Trump’s War Against the Media

Trump knows that his real enemy is the media—less so the weak Democratic Party.  We should not underrate his intelligence in this respect. In other words, his war is against fact and truth.  If he wins the war (he needs only to win his constituency, a minority in the country and a majority in the swing states), his administration is secure.

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Among Women

Growing up I used to have a dream…not of being President, or rich, or famous.  The dream I had was sinister.  Its props were a slide and stairs and landings.  In the dream I would take the stairs to the slide then ride down the slide and at the bottom step off onto a landing only to find another slide.  I would sit down on it and continue into the depths, ever deeper…

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My Meeting

“Why is there evil in the world?” the Zen Master was asked, and answered, “To thicken the plot.”

In Santa Monica I attended a Sunday evening Al Anon meeting.  Al Anon is one of a spectrum of meetings based on the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and it’s specifically directed to those of us who are involved with either recovering or practicing alcoholics or addicts.  One may be involved by family, marriage, friendship, work or other circumstance, but the involvement is what qualifies each of us for the meeting and brings us to it.  It’s what we talk about, in a variety of ways as great as our numbers.

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Putin and Fellow Travelers

In a previous article here, I took on what I called “Trumpism on the Left” with a focus on Stephen Cohen’s defense of the Trump-Putin bromance in The Nation magazine.  A friend of mine suggested that the title of the article should have been “The Strange Case of Stephen Cohen,” implying perhaps that “Trumpism on the Left” was an unjustified generalization from a single example.  Cohen, as I noted fleetingly, is not alone in his affinity for Putin and by extension Trump.  What my piece lacked was the context of other advocates of the two leaders, which I try to provide in what follows.

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Cowgirl, Cowboy

ooh ooh ooh weep padoo,
ooh ooh ooh wooop padoo
ooh ooh, ooh
ooh ooh ooh weep padoo
singing their cowboy song

Cowboy couldn’t believe Emmy Lou sang that song. He’d thought it was a throw-away – though he’d found it infectious beginning age six – from a cowboy compilation record with a wild west lasso cover, and lyrics remembered as the kid heard it: not “cattle call,” but “cowboy song,” and maybe he heard it right.

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