The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

That poor man, Kavanaugh, has been put through more than enough, at least according to the Judge himself and his supporter, the great senator from South Carolina. Personally, I’ve been put through enough as well, and unless I miss my guess, you have too. The man is twisting in the wind, as we say down here on the storm-tossed beaches of the South End, a veritable piñata for the #MeTooMovement and half of the country following every columnist, news feed, Facebook troll and Instagram user. The FBI is on the case, at least for one week, no need to take longer, there are senators in a great hurry to rush this thing to the floor and vote for the man with all due haste. The Wheels of Justice grind … well, not slowly in this case and not too fine, but we got an election coming up and the worst scenario for those senators would be to fail to put an obvious partisan ally on the Big Bench, to hell with judicial decorum and fair mindedness. The boyz want a bullet proof Supreme Court and if it costs that institution the respect of an astonished nation, by god, that’s the price.

Whether you believe Judge Kavanaugh’s accuser or him, whether you applauded his histrionics and his counter attacks on what he presumed are HIS accusers, what you will remember is an angry little man willing to vent his rage in front of a national audience, a privileged fellow who can scarcely believe his credibility can be questioned, an entitled kid who apparently never really grew up, a prep school punk who punches at those who dare to ask a probing question. He’s a lot like the man who nominated him, another accused sexual predator immature in outlook and menacing in demeanor. That guy was elected President and if recent history offers any lessons, this one might be confirmed too.

Senator Graham, in his spluttering screed, yelled a red-faced accusation that ‘you people’, meaning his colleagues on the Democratic side of the aisle, ‘would do anything to win.’ The kettle is black said the pot. If memory serves, those same people confirmed Gorsuch awhile back and Graham’s people refused to consider Merrick Garland. Who deserves to be outraged, Lindsay? Certainly not you.

I wish this partisanship would settle down. I wish we had a little respect for the government, the media, the rule of law. But there are people who don’t. They claim the mantle of Populism, they vow to drain the swamp of government, they label legitimate journalism fake news, they trample established decorum and decency and they play a mean and hard ballgame. The Supreme Court, already under some scrutiny for biased opinions, is the newest victim of these folks’ drive to power. Kavanaugh or not, the curtain has been pulled back. Oz is a Lindsay Graham, a mean-to-the-core little man full of sound and fury, signifying not very much, certainly nothing deserving of applause.

These are scary times for young men in America, so sez the Commander-in-Chief after accusations arose on his nominee for the Big Bench for sexual malfeasance in high school and college. If anyone would know, it would be the Big Bopper, a man who never grew beyond the sexual assaults of his youth. Or his middle age. And probably hasn’t yet. But for America’s young men, let us be afraid for them.

Well, okay, I’m not gonna lose sleep worrying. Boys will be boys isn’t going to cut it and if some of my testosterone-overdosed buddies think those indiscretions of their drunken youth justify giving poor Brett Kavanaugh a pass, they need to rethink things. I remember a couple of lab techs I used to work with in my prestigious career as a graveyard orderly at a nearby hospital who’d been warned to leave the nurses alone. They thought it was all a hoot, what harm could it possibly do? This was thirty years before the #MeTooMovement and their women colleagues were fair game as far as they were concerned. I tried talking to them about this attitude after witnessing some shenanigans and all I got was amused smirking. Today they’d be fired, pack up, boys and hit the pavement.

I wonder how many of us males are squirming in our BVD’s watching Kavanaugh raging against the injustice of being pilloried for crimes 3 decades ago. When he was intoxicated, no less. How many feel sympathy because they can imagine themselves in his seat, pants on fire. Sure he’s gotta lie. He sure can’t admit to being a blackout drunk. He sure can’t claim it was all a joke grinding away on that woman with his buddy egging him on. He sure doesn’t think it’s fair to have this adolescent frivolity brought up now that he’s a middle aged judge. And how many of us guys take his side because, well, there but for the grace of God and the statute of limitations go they. A lot, I’m betting.

What I’m really hoping is that a lot of that squirming is out of belated guilt. Maybe Kavanaugh is a mirror now and Dr. Ford’s anguish could be someone they know. Could be that they’re learning a few hard lessons in contrition. But I suspect most are going to side with the Judge. If we can overlook his past, maybe we can let our sleeping dogs lie too. Me, I think Trump, as always, has it backwards. These are scary times for young women in America. Same as they’ve ever been, same as they’ve ever been.

These are, admittedly, strange times in the Social Republic of America. We’re waiting to be great again and this week we’re anticipating the decision regarding whether Brett Kavanaugh should be confirmed to the Big Bench. Partisanship has reached a boiling point judging by the spluttering screed of Sen. Lindsay Graham in a spirited attack on ‘you people’, meaning his colleagues on the other side of the aisle. Kavanaugh shouted a conspiratorial diatribe at everyone from liberals to the Clintons, a sad beginning for what might become this era’s new judicial restraint.

Evidently the playbook now requires undermining the legitimacy of the press, attacking our own government and the government of our allies, ripping up trade treaties and treaties to keep nuclear weapons contained, using the powers of Congress and the President to attack perceived enemies, something we frowned on in the Nixon years but apparently is fine now. What’s really intriguing in these vitriolic times is the President’s embrace of folks like Russia’s Putin and the Philippine’s Duterte, totalitarian strongmen bereft of law and decency, but who Trump nevertheless touts as worthy of emulation. Try to imagine Obama channeling Joseph Stalin. Or George Bush writing Valentine Day cards to Khomeini. You think things aren’t upside down, inside out, think again.

This week Donald fell in love. Not with Melania, not with Ivanka, not with Lindsay Graham (although I think he may have a crush), but with none other than Little Rocket Man, who, sez the Prez, wrote him a wonderful letter, an admiring letter, a letter that was nothing less than a work of art. You want Trump’s respect, praise him. You want his admiration, suck up to him. You want his love, tell him how great a leader he is. He’ll return the favor. You don’t even have to have incriminating evidence of prostitutes pissing on his bed, he’ll return your love.

The man just wants approbation. He wants you to say he’s not just okay, he’s the most okay of anyone, ever, anywhere, anytime. If we had god kings, he would be ours. If we build him a pyramid, he would find it in his heart to forgive us. If we chisel out Lincoln’s ugly visage on Mt. Rushmore and replace it with his, the world would be given to you. If you took out the other three losers and renamed the mountain Mt. Me, no door would ever be closed to you. All he wants is your love. Love is all he needs. In the meantime he has to find it in all the wrong places.

Barbarians at the Gate

So a week ago we put a little library in the phone booth that mysteriously appeared in the park I care-take here on the South End. I built a fancy bookcase in a tree configuration, painted it like a Jackson Pollock, installed it inside the booth and filled it with novels, how-to’s, kid’s books and CD’s. It lasted less than a week before some anti-literacy vandals decided that very nice wood bookcase would look nicer broken to pieces and thrown out on the lawn and the books would be better off left unread strewn around the Little Library in the rain. They burned a few of them, tore up others and spit loogies on the windows of the phone booth, then started to paint F… something on the sides. Which raises the question: if you didn’t want to read the books, why bust up the library? Just do like most folks in America, don’t go to the library. And don’t defile the temple, even if it is just a phone booth.

I’ve been mowing that park for a decade, a pretty thankless task, let me tell you. I mow the lawn, clear trails, chainsaw up deadfall, plant shrubs and flowers, put in sculpture and birdhouses and art. Three of our sculptures were stolen the first week. A grill was sawed off and taken the second week. If you were the ranger, I bet you’d be discouraged as much as me. I know I stopped trying to add more sculpture and art after awhile, too much a kick in my soft head.

Today I went over to clean up the mess and restock the books. A carload of women drove in while I was there, hoping to see the new little library. Cultural tourism after the Vandals have trashed Rome. They had seen the photo in the newspaper and driven southward to see for themselves the grassroots biblioteca. What they saw instead was the smoldering ruins of our answer to the Library of Alexandria.

These are tough times in post-Truth America, for sure. The ignorant are up on their hind legs braying like donkeys and the politicians are too timid to tell them they’re complete imbeciles, afraid of the angry backlash that might, god forbid, remove them from their coveted offices. The illiterate and the conspiracy promoters walk hand in hand now with monkey wrenches and pickaxes. Who needs government? they howl. Who needs facts? Who needs the truth if it goes against our beliefs. Burn the witches! Burn the books! And who needs a dopey little library right down the road?

Well … I think we know who does. Trouble is, they don’t and they won’t. Our little library is still open. We’ll see for how long.