TWO TERRIBLE CHOICES, |
| Gretchen Whitmer, Michigan governor. She’s got the experience and the cachet. She escaped a kidnapping plot, has overseen a progressive big state agenda. And it’s time for a woman president. |  |
| Josh Shapiro, Pennsylvania governor. He got a destroyed Route 95 bridge replaced fast, in under two weeks. |  |
| J.B. Pritzker, Illinois governor. Big guy from a big state. Well-spoken, progressive. |  |
Not on my list: Kamala Harris. Already unpopular, the vice president has seen Biden up close, and she hasn’t said a word.
Any “newcomer” to the race that the convention might nominate faces near impossible hurdles: gaining name recognition, credibility and popularity in a very, very short period of time.
If Biden stays in the race, his limitations must be acknowledged. I daydream about going door-to-door in a battleground state (which I won’t do, because I’m too old); somebody tells me they’re worried about Biden’s well-being. What am I supposed to do: run to the next doorbell? No, I have to say Over-the-Hill Joe is better than Don-the-devil. Great message.
THESE ARE THE CARDS WE’VE BEEN DEALT.
Just the two of them.
Whichever one – Joe, Not Joe – it’s important that Democrats don’t fight with each other, but with Donald Trump.
Our focus must be on the two things that count: defeating Trump and electing a Democratic Congress.
Both are possible.
Any “newcomer” to the race that the convention might nominate faces near impossible hurdles: gaining name recognition, credibility and popularity in a very, very short period of time.
If Biden stays in the race, his limitations must be acknowledged. I daydream about going door-to-door in a battleground state (which I won’t do, because I’m too old); somebody tells me they’re worried about Biden’s well-being. What am I supposed to do: run to the next doorbell? No, I have to say Over-the-Hill Joe is better than Don-the-devil. Great message.
THESE ARE THE CARDS WE’VE BEEN DEALT.
Just the two of them.
Whichever one – Joe, Not Joe – it’s important that Democrats don’t fight with each other, but with Donald Trump.
Our focus must be on the two things that count: defeating Trump and electing a Democratic Congress.
Both are possible.
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IF AN OLD MAN HAS A BAD NIGHT,
WILL A NATION PAY THE PRICE?
A DISASTER.
Probably a catastrophe.
Worse than your worst fears.
President Joe Biden sounded old and looked old during last night’s “debate,” from the opening to the closing moments of one of the most excruciating 90-minutes in American politics.
Whatever Joe Biden said was almost impossible to follow, jumping from subject to subject with his hoarse, weak voice, mumbling, stopping-and-starting, losing his way, forgetting, chewing his words, missing every opportunity – and there were many – to deliver rhetorical punches.
Donald Trump, with his fake hairdo and whatever it is he puts on his face, and despite his bizarre clownish expressions, looked and sounded like a spring chicken in comparison.
A chicken laying lies by the dozen. But no matter.
If you were a cartoonist or a satirist trying to make fun of a man too old to old to work the buttons of his TV remote, much less be a commander-in-chief, you could not have created a crueler caricature than Joe Biden delivered last night.
After last night, Biden surely will plummet in the polls – and not just in the seven “battleground” states where he has been lagging – but he will lose the near overall tie he’s achieved so far.
Probably a catastrophe.
Worse than your worst fears.
President Joe Biden sounded old and looked old during last night’s “debate,” from the opening to the closing moments of one of the most excruciating 90-minutes in American politics.
Whatever Joe Biden said was almost impossible to follow, jumping from subject to subject with his hoarse, weak voice, mumbling, stopping-and-starting, losing his way, forgetting, chewing his words, missing every opportunity – and there were many – to deliver rhetorical punches.
Donald Trump, with his fake hairdo and whatever it is he puts on his face, and despite his bizarre clownish expressions, looked and sounded like a spring chicken in comparison.
A chicken laying lies by the dozen. But no matter.
If you were a cartoonist or a satirist trying to make fun of a man too old to old to work the buttons of his TV remote, much less be a commander-in-chief, you could not have created a crueler caricature than Joe Biden delivered last night.
After last night, Biden surely will plummet in the polls – and not just in the seven “battleground” states where he has been lagging – but he will lose the near overall tie he’s achieved so far.
IT’S POSSIBLE that my assessment is too pessimistic and that, somehow, Biden will pull it out. Maybe he’ll be a superstar in the second debate. Maybe some crisis, some major event will prove him to be a national hero.
Anything is possible. And none of us should give up.
But Biden did himself no favors last night, not for the nation, not for his fellow 81-year-olds.
Where was the man who delivered such a powerful and inspiring speech at the State of the Union? He surely wasn’t in Atlanta, on CNN’s debate stage.
It’s terrible on two counts:
SO, IT WAS AN ILLUSION.
That's what appeared on our TVs last night, an illusion.
I believe that Biden remains capable, even inspired, as a president.
We did not see the real Joe Biden, the seasoned, practiced politician, with his sound judgement and forward vision for the country.
What we saw, instead, was an illusion.
It only looked like Biden had lost his way, if not his marbles, and that Trump was the one with the energy and vitality. But that also an illusion, but the kind of snake-oil fakery that can put a fast one over on the voters.
No small matters, illusions.
Democracy in the U.S. will collapse if Trump wins on Nov. 5.
Racism, violence, ignorance and injustice in its many forms will become the foundation of a new American character and culture.
And climate change will destroy the earth.
All because an old man had a bad night.
Anything is possible. And none of us should give up.
But Biden did himself no favors last night, not for the nation, not for his fellow 81-year-olds.
Where was the man who delivered such a powerful and inspiring speech at the State of the Union? He surely wasn’t in Atlanta, on CNN’s debate stage.
It’s terrible on two counts:
- The most obvious is that Donald Trump has no business being president, and now it seems he very well might be.
- Less obvious, it was Joe Biden’s performance on TV that was terrible, not his presidency during his first term, nor what his leadership would likely be in a second term.
SO, IT WAS AN ILLUSION.
That's what appeared on our TVs last night, an illusion.
I believe that Biden remains capable, even inspired, as a president.
We did not see the real Joe Biden, the seasoned, practiced politician, with his sound judgement and forward vision for the country.
What we saw, instead, was an illusion.
It only looked like Biden had lost his way, if not his marbles, and that Trump was the one with the energy and vitality. But that also an illusion, but the kind of snake-oil fakery that can put a fast one over on the voters.
No small matters, illusions.
Democracy in the U.S. will collapse if Trump wins on Nov. 5.
Racism, violence, ignorance and injustice in its many forms will become the foundation of a new American character and culture.
And climate change will destroy the earth.
All because an old man had a bad night.
OUR FRAIDY-CAT ELECTION
Are you afraid to put a bumper sticker on your car?
Should you be even more afraid not to?
THERE’S NOTHING MORE AMERICAN than telling your friends and neighbors how you’re planning to vote, hoping they’ll take the hint and follow your example.
What could be simpler than slapping a Biden-Harris sticker on the back bumper?
You’re on the Interstate. It’s night; somewhere rural, dark and empty.You’re alone. But maybe not. Is someone behind you? What’s she thinking about that goddamned Biden-Harris bumper sticker ablaze in her headlights?
In a kinder era, you wouldn’t have given a second thought to something as mundane as a bumper sticker. Sure, another driver might have tossed you a middle finger; alternatively, an approving motorist might have shared a couple of happy taps of the horn.
But out in the badlands of today's politics, you can’t be sure.
Seeing that Biden-Harris slur, the fellow traveler’s brain lights up in all the wrong places. Shouting “Let’s Go, Brandon,” she guns the engine and rams the blasphemous bumper. Or, maybe, the other driver turns out to be a student of the Constitution, who decides to exercise his Second Amendment rights with a couple of blasts from an AR-15.
Actually, I haven’t heard of anything like that happening.
But I can imagine it. I worry about it. Which is why I haven’t put in my order, not yet, to Shop Joe Biden for bumper stickers, $6 a pair. Or, for that matter, I haven't signed up for a $20 yard sign; or a $35 baseball cap.
I’m just thinking about it. And not proud of that.
What could be simpler than slapping a Biden-Harris sticker on the back bumper?
You’re on the Interstate. It’s night; somewhere rural, dark and empty.You’re alone. But maybe not. Is someone behind you? What’s she thinking about that goddamned Biden-Harris bumper sticker ablaze in her headlights?
In a kinder era, you wouldn’t have given a second thought to something as mundane as a bumper sticker. Sure, another driver might have tossed you a middle finger; alternatively, an approving motorist might have shared a couple of happy taps of the horn.
But out in the badlands of today's politics, you can’t be sure.
Seeing that Biden-Harris slur, the fellow traveler’s brain lights up in all the wrong places. Shouting “Let’s Go, Brandon,” she guns the engine and rams the blasphemous bumper. Or, maybe, the other driver turns out to be a student of the Constitution, who decides to exercise his Second Amendment rights with a couple of blasts from an AR-15.
Actually, I haven’t heard of anything like that happening.
But I can imagine it. I worry about it. Which is why I haven’t put in my order, not yet, to Shop Joe Biden for bumper stickers, $6 a pair. Or, for that matter, I haven't signed up for a $20 yard sign; or a $35 baseball cap.
I’m just thinking about it. And not proud of that.
IT’S A LOT EASIER to scold others for being Election Fraidy-Cats, so cowardly, so silent as the 2024 election bears down and democracy is at the cliff’s edge.
It's the Fear Election.
Fear is at work among GOP Senators and Representatives whom Donald Trump put in harm’s way when he set his violent supporters upon the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.
The congressional folks feared for their lives that day, while the mob shouted “Hang Mike Pence,” Trump’s ultra-loyal vice president, who for one brave moment refused to go along with Trump’s scheme to upend the election.
But post-riot, the rescued GOP lawmakers decided that what they most feared was political suicide. Which is why you have an entire political party pretending that Donald Trump is not a psychopath, criminal, racist, rapist and traitor.
There are many other instances in which fear has scrambled our moral compass. Here are three:
#1 -THE MOVIE YOU CAN’T WATCH
The film “The Apprentice” received a standing ovation at the Cannes film festival on May 20, but has yet to find a U.S. distributor, so you probably won’t be streaming it or seeing it at a theater.
According to those who have watched it, the film depicts the young Donald as he was “apprenticed” to Roy Cohn, the master of the political dark arts. Here’s how the New York Times columnist Michelle Goldberg described the movie:
“ 'The Apprentice' also gives you a sense of the audacious glamour Trump projected before he became a caricature, and it makes his decision to pursue Manhattan’s Commodore Hotel in the 1970s, when midtown was a sleazy wasteland, seem visionary. It offers a fresh way of understanding how Trump — under the tutelage of Cohn, who once served as chief counsel to Sen. Joseph McCarthy — evolved from an almost charming Queens striver into the lawless predator now bestriding American politics."
"I wish you could see it,” Goldberg wrote. “Unfortunately, you may not get a chance to anytime soon.”
The reason?
“Many studios fear a MAGA-led backlash to movies perceived as too ‘woke,’ which can include anything from having a diverse cast to the mere mention of the LGBTQ+ community,” according to an account in the Hollywood Reporter.
The news outlet quoted a producer knowledgeable about the discussion about U.S. distribution as saying that the country is too divided to risk offending one side or the other.
“If an audience is pro-Trump, they won’t watch an anti-Trump movie,” the producer said. “And the other side won’t watch a pro-Trump one.”
According to the Reporter, the film has some alarming depictions of Trump, including “scenes of Trump abusing amphetamines, getting liposuction and scalp-reduction surgery and, most controversially, one graphic sequence showing him raping his first wife, Ivana. (Ivana made the rape claim during her divorce proceedings with Trump in the early ’90s, but later disavowed her deposed testimony, saying she didn’t mean rape in the “literal or criminal sense.”)”
The real problem isn’t just old-fashioned censorship, it’s self-censorship, which I think is more insidious, along with the ludicrous fact that Trump fear is at work without Trump even being re-elected.
#2 - THE DISINFORMATION YOU WON’T KNOW ABOUT
This one is just as disturbing, because it involves a respected university, where you expect independent thinking, commitment to truth and some institutional gumption.
California’s renown Stanford University has turned its back on its “Standford Internet Observatory’s” which has done substantial work about election disinformation.
According to Platformer, a newsletter that tracks technology platform issues, Stanford has cut the Observatory’s staff and “will not conduct research into the 2024 election.”
The reason is a Republican attack on Stanford’s and other universities’ efforts to investigate political lies and other disinformation.
Stanford, according to the Washington Post, has spent millions of dollars to defend its researchers from lawsuits and Congressional probes.
Dee Mostofi, a university spokesperson, said that the Observatory, under new leadership, will continue to work on issues such as child safety.
But with bold doublespeak, Mostofi told the Post:
“Stanford remains deeply concerned about efforts, including lawsuits and congressional investigations, that chill freedom of inquiry and undermine legitimate and much needed academic research — both at Stanford and across academia.”
You don’t need precision instruments to measure the depth of the university’s “deep concern” about attacks on academic freedom and the work of its scholars.
Of course, the retreat couldn’t come at a worse time, with Russia and China launching sophisticated cyber attacks on American voters.
Brown University professor Claire Wardle told the Post that
“closing down a lab like this would always be a huge loss, but doing so now, during a year of global elections, makes absolutely no sense.”
Wardle said: “We need universities to use their resources and standing in the community to stand up to criticism and headlines.”
#3 - THE FOLK SONGS YOU WON'T HEAR
I don’t have authoritative sources on this one, just my own experience over the last nine years of the Trump nightmare.
But I have yet to hear a folk song devoted entirely to Trump and his attack on democracy, whereas folk music provided the soundtrack of the 1960s and 1970s civil rights movement and opposition to the Vietnam War.
As far as I can tell, there’s radio silence, and silence, too, on streaming services and on other media featuring songs about political and cultural threats to freedom and the just plain evil of the man they're not calling Donald John Trump.
I listen to two outstanding folk music sources, WUMB radio out of Boston and Folk Alley, an internet channel. Both feature “new music” by today’s singer-songwriters. And I haven't heard what I’m hoping for.
My guess is that early into the Trump experience, musicians and others made a calculation that if they sang about freedom and Big Bad Don, they’d lose half their audience and be subject to social media and physical threats.
If I’m wrong, please let me know. I'll order an old-school CD right away.
BACK TO BUMPER STICKERS – So, it's easy to belittle protest-free folk singers, university double-talkers and self-censoring movie moguls.
But how brave are the rest of us?
Is my paranoia off base about what can go wrong on the highway? Putting it bluntly, am I a bumper sticker Fraidy-Cat?
Then, I remember the threats against election workers, who aren’t even political partisans; or the care which the Manhattan judge took to protect jurors and witnesses in the case that convicted Trump of trying to hide hush payments to Stormy Daniels.
Do I want to drive a car with a road-rage target stuck on its bumper, with only me or my wife at the wheel?
So, I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Election Fraidy-Cats on that one. Just too many manic drivers, so much ambient road rage, too many opportunities for mischief and worse.
As to a yard sign, that seems okay to me. My house, my fortress, at least sort of.
Same thing with the baseball cap, the t-shirt and other official and home-grown displays of where I stand in this election.
I wish I wasn't making these kinds of choices, because democracy is diminished when citizens compromise fear and free speech.
But I don’t live in a state that puts “Live Free or Die” on its license plates. I live in the place with “Hope” on the state flag.
What I’m hoping for is that the compromises I’m making will be good enough.
But what I fear is that, to survive, democracy needs something braver.
It's the Fear Election.
Fear is at work among GOP Senators and Representatives whom Donald Trump put in harm’s way when he set his violent supporters upon the Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021.
The congressional folks feared for their lives that day, while the mob shouted “Hang Mike Pence,” Trump’s ultra-loyal vice president, who for one brave moment refused to go along with Trump’s scheme to upend the election.
But post-riot, the rescued GOP lawmakers decided that what they most feared was political suicide. Which is why you have an entire political party pretending that Donald Trump is not a psychopath, criminal, racist, rapist and traitor.
There are many other instances in which fear has scrambled our moral compass. Here are three:
#1 -THE MOVIE YOU CAN’T WATCH
The film “The Apprentice” received a standing ovation at the Cannes film festival on May 20, but has yet to find a U.S. distributor, so you probably won’t be streaming it or seeing it at a theater.
According to those who have watched it, the film depicts the young Donald as he was “apprenticed” to Roy Cohn, the master of the political dark arts. Here’s how the New York Times columnist Michelle Goldberg described the movie:
“ 'The Apprentice' also gives you a sense of the audacious glamour Trump projected before he became a caricature, and it makes his decision to pursue Manhattan’s Commodore Hotel in the 1970s, when midtown was a sleazy wasteland, seem visionary. It offers a fresh way of understanding how Trump — under the tutelage of Cohn, who once served as chief counsel to Sen. Joseph McCarthy — evolved from an almost charming Queens striver into the lawless predator now bestriding American politics."
"I wish you could see it,” Goldberg wrote. “Unfortunately, you may not get a chance to anytime soon.”
The reason?
“Many studios fear a MAGA-led backlash to movies perceived as too ‘woke,’ which can include anything from having a diverse cast to the mere mention of the LGBTQ+ community,” according to an account in the Hollywood Reporter.
The news outlet quoted a producer knowledgeable about the discussion about U.S. distribution as saying that the country is too divided to risk offending one side or the other.
“If an audience is pro-Trump, they won’t watch an anti-Trump movie,” the producer said. “And the other side won’t watch a pro-Trump one.”
According to the Reporter, the film has some alarming depictions of Trump, including “scenes of Trump abusing amphetamines, getting liposuction and scalp-reduction surgery and, most controversially, one graphic sequence showing him raping his first wife, Ivana. (Ivana made the rape claim during her divorce proceedings with Trump in the early ’90s, but later disavowed her deposed testimony, saying she didn’t mean rape in the “literal or criminal sense.”)”
The real problem isn’t just old-fashioned censorship, it’s self-censorship, which I think is more insidious, along with the ludicrous fact that Trump fear is at work without Trump even being re-elected.
#2 - THE DISINFORMATION YOU WON’T KNOW ABOUT
This one is just as disturbing, because it involves a respected university, where you expect independent thinking, commitment to truth and some institutional gumption.
California’s renown Stanford University has turned its back on its “Standford Internet Observatory’s” which has done substantial work about election disinformation.
According to Platformer, a newsletter that tracks technology platform issues, Stanford has cut the Observatory’s staff and “will not conduct research into the 2024 election.”
The reason is a Republican attack on Stanford’s and other universities’ efforts to investigate political lies and other disinformation.
Stanford, according to the Washington Post, has spent millions of dollars to defend its researchers from lawsuits and Congressional probes.
Dee Mostofi, a university spokesperson, said that the Observatory, under new leadership, will continue to work on issues such as child safety.
But with bold doublespeak, Mostofi told the Post:
“Stanford remains deeply concerned about efforts, including lawsuits and congressional investigations, that chill freedom of inquiry and undermine legitimate and much needed academic research — both at Stanford and across academia.”
You don’t need precision instruments to measure the depth of the university’s “deep concern” about attacks on academic freedom and the work of its scholars.
Of course, the retreat couldn’t come at a worse time, with Russia and China launching sophisticated cyber attacks on American voters.
Brown University professor Claire Wardle told the Post that
“closing down a lab like this would always be a huge loss, but doing so now, during a year of global elections, makes absolutely no sense.”
Wardle said: “We need universities to use their resources and standing in the community to stand up to criticism and headlines.”
#3 - THE FOLK SONGS YOU WON'T HEAR
I don’t have authoritative sources on this one, just my own experience over the last nine years of the Trump nightmare.
But I have yet to hear a folk song devoted entirely to Trump and his attack on democracy, whereas folk music provided the soundtrack of the 1960s and 1970s civil rights movement and opposition to the Vietnam War.
As far as I can tell, there’s radio silence, and silence, too, on streaming services and on other media featuring songs about political and cultural threats to freedom and the just plain evil of the man they're not calling Donald John Trump.
I listen to two outstanding folk music sources, WUMB radio out of Boston and Folk Alley, an internet channel. Both feature “new music” by today’s singer-songwriters. And I haven't heard what I’m hoping for.
My guess is that early into the Trump experience, musicians and others made a calculation that if they sang about freedom and Big Bad Don, they’d lose half their audience and be subject to social media and physical threats.
If I’m wrong, please let me know. I'll order an old-school CD right away.
BACK TO BUMPER STICKERS – So, it's easy to belittle protest-free folk singers, university double-talkers and self-censoring movie moguls.
But how brave are the rest of us?
Is my paranoia off base about what can go wrong on the highway? Putting it bluntly, am I a bumper sticker Fraidy-Cat?
Then, I remember the threats against election workers, who aren’t even political partisans; or the care which the Manhattan judge took to protect jurors and witnesses in the case that convicted Trump of trying to hide hush payments to Stormy Daniels.
Do I want to drive a car with a road-rage target stuck on its bumper, with only me or my wife at the wheel?
So, I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Election Fraidy-Cats on that one. Just too many manic drivers, so much ambient road rage, too many opportunities for mischief and worse.
As to a yard sign, that seems okay to me. My house, my fortress, at least sort of.
Same thing with the baseball cap, the t-shirt and other official and home-grown displays of where I stand in this election.
I wish I wasn't making these kinds of choices, because democracy is diminished when citizens compromise fear and free speech.
But I don’t live in a state that puts “Live Free or Die” on its license plates. I live in the place with “Hope” on the state flag.
What I’m hoping for is that the compromises I’m making will be good enough.
But what I fear is that, to survive, democracy needs something braver.
BLAME THE NICE PEOPLE:
HOW ONE SATURDAY AT THE SUPERMARKET STARTED OUT SOUR BUT ENDED UP SWEET
THIS IS A SMALL STORY about a big moment, the kind you rarely hear about, because when nice people do their thing, it usually isn't news.
The day started wretchedly for my wife and me, with a routine round of Saturday errands. At home, we discovered that a “fob” had disappeared.
The "fob," one of those little weird things that make today’s complicated cars unlock, lock, start and turn off, and roll down all four windows, had been on a key ring along with another "fob," which operated a second car, the one used on the shopping trip, which explains why the furtive "fob" wasn't missed right away.
Glumly, we embarked on a probably hopeless mission, reverse-engineering the shopping run, going from one parking lot to another, walking up and down empty spaces, getting down on hands and knees to look under cars, the way they search for hidden bombs in movies.
At the Stop & Shop supermarket on West Main Road in Middletown, I spotted a young man wearing a yellow safety vest and racing around the parking lot to corral stray shopping carts. He was hard to slow down – but stopped a millisecond to say, no, he hadn’t seen any"fob," then sprinted back to his urgent duties.
Dispirited, we went into the store, to the customer service booth.
It was empty.
A young woman in a Stop & Shop smock was standing in front of an aisle. Could we find someone in customer service? "We lost one of those “fob” thingies that unlock cars and gets them started, blah, blah, blah."
She brightened.
“I remember seeing something like that,” she said.
We were near the checkout area, and she rushed to one of the workers, whom she thought might have more information.
Meanwhile, one of those robots that troll supermarket aisles appeared. It had a pair of big fake eyes, maybe to make it seem human or at least amusing. Instinctively, I suspected that the robot didn't give a fig about a "fob."
The young woman found yet another co-worker, who also knew something about a furtive “fob” and its travels.
Excitement was building. And not just on our part. It seemed like the group of workers were just as enthusiastic. A cashier, overhearing the conversation, joined in: “Those things are REALLY expensive.”
Everyone seemed united in a common purpose. The invisible wall between company “associates” and price-obsessed “customers” evaporated, as if we were all committed to a noble cause.
The Stop & Shop woman, who was leading the hunt, darted into the customer service booth, rummaged around a counter and triumphantly held up what for all the world looked like a genuine “fob.”
She handed it over.
The day started wretchedly for my wife and me, with a routine round of Saturday errands. At home, we discovered that a “fob” had disappeared.
The "fob," one of those little weird things that make today’s complicated cars unlock, lock, start and turn off, and roll down all four windows, had been on a key ring along with another "fob," which operated a second car, the one used on the shopping trip, which explains why the furtive "fob" wasn't missed right away.
Glumly, we embarked on a probably hopeless mission, reverse-engineering the shopping run, going from one parking lot to another, walking up and down empty spaces, getting down on hands and knees to look under cars, the way they search for hidden bombs in movies.
At the Stop & Shop supermarket on West Main Road in Middletown, I spotted a young man wearing a yellow safety vest and racing around the parking lot to corral stray shopping carts. He was hard to slow down – but stopped a millisecond to say, no, he hadn’t seen any"fob," then sprinted back to his urgent duties.
Dispirited, we went into the store, to the customer service booth.
It was empty.
A young woman in a Stop & Shop smock was standing in front of an aisle. Could we find someone in customer service? "We lost one of those “fob” thingies that unlock cars and gets them started, blah, blah, blah."
She brightened.
“I remember seeing something like that,” she said.
We were near the checkout area, and she rushed to one of the workers, whom she thought might have more information.
Meanwhile, one of those robots that troll supermarket aisles appeared. It had a pair of big fake eyes, maybe to make it seem human or at least amusing. Instinctively, I suspected that the robot didn't give a fig about a "fob."
The young woman found yet another co-worker, who also knew something about a furtive “fob” and its travels.
Excitement was building. And not just on our part. It seemed like the group of workers were just as enthusiastic. A cashier, overhearing the conversation, joined in: “Those things are REALLY expensive.”
Everyone seemed united in a common purpose. The invisible wall between company “associates” and price-obsessed “customers” evaporated, as if we were all committed to a noble cause.
The Stop & Shop woman, who was leading the hunt, darted into the customer service booth, rummaged around a counter and triumphantly held up what for all the world looked like a genuine “fob.”
She handed it over.
STOP & SHOP RETURNED to business as usual.
Cashiers scanned the barcodes of cabbages, loaves of bread, avocados and emergency Klondike bars; baggers bagged. Over at self-service, the amateurs continued working for free. The robot had disappeared. Out in the parking lot, the carriage wrangler continued his roundup.
The moment of truth had arrived.
We walked toward our car, the one that went with the wandering “fob," which we had driven on our Search-&-Rescue Operation, using the "fob's" spare twin.
Clutching the rescued "fob," I pressed the “open” button.
The car chirped. Welcome.
THINGS DID NOT not have to end this way.
Consider the Stop & Shop person who actually found the “fob.” (Your professionally trained, career journalist never did learn the Who, the Where and the How of the “fob's” actual discovery).
The finder surely could have ignored the thing. Kicked it under a counter. Left it for the sweepers. Not my job.
The young woman who led the hunt could have brushed us off with a “Wait (forever) for the manager” command and walked away. Not my job.
The people at the checkout could have ignored us, as they scanned barcodes and bagged groceries and counted the seconds until their next break. Not our job.
The amateurs at self-service surely wouldn't have noticed a tiny “fob” lying at their feet as they hurried to scan, to bag and to get the hell out of Dodge. Not their jobs.
As for the robot, I imagined that it could have handed us over to security. Or made a cyber note to keep a fake eye out for any more non-shopping "customers," slowing the pace of human “associates.” Maybe it had messaged Control, asking, “What’s a ‘fob?' " only to be rebuked by Control: NOT YOUR JOB.
Instead, nice people understood that a couple of elderly "neighbors" had been set upon by one of those those awful, everyday injustices, the kind that can happen to anyone, turning any spring day sour.
The community knew that some of those injustices extract a hefty price, as one of the checkout ladies had warned. Indeed, we learned later that replacing a fugitive "fob" can set you back $200 to $350.
That's equal to a week’s worth of groceries; a copay for a visit to the emergency room that comes with a CT scan; an overdue electric bill; an oxygen-deprived seat at a stadium.
Finding the thing that is lost is a universal good, part of the pursuit of happiness promised by the Founders, and maybe something the Fathers could have written into the Bill of Rights.
I'd like to think there are people who don't need a copy of the Constitution to do something nice. The people at Stop & Shop certainly didn't need to consult the Ninth Amendment to do what they did last Saturday.
Maybe, in these fraught, contentious times there many people who are just as nice. Maybe there are enough of them so that all the things we're worried about these days will turn out okay.
That really would be nice.
Cashiers scanned the barcodes of cabbages, loaves of bread, avocados and emergency Klondike bars; baggers bagged. Over at self-service, the amateurs continued working for free. The robot had disappeared. Out in the parking lot, the carriage wrangler continued his roundup.
The moment of truth had arrived.
We walked toward our car, the one that went with the wandering “fob," which we had driven on our Search-&-Rescue Operation, using the "fob's" spare twin.
Clutching the rescued "fob," I pressed the “open” button.
The car chirped. Welcome.
THINGS DID NOT not have to end this way.
Consider the Stop & Shop person who actually found the “fob.” (Your professionally trained, career journalist never did learn the Who, the Where and the How of the “fob's” actual discovery).
The finder surely could have ignored the thing. Kicked it under a counter. Left it for the sweepers. Not my job.
The young woman who led the hunt could have brushed us off with a “Wait (forever) for the manager” command and walked away. Not my job.
The people at the checkout could have ignored us, as they scanned barcodes and bagged groceries and counted the seconds until their next break. Not our job.
The amateurs at self-service surely wouldn't have noticed a tiny “fob” lying at their feet as they hurried to scan, to bag and to get the hell out of Dodge. Not their jobs.
As for the robot, I imagined that it could have handed us over to security. Or made a cyber note to keep a fake eye out for any more non-shopping "customers," slowing the pace of human “associates.” Maybe it had messaged Control, asking, “What’s a ‘fob?' " only to be rebuked by Control: NOT YOUR JOB.
Instead, nice people understood that a couple of elderly "neighbors" had been set upon by one of those those awful, everyday injustices, the kind that can happen to anyone, turning any spring day sour.
The community knew that some of those injustices extract a hefty price, as one of the checkout ladies had warned. Indeed, we learned later that replacing a fugitive "fob" can set you back $200 to $350.
That's equal to a week’s worth of groceries; a copay for a visit to the emergency room that comes with a CT scan; an overdue electric bill; an oxygen-deprived seat at a stadium.
Finding the thing that is lost is a universal good, part of the pursuit of happiness promised by the Founders, and maybe something the Fathers could have written into the Bill of Rights.
I'd like to think there are people who don't need a copy of the Constitution to do something nice. The people at Stop & Shop certainly didn't need to consult the Ninth Amendment to do what they did last Saturday.
Maybe, in these fraught, contentious times there many people who are just as nice. Maybe there are enough of them so that all the things we're worried about these days will turn out okay.
That really would be nice.
REMEMBERING TOM MULLIGAN
TOM MULLIGAN - In the Providence Journal newsroom, probably in the 1980s.
I’M PRETTY SURE that Tom Mulligan did not know everything.
He might have come up short on particle physics; and maybe he hadn’t heard that “there are always several meanings of each word in Urdu,” a factoid I saw in a recent Google search.
But you wouldn’t have wanted to bet that Tom Mulligan didn't know something about physics and Urdu. Or, that if necessary, he wouldn’t have quickly ferreted out the critical information, then explained it all, clearly and simply, maybe with a dash of humor.
He had an incisive, inquisitive mind. He read; understood what he read; remembered what he’d read. And he talked to people; understood what they told him; and remembered what they told him. After which, he came to informed, confident conclusions.
This made him perfectly suited to cover business and financial matters, both as a reporter and editor.
I worked with him at the Providence Journal, where he spent more than 11 years, leaving in 1989 as the paper’s business editor; he spent the next 19 years at the Los Angeles Times, where one of his titles was “senior financial writer.”
Tom died June 3 after being diagnosed a few months earlier with esophageal cancer, which doctors told him and his wife, the equally talented journalist, Irene Wielawski, was probably incurable, but, with treatment, might be staved off for a considerable period of time.
So, they decided to live as normally and vigorously as possible. Indeed, a few weeks ago, Tom and Irene were at the luncheon that former Providence Journal staffers hold every month in Warwick. And the morning of his death, Tom played pickle ball.
Later that day, he had to be rushed to a hospital, where he died. That was only part of the shock that spread quickly across Tom’s and Irene’s national network of colleagues, friends and family.
Tom, after all, was only 73, and you wouldn’t have guessed he was even that. Also, unless you’d been told, you would not have suspected that he now was confronting a life-threatening illness that had intruded so cruelly, too soon, and so unfairly.
Which was not how Tom saw it.
“I’m still adjusting, but I don’t in any way feel cheated or ill-used,” he told me in an email after his diagnosis. “At our age, something’s going to get us, and there’s a weird species of relief in seeing the options narrow to exclude (more) horrible things.”
WHEN TOM WAS AT THE JOURNAL, he was part of an actual dynasty that included some of the newspaper’s most talented men and women.
Irene, whom Tom met at the paper, was the Journal’s award-winning medical writer; Tom’s brother, John E. Mulligan, was the paper’s Washington bureau chief. The circle was completed when Tony Lioce, the paper’s legendary columnist and music writer, married Janet Cusick, and John Mulligan married Janet’s sister, Nancy.
He might have come up short on particle physics; and maybe he hadn’t heard that “there are always several meanings of each word in Urdu,” a factoid I saw in a recent Google search.
But you wouldn’t have wanted to bet that Tom Mulligan didn't know something about physics and Urdu. Or, that if necessary, he wouldn’t have quickly ferreted out the critical information, then explained it all, clearly and simply, maybe with a dash of humor.
He had an incisive, inquisitive mind. He read; understood what he read; remembered what he’d read. And he talked to people; understood what they told him; and remembered what they told him. After which, he came to informed, confident conclusions.
This made him perfectly suited to cover business and financial matters, both as a reporter and editor.
I worked with him at the Providence Journal, where he spent more than 11 years, leaving in 1989 as the paper’s business editor; he spent the next 19 years at the Los Angeles Times, where one of his titles was “senior financial writer.”
Tom died June 3 after being diagnosed a few months earlier with esophageal cancer, which doctors told him and his wife, the equally talented journalist, Irene Wielawski, was probably incurable, but, with treatment, might be staved off for a considerable period of time.
So, they decided to live as normally and vigorously as possible. Indeed, a few weeks ago, Tom and Irene were at the luncheon that former Providence Journal staffers hold every month in Warwick. And the morning of his death, Tom played pickle ball.
Later that day, he had to be rushed to a hospital, where he died. That was only part of the shock that spread quickly across Tom’s and Irene’s national network of colleagues, friends and family.
Tom, after all, was only 73, and you wouldn’t have guessed he was even that. Also, unless you’d been told, you would not have suspected that he now was confronting a life-threatening illness that had intruded so cruelly, too soon, and so unfairly.
Which was not how Tom saw it.
“I’m still adjusting, but I don’t in any way feel cheated or ill-used,” he told me in an email after his diagnosis. “At our age, something’s going to get us, and there’s a weird species of relief in seeing the options narrow to exclude (more) horrible things.”
WHEN TOM WAS AT THE JOURNAL, he was part of an actual dynasty that included some of the newspaper’s most talented men and women.
Irene, whom Tom met at the paper, was the Journal’s award-winning medical writer; Tom’s brother, John E. Mulligan, was the paper’s Washington bureau chief. The circle was completed when Tony Lioce, the paper’s legendary columnist and music writer, married Janet Cusick, and John Mulligan married Janet’s sister, Nancy.
TOM MULLIGAN (center), Irene Wielawski, his wife, and John Mulligan, Tom's brother, at Salve Regina University in 2019, where John spoke about the late Senator Claiborne Pell
Explaining a journalist's talent is difficult without describing a little of what the practitioners do.
It’s worth noting that “business” is a subject that intimidates a lot of reporters, who otherwise wouldn’t give a second thought about confronting a bombastic politician or a violent mobster (in Rhode Island, they're sometimes the same person).
The trick is to master the off-putting business jargon and the sometimes mysterious math – Tom earned a masters in business administration from the University of Rhode Island – and then remember that, just like any other subject, business reporting eventually comes down to stories about people.
One article I found online was Tom’s description of Martha Stewart, America’s home-life advice goddess, when she was on trial in 2004 for securities infractions. Here’s how he started the piece:
It’s worth noting that “business” is a subject that intimidates a lot of reporters, who otherwise wouldn’t give a second thought about confronting a bombastic politician or a violent mobster (in Rhode Island, they're sometimes the same person).
The trick is to master the off-putting business jargon and the sometimes mysterious math – Tom earned a masters in business administration from the University of Rhode Island – and then remember that, just like any other subject, business reporting eventually comes down to stories about people.
One article I found online was Tom’s description of Martha Stewart, America’s home-life advice goddess, when she was on trial in 2004 for securities infractions. Here’s how he started the piece:
| Her posture is perfect: head high, shoulders squared, never slouching in her chair during even the most tedious hours of testimony. She never has a bad hair day. Yet the courtroom artists find Martha Stewart hard to draw. Her face, lively and beautiful on TV and in her magazine, emerges as taut and severe in their drawings. It isn’t a question of poor draftsmanship. On trial, with her freedom and fortune on the line, Martha Stewart looks like a different person. Today, Stewart’s top lawyer and the lead prosecutor will paint their opposing portraits of the media entrepreneur and her actions between her now-notorious sale of ImClone Systems Inc. stock on Dec. 27, 2001, and her interview with federal investigators the following April. Is Stewart the victim of a trophy-hunting U.S. Justice Department, or a shrewish multimillionaire who thinks the rules don’t apply to her? |
In four paragraphs, Tom wrapped together the business background of the alleged crime, the legal arguments and of course, the intriguing woman at the center of the story, seen not only through his eyes, but those of courtroom artists.
| AFTER CAREERS ON TWO COASTS, Tom and Irene retired to Providence, to the delight of friends like me and my wife, who had remained in Rhode Island. Still, we didn’t see enough of them, even though we lived in Newport, just 40 miles away, not hundreds or thousands. People our age should know better than to squander time and opportunity. |  |
After Tom’s diagnosis, we were in better touch.
Selfishly, I peppered Tom with emails about business subjects that baffled me but about which I was sure Tom had the answers, like Elon Musk’s vast wealth and the absurd stock market success of Donald Trump’s puny social media company. And I remembered how scornful Tom had been about state lotteries.
“I like lotteries better than sports betting, which I think has much greater potential to wreck young people’s lives,” Tom wrote back, “not to mention that it’s already coarsening and even adding violence (hostility, death threats) to the atmosphere of pro & college sports.”
As to Musk’s billions, Tom noted that his income at least was tied to remarkable success of companies like Tesla, SpaceX, and PayPal. Trump’s ventures mostly were “black holes of failure or frauds or both. The main point is no investor ever made a dime on Trump; only he did.”
We talked about the couples getting together at a Newport restaurant, with Tom joking whether his New York-based toll pass would bill him and Irene $80 for crossing the Newport Bridge.
He ended one email this way:
“Thanks for your friendly thoughts. I’m sure we’ll see you in Newport before long.”
Selfishly, I peppered Tom with emails about business subjects that baffled me but about which I was sure Tom had the answers, like Elon Musk’s vast wealth and the absurd stock market success of Donald Trump’s puny social media company. And I remembered how scornful Tom had been about state lotteries.
“I like lotteries better than sports betting, which I think has much greater potential to wreck young people’s lives,” Tom wrote back, “not to mention that it’s already coarsening and even adding violence (hostility, death threats) to the atmosphere of pro & college sports.”
As to Musk’s billions, Tom noted that his income at least was tied to remarkable success of companies like Tesla, SpaceX, and PayPal. Trump’s ventures mostly were “black holes of failure or frauds or both. The main point is no investor ever made a dime on Trump; only he did.”
We talked about the couples getting together at a Newport restaurant, with Tom joking whether his New York-based toll pass would bill him and Irene $80 for crossing the Newport Bridge.
He ended one email this way:
“Thanks for your friendly thoughts. I’m sure we’ll see you in Newport before long.”
Election countdown
A FATEFUL FORK IN THE ROAD IS 5 MONTHS AWAY
“When you come to a fork in the road, take it.” – Yogi Berra
ONE OF THE MOST TANTALIZING aspects of the Nov. 5 election – which is just five months away as of today - is the enormous good turn American history will take if voters make the correct choice.
Much of the focus in the campaign has been about keeping Donald Trump out of the White House, to prevent the man-made catastrophe he and his acolytes have been planning in detail.
But much less attention has been focused on the positive turn the country will take if voters elect Joe Biden – and not just because Biden is the obvious better choice.
I believe that the United States is on verge of sweeping advances and reforms far beyond what most of us imagine, bringing the country closer to its idealistic but elusive historic goals.
Take racism – America’s original and, until now, its perpetual sin.
I think the county’s increasing diverse population, plus the collective accomplishments of the Civil War, the 1960s civil rights movement and the more recent Black Lives Matter crusade, are about to give birth to an era in which prejudice loses its grip.
There’s simply too many different kinds of people, of different colors and origins, to tolerate segregation, Jim Crow apartheid and the backlashes that have followed every advance in human rights. The bigots, simply put, will be outnumbered.
And then there’s climate change. What if, instead of a nearly inevitable disaster, America could lead the world community in an unprecedented global campaign for survival?
So much is known about the human-generated causes of a warming climate, as well as the emerging technologies which can reverse a burning planet, that it’s no longer a pipe dream to imagine that the planet can - and will - be saved.
Also, much has been made of the growing divide between rich and poor, not just in the U.S., but throughout the world. Be we also know how to even the scales.
Housing is an example. Right now, ensuring that every person has an absolute right to a safe and sustaining home, seems hopeless. Houses and apartments are priced beyond the means of increasing numbers of people, particularly young people, forcing a rise in homelessness that now is not only accepted but regarded as a public nuisance.
But we know how to build houses and apartments; we know how to do that without destroying open space. We know how to subsidize housing costs when they exceed the buying power of paychecks. We know how to treat substance abuse and mental illness and how to deal with other contributors to homelessness. All that we need to do to provide homes is the will to do it. It’s not hard to imagine a consensus that demands solutions, simply because so many people need a place to live.
Those are just three of the remarkable opportunities that lie ahead if we choose – in this election – to take the country in one direction and not the other.
There are so many advances and breakthroughs in the arts, in education, in science, transportation, social science, healthcare, in space and at the bottom of the oceans – that you can practically feel collective knowledge and creativity straining to be set loose.
WHAT’S CLEAR about this election is the stark nature of the choices.
We’ve come to a profound cliche, a national fork in the road, one way leading to promise, the other to despair.
The choice, now merely five months away, is not simply electing Joe Biden, a well-meaning and often competent master of the mundane details of government, or choosing Donald Trump, a felon, liar, rapist, psychopath and dictator-in-waiting determined to destroy democracy.
The choices we make on Nov. 5 will outlive both men, who are well beyond their natural and political shelf lives.
The election of an agingJoe Biden has the potential to open an astonishing future far beyond the outlines of his own policies; while the election of an aging Donald Trump will destroy any hope of advances in equality, ecology, the economy and so much more.
I don’t mean to say that the Biden second term and the decades beyond will be rosy and without blemish; only that democracy, particularly the freedom to think and speak, fosters progress. Dictatorship crushes creativity, innovation, discovery and dialogue.
AT THE BEGINNING of this piece, I quoted one of famous witticisms of the baseball player and manager, Yogi Berra, which seemed to prescribe directionless directions: "When you come to a fork in the road, take it."
Actually, Yogi meant what he said.
According to the Yogi Berra Museum & Learning Center in New Jersey, Berra was telling his pal, the catcher and broadcaster, Joe Garagiola, how to get to his home: at the fork, either road would bring him there.
That is not the case with the electoral fork in the road we’re speeding toward on Nov. 5.
Swing to the right, and we’re doomed.
Take a left, and the future is as promising as it is profound.
BRIAN C. JONES
I'VE BEEN a reporter and writer for 60 years, long enough to have learned that journalists don't know very much, although I've met some smart ones.
Mainly, what reporters know comes from asking other people questions and fretting about their answers.
This blog is a successor to one inspired by our dog, Phoebe, who was smart, sweet and the antithesis of Donald Trump. She died Feb. 3, 2022, and I don't see getting over that very soon.
Occasionally, I think about trying to reach her via cell phone.
Mainly, what reporters know comes from asking other people questions and fretting about their answers.
This blog is a successor to one inspired by our dog, Phoebe, who was smart, sweet and the antithesis of Donald Trump. She died Feb. 3, 2022, and I don't see getting over that very soon.
Occasionally, I think about trying to reach her via cell phone.
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