It Really is Almost Over, Right?

No, alas, that means it's just beginning. Let's begin with the election, since it was an election like no other. An army of Trump followers raged against the system, led by our toddler president. They raged against Biden and his followers over supposed Democratic cheating. The Trumpkins continue to rage, screaming and demonstrating to "Stop the Steal." One Trump supporter interviewed by MSNBC was convinced that a steady stream of Biden ballots was coming in from China. The Trumkins would not have raged so if Donald Trump himself had not issued a constant stream of rage from his Twitter account. To call Donald Trump a racist misses the point. Our wholly narcissistic president hates with a deadly passion anyone who does not love him, and is pleased to embrace anyone who does. But the love must be absolute, and use no judgement to suggest that the Donald might be in error. Ever.

Trump once smilingly told a group of reporters that “I always win,” so when the Democrats began pumping voter turnout by pushing mail-in ballots in the period prior to the election, he screamed foul and prepared to challenge the outcome. Many a reporter had asked him if he would accept the election result — a question never posed to a sitting president before Trump. Aside from coy evasions, the best answer we got was "If I win." That should have been a clue; always take Donald Trump at his word — he is pure narcissist. He can't stand to be a loser. So when all those votes were counted, and Joe Biden had won both a popular and Electoral College victory, Donald Trump's retainers and fans put the country through five weeks of litigation and demonstration hell. His lawyers were thrown out of every courtroom they dared enter, though not the US Supreme Court. Those Justices dismissed his petition out of hand, refusing to hear his case. An even sillier case by the fawning Texas Attorney General who claimed states that didn't run their elections just like the Lone Star State were somehow harming Texans didn't get any farther, though the fawning Justice Alito thought maybe the court should hear it.

The President's most popular conspiracy clown was an attorney named Sidney Powell, who was happy to go on any radio or television show that would have her, making the most outrageous claims. Those claims then went into circulation in the conservative media bloodstream, where they became truth, even after they'd been thrown out of court. The claims were surreal: The voting machines used in many states had been programmed in Venezuela; they changed Trump votes to Biden ones automatically; they could be hacked by a fifteen year old; they transmitted their votes to Germany for counting; the list went on. A former Chief of Staff of the US Air Force claimed to know for certain that US soldiers had been killed assaulting a CIA base in Germany where the votes had been transmitted. The number of nut cases aligned with Donald Trump seemed (and still seems) endless. There was and still is no end to Republican conspiracy theories. Those conspiracy theories will endure and multiply for the next four years. The only one we won't see is that Joe Biden was born in Kenya. There was a day not long ago when Americans were shocked that a man in North Carolina would hop in his car with several weapons and drive to Washington DC to investigate a story about child sex trafficking at a pizzeria. And further that he would burst into the pizzeria without consulting the police, ready to shoot the place up, expecting to find a former first lady as the head exploiter. Such times and conspiracies seem a bit quaint.

How do we know our election nightmare is only almost over? Early this morning President Donald Trump tweeted: “Many Trump votes were routed to Biden,” and then: “This Fake Election can no longer stand. Get moving Republicans.” We know that the President is hoping Congress will hand him the election by fiat on 6 January when it meets to affirm the Electoral College vote. But he expected the Supreme Court to hand him the election two days ago. This is a president who has seen his power strangely limited over the past four years. He was likely most content when declaring a national emergency to seize funds from the Defense Appropriations Bill to build his border wall. From that there was little appeal. His attempt to ban immigration from select Muslim countries was a fiasco, as was the attempt to end DACA. The last should have been easy, since it was created by am executive order, but those pesky courts got in the way. It now appears that Donald Trump might actually lose this one.

But what of the interim period, that time prior to Joe Biden's inauguration? Clearly seventy-million people and over a hundred congressmen are delusional on the electoral vote. Will the President count on their support to do something bold? Start a war or declare martial law? It is not out of the question. He cannot brook being a loser. And Donald Trump has two things that no other president before him has had — his own private army of thugs, the Proud Boys, who will come out for him in any city he requests, and a huge body of fans willing to show up for demonstrations most anywhere. Never before has a president commanded a fandom such as these. Further, Trump could start a regional war, or simply declare martial law in order to keep the White House. It all seems so third world, but so does the legal maneuvering over the last five weeks.

Next we'll look at the remains. Two hollowed out political parties pick over the bones of a once great country. The fact is, it always looks better than it really is. If you want to study examples, study the Roman and British Empires. What is not clear is how the Republican Party lost its entire moral fabric so quickly.

The Bacillus Amongst Us

The election is finally over, unless Justice Alito gets his way, and the Supreme Court speaks in some perverted manner. I believe that those few justices who were around for Bush v. Gore have had their fill of election intervention, though the newcomers seem to be feeling their oats just a bit. It is something how the term 'activist judge' can suddenly become a not so dirty a word. In fact, Mark Levin seems to be calling on the Court each night to intervene and deliver the election to Donald Trump. He's the fellow who keeps harping on the duty of the state legislatures to do their constitutional duty — the one only they can do, according the Constitution, and him, 'The Great One.' Of course according to the Great One, Mark Levin, only he can adequately interpret the Constitution. Everyone else has strayed from orthodoxy, and is a clown. It's merely a matter of what you really want, not what you actually believe. As Donald Trump stated before the election, he needed his Supreme Court in place for the election.

But it looks like Trump is going, and Biden is moving in, as big a change as there could be. We're going from an extreme right wing do nothing, to an extreme left wing do everything. From a pro Israel to an anti Israel, an anti Iran to a pro Iran. From no policy, to an everything policy.

But the greatest issue may not rest in policy, but in population. Donald Trump received over seventy-four million votes. Where there might have been a time when these votes were segregated in a particular region, they are now scattered throughout the country. Trump certainly has his regions of strength, but unlike the country's divisions during the civil war, that were almost entirely regional, our current divisions are peppered throughout the nation. Wherever there is a small rural enclave there is a center of Trump support. Even within urban areas there are often Trump strongholds. The ideological split has no regional definition.

This non division means that the United States is truly a divided country, not a country capable of being divided. We are a country that differs in so many ways:

Guns Taxes Abortion Police policy Law and order Immigration policy Environmental policy Trade and tariff policy How to conduct elections How to handle race relations What our own Constitution means

When Joe Biden steps into office on 20 January the country will not be calm. There will be a resistance, just as there was when Donald Trump entered office. The land will rest uneasy, and unlike the Democrats of the anti Trump resistance, this new resistance may be infantile and lack a certain self control, just as its mentor did.

When Did We Militarize The Presidency?

Time was that the President was thought of as the President. Now the news folks, those who are so busy setting the national agenda, constantly refer to the President as the Commander in Chief. Our Constitution does designate the President as the Commander in Chief of the Armed Forces (Article II, Section 2), however he is much more, and for most of my lifetime we didn't dwell upon the President's qualifications to be Commander in Chief.

Dwight Eisenhower had been Supreme Allied Commander in Europe, but even he was looked upon as a president, and having sent so many men into battle, he worked hard at avoiding conflict during his presidency. Few people alive today know how hard Eisenhower worked at keeping the peace. A reading of the history of the U-2 spy plane program makes it clear. As wonderful as that plane was, he didn't let them fly it anywhere where he thought it might cause a war. The Powers shoot down was a shock to him.

By the time Bill Clinton ran for president, commentators were asking whether candidates were fit to be Commander in Chief. Perhaps it was Clintoin's obvious cynical draft dodging. During the George W. Bush Administration the Secretary of Defense insisted that all world wide CINCs, that is Commanders in Chief, such as the Navy's CINCLANTFLT, or Commander in Chief, US Atlantic Fleet, undergo name changes because “there is only one Commander in Chief.” It's nice to be powerful — it enables silliness without consequence.

Considering the fact that the United States has sought out and engaged in conflict almost continuously since the early 1990s, the militarization of the presidency may be understandable, but it is unhealthy.

Haiku in Memory of The Attack on Vukovar

We are Vukovar, The dying; buildings that smoke, Let dead voices speak.

The Problem Isn't What They Say, It's What They Stand For

“We need to learn how to talk to a bigger swath of the population.” — MSNBC anchor quoting a Democratic Party operative

There's a too-often employed saying that once you put lipstick on a pig you still have a pig. That Democratic Party operative must be too young to have heard the phrase. Those voters in the big red middle of the country can read. I read “Joe's Plan.” To them it was one big Bernie Sanders socialist playbook. Whether it was a worthy playbook is irrelevant. Tell those oil states their meal ticket will be worthless in fifteen years. Rush Limbaugh has been telling them that the German's have been going through rolling blackouts since they prematurely put their nuke and coal plants to sleep.

If you look at the Wednesday morning electoral map, you will see how divided the United States really is. The emphasis on electoral vote totals is so ingrained that I haven't seen any popular vote totals, but a country this divided must be in trouble.

Night Messages

Upon a lonely limb,
We might in silence
Hang our love,
Let it call out
Into the dark.

A chilled wind carries
Hopeless words,
'Till sunrise
Drowns them out,
They cannot stand
The light of day.

A Few Thoughts on Former Vice President Joseph Biden

Since I'm writing about Mr. Biden, I'm going to begin by speaking about President Trump, just to add a little balance. I think Donald Trump is a narcissistic moron. But Joe Biden has this critical quality — he is not Donald Trump. He also appears honest. The goodness ends there. He isn't up to the job.

When Mr. Biden speaks, he sounds like an old guy who might have once had it, but now is trying to sound like he still does. That's just what Joe is — a guy who once had it, maybe. I tried reading Joe's 'plan.' It's terrible. My sister, a dyed in the wool Trump supporter, thinks Joe is a socialist. That's just Republican blather. Joe isn't organized enough to be a socialist anymore. I doubt that he had much of a hand in writing his 'plan.' In the first four pages of the 'plan,' we get the phrase 'union jobs,' 'union labor,' or 'union work force,' about twenty times. OK, Joe, I get it, Democrats are all in with the unions. Are all those folks working from home gonna be organized too? Are we going to use all those good union jobs to compete against that semi slave labor in Foxcon City? Dear reader, if you don't know what Foxcon City is, then you don't understand how China has out competed us. And they did it with the help of a Taiwanese firm. China even uses its enemies to get ahead, something that is beyond Donald Trump's ability to comprehend.

Joe's plan is going to give us a carbon pollution free power sector by 2035. Knowing the clowns in charge of his party, I suspect that won't include a massive nuclear power construction effort, so be prepared to be sitting in the dark during those rolling blackouts. The Bozos who wrote the plan think 2035 is a long way away, but from an R and D to industrial production and logistics planning point of view on a nationwide scale 2035 is the day after tomorrow, given that we're beginning from a standing start.

Joe has the federal government spending trillions on things it has not traditionally done, such as insulating homes, repairing water pipes, and such. That is an enormous increase in federal spending.

Joe's plan is a crazy quilt wish list designed to bring a smile to every corner of the balkanized Democratic Party where people seem to be lined up waiting for free stuff. It is a party of unreality that, when tempered, is bound to be much, much better than the rapacious anti science thieves and traitors who currently inhabit the Republican Party.

So . . . I believe all thinking citizens should spend at least two hours each week listening to those two Republican apologists, Mark Levin and Rush Limbaugh. It's important to understand how the criminals who currently control the government perceive themselves. It doesn't take a lot of time, but knowing your enemy is important. Living in a liberal bubble isn't a good idea. There will be lots of repair work to be done. And if Joe really does get elected, we will at least have the rule of law back, and then we'll see about the rest.

Today's Haiku

love falls on deaf ears,
sad tears fall in cold silence,
awaiting an end.

The Virus Chronicles - 26 Oct 2020: Inside The Plague

 

We have been inside the plague for nine months now. At first we didn't know we were there. The smart guys in the room (Fauci, et, al) told us there was nothing to worry about. We've all forgotten that, just as we've forgotten the manipulative assurances that all hands need not wear masks. That was a deception to preserve inventory for those on the front lines. But in all modern warfare, there are no front lines. The front lines are everywhere. There are only believers and non believers. In the case of the plague, there are those who accept science, and those who wish it away. As in so many other things, the Republican party is not on the side of science, or rather, its acolytes are making their own science, just as they made the silent scream, and their very own climatology.

 

Yesterday, Mark Meadows, the President's looney Chief of Staff who was once a non productive bomb thrower in Congress, admitted that the administration had no strategy for containing the plague. Their intention is to ride it out until a vaccine is available. There was no reporter intrepid enough to ask what happens if none of the vaccines work out in the short term. They'll just keep watchin' 'em die.

 

Trumpkins who have been asked to don masks in retail establishments have attacked employees making the requests. In one case an employee had his jaw broken. That could be a preview of the state of national cordiality if The Donald fails to prevail in the election, though it's understood nothing will be decided on election day. The litigation of Bush v. Gore will seem like mere finger food compared to what's in store for us this time.

A View from The Acropolis on to Modern Athens

Though we may set our hopes
Firmly stone upon stone
Yet in the end
We are all dust

How Do We Fix The Navy? — Free advice worth lots more than you paid for it

“How do we fix the Navy?” Asked David Ignatius of the Chief of Naval Operations. Ignatius, once a friendly conduit for CIA leaks, was conducting the interview at the CNO's request for The Washington Post. The CNO, Admiral Gilday, covered several critical topics, but only one interested me. It had been my pet peeve for twenty-five years, and though the admiral hadn't made it the centerpiece of his comments, he had pushed it. For me, an obscure retired commander from a small state, that was gratifying.

The subject, and the peeve, is the Goldwater-Nichols Military Reform Act. This law does several things, but I'm concerned with only one, that which does the greatest damage to the US Navy. The bare bones of the law require that all US military officers become joint duty qualified, which means an officer must attend two levels of joint political military eduction (JPME), to wit, war colleges, and serve at least two joint tours of duty (the Joint Staff will do, but there are field commands as well).

How did this come about? I won't say that your guess is as good as mine; I believe I know. Back in the early 80s we invaded the island of Grenada in order to free it from the clutches of Cuban influence, and rescue American medical students studying there. During the invasion, the Navy couldn't communicate with the Army or Air Force, and the panacea that would fix the resulting minor public scandal was Goldwater-Nichols.

Here's the real story. By the time the US had decided to invade Grenada, we had discovered the existence of the John Walker spy ring. As a result we knew that the Soviets were able to read much of our military communications, especially our Navy comms. Prior to the invasion, an amphibious ready group departed the east coast en route a previously scheduled Med deployment. After departure they assumed complete electronic silence, communicating via flag hoist, flashing light, and messages exchanged by helicopter. This was to be the Grenada invasion force. They were a true covert force. Operating in such secrecy, they were in no position to coordinate with outside forces, but they were adequate to the task, and their secrecy meant that the Cubans on the island had no idea they were coming. The problem: Given that this was the only war to be had, the Army and Air Force insisted on getting a piece of the action.

From the confusion of not being able to coordinate operations due to radio silence came the theory that our forces couldn't work well together. The reason the “joint” side of this operation was such a mess was the necessity of maintaining the covertness of the amphibious force. Normally, a joint operation would have involved advanced operational communication and planning that wasn't feasible under these circumstances.

From this has evolved the current jointness craze, and the bureaucratization of warfare into such memorable ideas as “Joint Concept for Access and Maneuver in the Global Commons.” Prior to this it would have been known simply as “Maritime Operations.”

Why is this so toxic to the Navy — more than to the other services? Naval officers don't just fight their ships, they must sail them in peace and war. They are mariners as well as naval officers. When an armor officer concludes an operation, his tanks go on transporters or rail cars and are ferried back to post to minimize wear. Naval officers deploy their ships for six to nine months at a time, in peace and war. They must contend with maritime traffic in the sea lanes under all circumstances, day and night. They occasionally must enter strange ports, often under hazardous navigational conditions.

All this requires broad training and experience afloat that develops not just leadership skills, but seamanship skills and judgement. No amount of schooling can substitute, nor can a short refresher afloat replace years of experience as a seaman. It is true that the chief and senior petty officers are the technical experts of the Navy, but the Navy's excellence has always rested on the fulcrum of its officers' command of its complex technical systems as well as their strong leadership. Though Navy leadership may deny it, the fact of life in an officer's career is now to not spend any more time at sea than is absolutely necessary in order to ensure he or she can punch critical joint career tickets on the way to a hoped for advancement to flag rank.

Fixing this would require a true rebellion. The jointness craze (and it is a craze — everything must incorporate the joint term in its name to succeed) has been ongoing for so long that the entire US military is transfused with true joint believers. They shuffle through tours in the ever more bloated Joint Staff and Combatant Commanders (the Flag Officers who were called CINCs until Rumsfeld decided that there could be only one Commander in Chief). They produce more and more 'plans' and 'position papers' in the approved format. It's too bad they can't shoot that stuff from artillery tubes.

All this shows clearly in the accident rates of surface ships at sea. Those familiar with the International Regulations for Preventing Collisions at Sea are aware of how fundamental were the mistakes in recent Navy incidents, and how preventable the deaths and millions of dollars lost repairing damaged ships due to collisions.

There is no substitute for experience.

Another Sad Day

Between the plague and the corrosive antics of the President I haven't felt like writing. Today I buried a beautiful calico who had been hit by a car on Weakley Hollow Rd. She is the third one buried this month in the new plot in front of the house. One was a very young kitten Laurie found abandoned, who lived the night and died in the morning. The other was hit by a car on Rte 609. 

If the country had been in the Big Sort before, we are now facing each other with clenched fists. Donald Trump really could commit murder and not lose a supporter. However, the same is true for Joe Biden at his point. The camps are that far apart. The smart money isn’t waiting for the election; it’s waiting to litigate the election. 

Post debate, my money will be on Donald Trump unless he has an uncharacteristic meltdown, which his brain may be moving toward. Yesterday he was barely coherent, but tonight's Mark Levin show will probably dub him a genius. For those who don’t tune in to right wing radio, I will quote Sun Tzu: “Know your enemy.” Joe Biden’s measured, shaky responses scare me. They sound like a guy who used to have it.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

I haven't written anything in over two weeks, not because nothing has happened, but because the same thing happens each day. The single change is the President figured out that he looked ridiculous in his daily press briefings, so he changed them to 'occasional.' That didn't last long. He had become addicted to the attention. Now things are really happening. He slipped intentionally that he is on hydroxycloroquine, and had been for some time. That's his game changer, his miracle drug that will bypass the need for a vaccine, because it already exists, and permit him to get back out on the campaign trail. And he's a believer (smart guy), &c. The fact that the drug has been shown to not be a game changer, but rather a source of harm to the patient, is irrelevant to the President. Not only does he know what he knows, an army of his supporters goes forth to prove every point that he makes, even if it's wrong. They will find a doctor who agrees with absolutely everything the President says. There is a doctor or scientist somewhere willing to do it, too. A fellow at Stanford has become the current preferred go-to guy.

This has become the new battleground; find the expert who supports your side's opinion. It doesn't matter what the opinion is — hydroxychloroquine (even whether or not it's been given to the Australian population at large — that itself is a point of contention), climate change, whether Dr. Fauci has invested in vaccine firms, the efficacy of masks, abortion, the list goes on. The battle of the experts on a president who is a certifiable fool, and his equally foolish followers, harks back to he influence of Trofim Lysenko on Joseph Stalin and Soviet genetics in the 1930s and 40s. The only discernible difference is that Donald Trump has not the power to sentence those scientists he disagrees with to prison or death. The party where sixty per cent believe that God created man 6000 years ago without the need for evolution is now constantly searching out scientists to make its points.

We do indeed live in interesting times. Has no one noticed China gobbling up the South China Sea, destroying Hong Kong's independence? Has no one noticed the balance of power in the Middle East? Lebanon is dissolving.

No, it's all virus, all the time, unless the President acts out some other way.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

There are a number of crazy cures and treatments out there for the virus, but one thing distinguishes them. Support for the cure(s) has coalesced about political lines. My sister has gone further. Not only does she support any kooky cure that the President supports, she believes that Dr. Fauci, a highly respected epidemiologist, has somehow invested in a counter cure that will make him wealthy; that's why he isn't touting “the President's cure.”

The Republican Party has been the anti science party for a long time, rejecting evolution and climate change, but they've now drunk a very different Kool Aid, one prepared by a narcissist with the maturity of a twelve year old who periodically points to his head and says “smart guy” in street corner New Yorkese.”

Meanwhile former Vice President Joe Biden, the probable Democratic nominee for president, is in his basement rec room making youTube videos, while the President campaigns every night with a new virus press conference. Biden has avoided answering accusations of sexual assault; he shouldn't worry. The friendly press will give him a pass, in spite of today's culture supposedly saying “believe the woman under all circumstances.” He is the great liberal hope, after all. I expect he is a loser. This race is one codger against another — who will become a doddering fool first?

75th Anniversary of the Liberation of Dachau

29 Apr 2020

Those of us who lost family in the Shoah generally cannot know where or how they perished. We have an eye witness account of my Aunt Zina's death. She was shot while taking a heavy coat to her husband, who had been taken by the Germans in the latest transport. The last report had her body left to rot in the snow. We don't know about the rest of the polish branch, but given geography, they probably perished in Auschwitz if they lived long enough to get there.

My late Aunt Marion knew something of the German relatives, but all that information is gone now. Considering the number of Misches living in Berlin and its environs, the chances are good that some made it to Dachau.

Rabbi Eli A. Bohnen entered the Army in 1943 after graduating from the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York City. He was a chaplain with the 42nd (Rainbow) Infantry Division during the liberation of Dachau on April 29, 1945. The following is a description of his experiences taken from a letter written to his wife, Eleanor, May 1, 1945.

"Nothing you can put in words would adequately describe what I saw there. The human mind refuses to believe what the eyes see. All the stories of Nazi horrors are underestimated rather than exaggerated. We saw freight cars with bodies in them. The people had been transported from one camp to another, and it had taken about a month for the train to make the trip. In all that time they had not been fed. They were lying in grotesque positions, just as they had died. Many were naked, others in thin clothing. But all were horrible to see.

We entered the camp itself and saw the living. The Jews were the worst off. Many of them looked worse than the dead. They cried as they saw us. I spoke to a large group of Jews. I don't remember what I said, I was under such mental strain, but Heimberg (my assistant) tells me that they cried as I spoke. Some of the people were crying all the time we were there. They were emaciated, diseased, beaten, miserable caricatures of human beings. I don't know how they didn't all go mad. There were thousands and thousands of prisoners in the camp. Some of them didn't look too bad but most looked terrible. And as I said, the Jews were the worst. Even the other prisoners who suffered miseries themselves couldn't get over the horrible treatment meted out to the Jews. I shall never forget what I saw, and in my nightmares the scenes recur. When I got back I couldn't eat and I couldn't even muster up enough energy to write you. No possible punishment would ever repay the ones who were responsible ......"

Chaplain Bohnen later served as an advisor to the U.S. military regarding displaced persons. He worked with Jewish displaced persons in Salzburg and Bad Gastein, Austria, helping them to regain a semblance of normalcy, and assisting in their resettlement.

GIs Remember National Museum of American Jewish Military History

Rabbi Bohnen was my childhood rabbi.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

Quo Vadis?

Yesterday, Patrick Buchanan, the far right commentator wrote the following:

"After the Great Pandemic has passed and we emerge from Great Depression II, what will be America's mission in the world?

What will be America's cause?

We have been at such a turning point before.

After World War II, Americans wanted to come home. But we put aside our nation-building to face the challenge of a malevolent Stalinist empire dominant from the Elbe river to the Barents Sea.

And after persevering for four decades, we prevailed.

What, then, did we do with our epochal victory?

We alienated Russia by moving our NATO military alliance into the Baltic and Black Seas. We launched bloody, costly crusades for democracy in the Middle East that, invariably, failed. We exported a huge slice of our manufacturing capacity and economic independence to a coddled China.

Historically, blunders of such magnitude have undone great powers."

Sometimes Pat not only doesn't sound all that radical, he sounds a lot like the noises in my head, and some of the things I've written. After World War I British imperialists didn't want to come home, nor did they welcome the League of Nations mandates that drained the treasury rather than enriching the motherland as other overseas possessions were designed to do.

United States overseas overseas operations are different. Every one of them drains the treasury. Of course many of them have been for good. The entire NATO project, up until the fall of the Soviet Union, was an exercise in preserving Western Civilisation, something considered a worthy cause until the recent political correctness. Now, between the western hating youth, cheered on by their left wing professoriate, and the near collapse of society under the weight of the COVID-19 lock down, we should take care to not take for granted our country's priorities

Buchanan continues:

"Even before COVID-19, Americans had begun to realize the folly of decades of mindless interventionism over matters irrelevant to our vital interests. "Unsustainable" was the word commonly associated with our foreign policy.

But if our foreign policy was unsustainable during President Trump's economic boom, with unemployment at record lows and a bull market to rival the Roaring '20s, can an interventionist foreign policy be sustained after the losses of this major depression we have induced to kill the pandemic?"

No matter how many times scientists, politicians, and commentators speak of the new normal, I suspect most Americans still expect to wake up one day to the world they left before the plague of COVID-19 descended upon us. The descent was curious. One might say it descended with Donald Trump kicking and screaming that the whole thing was fake, until it became intuitively obvious to the most casual observer that it was here.

When we do emerge, the world must be different. Whatever it looks like, one question Americans might ask is "what are all those troops doing in all those places around the world?" I don't mean NATO, or even Korea or Japan, but Niger, Djibouti, Afghanistan, and dozens of other places where America has carved out enclaves to hold back an enemy (or perceived enemy), assist an ally in doing the same, or maintaining a drone facility to seek out new enemies for our now famous targeted killings.

All this money, poured into all those places, doesn't seem to have delivered any increase in safety or security. It has produced violence, but little more. As we slip into what might become our new routine, it is time to decide what our new priorities are. Each time a feather merchant from the Pentagon comes to Congress looking for funding for his talking dog, and says we can't afford not to fund it, we need to break out the slide rules and green eye shades. There might be more power in ensuring that we have a strong industrial base in the U.S. rather than in bleeding ourselves white to ensure we can kill every last jihadi within seconds of detection by buying every last fancy weapon and stationing it with our troops in every last far off place. China is in fact nipping at our heels, but we won't prevail if our country is a carcass of consumer stuff with no foundation, core, or heart.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

It's easy to keep the radio off while at home, I have plenty to do. But in the car, I tend to listen to all sorts of channels. It's a window into the world of a nation that is in the midst of a nervous breakdown. Led by a president with the emotional makeup and discipline of a toddler, who careens from one perceived slight to another, and who cannot wait for each adventure to be over as soon as he senses a bit of triumph, the United States is adrift and failing. Every government department appears to be led by a Trump acolyte who understands how the facts of every situation bend to a singular polestar — the phrase “Thank you, Mr. President, for your great leadership in this crisis.” After that phrase has been uttered, there is no critical content remaining to the briefing. One might as well read the phone book. That way there is no chance of contradicting the Trumpkin.

The President has thrived in the daily five o'clock follies, which often begin around six in order to gain a larger audience. He talks and talks, then fights with the press, acting as the national epidemiologist, while the real scientists watch him act out. But his advisors say he's tired of the game. He just wants the governors to fix it, and do it with their money. He didn't expect a marathon. This king is a sprinter; marathons are for slugs and chumps. Testing, so critical to success, is boring. He seems to be saying “why do we have to do it?” He wants to just cut the ribbon of success. It's what he does best.

How many times can one reaffirm that we now appear to have a country ruled by a toddler. The surrealism smacks one in the face daily, but what also smacks one is the chorus of supporters, those who find him "the greatest president ever." Therein lies proof of our decline.

He would especially like to bully Michigan, Minnesota, and Virginia into 'liberation', or so he tweeted, throwing in Second Amendment liberation in the case of Virginia.

Today's briefing included a long soliloquy on how relations with a laundry list of nations, all evil, would go sour and damage the US if 'Slow Joe' wins [the presidency].

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

We Need an Industrial Policy

There are two great Republican curses. The first is — “That's socialism.” The second is — “That smacks of industrial policy, picking winners and losers.” There used to be a third, but “LIBERAL” has lost its meaning. The Republican Party, which has had a strong hand in all national policy since 1981, has ensured the United States has no industrial policy, or so it would like you to think. In fact we do have one, it's just a very bad one, unless you're agribusiness, a corn farmer, or any of a handful of favored industries. But as far as a policy that benefits the country and its citizens as a whole, one could say that we have a negative industrial policy, or one that benefits The Peoples Republic of China to our detriment. In the last forty years the American way of lawmaking has gone through a transition. During our last collaborative era, we created environmental and workplace safety laws, to the resistance, rather than in collaboration with industry, then informed industry that they'd better conform. We sent what amounted to OSHA and EPA thugs on surprise inspections (my father's shop experienced them). Our industries moved to better pastures in other countries such as China and Mexico. There they could avoid those pesky laws. That was our industrial policy — drive 'em out to clean up the environment. Corporate leadership doesn't care — they still profit.

The Democratic Party would be no better. Their idea of an industrial policy would be racial balance in the board room. We know this from their legislative initiatives. And one of the great hallmarks of the ill fated Hillary Care initiative, for those silly enough to have read the thing, was mandated racial balance in medical schools. Yipee! When it comes to the good of the country, I'd say their hearts are only halfway up their asses.

The right answer is that the country needs secure supply chains. It should be a lesson learned the hard way.

It's time to for our national leadership to care; our international supply chains are too fragile, and they lead right through our enemy, which has professed a desire to supplant the United States (see The Hundred-Year Marathon by Michael Pillsbury). Our supply chains don't lead through our enemy because he has captured them through stealth. They lead through him because we have put them there just to save money, and in the process we are giving away our intellectual property as well. It is our national sin of self destruction.

Don't let the touchy feely internationalists kid you. The Chinese are not panda bears. They are racists, irredentists, and international criminals. It's time for a change, and the fools currently running the US government don't have the intelligence or the attention span to make that change. I'm not sure that the financiers have the desire. They would rather feed off the dying corpse of their country.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

The right wing noise machine says “let us out” and “restore Americans' freedoms.” It began two days ago with tweets by Laura Ingraham, but now it's a coordinated symphony of rage. They are all saying the same thing, in slightly different ways, as if they have a giant conservative staff meeting each morning to ensure they are all on the same sheet of music. There might have been a time when we naive folks thought the noise machine was echoing the opinion of the Donald, but now we know that the President has very little mind beyond what he 'feels'. It is the job of the noise machine to shape his views. From Fox and Friends when he first awakens, through Rush Limbaugh, and on to Mark Levin, then the all important Hannity, whom the President is just as likely to call as not. The noise machine is there to insert the proper ideas into the Presidents mush filled head, then describe the President as brilliant for having spit out its ideas.

“Know your enemy,” we are reminded, and so an aggregation of the President's Twitter feed pops into my email box each morning, and occasionally throughout the day. He thrashes the “lamestream media” for its fake news, citing the TV ratings of his daily news conference as proof that he is superior. It doesn't occur to him that people are shut in, mostly unable to work. Citizens are listening all day to broadcasters who can get paid to work from home while they try to collect from a strapped unemployment system. What the hell else are they going to do, Don, except tune in to find out how close to redemption they are from the National Carnival Barker?

And finally, the scientists recommending that we keep the country buttoned up until “the virus says it's OK to come out” are also still getting paid through all this. I don't mean to be disrespectful of their expertise, but at a certain point, the ordinary citizen will break, and come out of his and her own accord. So a wise government would plan for it instead of shooting for the moon. (see my The Limits of Efficacy in the 6 April entry).

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

The following piece is a column written by my wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, for the Culpeper, Virginia Star-Exponent's 1 April Edition

PASSOVER, EASTER, RAMADAN in the Time of Covid-19

It is going to be hard, very hard, to observe the important holidays of the season this year. All three holidays have codified observances, rituals and obligations held sacrosanct by their adherents. Those customs, rituals and family traditions bind us, comfort us, and are a framework for our beliefs. And so, as churches, synagogues and Islamic centers close their doors to slow the spread of the virus, we are left to find creative and meaningful ways to connect with our faith.

What unifies these springtime holidays is that each one reaffirms “membership in the tribe.” Jewish family and friends eat a communal meal, called the Seder, while recounting their “origin story,” the highly ritualized retelling of the story of harsh servitude by the Children of Israel under Pharaoh, and how Moses went before Pharaoh repeatedly to ask that the Israelites be let go to serve their god. It took ten plagues sent by God to convince Pharaoh to “let my people go.” Eventually, God, “with signs and wonders and with an outstretched arm” redeemed His people, split the sea, and, under guidance from Moses left in a hurry for the Promised Land. I have heard so many people bummed out because they can’t be with friends and family for Passover. Many plan to attend “virtually,” being together, but separately, each with a plate of ritual foods and a song sheet in front of their computer screen.

Christians also reaffirm “membership in the tribe,” coming together at Easter to commemorate the Crucifixion and Resurrection of Jesus. The key ritual of the worship service is the Eucharist, or Communion. Partaking of consecrated bread and wine enhances the communion of believers not only with Christ, but also with one another. For some the bread and wine are symbolic. For others, the bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ. While most are resigned to watching their clergy perform the ritual “on-line” I have heard plenty of people complain that they will truly miss the magical feeling they get when receiving communion.

For Muslims, Ramadan, the ninth month of the Muslim year, is a month of prayer, reflection and community, as well as a commemoration of Muhammad’s first revelation. A dawn until sunset fast is observed, and is followed nightly by a festive, communal break-the-fast meal.

All three festivals focus on community and belonging and require a physical presence . All three holidays will take place in April, as Covid-19 cases grow at an exponential rate and deaths are predicted to be in the thousands. At a moment when we crave closeness, we are not quite sure how to proceed without becoming more depressed than we currently are. Technology can only go so far in uniting us. Televised services, emailed sermons and teachings, virtual Communion and on-line workshops about how to conduct a Passover Seder without guests offer some comfort, if only to remind us that we are not alone in our misery.

Sadly, there are some churches which have tossed social responsibility to the wind, and continue to hold services, causing me to wonder if the leaders of these churches are so selfish, self-serving, so egotistical that they put their need for self-aggrandizement and money in the collection plate above the safety and health of their congregants. My heart breaks when I hear interviews with deeply devout people of unquestioning faith determined to put that faith to the test. The greatest way these pastors can serve their flock is to extend love, comfort, and caring while assuring their followers that they have not been abandoned by God or their faith community. What we need is to support each other in other ways, making sure that we act in Godly ways by reaching out to those who have lost their livelihood, ensuring that they have food, shelter, medical care, and a virtual shoulder to lean on.

The corona virus pandemic challenges our faith in God. As each day passes, we are more aware of the fragility of life and we become more thankful for simple things we’d never noticed before. We can only ask so much of God, and try to shoulder some of the burden ourselves. We can ask God to protect us, but that is made easier while wearing masks, goggles and gloves. We can ask God to take us under his sheltering wing, but it is safer to do so while standing six feet apart. We can believe in an all -powerful God, who will save us, but it helps if we can get our government to increase the production of ventilators, because without those ventilators, doctors will be forced to play God, and decide who lives and who dies. We can ask for a miracle, or we can make sure everyone in our household washes their hands in warm water and soap to break down the fatty layer on the virus and kill it. We can scan copies of the Book of Job, and Why Bad Things Happen to Good People and try to figure why the universe is conspiring against us, or we can look at the science behind what is happening and use that knowledge to assure ourselves we are not being punished, nor tested, by any deity.

The next few months will be a whirlwind of chaos, as one after another, our weaknesses are exposed. Our lives will be increasingly difficult, and we have no idea what the world will be like when a vaccine arrives and the pandemic is beaten down. As a nation we have great sadness ahead of us, great economic and social turmoil. To weather the storm, we can turn to God for comfort through meditation and prayer. We can act as God’s agents by finding ways to volunteer, to donate, or just be a comforting and reassuring voice on the phone. And amazing as it may sound, there won’t be a family in America left untouched by this moment in history.

The Limits of Efficacy

Social distancing is the new term we have all learned, but sheltering in place is the activity that is having the greatest effect on society. Social distancing is a pain in the neck when you’re in line at the market. Keeping six feet between each person can make the check out line run halfway to the back of the store if we all follow the rules. But being shut in is a different story. People aren’t just isolated. Too many are now either unemployed or underemployed. Unemployment insurance and the government’s supplement won’t cover the wage gap, nor will whatever federal largess is planned keep most small businesses afloat. Somehow the Boeings and the Raytheons will do just fine. I know keeping the population sheltering in place works, but reality says that after about two months, the population is going to come out. People will be nearly broke, half crazy, and ready to riot. They will know their jobs are gone. Proprietors will know their businesses are finished. We may have rioting or at least excess crime. While that may be a good excuse for the gun control crowd to get to work, it won't be good for the country overall.

We might as well face the fact that we will have to open up the country by the beginning of June, whether it's the best thing to do or not. The people telling us otherwise are scientists with paychecks who understand the epidemiology but not the psychology. The result will be (I assume) infection spread. So, (in the words of Lenin) "what is to be done." The answer is to plan on an industrial scale to the medical fallout for the consequences. I assume this means testing nearly the entire population. It means much more, but our country is no longer the scientific giant it once was. Science means respect for facts, and a significant segment of the population no longer respects facts they don't like.

I think the alternative to my idea is widespread social unrest fueled by both being shut in and incitement by the lunatic media. Just a thought, but sometimes you have to look at more than just the science, and plan ahead for doing something that appears ill advised.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

03 April 2020

Jared Kushner is a Fool, an Idiot, and a Buffoon

The fact that he is rich is strictly an accident of birth, and of course marriage. After weeks of rumors that son in law Jared was heading a second, off the books, secret anti COVID-19 Task Force, The Boy himself appeared on stage with the President yesterday for what I've come to think of as the Five O'clock Follies, that ever elongating press circus in which President Trump generally insists on hogging center stage as the nation's faux chief epidemiologist.

Apparently Boy Jared, having failed as Middle East Peace Maker (I'm not sure he can be faulted for that, except for having taken on the job at all) is now chief national medical logistician. He and the Vice President insisted that Boy Jared reports everything right to the Vice President, hence his mixed government/industry task force is not a parallel organization to that of the Vice's, and is definitely not a secret. How could it be — The Boy was right out in front of all those reporters.

Our new Chief National Medical Logistician had this to say to those complaining in state governments, and to the ungrateful hospital treatment centers of our country: “The notion of the federal stockpile was it’s supposed to be our stockpile,” he said, “It’s not supposed to be state stockpiles that they then use.” Apparently if the federal government happens to need a bunch of ventilators or masks, it can hop over and get 'em from the stockpile, but don't you states try to get your grubby hands on them. Order yer own! We bought these with our money. Boy Jared is unfamiliar with FDR's analogy of the garden hose from Lend Lease days. If your neighbor's house is afire, and you have a garden hose all hooked up, you don't negotiate a price on the hose, you pick it up and put out the fire, lest it spread to your house as well. Anyway, HHS had stated that the Strategic Stockpile's purpose is to supplement state and local supplies in times of emergency.

It could be that Young Jared was out getting measured for his first silver sippi-cup on the day that Sesame Street aired the sharing episode. More likely, he was just reflexively insisting on the administration's perfection. ('It was a perfect call, a perfect letter, a perfect stockpile, &c.')

In the few minutes since I began writing this very piece, and since Boy Jared's unfortunate encounter with truth, the HHS website has been magically revised to reflect the stockpile's mission as being more in conformance with Kushner's statement. It's a clear 1984-ish revision of the documentation to conform to the desired facts. Technically, this turns Jared Kushner from an idiot to a seer. Kushner also noted that states shouldn't be calling the feds for more ventilators before they need them, simply to stockpile them “just in case.” “Call when you need them,” he advised. Boy Jared may not have learnt at Famous Medical Logistician School that ventilators are a critical care item. By the time you need them, it's too late to go out and procure them. That wrinkle may not have been covered in Pandemics 101.

The Virus Chronicles (continued),

02 April 2020

Well, well, I here tell the whole US Navy fleet has been ordered to sea in an effort to avoid the plague, er, virus. It did take quite a while. Two or three days ago the USS Theodore Roosevelt, an aircraft carrier staffed with about 5500 sailors, requested a port call and near evacuation to get its Coronavirus problem under control. Apparently that captain lost it. When you're CO of such a strategic asset, you need a unique strength of psyche.

If fortune favors the brave, and innovation is critical to carrying the modern fight, our fully joint qualified warriors dithered for about three weeks too long. I can just see those heavily career conscious flag officers stealing side glances at each other, wondering who will blink first on the one good idea that should be intuitively obvious to the most casual observer — if you send sailors home every night, they are going to mix with a sick population. The yardbirds they see during the day will be an additional sick population. Going to sea is self isolation, eh? By the time ships get back to port, most of the gear will be wrung out, too, and lots of ship handling practice will have been done.

The President's acolytes spent the day praising chloroquinine, the big idea he got from somewhere (he's “a believer, smart guy, &c.”). An acolyte who will go unnamed assured his morning listeners that if the President hadn't pushed this idea thousands would die. The data will prove nothing; President Trump knows how to jump on either side of an issue quick like a bunny. No one can catch Fred Trump's little boy in a lie.

Why Dana Milbank is a Fool

The Washington Post's well know columnist Dana Milbank showed himself a fool today with a column stating that Republicans were warned about the pending dangers of the Coronavirus, yet they persisted in defending the President. By now Milbank should know that Republicans will defend the President to the death, even if he kills several small children in public with his bare hands, then consumes them. Milbank wasted valuable space in one of the nation's major newspapers stating the obvious, instead of saying something important. In so doing, he showed the real nature of the bankruptcy of the mainstream press.

Apparently we will be treated to millions of words stating the obvious for the next several months.

Sherlock Self Isolates

The black form arose silently from the floor onto my lap. In spite of her full grown-cat weight, Sherlock's touch was so gentle that I hardly felt her land. She walked back and forth a few times to get her bearings, then began rubbing the top of her head on my leg. Sherlock stopped rubbing, lay down on my lap, and looked up at me, purring and batting those deep green eyes up into mine.

“What?” Silence, as she rubbed adoringly against my leg, occasionally glancing sideways at me. She wouldn't talk to me while Rose was in the room. Sherlock can talk, but only to me. She only speaks when we're alone. She rolled halfway over to look at Rose, then back over to me. Sitting up, she rubbed my cheek, then lay down for a rest.

Rose left for the kitchen. The black tail swished, then Sherlock sat up to nuzzle my right cheek. “There's no monitor in here, Gary,” she whispered. “What about a video? The one with the nuthatch and the squirrel.” “I've been at that monitor all day, Sherlock.” “You don't need to sit there with me, Gary. Just start the video. I'll sit in your chair and watch it.” It was a pleading purr. “That never works, Sherlock. Either Emily chases you out, or you lose focus and run off.” “It'll be different this time. You'll see.” “OK,” I said, and off we went to my computer, where all good cat videos were bookmarked. That is what computers are for.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

31 March 2020

It occurred to me that the best thing the press could do would be to attend the President's daily briefing, listen respectfully, then ask no questions. Afterall, there are no more questions that need answering; the President just likes the attention. The Atlantic has broken the code with their COVID-19—free reading list (a fine list it is, too).

It's hard to believe, but there are still hard core conservatives and conspiracy theorists who think the Corona virus is a hoax, no worse than the flu. They think they are supporting the President. Jerry Falwell, Jr, in Lynchburg, Virginia comes to mind, and Jon Rappoport, writing from Moscow, who is certain lots of those COVID-19 deaths are just pneumonia.

In the absence of hard news at this point (1340 EDT), I offer a CORONA Haiku (what else would shut-in poet offer?).

Laid low by Covid,
A nation cow'rs, leaderless,
As Trump basks daily.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

30 March 2020

The President figured out that his threat to quarantine New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut were illegal. Rather than back down, the Narcissist in Chief just quietly made it a suggestion. We really are slipping into third world country status.
The word is out that the US tried to develop an advanced lightweight respirator about ten years ago. The small firm that had the contract made a prototype, then got swallowed up by Medtronic, who got bought by a leveraged buyout group. That was the end of that. US industrial might is a thing of the past. Now we just have schmucks who chase money around, feeding off the carcass of a once great manufacturing state. Sometimes I think we should be herding the Henry Kravises into camps and making them dig trenches with their fingernails. Then we should be holding guns to the heads of our legislators until the leveraged buyout is outlawed.
A friend sat in his yard recently with a neighbor. It turns out the neighbor had been to New York. Now the friend is self isolating, and his neighbor is in extremis. It's a story told again and again.
This afternoon our governor mandated that all Virginians stay in their homes unless they are doing vital business. Vital business includes food shopping, pet care, elderly care, exercise such as running, golf, and fishing. Somehow, when Governor Blackface speaks, he sounds like someone who doesn't belong in the governor's office. The President's radio acolytes are outraged at the restrictions.
The President's love affair the unproven drug chloroquinine continues. Today, at the five o'clock follies, one of his acolytes stated that the US has ordered over two million doses from two producers, even though we still don't know if it works on COVID-19.

Passover with My Wife, Rabbi Rose

My wife, Rabbi Rose Lyn Jacob, is used to making a Seder t least one night, and spending the other, perhaps, with her brother. In this year of the plague, the world is turned upside down, and she has responded, as she often does, in verse:

With Passover just around the corner...I turned to one of my most trusted doctors, Dr. Seuss. The good doctor (of blessed memory) gave me these words to share on social distancing during Passover:

I do not want you in my house

I do not want you or your spouse

I do not wish to eat with you
At Seder one or Seder two!

Don't get me wrong, I think you're nice
But the CDC gave out this advice,
"Ten Plagues are enough, you don't need one more
Turn Elijah away if he shows up at your  door"

This year's only guests: Father, mother, sister, brother. NEXT YEAR in Jerusalem! We will say to each other.
From now on at each Seder, this story we'll tell,
Of how God saved his people with a squirt of PURELL!

She is a fabulous cook, so I answered her:

Sorta brilliant!

Sorta cool!

I think you are,

A poetic Jewel.
I like you lots,

Like how you cook,

I'd eat your food,

Even in a nook.

I love your food,

How much would I eat?

Why I'd eat lotsa,

Even with matzoh!

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

29 March 2020

I have always cared little for Facebook™ but it is a useful evil for keeping up with old shipmates and family wheresoever dispersed. These days we are dispersed, and with the pandemic, keeping up to date seems suddenly important, lest shipmates, distant friends, and relatives vanish. The other day an old shipmate posted that a friend, 65, had come down with "symptoms". Within days he was in the hospital, on dialysis. Prognosis is poor, his fiance cannot, of course, see him.

This scene repeats itself continuously; occasionally a news outlet not friendly to the President will interview a distraught spouse about an experience wherein he or she deposited a loved one at the emergency room door, never to see him or her again. In this pandemic each victim dies alone. As my wife learnt from her niece, who is part of the local burial society in her town in Israel, they must also be buried alone, without the proper ritual of our faith. This virus spawns an attack without mercy and a death without comfort or dignity.

"Not friendly to the President" is a key phrase. If an outlet or writer is friendly to the President, then all aspects of the pandemic are minimized, all truth tellers are criticized, and their pasts scrutinized for any possible issues that can be brought out as reasons to doubt them (maybe they bounced a check 40 years ago? Did they support 'Hillary'?). If they are not "friendly to the President," then they are likely telling the truth and running simple facts.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

27 March 2020:

The President has activated the Defense Production Act, but as with everything he does, he is unable to simply do something without insulting someone. He didn't just direct General Motors to make respirators. He directed them to make them, and when they refused to bend to his will on contract terms, he imposed terms on them, and gave their CEO an insulting name. Then he introduced his Defense Production Czar who further explained that GM wouldn't just be making respirators, but would be making them in “Trump Time.” Everything in this government must relate back to the 'Dear Leader.' Every speaker must thank him for his leadership in this crisis, because every speaker is committing the sin of speaking instead of Donald Trump.

The Virus Chronicles (continued)

25 March 2020

New York is the hottest of hot zones in the country, but Virginia is warming up, especially in the urbanized area of northern Virginia near DC. Presumably Tidewater won't be far behind, since it has significant interchange with the Pentagon/Northern Virginia DoD complex. The first few COVID-19 cases have shown up in the fleet, but they are isolated.

A Few Observations

The President is not entirely wrong, but he doesn't understand why or how. It's related to the difference between the United States and China, or between any national dictatorship and a democratic republic based on federal principles. China was able to completely close off the affected area in the vicinity of Wuhan Province, and expand it as necessary. That permitted the reminder of the country to function. What made this possible was the absolute power of the Chinese Communist Party, and the relatively complaint nature of the population rooted in Chinese culture.

The political organization of the United States makes this nearly impossible. States are relatively sovereign entities. The federal government cannot quarantine a state, or a region (for example, NY City, the immediate northern counties, and Long Island). If it attempted to do so, it would have to declare martial law, and bring out troops. The population might boil up in rebellion. The likes of Fox News and Mark Levin would keep the current president from doing such a thing, yet that is how China dealt with their outbreak. They did not bring the entire country to its knees. Dictatorship has its advantages.

The President, as a narcissist, cannot stop himself from trying to answer every question from the press. He stands on the podium each night, acting as the countries's epidemiologist in chief and ringmaster. As reporters throw questions at him more appropriate for doctors, he flubs around, in no position to handle them. All he needs to do is pass the questions on to the doctors behind him on the stage, but he can't bear to not be the center of attention. So he accuses each reporter of fake news for throwing questions at him that he can't answer. It has been a pitiful scene.

The Virus Chronicles

18 March 2020, and beyond. . .

What is it like to be locked down? I don't know, but I seem to know all sorts of people who are. There was a picture of Times Square in the New York Times today, with a handful of people walking about. When, at any hour of the day, has that piece of pavement ever been so deserted? Two days ago NY City Mayor Bill de Blasio stated that his schools would not close, because if they did, his health care system would come crashing down. Yesterday he closed the schools until “at least” 30 April.

My son had been one of a handful of Googlers still working at his office in Mountain View, California until yesterday. Then his and the surrounding counties declared an emergency mandating that citizens shelter in place. Noah always gets his groceries delivered, but now he must carefully prioritize what he wants, including second and third choices, as well as second and third choice delivery times.

His car repair shop now insists on picking up your car. That's a mechanic's social distancing strategy.

Rose is very strict about what she wants me to do — she's made a study of plagues and flu pandemics. I did persuade my trapping partner Laurie not to look for an in town yoga studio. At seventy-two, she doesn't belong out in town in the era of the current plague.

There has been no hand sanitizer or bleach on store shelves for a week, and little if any toilet paper.

While at Walmart, a cashier told Rose that a customer tried to buy more than the limit of toilet tissue. When told she was over, she threw the tissue at the cashier. The country is changing fast.

Americans are soft. They want their stuff, and their fun, and somehow, someone else should render them safe. I expect there will be fist fights in a few weeks over the discipline of a near national quarantine.

Nearly every college is out, and will reconvene via distance learning for the remainder of the year. But students aren't going home to shelter; they are heading to Florida beaches. Last night cars stuffed full of college age kids were cruising our normally placid Syria. Presumably they were trying out their new found freedom on Shenandoah National Park. Some sheltering in place at home, eh?. These kids are the twerps of our future, waiting to vote for empty suits like Alexandria Ocasio Cortez who will promise them free stuff. Maybe she'll keep them safe.

Could this be an upheaval similar to that of World War II? Could the great result be China replacing the West on the world stage? She suffered first and appears to have learnt the proper lessons, unlike the US. Additionally, she has stolen much of our intellectual property, and we have transplanted much of our industrial infrastructure over there. The shop floor is staffed by Chinese, so they have picked our pocket, with our help.

The other important issue was the legitimacy of the Chinese Communist Party. Its star was fading as it botched the Hong Kong issue. There was no need to further control the semi autonomous city, but the Party couldn't help itself. The protestors were winning. Now no one remembers the protestors; the party is busy successfully saving the country, and it will come out of things having shown it is a doer, and it knows how to run the country and save the citizenry. If all goes according to plan, the Party will be able to absorb the protesters, having just shown its competence as never before.

Having brought the country back from the brink, the Party can restart the industrial plant while the near prostrate and highly indebted United States tries to crawl out of its virus induced ruin. Thanks to the worst US president in history, China can run its regimented and compliant working class while the United States attempts to rebuild its shattered economy that had begun life as a vibrant but hollowed out monetized service economy.

The United States has been going down hill for some time, but electing the the current fool may have finished us. Yesterday a legitimate reporter asked the President — “What do you say to Americans who are scared ?” The President's reply? “I say you are a terrible reporter.” As the Times reported, “The President has no tolerance for uncertainty.” He needs this thing to be over now. He will believe in any magic potion to get it done. The presidency was supposed to be the victory lap of his life. Instead, like much of the rest of his life, where he left bankruptcy and ruined contractors behind while he dined in gilded splendor, the country is sinking, sheltering in place, while it's reported that his supporters in Congress sold stocks at a profit based on secret briefings just before the danger of the coronavirus was made know to the public. Nothing is yet know of the Kushner family investments, but they always seem to get theirs.

Much as President Trump, and many others persist in thinking otherwise, the stock market is not the economy. The core of the market reflects production done outside the US by foreign workers who produce profits for a very small number of Americans. Given the President's great wealth, and the company he keeps, he and his apologists can be forgiven for not only not understanding this, but for insisting it is not correct.

When all is said and done, and the Coronavirus is finally conquered, it is likely that China will be the world's dominant power, with the only first class industrial plant in the world. We gave it to them. We may own it, but possession in nine-tenths of the law.

The United States will have saddled itself with trillions in debt, both from the pre virus profligacy and the post virus strategy of throwing hastily printed trillions at a population laid low. The US may have to have ceded to China all of her territorial claims. None of the other parties to those claims will likely have the power to dispute them. This means that China effectively owns the UN; there will no longer be juridical equality.

Weighed down by debt, the US will necessarily shrink its military, meaning that it will no longer be a counterweight to China in any theater. The extent of US commitments abroad will be made manifest as those commitments are withdrawn due to lack of US funds, just as once British commitments were withdrawn from League of Nations Mandates.

Europe will have shrunk to an entity that is little more than a small plantation owned by the Eurocrats. The Eurocrats never wanted a vibrant, united Europe; they just wanted power over their subjects. They will likely get it, though whether they will be able to tame the Middle Eastern refugees that will increasingly wash in is doubtful. Eventually they will toss out the Eurocrats. Fair is fair. Little if any of Europe's industries will be able to survive in the face of China's without the latter's forbearance, but the Eurocrats will have those failed industries to regulate anyway, which is all they and their partner labor unions are about.

These are all just possibilities, but very real ones. A periodic changing of the guard is inevitable. The enormous debt and hollowing out of the core in the face of the pandemic is as good a reason as any for it to happen now, just as an enormous debt, a hollowing out of the core, and a confrontation with Nazi Germany were the reason for the British Empire to leave the world stage in the thirties.

To see Donald Trump, the President of the United States, on the stage, contradicting some of the foremost epidemiologists in the world concerning Coronavirus treatment, is to realize that the country has sunk to the level of a third world power. We just happen to have a first world military protecting our crumbling infrastructure.

Sherlock

“A regular meeting of the Culpeper Amateur Radio Association was called to order,” I typed, then stopped, interrupted by a soft, black paw brushing my right leg, distracting me from typing the minutes for the monthly meeting of my ham radio club. Glancing down to see two deep green eyes looking up at me, I pushed my chair back a few inches from the desk, and Sherlock silently hopped onto my lap, purring like a well tuned Ferrari.

She walked back and forth, leg to leg, trying to get settled. Finally, she stopped. “Cross your legs, Gary. Your lap isn't big enough. I need to stretch out while I look at the screen.” Sherlock was like that. She needed to get her footing, then settle down. “Can't you see that I'm busy, Sherlock?” “I know, but I want to watch the screen, and I can't do it if I have to keep walking back and forth to keep my balance.” “OK, but I'm gonna have to uncross them in a little while. You know if Emily comes by she'll be jealous. You'll probably have to leave.” Sherlock was silent. Her sleek, black figure was stretched out on my lap, her eyes fixed on the computer screen, oblivious to my complaint. Occasionally she rubbed her head on my arm in affection as she purred away.

“Play the video. Please play the video.” She raised her head, and began rubbing it on my hand while I tried to type. “The one with the squirrel. Please.” Yes, this cat talks to me, but only when we're alone together. “Sherlock, if I do that, I won't be able to finish these minutes.” “But Gary, you have two screens. Please play the video.”

I opened a new browser window, selected the cat video bookmark, and waited. We both sat through the youTube commercial before the video began. On the screen a squirrel began dashing to a stump to grab a nut, then dashing off the screen in a squirrly manner.

“Please put it on the other screen, Gary.” “But Sherlock, I need to type my document on that screen. It's the one in front of my face.” “Pleeaase?” Grasping the window with my work in it, I pulled it all the way over to the left monitor, and slid the window with the video to the screen directly in front of my face. A black paw snaked over the keyboard to touch the squirrel as it continued to moved around the screen. “Sherlock, I can't work if your leg is covering the keyboard.” There was silence as she continued to rub her paw over the monitor.

Several minutes of quality video time passed in silence. Miss Emily, The Mighty Huntress, tip toed up to my leg. Seeing the black form on my lap, she put her front paws on my thigh, and look into my eyes. I scratched her behind the neck for a moment, but she hopped back down on the rug. Then she hopped back up, that look in her eyes. I uncrossed my legs. “Sorry Sherlock, Miss Emily wants to go out.” “Oh Gary. You'd do anything for her. But for me...” There was a mildly offended tone in her soft, feline voice as she hopped off my lap, raised her tail, and padded away.

The Graduation

Spring wasn't coming easy to the Navy in Newport. Mid April might be officially spring, but the wind off Narragansett Bay is unkind. We of the fourth class of 1975 at the Officer Candidate School did our best to shield ourselves from it as we marched to class each day. This was a low point for a Navy that had been shrinking since 1973, and now had to endure frequent news coverage of the fact that it was so short of sailors that its ships sometimes couldn't get underway. We were to be the bow wave of the new Navy that would fix that.

Along with our three officer candidate classes were three international classes — Iranians, Saudis, and Cambodians. Each of the international classes were kept segregated, for language, cultural, and training requirement reasons. The Saudis and Iranians all drove sports cars when they were permitted off the base. The Cambodians walked or took the bus if they left at all.

Richard Nixon, the President who had “vietnamized” the war that had divided our country for so long, had resigned the previous summer. Our new president, Gerald Ford, had inherited a Far East that his predecessors had set afire, and that he had no desire to be involved with. Each day we saw the Cambodians march down from their own special floor in King Hall, our massive dorm, eyes straight ahead, and go off to study the naval arts that would be of use back in their besieged land.

Saigon and Phnom Penh fell in the same month. My soon to be wife had a Vietnamese room mate. I heard all about what was happening in that country as her room mate tried to get her family out. The fall of Cambodia, on the other hand, passed almost without notice; we were getting ready for commissioning, our final orders, and travel to our ships. But in spite of the fall of Cambodia, the Cambodian officers continued to train, marching to classes with straight faces, never smiling, just as they had never smiled when they had had a country.

One day our company commander mustered us after lunch. The Cambodians were graduating that afternoon. They had no one to come to their ceremony — their country had fallen to the Communists less than a month ago. They had no family in the US, and we would be their appreciative audience.

At 1400 sharp we were in our seats, turned out in our service dress blue uniforms. The Northeast Navy Band played Anchors Aweigh, and two dozen very short naval Officers of a non existent country marched solemnly in, eyes straight ahead. When they were at their seats we all stood; the band played the national anthem of their former country. Then Captain Howard N. Kaye, Commander of the Training Center, and an inspirational officer, gave a short speech that somehow managed to congratulate the young Cambodian officers for having completed the course without referring to the fact that they had no country to return to. Captain Kaye then presented each officer with his diploma, flawlessly pronouncing each name as if he'd spoken Khmer all his life.

Then the Cambodians marched out, eyes straight ahead, to the sounds of what I assume was a well known Khmer naval tune, and we were all dismissed. When the band stopped, there was silence in the gym. No one said a word. The men without a country had gone off to their new life.

This is Chapter Two of My Novel: A Little Navy Spy Work

[Scroll Down for Chapter One, where Genady Navolska, a Soviet illegal, receives his first delivery of stolen crypto from U.S. Navy LT (jg) Howard Simeneau, who believes he is working in the cause of peace by betraying his country]

The drive to his next stop was about two hours. The material Howard had given him was time sensitive, and it needed to begin its journey back to The Center as soon as possible. Also, the longer it remained in his possession, the greater his personal danger. Once he was on the road he took out a Camel, cracked the driver's side window, and lit the cigarette. American cigarettes were good, and inexpensive. Genady especially liked Camels, but one of his conceits was that he hated smoke in the car. He never smoked when he worked, so it was a relief to get on the road.

He took the first Newport News exit and found a legal on street parking spot near the Trailways bus depot. He opened the car door, disposed of his cigarette on the street, and entered the depot, where he stashed the pack in a locker. 

Genady returned to his car and drove to a pay phone. As the coins clanged down the slot, he casually confirmed that he was not being observed. It was a lazy Sunday evening, and there was no one about in that part of town. It would have been obvious if someone had been following him unless it was a remarkable job. A French accent answered at the other end. "Allo?" "Good evening my friend, this is Allie. Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow morning? I have a present for you." "Of course. Would seven be convenient?" "Yes. I will be there. See you then." The Frenchman hung up without saying goodbye.

He drove home through the the rapidly fading twilight. As he pulled into the driveway he told himself that it had been a good day. Things were coming together. He could have pulled into the garage - just barely. He always had some project going on in there, but he needed to keep room for the car, in case he needed to do some private project on the car itself. He left the car outside. It was dark by now. The  Gibbous Moon had risen in the south east, casting a comforting glow on the modest neighborhood. The house would have been small for an American family, just two bedrooms, a living room, a tiny study or den, an eat-in kitchen, one and a half bathrooms. Definitely a leftover from an earlier time. One bedroom and bath were on an abbreviated second floor. For the average Soviet family it would have been a palace, and he had it all to himself, a fact that made him feel occasionally guilty. It wasn't a beach front house, but it was close enough to the beach that there wasn't really the lawn that Americans prized. The property surrounding the house, as with all the others in the neighborhood, was sandy, with some scrub trees scattered about that could tolerate the unwelcoming soil.

He thought of celebrating his first successful delivery from Howard with a shot or two of aquavit, but decided to put it off. As long as he was in the west he was working, and the danger was there. It was best to run sober and alert.