By Bob Gaydos

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.

By Bob Gaydos

Rupert Murdoch
… done with Trump?

Rupert is done with Donald.

The man who created the monster is out to kill it and he’s doing it with the weapon he knows best — the power of the press.

The most telling blows against Donald Trump in the ever-growing scandal over his failure to release the Jeffrey Epstein files, as repeatedly promised in Trump’s campaign for president, have come from a most unlikely source: The dignified jewel in the somewhat tacky Murdoch Empire.

First, the Journal ran a story about Trump’s highly suggestive (they share “secrets”) birthday card to Epstein on his 50th birthday. Then came the report that Trump’s Justice Department (Pam Bondi) had told him in May that his name was all over the Epstein files, which Bondi, of course, had subsequently said publicly did and then did not exist, creating the current furor about them.

This is the well-respected, conservative Wall Street Journal, not Fox-makes-it-up-and-we-love-you-Donald News, not the headline-happy New York Post, definitely not your typical Murdoch sensation-seeing tabloid. Trump even asked Murdoch not to run the story. Said it wasn’t true.

It ran. Trump, typically, sued the Journal claiming defamation. He wants $10 billion. Murdoch said bring it on.

What’s going on?

There are several schools of thought on this. One is that Murdoch, who made his fame and fortune by publishing often made-up stories about famous people in sensational tabloid papers, first in Australia and Britain before coming to the U.S., is looking for a last hurrah. The man is 94-years-old, his sons are taking over the business, but taking down a president could be quite a rush and addition to your obituary, even if the reports are actually true.

The willingness to take Trump on knowing a lawsuit is inevitable probably lies in the law itself. To prove defamation, Trump must not only demonstrate that the statement was false, defamatory, published to a third party, but also that the publisher acted with at least negligence or actual malice in publishing the information.

They knew it was false but ran it anyway. I don’t see the Wall Street Journal’s experienced lawyers allowing anything like that happening.

Which means the stories must be true and the Journal has proof, the best defense. The story is clearly also of public interest, as witness the reaction to them.

The irony, of course, is that, while other media empires — ABC, CBS, The Washington Post — have bowed to Trump threats to sue or to scuttle potential deals by paying him off and softening criticism of him — Murdoch, who, as mentioned, built a fortune on lies, thus becomes the unlikely defender of the free press in America.

My hero.

It has been noted that, unlike years ago when Murdoch was helping build Trump’s cult following by making stuff up on Fox News, Murdoch has no mega deals in the works at this time that Trump could threaten. That obviously only buttresses the courage to, well, what the heck, print the truth.

But why? Why not just focus on tariffs, the Fed and interest rates, the usual Journal fare?

I think Murdoch sees what every rational-thinking American sees: Trump is used goods. His parts are breaking down and even Artificial Intelligence won’t improve the incoherent message. Plus, the Epstein stuff might even be too slimy for the elder Murdoch at this time.

It’s time for a new model to protect the Murdoch family’s interest, if not the average American’s. That would lend credence to the report that, coincidentally, there was a meeting between Vice President JD Vance and the Murdoch clan around the time of the Journal articles. What could they possibly have to discuss?

The only problem I see in this right of succession scenario for Murdoch and Vance is that Vance is not Trump. That is, he is not the swaggering TV personality, making stuff up off the cuff, challenging the system and riling up the cult the way Trump always did until very recently.

Would a Vance threat or lie carry the same weight with MAGA as Trump’s have? Will they ignore the broken economic promises and focus on the hateful bigotry they share? Will Republicans automatically genuflect en masse at Vance’s feet worried about being primaried? Can Vance bullshit people the way Trump can? Is he the new chosen one?

Honestly, I don’t see it. But then, I never saw Rupert Murdoch as the savior of the free press.

*********

Full disclosure: For 23 years, I wrote editorials for The Times Herald-Record in Middletown, N.Y., which was a member of the Ottaway Newspaper Group, a locally owned operation that had been sold to Dow Jones and then subsequently acquired by Rupert Murdoch in the deal that also brought him the Wall Street Journal. As far as I know, he never messed with what went on in Middletown. He also subsequently sold the Ottaway newspaper chain for a profit.

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

By Bob Gaydos

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. 

Addiction and Recovery

By Bob Gaydos

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.

By Bob Gaydos

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

By Bob Gaydos

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

By Bob Gaydos

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?

By Bob Gaydos

A deadly flash flood killed more than 100 people in Texas.

I’m so angry. Angry that the daily insanity of life with Trump makes it difficult to be sad. Just sad. Not frustrated and sad. Not bewildered and sad. Not dumbfounded and sad. Not furious and sad. Just sad.

The overlapping and competing of emotions is a byproduct of having to wake up each day in a “what the hell did he do or say now?” world. Like most of you, I’ve come to expect that, although I hesitate to say I’m used to it.

But that doesn’t matter when I just want to feel the sadness and sorrow for the families of all those young girls who drowned when a raging Guadalupe River swamped their summer camp in Central Texas. My god, what a tragedy. Impossible to imagine.

But at the same time, I also have to deal with the fact that Elon Musk, richest and second weirdest man on the planet, says he wants to start a new political party in the United States, to put pressure on both Republican and Democrats to create his view of society, which could have the beneficial effect of frustrating Trump’s MAGA agenda simply because Musk has so much money and he apparently now hates Trump. And he knows how to rig elections. So, is this good or bad?

Plus, Musk is the one who said Trump’s name was all over the Epstein files, and he likely had a look at them when he was Dogeing. But now, Pam Bondi, a thoroughly horrid human being, says those Epstein files she said she had on her desk to review, in effect, don’t exist. No client list, the attorney general says. And Jeffrey committed suicide. Case closed. And I am beyond angry at this load of BS and coverup for Epstein’s good friend, Donald Trump.

Meanwhile, the death toll in Texas is now more than 100 and they are still looking for more than 160 people, including 12-year-old girls missing from the church camp and you just know many won’t be found alive at this point and I am depressed thinking of them and area residents trapped in their homes.

As the story continued for days, Trump hadn’t said much about the deaths and, when asked if he would go to Texas, he said “maybe Friday.” But while the flood was still raging, he was putting on his greens and eating ice cream.

Yet he had previously had no trouble making a quick visit to fawn over the cruelly named Alligator Alcatraz in Florida. And I am angry again that this concentration camp for immigrants and whomever else ICE snatches off the streets actually sells souvenir merchandise and that it was thrown up in a couple of days in an area crawling with alligators and prone to flooding and that it is all pipes and canvas and wire and could be blown over in a heartbeat as hurricane season comes to Florida.

Which, of course, Trump didn‘t consider or care about when he decimated the workforce of the National Weather Service, which may have contributed to the lack of advance warning in Texas, for which Trump will accept no blame, as usual. Nor will he show any human empathy for the victims and their families. Incapable.

Meanwhile, rescue help pours into Texas, including from Mexico, and money for the rescue and the victims — millions — is pledged by just regular citizens, Trump still hasn’t shown his face or said that he’ll make sure the advance warning system the people of Kenn County asked the state of Texas to pay for but got only chump change will actually be built, even though he has effectively eliminated FEMA.

For me at least, the profound sadness this story deserves gets lost in anger over the lack of preparedness or concern for all affected and all the nonsense previously mentioned above as well as the insulting news that Bibi Netanyahu has written a letter nominating Trump for the Nobel Peace Prize for dropping a dozen bombs on Iran, blowing up a lot of rock and stuff, but likely no uranium and probably guaranteeing that country will now certainly develop a nuclear bomb. And that Bibi will now be Trump’s new best friend since he says he’s disappointed in Putin and, well, you know about Musk.

And yes, there will be, Trump has decreed, a mixed martial arts fight on the White House lawn next Fourth of July to properly celebrate this country’s 250th birthday. Seating for 20,000. No word on ticket prices yet.

I am beyond sad.

By Bob Gaydos

Something to consider as you stock the cooler, clean the grill and get the burgers, hot dogs and buns ready for Friday’s Fourth of July celebration: On the eve of Independence Day, Paramount Global, parent company of CBS, agreed to give Donald Trump $16 million because he didn’t like the way the staff at 60 Minutes, the premiere news show at CBS, edited an interview with Kamala Harris last October.

That’s pretty much the gist. Paramount, an entertainment company which has no business owning a news media operation, figured it was cheaper to buy off the president of the United States, than go to court and defend its journalists’ rights under the First Amendment  to the Constitution. A free press, to be specific.

Trump, who was running for president against Harris at the time, sued 60 Minutes, claiming the edited interview was defamatory to him. Editors at 60 Minutes, which has continued to tell the truth about Trump, said it wasn’t. The board at Paramount said we have a bottom line to worry about, new projects to worry about and we don’t want Trump siccing his legal goons on us. They didn’t say that, but that’s the gist.

Trump, who threatens lawsuits almost as much as he lies, just recently threatened to sue both CNN and The New York Times for their reporting on leaked information regarding U.S. bomb strikes on nuclear power sites in Iran.

Trump immediately bragged that the attacks had “decimated” Iran’s nuclear weapon capability. But U.S. intelligence reports a couple of days after the attack cast serious doubt on that assessment. Trump demanded a retraction of the reports by both news agencies.

CNN and The Times stuck to their guns and their reporting. CNN said it will issue no retraction. The Times issued a statement saying, “No retraction is needed. No apology will be forthcoming. We told the truth to the best of our ability. We will continue to do so.”

I sincerely hope so. The Times appears to have gotten over its infatuation with tiptoeing around Trump. Couldn’t have come at a more important time.

The truth is the truth and a free press is a free press. Both have been under constant attack since Trump entered national politics and, unfortunately, a lot of Americans in my opinion have forgotten what it means to have a free and independent press.

You hear a lot of complaints about the so-called “mainstream media,” whoever that may be, but I think the slow death of so many local newspapers, bought up by corporate interests with no journalistic background and concerned only with their bottom lines, has caused many Americans to forget what it means to have a free and independent press delivered every day on their doorstep.

After a while, you don’t know what you don’t know because nobody’s telling you. Except for Trump and his henchmen on social media. And Trump siccing his lawyers on anyone who dares even suggest that he might not be telling the truth.

You can say this is a bit personal for me since I spent more than 40 years working for daily newspapers, 23 of them writing editorials on an almost daily basis. I loved it. From my observation, so did most of the people I worked with. Also, from my observation, the people running the show recognized that, with the freedom guaranteed under the Constitution came a responsibility to be honest and truthful and factual. That’s our job. Tell the truth. Let him sue. We’re not called the Fourth Estate for nothing.

Anyway, something to think about. Have a hotdog on me, forget about the fireworks and maybe let the people at 60 Minutes know you appreciate their efforts.

rjgaydos@gmail.com