I’m still thinking this scene may represent some of the best writing I have ever done. There you go. Just my opinion. I wouldn’t mind finding out what other listeners think. If you do spend time with these two characters, Buzz Jackson and Joann Triche drop me a note let me know how the scene works for you.
Modern wonders of the world number seven, the Golden Gate Bridge is but one. Two more, Panama Canal and Empire State Building give some context to what company this bridge keeps.
Sailing in the presence of one of the great wonders towering above leaves one stunned. Tidal forces are at play beneath the bridge, incessant corrosive sea salts are blown upon the steel and concrete.
In a stout wind sailing beneath the bridge is not a nonchalant experience. Winds and currents are tricky and the sagest of sailor’s tinker upon this piece of water with a care rendered by squeezing so hard to sheet, tiller or wheel that there is no room for blood to flow. Sailing beneath the wonder is often a white knuckle affair.
Most times with my course outbound luck has been bountiful. Not every time. I have in fool youth did not appreciate the wisdom of turning back and for that mistake then beaten by steep swell and high wind. Stubbornness retreats as motion sickness is threatened.
Here is a bridge our nation has stood up and by civilization’s collective agreement kept safe for transit. If the bridge were not constantly maintained the wild world would have long ago reclaimed this site.
Our forefathers, the people of the United States of America arranged by democracy to tax sufficiently, raise revenue by bridge toll, hire maintenance crew, keep in constant contact with expert engineers that by fact and science expertly keep the bridge in tip top shape.
Left Coast Sunset
Without such due-diligence there would remain nothing of use at the Golden Gate, this place of places. Our democracy to keep standing requires as much if not more care and guidance by empirical fact. A faith based belief system is not a mechanical engineering manual.
We are at the most delicate hour in the world’s longest surviving democracy. To keep one of the seven modern wonders of the world hail and whole seems beyond the talent or plans of the current gang of fascists circling about our vulnerable present moment.
With more people come more traffic lights, small towns need none. Order needs to be appreciated. An emptier world might suit a libertarian, this congested place demands further regulation. Imagining there would be a Golden Gate Bridge must have been a leap of faith in our country’s power. Our best educated, our most temperate people, reliable and self-sacrificing, possessing a sense of respect for our future, this is the kind that will help build upon what Joseph Strauss in 1917 first imagined.
Sailing beneath the Golden Gate Bridge reminds us of our souls, of mankind’s potential for greatness. Sending a man to the moon, circumnavigating the world, relishing the company of a wife or husband.
Capitalism is insufficient to the project of our governing this land. The means of advancing virtue and discouraging vice in our civic life is on the table and at risk. Turning away from the journey of being a free people would be to put all that we have done in peril. We stand on the shoulders and inherited much. I cannot imagine giving all that this nation has built to the tyrannical selfish and greedy few.
Sailing has been part of my life. My first lessons were on 14’ sloop rigged sailboats in the Alameda Estuary. It wasn’t long before a sailing friend purchased his own, a modest seaworthy boat, strong enough to cross oceans, slow enough to make a sailor think twice of doing so.
In 1980 there was a small parking lot operating as a boatyard in the center of Sausalito. After a long day in the yard prepping the boat to go back in the water a short walk across the street landed skipper and his second in command in the No Name Bar.
Sterling Hayden was easy to spot around town. Alan Watts nearly always drunk and irritable made his home here too. Best of the locals was the famous circumnavigator Bernard Moitessier.
Having run out of money in Tahiti he sailed his steel ketch Joshua to Sausalito to rid his life of what he termed the “hungry cows.”
I studied celestial navigation aboard Joshua with three others. Bernard’s berth was located toward the back of the boat near the stern. I remember his bunk enormous, piled high with multicolored quilts, blankets, and pillows. History’s most accomplished sea gypsy slept in a gauzy fantasy world of paisley’s, spangles and curiosities.
I was 29 when I studied under the guidance of this great Frenchman born in Vietnam. I had not read his books yet. His confidence was stunning. He possessed the greatest powers. There was no Global Positioning System deployed yet. To sail the oceans you navigated with compass, sextant and chronometer. Moitessier remains one of world’s most accomplished circumnavigators.
There exists a shortlist of heroic types I’ve had the pleasure to learn from. Each had favorite poets and poems. My hero’s were deeply spiritual, I would go so far as to say each were touched with a sense of the mystical. All seemed to be wedded to the notion of traveling to faraway places. Most cared little for material things and shopped for clothes at second hand stores. These were spirit guides with vast appetites. Skinny to a one, craving to seize the day, and fulfill their hearts desires. Passion was no stranger among my North Stars.
The rail thin sailor was easy to find. We made a habit of chasing him down aboard his boat. We wouldn’t outstay our welcome. Weather permitting we’d stand on deck. Bernard smoked hand rolled cigarettes. Conversation was a meandering experience. We’d talk politics with a sailor who had looked firsthand into the fabric of power by having harbor hopped the nations of the world. We talked about different aspects of sailing. And then there was always this circling back around to our youth and Bernard’s quirky way of urging us to listen to our own hearts, to do what we want to do, be who we truly are. Bernard insisted we had to honor our dreams. Bernard had become our friend.
Sausalito was storybook in 1980. Homes were improbably perched on perilously steep hillsides. Fog hovered on the ridge and in late afternoons would stream down through the gulches in one place but not another.
By nightfall the anchorage would be overcast. Foreign accented voices were common, exotic sailing craft from all corners of the world set at anchor in Richardson Bay. Levi clad long haired men and women populated the waterfront, merry wide eyed dreamers to a one.
I’m anchored off Sausalito, anchored here last night, reminiscences of the good souls that brought me to this moment, having helped steer my life, helped set my direction. A fine man Moitessier, he spent his last days in Normandy along a favorite piece of coastline. I was blessed with his sure hand and chiseled smile.
There is a bright future. In Colorado energy researchers at the Rocky Mountain Institute make it their business to know a thing or two because they’ve studied a thing or two.
Battery storage when paired with solar and wind is the cheapest form of energy on the market in 2020. Coal and natural gas can’t compete. Once photovoltaic solar panels are deployed, once a wind turbine is stood up there are no additional costs. You don’t need to buy fuel to make energy.
Natural gas power plants to make any sense built now would have to make electricity well into 2060. If they were shutdown sooner the costs of construction would be stranded. The writing isn’t just on the wall the word is out on Wall Street. Change has come to the future of electricity.
In middle of August this summer I was in smoke from Bend, Oregon until I was past Ogden, Utah. That is over six hundred miles of hellscape.
Last week in Northern California because of the Glass Fire in Napa County exercising outside wasn’t just uncomfortable it was dangerous.
In 2017’s gigantic Thomas Fire health experts calculated that because of the smoke there would be thousands of health related illnesses, that thousands of lives would be shortened, and even if hard to quantify some fragile compromised people would die immediately.
Wildfires are pernicious. People can’t hope to have predictable lives around natural disasters. In the before-time’s, we almost could make a case for slow walking our response to our emergencies. With wildfires growing larger, hurricanes more frequent, a President flummoxed by an invisible virus, because of a fragile psychologically disabling pride, he leaves our nation floundering in the vice grip of these many tragedies.
The date was November 8, 2018. Malibu’s Woolsey Fire had just started. I got a good look at that fire after takeoff from Burbank. An hour later approaching Oakland for landing there was more smoke blowing down from the Camp Fire, this is the deadly fire that killed 85, destroyed over 13,000 homes and leveled the town of Paradise, California.
Researchers at Rocky Mountain Institute are helping to develop hope. Green hydrogen, better batteries, more efficient solar panels and a more resilient national electrical grid are just some of what they are busy trying to understand and deploy.
Fixing what ails the atmosphere doesn’t require the discovery of anything we don’t already have in our toolkit. Wearing a mask, washing hands, maintaining physical distance from others goes most of the way toward keeping us all safe and alive from a virus. Things are not that difficult.
The current occupant in the White House has failed our country. His being voted out of office is job one. Most of what we face after will be the good work of a nation regaining its balance and purpose.
Showmen turn a buck creating entertainments. Producing a live entertainment, large or small, one man or cast of thousands, in almost all circumstances are based on sustaining an audience’s attention.
Comedy pleases audiences by laugh and wit. Tragedy appeals by illustrating the fault of a character in a story and how their demise becomes an enlightened vehicle to lift the audience’s spirits.
I’m not a scientist, don’t work for the Pentagon, have no specific training in weather forecasting, forest management or background in urban planning. For some years now our climatologists have urged the creative’s in our world to come up with art to help make the climate emergency unfolding before us into a popular attraction.
Intercoastal mountains running 450 miles north to south from Bakersfield to Redding are hot dry and prone to wildfire
Years back the Pentagon warned that the coming climate crisis risked plunging large swaths of the world into crisis and rendering them ungovernable. Prodding an audience’s imagination into conjuring up what an ungovernable piece of shrinking ice for a polar bear might look like isn’t going to get the artists job done.
The magnitude of California’s climate change enhanced wildfires is of such scale and scope that it has now emerged as the preeminent threat to civilization. Governor Gavin Newsom is a gamer in my book, but the mere mortal leader is up against the wall concocting a solution to this monster.
Making our cars all electric by 2035 is a step in the right direction. I have a movie by Busby Berkeley that might help if you find it difficult being kept waiting.
Reality in California includes reading news about wildfires, remaining indoors because of air quality, and then finding out you know someone that has lost their house or been forced to evacuate.
Easy or difficult, tears or laughter, sick or poor, in good health or on our death bed’s chances are we’ll have to mount an earnest effort if we are going to take a shot at solving our planets problems.
I’m imagining solar panel installation gags, more renewable Don Quixote and his loyal servant Sancho Panza tilting at windmill skits, Back to the Future lithium battery Elon Musk in the laboratory sketches. Once you get the hang of it, it’s not so hard.
Wine Country Wildfires since 2015
I’m imagining doors you don’t want to open, characters warning other characters not to open it, don’t go in there, and of course they do, and come out comically transformed. Make it cartoon like, you know, burnt to a crisp like Wiley E Coyote and his nemesis the Road Runner of Merry Melodies and Loony Tunes cartoon fame.
There have been 7,982 fire incidents in California in 2020 with 3,627,010 acres total acres burned. There have been 7,630 structures damaged or destroyed and at least 26 fatalities as of Sept 28. The coronavirus has claimed 16,000 Californian’s. There are an estimated 151,278 homeless living on our streets. That’s a burden on our spirits, terrible losses to tally.
40 million all left to wonder what is to come of California
That’s where we are, this is the fine mess we are in. To my way of thinking, neither plastering optimism or negativity on our challenges, we need to remind ourselves how much better we all do as a people simply helping to build a better future for our world.
So, I started out with the Royal Lichtenstein Quarter-Ring Sidewalk Circus, and at the time this show seemed to speak to the moment and lift the worlds spirits. After five decades chasing audiences around the world, I’m thinking of launching a new show, the current working title is, The World Emergency Full Catastrophe Climate Change Comedy Show. A good show needs a snappy slogan. How about, “I swear to God, you’ll die laughing!”
September 19, 2015 I was on the Calistoga Fairgrounds. I had jotted that date down in my calendar getting up that morning and driving the hour and fifteen minutes from Emery Cove north to this location intending to investigate this northernmost corner of Napa County. I had come to look over the historic racetrack as I pieced the plot to my next novel together.
The hotshot had fought too hard this season, “You give fire a crack, especially with a five year drought on and she’ll make it a moody unpredictable conflagration every time.” From Women of the Oak Savannahs
National championship motorcycle races were scheduled then cancelled. Instead the fairground became a base for the evacuees of the Lake County Fire burning out of control east of the famed wine growing region.
I met activists and volunteers on fairgrounds that day. I had lunch downtown talking to people arriving to pickup friends, family and their pets to take them home until the fires were put out.
“I pray to god I’m to hell and gone,” another hot shot said, “when that road reopens, and the homeowners are allowed back in. I don’t know if there’s a man among us who has the stomach to witness that much grief.”
This wasn’t the first big fire, but it was the worst of them. Unstoppable wildfire in late summer to early fall have become too frequent. California is a little dryer, a little hotter, and this combination combines with high winds and low humidity to make for near perfect conditions for fire.
Satellite View of the Glass Fire
With the economic recovery after the global financial crisis of 2009 came a run up in real estate prices along with an increased demand for markets seeking Napa Valley wines. Attending a Napa County Planning Commission meeting was to witness a frenzied bubble of speculators rushing to buy a piece of Napa County paradise.
“I hope we never do a show like this ever again.” Jo said. “One is enough, two is more heartbreak than a girl ought to have to bear.”
In the last ten years with most of the valley built-out attention turned to the hills surrounding Napa Valley. One developer then another obtained a permit to build. Tens upon tens of thousands of trees were removed, thousands of acres of vines were planted, homes were built, wells punched, and tasting rooms were opened.
All the while each year there were more and ever more dangerous wildfires in the region. Instead of halting further development, consolidating infrastructure, finding solutions to the traffic choked highways, the pressure to keep approving new developments and keep the expansion on track was the unstoppable force.
“What if the whole world gets so hot that there’s nowhere to run? What are we going to do then?”
“Can’t let that happen.”
Wildfire is forcing Napa County to change its plans. Global climate change is forcing the region to reconsider how to even coexist with the now deadly serious autumn fire season. A small army of specialized scientists already have the answers to questions the planning commissioners don’t want to hear. Hazard insurance for homeowners is about to disrupt the real estate market. The cost of protecting hillside homes is spiking. Water scarcity, salmons fish runs going extinct and a spike in childhood cancer rates plague the once pristine region.
Locals try to keep their chins up but confidence has dipped, knowing at any moment in any future autumn that orders to evacuate their home because of another wildfire has to be planned for. Having to run for your life with what you can grab before a wall of flames ingulfs your home isn’t workable.
Solving this crisis will inevitably turn to working with the international effort to reverse climate change. The singular focus of increasing vineyards to take what precious little water there is here and ship it in the form of wine to over there is no longer viable. Like the pandemic the wildfires are forcing us to reconsider how we may move forward. This is what we confront now. How to preserve and protect our people and world.
Jo bent over and untangled her long hair with her fingers. “I saw that look, the one you’re talking about. After the show, then it hits them all over again, everything they had in this world has gone up in smoke, gone like that, and now? How do you pick up the pieces when there are no pieces left to pick up?”
Psychological resilience in this after-times is demanded of civilizations players. To survive this rollicking adventure we must adapt to fast moving viruses, wildfires, and weaponized inequality.
Mask wearing, I don’t mind. Socially distancing, I’m hermetic by nature. Vaccinations, I’m ready when they’ve got one that works.
Yesterday I could see and smell smoke here in Northern California where wildfire erupted in Napa County. Evacuations were ordered. Being forced out of your home is disorienting, especially while fleeing and having forgotten your mask.
Into the Wildest Places
Perhaps yours is not but my economy is shattered. For the moment if you are landing on your East Hampton’s helipad things might be just dandy. The peasants in pitchforks are plenty stirred up by the madness that passes for a Republican President and Congress but whether they are going to slow roast their hard-hearts remains a longshot. As we say in the trade, “I like oligarch I’ve just never been able to finish a whole one.”
Swift moving flames of wildfire burn one thing down and odd as it seems another thing isn’t touched. Entertainment industry is shuttered the lives of tens of thousands of ballet dancers, actors, singers, musicians, choreographers, conductors, orchestras, theme parks, circus shows, street performers are all out of work. Movie theaters, Las Vegas, nightclubs, comedy joints, strip clubs, and singing telegram gigs are all kaput.
Better Living Through Virus Dodging
All of what had been reliable and true is no longer the case. We may not wander about the world with our passports, enter and exit most of the world as we once did. We may have thought living on some leafy lane a terrific bit of pastoral splendor at one time and of course now you’ll have to have your head examined before occupying such a residence.
We continue to struggle about whether citizens are going to have access to health-care. Two months from now our Supreme Court may toss out the Affordable Care Act and with it will go coverage for Americans with pre-existing conditions. Depending upon how you count that group of unfortunates, to give you a ballpark figure, approximately all of us will be affected by this change.
As we all dash about dodging the plague and wildfires while searching for new jobs, because we can’t perform the work we’ve spent our life training for, our titans of finance are doing their damned best to get their morally bankrupt huckster back in the Oval Office.
History’s warning chastens our self-conceit. Turning the page on the industrial revolution and building a brighter more survivable renewable energy economy is like you know going to take a moonshot. The technology has all been invented, we have the tools, what is lacking is a means of organizing the human spirit into a coherent civilization saving act.
We’ll need leaders at the top. We’ll need an activist citizenship. Mobilizing will require a colossal deployment of people and technologies. Jobs will be plentiful. The economy will thrive, but yeah there are going to be winners and losers. To that end we’ll show those sectors of the economy that need a hand up how a more compassionate capitalism can work.
None of what I’ve outlined is remotely original. This plan waits. November’s election is crucial. Democracy, civilization and the football season are all on the line. Vote like your season tickets depend upon it.
I write a novel after making a plan. The initial work includes list of scenes I want to put my list of characters into. I want them to have to go through some things on the way through the story.
I knew that planning a novel about saving 2500 acres of oak woodlands was going to be based on readers caring about the characters that have found themselves joined to the struggle.
I wanted two very intense people try to grapple with how their greatness has been the cause of so much interpersonal failure.
Each scene adds another building block to this effort to hook readers into caring. And of all the things worth caring for, the characters may be the most important.
This is not a sex scene, this is a surrender your heart scene, to a complete stranger, a pair having some kind of love at first sight experience, both having been not so much unlucky in love but more a bit too clever and professionally pressured to make room for love.
The novel can’t work unless this scene works. This is a clash between two immensely talented, proud, vulnerable, successful, competitive people who more than anything else can’t quite admit out loud how much they both crave the possibility of creating a durable intimate life with a partner.
Here is their first meeting. Shocked, blown away, struggling to make their way in, both stumble from start to end trying to figure out what it is they have found.
Offshore a mariner fixes their attention on the task of sailing. Between the departure and arrival during a passage there is much to do. Steering and trimming sails as the wind dictates, motoring when becalmed, utilizing your navigational equipment, keeping your position marked on your chart, keeping skipper and crew fed and hydrated.
Depending upon the day the motion of the boat may keep the crew on their toes. Being thrown off your feet while moving about can be dangerous, keeping an eye out for crew unaware that they are getting motion sick, keeping a good lookout for vessels approaching.
Santa Cruz Island
Sailing off the coast ten miles or more the shoreline becomes gauzy, the contours become blue gray misty silhouettes. Sailors listen to the hull moving through the water. Often the sound is delicate and you may discern the cutting of the bow into the sea or the swirling wake off the stern.
Crew in Reverie
Clues of what is ahead can be read by the size, steepness and direction of the ocean swell. Off Big Sur in September of 2018 we greeted sunrise with 8-10’ swells coming from the north while from the south we were being overtaken by smaller 4-6’ swells generated by the far off remnants of a hurricane. The morning was moody. Fog lifted but above the sky remained overcast, dark, offering no cheerfulness.
To Monterey we had been 32 hours northbound from Morro Bay. In the darkness of the early morning before daybreak a pod of dolphins playing chase would swim out away from the bow of the boat then turn and race back to the tip. Again and again the pod maneuvered for most of an hour. What an eye could pick out in the pitch black night was the bioluminescence stirred up in the dolphins wake and the glimpse of white to their underbodies as the animals leaned to the side or corkscrewed through the sea.
Winged Wonder Albatross
A Laysan albatross soared on 7’ wings near our vessel as we made our course north approaching Carmel. The bird’s wingtips kissing the tips of the waves. In the time the sailboat took to make another hundred yards north the albatross had circled about the boat coming in closer then soaring out further perhaps a flying one mile to our three hundred feet. To be sure this animal is a swift master of flight.
In Monterey Harbor by noon we took a guest slip. Squaring fees with the harbormaster we returned to the boat and snacked, rested on our bunks reading, and got much needed sleep for the next twenty-four hours.
Monterey Harbor Entrance
Winds were calm but an approaching low pressure system dictated we motor north to San Francisco. At the fuel dock I spoke with the workman handling the pumps. He had been commuting from Salinas where he was born and had signed a lease on an apartment in Monterey. He had sold his car after the move and bought a bike. His lifestyle was on the upswing. The fuel dock in Monterey provides a good wage and chance to make small talk with fishermen, sailors and the like. Like everyone up and down the coast the conversations were much the same. Cost of housing, congested roads, tourists everywhere, big money types coming into town driving up prices and driving their friends and family out.
Some remain and make do against all odds. Born and raised types tend to try and stick it out. The smart ones if they can get rid of their cars and commutes. They’ll know which coffeehouse to frequent and saloon to drown their sorrows in. Some will have just found love, others have just lost love, there were no fuel dock workers I met that didn’t have one kind of love or another square in the middle of their lives.
Arrival 56 days along the coast
A good wage, someone to love and no commute. That’s being at the top of your game in California in the second decade of this new century.
Electile Dysfunction seems to have been creeping back into our election system. Chief Justice Roberts and his band of merry curmudgeons gutting of the Voting Rights Act and then their naked partisan decision in Citizens United have set the table for the fat authoritarian orange monster to wage his dictator takeover America for his buddy Putin plan. All this for one measly tower in Moscow. Selling your country out comes on the cheap.
Electile Dysfunction has many symptoms you are all familiar with. One of the most telling signs of political illness is the, both sides are the same canard. “Bothsiderism,” infects the deepest inner most sanctums of the journalists seeking to maintain access to the politicians they are paid to cover. No access and no pay.
The Once Well Oiled Empire
So how does this look? Well, start with Benghazi. Four Americans from the embassy in Libya were killed and the Republicans went into full dungeon blaming Obama, Hillary and Susan Rice. There you go one side, but we need one more side so we can have some good old “bothsiderism.”
Next comes the death of 200,000 victims from the Covid-19 virus. One side spewing venom and a pox on all your houses over four dead in Libya while that same side has not uttered one word about the President’s bungling of the global pandemic and the preventable death of TWO-FUCKING-HUNDRED-THOUSAND-CITIZENS-OF-THE-UNITED-STATES-OF-AMERICA.
I have a special place in hell all picked out for “single issue voters.” There are a lot of these misfits in our midst. Guns, abortion, immigration and anti-tax types are four of the most popular single issues. Other most popular issues include Caucasians advocating for White Supremacy, misogynists, homosexual dread-mongers, and climate change denialists are found trapped in their one trick pony voting booth myopia.
Yes, good old E.D. allows a low information voter to go full head in the sand. Still here we all are, and we are in this together, and not just together, but with the world’s population rocketing ever higher there’s a lot of us piling up in one cohort of voters or another.
Our current occupant in the Oval has been dismantling our government before our very eyes while doing everything he can to overthrow our systems of checks and balances, so he may appoint himself President for life. Yeah, that guy.
Seeing as I would prefer not to find myself locked in a cage for being an artist. Believing that our Attorney General seems to be showing severe authoritarian sympathizing symptoms. Spines and backbones have been removed from all Republican Senators at the same instant they suffer paralysis of their vocal cords. I’ve never seen a more silent group of blabbermouths arriving at the same place in history at the same time. Basically this is the intersection where the party crackup is so severe it renders itself utterly unredeemable.
You see I’m beginning to think if we are in an authentic global emergency, that if there is a raging pandemic, increasing signs of civilization ending climate change, raging income inequality, systemic racism and not just a tent city but a whole living in your tent megalopolis about to explode on the scene then I think all of us may want to reconsider how and who we vote for this November.
Climate Emergency Panoramic
Without inventing one new technology we already have everything we need to defeat climate change. A few tweaks to the tax code and income inequality is fixed. Demanding our cops not blow holes into Black Americans doesn’t seem too much to expect. Affordable housing, a living wage and universal access to health care are all within reach. Next year we are going to be in the biggest pornographic pickle without condoms corner our economy has faced since the 1930’s.
Civilization Celebrates Survival
Here’s my advice to our next President. Put millions to work deploying an energy system for the 21st Century. Wind turbines, solar panels, batteries, and heat pumps need to be stood up to replace our antiquated 19th Century fossil fuel energy system. If we made it a moonshot, go full ‘fly me to the moon let us all swing among the stars’ we can expect our economy to recover, citizens to have good paying jobs and our one precious earth to survive Putin’s puppet and everything has to be made in China or we sure as hell won’t want to buy it.
I know, I know I’ve given you a lot to think through, but dang you know I’m not really sure I want to do the full Nazi’s in America thing. In fact I know if we dump democracy we can expect banana futures to skyrocket, Molotov cocktails for happy hour, and some of the least desirable grifters from Kansas all going to Washington seeking work in voter suppression.
So, pay the hell attention and if vote for a candidate be sure as all hell, he or she isn’t a Nazi sympathizing Putin puppet. You want a few names? Sure, Senator Ron Johnson from Wisconsin, and Devin Nunes from Fresno. Want more names? Try Donald J Trump, Roger Stone, Paul Manafort, and Michael Flynn. This isn’t hard people; this is a no-brainer… Our republic stands at the brink and your 401k isn’t even going to afford you an empty grocery bag if you muff this one.
I’ll Drink to That, and one for Mahler!
One day we’ll all take our masks off, get plowed at the local pub, and remember how close we’ve come to destroying everything we have held as precious and sacred.