The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I’m old enough to have seen more than my fair share of Presidential debates, some good, some not so good. I can remember Nixon sweating under the hot lights in the Kennedy debates. I remember poor Quayle in the Veep debates trying to summon the ghost of Kennedy before his opponent said he knew Jack Kennedy, he was a friend of Jack Kennedy, and you, sir, are no Jack Kennedy. I watched George Herbert Bush looking at his watch, bored with the whole proceedings. Mostly I remember candidates squaring off on issues, debating substance, looking for a right hook to the chin that would finish off their adversary.

Last night I watched a debate, if we can call it that, like nothing I’d ever seen before, not even the Trump/Clinton smackdowns. This one, well, what do we make of it? Unhinged? Deranged? Unsightly? All of the above? Sure, let’s be generous, it was all of the above and a lot more. An uglier performance would be hard to imagine without punches literally thrown, hair pulled, shirts torn, biting and scratching with overturned podiums and microphones used as mallets. It was live wrestling without the wrestling.

I guess the President figured if he simply bullied and interrupted continually, his flustered opponent might become so exasperated he’d make gaffe after gaffe. All Biden really had to do was look halfway composed, even a bit confounded by the flailing Trump. What Trump must have been thinking is anybody’s guess. At least until he got to the pointed questioning by moderator Wallace whether he would condemn white supremacists. Kind of a softball really. Just say sure, you bet, who wouldn’t? Instead he flustered and blustered, asked who Wallace was talking about, what right wing hate groups, only to have the helpful Biden suggest the Proud Boys. ‘Stand back and stand by’, the President of the United States answered immediately.

Holy KKK, Batman, are you k-k-kidding? The head of the FBI just finished testifying in Congressional hearings the biggest threat to this country was right wing extremists and you’re calling on one of the most organized of the racist bunch to stand by??? Stand by for what, Mr. President? Shock troops to protect the white suburban women of America?

Nobody expects clarification today, nobody expects an apology. I remember when George Wallace ran for President. I didn’t know George Wallace, I was no friend of George Wallace, but you, Mr. Trump are definitely a George Wallace. Mission accomplished, Mr. President. Mission sadly accomplished. Trust me, no one needs to sit through another debate like this. Put a fork in your eye, you’re done. Deservedly so ….

If you claimed to be worth 10 billion dollars, and you probably don’t, you might expect to pay some serious pesos to the IRS every year. I mean, unless you had a few legitimate deductions. Like bankrupt casinos, say. Or payouts to porn queens to maintain a discreet silence. But would it seem unlikely that in the past 15 years you paid out nothing for 10 of those and 750 bucks two of those years? Mr. T., when asked about this, claimed he had paid very large amounts. We’ll see them as soon as the audits are completed, he told us again. Those audits apparently are very slow.

I suspect that in Mr. T’s mind, 750 bucks is excessive. I would tell you that my own were 10 times that, but … you’ll have to wait until my own audit is complete. What I can say without advice from my fixer — I mean my attorney — is that most of us in this country pay 10 times that. Right off hand, the only folks I know who pay what Donald pays are Amazon and GE and about 50 other corporations on the Fortune 500. This is what is called capitalism and if you’re scared pantless about encroaching socialism, trust me, the vultures have already eaten your BVD’s so quit sweating, you’ve been taken to the cleaners already.

In America the rich write the tax laws. The rich can afford lawyers and tax accountants who can decipher the legalese and navigate the labyrinth. It may be that everything these corporations and Trump Inc. declare as legitimate deductions are on the up and up. 70,000 dollars for his haircuts? Well, the man has to look his best. 100,000 for Ivanka’s stylist? Sure, why not? I spent 15 dollars on my one haircut last year and I forgot to deduct it. Stupid me. I once went to England and my buddy who was an accountant said let’s go to a cathedral, look at the stained glass and you can write off the whole trip. I said I couldn’t do that. He said it’s perfectly legal. I said it might very well be, but it wouldn’t be right. Stupid me.

While giving the wealthy tax breaks, we’re running up trillion dollar deficits. As the pandemic lockdowns drag the poorest of us into crisis mode, we stopped giving unemployment aid to the worst off. If any of you think we’re all in this predicament together, I have a golf course in Florida you might like to buy. Great tax deduction when you add up the losses.

A lot of the newcomers to the fabled South End build their mega-mansions with their yards left menaced by 100 year old 2nd growth nettle forests. The first windstorm slamming them with 80 mph hurricane force winds triggers frantic calls to their insurance agent … when the power and phone service return.

It’s only a matter of time before they realize their woodland retreat is a potential deathtrap and, better safe than sorry, they decide to clearcut the property. Worst case, they can put in a 9 hole golf course with sand and water traps and never miss the forests that brought them here in the first place. The eagles and deer can migrate back inland a ways among us poorer residents, the ones with handicaps too high for golf.

Course now they need a tree expert. Or at least some logger bonded and insured with references a long resume in the woods industry. Trouble is, the logging era on the South End is pretty far back, mostly black and white photos down at the Historical Society and Tourist Information. So … after some futile internet searching, they invariably get to Jimmy the Gyppo.

Jimmy’s been topping trees for suburban worriers ever since the log market went to pot, medical and otherwise, and the price of a board foot of timber nettle plummeted to less than the cost of hauling it to the mill over in Arlington. He figured out the real money was in One-Offs, either before or after they were on a roof, didn’t matter to him either way. When clients asked if he was bonded and insured, he’d just laugh. That’s why you got the home insurance, he’d say, knowing full well their options were fairly constricted.

Jimmy the Gyppo didn’t come cheap and he even charged to haul the downed trees away. Then he sold the firewood off a flatbed down by Tyee Store, what he called a Two-fer. The rich folks didn’t mind. The whoppers Jimmy regaled them with, spitting tobacco plugs across a pansy garden, made them feel a little like pioneers, breaking soil for the next expansion of the American West, bringing civilization to the wild old South End before finally deciding to move on to the sunny southwest where the winters were dry and there were no forests left to threaten their vacation homes.

I recently had a buddy who advocated that the government, rather than pay out trillions in Covid unemployment compensation and business relief, pay each of us 125,000 dollars to infect ourselves with the virus, thereby achieving herd immunity and sparing us further deficit spending. Basically the Administration is promoting the same idea. But without the 125,000 buck incentive.

Lately I’ve been feeling happily isolated from the Herd. Course, I don’t have kids sequestered at home learning their ABC’s from a laptop instructional video, we don’t have rent payments backing up like a plugged toilet, we aren’t worried about the jobs we lost or the jobs that aren’t coming back, we live in a part of the world where social distancing was pretty much the norm and our routine wasn’t disrupted greatly by the plague. If you offered me a quarter million dollars for the two of us to infect ourselves, I suspect I might have to turn it down. Not just because one or both of us might die or be greatly diminished by the virus, just that money seems like a poor incentive when we’re already living in a South End paradise.

It’s a grand thought experiment though. How many of us would take the money? I suspect quite a few, especially if you were younger. You got a couple kids, you could walk away with half a million. Not bad for snorting up a shot of covid. If you were old with underlying medical conditions, maybe the gamble would look like a sucker’s bet.

My buddy thinks this would save the economy. Sweden thought the same way. Nice try, Stockholm. Course, Sweden never quite reached herd immunity, just ratcheted up their mortality rate. But they didn’t have to pay anybody to catch the coronavirus. The reward was the right not to wear masks and drink in crowded bars. For a lot of Americans that would be incentive enough, forget the cash incentives, some big savings!

For the good of the herd! Try that as a slogan for the upcoming election. Probably about as rallying a cry as Wear Your Damn Mask, Dimwit!