The best part of a big win is sharing

Today's Tids IKssue 3,779

For Victory:

With so many irritants over the weekend, I just had to open this mooring with the Patriots victory. I mean who needs irritants anyhow. I just reread the play-by-play in its entirety, relived the moves the runs the catches and throws; the spirit of the players, the desire form deep within; the cohesion, the coordination, the cooperation. And I just sat back and smiled all over again, just as I did last night when the confetto rained.. The Pats have long proved that winning is not about stars, but players performing in their own positions for the good of others.

So, whaadja expect, Ezra Pound? The new President is no poet and never will be. He is blunt, and direct. Many post speech analysts from many disciplines said he threw down markers like any deal maker would. Many others said they like inaugural speeches that were more obtuse, more inspiring and less specific. But, what he did, was to say to his supporters -- I heard you and I’m not forgetting you up here on this big stage. And he threw down the gauntlet to the establishment, and like any negotiator he will move towards his opponent’s position until he gets some of what he wants. He will then announce complete victory hoping that most will forget the full extent of his promise. But, he could actually get something done on all of the fronts: The working people’s jobs, the inner cities and on the global front. That’s about what I heard. It wasn’t lilting music, and it certainly wasn’t gracious at all, but it was definitely him. You ain’t going to get any more than that.

I listen to Brahms a lot mainly because I generally root for those diminished or underappreciated by some critics. He was always the underdog in the eyes of those who revered Beethoven…and often in his own mind. The fact that his music is just simply beautiful and majestic is a bonus.

This hardest part of the past weekend was getting to 6:40 on Sunday night to watch the Pats.

There was that big women’s march this past Saturday, and it wasn’t quite as compatible as perhaps noted in the press. For instance, While Gloria Steinem basked in the applause of her minions and crass movie icons were an embarrassment to mothers of children everywhere, one of the largest and fasted growing women’s groups called “The new Wave Feminists”, was asked not to come to Washington. The group is big and vocal and -- pro-life. In other words this was not about all woman at all. As the new waver’s called it, “this was a march for Abortion”. Crowds can disguise the facts. Dis-unity within apparent unified looking masses has been with us forever. It‘s not about your gender or race or whatever designation is popular for the moment. It’s always about what you stand for. In the Obama regime, for instance, how many intelligent, thoughtful, successful blacks were denounced by other blacks for not being black enough. It was never about the depth of the pigment but only the intensity of capitulation to demagogue demands. Most groups don’t seem to want members to think for themselves, to analyze the totality of want is being said. While Trump is easily his own worst enemy, the idea that large groups are protesting what has yet to happen is equally frightening. How can you get to the center if “No” is carved in stone?

The Bull Market:

When Obama came to power the markets just had to go up over time or we were all financially dead. And they did. In fact, it progressed nicely until now where it is at that beyond belief, always dangerous all-time high place. Now Trump has promised a lot that should improve the position of a wide array of businesses, which if accomplished should be good for improving business, and the stock markets. Well, maybe not thoughtless protectionism. So, anyhow, the questions remain about how much the markets will improve under Trump. The bulls are watching and the bears are salivating. Is 20,000 the all-time high that stops us in our tracks? Or is it the first step to 40K? Being safe right now may be a good thing.

The Question:

What are considered the top all time Big band tunes?

The Headlines:

--Americans feel For South Brutalized By Severe Storms That Killed At Least 19, Injured Many And Destroyed Homes And Towns.

--Markets Down; McDonalds Comes Up With Good Report.

--Trump Says Women’s March, “Awe Inspiring.”

--Business Leaders Visit White House Monday Morning. Trump Says He Will Cut Taxes, Massively Reduce Regulations; Urges Them To First Consider Making All Products in USA.

--7.8 Earthquake Strikes Near Papua New Guinea And Solomon Islands; 3.8 Earthquake Near San Clemente Cal.

--China Shutting down 111 Golf Courses To Save Water.

--Millions March On Washington Over The Weekend; “Anti Day” Becomes Field Day For Small Groups Of Anarchists And Women With Expletives.

--Reports Say Clintons Planning Comeback.

--Several Sources Say Trump This Morning Will Sign Order To Withdraw From Trans Pacific Partnership; Trumps Order About Obama Agreement Never Ratified By Congress Will Have Little Effect On US economy.

--Windows 10 Good, But Most Like Windows 7 Best.

I would have liked to hear Trump say something like, “What hurts me most as I look around the USA is inner city poverty, and the fears I see in the eyes of mothers who must raise their children there. I will walk into those streets and bring hope. And he might just do that through his daughter Ivanka, who seems to be his more liberal guardian angel. At least I hope for something like that.

The Whine House, Department:

The Trump trumpeteers have to do better than they did in the first press conference, or else it will be a trickling death by news leak. The man in the office with no corners will find himself boxed in if he can’t get beyond pettiness. There are plenty of news people out there ready to bring him down who will be petty enough. Their inconsequentiality will show if he can rise above it all. I doubt if he can. I hope I’m not using the term the Whine House that often. But I might.

What’s “In” for 2017: Over the top, outrageous, terrific, big league adjectives.

By the way, the story of the New Feminists and feminists in general is interesting to read. The latest polls are saying that about 18% of women are or support feminists. (In Britain, it is about 7%) The rest, according to reports, are tired of it and don’t want to be associated with them in the least. They have more important things to do so say the polls, like loving their families, building cooperation within their communities, working for better schools. The weekend march was basically about saving dollars for Planned Parenthood, and helping aging celebrities prove hey still have an edge, as bad as it was.

One of the earlier, better Tids I ever wrote was in 2001. It was about walking through the streets of a little Florida Town, Mount Dora, trying to find a radio so I could listen to the Patriots- Pittsburgh game fir ten AFC Championship. In fact I devoted almost the entire Tids to that moment of trying to be excited in a small two where there were no people who would appreciate a Pats win.  I was both smiling and tense as I walked from antique shop to antique shop. But the real problem was when it was over and we had miraculously won and were on our way to that first surprising Super Bowl victory – there was nobody around who cared like I cared, if at all.. I couldn’t share the excitement. How depressing. It was like enjoying a bowl of ice cream in a room full of diabetics. One of my daughters framed that Tid, and it is hanging on the wall behind this chair upon which I sit.

One good reason for not having Hillary at the top is that we may have had to live with Madonna or Cher outbursts for four years. If Madonna had been wearing a burhke she would have been arrested. “Blow up the White House”? How loony.

Didn’t you think at one time that there was no way that the big band music of the 30’s and 40’s wouldn’t live forever? Now hit tunes seem to live for about an hour and a half.

Globalism is good for the prosperity of US companies and poor countries, but not so hot for the American worker. Being global is like the ocean where tides and sea levels affect all nations equally. What goes up, goes up. If small country work forces work cheaper, than over time, US wages will go down. Eventually poor country wages will rise (Depending on the tyrant in charge). Even in the areas where the higher skilled labor of the US is necessity, the equation will still move towards level seas trough the addition of automation. So, the fact is that manufacturing jobs will probably never again reach the heights of the 50’s through 80’s. There are some things bombast can’t repair.

The reason that US manufacturing declined was mainly because of union demands, and maybe even more significant, the requirements by Wall Street for continually increasing quarterly profits which often required continuing cost reductions in lieu of real growth. My personal feeling is that companies allowed by the people to operate in a free economy have a distinct responsibility to do what is best for those people. That includes the financial segment who should be factoring into their investments the cost of keeping people employed in bad or slow times. God, I sound like Elizabeth Warren. But, I have always believed in mutual respect, corporate responsibility.

The new Prez is already under attack by a group mounting resources and people to promote his impeachment based on his business ties. The very Liberal CREW (Citizens for  Responsibility and Ethics In Washington) took legal action this morning filing a suit over the alleged payments by foreign countries into Trump businesses. So his business ventures will be that Achilles heel most attacked on the road to impeachment shouting. Most lawyers, even those who appeared on some of the more left leaning cable news programs, agreed that he probably has done enough. But it is a diversion.

Back Atcha, Department:

Like all situations in this divided world, the antis of anything won’t listen even if something good is said. They want what they want and aren’t interested if the side they aren’t on has a good idea which may actually beneficial to their cause. They often dream up negatives that aren’t there. For instance, immediately after the Trump speech Rachel Madow said his speech was anti-Semitic! Say what?  This while Jews in Jerusalem were dancing in the streets over his election. The “Back Atcha” movement probably had its roots during the Clinton admin. The negativity against him spurred on Dems to find “Hatred” for Bush which in turn had the Repubs looking for everything wrong about 0-Man which morphed into anti Hillary.. And now Trump doesn’t have a chance, especially if the press keeps on supporting all of the negativity towards the real estate mogul, now President.

Trump Press secretary Spicer doesn’t have a chance.

The aggressive tactics of the window smashing, car destroying brick throwing anarchist protestors during the Trump admin lost them all of their creditability, if they ever had any among thinking people.

Speaking of reluctant agreement to the Trump ascendancy, Spell-Check is still refusing to acknowledge that there is another spelling option – Trump with a capital “T”. The spelling aid helps me spell Roethlisberger, but trump, not so much. 

The leaders of the Women’s march going after Misogynous Trump are exactly the same women who completely ignored the doings of Bill Clinton inside the Oval office. Just in case you burned your history books.

By the way, I have been studying the word “Misogynous” from many angles, and it has morphed significantly to satisfy objectives. I may get into that tomorrow,

The Parking Lot:

For this week, I will publish episodes from throughout the entire series so you can get a little of the flavor of the people and story and the type of action. Since some episodes will be long, I’ll insert them at the bottom of the Tids The first episode is the opening Prologues, which really sets up the story.

The Answer:

Based on several “Best Of” lists I have read, two names shine brightest – Glenn Miller and Duke Ellington – and two others --   Benny Goodman and Artie Shaw – are prominent and making up the big four. I would have also thought one of the Dorsey Brothers would have shown brighter. but they were just beyond the top. Also high up on the list were Count Basie, Harry James, Woody Herman, Les Brown, Charlie Barnett and the band that transitioned into the fifties jazz era – Stan Kenton. Top tunes among the winners were In the Mood, Begin the Beguine, Take the A Train, Sing Sing Sing, I’ll Never Smile Again, Stardust, It Don’t Mean a Thing, Sentimental Journey, Stompin’ ant the Savoy, Chattanooga Chooo-Choo, Tuxedo Junction. I have most of the great old albums growing mold in my basement. I used to listen to them for hours.

Tomorrow the Tids will move away from Washington DC, and advocates, and all the president’s horses. You all deserve a little happiness. And, honest, I hate being mad. 

New Tids Novel – The Parking Lot.

The prologue

Just as I do every morning, I look out at the parking lot and count the cars left overnight. Today there are three, which is about average for a three to five car weekend. On week days on the lot beneath my window in my busy night time downtown neighborhood, there may be one or two. I figure, there’s a story in every one of those thousands of cars I’ve seen waiting for their masters. It could be as simple as one driver taking care of a friend who had ten or twelve shots too many. It could be more. A lot more. It is a novelists dream come true.

    Like most mornings car owners would return between 7:30 and noon, delivering people to their cars. Most of the time a woman jumped out, some running as fast as possible to the car, looking a little embarrassed on the way. Several would run around to the driver window, say something, lean in and give a thank you peck on the cheek. These overnighters would tend to walk comfortably back to their own car, taking peeks at their deliverer before getting in and quickly buckling up.

   It was about 1:30 on this particular day when the owner of one remaining car showed up, but she wasn’t being driven. She walked slowly out of the alley leading into the lot. Her head was down, and she seemed to walk with a slight limp. As she looked around and spied her car she moved faster. Now, almost running as she neared her car, she was trying to reach into her jouncing bag, apparently fumbling around for, I expect, her keys. Suddenly, the bag dropped, she stopped, looking hopelessly as all of her special stuff rolled and bounced along the black macadam. She slowly kneeled, and I felt my own heart ache for her. She didn’t reach out to reclaim her possessions. She just knelt, her eyes appearing to look at a graffiti marred brick wall. Her head lowered. I saw her shoulders shuddering.

   The woman looked traumatized, and she dressed for the occasion, with a gray oversized blouse and flimsy shawl draped over her shoulders which fell in bunches of material upon the black surface. She drew me in. I have one of those hearts that opens up too widely too often. I was so intense with her that I almost missed hearing the rumble, an aggressive rumble, from a car speeding down our cobblestone drive way.

   I didn’t miss the car as it swerved into the parking lot and headed directly at the woman, at an increasing rate. I screamed through the window and storm windows two stories above her. She didn’t hear me. She didn’t turn towards the car. The only motion was her shoulders, heaving, heaving. I turned and ran, hobbled, down a flight of stairs to my door and down another longer flight to the garage and an exit door. I stopped and looked to the right towards my wood pile where I remembered I had stacked a couple of 3 foot two by fours. I reached in and grabbed one and put my shoulder to the door. God, did that hurt.  I stumbled out, rubbing my shoulder, seeing a stopped car, inches from the woman who was now beginning to react. The fear I saw  in her eyes went up my spine and grabbed my throat. A guy was rising out of the front eat, and he got bigger and bigger as he hauled a large body out of the car.

   The girl now on her hands and knees facing him started crawling backwards towards her car, her feet flicking away cans, bottles, wallets and small bags that had tumbled from her purse earlier. The man took two giant steps and was upon her. He didn’t say, “Mother may I”, so I ran and shouted, “Hey, hey, hey.” That was a mistake. He twisted around, facing me. “Get out of here old man.  This ain’t your business. You don’t want it to be your business”

   “Leave her alone.” I shouted back, trying to sound tough, which for me, rarely worked. I held up my weapon. He smiled. “Try it,” his smile seemed to say.

   Her eyes were feverish now. Moving rapidly side to side as the hulk in front of me dismissed my threats with a smirk and turned back toward where she had been. She was grasping at the area around her body, when suddenly she stopped, and was motionless. She raise her hand as the big man approached and sprayed from the can she was now holding tightly in her hand. The brute’s hands went to his eyes and he cried out. He roared crazily. I took a step back. He was really mad now, and he flayed around trying to remember his bearings and the position of his prey. She had moved, now quickly and determined to the side. I saw an opportunity and rushed at him with everything I had, sore shoulder and all, aimed at his mid section. I plowed into him expecting to mash him into the car now just a foot beyond. It felt like I was hitting a cast iron lamp post, and I just bounced off, dropping my 2 by 4 and tumbling to the ground finally landing on my back. I lay still now somewhat bewildered by my inadequacies, looking up at the giant blinking back his sight. I was doomed. He reached down and picked up my weapon, while I noticed the woman struggling to unlock her car door. I moved up to one knee, not knowing what I could do. He seemed a little confused, not knowing whether to pummel me or go after the woman. I used his hesitation as an opportunity to rise quickly. I was hoping to get back into a position of some advantage, but noticed at once that he had raised my piece of lumber and it was coming down at a rapid pace towards my head. Just before I ducked, I saw the woman jump in to her car. Before I good cheer her on, the board struck my now exposed back sending enormous pain rattling throughout my aging bones. It was not that proverbial glancing blow.