European Debrief

...and thoughts on the debate/election

Two weeks ago, I put loyal readers on notice that I would be taking some time off for travel and visitors. Well, the travel happened as scheduled, but the visitors are put off for a bit while my lovely and unfortunate Catherine recovers from COVID likely acquired from the bio-hazard of a gentleman sitting near her on the flight Friday from Prague to Frankfurt. Her being in said seat is entirely my fault, as when I made our reservations and selected our seats, I put myself into the window and her into the middle of three seats, even though our couple-practice is that she gets the window and I get the middle. I was incautious in making in this choice as many other times in the past, I’ve done the same thing and we just take our preferred seats. For some odd (and generally welcome) reason, my three flights on Lufthansa this go-round were all upgraded to business. As we passed through the gate Friday, the little gate monitor piped up electronically and indicated that I had indeed been upgraded AGAIN to business. Ordinarily a great thing, this injected great uncertainty into our logistics, as it was almost certain that they had filled my window seat with some other customer, which would leave my poor inamorata in the middle. This is not a path to relationship bliss, so I did the gentlemanly, loving, wise thing and offered her my (aisle) business seat while I sat a few rows behind in the middle (maybe an hour flight). And it was in this seemingly copacetic arrangement that she was seated next to Typhoid Murray who hacked and geezed throughout her flight.

So, instead of it being early Monday morning 1 July and on my way to business in Virginia and DC, I am sitting in front of my computer chatting with you whilst my honey-bun sleeps. I’ve already done a few chores, and I imagine she’ll text me soon wondering why I am still here. Adding to her great pain is the fact that we had a number of people joining us for the festivities of our nation’s founding, annual visitors made up mainly of her friends/spouses from high school with a recent addition of a buddy of mine from college. I’ve done the dirty business this morning of waving him off, and I am not a little saddened as a result.

So, given these lemons I have decided upon a meringue. Throughout my trip (Kiel, Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna, Prague) I wrote myself little reminders of things that had my attention, things that I might use in this rambling edition that I had thought would be on the street a week from now. Additionally, while gone, our great nation indulged in additional foot-shooting, as our addled, decrepit, untrustworthy, and criminal (you assign as desired) major party candidates “debated” while I slept soundly in Prague. I have some thoughts on that shit-show to close this missive.

Random, Crusty, Musings in No Particular Order

Phones, photos. There are many societal evils attributable to the “smart” phone and its ubiquity, but the one I’d like to concentrate on here is the unequaled foulness of the camera being affixed to the phone. This one engineering decision alone has led to incalculable social decline, the “crack” for the greater evils of social media. There was once a time (gather round, boys and girls, as I tell you of the World of Generation X) when a person bought a little roll of film and inserted it into a camera. There was some limited number of opportunities available in that roll, somewhere generally between one and several dozen. When the film was “used up” you sent it away or brought it to a facility for processing, and week later you got an envelope with your prints and the negatives should you have some future use thereof.

Scarcity drove photo-taking decisions. Because one could not take an endless number of photos of oneself vamping and preening in the presence of God’s greatness or man’s achievements, visitors…you know…actually EXPERIENCED God’s greatness and man’s achievements. Before moving on to the next experience, you set up a shot or maybe asked someone to shoot you in that shot (but not nearly as much as people do today), and you hoped for the best.

We walked around great European capitals visiting churches, libraries, and museums (including the “Sex Machines” Museum in Prague, interesting) , walking along ancient Roman roads and surrounded by transcendent beauty—all the while treated to the farcical behavior of digital photo addicts capturing themselves missing out on the experience in the photo. The behavior of others really impacted my own, as I decided that I would REALLY stop and be in the moment wherever I was, and that photos be damned, I would rely on my increasingly addled memory to imprint these experiences. I have computer files FULL of random digital photos that I NEVER LOOK AT, and I decided that rather than add to this digital detritus, I would add to my sense of living and experiencing. I do not regret this decision. Don’t get me wrong—I did take photos. I simply did not let their obtaining be the point. Here are a few:

Croatian Football Fans beering up at 0830

BoatNutz, Kiel GE

Yes, I have the refined sense of humor of an 11 year old

Further to my last…

GHW Bush in Budapest

Mushrooms for Breakfast. I realize many of us have mushrooms on omelets, but the serving of a large vat of beautiful mushrooms as a breakfast choice on a European breakfast buffet is downright INSPIRED.

My Terrible Sense of Direction. That I was allowed to command a Destroyer in our Nation’s Great Navy defies understanding once one becomes familiar with my incredibly bad sense of direction. Catherine drove our touring agenda (another brilliant decision) and so as we walked around beautiful sites, she navigated us flawlessly from place to place using her little Apple phone and her well-developed sense of direction. On the rare occasion (battery life, etc.) in which I was called upon to perform this task, I lasted for about a block before I became turned around and handed her my phone. One must know one’s limitations.

About Those Damn Apple Phones. I do not own an Apple product, I have not drunk the Kool-Aide, I am not a cult member. Everyone close to me has/is, including the three women of my immediate family and my five siblings from my origin group. For whatever mysterious technical reason, every time one of those jack-butted Apple users decides to “like” or “laugh” at a text in a chain, for we enlightened Android users, it becomes another text. This is particular an acute problem as my mother is ailing and a good deal of traffic flows via text message. Why do you Apple people have to like or laugh? Please stop. And President Biden, as you piss away your chances playing small-ball on airline fees, etc., how about working on this one, mmmkay?

The word “colleague”. Europeans communicating in English (those for whom it is not their native language) use the word “colleague” more in conversation than we do here. I almost never use it. I had to chuckle when a busboy in Kiel referred to his “colleague” (the hostess). He’s not wrong.

On the Wearing of Shorts by Grown Men. I am generally against it, unless one is actively engaged in some kind of physical activity or entertaining at one’s own house in the middle of a hot day. I saw a shocking number of male tourists in great world capitals walking around with vile denim shorts (rolled up an inch) that made them look as if it were 1991. Be better.

On the Wearing of Nose Rings. I don’t care for it, not one bit. I get it. Why is the nose any different from the ear, or the navel, or one of the other odd places a person can choose to pierce themselves (I once heard of a dude whose nickname was “Hardware” because of the number of piercings he had on his…manhood). The answer is that when one is conversing with another human being, it is generally correct to attain and maintain eye contact. However, when there is jewelry right smack dab in the field of view, I am unable to do anything but stare at it.

The most vile of all is the bull-ring. What in God’s name is the wearer trying to convey? There seem to be two general bull-ring wearers (among women, as I do not care to even consider their wearing by men)—otherwise attractive women who appear to be “posing”, and somewhat unattractive women with blue (or orange) hair for whom the bull ring is one of the least noticeable adornments (see Tats, etc.). Not all bull-ring wearers have hair dyed unnatural colors, but those with unnaturally colored hair are far more likely to be “be-noseringed”.

The Goddess, Jennifer Connelly. I was supposed to ride a grand train from Hamburg to Budapest (via Vienna) to meet up with Catherine who flew over separately whilst I did my navalist thing in Kiel, Germany. She was there for two days and expressed the reasonable thought that my meandering by train for 13 hours was not the best use of my time. Recognizing the right answer when presented with it, I nabbed a flight from Hamburg to Budapest through Zurich and managed to avert another crisis. I had about an hour or so in Zurich to wander the airport, which is pretty posh, and when complete, I made my way to the departure gate for the flight to Budapest. Sitting there, with a girl of maybe 12 or 13 (her daughter as I would eventually learn), was none other than Jennifer Connelly, who along with Diane Lane, comprises my entire list of “Desert Island” women (not counting Catherine, natch). I first discovered the work of Ms. Connelly in a music video, oh I don’t know, maybe 40 years ago— provided below for documentary purposes only:

The next place I recall picking up track on her again was in 1997’s “Inventing the Abbots” a movie that I recall thinking was much better than I thought it would be. She hung an Oscar on the board or her role in “A Beautiful Mind” (both a great book and movie), and has gone on to have a great career in Hollywood. Her role in the latest ”Top Gun” movie is really, really well done.

Lately I’ve run across her in a superb Apple TV (yes, the cult, I must correct my earlier remark, as I use Apple TV to stream) series called “Dark Matter”. The bottom line is that she has aged perfectly, and she is as beautiful today as she was decades ago. And then I has ten feet from her.

I swear I was numb. Starstruck in its most literal sense. She and her daughter were sitting there quietly chatting with each other, just like normal people. I wrote that just now, because that’s how I was interpreting it in real time. “My goodness. She’s a real person. She loves her daughter. She’s probably filming a move in Budapest and she’s got her school aged daughter along for the experience”.

We did not board through a gate, we had to get on a bus. Jennifer Connelly had to get on a crowded bus. She did so without incident and quite normally. I had already texted Catherine about this amazing situation, and she (quite kindly) gave me leave should anything romantic develop between us. Were she to happen upon Colin Firth, I would offer the same.

We boarded the plane, she before me, and imagine my great good fortune in her being in the aisle of row 3 and I at the widow (across) in row 4). I had a great view of this vision of loveliness who I desperately tried not to look at as I had developed a great deal of sympathy for her young daughter, who probably has to put up with lurkers and cretins and overenthusiastic fans all the time. How could someone I have considered the vision of beauty for most of my adult life be even more attractive in person than on the screen. Impossible, but there you have it.

Upon landing, she and her daughter were whisked away by groundstaff while the rest of us got on a bus again. She was a really good level of famous. Famous enough that people knew who she was, but human enough for people to give a good deal of space to. In fact, I only saw two people attempt to engage her, one of which was a flight attendant.

Turning 59. I celebrated my 59th Birthday in Prague, attending an organ recital in an ancient church and smashing down a club sandwich in an Irish Pub afterward. Six months until I can begin downloads from retirement accounts, so I got that goin’ for me.

If you’ve enjoyed this reverie but don’t wish to hear my views on modern American politics, stop here. Because this is likely to get ugly.

The Debate Debacle

I woke in Prague on Friday June 28 and checked my phone, knowing that there would have been a debate the evening before. I was not surprised to read what I read, as what transpired was as plain as the nose (no rings) on our faces.

I voted for Joe Biden in 2020 because I believed then (and still believe) that Donald Trump is a threat to the Constitutional order, hence national security. I remain as committed a conservative (pre-Trump meaning) as I ever was. It was not easy to vote for someone with whom I disagree on virtually every policy matter, but he did what I required and he defeated his opponent.

In the years since, Biden has (quite naturally) declined, physically and mentally. He is unfit to run for a second term, and after Thursday’s debate, the concept that he is fit to continue in office should be seriously questioned. He is losing the race to a man who the Democratic Party calls an “existential threat”, and were he to leave the race to his Vice President she would be defeated by an even larger margin.

His decline has been purposefully hidden by his staff, who probably came to believe that they had succeeded in pulling one over on the electorate. They had not. Yet anyone writing or taking about Biden’s obvious unfitness was deemed a “Trump enabler” or worse.

Trump lied at every turn in his performance, but that is what his supporters love about him. He was able to be uncharacteristically civil, because he was watching another man unravel before his eyes. It didn’t have to be this way. It doesn’t have to be this way. Joe Biden COULD have sat this election out. Kamala Harris COULD have fought out a primary fight with any number of Democrats who would more ably serve in office than President Biden. Joe Biden can still quit the race.

Because if you think Donald Trump is an existential threat, and you are losing what was once a winnable race (against a convicted felon losing his liquor licenses), you realize that Joe Biden is NOT GOING TO GET ANY BETTER. What he did on Thursday night was the result of 8 days of preparation and no other public events. What he did was THE BEST that he can do.

Don’t believe those trying to convince you not to trust your own eyes and instincts. He cannot continue to serve, he deserves to be replaced. This does not mean that people should then say, “well I have to vote for Trump then”. Because you don’t. You can not vote. You can withhold your vote on that one office. You can write in someone. I will choose one of these options.

The Democratic Party is as unserious about the future of this country as the present-day GOP is. Don’t be fooled otherwise.