Dad's Political Jottings from an Earlier and Prophetic Time

Among Dad's fictional stories, there are a series of notes/jottings he'd make about the political landscape of the 1990s and 2000s. Many I can't put on here because he was often so angry at the direction our country was taking, a denouement we are all seeing now. He saw it then. I had no idea that his predictions would come true so quickly, and with such a dramatically evil turn. Anyway, here is one. I am not sure of the exact time frame, but as Hillary ran for Senate in 2000, it is from about then. 

From the "All the News That's Fit to Print" Department:  The New York Times will no longer refer to our periwigged political ancestors as "our Founding Fathers". Hence, their identity will be reduced to the status of "founders."

William Safire is usually intransigent when it comes to true progress.  He is said to have observed that "none of them were mothers." Sacrilege, indeed.

He might have observed that "these are the times that try men's souls," an aphorism in keeping with the era, but not sufficiently inclusive. 

The Army, Navy and Marines have made enormous progress in integrating the distaff side into their programs. The Navy is having a severe problem getting its equipment to conform to female contours.  The atomic submarine is not designed to accommodate unusual protrusions in its crew members.  Space is at a premium in these conveyances; thus the corridors are too narrow for crew members going in opposite directions to pass without backing to the walls and sidling forward.

Many crew members--male-have noted the problem, but express no particular potential inconvenience.

A noted radio commentator--highly sensitive to significant trends--has suggested that the Navy staff a proportionate number of vessels with a full and exclusive complement of women crew members.

Americans are no longer the prime defenders of the ladies.  An LA Times article announces that a Japanese poll has revealed that ". .  . in a startling reversal of Asian values, that for centuries put a premium on male heirs," shows that 75% of young Japanese parent now prefer baby girls.

"Boys don't listen and are harder to raise" said Yumi Yamaguchi, to which I can only say, "Banzai!"

And "Shalom" to Hillary.  I hear she has discovered she is partly Jewish. Of course Hillary hardly has shown the proper attitude towards her apocryphal lineage. Supporting a Palestinian state, and sitting silent while Mrs. Arafat castigated Israel for grievous offenses, does not play well in Flatbush, Brooklyn or Miami, Florida.

Dick Morris, who has advised Bill so expertly, stated on Fox TV that had Hillary left the room at the diatribe she would be ten points ahead in the Senate Race in New York.

Do not despair. There is still Education, and the Children, and Healthcare. And there is Bill, pictured last week on the front page of the LA Times looking downward reverentially and holding hands with Arafat and Barak. 

After all, he is the man who has brought peace to Haiti, Kosovo, Ireland, the Middle East, just another 1.5 billion for Haiti, added to the 2 billion already spent. Albanians killing Serbs instead of Serbs killing Albanian.  Russia killing Chechyans and advising the world it's none of their business.

Worry not.  Foreign policy is not in the hands, yet, of upstarts who don't know who the leader of Pakistan is.  Did I say "Is?" That is for another column.

For now, there's more foreign policy.  Bill has stopped in Cyprus to "cheer" the peace talks between the Greeks and the Turks. The Athenians are rioting since they did not enjoy his victory in Kosovo.

It's all for the spreading of "democracy".  Bill is in Turkey on this quest.  He has come at a most opportune time.  Two 7.2. earthquakes within three months can make one amenable to anything. 

Charlie Kirk. . .And then there were Four

A few days ago, I wrote an entry about the cruel, the despicable, the evil, deaths of Iryna Zarutska, and the two young children of Ascension School. 

The Devil is never done with his effort at destruction and his invasion of souls. Alas all too many souls open themselves up to his corruption, thinking they will find light, when they will find only hell. They are smug--so many faces on Facebook can we even see them--until it is too late. 

Only two days after my lamenting entry about three individuals, another vile episode. Whether it was actually committed or planned or both by this wispy young man from an apparently Republican family turned transgender ideologue or the result of a dark oligarchic plan, the Devil was there, helping to aim the bullet by which Charlie Kirk was assassinated. 

I pray that the Devil and his human tools miscalculated. The Devil is only a Creature. Surely God's Grace will touch, and has already touched, more souls than that benighted beast ever could. 

There are signs, signs that, as it always does, evil oversteps and does itself in--though its spewing makes it hard for us to see how desperate it is in its last gasps. We have to hold on. 

Today is the Feast of St. John Chrysostom in the Catholic Calendar. He was a priest in the fourth century, then a Bishop in Constantinople. He censured a rich empress for bad public behavior (in contradiction of the faith). He was banished for speaking the truth, exiled. But, speak the truth he nonetheless did.

There is a prayer in the Magnificat, today, which speaks of the gift of speech that St. John had. His last name means "Golden Mouth". That prayer, it occurred to me, speaks also of the late Charlie Kirk. 

"Oh God, you speak the Word of life through the eloquence of the faithful servants whom you call to proclaim the Good News of salvation.  By the example and intercession of Saint John Chrysostom, raise up courageous and convincing preachers in our day to stir faith to life, to heal the brokenhearted, and to offer new life through Jesus Christ Our Lord."

I am satisfied to think that Charlie was raised up either through the intercession of St. John, or through any number of Holy Sources, including the Blessed Mother whom Charlie praised recently, though he was Protestant. He certainly was a courageous and convincing preacher. And what his murder has done is to inspire more speakers, young and old, in all fora. The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church. How often we have heard that. When I am optimistic, I feel it strongly.

There is something that St. John Chrysostom said that seems particularly apt at this horrible time when a wife and mother is burying her 31 year old husband who had the temerity to speak what people do not want to hear. "All things will certainly turn out, whether in this life or the life to come.  In every circumstance, yield to the incomprehensibility of God's providence."

Think of it. When Jesus Christ came to the earth God made man, He spoke the Truth; He was the Truth, and mankind in creating its own distortion of truth crucified Him. How dare he speak what they did not want to hear. Before He died He was mocked. While on the Cross He was mocked.  After he died, people said, "Good riddance!" He was blasphemer. He was a demon. The important people of the day knew better, and thought that his death would end the story. It was only the beginning.

Charlie Kirk was one of His stout followers. He was mocked in this life. Called vile things that never were so. Mocked it seems just as much in death. And only the beginning. Yield to the incomprehensibility of God's providence. I know it's hard. I am struggling mightily over this. 

I want to shake sense into people. But it is an impossibility. There is only the slow capture of souls who want to be saved. We hear the gate is narrow but we pretend otherwise. We are redeemed. But to be saved? That's a choice each of us makes. Charlie made his choice and I believe God's Mercy is so perfect that Charlie is with Him now. Embraced now, as in those memes that were going around on Facebook, the ones that praised Charlie, and did not demean him. 

For the sake of His Sorrowful Passion, have Mercy on us, and on the Whole World!

Iryna Zarutska, Fletcher Merkel, Harper Moyski Three Utterly Unnecessary Deaths

I haven't been able to get out of my mind the image of a young 23 year old woman doing what all of us do when we are blithely forgetting the evil that is out there, scrolling her cell and never considering that she would be dead in a moment. It was probably easy for her to forget the evil. She thought she left it behind when she came, with her family, from war torn Ukraine. But evil in our country, though it is just as horrible, is a bit more disguised, in part by the policies of leaders who are either fools or intend the harm that they cause. 

The evil is magnified by our so-called main stream journalists. They so-call themselves. They are complicit in the repetitions of the crimes that occur, that take lives like Iryna Zarutska. 

This death we only just found out about--not from the people who posit, lie about, their care for providing unbiased information although it occurred on August 22, 2025. We only found out because of social media--itself an imperfect forum--but to which we are grateful. We now know the truth of that day, of the life and death of Iryna, an execution by a multiple offender with raging mental illness--he a blunt instrument of our society's failed, even insane vision of who it is that is protected and who is not. Iryna was among those of us who are not a consideration in favor of tribalistic destructive agendas. Not "one out of many" but "my truth is better than yours and I got the power".  Those individual agendas are no doubt part of whatever is the "divide and conquer" overarching agenda to end any semblance of the founding principles of this country. Iryna was no less a sacrifice than any victim of ancient cultures to which today's self-absorbed, well fed Americans think themselves so superior.

But, there is more, though we knew of this event prior to the one that occurred before it--the shooting of children in a Church on August 28 by another person that was known to be troubled. We are not allowed, it appears, to say "mentally ill", as that gores a societal bull, a shibboleth that is destroying other young lives. The trouble for that tormented soul, who killed Fletcher Merkel and Harper Moyski, was truly intransigent. He was possessed by the Devil. Please don't try to tell me otherwise. I have seen the videos. I have read the words. I saw the picture in which he looks into a mirror and sees the demon. I know. The Devil. So quaint. In our Pelagian world, where despite the obvious death and destruction we continue to cause, humans believe that we can achieve the perfect, the utopia, without any divinity involved. When has that ever been demonstrated? The closest we came is this nation, with the fragile tenets that Franklin warned the difficulty it would be to keep. And every underpinning is being removed, using the language of Constitutionality and Republic by people who do not believe in it one whit.  He had the sickness unto death--utter spiritual despair and desolation because he could not find his true self. Who is the true self? The one who has connected himself to God, relates to God, the Creator of us, the creatures. The self of this murderer was demolished long ago, and his own society helped him do it, with a political smile on its communal face. 

It's about the guns. Is that so? Take away all the guns from the law abiding. Who will have them? The people who don't care about the stupid agendas of wizened politicians who have been building up their war chests for 40 years in the same seats. They come in with public service salaries. They come out with millions. People notice. But do not ask. We are helping the people they tell you. Which people? Definitely not the three who just died. 

Oh, and by the way, Iryna was killed by a pocket knife. Ban all the pocket knives! That's the ticket!

Will anyone vote these destroyers of civilization out? It appears not. And when they vote someone in who, imperfect as he is, does something to try to mitigate, to stem the tide, there are riots to protect the criminals with cries of totalitarianism. Where is the totalitarianism?  Look closely. Really look. 

What got me today, so that I am writing this? The funeral of Fletcher Merkel. The pastor of Mt. Olivet Church requested no one film, but someone did. There is the casket of an 8 year old boy. Next to it a picture of him with his wild mane of tousled hair. There will be no grown man. 

Whose fault is that?  I worry that there are a lot of people who look into the mirror and see a demon. Some of them are our leaders. Some of them are smiling at how much an inroad they have made into the destruction of the rest of us. 

These are three deaths that have names. Pray for those who have been slaughtered and are anonymous to all but their loved ones. 

Pray. Pray. Pray the Rosary. Just pray that God will somehow move these hardened hearts. 

Cyndi Lauper: Girls Just Want to Film Their Vanity Projects (But Hey That's Ok)

My friend Len Speaks arranges a yearly summer hegira to the Hollywood Bowl for me and a few friends. It usually results in a package of about four to five shows mostly in the baby boomer pop rock, good old time musicals genres and maybe a little jazz via a Diana Krall or Harry Connick Jr. We have seen some amazing shows, and some duds--I do not recommend cover band type stuff, e.g. Abba. And some of the performers have been well past prime. I shall not name them out of respect for their cultural historical significances. And as to this year, I can tell you a John Williams show without John Williams has become a little mechanical and whoever it is that is choosing the music (hope not you Mr. Williams, though I suspect so) is killing any momentum in the shows. 

One of the selections this year is not someone I'd call a favorite, but I liked a few of her songs, and I was content to have this be the final show for us this season, Cyndi Lauper. Hey I am a sucker anyway for fellow New Yorkers! You don't get much more New York than Cyndi. 

The opening act started fifteen minutes before the announced opening of the show. That's ok because we are always there way early so we can get something to eat (my current favorite is Suzanne's Fried Chicken), and just hang and watch the crowd wander in. In this case there were a lot of variously colored wigs and kooky make-up in homage to our singing hostess. 

The opening act was a three named guy that frankly I couldn't enjoy, so I decided to absent myself for a while and visit the restroom and sit at one of the benches along the walk way, and just take in the lovely atmosphere that is the Bowl, a natural environment, in the heart of Los Angeles. But then I discovered I had lost my drivers license, which stupidly, I had put into too shallow a pants pocket. By the time I reported the loss and returned to my seat and my friends, Cyndi was popping onstage. She sang a lot of really slow songs, in between tales of growing up in Queens in the initial stages of her performance, and I have to admit, I was less than appreciative. She looked good though. And that made me feel great as we are about the same age. Look, we don't have to creak when we hit 70! And at some point, she really demonstrated her Pilates flexibility when she was wrestling the the three named guy from the opening act on the stage floor during a particular robust duet. 

I was getting a little glassy eyed emotionally speaking (or perhaps it showed). Then something happened. They did announce on the marquee that there would be special guests. And then the proceedings glimmered with nostalgia, as Joni Mitchell, 80 plus years appeared on stage already seated, slowed but still full of emotional vigor. I have never seen Joni Mitchell live. And back when she was famous, I was a bit of a stick in the mud musically speaking--a late bloomer to my generation's taste in music. I've gotten to appreciate her style late in life. Now, I hear her sing, "They paved Paradise and put up a parking lot" and I am in a solidarity of objection. Things were looking up in this concert. And then. 

Since it was apparently being filmed for some later streaming purpose, there must have been a glitch with Joni and Cyndi's duet. I think I felt it. They were a bit out of sync. Their styles are so different from the first. Nope. Gotta do it again. So they did it again. Everybody in the audience reacted as if it were the first time. Such is the orchestrated world in which we live. Still, I can't complain that I will have died having seen the real Joni Mitchell, icon of my teen and young adult years, once in my life. 

And then later, there was John Legend. I like him well enough but I wouldn't call myself a fan. He came out when all the cell phone lights were poised in the venue, like we used to use real lighters, but we can't because nobody smokes, well, except pot, but that isn't considered smoking in the woke world. Tobacco. That's smoking. That's dangerous. Woe unto those who smoke and corrupt their minds with nicotine. Glory to those who light up a joint! I digress. John came out and joined Cyndi in a song, but alas, somebody was blocking the cue cards and well, his entrance had to be done a second time as if it were the first. And the crowd roared. Alas, I was still worried about my lost license, and truthfully, I just wanted the whole proceedings to end so I could get to the House Manager and make a report. 

I heard there were to be fireworks and when it looked like we were getting closer to the conclusion of things and those fireworks, I went off to find the House Manager. I was told that entrance was blocked off by sort of fire wardens--actually the young staff of usual ushers wearing fireman type hats--and I should wait. I didn't wait. It's a rarity for me to disobey authority, even now, when authority is nuts, but since I saw lots of regular people wandering in the forbidden area, I decided I 'd look for the house manager's office, unless and until somebody intercepted me. In fact, the other young staffers were fine showing me the way. The guy who answered the door was disaffected by the interruption. No license here, but here's a card. Call tomorrow. I found a nice bench near where the Promenade One and the boxes are, and I went online to see if I could get a temporary license. In the meantime, encore, and therein I missed the third special guest, Cher. At this point, I was resigned that this wasn't the best concert I'd ever been to, and that was ok, nobody's fault.  

I was glad Cyndi had her last ever Girls Just Want to Have Fun concert in the can. 

As of today, nobody's turned in my license. The Hollywood Bowl season for me and my triangle crew is at an end.