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

By Bob Gaydos

As I suspected, this article, which I first published three years ago, has become a piece that bears repeating every year. 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 and (3) some people don’t seem to get one of the messages.

The original need to repeat was prompted by what I saw as a disturbingly increasing problem on narrow country roads: getting out of your own driveway. Specifically, backing out. This should not be a hazardous duty mission. Unfortunately, it often is. As I see it, it boils down to a lack of consideration or understanding. So, the annual summer reminder.

***

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.

By Bob Gaydos

SpaceX, SpaceX, SpaceX, SpaceX, Musk, SpaceX, Tesla, SpaceX, SpaceX, trillion, Musk, SpaceX …

If you had even a fleeting awareness of media reporting on the stock market for the past week or so, you could not escape learning that Elon Musk was offering what turned out to be a record-breaking IPO, allowing all the world to buy stock in his out-of-this world company, SpaceX.

You would also have learned that Musk would retain control of 80 percent of the shares of the newly traded company and, oh yeah, that the rush to buy shares and the resulting valuation increase in his company had made the South African billionaire, the world’s first trillionaire.

The world’s richest man just got much richer.

Shares for SpaceX were initially offered at $135, closed at $161 on the first day and have risen and fallen in the week since the offering as all the financial “experts” try to figure out if this is a really good investment or not.

That’s not what this is about. This is about what the world’s richest man — the world’s first trillionaire — plans to do with his unprecedented wealth.

Take it to Mars. Or the Moon. Or, preferably, both.

Because, apparently, there’s nothing a trillion dollars could do to make life on Earth better, even simply more livable, for millions of earthlings in need of food, clean water, a decent place to live, good health care and a basic education.

No, the man born into wealth and possessing a gift for buying other people’s excellent ideas and turning them into the promise of progress, albeit apparently unfortunately delayed by other people’s short-sightedness, wants to create a colony on Mars and permanent habitats (domed condos?) on the Moon for those who won’t live long enough for the trip to Mars.

Swell.

Just what we need. A dream of a better life on another planet, presumably populated by residents of Musk’s choosing, which is to say, all white. Maybe even all conceived by him, the father of 15 right here on Earth.

He also wants to put energy stations in space to handle the load for the coming AI revolution, which holds the promise of creating a perfect society by eliminating millions of jobs on Earth for those who actually still have access to food, water, health care, etc. And, not to forget the military, Musk wants to boost the payloads of his Starship rocket to be able to transport military personnel and materials anywhere on earth in less than an hour. Just like Amazon. Make war more efficient for the highest bidder.

I don’t get it, but I can’t say I’m surprised. After all, it was Musk whom Donald Trump turned to when he wanted to eliminate tens of thousands of federal jobs, eliminate food and health programs in the United States and elsewhere on the planet and in general snoop around in everybody’s life.

Doge, they called it. Department of Government Efficiency. Musk failed at that. Somehow, his young geniuses couldn’t manage to follow the law while they set about destroying people’s lives. Trump fired him. But, heck, even driverless vehicles have problems sometimes, right? What’s the big deal? We’ll figure it out. He just needs a few billion more to work out the kinks.

It stinks. Yet billions are pouring into Musk’s new publicly traded company because no one apparently wants to miss out on the promise of profit, if not the actual thing. Spending billions to improve the lot and lives of people in Third World countries is apparently not an attractive investment. Tossing a few billion at Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, West Virginia, etc.? Forget about it. Even their own members of Congress wouldn’t buy into that.

The thing is, Musk could do both. He could take care of the many needs on Earth and still go to Mars with a pit stop on the Moon. Maybe there’s something in the genes of the super rich — at least some of them — that allows entitlement to smother gratitude. Giving back is not in the vocabulary. Heck, Amazon’s Jeff Bezos, number two richest person on Earth, felt the need to buy the Washington Post, one of the nation’s most respected newspapers, and turn it into a hollow shell of its reputation because he didn’t like what it said about his rich friends.

Musk, of course, is entitled to do as he wishes with his money, within the law. But his new publicly traded SpaceX will allow the richest man on the planet to do as he wishes with a lot of other people’s money as well. I’m not sure a lot of people have thought through the return on their investment.

The daisy                            RJ photography

By Bob Gaydos

The roses came and went,

 their glory quickly spent.  

The peonies were gone 

from glorious to brown.

The Solstice was still

several days to come,

yet spring had early

lost its glistening crown.

Fear not whispered the daisy,

its petals crisp and white.

I’m here to right 

the unexpected blight. 

Guess you just can’t 

keep a good flower down.

By Bob Gaydos

Champs!

    When there’s really too much news going on (which now is almost every day), I turn to the approach of one of my  favorite sports columnists in my early years. Jimmy Cannon had opinions on more than balls and strikes. So…

     — Maybe it’s just me, but: The devil is in the details. The so-called memorandum of understanding between the U.S. and Iran allows Iran to enrich virtually everything (it gets hundreds of billions of dollars) but uranium, which it had already agreed not to do in a deal brokered by Barack Obama that was torn up by Trump in his first term. It also requires Israel to agree to stop hostilities, notably against Lebanon, a requirement that may prove hard to enforce since Trump started the illegal war against Iran at the prompting of Israeli PM Bibi Netanyahu, who shows no signs of wanting to end his military campaigns and face charges of corruption in Israeli courts. Sound familiar? A typical Trump “win.”

      — Maybe it’s just me, but: Kash Patel is pathetic. The make-believe director of the FBI proudly announced the bureau’s avoidance of a potentially deadly attack with the arrest of a group of anti-MAGA young men who planned to attack Trump’s birthday party brawl on the White House lawn. Turns out the suspects were actually disenchanted MAGA creeps who didn’t trust the government (ironically) and thought it was covering up the Epstein files story. It also turns out the suspects were turned in by the parents of one of them and were arrested by the Secret Service before the June 14 event, so no one was in danger.

     — Maybe it’s just me, but: More on Ka$h. He’s so out of his league, he’s reportedly paying his security detail an extra $4,000 a week apiece (unauthorized) not to tell the media that he drinks on the job, often doesn’t wake up for work and really has no clue what he’s doing. Somehow, we’re finding out anyway. If he were a woman, Trump would have fired him by now.

    — Maybe it’s just me, but: Trump continues to display cognitive decline, including at the G7 talks, where he was perpetually out of touch with what was going on. To him, it’s just one continuous con job. The other world leaders present were mostly polite, but could not help but notice Trump’s disconnect. It is a national embarrassment for the U.S. and a potentially dangerous one. I repeat, again: This falls on the Republican Party, which has the power within its hands every day to remove him from office and replace him with someone who is at least mentally capable to deal with the demands of the job. All it needs is the moral fortitude to do it.

      — Maybe it’s just me, but: Jimmy wouldn’t let me finish without congratulating the New York Knicks for winning the NBA championship, despite Trump. Also, congrats to the current champs on rejecting the Trump invitation to have Big Macs in the White House in favor of a ride in the Canyon of Champions in NYC. Well done.

      — Maybe it’s just me, but: Sometimes patience is rewarded. On a personal note, fifty-three years ago, I got to watch the Reed, Bradley, DeBuscherre, Frazier, Monroe, Barnett, Lucas, Meminger, Bibby, Jackson group that won the last team title. Nice seat in the Garden press box during a brief stint as a sports editor. Gotta remember the good times when the other stuff piles up.

                                     — 30 — 

By Bob Gaydos 

The original Stars and Stripes

     Sunday, June 14, is the 251st anniversary of the birth of the U.S. Army. It is also the 249th anniversary of the birth of the Stars and Stripes, the American Flag. (Priorities. The colonials needed an army before they could declare their own flag.)

     It is still known as Flag Day, but it never had enough pull in Congress to be declared one of the “official“ federal holidays, meaning it’s celebrated but nobody gets a day off. So, no day off for Flag Day, but you wouldn’t even know it exists since the so-called mainstream media have ignored that fact in reporting on the mixed martial arts fights that are scheduled to take place on the torn up White House lawn on Sunday to celebrate Donald Trump’s birthday.

      Yeah, June 14 is his birthday, too. The gods must have been angry or drunk. So, no, there will be no ceremonies at the White House to honor the flag, its history and protocols surrounding it. (For example, civilians not in uniform do NOT salute the flag, as Trump does, but rather place their hand over their heart.) For that, you’ll have to go to the National Constitution Center in Philadelphia. The Stripes and Stars Festival, honoring the flag, will take place there and at the Betsy Ross House and on Independence Mall. They get it in Philly.

      If you’re around New York City and in a patriotic mood the Committee for the First Amendment is presenting a Concert for the First Amendment at Town Hall Sunday night. Bette Midler, Patti Smith, Julia Roberts, Rufus Wainwright and Jane Fonda are among those scheduled to appear.  It will also be streamed for viewing at watch parties nationally. Local veterans groups also sponsor events to honor the flag.

     At the White House, you’ll get seven matches in which two men get into an octagonal “ring“ and try to beat the crap out of each other any way they can. No Marquis of Queensbury Rules. It’s kind of like the way the birthday boy approaches politics. Reports of cockfights scheduled on the back lawn for July 4 could not be verified.

     The grotesque fighting structure on the White House lawn, which Trump says he might want to just leave there when the fighting is done, joins the demolished East Wing and rising skeleton of a grand ballroom, the outdoor dining patio that replaced the torn up Jackie Kennedy Rose Garden and all the golden glitz inside as part of Trump’s focus on redecorating a house in which he is only a temporary tenant. An odd preoccupation for a man who has a war to fight.

     In any event, the Ultimate Fighting Competition Freedom 250 event (the 250 is the obvious token effort by the White House to make this seem like a patriotic event in honor of the 250th birthday of America, not Trump’s birthday) is scheduled to go on Sunday night with the full fight card, although some of the RSVPs might not be to Trump’s liking.

    Reports say some of the scheduled fighters weren’t too thrilled with appearing and some of Trump’s special invited guests were apparently not ready to cough up $1 million to sit in the box next to Trump as he dozes through seven matches. And the viewing screens set around the city were not expected to draw the huge throngs Trump typically predicts for events he sponsors. Also, it’s going to be brutally hot and it might pour. One can always hope.

     Maybe the gods will have sobered up.

Addiction and Recovery

The Big Book

By Bob Gaydos

On June 10, 1935, Bob Smith, a doctor in Akron, Ohio, had a beer to steady his hand for surgery he was about to perform. It was the last drink of alcohol Smith, who had tried and failed to stop drinking many times, ever had. It became the founding date of a movement that in 90 years has grown to some 2 million members around the world: Alcoholics Anonymous.

Smith was the famous Dr. Bob, the first person Bill Wilson “talked” into sobriety by repeatedly telling the doctor how he, himself a hopeless drunk, had managed to stay sober. Wilson had failed with other potential converts, but realized at some point that, while the others were still drinking, he was managing to stay sober by telling other alcoholics his story. Smith eventually followed the same path and the story-telling has continued ever since.

Eventually, the two men put their stories and other stories of recovery into a book, along with the steps they took to get and stay sober.

It is one of the best-selling and most influential books of all time, with more than 30 million copies having been sold and millions of lives changed by what is contained on its pages. Yet it is not exaggeration to suggest that many of its readers don’t know the actual name of the book.

It is known, proudly and even reverentially, by most who have read it as the Big Book. Officially, the book’s title is “Alcoholics Anonymous,’’ the same as the 12-Step program for treating alcoholism (and other addictions) described within its covers. A dozen years ago, the Library of Congress included it on a list of “Books That Shaped America.”

There are 88 books on the list, ranging from Thomas Paine’s “Common Sense,” to Edgar Rice Burroughs’ “Tarzan the Ape Man,” with the common factor among all being that “they shaped Americans’ views of their world and the world’s views of America.”

While it may not be for everyone, the Big Book has certainly shaped people’s views and lives. Since it was first published in 1939, it has been the textbook, if you will, of how to get and stay sober for millions around the world. AA has spawned numerous other 12-step programs to deal with addictive behavior. And, while basing its recovery program on established spiritual, psychological and medical precepts, Alcoholics Anonymous has also widened the dialogue within all three areas and influenced the way practitioners in those fields deal with addiction.

One could say the Big Book is a classic example of what it preaches. Much of the recovery program contained is taken from the Oxford Group, a Christian fellowship that emphasized self-examination, making amends and working with others. (Wilson and Smith both were members of the Oxford Group for significant periods.) But the Oxford Group’s heavy religious emphasis did not sit well with many of the other drunks who were early member of AA. As a result, most references to “God” were eliminated or changed to a “Higher Power of your understanding.”

Editing also changed the preachy “you” to the inclusive “we” in describing how alcoholics got sober. Thus, this is what we are and this what we did. If you follow these suggestions, “Rarely have we seen a person fail who has thoroughly followed our path.”

What do current members of AA think about the Big Book? A sampling of recent comments:

• “When I first read it, I had to say, ‘(Expletive!) I’m an alcoholic. How did they know?’”
• “I used to walk around with the Big Book (in early sobriety) like a protective shield.”
• “It helped me understand I have an allergy.”
• “In many ways it’s like the bible for alcoholics. It provides direction and order.”
• “Think about the impact. One person reads it and passes it on to others for more than 30 million.”
• “When they get (the Big Book) people are usually in such pain, they will read it.”
• “It gave me a guide for living, far beyond just not drinking.”
• “Simple rules for broken people.”

When it came time to publish the book, Wilson and the others chose The Cornwall Press, a now-defunct printing operation in Cornwall, N.Y.  Because they were going to charge $3.50 for the relatively short book, they wanted it to look impressive, so they used thick paper and the widest possible margins. Hence, the “Big Book” nickname. Subsequent printings were smaller in size, but the name stuck.

The first press run was for 4,800 copies, with the promise from the printers that more would be printed when the first copies were sold. But even those original copies were in limbo as the printer refused to release any books until they were paid for. Although printed in the winter of 1939, only a few copies were paid for at the time. The significant release came in early 1940 — 86 years ago. Today, with inflation, “Alcoholics Anonymous” sells for around $12, but many AA groups simply give copies to new members, continuing to spread its message from one drunk to another.

rjgaydos@gmail.com

By Bob Gaydos

    Let’s add party pooper (any way you want to take it) to the list of dubious attributes Donald Trump possesses. In the social consciousness area of not knowing when he’s not wanted and insisting on going where he’s not wanted, he’s clueless. In fact, he appears not to give a damn what the other partygoers think.

     So, Trump is going to New York City Monday night to crash the best garden party the city has known for decades and in the process create a lot of confusion and resentment.

     The New York Knicks are hosting the San Antonio Spurs at Madison Square Garden Monday night for game three of the National Basketball Association championship. The Knicks have won the first two games. The city is energized. It hasn’t had an NBA championship for decades and happy fans who can’t afford the pricey tickets have been celebrating outside Madison Square Garden, watching on a big screen, all season.

       They were there when the Knicks won the first game and it got a bit rowdy. People, including police, were injured. The city first said it would cancel the watch party, but relented.

       Then Trump said he was going, even though he didn’t have a ticket (which isn’t cheap), wasn’t invited and a lot of fans would probably boo him. No bother. He’s going.

       So the city again canceled the outdoor watch party because of serious security concerns with Trump and his entourage in midtown Manhattan. His presence will also make it more cumbersome and slow for ticket holders to get into the game. They are advised to arrive at least two hours before game time for security checks. Oh, and no purses, backpacks or tote bags allowed.

        All because Trump wants to soak in the adoration and glory of others’ accomplishments, thus draining the joy out of Knicks’ fans anticipation of a long-awaited championship. Talk about resentment.There will be boos.

     The truth is, Trump’s such a party pooper that when he announced his own party for June 24 to help celebrate America’s 250th Birthday, virtually all the announced B-list performers said they wouldn’t go because, well, for one thing, no one asked them about performing. Others said they didn’t like Trump. Others said they didn’t like the bad publicity attached to the so-called great American State Fair. Undeterred, Trump says he’ll be the entertainment. 

    He also appointed a group of supplicants to plan America’s 250th birthday party next month, replacing the official party planning group and the results are likely to be similar to the state fair fiasco. Dull, boring and a major disappointment to millions of Americans. And he trashed the White House Lawn for a fighting exhibition June 14, his birthday. Used to be Flag Day, a day of respect. He says he might just leave the ring there. 

     We deserve better.

     I keep hoping for better. In fact, the other day that young black squirrel I wrote about last year that was maybe moving into our neighborhood showed up again. Well, hello, neighbor. As I have noted, this one in 10,000 variety of squirrels is regarded in various cultures as a wise, noble, magic symbol of good fortune and good luck. 

    So far that luck has eluded me. Following my first sighting, Trump got elected. But the black squirrel, a persistent nut gatherer, keeps showing up. So I’m thinking maybe the young squirrel needed to grow into its magic powers. Like right about now. Maybe it can figure out a way to disinvite the party pooper permanently so that America can celebrate its 250th birthday party and more with dignity and gratitude. I don’t think it’s too much to ask.

      If it happens, I’d be happy to supply all the nuts any squirrel could desire for the 251st.

By Bob Gaydos 

Trump tried to steal the name and reputation of JFK.

   Donald Trump is addicted to the Name Game. He loves nothing more than slapping his name on anything, especially things not even remotely connected with his talents or abilities or accomplishments, all of which are virtually non-existent.

  He has made a career of building monuments to his ego by constructing or buying buildings, golf courses, casinos — an airline — and gilding them with tacky gold everywhere before driving most of them into bankruptcy.

  There was Trump University and the Trump charitable foundation, both phony money-grabbing schemes which he was ordered to shut down and repay those he bilked. 

 He also sells the rights to use his name for those foolish enough to want to put it on their buildings. He even managed to bankrupt the historic Plaza Hotel in New York City for Pete’s sake and sully its reputation by gilding it with cheap gold and slapping his name on it before selling it for an $83 million loss.

    It seems he’s not very good at the game. The latest, perhaps most satisfying, example of Trump losing the game came on May 29, the birthday of John F. Kennedy.

     In what I refuse to believe was a coincidence, U.S. District Judge Christopher Cooper took the occasion of the late president’s birthday to order Trump’s name removed from the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C. The judge said Congress had created the memorial and only Congress could change the name. Trump had no authority to put his name above Kennedy’s on one of the nation’s premier and most revered institutions.

    The judge also said Trump couldn’t just shut the center down for “repairs” because no one was going there since Trump’s new appointed board took over and top performers were refusing to appear there.

    The Kennedy family took its turn at the game also, honoring JFK’s memory on his birthday by presenting the annual Profile in Courage awards to Jerome Powell, outgoing chair of the Federal Reserve and the People of the Twin Cities of Minnesota.

    Powell was honored for protecting the independence and stability of the Federal Reserve against a constant  stream of threats and personal insults from Trump. The people of the Twin Cities were honored for risking their lives through peaceful resistance against an onslaught of ICE enforcement agents sent there as part of Trump’s war against America.

     The awards were presented at the JFK Library and are named in honor of the Pulitzer Prize-winning book, “Profiles in Courage,” authored by Kennedy and Ted Sorensen, his speech writer. Kennedy’s wartime heroics were detailed in the book, “PT 109.”

     Trump’s name on a library would be a joke and any book with his name on it was not about heroism and was written entirely by someone else who doesn’t brag about identifying a camel on a cognitive test.

    All in all, May 29 turned out to be a really bad game day for an insecure little man who likes nothing more than the sound of his own name. Well-played, Judge Cooper and Kennedy clan.

(While scrolling through my Facebook feed the other day I spotted a column I had written a year ago. Apparently, a friend had spotted it in his feed in the memories category and had reposted it. Well, how nice I thought. Always good to feel appreciated. I read the column to see what I had written and, wouldn’t you know, since it had to deal with Trump, etc., it still applies, although Susan Collins is now on the fence. Anyway, here it is again. And thanks, Patrick.)

By Bob Gaydos

     Had breakfast with a friend the other day, trying out a new coffee shop in town. Nice addition.

      The conversation touched on the usual stuff. Too much rain. What’s planted in the garden, the hummingbird count, the challenges in living in a house with another person. Living on a planet with certain other people.

      That last proved provocative. With regard to those certain other people, my friend offered that, if he were a praying man, he would pray for The Rapture.

      I got his intent, but I suggested that I thought he had it backwards. Having read “Left Behind,“ I knew it was the good, caring, kind, faithful humans who were transported off the planet to Heaven, I believe, leaving their clothing and loved ones behind.

      The others, the nasty ones, the ones my friend wanted to be rid of, stayed and, through a series of books, fended for and against themselves and other non-believers. So I suggested that, assuming we wanted to remain in whatever state this is for a while longer, what we needed was a Reverse Rapture.

   We needed someplace we could pray for all those You Know Whats to be sent to, without any get-out-of-jail card in the form of an Orpheus, if I may be allowed to mix my miracles.

     Hades. Yes, Hades. The Underworld would do.

     So, who would we want to go? Personally, I’d start with Trump and his immediate family. The whole crew. Every member of his Cabinet and White House staff. Every lawyer who ever worked for him, except for Michael Cohen. Elon Musk. J.D.Vance. Every current Republican member of Congress, except for Susan Collins and Lisa Murkowski. The authors of Project 2025. Anyone who wears a Maga T-shirt or hat. Anyone who identifies as a journalist but works and lies for Fox News. Putin. Kim. Hamas and all the other terrorists. The pushers of fentanyl. Laura Loomer. (Speaking of Loomer and Kristi Noem and the Barbi press contact and the attorney general and all the other Trumpettes, Hades will come with no cosmetic amenities, including plastic surgeons. Zero. Just saying.)

    Also, all those mask-wearing ICE employees who’ve been enjoying grabbing people off the street, out of their homes, wherever, with no warrants or concern for the people or the law. And Clarence Thomas, to fulfill Hades’ DEI requirements.

     And, really, anyone who voted for Trump three times. What were they thinking? They get a special wing in Hades where The Apprentice plays on big screens constantly. In Spanish. And they have to use their bitcoin to buy English subtitles, but they already gave it all to Trump, who gave it all to the Saudi royal family (they’re there, too), who promised to build a Hades Trump Tower using white South African immigrants for labor. It could take a while, but who really cares?

     Now, all that cosmic deportation would obviously leave behind a whole lot of room, especially in this big, beautiful country, and a lot of available work for good, caring, reliable, nice, talented, decent, tolerant human beings, maybe from Venezuela or Mexico or Greenland or Panama or El Salvador.

      Too much to ask for, you say? Especially over breakfast? Hell, if you’re going to pray for anything, especially a Reverse Rapture, I say why not go all in?

       Besides, checks and balances seems to be broken.

                                     ***

Additions to the prayer chain are welcome.