Fred Wilpon, the man who messed up the Mets

By Bob Gaydos

OK, I have avoided writing about this topic for years because I didn’t want to have to deal with the whining, delusional comments that pass for rational argument among Mets fans. But honestly, I don’t get it. I don’t get how anyone can be a Mets fan.

As far as I can tell, being a Mets fan these days consists of being willing to root for a boring team made up of mediocre major leaguers, rookies who never ripen, and established major league stars who are always hurt. But more than that, it’s fans caring about some of these mediocre players and talking about them as if they are ever going to be good major league players that baffles me. You know, like Joe Beningo and his kid sidekick, Evan, on WFAN or that noontime kid on ESPN Radio.

They go on and on about a team that has tanked at the end of the year for a decade, whose legitimate star pitcher may not pitch this year, whose star outfielder and shortstop have been hurt more than they’ve been healthy for two years and whose star third baseman, who literally broke his back playing for them, has spells where he literally couldn’t hit the ball if it was the size of a grapefruit.

All the rest is gruel. Plus, the owner of the team, Fred Wilpon, lost hundreds of millions of dollars in the Bernie Madoff Ponzi scheme and can’t spend money to get better players, so he’s going to have to trade his few blue chips for some young, potential stars. And we know how well that’s worked out recently. Wilpon has stayed quietly in the background most of the time, letting his general managers and managers talk about the team to the working press, which in the Mets’ case also contains a disproportionate quota of wanna-believers whose memories don’t go back past the 1990s.

But Wilpon sat down last month with a talented reporter from the New Yorker, a publication with no rooting interest save selling more magazines. The story that resulted told about Wilpon’s rags-to-riches story in real estate and his being snookered by Madoff. He and Madoff says that’s what happened; a trustee for other big losers say Wilpon knew what was going on. But that’s another story. Wilpon also made some comments in the New Yorker about his team and star players that has Mets nation in a tizzy. Here’s how it was reported in the Sporting News (also a non-rooting publication):

“The comments were made on April 20 while Wilpon watched a 4-3 loss to the Astros with the reporter, so don’t blame him for coming across more as fan than executive. Jose Reyes, whose contract is up after the season, had led off with a single and stolen second when Wilpon told the New Yorker, ‘He’s a racehorse. He thinks he’s going to get Carl Crawford money (a seven-year $142 million contract). He won’t get it.’

“When David Wright hit, Wilpon said: ‘A really good kid. A very good player. Not a superstar.’

“About Carlos Beltran, given a seven-year, $119 million deal by the Mets, Wilpon took a shot at himself as well as his player: ‘We had some schmuck in New York who paid him based on that one (2004 playoff) series. He’s 65 to 70 per cent of what he was.’

“Finally, the magazine sums up what Wilpon thought about the Mets at the time when Ike Davis stepped in. ‘Good hitter,’ Wilpon said. ‘(Cruddy) team-good hitter.’ ”

Only he didn’t say cruddy.

Now, any Mets fan who can utter the words Armando Benitez with a proper sneer, knows that Wilpon’s assessments are right on. But the whining is that he didn’t have to say it publicly. Oh, please. He’s owned the team for 30 years. He remembers when they were a star-studded, scrappy bunch of all-stars, even if many of the fans don’t. He also knows he hasn’t delivered that kind of team nearly as often as he should have, what with playing in the biggest market in the country and making tons of money because of it.

Wilpon and his baseball staff have let Mets fans down year after year by failing to draft or trade for good, never mind star, players, by running a wreck of a medical staff that has seen star after star go down year after year, passing it off as being “snake-bitten,” and by being unbelievably inept in public relations. (They made manager Willie Randolph fly to the West Coast so they could fire him in the middle of the night.)

Mets fan know that they have to trade Beltran for some young player(s). Ditto Reyes. Wilpon is trying to sell a huge hunk of the team just to keep operating, for Pete’s sake. And he was absolutely right about Wright. Nice kid. Trouble throwing to first base. The thing is, Mets fans know all this and jabber about it on talk radio for hours (or at least when Joe and Evan are on), but for some reason the guy who pays the players’ salaries is not supposed to talk about it.

His saying it publicly doesn’t change anything. They will play for their next big contracts, wherever they may be and fans will talk about Ike Davis as if he’s the second coming of Keith Hernandez. Keith’s in the TV booth now with Ron Darling, who may still be better than anyone in the Mets’ starting five.

I have digressed all over the place because, as I said, I don’t get it. Yes, of course, I’m a Yankee fan, and have been for about 60 years. Mets fans, I am told, hate the Yankees and Yankee fans. Yankee fans don’t care. We have enough to do wondering why Brett Gardner is still in the major leagues and when Derek Jeter (who was supposedly washed up two weeks go) will get his 3,000th hit.

Yankee fans are used to a team owner talking publicly about star players. No, it was not always useful, but George Steinbrenner also poured tens of millions of dollars back into his team every year to try to keep it a winner, or at the very least, fun to watch. Many Mets fans I know are still hung up on the Brooklyn Dodgers, who also lost to the Yankees a lot, but who at least were always fun to watch and had lots of star players. I think these older Mets fans think Yankee fans are condescending. I don’t think so. I think Yankee fans just really don’t care about the Mets because lately it’s the same old story — they can’t seem to get out of their own way. (Personally, I loved the ‘69 World Series and bringing Willie Mays back for a curtain call. In the ’86 World Series, I rooted for the Mets. Of course, they did beat the Boston Red Sox.)

I also think Mets fans think that the true test of a fan is whether he or she is willing to suffer stoically and endlessly through lean times with the team. Again, just listen to the radio shows. But the Yankees didn’t win much in the ‘60s or ‘80s. The thing is, they never stopped trying and they were hardly ever boring. They set the bar high and, yes, they paid well to reach it. They still do. That’s why Yankee fans get upset when the team doesn’t play up to expectations (like losing Friday to a Mets knuckleballer). It may be easier to be a Yankee fan than a Met fan, but it’s much harder to be a Yankee player than a Mets player. Because it’s what they’ve done, their fans expect the Yankees to win. Not always, but usually. There is nothing wrong with winning. It’s why they keep score.

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OK, Mets fans, you get your say in the comment box below, or e-mail me. Why do you do what you do? Of course, any Yankee fan who wants to chime in is welcome as well.

bob@zestoforange.com

Jorge Posada was MIA, not that some fans noticed

By Bob Gaydos

I had the a) privilege; b) opportunity; c) misfortune of attending the Yankees/Red Sox game last Saturday night with my 16-year-old son Zack and his 22-year-old cousin, Andy. It was the Jorge Posada Game. Or rather, the “Where the heck is Jorge Posada?” Game. We sat in the right field seats, near the foul pole. Second deck. Actually, decent seats to watch a wholly indecent game, at least as far as the Yankees are concerned. They could not hit; C.C. could not pitch. It was so boring, all the Red Sox fans in our section didn’t even get excited over winning, 6-0.

In fact, the game was so boring I spent more time observing the “fans” around us and left wondering who the heck these people were because they definitely were not baseball fans.

We were surrounded by what I guess would be considered upwardly mobile young people — males and females between 25 and 35 years old with an apparently unlimited supply of disposable income. I surmise this because of all the couples surrounding us (and they were all boy/girl couples) not one ever had even a fleeting conversation about the game we were supposedly watching. I know this because, as I said, the game was so boring you could hear everyone’s conversation.

The two couples behind us talked non-stop the entire game. No one ever mentioned a player’s name or a game situation. They did drink a lot of beer and eat and laugh a lot and the guys wore Yankees jerseys, but I had to wonder why they couldn’t find a cheaper place to double date on a Saturday night.

The same went for two couples two rows in front us. The girls spent most of the game going somewhere or other with each other, coming back with a new bottle of beer ($9) each time. The words, “Let’s go, Yankees!” never passed their lips and they didn’t even notice that Jorge wasn’t in the lineup.

They all did, however, enjoy the stadium cuisine, which is priced to make movie theater food seem cheap. (I sent Zack up with $10 for two more hot dogs and he had to kick in a couple bucks of his own.) Another young guy in front of us sat down with a $25 bucket of chicken wings and a couple of beers. There were probably fries involved, too. He and his date disappeared somewhere in the middle of the game. I don’t know which team they were rooting for.

The highlight of the game (I know because Zack posted it on his Facebook page) came when the very quiet young man sitting directly in front of us got hit, first by a hot dog, then by a beer shower, from the third deck directly above us. Since he was wearing a Lester shirt, we assumed he was a Boston fan and so we got some not-so-secret (we smiled at each other) enjoyment out of his misfortune. But he never even got angry. His date did, looking skyward with a “Who are those cretins?” gaze. But “Lester” sat there calmly. He didn’t even cheer when Adrian Gonzalez buried the Yankees with a three-run home run.

Who are these people?

When I was their age (yeah, I know, here goes the old guy talking about the good old days), if you were fool enough to take a non-baseball-savvy date to a baseball game, you planned on explaining some of the nuances of the game. (“He’s bunting to put the runner on second base so he can score on a hit. You can hit foul balls ’til the cows come home.”) You didn’t mind that because she was at least feigning interest in the game and it made you feel competent. Who cared what the hot dogs cost?

I once took a date to a Yankee game and sagely informed her that Yogi Berra (stop adding up the years) was a very good bad-ball hitter. It didn’t matter if it was a strike, Yogi could hit it out. Which, God bless his pinstriped soul, he promptly did. Right down the right field line, near the foul pole in the old Yankee Stadium, where the seats didn’t cost anywhere near as much as the similar ones we had in the new stadium.

Of course, our seats Saturday were wider and definitely more comfortable. They cost a hundred bucks each, which is why I was wondering who these young men were who were taking young women on a date to a baseball game which they clearly didn’t care about and which would cost them close to $500 anyway by time they got through parking, paying tolls, eating and drinking. Even in Manhattan, dinner and a movie is cheaper.

I did notice that there were empty seats Saturday night, which is not something the Yankees saw in the last few years at the old stadium. Ticket prices and the cost of food and drink and souvenirs have risen beyond all reason at the ballpark. I think this has led to a new kind of “fan,” a social fan, if you will. These are young people — apparently with healthy incomes — who go to the Yankee game because it’s seen as the place to be. Whatever “cool” is today, this is it. (“Yeah, Cindy and I went to the Yankee game Saturday night with Mitch and Amy. Awesome. Posada what? Didn’t play? Didn’t notice.”)

Because they have not been winning lately, a Mets game does not carry the same cache as a Yankee game, but I am willing to bet there are many more actual conversations about baseball at Citi Field than at the new Yankee Stadium. Not that it’s any cheaper.

It was, in sum, disappointing, insofar as the game went. But Zack, Andy and I enjoyed the day and taking the train to the game made it real easy. We’ll do it again and hope for a better performance by the “Bombers.”

As for the fans, that may be another matter: In the bottom of the ninth inning, the game all but over and half the people gone, the Yankee ball boy along the right field foul line tossed a warmup ball to a young kid standing at the railing. Some 35-ish guy wearing a suit (A suit! At a baseball game!) and a baseball glove reached over the kid’s head and grabbed the ball. He rejoiced in his theft, holding both arms to the sky to a chorus of boos from the remaining fans. He smiled and held the ball aloft as he returned to his seat along the fence (we’re talking four figures here) and adamantly refused to “Give the kid the ball!” as the chants demanded. Security came and talked to him. He clutched the ball more defiantly, perhaps anticipating his Monday morning spotlight. (“Yeah, went to the Yankee game Saturday night. Great seats. Got the ball Swisher was warming up with in right field. … What about Posada?”)

Just as I was saying to myself for the twentieth time, “Who are these people?” a gray-haired gentleman wearing khakis and a green windbreaker, walked slowly from his seat farther up the right field line to where the kid and the suit were sitting. The guy in the windbreaker held out his hand and gave the kid a ball he had snared earlier in the game. Then he turned and walked back to his seat to watch the Yankees go down without a threat.

By this time, all those twenty-somethings had long been gone, probably looking for a bar to refresh their game memories. But Zack (an avid, true Yankee fan) saw the whole scene play out. He gave the guy in the windbreaker a nod of approval. Now that’s cool, however they say it today.

Bob@zestoforange.com

Mickie James, alive and well in Cahoots

By Bob Gaydos

“It is disingenuous for anyone to blame Pakistan or state institutions of Pakistan, including the ISI and the armed forces, for being in cahoots with Al Qaeda.”

So said Yousuf Raza Gilani, prime minister of Pakistan, in response to statements in this country and elsewhere suggesting that the only way Osama bin Laden could have lived undetected for six years in a million-dollar fortress on a residential street in Pakistan, just down the road from that country’s version of West Point, was if elements of Pakistan’s military and intelligence communities were working with bin Laden. In Cahoots.*

To which I say, “Where the heck is this “Cahoots” of which they speak? Is it in Pakistan? After all, it’s not the first time members of Pakistan’s military have been accused (is that the right word?) of being in Cahoots. This usually follows the assassination of one of their prime ministers. And a long time ago, the government of Pakistan was accused of being in Cahoots with China to snare a piece of valuable waterfront property that India also had its eyes on.

For some reason, people said to be in Cahoots always say they weren‘t there, so it would appear that this Cahoots is not a nice touristy place, but rather a place people go to plot evil, or at least nefarious, deeds. Which sounds a lot like Pakistan.

Or maybe Afghanistan? When 541 prisoners, including 106 Taliban commanders, tunneled their way out of Kandahar Prison recently, embarrassed U.S. and Canadian officials claimed Afghan prison officials were incompetent, corrupt, and in Cahoots with the Taliban. This suspicion was fueled by the fact that 800 Taliban prisoners had escaped from another maximum security prison in Afghanistan in 2008.

Then again, Cahoots could be in Mexico. In Hidalgo, Mexico, the Catholic Church, no less, has been accused of being in Cahoots with drug lords because it accepts donations from known leaders of that country’s drug cartels. A new church with a huge silver cross was built thanks to the generosity of a major drug lord. A plaque on the building identifies him. The people in the small town, who grew up with the man, say they don’t know him, but U.S and Mexican officials say they were in Cahoots.

The more I researched, trying to locate Cahoots, the more confusing the answer became. For example, on the other side of the ocean from Mexico, cases of radiation overexposure have led to suspicion that nuclear regulators and the Japanese government operated in Cahoots to cover up fatal flaws at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, flaws that some experts say would have manifested themselves even without the devastating earthquake and tsunami that cut off power to the plant.

Meanwhile in South Africa, Communist Party General Secretary Blade Nzimande said the capitalist system is neglecting the efforts made by the South Africa working class and that the South African media are part of the problem because they are “in Cahoots with the oppressive capitalist bosses.” In the interest of fairness, communist leaders in every nation have always accused capitalists of being in Cahoots with someone.

From here, the search for Cahoots became increasingly futile.

When federal officials sued to shut down an Amish farmer who was selling raw milk across state lines, customers of the Pennsylvania farmer said, “The FDA is in Cahoots with the large milk producers.” And WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange charges that Facebook and the U.S. government are in Cahoots to build a mammoth database. He called it “the most appalling spy machine that has ever been invented,” in an interview with Russia Today.

There’s also an American blogger who says, “My gas station and my grocery store are in Cahoots. They both keep inching up prices, waiting to see which one will bankrupt me first.” And a lawsuit has been filed in California accusing Apple, Google, Adobe Systems, Intel, and other tech companies of being in Cahoots to violate antitrust laws by allegedly conspiring to fix employee pay, as well as working out “no solicitation” deals with one another.

Busy place, that Cahoots.

I had a just about given up hope of finding it (Google maps kept referring me to burger joints across America) when I came to the web site for TNA Wrestling. And I quote: “We start things off backstage where it seems like the cameras are spying on Madison Rayne and Tara. The former Knockouts Champion is all up in Tara’s grill, telling that it was her fault she lost her title to Mickie James four days prior. She says that for all she knows, the two of them are in Cahoots. Tara reminds her that it was her locked in the cage with Mickie and Madison goes on to say that she wasn’t there when she needed her. From what I recall, Madi, you demanded Tara stay in the back and play with little dollies while you unceremoniously got your ass beat. But that’s just one person’s reflection. Oh wait, nope, Tara remembers it the same way I do. Maybe we’re in cahoots! CAHOOTS!”

Well, no wonder it’s so hard to find. Who would ever suspect professional wrestlers of being in Cahoots?

* Cahoots capitals are mine.

Bob@zestoforange.com

By Bob Gaydos

There I was, sitting around Sunday night, contemplating my navel (a novel refuses to materialize) and trying to decide whether to write about the Royal Wedding (capitals are a must), a rather schizophrenic UFO festival in Pine Bush, the roasting of Donald Trump or the ongoing nuclear meltdown in Japan. This haphazard thought process reflects more than two decades of writing daily editorials, in which no event is ever out of bounds for some sort of comment — constructive and cogent, of course.

And yet here I am, on Tuesday afternoon, once again feeling compelled to write about the thought processes of Barack Obama, forever more to be known, to the chagrin of Republicans, as the man who got Osama bin Laden.

George W. Bush, the man who made water board a verb and who leapt before ever looking for eight years in the White House, ordered bin Laden, the al Qaeda mastermind of the Sept. 11 attacks, brought to justice, dead or alive. It never happened on Bush’s watch.

Obama, his White House successor, the anti-Bush who sometimes drives friends and foes crazy by insisting on discussing, debating, compromising and cooperating on every important decision, delivered Osama’s head on a metaphorical platter. Actually, we’re told a Navy SEAL put a bullet in the terrorist’s head and his body was buried at sea within 24 hours, supposedly in accordance with Islamic religious beliefs. The fact that this makes it difficult to build a martyr’s memorial to him, is purely coincidental, we are also told. Besides, the White House said, no country would take bin Laden’s body

Of course. And who cares? There must be a watery entrance to hell as well. Beyond the national euphoria and celebration of the death of bin Laden, there was, of course, the usual political posturing in comments by potential rivals of Obama. Short version: A lot of Republicans managed to praise everyone involved in the mission, except for the commander-in-chief. It’s almost as if he were just a spectator, along for the ride.

Bush and Dick Cheney were not among them, perhaps because their time has come and gone and also perhaps because they know firsthand what it took to finally succeed. They congratulated Obama. New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, known for his bluntness, was also direct: “I want to commend President Obama’s Administration for its commitment and dedication to finally bringing Osama bin Laden to justice.” Perhaps coincidentally, Christie says he’s not running for president in 2012.

But it fell to the equally direct Rudy Giuliani, the politician most affected by the events of 9/11, to put Obama’s role in true perspective.

The former New York City mayor specifically praised Obama: “I feel a great deal of satisfaction that justice has been done, and I admire the courage of the president to make a decision like this because if something had gone wrong everyone would be blaming him.”

Oh my God, would they ever. For a president accused of dithering and dawdling and trying to be too nice to everybody, this was an incredibly gutsy call. Go into Pakistan, the hell with what their government thinks. Don’t bomb the compound — too risky for civilian casualties. Send in a small, specially trained force. Capture or kill Osama and get out fast. Get evidence. Don’t leave anything behind.

And yet, we also know that this order did not come without months of intelligence gathering, many meetings, discussions, debates and probably arguments. Out of that had to come an overriding faith by the commander-in-chief in the plan of attack and in the men who would be chosen to carry out the mission. Yes, this is Osama bin Laden. Yes, we can get in and out. Yes, the risks are high. No, we can’t absolutely guarantee success.

Whew! Remember Jimmy Carter’s helicopters in the desert? Blackhawk down? Heck, Remember Ike and U-2 and JFK and the Bay of Pigs? Obama is a student of history. He knew what was at stake, for him and the country and he gave the order. Do it.

That decision immediately puts him in a much different category than any one of his potential opponents in 2012. Not that he wasn’t there already.

Consider first what it took for a junior senator, with little foreign policy experience, to decide to run for president against Hillary Clinton. Throw in the fact that the junior senator is black. Consider that in the two-plus years since his election, Obama, the ditherer and dawdler, has delivered a rescue package for a seriously ailing economy, a major reform of health care that contains new benefits for millions of Americans and also trims the deficit, overseen repeal of the military’s don’t ask/don’t tell policy on gays serving, gotten a budget passed with a GOP-controlled House of Representatives, all the while dealing with a Republican Party seemingly devoid of common sense or at least some leader willing to stand up and say the birthers and the persistent nay-sayers have no clothes, never mind evidence.

Presidents supposedly have to be able to walk and chew gum at the same time. Gerald Ford was often mocked because of his difficulty mastering this challenge, but he was seen as a sincere, good man, so the joking was done in good humor. He never got elected president, however. Obama has no difficulty handling more than one problem at a time. Indeed, his intelligence, charm and rhetorical and oratorical skills are surely scary to some Americans, especially for a guy born in Kenya. (If there are any Fox News fans reading this, that’s a joke.)

Which, brings me back to Donald Trump. One of the most amazing things to me about Obama’s ability to carry on several projects at a high degree of excellence was his performance Saturday night at the White House Correspondents Dinner. As is custom, the president gave a 10-minute or so standup routine, aimed at members of the audience. Obama’s was spot-on perfect and hilarious, skewering a scowling Trump and plenty of other critics in the audience and, in my view, outshining the professional comedian who followed him, Seth Meyers of Saturday Night Live.

Yet Obama knew all the time he was mocking Trump that a decision on getting Osama was on his agenda in the morning. Pressure? Not so you’d notice. Obama was perfect Saturday night, leaving them laughing in the aisles. He didn’t miss a beat on Sunday either, bringing America cheering to its feet.

Some people are going to say he was lucky. Maybe so. But it takes a keen mind and a lot of careful thought and preparation — not to mention a willingness to be criticized as indecisive — to be as “lucky” as Barack Obama has been. He may still drive you (and me) crazy sometimes, but look around folks. So long as the wheels in that Occidental/Columbia/Harvard-educated brain keep churning, I’m sticking with the man who got Osama.

Bob@zestoforange.com

The president's "long form" birth certificate

By Bob Gaydos

Given that Barack Obama, the son of a Midwestern mother and a Kenyan father, managed to graduate from Columbia University and Harvard Law School (magna cum laude), write two books, get elected senator from Illinois, and defeat a bona fide American war hero (John McCain) and frontierswoman (Sarah Palin) in becoming the first black man elected president of the United States of America — all before the age of 50 — I have always considered Obama to be quite a bit smarter than the average American.

I am now amending that view. He is a lot smarter.

Of course, as history has demonstrated, intelligence is not required to be elected president of this country. It can even be a hindrance (look up Adlai Stevenson and Al Gore). On the other hand, being a white male with good family connections has always been a good starting point. In his campaign for the presidency, Obama shattered those prejudices, as well as that of race, by demonstrating an innate ability to talk intelligently, in terms anyone could understand, about any topic thrown at him. Plus he was charismatic. It certainly helped Obama that the outgoing president once said of his political opponents, “They misunderestimated me.”

Well, Obama’s political opponents and supporters may be guilty of the same crime with regard to him. Yes, we’re talking tea party diehards, evangelicals, social conservatives, broadcast media nut jobs, probably most Libertarians, ultra-liberals, and, of course, birthers. Especially birthers.

Once upon a time, in the mid-19th century, there was a Know-Nothing Party in this country. Its members, mostly white, middle-class, Protestant males, were worried about the arrival in America of large numbers of people from Ireland and Germany. Catholics. The Know-Nothings (they were so secretive, members asked about the party proclaimed to know nothing about it) tried to pass laws limiting immigration and naturalization and spread stories of conspiracies involving the pope. The Know-Nothings preached nativism and spread fear of anything and anyone not born in this country. They had a brief period of success as Americans, divided over slavery, became disenchanted with other political parties (the Whigs mainly). Successful Know-Nothing candidates — mostly on local levels — appointed only native-born Americans to government jobs. They eventually came to be known as the American Party and finally broke up over slavery, with many following another Illinois senator, Abraham Lincoln, into the new Republican Party. Coincidentally, of course, Lincoln is Obama’s political compass.

For the past few weeks, Donald Trump has been making political hay in the Republican Party by bringing up the matter of where Obama was born to anyone with a microphone who was willing to listen. These days, that means pretty much every electronic media outlet. “Where’s the birth certificate? Why won’t he produce the birth certificate?” Trump demanded over and over to “reporters” who should have known better since the president had produced his official Hawaiian record of birth when he ran for president and several times after that. The issue had long been settled.

But Trump and the birthers would not take the word of the governor of Hawaii and would not accept the official “short” birth certificate that is issued to anyone from that state who asks for such proof as, well, proof. Why was that? A conspiracy? You’d have to ask the birthers, but that Kenyan blood in Obama probably has a lot more to do with it than any concern over constitutional irregularities. So insistent was Trump and so strongly did his message resonate within Republican Party ranks that regular Republicans (Trump is a gadfly as far as political affiliation) didn’t know what to say about it. Call him an idiot and risk losing the conspiracy theory vote so crucial in GOP primaries. Agree with Trump and risk losing the vote of everyone else in the country.

As they sat, knowing not what to do, Trump climbed to the top of the polls of possible GOP presidential contenders for 2012. Such polls are meaningless this early in a campaign, but most politicians have never learned this fact.

So Wednesday, Obama did something smart. He held a press conference in which he called Trump an idiot without mentioning his name and at which he produced the original long form birth certificate from Hawaii. No one gets this form any more, only the president of the United States asking as a favor to put to rest a “distraction.”

Trump immediately took credit for “forcing” the disclosure by Obama. But other Republicans had a different reaction. “I have criticized members of my own party for making this some kind of issue so I’m really surprised that the White House is actually doing the same,” said House Majority Leader Eric Cantor. Other congressional Republicans, preparing to take on Obama over gas prices and the debt ceiling, called release of the birth certificate — which many of their faithful indicated they wanted to see — a “sideshow” and a “distraction.”

You think Obama doesn’t know that? You think he is quaking at the prospect of running against Trump for president? You think he doesn’t like conservative Republican leaders taking his side in the birth certificate “debate”? As embarrassing as he may be to most GOP leaders, Trump has claimed the ear of many of their voters and set an agenda of conspiracy and nativism. In a New York Times/CBS poll released a week before the president produced his long form birth certificate, 57 percent of the registered voters contacted believed Obama was born in the United States. But only one-third of self-identified Republicans believed that. A full 45 percent of them believed he was born elsewhere.

After his press conference, Obama surely picked up more support as a native-born son. But … Trump was still waiting for “verification” of the form and many birthers were still doubting its authenticity. As that former president said, never “misunderestimate” the tenacity of conspiracy theorists to cling to their beliefs.

Late Wednesday afternoon, the Law Blog of the Wall Street Journal polled readers on the question: “Does the release of President Obama’s birth certificate settle questions about his citizenship?” Of the 8,826 votes tallied, 72.4 percent said yes. Good for Obama. But 2,439 said no — a full 27.6 percent. Again, good for Obama.

Those people, a predictable, unshakeable minority operating on fear rather than fact, will follow Trump into the desert of Republican politics, or until he says, “I was only kidding. I’m not really running.” Meanwhile, more serious Republican candidates get no TV time or support and Obama and Democrats are going about raising money for the next election, basing at least part of their pitch on the birther issue. The Democratic Governors Association is the first major Democratic campaign arm to try and raise money on the subject, the Los Angeles Times reported a week ago. “You and I know that birtherism is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the extreme, hard-right agenda supported by Republican governors across the country. Thank you so much for helping the DGA hold them accountable,” executive director Colm O’Comartun wrote.

Yeah, they’re incredibly annoying, but when it comes to dealing with nativist conspiracy theorists of any name, Obama, like Lincoln, knows something.

Bob can be reached at bob@zestoforange.com

Tony Pro

By Bob Gaydos

A couple of weeks ago, in a display of pure ego, I wrote about the famous people I had encountered over the years. Kind of a check list on where the journey has taken me so far. They tell me it’s one of the charming things about blogs — they don’t always have to be about serious stuff going on in the world. Sometimes they can be personal and can let readers know a little about the blogger. And of course, in this social networking world we now inhabit, willingly or not, it allows the blogees to respond with personal information of their own.

So, at the end of my personal who’s who of my life, I asked readers to send in their own close encounters. A few brave souls actually replied and so I will give them their due.

• Elmer Brunsman (who reads and contributes to all those serious blogs) wrote: “You put down a challenge at the conclusion which you will regret. How about these for openers, just openers: Interviewed Harvey Milk shortly before he was notoriously assassinated in San Francisco (if you haven’t seen the Sean Penn portrayal, rent it. It is one of the few best political movies ranking above “All the King’s Men” and you name it); Daniel Ellsberg, Dick Gregory, Daniel (at a couple of seminars) and Phillip Berrigan (on my radio program), Little Richard, Dr. Meyer Friedman (Type A Behavior and Your Heart), numerous writers including Kay Boyle, Leonard Bishop (with whom I studied writing), Francis Ford Coppola, Ralph Nader (that one was only in front of an elevator), Jane Fonda, lesser figures such as Diane Feinstein before the Senate, before mayor, while on board of city supervisors … I think I’ll stop now.

Thanks, Elmer, I get your point. Thanks for stopping (and somewhere in the back of my brain I have a fuzzy recollection of meeting the Berrigans as well). Ellsberg? Cool.

• Jeff Page, fellow Zest blogger, who worked for the Times Herald-Record before joining The Record in Hackensack, N.J., wrote: Here are some of the people I’ve spoken with as a reporter: Cesar Chavez (in a visit to Paterson); Barbara Deming; Allen Ginsberg; Christopher Reeve (when he rough-landed his small plane at Teterboro); Estelle Parsons (at her country house near Mohonk); Matt McHugh; the incomparable Maurice Hinchey; Pat Robertson; Tony Provenzano (“Keep your nose clean, kid,” he advised.); John Hall, the congressman; John Hall, the Jets place kicker; William V. Musto, Hudson County pol (went to prison); John Armellino; Hudson County pol (went to prison); Tom Whelan (Hudson County pol (went to prison); Dennis Flaherty, Hudson County pol (went to prison; Bella Abzug; Howard Samuels; Mary Ann Krupsak; Arnold Toynbee; Louis Ginsberg; and Isaac Bashevis Singer.

Jeff’s Hudson County (N.J.) reminiscences stirred a vague recollection in me of a meeting with Neal Gallagher, Hudson County pol (went to prison). Since Jeff and I escaped, many more Hudson pols have followed the same career path. In fact, I challenge anyone to match my home county for political corruption. And Jeff, I’ll give you Krupsak even though she was a lieutenant governor, because I like Allen Ginsberg.

• Anita Page, Jeff’s wife and a writer in her on own right, offered: Bob, I once interviewed Joe Heller who gave me this advice. “Every writer should have a bed in his office for frequent naps.”

Wow, Joe huh? It’s still Mr. Heller to me. And he sure took one, long nap. But he was right about the bed. My computer/work area is in my bedroom and I frequently catch 22 winks. Get it?

• Finally, checking in from Ulster County, former TH-R reporter Jo Galante Cicale humbly wrote: I often thought I didn’t do so badly for a kid from the lower East Side. OK, so Tony Pro was my uncle and Carmine Galante, too. But that hadn’t anything to do with reporting. (Mario) Cuomo was a family friend – yeah, I’m boasting now, but you started it. John Hall a neighbor and friend; ditto with Hinchey. But, the most memorable from reporting days was Al Sharpton who, during the Brawley days, was more street gangsta with dirt under his nails, lots of gold and body odor.

Yo, Jo, no disrespect intended. Drop names all you want. You win.

Bob can be reached at bobgaydos@zestoforange.com.

The Donald, taking off?

By Bob Gaydos

It’s silly season in America, time for the clowns. As evidence, I offer these current news stories:

• A new CNN/Opinion Research Corporation poll released this week has Donald Trump tied with Mike (Foot-in-Mouth) Huckabee for the lead in the dismal field of potential Republican presidential candidates. And you wonder why Barack Obama always manages to look so cool.

According to the poll, Trump and Huckabee both were favored by 19 percent of likely GOP voters. Yeah, not exactly a landslide. Fox’s favorite daughter, Sarah (Half-term) Palin is second, with 12 percent, with Mitt (What health-care plan?) Romney and Newt (I’m a slave to love) Gingrich tied for third with 11 percent each. An NBC/Wall Street Journal poll last week had Trump tied with Huckabee for second place.

Is there no unqualified, hypocritical, snake oil salesman the right wing of the GOP won’t support if he tells them what they want to hear? Apparently not. The Donald, as you’ve probably heard, has based his presidential hopes on his “suspicions” about Obama’s place of birth. Trump’s sending investigators to Hawaii to check it out. Even Palin had to call the birth certificate “issue” a distraction, which is her way of saying it ain’t true, folks. Trump also has made the obligatory anti-Muslim pitch to Birther Nation. In referring to a “Muslim problem,” he said on the Christian Broadcasting Network: “There’s a lot of hatred there. Now I don’t know if that’s from the Koran, I don’t know if that’s from someplace else. But there’s tremendous hatred out there that I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Well, if Donald doesn’t know, I surely don’t. But I do know pandering when I hear it. And there’s none of that hatred stuff on his cutthroat reality TV show, right?

Trump’s primary credential for running for president apparently is that he is a good businessman. Remember how far that got Ross Perot? What Trump is is what he shows on his TV show — a bully who likes bossing people around. That is not a desirable trait in a president. You can’t fire Congress. Not only doesn’t he play well with other kids, he would be a disaster at diplomatic relations. And business? His namesake hotel and casino both declared bankruptcy. How do you manage to fail to make a killing at gambling? And for those evangelicals who apparently love him for his anti-gay, pro-life comments, in addition to his efforts to get rich on gambling, there’s the inconvenient matter of his two divorces. Just saying.

• After failing a second test for banned substances, Tampa Bay outfielder Manny Ramirez announced he was retiring from baseball rather than accept a 100-game suspension.

There were two guys known as the Clown Prince of Baseball — Al Schacht and Max Patkin. Schacht wore a top hat and oversized glove. Patkin featured a funny face and baggy clothes. Both engaged in wacky antics, as they say.

Manny Ramirez was just a clown. There was never anything remotely princelike about him, except maybe that he always acted as though he should be treated like royalty.

Manny could hit with the best of them and loaf with the worst of them. A lousy teammate, he would refuse to play in games, show up late for games, fail to run to first base, jog after fly balls, demand to be traded and, when that didn’t happen, play poorly enough that his team had to trade him, if just to silence the boos from the fans. He’s a guy who had all the talent to be remembered as one of the game’s alltime great hitters and none of the moral fiber to be just an average decent Joe.

And he seemingly never cared. That may be because he’s made more than $200 million playing his brand of baseball. Manny being Manny they called it and he laughed all the way to the bank. His act finally got stale in Boston, Los Angeles and Tampa Bay. Even clowns with dreadlocks can become wearisome.

What makes these two stories even more annoying is that neither Manny nor the Donald seems to care what the rest of us think of him. Each man got his and that’s all that matters. We bought Manny’s shtick until he got caught trying to get by on the sly yet again. As usual, he took the easy way out. The Donald, however, is still peddling his wares, with seemingly enough willing buyers to keep him in orange hair dye for a few more years.

Now, I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, but hey, guys, I’m not laughing here. Seriously, there’s really no room — in the Hall of Fame or the White House — for either bozo.

Bob can be reached at bob@zestoforange.com.

At the Governor's Mansion.

By Bob Gaydos

By way of nothing else save the fact that you never know what little gifts life has for you if you don’t pay attention, I offer this brief exchange between two of my least favorite people in the world, Glenn Beck and Bill O’Reilly. Beck was on O’Reilly’s TV show the other day, talking about the latest Fox News darling, Donald Trump, who has launched a campaign for president that is so outrageous and phony even Beck can’t stand it. In brief, Trump has spent the past week telling anyone who will listen that he’s not sure President Obama is a natural-born American and, what’s more, he suspects the president may be a Muslim. Donald … Donald … Donald.

Beck told O’Reilly: “The last thing the country needs is a showboat … I would hope we could get serious candidates who could shake things up by not saying provocative things, just by stating the truth of what’s going on.”

Honest, that’s what he said.

But wait. Here’s O’Reilly’s response: “But then you and I would be off the air, because we’re provocateurs. We do that every day.”

There is a god somewhere. Now if only someone can explain irony to Fox News listeners.

* * *

The rest of this blog amounts to an exercise in self-reflection that could also be called ego-stroking. Nonetheless, I will not be deterred, especially at these prices.

It started last week when I was writing about a chance meeting I had with then-Senate candidate Geraldine Ferraro at the Ulster County Fair (it’s in the archives if you’re interested). I began recalling other “famous” persons I had met and in what circumstances. Be honest. We all do it, journalists do it maybe more than others because our work offers more opportunities to do so than a lot of other jobs.

Anyway, after deciding that the ego thing didn’t matter — because what was my ego in the grand scheme of things — and rationalizing that it might be good for my sons to get some sense of where my life had taken me, I started my list. Basic ground rules: It must have been an actual meeting, meaning words were exchanged, hands possibly shaken, and local politicians don‘t count except for members of Congress. You need a line somewhere.

The closest I ever came to meeting Glenn Beck was standing around a piano with a bunch of editors and Cal Thomas, singing what were probably old show tunes. I think it was in Philadelphia, but don’t hold me to that. Thomas was Beck before Beck ever thought of being Beck. And brighter. He is an evangelical Christian, a former vice president of the Moral Majority, a longtime syndicated columnist and a regular contributor to the Fox follies. Also, as I recall, a passable baritone with a good sense of humor and, at one time, capable of acknowledging nonsense within his own ranks. On the other side of the aisle, there was the incomparable Pete Hamill and in the middle, Newsweek’s Howard Fineman, both of whom came to Middletown.

The world of sports offered encounters with Dallas quarterback Roger Staubach, boxer/TV personality Rocky Graziano (“Somebody Up There Likes Me”), Orioles pitcher Jim Palmer (naked in a whirlpool), champ Floyd Patterson (eating in a restaurant in New Paltz), columnist Milton Richman and, all too briefly, Jackie Robinson (a legitimate thrill).

In the world of entertainment there was the very tall Harry Belafonte at the Concord, the very drunk Clancy Brothers (around a bar after hours in Binghamton), Western author Larry McMurtry, actor Victor Arnold (the hit man in the original “Shaft”) and, in a Woodstock art gallery, an also very tall Henny Youngman (“Take my card, please.”)

Not surprisingly, there are a bunch of political figures on my list, starting with Ferraro’s running mate, former Vice President Walter Mondale (a hello-how-are-ya in Minneapolis). There are the New York governors, of course: The imperial Nelson Rockefeller (he of the middle finger salute), the lanky George Pataki from Peekskill, and the Cuomos — the senior, Mario, who could hold a room hostage for hours, and junior, Andrew, when he was attorney general and when he was messing up the gubernatorial campaign of H. Carl McCall. Also, the other also-rans: Mayor Ed Koch, Tom (Who?) Golisano, Pierre (the Record staff are the rudest people I have ever encountered) Rinfret, Andrew (I don’t stand a Chance) O’Rourke, Howard Samuels (a very cool customer), and Arthur (Hey, I was once a Supreme Court justice) Goldberg. Throw in Marvin Mandel in Maryland and Anne Richards in an elevator in Fort Worth. And of course, a special place is reserved in my heart for Eliot Spitzer, the dumbest smart politician I ever met.

Among senators, D. Patrick Moynihan held court in Goshen and Chuck Schumer showed up seemingly for breakfast every day. Local boy- made-good Howard Mills was the sacrificial lamb for the GOP against Schumer, but Mills always returned phone calls. Senator Hillary never did deign to grace us with her presence, but Rick Lazio was thrilled to stop by for a lengthy chat.

And, giving them their due, Congressmen Ben Gilman, Matt McHugh, Howard Robison, Maurice Hinchey, John Hall (who founded the rock group Orleans and also qualifies as an entertainer) and Congresswoman Sue Kelly, who famously and entertainingly imploded during an interview with the Record.

Among civil rights figures, Jesse Jackson towers above the rest, literally and figuratively, but Floyd McKissick, national director of CORE, was more accessible at Gentleman Joe’s bar in Binghamton.

Oddly enough, perhaps the most famous person I ever had a meaningful conversation with is someone whose name almost nobody recognized, and most probably still don’t know to this day: Norma McCorvey. McCorvey is better known as Jane Roe of the Roe v Wade Supreme Court decision that confirmed a woman’s right to choose abortion.

When I met Norma, she had not only changed from pro-choice to pro-life on abortion, but had joined the Roman Catholic Church and announced she was no longer a lesbian. Life has a way offering surprises.

OK, wrapping it up. Mario Cuomo is easily the most magnetic, imposing famous person I ever met. He could talk about anything at all, intelligently and engagingly, at length. He once made his staff and TH-R editors sit through a two-and-half- hour meeting while lunch waited invitingly in an adjoining room. No one had the guts to stop him. He should have run for president.

But for sheer, humble, who-is-this-guy-and-why-is-he-doing-this amazement, my favorite famous person is David Karpeles. What, you never heard of him? Perhaps it’s time you have.

Karpeles is the founder of the Karpeles Manuscript Library Museums, which are located around the country in such places as Santa Barbara, Charleston, Tacoma, Duluth, Shreveport, Jacksonville, Fort Wayne, Buffalo and, yes, Newburgh, N.Y. My jaw dropped the first time I visited the Newburgh museum, located in an imposing old bank on Broadway, and I never fail to say, “Oh, my God, he owns that, every time I return.

The web site states: “The Karpeles Library is the world’s largest private holding of important original manuscripts and documents.” You want famous? The Karpeles list of famous persons, I feel sure, is unmatched by anyone, anywhere, not that he met most of them. Still, on a rotating basis at any of the museums, one might see the original draft of the Bill of Rights of the United States, the original manuscript of “The Wedding March,” Einstein’s description of his Theory of Relativity, the Thanksgiving Proclamation” signed by George Washington, Roget’s Thesaurus (as in, Roget‘s actual Thesaurus, Webster’s actual Dictionary, the first printing of the Ten Commandments from the Gutenberg Bible (1450-1455), Darwin’s Conclusion embodying his theory of Evolution in “Origin of Species,” or the Decree of Pope Lucius III Proclaiming the Sacred Duty of the Knights of the Holy Crusades. And about a million more original documents.

I met David Karpeles at the opening of the Newburgh Museum. He is tall, soft-spoken and as unassuming as anyone so rich and generous could possibly be. A math genius and real estate tycoon, he said he and his wife looked around one day and decided they had collected so much neat stuff, it was time to share it and so they decided to open museums where no one else wanted to put them. Like downtown Newburgh. The museums are open every day, free of charge. You think Trump would do that?

In a way, I guess the Beck beginning to this column is connected to the rest. Meeting the likes of David Karpeles, who isn’t really famous, is what makes it possible to put up with the likes of Glenn Beck, who, unfortunately, is. Put that in your fortune cookie.

*  *  *

Any “famous” encounters you’d like to share with our readers?

Bob can be reached at bob@zestoforange.com.

“In politics stupidity is not a handicap.”

— Napoleon

By Bob Gaydos

The last time I saw Geraldine Ferraro, it was one of those hot, humid, mid-August afternoons when pressing the flesh and asking people to vote for you was not at the top of the list of favorite things to do for most politicians. It was at the Ulster County Fair and I had just reminisced my way through an hour of the current edition of the Drifters singing their collection of timeless hits and was in search of something cold to drink.

I turned a corner and there she was, standing virtually alone, the sun beating down on her, yet looking amazingly cool in her crisp, white, tailored blouse. Why wasn’t anyone talking to her, I wondered. Don’t they know who she is? She ran for vice president of the United States. She could have been — should have been — elected senator from New York six years ago.

It was 1998 and I was writing editorials for the Times Herald-Record and so I introduced myself to the Senate candidate. We shook hands, she smiled and politely said, oh yes, nice to see you again, Bob. I noticed she wasn’t quite the cool customer I had thought as she, too, had sweat beads on her forehead. We chatted briefly and I seem to recall an air of calm resignation about her, although how much of that is real and how much the product of history, I can’t be sure. At any rate, she answered my questions graciously and moved on as, eventually, some of the other fair-goers began to recognize her.

For all intents and purposes, Ferraro faded into political obscurity soon after that. She had started the campaign a heavy favorite to win, because of her name recognition, but was drubbed in the Democratic primary by then-Congressman Charles Schumer, a guy who knows how to work a county fair crowd and who had millions more than Ferraro to spend on his campaign. Schumer went on to become the ubiquitous Senator Chuck. Ferraro went on to a battle with cancer that lasted the rest of her life.

Ferraro died Saturday, at age 75, of a form of blood cancer. She was diagnosed with the disease in November 1998, shortly after the Senate campaign, but did not reveal her illness until more than two years later. She more than doubled the survival rate for her cancer, which may have had as much to do with her toughness as with the bone marrow transplant and drug therapies she received. During those years she became an energetic advocate for research and education on blood cancer as well as for opportunities for women in politics and in professional careers. In sum, the Italian-American daughter of Newburgh was well-deserving of the tributes paid to her as a pioneer for women’s equality.

Which brings me to that quote at the top of this column. No, it does not refer to Ferraro. She was feisty. (In 1984, when she was Walter Mondale’s running mate on the Democratic Party presidential ticket, she had this to say in answer to a question about her debate with George H.W. Bush: “I readily admit I was not an expert on foreign policy but I was knowledgeable and I didn’t need a man who was the Vice President of the United States and my opponent turning around and putting me down.”) She was intelligent; she was well-informed and well-spoken; she was curious. She was, in sum, a serious political candidate.

But Napoleon, bless his egotistical little heart, was right. None of those attributes is necessary for success in politics.

Consider, as Rod Serling used to say, the curious case of Michelle Bachmann. She has been elected to Congress four times in Minnesota and is regularly mentioned as a possible Republican presidential candidate in 2012. You may have heard that, on a recent fund-raising visit to New Hampshire, Bachmann said, “You’re the state where the shot was heard around the world in Lexington and Concord.”

Uh huh. She is also famous for saying, “Death panels are the bureaucracies that President Obama is establishing where bureaucrats will make the decision on who gets health care and how much.” The founder of the Tea Party caucus in the House of Representatives also believes: “Carbon dioxide is natural, it is not harmful, it is a part of Earth’s lifecycle. And yet we’re being told that we have to reduce this natural substance, reduce the American standard of living, to create an arbitrary reduction in something that is naturally occurring in Earth.”

And what the heck, one more from Bachmann: ”I find it interesting that it was back in the 1970s that the swine flu broke out under another, then under another Democrat president, Jimmy Carter. I’m not blaming this on President Obama, I just think it’s an interesting coincidence.”

The last Senate campaign also gave us Christine O’Donnell as a Tea Party Republican candidate in Delaware. O‘Donnell had perhaps the most intriguing campaign theme of all time: “I’m not a witch.”

Meanwhile, in Arizona, Sharron Angle ran for the Senate as a Tea Party Republican offering this bit of political strategy: ”I hope that’s not where we’re going, but you know if this Congress keeps going the way it is, people are really looking toward those Second Amendment remedies and saying my goodness what can we do to turn this country around? I’ll tell you the first thing we need to do is take Harry Reid out.” Sweet.

But of course, the godmother of Tea Party Republicans is Sarah (Half-term) Palin. Palin is to the Republican Party as Ferraro was to the Democrats. Sort of. Palin was the first female to run for vice president on the Republican ticket. She also could be described (in fact, insists on being described) as feisty. There, the similarities end. Entire web sites now exist devoted to the utterings of Palin: A small sampling:

• ”If God had not intended for us to eat animals, how come He made them out of meat?” (In her book, ”Going Rogue”)
• My concern has been the atrocities there in Darfur and the relevance to me with that issue as we spoke about Africa and some of the countries there that were kind of the people succumbing to the dictators and the corruption of some collapsed governments on the continent, the relevance was Alaska’s investment in Darfur with some of our permanent fund dollars. Never, ever did I talk about, well, gee, is it a country or a continent, I just don’t know about this issue.”
• “Another big question that has to be answered, Greta, is are we at war? I haven’t heard the president state that we’re at war. That’s why I too am not knowing — do we use the term intervention? Do we use war? Do we use squirmish? What is it?” (On the U.S. and NATO bombing of Libya, March 29.)
• In New Delhi, India, on March 19, she was asked why the Republicans did not win in 2008. “I was not the top of the ticket,” was her reply.

Having thus thrown John McCain — the man who made her career possible — under the bus, Palin showed herself to be as capable of cutthroat politics as any man and, like Ferraro, a trailblazer for women in her own right. I can sense some female readers getting a bit restless about now, so let me offer one more Palinism: “Who hijacked term: ‘feminist’? A cackle of rads who want 2 crucify other women w/whom they disagree on a singular issue; it’s ironic (& passé)” (In a Twitter message, Aug. 18, 2010).

You may argue that Palin is not in Ferraro’s league as a qualified, well-informed, competent and coherent politician, and you would be right, but you cannot deny that Palin was the first woman to be part of a GOP presidential ticket. You can also not deny that being smart, serious and substantive were not always regarded as necessary in males who ran for the same office (just go back as far as Dan Quayle and Spiro Agnew and I can’t help it if these are all Republicans).

No, Napoleon was on to something. You can be dumb and succeed in politics. Geraldine Ferraro may have blazed the trail for them, but thanks to Sarah, Michelle, et al, women in America have finally achieved political equality with men.

I for one wish they had aimed a bit higher.

Bob can be reached at bob@zestoforange.com.

Charlie Sheen, on ABC

By Bob Gaydos

The manic meltdown of Charlie Sheen’s life, live on TV this week seemingly every time you turn it on, got me thinking about how we react to other people’s erratic behavior.

There is the “live and let live” theory, which says a person’s got the right to do whatever he wants to with his own life, his own body. It’s none of my business and no one, certainly no network, has the right to tell him otherwise, so long as no one else gets hurt. “Go get ’em, Charlie. Who do those CBS suits think they are, cancelling your show?” Admittedly, this view has been in the minority in the unfolding Sheen saga, but he has his fans.

Then there is the “I am my brother’s keeper” approach to life — the one in which someone tries to rescue the drowning man, saving him from himself even if he has to be knocked out to do so. Charlie’s dad, Martin, has been smacked down trying to rescue his son too many times in the past to try again and no one else, including his ex-wives seems to really care anymore.

Which leaves us with the prevailing sentiment in America these days: “This is going to be one hell of a train wreck so let’s all jump on board for the ride of a lifetime.” Our celebrity-obsessed, reality-TV society thrives on this. But the ones most guilty of promoting this response to Sheen’s drug-fueled mental breakdown are so-called news shows on NBC, ABC, FOX and CNN. They fell all over themselves and Sheen to put the delusional actor on their networks and treat what he had to say as if they were the coherent thoughts of a person in his right mind.

Here’s an example of the wit and wisdom of Charlie Sheen, in an interview on ABC-TV: “I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available because if you try it, you will die. Your face will melt off, and your children will weep over your exploded body.” The interviewer from TMZ, a celebrity website and TV show, absolutely fawned over the gaunt Sheen and the British guy on CNN who replaced Larry King was absolutely lost, as he is with most of his interviews.

ABC producers, trying to appear like serious journalists rather than sensationalist exploiters, took pains to tell viewers that Sheen had taken and passed a drug test, which showed he had no drugs in his body during the last 72 hours. But ABC did not say what drugs were tested for, nor account for the fact that alcohol, which Sheen consumes like air, is quick to metabolize. Maybe they believed his three-day home miracle cure from addiction.

(I should also note that CBS, which shut down Sheen’s show “Two-and-a-Half Men,” prompting his parade around the other airwaves to slander their executives with ethnic slurs, had given Sheen more than enough rope to hang himself with drunken, boorish, violent, illegal behavior over the years, but resisted stepping in since his show was a big hit. Their intervention, such as it was, came years too late to qualify in the “brother’s keeper” category.)

In truth, there is no excuse or justification for any of this prime TV coverage. If Sheen has not been drunk or drugged during the interviews, he has been suffering from some other mental disorder. Most likely it’s both, given the grandiose and delusional statements he’s made. For all anybody knows, he could have been in a blackout during any of the interviews.

None of this qualifies as anything but a sad — and utterly predictable — tale of addiction, denial, arrogance and, most likely, mental illness. And let’s not forget Sheen’s addiction to hookers and porn stars. The wreckage, which Sheen cannot see he has caused, is there in the pain inflicted on his family and in the future lives of his children, who will know of their father only shame when they can understand all this in the future. It is in the absurd, self-serving statements he makes every day as reporters write them down breathlessly and TV producers rush to get them on the air.

And that, oddly enough, is the silver lining in this tragedy: A nation long in denial about the effects of alcohol and drugs on people who appear to be functioning has been getting a first-hand lesson in addiction, live on TV in living color, well, actually, the grayish skin tones of the once handsome Sheen. This is what professionals who treat addicts deal with every day in the privacy of clinics and outpatient centers: the doggedly blind stubbornness of people who cannot admit that alcohol and drugs have taken over their lives and made them do things they might ordinarily not do. No, it’s not the cocaine and pot. I can handle the booze and pills. It’s all those people — my wives and those guys in suits who can’t stand that I make all that money for them because I am wonderful and what do you mean I can’t see my kids because I’m an unfit father? Those porn stars are good kids.

The difference with Charlie Sheen is that he got away with it for so long because he was famous and powerful and made lots of money for people and so his bosses and even the courts looked the other way.

Meanwhile, other guys get fired for not showing up for work too many Mondays in a row. In America, some train wrecks are more entertaining than others.

Bob@zestoforange.com