By Bob Gaydos

Donald Trump and his happy family.

“Daddy, to be honest, is an idiot. A lying SOB, too. A nasty drunk. As long as you praise him, he’s all smiles and charm. Disagree with him and he’s a bully, or worse. He likes to act like a big shot — ‘I’m the smartest guy at the office …,’ ‘the fastest runner …,’ ‘no one knows as much as me …’ ‘I really showed them …’ Yes, he’s somehow always late paying the bills, if he pays them at all, and he seems to owe a lot of people money. He’s not around much lately — busy I guess — but when he is he’s always telling us about how great it’s gonna be when we: a) get a bigger house; b) buy a new car; c) go on vacation; d) move away from this lousy neighborhood.

“We’re still waiting, but we know he’ll figure it out eventually because he’s Daddy and he said so. We love him.”

Welcome to another day in the life of a typical American family locked in the grip of massive dysfunction bordering on delusion. Actually, maybe they’ve already gone across the border.

Of course I’m talking about Trump. You know I’m talking about Trump. The only ones who don’t know I’m talking about Trump are members of the aforementioned family. The delusionals. They stuck with him before and they’re sticking with him now. He’s family. They’re stuck with each other. Hey, nobody’s perfect. “We gotta stick together or they’re gonna take away our jobs. Then our schools. Then our church. Then our kids. Then our guns. Then what’ll we do?”

“Don’t worry. Daddy will know.”

(But remember? Daddy’s an idiot.)

How do you survive in life when all your tools — morals, knowledge, social skills, sense of self, pride, compassion, ethics, economics, tolerance, honor, curiosity, courage, ambition, faith — have been conceived, nurtured and twisted in such a fashion that, although you know instinctively that up is not down, you agree with the head of the family anyway when he says otherwise and you defend him vigorously when others says he’s an idiot? To do otherwise, after all, is to admit your significant shortcomings in those areas and to invite the shame and ridicule you imagine you’ll receive for not recognizing reality. For not kicking Daddy out or leaving yourself.

That’s life with an abusive (often alcoholic) parent. Donald Trump’s America. The drug of choice in this case is applause, not alcohol, but the behavior is the same. Me, me, me. Predictably unpredictable. Trump’s diehard supporters are stuck with each other and with him — one, big, dysfunctional family, lies and betrayals notwithstanding. Indeed, to question Daddy is disloyal, to leave, a betrayal. And where would you go anyway? It is, after all, a scary world out there. Daddy said so. Many times.

Breaking away from any such family is no easy task. It’s who you are, after all, isn’t it? You and your brothers and sisters and cousins and aunts and uncles and … Heck, it’s like daddy told you — it’s your brand. “Us against the world.”

Breaking away from the family of Trump — acknowledging that he is a fraud, rejecting the brand — would take enormous courage. First of all, it would mean admitting you have been wrong all this time to have placed your trust in a man with no moral compass, no sense of duty, no trace of compassion for the less fortunate, no regard for the truth and a total lack of interest in anything that does not feed his ego. (Get him a beer!) To admit that, one would have to be a fool, right?

Secondly, it would mean learning an entirely new set of life skills and placing your trust in people who believe pretty much the opposite of everything Daddy has told you. Talk about scary. Besides, how can you be sure those people aren’t lying, too.

“Everybody lies. Don’t believe what the media say. They all lie to make money. Daddy knows. He used to be on TV. He was great. At least Daddy has the guts to stand up to the liars and fight to get what we deserve. Maybe he hasn’t gotten it yet, but at least he’s trying. He’ll come through for us eventually. He has to, doesn’t he?”

Of course, there are 12-Step programs for people who grow up in this kind of ill-functioning, mis-functioning, dysfunctioning household with an unpredictable, abusive, addictive parent at the head. But one has to first admit there’s a problem before those programs can help. Then, one has to be willing to change — to break the chains of denial and dependence on the parent and learn to live one’s own life. To be honest with oneself.

Rather than being the act of a fool, it takes a lot of courage to say, “Daddy’s an idiot and if I keep depending on him, excusing his behavior, I’m going to wind up an idiot, too. I have to face reality.” Sometimes, it take an intervention or a profound spiritual experience, a moment of clarity, for this to happen. Both have been known to work miracles and either one would be acceptable right now.

In the meantime, the key for the rest of the more-functional families in the neighborhood is to continue to recognize that the family down the block has an addictive idiot for a Daddy and that to try to tell them so is to invite insanity into your home.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

By Bob Gaydos

Trump says it … Ryan excuses it: “He’s new.”

“Give the kid a break; he’s new on the job.”

Of all the excuses Republicans have come up with for the words and actions of Donald Trump, leave it to feckless Paul Ryan to come up with the dumbest. And Ryan is two heartbeats from the presidency.

Ryan’s excuse (I paraphrased for emphasis) came, of course in response to questions about his reaction to the narcissist-in-chief’s (NIC’s) pressuring former FBI DIrector James Comey to drop an investigation of Michael Flynn, whom Trump had just fired as his national security adviser. “He’s a good guy,” Comey said the NIC told him in a private meeting. Testifying to a Senate committee, Comey said he agreed with Trump. But he also knew Flynn had neglected to mention several meetings with Russian officials while he was part of the Trump transition team. So, no, Comey, said, he could not “let it go.”

More to the point, Comey told the senators he was uncomfortable that the NIC had even asked the then-FBI director — traditionally an independent official — to drop an investigation and, furthermore, asked for a pledge of “loyalty” from him. All in private conversations. Inappropriate in spades. Possibly illegal.

Rookie mistake, as far as Ryan is concerned. To quote him precisely: “He’s new to government, and so he probably wasn’t steeped in the long-running protocols that establish the relationships between DOJ, FBI and White Houses. He’s just new to this.”

Is that an appropriate excuse for the president of the United States? Ryan was asked. Perhaps not, he acknowledged, adding, “It’s just my observation.”

FIne. Here’s my observation, Mr. Speaker of the House. I like to know that the person widely regarded as leader of the free world has at least some working familiarity with the rules of the road — the protocols of the office, diplomacy, a sense of history, the basic do’s and don’ts of the job. Also, respect for the law of the land. Stuff like that.

“Let’s Make a Deal’’ was a TV show, not a meeting of NATO countries. “The Godfather” was a novel, then a movie in which Marlon Brando asked a bunch of people for “loyalty,” but they weren’t in an Oval Office darkened by closed blue curtains, which, on other occasions, might afford a wary FBI director a place to try to hide from the NIC.

There are certain times when “he’s new on the job” doesn’t cut it. I recently underwent surgery for fractures of my left knee and right wrist. Same accident. The surgeons said they were going to perform the operations simultaneously, since they were on opposite sides of the body and they wouldn’t get in each other’s way. Only one anesthesia that way, they said.

Sounds good, I said. You guys ever do this before? I asked. Sure, the knee guy reassured me. Is he any good? I asked the nurses. He operates on the Mets’ pitchers, they said. OK, I said. No rookie. Knee and wrist are mending well.

A little more personal history from the other side of the issue. As a new court reporter early in my career I made what could have been a serious rookie mistake. After talking to the local district attorney about his most recent grand jury, I wrote an article about the indictments, including someone who was named in a sealed indictment. Sealed indictments are not made public so the people don’t know they have been charged with a crime. (For example, some reports have suggested the NIC himself has been named in a sealed indictment.)

“I think you may have broken the law,” the DA told me after he read the article in the paper. He was smiling, but I was mortified. My inexperience might have tipped someone off, blown the DA’s case … put me before a grand jury?

I was lucky. The DA had his guy and was understanding. He knew I was “new on the job” and had no malicious intent. Still, I was embarrassed and apologized profusely and paid close attention to the rules of the road from thereon. I did not deny or excuse what I had done. I learned a lesson.

This was in a small town in upstate New York, not in the White House. I was maybe 25 years old, fresh out of college, six months of infantry training and a year as a police reporter. Trump is 70 years old and, to hear him tell it, a successful man of the world. The artist of the deal. A brand name. President of the @#$%# United States!

His response to the Comey meetings? He went to Twitter to accuse Comey simultaneously of being a liar and leaking classified information, meaning the conversations. Apparently he’s not sure which desperate excuse would work. Mea culpa? Trump doesn’t speak Latin. Learn from a mistake? Trump was relentless in stalking Comey for ‘loyalty.”

That whole learning the ropes argument is, of course, just a way for Republicans to avoid admitting the man in the Oval Office is not only frighteningly unqualified for the job, but doesn’t seem to regard learning about it as especially important. And consequences? Not his concern.

The rookie president went to Europe to meet with our NATO allies. He figured he could shame them into spending more for defense. After much debate, Secretary of State Rex Tillerson and other advisers managed to get a sentence included in Trump’s speech reaffirming the United States’ commitment to mutual defense — the core function of NATO. Trump left it out. On purpose. Out of spite.

Several days later, at a press conference with the president of Romania, which can’t afford to spend any more money on its military, the NIC said the U.S., of course, remains committed to NATO. But he had another surprise for Tillerson.

Just 90 minutes earlier, Tillerson had said the United States was willing to help negotiate in the escalating conflict in the Middle East with Saudi Arabia, Egypt and several other Arab nations closing borders and setting up blockades on Qatar, accusing their neighbor of supporting terrorist groups. Tensions in the region had become heightened after Trump, who is fond of dealing with the Saudis, also blamed Qatar for supporting terrorists, thereby taking sides, encouraging the Saudis to get more aggressive and, by the way, ignoring the presence of 11,000 American troops in Qatar, which is a major launch site for U.S. military activity in the region.

Tillerson’s comments about negotiating thus were seen as an effort to cool things off. Cover up for the rookie. Yet less than two hours later, Trump was again pointing the finger at Qatar.

I happen to think the Middle East is no place for a president to be learning the ropes. Yes, all new presidents have to learn things, especially in the area of diplomacy where blurting out whatever is on your mind is generally not a good idea. But, again, presidents’ words and actions have wide-reaching consequences. At the very least, someone who was serious about learning the job would seek — and take — advice from those with more experience. It’s a sign of maturity. He would admit misstatements. It’s a sign of humility.

If you’re a reporter, you don’t publish the names of people named in sealed indictments. If you’re a president, you don’t repeatedly ask the FBI director to “let go” of an investigation and ask for a pledge of loyalty and you don’t keep throwing your secretary of state under the bus. At some point, if you’re serious about the job, and especially if you’re a rookie, you study and read and discuss and learn. Maybe you don’t play golf every weekend — unless you’re really more interested in just playing at being the president, rather than doing the work.

Kind of like Paul Ryan playing at being speaker of the House.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

By Jeffrey Page

The Fake President

In late 1963, I was working a go-nowhere job for an airport shipping firm when I got an important phone call from George Trow, the night managing editor of the New York Post, telling me that the copyboy’s position I’d applied for was available.

Was I still interested, he inquired.

“When should I report,” I asked. Easy answer, my having been raised in a newspaper-reading family and believing that newspaper reporters and editors were important people.

Thus, a career began in those hazy distant days.

And oh yes, Mr. Trow said as he cleared his throat, the shift began at 1 a.m., and the pay was $48 a week. I was getting $65 at the airport. I took the job at the Post. One a.m.? $48? My father was aghast.

This was two months after the JFK assassination. The work at the Post was menial: I re-filled paste pots, I took coffee and sandwich orders from the night staff, I kept the reporters well-supplied with copy paper for their stories and the copy editors well-supplied with sharp pencils to edit stories and write headlines. I ran galley proofs and page proofs back and forth between the composing room and the copy desk.

Menial yes, but, it turned out, the start of a 42-year adventure. I worked for several dailies. At each of them we delivered to readers the information they needed, the scores of the sports events they had bet on, the features they enjoyed, some columnists they admired and others they loathed.

In my newspaper decades I covered some presidential campaigns. I wrote a great deal about transportation. Late in career, I got a general column. I interviewed the great Cesar Chavez. I went to Normandy for the 50th anniversary of the D-Day invasion.

Once, I found myself sitting across from Ray Charles who was in town to publicize a singing jingle promoting a new game in the New Jersey Lottery. Charles looked miserable and I had no idea what to ask this genius now reduced to singing commercials late in his career. I filed four dull paragraphs; it was enough.

There were thousands of other stories about politics, about people with interesting careers, about crime. I even found the abandoned creamery in the Catskills where Patricia Hearst spent a year in hiding.

Nowadays the voice in the Oval Office refers to what he has determined to be “Fake News,” which, if I understand it, means any news our Fake President doesn’t care for. An example: He really doesn’t like to be reminded that he drew nearly 3 million fewer votes than Hillary Clinton in last year’s election.

In addition to slandering the press as a purveyor of “fake news,” Trump maligns the entire news industry by labeling the press “enemies of the American people,” which is a lie.

By attacking American news gathering this way Trump forgets where he gets the right to speak his own fake mind in any newspaper he might someday choose to publish. He seems to forget a lot, such as the fact that the press is one of only two occupations specifically protected in the Bill of Rights: Congress shall make no law abridging the freedom of speech or of the press, it says in the First Amendment. (The clergy has such protection as well.)

The need for a vibrant First Amendment has become more and more apparent in the months since Trump took office. Perhaps more than ever it has become clear that our democracy’s survival depends on a free and unfettered press.

A lot of people have fought to defend the United States Constitution. The Fake President was not one of them.

Would Trump dismiss Jefferson as a fake revolutionary? After all, it was Jefferson who uttered the familiar line that if forced to choose between government without newspapers or newspapers without a government he would prefer the latter.

By Bob Gaydos

Bill Cosby walks into court, accompanied by TV daughter, Keshia Knight Pulliam.

While the world waited impatiently for a phony baloney reality TV star and by-his-own-words-and-behavior admitted sexual predator to have his day in court in Washington, D.C., some 144 miles away, in a courtroom in Norristown, Pa., outside Philadelphia, a real-life, one-time mega TV star stood accused, legally, of being a sexual predator.

Bill Cosby’s trial is reality, not TV, but leave it to the purveyors of celebrity “news” on TV to blur the line.

As I got a much-needed haircut and beard removal at a local barber shop, the very loud, obviously impressed with themselves “reporters” on Fox’s TMZ informed all within hearing distance (half a block easily if the doors were open) that the Cosby trial opened without the presence of Mrs. Cosby in the courtroom.

It would be so much better for the actor-comedian-accused, they said, if jurors saw Camille, his wife of 53 years, standing by his side as another woman accused her husband of drugging and sexually assaulting her.

The TMZ crew did not mention that the alleged victim was one of some 60 or more women who have said Cosby drugged and then sexually assaulted them over the course of his career. TMZ did note that the TV star was accompanied into court by Keshia Knight Pulliam, who played his youngest daughter, Rudy Huxtable, on the family-friendly Cosby Show for eight years. Better if Papa Huxtable had been accompanied by his four, real-life daughters, TMZ opined, not his TV daughter.  

Did I mention that all the reporters on TV who were commenting on how important it might have been for Cosby if the jurors saw the five most important women in his real life  — his wife and daughters — showing their support for him as he stood accused of three felony charges of aggravated indecent assault, were men?

In a court case involving allegations that a powerful man, using his position and influence to drug and sexually assault a woman, the TV show did not think it necessary to offer at least one woman’s opinion on whether or not it would have been good for Cosby if his wife was in court. Not that any woman could speak for Camille Cosby, but I’m willing to bet it might have offered a different perspective.

It also might say something about why, although more than 60 women have said similar things about Cosby, this is the only one to result in criminal charges. Victims in such cases hesitate to come forward publicly with their accusations for fear they will not be believed, but instead, blamed and shamed.

The criminal charges against Cosby are based on allegations by Andrea Constand concerning an incident in January 2004. Her original criminal complaint was not pursued for “lack of evidence.” It was revived and filed by a new prosecutor last December just weeks before Pennsylvania’s 12-year statute of limitations on sexual assault had expired.

Dozens of other women say Cosby assaulted them, too, the alleged incidents ranging from 1968 to 2008. But in all the other cases, the statute of limitations on filing criminal charges had passed, which is where the shame and blame and fear of not being believed works in favor of the alleged predator, especially, as with Cosby, a famous, powerful male.

Constand, who worked at Temple University, where Cosby, an alumnus, is a legend, filed a civil lawsuit against Cosby in 2005. He settled with her, but the transcript of his disposition was made public. Facing no criminal charges, he acknowledged having what he said was “consensual” sex involving the use of Benadryl and Quaaludes with a series of young women, but only in the 1970s. He further acknowledged that giving the women the drug was illegal.

Are we still wondering about Camille Cosby not being in court to stand by her man?

There were other women in court, though. Three other alleged victims were there to lend public support to Constand and to Kelly Johnson, who was the prosecution’s first witness. As with many of the other women, she said that, even though the statute of limitations had passed and Cosby couldn’t be criminally charged in her case, she was willing to go public with her story — even testify in court to it — once she learned that many other women had the same experience.

Many of the allegations against Cosby, 79, came after 2014, when previously whispered tales of his behavior became wide public knowledge.

That has led to several civil lawsuits against him and a campaign by seven of his alleged victims to extend or eliminate the statute of limitations on sexual assault crimes. Nevada and California responded to their plea and eliminated the time limit and others are considering it.

Some defense lawyers argue that eliminating the statute of limitations will make it harder for the accused to refute allegations because potential witnesses die and memories become foggy over time. Maybe so, but that applies to everyone and the accused doesn’t have to prove anything in court, the prosecution does. The statute of limitations allows the powerful — a famous TV star or the Catholic Church —  to pay off victims of sexual assault, convince them that no one will believe them, scare them with the threat of public exposure and embarrassment and delay any criminal action against them until it’s too late.

It’s nobody’s business why Camille Cosby wasn’t in court to hear the sordid stories of her husband’s sexual encounters with other women. He doesn’t deny them, just insists they were all consensual. Also, as recounted by his alleged victims, remarkably similar in detail. A jury will try to decide the reality.

Now, Rudy Huxtable walking into court on the arm of her Daddy, Cliff? That’s pure TV.

rjgaydos@gmail.com  

By Patrick Gallagher

Recently, due to unfortunate mutual confusion, the Food Truck festival planned for Stanley Deming Park in Warwick had to be relocated at the very last stage of a complicated planning effort.

The Village of Warwick refused the applicant a permit because alcohol is not allowed in village parks. That was for just one event.

The village, like all wise municipalities, knows that the insurance risks related to sponsoring an event where alcohol is served are gigantic.

So why do the trustees and planning board think a gigantic bar in a quiet village neighborhood is OK?

Are they confused again?

Two blocks away from downtown, something they will not even consider in a village park would be permitted 365 days a year till 1 and 2 a.m. Bell to Bell.   

The same risk management principles apply to residents on Van Buren and West Streets as on South Street, but since it’s not village property, they can wash their hands of local concerns. But drunks can drive or fall or crash on any street. Wheeler, Welling, Orchard, Main Street, all the same.

All the liability belongs to the walkers, long-term residents and folks crossing streets. The village wants to allow the neighborhood to soak up all the risk to homeowners. All the traffic problems all the concerns for kids walking home from school or activities at a village park or friend’s house  just fall on the residents.

Responsible citizens and homeowners can’t accept this liability shifted to our front doors. Poor planning that creates extraordinary risk is uninsurable and unacceptable.

Pretend we are part of the village. Adopt a moratorium. Put the PLAN back in planning board.

Please, residents, come out and help us prevent Warwick from becoming Barwick. Come out and represent yourself at the next Planning Board meeting on June 15 at 7:30. Speak for your community.

Patrick Gallagher lives in Warwick.