On with the Show
So Buttigieg and Klobuchar drop out of the race the day before a primary and endorse Biden. I smell quid pro quo. What has the DNC promised them? And it seems Obama may have to go against himself and endorse his former VP. That’s the smart play. Middle Class Joe may have diminished faculties but he can be bought and controlled, as he has proven throughout his career. He can be the figurehead in the incremental socialism that has been going on since FDR. Bernie threatens the long game, favoring a leap that would drive centrists toward Trump, thereby delaying the inevitable march to socialism by another four years. Also, how funny is that the Biden campaign has rejected the endorsement of former FBI director James Comey? On the list of the most corrupt politicians of all-time, he might not even crack the top ten, whereas Biden would be second to Hillary.
Several months ago it seemed Benjamin Netanyahu’s long run as Israel’s Prime Minister was done. He has been re-elected, although his party will share power with others. On the one hand, this is good, as America has never had a greater ally. On the other, it is sad that there is no one like him to take his place. Then again, there is no one on the horizon like Trump. Unlike the Jewish state, America’s president must leave after eight years. I doubt he would be allowed to do what Bloomberg did in NYC, maneuver for a third term despite the law limiting the Big Apple’s mayor to two.
Down goes another liberal icon. It looks like Chris Matthews’ only option is podcasts.
If I ever write another book, it may begin like this: Although his parents were long gone, they visited him regularly. On his morning walk he got misty recalling the joy the family experienced viewing Your Show of Shows. For years his Dad and he would imitate Sid Caesar’s lampooning of passionate Italians, pretending to stab each other in the belly and saying: “In de la panza!” His mom referred to Imogene Coca as a pazza, “the crazy woman,” a designation she also applied to Martha Raye. Clueless as to the dialogue, she laughed at the broad physical humor. She spoke hardly any English. His Dad’s was very broken… There also has been a fragment dancing in my head about the murder of a young mystery woman. Her face, from a photo in her Iphone, is plastered on the front page of the New York Post. It looks exactly like a girl from the Lafayette H. S. class of ’67. Where would I take that snippet? To a Twilight Zone type story or a mystery novel? As if the world needs another of those. Maybe all the elements above can be integrated. Or maybe I will be visited for the rest of my days by idea fragments that resist forming a whole. I’m not going to force it. If it comes, it comes. I don’t want to write simply for the sake of writing. Here are the aforementioned icons of early TV:
I was back at my usual nook today. I had to work a little harder, lugging the crates about 25 yards. My thanks to the gentleman who bought four sci-fi novels in Russian, and to the elderly Latina who purchased Play Dirty by Sandra Brown; and to the man with the little boy’s voice, who took home booklets of three screenplays; and to Herbie, who dropped off a brand new paperback thriller; and to my constant benefactress, who donated four works of non-fiction.
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