The Newell Post

I am sure that anyone who grew up in an Irish American family can relate to the title of this blog. The Little Faker in most Irish households was a baby. The Little Faker was an appellation of  love and affection, usually bestowed when the grandfather or grandmother was bouncing the little one on their knee.

Today, the Little Faker, can be best assigned to the President.

Before I go into yesterday’s news conference, let me just state that I know most of Trump’s supporters are not mean spirited xenophobes or homophobes. I am sure that many who voted for him did so out of exasperation with the Democrats in particular and Washington as a whole.

The President resonated with many people who were,frankly, tired of all the bullshit that came out of Washington. I was one of these people, although I did not vote for Trump. I would have voted for Jeb Bush or another reasonable Republican if given the chance but that was not to be.

Now, watching the President perform yesterday was very scary.

If you voted for Trump, you should be scared too.

Once the election had been won I though Trump would tone it down. For a while it seemed that he had. He met with Obama and spoke well of the meeting and the President. He even seemed to recant the “Lock Her Up” promise. But the pre-election Donald soon returned.

Executive Orders were signed and the hypocritical Democrats screamed. I mean, Obama was signing them left and further left as well as commuting the sentences of more prisoners than any President before him. He was the President and he had the right to do what he did. To cry foul at Trump doing the same thing was disingenuous.

However, it was the subject and the poorly executed nature of one EO that starts the Little Faker on his decline.

Instead of admitting that his Immigration Executive Order was not as precisely crafted as it should have been, leaving Green Card holders, for example, in a pickle, Trump blamed the Court who stayed the order. He then went on to point out that this court had more decisions overturned than any other appellate court. He was faking.

During his press conference he repeatedly chastised the press for creating fake news.

He proclaimed that all of the news about Russia was fake.

He proclaimed that Flynn, of the “Lock Her Up” chant leader fame, was fired because of what he told Vice President Pence. (For some reason Trump never explained why he didn’t set the VP straight and waited two weeks to act.)

He proclaimed that he won the election by the greatest electoral college vote margin since Reagan.

He proclaimed that the press had a lower approval rating than Congress.

He even proclaimed that drugs are cheaper than candy.

Fake Fake Fake Fake Fake

But perhaps the most bizarre moment came when the reporter, April Ryan, an African American woman, asked the President if he were going to meet with the  CBC. The President looked lost for a moment but Ms. Ryan bailed him out and stated that the CBC was the Congressional Black Caucus.

Trump, a little flustered, stated that there was supposed to be a meeting set but that he never heard anything more about it (fake) and asked Ms. Ryan if she would set the meeting up.

It was hysterical to see. It was like Seinfeld asking the Chinese mailman where the really good Chinese restaurant was. Of course in Seinfeld’s case he didn’t know that the mailman was Chinese and it was satirizing the political correctness overload that we have seen. Trump, however, was serious. I guess he doesn’t know too many black people?

We have not even endured a full month of the Trump presidency. Will he be able to deliver a new health insurance system to replace Obamacare? Will a new income tax initiative be achieved? Will the infrastructure be addressed? Will The Wall be built?

These and many similar questions are hanging out there like a big matzoh ball.

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I wasn’t a Flower Power People or Person but I did come of age in the 1960’s. I was, however, A Flower Power People Sympathizer if not a card-carrying Flower Power Person.

I believed in peace and listened to rock and roll, and although I wasn’t much for drugs and the sexual revolution train left while I was still on the station platform I, nevertheless, miss the Flower Power People and I think we should look for them.

No period, not ever our own, was a volatile and divisive as the late 1960’s. Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated. The war in Viet Nam was raging. And our cities were burning. Yet, in the face of all this turmoil, young people waged a battle against despair and hopelessness by just turning their backs to the mainstream.

Sure, some said they tuning in, turning on, and dropping out, but, in reality, the seeds of revolution were sown and the revolutionaries weren’t limited to Flower Power People but they quickly became their symbol especially in the Summer of Love, 1967

Anti-war protests soon took the place of love-ins, however, and The Happening was moved to the streets of Washington, DC. But it would be a mistake to view this as a political revolution only. More importantly, the revolution was a conscious decision to think differently. That is what Flower Power was all about.

Long before Apple made it their mantra, young people began to think different and question all that prior generations had taken for granted. Mistaken by the Greatest Generation as a slap in the face to American values, young people were merely looking at what had transpired in their lifetime and saw the need for a change.

After all, they saw the bold and charismatic JFK gunned down in the streets of Dallas. That was the beginning of the end to the promise of the American Century. And it only got worse as these Baby Boomers grew up. They weren’t going to fall for any of the nonsense that politicians were spewing and rejected both political parties, ironically creating the opportunity for the hated Richard Nixon to win the 1968 Presidential election. The war continued. Race relations got worse. Ultimately, the middle class was set on a course of destruction, never to return to the halcyon days of the post war.

As I write this, President Trump, not a month into his presidency, was forced to fire, albeit a little late, his National Security Advisor and it looks like Trump’s nominee for the Secretary of Labor will be withdrawing his name for consideration. Will Trump continue to flounder and blame everything on the media? He certainly has a long way to make America as great as it had been last year.

We need the Flower People, or at least an updated rendition, to remind us of our values.

Americans love people. We defend them wherever they are in harms way. We want them to share in our freedom. That is our most treasured commodity. Why then do some want to limit freedom to Americans only?

The Birthers have become the America FIRSTERS.

Peace baby!

The Day The Music Died?
February 3, 1959 was a day I will forever remember. I can still see my brother Mike and me watching our Mother prepare breakfast. I cannot tell you what the weather was like. If there was snow on the ground, I could not tell you. What I do remember, though, is listening to the green Zenith radio that was up on the shelf over our refrigerator.

In those days my Mother would often have on a rock and roll channel. It would be years later that she would turn to listening to Rambling With Gambling. So, back in 1959 she was probably listening to Herb Oscar Anderson or someone like him. On that particular day it did not matter what channel you had tuned into nor did it matter who the DJ or radio host was. That day it was all the same news and music. Buddy Holly had died and that is all we heard that day. Even as an eight year old I saw the irony in his most recent recording that every station was playing. ‘It Doesn’t Matter Anymore’, written by Paul Anka, just about summed up the feeling of that day.

We also heard that Ritchie Valens and the Big Bopper had died as well, in the same airplane crash as Buddy Holly. Twelve years later Don McLean would refer to this day as The Day The Music Died. While music most certainly did not die that day in February, it was never the same. I am not sure what impact The Big Bopper would continue to have had on the course of music but Buddy Holly and Ritchie  Valens would surely have continued to provide terrific music and, no doubt, to inspire new artists and bring new innovations to rock and roll. It is not coincidental that The Beatles recorded ‘Words Of Love’ in deference to Buddy Holly’s contribution to music.
Twenty Five Years Later
Now it is February 3, 1984. Eileen and I are expecting our second child. The plan was that we would go to the hospital that Monday, February 6th for the birth of our child. That taught me a lesson. There are some things you can plan and some that you cannot.

It was a Friday evening. We had a nice dinner and I was just about to put a fire on and watch the Winter Olympics. No sooner had I had the logs in the hearth than Eileen called out from the bathroom that we would need to be going to the hospital instead. My first reaction was to push my way into the bathroom and to take a shower. To this day I cannot fathom why I thought it necessary for me to be showered and shampooed. I guess I was recalling when Sean was born and that it was going to be a long night/day.

Now we had made plans with friends to take care of Sean on Monday but they were nowhere to be found. So, we called our friend’s mother who promptly drove over and picked up Sean. Eileen and I then made our way to Southampton Hospital. Upon arriving at the Hospital, Eileen’s doctor came in shaking his head saying, “I thought we agreed this was going to happen Monday. I was just about to watch the ice skating competition.” I told him I was too but that at least I did get my shower in.

We then made our way to the OR room and I got the chance, again, to sit next to Eileen as our baby was being born. (Let me tell you, that’s the type of sex education we need in our schools.)

The birth of your child is always amazing. One minute she wasn’t there and the next minute she was. Before that minute had elapsed, however, we named her Jeannine. It was 9:30 PM.

She was a sight to behold. A beautiful round face trimmed with a wisp of reddish hair. We always thought she would be a red head like her mother. The maternity nurse took her and got her ready for her crib and then both of us walked Jeannine up to her room. Eileen was in recovery and would join us later.

When we get to the room the nurse asked me if I wanted to hold her. So, I picked her up out of the little crib and took her in my arms. She turned her head up to me and I swear she looked me right in the eyes and I think she was a little miffed for being disturbed while she was napping. She had a look and I also think she was eying me up wondering what her fate would be with this big doofus that was holding her. Her eyes were wide open and deep blue and the lips were puckered and the nose, that I would spend most of her early years stealing and hiding, was as cute as could be.

It was then that I first sang ‘You’re Sugar….” but it was by far not the last time.
Happy Birthday Jeannine.
Though the music may have died back in 1959, it was resurrected in 1984.

I remember as a kid in grammar school when current events was a big topic for us. Sister Margaret always started our eighth grade day off with a discussion of Viet Nam and Madame Nhu, the Dragon Lady. It seemed that to be a good citizen of America you had to know about current events. Today, of course, the reverse is true.

Although last year I swore off the polarizing networks of Fox News and MSNBC, the presidential election cycle drew me back like the train wreck it really was. Unfortunately, I have not been able to let go and continue to drop in every night, even if it’s for only a few minutes per channel. However, I do have a way of mitigating the effects of this inability to look away.

Homeland on Showtime is the perfect alternative to the news.

I am a late comer to the series but have been catching up. I am not in the current season as yet so don’t spoil it for me.

The comfort I get from watching CIA operatives kill people in foreign countries is that it makes our own country look so much better.  Whereas the news channels here go out of their way to highlight the internal terror of American life; cop shootings, parents killing kids, and the general hatred people have for each other, Homeland focuses on problems we never experience.

It’s like going on Space Mountain. You get the same thrill and angst as you do watching the news but Homeland lets you get off at the end and switch to The Big Bang Theory.

You might think I advocate burying your head in the sand as opposed to remaining a informed citizen but I just moved to Florida. I have no intention of burying my head in the sand, but I am resolved to get my  butt as close to the sand as possible .

Well, here I am, finally in Florida. Having survived the last six tumultuous months, I am just getting my Florida Face which is nothing like my NYC Subway Face.

I thought that our first week here in the Sunshine State would seem more like a vacation than a major life changing event but visiting the construction site of our new home kind of added the sense of permanency to our location. It did not come without some remorse.

Living in our EQ house for over thirty years, it was not easy closing the door to that life and setting out on a new life. We left so many friends and family members behind and, although our kids will be making their way down here for various visits and we will return to them quite often, the loss of the spontaneous drop in is a poignant reminder of just how far we have traveled. The first thing I planned was the Christmas trip for my kids and dogs.  I have to see the dogs.

But did I mention that the weather has been spectacular?

We did have a chill last night as we came out of the restaurant. The temperature dipped down to 75 degrees. Today, we expect some rain but being a full sports day with the Rangers and the NFL championship games, let it rain.

I was spared the inauguration as I had to meet with the Community Center people here in our temporary residence to go over the dos and don’t of gated community living.

We haven’t been to the beach yet as we are just getting used to our local environs and packed our beach chairs in the POD. New beach chairs are on the agenda for the coming week.

Also on the agenda is a trip to the East Coast to see my sisters and their kids. Maybe a visit to Archie’s?

Oh well, one day at a time.

A Bronx Boy’s Tale, by Jimmy Newell One of my favourite things to do while I walk around the city is trying to imagine how was like to live in New York in the past; trying to imagine the Fift…

Source: When Life Was Good

The world is coming to an end.

Our transportation system is archaic. Our bridges and tunnels are too scary to think about while you are using them. A BA in History costs a half million dollars and you get to say “Do you want fries with that?” when it is conferred. We haven’t won a war since we dropped the bomb on Hiroshima and Obama is probably going over there today to apologize.

All of this is going on and what is cutting into Donald Trump’s television exposure? The federal government and the state of North Carolina are having a pissing contest!

I have to be honest, I never like using public toilets to begin with and now they’re taking all the joy out of it.

There is an unwritten rule when using a public bathroom, DON’T LOOK!

My game face for the urinal is much more severe than when I ride the IRT 6 train. I mean I look straight ahead, never a glance east or west. I don’t even make eye contact at the sink washing my hands. However, I do take note when someone skips out without so much as a bird bath attempt to sanitize.

Now we have Big Government telling us how to use the potty and I fear people will be looking.

So, what do I have to do to assure my fellow peesters? Do I have to bulk up and walk like a defensive end? Do I have to lower my voice a full octave? Suppose I have to use the booth? Will I be a suspected transgressor?

I have to say there have been times when the men’s room has been unavailable and the women’s  room seemed mighty appealing. Would I have been wrong to use the facility?

I remember that time at the Brendan Byrne arena at a St. John’s game. It was half-time, I grabbed my eight year old son by the hand and made a mad dash to the men’s room…or so I had thought.

We both survived the ordeal.

I’m thinking the rest of you will as well…Just Don’t Look!

I love Forrest Gump! It’s a great movie. Tom Hanks is a terrific actor and the story is so compelling and includes a nice taste of historic irony to make it amusing. The one problem I have with the movie is that I am sick to death of it. It’s on television at least once a week. I think AMC must only own two movies, Forrest Gump and The Green Mile! I hate them both.

I mean, you can’t put these movies on television all the time. Even the Wizard of Oz is only on once a year, although I do seem to see it  more often since CBS no longer airs it. I think TBS puts it on when they get sick of airing their ten episodes of The Big Bang Theory.

Too much of anything is good for nothing.

Those dire words were uttered by my mother nearly every day usually in relation to mashed potatoes but they are useful to consider when it comes to movies that used to be classic and have morphed into the hackneyed.

Then there’s Donald Trump.

Do you remember the time when seeing Donald on television made you stop what you were doing so that you could pay attention to every word he had to say?  It used to be hysterical! He would poke fun at Jeb Bush and ask him to check his pulse. He would call Ted Cruz “Lyin” Ted Cruz. It was fantastic.

Then there were the Mexicans! My God what was he going to say next? And exactly how was he going to get Mexico to pay for that wall?

It was one train  wreck after another.

And that became the problem.

If you remember Gomez Addams playing with his trains, we were always delighted with his train wrecks because they were always a surprise and never repeated more than once or twice. And, The Addams Family was only on once a week.

Donald’s train wrecks have become an every day event on every channel. The funny thing is he has everyone scratching his head and still they watch.

I mean how does the leader in the Republican Presidential campaign piss FOX News off? Even Megan Kelly can’t stop talking about him.

But enough has become enough.

I liked Forrest Gump the first ten times it was on television but eventually the magic of the film wore thin. So, too, Forrest Trump has gotten boring.

For no other reason, Forrest Trump cannot be our next President. I can’t look at him anymore! I can’t listen to him anymore. I’m hoping people won’t vote for him anymore.

It is no longer enjoyable to watch Forrest Trump. It is very uncomfortable. In fact, it’s even more uncomfortable than watching Hillary talk about her email account with a Yankee cap on her head.

But, just like the never ending airing of Forrest Gump, Forrest Trump is destined to continue to dominate the airwaves.

What’s next “Big Trump Is Watching YOU?”

Mother of mercy!

It’s that time of year when I return to one of the rituals of my youth. Listening to Jesus Christ Superstar during Holy Week was one way I attempted to get into the spirit of the Paschal Mystery. This may be foreign territory to my non-Catholic readers so I will explain. Matthew’s gospel contains a section entitled The Passion Of Our Lord which details the final days of Jesus. Beginning with the Last Supper and ending with the Crucifixion, the Passion is required reading during the sacred time of Holy Week.

Listening to Jesus Christ Superstar, a rock opera that more or less follows the same trajectory of Christ’s last day without the Divine significance believers attribute to the events, may seem like a crass, if not heretical way of observing the Passion. And, it would be were it not for the fact that I do read Matthew’s account for the more traditional analysis.

While listening to the rock opera guilt free this morning on my way into work, I thought about the admonition that Judas made concerning Jesus’ decision not to come at a time of mass communication. Now, back in the 1970’s when Jesus Christ Superstar was written and performed on stage, the term mass communication really meant television and, to a lesser extent, radio. There was no internet; there was no Facebook; there was no Twitter, Snapchat or Linkedin.

Nevertheless, following Judas’ lead (which is not always advisable), I asked, What Would Jesus  Tweet?

I don’t tweet so often. I rarely have gotten into a conversation with anyone although I have replied to a couple of people. But the stories I hear about other people lead me to believe that Jesus would have taken it slow. Of course, he would have wanted everyone to follow Him, after all he said that constantly in the New Testament. But I am not so sure he would have wanted to follow too many people after He got a look at some of their tweets.

I think Pope Francis would be a definite. He is forever tweeting the very things we would expect Jesus to tweet. I do think, however, Jesus would have let the wall building bridge building thing pass or would He?

As I think about it, Jesus probably would have taken all the haters on although being limited to one hundred and forty characters would have been a challenge.

Jesus had no tolerance for those who misused religion for their own gain. Just remember that scene in the Temple when he let those making it a den of thieves have it. I am guessing He would have the same reaction to those using religion to kill.

I do wonder what His reaction to my tweets would have been? Even if they were not of the type to inspire racial, ethnic, or political hatred, tweets that were unkind or mean spirited might result in the same disappointment for Jesus.

I am going to think about the next time I tweet or post.

I am in the middle of my annual read of Charles Dickens’ masterpiece A Christmas Carol.

I always included this in my “Transformation” lecture when I was a teacher. I gave it this time of year to illustrate the transformative nature of Christmas. We see transformation as a common theme in most of the Christmas stories that we all grew up with and handed down to our children.

George Bailey, Charlie Brown, Rudolph are just a few of the characters that witness Christ’s transformative gift to mankind. Sorry, I am not PC and used Christ and mankind in the same sentence. Also, I should point out, I am using the archaic meaning of transformation and not the one hijacked by Caitlin.

Anyway, the characters listed above go through their own realization as to what is important in life and learn the true meaning of Christmas. It is, after all, the ultimate inclusion tale.

One of the variations of A Christmas Carol that I used to love to read as a kid was the comic book version of A Disney Christmas Carol. When I was about ten a very dear friend, Carol gave me a treasure trove of comics and it included this comic book. I wish I still had it.

To those of you who are familiar with this rendition, Scrooge McDuck is the main character and is subjected to the ghostly visitations that change the course of his life. On the train this morning I was musing that perhaps Donald Trump might have the same experience. Who else needs a radical transformation more than The Donald?

Scrooge McTrump would be met by the apparitions of Presidential candidates who were victimized by their own folly.

The first  Ghost of Past Elections was a Romney but not the one you think. It was 1968 and George Romney proclaimed he was “brainwashed” and quickly changed his view of the Viet Nam War. He never came back from that.

Then  of course there was the Ghost of more recent past as portrayed by George Bush I and his proclamation about no new tax hike “Read My Lips”.

Finally, the Ghost of President Worst To Come sticks his bony hands out of his dark shawl giving the V for victory sign proclaiming “I am not a crook!”

Well, after all this dire political misery our hero McTrup is left in a heap grabbing on to his bank statement yelling out “IVANNA IVANNA”.

But McTrump is soon in control of his senses as the television in his bedroom lights up and Megyn Kelly reports that The Donald has withdrawn from the presidential race and is joining the Peace Corps.