supposed to be a DEBATE,” Mr. O said.
   “If it had been an orderly conversation," I said, "where the candidates delivered their rehearsed lines according to script, and everyone shook hands, patted each other on the back and left feeling pretty good about themselves and their country, that debate would have been a failure, a fraud.”

   “Maybe I see what you’re getting at,” Mr. O said.
   “The comparison between Trump and Biden was absolutely stark,” I said. “On one side, you had an unprincipled, destructive gangster; a racist; a provocateur, thriving on chaos and lawlessness.
   "On the other hand, there was a seasoned, proven and decent man; he was imperfect, of course, but also just the sort of person you'd want in the Oval Office, working to solve the country’s difficult problems.”

"And what did you think of Wallace, the moderator?” Mr. O asked. “He’s come in for a lot of criticism this morning for failing to control Trump.”
“His role in the debate was probably the most crucial of all,” I said. “He showed that with Trump in the White House, none of the usual checks-and-balances are working. Congress and the courts can’t control him, any more than Chris Wallace could keep Trump from being a debate barbarian and a spoiler last night.”

"BUT IT WAS REALLY HARD on Biden and Wallace, to say nothing about all of the people watching," Mr. O said.
   “These are hard times," I said. "Trump is dangerous, destructive and incompetent. Biden is not charismatic, not always well spoken, not young. But he’s capable, decent, and last night, he held his own against one of the most dangerous persons in the world.”
   “So, are you looking forward to the next debate?” Mr. O asked. “Some people today are suggesting there shouldn’t be any more.”
   “Of course I’m not looking forward to any more debates,” I said to the opossum. “But I’m not looking forward to four more years of Donald Trump either. The first four have been bad enough. They’ve been terrible. Terrible for democracy. Terrible for the climate. Terrible for the economy. And terrible for our health.”
   “So, you’re saying that upsetting as they might be, the next debates should go on as scheduled,” he said.
   “It’s the reality we’re living through,” I said.
   “Kind of ironic,” Mr. O said. “Trump got elected in part because he gained fame as a fake businessman on 'reality TV.' And last night, America got a chance to see the actual Donald Trump on real TV.”
   “You’ve got the picture,” I said.

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DAY 1348

9/28/2020

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WHICH TRUMP OUTRAGE WILL BE THE ONE?

LAST WEEK, AS DONALD TRUMP’S latest attack on democracy seeped into our consciences, I had two choices about what to do.

Option A - Go to the seashore.
Option B - Go bonkers.

   “So, Phoebe, which one did you choose?” Mr. O asked as we sat in our Rhode Island backyard for our evening review of the important issues of the day, which has been our practice since the opossum appeared atop a fence post a few months ago.
   “I picked Option A – Go to the seashore,” I said. “That’s the Problem.”
   “How could that be a Problem?” the opossum observed. “Doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes for the Grouchy One to drive you there. And a summer day isn’t to be wasted, especially when it’s not even summer anymore.”
   The Grouchy One is one of the two Humans I live with, the other being the Nice One. Had she the time to make the trip from our house in Newport to Ocean Drive, that would have turned a good summer day in fall into a great summer day in fall.
   “What was she doing?” Mr. O asked.
   “Writing letters to voters in the so-called swing states, urging them to vote,” I said.   “There’s an organization called “Swing Left” that identifies voters who might be persuaded to go to the polls, and gives you advice about how to write and send them nonpartisan letters.”
   “Which explains why she’s the ‘Nice One,’” Mr. O said. “By the way, what was the ‘Problem’ that made you question whether you should be sitting on the rocks, taking in the rays and watching the waves?”
   “The ‘Problem’ was Trump’s latest outrage, at least it was at the time,’’ I said. “And it was a doozy, so terrifying, so depraved, so destructive, that once you heard about it, you knew you should drop everything else you were doing and take emergency action.”
   “A bit of advice, Phoebe,” Mr. O said. “You might want to reconsider using a word like ‘doozy.’ It’s outdated and suggests that you are too.”
   “Would you rather I say something like ‘Scarier than an opossum’s tail?’ ” I retorted, and regretted immediately that I’d slipped into Trumpodian guttertalk.
   “What kind of emergency action were you considering because of this latest ‘doozy’?” Mr. O asked. “Write a letter to your congresswoman? March in September? Demonstrate in Portland? Tweet on Twitter? Take a train to Washington? Pick up the phone? Friend on Facebook? Emote with emojis? Ask Alexa?”
   “Exactly,” I sighed.

   As the sun went down, the warmth hung in the nearly windless night air, and we talked more about PTSDS (Post-Trumpodian Stress Dismay Syndrome).
   Trump will say something horrible; occasionally he actually will do what he says. And what he says and does will demand action.
   He’ll make a racist comment. He’ll insult someone. He’ll sign an executive order opening up wilderness areas to logging. He’ll belittle somebody. He’ll break a sacred tradition. He’ll abuse his office. He’ll lie. He’ll commit a crime.

And for a day or two, that outrageous comment or deed will burn hot in the news; hundreds of hearts will miss a beat; cable shows will be a-Twitter; children will letter posters; letters will be posted; press releases will be printed; marchers will march.
    And life will go on.

THIS HAS BEEN the pattern for four years.
   It happened in 2016, when a tape emerged on which Trump bragged about how his celebrity status enabled him to violate women. That prompted outrage and predictions of defeat. Trump won.
   Trump fired his FBI director, hosted Russians in the Oval Office, separated immigrant children from their parents, put the kids in cages, and outrage followed outrage followed outrage. The result, each time? Nothing.
   Trump publicly kowtowed to Putin. Trump was impeached. Trump mishandled the pandemic, trashed climate change regulations, urged "weak" governors to use the military “dominate” anti-racism protesters.
   The volume of outrages has become so immense that it’s hard not only to keep track of them, but even to triage their relative seriousness, so that some are barely noticed.

RECENTLY, MR. O and I looked through of a transcript of one of Trump’s campaign rallies, this one in Bemidji, Minnesota, on a Sept. 18th that was so little noticed it might as well have happened in 1720 instead 2020.
    Trump crowded supporters into a hangar in Minnesota, putting them in danger of spreading or being infected by Covid-19, then unleashed a two-hour harangue of insults, lies, boasts and taunts, while encouraging and condoning violence, racism and treason.
   He began with a warning: Minnesota would be “overrun and destroyed” by refugees if Joe Biden is elected president. Trump mocked a reporter who, months earlier, had been shot in the leg with a rubber bullet while covering a protest: “It was the most beautiful thing.”
   He disparaged Somalian-born Congresswoman Rep. Ilhan Omar: “That’s a beauty. How the hell did she win the election?” At another point, he said: “Look at Omar. She came in here. Did she marry her brother?”
   He belittled Sen. Kamala Harris, the Democratic vice presidential nominee, riffing on the pronunciation of her name: “No, my name is Kamala. Like comma.' I remember that. Like a comma.”
   Trump praised Robert E. Lee, who led the Confederacy’s secession from the United States in attempt to preserve slavery, calling the traitor a “great general.”
   Trump speculated that if reporters treated Biden like they do Trump, “He’d melt. If they ever did a number on, this guy would be there, he’d be laying on the floor crying ‘Get me out of here, Darling. Where is my wife? Get me out of here please, Darling.’”
   The commander-in-chief veered off into a long discussion of the “Air Force One” jetliners that transport presidents, disclosing one of their most important features: “The great thing about those beautiful planes, they have more televisions than any plane in history. We have televisions in the closet, on the ceilings, on the floors…”

AT THE 1 HOUR, 55 MINUTE MARK, Trump congratulated Minnesotans for inheriting “good genes” from their pioneer ancestors: “They were tough, and they were strong. You have good genes. You know that, right? You have good genes. A lot of it’s about the genes, isn’t it? Don’t you believe?”
   Long, long ago, imagine the effect that any one of those comments – praise of superior genes, admiration of a traitorous general, scaremongering immigrants, insulting an opponent’s name, celebrating the shooting of a reporter – had they been spoken by a President Bush, a President Clinton, a President Obama.
   But Trump has made outrage routine.
   Wake up. Hear the latest outrage on radio or TV. Take a shower. Morning paper’s headline: “Latest Trump Outrage.” Do the dishes. Work (if you have work). Eat supper (if you have food). Six-o'clock News: “Trump’s Latest Outrage Stirs Outrage.” What’s on Netflix? Have we seen that series? It’s a new episode. Off to bed. Final iPad check: “Sources: Secret Memo Details Latest Trump Outrage.” Power down the iPad. Sleep through the night.

“YOU MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE,” said Mr. O, returning to last weekend’s activities. “You got Grouchy off the couch, into the car, and in about two minutes, you’re sitting on the rocks, watching the sailboats in the distance and the fishermen nearby, casting their lines into the Atlantic’s rolling swells. What more can you ask for?”
   "You tell me," I said.
   “Incidentally,” Mr. O said, “what was the recent Trump outrage that put you into full I-Can’t-Stand-It-Gotta-Do-Something mode?”
   “He wouldn’t commit to accepting the election results – unless he won,” I said.
   “Trump’s been saying that since 2016,” Mr. O said.
   “This time was different,” I said.
   “How so?” he asked.
   I told him about the press conference at which Brian Karem, a reporter for Playboy magazine, had phrased the question in a way which caught everyone, except Trump, off guard.

REPORTER: Mr. President, real quickly. Win, lose or draw in this election. Will you commit here today for a peaceful transfer of power after the election, either … transferal of power after the election. And there has been rioting … there’s been rioting in many cities across this country, your so-called red and blue states. Will you commit to making sure that there is a peaceful transferal of power after the election?

TRUMP: Well, we’re going to have to see what happens. You know that I’ve been complaining very strongly about the ballots. And the ballots are a disaster.

REPORTER: I understand that, but people are rioting. Do you commit to making sure that there’s a peaceful transferal of power?

TRUMP: We want to have… Get rid of the ballots and we’ll have a very peaceful… There won’t be a transfer frankly, there’ll be a continuation. The ballots are out of control. You know it, and you know who knows it better than anybody else? The Democrats know it better than anybody else.

   “So, Mr. O, do you see what I mean?” I asked.
   “What really surprises me,” Mr. O said, “is that apparently, there’s still a Playboy magazine, and they have someone covering the White House.”
   “Seriously,” I said, “here’s a guy who won’t commit himself to a ‘peaceful’ outcome if he doesn’t win. Nobody in the history of the country – no candidate, nobody who counts – has ever said any thing like that!”
   We just sat there, not saying anything, listening to crickets and the other creatures who make late-summer, early fall noises, and every once in a while, breath of air drew a cord out of the wind chimes.
   “You're right,” Mr. O said, finally breaking the silence.
   “Right about what?” I asked him.

   “That this is a special outrage,” Mr. O said. “It really demands attention, action. This is one where you do write to your Congressman, check to see what your state is doing on absentee ballots, join a protest. Get on the phone. Tweet ‘til your fingers fall off. Etc. Etc.” “You mean that I made the wrong choice?” I said. “Instead of Option A - Go to the seashore, I should have selected Option B - Go bonkers?”
   “No,” the possum said, “You made the right choice. The danger to democracy is real, and we have do all of the things just plain citizens can do."
   "But there's one thing," Mr. O added, "that you and all the other pessimists always miss in your despair that no single 'bombshell' seems to stop Donald Trump. Call me an optopossumist if you must, but it seems to me that every outrage counts, and that they have a cumulative effect. No outrage ever goes away. Sooner or later, there will be one too many, and the total weight will crush him."
   "But why do you say that I should have gone to the seashore instead of going bonkers?" I asked him.
"Because you should never waste an opportunity to enjoy the seashore, especially on a summer day that's happening when it's actually fall," Mr. O said. "No matter what else, we cannot let Trump destroy the precious moments of our lives."

ON SUNDAY NIGHT, the New York Times began reporting that it had found the holy grail, Trump's most secret outrage: his tax records.
   They show him to be a scheming, but bumbling, businessman, who's on the hook for $300 million in coming-due obligations, and a fraud, who excels as a serial tax dodger, paying just $750 in taxes in each of two recent years and no taxes at all in 10 others.
   In the meantime, millions of other Americans, who do pay their taxes, have had to pick up his share of the cost of running the government.
   It’s an outrage.

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Day 1339

9/21/2020

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YES, GRIEVE FOR RBG.
BUT fOCUS: THERE’S
AN ELECTION IN 43 DAYS

THE DEATH OF RUTH BADER GINSBURG has hit everyone hard, and for many it’s been overwhelming, the latest attack on our body and souls in what has been four years of one shattering blow after another.
   The timing, of course, is as awful as the loss of a person who has inspired generations, of people, especially women. And just in time to mess with the election.
   “You want to know what else time it is?” Mr. O asked me.
    "Not really," I said, prepared for a smart-aleck reply.
    "It's time to move on."
“Excuse me?” I replied as my friend, the politically astute opossum, and I rendezvoused in the backyard for our regular after-dinner discussion of the latest events. "Aren't you being a bit lunkheaded here?"
   “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded," Mr. O said. “But we need to stay on track and not let one setback – and I know that the loss of Notorious RBG is a lot more devastating than that word suggests. However, these next 43 days are what we’ve been waiting for the last four years, and it’s imperative we keep going and more.
   “But Trump is going to get another conservative justice on the Supreme Court, which may indeed become 'His' court, jumping immediately into election disputes and bending the law in Trump's favor if the vote is close – to say nothing of what happens to Obamacare, climate change, Trump’s abuses of power, Russia, Russia, Russia, etc., etc.”

   "FOCUS, PHOEBE,“ Mr. O said, “Focus, focus, focus. This is the best chance to get rid of Donald Trump; and in that sense, this is the most promising, most exciting, most exhilarating time of our lives.”
   I’d forgotten with whom I’ve been hobnobbing this past summer – the optopossumistic opossum, a rare, but refreshingly upbeat subspecies, known to political scientists as Rosius-colorred-glasseus-half-fulum.
   Mr. O, in other words, believes that Democratic and other progressive forces are going to send Joe Biden to the White House, and relocate Donald Trump to Mar a Lago, where he’ll live out his life measuring rising sea levels.
   “Well,” I said, “If I can’t grieve for Ruth, or feel down in the dumps or plan to leave the country, what do you suggest?”
   With that, Mr. O pulled a sheet of paper out of his pouch, which surprised me, because I thought only female opossums had those for their newborns, which added a new element of mystery to the true nature of my companion, who showed up one day atop a fence post in our backyard.
   It read:
HAVE YOU:
1. Applied PROMPTLY for your mail ballot?
Answer: No. And yes. Since I’m a dog, I can’t vote, and I didn’t apply. But I did get the Humans in our house to fill out heir applications, and I rode with them yesterday to make sure they mailed them.

2. Put up a Biden for President sign on your front lawn?
Answer: Yes.Today, I printed out big letters – B I D E N – and Scotch-taped them (don't ask how a dog does these things) to individual window panes on the front sun porch, where I hang out when I’m not talking to you. And notice our house is #20 on our street, so I didn't have to print out "2020" for the sign. Coincidence? Or omen?

3. Sent money to Biden and Democratic Senate candidates?
Answer: Spoke to the Humans; they are disgraceful penny-pinchers, but I think they might part with some cash if for no other reason than to stop me from barking.

4. Been in contact with voters in “battleground” states?
Answer: A canine friend of mine, "Tatchka," a recent immigrant from Sarajevo, says his Humans recommend a group called "Swing Left," which has a lot of smart and well thought out ways to connect with voters, like letter-writing and sending targeted campaign contributions to candidates who can retake the Senate and state legislatures. Their website is: https://swingleft.org/

5. Stayed mad? Stayed Scared? Stayed in the game?
Answer: Just watch us.

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DAY 1336

9/18/2020

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Days Until the election: 46
IN THE FINAL DAYS, THE FINGER-WAGGERS NEED TO FOCUS ON THE REAL PROBLEM.
HINT: IT’S NOT JOE BIDEN

MR. O AND I were talking last night about the problem of finger-waggers. You know, the nitpickers, the second-guessers and constant critics – the ones who are forever telling everyone who's working desperately to win the election how badly they're screwing up.
The finger-waggers just can’t help themselves. Even in the campaign's closing weeks, the fault-finders, the tut-tutters and the scolders persist in pointing out the many ways that so many are getting so much wrong.
We’re talking about you, Bernie Sanders, how you’ve been giving Joe Biden the business, albeit ever so politely, ever so gently, telling Joe how he needs to sharpen his message to Progressives. On MSNBC the other day:

“I think Biden’s in an excellent position to win this election, but I think we have got to do more as a campaign than just go after Trump. We also have to give people a reason to vote for Joe Biden. And Joe has some pretty strong positions on the economy, and I think we should be talking about that more than we have.”

We’re talking about you, “Top Latino Democrats,” who were reported recently in the Washington Post as . . .

“. . . voicing growing concern about Joe Biden’s campaign, warning that lackluster efforts to win the support of their community could have devastating consequences in the November election.”

And even you, Charles Blow, one of our favorite New York Times columnists, prodding the “good people” the other day, trying to make them feel guiltier than they usually do about not doing good enough, or conversely, about not doing enough good:

“Stop thinking that things will simply work themselves out. Stop thinking that evil will stop at the gate and not trample your own garden. Gather the energy. Gather your neighbor. Fight, vote, email, post. Do all you can to stand up for the vulnerable, for the oppressed, for the planet itself. Don’t let history record this moment as it has recorded too many others: a time when good people did too little to confront wickedness and disaster.“

LOOK, WE GET IT.
   We are all scared out of our freakin’ minds that Joe Biden will squander his frighteningly thin lead in the polls. We can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t read a good book or enjoy an after-supper Original Klondike Bar for worry that 2020 might still be 2016.
   But that doesn’t mean we have to turn on each other, belittle, criticize and arm-chair-quarterback our teammates.
   (Mr. O and I should point out here that we are NOT finger-waggers. It’s not a character thing, just simple biology: sweet dogs and politically astute opossums don’t have fingers to wag. We do have claws, which, when it comes to our friends, we keep in check.)
    So, here’s our message to the wagging fingers: give them a rest.
    Leave the Good People alone. The Good People are NOT the problem.

WANT TO KNOW the real problem? The Ungoods.
   Point your fingers, if you must, at the Ungoods' demon clown, the one with the strange hair and the poison tongue.
   Wag away at the clown’s worshipers, who leer and cheer and sneer whenever they hear the demon’s latest insult, sneer or fib. Tee off on the Ungoods' sycophants, who help the clown lie, hide his accounts, cook his books, set fire to the earth and super-spread the virus.
    Point your fingers at Mitch McConnell and his Ungood enablers, without whom the demon could not accomplish his dream that “only I” can destroy democracy.
    So, we beg you finger-waggers: Call it off. Stop carping, second-guessing and hectoring.
   The Good People have been working so hard during these past long four years, organizing, planning, analyzing, worrying, demonstrating, letter-writing, telephoning, arguing, writing, testifying, reporting, investigating, cajoling, singing, praying – and just lately, voting early – to bring reason, sense and sanity to our country.

AND HERE'S A NEWS FLASH: The Good People aren’t perfect!
   And that includes Joe Biden. Not the perfect candidate. But just maybe he’s the best candidate, with the widest appeal and the wisest mission: to rescue America’s soul.
   Joe’s not the smartest, most articulate, savviest, best looking or youngest candidate in history. But he’s now history’s last hope.
   So leave Joe alone, and remember what your mother used to say; or maybe it was Joe’s mother: “Shut up.”
   Bernie, Charlie and Top Latino Democrats, remember this: Joe Biden’s trying his best.
   And so are the rest of the Good People, despite their imperfections, which, as the finger-waggers correctly point out, are limitless.
   The Good People misspeak, miscalculate and miss the mark.They fumble the ball and drop the ball.
   The Good People preach to the choir and sometimes to the congregation. They make the same point twice and too frequently, they go off message.
   The Good People head north instead of mid-west.They speak to this group instead of the other one.
   And far too often, the Good People misplace their keys. And they forget to set the alarm, turn off the stove and check their Twitter feeds.

NONE OF THAT MATTERS.
    What counts is that Good People are trying. Really trying.
   So let’s declare a truce. Let’s all of us stop our nagging, hectoring, cajoling and finger-wagging at the Home Team in the home stretch.
   Here’s the truth Charlie, Bernie, Top Latino Democrats and all the finger-waggers near and far: the Good People are really trying.
   And you know what? Good for us. We may just pull it off.

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Day 1326

9/7/2020

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56 Days Until the Election

A LABOR DAY TIME CAPSULE

From: Sept. 5-7, 2020
Open: Nov. 5-7, 2020

IT'S A GLORIOUS LABOR DAY weekend in Rhode Island.
   We – Mr. O, the optopossumistic and politically astute opossum who’s been staying in our backyard this summer, and I got to talking, and we thought we’d memorialize a weekend when everything seems possible.
   Think of it as sort of a time capsule, to be read now and dug up a few days after the Nov. 3 election, when the vote might be clear. Consider it as a reminder of what it’s like when the weather’s perfect, there’s hope for the future and we are free.
   When we talk about a “glorious” weekend, we do so without forgetting that this isn’t the case elsewhere in the country. The West is ablaze with wildfires, and temperatures are in “triple figures,” which doesn’t seem possible to survive.
   Political fires are raging in Portland, Oregon and Kenosha, Wisconsin, where the fight for racial justice is most visible, and where Trump is hoping to revive his uncertain campaign with cynical, desperate appeals to “lawlessness and disorder.”
   As we write this, Covid-19 is still on a rampage. Nearly 189,000 Americans are dead and 6.3 million have been ill with the coronavirus. The economy is wounded, although the stock market is going up and the unemployment rate is going down.
   But here in pre-hurricane Newport, we’ve had a string of nice days and good news that reminds us of how America is supposed to be, as measured five ways. Feel free to contrast them with your post-election assessments, if you’re still alive and reading in November.
    1. The Weather
    2. Polls
    3. The Campaign
    4. Health of Democracy
    5. Election Anxiety Level

1. THE WEATHER: Perfect.
   From the National Weather Service: conditions are ideal, as measured by sensors at Newport State Airport. “Airport” in this context is a relative term for such a small facility, although it should be noted that the runways are paved. These are from a reading at 11:53 a.m. Sunday, Sept. 6:

Temperature: 77 degrees
Humidity: 66 %
Dew point: 65 degrees
Visibility: 10 miles
Wind: 9 miles an hour, coming from the southwest, gusts up to 21 mph

We are not making small talk. When the weather is just right, everything else seems terrific, even when we know that when Trump as president, there is no such thing as a “nice day.”

A good weather day is overwhelming.
The house seems clean, even when its covered in dog hair (mine); the lawn looks lush (it’s so dry that it crunches even when feet as small as an opossum’s walk on the grass). That 9 mile-an-hour wind is coming off the Atlantic Ocean right toward our house: cool, fresh and steady.
Humidity is said to be “low.” I asked Mr. O if he understands anything about humidity, and its mysterious cousin, the dew point.

    And he said only to a point: "I know it's just right when it feels right."
    The weather: Bright. Comfortable. Wonderful.
     The skies are deep blue; the clouds puffy; the air and everything else are perfect.
    “Optopossumism is in the air,” Mr. O says.

2. POLLS: Biden leads
   We know polls misled us in 2016. Still, they are our only insight to how things are going on Labor Day.
   Here’s the roundup from the Real Clear Politics website as of 11:45 a.m. Monday, Sept. 7:

   Mr. O and I don’t understand elements of this chart any more than we do the arcane parts of the weather report.
   But it’s real clear that Joe Biden is leading Donald Trump. Not by much. A little more than 7 percentage points between the two, a little better than when we looked yesterday, and you’ll notice the “up” arrow in the line underneath that, which means Joe may be gaining in the battleground states (where voting actually counts).
   So, this weekend, our guy’s ahead. Not a time when we're trying to book a flight to Antarctica.

3. CAMPAIGN: Trump on defense
   Trump's latest maneuver seems to be failing, trying to scare what Joe might call the “heck” out of white women: his racist warnings that Portlandia’s fire and chaos are coming soon to a suburb near you, along with danger that aspirational Blacks want to be your neighbors, and that “only I” can stop them.
   Generally, Trump’s been on the defensive this weekend, following news reports that he disparaged America’s soldiers, including those killed in war, as “losers” and “suckers.” We’re not sure that those of you who are reading this Time Capsule in November will even remember this controversy; but this weekend, it’s hot.
   There have been more minor, but satisfying, developments. For example, Trump’s supporters have been launching flotillas of power boats, displaying huge banners and flags. But during one recent expedition on a Texas lake, the fleet churned up such huge wakes that five boats sank (nobody was hurt).

DANGEROUS WATERS - Wake from Trump fleet in Texas sunk five boats. CREDIT: CNN

   Biden’s been doing nicely. He’s taken Trump to the woodshed about his military slurs, and one of his speeches was even eloquent. Joe hasn’t made any of his usual verbal blunders.
   Overall, he’s more than holding his own.
   To sum up, as of Labor Day Weekend, with 56, days before the election, there’s reason to daydream about Donald Trump heading back to Trump Tower, where the “up” escalator is waiting to lift him heavenward and out of our lives.

   4. STATE OF OUR DEMOCRACY: Functioning, if barely
   Trump has trashed the Constitution and damaged most essential federal agencies.
   With the failure of the Republican Senate to convict Trump after his impeachment by the House, and a decision by special counsel Robert Mueller not to hold him accountable in plain English for the misdeeds his investigation documented about the Russians connections to Trump’s campaign, there are few restraints on him.
   Even with the Democrats taking control of the House during the mid-term elections, making the House the only check on his abusive activities, Trump has trampled both law and tradition.
   His abuse of pardon powers, functional approval of Russian acts of war against elections, cruel immigration maneuvers, attacks on science, corruption of the justice system—finally installing a toady as attorney general – have nearly broken a Constitutional system that most of us once believed reliably protected democracy.
   In his nearly four years, he hasn’t quite broken the country – because the courts, the military, Republicans of conscience, an economically weakened, but still-operating press, members of his own family – have stood up to him.
   The election is the final lifeline, and Trump has openly worked to undermine that, hobbling he Post Office’s ability to handle mail ballots, and attacking confidence in voting-by-mail in general, lying about its susceptibility to fraud, advising people to vote twice, refusing to pledge to honor the outcome.
   Most people who understand how ruinous Trump has been believe that if Biden loses, the country as we’ve known it, or hoped it could become, will not survive. Free speech will disappear, as will our ability to respond to challenges of the economy, healthcare, housing, hunger, education, climate, equal justice.

5. ELECTION ANXIETY LEVEL: + 9
Borrowing from the system used in emergency rooms to assess pain:
On a scale of 1 to 10, in which 1 is negligible, and 10 is horrendous, how would you rate

your level of anxiety about the election?
   Even on a glorious Labor Day weekend, even when everything seems so nice and going our way?
     • Phoebe: 9 ½
    • Mr. O: 9 ¼
   Almost, but not quite, unbearable.
   Liberals, if nothing else, are worriers.
   We hope that when this time capsule is opened, you'll be able to give this category a much different, lower rating.
   But just in case, remember that long-ago Labor Day weekend, when everything was perfect, like it's supposed to be.

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Day 1312

8/24/2020

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THE ELECTION:
IT’S NOT ABOUT TRUMP;
IT’S ABOUT SURVIVAL

“MR. O,” I SHOUTED. “Where are you? This is really important.”
   “I’m over here, behind the bush,” the tiny voice came back. “I’m finishing my supper, a rather exquisite main course of rotting mouse brain, followed by a dessert of tick that’s so fresh it ‘Still Has a Kick.”
   Eager to tell him my message, I ran toward the bush.
   “STOP! Not so fast, Big Canine,” the opossum yelled at me, as he scampered to the top of a fence post.
   “Why so skittish?” I asked.
   “You may be a sweet lady, Phoebe,” Mr. O said. “But we haven’t known each other that long, and you being a certain size, and me being smaller, I’d rather be safe than sorry, if you catch my drift.”
   “I thought we were friends,” I said, a little taken aback.
   “We are,” Mr. O said. “It’s not personal; it’s about survival—mine.”
   “That’s what I wanted to tell you,” I said. “That’s what this whole election is about: survival.”
   “I thought it was about getting rid of a psychopath, a bully, a pretender, a demagogue, a liar, a man with strange hair and a foul mouth – a dangerous, cruel man that you wouldn’t want as your kids’ role model,” Mr. O said. “Have I been wrong these past three-and-a-half years?”
   “Oh, no, Mr. O,” I said, “you’re not wrong. But replacing Trump is all about survival. It’s not the only thing we have to do – as a society, a country, a planet – to survive. It’s just the essential first step.”
   “I’m just a simple backyard opossum,” he said. “And I have a hard enough time concentrating on one thing at a time, which happens to be the election. And now you’re going all cosmic on me.”
      “Stay with me, Mr. O,” I said. “All of the Big Problems of the Universe that we’ve been worrying about lately have the same basic theme; it’s survival.”
   “For example?”
   “As an opossum, besides worrying about becoming someone’s supper, what’s the hugest, most terrifying danger that keeps you up up nights, or whenever it is that opossums are supposed to sleep?”
   “Climate change,” Mr. O said, without hesitating. “Whether you live in somebody’s backyard, like I do, or in an actual house, like certain privileged dogs, no one is going to survive if Earth turns into Mars.”
   “Precisely,” I said.
   “It’s getting harder and harder to ignore,” Mr. O said. “The wildfires in California, melting glaciers in Iceland, double hurricanes in the Gulf, rising sea levels in the Ocean State. Deadly heat, and not just in Death Valley. And if we don’t turn things around 10 years or less, we’re toast.”
   “You’d think all of us – Yellow-headed Blackbirds, South American Crab-eating foxes, Red State Republicans, Barbados Black-bellied sheep, Norwegian Forest Cats, stray dogs from Missouri, Yellow-dog Democrats, North American opossums – just wouldn’t let that happen,” I said.
   Mr. O agreed: “By what we all know by now, you don’t need to be a Red-whiskered Bulbul to understand the urgency of reducing greenhouse gasses, becoming carbon neutral.”

“IT’S THE SAME with the economy,” I said.
    “I’m not sure I follow you there, egghead dog,” Mr. O said.
    “You know the old saying,” I said: “‘It’s the economy, Stupid.’”
    “Whoa, no need for name-calling,” he said.
    “It’s a political cliché left over from a the last century,” I said. “Simply speaking, Humans who vote care more about jobs than anything else, especially jobs that pay enough to support families.”
    “Why would animals care whether Humans have living-wage jobs?”
    “It’s about survival,” I said. “I live with Humans; you live in their backyard. If they have jobs, they can earn enough to paint our house, keep the refrigerator full and pay my vet bills - you should see the size of those.”
    “I get it,” Mr. O said. “Humans are part of the complex food chain and all that. So whether you’re a naked mole rat from Massachusetts, or a South American anteater, you want full employment.”
    “Which will be undone by artificial intelligence, robots, automation,” I said.
    “The end of work?” Mr. O asked. “How can Humans earn money if they don’t have jobs?”
    “That’s one of the Big Questions,” I said. “And nobody has an answer.”

SPEAKING OF HUMANS,” Mr. O said, “The poor things, they’re dropping like flies all over the world because of the coronavirus pandemic. You’d think that if they want to continue as the ‘dominant species’ they’d do something about Covid 19.”
   “Like I said, it’s all about survival,” I said. “Trump’s screwed up the pandemic like he has everything else. He didn’t listen to medical experts, so the country got off to a fatally slow start in dealing with it. There’s still no national policy to control it; Trump promotes unproven remedies, discourages facemasks, pushes for fast development of a vaccine, by which he means, in time for him to boast about before the election, which might mean it won’t be safe.”
    “So, we’re back to the election,” Mr. O said.
    “Whether you are talking about getting control of a pandemic,” I said, “keeping the Post Office going, making sure someone doesn’t hit the nuclear launch button, making college affordable, welcoming asylum seekers, repairing Interstate bridges, reforming police, promoting better race relations, telling the truth, Trump has made everything worse.”
   “But what’s the election have to do with survival?” Mr. O asked.
   “Everything,” I said. “This election is all about survival. If Trump is reelected, he’ll keep on what he’s been doing for what seems like the last three-and-a-half centuries, which is tearing the country apart, which is why so many people are worried that democracy may not survive.”
    “What’s different this time?” Mr. O said.

"TRUMP HAS DONE TERRIBLE things to government,” I said. “He appoints cabinet members who are the proverbial foxes in the chicken coops: an education secretary who despises public schools, a housing chief who doesn’t care about the poor, an attorney general who protects the president’s buddies and goes after his enemies.”
    “Playing the devil’s opossum here,” Mr. O said. “You have to admit there’s been a lot of push-back. Trump’s been impeached by the House; judges have blocked his orders; the media has been all over him, cataloged his lies, tracked his tweets. His own sister is on tape calling him a liar who ‘has no principles. None.’ And Republicans are creating hilarious attack ads.”
   “The big threat,” I said, “is that Trump has exposed the weakness of the Constitution and brought the country as close as it’s ever come to one-man rule. Our democracy was designed as a system of checks and balances – the Congress, the Courts and the presidency keeping each other from having too much power.
   “But Trump has cowed the Republican Senate into doing whatever he wants, including appointing hard-hearted judges – so that he is coming close to controlling all three branches. And with the Senate exonerating him after he was impeached, there’s nothing to hold him back if he and his Senate sycophants are reelected.”
   “Which is why you say the election is about the survival of democracy?” Mr. O asked.
   “I’m hardly the only one who thinks that,” I said. “A second term for Trump is curtains for the climate, curtains for the economy, curtains for public schools. If Trump wins and Biden loses, kiss the postman goodbye, say so long to peace, justice, science, well-being and democracy.”
   “Really, Phoebe?” Mr. O said, incredulously. “Solving all the Big Problems of the Universe depends on whether one guy or the other one wins one election?”
   “It’s a terrible coincidence,” I said. “A lot of the Big Problems are reaching the critical point all at once. The United State is still big enough, still important enough to make the difference about whether we go forward or backward.”
“And you’re telling me that if Trump is defeated, that Biden can save the world?” Mr. O said, laughing at the absurdity of the idea that it’s all come to either one old guy named Don, or a slightly older one named Joe, is elected president.”
   “I don’t run the world,” I said. “I just think about it.”

“JOE SEEMS DECENT enough,” Mr. O conceded. “But he’s just one guy, who knows quite a lot about how government works and sometimes says dopey things. And our survival is all down to him?”
   “Electing Biden gives us a fighting chance to reverse all the things that threaten our way of life, and ultimately, our existence,” I said. “But our survival doesn’t depend on Joe Biden; it’s actually about everyone else.”
   “I thought you said the election is about survival,” Mr. O said.
   “It’s about the will to live," I said. "Will we allow our planet simultaneously fry and drown without trying to stop climate change? Will we sit still for a no-jobs economy that gives us no way to earn a living? Will we use democracy’s basic power – our votes – to destroy democracy?”
   “Do you think enough voters really agree that this election is about survival?” Mr. O asked.
   For a while, I didn't say anything.
   "Well?" he said.
   “Maybe.”

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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

DAY 1379

TRUMP – IN A SINGLE, SINISTER WORD

DAY 1370

Days until Election: 14
Cleaning up after Trump
OLD WORRY: BIDEN LOSES
NEW WORRY: BIDEN WINS!

DAY 1366

Days until election: 17
SAVING DEMOCRACY,
ONE LETTER AT A TIME

Day 1351

SPECIAL REPORT
A PRESIDENT’S PATHOLOGICAL PAST
PRODUCES PROBLEMATIC PROGNOSIS
FOR PANDEMIC’S POSSIBLE PATH
Can A Serial Liar’s 'Sick tweet' be believed?

Day 1349

Days to election: 34
THE DEBATE WAS AWFUL.
AND A REAL SUCCESS

DAY 1348

WHICH TRUMP OUTRAGE WILL BE THE ONE?

Day 1339

YES, GRIEVE FOR RBG.
BUT fOCUS: THERE’S
AN ELECTION IN 43 DAYS

DAY 1336

Days Until the election: 46
IN THE FINAL DAYS, THE FINGER-WAGGERS NEED TO FOCUS ON THE REAL PROBLEM.
HINT: IT’S NOT JOE BIDEN

Day 1326

A LABOR DAY TIME CAPSULE

Day 1312

THE ELECTION:
IT’S NOT ABOUT TRUMP;
IT’S ABOUT SURVIVAL

The writers

Archives

Categories

TRUMP – IN A SINGLE, SINISTER WORD

Days until Election: 14Cleaning up after TrumpOLD WORRY: BIDEN LOSESNEW WORRY: BIDEN WINS!

Days until election: 17SAVING DEMOCRACY,ONE LETTER AT A TIME

SPECIAL REPORTA PRESIDENT’S PATHOLOGICAL PASTPRODUCES PROBLEMATIC PROGNOSISFOR PANDEMIC’S POSSIBLE PATH Can A Serial Liar’s 'Sick tweet' be believed?

Days to election: 34THE DEBATE WAS AWFUL.AND A REAL SUCCESS

WHICH TRUMP OUTRAGE WILL BE THE ONE?

YES, GRIEVE FOR RBG.BUT fOCUS: THERE’SAN ELECTION IN 43 DAYS

Days Until the election: 46IN THE FINAL DAYS, THE FINGER-WAGGERS NEED TO FOCUS ON THE REAL PROBLEM.HINT: IT’S NOT JOE BIDEN

A LABOR DAY TIME CAPSULE

THE ELECTION:IT’S NOT ABOUT TRUMP;IT’S ABOUT SURVIVAL

The writers

Archives

Categories

Days until Election: 14
Cleaning up after Trump
OLD WORRY: BIDEN LOSES
NEW WORRY: BIDEN WINS!

Days until election: 17
SAVING DEMOCRACY,
ONE LETTER AT A TIME

SPECIAL REPORT
A PRESIDENT’S PATHOLOGICAL PAST
PRODUCES PROBLEMATIC PROGNOSIS
FOR PANDEMIC’S POSSIBLE PATH
Can A Serial Liar’s 'Sick tweet' be believed?

Days to election: 34
THE DEBATE WAS AWFUL.
AND A REAL SUCCESS

YES, GRIEVE FOR RBG.
BUT fOCUS: THERE’S
AN ELECTION IN 43 DAYS

Days Until the election: 46
IN THE FINAL DAYS, THE FINGER-WAGGERS NEED TO FOCUS ON THE REAL PROBLEM.
HINT: IT’S NOT JOE BIDEN

THE ELECTION:
IT’S NOT ABOUT TRUMP;
IT’S ABOUT SURVIVAL