McCartney Sings with Lennon and a Generation’s Heart Bursts Open

Paul McCartney will soon be 80, nearly twice as old as his pal John Lennon was when his life was so senselessly cut short.

For those of us who are old enough to remember when JFK was assassinated, who saw the Beatles on Sullivan, who remember the remarkable string of albums as they were released from Rubber Soul to Let It Be and everything in between; for those of us who can tell you where we were when we heard that Lennon had been shot and that the dream really was over, what happened in Spokane on the opening night (April 28,2022) of Sir Paul’s current Got Back tour – McCartney on stage singing with Lennon – revealed and soothed a deep ache in our hearts.

It is not hyperbole to say that we have lived our lives feeling that with Lennon’s murder something sacred had been stolen from us. It was more than the loss of Lennon, but in some sense the loss of Beatles themselves.  No one, with the exception of Lennon’s wives and sons, could have possibly felt the grief more seismically than McCartney. In his heart-wrenching “Here Today,” which has been a staple of his live shows for decades, McCartney sings directly to his beloved mate: 

And if I say

I really loved you

And was glad you came along

Then you were hear today

For you were in my song

On more than a few occasions McCartney has gotten choked up while playing the song and we have gotten choked up with him. But McCartney is no longer content to sing to Lennon on stage, even though “Here Today” remains in his setlist. He is now moved, finally, to sing with Lennon.

McCartney’s inspired choice is “I’ve Got A Feeling,” which qualifies as his last true collaboration with Lennon. Unlike other classic Lennon-McCartney songs in which one of them wrote the verses and chorus and the other the bridge, “I’ve Got A Feeling” is an unlikely combination of incomplete songs.   

Lennon’s “Everybody Had A Hard Year” is a somber ditty unveiled during the White Album sessions. The title is reflective of Lennon’s tumultuous personal life at the time. He was divorced from his wife Cynthia, estranged from his son Julian, addicted to heroin, and his soon to be wife Yoko had suffered a miscarriage. McCartney, as was most always the case, had a notably sunnier outlook and his “I’ve Got A Feeling” is an exuberant wail of love for his soon to be wife Linda.  These songs with their distinctly divergent emotional viewpoints shouldn’t work together, yet somehow they seamlessly complete each other.

Years ago, when McCartney performed “We Can Work It Out” in concert, he sang Lennon’s famous “life is very hard and there’s no time for fussing and fighting” middle section. Midway through “I’ve Got A Feeling” there was no reason to think that McCartney wouldn’t cover the song as he had in the past with one of his band mates singing Lennon’s part.

But just as Lennon’s segment was nearing, McCartney uncharacteristically turns his back to the audience and looks up at the screen as Lennon, larger than life and perhaps death too, sings out:

Everybody had a hard year

Everybody had a good time

Everybody had a wet dream

Everybody saw the sun shine

Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah

McCartney then turns back to the crowd and adds a knowing “oh yeah” of his own, which serves to affirm and consecrate both their union and the audience’s union with them. McCartney turns and looks up to Lennon again as he continues:

Everybody had a good year

Everybody let their hair down

Everybody pulled their socks up

Everybody put their foot down

And then comes the moment we never imagined we would see again: McCartney on stage singing with Lennon. It’s an exquisite blend of an old McCartney voice and a young Lennon voice. This is Paul and John making music and magic together as they can now. It’s joyful and beautiful and inexpressibly poignant.

We all would have preferred that Lennon had come out of retirement from his cottage by the sea to join McCartney live for this performance. But alas, there’s no way it could be except the way it’s meant to be. This is the hand that fate or God, or whatever you want to call it, has dealt us.

When the Beatles spilt, McCartney was the object of scorn and angry criticism because his songs didn’t have the emotional nakedness of Lennon’s or the spiritual luminosity of Harrison’s.

In Ram, his second album (credited to Paul and Linda McCartney) McCartney sang about domestic bliss, which was somehow unfashionable in the early 70s. Now Ram is recognized, along with Plastic Ono Band and All Things Must Past, as one of the best solo Beatle albums ever. With Band On The Run, McCartney achieved a level of superstardom rivaled only in the decade by Elton John.

Nevertheless, with Lennon’s premature passing, McCartney has lived in the shadow of a ghost, not to mention a martyr. “Since his death he’s become ‘Martin Luther’ Lennon,” McCartney observed in 1985. McCartney has carried that weight a long time.

But perhaps there has been a great release. In the stunning performance of “I’ve Got A Feeling” Lennon towers over McCartney but cannot overshadow him. Their days of one-upmanship are forever gone.

What’s revealed is pure yin and yang, earth and sky, flesh and spirit, McCartney and Lennon.    

What a great gift, especially to those of us who were there from the start.

Reflections on the Futility of Banning the N-word, Joe Rogan, and Trevor Noah's Double Standard

Let's be clear about one thing at the outset: No group of people own a word. Women don't own the c-word, gays don't own the f-word, and Blacks don't own the n-word. Words belong to all of us and we are all responsible for how we use them.

Next, let's recognize that when we use euphemisms to refer to forbidden words, as I have above, we do so in large measure to protect ourselves from accusations of racism, sexism, or whatever. Even though I often do this, it has long struck me as disingenuous. There is absolutely nothing immoral, depraved or insensitive about using a word when referring to it. Using euphemisms is merely a way for me to get you to think about a potentially inflammatory word without having the guts to say it myself. That being the case, I won't be using any more euphemisms in this essay. Stop reading now if that's too much for you.

For over two decades, while I was an Editor at MAD Magazine, I toured the country with my solo show, The Joy Of Censorship, which I performed in 44 states. When I started out in 1993, the show was based on the core principle that censorship of any kind is ultimately doomed to failure. I maintained that there is no better way to ensure the popularity of a book, movie or song than to ban it. The same is true of words. The one surefire way to guarantee that a word continues to have power and appeal is to disallow it.

To bolster my thesis, I cited The Book of Genesis. Adam and Eve were naked and without shame in paradise. Who among us wouldn't sign up for that? But the lure of forbidden fruit was too powerful. It is a curious fact that God is the universe's first censor and an ineffective one at that. I asked: What then makes mere mortals think they are going to succeed at which God Himself has failed?

My program was based on one other core tenant: Censorship is the enemy of comedy. To gauge the health of free speech in any society, check out the vibrancy of its satire. When satire dies, it’s a sure sign that free speech has died as well. I don't imagine that there are many working comedians in Syria. For the working satirist of any color, gender or sexual orientation, no word can be off-limits. I learned that from George Carlin.

During my performances, I used the words "nigger" and "cunt" in front of consistently receptive audiences, which included Blacks and women, without apology. I used those socially unacceptable words mindfully, in context. I railed against New South Books, a publishing house in Alabama that had published a new edition of Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn in which the word "nigger" was replaced with "slave," never mind that the words are not synonymous. What next I wondered: Would the word "cunt" be expunged from Henry Miller's Tropic Of Cancer to be replaced with "pussy." Or if "pussy" was deemed too offensive, might "vajayjay" be acceptable? Would Eve Ensler be changing the name of her famous play to The Vajayjay Monologues?

If video recordings of my performances existed and were archived online, someone who wanted to destroy my reputation could easily assemble a 90-second reel making me look and sound like a racist. It would all be taken out of context. In today's warped environment many would say that the context didn't matter, that no White person under any circumstances is ever allowed to utter that word, and that word only, even when referring to it. In this rigid view, the word is reserved for Black comedians, hip-hop artists and friends to use as a term of endearment. Sorry, non-Black music fans, but singing your favorite hip-hop song may be strictly taboo.

As an ignorant White kid growing up on Staten Island in the 1960s, I learned about racism from comedians. My fearless teachers were Lenny Bruce, Dick Gregory, and Richard Pryor. Lenny Bruce, a comedy maverick if there ever was one, broke boundaries by using racial slurs in the service of exposing and calling out racism. His career and life were destroyed by judges, politicians, cops and clergymen who took offense at his language and perspective. Dick Gregory, who I saw speak at Adelphi University when I was a student, was everything I wanted to be as a humorist. He called his memoir Nigger and in the dedication addressed his late mother, he wrote: “Dear Momma -- Wherever you are, if ever you hear the word ‘nigger’ again, remember they are advertising my book.” Richard Pryor, who to me rivals George Carlin as the most important standup ever, did screamingly funny impersonations of uptight White guys. It was his routine, "Niggers Vs Police,” that gave me a chilling insight into the world of tension between the Black community and cops. If you think of Lenny Lenny Bruce and George Carlin as racists, or Dick Gregory and Richard Pryor as self-hating Blacks, then your moral compass is likely damaged beyond repair.

This brings me to the recent controversy over podcaster Joe Rogan about his past use, more than a decade ago, of the word "nigger." There is no evidence that Rogan used the word pejoratively; he seems to have been quoting Black comedians like Red Foxx, or referring to the word itself. It is worth noting that the most damning part of the video is the one in which Rogan didn't use the offending racial slur at all, but referred to a Black neighborhood as "Planet of the Apes." Rogan knew it was racist the moment he said it. In fact, he said as much on the spot. Nevertheless, the comment has now come back to haunt Rogan, who has rightly apologized. However, he opened his mea culpa by ceding too much ground, stating, "To most people there is no context in which a White person is ever allowed to say that word...and I agree with that now."

Trevor Noah, who I am a big fan of, feels the same way. When reflecting on the Rogan controversy, Noah said, "Here's a life-hack for White people: Saying the actual n-word puts you in unnecessary trouble, especially if you're not racist. It doesn't matter the context." (Obviously, I'm not taking Noah's advice.) Somewhat remarkably, a few minutes later in the same segment, while pretending to be a bank robber, Noah said, "Give me the money, bitch." He used the word without concern for its potent power to offend women. Using his own logic: "Here's a life-hack for men: saying the actual b-word puts a man in unnecessary trouble, especially if he is not a misogynist. It doesn't matter the context." Noah doesn't want a White person to use a racial slur for a Black person in any context, but he has no problem using a chauvinistic slur for women as long as it suits his comedy. He can’t have it both ways.

As a White male, I recognize that there is no word in the English language that can possibly be as hurtful to me as "nigger" to a Black person, or "cunt" to woman. Those words have ugly histories and they have a potent power to cause damage. That needs to be acknowledged and respected.

At the same time, it is undeniable that our language is in a continual state of flux. Words emerge and disappear, seemingly of their own accord, sometimes never to resurface, or to return with an entirely different meaning. Words that were once preferred -- think "Negro" -- are later discarded, while words that were once considered derogatory -- think "queer" -- are later embraced. It is an inconvenient truth then that no matter how well-intentioned, attempting to ban a word -- any word -- is a fool's mission. Like it or not, every word has a life of its own. Even the ones you want to ban.

Some Thoughts in the Aftermath of Seven Mass Shootings in Seven Days

Photo: Irving Schild

I have long wondered about the entire “hate crime” paradigm. While I have never revealed this in public, I have asked myself many times, what’s the point of classifying a murder as a “hate crime”? 

All murder is hateful. Is it worse when motivated by race, religion, gender or sexual orientation as opposed to the impulse to randomly kill? Mass shooters are motivated by all sorts of things. Was the Vegas mass shooter out for gamblers? I have no idea. Does it matter if a killer specifically targets women, Jews or Asians? Should it matter? 

It seems that we are more and more hunkered down with our identity group, even when it comes to mass shootings. Needless to say, if there is a conceivable racial or victim group angle to accentuate in regards to the recent Colorado tragedy, the media will run with it. But again, does it matter how many Blacks, gay men, or Sikhs were among the victims, or whether the shooter was inspired by White Supremacy, the Koran, or “Helter Skelter”?  

None of this is especially complicated. Mentally ill people have easy access to military grade weapons and shoot other people with frightening speed and precision. The last time I checked, we’re all people. That was Martin Luther King’s message. That was John Lennon’s message. Divisions are illusory. Accentuating them fosters further illusion. As a teenager in the 60s, I got this. 

But we now live in an age of hyper-alienation. Even White heterosexual Christian men with full-time jobs, excellent medical insurance and generous vacation pay feel victimized. Everyone has a claim, real or imagined, of being royally screwed by the government, the media or the man. Meanwhile, the deadly beat goes on. 

The Supreme Court has played a central role in exasperating this horrific problem with Justices Roberts, Scalia, Kennedy, Thomas and Alito ignobly leading the way. Remember, it was their disastrously short-sighted ruling in the District of Columbia v. Heller in 2008 that enshrined the individual right to possess firearms independent of service in a militia.  Chilling thought: Just days before the Colorado massacre, the Court met behind closed doors to discuss considering a case that would expand the Second Amendment by eliminating a New York law that places restrictions on carrying a concealed hand gun in public.

While the Court is complicit, despite what some gun control advocates would have us believe, there is no quick or easy fix. There are 300+ million firearms out there and record-breaking sales every year. Gun control laws, which I fully support, will not change that. We have traveled down a dark road for a long time and, unsurprisingly, have arrived in hell. 

The crisis at hand calls for nothing short of a radical shift in our consciousness which is clearly beyond us collectively. That being the case, it is up to us as individuals to make a decisive inward turn and get our own house in order. I am by no means advocating apathy or doubling down on tribalism. We already have plenty of that.

What I am suggesting is the imperative of coming to terms with the limits of social activism. Caring for the world starts with self-care. To find peace in the valley we have to find peace in ourselves. This is self-evident, but living as we do, in the midst of unending, digitally-turbo-charged chaos, we forget it. Finding our equanimity between news cycles is more important than maintaining our Twitter feeds. Shaking our fists at the moon does not qualify as a life strategy. And yet, there is so much suffering, shaking our fists at the moon sometimes feels like the beginning of wisdom, though we must remember: it is only the beginning.

Somehow, while continuing to work outwardly for a better world, we need to step outside of the cultural current. We need to understand that if we feel certain to have the answer to gun violence, racism, homelessness, or any of the deep-rooted problems that plague us, that is a sure sign that we don’t.  

Our best starting point is to meticulously practice self-compassion. From there, we can make the sincere effort to extend it to our family, friends, associates, neighbors and beyond. There is nothing new age, esoteric, religious or spiritual about this. Simply put, it is the essential and foundational work that must be done. 

There is no greater revolution or better solution than learning to love. 

After the death of a Filipino man killed by police kneeling on this neck, the silence of anti-racists is deafening

Angelo Quinto in 2018. Photo by Isabella Collins.

Note: This essay was first published in The Filipino Press on March 5, 2021.

When I saw the CNN headline of February 24, “Man dies after police kneel on his neck for nearly five minutes, family says in wrongful death suit,” I knew immediately that the man was not Black. 

If the man was Black, the CNN headline would have said so. 

If the man was Black, the story would have likely been the website’s headline. 

If the man were Black, hosts on MSNBC would already be talking about him. 

But none of that was happening. 

The man’s name was Angelo Quinto. Was he White? Hispanic? Should that even matter? 

I read the CNN story and to my surprise, Quinto’s race was not noted, no doubt because it could not yet be verified. After all, pretty much everything these days is seen through the prism of race, or if not race then gender, or sexual orientation, or some combination of the three. 

The very notion of color-blindness as championed by Martin Luther King is now widely regarded by the most prominent anti-racists as naïve and/or unattainable. “I look to a day when people will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character…” said King. However, we currently find ourselves in a social climate in which we are continually being told that the color of one’s skin is of primary importance in all aspects of life. 

Some questions: Is the merit of this essay in any way contingent on my race? What is the relationship between my skin color and the soundness of my arguments? Would knowing my race make you more or less likely to agree with my point of view? 

To get back to Angelo Quinto: The details of his death are disturbingly familiar. He died after a police officer (or officers) knelt on his neck for nearly five minutes. According to Quinto’s mother, who began shooting video after her son lost consciousness, he pleaded with the officers, “Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me.” 

Quinto, a Navy vet, had reportedly been exhibiting signs of anxiety, depression and paranoia. On December 23, he suffered an especially acute episode which frightened his sister, Isabella. Out of concern for herself and her mother, she called the police. What happened next is unclear.

Isabella told Mother Jones that when officers from the Antioch police force arrived they found Quinto and his mother on the floor. She had him in a bear hug, “as much to comfort him as to restrain him,” according to Isabella. She accuses the officers of pulling Quinto from his mother and taking turns kneeling on his neck. Quinto died on December 26. Two months later we still do not know if the officers were wearing body cameras or had them turned on. While authorities have yet to announce an official cause of death, he obviously died in the same grisly manner as George Floyd. 

Nevertheless, there have been no protest marches inspired by the death of Angelo Quinto. There are no public memorials for him. There are no activists raising their fists and shouting, “Say his name.” Black Lives Matter has said not a word about Quinto, who was a Filipino-American. The death of an unarmed man who was not Black caused by police kneeling on his neck does not qualify for a mention on the Black Lives Matter website or in its Twitter feed. 

Arguably, I am holding Black Lives Matter to too high a standard. After all, the National Organization for Women does not issue press releases about the plight of men, nor does the Jewish Defense League call out discrimination against Scientologists. Everyone is looking out for themselves, which is just human nature. That said, given Black Lives Matter’s overwhelming reaction to the death of George Floyd, one would think that the Quinto incident would have inspired a meaningful response, or at least an empathetic acknowledgement. But since it hasn’t, I am asking: Why not?   

I fear the answer is that the Black Lives Matter movement is suffering from an acute case of tunnel vision by framing the killings of unarmed Blacks by police solely through the prism of race. Here are the facts: About half of the unarmed people killed by police officers in the past year or so were White, while Whites comprise about 60% of the population. About 35% of the unarmed people killed by police officers in the past year were Black, while Blacks comprise about 14% of the population. But that itself does not constitute proof of racially motivated killing by cops. 

Writer and podcaster Coleman Hughes is among the prominent Black voices pushing back against the ultra-woke anti-racist worldview. He notes that almost all of those unarmed killed by police in the past year were men, while men comprise about 50% of the population. Does that prove that cops have an anti-male bias? 

To reach a clearer and deeper understanding, Hughes writes, “You must do what all good social scientists do: control for confounding variables to isolate the effect that one variable has upon another (in this case, the effect of a suspect’s race on a cop’s decision to pull the trigger). At least four careful studies have done this…and none of these studies has found a racial bias in deadly shootings. Of course, that hardly settles the issue for all time; as always, more research is needed. But given the studies already done, it seems unlikely that future work will uncover anything close to the amount of racial bias that BLM protesters in America and around the world believe exists.”

Whether you agree with Hughes’ assessment or not, the fact is that it has been nearly universally accepted that racial bias was a motivating factor, if not the dominant factor, in the killing of Floyd. But there is no conclusive proof of that, any more than there is conclusive proof that racial bias was a motivating factor in Quinto’s death. Simply put, we don’t know. 

The common theme in both cases is bad policing that should concern us all. But the next George Floyd turning out to be Asian does not further Black Lives Matter’s preferred narrative. Ironically, according to the anti-racist paradigm that so many Black Lives Matter supporters embrace, the movement’s silence on Quinto could arguably be cited as evidence of unconscious racism toward Asian Americans. That is if you buy into the binary anti-racist worldview which claims there is no such thing as a non-racist and that anyone who isn’t actively anti-racist is a racist, or at the very least harbors racist views.  

For the record, I do not believe that Black Lives Matter is anti-Asian any more than I believe that all Whites harbor anti-Black resentment. What I do believe is that Angelo Quinto’s life was every bit as precious as George Floyd’s life and his death was every bit as tragic. Sadly, one would never know that from the media coverage or collective response. And so, it must be said: 

Asian lives matter. 

Of course, we all have a perspective colored by race and more. All of us, to one degree or another, suffer from tunnel vision. That being the case, the undeniable truth is this:  

We share a common humanity and are all in this mess together. 

Will America Double Down on Darkness?

At a recent campaign rally, Donald Trump said this about the plot to kidnap Michigan Governor, Gretchen Whitmer: "Maybe it was a problem, maybe it wasn't." 

Never mind that a right-wing militia group had planned to take the first-term Democrat hostage and put her on trial for treason in their own kangaroo court. Among the Governor’s alleged crimes against our nation were ordering masks to be worn in enclosed public spaces and limiting restaurant capacity to 50% in the midst of a pandemic. The state’s conservative Supreme Court, in a predictable 4-3 decision, eventually ruled that the Governor’s restrictions were illegal. Oh well, at least they didn’t convict her of treason.   

Trump's hateful remark about the kidnap plot brought to mind his revolting, “"There were some very fine people on both sides,” assessment following the "Unite The Right" rally in Charlottesville. That was where a Nazi sympathizer drove his vehicle into a crowd of counter-protestors, killing one and injuring 19. 

America Is on the verge of a seismic moral and ethical reckoning. Two things are certain: The first is that Trump will lose the popular vote by millions, which means absolutely nothing in our arcane and broken electoral system. The second is that if Biden wins, Trump will engage in a fusillade of lawsuits contesting the result with the intent of being anointed by the Supreme Court. 

Have no doubt: Even if Biden defeats Trump soundly by sweeping the rust belt and winning Georgia and Texas, the orange autocrat will contest the election. He will not, under any circumstances, concede defeat. Trump's façade of imperviousness makes him an exceptionally formidable and feared incumbent. 

Should Biden declare victory, Trump will inform his 87+ million Twitter followers that the Democrats have STOLEN THE ELECTION and that a Biden presidency, like Obama's, would be illegitimate and illegal. No wonder the country is on edge. If Trumps wins, he remains in office. If Trump loses, he might still remain in office. It’s unpresidented.  

In the Supreme Court, the table is set for Trump: Three of the current nine Justices, Brett Kavanaugh, Amy Coney Barret, and Chief Justice John Roberts, were on the Bush legal team in 2000. Clarence Thomas was among the five Justices who handed the presidency to Bush. There is no reason to believe that Neil Gorsuch or Samuel Alito (aka Scalito) would see things differently than their hero Anton Scalia, who in 2000 decreed that counting the 61,000 ballots the voting machines in Florida had missed would cause “irreparable harm” and “cast a needless and unjustified cloud” over Bush’s legitimacy. 

Regarding swing states: Florida, Michigan, North Carolina, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin are controlled by Republican legislators. The Governor of Florida, where it all could conceivably come down to once again, is a Trump lackey.   

It is true that it may be considerably more difficult for Trump to steal the election than it was for Bush because there will likely be more contested states now than there were 20 years ago. That said, it hardly strains credulity to envision the Supreme Court, with whatever tortured reasoning the conservatives conjure up, handing the election to Trump. 

If the electoral count is lopsided in Biden's favor, perhaps the Supremes will let the vote stand. Perhaps. But that would require at least two conservative justices to join the three liberals on the Court. Chief Justice Roberts has already demonstrated his independence. But there is no reason to feel confident that any other justice would vote against Trump if his presidency was on the line. 

Trump can remain in office legitimately or illegitimately, and I'm not sure which would be worse. If Trump wins fair and square, it means that American will have doubled-down on delusion, ignorance and isolationism. It would be the triumph of darkness. If Trump loses but is saved by a combination of the Court and corrupt state legislators, it will signal the end of American democracy.    

I find myself bracing for a storm and seeking words of comfort. Not long after Hurricane Katrina, that great American folksinger, Arlo Guthrie wrote the song “In Times Like These,” which included this couplet: 

When leaders profit from deep divisions

When the songs of friends remain unsung

In times like these, it’s good to remember

These times will go, in times to come

It is assuring to be reminded that both Trump and Trumpism will eventually vanish. However, that will be on the other side of a storm, the intensity, duration and course of which are currently unknown.      

Tips for Confronting Assholery

Look, it is not possible to have a civil discussion with a cornered narcissistic, sociopathic asshole with a live microphone. This is not exactly news. 

I recall with great fondness a scene from the movie War of the Worlds. A well-meaning, but thoroughly delusional, pastor decides to start a conversation with the ruthless Martian invaders by reciting a prayer and holding up a cross as he approaches their spaceships. He is instantly disintegrated with a death ray. 

Chris Wallace played the part of the clueless pastor at the first Trump-Biden debate. Instead of with a cross, Wallace stepped forward with a book of rules that Trump had supposedly signed off on. Like the pastor in the movie, he was soon toasted into oblivion.

Joe Biden – and it must be said, it was hard to not feel sorry for him – was more of a bystander than a participant. But of course he was. There is no engaging with Trump, not unless you are stroking his cancerous ego. Sean Hannity and Laura Ingraham are expert at that, which is why Trump so thoroughly enjoys their conversations. 

In a political debate, if one candidate starts by saying to their opponent, “Good sir, I strongly disagree with your economic policy and I am going to tell you why,” and their opponent snaps back, “Listen pal, you’re dumber than a hat. And also, you’re a shithead,” the debate is over.

Another movie scene comes to mind, this one from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. King Arthur and his knights arrive at a castle asking for food and shelter. The castle guard, who is French, refuses to engage in polite conversation and shouts, “Go and boil your bottoms. I blow my nose at you. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.” When King Arthur politely asks if he can talk with someone else, the castle guard throws a cow at him. At the debate, Biden was King Arthur and Trump had an abundance of cows. 

Understand this: There is no debating Trump, no engaging him in anything resembling fruitful conversation. That is why the debates as currently unregulated are an utter waste of time. A better format would be to lock the candidates in a small room with no furniture for an hour. See what happens. Then, after 15 minutes, drop a dozen squirrels in. Then, after 15 more minutes, introduce a thousand wasps. We’d learn a lot. 

As I have written before, Trump is like a monkey trained by a professor in an old movie to sip demitasse with the upper crust of society. You can put him in a suit and train him to sip his cup in dignified fashion for a short while. But like the monkey in the movie, it is never long before Trump starts howling and instigates a food fight. And then everyone in the scene, or the debate as is was, is evaluated by how they respond to the monkey Trump. It goes without saying, or at least should, that no one is ever more entertaining than an ape swinging from the chandelier and defecating in the caviar. 

Note to Joe Biden: Put an end to this monkey madness. Demand that in the next debate the moderator have the power to turn off the microphone of either candidate. Unless Trump agrees, cancel it. Recognize that there is no value in negotiating with a sewer rat. Spare yourself and spare the country. Sure, Trump and his Republican sycophants will call you a coward and mock you. But they are already doing that and will ever stop. Joe, you don’t have to beat Trump in a debate to beat him in an election.

Just win. 

Note To Liberals: Condemn Rioting and Destruction As You Do Racism Or Enable Trump

A car dealership burns after being set ablaze by rioters in Kenosha, Wisconsin.

Earlier this week, the New York Times – not Fox News – reported that voters in Wisconsin were beginning to tilt right. As the Times put it, “As residents see fires and looting, some worry that Democratic leaders are failing to keep control of the situation.”  

Yes, the shooting of Jacob Blake was yet another unspeakably horrible act of racism and the black community is understandably out of patience waiting for long overdue police reform. As a white man, I will not pretend to feel anything close to the same sorrow, fear and outrage as black Americans. That said, “when you talk about destruction, don’t you know that you can count me out.” 

I am sure that the rioters and looters in Kenosha are multi-racial. I am not interested in the breakdown of how many blacks and whites are engaged in criminal behavior. Even if I cannot feel the depth of their pain and anger, I can empathize with it and I do.  I also understand that the chaos in Kenosha, Portland, New York and other cities is happening in Trump’s America and that Trump is the cancerous tumor that must be removed from our body politic.  And yet…

When buildings and cars are set ablaze, when your hometown becomes a war zone, when there are shoot-outs on the streets, when black-owned businesses take to putting signs in their windows begging to be spared, what is the message being sent?

Blame the police, blame the protestors, blame outside agitators, blame whoever you want. What is beyond dispute is that the situation is combustible and getting worse by the day. The new Civil War is upon us, a series of violent confrontations between cops, social justice protestors and Trump’s “Second Amendment people.” More often than not, it is hard to know who is instigating who.   

All this said, as long as Black Lives Matter is perceived as turning a blind eye to the pain and suffering caused by rioters who support the cause, it will be diminished and enable Trumpism.   

Michael Moore recently tweeted, “Kenosha, Wisconsin. USA. I see now this will never end. Black America, over to you. You have a 2nd Amendment right to defend yourself. White America – seek redemption before it’s too late. End the madness. Defund. Dismantle. Demilitarize. Dismiss.”  I respect Michael Moore, but I don’t know what he is talking about. In his tweet, he certainly isn’t speaking to swing voters in the key states that Biden needs to win.  

Setting a building on fire after a white cop unjustifiably shoots a black man makes as much sense as burning down a MacDonald’s to protest cartoons of Muhammad in a Danish newspaper, or invading Iraq after Saudi terrorists flew planes into the Twin Towers. Burning down a MacDonald’s didn’t help Muslims, invading Iraq didn’t help America, and rioting in Kenosha won’t help African Americans. 

No one benefits from anarchy, except Trump. No doubt you have heard – only he can fix it.  Anything that benefits Trump hurts people of color – and women – and the LGBTQ community – and the poor – and the environment – and on and on. 

I stand with Black Lives Matter, but not with those who refuse to condemn the violence and looting in the streets, some of which is being instigated by supporters of the movement. Speak out against it, or prepare for four more years of you know who. 

Why I Am a Proud Un-proud American

Photo: Lisa Scicchitano

I have often been grateful to be an American, but proud? Perhaps the happiness I felt when we landed on the moon, when Nixon resigned and when Obama was elected is akin to pride. Even so, I have never thought of myself as a “proud American” or a patriot, at least not in any conventional sense. Being a patriot, like being religious, doesn’t make one a good person. What matters is how one’s patriotism or religion manifests. Lest we forget, the perpetrators of 9-11 were both patriotic and religious.  

Personally, I have never liked the Pledge of Allegiance, “The Star-Spangled Banner” or “God Bless America,” especially Kate Smith’s bombastic version, which has always made me cringe. Not that anyone is asking, but my choice for our National Anthem has long been Phil Och’s “Power and Glory” or Leonard Cohen’s “Democracy.” 

I have never flown a flag in my yard, nor I have never worn a flag pin. I believe that flag-burning should remain legal. I am not a fan of fireworks. For that alone, some would consider me part of that liberal hate-America crowd, whatever that is exactly. 

I have never thought of myself as coming from a “military family,” but I actually did. My maternal grandfather, John Cascella, was born in Italy and fought in an U.S. combat unit in World War I, for which he was granted American citizenship. My father, Joseph Raiola, was in the army during World War II, though dad never had a nice word to say about his time in the military, except that he got out.  

My mother, Christina Raiola, spent over 30 years as a civilian working for the army – mostly in protocol – at Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island and Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn. While mom was working closely with high-ranking military brass, meticulously organizing dinners and official ceremonies, I was busy as the President of the student body at Adelphi University (in 1972) trying to get army recruiters permanently banished from campus. 

My generation – the baby boomers – had it easy in a lot of ways. There was little doubt that we were going to have a better life, a life with more choices and opportunities than our parents did. There was one caveat: Don’t die in Vietnam. 

It was no easy thing to feel proud to be an American during the Vietnam War. The Greatest Generation could understandably take pride in going to war to stop Hitler. It was considerably more difficult to take pride in not going to war to stop Nixon. Nixon was hardly Hitler, but the war he was waging was as sickening and ugly as it was morally indefensible. In Vietnam, America was the evil invader, slaughtering innocents, burning villages, and then denying it ever happened. Many in my generation were trying to save the world from America, America from itself, and their own skin at the same time. 

I had a draft card and I was in the final year of the lottery to be called to military service. The odds of my number being chosen were slim, but I was nonetheless prepared. I had become a minister in the Universal Life Church. I was also a member in good-standing of CCCO – the now defunct Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors. I stood, as much as I was capable at the time, against America’s war. And if that qualified me as “anti-American” to the vocal “love it or leave it crowd,” then so be it.  

Among those who were outspoken against the war were my boyhood heroes: Bob Dylan, Muhammad Ali, John Lennon and The Smothers Brothers. Yet somehow, they were all deemed enemies of the state. Our best leaders, white and black, were shot and killed. I feared my fellow countrymen far more than I did anyone in Vietnam. At the time, the idea of “American pride” struck me as absurd. And actually, it still does, though for different reasons now. As George Carlin put it in one of his standup specials: 

“I could never understand ethic or national pride. Because to me, pride should be reserved for something that you achieve on your own, not something that happens by accident of birth. Being Irish isn’t a skill. It’s a fucking genetic accident.  You wouldn’t say, ‘I’m proud to be 5’11”,’ or ‘I’m proud to have predisposition for colon cancer.’ So why the fuck would you be proud to be Irish or Italian or American or anything?  Hey, if you’re happy with it, that’s fine.  Put that on your car: ‘Happy to be an American.’ Be happy, don’t be proud. There’s too much pride as it is. ‘Pride goeth before a fall.’ Never forget Proverbs.” 

When George Carlin quotes the Bible, I listen. 

What is pride anyway? When I say I’m “proud” of something I’ve done, I’m saying that I feel good about it.  It’s a satisfying feeling. But so what? David Duke, Billy Grahman Junior and Mike Pence are each proud, patriotic and, in my view, terrible men. Idiots, racists, misogynists and homophobes may swell with national pride quite easily. So might criminals, rioters and even killers. Here is a list of things more important than pride: being informed, intelligence, openness to changing one’s mind, compassion, generosity, honesty, being a good listener, creativity, empathy and wisdom. Having pride doesn’t even crack my top ten. 

At this time, America has so much to not be proud of. Our President is an unimaginable toxic cesspool of hate, intolerance, ignorance and incompetence. The minority rules the majority. Our system of government and electoral process are arcane, and resistant to reform.  Among western democracies, America is first in mass shootings, obesity and watching television. Currently, our health care system is ranked 15th in the world, however 27.5 million Americans were without health insurance in 2018 and more than 5 million Americans have lost their employer-based coverage this year. Among comparable countries, our life expectancy is ranked 12th and has recently declined. We are ranked 24th on “environmental performance.”  America is the only developed western nation that regularly applies the death penalty and the first to develop lethal injection. In the World Press Freedom Index, we are currently ranked 45th. The state of race relations in the country speaks for itself.  

Waving the flag, chest thumping and passionate defenses of American Exceptionalism, all expressions of American pride, will not improve our lot. The bigger issue is that pride itself is too often an impediment to genuine introspection and needed social change. Pride too often inspires self-inflation. That’s why it “comes before a fall.” And yet, being proud is essential to our well-being, individually and collectively. So the question must be asked: What would a healthy sense of American pride look like in 2020? 

First and most importantly, a healthy sense of pride is rooted in reality. And given that Americans can’t agree on what constitutes reality, there is currently no chance of us forging any shared sense of healthy national pride. For proof of that, look no further than our splintered response to COVID-19. 

Even if we were under relentless attack by the Martians, we would continue to fight bitterly amongst ourselves. Some would scream “fake news,” while others would insist the Martians did not pose much of a threat (even as they incinerated our cities), while others would take cover while hoping scientists came up with an effective weapon against the invaders so they could get on with their lives. Needless to say, after a Martian attack, there would be no speedy “return to normal,” just as there won’t be now. 

Pride is something that needs to be earned and even when earned, humility is the higher virtue. As the great sage Lao Tzu says in the Tao Te Ching: “A leader is best when people barely know they exist, and when their work is done, their aim fulfilled, the people will say: we did it ourselves.” 

Unserious Spirituality

Photo by Iriving Schild, who probably regrets taking it.

In March of 2016, I received an email from Nicolae Tanase, the founder of “Excellence Reporter,” which he referred to as “the world’s largest ‘Meaning of Life’ e-magazine.” I certainly wasn’t about to dispute the claim. Tanase wrote to me as follows: “I interview leaders, thinkers, writers, researchers, musicians, artists, CEOs, laymen, etc. on the meaning of life. Would you be willing to contribute your thoughts to the Meaning of Life Community? The interview goes very simple: write down your insight on one question: ‘What is the meaning of life?’”

My first thought: Why are you asking me? I checked out Tanase’s website, ExcellenceReporter.com, which was loaded with hundreds of rather serious essays by renowned and esoteric spiritual teachers, shamans, channelers, healers, therapists, and experts in everything from sustainability to Feng shui. There were contributions by Jack Kornfield and Marianne Williamson, not to mention a piece by Mahatma Gandhi, which I would bet was posted without his permission. 

Since I first visited the website, Tanase has posted hundreds of additional “meaning of life” essays, including one by a “modern day wizard” (with a hat and everything) who goes by the name Oberon Zell-Ravenheart. I felt compelled to visit his website – and let’s face it, Oberon wouldn’t be much of a “modern” day wizard if he didn’t have a website – at which I found the following biography: “Oberon Zell is a modern Renaissance man. A transpersonal psychologist, metaphysician, naturalist, theologian, shaman, author, artist, sculptor, lecturer, teacher, and ordained Priest of the Earth-Mother, Gaia. Among the many projects he has undertaken in his lifetime, Oberon is one of the founders of the Church of All Worlds, is the first publisher of Green Egg Magazine, the Headmaster of the Grey School of Wizardry, the founder and curator of the Academy of Arcana. Those who know him well consider him to be a true Wizard in the traditional sense.”

In case you are wondering about the Church of All Worlds, it is real and claims to be “one of the oldest incorporated neo-Pagan churches in the United States,” which at the start of 2019 was undergoing its “3rdPhoenix Resurrection,” whatever that is. By the way, their membership fee, last time I checked, was $30 for new members, which will place you in “Circle Two.” However, for each additional $12 you contribute, you are moved to a higher “Circle.” What a deal! 

But I digress. 

Tanase’s website features philosophical musing by interfaith ministers, ordained ministerial counselors, pastors, professors of neurogenics, Elon Musk and me. “What is the meaning of life?” struck me as a trick question, one that should be approached lightly and with tongue firmly planted in check or not at all. 

With that in mind, rather than submitting a standard headshot as I was asked to, I sent a photo of myself dressed as a Viking. (The photo was taken for an outlandish MAD Magazine subscription campaign I created many years ago.) Pushing the envelope further, I changed the question I was asked from “What is the meaning of life?” to “What is the meaning of asking me what is the meaning of life?” Somewhat to my surprise, Tanase posted everything I sent without revisions. Perhaps his standards were nearly as low as mine. Here’s the piece: 

What is the Meaning of Asking Me What is the Meaning of Life  

Had you asked my favorite philosopher, Alan Watts, “What is the meaning of life?” he would have struck a gong and said, “Let’s leave it at that.” But Alan is dead and, besides, you made the foolish mistake of asking me.

As I sit here tapping away at the keyboard, my cat Bella is asleep and snoring, lying comfortably on my desk. I mention this because Bella clearly doesn’t give a damn about meaning. Bella simply is. But for us humans, finding meaning is a very big deal.

I am reminded of something Henry Miller wrote: “The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.” I imagine that Henry came to that uplifting insight after downing a few bottles of Bordeaux with friends and then spanking Anais Nin. Henry was my kind of Renaissance man.

It is worth noting, however, that the “aim of life” is not synonymous with “the meaning of life.” To have an aim is to have a goal, and Henry’s goal is a desired state of being. Reach the goal and, voilà, you will discover the meaning of life. On the other hand, the Buddhists say the path is the goal. Therefore, there is no place to arrive and no aim necessary. So where does that leave us?

In college, I had a philosophy professor named Dr. Knight, which is truly a wonderful name for a philosophy professor. I took his metaphysics course, which he began by announcing that he would be killing himself after the first class.

Although he didn’t say how he was going to do it, I thought I should alert Dr. Pasotti, the Chairman of the Philosophy Department, of Dr. Knight’s intention. So, I walked down the hall to Dr. Pasotti’s office and told him that Dr. Knight had told us that he was going to commit suicide. Dr. Pasotti leaned back in his chair and said, “That asshole. Again?”

In fact, Dr. Knight did not kill himself and went on to teach quite the provocative metaphysics course. “The meaning of life,” he explained, “may be found in Plato’s Republic or in Suzy’s ass.” A debatable point perhaps, but the only way I could test his hypothesis was to find my way into Suzy’s ass. But alas, I never had the pleasure of meeting Suzy, or visiting Plato’s Republic for that matter. Was I doomed then to a life of meaninglessness?

Of course not, for it would have been a grave mistake to take Dr. Knight’s comment literally. The essential thing he was getting at was that one had to engage in intimate relationship, be it with Suzy, Plato, whatever or whomever, even yourself. Meaning is only found in relationship and in relationship there are no experts.

Dr. Len, a couple’s therapist my wife and I once worked with comes to mind. He was teaching us the Imago technique, which he described as a fool-proof method of empathic listening and communication. “If I knew this method years ago my first marriage never would have broken up,” he said confidently.

A few weeks later Dr. Len informed us that he was shutting down his practice and moving to Seattle because his second marriage had broken up. By the way, my wife and I never mastered the Imago technique and over two decades later we are still together. Go figure.

I should probably say something here about death and the impermanent nature of all things. But I can’t think of anything that hasn’t already been said. For what it’s worth, after I die I would like to be shot out of a cannon and wired to explode in midair, to exit with an actual bang. Unfortunately, I’ve been told that is illegal.  

In “Instant Karma” John Lennon asks “why on earth are we here?” and in the next breath declares, “surely not to live in pain and fear.” That seems like a promising starting point, but it’s a negative statement.

Okay, we are not here to live in pain and fear, but why then are we here? Earlier in the song Lennon provides a pretty good answer: “Better recognize your brother’s everyone you meet.” There we are again, back to relationship.

However, the great sage Krishnamurti said, “You are the world.” Well, if you are the world, then there is no one to be in relationship with. No duality. So, while it’s fantastic to “recognize your brother’s everyone you meet,” there is a deeper teaching: You are your brother. Whoa!  I’m freaking myself out, man!

I must get myself a gong.

After Once Declaring a Fake National Emergency, Donald Trump Proves That He Can’t Handle a Real One

Donald Trump shows his steady and calm leadership at a recent coronavirus press briefing.

So now, a half century after dodging military service due to bone spurs in his heels – his doctor wrote him a “very strong letter” he told the New York Times in 2016 – Donald Trump, a living profile in cowardice, has declared himself a “wartime president.” Trump’s vain self-aggrandizement is essential to keeping his perpetually fragile ego fed. He is sustained by his detestable self-puffery, of which he is totally unaware because he has no capacity for self-reflection.  

Trump’s off-the-charts sociopathic narcissism and vileness is on display whenever he steps to the podium. He is incapable of empathy, totally uninterested in things that do not impact him personally, and unable to engage in fruitful dialogue. Every day, in his pathetic screeds and tweets, he reminds us of the fantastic job he is doing (it’s really incredible, we’ve never seen anything like it), the mess he inherited from his predecessor (who steadily brought the country back from the brink of financial ruin), and his bitter grievances against the majority of Americans who wanted him impeached and removed from office.

At a recent coronavirus press briefing, NBC’s Peter Alexander dared to ask, “What do you say to Americans who are watching you right now and are scared?” This was a legitimate, as well as a softball question, one even a novice politician could have easily dodged, or answered politely and superficially. But Trump is all id, a perpetually reactive repository of bile and pus. “I say that you’re a terrible reporter. It’s a nasty question,” he barked, before boasting, “I’ve been right a lot.” 

That Trump has severe personality and character disorders which render him unfit for the presidency is hardly news. He is never responsible for his failures, or accountable for his crimes and misdeeds. He is always persecuted, innocent and triumphant.  Trump has spent his entire privileged life seeing the world through his narrow and warped lens. He believes that his perceptions, fleeting and unsubstantiated as they may be, are reality itself: Obama was born in Kenya. He had the largest audience ever to witness a presidential inauguration. His call with Ukraine’s President was perfect. We’re very close to a developing a vaccine to end the pandemic. 

At the end of February, Trump called coronavirus the Democrats “new hoax,” which is exactly what the sycophantic hosts of Fox News, with the exception of Tucker Carlson, were saying about it until recently. After weeks of dismissing the pandemic as nothing to be concerned about, the hosts of Fox’s afternoon show, The Five, are now each broadcasting from home to stay safe. On March 18, Sean Hannity proclaimed, “This show has always taken the coronavirus seriously. We’ve never called the virus a hoax.”  On March 9 he said, “This scaring the living hell out of people, I see it again, as like, let’s bludgeon Trump with this new hoax.”  That’s why in a recent poll nearly two thirds of Fox viewers said they were not concerned.  

 Maybe, just maybe, the coronavirus – not the virus itself, nor the economic devastation and human suffering it will cause, but Trump’s utter incompetence, ineptitude and ill-preparedness as a leader during a time of national crisis – will lead to the death of his ugly reign. The impact of the coronavirus, just as the impact of climate change, is as real as it is non-partisan. But while climatologists can’t prove that climate change itself is the cause of a particular storm, the devastating impact of the coronavirus is easy to definitively measure. A calculable number of people, conservatives and liberals, will get sick and die, lose their livelihoods, and have their social lives unimaginably altered directly as a result of the pandemic. Trump’s arrogance, vacuity and all-around miserableness as a human being are in the spotlight every day, now seen by all through the lens of a national emergency with no end in sight. How rooted in delusion is Trump? He declared a national emergency when there wasn’t one and denied a national emergency when there was one.

Meanwhile, fears are rising that Trump could declare martial law, or move to postpone or cancel the election. Should Trump come to the conclusion that he would likely lose to Biden, I put nothing past him. A desperate Trump is a more dangerous Trump and there is little sign that the Senate or courts would take strong measures to curtail his power. One thing you can be sure of: Trump will continue to spew lies, stoke deep divisions, and do everything he can to use the current humanitarian and economic crisis to his personal advantage.

Can the Democrats, backed by Bloomberg’s countless millions, mount a successful campaign to remove the malignant tumor that Trump is from our body politic? That is no less an important question than how to flatten the curve of the coronavirus, but first things first.

The immediate collective challenge before us is to stay calm and find our way to the other side of this crisis. That will take perseverance, patience and sacrifice.  At the same time, we must mobilize as necessary, especially in the 10 or 12 states where the election will be decided, to remove Trump from office. In either case, the consequences of failure are too dire to imagine.