If You Investigate Anyone Long Enough, You Will Find a Crime

For a long time, I’ve been critical of the non-thinking extremists who have been calling for Trump’s impeachment, but it’s starting to look like they might finally have a hook to hang their hopes on.

One of the unfortunate characteristics of the impeachment enthusiasts is their lack of familiarity with the law and the concept of due process. They seem to think you can impeach a president simply because you don’t like him or because he does things you disagree with. Of course, this is not the way it works.

The Constitution says, “The President, Vice President and all civil Officers of the United States, shall be removed from Office on Impeachment for, and Conviction of, Treason, Bribery, or other high Crimes and Misdemeanors.” Leftists need to be aware that this list does not include things like getting a draft deferment for bone spurs, banning travel to the US from Muslim countries, being rich, enforcing immigration laws, marrying models, or calling backward African countries mean names. You have to do something illegal in order to get in trouble. For example, Bill Clinton committed perjury.

It’s also important to point out that impeachment is not removal from office. If it were, Clinton would have been forced out. Impeachment is like being indicted. The House impeaches and refers the matter to the Senate, and the Senate functions as a court and holds a trial.

A lot of people who know virtually nothing about the law think Trump should be impeached based on “collusion” with Russia prior to the election. That’s wrong. Collusion is not a crime. If Trump had wanted, he could have made a promise to collude one of his campaign planks, and no one could have done anything about it.

Robert Mueller is investigating collusion; that’s true. But that’s not because collusion itself is illegal. It’s because it’s a public policy concern. We don’t want the Russians or anyone else deciding who wins our elections, even if they do it legally. We were okay with it when Obama put up websites that allowed the Chinese to contribute to his campaign without security checks, but now, somehow, we care.

Several people have been indicted, but none of them have been indicted for collusion per se. They have been indicted for illegal acts which are not collusion.

Some of those acts were not even committed until Mueller applied skillful pressure.

Mueller can’t prosecute anyone for collusion, so it’s a little weird that he was appointed in the first place. Why appoint someone to investigate something which is not a crime? I don’t know the answer. One would expect Congress to take up such matters, just like they get involved in things like protecting kids from music albums with dirty lyrics.

Here’s something else that’s weird: we don’t have a complete description of the things Mueller is allowed to investigate. Why is that? The secrecy is disturbing. Isn’t this the kind of thing the Bill of Rights was supposed to prevent? It reminds me of The Count of Montecristo.

We have some snippets from Rod Rosenstein, indicating that Mueller is allowed to see if Paul Manafort “committed crimes by colluding with Russian government officials with respect to the Russian government’s efforts to interfere with the 2016 election.” That makes it seem like there is a crime called “collusion,” but there isn’t. The wording is unfortunate. It should say, “committed crimes while colluding.” As far as I know, you can collude all you want, but if you commit crimes while you’re at it, you have a problem.

Rosenstein may have the mistaken belief that collusion is a crime. Let’s assume he thinks it is. The fact that he mentioned it in a memo to Mueller doesn’t mean anything at all. Rod Rosenstein doesn’t write our laws. He may have made a huge blunder.

Collusion could involve things like bribes, fraud, illegal contributions, and so on. On the other hand, it appears it can be done without committing any crimes at all. Banning collusion itself would probably be unconstitutional, based on all sorts of issues, including the right to free expression and the right to free association. It would also be awfully hard to define collusion well enough to put it in a written statute.

If I were wrong about this, surely someone would have pointed to an applicable law by now. The left is jam-packed with people who desperately want collusion to be a crime, and many of them are attorneys, but if anyone has come up with such a law, it has not made the news.

I’m no expert, and I have done no research, but I do have a little common sense, and besides, Alan Dershowitz agrees with me. He’s a pretty sharp guy, and I have considerable faith in him.

No one has been indicted for “collusion.” All the people who have gone down have been indicted for other things Mueller discovered while he was supposedly investigating collusion.

That’s where Trump’s problem comes in.

Former Trump lawyer Michael Cohen got himself indicted for a number of things. None could be considered collusion. Mueller had some issue with Cohen, which has not been revealed, and somehow the FBI was able to turn it into a warrant of astounding reach. Generally, law enforcement can’t grab all your files and then go through them to see if there’s anything incriminating. The Constitution calls that “unreasonable search and seizure.” They have to come up with evidence that you may have something juicy, and they have to limit the scope of their warrants. This is especially true when they go after a lawyer’s files, because lawyers and clients are entitled to confidentiality. In Michael Cohen’s case, they were able to barge in and take everything he had.

The feds have Cohen hanging by a hook in his nose, and Cohen knows just about everything about Trump’s dumbest move.

Trump apparently slept with Stormy Daniels, an aging porn star, and he directed Cohen to pay her to go away. The feds say this is a violation of federal campaign law, because it constitutes a contribution.

It’s a little odd. If Trump paid the money, the payment was legal, because you can spend whatever you want on your own campaign. If Cohen footed the bill, it’s a felony, but Cohen, not Trump, is the criminal. We are now being told that Cohen paid and Trump reimbursed him secretly. That brings up a question: is it legal to contribute to your own campaign through a straw man? I have no idea.

What if Trump expected Cohen to absorb the loss? Is there such a thing as “conspiracy to make an illegal campaign contribution”? Maybe that would be a crime. Still, Trump was relying on a licensed attorney’s advice. Is making a bad decision based on bad legal advice, and then committing a highly technical violation of obscure laws, something that would ground a felony conviction?

Dinesh D’Souza went to prison for straw man contributions, but he was contributing to another person’s campaign, and his scheme was his own idea. He didn’t have a leg to stand on. Trump spent money on his own campaign, which is legal, and he did it on the advice of an attorney. Can he get indicted for telling Cohen to pay, when he secretly intended to reimburse him? Is this something election law expressly prohibits? Does it fall under the general scope of catch-all laws againt fraud? If so, impeachment may be on the table after all.

Trump arrived on the scene as an amateur politician. When his campaign started blowing up, he had no idea what he was doing. He was probably amazed to see himself succeeding, and he had to rush around to find a team to guide him. In all likelihood, he knew very little about campaign laws when he paid Daniels off. He probably thought it was completely legal. Obviously, he did not consult a qualified attorney. Cohen is a fixer; he went to the country’s worst law school, and he is probably not an expert on anything. Election law is a specialty, and Cohen is not someone you can rely on to help you avoid violations.

Dershowitz (a Democrat) actually does research, and he thinks Trump has not committed any crimes. He knows much more than I do, so maybe I should just listen to him and leave it at that. Still, I have not seen anyone discussing the issues I’m bringing up, and they seem very obvious to me.

If I were on the impeachment bandwagon, I would be trying to find ways to go after Trump for fraud or conspiracy. If I were Mueller, I would be exploiting this angle. If I were a New York state prosecutor in Manhattan, I would be waiting for Mueller or other federal prosecutors to come up with something, and then I would see if I could do anything under state law (because if I were a New York state prosecutor, I would almost certainly be a leftist).

Let’s see. What would I ask?

1. Was the payment to Daniels a campaign contribution? If not, everyone goes home. If so, on to question 2.

2. Did Trump direct Cohen to make the payment? If not, Trump goes home, and maybe Cohen goes to prison. End of story. If so, on to question 3.

3. If Trump directed the payment, did he say up front that he would reimburse Cohen? If so, things look pretty good for Trump, and maybe Cohen has an out because he didn’t actually make a contribution, but we still have to ask question 4.

4. Is it illegal to make a clandestine contribution to your own campaign, using a straw man? If so, trouble for Trump and Cohen. Now comes question 5.

5. If it’s illegal to make a clandestine contribution to your own campaign, using a straw man, can you be held accountable, as an ignorant layman, when you do it on the advice of your inept attorney? If not, Trump goes home, and Cohen faces the bar association and the feds. If yes, Trump has a problem, and impeachment may happen, if Democrats decide that alienating 50% of the country and focusing America’s attention on Trump and not their own message are good ideas.

6. If Trump is impeached, will he leave office? No. Don’t be stupid. He doesn’t care at all. It’s barely conceivable that he might step down under immense pressure, in order to allow a more viable candidate to run in 2020, but that doesn’t sound like Trump. Impeachment might make him more viable, because angry Republicans would make an unprecedented effort to get to the polls to teach Mueller and the Democrats another lesson.

7. If he doesn’t leave office, will be be convicted in the Senate and forced to quit? No. The GOP controls the Senate.

Whatever the law and facts turn out to be, it doesn’t seem likely that Trump will be impeached. It’s a bad political move for the left. I think they’re stuck with him until at least January of 2021, no matter what.

It’s interesting to see the disastrous effect the ill-advised special counsel appointment has had. At the start, you would have thought Mueller would look for evidence of illegal tactics used in collusion, and that would have been the end of it. Far from it. Mueller has turned his mandate into an excuse to attack every close Trump associate with regard to every misdeed they have committed in their entire lives. I didn’t see that coming. It didn’t happen in Watergate or the Ken Starr investigation. Think of the people Ken Starr could have put away, had he been as ruthless as Mueller.

When Mueller was appointed, Trump associates who had nothing to do with Russia must have felt safe. They didn’t realize he was going to do his best to get them prosecuted for everything they had ever done.

Imagine being a Trump associate who did wrong in the past and then cleaned up his act before getting caught. Think how you would feel. At first, you would feel wonderful about cleaning up your life, and you’d be looking forward to a life of atonement and safety, Then after Mueller started taking people down for things completely unrelated to Russia, you would realize your neck was on the chopping block after all, simply because you decided to work with Trump.

The Mueller investigation is a dream come true for deep state Democrats who work for the feds. They have carte blanche to investigate people they hate, in just about every area of their lives, and they’re doing it. They’ll get some people indicted, and they’ll ruin the rest financially, because they have to pay lawyers.

Think how discouraging this will be to other conservatives who may want to work for GOP candidates. If you’re a big wheel, by the time you hit 45, you will probably have done something a prosecutor can work with. At the very least, you will have done something a deep stater can use as justification for investigating you and making you sink your entire net worth into attorney fees. There go your kids’ college funds.

When they can’t find old crimes, the investigators can create new ones. They put people in front of microphones and ask them hard questions requiring supernatural recall, and when they make mistakes, perjury charges become a threat. Once that happens, the feds make the terrified witnesses sing for their freedom. It’s a very nasty business.

The Mueller appointment was a stupid move. Congress could have handled this just fine, and they should have. After all, they’re the ones who make the laws. If reform is required, Mueller and the FBI are powerless to implement it. It requires legislation. Collusion is not a crime. If we need laws to limit it, Congress, not the FBI, will have to make them.

Wouldn’t it have been something if Ken Starr had acted this way? Federal prisons would have had to stay open late to process Clinton cronies. Whitewater, Hillary’s illegal enemies list, the corrupt use of Arkansas state troopers to procure women for Bill…the prosecutions would have gone on for years.

I hope we’re not seeing a pattern for future special counsels, but I guess we are. They will all want to measure up to Bob the Terrible.

Planning to run for office some day? I admire your guts. Maybe you should just stay in the private sector.

Glimpse of Freedom for Me

Today I passed a milestone. I took my dad to visit an assisted living facility.

People in my shoes refer to assisted living facilities as “ALF’s,” so I will do the same.

Back in September, I checked out a few places because I knew my dad’s condition was going to force him out of the house before long. I went to several places in the Ocala area, and I also visited one farther south. I learned a lot. None of the places I visited were bedlam-style asylums, but I saw that the system was tiered. The bottom tier is somewhat grubby. The top tier is made up of resorts that would be fine places for able people to visit, were the old people to be cleared away.

I thought my best bet was the top tier. The nicest place I visited was beautiful. It has very high ceilings, lots of windows, and an abundance of new paint and tile. It seemed to be run well. I felt that a person of my dad’s means, accomplishments, and social standing might be best served by an institution of this grade.

ALF’s are divided into sections for advanced dementia patients and individuals who are merely old and in need of some help. The main sections are a lot like retirement communities, except there is more of a communal atmosphere. They have common rooms for things like TV, reading, and puzzles, and they have dining halls. The memory care areas are less like apartment buildings and more like hospitals. If my experience is any indication, they are more likely to smell.

The worst place I visited was the memory care section of a lower-tier facility. The inhabitants were in a bad way. The attendants were busier than they were in the main area, because they had to watch the patients constantly. It was more closed off than the main area, because the patients had to be confined for their own good. My dad doesn’t need that level of care yet, thank God.

I called around this week, and I decided to take another look at the second-nicest ALF, which is close by. It’s not as new or fancy as the ritzy place down south, but the people are very nice, and it’s easy to get to if I want to take him to lunch or a doctor’s appointment.

It’s better than I remembered. The dining room, in particular, made a good impression. It looks like a restaurant. They have nice furniture, tablecloths, and waiters. When mealtimes roll around, he can plop down and boss people around, ordering whatever he wants as long as it’s on the menu. I wouldn’t mind eating there myself. It would be more convenient than doing dishes.

The rooms are nice. They’re just like hotel rooms. He would have a fridge and a giant TV. One nice thing about it is that they don’t have DirecTV, which is what he has now. Don’t listen to Rob Lowe. DirecTV is a nightmare. It’s torture even for a person of sound mind. The system is maddeningly slow, most of the channels are pay-per-view or shopping channels, the receivers have to be cycled over and over because they quit, and the picture disappears when it rains hard. The ALF has a normal cable system with 80 channels.

I can’t tell you how many times my dad has bellowed for immediate help with DirecTV. We had two sessions today, and one lasted about 15 minutes.

The more I think about it, the more I think it will work. The nicer place is nicer, but the half-hour drive would be a nuisance. If he goes to the ALF we visited today, it will be no trouble at all to visit him or take him out to do things. That’s a huge plus, because his main gripe is the he won’t see me as much. He doesn’t say it, but I know.

I can understand why he’s upset. If I had a son who jumped up and catered to my unreasonable whims seven days a week, day and night, I would want him around, too. I hope there is more to it than that, but in any case, I am a gigantic convenience to him.

I don’t care if he’s here nearly every day, as long as I can take him back in the afternoons. The ability to dump him and go home and clean up and sleep, all by itself, is worth the cost of the ALF. Until today, I had been thinking of ALF’s as places where people become separated from relatives and go on to live separate lives, but I have realized that it doesn’t have to work that way. You can use an ALF as a place to deposit a parent most of the time, to preserve your sanity, while taking him out regularly to keep him from feeling abandoned.

I don’t know how hard it is to put up with a routine of checking a parent out and taking him back. Maybe it’s too stressful for them. I hope not. You don’t want to jam someone into a home and then wait at a distance while he dries up and dies.

The cost is not that bad. Somewhere in the thirties. Obviously, we have to spend whatever is appropriate, but money is money, and getting good value for what you spend is always a blessing. The general rule in life is that one does not want to spend more than one takes in, and if one can observe that rule even in retirement, without cutting corners, it’s a great thing.

He is still unhappy about the ALF plan, but as of the moment, he is willing to do it. He has to do it, so he needs to adjust. Things are going to get worse and worse. It’s not like his doctor is going to give him a pill next year, cure his dementia, and turn him into Brad Pitt. He is going to have to have an ALF. Before long, he’ll have to move to the memory care section of an ALF. I don’t really know what comes after that. Maybe it’s the last stop. Anyway, he keeps saying he doesn’t like it, but often you have to shut up about what you like and choose from what’s available. When he was drafted, he didn’t get to stay home because he didn’t like it. You make tough choices, or someone makes them for you.

I’ll send him for a short stay when I travel this month, and we’ll see what he thinks. If he likes it, we can sign him up, and then we’ll be all set. Afterward, I’ll spend several days dancing in the front yard. The house will be clean. I’ll be able to have a coherent thought once in a while. I’ll still be able to see my dad, but I’ll be able to send him back to his comfy room (which someone else cleans up) before the sun gets low in the sky.

I won’t have to do 10 extra loads of laundry every week. I’ll be able to use the refigerator in the kitchen instead of the special, clean, locked fridge in the laundry room. I’ll be able to sit in the living room instead of hiding upstairs. The inside of the car won’t have to be cleaned with bleach and disinfectant wipes all the time. I won’t have to sit in the upstairs room cringing as I listen to the sound of him blowing his nose over and over on the living room floor. I may not be able to stand the freedom.

I could conceivably have a guest. I could get on a plane and visit someone. I remember doing things like that.

My dad likes to nag me about marriage. The other day I told him no woman would move into this house with me with things as they were. He said she could take over cleaning up after him. He really said that.

Truthfully, I am not interested in romance with women in my age group. I feel like I missed the marriage boat. I’ve seen my dad surrounded with the paraphernalia of old age and decrepitude, and I am not eager to start a marriage with a woman who already has the starter kit. It’s one thing to marry a young woman and get old with her. It’s another thing to start out with a first wife who reminds you of the time your grandmother forgot to close the door while she was getting dressed for church. With sex and reproduction off the table, I’d be better off splitting a house with a close male friend. We would have the same tastes in everything, and each of us would have someone close by in case he had a heart attack or a stroke.

When you live with another man, you never get the silent treatment because you used the special decorative soap or said you didn’t want to go to the cat show. You don’t have to ask if it’s okay to spend $1500 on a third rifle in the same caliber. You don’t have to tell people they don’t look fat when they are clearly obese. Another man will never say nice things to you and then stare at you, waiting for you to say the same things back even though you don’t mean them.

Another nice thing about men is that they forgive, for real. We are too lazy to carry grudges. I would say maybe 20% of women are able to forgive.

Men who live together don’t have to recycle or eat salad. Cans, bottles, newspapers, batteries, motor oil…it all goes in the kitchen trash, and you never have to eat arugula.

I think men and women look at marriage very differently. A woman can be very happy with a man who is completely unattractive, as long as he gives her financial security and a face to talk to. Men are not wired for that kind of relationship. Women, to be honest, are a pain to put up with as live-in companions. You have to have something beyond friendship to make it work. Romance helps you forget the sacrifices and annoyances. It can even make the irritations seem charming.

Women are harder to get along with than men, and that’s why they can’t stand each other. Men would feel the same way about women, but for romance.

I can write these things because I’m not married. If I had a wife, I’d have to sleep in a hotel tonight. Even though I’m right.

To get back to the point, I feel that my dad was mistaken to hope that a woman would marry me and then cheerfully assume all responsibility for his messes. I don’t think that kind of assumption has been reasonable since about 1750.

If things work out, I may have something resembling a life by the end of January. It may be a permanently celibate life in a house with no pictures on the walls and no special decorative soaps, but I expect to enjoy it all the same.

Neil DeGross Tyson?

I guess everyone on earth will eventually be accused in the #MeToo frenzy, and then, having run out of scapegoats, we will have to start accusing each other’s pets.

Neil DeGrasse Tyson is currently in the grip of the feminist thumbscrews. The accusations don’t look all that exciting.

The first one came in October of last year. A woman who used to know Tyson claimed she was drugged and raped.

The alleged victim bills herself as a “renowned musician, healer, and teacher.” As soon as you read that, the bells start to go off. It’s not the kind of thing stable people tend to put on resumes. If you are renowned, you don’t have to tell people. That’s what “renowned” means. If you’re a real musician, you will generally identify yourself with an instrument instead of making a vague claim that looks like puffery. If you’re a doctor, you will say so. “Healer” sounds like someone who hangs around health food stores and has a collection of magic crystals. If you’re really a musician and healer, can you possibly have time to be a teacher? Maybe. If you’re a substitute teacher.

People who have actual careers can usually come up with unambiguous titles for themselves. Someone I went to law school with put up a self-worship website that listed his qualifications something like this: “attorney, warrior, scholar, poet, humanitarian, activist, inventor of the doorknob, Navy SEAL, 93rd-degree black belt in all known martial arts, astral projectionist, minor deity, leaper of tall buildings in a single bound, and close personal friend of the Pompatus of Love.” In reality, he was a failed attorney on his way to an endless suspension based on a complete refusal to do any work or respond to bar inquiries. He has been on suspension for around eight years, which is maybe seven years and nine months longer than they usually last.

The accuser has a music page on Amazon. I looked up one of her CD’s, and it has 4 reviews. Enough said. I can’t find anything online identifying her as a working teacher.

She says he gave her something to drink, and that all she remembers is finding herself back at work the next day. Look at this:

The ONLY way you could EVER be with a Black Goddess, a true Celestial Being, not just one that talks about them, would be by DRUGGING HER, THEN DRAGGING HER TO YOUR BEDROOM, WHILE FULLY UNCONSCIOUS, TAKING OFF HER CLOTHES, AND THEN, WHO KNOWS WHAT WITH HER, OR FOR HOW LONG, WHEN SHE AWAKENS, UNABLE TO MOVE, YOU CONTINUE YOUR DEMONIC ACTS.

Okay.

He gave her something to drink. She indicates she doesn’t know what happened after that. Somewhere else, she said she woke up naked with Tyson on top of her.

She says she doesn’t know how she got home, and she doesn’t recall waking up. She just remembers enough to get Tyson in trouble.

So you’re unconscious because you’re on some substance or other, you come to briefly, and then you pass out again. Then you tell your story and think people will find it so credible they’re willing to go along with the destruction of a man’s career and marriage. I dunno. If you had a good story, and you were willing to go public, why didn’t you call the police and have evidence taken?

How do you know you didn’t get drunk deliberately, black out, and then imagine the battery? Grad students have been known to drink and take drugs.

I feel like a person who is willing to make a rape accusation has a responsibility to preserve whatever evidence she has. “Believe the woman” is a fun slogan for non-thinking individuals to toss around in order to get social media likes, but in reality, life can never work like that. Our legal system runs on evidence, and it has to be that way. The alternative is deliberate systematic injustice on a nationwide scale.

Here is something she wrote about herself, for her website:

Tchiya is a “Keeper of the Dream”. The healing energy of her life is illuminating her music. Her natural singing voice & lyrics embody the spirit of beauty and variety as well as metamorphosis of rebirth, love & hope. The lion is her ally. Tchiya embraces the lion and learns to balance power, intention and strength with the feline grace and majesty. Her heartfelt change is transformational, leading the way to rebirth and clarity – that we are all related to one another.

Wow. I think she got a hearty dose of the liberal education complex’s self-esteem Kool-Aid.

I’ve seen this a lot. Educators tell minority kids they’re brilliant and handsome and as talented as Mozart, regardless of what the truth is, and the kids start to believe and repeat it. It makes adjustment hard when real life hits them in the face and tells them they need to think about managing Taco Bells or becoming x-ray technicians.

Hey, maybe he’s guilty. I don’t know. But this is not the kind of evidence that convicts people. My best guess is that this woman is seriously mentally ill. Whatever the truth is, her accusation is worthless, so it shouldn’t count against Tyson.

As a Christian, I suspect this lady is a witch, so she may have all sorts of problems. She is into astrology and mysticism.

What about the second accuser?

Her name is Katelyn Allers. She has a large tattoo that wraps around her upper body. She says she showed it to Tyson. While he was looking at it, he lifted part of her dress off her skin to expose more of it. There are photos, and she is smiling.

This is pretty weak. She consented to his exam, and she cooperated physically. She says it was not assault (“battery” is the correct word, but still). If it’s not battery, why are we hearing about it?

This may seem rude, but it’s pertinent: in the photos, she is a very unattractive woman. Very. Yes, women who aren’t beauty queens are often victims of sexual mistreatment, but lustful men at social gatherings are not all that likely to lose control and grope women who are not appealing. It brings no pleasure and serves no purpose. The most plausible interpretation of the story is that Tyson actually wanted to see the tattoo, and that Ms. Allers fell under the spell of #MeToo and raised a stink. If we were talking about Scarlett Johansson, and she were frowning in the photos or punching Tyson in the face, there would be a story here, but as it is, I find the allegations (or Allersgations) incredible.

The third accuser is the first one to come up with anything disturbing, unless accusing someone without solid evidence is disturbing. She says she was Tyson’s assistant. She says he invited her to his home at 10:30 p.m. to drink wine and unwind.

Okay; this is not proper employer conduct. Granted.

She says he took off his shirt and lounged around in a sleeveless T-shirt (sorry about the mental image), playing sex-based music on his stereo and replaying the dirty parts. She claims he said something about needing “release” and not wanting to hug her because it would leave him wanting more.

Not good. He’s married, for one thing. Also, an employee shouldn’t have to be concerned about gross, inept overtures from a superior. Still, she could have said “no” and left at any time, and for all we know, things would have been fine. This is not Weinstein or Spacey territory. It may not even rise to the level of harassment. It’s a bad idea to try to commit adultery with a subordinate, but it’s not necessarily grounds for a lawsuit, and it’s not even close to criminal.

Do I even have to say it’s a little weird to see leftists getting upset over attempted adultery? Aren’t they in favor of all types of fornication? Here’s a quick question: does anyone remember who was president in the 1990’s? Has anyone heard the name “Lewinsky”?

The fourth accuser should never have made it into the press. Essentially, she says Tyson was drunk and propositioned her. She was at a party with her boyfriend, and Tyson tried to get her to go to his office for what he said, or she presumed, was sex. This is not sexual misconduct. It’s a very normal effort to get consensual sex.

Ever hit on a coworker at a Christmas party? Congratulations. Now you’re a sex offender.

Here’s what I think, as a former sort-of physicist: Tyson is not a hit with the ladies. This is normal for physicists. When I was a grad student at U.T. Austin, one of the other guys said that when the told girls he was a physicist, they took off so fast they left skid marks. Tyson has probably had many awkward interactions with women during his life, because that’s typical for members of his occupation.

Physicists tend to be socially incompetent. Maybe Tyson simply isn’t able to discern and deal with boundaries like most successful men. When he goes overboard, he may simply be trying too hard to imitate alpha males he has observed.

It’s 2018, and he wears Jheri curls. Cut him a little slack. He may be a bit lecherous, and maybe he needs a lecture about fidelity, but he’s not Bill Cosby. Not unless the lady who says the lion is her ally is actually telling the truth.

I am not a Tyson fan. He seems supercilious and contemptuous to me, particularly with conservatives and Christians. I’m not the kind of person who would defend him reflexively. But #MeToo is a movement with no safety catch, and when people are targeted, others should stand up for their right to a defense, and they should also be willing to point out weaknesses in the accusations.

Now watch him turn out to be a serial rapist. I may be totally wrong about him. I’m just looking at the material we have in front of us right now. Based on that, I think he ought to be encouraged to act his age, and that should be the end of it.

Also, maybe he should be a little slower to get self-righteous with Donald Trump, whom he threatened to grab by the crotch because of his amorous proclivities. A sleeveless T, Luther van Dross, a single woman, and a married professor don’t add up to moral authority.

Here is Your Reward for Serving Your Country

As much as I admire people who serve in the military, sometimes I wonder what they were thinking when they signed up.

Lots of us want to defend our country. Lots of us are willing to make sacrifices. What would drive me crazy, however, would be dealing with the bureaucracy, the waiting, and the foul-ups. It’s unbelievable.

Military people are slaves. They don’t call themselves that, but it’s true. If you have a job you can’t leave, in which your superior can command you to perform a task which probably includes being killed, you are a slave. Military people are always at the mercy of the people who run their services. When those people screw up, which happens all the time, there isn’t a whole lot our servicemen can do. They have to put up with it and suffer.

My dad was a soldier in the Korean War. He got very lucky and avoided combat. His platoon or whatever was on the way to Korea, and he was called aside to play in a band. Nonetheless, he’s a veteran, and he is entitled to stuff from the government. Now that he’s demented, I need to find out what they will give him.

In order to get this information, I have to sign my dad up for the VA website. In order to do that, I have to have his service record. In order to get that, I have to sign up for a site called Milconnect.

Signing up for Milconnect is basically impossible unless you served recently. My dad served quite a while ago, and the DoD, in its wisdom, decided not to put his records in their online system. Because, you know, who seriously expects Korean War veterans to need benefits? That could never happen.

I tried to sign up at the VA site. They sent me to the Milconnect site, which gave me an error. That sent me to a site called Iris something or other. That site told me to call a number. I called that number. The rude lady who answered told me 1) she could not do anything to help, 2) I should call the people at DEERS (the organization that handles the online records, I think), and 3) she had no supervisor I could talk to.

Evidently, she is the President of the United States. She answers to no one.

Of course, she was lying.

I called DEERS. They assured me the people at the first number could help. I called the first number again. I went around and around, back and forth. I spent 45 minutes on hold. Finally, someone connected me to a woman who had the answer.

Everything was fine then, right? No, because the last lady kept telling me she couldn’t help me. I kept asking new questions and rephrasing things, because I knew how the bureaucrat mind works. You can’t tell them what you need and expect them to figure out what to do. You have to ask THE EXACT QUESTION THEY ARE PROGRAMMED TO RESPOND TO. Until you guess that question, they squirm to get free, because getting free is their only real goal. I felt like I was wrestling with Proteus (look it up). Finally, she sent me to a website that allowed me to request my dad’s records. By FAX.

I am not kidding. I guess no one who works with the government will be surprised. The government, in 2018, insists on using fax machines. This technology went bust in what? Maybe 2010?

I have a fax, but why would I connect it to a phone line in 2017, when I moved to this house? The land line barely works, and NO ONE FAXES ANY MORE.

The website was amazing. They had nice forms I filled out online, and then instead of processing the forms online, the way every other organization on earth (outside of the government) does, they made me print it and fax it.

I had to scan the printout, turn it into a PDF, and pay a fax website to send it in. I could have mailed it, but that would have added days of waiting.

Shouldn’t the mere existence of fax websites suffice to let the world know that faxes have been replaced by computers? Faxing things from a website is like putting your riding horse in your car.

All of this only took around 4 hours. Should have taken 10 minutes. My guess: business as usual for military people. I have heard their stories. Constant screwups.

My dad told me a story once. The Army made his platoon crawl through ice water for some reason. They did this outdoors in the winter. Then they didn’t provide shelter or dry clothing. Everyone had to stand around in wet clothes, trying not to die. They stuck their arms straight out, like gingerbread men, trying to keep their freezing fatigues from touching their bodies.

Then they got good news. The Army was sending hot onion soup. The trucks arrived, and out came the soup. Boiled onions in plain water.

I feel like I got a tiny piece of the military experience today. I am so lucky I never got drafted.

My dad served during a shooting war, and he witnessed atom bomb tests. Maybe that will get him special stuff. I don’t know. Often, GI goodies are tied to income and net worth, and the thresholds are not high. Whatever. One way or the other, we will find out. I think.

They say Donald Trump is shoving his boot in the VA’s rear pretty far, forcing it to shape up and treat people better. I hope that’s true. We treat former soldiers like aborted babies. No one wants to look at them or deal with them.

I can’t figure out why the websites are so bad. The government always overpays for things and gets shoddy work. Good websites aren’t that expensive. If they were, little online retailers wouldn’t survive. If we can pay almost two million dollars for every Tomahawk missile, you would think we could manage to spring for two or three websites that work.

If memory serves, I have been told we can get $1800 per month. I have a feeling it will turn out not to be true. If it is true, I expect them to make mistakes and turn us down several times at first. Then I expect them to tell me it can’t be done. Then I expect to locate the one competent person who makes it happen. You always find that person if you hold out long enough. In the entire US government, there are approximately three.

Meanwhile, a few thousand disabled veterans will die listening to hold music. The Iraqis and Afghans couldn’t get them, but our bureaucrats will put them in their graves with Chuck Mangione.

I’m all done. Let’s not think of the 400 other things I needed to get done today. My dad will have frozen ziti for dinner, and I may have ice cream and a Powerade. The dump closed 21 minutes ago, so it looks like the garbage will ferment in my garage for another 48 hours.

If you served in the military, God bless you and keep you. He better, because no one else gives a crap about you.

Trump Finds Support in Tijuana

This is too funny. Mexicans are angry because Central Americans in the infamous “caravan” are in Tijuana, and their complaints are just like ours.

They also complained about how the caravan forced its way into Mexico, calling it an “invasion.”

Juana Rodriguez, a housewife, said the government needs to conduct background checks on the migrants to make sure they don’t have criminal records.

Honduras has a murder rate of 43 per 100,000 residents, similar to U.S. cities like New Orleans and Detroit.

It’s amazing. First, I’m amazed that Mexicans are willing to out themselves in this way, after so many have worked so hard to help illegals get here. Second, I can’t believe the Associated Press has hired reporters who would tell the world instead of censoring the news.

Real Indian?

I am stuck on the phone with the guhmint. I have nothing to do but blog. I have to ask them something about corporations, and I fully expect whoever answers to tell me I called the wrong person. That’s how the government works. You wait half an hour to find out the main goal of the person you reached is to get rid of you regardless of whether your urgent need has been addressed.

The political right got a major disappointment today. It appears that the criminal who sent fake bombs to prominent liberals is, in fact, a conservative. I thought it was more likely that it was a hoax. Leftists pull hoaxes all the time, trying to make themselves look like victims, and in general, they are much more violent than conservatives, so it seemed likely that a leftist was behind the bombings.

Of course, leftist journalists and politicians will want to turn the alleged bomber, one Cesar Sayoc, into a visual aid. They will want to tell us this is what a Trump voter looks like. They won’t mention the Antifa characters who riot and beat innocent people as a matter of policy.

If there is a bright side to the story, it is Sayoc’s ancestry. He claims he’s a Seminole Indian. He is not white; that’s for sure. His photos reveal a man who could pass for Mexican or Puerto Rican, and his first name is Hispanic. Someone has dubbed him “the Magabomber” in an Internet comment.

Now leftists have to attack an Indian. An actual Indian; I always feel like I have to say that when I discuss leftists who claim to be Indians. I don’t mean he’s a whimsical individual who identifies as an Indian on this particular day.

Of course, he may not be an Indian. If current indications pan out, this guy will turn out to be a very strange bird, and pretending to be an Indian would not be outside his wheelhouse.

Judging by his very poor English skills, Sayoc (graduate of North Miami Beach High) is either mildly retarded or afflicted with a serious learning disability. He may have more than one mental issue.

Whatever he is, he is not white, so he will make the stomachs of liberal pundits churn this weekend.

Maybe they’ll say he was driven crazy by broken treaties and 19th-century massacres.

It’s very disappointing to see anyone commit vicious, cowardly crimes like this, but as a conservative, I am particularly disconcerted to see a perpetrator turn out to someone on my side. What this man [allegedly] did is beneath contempt, and it pushes us one step closer toward a state that resembles a never-ending riot. It shoves us in the direction of socialist Venezuela. The bomb mailings, with or without functioning bombs, were heinous crimes, and because of them, leftists may well succeed in using him against us successfully in the imminent elections.

It will be a catastrophe if we let ourselves sink into anarchy and routine political violence. Life will be intolerable in cities and many suburbs. The only places where there will be peace will be rural areas like mine, where minorities and leftists are relatively scarce. It’s impossible to have a riot without leftists.

What a place America will be, if we don’t rein the anger in. Nuts accosting each other in restaurants and stores, riots over nothing, and it will all be considered acceptable.

Maybe I should invest in body armor companies. Maybe everyone will be wearing it in a couple of years.

The incredible thing about increasing political violence is that it is taking place in an atmosphere of extraordinary prosperity. Ordinarily, leftist rage boils over in countries where poverty is unbearable. What’s our excuse?

Score one for the left. I hope we aren’t seeing the beginning of a tide of conservative violence. When leftists get us to adopt their tactics on a broad front, we will be as toxic as they are.

Pettiness Redefined

Politics gets sillier all the time. Elizabeth Warren is now declaring victory over Donald Trump because she got a DNA test which suggests she has a maximum of 1/64 American Indian blood. She believes this proves she’s an Indian. She is demanding Trump give a million dollars to the charity of her choice.

Is this really happening?

A long time ago, Trump said he wanted to give Warren a DNA test and have it processed. He said he would donate a million dollars to the charity of her choice if it proved she was an Indian.

Here are the problems with Warren’s claim to the money. Trump said he would give her a DNA test kit if she showed up for a 2020 presidential debate, and he wanted to provide a kit. He also said he would pay “if it show’s you’re an Indian.”

Warren cherry-picked an academic from Stanford test her. He’s an academic, he’s Hispanic, and he lives near San Francisco. What are the odds he has a bias? He said he had to use genetic markers from South American Indians to check Warren, so we don’t even know if the test means anything in a case where a woman claims to be part Cherokee.

The test didn’t show Warren was an Indian. It showed the opposite. It showed that she probably has somewhere between 1/64 and 1/1024 American Indian blood. That doesn’t make you an Indian. It puts her at less than 1.6%. At the low end, she may have 0.001% Indian blood. That’s not going to get you into the sweat lodge.

The Genetic Literacy Project (whatever that is) claims an average American of European extraction has 0.18% American Indian blood, which means an awful lot of us are just as “Indian” as Senator Warren.

Warren pretended to have so much Indian blood she deserved special recognition for it. That simply is not true, even if we assume the best and say she’s at 1.6%. When one out of 64 of your ancestors is of a certain race, and the rest are not, it has zero impact on your experience as an American.

Some people claim “one drop” of black blood makes you black, for racists. That’s not true. How would they know? If you had one black ancestor out of 64, you would be white. I guarantee you, there are white racists with more than 1/64 black blood. There have to be. Very few people know who all of their ancestors are, when you go that far back.

Why did she even bring it up? We already knew her claim was bogus. This makes her look even worse. For all I know, I have more Indian blood than she has. After my grandfather died, my grandmother married an Indian named Smitty. Do I qualify for affirmative action?

There are stories in my mother’s family, asserting that my great-great-grandfather married an Indian. This story is based on the following science: my grandfather and his siblings had black hair and big noses. Unfortunately for the family members who buy the story, records show that my great-great-grandmother was a lady named Murphy.

When I was a kid, I was told that my great-great-grandfather was a huge man who lived to be 104 years old. In reality, he was a skinny old dude who made it to about 85. I don’t know where the weird stories came from.

Americans love pretending their ancestors were Indians. I don’t know why. Frankly, Indians have not accomplished much. White people were doing calculus in the 1600’s, and Indians were still illiterate and unable to figure out the wheel. Not to be harsh, but that’s history.

Indians excelled in one area. They had more style than anyone. Look at the old photos. They look fantastic. When it comes to style, no one can touch the Indians of North America. Other than that, their culture was pretty bad. War as recreation, torture, slavery, cannibalism…it didn’t have a lot to offer.

If you want to brag about your ancestors, pretend you’re Jewish. Moses, Solomon, Jesus, Einstein…highest average IQ…most Nobel Prizes per capita…who else comes close? Just make sure you don’t mention athletic records.

We’re so childish now. It’s shocking that someone who thinks of herself as presidential timber would pull a stunt like this. She should have admitted guilt and moved on. And Trump…well, he’s Trump. He is not known for his mature demeanor.

Leftists are getting behind Warren, as if there was any doubt that they would. They are claiming, in complete seriousness, that the test is a vindication. Unbelievable. Just let it go. Say you know she fibbed, but you’re willing to forget it.

I’ll bet I have no non-European blood. I’ll bet my DNA is as boring as it gets.

Trump should get himself tested. It would be hilarious if he had more Indian blood than Warren.

Trump doesn’t owe Warren’s charity a penny. She needs to move on.

Don’t Hold Your Breath

I don’t read blogs any more. Can’t make myself do it. As far as I know, the Blogosphere has been dead for a long time, and my interests have changed, so I have less in common with people I used to exchange links with.

Today I made an exception. I checked sites on my blogroll to see if I should continue linking to them. Anyone still blogging in 2018 makes the list. If you are dead, you probably make the list. Other than that, it’s a case-by-case thing.

By the way, Steven den Beste died in 2016. Just found that out. Sad. He was always nice to me.

I took a look at Ed Bonderenka’s blog, where I saw a humorous meme about Ruth Ginsburg’s decline, and I got to wondering if people understand something: it does not matter if RBG loses her mind.

Believe it or not, a federal judge doesn’t need to be mentally competent to remain in office. If you can breathe, walk, and sit up straight, and you don’t throw fits or anything, you can be a Supreme Court justice.

Judges of all types are very lazy, and many are also overburdened. As a result, we have a system in which the taxpayers support squads of lawyers who do the actual work. These people are known as clerks.

It’s a big honor to clerk for a federal judge, and the pay is okay, although the big draw is the career boost, not the money. A friend of mine pulled $50K down, with federal benefits and short, short federal hours, right out of law school. That was at the district court, or lowest, level. She offered to recommend me for the job when she quit, but I was not interested. I think it would have been fun, because working as a judge is like doing crossword puzzles all day. It’s stimulating mental exercise, by law standards. Also, a court clerk has zero responsibility compared to a real attorney. You can’t be sued for malpractice when you clerk. That’s nice. But I was a real lawyer, and I expected to continue building a lucrative career. I couldn’t see settling for $50K per year for several years, while abandoning the juicy job I had, working with my own father and his partners.

I have never been interested in glory. I went to law school so I could make money. I didn’t give a crap about the law review, the silly honor societies, clerkships, or awards. I still think that stuff is for insecure people who have a grossly inflated notion of the nobility of what is actually a fairly grubby profession. If you were an Eagle Scout or a participant in Junior Achievement, or if your dad was a janitor and you can’t believe you have a real college diploma, a clerkship is for you.

I can’t find it in myself to be impressed by lawyers. When I was in grad school, I rode elevators in the math and physics building with Nobelists and near-Nobelists. After that, I went to law school, where anyone who chases ambulances successfully is treated like a god. Once your IQ hits maybe 145, you have reached a point where you can do an excellent job with any task the law offers. If your IQ is 180, it won’t make you a better lawyer. You will just be a very good lawyer who is bored.

I worked hard during my first semester, and a nutty professor killed my shot at being invited to join the law review. After that, I resolved not to work. I used to tell people you can work 80 hours a week and get A’s, or you can work for three days at the end of the semester and get a B.

When I was an undergrad, I took mostly math and physics courses. Homework for my liberal arts courses took a couple of hours per week to knock off. My math work, which most people probably would have considered very hard, probably took six hours per week. I would guess physics took four hours per day, minimum. If you got a liberal arts degree, and then you went to law school, you may think you accomplished something. I’m sorry to tell you, but you were always in the shallow end with the toddlers.

When I was in law school, I eventually quit taking notes. I sat in class and wrote a few things in order to look like I was doing something, but basically, I quit…taking…notes. It wasn’t necessary. I used to play video games in class. I wore out my laptop, playing a Beavis and Butt-head game in Ethics, and I got an A.

The game was very silly. Toilets would fly through the air, and I would hit keys in order to shoot them down. I’m not kidding. This is what I did.

Sorry, lawyers. Your job just isn’t that challenging.

The people who graduate first in their law school classes, and the people who end up on the Supreme Court, are not geniuses. They are just good students. There’s a difference. My dad was third in his class, and he was a phenomenal lawyer, and I’ve always been a lot smarter than he is.

Anyway, clerking was not for me.

When a federal judge gets a case, he turns his clerks loose on it. They read the things attorneys file. They do the judge’s legal research for him. They even write opinions. Of course, this isn’t 100% true. I’m sure some judges do more than read and stamp the work of clerks, but if you think a judge’s name at the end of an opinion means he wrote it or is even highly familiar with the case, you’re dreaming. He may have done the work, and he may not.

Federal judges, often, are neither bright nor competent. They are probably, on average, not as sharp as their clerks, who have to demonstrate their ability in order to get their jobs. Federal judges get their appointments for political reasons. It’s not about merit. They don’t read filings. They don’t understand the law. They don’t understand the facts. When they rule correctly, it’s always somewhat surprising, and often it’s for the wrong reasons.

I guess the last paragraph was tangential. I get frustrated when I think of the things I’ve seen judges do. I’m not just complaining about the times I lost, either. I got a case dismissed by judges who let me pull the wool over their eyes. I made arguments I knew were vulnerable to attack, and the judges and opposing counsel were too dumb to do their homework, so I won.

So sorry. Better luck next time. I’m not going to help a judge who’s not intelligent enough to see why he should rule for my opponent. Unlike a judgeship, the lawyering business is a meritocracy, and the fittest win.

If I had been the judge or my opponent, things would have turned out differently. They disgraced themselves and proved their incompetence by letting me win.

I knew how to get the case dismissed. I knew how to prevent it from being dismissed. I knew how to win it, if I were in my opponent’s shoes. Fortunately, I was the only one who knew these things.

This is how you tell good lawyers from bad. Take the same case. Give it to two lawyers. See who wins. Turn it around and make them argue the other sides. Who wins now? Same guy; trust me. Unless one side is completely hopeless.

Now you know why O.J. Simpson was acquitted.

My dad used to say this to me: “Don’t complain about other people’s incompetence. That’s your competition.”

If you think lawyers are generally smart, you have been fooled. Most are only fit for simple fields like criminal and family law. Maybe they can write wills and deeds. If you made them litigate, they would drown immediately. I believe a lot of people end up working as judges because they can’t make it as litigators.

That’s also where law professors come from, but for a different reason. They have no guts. If you got A’s in law school, but the thought of appearing at a hearing or wondering where you’ll get your next paycheck makes you vomit blood, you’re probably going to be a professor some day. Professors want to nestle in their cribs and be taken care of.

Here’s something judges will hate reading: a big part of a lawyer’s job is to tell a judge what to think and say. The judge rolls in at 11 a.m., looks at filings he can’t understand, scratches his head, and wonders what to do. You take advantage of that by spelling out the law very, very clearly. You convince the judge that all he has to do is repeat what you say and rule in your favor. That’s really what lawyers do. We even draft orders for judges and include them with our filings. Sign it, stamp it, and you’re off to lunch, and no one realizes you have no idea what you’re doing.

I’ll tell you a funny true story. My uncle was a judge. He was not a great judge, but he was a great guy. He went to a judge conference. There was a seminar about ruling on objections. One of the judges admitted he used a deck of cards. He drew cards. Red card…sustained. Black card…overruled. The other judges were aghast.

During the seminar, they saw how this guy ruled when he actually tried to apply the law.

They told him to keep using the cards.

Not my story. My uncle’s.

Stuffy lawyers who perpetuate the myth of the nobility of the law can’t stand reading things like that. “HARUMPH! HARUMPH! You, sir, are no officer of the court! You have no respect for our august chambers!” These are the same guys who get drunk every Friday at 4 p.m. and hit on their paralegals. Same guys who make fools of themselves in bars every weekend. It’s all a sham. I wonder how many lines of coke have been done prior to hearings in courthouse bathrooms, by phonies who loved to talk about the dignity of the law.

Back to the topic. RBG doesn’t have to do much. She can assign things to clerks and wait for the results. I don’t know, but it’s reasonable to think she can even assign the task of assigning tasks to clerks…to clerks. She has to show up for work, sit in hearings, and basically, not expire.

Some conservatives are itching to see her step down because of incompetence. They say chemotherapy wrecked her brain, which may well be true. It does that. I’ve seen it. Doesn’t matter. Her leftist clerks will sleep in her house, feed her, bathe her, dress her, and carry her to work in a shopping bag, if that’s what it takes to prevent Donald Trump from nominating a third justice. If Scalia had become demented under Obama, his clerks would have done the same thing for him.

A justice isn’t an individual. A justice is an association. RBG consists of one elderly woman and a crew of underlings. The head doesn’t have to be completely functional in order for the body to go on living.

In order for RBG to go away based on disability, she will have to be such a mess there is no way to prevent her continued employment from turning into the theater of the absurd. She will have to say crazy things in front of the public, or she will have to be so demented she can’t be managed. Short of things like that, she will be on the bench as long as she can fog a mirror.

New Client Has Baggage

Interesting developments in the bizarre case of Julie Swetnick. This is the woman who claims she went to more than one party at which young men used alcohol (something you drink voluntarily) or drugs in order to get sexual access. She claims she was raped at such a party, and she says she saw men lining up to rape women, although she chose not to inform the police at the time.

She would have the Senate Judiciary Committee kill Brett Kavanaugh’s nomination based on the fact that he was “present” at these parties. She doesn’t say he participated in sexual abuse. Just that he was present. So he was somewhere on the premises when other people did bad things.

She doesn’t explain why she went to more than one such party. Most people wouldn’t make a habit of going to parties where rape was a likely outcome. But I digress.

Her ex-boyfriend, a Democrat named Richard Vinneccy, says he had to get a restraining order against Swetnick. He claims she threatened his child, who was a baby at the time. He says she is not trustworthy. Again, this is a Democrat talking.

Sure, he’s an ex-boyfriend, and I have criticized the credibility of ex-girlfriends. But let’s be honest. Men handle rejection better. Generally, we’re not the ones who vandalize our ex’s cars and call their offices 500 times a day. For the most part, men move on. We don’t have biological clocks, so it’s not that bad if we get dumped in our thirties or forties, and we don’t see girlfriends as salvation from poverty or retirement plans.

It appears that Vinneccy moved on. He married another woman and had a baby, and it appears he still needed to get a restraining order to protect him from Swetnick.

Her lawyer, of course, is Michael Avenatti, the obnoxious and aggressive man who represents aging stripper Stormy Daniels in her quest to extort more money from Donald Trump.

What does Avenatti say now? He says he “knows nothing” about a restraining order.

Here’s the thing: I’m a lawyer, too. Unlike journalists, who know little and do even less, I am aware that restraining orders are documented on court websites. As it happens, Ms. Swetnick had her domestic problems in Dade County, Florida, where I used to work. I use that county’s court website all the time, even though I no longer practice, because so many people I know are or were in trouble.

Avenatti knows he can take three minutes and look the restraining order up. He chose not to, so he could say he knew nothing about it.

I know about it, and now so does everyone who reads this blog. And we’re not even being paid.

I can’t get a picture of the order online, but I can produce pictures of the docket page and other information. The pictures show that Vinneccy was the one who complained and Swetnick was the respondent. It also shows that all this took place in family court, under the heading of DOMESTIC VIOLENCE.

It’s not possible to get complete images of the documents in the case. Some are not in the system, and some are partial. Nonetheless, AVENATTI COULD HAVE LOOKED THIS UP IN THREE MINUTES, as I did.

Whatever Swetnick did, it appears it was sufficient to convince a judge he needed to issue an order keeping her away from her ex-boyfriend and a helpless infant.

You’re welcome. Maybe there is a real journalist out there who will send someone to the family courthouse tomorrow and get the documents.

Even Weathermen Lie to Support the Left

Today’s global warming news: The Weather Channel’s Mike Seidel was so determined to make us understand how bad hurricanes are, he pretended to have trouble standing up during Hurricane Florence…while unconcerned passersby strolled easily in the background of the same frame.

Why is this a global warming story? Because The Weather Channel is firmly behind the climate change hysteria. They are convinced that gases that make up roughly 1/1000 of our atmosphere are creating a natural catastrophe (which has not materialized), and that human beings caused the problem by burning things.

The Weather Channel just lied to us about the strength of the wind. Why should we expect them to tell us the truth about the climate?

It’s not a small matter. Burning things and creating gases that contain carbon is very important to civilization and progress. Ultimately, the creation of these gases is linked to things like prosperity, food production, and medical care. Discouraging the production of these gases threatens the standard of living of human beings all over the world, and it should not be done unless we are certain we have no choice.

Take a look at this hilarious video. Mike Seidel stands in a windy place, bracing and squirming as though he were having trouble standing. Behind him, people walk completely normally.

Here is The Weather Channel’s disgraceful, dishonest coverup statement:

It’s important to note that the two individuals in the background are walking on concrete, and Mike Seidel is trying to maintain his footing on wet grass, after reporting on-air until 1:00 a.m. ET this morning and is undoubtedly exhausted.

This is what we lawyers call “a lie.” Seidel is not trying to maintain his footing. He’s acting, badly. The video proves TWC employees deceive us on camera. The statement proves the organization lies to cover the deception.

In spite of this, we are required to believe them when they tell us a miniscule increase in carbon dioxide (an unavoidable symptom of progress) will kill us all in the near future.

Fermentation of corn for ethanol production produces a huge amount of carbon dioxide, yet greenies are all for it. I have never seen this issue mentioned on the news. It’s strange how they never talk about it. Have engineers fixed the problem? We don’t even know.

One of the funniest things about the video is that Seidel is leaning the wrong way. To stand up in a high wind, you have to lean into the wind. In the video, the wind is coming from the right. Seidel is leaning to the left! Give it up, man. You are BUSTED.

Excuses are coming from the left. Internet warriors are saying things like, “Mike Seidel is 61.” Apparently, when you hit 61, you become unable to tell which way the wind is blowing.

I wonder how John Kerry manages to windsurf without getting lost.

Here’s a similar video from the past. NBC reporter Michelle Kosinski uses a canoe to show how badly a street has flooded, and during the video, two people walk by…in water about 5 inches deep.

You can tell it’s an old video, because Matt Lauer is one of the anchors.

Kosinski later claimed her team originally tried to shoot in an area where the water was deeper, but they couldn’t get the lighting right, so they moved. First of all, I don’t believe liars. Second, if her story was true, the correct thing to do, as a journalist, was to get out of the canoe and do the story on foot. She tried to deceive viewers, regardless of how she ended up paddling in 5 inches of water.

Dan Rather could weigh in here.

All these videos need are shots of CGI polar bears drowning in seas that only exist inside computers. Why wait for news? If the truth doesn’t cooperate with you and give you the story you want to push, just make it up.

Seidel’s intentional deception is not the big story here. The big story is that his network and others are defending him. That’s the scary part. They’re not upset with him for lying. They’re upset because he got caught. Obviously, most of the time, lying journalists don’t get caught. Seidel’s experience suggests what we already know: leftist journalists treat us like suckers at sideshow games. They don’t care about the truth. They just want to make us believe what they want, so they can herd us like cattle.

Journalists are supposed to inform, not herd. There is no longer any distinction between journalists, publicists, and propagandists. I suppose there never was.

Mike Seidel is a liar, and he should be fired. So should Michelle Kosinski. They should have to go sit in a penalty box with Dan Rather and Brian Williams.

When Your Mind Goes AWOL, Your Body Will Still Have a Home

I looked at a third assisted living/memory care facility today. I don’t have anything negative to say about it, so I won’t try to prevent people from figuring out which one it was. The company that runs it is called Elan, and it’s part of The Villages.

The Villages is like Westworld for old people. It’s a big retirement complex south of Ocala. I have not been into the Magic Kingdom, or whatever the main complex is called. All I saw was an assisted living place which is associated with it.

The places I visited yesterday were one-story buildings, and they were not particularly elegant. The windows didn’t let a lot of light in, and a lot of the carpeting was entering the home stretch of its existence. The Elan facility was different. It’s several stories high. The construction appears to be fairly new. There is a lot of tile on the floors. There are a lot of big windows, and everything is very clean.

I didn’t smell anything while I was there. That sets this place apart from the others. I didn’t know it was possible to have an old folks home without potty smells, but these people have pulled it off.

Like many other facilities, this one had areas for people with memory issues and people who were simply old. I looked at both. The memory care side didn’t look too bad. They had a big room with a kitchen and a lot of tables, and people were hanging out there playing games. A staffer was doing dishes. There were slices of cake on dishes, waiting for anyone who wanted one.

The rooms were a little depressing, but that’s not because there was anything wrong with them. They’re depressing because once the door to one’s room shuts, the patient knows how alone he is and what his situation is. When the door closes, you’re in what is clearly an impersonal environment designed by the same kind of people who design Holiday Inn rooms. Your wife didn’t pick the counter in the kitchen area. You didn’t choose the paint or the carpeting. You’re not independent any more, so strangers who are very busy have to put your living space together, and you get what everyone else gets. If you walk into the next room over by mistake, you’ll feel right at home, because it will look just like yours.

There isn’t much that can be done to make these places feel more like homes. The company hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s the nature of the business. People who can’t take care of themselves don’t sit down with architects and designers and take charge of their environments.

It must be like a hotel stay that never ends.

He would have to change doctors again if he moved to this place. They drive people to appointments, but they don’t drive far enough to take him to the doctors he’s seeing now. That’s not a big deal. He’s not attached to them, and it doesn’t take a genius to handle my dad’s boring health problems. You give him the same 8 pills every day and wait for new issues to develop.

If he moved in today, he would be looking at around $60,000 per year. The VA would pay about $22,000. My dad didn’t buy insurance to pay for long-term care. Instead, he opted to live forever without health problems. I’m glad the VA money is available. I didn’t know about it until this week.

Shelling out $38K per year is not the end of the world, but the lady who explained the costs to me failed to mention the obvious concern: whatever they charge him the day he walks in will be the lowest rate of his entire stay. It can only go up after that, because he is going to deteriorate, and he will probably deteriorate significantly this year. The more help he needs, the more they charge. If I understand things correctly, the maximum will be in the high 40’s.

The place I visited today is the best option I’ve seen.

I’m not sure what to do. I can get someone to come here for 20 hours a week, considerably cheaper. He would not have to leave me or his home. I don’t know how much she could do to take burdens off of me, though.

Is the benefit of being around other old people worth the trouble of moving? He probably won’t make friends in any real sense, because he’ll forget new people from day to day.

I don’t know what life is like for people in memory care. They walk out of their rooms every day and see the same folks, but do they know who they are? Do they have to introduce themselves to each other over and over?

The more I get into this, the more I realize that most causes of death cause less suffering than dementia. My mother died 8 months after her cancer diagnosis. She knew who we were, she was able to read and talk and use the phone, and she made some preparations. I talked her out of disinheriting my sister, unfortunately, but she did do a few things. Anyway, 8 months into it, she passed, and then we moved on and got over it. We didn’t have to put her in a facility. We didn’t have to explain what we were doing for her over and over. She never got paranoid. She didn’t get agitated at night or in the morning. She understood what was happening. That’s better than 4 or 5 years of taking the same ground repeatedly.

I was not close to my dad’s late sister, so I never knew she was ill until she died, but I know a little bit about what happened to her. Her dementia progressed very quickly and then killed her. She stopped speaking English. She spoke gibberish, and she was convinced she was speaking normally. She talked to the family members who were looking after her, and I suppose she could not comprehend their confusion. I’m glad my mother didn’t go like that.

We didn’t visit my aunt while she was ill. My dad didn’t suggest it, and I would have been very uncomfortable going alone. My relatives would have been shocked to see me. Says a lot about how close we are.

When dad’s mother died, I skipped the funeral. Two of my first cousins died young. I didn’t go to their funerals, either. I didn’t know them, because my aunts and my grandmother had very little to do with us. I can only guess that my aunts were very glad when my dad left home, because after that, they made almost no effort to stay in touch. They told my mother he was impossible to get along with.

I don’t know what I would do if I had vascular dementia. I have a strong prayer life, I’m not obese, I don’t drink heavily, and God heals me of things, so I don’t expect to go that way, but what if I did? Would I tell my doctors to stop treating me so my dementia would get worse and I would die sooner? If I did that, the problems I was hoping to escape would intensify quicker. I wouldn’t be able to avoid them. I would only be able to make it all happen faster. That would be unpleasant to face.

I would have to create some kind of directive to prevent people from keeping me alive too long. That much is certain.

Cancer is better. Heart attacks and fatal strokes are better. Car accidents are better. The body should die before the mind, and money shouldn’t be wasted on empty machinery that refuses to quit running. I don’t have any kids, but I know people I would like to leave money to. I would rather see it go to them than a company that runs a home.

Some of the people I have seen in memory care seemed happy. I don’t think my dad could be happy. He can’t accept his status now, so I don’t expect him to adjust well when he is surrounded by invalids and realizes he is one of them.

I’m done looking at these places for a while. Now I’m going to look into nursing attendants. Maybe my dad’s condition will change before I make a decision, and that will force me to choose an option.

Don’t lose your mind if you can help it. You are better off falling off a cliff.

Health Food Breakthrough

I don’t really cook any more. I lost my interest, and I was tired of cooking for people who showed up late, left early, and didn’t shop, help cook, or clean. I still have to cook for myself, though, so once in a while, I turn on the stove.

I make what must be the worst pancakes on earth. Or at least I used to. It was frustrating, because my waffles were perfect. I make them with bacon grease instead of butter. My pancakes came out heavy and rubbery. They would keep a man going all day because it took so long for the stomach to break them down.

Yesterday I tried again. I looked up a New York Times recipe and went to work. Result: rubber pancakes. I know why it happened. I used the wrong spoon to measure the baking powder.

Today I used the correct spoon, and I made some adjustments of my own. I have a tentative recipe to post. The pancakes were light and tasty.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup biscuit flour (not self-rising)
1 cup milk
1 tbsp melted butter
1 egg
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. sugar

I warmed the milk up to room temperature before using it.

You separate the egg and beat the white until it’s stiff. After that, put the mixer away. You don’t want it near the batter. Mixers seem to make pancakes gluey. Maybe that’s my imagination, though.

Mix the remaining ingredients with a spoon, but hold back 1/4 cup of milk. Fold in the egg white. Stir in enough of the remaining milk to make the batter flow the way it should.

When you fry your pancakes, put a little butter on top of each one as it hits the plate. To be really decadent, sprinkle it with salt.

I heat my syrup in the microwave, and I add butter to it. Cold syrup and hard butter ruin pancakes.

That’s about it. It takes a little longer than using a box. I can’t say it’s worth it because I don’t have a box to compare it to.

I think they would taste better with a whole teaspoon of salt in the batter, but I was too chicken to try it today.

I use a Griswold cast iron griddle for pancakes. It’s wonderful. They brown very quickly, and they never stick. Best thing I’ve ever seen for pancakes. Much better than a skillet. With a skillet, the walls get in the way when you try to flip your pancakes.

I use grade B syrup because it has more flavor than grade A. I buy a brand called Anderson’s, from Amazon. I keep maple syrup in the fridge or freezer to prevent mold.

I need to learn to make blueberry pancakes. I’m not sure you can throw blueberries into batter without additional steps. They might be too sour and raw. The syrup is easy. You heat blueberries with a little sugar and water. You can add starch to bulk it up, and you might consider a small amount of lemon juice. Make sure the syrup boils. Starch has to boil.

Buckwheat pancakes would be great. I’m sure I can find buckwheat flour on the Internet. I think buckwheat pancakes are the best pancakes possible.

I’ll post a photo of today’s pancakes. I am open to suggestions.

Never Mind

My dinner took place under unusual circumstances tonight.

I went to get a much-needed haircut, and while I was out, I bought groceries. Ordinarily, my dad goes with me when I get groceries, and I don’t like to cut him out of the experience, but I put in a lot of time dealing with him and his problems today, and I needed some relief.

I am never going to take him to my barber shop. I enjoy the barber shop, and he would ruin it for me. I have never told him its name or where it is. He tried to pin me down once, and I was evasive. He will never see the inside of that place. If he wants a barber, I’ll take him to the Mexican place on Highway 484.

When I got back, he started trying to get me to take him out for food. The kitchen was full of newly bought food, so he didn’t need anything. He was just bored. That’s understandable, but it’s not justification for adding to my burdens.

My dad pesters me when he’s bored. He comes up with strange projects, or he brings me trivial problems. These things are pretexts for disturbing me. He finds it entertaining to deal with these things in partnership with me. The problem with this is that he comes up with many of these things every day, and almost all of them are a waste of time, not to mention somewhat stressful for me.

He would like to go out for food at least twice a day, and that will never happen, because I would not be able to stand it. He will have to settle for three times a week.

Today he started telling me we should eat meals together. No, no, no, NO. Not possible. His table manners are unbelievable. I have to be careful where I look. If there is no music playing, I have to listen to a lot of mouth sounds. That’s bad, and worse spectacles are not out of the question. Also, conversation can be a problem. He says things he knows annoys me, which is not great for my digestion.

It’s a job, not a meal.

I had to tell him I need a certain amount of time to myself. I had to let him know that whenever I’m with him, I’m working. If he’s present, I’m not relaxing. I’m taking care of him. I can’t do it 24 hours a day.

He said I didn’t take care of him. He said he looked after himself, and he asked me what I do for him, so I gave him a list. I clean his house. I change his bed. I launder his clothes. I take care of his business and his taxes. I take care of his health problems, including going to the doctor with him. I mentioned a lot of things. I didn’t do it in an angry way. I said it with patience.

He said I benefited from all these things, because I would inherit everything he has. I told him changing his sheets didn’t benefit me, and I listed other tasks that don’t benefit me, either. It really doesn’t matter whether what I do benefits me. It’s still burdensome.

Then he said, “Is it all right if I just kill myself?”

This is how his personality works. My sister is the same way. They try to put you on the defensive. When it doesn’t work, if they have to accept any responsibility or blame, they go off the deep end and accuse you of attacking them.

In his mind, by saying I did a lot for him and needed time off, I was saying he was a worthless, selfish piece of two-legged excrement who ought to be executed.

He said I was complaining. Complaining would be 100% justified, but my motive was not to complain. It was to make him understand why I can’t spend more time with him. I told him having to do things for him was just part of life.

I haven’t done anything wrong. Not one thing. I know better than to pay attention to the emotionalism and histrionics.

I went to my private lair to eat, and a few minutes later, he called up the stairs. He said he wanted to have a talk with me. I told him I was eating. He asked if we could talk when I was finished, and I agreed.

He wanted to correct me. He wanted to sit me down and badger me and demand answers until I admitted I was wrong to not enjoy spending every waking moment with him. That sounds like a joke, but it’s exactly what he wanted to do. He also wanted to cross-examine me until I admitted he didn’t have dementia. He tries that a lot.

I finished eating maybe 20 minutes ago. I’ve been relaxing with Youtube. I have no intention at all of talking with him. I never did. I’m waiting for him to forget.

It’s the smart move. Talking to a demented person with unfounded grievances is a complete waste of time and an emotional drain. There is no possibility whatsoever that I’m going to agree to spend more time with him; if anything, I will have to spend less and less time with him in order to preserve my sanity and get things done. Even if I lost my mind and agreed with him, it wouldn’t matter, because later today, he would forget all about it.

I’m not sure why I treat him with so much respect. It’s just a habit, I suppose. People who deal with demented individuals and mental patients generally patronize and say whatever helps at the moment, no matter how fanciful it may be. I don’t do that. I usually talk to him as though he were of sound mind, and I try to help him understand things. Sometimes it’s not possible to treat him like an adult, but when it is, I indulge myself. When I told him spending time with him was taxing, I was treating him like a rational person.

He has to come to understand that he has a terminal illness and serious mental problems that are going to get worse. Even a demented person needs to know what’s happening to him. I suppose that isn’t true of profoundly demented people, but my dad is still capable of understanding what’s going on with him. He refuses to come to terms with it because his style, all his life, has been to get emotional and angry and deny his problems.

It’s disappointing.

When my mother found out she had given herself lung cancer, she didn’t lash out. She didn’t deny it was true. She never blamed anyone else. She didn’t cry and scream and curse God for picking on her. I suppose this is the long way of saying she didn’t act the way my sister acted when she got her own lung cancer diagnosis.

My sister lost her mind. The universe, which was created solely for the purpose of displaying her magnificence to a supporting cast of billions, was about to end with her demise. She went into denial. She burdened other people. She felt wronged, even though she had smoked a hundred pack/years of cigarettes and had not bothered to get medical insurance. She borrowed money for treatment and never offered to repay it. She openly demanded pampering and special privileges. My dad isn’t that bad, but he’s not exactly taking it like John Wayne.

It would be nice if everyone took misfortune in a way that increased your respect for them. My mother proves it can be done. Lots of people handle fatal diseases well. I would love to be able to tell people how tough my dad is. That must be nice.

Last night, my friend Mike told me things about hospice care. He has his own medical staffing company, and he is starting a hospice. I learned some surprising things.

I thought a hospice was a sort of bed and breakfast where you go to die. That’s true, but hospice care is more than that. If you’re a mess, and like my dad, you’re going to get worse and die, you can be evaluated and found eligible for in-home hospice care. They will send people to your home several times a week to bathe you and so on, and they will free up your caregivers. Medicare and insurance will cover it.

Hearing the word “hospice” was a little sobering. It was the first time anyone had mentioned it with respect to my dad.

My dad is dying. His heart keeps pumping, and he looks surprisingly good for his age, but his brain is coming to pieces, and at a certain point, it will no longer be able to keep his body going. I tend to think of my dad as a senile person who has to be managed, but in reality, he’s in the same boat as people like John McCain and Charles Krauthammer. He has a fatal disease.

I tend to think in terms of maintenance instead of preparing for death. Maybe that’s because maintenance is so challenging and time-consuming. If I had more time to think about it, I suppose I would be trying to plan more. I know how to look after the man my dad is today, but what about the man he will be next month? That person may not be able to use the toilet or get out of bed. What will I do?

I’ve been thinking about moving him to assisted living in the future, but that’s probably wrong. Assisted living is for people with physical problems. If your brain is fine but you can’t get out of bed without help, assisted living is for you. I don’t think it’s right for someone who is losing his mind rapidly. I’m told there are “memory centers” for people with memory issues. I don’t know if they’re for people who are sinking quickly or just relatively stable people who aren’t as sharp as they used to be.

A few days ago, I took him to lunch, and he got a doggie bag. As he walked out into the parking lot, he blew his nose without a handkerchief. He held the bag of food in his cane hand as he applied a finger to his nostril. A thick glob of snot about 4 inches long swung out of his nose and onto the bag and his hand. It would have filled a shot glass halfway. He didn’t care who was watching. He didn’t remember the many times I’ve cautioned him not to do what he was doing. The worse his mind gets, the less he’ll fit in with able people. He’ll have to be isolated from them in order to avoid making them suffer.

I am not a fan of people who inflict their disabled relatives on the public. If you have an autistic son who screams over and over, you don’t take him into a movie theater. It’s that simple. If your wife has an illness or disability that makes her revolting to watch, you don’t take her to Ruth’s Chris and put her in a prominent seat where other diners have to see her. You have to have consideration for other people. I’m not going to ask waitresses to clean up urine or mucus. I’m not going to ruin people’s meals just so my dad can enjoy a night out. When things get really bad, he will have to have a change in environment.

This will make him unhappy, and there will be nothing anyone can do about that.

Some people have to be unhappy. Welcome to Earth.

It’s a shame he has been so defiant and spiteful about bad manners all his life, because now he is stuck with habits that will shorten the time he can spend among able people. He needs to be around other human beings, and his young self has fixed things so his helpless older self will get less contact.

When he was a powerful lawyer, he could force people to put up with whatever he did. He could call younger attorneys things like “fart sack” in front of other employees. Things are not the same now. No one has to put up with a dementia sufferer with a durable power of attorney. He can’t adjust to having to show consideration. When his extraordinary behavior offends other people, he gets angry and thinks they’re wrong.

I’m going to go down and see what he remembers.

I’m back. He’s fine. Happy as a lark. I gave him some clean shirts and socks, and he’s putting them away. He doesn’t remember wanting to have an argument with me.

I wish he had been able to let things go this quickly when I was a kid. He never forgot or forgave anything, and he could yell at a person about the same thing until dawn.

I am engaged in the weirdest experience in my life. No one can prepare you for this.

In Defense of the Burn Pile

I am waiting for the truck from Habitat for Humanity.

I was stupid when I decided what to take to the new house. I should have left everything except my bed in Miami and given it away. Instead I saved some things that were heavy, expensive to move, and destined to be discarded. I paid to move things 300 miles so I could throw them out.

My dad has a Thomasville entertainment center from maybe 2005. See if you can guess why I’m getting rid of it. Yes, that is correct. It was made when a 30-inch TV was considered enormous, so it will not hold a typical 2018 TV. It’s about 5 feet tall, with two big doors in front. The living room TV, which is only 42″, is on top of it. I never, ever watch TV in that room. My dad spends most of his time there, and he has to look up to see the screen.

I also have a huge pair of dresser things. They form a complex that looks like the Petronas Towers. There are two tall dressers joined by a suspended desk in the middle. My mother bought them from an estate liquidation shop.

The truck interrupted me while I was writing this. The junk is now gone. I could have sold it on consignment and gotten a couple of hundred bucks, but I just did not want to see it any more.

The reason I started to write is this: I wanted to talk about how hard it is to give things away.

Ocala has Goodwill and the Salvation Army. Goodwill won’t pick up furniture. That may sound incredible, but it’s true. I shouldn’t have to point out that picking up free furniture is profitable. If you don’t think you can sell it, you turn it down. If it looks good, you sell it and make money. For some reason, Goodwill Industries can’t make it work, even though other charities can.

The Salvation Army makes it work, or at least they claim to. They have a truck that picks up furniture, but you can’t get them to show up. They take phone messages. They say they’ll get back to you. Then they vanish.

Someone mentioned Habitat for Humanity, and I jumped on it. I was sick of the furniture. I would have given it to Annoying Vegans for Mandatory Nudity on Mass Transit, had such an organization offered to take it.

Habitat for Humanity gave me a date about ten days off. That was the best they could do.

They were supposed to come today between 2:30 and 4:30. At 12:15, I got in the car to take my dad to a notary public, thinking I had time. The Habitat people called and said they were on the way over.

Unbelievable.

They wanted me to meet them in half an hour, or about 12:45. I told them about the original appointment, and I said I couldn’t be there until 1:00. So 15 extra minutes. The driver started telling me he didn’t know if that would work. He said he would have to call the shop.

I pictured myself using the tractor to put Thomasville furniture on the burn pile.

I called their shop myself, and they apologized and worked it out for me. Under the new agreement, the truck was supposed to be here at 1:00. They arrived 10 minutes later. So 1:00 was too late, but 1:10 was fine.

Call me cynical, but my assumption is that the driver really, really wanted to get to lunch early. People had canceled appointments, and he had visions of a short day, followed by a trip to Sonic, dancing in his head.

Maybe I’m wrong.

I had to move a desk into the entertainment center’s place to hold up the TV and keep my dad happy until the new TV thing arrives. While I was doing this, I found a huge grey smudge on the wall, around an imperfection in the paint. I know what caused it. I can guess. My dad has been rubbing spit into the wall ever since we got here, trying to rub out a place where the paint has been gouged.

He does things like that. Spit won’t make new paint magically appear, but he tries, and telling him to knock it off is pointless. Rubbing spit on things is a compulsion for him.

I didn’t know spit could make a dark shadow on a wall.

I told him not to rub the spot any more, and he denied that he had. Par for the course.

I got some paper towels and so on and cleaned the hand-sized spit varnish area off the wall, and then I got a Post-It and a marker. I put up a little sign reading, “Do Not Rub This Spot.”

The house is full of signs. “Do not wash dishes by hand.” “Stay off porch.” “No underwear in trash.” It looks pretty odd, but there is no other way to help him avoid causing problems.

I have several notes in his closet, telling him to put his dirty clothes in the hamper instead of hanging them up, and he hangs them up anyway. He doesn’t realize his clothes smell bad. He has no sense of smell. He thinks we are somehow losing money when we wash dirty clothes, just as he thinks it’s more expensive to wash 20 things in the dishwasher than 10.

I have other things to get rid of. I’m going to get rid of my aunt Jean’s living room chairs. My mother took them after Jean died from lung cancer in 1994. They are horrible chairs, and my mother chose a very loud paisley fabric for them. I almost threw them out before we left Miami, but I knew my dad would need something to sit on.

I want to get rid of my parents’ double bed and dresser. These were the first pieces of furniture they bought after they married. My dad has consistently refused to get rid of them, even though no one uses double beds now. Now that I’m in charge, they’re going. I used to sleep on that bed when I was a kid, during the worst years of my life, and I used the dresser. I don’t want to think of those days.

I’m going to get rid of my dad’s books. He has some quality stuff, but I wouldn’t want to touch his books. I don’t want to think about urine and mucus when I hold a book. Every time I read one of those books, I would think about the hygiene problems that caused my family so much suffering and made us all feel violated. Also, a lot of his books are about history. I’m never going to read that. Even if I change my mind, I won’t want his books. If I want to read history, I’ll buy my own books.

My dad used to have a book rack on top of his toilet. Enough said about that.

I’m out of here. I’m off to the barber shop, AKA the Testosterone Lounge. Hopefully everyone will be comparing carry pieces and talking smack about Hillary Clinton.

Leftists Choose Criminals Over Victims

Interesting news: Michael Drejka has been charged with manslaughter.

This is not a surprise to me. I predicted it a while ago.

Michael Drejka is a Florida man with a disabled parking permit. He was brutally attacked by a younger, larger, and stronger man, Markeis McGlockton. Drejka shot McGlockton, who then died.

Drejka is white. McGlockton was black.

Drejka has a history of arguing with people who park in handicapped spaces without permits. He saw McGlockton’s girlfriend parked in a handicapped spot by a convenience store, and he scolded her about it, peacefully. While the conversation was going on, McGlockton rushed at him from the side and shoved him down on the pavement.

While Drejka was on the ground, unable to flee, he pulled a pistol and fired. Before he fired, McGlockton–a coward and a bully–saw the gun and turned away. He was brave enough to attack a smaller, weaker man without provocation or warning, but when he realized his victim could defend himself, he went yellow and became a pacifist. Too late.

Pinellas County Sheriff Bob Gualtieri refused to arrest Drejka, claiming Florida’s “stand your ground” law (“SYG” for convenience) barred prosecution.

Our SYG law says that when you’re in a situation calling for deadly force, you don’t have to flee. You can go ahead and defend yourself. It’s an excellent common sense law. Unfortunately for Mr. Drejka, it does not appear to apply in his case. People in the press want it to apply, because the shooting looks bad on video, and they want to get SYG repealed. Ignorant journalists are citing SYG with regard to the case, but they’re wrong, just as they were wrong when they said it applied to the Zimmerman railroading.

SYG says you don’t have a duty to flee. The law may kick in when you’re standing up and you have a path away from your assailant. It does not kick in when you can’t get away. George Zimmerman could not get away, because Trayvon Martin, a larger, stronger, younger person who was in good condition because of his status as a high school football player, was sitting on his chest, beating his head on a concrete sidewalk. Michael Drejka could not flee, because he was on his knees with an angry criminal standing nearby.

No escape route, no stand your ground case. It’s that simple.

The Zimmerman case was a textbook case of self-defense. The law applying to that case comes straight from England. It has been the law for centuries. If you REASONABLY fear DEATH or SERIOUS BODILY HARM, you may use deadly force. When someone is sitting on you, beating your head on concrete, you can shoot them. There is no need to think about SYG, because it’s not involved. You’re doing something you were allowed to do before SYG existed.

This is not rocket science.

Even in messed-up jurisdictions where there is a duty to flee if possible, Zimmerman would have been within his rights. You can’t flee when someone is sitting on you.

The Drejka case is different. Drejka could not flee, but the criminal who attacked him chickened out when he saw the gun. By the time Drejka fired, it appears that brave McGlockton was cowering. Drejka did not have a duty to flee, but he did have a duty to refrain from harming a criminal who was no longer a threat. Once McGlockton’s knees turned to water, Drejka was obligated to hold his fire.

You can shoot a thousand people in a day, if they’re coming at you. You can’t shoot people who are running away, no matter what they’ve done. The only exception would be a case in which you had a reasonable belief that your assailant was going to resume his attack. We don’t see that in the Drejka case. McGlockton’s cowardice was on full display. He probably would have licked Drejka’s shoes had he been asked.

It appears that the shooting was a crime of revenge. Drejka probably knew he was safe when McGlockton started cringing. He shot anyway, and the best explanation is a desire to punish. The law doesn’t allow that.

If it seems like I’m angry with the deceased, well, I am. He behaved like a savage. He was a bully. He would never have gone near his victim, had Drejka been as big and strong as he was. He had no justification for touching Drejka, let alone for attacking him viciously. A person like that deserves to get shot, even if the shooting is illegal. He could have killed Drejka with that hard landing on asphalt. The fact that Drejka didn’t sustain a fatal head injury is a testament to McGlockton’s luck, not his good intentions.

I’m disgusted by McGlockton’s attack, and I have no sympathy at all for him, but I think Drejka is a murderer, and I believe he should be prosecuted. The charge is manslaughter, but the shooting looks like second-degree murder to me. It was not premeditated, so it can’t be murder one, but it appears to have been a deliberate killing evincing a lack of regard for human life. That’s second-degree murder. I don’t know why he was charged with manslaughter. Maybe the state’s attorney knows most jurors will agree that McGlockton got what he deserved. It may be easier to get a conviction for manslaughter because the penalties are not as harsh.

One wonders what the state will do. In the Zimmerman case, Governor Scott became afraid of bad publicity that would follow a refusal to indict, so he got prosecutor Angela Corey and her underlings to perjure themselves in order to get Zimmerman charged. Right now, journalists are trying to gin up a new publicity threat surrounding SYG. Will our elected officials put politics above the truth again? Prosecutors should charge Drejka, but our legislature should leave SYG alone. It’s a beneficial law that only hurts criminals. Like most laws, it will be abused from time to time, but that doesn’t justify doing away with it.

Imagine a world without SYG. Picture an angry, dangerous criminal attacking you on the street. If there was any possibility of escape, you would have to run away and hope he didn’t pursue you. If he followed you, you would have to keep running until the police arrived. That’s unreasonable and impractical, and that’s why we have SYG. Without it, criminals could chase us around at will and drive us out of public places.

Anyone who persists in trying to harm you needs to be incapacitated quickly, by whatever means you choose. You shouldn’t have to play hide and seek with criminals, or die or be raped, in order to avoid a prison sentence.

Journalists want us to believe that SYG is a quirky law passed by nutty Florida extremists. In reality, it’s the law in most states. Most of the states where the doctrine doesn’t exist are in the northeast. Even California, which doesn’t have an SYG law, applies the doctrine in practice.

Journalists also want to get rid of the castle doctrine, which says you don’t have to retreat in your home or any other legally occupied place. Imagine that. A group of criminals rush into your living room, and you have to leave! No civilized society would hold innocent victims to that standard.

Our journalists are pro-criminal extremists. Maybe they’re trying to disarm us because they know most violent crime in America is committed by black people. Blacks commit most violent crime, and Hispanics are much more likely to commit violent crime than whites. The sad consequence is that blacks and Hispanics are more likely to die in self-defense shootings, but the answer to that problem isn’t to let criminals hurt the innocent. It should be noted that blacks are much more likely to be crime victims than whites, and when we disarm the innocent, we put innocent black lives in danger.

To sum up, McGlockton was a violent criminal who would have been jailed had he not been shot, Drejka appears to be a murderer and should be prosecuted, and SYG is a good doctrine that needs to be preserved. It’s sad to see so many people standing up for bullies.