Mail In Walk Back

Trump finally gets it. Trashing mail ballots suppresses his own vote. (Florida GOP freaking out at reports 140,000 more Democrats requested mail ballots in just the last two weeks, reversing decades of Republican mail-in dominance).


Time Warped

Lost track of time? Days of the week same-o same-o?
If it’s fires in CA and hurricanes in FL, it must be August. If political ads and robo calls are 24/7, it must be an election year. Grasping at hints in this unbrave new world.

We seem to be lost in a COVID19 worm hole, a viral groundhog day movie where everyone is masked.

Along the way, here’s one north star to help keep track timewise. The link ticks off the days and hours and minutes left until you know who leaves the White House (or gets unceremoniously dragged out the door).

In the meantime, enjoy


What Presidents Look Like

Last Thursday the last 3 presidents plus a message from a fourth honored John Lewis and reminded us what presidents look like. WaPo covered it well.

George W. Bush, Barack Obama and Bill Clinton put on masks and traveled to Atlanta’s Ebenezer Baptist Church to say goodbye to a civil rights leader and Democratic House member who preached change, progress and hope. Donald Trump stayed home, spending the morning watching TV and tweeting, holding fast to his program of conflict, nostalgia and restoration.

Not one of the three former presidents mentioned his absent successor, yet each seemed to have him very much in mind:

“John Lewis always looked outward, not inward,” Bush said.

Clinton said that Lewis “was here on a mission that was bigger than personal ambition.”

And Obama said of Lewis that “he believed in us even when we don’t believe in ourselves.” A few minutes later, to hit that note even harder, Obama said the very same words, one more time.

The former presidents deployed classic rhetoric — quotations from Scripture, powerful silences and sweet allusions to Lewis’s grace and humility — to describe how he earned a respect, and therefore a power, for which others shout in vain.

We don’t see that anymore- except at funerals. Pity.


Picture This

That is Kenny Brent, his was the first good house job I picked up when I got to Denver in 83 bent upon learning Western Swing. Quite a guy. I liked that Patsi and I both knew him so well. He was goofy as a shit-house rat, but he sure could play and sing. He died this past week, sad to say; but the legend of “Free Hot Dogs” still remains.