Don't Ask, Don't - Wait - What Was The Question Again?

So, here's an interesting thing: The number of waivers granted by the active-duty Army for marijuana use jumped to more than five hundred this year from one hundred ninety-one in 2016. Three years ago, no such waivers were granted. I don't understand statistics very well, but that may be how you get those wacky numbers like "a five hundred percent increase." 
The reason for all of this paperwork centers around the need to fill the ranks of an all-volunteer armed forces.  Head of the Army's recruiting command  Major General Jeff Snow said, "Provided they understand that they cannot do that when they serve in the military, I will waive that all day long." Major General Jeff is under orders to expand the Army's size, and if means looking the other way or filling out a note that says "that was then, this is now," so be it.
As long as you promise not to smoke dope once you are enlisted.
Of course, I saw Platoon, and that was back before weed started becoming legal. Major General Jeff guesses that the number of waivers will only grow as more states decriminalize marijuana. How long will it be before the active military decides that they should enjoy the same rights enjoyed by the civilians they are protecting and serving? 
Tough to say, but seeing as how the Cheeto In Chief wants to ban transgender Americans from serving in the military, we are presented with what we call a "conundrum." Let's say that Recruit X is honest about his or her marijuana use, but still wants to serve their country. That same recruit would not be able to serve if they were as candid about their sexuality. Shouldn't there be a waiver for that? Or is smoking dope easier to excuse than being who you are?
Currently, the "President's" proposed ban on transgender Americans serving in the military has been blocked by the courts. Maybe that will give Major General Jeff a chance to find and process the correct forms. 

Never On Sunday

Looking for distractions from the news that continues to bear down on all of us, I have sat in front of the television looking for the solace that used to be football. Spectator sports have been a way for me to ignore the stink and furor that surrounds us all. In the past. I waited for the weekend to be entertained by the gladiatorial displays of my favorite teams.
This year, there won't be bowl games. There won't be a Super Bowl. Not for me, anyway. Sure, I'll tune in to watch the commercials because it is part of the American firmament I suspect that I could fall under government surveillance if I didn't.
And yet, it seems as though ignoring the National Football League would be falling in line with the forces of the Evil Empire. Darth Trump would like to think that fewer and fewer Americans are watching on Sundays, Mondays, and Thursdays because they are fed up with the anti-flag, anti-veteran protests that have ruined the game. I disagree. I don't think it has much to do with the demonstrations taking place before the game. I think it has everything to do with the lack of entertaining games may have had something to do with my lack of interest. To be clear: I was tuning in for the past several weeks just to show the dark side that I wasn't put off by sitting, standing or kneeling. I was there to watch football.
Then came all the injuries. No Arron Rodgers. No J.J. Watt. No Andrew Luck. The stars were sitting not because they didn't want to pledge allegiance to the flag but because of broken bones and torn ligaments. Then there was rookie Houston quarterback Deshaun Watson who donated his first ever game check to hurricane relief in the city for which he played, until he had his knee torn up to put him and his spectacular play on the shelf for the rest of the season.
And then there's the Denver Broncos, who started the year with hopes of battling for first place in what many considered to be the toughest division in football. Maybe there's something about too much orange, what with the tangerine in the White House, but this has been a spectacularly forgettable season in the Mile High City. Each peek into what's happening with the team on any given weekend has brought me nothing but grief.
As a fan. As someone who appreciates some of the finer points of the game. They aren't there. Not now. I find myself ignoring what goes on in spite of myself and all those years of conditioning. Maybe I'm getting old. Maybe I should take a page from the Cubs fan book and start planning for next year. That's where hope lives.

How Long?

"I am not a crook." Those were the words of Richard Nixon back in 1973. If you're a student of history or maybe just an American over the age of forty, you might remember that  it turned out that Richard Nixon really was a crook, and in spite of his assertions otherwise, he had been for some time before he made that little speech. He left the Oval Office in disgrace just a few months later. He was just a couple years into his second term after being elected in a landslide victory over liberal Democrat, George McGovern.
"I did not have sexual relations with that woman." Those were the words of Bill Clinton back in 1998. If you are a student of history or just an American over the age of twenty, you might remember that it turned out that Bill Clinton had in spite of his assertions otherwise, had sexual relations with that woman and had for some time before he made that  little speech. He left the Oval Office with a curiously high approval rating. He was just a couple years into his second term after being elected in a landslide victory over conservative Republican, Bob Dole.
Welcome to 2017, where we have a "President" who was elected in a landslide victory of the liberal Democrat who happened to be the cuckolded wife Bill Clinton. He doesn't tend to make speeches as much as pronouncements, and tweets. Historians may have had an amusing time dealing with the social media of former presidents Nixon and Clinton, but hindsight allows us to settle into a narrative that becomes history. It's part of a process.
My wife had a button with a picture of Bill Clinton as a hippie, with his hippie wife Hillary that bore the legend, "My President." She does not own a button with a hippie Richard and Pat Nixon that says, "My President." The discussion about to whom the current "President" belongs stops abruptly because "our President" continues to be Barack Obama. Barack Obama was elected in a landslide for his second term, and he managed to maintain an approval rating that dipped below fifty percent just a couple times over the course of eight years. This was the guy who won the Democratic nomination for president over his rival Hillary Clinton, the cuckolded wife of Bill. Who was impeached. Richard Nixon was not. He resigned just ahead of that.
As for the current "President?" Sexual misconduct allegations as well as all manner of political malfeasance swirl around his first term in office, while the rest of the planet seems to stare at us in wonder. How long will this one last? 

Keeping Watch

Anna has just turned five. She is in our Transitional Kindergarten class. For the first month and a half of school, she was overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds of the rolling wave we call elementary school to react with much but a slack jaw. At some point over the last month, she began to awaken to just how busy every day was and out popped her fear. Mostly in transitions, moving from her classroom to the lunchroom to the playground and back. All that shifting about made her extremely anxious.
I know this because she told me.
Through sobs and gasps, she clung to me, holding my hand and pleading with me to make things safe. Every approaching child was a threat. Every potential activity was a trick, designed to move her further away from whatever sense of security she might have. Anna struggled. I might have taken this as mild flattery, being the one adult she had chosen to trust, but I quickly understood that I was just the current link in a chain of grownups upon whom she had latched.
Still, my job of roaming about the playground during recess isn't impeded much by having a little person holding on to my hand, except when I have to stop to tie someone else's shoes, or if there is trouble in the boy's bathroom that needs to be halted. During these sojourns about the yard during lunch recess, I have continued to try and convince Anna that there are far more interesting people and things to do than hanging with Mister Caven. A number of Anna's classmates, starting with Alice, have come up to us and asked Anna if she would like to play. Anna's response has been to cower behind me and shout "Noooo!" We worked on this until we managed to get a wincing "No thank you," so as not to hurt the feelings of the potential friends.
With each new entree, I have asked Anna if she might not reconsider, which had been met with more worry and woe. And so we walked the playground, looking for someone or something that might serve as a distraction for part of the day.
Until this past Thursday. Alice returned, and to her credit she did not rush up and immediately intimidate Anna. Alice asked me if I thought Anna might like to play. I looked at Anna, whose face brightened, and then she said, "Yes. I would like to be her friend." With that, she dropped my hand and went racing off to the play structure, where a world of wonder and potential friendships awaited.

"Fake"

How lucky we are to have the benevolent leader looking down over us, keeping track of all the bumps and scrapes along life's highway. He will not let fake news confuse us or deter us from our mission to Make America Subservient Again. He knows the truth, and he will announce it in the most dignified manner possible: through his social media account.
We can take comfort knowing that even though we elected a "President," we have a really smart guy in charge. Someone who can be a better judge than Thurgood Marshall. Someone who can be a better statesman than Winston Churchill. Someone who can be a better detective than Scooby Doo and all his pals rolled together in their Mystery Machine. Benevolent Leader will shine a light on all those things that other bad people are doing so that we can go about our duty to Make America Dull Again. 
The "President" has uncovered plots to foil and muddy his vision, and he isn't afraid to point the finger at anyone who does not share his last name in an effort to put the blame where it belongs: On anyone but him. Like the way he uncovered that "unsolved mystery" that took place in Florida years ago. Donald J'Accuse Trump points his tiny finger at the potential for malfeasance in Joe Scarborough's district office back in 2001. Law enforcement officials concluded at that time that a staff member, Lori Klausutis, whose body was found dead in that office had fainted as a result of an abnormal heart rhythm, which caused her to fall and hit her head on a desk. Never mind that a medical examiner had confirmed this by using science. Science is the very same voodoo that brought us "global warming." Heresy! Not when we are striving so very hard to Make America Dumb Again.
And yet, there are some cracks in Benevolent Leader's facade. Why does he seem so angry all the time? How can he watch all those NFL games to count those disrespectful louts defaming God and Country by not doing as they are told? Why does he get so upset when his sheep don't fall in line? 
Maybe we're not sheep. Maybe we have started to notice that even he puts quotation marks around "fake news," since we have already lived through a prior reality when someone said, "If you repeat a lie often enough, it becomes the truth." Global warming is a "theory." Nazis are "misunderstood." Keep an eye on that punctuation, "Mister President." It's giving you away.

So...

So...Matt Lauer. 
And the hits really do just keep coming, don't they?
Matt Lauer was fired by the National Broadcasting Company for “inappropriate sexual behavior in the workplace.” For some, it came as a shock. For others, it came as a part of another day. The list of men who have abused women continues to grow as the house continues to get clean. This metaphor isn't lost on me, since I spend a good deal of time cleaning my house. Not metaphorically. For real.
What happens is this: You get out the dust pan to sweep up a mess that has been made in the corner of the kitchen. Once the crumbs have been swept up, you notice something sticky on the floor adjacent to that first spill, and so you get out the squirt bottle and a rag to wipe up that spot. And the spot next to it. And isn't that a trail that leads all the way back to the refrigerator? 
So...You get out the mop and a bucket because the kitchen floor is one big spot and the tile where you have recently been spot cleaning is easily distinguished from the tile that has not been cleaned and the whole floor gets mopped and scrubbed to make it look like a place where food could withstand the five second rule. That's pretty good.
So...You take your mop and bucket into the bathroom, which is also full of tile that has a questionable layer of filth on it. The benefits of being able to walk into the bathroom first thing in the morning and know that when you pop out of the shower, the bottoms of your feet won't need an additional rinse afterward. Which reminds you of the toothpaste spatter on the mirror that needs a quick once-over, as does the mirror on the back of the door, which leaves you staring at the wood floor in the bedroom. When was the last time that got anything but lightly swept?
So...You put away the mop and bucket and get out the natural wood cleaner and a different mop because you don't want to put too much water on the wood but you really want to make the rest of the floors in the house as clean as those in the kitchen. We have standards to keep, after all. And somewhere in the voyage around the house, staring at the floor, you notice the dust that has collected on the shelves just a few inches from that floor.
So...You get the dust rag, and as you finish the floors, you start to work your way up to eye level, where the dirt is really noticeable. How long have we been living in this filth? There are cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling. How long have they been there? 
So...You fire Matt Lauer. 
The house will be dirty until it gets clean. 

Fun With History

Imagine that you and your family had waited seventy years for the recognition they deserved for your service to your country, but because of racial tension and unease with history, that attention had been bypassed in order to maintain a certain narrative that made the powers that be more comfortable. Such is the case of the Windtalkers, Native Americans who used their language as code during World War Two. These brave soldiers gave not just their language but many sacrificed their lives in armed forces of a country that had once been responsible for running them off the lands of their ancestors and robbing them of their heritage. Until all of a sudden some of that heritage turned out to be quite useful in battling the enemies of the country that had nearly wiped them out half a century before. This kind of irony hung on the edges of the Nicolas Cage-starring film, made in 2002. It should be noted that Mister Cage did not play a Navajo in this movie, which focused more on his Marine character who was assigned to protect a Navajo Windtalker. Not really a surprise, since the Windtalker project had only become public knowledge in 1968. Even though they have been recognized as one of the essential factors in America's victory in the Battle for Iwo Jima.
Quite a piece of history, that. 
Given the chance to make things just a little correct, the "President" invited three of the Code Talkers to Washington D.C. to honor them. Once there, with the microphones and cameras on, the "President" began to ingratiate himself with the following address: "You were here long before any of us were here. Although we have a representative in Congress who they say was here a long time ago. They call her Pocahontas."
And this was how the "President" chose to commemorate the service of these brave men, by taking a wide and ugly swing at Senator Elizabeth Warren. And while this partisan sideshow was taking place, these three heroes of World War Two stood beneath a portrait of Andrew Jackson, a favorite of the "President" and the man who signed the Indian Removal Act in 1830. 
No word yet on whether Nicolas Cage will be playing Jackson or Trump in the film version of this debacle.