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The Murdaugh family’s former “Moselle” estate in Colleton County, South Carolina

For nearly two years, many Americans have been fascinated by the various tragedies surrounding the affluent and politically powerful Murdaugh family of South Carolina.  The true-life drama began unfolding in June of 2021, when attorney Alex Murdaugh claims he arrived at his massive estate to find his wife, Maggie, and youngest son, Paul, shot to death alongside some dog kennels.  On March 2, 2023, a jury convicted Murdaugh of murdering Maggie and Paul; supposedly in a perverted effort to conceal his own fiduciary shenanigans, which was amplified by his addiction to opioids.

But Murdaugh’s troubles aren’t over yet.  Local police are now investigating both the 2018 death of the family’s housekeeper at the Murdaugh home and the 2015 death of a young man who supposedly had a connection to Murdaugh’s oldest son, Buster.  At the time of his death, Paul Murdaugh was facing criminal charges for the 2019 boating death of a young woman.  And now, the suspicious death of one of Alex Murdaugh’s ancestors in 1940 has come to light.

If a novice screenwriter had presented this project to a film or television producer, they’d be laughed back into obscurity.

What had once been a prominent legal dynasty now lies in the tatters of arrogance and greed.  Once highly revered in South Carolina, the Murdaugh family name has become synonymous with fraud and murder.  If anything, it’s testament to what happens when people grow too comfortable with their wealth and power and assume nothing and no one can undermine that status.

Alex Murdaugh admitted he lied to investigators about the events of June 7, 2021 – the night his wife and younger son were murdered.  But his admission came only after savvy investigators used technology to confirm his whereabouts.  People seem to keep forgetting cell phones aren’t always their best friend.  And Murdaugh also apparently forgot that paper trails are equally revealing.  Damn, it’s getting so hard for criminals to make a living in the 21st century!

But one curiously tragic element is that at least three strange deaths have been linked to the Murdaugh family.

Stephen Smith

Everyone who knew and loved Stephen Smith had only the best things to say about him.  Openly queer in a bastion of right-wing conservatism, Stephen still maintained a bright outlook on his life.  After graduating high school, he began attending nursing school with the ultimate goal of becoming a doctor.  But his future came to a brutal end when he turned up dead on a remote road in Hampton County, South Carolina on July 8, 2015.  Local police ultimately concluded he was the victim of a hit-and-run – despite that his body displayed no signs of blunt force trauma (although his head showed signs that he had been struck); no shards of vehicle glass or other broken items lay nearby; and Stephen’s wallet and cell phone sat in his car some distance down the road.  Oddly Alex Murdaugh arrived on the scene within hours of the discovery of Stephen’s body.  Understand Murdaugh wasn’t a law enforcement official; he was an attorney with a local law firm that had a long history of handling wrongful death and injury cases.  Why he became involved with the Smith death wouldn’t become obvious until some time later.

Stephen Smith’s parents weren’t satisfied with the results of the investigation, so they contacted the state police agency, the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED).  SLED’s inquiry didn’t reveal much more, but amidst interviews with anyone and everyone who knew Stephen, one name kept coming up: Murdaugh.  Stephen’s twin sister, Stephanie, states that her brother had suddenly become secretive in the weeks preceding his death and that he was involved with a member of a prominent local family.  Stephen never called out anyone’s name, but Stephanie notes that Alex Murdaugh’s oldest son, Buster, might have had some connection to Stephen.  They all graduated from the same high school in 2014.  Stephen and Stephanie weren’t part of the “cool” crowd during those days, while Buster (mainly because of his family’s wealth) definitely was.  The exact relationship between Stephen Smith and Buster Murdaugh remains unknown, but law enforcement has reopened the investigation into Smith’s death.  It wouldn’t have happened, though, without the murders of Maggie and Paul Murdaugh.

Gloria Satterfield

Gloria Satterfield was a simple, working woman.  Like most people of her stature, she didn’t ask for much beside respect and consideration.  Gloria worked for Alex and Maggie Murdaugh for some 20 years before her untimely death in 2018.  She essentially helped raise Buster and Paul Murdaugh.  It’s such a classic element of the wealthy – they seem to be too busy to raise their own progeny.  In February of 2018, Gloria fell at the Murdaugh home and incurred a serious head injury.  The Murdaughs later claimed she tripped over one of the family’s dogs.  But upon listening to the 911 call, there are no sounds of dogs in the background.  And neither Maggie nor Paul – both of whom spoke to the 911 operator – mentioned dogs during the call.

Five months later Paul was involved in a vehicle wreck, along with his girlfriend, Morgan Doughty.  According to Morgan, Paul – then age 19 – had consumed an excessive amount of beer, and the truck in which they were riding was loaded with empty beer cans and even a number of firearms.  They apparently got into an argument, as Paul sped along a roadway; whereupon he lost control of the vehicle, which landed on the passenger side.  After they both climbed out, Morgan recounts, she attempted to call 911, but she says Paul slapped her phone out of her hand.  He then called his parents who arrived with his Uncle Randy, Alex’s younger brother.  As Morgan watched, the Murdaughs cleared the area and the truck of both the beer cans and the guns before calling emergency services.  She says they ordered her to remain silent.  And she did.  She obviously had no choice.

Mallory Beach

Mallory Beach was 19 in February of 2019 and most certainly didn’t think her life would end any time soon.  No one that age does.  But Mallory’s life came to an especially brutal end on February 24, 2019, when the boat she was riding in slammed into a dock piling.  Paul Murdaugh was driving the vessel, which belonged to his father.  He was also highly intoxicated.  Paul and most everyone else aboard were flung into the dark waters.  Mallory was the only one who didn’t surface.  Her body was discovered several days later; she was the only fatality.

After everyone in the boat was transported to a local hospital, a number of medical staff noted Paul Murdaugh’s behavior changed dramatically; he allegedly became more belligerent and refused to provide blood and urine samples.  While at the hospital, Paul called his paternal grandfather who then arrived with Alex.  The older Murdaugh men refused to allow hospital staff to take the requested blood and urine samples, but their interference in the fiasco didn’t end there.  As the other boat crash survivors recounted later, the duo visited all of them in their respective rooms and suggested they remain quiet about the night’s events.  But Alex went further and asked one of the survivors – a long-time close friend of Paul – to confess to police that he had been driving the boat at the time of the accident.  The young man – who had suffered a broken jaw – refused.

One of the most egregious aspects of the boat crash is that Paul Murdaugh wasn’t brought before a court to face a variety of charges until early 2021.  And, instead of being subjected to the normal protocol of mug shots and fingerprinting, Paul was allowed to stand against a wall in the hallway and have his official mug taken with a cell phone.  Then a fingerprint kit was brought into the courtroom – all done obviously done to accommodate an already pampered young man.  The Beach family sued the Murdaughs for wrongful death, and earlier this year a judge approved a settlement between the two families.

After the murders of Maggie and Paul, Alex Murdaugh loudly claimed it was retribution for the boat crash; that some angry local – perhaps tired of the slow pace of justice – decided to enact justice on their own.  No one seems to believe him.  At his sentencing, Judge Clifton Newman had an interesting response to the defendant’s claims that his opioid addiction led to his erratic behavior.  “And it might not have been you,” Newman stated. “It might have been the monster you become when you take 15, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60 opioid pills, and maybe you become another person. I have seen that before.  The person standing before me was not the person who committed the crime, though it is the same individual.  We’ll leave that at that.”

The drama has not ceased.  Investigations into the deaths of Stephen Smith and Gloria Satterfield continue, as their respective families demand the bodies be exhumed.

Nothing can be made right about all of this, but even a cursory glance at the scope of this case proves that the Murdaugh family name has been sullied – perhaps forever.  Entire empires have crumbled because of their leaders’ arrogance and greed.  So have family dynasties.  The Murdaughs are just the latest.

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Damnit!  You Died and Didn’t Even Tell Me!

Over Easter weekend I learned that one of my closest long-time friends, David, died on April 4, at the age of 49.  He would have turned 50 on April 17.  I don’t know for certain, but I believe he’d succumbed to esophageal cancer.  I had spoken with him briefly last month when he told me he planned to visit a doctor.  He had trouble swallowing and – mostly shocking – weighed only 114 pounds at the time.  He later informed me that an X-ray showed his esophagus was bent and that his doctor had referred him to a gastroenterologist who referenced cancer.  That’s what I had thought, when he mentioned the initial X-ray findings.  The gastroenterologist wanted to rush him into surgery.  Afterwards I never heard from him again.  I had thought of calling him, when I decided to check that most ubiquitous of sources: Facebook.  That’s when I found out about his demise.

Damn!  And he didn’t have the decency to tell me.  You know…that’s kind of rude.

The news hit me especially hard because Easter weekend marked the first anniversary of the death of another close friend, Paul, who died after a year-long bout with liver cancer at the age of 55.  His death was considerably different in that I had been in constant contact with him and saw the end looming over the horizon.

I also saw the end with another friend, also named David, before his death in 1993.  That was the first time I’d actually lost a close friend to death, and it impacts me to this day.  People have always accused me of being too sensitive; in that I don’t often let things go.  That’s true to an extent.  I had a tendency to hold grudges.  But it’s tough to let go of the death of a close relative or friend.

David went quick, though.  According to one of his friends, the cancer was too advanced for doctors to do anything.  And I got mad again.  That’s just like a man!  Waited until the last fucking minute to take care of himself!  That’s so old school.  Men of my father’s generation did shit like that!  David was almost a whole decade younger than me.

Several years ago I watched a program on the lives of very old people; those who’d lived beyond 90 and how they managed to sustain themselves.  Aside from good genes and a positive outlook on life, they all seemed to have one pertinent thing in common: their ability to deal with the death of others around them.  As sad as it is to lose a loved one, we have to understand that it happens.  Some things may last forever, but no person can – at least not in this world.  Our capacity to accept that helps us move forward with our own lives.

So, as difficult as it’s been these past few weeks, I’ve had to accept David is gone.  My greatest consolation is that he’s not suffering anymore.

Good night, my friend.  I’ll miss you, but I’m glad you have begun your next journey in life.  As with everyone else I’ve lost, I hope to see you on the other side.

David in his natural element – with an animal

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Sad

On April 4 New York officials arrested former President Donald Trump for paying a former adult film star $130,000 to keep quiet about an alleged tryst they had in 2006.  It’s actually more complicated than that.  And, in keeping with the appetite Americans have for the salacious antics of public personalities, there are more players in this game than a womanizing, tax-cheating businessman and a glamorized prostitute.

Politicians and porn stars seem to have a lot in common: they have no conscious and don’t care who they screw, as long as they get some kind of money and notoriety in the end.  And, for the record, I actually think more highly of porn stars.  I don’t know what prompted the “actress” known as Stormy Daniels (Stephanie Clifford) to find anything remotely attractive about Donald Trump.  She claims he was just exceptionally charming, which I think a lot of women say when they engage in such behavior.  Monica Lewinsky said the same about Bill Clinton.  Who really know and who really cares?

Trump’s real transgression involving Daniels – the one that landed him in a Manhattan courtroom – isn’t his sexual indiscretion or even the money he supposedly paid out to buy her silence.  It’s that he allegedly processed the payment through his campaign finances, as he desperately sought the Republican Party’s nomination for president in early 2016.  That’s illegal, if it did occur.  According to one of his closest confidants at the time, Michael Cohen, it did.  We know so much about the fiasco because Cohen was a Trump attorney who served as vice-president of the Trump organization.  In 2018 Cohen was found guilty of a number of monetary crimes, including campaign finance violations.  Afterwards he turned on Trump and declared that his former boss, indeed, paid Daniels to remain quiet.  Then news arose that Trump had an affair with another woman, Karen McDougal, an actress and former Playboy model – and that the real estate magnate had paid her to stay silent as well.  But wait!  It gets worst!  Yet another rumor has emerged that Trump had an affair with another, unnamed woman and that she bore a child as a result of their liaison.  This latter story comes from an admittedly dubious source – a doorman at Trump Tower in New York.

Writers for daytime dramas have composed shit like this for decades, and their viewers recognize the absurdity of it all, but still love to watch the shenanigans executed on screen.  When it happens in real life, though, observers react with awe.

Most of us, however, don’t react with shock or surprise – at least not people my age.  I’ve seen this type of histrionic morass play out in public most of my life.  I’m never really surprised when powerful people get caught up in their own personal machinations.  It’s almost laughable.

But, as I look at this mess involving Donald Trump, another word comes to mind: sad.  Trump is the first former U.S. president to be indicted for criminal behavior.  His supporters are screaming that this is all a liberal plot; quickly forgetting that conservatives tried to impeach Bill Clinton for lying about his own dalliance with a woman a quarter century ago.

Regardless this is all an embarrassment and a disgrace for a nation that has always prided itself on being the leader of the free world; a beacon for democracy.  This pathetic drama continues, but it’s truly disheartening.  The cesspool of American politics seemingly has no bottom.

Image: Jane Rosenberg

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Changing Dahl’s

“The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.”

Charles Bukowski

Fragile souls have infected the American conscious.  In ongoing efforts to accommodate every type of human who could possibly exist on Earth, language is being reconstructed and new words are being created.  Thus, a new type of censorship has taken hold.  As a writer, I’m devoutly opposed to any type of literary censorship.  No matter how offensive some writings may be, people should always be allowed to read them and determine whether or not they find it palatable.  No one, but no one has the right to make those decisions for others.

But does this include editing?  Are books written years ago now subject to contemporary sensibilities?  Roald Dahl – author of such legendary children’s tomes as “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” and “James and the Giant Peach” – has become the latest target of political correctness, as his publisher, Puffin Books, has decided to edit some of those famous works.

For example, in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, the character of Augustus Gloop is no longer “fat” but now “enormous”. In “The Twits”, Mrs. Twit is no longer “ugly and beastly”; she’s just “beastly”.

Other passages have been rewritten.  In the original version of “James and the Giant Peach”, the Centipede sings: “Aunt Sponge was terrifically fat / And tremendously flabby at that,” and, “Aunt Spiker was thin as a wire / And dry as a bone, only drier.”

In the amended interpretation, he sings: “Aunt Sponge was a nasty old brute / And deserved to be squashed by the fruit,” and, “Aunt Spiker was much of the same / And deserves half of the blame.”

Even the mundane term “female” has rendered vile.  The character of Miss Trunchbull in “Matilda” – described as a “most formidable female” – has now metamorphosed into a “most formidable woman”.

In a nod to the burgeoning transgender movement, gender neutral terms are now popular.  The Oompa-Loompas in “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” are now “small people”, instead of “small men”; while the Cloud-Men in “James and the Giant Peach” are now “Cloud-People”.

Really?

The Roald Dahl Story Company explained the alterations by declaring, “it’s not unusual to review the language” during a new print run and any changes were “small and carefully considered”.

Puffin made the changes in concert with Inclusive Minds, an entity founded in 2013 that – according to their web site – “works with the children’s book world to support them in authentic representation, primarily by connecting those in the industry with those who have lived experience of any or multiple facets of diversity.”  It’s curious that Inclusive Minds emphasizes that they “do not edit or rewrite texts, but provide book creators with valuable insight from people with the relevant lived experience that they can take into consideration in the wider process of writing and editing.”

Okay, great, wonderful!  I have no problem with inclusion.  During high school and even college, I rarely found the Spanish and Indian portions of my heritage included in literature and popular cultural formats, such as television.  I certainly didn’t see any positive representations of queer people.

But, while inclusivity is great from a cultural perspective, it’s ridiculous and personally offensive to me as a writer to see books published long ago rewritten to cater to new levels of awareness.  We can’t go back and change what happened a lifetime ago.  No matter how much someone wishes things had been different way back when, they just can’t alter the past.  They simply can’t.  Dahl was a product of his time; he said and wrote what was commonly acceptable in his day.  If you read his books and don’t like the verbiage, then don’t read them!  It’s the same with a TV show; if you don’t like it, DON’T WATCH IT!

I understand that some things are blatantly offensive.  That’s just how it is.  If we ban every book that someone finds offensive, we wouldn’t have anything to read!  Stop the madness.  It’s not going to help move society forward.

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What He’s Done

SWAT officers take Solomon Peña into custody in Albuquerque, New México. (Photo: Roberto E. Rosales/Albuquerque Journal)

Earlier this week New México police arrested a failed Republican congressional candidate and charged him with hiring some men to shoot up the homes of Democratic opponents. Solomon Peña allegedly was dissatisfied with the results of his race last year and decided to seek revenge in the worst possible way: through violence. Like his idol, former President Donald Trump, Peña is an election denier and claimed fraud in his own run for a seat in the U.S. House of Representatives. He lost to his Democratic opponent by more than 3,600 votes.

In the U.S. many elected officials – mostly Democrat and liberal – have been the targets of political violence over the past 5 or 6 years; which (not surprisingly) coincides with the rise of Trump.  The animosity reached a feverish crescendo on January 6, 2021, when a mob of Trump loyalists stormed the U.S. Capitol Building in a failed attempt to undermine the 2020 presidential election, as well as democracy itself.  I’m still angry at the sight of hundreds storming into the building and even angrier at those who continue to support Trump and dismiss the severity of that day.  Like most Americans, the rampage reminded me of images of developing countries in the throes of political chaos.  While various groups in the U.S. have threatened to inflict such carnage over previous decades, no one really thought it would happen.

We have Donald Trump to thank for that.

Threatening election officials and taking out opponents with bullets is what used to happen in places like Colombia and the Philippines.  Even as recently as 1995, Israel experienced political violence when Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated.  The act stunned the international community and roiled the only truly democratic state in the Middle East.

Americans have always had a love-hate relationship with their elected officials, whether or not they actually voted for them, or even voted at all.  But I’ve always believed the Watergate fiasco was a major turning point in our nation’s disillusionment with politicians overall.  That a sitting president would seek to gain an advantage over his adversaries by concocting a burglary scheme shocked most people.  They always sort of knew politicians weren’t necessarily the most moral of individuals, but an actual break-in?

A greater sense of partisanship began to take hold in the ensuing decade and became more pronounced in the 1990s, as Republicans did everything they could – and failed – to undermine Bill Clinton’s agenda.  The scandalous (and genuinely corrupt) 2000 presidential election widened the chasm of discontent.  The GOP’s blatant disrespect for President Barack Obama was even more egregious and appalling – but not really unexpected from conservatives, as far as I was concerned.

Then came Donald Trump, and the haters suddenly had a license to lash out with unabashed vigor.  All the social upheavals of the 1960s were the result of tensions that had been brewing for decades; people had grown tired of just waiting for change and hoping for the best.  In a similar, yet twisted manner, the right-wing extremism that exploded under Trump also had been fomenting in the souls of angry (mostly White male) conservatives for years; that is, since…well, since the 1960s.  Ronald Reagan once said he wanted to return America to the time before the 60s screwed up everything.  As a relic of his past, he naturally didn’t understand we can’t go backwards in time.  That’s science fiction.  But that’s why I call most conservatives preservatives – they want to preserve the old ways of life; ways that were good for them, of course, but not everyone else.

Trump revised that futile dream with his “Make America Great Again” mantra; claiming he wanted to “take America back”.  Back to where, those of us with more than half a brain asked, and how far?  Back to the Civil War?  Back to the Gilded Age?

Peña is just one cog in the wheel of America’s political vitriol.  Think of this for a few moments.  Acting like a drug cartel leader, Peña (who already had a felony criminal record) hired some thugs to fire gun shots into the homes of people he thought had snatched victory from him. At least one of those bullets ended up in a child’s bedroom.  Just as with drug cartels, Peña and his henchmen cared nothing about their intended victims and any collateral damage – i.e., innocent bystanders.  Drug lords only care about their profits; everyone and everything else be damned.  Peña only cared about exacting personal revenge over what he perceived to be a corrupt system.  We’re not supposed to do that in civilized societies.

But that is Trump’s legacy.  That is what he’s done to the overall concept of democracy.

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A House at 50

“Listen,” I said to my father, “you hear that?”

He didn’t know what I meant.

“Nothing.”

It was December 1972, and my 9-year-old self had never heard such quiet in a neighborhood.  This week marks 50 years since my parents and I moved into this home in suburban Dallas.  The area was newly-developed; former farm and ranch territory that comprised the hinterlands of a growing metropolis.  Family and friends wondered how my parents had managed to find the place.

We had been living in a two-bedroom apartment above a garage in the back of a house owned by my father’s oldest sister and her husband.  Located just north of downtown Dallas, it sat very near Harry Hines Boulevard – a lengthy industrial stretch of road that would later become more infamous as a haven for prostitutes and adult book stores.

My mother was in that apartment with a 17-day-old me on November 22, 1963, when she heard a cacophony of sirens and rushed to a window.  She saw the tail of President Kennedy’s motorcade rushing down Harry Hines, unaware of what had just happened moments earlier.

On the day we began moving into our new home, my aunt made herself scarce.  She had grown so accustomed to having us there that she couldn’t bear the sight of us packing up to leave.

It’s hard to imagine now, but not until we moved here did we get our first color television set.  A month later we finally got our phone.  I still have that number connected.  In 1972, Richard Nixon won a second term in the White House; Watergate reared its contemptuous head; violence marred the Summer Olympics in Munich; HBO launched; Polaroid introduced the SX-70 one-step instant camera; and three of my favorite films – “Cabaret”, “The Godfather”, and “The Poseidon Adventure” – came out.

My parents were excited because they were now living the American dream of home ownership.  My father was particularly enthusiastic to follow his mother’s tradition of gardening and quickly found paradise in the front and back yards.  I was thrilled with the prospect of getting a dog.  It was a promise my parents had made to me upon moving into the house.  They fulfilled it the following summer when they bought a German shepherd puppy I named Josh.  My mother had to swallow her phobia of large canines; having witnessed a man ravaged by a Doberman in the late 1930s.

My parents made friends with many of the neighbors, and I maintain a few of those friendships today.  They each had that type of personality, especially my father – they seemed to make friends with most anyone.  I, on the other hand, seemed naturally reticent to meet new people.  Regardless, our home became a refuge for most everyone we knew.  We often held parties and other gatherings; if for no other reason except to have a party or a gathering.  Family, friends and neighbors relished visiting.  This was a place where all good souls were welcome; where people could feel happy and safe.  We had food (real food – not just chips and dips!), music, beverages, laughter and plenty of love.  No one left here sad or dejected.  Drunk and tired, maybe – but never glum.

When my father lay in a hospital bed in May of 2016, he reiterated that he wanted to die here – in this house.  It was a wish I was able to grant him.  My mother also passed away here in 2020.

A few years ago I told an old friend, Paul, that I suspected I will die here, too, albeit alone.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

“Nothing!” I replied.  It was more a statement than an omen.

So I’m alone now.  This house is quiet.  At a half century it’s showing its age.  But it’s mine; it’s where I grew up and where my parents drew their last breath.  It’s where so many people came to enjoy life.

It’s a house at 50, but it’s always been a home.

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Look!  No Handshakes!

U.S. Capitol Hill police officer Brian Sicknick received a posthumous Congressional Gold Medal on December 6.

This past Tuesday, December 6, the Capitol Hill Police officers who battled enraged mobs on January 6, 2021 received Congressional Gold Medals – the highest honor bestowed by the U.S. Congress to individuals and institutions for distinguished achievements and contributions.  They certainly deserve them.

Among the recipients was the late Brian Sicknick, an Air Force veteran whose family accepted on his behalf.  Sicknick suffered a stroke amidst the chaos of January 6 and died the next day.  But something curious happened on Tuesday.

Sicknick’s family refused to shake hands with leaders of the Republican Party – Sen. Mitch McConnell and Rep. Kevin McCarthy.  It wasn’t because they’re die-hard Democrats (what are often called “yellow dog” Democrats in Texas; meaning someone would rather vote for a yellow dog than a Republican) and certainly not merely to cause a ruckus.  To them it was a matter of “integrity”.

Integrity is an attribute that has been lacking in American politics for decades.  What little of it remained in Washington in January of 2017 was obliterated by Donald Trump and his supporters.  Like many Americans Sicknick’s family is disgusted with the GOP leadership as a whole; particularly their failure (unwillingness) to stand up to Trump and call out his repulsive behavior.  Trump’s disrespect for entire groups of people, discombobulated verbiage and other incendiary acts culminated in the horror of January 6 – a truly unprecedented event in American history.

While it may seem petty, even childish, on their part, I’m glad the Sicknicks decided not to be painfully polite and shake the hands of McConnell and McCarthy.  Craig Sicknick, one of Brian’s brothers, expressed no qualms about his family’s decision.  “I really do not hold respect for people who have no integrity,” he said.  “Which is what – this is not a partisan issue, this is an integrity issue. They took an oath to defend and uphold the Constitution.  And when somebody challenges it, like Trump, they do nothing.  Their silence is deafening.  Or worse they keep perpetrating the same policies and lies that caused the insurrection to happen.”

Previously McConnell has condemned Trump’s actions, but McCarthy has visited the former president at his Mar-a-Lago estate several times over the past year.  Conservatives frequently criticized former President Bill Clinton for his varied sexual indiscretions and even tried to remove him from office for one such liaison.  But, when Trump arrived on the scene with his third wife and a slew of even more reprehensible follies, they suddenly seemed to enter a forgiving state of mind.  Moreover, they let Trump reconfigure the entire Republican Party into a circus of hate and violence.

It’s also worth noting that 21 Republicans voted against granting any of those officers Congressional Gold Medals last year.  One, Rep. Thomas Massie of Kentucky, explained that he was bothered by the use of the term “insurrectionists” to describe the rioters.

“I think if we call that an insurrection, it could have a bearing on their case that I don’t think would be good,” Massie said, later adding, “If they just wanted to give the police recognition, they could have done it without trying to make it partisan, without sticking that in there.”

Partisan?  Really?  Hearing Republicans complain about partisanship is like hearing a drug addict complain about a friend’s alcoholism.

Integrity does matter.  The Capitol Hill police officers displayed it unrelentingly on January 6.  We need more of it across the world.

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When Three Losers Meet for Dinner

What do a failed president, a disoriented rapper and a White separatist have in common?  They’re all losers!  And, as news reports have revealed, they all met for dinner just before Thanksgiving.  Former President Donald Trump hosted hip-hop singer Kanye West (now known as Ye) and right-wing extremist media personality Nick Fuentes at his Mar-a-Lago estate in Florida a few weeks ago.

If I ever host a dinner party with some of the most interesting and intellectual people in the world, the three aforementioned clowns wouldn’t get past my front door.  (Disclaimer: no offense meant to professional clowns.)

We’ve all had those ‘what-were-they-thinking’ reactions to certain people’s bizarre behavior.  But Trump, West and Fuentes bring a new level of absurdity into the public forum.  It shouldn’t surprise anyone that a walking embodiment of incompetence (Trump) would invite two other dopers to his estate.

I’ve never been a fan of Trump.  When he announced his bid for the U.S. presidency in 2015, I pointed out that he’d technically been running for president for some 30 years.  In a 1980s interview with Barbara Walters, she queried Trump about whether or not he would seek the Oval Office.  Many scoffed at the notion that a New York real estate tycoon should run for the presidency simply because he was incredibly wealthy and well-known.

Those of us old enough to remember the excesses of the 1980s – especially here in the U.S. – know that wealth and fame suddenly became requisites for political office or any kind of leadership position.

Regardless of his status, Trump isn’t a realist.  Consider his relentless – and undeniably refuted – claims that the 2020 elections were fraudulent.  He still refuses to accept defeat; thus proving he’s the proverbial sore loser.  In my own analysis, the 2000 and 2016 presidential elections were blatantly fraudulent, but that’s an entirely different discussion.

But West and Fuentes are also denialists.  West denies observations that he has no real talent, and Fuentes denies the Nazi Holocaust occurred.  I’m certain they all deny other realities, but I don’t want to spend that much time on them.

Trump, West and Fuentes are perfect companions for each other.  While Trump made a name for himself in the 1980s as a successful real estate magnate, West made a name for himself in the violence-prone world of hip-hop.  I have to admit I can’t identify any of his “songs” and I wouldn’t care to either.

Fuentes’ arrival in the public arena is recent.  At barely 24 years old, he’s become an icon of right-wing extremists; a youthful vial of hate and bigotry.  He represents a new generation of Christo-fascist warriors who believe, for example, that Christopher Columbus discovered America and African slaves were actually indentured servants.

Further proving his detachment from reality, Trump denied knowing who Fuentes is.  He’d allegedly invited only West for dinner, and West invited Fuentes.  Of course that’s what happened!

No matter who invited who for dinner, Trump brought out the worst in humanity: the hatred, the putrid, the disgusting and the violent.  Along with West and Fuentes, he represents everything that’s wrong with this nation – and everything a civilized society shouldn’t be.

But let them dine together!  They deserve one another.

The rest of us deserve better.

Image: Kelli R. Grant/Yahoo News; photos: Jean-Baptiste Lacroix/AFP via Getty Images, Joe Raedle/Getty Images, Rainmaker Photos/MediaPunch /IPX via AP)

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Still Fighting, Living and Writing!

Today, Saturday November 5, marks my 59th birthday, and I have to gloat on myself!  For the first time in a long while, I feel better than I have…in a long while!  For one thing I don’t feel a day older than 57!  And, even as I rapidly approach the seventh decade of my life, I’m determined never to get “old”.

I’ve had so much going on lately.  The COVID-19 pandemic decimated both my burgeoning freelance writing career and what savings I’d amassed over the previous years.  I’ve had trouble finding work, which I attribute in part to my age.  Other stuff has gone awry.  My truck is showing its age; the overhead garage door needs to be repaired; I need a new PC, CD player and DVD player.  I’ve had ongoing plumbing problems.  A job that was contract-to-hire (and that looked very promising) was pulled unexpectedly from me on Friday.

But my hair is still black; my face and body are in relatively good shape; I still enjoy writing and blogging; and – most importantly – I’m still alive!  I woke up this morning…well, more like this afternoon.

I’m also happy to say I’ve achieved that coveted status of “Dirty Old Man”!  Now I can emulate my dad and pretty much do and say whatever I want and not give a shit what people say about it!  What a glorious state of being!

As someone who has suffered from chronic depression most of my life and alcoholism most of my adult years, I’m glad to know I’ve made it to another year of life.  I haven’t given up on myself and neither should any of you!  If someone as deranged as me can live this long, just about anything can happen!

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The Queen Died…So?

I can only imagine many Britons are still in mourning over the death of Queen Elizabeth II on September 8.  But, like many Americans, I don’t really care.  While much of the American media still treats the British royal family as iconic figures, the overwhelming majority of us couldn’t care less what they do or say.

The only member of that tribe I liked was the late Princess Diana.  I always felt she had more class in her little finger than the entire gang put together.  When she and Prince Charles wed in 1981, many Britons had begun questioning the purpose of a royal family.  Their political power had officially been stripped decades earlier.  They’re figurative leaders, and Elizabeth was considered a “Sovereign Head of State”.  But there’s no question the Windsors remain deeply influential.  They were among the few European royal families to survive the carnage of World War II.

Regardless of their heritage, I consider Elizabeth and the entire Windsor clan representative of the legacy of colonial repression and European superiority complex.  What purpose do they – or any of the other royal families around the globe – truly serve?  The Windsors own a multitude of properties in the British Isles and cost local taxpayers billions every year.  England is currently in an economic crisis.  The Windsors pay some taxes, but – like the wealthiest citizens of most every society on Earth – the actual percentage is questionable and unknown.  That’s by design.

If you want to get an idea of what many in the British Commonwealth think about Elizabeth, watch this piece on Jamaican reaction to her death.  Like the peoples of many former British colonies, Jamaicans were forced to give their lives to enrich the “Crown”.  England, like France and other European powers, slaughtered millions of Indigenous Americans and then snatched millions of Indigenous Africans to replace them.  After World War II, the British Empire was compelled to relinquish two of its biggest colonial prizes: Canada and India.  The fought bitterly to hold onto the Falkland Islands in 1982, but eventually gave up Hong Kong in 1997.

I have to commend the British for doing something positive overall to make some kind of amends for their activities in many parts of the globe, especially Africa.

Years ago many conservative Americans criticized President Obama and his wife, Michelle, for not bowing or curtsying to Queen Elizabeth and Prince Phillip.  I reminded many that our president doesn’t bow or curtsy to the British monarchy or any royal family.  While the U.S. and England are historically and inexorably bonded, the American Revolution was about divorcing ourselves from the power and influence of British royalty.  We represent a true democracy – not a monarchial federation.

The world knows what the French and Russians did to their royal families.  I don’t suggest the same fate befall the Windsors or any other regal clan.  But no one can seem to answer – what purpose do these people serve in a modern world?

I have a tenuous connection to the Windsor clan – emphasis on tenuous.  Elizabeth’s father, King George VI, was a chronic smoker.  So was my paternal grandfather, Epigmenio De La Garza, who was born in 1893.  In February 1952, both George and my grandfather had surgeries to remove part of one lung.  Both the surgeons who worked on King George and the ones who worked on my grandfather attended the same medical school.  King George died.  My grandfather survived and lived for another 17 years.

Fate, like irony, makes for strange outcomes in life.

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