Morality? Logic? God? Belief?

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The subjects listed above are “hot button” philosophy subjects debated, discussed, and verbally torn to shreds over the many centuries since man gained enough free time to stare at his navel. Morality is a major topic because it underpins the nature of society, at least a successful one. For my money, I always thought morality came from God. All Christians feel the same way, and it puts atheists in a bad jam: how can atheists be moral if they do not believe in, and hear the Word of God (WOG) directing them?

I did an end run around the conundrum by accepting full-throated agnosticism and allowed morality to be the WOG, if He actually existed. Lazy, lazy, lazy man. There are those among the enlightened who think the existence of evil negates the concepts of morality as the WOG and dumps the whole idea of Morality into a recycle bin for another generation to bring up and hash, I mean, hack to pieces.

At my age its hard to learn a new trick but just now I stumbled upon an article that sparked an “Aha” moment. Entitled “How a Huguenot Philosopher Realized That Atheists Could Be Virtuous” by Michael Hickson, the author exposed me to a philosopher heretofore not on my reading list: Pierre Bayle. In Mr. Bayle’s book “Various Thoughts on the Occasion of a Comet” published in 1682, Mr. Bayle presented an argument for atheism that settled once and for all the question of atheism and morality.

“It is no stranger for an atheist to live virtuously than it is strange for a Christian to live criminally. We see the latter sort of monster all the time, so why should we think the former is impossible?”

In 1682. It is a statement loaded with Logic. (capitalized to show how important it is). Logic. What a wonderful thing. Logic. No matter how many times I say it, it keeps its meaning. Logic is “a particular way of thinking, especially one that is reasonable and based on good judgement” says an unknown google writer, probably an AI personality. No, they didn’t have AI in 1682, nor did they have the benefit of instant communication. Mr. Bayle’s statement, therefore, about the “sort of monster” he sees “all the time” must have been from first hand experience. Sadly, it is a statement as true today as 1682…343 years later. Religion, belief, morality, all seem unchanged after nearly four centuries. Why?

I’m getting the book and reading it, but–with apologies to Spock and all offended Star Trek fans–we might be better off with lives based on Logic instead of Belief. As a possible Clue, The Bible’s WOG “Golden Rule” is loaded more with logic than faith. You have to wonder why.

As usual, a short space makes for an oversimplification, but is it?

Of course it is, since the modern sophists among us can easily rip apart the “reasonable” and “good judgment” parts of googe’s AI statement, But will the rest of us let them?

In this day and age, Logic is taking a beating. Forget–for example–your politics and wonder how many good, reasonable, and moral people there in the world waiting for…aw, forget it. We pay football players more than we pay police. Is that logical?

We’re doomed, but I’m going to find out about that comet.

California Dreaming…

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If you are from anywhere in the world and you’ve spent any time in Southern California you can understand the love/hate relationship we non-residents have for the state. Sunny, dry, oceans, beaches, skiing, natural beauty, movie stars, Venice Beach, all co-exist with high prices, bad traffic, wildfires, mudslides, and the looming, lurking, specter of The Big One.

In these days of political polarity, California gets another rap for not being conservative, as if The Redwoods and beaches were destined by our creator to be marxist-liberal phenomenons.

So it’s understandable the response of some MAGA and conservative idiots to the devastating wildfires. Idiots, includes you-know-who who’s name can’t be mentioned because of a New year’s Resolution. No sense in wasting time talking about the idiots. God will settle that score.

But the time I’ve spent in California was more than wonderful, it was joyous: sun every day, no humidity, gastronomical assortments unrivaled by any location, and scenic views to die for. By my calculations California’s pluses far outweigh it’s minuses, and I do not not move there simply because they do not have a winter with snow so great it confines me to my apartment for days…maybe I should reevaluate.

My guess is a lot of California hate is similar to homophobic hate: people don’t want to admit they might like it if they tried it, and they’re afraid of the temptation.

No matter what your beliefs or your political idiocy, no one deserves what is happening to Southern California, these days. Most residents are life long residents, all with transplants somewhere in the generations past who found California a great place to live and raise a family. Over–sometimes–centuries they built a web of family and locations, all under the constant welcoming sun.

My family’s generations are in the Northeast, but I wonder how it would feel if all homes, all records, all memorabilia, all traces of the past were incinerated to ash in 5 minutes.

For some reason, Nature or God or some unnamed creator decided to visit our earth with disasters of wind, rain, snow, fire, or shaking ground. It happens all over and it will continue to happen.

And every time it does, we should thank our lucky stars it didn’t happen to us. If we can’t roll up our sleeves and offer help, we should shut our pie holes and hope for the best for those suffering.

And stop the looting!

To all who feel the urge to pile on to a disaster, whether it be in Florida or California or Iowa or Texas or New York or Hawaii, beware. Karma is a bitch.

Philosophy For Dummies

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As a young man attending a small, Liberal Arts University in 1971, I took great pleasure-and invested lots of time–in reading, studying, and debating Philosophy. Full disclosure, my heart wasn’t in the winning of late night debates, or even in the final, complete understanding of Kant’s Moral Imperative. I was a young man with young man hormones and young man desires: my main purpose in “debating” was to make new friends, especially those of the opposite sex. You are then, entitled to wonder with the 1970’s drug and sex culture if any of us remembered the substance of the all-night-long “debates” and associated dalliances. I learned early on some of my contemporary females enjoyed being supported in their arguments and some enjoyed being challenged so I seldom argued the same philosophical “position” two nights in a row or slept in the same bed. All the more support for the notion “youth is wasted on the young.”

It came to pass then, by accident, that I became proficient in understanding, regurgitating, and arguing for or against the entire curriculum, and passed daylight tests with ease. Profligate, with benefits.

The main thought, or belief system gained from the best year of my life was the amount of bullsh##, I mean sophistry, ahem, surrounding Philosophy. There is no right or wrong philosophy. No right or wrong view of the world. No single, unifying theory of the origins or purposes of life. (It should be noted there are extreme cases of minorities having severely dangerous and “unproductive” theories of how to live life, but are they wrong?)

I left college for life on the road, but never lost sight of the nature and innate absurdity of professing a belief in anything unknown or unverifiable. And living life to follow that absurdity. Debating anything related to life’s secrets became a game of Devil’s Advocate over the next few decades, the simple ability to be a Devil’s Advocate proving its need. Res ipse loquitor, legal but succinct.

You’re obligated to read about all this because there is currently a ton of bullsh@# being manufactured and spread about. While Kant’s Moral Imperative is not the end-all of philosophies, its simple premise is one all modern citizens should learn: “Act in the way you want others to act.” (Way over simplification, but if you’d care to debate, leave a comment.) A variation is the Golden Rule. (Matthew 7:12) which came directly from God as noted in the Bible.

Any one of the 70 per cent of Americans not dumb, (see older post) could argue forever about right and wrong, and throw some pragmatism, and utility into the word salad but could anything be simpler than The Imperative? The Golden Rule? Imagine a killer stopping in his/her/their tracks because he/she/they realize he/she/they don’t want anyone to kill him/her/them? Or a politician voting against the minimum wage, but for a raise to his own pay? You see the breaking of the Imperative/Golden Rule most often in politics and many religions. The modern term for it is Hypocrisy. It should be noted, too, The Golden Rule and Kant’s Moral Imperative have been expunged from Capitalism, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.

The lesson learned in debating (unfaithfully and unabashedly) for both side of a philosophy was that nothing mattered, anymore. It’s all just words. Modern civilization is at that point. We’re not talking nihilism, here, after all life has to go on. But there is way too much of people doing to each other what they would not do to themselves. Why? (Capitalism, again?)

Organized religion is an existential trap, but each and every religion has good points. Personal reflection, investigation, and faith can do wonders for life. But don’t let dogma, creed, screed, belief, or an inflated sense of one’s worth cause a loss of vision about what life is really about: people living together.

The entire world should be locked in a student dorm and not allowed out until they reach agreement on…hm…what?

Let’s start with The Golden Rule. Nice and simple.

Lets Have Some Pun!

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The New Year Resolutions haven’t been going so well. Let’s talk about them later, okay? The first week of the New Year has not been kind to mental happiness as upstate NY suffered though a “lake effect” storm where someone (Mother Nature? God? The Buffalo Bills?) dropped snow on us every day, and blew it around like drunken confetti. We are still under a State Of Emergency prohibiting “unnecessary travel”. I watched the entire debacle from The Chair positioned in front of my huge apartment windows and enjoyed every second of the first few days. Now, in Day 6, it is time for necessary travel. Anywhere.

One last thing, people sure are interesting (30 percent?). One guy brushed snow off his car (it’s a northern thing) in his shorts. It was 6 degrees out and he didn’t last long. Another decided “no necessary travel” was not “no travel” and rocked his car back and forth in a parking lot drift until giving up and not coming back for two days. People did all sorts of strange things and the snow removing machines worked round the clock. Mother Nature just sent more.

So for Christmas I got a book and, yes, I read a lot when the parking action was slow. A lot. The book is titled: “Learn a Lot While You’re on the Pot”, by Jack Haynes. Without breaking a resolution, I’ll just say as we age, bowel movements seem to-how to say this–take their time. It’s a senior thing younger readers will learn eventually, but Mr. Haynes has capitalized on that “slowness” to offer a tidy book about all sorts of things. It’s 136 pages on 5 million (I exaggerate) subjects so it’s not comprehensive as much as pithy in its prose. It makes it easy to finish a topic or two before…you know.

My favorite sections is entitled : “Best Puns and Wordplay”. Let the games begin with an obvious groaner: “I once gave a performance about it Puns. It was just a play on words.”

Some puns only work when they are typed: “My friend became a vegetarian, even after I told him it was a big missed steak.” Say it out load to someone and they just stare at you. Like: “Once you’ve seen one shopping center you’ve seen a mall.” Or: “Did you hear about the explosion at the cheese factory? All that’s left is de-brie.”

Some are better spoken: “The future, the past, and the present walked into a bar. Things got a little tense.” You may have to wait for that spark of recognition on that one, but it’s worth it. Or: “I told my wife to embrace her mistakes and she gave me a hug.”

Sadly, there are some clunkers: “What do you call fake spaghetti? Im-pasta.” Ugh. “My son says he’s friends with only 25 letters of the alphabet, He doesn’t know y.”

Related: “My daughter said that after she ate alphabet soup she had a vowel movement.”

I’ll end this torture with my two favorites: “It’s been a terrible winter for Humpty Dumpty. But at least he had a great fall.” And, maybe not so much funny as apt: “I’ve discovered that where there’s a will, there’s a relative.”

Crap. One more: “Did you here about the toilet that was stolen from the Police Department? The cops have nothing to go on.”

Hope this helped any of those who were trapped at home with themselves, or even worse, family. Just remember: “Don’t let anyone call you average. That’s just mean.”

As Luck Would Have It…

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One of the awesome and unfathomable aspects of life is Luck. Fate. Chance. It begins at birth and never really ends. It is the luck/fate/chance of genetics which first forms us and sets us on a path to whatever it is we are supposed to do.

The first, Genetic Luck, we have no control over, as it is determined by the luck/fate/chance surrounding the lives of our parents, which illustrates the duality of luck and its partnership with context/perspective. I am unlucky to not be 6 foot 6 inches and earning millions of dollars playing basketball in the NBA.

But I am lucky to not have genetic irregularities like blindness and deafness, or deformed extremities, or even no extremities.

So am I lucky or unlucky? Let’s use the slot machines at Turning Stone Resort and Casino (TS) to find out.

When I first moved to upstate NY, I frequented TS about twice a week, and earned measurable rewards in playing a certain Japanese slot machine. Good luck, right? Shortly after I started playing it, the machine was removed. Bad luck?

Since then I’ve searched for another machine at TS that allows 25 cent bets, so my $5 bankroll would last a little longer. But it was like looking for a unicorn, as TS management removed low income machines and replaced them with greedier ones. My $5 now lasts about 10 plays on a 50 cent machine, unless it “lets” me win another 50 cents, then its 11 plays. Bad luck?

It was so disheartening I stopped playing. Good luck?

My recent hip replacement (VERY good luck!) kept me from TS for 4 weeks. I use the Fitness Center at TS, by the way, which is why I visit so much, and had to stay away until after recovery.

When I returned, it was hard to find even 50 cent machines. That is, on the gaming floor, not the Fitness Center. But I did find one gathering dust in a corner off a side hallway. Luck? It hurt, but I played out my $5 without winning a cent and got up to leave, unhappy as can be, and down $5. Unlucky?

So there I was pissed, as well as unlucky, and said to myself, “Screw it, blow another $5. It’s Christmas.” It was and why that mattered, is irrelevant, maybe. When I slid the new, crisp $5 bill into the slot of the slot machine, I could feel myself slowly going over the precipice of recreational gambling and falling into the deep, dark abyss of addiction. I immediately promised: “One play. Just one”. (Where we at on lucky, unlucky? Lost track.)

It doesn’t matter. The machine lit up like a Christmas Tree (irony?) and started making sounds and sights only ever associated with “Jackpot!”. When it was done jingling and sirening (sic), I kept my promise and cashed out after one play. Lucky.

I stuffed the winnings into my wallet and walked to my car a happy man, and let Luck have some credit, too: with apologies to Lou Gehrig, I am the luckiest man on the face of the earth. For now.

And the $24.35 I won will help with medical bills in the New Year.

Remember: context/perspective.

Resolutions? Ah, maybe…

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Time for New Years Resolutions. Look away. Do not read. At least, don’t remind me of this post next year.

  1. No more mention of Trump after January 1st. He’ll keep doing things but noone needs me to point it out. And if I need to talk about something Trumpy, I won’t use the T–word. Yes, I already have other names selected and ready to go.
  2. Watch what I eat/lose weight. First, who doesn’t? And second, no resolution list of mine for over 40 years has not included the word “weight”. It’s a ritual, now, and can’t be stopped. Knock on wood.
  3. No more shouting at other drivers. Might turn those moments into periods of quite contemplation and reflection. PS your laughter is not appreciated. Wait, what if I shouted encouragement?
  4. Less Pizza in the New Year. Which means I have to eat a lot these next few days. Yes!
  5. No more whining about getting old. Set the bar high on that one, but we’ll see.
  6. Will not replace left hip. This is medical humor since it already happened three weeks ago. Finally, a resolution I can keep!
  7. Will be better prepared for the winter of 2025. Local upstate NY winter snuck up on me after 20 years in the south. It won’t get me next year, dammit.
  8. I hereby vow to stop thinking 30 per cent of the US population is stupid, ignorant, or both. If you think about it, this is another guaranteed successful resolution. Unless you are…Hm. Am I part of that 30 percent? Nah…
  9. I resolve to no longer NOT believe in Santa. Grandkid’s questions getting harder and harder each year, so…damn internet.
  10. Will not disparage the Yankees. Or the Mets. Or the Giants. Or the Jets. Or Dr. Seuss. All hail the Bills!
  11. Lastly, I will give the medical establishment the benefit of the doubt. I promise to understand their “one size fits all” approach to medical issues works for a majority of the people and is not meant to punish those of us on either end of the Bell Curve. It will take time and research and conversation, but what else does an old, dying man have but time? Crap, scratch Number 5.

Resolutions can be fun, but at least should be introspective. If you don’t sit down and think about them, especially at this time of year…make a resolution to do it. Now.

As pointed out many times, life will go on whether you do or don’t and thinking about it helps much more than not thinking about it. Try it.

Christmas. Bah, humbug?

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The time of year, the day of the year, when we are supposed to love and care for someone other than ourselves has passed. A Facebook post (yes, I’m there once a week) says this is the time of year to not be wanting more, but be grateful for what we have.

Scrooge that.

A sad side effect of the Trump Era (oh, God, not him, again) is people have lost the ability to be grateful. As Mr. Trump points out almost every day, the modern world is a mess, America is a cesspool of crime and liberal degenerates, and almost any issue at any level of government or humanity, is worth his time and nuanced criticisms. Please, it is NOT Trump’s fault he is this way. It is his supporters who encourage him, making it so hard to enjoy even the most universally respected time of the year.

Letters to the editor (at least in my hometown) are being submitted by the tubful from writers of all stripes but it’s easy to identify MAGA authors: everything is wrong and we need to “FIGHT” for change. One of the key MAGA points, as headlined by the Modern Republican Party Grievance Machine (MRPGM), is the “flight”, the “exodus”, the abandonment of liberal cities and states. Rather than accept as fact this whine, I googled (US Census Bureau) population levels for each decade all the way back to 1970. Please google it to see for yourself, but population “transfer” has not only been cyclical, but racial. The entire Northeast Region has lost about 2 million residents per decade since 2000. But so has the Midwest Region. The South Region has gained the most, 26 million (Florida 6 million alone, with 4.5 million new residents identified as Latino). What do these figures mean?

Facts are no longer the currency in social conversation. Pronouncements are. I hate to pick on Trump but he makes it so easy. In a mid-December 2024 interview about his new presidency, Trump promised to “drill, baby, drill” for more oil and energy independence. He must not know America is already the leading supplier of crude oil to the world and the Oil People do not WANT to drill, baby drill, but keep supply–and profit/pricing–right where it is. In fact, Big Oils are merging with each other to take advantage of “super” profits. So who is “drill, baby, drill” meant for?

Trump is not the first (or only) politician (or news organization) to lead voters around by the nose, but his public and strident mis-truths have nurtured a whole generation of American Citizens who believe what the MRPGM says, without thinking or reasoning. I seldom meet a Trump supporter who, in debate, offers facts. They parrot the MRPGM.

The facts are ignored not only because they are so complex, but because segments of the American population now want to believe, want to trust, want to live with out question. Just tell me what to think.

The sad, complex, nuanced fact is all modern politicians are bad for us, bad for the average citizen. Politicians (rare exceptions who prove the rule excluded) are out for themselves. How else to explain a proposed pay raise for Congress in the latest “Government Shutdown Crisis” negotiations?

I’ve said many times, it isn’t that Trump or any politician is bad. We have to elect someone and we almost always have to choose the “least worst” candidate. But that doesn’t mean we should adore him or her, and believe every word out of their mouths.

The blind adoration for a politician was always a danger but it has reached new heights with Trump. Much like the McCarthy Era.

Let’s hope Trump doesn’t grab our country by the you-know-what (REf: Access Hollywood Tape), because that’s exactly what it looks like he’s intending to do.

Let’s start a third party, The Collectively Skeptical, and see what happens.

Repair and Recovery

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The removal of natural bone and replacing it with titanium made a vast improvement in my quality of life. The surgery inspired a reassessment of a past, the re-measure of the present, and realignment of goals for the future. Doesn’t that sound nifty?

Before anyone asks me to write a self-help book, it should be noted the biggest driver of the self-examination has been the “down time” associated with recovery. The operation removing years of pain came with a requirement to sit and not move, not do anything, really, for “several” weeks as the incision heals, bruised tissues return to their original color, and the therapeutic drugs work their magic preventing clots and excessive bleeding.

There’s nothing to do but reflect, and it’s been fun to sit in The Chair and watch and read and think.

But the world didn’t stop and wait for me to get better. The world didn’t know I was recovering. It went on without me, all the while shoving its onward motion in my face with news and stories I couldn’t help but read. Some scientists want to “inject” diamond dust into the atmosphere to reflect sunlight and lower the Earth’s temperature. Trump wants to take The Panama Canal Back and annex Greenland. An 81 year old politician not named Biden stopped legislating and entered a nursing home, or “memory center”, without telling anyone. Soto signed with the Mets for a salary higher than some countries GDP. Musk…well, Musk is busy being Musk, an easily distracted, bored, multi-billionaire who knows how to fix America. BTW, if he gave $3 Billion to each state to do with what they want, it might make a difference.

All in all, the month of December has been an example of how important we think we are, followed by the sharp, direct, reminder of how important we aren’t. Sprinkled in this life lesson is some exceptions. For example, how important is toilet paper? Don’t answer, but I now know the man who invented one of the most important things in EVERYONE’S life was Joseph Gayetty, in 1857. His “invention” was “sold in flat sheets watermarked with his name.” It was also medicated to prevent hemorrhoids. His contribution to life is celebrated every minute of every day all over the world, and I’ll bet no one knows his name. For some really good reading about how the cleaning of our butts has changed through the ages, google it. If you have time…like I do.

So is this essay a lament or what? A celebration? A reveal of anything most of us don’t know already?

It is nothing. It is simply a grown man, sitting in a recliner, with nothing to do but ponder.

James Thurber would be proud. (Google him, too.)

Hello, miss me?

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I’ve tried not to talk too much about The Calamities which have visited me these last 20 months, but what happened recently deserves noting.

Cancer, AMD, arthritis, and now anemia, caused by cancer treatments make up The Calamities. Of the four, The Big A, arthritis was the biggest pain in my arse(sic), and just about every joint, but especially in my left hip. It was the companion who went with me everywhere, to the tests, and treatments and recovery for all the other Calamities. Arthritis was with me every minute of every day for the last 20-some months. It even slept with me. When I rang the bell at the end of radiation, I had to limp up to the ringer.

Slowly we knocked the others off. We beat cancer, so far. We stopped AMD, so far, and anemia is being tracked, ready for elimination. But The Big A treatment required surgery, something we couldn’t do until the body could take it. Curing The Big C came first.

December 6th, 2024 the body was ready. At the sparkling Apex facility on Route 233 near Westmoreland, NY, I entered the Star Wars of medical care at 6:30am. Every single person from Doctor to receptionist was not only friendly, but treated me as if I were King Charles, or whoever is the big deal in England these day. Questions were answered, treatments were explained, hands were held, and flirting with nurses was allowed (so my daughter says).

Somewhere there is a record of the exact moment I came out from under anesthesia, but all I know, all I care about, all I celebrate, is the moment of the final, complete extermination of my painful companion. A “thing” that had dogged me, disabled me, and caused life to be severely limited…was gone. There was a picture in my mind of Dr. Wickline throwing my old hip bones into a red, medical waste bin, gone forever, to the cheers of his staff.

It’s safe to assume surgical drugs helped my post-op euphoria, but I knew the difference. And even when those drugs wore off and “NORMAL” surgical pain presented itself in the following days, it still felt painless, liberating, and rejuvenating. There was a new life to live…with out The Big A.

It helped that Dr. Wickline not only prepared me for all that was to happen, but he put it in a book so I could read and follow along, knowing all the time exactly what MIGHT happen, all the while hoping very little of it did. Dr. Wickline’s books, and his employees, and the Apex people, made the experience of gaining a new lease on life a real adventure, an enjoyable surgery, and thanks to all of them for getting me through it.

The days of recovery are saturated with noticing and analyzing pains and swellings, and bruising and possible nerve issues. All of which were in the book, and were already being treated by the “Recovery Drug” protocols outlined. Now, on my 12th recovery day, my only real problem is keeping my self from jumping with joy (Watch those sutures!) at the freedom and promise of new life, with both, now, my every day companions.

One last thing, if you are man my age, and you remember when coaches told you to “throw some dirt on it”, take notice of those pains, and modulate them or fix them before its too late. Don’t be so manly. I should have replaced the hip years ago.

Oh, and for fun: if I hadn’t gone to the doctor for The Big A in February 2023, I may not have caught the other Calamities in time to cure them. Think about it old men, and women. Get to the doctors. Now.

Bits and bobs, as the English say

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MIT, an American university for those who don’t know it, has reported a significant breakthrough in water desalinization. As countries around the world struggle for water access, including the US and Mexico, we may be able, soon, to get as much as we want from the sea. More to come, I’m sure.

Two companies in the mid-west of these United States have reported breakthroughs in internal combustion engine development. One engine is a “refined” gas engine producing “42 percent power return from fuel.” the best engines, now, get 25 percent. The other company, Aston Aerospace has designed an engine to run on hydrogen and burn clean enough so the only thing coming out of the tailpipe is water. Keep an eye on these two.

In an earlier column, I waxed poetic about the mystery of Quantum Entanglement (QE) and suggested it had astronomical potential. Now, a firm in China reports it has “used” the power of QE to make a motor. Boom. That was my mind exploding, especially if its true. Other companies are reporting advances in “faster than light speed communications”. Instantaneous communications no matter the distance. Boom. And hopefully soon.

American drivers are no better now, than when I complained about them in one of my first posts on October 30, 2016. What has changed is my ability to come across them, at random, on the road. Simple population growth or The Universe punishing me for criticizing? The major issue is still simple selfishness, combined with a dash of ignorance. Most drivers think of themselves as the only ones on the road. How else to explain the marketing and sales of headlights which shoot a beam of laser-like light a quarter of a mile, often right through the skulls of both the drivers in front of them and the unfortunate souls in oncoming traffic. I looked into a car one time and so nothing but a bare-bones skull after a truck with a set of 8 High Intensity lights passed. At least it’s helped me think of new curse words. I’m trying not to take the Lord’s name in vain, anymore. Remember when you drive: you are not the only one who matters. Other drivers matter, too. ODMT.

The billionaires and Game of Money (GOM) players are at it again, “suggesting” parts of government they will gut. The latest is the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau (CFPB). CFPB was a direct response to the legendary financial crisis of 2008-2009 where most of us lost money and most GOMmers did not. CFPB’s name speaks for itself, but google it to know for sure. It was a Democratic project from when Dems had control of the government and set up the CFPB and Affordable Care Act (ACA). Both have been the subject of Republican Grievance and scorn since. But both have survived. GOMmers, now, see their chance to overturn both the CFPB and ACA, and return to unfettered, unregulated, and wide open GOM without oversight. Of note, several of the billionaires are “victims” of the CFPB, and feel offended their “get rich quick schemes” were denied by CFPB. Let the GOM begin!

It’s Thanksgiving. For the first time in my life I have had to struggle to find something to be thankful for, but I did. I should be thankful for that, too. Boom.