Archive for the ‘Bob Gaydos’ Category

What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

Wednesday, August 13th, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

The check William Seward wrote in 1867 to purchase Alaska from Russia. It was no folly.

The check William Seward wrote in 1867 to purchase Alaska from Russia. It was no folly.

While I sit and read about the ongoing demands of Americans of all stripes — Democrats, Republicans, MAGAs, What Nots— for the Trump administration to release the Epstein files because no rational person believes that it is does not include mentions of Trump’s name and numerous girls between the ages of 13 and 17 with whom he may have engaged in sexual acts, which is officially known as rape, I also marvel at the lengths to which this soulless excuse for a human being is willing to go to divert attention from the Epstein files and his efforts to avoid their public release.

The latest entries in this traffic wreck of a presidency involve Trump taking over the policing of Washington, D.C., and negotiating a peace treaty between Russia and Ukraine without including Ukraine. What could possibly go wrong? In truth, with Trump’s record, almost anything.

Taking over the D.C. National Guard and mobilizing 800 troops to “police“ the nation’s capital along with the help of several hundred FBI agents, while claiming a major crime problem even though recent statistics show crime significantly down in the city, is fascism 101. Add the fact that Trump says he’s going to clean up the city by rounding up homeless people and taking them somewhere else. Anywhere else apparently because he hasn’t said where. That doesn’t bode well for the homeless ever since Trump’s Supreme Court last year ruled homelessness could be treated as a crime.

The mentally ill will also inevitably be included in any such round up. Apparently, Trump wants to return to the out-of-sight out-of-mind philosophy for dealing with these issues.

The fact that the National Guard, citizen soldiers, many of whom have day jobs (accountants, mechanics, sales people, politicians) are not trained for this kind of work apparently doesn’t matter to the geniuses in the White House. Send them out there, armed to the teeth so the citizenry feel safe. I doubt most of the guardsmen are thrilled with the mission.

And apparently the FBI agents are going to be patrolling some swanky D.C. neighborhoods. What a great use of trained investigators who should be dealing with actual crime committed by some of Trump’s wealthier supporters.

None of which, of course, is going to convince anybody to forget about the Epstein files. I suspect the show of force will be mostly a show simply to show that Trump, racist to the core, can do it seeing as he’s threatened to do it in other cities run by black mayors.

What could possibly go wrong? Look up Kent State in the history books if they haven’t been removed from the library.

As for the Putin meeting, it has disaster written all over it. Just recall the meeting with Putin in Finland and watch the Russian president emerge with a big grin on his face and Trump look like an 11-year-old boy who just had the riot act read to him. Just the two of them in the room. Manchurian Candidate material.

Trump is talking about giving up some land somehow to settle this deal even though Ukraine didn’t take any land and Russia is the one who invaded despite Trump’s insistence otherwise and Ukrainian President Volodamyr Zelinsky isn’t even invited to this “peace talk.“

What could go wrong? Well, for starters, Trump thought he was going to meet Putin in Russia and had to be reminded that the meeting was in Alaska, which is American territory which should be off-limits to Putin, who was declared a war criminal by the United Nations. Putin might be willing to forget about claiming a chunk of Ukraine if Trump lets him go home with Alaska back in his pocket. After all, it’s worth a lot more than the $7.2 million Secretary of State William Seward wrote a check for in 1867 to purchase the territory from Russia. Who knows what Trump’s price might be to sell it back, with hotel rights?

Far-fetched? Will there be any other American adults in the room who know what they’re doing? And will they realize that even giving Alaska back to Russia will not make Americans forget about those Epstein files?

 

 

 

 

A Word with N,B,M and J? No Way!

Sunday, August 10th, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

IMG_7815
‘Tis a word that I see that simply can’t be with letters like N,M,J and B, 
yet the puzzle insists and the poets say, you can make a word with letters like MBN and J.

Ok?

‘Tis a gimmick, a tool, a conceit if you will, that poets employ when they’ve more to say still and a flow to maintain so punctuation must go and critics refrain.

Enjambment.

Spelling Bee, I hate thee for hours of head-scratching misery, seeking to unravel the ultimate word with the likes of NMJ and B is absurd. Beyond belief, nothing but grief to go with my tea. N,M,J and B.

Woe is me.

But Google hath confirmed there is such a word, even though it’s one that I’ve never heard.

To stay healthy, ’tis said, live and learn is the rule, but let’s see if my friend the poet knows this unspeakably unspellable tool.

He does, alas, and impressed that, when asked, he says, “Oh, yes.” Of course, should expect no less since he went to school to learn to do it and does so very well.

What can I say to a poet who not only knows Enjambment but can spell … MBN and J?

Do tell?

Chastened and humbled, I must bow to the pros, to those who know to separate poetry from prose, to Kevin and Mary and others I can’t immediately recall, for knowing ‘bout Enjambment.

Spelling and all.

                                    ****

Footnote: On the very good chance I didn’t make myself clear above, I do the New York Times Spelling Bee word game every morning with a cup of tea. A ritual. Usually do fairly well. I got stuck one recent morning when the source word was enjambment. Tell me you ever heard of it. Oxford: “(In verse) the continuation of a sentence without a pause beyond the end of a line, couplet, or stanza.”

It never came up when I majored in English at Adelphi some 60-plus years ago, but then poetry, as well as the times, are a changin’. Sorry, Bob.

Consider this your English lesson for the week.

The News! Shout it from the Roof!

Thursday, August 7th, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

 Donald Trump talks to the press from the roof of the White House. Really.

Donald Trump talks to the press from the roof of the White House. Really.

  In a Trumpian world in which a week (at least it seems like a week) starts with the woman in charge of providing the monthly labor statistics being fired because Trump didn’t like the numbers and ends with Trump wandering around the roof of the White House shouting answers to questions from reporters down on the ground, it’s good to have Jimmy Breslin’s approach to the news available.

   So …

— Maybe it’s just me, but: Really? He fired Erika McEntarfer, commissioner of the Bureau of Labor Statistics, just because the July jobs report was disastrous and he’s been lying to us constantly that everything was rosy? I mean, how did he keep any employees at all his businesses with this approach? The casino, the Plaza, the airline, the college … oh, right, they all went bankrupt and he fired everybody. Guess he likes to say, “You’re fired!” And blaming others for his failures. This one is especially unhinged and, considering his hiring philosophy and penchant for lying, it will be anyone’s guess as to whether to believe the next monthly report.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: The Smithsonian Institution quietly removing any mention of the two impeachments on Trump’s record was particularly disappointing. Erasing history is a hallmark of fascist societies. The secret removal left Andrew Johnson and Bill Clinton as the only presidents to be impeached, if one believed the Smithsonianian. People didn’t. They complained. Publicly. The Smithsonian, to its credit, was properly embarrassed. It reinstalled the Russia meddling and the Ukraine meddling impeachment stories, making history accurate again. It’s history. Trump was impeached twice. It still pays to speak out.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: It’s hard for me to get too worked up when Trump reacts to a former Russian president trolling him on social media by noisily ordering “two nuclear submarines” (his words) into waters somewhere around Russia. “I have ordered two Nuclear Submarines to be positioned in the appropriate regions,” Trump announced, scarily (at least to major media). First of all, all U.S. submarines are nuclear-powered. Second of all, submarines that have nuclear missiles are already in waters around the globe and capable of striking Russia. Third of all, Trump’s old buddy Putin wouldn’t let Dimitri Medvedev, a former political ally, get him into another war, which he pretty much said after Trump rattled his subs.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: Bulldozing Jackie Kennedy‘s Rose Garden and announcing plans for a grand, gauche, golden ballroom that will dwarf the White House is Donald Trump to a “T.” Tacky. No class. Also, I think, illegal, since the White House is an official government building. He might need to get a permit, which would probably mean a bribe. He has lawyers apparently willing to do that. Stay tuned.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: Announcing plans to put a nuclear reactor on the moon in five years, as the acting head of NASA did recently, seems to be at the very least, highly optimistic. For starters, the reactor is intended to support a small colony of humans on the moon, but there are as yet no plans to put such a colony on the moon. Cart before the horse? Then there are the 700° daily changes in temperature on the moon, which has no water or air. The timeline, the-out-of-the-blue announcement, the supposed assurance of senior NASA officials serving in a Trump administration that this is not “science fiction,” might lead a skeptic to conclude that this is basically “news” that doesn’t involve Jeffrey Epstein.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: Putting a Fox News drunk in charge of the Pentagon seemed at first to be just the typical Trumpian spiteful, narcissistic need to have sycophants around him. Apparently it’s just policy. If Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth is looking for a female drinking buddy, he now has one – former Fox News loose cannon and Westchester County District Attorney Jeanine Pirro was confirmed by the Republican majority U.S. Senate to head the federal prosecutor’s office in Washington, D.C. Pirro, a sycophant’s sycophant where Trump is concerned, is a conspiracy theorist whose  constant lies about the 2020 election being stolen from Trump contributed to Fox News having to pay $800 million plus in damages to settle a lawsuit. So, nothing new here.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: That same skeptic mentioned above might conclude that moving Ghislaine Maxwell from a maximum-security prison in Florida to a minimum security prison/spa in Texas was an attempt by Trump and his disciples to erase Maxwell’s memory of Donald’s relationships with teenage girls in Epstein‘s Lair. Whatever she says, it won’t work. She’s a known liar facing a 20-year prison sentence. Interview the victims. The story is not going away.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: The roof thing. What the hell was that? Surrounded by Secret Service, Trump appeared on the roof of the White House one morning apparently to survey the changes he has made and plans to make. Like the ballroom he says he and his supporters are going to pay for. Reporters spotting him up top shouted questions. Trump was asked what he was going to build. He said, “Nuclear missiles.” Chuckles. Well at least he didn’t have to stand at a real press conference and try to come up with real answers to real questions. Just another “normal” day at the Trump White House and no one mentioned Jeffrey Epstein.

— Maybe it’s just me, but: If I’m going to keep doing this, I think I’m going to have to come up with a rating system on the absurdity (an all-inclusive, non-profane word for all the negatives imaginable) of news stories emanating from the White House. On a scale of one to five, five would be the most absurd. I’ve got the labor statistics commish and Jeanine Pirro at five. Everything else is at least a two. Feel free to put your ratings in the comments below. Whew.

 

A City Boy’s Guide to Country Etiquette

Monday, August 4th, 2025

If you flatten it, you replace it. That oughta be the rule of the road.

By Bob Gaydos

I published this article a couple of years ago and quickly suspected that it’s probably a piece that will bear repeating because (1) there are (hopefully) new readers and new neighbors who will not have seen it and (2) I keep noticing things to add to it.

I was right. This is year three in a row. The need to repeat was prompted by what I see as a disturbingly increasing problem on narrow country roads: getting out of your own driveway. This should not be a hazardous duty mission. Unfortunately, it often is. It boils down to a lack of consideration or understanding. I’ll address the issue one more time in the column below.

***

By Bob Gaydos

For most of my life, I’ve lived in small cities (Bayonne, Binghamton, Annapolis, Middletown) and one large town (Wallkill), which is really a mall-dotted highway surrounded by housing complexes. Throw in a few years living on college campuses. Basically, it’s been city or community living.

When you live with a lot of other people close by and you want to be relatively content, you learn the rules of the road, the do’s and don’ts of getting along. Mostly, it’s mind your own business and don’t make a lot of noise.

A few years ago, I moved to the country, a bit of upstate New York between the Hudson River and the Catskills that is often protected from major weather issues by the imposing Shawangunk Ridge.

Country living means owls, woodpeckers, chickens, coyotes and starry skies, oh my.

It’s nice. Well, usually. It’s quiet. Usually. In any case, it most definitely has its own rules of the road. Things a transplanted city boy ought to know. Something I call country etiquette.

The notion (see how I used the word “notion“ instead of “idea“?) that there was such a thing as country etiquette grew out of a recent conversation about a not uncommon country experience.

A few years ago, our quiet summer evening at home was disrupted by a loud squealing of tires and a loud thud. Right in front of our house.

We rushed out to find a car sitting in a culvert in front of our house, a distraught young woman sitting behind the wheel and our mailbox on the ground, post and all. I don’t recall who called 911, but state police arrived quickly, talked with the driver (who was shaken but not hurt), someone called a tow truck, we went back in the house and eventually everything was back to normal, except for the mailbox. Its career was over.

In short order, we replaced the mailbox and occasionally wondered what happened to the young driver. I suspected alcohol may have been involved.

A couple of weeks later, the whole scene repeated itself. Nighttime. Squeal. Thud. Car. Culvert. Young woman driver. Unhurt. Mailbox kaput.

Deja vu all over again, as Yogi Berra once said. Same follow up. Police. Tow truck. Mailbox flattened.

Again, we replaced it and the new one has survived ever since, although it’s leaning. But here’s the thing. Neither driver offered to pay to replace the mailbox (they both got out of their cars and talked to us) or to have it repaired. Now, it seems to me that a basic rule of country etiquette ought to be that if you wipe out someone’s mailbox (and get caught at it), the decent thing to do is to make it right again. Pay for a new one.

And that’s what got me thinking about other rules of country etiquette. What are some things to help someone new get along with neighbors who may not live right next door? Here’s what I’ve come up with so far:

— Having a handy supply of eggs is nice, but keep your chickens in your own yard as much as possible. Free range doesn’t mean the whole neighborhood, or, especially, the busy road. And chickens don’t move that fast.

— Don’t shovel your driveway snow into the road. It’s only extra work for the highway crews and it’s dangerous.

— When driving, wave at people walking along country roads. It’s downright neighborly.

— Walkers, please wear reflective clothing at night. It’s awfully dark out there sometimes and the roads are often winding and have no shoulder. We’d like to get to know you.

— Don’t let your dog walk on the road side. Preferably, don’t walk your dog on the road at all. Some drivers are less attentive than others. (See reference to mailboxes above.) And yes, clean up after Snoopy.

— Slow down and maybe swing wide for people at their mailbox. (A personal peeve of mine.) You can even wave.

— In fact, slow down in general. Posted speed limits are not merely suggestions and police will ticket.

— In special fact (and this is the issue that needs to be readdressed, which I mentioned at the top ), if you see someone backing out of their driveway or road to get on the typical narrow, no-shoulder, two-lane road in the country and you are a good quarter mile away, slow the heck down. Please. Let them get out in peace in one piece. It’s hard enough to back into a narrow country road with trees often blocking your vision without worrying whether that driver whizzing down the road is texting or talking on the phone or so totally engrossed in something on the radio that they don’t see you, even though you see them.

— In further fact, if you’re not going to back up a lot of traffic, just be nice and let people back out of their driveways even if they haven’t gotten their rear end out yet. It’s common courtesy. Yelling through your closed window at the person backing out is not. Being foreign to the area and in oh such a hurry to get to the state highway 5 miles away is not an excuse either. I suspect this may at least partially be the result of more city folk moving to the area, in which case this column should be all the more valuable to them. If you know someone who fits the bill, share it with them.

— Be patient with a farm tractor on the road. He’ll be out of your way shortly, or he’ll pull over as soon as he can. He’s working. Wave.

— Be honest at roadside food honor stands. Act like there are cameras in the trees.

— Free stuff at the foot of a driveway is really free. Don’t be embarrassed. If you want it, take it. Someone always does.

That’s what I came up with so far. If you have other suggestions, please leave them in the comment section.

While I’m at it, I figure I might as well add another feature of country living — a potpourri of handmade road signs. Here are a few I noticed:

— Corn maze, hay ride, pumpkins, pickles, sweet corn

— Beef sale

— Fresh garlic

— Sunflower patch, mums

— Hay

— Honey

— Farm fresh eggs

— U pick pumpkins

— Horse crossing

— Fresh key lime pie,

— We buy ATVs dead or alive

Like I said, nice.

‘Til next time at pet-friendly, open-carry Tractor Supply.

It’s Mamdani, with Two ‘m’s

Thursday, July 31st, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

Zohran Mamdani

Zohran Mamdani

  Mamdani’s his name. Remember it. Get it right. Two ‘m’s and then an ‘n.’ Next mayor of New York City. His first name is Zohran.

    This all needs a little explaining.

     Given a choice in the June primary of Andrew Cuomo, a former governor who had resigned in disgrace because of numerous accusations of sexual misconduct, and Eric Adams, a mayor whose administration was awash in corruption and who personally had federal bribery and corruption charges against him dropped by the Trump administration in exchange for a promise to cooperate with the ICE roundup of anyone who looks suspiciously Hispanic, New York City Democrats chose a young, Ugandan-born Democratic Socialist, Muslim, naturalized citizen, state legislator as their candidate for mayor.

    Zohran Mamdani.

    It wasn’t close and it wasn’t strictly by default. A bright, personable 33-year-old who has mastered social media skills, Mamdani also clearly had a message that resonated with New Yorkers who are finding it increasingly difficult to afford to live in the city they love.

    While Cuomo and Adams talked about their experience in government, Mamdani spoke of free bus service and free child care for children between six weeks and five years old and “baby baskets” for new parents that would include educational resources as well as diapers and baby wipes.

  He talked of a city-owned grocery store in each borough. The stores would operate on city-owned land or in city buildings, buy food wholesale and be exempt from property taxes, which would keep the cost of the food down.

    He said he would freeze rents for nearly one million New Yorkers by strategic appointments to the board which decides on increases for rent-stabilized apartments. He also promised to triple the number of available affordable housing units, with 200,000 new homes to be built over the next decade.

    You get the picture. He talked to New Yorkers about things that were really bothering them and offered a plan to pay for it all.

   Mamdani said he would raise the corporate tax rate to 11.5 percent, which he says will bring in an additional $5 billion. And, he plans a 2 percent tax on the wealthiest 1 percent of New Yorkers.

    Cuomo called Mamdani’s plans “unrealistic.“ So did the wealthy city dwellers and corporations, not to mention old guard Democratic politicians who depend on their campaign contributions. After Mamdani’s surprise victory, big money began pouring into Cuomo’s now independent campaign for mayor. They also desperately began looking for a candidate who wasn’t a – gasp! – socialist.

    In fact, establishment Democrats sounded just like typical Republicans and that’s a terrible thing for a politician in New York City and much of the country these days. Dismissing progressive ideas as too left, too radical and looking for the comfortable middle of the road, in the process offering nothing to contrast with today’s devastating Republican scorched-earth agenda, is a recipe for loss. The status quo is a no go.

    To be clear, Mamdani is a Democrat who shares the same Democratic Socialist values as Bernie Sanders, a Brooklyn boy: Tax people fairly according to their wealth for the greater good of all people. Make New York City a great place to live and work and raise a family even if you’re not super wealthy. A democracy for everyone. It’s not communism; it’s not socialism. Today, in the age of ever greater corporate power, it’s realism.

      Apparently, a lot of registered Democratic voters agree. They don’t want used or tainted goods. Since Democrats far outnumber Republicans in the city, the Democratic candidate is always heavily favored to win.

   The Republican candidate, staging a reprise of his 2021 losing campaign, is Curtis Sliwa. I honestly didn’t even know he was still around. Sliwa, now 73, is a founder of the once upon a time, Guardian Angels, who patrolled the streets of the city in the 1980s, purporting to reduce crime. Sliwa later admitted to faking some “crimes“ they had “prevented.” He also escaped a kidnapping and apparent assassination attempt by John Gotti Jr., who was charged, but not convicted after three trials. Gotti Senior apparently didn’t like something Sliwa said about him.

     Like everyone else these days, Sliwa has a podcast and, I guess, describes himself as a citizen activist. He was unopposed for the Republican nomination for mayor so you can see why Democrats are favored to win. Unless they sabotage themselves, which they have been known to do.

      The Democratic establishment quickly branded Mamdani too far left to win. Even though he just won. Even though he is young, smart and speaks his mind. Even though he may have given city voters yet another convincing reason to vote for him.

      In a direct rebuke to the Adams/Trump deal, Mamdani says New York City should strengthen its sanctuary city laws and promises to bar Immigration and Customs Enforcement officers from city facilities. Polls say that most Americans, never mind just New York City residents, would support this approach.

     Mamdani. Get it right. Next mayor of New York City.

      

 

      

 

Sad to Say, Folks, It’s Still all B.S.

Wednesday, July 23rd, 2025

(This is a slightly edited version of a column I wrote June 21, 2019.  Six years later, it still feels appropriate)

By Bob Gaydos

Harry Frankfurt ... he knows B.S. when he hears it

Harry Frankfurt … he knew B.S. when he heard it

There have been times, like now, when I saw little point in writing about what the pretend president is saying or doing because millions of Americans don’t seem to care. At those times, I often wondered how the scribes who get paid to inform the world of the latest news — and even moreso, those who get paid to have opinions about it — find the energy to cover Trump day after day. It has to be depressing, I thought to myself. I’m depressed and I don’t have to write about it. Does a paycheck work as an antidepressant?

Maureen Dowd finally answered my question. I admit to not being a religious, or even semi-religious, reader of Dowd’s column in The New York Times up to now. That’s changed since I read her May 25 column that carried the headline, “Crazy Is As Crazy Does.” Yes, it was about Trump.

She begins by describing her waking thoughts as another morning arrives. About the talents of an actress and an actor she admires and their TV shows. About a book she has apparently just read or is reading. And then, abruptly, reality sets in: “Once I’m completely awake, a gravitational pull takes hold and I am once more bedeviled by our preposterous president.

“I flip on the TV and gird for the endless stream of vitriol coming from the White House, bracing for another day of overflowing, overlapping, overwrought news stories about Trump. I’m sapped before I arise. …

“My head hurts , puzzling over whether Trump is just a big blowhard … or a sinister genius …”

Me too, I sighed. Glad to know I’m not alone.

I’m also not alone in my belief in synchronicity. Serendipity, if you prefer.

Coincidence? I’m with Carl Jung on that. The Swiss psychologist who gave us the word defined synchronicity as “a meaningful coincidence of two or more events where something other than the probability of chance is involved.”

As in, what are the chances that, being shamed into participating in a decluttering exercise at home, I would “stumble upon” a slim book I’d never heard of that instantly uncluttered my mind on how to explain what in the world was going on in Donald Trump’s mind.

It’s “Bullshit.”

Literally.

Some explanation is necessary.

The house decluttering was precipitated by a prevailing notion that I had collected too much stuff (an occupational hazard, I believe) and some of it had to go, but we would find a safe resting place for the stuff that was worth keeping. One of the safe places was a lovely, old cabinet in which other stuff was resting. Old tapes, photos and books. Among the books was the aforementioned slim volume.

I read the title: “On Bullshit.”

The decluttering came to a momentary halt. Was this a joke? As it turns out, no. Oh, there is humor in this 67-page essay, but the author, Harry G. Frankfurt, it also turns out, is a distinguished philosopher, professor emeritus at Princeton University, which published the book. This was serious. In fact, the book was a New York Times best-seller in 2005 and Frankfurt discusses it on YouTube, which tells you something about my attention to literary news.

But the point, and I’m finally getting to it, is that after months of trying to out-pundit everyone else writing about Trump and continuing to muse on why he does what he does, Frankfurt lays it out in a way that anyone, except maybe Trump, can understand — the man is a bullshit artist.

It dawned on me as I read Frankfurt’s explanation of the difference between liars — which Trump has been crowned champion of all time by those who keep score — and bullshitters. (If the language offends you, I apologize, but Frankfurt says “humbug” is not the same. Also, the times have changed and I’ve already been labeled an enemy of the people for treating the truth with respect.)

As Frankfurt explains, the difference between liars and bullshitters is that liars are acquainted with the truth. They have to be to maintain their lies. There is a discipline involved. Bullshitters don’t care. They make stuff up as they go along, saying whatever seems necessary to them at the time to appear to know what’s going on. It isn’t a matter so much of bullshit being false, Frankfurt says, as of it being phony. It’s meant to convey an impression. It’s like bluffing. And too much of it can carry over into a general laxity about how things really are.

As Frankfurt writes, “The bullshitter is faking things.” It’s not a matter of concealing the truth, because sometimes the bullshitter will speak the truth. It is a matter of concealing “what he is up to.”

Indeed. And those who are good at it seem to have no trouble attracting gullible believers. But that’s a mystery for another day.

Frankfurt mentions patriotic politicians who, on the Fourth of July, give grand speeches extolling all the wonderful things this country represents, not that those things are false or lies or B.S., but because the speaker wants others to believe he believes in them and is a true patriot. There’s a chance we’ll hear some of that next Independence Day, with Trump taking center stage at the Lincoln Memorial.

I know in advance that I don’t necessarily have to write about it because it’s more of the same B.S. Instead, I can read what Dowd writes about it and focus instead on what synchronicity offers as a topic. Like the fact that Frankfurt and I share the same birthdate, May 29. Some stuff you just can’t make up.

********

Update: Professor Frankfurt  died  July 16, 2023 at the age of 94. The decluttering was a relative success. I claimed Frankfurt’s book as mine on the basis of synchronicity and it now resides in the top drawer of a small bed-side cabinet.  I have given up the conceit and occasional depression of trying to out-pundit everyone else on the daily utterings of Donald Trump.  I still occasionally read Maureen Dowd‘s column. 

Was Hegseth Acting in a Blackout?

Sunday, July 20th, 2025

Addiction and Recovery

By Bob Gaydos

Pete Hegseth … working in a blackout?

Pete Hegseth … working in a blackout?

Did Pete Hegseth recently order the cutoff of some military aid to Ukraine while he was in an alcohol-induced blackout? I posited the possibility at the tail end of a recent column about all the screwups in the Trump administration. The comment was made partially in jest, but the more I thought about it, the more serious it became a possible reality.

Did the secretary of defense of the United States of America make a life-threatening military decision while he was in an alcoholic blackout? Does anyone else wonder about that? If so, I haven’t heard or read about it. Given Hedgseth’s much-publicized reputation as a heavy drinker/alcoholic/drunk, it seems to be an important question. At least to me.

If you remember the July 7 press conference, Trump was asked who ordered the cessation of delivery of certain types of weapons, mostly missiles, to Ukraine. His answer was, “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?“

To me, a shocking response from the commander-in-chief. Later, cameras caught Trump, leaning over to Hegseth and whispering, “Do you know?“

A poker-faced Hegseth answered, “No.”

But really, how could he possibly not know? It’s his job to know. It’s his job to make recommendations of this kind of action to the president. Yet it happened and neither man knows why.

So. I suggest one man hardly ever knows why decisions like this are made and the other man was possibly in an alcoholic blackout. I’ll set aside the obvious social and political implications of this for now and talk a little bit about blackouts.

There are two enduring views about alcohol-induced blackouts:

  1. They don’t exist. They’re just an excuse for inappropriate behavior.
  2. They exist, but they’re just a harmless, often humorous, occasional price to pay for a night of fun.

Both views are wrong — dangerously so — for the same reason: Denying the existence of blackouts or minimizing their significance could lead to serious consequences (health, legal, personal, professional) for the persons experiencing them and others. If you’ve experienced blackouts or know someone who has and are not concerned about them, you should be.

To start with, blackouts are not the same as passing out. That’s a common misconception. People who drink too much and pass out stay put. They wake up in the same place they passed out and remember, maybe with a hangover, how they got there.

People in blackouts can wind up in different states, strange beds, wrong apartments or behind bars when they come to and not know how they got there.

“How did I get home last night?” is a common question for blackout veterans. “Where’d I leave my car?” is another.

Many recovering alcoholics who recall their drinking history in Alcoholics Anonymous meetings point to blackouts as one of the “healthy fears’’ that help them stay sober. After all, it can be frightening to find out about some reckless behavior that happened apparently in a blackout and to wonder what else may have happened without your being aware of it.

Some volunteered local examples:

— Jordan, a mid-50s man from Orange County, who has been sober more than ten years, says he once spent a four-day business trip in Texas in a blackout. Airport-to-airport. He did come out of it briefly, he says, to call his boss on Day 2 to tell him he wasn’t feeling well.

— Whitey (all names used are fictitious), who drives for a living, says he regularly drove routes between New York and Virginia in blackouts.

— John, retired in Sullivan County and sober more than three decades, says he’s positive he was fired from an excellent job because of remarks he made to his boss’s wife while in a blackout. “Why did you say those things?” No memory of it.

— Sunshine, a nurse sober half her life, recalls with a mix of horror and shame coming out of a blackout “as a guy was trying to have sex with me.” She says she fought him off. But she didn’t immediately stop drinking.

That’s often the case — not stopping drinking despite risky or embarrassing consequences. As an isolated incident, a blackout may not signify anything except drinking too much, too fast. Something you might want to avoid because of potential embarrassment or worse. As a pattern, it could be a sign of a more serious problem.

While it’s not just alcoholics who experience blackouts, the connection between blackouts and alcoholism or alcoholic use disorder is real and knowing some facts about the symptom could help dispel some of the myths and avoid more serious problems.

For a long time — most likely from whenever humans first discovered the mood-altering effects of wine until modern science started doing research on the brain and behavior — blackouts were regarded as just one of the possible side effects of drinking alcohol. A little fuzzy memory. No big deal. Just drink less.

When researchers began studying blackouts, however, they soon discovered that persons experiencing them didn’t have just a little amnesia. Rather, they had no recollection of certain events and, try as they might, even when told the details many times over, they had no memory of them. Their subjects didn’t forget, researchers concluded; they never formed a memory in the first place.

The prevailing accepted science, as cited by the National Institute on Alcoholism and Alcohol Abuse and other similar agencies, is that persons experiencing a blackout can function and appear to be “normal” to others because their brain is operating on stored, long-term, procedural memory, but the short-term memory of what they are experiencing never gets to the hippocampus, the part of the brain that processes long-term memory.

Alcohol — especially a lot of it in a short period of time — short-circuits the process. According to the NIAAA, “As the amount of alcohol consumed increases, so does the magnitude of the memory impairments. Large amounts of alcohol, particularly if consumed rapidly, can produce partial or complete blackouts.”

More about blackouts:

— It’s not what you drink, it’s how much alcohol gets into your bloodstream and how fast it gets there. This means it’s possible for anyone to black out if he or she drinks enough alcohol quickly enough.

— People who have a low tolerance for alcohol are not necessarily more likely to black out. On the other hand, those with a high tolerance for alcohol are often able to drink heavily and carry on conversations, drive, etc. while in blackouts.

— Women may be more susceptible since they tend to be smaller than men, meaning each drink has a greater effect on the body’s blood alcohol content.

— Drinking on an empty stomach can make blackouts more likely, again because of a more acute impact on the blood alcohol concentration.

— People sometimes have glimpses of memory of an event, but not total recall. These partial lapses are called “brownouts.”

— Blackouts are the product of consumption of an amount of alcohol that affects motor coordination, balance, impulse control and decision-making. This is bad enough when someone is not in a blackout, never mind being unable to recall any risky, self-sabotaging behavior that may have caused serious harm to others.

— Some researchers suggest that people in blackouts, operating on procedural memory and little more, have little impulse control and are more likely to do things they would not otherwise. (See examples above.) This presents embarrassing, sometimes dangerous situations for the person in a blackout, family, friends and even strangers.

— Blackouts are often the unrecognized explanation for someone’s uncharacteristic actions. “Why did you (say/do) that last night?”

— Because of a shortage of evidence-based science on the subject, there is considerable difference of opinion on the use of blackouts as a defense in criminal trials.

So, what to do if you have blackouts? Take them seriously. Maybe talk to a professional health provider who knows about them. While blackouts are not solely the result of years of heavy, alcoholic drinking, they can be a sign of an existing or potential alcohol problem. Even one or two — perhaps the product of binge drinking in college — should be enough to cause concern since not being aware of what one has done is not considered acceptable to most people.

For example, possibly cutting off significant weapons shipments to a country in the middle of a war without checking with your commander-in-chief.

Again, just asking.

The News of the Day (cont.)

Saturday, July 19th, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

Rachel Robinson, throwing out a first pitch somewhere. She’s 103 years old today.

Rachel Robinson, throwing out a first pitch somewhere. She’s 103 years old today.

(An occasional public service for people who have jobs. Read to the end.)

7/19/2025 Today’s top newsmakers:

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey, Epstein, Jeffrey, Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein,.

Rachel Robinson, widow of legendary Major League Baseball Hall of Famer Jackie Robinson, is celebrating her 103rd birthday.

I have never met Mrs. Robinson and never got to see her husband play in person since my father was a New York Giants fan who hated the Brooklyn Dodgers.

But I did get to meet her husband. As sports editor for The Sun-Bulletin in Binghamton, N.Y., I was covering some kind of weekend sports conference. Different sports, different athletes. Not especially interesting.

But in the middle of a talk on some subject I can’t recall, I noticed a handsome man leaning against a sidewall. It only took a second for me to recognize him — the man who broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball.

After a quick, wow, is that really him? I put down my pad and pen and walked over. He smiled that famous smile. I said, “An honor to meet you, Mr. Robinson.” He said, “Thank you.” We shook hands. Biggest thrill of my brief career as a sports editor. It was 1972. He died not long after and I moved on to another job.

Rachel Robinson, a former professor and registered nurse, founded the Jackie Robinson Foundation in 1973, a year following her husband’s death. The foundation provides college scholarships to minority youth.

Happy 103rd Birthday, Mrs. Robinson.

OK, break’s over.

… Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

30

The News of the Day

Thursday, July 17th, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

Connie Francis

    Connie Francis

7/17/2025  Today’s top newsmakers:

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

Connie Francis, pride of Newark, New Jersey, died at the age of 87. Francis, who was the unmistakable sound of the late ‘50s and early 1960s, sold more than 100 million records worldwide and broke nearly as many hearts with her powerful, soulful voice.

If you happened to live in Bayonne, N.J., at that time, you couldn’t walk past any bar, door open in summer, and not hear the unmistakable sound of Connie‘s voice coming from the jukebox deep within.

“Who’s Sorry Now?” “”Among My Souvenirs.” “Mama.” “Where the Boys Are.” “My Happiness.”

If you were lucky on some particular summer night if your father walked past the neighborhood gin mill on the way home from work, Connie‘s voice might’ve drawn him in to the cool, dark interior.

He might even have a cold beer. And, he might order a pizza, Bayonne-style (thin and crisp) and back it up with an order of mussels in tomato sauce. And he might bring it home for a surprise supper.

All because he heard Connie Francis calling him. Thanks, Connie. For everything.

… OK, break is over. Back to the news.

Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein, Jeffrey Epstein.

30

 

When all the Wheels Fall Off

Saturday, July 12th, 2025

By Bob Gaydos

Donald Trump at Texas flood site.

Donald Trump at Texas flood site.

Writing about how the nuts and bolts of federal government work, or are supposed to work, is often an exercise in trying to make the boring readable, if not necessarily interesting.

Not this time. This time, with nuts and bolts falling off the MAGA truck at seemingly every turn, I trust the reading will be not only interesting, but likely, infuriating.

Let’s start with the news that Dan Bongino, Deputy FBI director, may be on the verge of quitting in a major rift with Attorney General Pam Bondi over the suddenly disappearing  Epstein files.

Bongino is a conspiracy theorist who built a career as a podcaster in large part by demanding release of sexual predator Jeffrey Epstein’s client list and accusing unnamed government officials of concealing it. This podcast popularity probably played a large part in him getting the job as assistant FBI director since he has no other real qualifications for the job.

Bongino expressed his anger with Bondi loudly in a meeting after a memo was leaked saying the FBI found no client list and also that Epstein did indeed commit suicide in his prison cell. That development came shortly after Bondi publicly said she had the files on her desk and she was waiting to review them.

To his credit here, Bongino is at least sticking to his guns and insisting there’s a list and demanding that the government release the files, whatever and whomever they include. Bondi, a Grade A Trump bootlicker, obviously feels otherwise.

There’s been speculation that FBI Director Kash Patel, whose qualifications for his job are also sketchy, is also unhappy with the way Bondi handled the situation. There have been rumors that both Patel and Bongino may step down. Nuts and bolts falling everywhere.

This is clearly not how government is supposed to operate. It would also be a unique development in a Trump administration. Two high ranking individuals resigning on a seeming matter of moral principle that could possibly implicate Trump.

The other major story, of course, is the flash flood in Texas that has claimed more than 100 lives so far, many of them young girls at a summer camp. Tragic. And even more wheels falling off the MAGA truck.

In addition to the well-reported fact that Trump ordered major cuts in the National Weather Service staff, thereby increasing the likelihood of weakened forecasting abilities, it turns out that National Security Director Kristi Noem, who oversees FEMA, required that requests for more than $100,000 in aid come to her desk, but ignored such requests from Texas for three days. Noem also unbelievably said that the federal government doesn’t handle state emergencies.

In addition, a downsized FEMA staff failed to answer thousands of phone calls from residents of Texas in the aftermath of the deadly flood. And David Richardson, FEMA director, who rarely even talks to staff, never showed up in Texas during or after the tragic flood. Instead, he was at a conference somewhere else where he didn’t even participate. Not a word from the FEMA director. Not even a presence. Nuts and bolts all over the ground.

For his part, Trump showed up in Texas more than a week late and rambled on in some kind of speech about rain. Nuts. He also muttered something about maybe not cutting so much FEMA funding after all. That convenient suggestion of change in policy probably didn’t soothe the pain of residents of Texas, especially parents who lost their young daughters to a raging river. Bolts.

And what the heck, while we’re at it, there’s that lingering nuts and bolts how-does-government-work question about who ordered the cancellation of weapons shipments to Ukraine. Trump, when asked about it at a press conference, said, “I don’t know.”

If that didn’t freeze the blood in every American citizen, I don’t know what will. The man with the power to authorize or reject military action, the man who ordered a bombing of Iran, didn’t know who ordered the cutoff of weapons to Ukraine.

He actually whispered to Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, “Do you know?”

Hegseth said, “No.”

Even scarier. No how-things-work here to even talk about, but I’ll take a stab. For what it’s worth, I have some friends in recovery who tell me they learned that they did some pretty scary things when they were in alcoholic blackouts and today still have no memory of it. Zilch.

Nuts and bolts, anyone?