Tag: Randy Haspel

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Opinion The Last Word

Suffering From Trump-itis?

This president makes me sick. Literally. After enduring relentless night sweats during restless sleep, I felt light-headed and dizzy. Any exertion left me exhausted. I thought a nice shower might help, but I ended up having to lie down while attempting to zen away my rapid, palpitating heartbeat. Walking from bedroom to den was encumbered with an equilibrium imbalance that left me clutching the wall. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I tried to act calmly so as not to frighten my wife, but Melody could see through my charade and suggested we go to the emergency room.

Rather than go to the ER on a Saturday night, we instead called the doctor’s service, which asked if we had a blood pressure monitor in the house. When Melody hooked me up and the cuff finally loosened from my bicep, my blood pressure was off the charts. A Xanax eased the situation until I could call my doctor on Monday. By miraculous luck, someone had canceled their three o’clock appointment and I was able to grab it. When my blood work was suspect, I was sent to a nephrologist, then a urologist, before returning to my primary doctor. The prognosis? Hypertension combined with acid reflux was disturbing my stability.

So, now I’m on daily blood pressure and digestive medications. When I asked the doctor if he had any further instructions, he said, “Turn off the news and play more guitar.”

But it’s hard to ignore or escape the American Horror Story sitting in the White House. After the thoroughly co-opted and corrupted Republican Senate aquitted the president from two articles of impeachment, the gaseous windbag felt emboldened enough to take a couple of victory laps. After President Clinton’s impeachment, Wild Bill appeared in the Rose Garden alone, showed contrition, and apologized to the country for his indiscretions that prompted the R-rated ordeal that followed.

Trump chose to show up at the annual prayer breakfast, ordinarily a non-political event that focuses on faith, and launch a diatribe against his perceived enemies, calling the top FBI officials “scum” and questioning Nancy Pelosi’s faith while she sat just feet away. Trump addressed the gathering declaring: “As everybody knows, my family, our great country, and your president have been put through a terrible ordeal by some very dishonest and corrupt people.” He could just as well have been referring to his rotten cabinet that cheered him on.

Appearing in the East Room of the White House after the breakfast, Trump instigated a vendetta against impeachment witnesses that would have made Richard Nixon blanch. Referring to fired FBI Director James Comey as “that sleazebag” and Nancy Pelosi as “a horrible person,” Trump gathered his minions, sent them out on cable TV, and prepared to get some payback.

Gordon Sondland, the million-dollar Republican donor recalled from his post as ambassador to the European Union, was the first victim of Trump’s retribution. Then, “simmering with rage,” as his aides attested, Trump had impeachment witness Lt. Col. Alexander Vindman fired from his position on the National Security Council and escorted by security guards from the White House grounds — along with his twin brother, who had nothing to do with the impeachment, just in case Trump couldn’t tell them apart.

Only a month ago, Trump pardoned an Army soldier convicted of war crimes. Now he’s dismissed a decorated veteran who had earned a Purple Heart in combat. Trump then asked the Pentagon to investigate Vindman for any potential wrongdoing. The Pentagon declined.

The idiot man-child then demanded that the House “expunge” his impeachment, calling the whole thing a “hoax.” Like the Bizarro Superman of comic book fame, Trump protects the guilty while punishing the innocent.

Emboldened by his acquittal, Trump began to purge the unfaithful from his administration, enlisting the Justice Department and Trump’s slavish attorney general, William Barr, to exact revenge on his critics. Trump’s obedient protector immediately appointed an outside prosecutor to examine the origins of the investigation into the former National Security Advisor and disgraced convicted liar Michael Flynn. After that, Barr interfered with the sentencing recommendations of convicted comic villain Roger Stone. All four government prosecutors resigned from the case, prompting more than 1,100 former prosecutors and Justice Department officials to call for Barr’s resignation.

I say impeach his ass again. Seriously. This bloated megalomaniac thinks because he was acquitted by a fearful Republican Senate that he’s home free to continue his work as capo of the Trump crime family. There were at least 10 more charges of obstruction of justice outlined in the Mueller report. They weren’t included in this impeachment go-round because Robert Mueller wasn’t very telegenic and failed to move public opinion. Mueller clearly stated that the outlaw president could not be charged only because of a legal “opinion” that prevents a sitting president from indictment. Mueller told congress, “If we had had confidence that the president clearly did not commit a crime, we would have said so.” He never said so. In fact, Mueller reported to the shyster Attorney General that his probe found “multiple acts by the president that were capable of exerting undue influence over law enforcement investigations,” which translates into a profusion of abuse of power.

Mueller’s 448-page report was dismissed after most Americans didn’t bother reading it. I ordered the report in book form, but the print was small enough to require a magnifying glass, and was so dense, it was like trying to read War and Peace in Sanskrit.

It didn’t matter. All of Mueller’s evidence of criminality was ignored. No president in history has been more deserving of removal from office than this counterfeit con man. Until this cruel fool is displaced from our collective reality, I’ll be here at home — playing the guitar.

Randy Haspel writes the “Recycled Hippies” blog.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Fall of King Don

There’s this classic soul song that you should hear called “Everybody Plays the Fool,” by The Main Ingredient. You could YouTube it or find it wherever you steal your music. The chorus goes …

Everybody plays the fool/

There’s no exception to the rule/

It may be factual, it may be cruel/

But everybody plays the fool.

I’ll be the first to own up to it. As a younger man, I’ve been stood up, shot down, duped, used, and abused. I have been made a fool of and have made a fool of myself more than once. Often, the most difficult part of being misled is admitting it to yourself. I think of myself as a reasonably smart fellow, so how could I allow myself to be so deceived?

Coming to terms with my willful blindness meant admitting that I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. Anyone is capable of being hoodwinked if they truly want to believe in what you’re selling. What’s hard is confessing that you were had. It was a tough life lesson to absorb, but after a while, I emerged a more cautious and wiser person.

So, when are the Trump fanatics going to give it up? How long will it take before it dawns on the MAGA minions that they’ve been conned by a pro? As of this writing, Trump’s approval ratings are at an all-time high. This means the educationally challenged are digging in, abetted by Fox News, Info-Wars, Breitbart, talk radio, and the oxymoronically named “Freedom Caucus,” Trump’s right-wing commandos in the House of Representatives. They are constantly spoon-fed an alternate reality where the “Deep State” and embittered Democrats are out to destroy the Trump presidency. In Trump World, he’s as innocent as Santa Claus. They ask, in all sincerity, “Tell me exactly what he has done wrong?” You’ve probably seen it in your Facebook feed, too.

There is no convincing the “true believer” that their convictions are flawed. They must reach that conclusion alone. When attacked, they search for villains to blame and they give them names like Comey, Mueller, McCabe, Rosenstein, Clinton, and Obama — four of whom are Republicans. The revelation that the FBI had an informant embedded in his campaign has driven the President insane. During a tsunami of tweets last weekend, Trump wrote, “I hereby demand, and will do so officially tomorrow, that the Department of Justice look into whether or not the FBI/DOJ infiltrated or surveilled the Trump Campaign for Political Purposes [sic] — and if any such demands or requests were made by people within the Obama Administration!”

The “king” hereby demands … Who does he think he is, Vladimir Putin? Trump is commanding the Justice Department to investigate itself. It’s no mystery. Foreign policy “advisors” George Papadopoulos and Carter Page were caught up in routine foreign wiretaps discussing the Trump campaign with Russian sympathizers. It would be negligent if the FBI did not place an informant in the campaign. Both men have pleaded guilty — Papadopoulos for lying to the FBI, and Page for “conspiracy against the United States.” Both are cooperating with the Mueller investigation and are awaiting sentencing. And this is the low-hanging fruit. Both the GOP-led House of Representatives’ investigation and Trump’s personal porch ghoul, Rudy Giuliani, have declared the Trump campaign to be completely blameless. Nothing has been proven, they say, so the Mueller probe should be shut down immediately.

In one year, the Mueller team has indicted 19 people, including 13 Russian nationals and three Russian companies, and obtained five guilty pleas. Former campaign manager Paul Manafort, in a 12-count indictment, is charged with “conspiracy against the United States,” being an unregistered foreign agent, and making false statements.

New charges were brought in February claiming Manafort laundered over $30 million, failed to pay taxes for a decade, and used real estate holdings to fraudulently obtain $20 million in loans. That’s why Manafort is wearing two ankle bracelets while he awaits trial on charges that, if proven guilty, could land him in prison for 300 years.

Manafort’s deputy, Rick Gates, has pleaded guilty and is cooperating with the Mueller investigation. Former National Security Advisor, Michael Flynn, pleaded guilty to charges of lying to the FBI about his discussions with Russian contacts over removing Obama-era sanctions for annexing the Crimea. Roger Stone said he is “prepared to be indicted” over his communications with Russian hackers and WikiLeaks founder, Julian Assange. If this is the “witch hunt” that Trump claims, the brooms are beginning to stack up in the corridors of justice.

We had yet to mention the Trump Tower meeting between Don Jr., Jared Kushner, and a cauldron of Russians, when new information emerged about a heretofore unknown gathering in the Tower between Don the Lesser and emissaries from the United Arab Emirates and Saudi Arabia looking to help Daddy. Trump tweeted, “The Witch Hunt finds no Collusion with Russia — so now they’re looking at the rest of the World. Oh’ great.”

Too bad they didn’t teach grammar and punctuation at the Wharton School. Every time Trump sends out a tweet, somewhere an English teacher has a cardiac infarction.

Trump’s personal attorney, Michael Cohen, said he would take a bullet for the president. He might have to. There’s not room in a single article to discuss Stormy Daniels, the China bribery, obstruction of justice, personal enrichment, cronyism, nepotism, bank fraud, cover-ups, bribery, extortion, and abuse of power.

Next up is a defamation lawsuit filed by former Apprentice contestant and alleged victim of sexual abuse, Summer Zervos. Trump said Zervos “made up” a “hoax” to aid Hillary Clinton. Several of the other 16 sexual-harassment accusers have said they are willing to be deposed. Most concerning, Zervos’ attorney has subpoenaed recordings from The Apprentice that show Trump speaking of women “in any sexual or inappropriate manner.” I think I just heard that other shoe hit the deck. If all this causes you to despair, consider the words of porn-star attorney and Trump antagonist, Michael Avenatti, who stated, “Mr. Trump will not serve out his term. No way. No how. He will be forced to ultimately resign.” Thanks, Obama.

Randy Haspel writes the Recycled Hippies blog.

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Opinion The Last Word

A Hard Rock New Year’s Memory

CREDIT: Nova Teguh | Dreamstime.com

Nova Teguh | Dreamstime.com

We’re into that twilight week of the year, also known as the ‘taint of the calendar: ‘Taint Christmas and it ‘taint New Years. Since it’s the season to be jolly and the news is so grim, I’d like to tell you about one memorable New Year’s Eve. I must preface the story by admitting that Isaac Tigrett and I have been friends since high school. My band used to drive up to Jackson to play at his fraternity parties. I say this both because the event occurred at the New York Hard Rock Café, and it’s not my intention to drop names until later in the column. 

The Hard Rock was Isaac’s creation, and I was invited to celebrate the New York restaurant’s first anniversary and New Year’s festivities. I was invited to the opening, but I had an anxiety disorder and had trouble enough going to Kroger, much less flying to a packed-out gala event with a bunch of strangers. But this time, I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse — Isaac was sitting next to me on the airplane.

Nova Teguh | Dreamstime.com

We reached New York and headed for the car rentals, where Isaac tossed two premium credit cards on the counter, turned to me and said, “Do you have any cash? I don’t have any money.” I was housed in the same building where Isaac had an apartment overlooking the Hard Rock’s Cadillac entrance, so he could watch the lines outside and harass the doorman.

New York at Christmas is beautiful, with lighted ornaments dangling over 57th Street like giant snowflakes. When I first walked into the Hard Rock, I was so overwhelmed, I had to open my eyes wider to take it all in. Several of the old Soul Revue posters from the ’60s that I’d loaned Isaac were duplicated and hanging prominently on the wall, and climbing up to second floor, there was a giant picture of Little Richard with the tiny inscription, “To Randy, with love.”

When I asked Isaac how he got away with making duplicates of what might be considered copywrited material, he said, “I just keep doing it until someone tells me to quit.” Ernest Wither’s iconic photo of B.B. King and Elvis was prominently placed in a double-arched, gilded, antique frame with a plaque above that read, “The Two Kings.”

I began to feel at home. Even the barbecue was cooked low and slow. I linked up with a group of my Jackson buddies who had made the trip and joined their party for the celebration. There must have been about seven of us, all single men, and we were Isaac’s guests for New Years’ Eve. The problem was, we were guests at what turned out to be a private party.

We were seated at a large table on the main floor, while the entire upstairs, and the rest of the restaurant for that matter, had been rented to the actor George Segal and his guests for the night. I loved Segal in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, but he had this other shtick where he’d go on the Johnny Carson show and play the banjo. That would be bad enough, but he played songs like “Alexander’s Ragtime Band,” and other favorite minstrel songs of the South including, “Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown,” a real rib-tickler.

Unfortunately, Segal was the entertainment for the evening. He had hired a trio consisting of piano, bass, and drums. I was just hoping they were being well-paid. I showed up in a suit and tie, but the Jackson boys were all in tuxedoes. Isaac kept bringing different women over for introductions because every time he did, we all stood in unison like gentlemen. The New York ladies were goggle-eyed. Some laughed, some were bemused, and some stared at us like we were vestiges of some lost civilization.

When Segal began regaling the assembly with “If You Knew Susie,” his guests listened in rapt attention while we decided it was time to start drinking heavily. I should add here that I don’t drink. Lord knows I’ve tried to be a proper drunk, but it just doesn’t work for me. However, this time, the champagne was flowing, and I didn’t want to be antisocial, which is another way of saying that I got lampshade-on-the-head, knocked-out loaded.

When Segal rejoined his party, the trio began playing some cool jazz, and I was suddenly hoisted from my seat from behind and propelled toward the stage. The musicians eyeballed each other warily, but the boss wanted his buddy to sing. I ran through the Rolodex of songs in my head and came up with Ray Charles’ “I Got a Woman,” and the crowd woke up. The bass player said, “Hey man, that was great. Let’s do another one.” He was sort of a goofy-looking guy with a big smile, a childlike face, and a baseball cap that he wore backwards. I chose B.B. King’s “Rock Me Baby,” because it only has three chords and I didn’t want to confuse the musicians. We got such big applause that Segal bounded down the stairs and told the band to take a break. My new musical pal turned to shake my hand and said, “I enjoyed that. My name’s Jaco Pastorius.” I was sitting next to the bassist for the jazz-fusion group Weather Report — one of the greatest innovators in the history of the bass guitar. He turned to the drummer, “This is Jim Keltner,” who had only worked with everyone from John Lennon to Elvis. The frail-looking gentleman at the piano with the receding hair and braided ponytail was Bob Dorough. Only recently, a friend had given me a tape of his early bebop music, and I gushed, “Mr. Dorough, we sure know you in Memphis.”

Somehow, I managed to crawl back to my room at sunrise, still amazed that Segal had hired some of the finest musicians in the world to accompany him on “Ain’t She Sweet.” The following New Year’s Eve, Segal didn’t play at the Hard Rock. I did. But that’s another story.

Randy Haspel writes the “Recycled Hippies” blog, where a version of this column first appeared.

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Letters To The Editor Opinion

What They Said…

CREDIT: Greg Cravens

Greg Cravens

About the Syrian refugee crisis and Randy Haspel’s column, “The Great Unfriending” …

I had to chuckle over Randy Haspel’s column. Seems he thinks that anyone who’s worried that accepting refugees from an alien culture from an area of the world torn apart by that same culture is a Nazi, an idiot, or both.

He was doing all right until the last paragraph, where he reminded us “that once our forefathers were accepted as refugees into this country by the indigenous population.” Yup, the natives here accepted people from a completely alien culture in large numbers. Tell us, Randy, how did that work out for them?

Bill Runyan

Having spent the majority of my years in Memphis, I was and am in awe of the tremendous work performed by St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. A big reason for the hospital’s success, not to mention its charity, was ALSAC, the American Lebanese Syrian Association Charities. Without the immigrants who formed ALSAC — those from Lebanon and Syria — many lives would not have been touched and saved by St. Jude. 

As the debate rages about preventing Syrian refugees into this country, consider the amazing work their predecessors, and all other immigrants, have performed here, how they’ve helped make this “Land of Immigrants” the great country it is today. Also, consider the hell these refugees are fleeing. Put yourself in their shoes, as well as in those of the kids and their parents who’ve been helped by organizations such as St. Jude.

Richard Banks

French President François Hollande has said that 30,000 refugees will be welcomed to France during the next two years. He also said that “the people of Iraq and Syria have fled because they are martyred by the same people who attack us today.”

The process of selecting and vetting refugees should be as strict and rigorous as possible, and we have to err on the side of caution. But the men, women, and children, who themselves have suffered at the hands of terrorists, should be allowed to settle here. 

If we see refugee camps created worldwide, there could be many in them who turn to extremism and violence because of their frustration and anger. Such camps could be the breeding grounds for future terrorists, and, if so, we will be even more unsafe in the future.

Philip Williams

It’s a raucous chorus, led by disciples of the Republican right.”No!  No!  No!” they chant.”No Syrian refugees in our back yard!” Eschewing the words written on the Statue of Liberty, our cowardly Congress now has passed legislation that effectively bars any significant influx of Syrian refugees into these United States.

That this is a thinly veiled act of bigotry directed toward Muslims is hardly debatable. But, more than this, it is an act of contempt aimed at the very core of our Judeo-Christian values. If there is any theme that courses through the teachings of the Old and New Testaments, it is the undeniable message of welcome to the stranger, the alien, the homeless, the outcast, the sick and the hungry. Those who are saying no to Syrian refugees are saying no to the very essence of the sacred scriptures. Such behavior can be compared to tossing the Holy Bible into a roaring fire fueled by hatred and fear.

Instead of being intimidated by such despicable hypocrisy, we who object must name it openly for what it is and challenge it wherever it is found. 

Rev. Thomas E. Sagendorf

United Methodist Clergy, Retired

About Frank Murtaugh’s post,

“Sweet Sorrow: Fuente Bids Farewell to Memphis” …

I’m not one who usually says, “What if … ” but I will this time. Can Tiger fans imagine how good we would be next year with both Fuente and Lynch back? The only difference I would like to see would be the development of our next quarterback.

I am thankful to all of the Tiger players for their play this year, and I wish all of the Tigers, Fuente and Lynch included, the very best, no matter where they land.

David Morelli

Categories
Letters To The Editor Opinion

What They Said (June 18, 2015) …

CREDIT: Greg Cravens

Greg Cravens

About Randy Haspel’s column announcing his candidacy for the GOP nomination, “Ask Not” …

Politics is nice, Haspel, but we need to bring back the Sunday church crowds. A mandatory .50-caliber machine gun in every pulpit! A 144-inch plasma screen direct link to NFL in place of the Baptist baptismal. Actual crucifixions in place of crucifixes! I’d go for that.

Crackoamerican

We’re inching ever closer to the Haspel/Jindal dream ticket our little group has been discussing at Smitty’s psilocybin-fueled rap sessions.

Dave Clancy

About Toby Sells’ story, “MLGW’s Smart Meter Program to Get Vote” …

Why do they want to buy a million meters if they state they have 421,000 customers?

This must have been a decision made by the “smart meter team.”

Deborah Scott

Deborah, it’s the Costco effect.

Mia S. Kite

Egads! I have a “weaponized weapon” on the back of my house, right outside my daughter’s room? What was I thinking?

Oh yeah, I want to be able to better monitor my electric usage and make changes in our habits that result in less demand to burn fossil fuels — and lower my contribution to climate change. Silly me.

Scott Banbury

About Wendi C. Thomas’ column, “Black Lives Matter” …

I think Wendi missed the whole root of the problem she’s trying to solve. The biggest problem is the destruction of the family unit. I would be interested to see a study on youth crime, the types of crime, and the severity of the crime. Also add in youth education outcomes.

Then compare those to the family structure of the child. Is it a single parent household? Is the child being raised by a grandparent? How many children are in the household? I’d be willing to bet you see some positive correlations between the household structure and positive outcomes for the child.

I believe the single most important issue is that of the family. One of the primary reasons gangs exist is because youth don’t have male role models around, so they turn to older male youths who organize in a Lord of the Flies manner and show some form of love and structure.

Please, Wendi, do an article on the topic of family structure and influence, and what can be done to change the culture that’s essentially eschewed the classic family structure.

GroveReb84

Reb, how about making sure that those males have jobs that will allow them to provide for their families and keep those units together?

LeftWingCracker

Great example of an external locus of control. The belief that all the ills of the community are related to outside factors — white people, the police, the laws on the books, etc. Until the community grapples with the problem that many of these issues are internal, no change will be accomplished.

apok

About Bruce VanWyngarden’s Letter From the Editor, “A Bridge Too Far” …

Nice how TDOT lied about consulting with Crittenden County, the Arkansas Highway and Transportation Department, and residents in West Memphis that will be greatly affected by the stupid traffic circle that will be a massive cluster flock.

Facebook Hater

Knoxville went through something similar a few years ago: SmartFix40. They shut down I-40 in downtown Knoxville to speed up the construction schedule. It worked. In fact, the construction company finished early to get a bonus. The sky is not falling.

Michael Shoenberger

A roundabout is designed to take the place of a four-way-stop intersection, eliminating the need to turn through oncoming traffic. In this location, a roundabout would create more of a traffic jam than the current cloverleaf ramp system, where you do not have to cross against oncoming traffic. This is the most idiotic idea I have ever heard.

Ncrdb1

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant (March 12, 2015)

Sometimes I think I get a general sense of what’s about to happen. I’m no Edgar Cayce or anything, but I can often imagine the effect that results from the cause. If you disregard my absolute certainty that Al Gore would be president in 2000, my predictions have more often been right than wrong. Even back in 2006, when Hillary Clinton was all but being crowned as the next Democratic presidential candidate, I wrote that two years was an eternity for another candidate to emerge to challenge the presumptive nominee, and one certainly did.

The historical inevitability of Barack Obama couldn’t be stopped, even by the ugly campaign the Clintons ran against him. Hillary’s failed campaign left a lingering resentment among certain Democrats over her scatter-shot tactics and baseless accusations. Her term as Obama’s secretary of state revived her reputation for competence, regardless of the fake “scandals” the GOP tried to lay at her feet. Hillary is probably the most-qualified, best-informed candidate to seek the presidency in decades, and polls have shown the country’s willingness to elect a female president. So let me go out on a limb and make a prediction, then two years from now, you can check back and see if I was correct. Hillary Clinton will not only fail to win the presidency, she won’t even get the Democratic nomination.

A lightning rod for controversy, Hillary can instantly become so exasperated that she unleashes a public barrage of ill-inspired quotable soundbites that only provide ammunition for her enemies. It’s been pretty much settled that the entire Benghazi witch-hunt was merely a concoction of right-wing operatives out to do her damage, but frustrated by idiotic questions over whether to call the tragedy a “terrorist attack,” or a “spontaneous protest,” Hillary spouted, “At this point, what difference does it make?” When stripped of its context, right-wing pundits found her remarks to be pure gold, and the almost defunct House Select Committee on Benghazi has become suddenly reanimated, subpoenaing thousands of her newly controversial emails.

Hillary has a history of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. Remember when she said she wasn’t going to be a typical first lady, sitting home and baking cookies or “standing by her man,” as the popular song went. The accompanying outrage forced her to go out and profess her love of country music and apologize to Tammy Wynette and America’s housewives. And when the Gennifer Flowers scandal came along, she did stand by her man after all.

While in the White House, she was accused of everything from murder to drug smuggling, as well as being “secretive.” Then she did herself no favors by having her previously requested Rose Law Firm billing statements, said to be long lost, turn up one day in a White House office drawer. Hillary parlayed Bill’s inexcusable sexual betrayal into a senate seat from New York, where she learned the art of “triangulation” — taking the absolute middle ground between two opposing points of view. In this capacity, Clinton voted her approval for the Iraqi War; co-sponsored an anti-flag burning amendment, even though she’s a lawyer and knew that the Supreme Court had already ruled the act was a form of free speech protected by the First Amendment; and voted for the Kyl-Lieberman Amendment, opening the door for U.S. attacks on Iran. During Hillary’s senate career, every controversial vote seemed to be made with a political calculation.

This latest kerfuffle about Hillary using her private email account to conduct government business is another stink-bomb attack by her adversaries that won’t amount to much, yet she insists on making it worse for herself. Already believed in certain quarters to be someone who cuts corners or makes her own rules, Hillary set up her own private server, registered to a fictitious name and routed it back to her New York home. She didn’t break any laws, but she bent the rules. The former secretary has announced that she is eager to turn over her emails for scrutiny, but only those pertaining to the business of the State Department. This allows her to exercise more control over physical access and furthers the perception that she has something to hide. At some point, Hillary will also have to justify accepting donations by foreign governments to the Clinton Foundation while she was secretary of state.

It’s enough to give you a case of pre-Clinton Fatigue. Two years is a lifetime for a presumptive nominee to coast, and there are bound to be more gaffes and temper explosions. When Hillary alienates enough members of her own party, the Democrats may be forced to turn to someone else. The GOP will likely nominate a Tea Party extremist as their candidate. Why shouldn’t the Dems offer a true liberal and a fighter for the underdog instead of another blue-dog? Elizabeth Warren insists she’s not running for president. So did Barack Obama before he was finally convinced that his hour of destiny had arrived.

Randy Haspel writes the “Recycled Hippies” blog, where a version of this column first appeared.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant (October 15, 2014)

While going through an old box of stuff, I came across a program I had saved from the Fillmore East dated December 19, 1969. The Byrds were headlining that night, supported by Keith Emerson & the Nice and the San Francisco horn band the Sons of Champlin. As an added attraction, the immortal Dion DiMucci appeared to perform his latest hit, “Abraham, Martin, and John.”

That collectible brought back a lot of memories, most of them bad. When I was 20, I dropped out of college and moved to New York City. I was chasing the flimsiest of music offers from someone I barely knew. A high-school acquaintance had graduated from Yale as a poetry major and gotten a job in an apprentice program for Columbia Records. He had shown some of his work to the legendary talent scout and record producer John Hammond Sr., who encouraged him to find a collaborator to help transform his poetry into songs. I suppose I was the only musician he knew.

When “Tom” called, he mentioned the names of several friends we shared in common and asked me to come to New York with the understanding that I would eventually have a chance to audition for CBS. He said I could live rent-free in his apartment and only needed to contribute my share of grocery money. After calling a few people and asking if this guy was for real, I packed my guitar and a suitcase and flew to Manhattan.  As soon as I arrived, the problems began. I took a cab to the address I was given only to find a short-order grill there. The cabbie informed me that my friend lived above the restaurant. When I lugged my gear up four flights and found the apartment, the couch I was promised was already occupied by one of Tom’s college buddies who was waiting for renovations to be completed on his place. I was asked if I minded sleeping on the floor for a little while. No sooner had I caught my breath than Tom sat cross-legged on the floor and asked if he could play my guitar. Nobody played my guitar.

After I had reluctantly handed it over, I realized that he had no musical ability whatsoever. He was the kind of guy who had to look at his left hand when he changed chords, and his poetry consisted mainly of abstractions that only he understood. I thought briefly of returning to the airport and booking the first flight out, but I’d already told my friends I was going and didn’t want it to appear that I had turned tail and run. I knew that if anything was to be accomplished, we would have to start from scratch. While I was lying on the floor using my leather jacket as a pillow, I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into.

Tom and I grew to dislike each other so much that I would deliver a melody to his cubicle in the morning, and he would write poems to fit during the workday. The problem was, his lyrics were mainly about some phantom girlfriend that I never saw and nothing else in the known world to which I could relate. Our hostility grew so bitter that he asked me to leave. I had never been kicked out of anywhere. I found a single room in a decaying brownstone on W. 82nd Street. It had a single sink that looked like it had been clogged since the Prohibition and a bathroom down the hall shared by 10 other tenants. My rent was $11 a week, and I still had to call home for financial help. The street was a magnet for hookers, junkies, and transients, but since I wore a frayed pea-coat from Navy surplus and a battered wide-brimmed fedora, I blended right in. After several tortuous months, we finally came up with a number of songs sufficient for an audition.

I stood with my guitar beside the desk of John Hammond. Just the knowledge that he had discovered Bob Dylan would have been intimidating enough, but since my dad was a fan of swing music, I also knew that Hammond had discovered Billie Holiday and put together the Benny Goodman Band. Now he was sitting a foot away, staring up at me. I began to play an up-tempo song featuring some of Tom’s metaphorical lyrics, but I couldn’t look him in the eye. When I had finished, Hammond proclaimed with a big smile on his face, “My, we have a singer here.”

He was impressed that I had once recorded for Sun Records and arranged a full demo session in the CBS Studios. I arrived early on the appointed day only to find a Vegas-like lounge singer in the studio while his slick manager was addressing Hammond as “Baby” in the control room. After apologizing for the delay, Hammond told me to go ahead and set up. I put my chord charts and lyric sheets on a music stand and went down the hallway to ease my severe cotton-mouth with a drink of water. When I returned, the lounge singer was gone, but so was all my music. Hammond sent the engineer racing after the pair, but when the out-of-breath engineer reappeared and told us he had shouted at the pair from the street but they jumped into a cab and sped off. They had stolen all of my notes.

Frozen with dread, I somehow managed to record the songs from memory. Ultimately, nothing came of the entire eight-month-long project. Hammond told me that because of a shakeup in the top brass at Columbia, “I no longer know where I’m at in this company.” After I had quietly returned to Tennessee, my former host informed me that Hammond had said, “A lot of people have stuck around a lot longer than he did.” Two years later, Hammond signed Bruce Springsteen to Columbia Records. Still and all, I’m the only artist in recorded history to have been produced by both Sam Phillips and John Hammond. It ain’t bragging if it’s true.

Randy Haspel writes the “Recycled Hippies” blog, where a version of this column first appeared.

Categories
Letters To The Editor Opinion

What They Said (September 25, 2014) …

CREDIT: Greg Cravens

Greg Cravens

About Randy Haspel’s “Rant” on ISIS and new military action in the Middle East …

It’s time to have a new war, because the old war is running out. We need this war, because we always have to have a handy war, so the war machine makers can test out their new war machines. Because we need the best war machines. And everyone who doesn’t love the new war? Well, they are just terrorists and anarchists, and maybe even communists. So they need to be watched by Homeland Security. They might even have beards and be Muslims. Look out!

OakTree

Or maybe ISIS needs to be watched because they cut off the heads of innocents, including children, execute all those who do not agree with their religious beliefs, force girls as young as 10 into “marriages” with their fighters, and their leader has threatened to come to the U.S. and do the same to us.

Personally, I am pretty happy we have all those new war machines at a time like this.

ArlingtonPop

About Chris Davis’ webpost, “Commercial Appeal Changes; 17 Laid Off” …

Not good. The lack of serious news coverage hurts everyone. I’m thinking of a PBS documentary on the decline of major newspapers. The title is frightening:

Black and White and Dead All Over.

Mayfield

The internet hasn’t killed print; bad decisions have. I once worked for a print entity that was purchased by AOL. It was supposed to be the dawning of the age of synergy. Guess how well that worked out. 

Really terrible decisions made by people far from the news-gathering and content-creation side of the business, as well as the local markets being served, sunk the company. Now, that big Wall Street-controlled, multi-national internet company for which I worked is unraveling and in a sort of assisted living center for once-thriving businesses. 

Print can still turn a buck and, more importantly, news-gathering companies can survive. They have to. Otherwise, if you think we’re in hot water now, just wait until we further weaken the Fourth Estate.

Rich Banks

The Flyer could take the high road or give the people what they want (like The New York Daily News): “INTRODUCING THE FLESH BURGER! British chef creates burgers that taste like human flesh” or “‘YOU’RE GOING TO KILL OUR BABY!’: NYPD cops toss pregnant woman to ground in Brooklyn and pummel good Samaritan who tried to help.”

crackoamerican

About Wendi C. Thomas’ column, “The Power of Poverty” …

I don’t know what all you people were complaining about. Wendi’s first column here is spot on. Welcome to the Flyer!

Jeff

About a Frank Murtaugh’s weekly website post, “Three Thoughts on Tiger Football” …

We are MEMPHIS! It is us against the world. Our fans and citizens do not jump on the bandwagon. I’d rather play all games against the five power conferences. The day is coming when the Tigers, Grizzlies, and Redbirds will rule. And that will not happen by playing Austin Peay.

The fans do not want the schedule filled with sorry games. We want Florida, Ole Miss, UCLA, etc. More important, so do the recruits. Remember, fans pay for the programs, and better recruits and players win the games.

Darrell

Actually, I think the Boise State model has proven to be pretty strong. Boise typically steps out of conference against one elite conference foe per year, and that’s it. The rest are small conference.

They made a name for themselves by dominating their conference, winning their other weak non-conference games, and then having that one game a year where they could play up to major competition, and occasionally pull off a win (Georgia, Virginia Tech, Oklahoma in the Fiesta Bowl).

That sounds like the model Fuente wants to follow, and it’s probably best. That said, even as an Ole Miss fan, I think that Memphis would be better off varying which team they play in that game each year, similar to how Boise State has done it.

GroveReb84

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant (September 18, 2014)

A few months ago, no one outside of the defense establishment had ever heard of ISIS, but now that the president has offered a strategy to combat these barbaric psychopaths, the right-wing geniuses in Congress and every talking blonde-head on Fox News has suddenly become an expert on Middle East foreign policy.

It’s clear that the terrorist organization has become an existential threat to the U.S. Recently, an ISIS leader paraphrased George W. Bush, saying, “You are either with us or we will kill you.” Their savagery has again taken this nation back into a sectarian war, and if that is the case, the reactionary Obama haters need to sit down and shut up. When the criminal Bush invaded Iraq under false pretenses, he was at least given the courtesy of bipartisan support before his lies were exposed. No such support for Obama.

An editorial appeared in the New York Times, composed by John McCain and Lindsey Graham, the Abbott and Costello of war-mongers. It attempted to goad the president into stronger action, including more American troops on the ground. After Obama’s televised address outlining plans for assembling a coalition to join the fight, a speech, by the way, which could easily have been given by G. Dubya, Graham ran to Fox News Sunday and said, “Our strategy will fail yet again. The president needs to rise to the occasion before we all get killed here at home.”

The ‘Bama-bashers first took issue with the president for using the term ISIL, instead if ISIS. I was baffled too and had to Google it for myself. So, ISIS means the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria; ISIL stands for the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant. Which raises another question: Levant is an antiquated term used mainly by archaeologists, meaning the area currently in conflict, but also including Palestine and Israel. The apocalyptic conspiratorialists went blotto, claiming Obama had a hidden agenda. One end-of-times website said, “When Obama refers to the Islamic State as ISIL, he is sending a message to Muslims all over the Middle East that he personally does not recognize Israel as a sovereign nation, but as territory belonging to the Islamic State… Obama’s ultimate goal is the destruction of Israel.”

Really? Another article credited to the Fox News staff joined the argument over the president’s choice of words. A massive mob of jihadist maniacs are running wild in Iraq and Syria, committing mass killings, public executions, beheadings, and crucifixions, and the conservative crazies over at Fox are arguing over semantics. Meanwhile, Obama has killed more terrorists than sand fleas and crotch rot.

These three gruesome videos of a knife-wielding, British-sounding ISIS terrorist, who will soon be known as “ashes in a keffiyeh,” are meant to goad the West into sending in ground troops as targets. Aside from our Special Forces who, to no one’s surprise, are already there, these savages aren’t worth sacrificing a single soldier for. In this case, Obama’s strategy is correct — use air strikes and drone the hell out of them. Recently, I viewed a video online that was either leaked or classified because it was quickly taken down. It showed the view from a U.S. helicopter warship over a camp of ISIS killers, scurrying like rats in a barn while being targeted and blown to hell by our military. I must admit, it was the most engrossing thing I’ve seen online in a while.

We have the technology to halt the advances of this group of disaffected men without women, but the need for ground troops is the subject of the current Paris Conference. Muslim countries need to combat this threat directly, but the cavalry isn’t coming — not from our dear friends the Saudis, or the Turks, or the United Arab Emirates — the “Coalition of the Threatened.” Our military claims that an army of Shiite Muslims is necessary to fight the Sunni dominated ISIS militia.

Y’all know me. I’m a leftist peace-nic. There hasn’t been a war since Vietnam that I haven’t opposed. But these thrill-killers are a different animal. This is a moral issue. Remember the first Gulf War after Iraq invaded Kuwait and Poppy Bush drew a line in the sand? You could question the motives for the war, but not the conduct of the operation. Under the direction of General “Stormin’ Norman” Schwarzkopf, a force of 675,000 troops from 28 countries was assembled to fight Hussein’s brutally loyal Republican Guard. After getting their asses kicked out of Kuwait, the Iraqi army retreated in a single-file column, making it easy for U.S. fighter jets to transform them into one long smoking strip of bacon in the desert. I’ve noticed the same single-file progression of ISIS through Iraq. Perhaps the Schwarzkopf strategy can be dusted off one more time and air strikes could be used to create even more lines of crispy critters in the sand. Better still, the CIA could start a blood feud between ISIS and Al Qaeda and let them shoot it out among themselves. There is no negotiating with someone missing their soul. It may come as a surprise, but this pacifist says, “Smoke ’em.” Nothing deters a terrorist quite like death.

Categories
Opinion The Last Word

The Rant (September 11, 2014)

CREDIT: Sbukley | Dreamstime.com

Sbukley | Dreamstime.com

Joan Rivers

I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, pass out, throw up, or do all that at once. This past week has been like a roller coaster of good, bad, sad, goofy, and downright absurd things.

First, I feel like I have a giant, gaping black hole in my psyche because of Joan Rivers’ death. Oh, I know. Many of you know her only as the plastic surgery-addicted fashion commentator from the E! Network, but I grew up on Joan Rivers, and in my opinion she was one of the top five funniest people in history. I always thought of her as something of the older sister I never had. Yes, she was mean in some of her humor but never mean-spirited. Yes, she made fun of people but never more than she made fun of herself. And I think she probably really admired the people she made the most fun of. “What did Elizabeth Taylor say when the waiter asked her what she wanted on her hamburger? A hot dog!” Come on, now. That’s funny! That’s from when Liz was married to that Republican senator and was living on fried chicken and Percocet somewhere out in the country and gained a lot of weight. I can relate.

Sbukley | Dreamstime.com

Joan Rivers

And Rivers was often filthy. Hilariously filthy. About her own daughter she said, and I paraphrase, “She called to tell me that she turned down $400,000 from Playboy to photograph her naked from the waist up, and she wanted my approval. I told her, tell them you’ll take another $200,000 and show them your (another word for ‘cat’ here).” Of all of the heinous, mindless, terrible, unwatchable reality-type shows on television, Fashion Police was hilarious — and a secret guilty pleasure for more people than you know.

I’m also very sad about the news of Wiles-Smith Drug Store on Union Avenue closing. It has been around almost as long as Joan Rivers, and there’s no other place like it that I know of in Memphis. I’d wager to say there aren’t many places like that left anywhere. For those of you who have never been, you should get to their lunch counter (yes, lunch counter in a drug store, still) for a tuna plate or one of their grilled cheese sandwiches and/or one of their famous homemade milk shakes. Their closing is like the end of an era to me. It was pretty much the last bastion of the charm Union Avenue once possessed, before everything was torn down to make way for a zillion ugly fast-food restaurants. Oh, there are still some nice businesses on the street — 1910 Frameworks, Commercial Bank & Trust, the Art Center, and Little Italy — but there will never be another Wiles-Smith.

The most baffling thing of the week to me was the new Mississippi tax-free weekend on guns and ammunition. Really? Mississippi has the highest hunger rate of any state in the country and rather than have a tax-free food weekend, the legislature passed a bill to allow people to buy guns and ammo without paying taxes? And they think this is going to be great for their economy? Economy for whom, you freaking morons? It’s not like someone who can’t afford to buy food can afford to buy a gun to kill a deer to eat. One gun store owner was quoted as saying, “These are big-ticket items that people in the South really support, so it makes a lot of sense. If you go out and purchase a $1,000 firearm, you are gonna save $70. You equate that to a tank of gas or a couple of outfits for your children. So it’s definitely beneficial.” What in the hell does that mean? It makes so little sense I can’t even think of a way to respond to it.

But forget all that tomfoolery. The best news in the past few weeks is that President Obama has selected our own Reverend Al Green to be one of the recipients of this year’s Kennedy Center Honors and man, does he deserve it. I think Al Green is in a category so much his own that sometimes Memphis forgets that he is ours and that he lives here, and has for all of his adult life. We forget that he has a church in Whitehaven, where he preaches and sings almost every Sunday of the year to crowds of mainly European visitors, who are here to watch this internationally beloved icon in his little, round church, Al Green’s Full Gospel Tabernacle. Now that would have been a great place for Joan Rivers’ funeral.