A Dystopian Dramady

I’ve had a fun time over the years milking my novels and short stories for material that could be used to make short films and videos. This has resulted in a youtube channel full of reminiscences from a past that seems comparatively idyllic now. Due to recent developments, I’ve felt the urge to break out of that nostalgic mold and create something that corresponds to present-time horrors. Like many of us, I’ve watched wannabe authoritarians not only trash the constitution, which is bad enough, but interfere with the arts, which is particularly devastating for a writer. Since the mad king inexplicably slapped his name on the Kennedy Center, there have been numerous cancelations of planned performances and an exodus of ticketholders in protest. That may be good for democracy, but it’s bad for the institution.

Accordingly, I was moved to dash off a short script, based on my 2018 novel Sycophants. The novel revolves around a fledgling film production company and the efforts of its inexperienced but ambitious employees to produce a controversial film. The script proceeds beyond the timeline of the novel to imagine a more dystopian future. The company’s founder, Sara, is hauled before a tribunal and accused of making a film that is intended to incite a youth movement in the streets of the nation’s capital. The authorities have identified the unfinished film as anti-government propaganda and a call to violence. As the trial proceeds, it become clear that the tribunal is stacked against the defendant. Even her own lawyer is ensnared in this cult-like atmosphere. But Imogene, Sara’s loyal assistant who is watching from the wings, has a plan to save the day. She is writing feverishly in a notebook, trying to create a new ending to the proposed script that will present a peaceful solution.

The President himself is known to have his eye on these proceedings. The participants are only a little surprised when he crashes the scene and preens like the star of the show. Who is this man? Not exactly Trump, but a more attractive, matinee idol figure with Trumpian tendencies. His good looks and commanding presence make him even more dangerous than the real thing. Will he succeed in his quest to have the script rewritten to make himself the hero, a peacemaker equal to Jesus? Authoritarian leaders have been known to mold art to showcase themselves, and the very people who should be resisting these efforts have been known to cave all too readily.

The script, entitled “The Standoff” (link below) doesn’t present a solution to this problem. Sara’s solitary fight is far from won. I call it a “dramady,” if only to emphasize that prospective audiences may feel inclined to laugh to keep from crying.

https://acrobat.adobe.com/id/urn:aaid:sc:us:cb68917b-d8db-41f7-84f1-196f4e50e64d

Nats To Try Extreme Youth

In the early weeks of every New Year, a baseball fan’s thoughts turn to spring. A mere five weeks or so from now, a new campaign will begin in the training camps of Florida and Arizona. Last September, when we last checked on my beloved but rather sorry franchise, the Washington Nationals, they were in the throes of their sixth straight losing season. Despite an ongoing “rebuilding” project, they seemed to be going backwards. The hashtag #selltheteam, a jab at the supposedly stingy Lerner family that has lately failed to spend big bucks for high-priced free agents, keeps mushrooming on social media.

The aftershocks of last July’s cataclysm can still be felt. Davey Martinez, manager since 2018 and steward of the 2019 World Series championship, apparently lost the clubhouse when he burst out after a string of losses that the players, not the coaches, were the ones who were failing. More shockingly, Mike Rizzo, General Manager for 17 years and architect of several winning seasons, was also shown the door. The interim replacements tapped to finish the season are barely remembered, now that ownership has vowed to “go in a different direction.”

That direction is indeed quite different, if not necessarily better. The franchise is apparently going all in on youth … not just in the clubhouse, but in the front office. Can suit-wearing youth and energy in the executive suites possibly translate to those who wear the uniforms on the field?

Signaling their eagerness to start this youth drive, the Lerners hired a new President of Baseball Operations at the beginning of October, before the regular season officially ended. He is Paul Toboni, 35, who inspires some confidence because he appears to have had a successful run in Boston as a Vice President of amateur scouting and player development (the latter considered a particular weakness of the Nats).

This move was followed by the hiring in December 2025 of Anirudh Kilambi, 31, to be the new General Manager. Kilambi’s previous job was assistant GM for the Philadelphia Phillies. Mike Rizzo had previously held both the GM and the PBO titles, so splitting up the job perhaps suggests a loosening of the Lerner purse strings.

Finally, we have a youthful field manager, Blake Butera, 33, whose wife had their first child the same day he was hired. That blessed event postponed his introductory press conference for several weeks, but when he was finally introduced to the city, the adorable baby girl was in attendance too. Butera’s prior experience is varied, if not stellar. After playing college baseball at Boston College from 2011-2015, he was drafted by the Tampa Bay Rays in the 35th round, and spent two fairly lackluster seasons as an infielder in the minor leagues. Released by the Rays in 2017 at age 25, he became manager for two minor league teams. As the youngest manager in minor league baseball, he amassed some impressive stats, winning Manager of the Year awards and two league championships. In 2023, he served as the Rays’ assistant field coordinator, and in 2024 was promoted to senior director of player development. At 33, he will be the youngest manager in major league baseball since 1972.

They all looks so young, don’t they? Will Butera be able to exert discipline in the clubhouse? Luckily, they’re a young team. The manager will have seniority over every player on the squad except for pitcher Trevor Williams, who is about the same age, and was injured much of last season.

Will the youthful energy that the team is counting on actually translate to better performance? And are the new leadership’s qualifications for engineering a major turnaround sound enough? A lot of questions, but we’ll start to get the answers soon enough. If ownership and fans are reasonably patient, we might see great things down the road. At any rate, it was time to try something radically different. We can only hope that the youthful trio will have the words to persuade the Lerners to loosen the pursestrings. It’s not their money, after all. Or ours.

Projection As A Giveaway

If Donald Trump has mastered anything in his years of Oval Office squatting, it is the art of projection. He does it so shamelessly, so smoothly, that his followers eat it up like candy. Yet any listener with an ounce of critical thinking ability, who has the patience to listen to and dissect his ramblings, can figure out whatever he is currently trying to hide.

Projection is a real thing in the annals of psychology. An AI search turns up the following definition:  “A psychological defense mechanism where an individual attributes their own undesirable thoughts, feelings, or motives to someone else, often unconsciously. It helps protect the ego by externalizing uncomfortable emotions.” Admittedly, we all do this to some degree. Haven’t we been mean to someone just because someone else was mean to us? You could call that paying the sin forward. But Trump is obvious and extreme in his hypocrisy. Never before have we seen projection on such a grand scale, on such a big stage, with such consequences.

It’s particularly rich to hear him accuse others of insurrection, as if that would make the entire country forget January 6, 2021. We should get at least a chuckle out of listening to Cadet Bone Spurs accuse war hero Mark Kelly of treason, and remember his berating of John McCain as a “loser” for being captured during the Vietnam War. And now that he and his stooges are on a kick about President Biden’s perfectly legal use of the robo-pen (which Trump uses himself), that is what signals fear that the mad king is losing his grip. Without fail, he accuses others of what he is guiltiest of himself, or perhaps what frightens him most. Does prison perhaps loom for him if he leaves office alive? He responds to that fear by threatening to arrest his most vocal opponents on any charges that might stick. As a bonus, he will get in a gratuitous jab about someone’s weight if he can. He is evidently not in the habit of looking in a mirror himself.

The “low IQ” label that he loves to stick on opponents exposes perhaps his most obvious insecurity. Anyone capable of objective judgment can see that the targets he chooses are many times smarter and more articulate than he is. Barack Obama in particular sticks in his craw. He has pounded the theme that Obama, the first African American elected president of the Harvard Law Review, should release his college transcripts, which would prove he didn’t deserve his academic honors. Meanwhile, Trump has threatened to sue anyone who tries to access his own school records.

These fits of projection are revealing. He knows things about himself that his followers don’t know, or don’t care to know. It’s a way of acknowledging, without admitting the truth aloud, that he isn’t smart or well-informed or energetic enough for the job he holds now. At the same time, he must be exulting at his ability to fool so many people.

What Does Green Skin Mean?

I’ve seen the first “Wicked” movie, which drives home the point that appearances can be deceiving. Most of us experienced the original “Wizard of Oz” classic when we were kids. We gasped at the ungodly hue of green sported by the Wicked Witch of the West, which corresponded with her evil intentions, including such tricks as skywriting “Surrender, Dorothy!” Now we’ve supposedly evolved to the point where some of us (not including MAGAs, unfortunately), have moved beyond the idea that skin color is an indicator of character. Elphaba, the new WWW, has the exact same green skin and possesses the same kick-ass moves as her predecessor. Yet she is clearly not evil, just different. By contrast, Glinda, the classically beautiful “good witch,” takes a while to overcome her innate snobbery.

I was reminded of this “appearances aren’t everything” trope recently, when my internet ramblings turned up a picture of three former college classmates who were leaders of the Christian community on campus during my time. This “holy trinity” seemed to be taking bows for all the great things they’ve done to spread the Word since those long-ago campus days. Certainly, they’re very good at that. Yet I was struck with the surprising conviction that I might just be a better person than they are in some ways. True, I cuss and rant and say things that would never pass their lips. But I remember acts of unkindness that all three committed. They’re not bad people, but neither are they as good as they pretend to be. Any faith or belief system that doesn’t emphasize everyday kindness is not for me.

I’m no saint, that’s for sure, but I try to dispense kindness when I can. I’ll usually give money to anybody on the street who asks for it. Some of them perform an elaborate song and dance about why they need it, although some stories sound more sincere than others. I met a man the other day who freely admitted to having drunk too much the night before, which was the reason he neglected to move his car from a restricted parking area. I gave him $20 toward retrieving his car, since he needed it more at that moment than I did. To hear somebody I’ve helped say “God bless you” brightens my own day. I’m reminded of an aunt of mine by marriage, a highly educated woman, who made a point of snubbing service people just to demonstrate her superiority. She didn’t know what she was missing by not talking to so-called “ordinary” people. I’ve heard some of the most fascinating backstories and adventurous tales from waitresses, tradespeople, and especially cab drivers. One of my favorites was a Nigerian, a radio personality in his home country, who was driving a cab with the goal of bringing his son to this country and sending him to college. I can only hope the pernicious Trump regime doesn’t crush that dream.

Back in college, my boyfriend and I tried to take up religious music, although our true love was rock and roll. I got immense satisfaction out of completing a performance on acoustic guitar in chapel without a major mistake. We participated in a singing group that toured local churches on Sundays, in which my boyfriend sometimes played bass guitar. Boy, did we feel like stars. But my musical career ended on a sour note. One day our driver misplaced his keys, and I tried to help him find them. He yelled at me to get out of the way, as if I were responsible for his carelessness. The keys were soon found, but the driver didn’t apologize for his rudeness. It occurred to me that in a nutshell, that’s my problem with Christianity. I’m sure he asked God to forgive him for his meanness, but it wasn’t God who was hurt and embarrassed that day. Incidentally, I never got in his van again, since he was a lousy driver who nearly killed us all once or twice. Several years later, I had a pleasant chat with him at a reunion, and the burning subject didn’t come up. Maybe he remembered it differently, or not at all. He went on to become a pastor, and needless to say, I never got my apology.

I’ll admit I can hold a grudge for a long time, but I’m a forgiver too. I’ve reconnected with people who are much nicer to me as adults than they were at school. We can all afford to grow up more, but we must fix ourselves. Spiritual beliefs can help, but the real work is up to us. I have yet to see the second “Wicked” movie, but I’m guessing that Elphaba continues her recovery from a harsh childhood by pursuing her favorite causes, which include liberating oppressed animals and exposing the Wizard as a charlatan. Hopefully, Glinda comes to realize that her weird-looking friend possesses some qualities that she’d do well to cultivate herself.

Donald Vs. George

I would be willing to bet that Donald Trump never lowers himself to watch any programs presented by the Public Broadcasting Service. Hellbent as he is on abolishing or watering down all forms of intellect, he would prefer to shut such broadcasters off permanently. Therefore, we can be fairly certain that the recent six-part series about the American Revolution passed him by. It was an eye-opening account of what it took to establish the United States of America as a budding democracy. The program should be required viewing for everyone who votes in this country, and especially for anyone contemplating a run for public office. No soap for Trump, who only cares about his own era of encroaching dictatorship. Besides, he’s the greatest president who ever lived, so what does it matter what previous presidents did?

Trump did famously recognize George Washington’s greatness in a Fourth of July speech some years ago. If the general had actually secured all the airports, as Trump proclaimed, that would have been quite a feat, since air travel was still more than 120 years in the future. Still, Washington did quite a few things that were within his power, although just barely. The Revolution was a bloody, eight-year-long struggle that pitted the American patriots not only against the mighty British empire, but loyalists at home and hired guns from other countries. If France had not been persuaded eventually to help the patriots’ cause, defeat would have been almost certain. It was a David vs. Goliath confrontation, marked by both triumphant successes and devastating setbacks.

Washington’s brilliance lay in acknowledging when he was beaten or outnumbered, and engineering strategic retreats when necessary. The battle of Long Island in 1776, the first major engagement after independence had been declared, proved devasting for the Continental Army, leading to British occupation of New York City and horrendous casualties. But by retreating from Brooklyn to Manhattan, under cover of a foggy night, Washington saved his army to fight another day.

Such a strategy of patience and planning ahead against great odds, which finally won the Revolution, is a concept that Cadet Bone Spurs will never understand, much less implement. He is contemplating attacking countries such as Venezuela and Nigeria, wars he knows he can win in short order. He may intervene in a few other current conflicts, if it means burnishing his Nobel Peace Prize chances. Washington and his army spent the miserable winter of 1777-1778 at Valley Forge, starving and succumbing to disease. Not exactly a Mar-a-Lago-like retreat for them. Amid all the suffering, those who survived got in enough training and drilling to emerge a stronger fighting unit than before.

Washington was also faced with a pivotal decision regarding a vaccine, a topic that resounds eerily in our current anti-science era. After some hesitation, he came to the realization that smallpox was costing him more soldiers than the actual fighting. Trusting to a then-rudimentary science, he ordered his troops to be inoculated. It was another courageous move that helped to save the patriot cause.

Trump has taken to denouncing “traitors” such as Senator Mark Kelly of Arizona, a former astronaut and combat veteran, and other military veterans who have reminded current soldiers of their obligation under the constitution to disobey illegal orders. The president claims that his illustrious predecessor would have hanged such miscreants, but I doubt it. Washington was capable of hearing the truth, and would not have blamed good soldiers for doing their duty. If he were moved to hang anybody, it would be the notorious turncoat Benedict Arnold, who served the patriot cause with distinction until he didn’t. Washington knew a real traitor when he saw one, but he was never able to catch up to Arnold.

Toward the end of the war, Washington became aware of a proposal to make him King of the newly minted United States. He not only turned down the offer, but blasted it to smithereens. He was angered at the mere suggestion that he was fighting to overthrow a monarchy in order to establish another one. That is perhaps the most fundamental difference between the first president and the 47th.  Trump is doing all he can to make himself a de facto King. If only he had watched the recent PBS series, maybe he would have absorbed some of the principles that the patriots were fighting for. But who are we kidding?

Clickbait Fantasy

Social media gets more fantastic all the time. That is true whether the tall tales on all the platforms are AI-driven or the work of human trolls. Fact-checking in the era of MAGA has come to a dead stop. The billionaires in charge have made sure that every pearl of wisdom emanating from Donald Trump’s sneering mouth is blasted far and wide. Of course, sheer exhaustion may be one reason for this dereliction of responsibility. So many lies, so little time.

Not every lie affects the state of the nation as much as the MAGA fantasy world does. Some posts are quite entertaining. For example, Dan Quinn, the head coach of the currently beleaguered Washington Commanders football team, is being portrayed as the world’s whiniest sore loser. Only last season, when his talented and healthy young squad made it all the way to the National Football Conference championship game, he was anointed a genius. Few public figures have transformed from hero to bum so quickly. Injuries have taken their toll on the squad, and it’s always been a “what have you done for me lately” world.

Quinn’s complaints show up on Facebook after every loss. The officiating was so incompetent that the men in stripes must have been bribed. Besides, the other team cheated in all sorts of ingenious ways. He demands a rematch, although how that would fit into the tight NFL schedule is not explained. He also never fails to get in some shameful digs at his “ugly” wife, who evidently isn’t glamorous enough for a stud like him. That is what exposes the fakery, much more than the whininess. Any husband who spoke that way publicly about his wife would be out on his ass, no matter how big a paycheck he was bringing home.

This past baseball season, we fans were treated to AI animations of our favorite players. They are amazingly realistic, down to the gestures and tone of voice. The only way you can tell they’re fake is by the unlikelihood that stars like Aaron Judge of the Yankees and Juan Soto of the Mets would publicly cuss out their teammates and managers, and demand to be traded immediately. Yet enough people believe these impersonations at first glance to affect the players’ reputations. Luckily, AI sometimes makes mistakes that are too blatant to ignore. Although Soto does speak good English, the animators neglected to give the Dominican-born star a realistic accent.

The Beatles, after all these years, remain a hot social media topic among us baby boomers. The stories and gossip that have always surrounded the band continue to be modified and amplified. For example, the ancient triangle between John Lennon and his first and second wives, Cynthia and Yoko, seems as fresh as ever. Yoko continues to be the evil witch who not only wrecked a home but broke up the Beatles. Cynthia remains in her accustomed role as the sweet, long-suffering victim of this scandal, despite having written two books that exposed her ex as a lousy husband and serial cheater, and marrying three more times herself.

Paul McCartney’s family, by contrast, is a tale of sweetness. Paul married Linda Eastman in 1969, the last of the group to shed his single status. He adopted Linda’s daughter Heather from her first marriage, and they went on to have three children together. A recent story praised Linda as a wonderful stepmother to Heather, totally reversing the biological facts. Despite Linda’s untimely death from breast cancer in 1998, another post insisted she was by Paul’s side throughout his own recent illness (which was also fake news). One particularly affecting photograph shows him serenading Linda with a guitar when she was on her deathbed. Never mind that she didn’t die in a hospital, and certainly not in public view. And the fakers don’t seem to know, as every Beatles fan has always known, that Paul plays the guitar left-handed.

But it’s entirely possible that the fakers do know these things. Many of the mistakes seem purposeful, designed to create the maximum number of clicks. Some readers are gullible enough to swallow it all, no matter how fantastic. Others try to correct the misinformation, although I don’t know why they bother. It’s like trying to sweep every grain of sand from a beach.

Funny Politicians

Comedy doesn’t have to be political, but sometimes it helps. Stand-up comedians in particular comment on the events of the day, and the stronger their opinions, the edgier their comedy. We can measure the success of the late-nighters like Jimmy Kimmel and Jon Stewart by their ability to enrage certain pouty, thin-skilled leaders.

This is no new phenomenon. Ever since I was old enough to follow politics, comedians were speaking truth to power. The best ones manage to illuminate particular periods in our colorful national history. Back in the late 1960s, the Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour featured a brilliant impressionist, David Frye. During the 1968 presidential campaign, he somehow managed to create a one-man debate between all three candidates: Richard Nixon, Hubert Humphrey, and George Wallace. His ability to not only sound like these politicians, but to mimic their facial expressions, was uncanny. His Richard Nixon was particularly devastating. Frye helped to popularize certain Nixonian pronouncements, such as “I am the President” and “Let me make one thing perfectly clear.”

Frye also did quite a number on the outgoing president, Lyndon Johnson. One of LBJ’s more heartwarming quirks was his habit of inviting certain lucky individuals into his bedroom so he could speak to them more honestly than in a formal setting. I remember a skit that began with such a one-on-one talk, then gradually developed into a full-blown Cabinet meeting, which caused the president to regret his generosity. Another skit portrayed Johnson as a medieval king, musing about his unpopularity and proclaiming that it was only “with a heavy heart, and a lot of indigestion,” that he sent the boys on the Crusades.

Despite the popularity of the Smothers Brothers, CBS picked a fight with them over their unwillingness to submit episodes in advance for possible editing. When the disagreement escalated, the network canceled the show altogether, showing the same astounding lack of courage that has become evident in the present day. Back then, I was naïve enough to be stunned by this development. I didn’t think such brazen censorship could happen in our supposedly free country, and I hoped it was just an aberration that would be roundly criticized and not allowed to recur. Now, of course, outrages like this are looking all too normal.

Sometimes comedy can have unintended effects, popularizing despicable figures rather than merely satirizing them. That phenomenon is one of the themes of Susan Morrison’s Lorne, a new biography of Lorne Michaels, the founder and producer of “Saturday Night Live.” Under Michaels’s tutelage, SNL has been deeply immersed in politics for over 50 years. In the beginning there was Chevy Chase as a clumsy Gerald Ford, knocking over a podium during a speech and finally tumbling to the floor himself. Subsequent presidents were needled for their mannerisms and favorite phrases. Dana Carvey portrayed Ronald Reagan as a sly character who only pretended to be an amiable dolt for public consumption. Will Ferrell, as George W. Bush, famously promoted his idea of  “strategery.” During a 2008 debate between Hillary Clinton (Amy Poehler) and Barack Obama (Fred Armisen), the moderators reflected Clinton’s real-life complaint about favoritism by scolding her for daring to even question her opponent.

And then there’s Donald Trump, possibly the biggest challenge of all. According to Lorne, the writers and actors have consistently worried that they might have unintentionally legitimized this monster. How do you satirize someone who’s already way out there? Are you just giving the real politician an undeserved platform? At least one actor, Alec Baldwin, who played Trump from 2016 to 2020, managed to upset his target.  Although they had become acquainted several years earlier when Baldwin shot a movie at one of Trump’s hotels, Trump found Baldwin’s portrayal of him as a manic-depressive bully too “mean-spirited and not very good.”

Since late 2021, the Trump role has been filled on SNL by James Austin Johnson. His performance during the cold open on November 8, 2025, illustrated the dilemma. Trump is in the Oval Office, surrounded by his worshipful minions. An unnamed person collapses, and he expresses relief that it wasn’t him, showing all the concern of a textbook sociopath. He claims he doesn’t need to defend his policies, because they’re really Stephen Miller’s policies, which he doesn’t bother to read. He expects applause for cutting off food benefits for people in need during the government shutdown. At any rate, high food prices won’t be a problem during the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, since the planes that would take people to their celebrations are grounded anyway. He also gets in an aside about his recent “perfect” MRI.

There isn’t one item in this fantasy speech that wouldn’t look authentic in an actual newscast. So what are present-day comedians to do? Maybe their job is just to illuminate the craziness.

It’s Getting Hotter

I’m not just talking about the climate, although that’s alarming enough. It seems that the United States is getting acclimated to the idea of a hot war. Although we’ve seen only flare-ups so far, history tells us that Americans are capable of resorting to violence en masse if they feel threatened. They may not wait for a perceived tyrant to change his ways, go away peaceably, or drop dead.

History also tells us that revolution is usually the work of determined minorities. The American Revolution of the late 18th century was a prime example. The founding fathers had no intention of submitting their plan to separate from England to a popular vote. If they had, America would most likely have stayed in the British Empire. Likewise, during the mid-19th century, if voters in the southern states had been called upon to decide, there would have been no secession and therefore no Civil War. But revolutionaries have a clear vision, and are not deterred by the opposition or indifference of their fellow countrymen. The nation that arose from the American Revolution has endured so far for 250 years. The other nation born of revolution on this continent literally went down in flames after four years. What if the South had won the Civil War on the battlefield? That might have set off a long period of counter-revolution, spurred by slave revolts.

The prospect of a second civil war is no longer so farfetched. It is exactly what Donald Trump is trying to foment, to pave the way for his projected dictatorship. The plan is to send troops exclusively to areas that voted against him, claiming that they are crime-ridden sewers. Meanwhile, he is charging people he perceives as opponents with any kind of “crime” he can dream up. To look tough on the international scene, he is threatening countries he knows he can beat, such as Venezuela and Nigeria. Who knows what other vulnerable country he’ll feel like attacking next week? It could be Canada or Switzerland, for all we know.

Trump must have been disappointed that the recent “No Kings” protests against his reign, seven million strong, remained largely peaceful. They didn’t give him the excuse he craved to declare martial law, so he will need to try something else. What type of outrage might force the Resistance to take up arms? What if the rule of law crumbles completely, and the self-anointed King starts arresting opponents and imprisoning them without even pretending they committed a crime? What if he interferes with or prevents elections that he fears his side might lose? A more forceful response than mere protesting might be necessary, which will inevitably lead to bloodshed.

For the moment, reason and intellect can still be employed in the fight to save democracy. You would think that someone who claims to be the world’s greatest businessman would realize sooner or later that saving the environment via renewable energy would be cheaper in the long run than endless drilling for oil and gas. But he’s too beholden to the MAGA vision of a third world nation that only takes care of its wealthy, with a dismantled middle class, a sanitized history, and a befouled environment. And don’t forget, it’s supposed to be a Christian theocracy. Lately he’s been musing about his chances of getting into heaven. If he finally cracks open a Bible, will he stumble upon a few passages that speak of compassion for the poor? More likely, he’ll seize on another opportunity to autograph the good book and sell it for profit. Meanwhile, his demolition of the White House itself (supposedly the “people’s house”) will continue, an eerie metaphor for the destruction of a republic. Not that I would count on his knowing what a metaphor is.

The only satisfying outcome to all this would be for Trump to finally expire knowing that his vision did not prevail, much like his soul brother, Confederate President Jefferson Davis. History will be especially unkind to those who surely knew better but still enabled him for their own benefit. Eternal shame will fall on GOP members of Congress who willingly gave up their Constitutional duty to control the purse-strings and to approve military actions. But what if, heaven forbid, the Trumpian vision endures? That will sooner or later produce a counter-revolution, which like revolution itself, will be fired up by a determined minority.

A Luny Conspiracy Theory

A question recently posed on my X feed really set me off. It asked for opinions on whether the moon landing was real. (Presumably, the questioner is referring to the Apollo 11 mission in 1969). The question got hundreds of responses, which I can’t access with my current X account, which is just as well. I’m sure some of the idiotic answers would upset me. It’s bad enough that some lunkhead believes this is a question that needs answering.

I don’t just believe that the moon landing was real, I know it. I was alive then. It was real just like all the space-shots leading up to it, including those conducted as part of the Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo projects. Before that, there were test pilots laying the groundwork, as described so vividly by Tom Wolfe in The Right Stuff. It didn’t just happen one day. There were ten Apollo missions leading up to the big one in July 1969.  President Kennedy arguably jump-started the endeavor when he set the goal in his 1961 inaugural address to accomplish a moon landing by the end of the decade. It got done just under the wire. And the five subsequent moon landings were just as real as that one. Yet there are people who dismiss all such evidence. Nor do they accept the fact that human artifacts were left up there, as well as moon rocks brought back to earth.

It’s understandable, perhaps, that people who were too young to remember all of that are more likely to be skeptical. The moon-shots did stop, rather abruptly, after 1972. A feeling of “mission accomplished” had taken hold. The program had been expensive, and there were other drains on the Federal budget, such as the Vietnam War. The space agency, NASA, turned its attention to other projects, including the international space station and the space shuttle. But that doesn’t make the feat of landing on an alien world any less magnificent.

What’s alarming about such revisionism is that none of the doubters even try to check it out, much less think it through. If it were fake, consider how many thousands of people would have had to be lying, everyone in the space agency as well as all of the attached contractors and the political decision-makers, with not one person among them breaking ranks. Instead of buying into stupid online conspiracy theories, why don’t people try studying the history of those times? If more of us were inquisitive instead of gullible, maybe we’d all be less susceptible to online luni-ness of all kinds. And maybe, as a bonus, we’d be a little more resistant to pathological liars like Donald Trump and his minions.

Putting Us In Our Place

I’ve never understood right-wing women. With such a long history of oppression behind us, and in many cases undiminished, why are some women advocates for staying oppressed? We’ve had to fight like hell for every small advance in political power, financial independence, and dignity as human beings. Those who want to take us back to more primitive times are self-contradictory, to say the least. They exert themselves in public, using what they consider their God-given talents, to demand that other women squelch their own abilities or confine them to the home. Is it jealousy, or what?

Women who spout stupidities in public life–although some are being paid to be stupid–particularly offend me. I’m more appalled by the likes of Marjorie Taylor Greene, Laura Loomer, Lauren Boebert, Karoline Leavitt, etc., than I am by any of Trump’s antics. Those who loudly and proudly proclaim their retrograde views give men a ready-made excuse to believe we’re all incapable of analytical thought. Imagine my surprise when I discovered recently that I’m not supposed to get satire. Both my brother and I adored  “Mad Magazine” when we were kids. I still repeat some of the funniest phrases in my head. But according to some genius critic, the magazine wasn’t targeted to females. They simply don’t “get” that style of humor.

As American Fascism takes root, any woman who isn’t primarily a baby factory faces enhanced scrutiny. A few exceptions are made, of course, for women serving in the Trump administration or who otherwise support his agenda. These exalted types hypocritically insist that others of their gender should adhere to the usual womanly limitations. Charlie Kirk, the slain candidate for sainthood, declared with great certitude that birth control makes women depressed. Did he talk to every woman on birth control? And had he consulted with every mother to make sure she was as content with her life as he demanded?

What if we fail to be either as happy or unhappy as we are supposed to be? Vice President JD Vance has positively demanded that what he calls “cat ladies” be as miserable as he thinks they should be. His wife, a much more accomplished lawyer than he, has announced her intention to give up her career to focus on caring for their family. No one has a right to question that, if it is truly her choice. But I suspect it’s a political decision. It simply won’t do for JD’s wife to go on being smarter than he is.

He Who Must Not Be Criticized, Kirk, also opined on the world of entertainment. His advice to music superstar Taylor Swift, upon her engagement to football star Travis Kelce, was particularly rich. He demanded that once married, she should give up her music career and start churning out babies. It never seemed to occur to him that Travis might have fallen in love with the woman she is now. And maybe a “real man” doesn’t feel threatened by his wife’s accomplishments.

I grew up in a traditional household of the 1950s and 1960s. My parents were moderate conservatives in politics but traditionalists when it came to marriage and the family. My dad brought home the paychecks and my mom took care of the household. I don’t think they foresaw anything different for me. They sent me to business school during my high school summers to learn how to be what my mother called a “crackerjack secretary,” as she had once been. The skills I learned were useful, but my folks never understood why that wasn’t enough. Dad tried to convince me that a good secretary in the Federal government was worth her weight in gold. I filled this role with minimal effort during my college summer jobs, knowing I couldn’t settle for this in the long run. Typing other people’s reports and memos bored me to tears.

My parents became more open-minded over the years, and my mom was never one to take guff from anybody, including my dad. But they certainly never embraced feminism, or at least never admitted to it. My dad once shared a boyhood memory of his about an elderly female relative who apparently couldn’t support herself, and was reduced to drifting from home to home, visiting various friends and family members. I think Dad intended this story as a warning about what could become of a woman who ended up alone in her old age. She should have gotten married, he implied, even if she had to settle for someone. Nowadays, I would rather advocate for a society in which women, married or single, can have meaningful, well-paying careers and a variety of lifestyle choices, so that they never have to “settle.”