Before the wedding, my mother’ parents, who were high (albeit lax) Episcopalians, came a calling on my father’s parents, who were staunch Irish Catholics. As a safety precaution, my paternal grandmother hid all the sharp knives.
Our president is presently ensconced in his natural habitat, an exclusive golf course resort in New Jersey. This is truly sad, not merely Twitter-sad.
With this whole glorious country spread before him —from the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans white with foam— our leader has chosen to embrace a fake landscape that only the well-to-do can frequent. He won’t be bumping into many wild things, or coal miners, on this trip.
The Society for the Welfare And Manumission of Plutocrats will provide succor and largess to a hitherto overlooked minority group in our midst: the well to do, the wealthy, and the filthy rich (the three main gradients on the International Richer Scale). At one percent of the American population (give or take, but mostly take), these poor people (figuratively speaking) need our help.
With apologies to Bozo and Pagliacci, it is now clear that we have a clown for a president—a great big orange buffoon with tiny fingers and a big red necktie long enough to trip over. Barnum & Bailey may be history, but we still have POTUS & Pence. “Indubitably!” as the Three Stooges would say.
What’s an American couple to do right after the winter of our discontent—not to mention despair and disbelief?
How about doing organizational work in your congressional district for the midterm elections in 2018? You bet! Perchance talk civilly to friends, neighbors and relatives —even strangers— about issues that you feel are important to your family, to your children and grandchildren (and theirs)? Amen, sisters and brothers.My wife and I are looking on the sunny side.
We may not agree on everything, you and I, but we don’t disagree on everything, either. We should expect nothing less from our esteemed representatives: they should meet in the middle and get stuff done or take their hard-earned government pensions and scurry back to the private sector.
The most compelling argument against environmental ennui and illiteracy is that spaceship earth is in trouble. If more of us don’t appreciate and understand it better, our planet will continue to decline at an alarming pace. We have long abused it to feather our own nests at the expense of other creatures we share the planet with. But our day is coming —if not our children’s, then our grandchildren’s— when our species, too, will be squarely in the crosshairs of a failing global ecosystem. We Americans have taken a giant step in the wrong direction by electing a president who loves fossil fuels, hates wind power and pollution regulations, and whose idea of a natural habitat is a golf course.
What, one wonders, would Mark Twain make of Donald Trump? Twain was not known for political punditry, but late in his life he acquired a visceral aversion to President Theodore Roosevelt, who was the showy egoist of his era. Indeed, the novelist labeled the Rough Rider “far and away the worst President we have ever had” and “the most formidable disaster that has befallen the country since the Civil War.”
I recently have returned from more than three solid hours at the Old Saybrook office of the Connecticut Department of Motor Vehicles. At the end of my long half-day’s journey into trauma, I came within an eyelash of having to come back another day. Warning: this tragicomic tale is not for the faint of heart.
If raising the federal minimum wage would hurt businesses, as many aver, then it stands to reason that lowering the federal standard from $7.25 an hour would help. What are we waiting for? How about $5, perchance $3 an hour? That would be a steroid injection for our sluggish economy. Connecticut, which keeps raising its lowest wage, just doesn’t get it.
The National Audubon Society, among others, has reported that some common bird populations are down by more than 50 to 80 percent from their numbers in the 1960s. It is hard to appreciate things we don’t see. Warblers can cope with a harsh winter, but one wonders if they will survive us.
My nephew thinks we should all skedaddle right out of Connecticut as fast as our Prii can take us – last one to cross the border, turn off the lights. Party over. He emails me articles to bolster his case, and there is no question that our state is facing serious challenges. The cost of living and taxes are high and rising here, some businesses are grumpy and threatening to move to Florida and beyond, and our economy is growing slower than most other states. While still ranked near the top for our median household income, our personal revenue actually has declined since 2000; and Connecticut recently has become a leader for economic inequality among its citizens, a dubious honor that used to go to places like Mississippi.
How much does each of us Connecticut residents contribute, on average, to the portion of the current DEEP budget devoted to environmental protection, according the Connecticut Council on Environmental Quality? Does $100 sound about right? Guess again.
How much does each of us Connecticut residents contribute, on average, to the portion of the current DEEP budget devoted to environmental protection, according the Connecticut Council on Environmental Quality? If Gov. Dannel P. Malloy has his way, we will be paying less next year.