Author: Stephen J Frankenberry

“Ya might wanna avert your eyes sis, cause I’m stripping naked in front of your dryer” That was the greeting to my sis, Rebecca Frankenberry after I arrived sponge-like at her house following a rain soaked game one in my double header weekend. She and the nephews, Jake and Matty, live near Schenectady and were my sleep stop between games on this final weekend of Friday Night Lights (and one Saturday). These Friday football nights have come to an end for this season with Spectrum Sports but I have to say thanks to Spectrum and especially to my good friend Greg Bobbitt for the chance to work as much of the schedule as I was able. My appreciation of always being considered by Greg when it comes to games/events and the ability to get some work is something I don’t think I could ever offer enough of. The games in the Albany area were new to me this season, and a bit of a drive and my arrivals at whatever field we were at for these recent Friday nights were usually greeted by crew mates with something akin to “Jesus, did you just drive the two hours up here for this AGAIN?” along with surely an internal aside “you silly bastard” followed, then, a tired good number of hours later, by a game finished/breakdown done “You heading home two hours again…you silly bastard?” (no internal asides at end of game by the way – everyone’s WAY too tired for that nicety shit by then).

Now I realize I’m not hitting the lottery with these jobs, but the money is still a pretty good dollar that I didn’t have and can always use, four hour round trips nothwithstanding but, really, it’s more than that. It’s just that tongue in cheek “Jesus did you drive up here again?” comraderie and hand shakes and fist bumps that makes the trip worth it – plus we get fed. Anyone that knows ME and anyone that knows a regular radio or TV production life knows that getting fed goes a pretty long fucking way.

But it’s being part of a crew of really good, accomplished, hard working and funny, sarcastic sometimes playfully caustic folks who you can call friend and who are really good at what they do that makes the gigs worth it. It’s the knowing pride of producing a top notch broadcast that you would gladly stack up against anyone else’s, somewhere else, doing the same.

Plus for me it’s always been a welcome break from the daily, a place to ignore the emails and the phone calls and the demands and expectations of the regular life/job gig, instead, just getting to concentrate on the game at hand, damning any obligations…and get paid for it. You can’t go wrong with that and Friday Night Lights have always been the best of the sports for me to enjoy this break.

Over the years with Time Warner to now Spectrum (I’ve been doing this for 12+ now I think…thank you Jack George) we’ve done lacrosse, basketball, soccer, others I’m maybe forgetting, badmintton? Quite possible, but it’s football that I enjoy the most. I’ve mentioned this in posts before, but there is something, as we all know, about the fall and football, something about the love and fervor and dedication of the fans (family, students, local pride) and the passion of the players and the coaches in the warm Septembers that lead to the cool Octobers and then to crisp Novembers. I eventually get to layer up (which I enjoy until the first snowflake), see my breath, use my phone only as a camera and enjoy the solitude of a Friday football sideline’s wonderfully loud football cliche’d but passionate shout/grunt chorus of coordinated chaos.

And I also get to feel a bit creative in this “solitude” and write some posts like I have of this, new to me, northern New York, like discovering that Guilderland is NOT of Middle Earth though it sounds as if it should be, of noting that a Ville of some type is pretty much the go-to town designation in these here parts and of being painfully obvious and juvenile in pointing out that Ballston sounds like a place with a ton of balls.

I was able, for instance, while patrolling the sidelines with my parabolic mic, to notice that a number of players for Shenendahowa were just a letter away from being something completely different. “Lasher” was a beginning “Sh” away from being hunted by the authorities, “Belott” was almost a Mel Ott but playing the wrong sport, “Altenburger” was just an “I” in place of a “T” from aliens opening their own other universe burger joint, maybe 5 Eyes Burger and Fries. “Blowers” possibly came from a family of glass makers, or noticing that there was a “Trump” and an almost McCain (“McCane”) proving that up north here does have it’s red spots. There was, as well, a “Beach” to lessen the cold a “Hill” for something to inspire you to take and, my favorite, a “Fubare”…FUBAR with an extra “E” for maybe “E”verything that might come after being FUBAR.

No, on this last weekend for us, a couple of teams were excitedly crowned champions while a couple of teams were left in tears, tears I genuinely felt while recalling my own sports losses, my own head in my hands, my own pounding of the turf in frustration, but I wouldn’t trade those losses for wins any day, and hopefully this youth won’t either, because eventual victories will be that much sweeter. And though I was loathe to do these drives in the first place, not wanting to add variables to my somewhat comfy regular, I wouldn’t trade for anything my last couple of months and those couple of hours there and back up and down the Thruway for these Friday Night Lights with the crew…friends…and some damn fine pizza.

A

(After I posted this there was a breaking news update later that evening: Similar to Donnie’s magic math in rationalizing his tepid and lame response to the brutal murder of journalist Jamal Kashoggi at the the hands of the Saudi’s and whether he would punish them he cited our arms deal and the many jobs it had created. Now back in March that number was 40,000. But when pressed with the new situation of the Kashoggi question the number of jobs was suddenly 400,000, then soon 500,000 and eventually as many as a million. Since Trump is no stranger to flattering himself with the impressiveness of large, larger and larger still numbers, most often imaginary he, just today, just ahead of the mid-terms, broke out his magic math again and increased the number of ‘possible’ troops to a currently caravan-less border to as much as 15,000 from an original number that followed the same small then less small then suddenly large math path as the arms jobs. Baby 5 time deferment General knows how the military and bigger numbers play with the base huh?)

With less than a week to the mid-terms the Trumpian desperation of lies and fearmongering has been mounting now to new levels or, actually sinking to ever new lows…

– …with obviously transparent lies like the promised non-existent 10% middle class tax cut somehow coming within two weeks when congress isn’t even in session, forcing his admin to scramble to red alert (again) to try and lend some credence to the claim, a claim that also, essentially, admits that the highly touted, great for “you” Tax Cut was indeed, as reported, just a debt busting, trickle down scam benefiting the wealthy and was never intended for you/us at all…

– …with the sudden empty claims that Republicans will protect people with pre-existing conditions far better than Dems while the GOP, in some states, is suing to end those protections and that those protections were one of the main elements of Obamacare they wanted to gut…

– …with the appealing to the inherent bigotry of his base, especially evangelicals by proposing, for the absurd “protection of all Americans”, a war on transgender peoples and an attempt to just simply wipe them away…

– …with the appealing to the inherent racism of his base by doubling down on immigrants “first they came for the immigrants”, one of the main favored boogeyman of he and his supporters, by sending hundreds of troops to the border well ahead of the expected arrival of the caravan but just close enough ahead of the election to fire up this mongered racism but also to pretty easily seen for the desperate political theater that it is…

– …and with, continuing along this boogeyman line, the latest attempt at abuse of executive power by trying to undo an actual amendment to the constitution (birthright) because we all know, even though Trump and especially his GOP congressional lapdogs make big word at swearing to uphold the constitution, what they mean is that that swearing is only for the parts of it that suit his/their needs and backwards agenda. WE know that THEY know trying to change this amendment through Executive action won’t happen, but they also know that you just have to say the intention out loud to stir up the base hate and it also helps to have purchased the Supreme Court swing vote just in case. And it’s important to back up your reasoning with the completely false complaint that we’re the only country that has a law like this to make it seem like there’s some righting of an obvious stupidity when in fact there are over 30 nations who have the same. But, hell, Trump knows his supporters don’t let facts get in the way of blind support…

– …with the ratcheting up of his non-stop attacks on the Media (any that won’t just bow as ring kiss propaganda) as a way to try and distance himself from his obvious culpability in radicalizing mail bombers and synagogue shooters with lies, incendiary language, ignorance and encouragements of violence by, instead, trying to cast the blame of hatred and division on his and his supporters other favored boogeyman (minus Fox State News of course and their morning Trump Sesame Street, Fox and Friends).

So, with this desperate, selfish yet un-self aware, irresponsible, lying, vilifying, appealing to the basest of bases pull out all the stops shit against the wall kitchen sink approach leading up to the mid-terms we continually find the need to catch a bit of clarity, cleanse our #TrumpDumbDown beaten psyches, even if it’s only for a few seconds. A quick re-boot if you will.

A dear friend of mine and I would say, when maybe things got a little bleak, or we had images or words in our head that we couldn’t un-see or un-hear that we needed to Google puppies and kittens in our minds. So, thus, another installment of “Kittens Drinking Water Rather Quickly” Ep #2: Friends.

Thanks Go-Cart (Blink)…and you puppy with no name yet who is a very good dancer though not as evidenced by this video. You are sanity savers.

Vote.

While we live in this new profoundly ignorant era of the #TrumpDumbDown, where the bar has been set so comically low to accommodate the un-learned, so con-manelly low that we’re forced to combat a charlatan from a new, practically negative level and grudgingly accept the fight with this undeserved so-self-called genius, set so low that we can still berate the press with Lenin-esque exclamations of “enemy of the people” at yet another ego rally while calling for unity (or obeisance in a Trump world) all while celebrating the beating down of a journalist by a lapdog congressman, elected in spite of such, and just days after another journalist being brutally murdered for simply publishing unkind truths and not be called out on it, a bar set so low that some are willing to buy any snake oiled “truths”/lies we still get our moment of Zen.

Attention span…MAGA. “Cover me!”…”locked and loaded”…”is that a kitten?”…”did it say something about Trump?”…”mail it a bomb!”

…we still get 3 seconds of “Kittens Drinking Water Rather Quickly” (as played by little ‘Go-Cart’, who would eventually become ‘Blink’, in a Seinfeldian venture just minus all the annoying dialogue) and we still hope. Vote. Vote with urgency.

Friday Night Lights Redux: Tonight we followed the map of not Middle Earth from last week, north of Guilderland, to the not shire of Ballston Lake, the origin of which, according to ancient lore, came from a race of overly confident, often braggadocious peoples who, simply, had a ton of balls and liked large, still bodies of water.

To get there we first travelled near and through many a small town including Scotia, where it seems the original pioneers, intent on making it to a far off paradise called Canada, maybe anticipating a time, many generations in the future, where healthcare would be a right and not a priviledge and people would be friendly, simply got plum tired and stopped, adopting just half of the name of their intended destination. New legend has it that they’re waiting and praying for Major League Baseball Pitcher Ivan Nova to relocate there and finally fullfill their destiny (while also awaiting their doctor to call them back with the bad news from the insurance company).

Along this original journey many of the travellers broke off from the group to lay claim in the area to their own small patch of dreams, to quite a few “Villes” – Aurie, Livingston, Johnsen (of the sausage maybe?), Clark, a Mechanic (as important as a blacksmith), Green, Rensselaer (a haughty Dutch fellow) and even Maria and Glenn (formerly a loving couple but whose contentious divorce found them moving to either sides of a river…Maria then kept a lake in the settlement). Seriously…it is a LOT of freakin’ “Villes” here in upstate New York..

So, again, we found ourselves in Ballston Lake (the lake of heavy balls?), where new legend would would be written of a proud Knight of the Queen, for the realm of Queensbury, he of the visitors, who would champion her in friendly competition, scoring ALL of his team’s 42 points with 6 touchdown runs and three 2-point conversions only after following a 1st quarter that was just ONE drive…ONE…12 minutes plus a single play into the 2nd quarter for the first score. A grand evening it was for the queen and for her proud people who travelled well and wittily in their support.

For myself, a serf of the Order of the Observers of Spectrum of Sports? It was also a grand evening. I had another night in fine Fall weather of, again, quieting the noise of a too often frustrating daily life, instead enjoying the sidelines of a High School Football game while also witnessing this seemingly effortless writing of a new legend for the Queen. A tapestry of his heroics has, surely, already been commisioned.

So, Friday Night Lights have been back on again for me this season with Spectrum Sports, which is nice because I still really enjoy the obligation free “quiet” few hours of the sidelines on these now cool, crisp Fall Fridays and also because I can ALWAYS use the extra dollars (I do radio after all).

Last night we were near Albany in Guilderland, a place that sounds like you could find it on a map of Middle Earth but in reality is not nearly as magical. I don’t recall Middle Earth having as many mini shopping strips. They do though, apparently, refer to themselves in Guilderland here, in the student section, as the Red Sea. So what they lack in Middle Earthian magic they make up for in big biblical references I guess. I’m just glad, for their sakes, that Saratoga’s QB wasn’t named Moses. They were also huge fans of clapping monster sized clouds of talcum powder, ala LeBron, that either wafted by me or that I just ended up walking right through. Safe to say, at least, that chafing wasn’t an issue last night.

Well, another Friday Night Lights it was then.

Of all players in White House circles over the last 2 years, from the Orange Devil on down, has any proven themselves to be more consistent at being a power mad, condescendingly hypocritical little weasel than Mitch McConnell? Now, mind you, there’s plenty of Trump weasel’s, Lindsey Graham being the most high profile lately, but he and the rest are mostly just of the sycophantic, pursed lips, bent knee, ring kissing, lap-dog kind (think Devine Nunes with a collar).

But Mitch is a special kind of weasel as he pompously scolds Dems and the left for their treatment of poor, unhinged, Brett Kavanaugh, and bemoaning some sort of breakdown of the process while also seeming to have a pretty short memory. #MerrickGarland. He will force a fast vote even before, if need be, what will be an incomplete, whitewashed, unthorough FBI investigation is concluded (extremely limited scope and in less than a week to start but then expanded so we’ve been lied to but still to end within a week? Right). He feels he can get the votes right now especially if GOP double agent, Joe Manchin, folds and decides on possible political survival in a red state over what is right or if Heidi Heitcamp does the same. And of course there’s Collins, Murkowski and the great pretender, Flake. Mitch knows they’re just empty words.

Mitch REALLY wants this one. Kavanaugh is the GOP’s backwards agenda unicorn. He is pro-corporate anti-worker, anti-women, anti-gay, anti-civil rights, anti-Roe vs Wade and most importantly he is pro-unfettered Executive Power with no check of possible prosecution. And for somebody who is also power-mad with serious autocratic intent like Donald Trump? That’s just really fucking dangerous. I mean, you know Trump didn’t shadily go behind closed doors (though, in his defense, shady is his M.O. – he does NOTHING above board) with a sitting Supreme Court Justice who had proven to be a swing vote over the years to strike a deal for the most politically advantageous timing of his retirement (Kennedy has surely been compensated well) without also personally vetting his successor for blind loyalty and partisanship? And we saw that partisanship on full display at the recent hearings with his Clinton conspiracy nonsense just one of numerous examples.

No, for Mitch and the GOP Kavanaugh is that unicorn, a Trump bought and paid for hard 5-4 on the court. This one is too important to lose and over what, something some woman claims? All the too powerful white men just say “pshawww” to that. Or now easily found instances of Kavanaugh lying under oath? Since when has that been important right? They will find no low too low, no hypocrisy they don’t like, they will justify any awful behavior (as they do daily with Trump) and use the tried and true Trump-style claiming of victim status to get this partisan hack confirmed.

Mitch, the Weasel King, can be inspiring this way.

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Real “Fiber” Haters Club)

Donnie: So what kind of fruit do you think he likes?

Ben: Fruit sir?

Donnie: Yeah, for a basket.

Ben: For who?

Donnie: Who do you think Benfred? Who I have been fawning and frothing over lately?

Ben: Hope still?

Donnie: No Ben.

Ben: But you do stare at her pictures a lot in that little candle lit shrine in the closet just off the mock Oval Office here in the Treehouse.

Donnie: No Ben! Not Hope! Guess already!!

Ben: I really don’t know sir. I can’t read your mind.

Donnie: I know, it’s like a steel trap.

Ben: It is a trap alright sir.

Donnie: C’mon, it’s for Brett. What kind of fruit should I get in a basket for him? And jams … yeah, maybe jams … everybody loves jams right? … or is it preserves?

Ben: Jellies too sir.

Donnie: Dammit Benfred, don’t add another … shit confuses me enough with just two. Do I call Ahmad at the deli for a bagel with JAM and extra extra butter? Do I call the Ahmad at the deli for a bagel with PRESERVES and extra extra butter? Do I send ICE to pick up the order? He got lucky that last time by the way. The two is enough Ben without you throwing a fucking wild card “Jelly” in the mix!

Ben: Sorry sir, I know, three could be  a lot.

Donnie: What about muffins? Do you include muffins in something like this?

Ben: Well, some do and fiber is important.

Donnie: It is! It’s healthy I’ve heard. That’s why my McDonalds always comes in a bun…

Ben: … but that’s not really fiber….

Donnie: … and it’s especially important in a movement, you need people of questionable “fiber” and low opinions right? ’cause this IS a movement Benfred. Number one? Don’t you be fooled by what the fake news sprays around, and, number two? This has been a real movement ever since the let go …

Ben: ?

Donnie: … get go, sorry. Since the get go. Since day one.

Ben: And two sir.

Donnie: Exactly. And all the days after that.

Ben: We all the know the movement sir, a proud movement, hopped on right behind the horses pullin’ the Trump wagon wheel backwards, shovels in hand, longcoats and half gallon hats and fedoras and bowlers, and, just like you said, since day one. It’s healthy two. Nature’s broom. Gotta keep regular.

Donnie: Oh, I like that.

Ben: What’s that sir?

Donnie: Keeping regular, like a regular Joe. A regular Joe movement…

Ben: … Yes sir! Go with it …

Donnie: … don’t stop me … regular Joe’s gotta movement too right? It’s ME. I’m their movement! And we tell ’em it’s constitutional. Regular Joe’s eat that constitutional shit up, even though they don’t understand it.

Ben: You still have your constitution pamphlet from the tour?

Donnie: Damn straight I do. Know it inside and out, very inspirational, especially the pictures … I memorialized all the pictures … love that one of the tall guy with the beard and long hat. A daily constitutional reminder of a movement …

Ben: … exactly sir. Keep going … you’re on a roll …

Donnie: … I am! … see this Ben? No one sees this … or reports on it … when I get going … when I get this whip smart genius ticking … I frighten even myself with the ticking … frighten so many people and so many nations with the ticking … like a doomsday clock … on a roll indeed…

Ben: … whole wheat I hope?

Donnie: (screeching halt) What?!

Ben: Whole wheat? The roll? The one you’re on? Good fiber? I’m kidding?

Donnie: Who the hell eats whole wheat rolls Benfred? Tree huggers smelling of pitched hooley and whales? Jesus Benfred!

Ben: But?

Donnie: No! None of that mongrelizing of the bread crap! This is a whitebread muffin movement Benfred!

Ben: Fiber pills then maybe? Just in case?

Donnie: Wait … idea (flat dull bell sound) … I’m thinking at my next ego rally all 45,000 people that show up get a muffin … maybe dyed red, white and blue.

Ben: Is that safe sir? Those dyes can have a history of being harmfu…

Donnie: … I’m the FDA Ben …

Ben: Right

Donnie: … all 45,000 zealots…

Ben: … zealots? …

Donnie: … supporters … all 45,000 supporters get a Red White and Blue muffin …

Ben: … in that place that only holds 6,000 peop…

Donnie: … yes, all 45,000 get a red, white and blue whitebread muffin to symbolize the movement … it’ll say “all Joe’s can be regular whitebread Americans”…

Ben: … all Joan’s too sir?

Donnie: What?

Ben: All Joan’s? It’ll symbolize they’re regular too like Joe? Men AND women?

Donnie: Who’s Joan?

Ben: … an example of the wome…

Donnie: Women too? … Whatever. So pink cinnamon raisin? Pink poppy seed? Pink pound cake? Chocolate chip?

Ben: We all love chocolate chip right?

Donnie: I’m sure YOU do and I know I do, especially in an election year. What have chocolate chips got to lose in a whitebread muffin right?

Ben: But why the need for a fruit basket sir?

Donnie: Just a gesture Ben.

Ben: But you don’t make gestures sir.

Donnie: I know, always costs too much and can eventually be traced, plus gestures should only be made to me … ring kiss, bent knee preferably. But in this case I’ll make an exception and reach ou…

Ben: … that’s big of you …

Donnie: … I know, again … I’m giving like that…

Ben: … a thank you for a promised fealty sir?

Donnie: Not trying to buy a house here Benfred. If ya haven’t noticed I already have one. It’s big, it’s white, gets wet when it rains. But if you mean realty, well, of course (duh), that’s how this shit works Benfred. You don’t shadily go behind closed doors with a sitting Supreme Court Justice and the soundtrack from “The Godfather” to work out a plan for the timing of his retirement and the choosing of his successor without the successor’s pinky oath. Damn, you can be dim sometimes. But it’s more a gesture of gratitude for hanging in there and doing his best to lie through this onslaught of questions … I mean who the hell asks questions at a confirmation hearing? Should be just “Is your name Brett?” Yes. “Did Trump nominate you?” Yes. Bada Boom … Done! That should be it! But no, fucking Dems insist on the convention of questions like any other old hearing. Where does he stand on this, where does he stands on that, will he bring back the Make America Great Again days of backroom abortions, will he piss on gay folks and workers rights, will he help anoint me King, yadda yadda yadda? It’s not that easy to constantly sidestep the truth Ben … believe me I know … so he deserves a gesture … (chokes )… a gesture from . ..me (chokes again) … this is so hard Benfred.

Ben: I know it is sir. So magnanimous.

Donnie: (possible angry glare – then lightening) Yes, thank you … I love Tom Selleck too.

Ben: The debut episode of the re-boot wasn’t bad.

Donnie: But it’s NOT Tom Selleck…

Ben: No, it’s not. You’re right. Your gesture though … it’s also just so selfless.

Donnie: I’m like that .. right? … wait … whaty’d say … selfless?

Ben: That you are sir. The people see it every day.

Donnie: I’m sure they do! (aside in a whisper) … can you explain this “selfless” to me later?

Ben: Of course sir.

Donnie: Plus, he’s had it so hard lately with this Christine Blasey Ford thing.

Ben: I know, ya gotta feel for the victim. That has to be so difficult.

Donnie: Exactly. Why does he have to answer more questions now?

Ben: He?

Donnie: Yes, HE…

Ben: … but I thought …

Donnie: … victim Ben ? … we’re talking victim here?…

Ben: … right, my bad … poor Brett …

Donnie: … and don’t they come with little gifts too? Nicely wrapped? Ivanka is really good at that sort of thing.

Ben: What sir?

Donnie: Shit Benfred?! The fucking fruit basket. Don’t they come with little gifts?

Ben: I’m not sure. I’ve never gotten a fruit basket. Death threats from poor folks who don’t have bootstraps, but never a fruit basket. I could ask my wife though.

Donnie: I don’t want to furnish his office of “I Do Nothing” Ben, I just want to maybe include a small gift or two, if that’s what they do in fruit baskets of course.

Ben: But including gifts? Doesn’t that make this more of a gift basket, not a fruit basket?

Donnie: (hard stare) It’ll have an apple, probably some grapes Ben, maybe a pineapple centerpiece, chocolate covered strawberries. It’ll be a FRUIT basket Benfred!

Ben: Now I’ll be the first to say I love chocolate covered strawberries but are you sure?

Donnie: Well….

Ben: The message they send? Could make it a little awkward.

Donnie: Ok, point. No chocolate covered strawberries.

Ben: Nice adjustment sir.

Donnie: I’m good on the fly.

Ben: That you are, I’ve seen that fly in action. As to a small gift? Monogrammed cuff links are always nice.

Donnie: Great idea … and in gold. DT.

Ben: But aren’t his initials BK?

Donnie: Not hungry right now, trying to think.

Ben: Plus wouldn’t that be a little obvious?

Donnie: You’re right. Don’t need anyone zooming in on his wrists while he dramatically taps his hands pretending to agonize over a decision in a re-enactment on Fox and Friends.

Ben: I loves me that Ainsley.

Donnie: Me too.

Ben: Maybe a gift card for a tattoo of DT instead, in some place discreet.

Donnie: Much better idea. Something only he can see in the mirror when he gets out of the shower in the morning.

Ben: How about scented soaps?

Donnie: Seriously Benfred?

Ben: Just throwing gift idea shit at the wall sir.

Donnie: Well apparently. Maybe your scented soaps can help with the cleanup of your shit wall. No, need something else … Olive Garden?

Ben: Who doesn’t love Olive Garden?

Donnie: Ok, so we got a fruit basket with an apple, some grapes, a pineapple centerpiece, whitebread muffins with maybe, chocolate chips, a DK tattoo, Olive Garden … but we need a kicker, something to make it truly unique, but something subtle. Something only he and I would understand.

Ben: Nesting dolls dressed as court justices?

Donnie: Fuck Benfred?! I said subtle … plus I already sent those to Vlad. Justice robes that are really Russian flags. He loved ’em. Says he keeps them in the residence next to a picture of me riding a Shetland Pony shirtless.

Ben: Nice.

Donnie: I know, really cute, though the whole nesting doll concept still confuses me…

Ben: … well, they’r…

Donnie: … try to explain them to me again Ben and your body won’t ever be found.

Ben: Sorry sir … wait, I got it!

Donnie: … and?!

Ben: A portrait of you for his chambers.

Donnie: Keeping with subtle … go on.

Ben: Yeah, a portrait of you, right behind his desk … you’re glaring and holding a sharpee over a blank sheet of official Supreme Court stationary.

Donnie: Oh, Benfred … you’re surprisingly an almost genius just like me!!

Ben: And you could pay for it through your foundation. Wouldn’t cost you a gold dime.

Donnie: Oh my god! That’s perfect!! Ben I could close my eyes and hug you, but the 80’s were a long time ago.

Ben: That’s Ok sir.

Donnie: Brett is going to ABSOLUTELY love this!!

Ben: I’m sure he will sir. How could he not?

Donnie: Oh, by the way, don’t mention this to Mike.

Ben: Pence sir?

Donnie: Yeah, he’ll just want to horn in on it. Seems he’s really excited about Brett. Has stock in a huge coat hanger manufacturer.

Ben: Understood.

Donnie: Plus, he gets all sweaty whenever someone mentions fruit, starts unbuttoning his shirt. It can be REALLY uncomfortable.

Ben: With ya sir.

(…”and dragged a comb across my head”)

When I first moved into my former apartment in Hyde Park, back in December of 2014, I quickly learned why my only request of the building manager that my new digs be on the top (3rd) floor was the best of all possible requests. I can’t imagine the hell I would have had to endure had my downstairs neighbor and her boyfriend been arguing and fighting and throwing shit ABOVE my head instead of below my feet. Gladly, their anger and dysfunction left soon after I moved in and was replaced, instead, with the quiet, serene, happy, loving contentment of Tara Patterson and Blake.

We bonded over cats, the mutual love of our respective fur (their Little Foot & Riley, my Bella & Shoes) but more specifically, my Shoes. When he was in his final days, and he and I would go out for our nightly walks for his last month or so, a boy and his cat in a cone plastic hat, Tara and Blake were always there to wish he and I good travels around the apartment complex. Shoes was in his glory with the attention from the two of them at the bottom of the stairs outside their door and I had new found friends who understood the immense pain but also the beautiful life that were those walks with my Big Orange.

They were also there for the slow, deliberate, determined, often bandaid inducing but loving process of bringing my beloved stray Grayson (I so miss you my friend, I can’t even say – You were So special and 2 years just wasn’t enough time) in house from the eventual cold. Tara called him Gray-Gray, a name I came to use with him quite often. Of all the people Grayson DIDN’T like at the time, including me on occasion? Tara & Blake weren’t on the list. He loved them without reservation…or bandaid.

Well, after 11 years of preparation, these two finally said “I Do” and it was a glorious day for them filled with family (Tara’s dance with Blake’s grandfather brought real tears I couldn’t hold back and brought the guests to their clapping hands), lifelong friends and a few extra new friends found at “home” in building 15 (as Tara put it in a text recently). I know I can speak for the extra friends Bobby Mulcare Brenda Mulcare and certainly myself when I say “Cheers to the continued happiness you two”. You’ve always made me smile.

I also got a chance to hang out with actual humans in the actual real world for a change and I think I cleaned up rather nicely in a borrowed shirt and tie (thank ya Sam Favata). And I didn’t spill anything on them by the way. A rare win for me.

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & Alarm Haters Club)

**ALARM SOUND**

Donnie: (waking from napping to Fox and Friends clutching a Sean Hannity pillow … phone falls off the bed to the floor as he sits up) … what the Hell?! Again?!!

Ben: (rushing in) What’s the problem sir?

Donnie: What’s the problem?! I don’t know … maybe it’s these fucking alarms Benfred!

Ben: Relax sir, it’s just the new “Trump News Update” alarm system I had installed.

Donnie: My phone! Check my phone! It fell on the floor!

Ben: It’s fine sir.

Donnie: You sure? Do we need to call a phone doctor?

Ben: Phone doctor?

Donnie: Yes Benfred, phone doctor. Sheesh!! I’ve been told they have those you know?! Phone doctor trade schools even. And YOU’RE a doctor for Christ’s sake. You should know this. It’s the doctor you call if your phone might be hurt or feeling sick.

Ben: Let me check it.

Donnie: Ok, but not too close, cause then I’d have to find somebody to kill you. I know those types of people now by the way. Lot’s of national security stuff in there. Big stuff … really important big boy stuff (with emphasis and a knowing nod) INNNNNTEL Benfred … files, honestly, you’re just not intelligent enough to handle, given your innate shortcomings an all, nothing personal, and it’s all bullet pointed and graphed in color. Very complicated.

Ben: Oh, of course, nothing personal at all, I’m ONLY a neurosurgeon, but on your unsecure phone sir?

Donnie: Shut up Benfred. It’s password protected.

Ben: 1 2 3 5?

Donnie: How’d you know? But genius huh? I purposely, I think, left out the … uhhh … the … what’s the oth…

Ben: The 4?

Donnie: (shrugging off) right … is she alright?

Ben: She?

Donnie: Shut up AGAIN Ben. Just tell me … is Hope alright? … crap … wait … didn’t mean to say that … don’t even think about asking.

Ben: You call your phone Hope?

Donnie: What did I just say about not asking Ben?! Jesus! … and it’s … uhhh…”Hope” … hope for a better future, less fake news, more official Trump truth through tweets, in case you’re curious.

Ben: (wide eyed) Truth?

Donnie: (glares)

Ben: Of course, my bad … “truth” sir.

Donnie: (harder glare)

Ben: My air quote fingers were showing again weren’t they?

Donnie: Hmmmm … well, is she ok or what?

Ben: Yes “she’s” fine.

Donnie: Wheww, that’s a relief. Thank you. I’m sure taking her to a phone doctor in an emergency would have been yugely expensive.

Ben: You got that right sir. Too bad we’re not in Canada with THEIR phone doctors. Much cheaper.  It’s actually included in their citizen plan believe it or not, and with unlimited life minutes too. Have a sick phone? Boom, covered.

Donnie: I know. Gotta have a meeting about that. (Note to self: Canadian phone doctors – lie to Trudeau about why I wanna know, gloat about it later – don’t let the generics in) So what’s with these alarms Ben? They keep waking me from my beautiful Fox and Friends dreams (loves me that Ainsley), keep scaring the hell out of me when I’m tending to my flower boxes or when I’m counting the rocks in the boxes on my book shelves in the library.

Ben: You have flower boxes?

Donnie: Well, (rolling his eyes) yeaaaaah.

Ben: You mean those rickety unpainted boxes of dry dirt outside the kitchen window?

Donnie: They’re a work in progress.

Ben: Did you actually plant any seeds in them?

Donnie: Seeds?

Ben: Yes … oh … never mind. Anything you touch dies anyway.

Donnie: But these alarms? What if they go off when I’m on the golf course? Don’t want anyone thinking I might use them to kick a ball in the distraction …

Ben: … of course not.

Donnie: … ’cause I play an honest game, though with a whatever stroke handicap I decide at the end of the round.

Ben: I know you do sir. Honesty is a hallmark of yours.

Donnie: (raised eyebrow, thinking of glaring)

Ben: No, truly sir, that’s what they all say, they say “That Trump, honesty is a hallmark of his”

Donnie: My they?

Ben: Yes sir.

Donnie: Like my lots of they?

Ben: Your lots of they exactly sir.

Donnie: I love them they, especially the lots of they.

Ben: And the everyone’s too. All encompassing.

Donnie: I know huh?

Ben: Plus the them too, lots of the them … those them always say great things.

Donnie: I know, as they should … so much I’ve done …

Ben: … and the many, the many are always on your side …

Donnie: … I know, passed some of they them in the street just the other day … and they them everyone were very nice … complimented Trump on the job … no one reports this you know …

Ben: … because it’s not real and you might even say that the them, they, everyone, lot’s of and many are a majority, and all great Americans because the they, them, everyone, many support you implicitly, almost blindly. Sign things accordingly. Buy your hats. Tell you all the time.

Donnie: There was a poll you know, how they all said it.

Ben: Was there really? From who?

Donnie: A poll Benfred.

Ben: I know sir, but who conducted the pol…

Donnie: I SAID THERE WAS A POLL!

Ben: … right sir, yes, a poll. Surely proved your point of course.

Donnie: Damned fake news didn’t report on this poll.

Ben: They never do on the imaginary ones. Bastards!

Donnie: I know. Hate them. So, anyway, again, what’s with these freakin’ alarms?!!

Ben: They’re just to keep you aware of what the next news cycle might be. Like that alarm about Omarosa from a couple of weeks ago.

Donnie: A couple of weeks? Wow, that’s a long time. Did it even happen? Can I backtrack and say it didn’t?

Ben: But she has tapes sir.

Donnie: Tapes schmapes Benfred. Can I say they were doctored? Like that whole Lester Holt nonsense? Interview … caught on tape … actual words coming out of my mouth. Can I say fudged?

Ben: Best you don’t sir. Could be taken the wrong way.

Donnie: The 80’s again?

Ben: Yeah.

Donnie: Whatever. She was black though right?

Ben: Yes. Still is.

Donnie: Shit. Probably lost that one.

Ben: Probably, but you won’t miss her, plus ya still got Kanye … Tiger … that Pierson chick with the big forehead from your campaign … Zirconium & Polyester … Jim Brown …

Donnie: Forehead is kind of an idiot though.

Ben: She is, but she loves you.

Donnie: Very important.

Ben: But, again, sir, the alarms are just to keep you updated, especially when you’re nose deep in Hope.

Donnie: ?

Ben: Your phone?

Donnie: Oh, right.

Ben: Like the numerous Michael Cohen alarms.

Donnie: Those keep going off by the way. Fucking flipper … should be illegal (note to self: call my new loyalty vetted judges, especially Kavanaugh)

Ben: And there’s been quite a few Manafort alarms.

Donnie: (sigh)

Ben: And the alarm for that guy from the National Enquirer

Donnie: (double sigh)

Ben: And the alarm from Sessions taking a pot shot after YOU took another pot shot at him.

Donnie: Evil little elf. Damned ears of his. I might just close the Alice door the next time he comes knockin’ here.

Ben: And the alarm from the CPO of your “foundation”

Donnie: Did you just say that in air quotes again Benfred?

Ben: No

Donnie: Yes you did.

Ben: Damn these fingers … mind of their own.

Donnie: Yeah, you’re not good at that.

Ben: My apologies sir, it’s just like any of those times you mention Kellyanne or Laura and I suddenly end up with a carrot on my nose …

Donnie: … and that foundation does a lot of positive things ya know. Does a lot of good. Some communities praise me for the good it does.

Ben: Great good. All the dollars it hasn’t pledged. And your likeness in that one portrait it paid for is uncanny. Inspiring for the communities I’m sure.

Donnie: It really is isn’t it? Catches the orange in that halo.

Ben: If Christ had an orange halo he’d be you sir.

Donnie: Thank you Benfred, I’ll mention that at the next National Prayer Breakfast, Evangelicals eat that shit up …

Ben: … and ignore all they claim to stand for …

Donnie: … precisely. But you really have to do something about all of these al…

**ALARM** **ALARM**

Donnie: Oh … what the fuck now Benfred?

Ben: Hold on … you’re Ok sir. Seems this one was a just a reminder alarm.

Donnie: Of?!

Ben: Senator John McCain.

Donnie: What about him?

Ben: He died sir.

Donnie: Oh, he did that just to spite me ya know? Ask Kelli Ward, poor girl. Has my full support. She’s a doctor. She knows how people can plan their deaths to be spiteful.

Ben: ?

Donnie: Grabbing all the glory. Even in death. War hero yadda yadda, captured yadda yadda. Ya know, if I had been there …

Ben: … but for your dad and your feet and your cowardice …

Donnie: … exactly, if I had been there I …

**ALARM** **ALARM**

Ben: They’re kneeling again on the football field

Donnie: Motherfuckers … I’ll plantation teach ’em. Grab my prop!

Ben: Prop?

Donnie: Yeah, we’ll whip ’em with it!! It’s right over there in the corner Benfred, on a stand!!!

Ben: Ummm, grab your prop … the flag?

Donnie: Yeah, that flag thing … something about Diana Ross…

Ben: … you mean BETSY Ross?

Donnie: Yeah, but she couldn’t sing. I was there. Awful voice.

Ben: The one with the stripes and stars?

Donnie: Yeah that one … start waving it and sing along with m…

Ben: … you really don’t want to do that sir …

Donnie:  … why not? …

Ben: … the words …

Donnie:  … good point, but let’s just wave …

Ben: … just you and me ?…

Donnie: … what?

Ben: The wave? It’s a little anti climatic with just two…

Donnie: … no numbnuts … the Flag … start waving it …

Ben: … oh right sir … (waving) … this is kind of fun actually … it’ll surely make the white kids proud to be American again …

Donnie: … it’s what I do. I’m an inspiration. You know I could have been an owner right? But they were scared about how good an owner I could have been … wouldn’t let me in …

Ben: Yeah, your USFL prowess surely scared them off. The way you took a successful few years and burned it to the ground

Donnie: Hey, they won a dollar.

Ben: Hugely symbolic sir.

Donnie: And they got that because of me! Sure, it wasn’t much of a split league wide but nobody has ever given me credit for that.

Ben: It seems to be a theme.

Donnie: Theme?

Ben: The subject of talk, a piece of writing, a person’s writing, a person’s thoughts or an exhibition, a topic.

Donnie: Benfred?!

Ben: Sorry sir. I googled the definition for you … got it from Dictionary.com … thought it might help. But as I look at it now, not so muc…

Donnie: … and THOSE fucking guys …

Ben: Sir?

Donnie: … Google! … not being pro-Trump propaganda … suppressing conservative voic …

**ALARM** **ALARM**

Ben: Duck sir!!

Donnie: (ducking) … what?!

Ben: Google. They’re all knowing! … I think they’ve pinned our locatio…

(Donnie and Ben in a corner, eyes roaming, vigilant)

Donnie: … (suddenly singing the jingle) … I think I feel like McDonalds…

Ben: … me too … (bastards) … fish filet or a quarter pounder?

Donnie: … who the hell eats the fish filets Benfred? … quarter pounder for me … no, make that a double quarter pounder … extra cheese … and nuggets, gotta have nuggets … and fries … oh, and make sure the fries are on top of the bag

Ben: … of course sir.

(Ok, Cricket the Blind wrote this last part. Just proving that all cats, even those that can’t see, know how to find a keyboard for a bit of exposition …  not quite sure what she means here though sounds kinda fancy)

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiij*SUAZZZZZZZXXXXYY

(The Official Secret Clubhouse of the He-Man Truth & REM Haters Club)

So the other night, when I was sleeping (kind of – sleeping, actual sleeping, is not really a skill of mine) the chorus hit me. Then last night I sat down to write out some new lyrics and thought of my old friend Rick and one of our local bands at the time, The Issue. I’m sure you all have had that band, college or otherwise, that just meant a party any night they played, at whatever dive or backyard they were gigging at. THAT band that you just HAD to see at this dive or backyard for fear of being the only person who wasn’t there come Monday morning’s stories. Ya didn’t want to be the one lonely outcast over that day’s start of coffee and still lingering headache did ya?

Rick was the editor of the WVU school newspaper, a must read for every student on campus because he made it so. I approached him at the office of the paper, not long after I arrived at WVU and also after I started working for the college radio station, an award winning place that still earns the cred, about writing for him. I had written a column for my college paper, undergraduate at Waynesburg College, just north of WVU, just south of Pittsburgh and I brought some of those columns with me. I don’t recall him being overly impressed. But he was a fan of the radio station, would eventually gain his own place there, and he gave me a chance, allowed me to continue my adventures of Earl & Jamm in a new spot, two idiot suspect genius roomates, believe it or not titled “My Name Is Earl” way pre-TV show (yes, Wayne & Garth “way”). The column ended up being pretty popular on campus for my short time there and Rick became a friend who did more for me then than you could possibly imagine. He became the friend who took that extra step when it comes to what you hope could come from a friendship and impressing him with whatever my latest column was, was huge to me. He was also a pretty humble guy, not quite reserved, he had very vocal opinions, often about movies, but still not a guy you would ever have expected to stand up in front of THAT band at the dive or a backyard and sing “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (and I feel fine)”. Nobody knew all the words, other than the arena chorus, let alone had the ability to sing them at the frenetic pace they are sung. Hell, I’d be surprised if Michael Stipe himself has ever gotten them all really right live. But Rick? He never missed a hectic word or beat.

I’ve listened to the song now, in pieces, as I tried to get the timing down, more times than I thought humanly possible, even moreso than that tune, as a kid you thought was the greatest tune in the history of tunes (until the next one) and repeated ad nauseum until mom was actually ad nauseum outside your bedroom with a gun…or knife or vodka. Whatever was on hand.

I’ve sent him this “draft” of my new imagining of the song, a current screwed up world take on it, to check my lyrical/musical math as he was the expert. I’m still hoping, almost 30 years later, that he is impressed.

I’m going to try and sing or talk this one out in my little studio soon, it just depends on whether I have the breath for it. The hubris of youth’s imagined immortality, and thus stupidity, has taken some of that breath away but I’ll try. It’ll surely be exhausting, as the song is. Apologies ahead of time.

(Note to Michael Stipe in this revisiting, all these years later? Absolute and prescient fucking brilliance)

“It’s A Trump World We’re Fucked And We Know It (And I Feel Stein)” 

Not great it starts with a Trumpquake
Snakes breed Snakes, a new filled swamp, Kanye West should be afraid.
Lies form a hurricane, listen to his bluster churn
Trump serves his own needs, asks you of your loyal deeds
Speed them up a notch, ring, blind, bow, kiss, no
Safety net you splatter with the lies of the right, downright
Dumpster fire only help that you can hire must be true, true to sire’s white combat house
Democracy is burning in a hurry but there’s truthies
Breathing out real news
Trumpy team believers baffled, truth, sends their world stop
Must send blame…anger…hate
Uh oh, info flow, population, cannot know
What Trump’ll do to save himself save himself
Trump serves his own needs listen to a country bleed
Tells you he’s been God sent a chorus of the right, leans right
You hypocritic Patriotic 5 time dodge but
We’re feelin’ pretty white

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

5 am, Fox and Friends, a Trumpy Street day begins
Lefty burns, return, always loves himself in turn
Throw him in a big parade, bombs bursting, flags wilting
Every truth a danger now, lies must escalate
Build a fire, blame the fire, ride horse, ride horse
Trample on a flag’s trust use it as a prop must
Wrap himself in fake’s lust
Call the news the bad trust
Repeated calls, chilling calls, calling of  their “lies”
He offers no solutions, only state news fake productions and I decline

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

In daylight we de-cide whether we should fight or hide
Try to turn the tide, GIVE THE TRUTH A RIDE, Martin King, George Carlin, real news,
Protest party, bubblegum, apple pie, Grandma, Ellis Island
We symbiotic, realistic slam dunk humans?
We’re right…Right?

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

……

It’s a Trump world we’re fucked and we know it
It’s a Trump world we’re dumb and we show it
It’s a Trump world he won and we blew it
And I feel Stein

It’s a Trump world we’re plucked and we’re naked
It’s a Trump world we somehow let him take it
It’s a Trump world we’re blind and we hate it
And I’m not mine

……(fading)