Tag: At Large

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At Large Opinion

Same Old Game

Over the past couple weeks, we’ve seen a fresh incarnation of a game we’ve all become familiar with during the last seven years. It’s called “Will You Denounce This?” The game begins when Donald Trump says or does something that used to be thought of as outrageous. The media then jump into action by asking any Republican they can get in front of a microphone to denounce Trump. As in:

Reporter: “Senator Leghorn, Donald Trump said this week that the United States should bomb Puerto Rico to keep Democrats from making it the 51st state. Puerto Rico is an American territory and Puerto Ricans are American citizens. Will you denounce Trump’s statement that the United States should bomb American citizens?”

Leghorn: “Well, President Trump says a lot of things, and I don’t think anything is gained from addressing these ‘gotcha’ questions from the media.”

Reporter: “But Mr. Trump is saying we should bomb one of our own territories, which could kill thousands of American citizens. Surely you don’t condone such a thing.”

Leghorn: “Look, I work for the American people, and the American people are concerned about high taxes, inflation, drag queens, and Hunter Biden’s laptop. The kind of questions you’re asking are irrelevant, premature, and based on speculation.”

Reporter [incredulous voice]: “So you won’t denounce the bombing and killing of American citizens by American armed forces?”

Leghorn: “Well, of course I don’t personally approve of bombing Puerto Rico, but the president is privy to information we don’t have, and he has a right to express his opinion.”

Reporter: “So, if Mr. Trump gets the GOP nomination in 2024, will you support him?”

Leghorn: “It’s a long way to 2024 so I don’t want to play that game, but, as a Republican, I will of course support our nominee. Also, Hunter Biden’s laptop.”

So yeah, that wasn’t exactly what happened recently, but Trump did roll out three doozies. First, he vowed that when he became president again, he would pardon anyone involved in the January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol. Then, he had dinner with musician Kanye West, who just last week on Alex Jones’ InfoWars, expressed his admiration for Adolf Hitler and his disdain for Jews. Having this guy to dinner was not a great look for Trump. But “Ye” upped the ante and brought Nick Fuentes, a white supremacist, anti-Semite, and avowed Nazi boot-licker who makes Ye look progressive.

When word got out about the dinner, the media began a fresh round of “Will You Denounce This?” And they actually found a few Republicans willing to say that Trump was wrong to host these assholes for dinner, including Mike Pence, Chris Christie, and Mitt Romney. Progress, right?

Not exactly. Before the ruckus ensuing from his dinner could die down, Trump posted the following on his Truth Social network: “With the revelation of MASSIVE & WIDESPREAD FRAUD & DECEPTION in working closely with Big Tech Companies, the DNC, & the Democrat Party, do you throw the Presidential Election Results of 2020 OUT and declare the RIGHTFUL WINNER, or do you have a NEW ELECTION? … A Massive Fraud of this type and magnitude allows for the termination of all rules, regulations, and articles, even those found in the Constitution.”

No one knows for sure what provoked this latest Trump outburst. Perhaps the weirdness of those Hunter Biden penis pictures coming out via a Twitter story? Surely we don’t need to terminate the Constitution for that, do we? I mean, unless that thing was really huge.

It’s tempting to dismiss all this as the ranting of a delusional fool, but bear in mind that this is a man who could still become the GOP nominee — and that most Republicans are still afraid to stand up to a guy who pledges to release convicted January 6th rioters, has dinner with two Hitler-lovers, calls for the overturning of the 2020 election, and says we should terminate the U.S. Constitution.

There’s an adage that you should never play chess with a pigeon because they knock over all the pieces, shit on the board, and then strut around like they won. If the Republicans don’t pick a new king soon, they’re going to need another board. This game is getting old.

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At Large Opinion

Old and in the Fray

Willie Nelson (Photo: Randy Miramontez | Dreamstime.com)

President Joe Biden turned 80 last week. When asked about it beforehand, he said, “I can’t say the age I’m going to be. I can’t even get it out of my mouth.”

I’m not near 80, but I’m old enough to relate to the president’s sentiment. It’s a weird phenomenon, how our bodies keep changing and our brains (and eyes) are always surprised by it. How the hell did I get wrinkles on my knees, for instance? Jaysus.

The president’s comment brought to mind a conversation I had with my paternal grandmother when I was a considerably younger man. We were having breakfast at her house, when, apropos of nothing, she said, incredulously: “Eighty! Sometimes I think, how can I be 80? I don’t feel any different than I ever did.” She was a woman with a flair for the dramatic, including sighing at some point during each holiday season: “This will probably be my last Christmas.” It usually wasn’t. Until it was. Anyway, for some reason, that conversation has stayed with me through the years, and I get it now, Velma.

Age is front of mind nationally these days because it’s possible — though I don’t think Trump will make it through the gauntlet of indictments awaiting him — that the 2024 presidential campaign could feature an 82-year-old Biden against a 78-year-old Trump. Boy, that’ll stimulate the youth vote!

In 2016, Trump, at 70, was the oldest president ever elected, until Biden set the new age mark of 78, in 2020. By way of comparison, Ronald Reagan, who was 69 when elected in 1980 and addled by dementia by the time he left office eight years later, was previously the oldest elected president and the oldest to ever hold the office. The only reason Biden gets asked about whether he’ll run for re-election is because of his age. Is it a fair question?

Consider this list: Paul McCartney, Judi Dench, Morgan Freeman, Bob Dylan, Barbra Streisand, Pope Francis, Nancy Pelosi, Dustin Hoffman, Harrison Ford, Billy Dee Williams, Bernie Sanders, Anthony Fauci, Ralph Lauren, Martha Stewart, Quincy Jones, George Takei, Al Pacino, and last but not least, at 89, Willie Nelson. All are in their 80s, and all are still working and productive. I could have added dozens more, including many non-celebrities I know personally. But, with the possible exceptions of Bernie, Nancy, and Morgan Freeman (who, after all, has played POTUS three times), none are likely qualified to handle the rigors of the highest office in the land.

Neither is Trump, for that matter. In fact, given the choice, I’d prefer almost anybody on that list above, but that’s another story.

On the occasion of Biden’s birthday, The New York Times published a piece that looked at his health prospects, were he to win in 2024, citing 10 experts on aging: “Mr. Biden, these experts agreed, has a lot going in his favor: He is highly educated, has plenty of social interaction, a stimulating job that requires a lot of thinking, is married, and has a strong family network — all factors that, studies show, are protective against dementia and conducive to healthy aging. He does not smoke or drink alcohol and, according to the White House, he exercises five times a week. He also has top-notch medical care.”

The article also stated: “It is true that older people tend to decline physically, and the brain also undergoes changes. But in people who are active, experts say, the brain continues to evolve and some brain functions can even improve — a phenomenon experts call the ‘neuroplasticity of aging.’”

The conclusion was that Biden’s odds of getting dementia before leaving office in 2028 were about one in 10. By contrast, the public has never gotten a health report from any of Trump’s doctors that Trump didn’t edit, so that’s sort of a crap shoot.

But 2024 is still a ways off, and anything that happens in the next 18 months — from a health crisis for either man to an indictment for Trump — could alter the course of history. I hope both men stay healthy, but I can’t help but think that it’s well past time to turn the page on geriatric candidates for both parties. Unless maybe Willie Nelson is interested.

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At Large Opinion

Hail Mary #8

Did you hear the big news?

Memphis is going to get a USFL team! The USFL, in case you’re not familiar with the latest iteration (I wasn’t), is a professional football league that had its debut season last spring with eight teams, all of which played their games in Birmingham, Alabama — which is weird, since the teams were supposedly affiliated with other cities. The Philadelphia Stars take on the Pittsburgh Maulers in Alabama in April? How does that setup not draw huge crowds?

Anyway, next spring, according to a newly signed agreement (obtained by the Daily Memphian via an FOIA request) between the city of Memphis, Liberty Stadium managers Global Spectrum, and the USFL, Memphis gets a piece of this sweet gridiron action. The new Memphis Showboats will play in the Simmons Bank Liberty Stadium, along with the possibly mighty Houston Gamblers, who will also call Memphis their home field. (When the Gamblers and the Showboats hook up, will both teams wear home uniforms? Tune in next spring and find out!) The Showboats will mostly be made up of players from the now-defunct Tampa Bay Bandits USFL team, which folded after one season.

Dear reader, you may be forgiven if you are less than enthralled. I am myself extraordinarily underwhelmed. They should have called this team the Memphis Deja Vu because we’ve all been here before. Memphis is no stranger to start-up, wonky-league football teams, having been home to no less than seven through the years. Let me refresh your memory, in case you don’t still have the souvenir jerseys: Memphis Southmen, WFL (1974-75); Memphis Showboats, USFL (1984-85); Memphis Mad Dogs, CFL (1995); Tennessee Oilers, NFL (1997); Memphis Maniax, XFL (2001); Memphis Express, AAF (2019). This list doesn’t include the Memphis Pharaohs, an Arena League team that played in the Pyramid for a season in the 1990s.

Suffice it to say that all Memphis professional football teams should be required to have the words “The Short-Lived” above the team name on the jerseys. Two years for a Memphis pro football team is an “era.”

Reportedly, the prime mover for this latest Excellent Adventure in Football Fantasy is FedEx founder and chairman Fred Smith, who, bless his heart, has wanted a professional football franchise for his home city for decades. Remember the Memphis Hound Dogs, the city’s well-funded 1990s Hail Mary pass at the NFL? Smith was part of that ownership group, along with cotton magnate Billy Dunavant, billionaire Paul Tudor Jones, and Elvis Presley Enterprises. Despite the undeniably rockin’ name and lots of money, Memphis lost out to the Jacksonville Jaguars and Carolina Panthers, who had the good sense to choose cat names.

Smith then became part of the ownership group of the (obligatory “short-lived” descriptor goes here) CFL Memphis Mad Dogs, who entertained the city, sort of, for one season. Oh, Canada.

Anyway, at last week’s announcement, when Smith and Memphis Mayor Jim Strickland posed awkwardly, jointly holding an orange-ish football and wearing too-small Memphis Showboat hats, it had a kabuki theater, been-here-done-this feel. Lord help us. Who’s fired up for April minor-league football, y’all? Show of hands.

By all accounts, the city’s financial commitment to this silliness is fairly minimal: some minor upgrades to the stadium and providing office and practice space to the team — which is apparently going to be the Pipkin building. The last time most Memphians were there was when we were driving through to get Covid shots in 2020. Good times!

It should be noted for historical purposes that the original USFL lasted three (whoo!) entire seasons (1983-85). Three consecutive Heisman Trophy winners signed with the league, including Georgia senatorial candidate Herschel Walker (who said last week he would rather be a werewolf than a vampire). The league played its games in the spring for two seasons, but one influential team owner pushed relentlessly for the league to shift its games to the fall. “If God wanted football in the spring,” the owner said, closing his case, “he wouldn’t have created baseball.”

The ensuing move to a fall schedule doomed the league, which could not compete for fans or TV eyeballs with the NFL and college football. The owner whose business acumen destroyed the original USFL? It was New Jersey Generals owner Donald J. Trump. A stable genius, even back then.

Go Showboats.

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At Large Opinion

Ripple: Surfing the Red Wave That Wasn’t

Photo: Ryan Carpenter | Unsplash

Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow …
— Robert Hunter

“I’m like Roger Stone, only nice.”

I awoke from a dream the other night in which I’d just uttered these words. To whom, I don’t know, nor do I know the context — just that I’d said to someone that I was like political sleazeball Roger Stone. Only nice.

I can only credit this to the political brain fog in which I’d spent most of my waking hours over the preceding couple of weeks. I watched CNN, MSNBC, and Fox on rotation each night. I relentlessly doom-scrolled my Twitter politics feed. I read countless analyses in The New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and Washington Post. I scoured websites for new polls and approval ratings percentages.

The conclusion was the same everywhere: The GOP’s messaging on inflation and crime was striking a chord with the electorate. Roe v. Wade was yesterday’s news; that fervor had peaked and faded, replaced by anxiety over the rising cost of groceries and gasoline. Nobody was worried about a “threat to democracy,” even if President Biden made a speech about it. It was the economy, stupid. As it ever was.

Everyone was on board with this, from the addled fever dreams of Tucker Carlson’s brain to the thumb-sucking commentariat of the great Gray Lady. The future was Republican, folks, and this election would be a nightmare for progressives. A “red wave” would sweep the GOP into control of the Senate and the House of Representatives. The only question was how much of a margin they would get. The next two years would then feature a parade of contrived impeachments, investigations of Hunter Biden’s laptop, blockages of judicial appointments, anti-LGBTQ and anti-transgender legislation, and more anti-abortion measures.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the blowout: Namely, everyone got it wrong.

On election night, the red wave was a brief ripple in still water, stirred by the early returns in newly gerrymandered Florida. But it didn’t sustain. Instead, we had an historic blue blowback — an unheard-of mid-term election in which the opposing party lost ground. State legislatures and governorships were flipped blue. The Senate stayed firmly in Democratic hands. Which party would win the House was still unknown as I write this, but it’s obvious that neither party will have enough of an edge in Congress to control much of anything.

So what do we take from this? First and foremost is the fact that polling is broken. It’s useless. We need to stop using polls as the basis for news stories and analysis. A recent Times story reported that, on the average, only one in 29 people takes a call from a pollster. A poll based on the 1,000 responses (from 29,000 calls!) of the oddballs who actually answer unknown calls is in no way indicative of the public sentiment on anything. It’s another reason polls entirely missed the surging youth vote. People in their 20s don’t answer unknown numbers. Hell, they barely even talk on their phones to their parents. Adding to the chaos, the GOP flooded the media with bogus polls that had Republicans ahead, further skewing the narrative.

What else do we take away? Well, simply put, Donald Trump is finished. Done. Toast. After the party’s third election loss in four years, GOP leaders have suddenly found the “courage” to begin rejecting the Big Orange. Almost every nutjob he endorsed lost, from coast to coast. The electorate rejected MAGA, rejected election denial, rejected the removal of abortion rights, and rejected Trumpism.

Trump won’t get the message for a while. His ego won’t let it happen. But watch how the winds blow over the next few days. Hell, watch how Lindsey Graham blows over the next few days. When Trump loses Lindsey, he’ll know it’s really over. Even Mike Pence has found some measure of rectitude, albeit only after six years of obsequious toady-ism.

These election results have given me hope, a thing that’s mostly eluded me over the past six years, when it seemed darker, autocratic, even violent forces were on the rise, inevitable. It’s all making me feel a bit like Roger Stone, only nice.

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At Large Opinion

Bottom’s Up

The Mississippi is 10.75 feet below normal. (Photo: Bruce VanWyngarden)

The boardwalk to Harbor Town Marina on Mud Island usually runs at a slight decline to the water from the parking lot near Cordelia’s Market. Today, the walkway slants at a precipitous angle, flat to the ground, down to the marina and its collection of yachts, cruisers, houseboats, and ski-boats, most of which are literally stuck in the mud. The Mississippi River is at its all-time historical low in Memphis — 10.75 feet below normal.

I’m meeting John Gary, one of Memphis’ preeminent river men. Gary’s been going out on the Mississippi since his boyhood, 50 years ago. He knows the Memphis section of the river like few others. We’ve been friends for many years.

“Over here,” he shouts. I see him approaching from the far end of the dock, where there appears to be at least a few inches of water, and where Gary’s 19-foot runabout is tied up.

“This is crazy,” I said.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” he replies. “There’s a lot of beach out there where a river used to be.”

John Gary and Max (Photo: Bruce VanWyngarden)

We climb into the boat and putter our way south, heading out of the harbor, past the Downtown skyline, past the exposed cobblestones, and past an ancient, long-hidden motorboat with its stern sticking out of the mud. Gary’s two dogs, Max and Lyon, are our happy passengers.

Once on the river, we turn north and motor briskly under the Hernando DeSoto Bridge. We’re going over to take a look at the Loosahatchie Bar (known by locals as Robinson Crusoe Island). It’s the island you see just north of the bridge as you cross into Arkansas. Well, it used to be an island. Now, not so much. What was once a river back-channel is currently a vast sandbar that connects the island to the mainland and reaches halfway across the river to Downtown.

Gary finds a good spot to stick the boat anchor in the sand and we tie off. The dogs run ahead, eager to explore this fresh Sahara, with its high white dunes and its deep dark pockets where the water lingered longest, now as dry as the gar and carp bones bleaching in the sun. Animal footprints remain in the once-muddy sand around the now-gone watering holes: great blue heron, coyote/dog, raccoon, even a large cat track or two. I take photo after photo, dazzled by the weirdness of standing on the bottom of the country’s biggest river.

After a while, we decide to motor upriver along Mud Island, where we pass a long string of barges that are running their engines at the precise speed needed to stay in place against the current. They are loaded with benzene (used to refine gasoline), ammonia, fertilizer, concrete, and other farm and industrial essentials.

Harbor Town Marina (Photo: Bruce VanWyngarden)

Gary explains that the channel has narrowed so much upriver that only one barge can pass at a time. Barges coming downstream have the right of way, so upstream barges can often sit for hours a day, burning fuel, awaiting their turn. For the moment, this section of America’s supply chain is dead in the water. Results coming soon to a gas station or construction site near you.

We continue north until we reach the mouth of the Wolf River, which looks more like the Wolf Ripple as it splashes over rocks and mud, adding a temporary trickle to the Mother of Waters.

How long does this go on? How low can the Mississippi go? And as Mother Nature continues to show us new climate change tricks, is this something we can expect to happen more often? The immediate prediction is that we can expect the river to stay low for the near future, and possibly even drop further. Meaning we can expect a vital supply lane for the U.S. economy to continue to be slowed, at best.

Back at Harbor Town, we tie off Gary’s boat to the very end of the marina in a couple feet of water. As we survey the bent steel and broken boards of the marina’s structure, and the dozens of boats settled into the brown goo, it’s obvious that most of these vessels won’t be going anywhere for quite some time. For now, there is no joy in Mud Island. The mighty Mississippi has struck out.

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At Large Opinion

The Year After the Year

The Saugatuck River (Photo: Andrew VanWyngarden)

It was the year after the year of the big change, the year after the year we all stayed home, the year after the year the offices shut, the restaurants closed, the live music died, the planes stopped flying. It was the year after the last year of Trump. It was 2021.

It began with the most egregious assault on American democracy in our history: The January 6th attack on the U.S. Capitol — planned and instigated by the former president of the United States with the assistance and support of numerous Republican flunkies and traitors. It was a pseudo-insurrection that drew thousands of deluded Americans to Washington, D.C., to act out Trump’s final fantasy — that he could overthrow the democratic process and remain president, despite losing the election by 7 million votes. The cultish “patriots” who bought into this lunacy included a planeload of wealthy Memphis Country Club types who, as of this writing, have remained officially unidentified — and out of jail. Maybe they just watched from the hotel lobby. Or went shopping. We may never know. Screw ’em.

As February came on, the first Covid vaccines were administered hereabouts. The state urged us to try the “Sign-Up Genius,” which sort of worked and sort of didn’t. There were long lines, short lines, last-minute cancellations, and sudden open cattle calls for shots. My daughter called me on February 2nd and said, “They’re giving the vax to whoever shows up at the Pipkin today. A bunch of people canceled. You should get on over there.”

An hour later, my wife and I pulled into that strange building on the Fairgrounds, lowered our windows, and got the jab. It felt like a whiff of freedom after a year of suppression and worry. It felt even better 28 days later, when we got the second dose. Vaxxed, baby!

March came and the Tigers missed the Big Dance. The Grizzlies made the play-in playoffs but it was soon over. No one seemed to care much. Maybe it was the shortened seasons, the missed games, the empty arenas, the sideline masks. The magic wasn’t there.

In April, Memphis International Airport (MEM) climbed back atop the rankings as the world’s busiest cargo airport for the first time since 2009. And Amazon announced it was increasing its presence in the Mid-South with two new facilities: a delivery station in North Memphis and a fulfillment center in Byhalia, Mississippi. Some good news at last.

In more good news, I retired as editor of the Flyer in May and set off on a road trip to the East to see distant family and some old friends. The talented Mr. Jesse Davis stepped in as Flyer editor and hasn’t missed a beat since. Thanks, pal.

As soon as I got back to town in June, inspectors discovered a crack in the Hernando DeSoto Bridge and shut it down. I don’t think there was a connection.

Freed from having to be the official voice of the Flyer, I began to write about whatever sparked my fancy: Brooks Museum statuary cleaners, the Waverly flood, the 1919 Elaine (Arkansas) Massacre, Midtown geckos, Donald Trump’s email grift, the latest zoo/Greensward spat, kayaking Nonconnah Creek. It’s been very liberating, and I’m grateful to be able to do it in semi-retirement. Or whatever this is.

I spent most of the summer putting together a collection of my past columns, travel articles, and features for a book, which the Flyer’s parent company, Contemporary Media, published in November. It’s called Everything That’s True, and it makes a great gift, I’m told. So go buy it. It’s at Novel, Burkes, and on the Memphis magazine Shopify site. All sales revenue goes to support the Flyer. End of commercial break.

Thankfully, the year ahead looms with some promise that life can return to normal. Yes, there’s a new Covid variant, but 75 percent of us are vaccinated now and there are medicines that will keep most folks out of the hospital, even if they catch it. Those lines at the Pipkin building hopefully will not reoccur — and the “year after the year” will remain behind us. Onward.