Trump wins the Stormy case no matter what.

 

Once again, my liberal friends are hoping the courts will somehow bring Donald Trump to accountability.   He after all had sex with a porn star and covered it up.  Time for him to get his comeuppance. Apparently, lots of money was exchanged to keep Stormy from storming on the Donald 2016 campaign. This just isn’t right.  By the letter of the law, I suppose the comeuppance people are right.

(Warning, all you purist monogamist claiming married-committed people should stop reading now.)

You didn’t stop reading?  Damn, you won’t like the next part if you are one of them purists. But I assume you are not, or just like to think you are.

Here's the problem. A little less than half the electorate is male.  Ninety one percent of those men admit to consuming pornography in the last month. From anecdotal conversations with my male friends most have lusted after the individuals in their consumed pornography, so they would find it reasonable that Donald Trump would. We all know porn stars get paid to do what they do. So, if someone wanted to get nude with them, money would need to be exchanged. Most porn viewers are consuming pictures and videos   on the subway ticket plan because the cost of that one ten-minute ride is a lot less than owning a car or having the object of your lust in your room. But if cost wasn’t an object?  You can see where I am going. Trump can afford real porn stars.  Some for the initial cost of them making noise in his bed, and apparently a lot more to keep them quiet. He’s a billionaire, so who cares how he spends his money. It’s his.

Bill Clinton proved cheating on your wife or partner doesn’t cost you a job if you have no shame. Wife number three in, and lots of mistress stories around, we know Donald is impervious to shame. So the base of Trump voters (men who consume porn) aren’t budging and can buy into the Trump claim the Stormy Trial is a, well, a waist of time.

If Donald Trump gave the Gettysburg Address

 

Four score, some say five, some less, and what was it? Seven years ago.

Our dads brought forth a new nation. Well, it wasn’t new, it was like a hundred something.

Older than Biden if you can believe that. That says something. People had been here a while.

Because of that, Lee fought a war here. Uphill. He knew better. Some say he lost.

But did he? Men were lost on both sides. They didn’t know why they fought. Only that they had to fight. As we must fight, to stop this unfinished work, where the nasty north just attacks MAGA continuously. They have it in for you. You need to be brave like the men who fought here. Lee and they can not have died in vain. Lee fell out of favor and look what they do to his statues now. I will fight as we must fight to make America great again, so it won’t just bing bong crash from this earth.

Reflecting on the significance of the Juice

 

Back in 95 I was working for a startup in Pleasanton California. The Soviet Union had broken up and we had an engineering department that had a few Jewish Russian-Ukrainian ex rocket scientists who had immigrated and were working as software engineers. New to America they were still making cultural adjustments. During a meeting once, they told me back in the USSR it was quite common for the local party officials to stop all work on their space program and say, “Tomatoes are ripe, this week we pick tomatoes.”  They would all be bussed to the tomato fields for a period. Other crops often produced similar temporary assignments. Being an ex-satellite engineer from Lockheed Missiles and Space company we had a lot of common rapport. Besides rocket science, I too had picked tomatoes from my grandmother’s garden and canned them. Though for less bureaucratic reasons.  

At some point during that  summer, three of the ex-rocket scientists stood outside my office door, looking a little perplexed. Alex, the most senior and my kind of sort of boss, said, “Stan perhaps we could go to lunch today?”

The request was a bit ominous, we had never lunched. The week before I had discovered the company, Positive Communications,  had less than $6000 in checking while working on the accounting software. We were losing about $1 million a month. Perhaps they feared we’d be trucked off to the central valley grape fields for the harvest. Fortunately, we got new venture capital right before payroll was due.  I assumed they wanted to talk about the state of the company outside the office setting.

We ended up at Sweet Tomatoes, and all stuffed our plates and set down at a common table.  I waited for them to start the conversation. They each exchanged looks, starting down at the far end and passing the eyebrow perk baton to the next to see who  would broach the subject of discussion.  Perked eyebrows were passed up and down the line a few times. Finally, Alex leaned forward, across the table, and said quietly, “Stan, we were wondering, who is O.J. Simpson? And why is he so important?”

I had not anticipated that and just blurted out, “He was the first running back ever to rush a thousand yards in a single season.” 

Eyebrow perks went up and down the Russian line. Alex spoke again, “And this is important why?”  He smiled and then looked to his comrades.

The one on the end finally said, “Why is he called Orange Juice?”

It was a long lunch.

  I was again contacted by someone about David Tikva last night. This time from a landlord he was not paying.  I was contacted by a neighbor of his a few months back who said the Oakland Police had been to his house multiple times and failed to arrest him on his outstanding warrant. 

Do not get involved with any type of business with this individual. He is a con artist of the highest extreme. You and your money will be parted.  The Alameda DA's office and Oakland Police will not help you. 

In the mean time, the office of the Alameda  DA suggested the following if you run into problems with David.

It appears the case is still active and is in the court process." Encourage the individuals, who have fraud issues with David, to file police reports with the law enforcement agencies associated with where the crimes occurred. If comfortable, you could provide them with your Alameda County docket number, 20-CR-012705, and suggest they inform officers taking their reports to include the Alameda County docket number in their report. This way, investigators and outside agency attorneys will instantly be aware of Tikva’s priors and will simplify the process of them attaining potentially helpful information.  

David Tikva

I noticed David Tikva went to Cancun on vacation recently.  He bragged about it on social media.  Maybe he should focus as much on showing up in court for his felony fraud charges. 

He currently has a bench warrant for failure to appear issued against him in Alameda  Superior Court. He also is pissing of new individuals who are contacting me in relation to his fraud cases.

David, you probably should turn your self in and settle with the people involved in your felony fraud case, and avoid the embarrassment of being arrested for on a speeding ticket or something, or having the police just show up at your door.  

And yes, I'm still working to the Alameda DA to get you arrested. 

I do find it ironic however that a person with a felony arrest warrant out against himself would post this on his twitter account. 

The Brendan Disturbance

 

I watched Canine Intervention on Netflix last night.  The “Lady McBeth” episode. The episode features a formerly homeless encampment residing three-legged pit bull who had lost the fourth during a shooting incident with her previous owner.  Brendan of Venice Beach, the new owner, reported she was overly protective to the point she bit anyone but him that came near.

I suppose having your previous owner and yourself shot, might cause a bit of trauma. It took about five seconds of video to realize Lady McBeth was just scared. She had a hard upbringing and was out of her element. Giving away the entire plot of the episode, the dog trainer (Jas Leverette) took Lady away for some in depth training to San Jose. (Though all the area shots seem to be of San Francisco and the upper bay. But let’s not let 40 miles and less spectacular views and architecture get in the way of cinematic presentation.) Two weeks later (and six or seven shots of the Bay and Golden Gate bridges) she returned a well-adjusted hopping pit bull ready for running on the backstreets in a neighborhood where a starter two-bedroom bungalow will set you back $3 million. Cute Cinder dog show complete with dog magician.

Now I was a bit disturbed by this episode. Mainly because of Brendan. He himself is not remotely disturbing. He’s perfect. Clearly in the upper one percent of the population in articulate presentation, grooming, perfect teeth, lean body mass and exactly trimmed 10-day old beard. Not a gray hair on his head. His home was adorned with expensive contemporary custom designed furniture with all options. His front door was probably $15K.  You could tell the guy doesn’t have a moment where he’s turned off. He should be running something big. At the end of the show his co-worker, Michael, from “the business” makes a cameo to pet Lady, and he’s perfect too.

Perfect in a slight variant way from Brendan. All the above Brendan features with a wholesome mid-western cuteness. Too cute in fact. --He was cute.  Why am I dwelling on this? Fuck, I am jealous of these guys.

As I was watching the show my own lack of cuteness jealously raged like Lady’s defensive nips, I start to wonder about the authenticity of Brendan and Michael. Are they models, actors cast into a reality show for sex appeal? But knowing a few people who produce and write for reality shows, I decide not.  I am left with the problem, who the fuck are they?  Princes from some unnamed European kingdom?

I remarked to someone later that night as we smoked cigars and sipped expensive go-to whiskey on the back porch in San Francisco SOMA neighborhood where condos set you back $2-3 million, that B & M reminded me of tech sales people or the occupants of the C-Suites in Silicon Valley. I may have made some comment about those people being a bit fluffy in the head. Jealousy again.  B & M were obviously not fluff brains.

This morning I decided not having the backstory on B & M was too much to tolerate and I put my Google skills to work.  The good people at Netflix saw fit not to have a full cast list of the episodes of Canine Intervention.  So, I had to go back and pull first names off the episode from the sub-titles in the B & M introduction scenes and capture their images on my phone. An image and name string search on Google determined Brendan Wallace is the CEO of a venture capital fund he started.  He went to Princeton and Stanford. Michael New,  the co-worker is chief of staff at “the company.”  He went to Harvard.  The ridiculously high end at ease presentation skills and confidence fell into place.  I was at peace with myself. I was at peace with B & M.  In the process I noticed Brendan maintained an Instagram page for @ladymacbeththedog.  I followed her.  I do think pits are cute and I want to know if Lady Macbeth lives happily ever after with her prince Brendan.  Who I am now at ease with.  Seriously, even though I had to write two pages about him to get over my disturbance.

The Flags

 

I’m solo driving the Montana roads between Geyser, Belt, Bynum, and Choteau. Flags fly from fence posts, doorsteps, ranch gateways and poles too ridiculously high for a family’s front yard. 

Sometimes four, five or six to a building.  Like Christmas decorations the stars and stripes adorn every abode in this country. Not the greater country. Not the U.S.  The rural country of my youth.

In scouts I learned there was only one flag. That all others were below it. We would parade the one flag, because we were one nation. “Indivisible,” it was recited.  We would present the flag in school, at meetings, the one flag was always in the room. But now as I drive, there are many. I fill my camera with pictures of patriotism and lose count. The only other country that fly’s their flag this much is Israel. There too, if it’s erect, it probably displays the Star of David, blue across white. In Jerusalem a banner some 16 by22 feet flies atop the Choshen building on the Mount of Olives next to the place where Christ rose to heaven, announcing to all in the valley who the landlords are. 

And I suppose why not, Israel is the one member of the U.N. who’s right to exist is questioned by the larger body. It’s a bit of Zionist imperialism, but it’s also a lot of defiance. In Israel, I understand it, Hitler gave them six million reasons to fly.

Two American flags fly from either side of a rancher’s gate north of Dupuyer. I stop and click a picture. They are large, 6’ by 10’.  I’d seen one earlier trailing from a hitch pole in a Dodge pickup somewhere between Lewistown and Moccasin.  

I couldn’t help but wonder how the driver kept it from touching the ground when he stopped.  The first scout rank, Tenderfoot, still teaches respect for the flag. Folding, storage, carrying, display, at eleven there was a lot to practice and memorize. I’m edging on sixty now, but I don’t remember the parts about draping the stars and stripes off the back of four-wheeler. Nor about wearing it as a cape after winning a sporting event. Olympic stars regularly are on TV letting their flag cape touch the ground, and never a word is said. 

But, kneel for the national anthem, and a war could start. Growing up on military bases, the flag stopped everything. I mean literally. When the base flag was lowered at 5 each day, the national anthem played on the loud speaker, and twelve thousand people would stop.  Up here, when they run out of poles, they find other display methods. The painted pallet flag is popular. 

One house in Lavina had a flag mounted in a old sash window frames leaning against a tree in the yard. It did not look like it was brought in each night at sunset.

I suppose I am being boy scout picky about the display of the flag. But there has been a lot of pickiness poked in my face about flags over the last few years. So, I go back to my conservative flag respect roots. The U.S. Flag code says you shouldn't wear a flag.  But then again the Montana department of transportation says my speed limit is 75. I like most flag displayers up here am just taking that as an advisement.

I drive on, eventually reaching Bonner’s Ferry Idaho. In the center of town an American flag sized to rival the one above the Choshen building fly’s next to Mugsy’s Tavern & Grill.  I stop for lunch. Its my patriotic duty.  It seems to be the local police favorite take out place. Three non-descript deputies stop by for sandwiches. A couple of older guys sit at the table next to me. One in his seventies wearing a Vet’s baseball cap, and a younger, center parted gray long haired hippy looking guy in tan shorts and sandals. He is a retired federal officer.  I know this, as he calls about six different people while waiting for his order. He starts the conversations with, “Hi, I’m a retired federal officer.”  He’s trying to organize “a shoot.”  Apparently, he’d seen some officers shooting at helium balloons or something in Troy Montana a week or so back, and thought it would be good to get something like that organized in Bonner’s Ferry.  He is trying to find the police chief of Troy.  Google had not served him well, and he has called the police department of Troy Michigan. Hence confusion as he is given numbers to call around the department. I’m not technically from Montana or Idaho anymore, but I know their area codes. He is writing down the numbers starting with 248. So his struggles are amusing. Between calls he small talks with his silent fellow retiree about how cool the shoot he’d seen was. Eventually the police chief of Troy calls him.  The whole “I’m a retired federal officer trying to organize a shoot” spiel is repeated. I’ve memorized it, like flag folding from my youth. There is a brief silence on this side of the call, followed by “Oooh, you are the police chief of Troy Michigan. I wondered why I wasn’t getting a 406 number.”  More silence on this side, and the retired federal officer moves to small talk, “So how are things in Troy Michigan?”  There is more silence followed by, “Well you can always move out here.  We love our police.” 

I am not quite sure of that statement. In high school we loved the local sheriff. Mainly because he understood the politics of a small-town. His son played baseball with us, his wife was in the P.T.A. They were more public safety negotiators than unfamiliar holders of authority.  On the other hand, there was a distinct distrust of federal police. Ruby Ridge happened a few miles away from Bonner’s Ferry, so I am suspect of our retired federal officer’s perspective.   

After lunch I started down the backbone of Idaho on US 95. Flags are less frequent now. I suspect that has to do with population. Idaho’s got an extra 700,000 people on half the land of Montana. So, there are more towns. Big Sky is blocked by mountains, so flags can’t be seen from the distances. Also, running along the open spaces of State Highway 2 between the afore mentioned Montana municipalities one might suspect you have left the country.  I suspect there, the flags may just be assurance you have not crossed into Canada by mistake. Or maybe to let Canadians know they have crossed by mistake. Parts of British Columbia and Alberta make Montana roads look like the Los Angeles freeways. Anyway, I had plenty of time between towns to suspect things. The retired federal officer inspired the flag crime fighter in me. It’s a couple days home, so I ruminated with the cattle passing by my side like Sheldon Cooper on flag symbolism as I drove.

Thursday after I get back, I’m watching the President give his acceptance speech.  It didn’t not hold my interest, and I turn to studying the flags in his background. 

I count them. Fifty, one for each state, I suspect. But then the camera pulls back, and I can see the audience. There are more flags. A flag inflation of sorts. Like with any inflation the currency loses its value and I wonder why he thinks he needs so many. There is only one America. But maybe he’s afraid people might unsure of where they are at now.  Maybe like his catch phrases, he thinks if he repeats the flag, he’ll be more American and more great.  Somehow in all his flag richness, he’s forgot the meaning of one flag. He reminds me of the guy that gave the people of Israel the need to fly the Star of David over the Choshen building.