There's a Chinese expression that goes "May you live in interesting times." I always thought it was a toast or an expression of goodwill until I looked up its origins (or "oringes"). I discovered it's called the "Chinese Curse," and its not a bon mot at all but a wish for misfortune towards another. The significance being that uninteresting times are peaceful and uneventful. So perhaps the Chinese were prescient when it comes to our current state of instability, but no one should have to live like this. It's difficult knowing your country's chief executive is a schizoid, delusional megalomaniac when every day, every day, brings a fresh new outrage. I'm not a morning person but my wife is, so we have a ritual when I wake up asking "What new horror happened today?" We can't escape from watching the news like it's a poor man's "Game of Thrones" miniseries. It's exhausting keeping up with the unpredictable conduct of this vile man when your rage and disgust have already been sapped. Some claim they've become numb to the president's abhorrent behavior. I have simply become drained by the daily onslaught of his boasts, his warped opinions, his disdain for the rule of law, and his endless mantra of "No collusion. No obstruction."
During Trump's on-camera meltdown in last Thursday's press pool spray, he unleashed a tsunami of lies. One account had him telling at least twenty-one lies about the Russia investigation. Trump's endless repetition of falsehoods point to his misguided fascination with "The Big Lie," as espoused by Germany in the thirties. It used to be verboten for a credible journalist to compare the evils of any American citizen to Hitler, but those unwritten rules are no longer viable in the age of Steven Miller and Steve Bannon. In a 1990 Vanity Fair interview, Trump's first wife, Ivana, said that her husband often read a book of Hitler's collected speeches, "My New Order," which he kept in a cabinet by his bed. I'm surprised that he reads anything at all, but in reading Hitler's verbiage, he might have come across this quote, "Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it and eventually they will believe it." Or, perhaps he came across this aphorism from Nazi Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels, "A lie told once remains a lie but a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth." But let's get real, Trump doesn't read. The most likely explanation is that he learned the technique from his late attorney, Roy Cohn, who was once described as, "The...most evil, twisted, vicious bastard ever to snort coke ar Studio 54." Trump tweeted, "I had nothing to do with Russia helping me to get elected." He later deleted his Freudian slip.
In a single week in the post-Mueller Report Trumpworld, he threatened Mexico with a pyramid scheme of tariffs if they did not stop the influx of wretched immigrants fleeing violence from Central American "shithole countries." Trump mansplained, "It's about stopping drugs as well as illegals," to which Mexican President Lopez Obrador replied, "Social problems don't get resolved with...coercive measures." After Trump's tariff announcement the stock market dropped like an anvil. Even Republican firebrands were incensed. Doddering Iowa Senator "Chuck" Grassley said, "This is a misuse of presidential authority." The old pig castrator and Iowa's junior Senator Joni Ernst said, "Progress to get this trade agreement (USMCA, the acronym for the rebranded NAFTA), across the finish line will be stifled." After threatening Mexico, Trump issued an "emergency declaration," allegedly caused by Iran, in order to sell billions of dollars worth of arms to Saudi Arabia while bypassing Congress. He then taunted Iran saying, "If Iran wants to fight, that will be the official end of Iran." Then it was reported that while Trump was in a Japanese harbor, a White House directive to move the USS John McCain from the fragile president's view was received by the Navy. Since it is cumbersome to put a destroyer in reverse, the Navy ended up obscuring the ship's name with a canvas tarp and then denying the entire incident.
By the time you read this, the Trump three-day family excursion to England will be over, so we have to wait to see what shameful conduct occurs. Before leaving, Emperor Trump interfered with British politics, endorsing doppelganger Boris Johnson as the next Prime Minister; insulted Princess Meghan Markle in the Rupert Murdoch owned tabloid The Sun saying, "I didn't know she was a nasty woman," then denying it until it was learned a recording existed; and claimed Europe is destroying its culture by admitting so many immigrants. There are protests planned all over England and Ireland to Trump's official visit. He will be met by the image of a giant penis mowed into property owned by an enterprising landscaper on the approach to Stansted Airport, and the familiar giant inflated Trump baby blimp soaring above the city. London Mayor Sadiq Khan claimed Trump was, "one of the most egregious examples of a growing global threat," and compared his language to "fascists of the twentieth century." Trump retorted in a tweet saying Khan was "a stone cold loser." The mayor is not attending the state banquet hosted by the Queen at Buckingham Palace. Here's hoping the menu will include a well-done steak and plenty of ketchup.
Fans of the quiz show Jeopardy! already know that there's something special happening on the venerable old program. A thirty-five year old professional sports gambler from Las Vegas is shattering records during a twenty-two game streak that has earned him almost $1.7 million. The contestant, James Holzhauer, is on track to surpass the earnings of previous Jeopardy! phenom, Ken Jennings, who earned $2.5 million in seventy-four consecutive games in 2004. As a devotee of the show, he's the best I've ever seen and I've been watching since college. That's pre-Trebek for those with sentimental attachments to Art Fleming. What makes Holzhauer stand out from anybody else on a hot streak is his bold style. First of all, I never heard anyone even admit to being a professional sports gambler except that guy Robert De Niro played in Casino, and it ended badly for him. Holzhauer plays Jeopardy! like a poker player. "My approach isn't complicated," he explained, "Get some money, hit the Daily Doubles, bet big, and hope I run hot." So if he calmly bets $38 thousand on a single trivia question, Holzhauer says, "It's only money." Seemingly fearless, Holzhauer goes for the highest value questions first and pushes imaginary poker chips with an "all in" gesture every chance he gets. He's been correct 97% of the time. His aggressive betting on the show's "Final Jeopardy!" question has served him well. He's answered twenty-one out of twenty-two questions. I'm telling you, this guy is the Tiger Woods of Jeopardy!
Doing my due diligent googling, I landed on a site called "The Jeopardy! Fan," which had lots of stats. Consider this: Holzhauer won $131,127 in one game, beating the previous record of $77 thousand. Out of the top ten highest earning games in Jeopardy!'s thirty-five years in its current iteration, Holzhauer holds all ten. On April 17, all forty-one questions he buzzed in on were answered correctly. In Jeopardy! parlance, that's a perfect game, or like I like to call it, pitching a Sandy Koufax. After admitting to growing up watching Jeopardy! and promising his grandmother that he would be a contestant one day, Holzhauer said he likes to go to the children's section of the library to prepare. Children's books are "Chock-full of infographics, pictures and all kind of stuff to keep the reader engaged." He has already donated a portion of his winnings to the Las Vegas Library District along with the Ronald McDonald House and the Las Vegas Natural History Museum. Holzhauer's streak has improved Jeopardy!'s ratings by ten percent with over ten million viewers per day, making it the third highest viewed syndicated television program, just behind Judge Judy and Wheel of Fortune.
If I seem enthusiastic about Jeopardy!, it's because it's a family thing. When the old homestead still stood, instead of the McMansion that now stands, I would drop in on my parents to watch the show. My father was the best player among us by far. Currently, every weekday at 3:55, my ninety-seven year old mother can expect a call from me about Final Jeopardy! The thing that separates me from my smart family members is that I was once chosen to be a contestant. In 2003, the Jeopardy! bus came to Memphis and their representatives set up shop in Peabody Place. Initially, you were given a ten question quiz on a variety of subjects and out of a thousand people, about fifty scored high enough to be invited back for a fifty-question quiz. Out of that group, the high scorers returned to play a mock game, buzzer and all. Although I felt anxious and nauseous going in, a surprising calm came over me when it came to playing the game. When I exited waving that golden ticket to my wife, I was euphoric. I was assured by a Jeopardy! producer that they would be calling me with a date for my appearance. Thanks to my Kudzu's pub-quiz team-member and former Jeopardy! champ, Ilene Markell, I was given reams of material to study and strengthen my weaknesses, like Shakespeare, science, math, pop culture, mythology, European history, anagrams, national parks, the Revolutionary War, British monarchs, and those darned before and after questions, among others. I was going to meet Alex Trebek. Then something happened.
On July 22, what the National Weather Service called the "Mid-South Derecho of 2003," but locals called Hurricane Elvis, roared through Memphis with straight-line winds surpassing one hundred miles per hour, flattening trees and power lines and leaving over three-hundred thousand LG&W customers in the dark. We tried to tough it out, but after a week of extreme heat and the constant ear-piercing din of a neighbor's faulty generator, we packed up the dogs and moved to an animal friendly motel on Sycamore View Drive. What we thought would be a short inconvenience turned into fifteen days. We were among the last households to have power restored. If Jeopardy! had called, they would have heard that "temporarily out-of-service" message. When the call never came, I could only surmise that they phoned during the aftermath of Hurricane Elvis while we were living it up at the Day's Inn. I called the Jeopardy! office to explain but was told I had to retake the test. I said that I still knew the same stuff that I did during the audition but was instructed to either come to Los Angeles to try out or take the online test. I've been a miserable failure at the online tests. I never learned to type, which is a necessary component. For all the traumatic testing, the elation of securing an invitation, and the deflating, deafening sound of the phone not ringing, all I got was a lousy key-chain. I treasure it, though. The number of contestants that have been mowed down by James Holzhauer has softened the blow. I could have been like that character in "Cheers" who blows Final Jeopardy! and has to live with the shame. As for Holzhauer's streak, we'll have to wait until May 20th, after the teacher's tournament, to see if the professional gambler can surpass Ken Jennings as the greatest Jeopardy! champion ever. I'll take odds that he does it.
Somehow, President Hickenlooper just doesn't sound right. But then neither does President Trump. But the former Colorado Governor is one of nearly two dozen candidates running for the Democratic nomination for President in 2020. And despite having the number one economy in the nation, Hickenlooper has no real chance of winning. So why do they do it? Is it to embellish their profiles or just to raise money? And what happens to that money when they invariably drop out? Money talks and bullshit walks these days, so the most cash talks the most trash. Already, records are being broken for fundraising and the campaign hasn't officially started yet. There are so many aspiring Democrats that you can't tell the players without a program, so in no particular order, here are the top contenders for the opportunity to crush and humiliate the cruelest president in American history.
Joe Biden: Leave it to the Democrats to kneecap the front-runner before the race begins. Biden's latest controversy comes from former Nevada state assemblywoman Lucy Flores, who has accused the seventy-six year old pol of smelling her hair and giving her a "big slow kiss" on the top of her head. Ever seen Biden swearing in new members of congress with their families? Joe hugs and kisses everyone. He's just a hands-on guy. Some find it endearing, but now that it seems as if the #metoo movement has crossed some sort of line, Joe has promised to stop giving neck massages and sniffing hair. Biden comes with enough baggage to fill a cargo plane; failed runs for president, plagiarism accusations, the Anita Hill circus, the Iraq war vote. In his favor, Biden said of Trump, "I wish we were in high school. I could take him behind the gym. That's what I wish." If that event were put on pay-per-view television, we could clear up the national debt. And to his credit, when Biden was Obama's Veep, it was a big fucking deal.
Bernie Sanders: I thought I was "feeling the Bern," but it turned out to be just a urinary tract infection. Bernie's no longer a novelty so it will be a lot tougher for him to gain traction this go-round, despite raising $18 million and counting. Ever notice how he throws up a lot of "air quotes" when speaking? I can't watch him anymore without thinking he's doing a poor impression of Larry David doing an impression of Bernie. Now that Bernie's ideas have reached the mainstream, who needs a Brooklyn born, seventy-seven year old Jewish Socialist from Vermont? Sit down Gramps, you're making me nervous and I'm holding a baseball bat.
Beto O'Rourke: Does he charge for those table dances or does he do them for free? The former Texas congressman is this year's golden boy, but just coming close to defeating Ted Cruz, the most loathed Senator in Congress, is not enough for a run at the presidency. He's loved by millennials for being in a punk rock band called Foss, which is the Icelandic word for "waterfall." As a teen, O'Rourke was in a computer hacking group known as the Cult of the Dead Cow, named after an abandoned Lubbock slaughterhouse, where his nom de plume was the "Psychedelic Warlord." Willie Nelson opened for him at a rally outside of Austin where Beto strapped on a guitar and joined the band in a version of, "Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die." He's been compared to Robert Kennedy, but when you're still skateboarding at 46, you're no RFK, sir.
Pete Buttigieg: "Mayor Pete" of South Bend, Indiana has become a phenom because he's intelligent and informed, qualities that used to work in your favor. Buttigieg, pronounced "Boot-edge-edge," is a tough name to put on a bumper sticker, but he could use the slogan, "Go out on a ledge with Buttigieg." Mayor Pete speaks seven languages other than English and although he is the first openly gay candidate, he would not be the first gay president. That honor goes to James Buchanan, the "lifelong bachelor" who was often considered the worst president in history until the orange putz emerged. At least he won't be grabbing anyone by the pussy.
Elizabeth Warren: The Massachusetts Senator already has her nickname from the evil one, "Pocahontas," for bungling her old family yarns about her alleged Cherokee Indian heritage. But since orangeface speak with forked tongue, she can get over it. Warren is the favorite for taking it to Trump, but the galloping palomino of history might have passed her by in 2016. Still a formidable foe who has suggested breaking up "Big Tech," which is fine by me. We could use a trust-buster like Teddy Roosevelt, someone who Trump thinks is a Democrat.
Kirsten Gillibrand: Appointed by the New York governor to fill Hillary's senate seat, Gillibrand has morphed from a "Blue Dog" Democrat with a 100% rating from the National Rifle Association into a "Yellow Dog" Democrat who's tilted mightily to the left. Known as the main cheerleader for drumming Al Franken out of Congress before it became known that it was a Republican hit job, Gillibrand voted to repeal D.C. laws banning semi-automatic weapons. That translates into no shot for the presidency.
Cory Booker: Rhodes Scholar, former jock at Stanford, vegetarian, and former mayor of Newark, New Jersey, Booker would be our first bald president since Eisenhower, if you don't count whatever that mess is on Trump's head. Passionate even when not needed, Booker lived in a low-income housing project called Brick Towers as mayor, so at least he wouldn't think the White House was a dump. Booker also saved his next-door neighbor from a burning building, making him the first potential Marvel Superhero candidate.
Kamala Harris: A former California prosecutor who made Brett Kavanaugh squirm, Harris would be the perfect candidate to try Trump for his high crimes and misdemeanors. While 27th District Attorney for San Francisco, Harris famously dated the then married mayor Willie Brown. Savvy and politically astute, Harris supports Medicare for all and legalization of marijuana. What's not to like?
Julian Castro: Former San Antonio mayor and first Latino candidate, but President Castro? I don't think so. Too soon. At least he would have a built-in body double.
Not enough space to get to Amy Klobuchar (mean to her staff), Tulsi Gabbard (first Hindu member of Congress who could call upon the elephant god Ganesh, remover of obstacles), Eric Swalwell (appeared with a frosted buzz-cut in his high school yearbook and annoying presence on cable TV), or Andrew Yang (do we need another businessman?), there are just too many also-rans when the only objective is to boot Mr. Nasty out of office. The word "orange" has no rhyme, but that's the color he'll be wearing when he's doing time. My pick for the Democratic ticket: Warren/Harris. Make America Maternal Again, (MAMA).
So what am I supposed to do with my Michael Jackson albums now? In twenty years they'll be collectors items but presently, I'm unable to listen to them in the same way as before the HBO documentary, "Leaving Neverland," aired. How can you compartmentalize the artists work from the artist? For Jackson fans, the documentary was devastating evidence that Jackson preyed on boys as young as seven and seduced their families as well. Two victims of Jackson's alleged abuse, now grown men, have come forward to testify, in graphic detail, about the abuse they suffered at the hands of the "King of Pop." Jackson himself admitted in a previous documentary that he shared his bed with young boys in a non-sexual, innocent manner. In the film, Michael claimed that it was all milk and cookies and video games and that he felt most comfortable in the company of children for their innocence, and to reclaim the childhood that he never had. We always knew that he was weird, but his explanation seemed plausible to Jackson's fans who wanted to believe it, including me.
I'll admit to being an unabashed fan of MJ from the time he first appeared as the child prodigy lead singer of the Jackson 5 until his death. The first CD I ever bought was "Off The Wall." I delighted in his first solo effort as a mature artist and even attended the Jackson 5's "Triumph" tour at the Mid-South Coliseum in 1981. When Jackson died in 2009, I wrote for this publication, "I truly believe that Jackson was an emotional man-child attempting to surround himself with the only group of people he felt he could completely trust: children. Even his trust in children was betrayed when the boy he tried to help with medical expenses and emotional support filed criminal molestation charges against him. After the young man and his mother were proven to be grifters and Jackson was acquitted of all charges, Michael was forever burdened with suspicions of pedophilia." Boy, was I ever wrong. Maybe the twenty-four million dollar settlement to the family should have been a clue. But I chose to believe his earnest denials of impropriety because I thought Michael was a unique person in this world whose sole purpose was to bring joy to his fans. He sure fooled me. As a result of the heartbreaking HBO documentary, I'll never listen to "Don't Stop 'Till You Get Enough," or "Smooth Criminal," without thinking of his aberrant sleepovers.
"Leaving Neverland" came on the heels of the six-part Lifetime series, "Surviving R. Kelly," in which underage girls as young as fourteen told harrowing stories of being abused and held captive by the fifty-two year old superstar. In 2008, Kelly was acquitted of fourteen counts of child pornography in a Chicago courtroom, but rumors continued to swirl about his penchant for mistreating young girls and creating a "sex cult." His marriage to his fifteen year-old protege, Aaliyah, in 1994 sealed the deal on his alleged pedophilia. The Kelly produced, Aaliyah debut album "Age Ain't Nothing But A Number," should have been an in-your-face confession. Kelly forbid questions about Aaliyah in his recent bizarre interview with Gayle King in which he dissolved into a frightful hysterical denial of everything negative ever said about him. Does this mean I can't enjoy "I Believe I Can Fly" anymore? If that's the case, there are scores of other popular songs in question.
When Jerry Lee Lewis married his thirteen year-old cousin it nearly ruined his career, but here at home, it was just thought of as a "Southern thing." Chuck Berry was sent to prison for violating the Mann Act for transporting an underage girl across state lines for "immoral purposes." But then Charlie Chaplin and Frank Lloyd Wright, among others, were convicted of the same offense. Even Elvis was known for his unusual proclivity of watching teenage girls wrestle in their underwear. His future wife, Priscilla, was fourteen when Elvis met her, yet he somehow persuaded her parents to allow their daughter to move into Graceland at the age of seventeen. Little Richard led a life of such debauchery it caused him to quit rock and roll and become a minister. Bing Crosby beat his children, but his Christmas album is still a best seller.
The list goes on. Rick James was accused of torturing two women. David Bowie was famous for his dalliances with underage groupies. Rod Stewart has eight children with five different women. Rolling Stones' bassist Bill Wyman had sex with a fourteen year old girl whom he later married when she was eighteen and he was fifty-two. Producer Phil Spector is currently in prison for murdering a female acquaintance, yet the Righteous Brothers are still in radio rotation. John Phillips of the Mamas and Papas had frequent sex with his own daughter, but you can't turn on an oldies station without hearing "Monday Monday," or "California Dreaming." Seventies "glam rocker," Gary Glitter, was arrested for sexual congress with a thirteen year-old and was considered so degenerate he was kicked out of Vietnam, yet in nearly every sports arena you can still hear his song "Rock and Roll Part 2," with the signature "Hey" crowd response. If the toxic music "industry," known for "sex, drugs, and rock and roll, was purged of songs by sexual deviants, there'd be nothing left to listen to but Donnie and Marie Osmond, and I'm not so sure about them. Michael Jackson's songs are currently being eliminated from playlists all over the country, but as distasteful as it may now sound, people will still be grooving to "Bad" in the not-too-distant future.
There's a Chinese expression that goes "May you live in interesting times." I always thought it was a toast or an expression of goodwill until I looked up its origins (or "oringes"). I discovered it's called the "Chinese Curse," and its not a bon mot at all but a wish for misfortune towards another. The significance being that uninteresting times are peaceful and uneventful. So perhaps the Chinese were prescient when it comes to our current state of instability, but no one should have to live like this. It's difficult knowing your country's chief executive is a schizoid, delusional megalomaniac when every day, every day, brings a fresh new outrage. I'm not a morning person but my wife is, so we have a ritual when I wake up asking "What new horror happened today?" We can't escape from watching the news like it's a poor man's "Game of Thrones" miniseries. It's exhausting keeping up with the unpredictable conduct of this vile man when your rage and disgust have already been sapped. Some claim they've become numb to the president's abhorrent behavior. I have simply become drained by the daily onslaught of his boasts, his warped opinions, his disdain for the rule of law, and his endless mantra of "No collusion. No obstruction." 
