This is a story about finding the humor is little things, the interactions between strangers, and extending a hand of friendship. I have to tell you this story about how one “prop”, the Knight, has given us great joy over the years.
A woman named Trish had a floral shop in our small town back in the mid-90’s. She was an exceptionally gifted designer and shipped her merchandise all over the world. Trish was also a single mom, and lived next door to my mother-in-law. Trish and I became girlfriends and eventually, Trish was one of Gunner’s godmothers.
Well, Trish had a metal knock-off version of a knight in armor in her store. I wanted it, badly, and imagined all the things I could do with the knight. Yet, the price was too steep, $325, and my Presbyterian pragmatism could not justify the expense.
Disaster struck one day, and Trish’s store had a fire. The store was ACROSS the street from our fire department…… which gave the fire department boys an excuse to drag out all their BIG toys and REALLY put out the fire in grand fashion. Her inventory was a total loss. She called me, about 9:30am, crying, and asked me to come down and see if there was anything I could salvage for our B&B. It was a real life fire sale.
The girls and I left the B&B to find Trish, sobbing, sitting in the middle of the ashes. The place smelled so bad we could barely breathe. It was dark, and we followed her sobs to get to her. We needed an attack plan. I sent one girlfriend home for gloves, wheelbarrows, and to call my construction husband to bring in commercial lighting and big fans. We had to be able to work. We also brought Trish breakfast and a big commercial coffee pot for us all.
Husband arrived with enough lighting for a football field, and he stayed to help us haul. Many items were salvageable and inch-by-inch, Trish and I made deals on the spot. She sold me the “knight” I wanted for $25. We hauled items back to the B&B. Another girlfriend/staff to me, husband (Glen – who looked like the Marlboro man) showed up to pick her up and he helped us. A few more girlfriends and husbands appeared, and husband’s buddy, the architect, and his brother appeared. Someone left to get burgers for lunch, and by 4pm we made sufficient progress. Knocking off for the day, we all came back to the B&B for a cold beer and cheap wine. Husband picked up a stack of ribeyes. I had plenty of sides ready to go, and we were ready to fire up the grill for an impromptu “fire” party. Trish was feeling a bit better with all the camaraderie.
We were really drinking pretty heavily. Trish was sad, exhausted, and in grief. The rest of us smelled like firefighters and were covered in soot, but we didn’t care. We were all in the den, laughing and carrying on……… when the doorbell rang and shocked me back into reality………. we had guests at the door.
“SSSSHSHhhhhhh, hiccup, …….shhhhhh”, I said, “We have guests!” Instantly, everyone shrank like I was the overbearing librarian. “I’ll get the guests checked in and then we can grill.” They were fine and I disappeared to straighten myself and reappear like a well-put-together hostess…. not easy. Our guests were nurses on their way home from a vacation at a spa in French Lick, Indiana. They were supposed to go to the Virgin Islands, but because of a hurricane, their choice in tourist destinations was altered at the last minute.
The nurses gave me the impression they were not happy with their trip to Indiana. As they related their story, the sounds of muffled laughter, hard to ignore, emanated from the den. “What’s going on?”, said one of the nurses. I explained what happened, the fire, the day, and that our friends had reconnoitered at our house and were now drinking after a long day. I apologized for the interruption when one of the nurses said, “Oh yeah, whatchaya’ll…..llll drinking?”, and she took off for the den like a shot. Other nurses quickly followed, with me, dragging up the rear. The nurses became part of our party…….. and they hadn’t even checked in yet.
We descended into the Twilight Zone.
I’m not sure, specifically, what happened after that. The whole evening is kind of a blur. I do remember one of the nurses, in our bar, mixing perfectly separated B-52’s, cuz they were “pretty”. Understand, the nurses were incredibly wild. The architect and his brother were both tall and handsome men, Randy was a fireman, Glen looked like the Marlboro cowboy, and then, there was my husband. I remember the architect doing a kitchen demonstration on how to massage a woman’s feet….. mine….. when I said, “Don’t ever do that again.” I don’t remember when we went to bed or who stayed here.
It was a perfect storm.
Sunday morning, 1st husband had a “thing”. He always wants the yard to look good on Sunday mornings….. cuz everyone goes to church……. and some people stop in our yard to take pics in the garden with their children. Husband was the first one awake. He made coffee and sauntered out to the porch to take a look at the front yard…….. and next to our B&B marble entrance sign stood the Knight, wearing a white bra……
Oh, my….
I was still asleep. Husband rescued the Knight from the front yard and placed it at the end of our bed. I woke up to the Knight, wearing a bra…. and was mortified. Keep in mind, we are located smack-dab in the middle of the bible belt. Breakfast was a little rough that morning, but we all muddled through.
Husband was in the dining room when one of the nurses came down, wearing nothing but a flimsy robe, hanging out of it. Husband ran back to the kitchen and said, “I can’t go back out there, you have to do it…..”
The Knight was retired to our “Gentlemen’s Room” where I dusted him once a week. Over the years, we used the Knight for all kinds of things. At Christmas, we hung garland and lights around his neck, placed him on the staircase landing, and he became the “Knight Light”. For birthday parties, we put him out front, holding a large bunch of balloons, as in, “The party is here.” Brides took pictures with the “Knight in Shining Armor”. We also moved the Knight around to different parties, college dorms for Halloween, and the kids, as they grew up, used the Knight to guard their tree forts or bedrooms, as in, “Do not enter here”.
The decades passed and I’m now on Husband #2, kids are grown and gone. Yet, the Knight remains.
The Knight is about 5′ 6″ tall, and in periphery view, looks like a person. Several guests over the years mistook the Knight as an intruder in their room. Of course, we all laughed and giggled about the mistaken impression…… until we had one guy…… a horse guy….. a big burly guy….. who was completely spooked by the Knight.
Mr. Tim is a southern man, a man’s man, and shows horses. He was here with another buddy to do a show in town. At breakfast, his friend told the story of how Mr. Tim was so spooked by the knight, he reached for a pistol. In fact, he was so bothered by the Knight, he moved the Knight to an unoccupied room. Well, to see this big burly man, afraid of a Knight was funny to us…… and very, very, funny to his buddy. So, we sneaked into his room and put the Knight on top of his toilet. He came around the corner…….. and was scared to death. While Mr. Tim was here, the Knight served him breakfast, answered the door, we had all kinds of fun with the Knight and Mr. Tim.
Two years later, the same horse show comes around again. This time, we have a swanky, snobby, uppercrust, woman staying with us, from a ritzy and proper “Hunt Club”, who is showing her horse. Someone from her Hunt Club had stayed with us before, gave us a glowing review, and casually mentioned……. “The place is run by a fabulous gay couple – you’ll love them.”
So…… I was making breakfast in the kitchen, and asked my husband, the lawyer, the altar boy, the Boston born, never-do-anything-illegal, straight-laced Catholic, to take the plates out to serve our swanky guest. He was sitting at the table, doing his best to be prim, polite, and proper, when the swanky guest commented on her apple pancake, “This is delicious, did your husband make these?”……. He lost it, aghast, he said, “Husband? What do you mean, husband?” Guest replied, “Well, I assumed you were gay……” Husband, “What? What you mean I’m gay?!?”
Eventually, I rounded the corner with extra fruit, the mistake was realized and we all got a good laugh. Pretense = gone. We talked horses for an hour. My mom’s family raced and bred quarter-horses, and I was on a horse before I could walk. She commented on the horse photos in her room…… as well as the Knight. We fit together beautifully and cackled like old friends. By accident, the swanky woman took off with her B&B keys. Rather than make another copy, husband decided to catch her at the horse show before she left to retrieve the key……… when perchance, husband ran into Mr. Tim, the guy who was afraid of the Knight.
The swanky woman and Mr. Tim were old friends. Mr. Tim told swanky woman the story of the Knight….. which was in her same room, and how he was spooked by the Knight. Husband gave Mr. Tim grief about not staying with us this time, but Mr. Tim has moved up in the world and is now sponsored by Nutrena……. and Nutrena bought Mr. Tim a super lux $200K trailer for horses and living quarters to display at various horse shows. Mr. Tim gave husband a tour of his new “digs”. Quite impressive. Mr. Tim is now the rock star of the horse show circuit.
Husband came home, grinning from ear to ear, ran upstairs. I was making a bed and rounded the corner. “What are you doing?”, I asked. Husband, “I got an idea. It’s perfect.” Husband retrieved the Knight, put in the car and headed back to the horse show. He pasted a sign on the front of the Knight which read, “I missed you. Please take me home.”, and put it in the horse trailer section of Mr. Tim’s trailer.
At the end of a successful show, Mr. Tim went to load his trailer and opened the door….. to the Knight. Great prank. Of course, Mr. Tim stopped by to return, Arthur, the Knight back to our house. Lots of photos. The Knight even wore a cowboy hat for a while. Mr. Tim sent a pic to his wife and she replied, “Don’t bring that damn thing home!”
Best $25 I ever spent!

 
 
 
 

Happy Mother’s Day, Doc Lynn and Miss Lily…..
It’s spring again and her small yard is a mass of blooms. When husband takes Bucket for a walk, he bring me back flowers from her yard. Doc Lynn was an extraordinary American woman. If ever I could have “picked” another mother, it would have been her, and it’s time to tell you about the person she was…… along with Miss Lily, cuz they were a pair.
Doc Lynn was a 5th generation physician, tall and slender. Her face was rugged. You could look at her and imagine her in a wagon train, one of those who settled the west. And determined….. by God, that was one determined woman. She never married, but never she never lacked for children as she delivered half the town. She went fishing on Wednesdays with a sweet bass boat and mowed her own lawn well into her upper 80’s.
Most of all, by force, she adopted me, but never said so. It just sort of happened, over time. Perhaps, she thought I could use a gentle hand and a strong influence. I had no choice in the matter. If ever there were two people of similar temperament, it was the two of us. Independent, strong, prickly. Yep, those are the ones who need love the most. Sometimes, we didn’t have to say a word…… a glance did the trick.
Doc Lynn lived catty corner to the B&B. When I moved home, I was under the FALSE impression I was a decent woman, willing to work hard, fairly smart, good schools, honorable family, treated my fellow man with kind regard, and had a few accomplishments under my belt. I was wrong. There was a whole parallel world of information to which I had not been exposed. I was clueless, awkward, inept, and out of my element. Doc Lynn was a pro, an expert, experienced in every subject where I was lacking.
Our home was abandoned for 23yrs when we bought it and the renovation took 6 months. Those were long and hard 16 hour days, when I would tumble into bed. About once a month, Doc Lynn would show up at my house, barging in, giving tours to her relatives or a town forefather. She never knocked and most of the time, she ignored my presence. I wasn’t sure if I should be offended. In the city, we at least knocked or rang a doorbell. She didn’t care.
For the first couple of years, late afternoons and on weekends, I was constantly interrupted by poor, mostly minority, townspeople, in worn down cars, who thought our house was her’s. I would stop what I was doing, point across the street, to redirect them. You see, in her later years, she saw patients at her back door, kids examined on top of her washing machine or dryer, for $2 a visit……… You read that right, $2 a visit……… In the 60’s, she was the most highly published diagnostician in the New England Journal of Medicine. In the 70’s, so the legend goes, she was the most highly published in the same journal for pediatrics. I had no idea at the time.
When I got pregnant, the world shifted a little on its axis. Of course, I searched for the best OB-GYN, read all their malpractice briefs, and perused their medical school ranking. I found THE BEST. Gunner’s doc was Chief of Pediatrics at a Children’s Hospital and also had a nationally syndicated show on PBS. She was THE BEST. I thought that was what I was supposed to do. Typical, northeast mindset. I was blinded by what I thought were norms. Conditioned by the media and society.
One night, I was up with Gunner all night, and called their 24 hour nurse hotline. They could not see me until 7:00am. I left the house at 6:00am, no sleep, to go downtown, Gunner crying and wailing the whole way. Maximum level stress. Finally, our premier pediatrician squirted a little Mylanta into his mouth. He burped, farted, and he was fine, with a $175 bill. I was furious. Never mind my own ignorance, why let my child suffer needlessly? Why didn’t they tell me that over the phone? All I got was their excuses. I stormed out of the office and vowed to never return.
A few days later, a scratched my eye with a floral wire, 3 hours before a formal dinner for our best customer, and their best client. The staff could never manage without me but I didn’t have time for an emergency room visit. I found myself at Doc Lynn’s back door, waiting in the driveway with other patients, sufficiently humbled. I really just wanted to know if I scratched the cornea and needed an emergency room. My turn arrived and I entered her utility room. I thought it was our first real encounter, but I was wrong again.
“Well…….,”, she gloated, “it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you……” She flipped open a crusty old file on her washing machine, and wrote down the date. My name was on the top of the file. I reached for the file, but she pinned me with her hip. She had me in a cathold. “Quit squirming and let me see your eye.”, she said, “Hold it open with your fingers, I can’t do all the work.” My eye was on fire but I responded instantly to her commands. “You’re going to be fine. No damage, just a close call.”, she said, and was already moving for bandages. Once I was freed, with my good eye, I checked the file.
Doc Lynn was my pediatrician. I read notes about my mom, dad, grandparents, and a checkerboard cake. My mind was racing, remembering all the checkerboard cakes mom made when I was a kid. Another note about a spill I took, learning to ride a bike, “She’ll have a small scar.” I looked at my arm, sure enough, small scar right where the drawing said it would be. It was a time warp. She sensed my confusion. It was a perfect gotcha moment and I was in the crosshairs. “That’ll be $2.00, please.”, she said. I tried to pay her $20. “Nope, $2 a visit.”, she was defiant. I argued, “Well then, let me pay for the next 10 people standing in your driveway.” She softened and compromised. It was the beginning of our friendship.
A few days later, we had a hellacious storm and a power outage. Doc Lynn was all alone. I called to see if she was okay. “I’m not dead yet, you don’t need to check on me.”, came her retort. Bristly……. by God she was bristly.
I took classes from a local extension office and became a Master Gardener. Another revelation to me – saved me tens of thousands of dollars. Doc Lynn showed up with a seedling tree, “Plant this in that corner, over there.”, she pointed. “Yes mam”, I replied.
Mother-in-law started to date the widowed former Mayor. He and Doc Lynn were old friends. Thus, Doc Lynn became a regular at our table for Easter, Thanksgiving, etc. She warmed up to me. I sure was trying….. wanted her respect but it was tough slog.
One night, Gunner was up, all night, and fussy. I was walking the floor. About 3:30am, the phone rang and both husband and I jumped. When the phone rings at that time of the morning, someone is dead. It was Doc Lynn. “You’re lights are on”, she said, “Is my baby okay?” Gunner was her baby, noted. I started crying……… and I never cry. She hung up on me and was at the side porch door in less than 3 minutes. “Give me that baby.” she said. Doc Lynn worked her magic and walked with Gunner in the cool night air, from the side porch and back into our den, pacing. I walked with her. She stopped and looked at me sternly, and warned me about my first husband. She didn’t think he treated me well. Her’s was the first warning I received. She was right.
I was making a bed in a guest room when I heard footsteps upstairs, in the attic. I thought, do we have gigantic racoons? No. Four ladies emerged from the attic stair door, giggling. Doc Lynn was giving someone a tour of my attic. Gee, never thought my attic would be a tourist destination. “Oh, there you are”, she said, “I had some cousins in town and thought they would like to see…….”……. my attic?
When I divorced first husband and started dating second husband, his four daughters came to visit. Third daughter forgot her medication for ADHD and went to see Doc Lynn for what we thought would be a quick prescription. Oh, no. Doc Lynn spent 30 minutes with Lizzie and pronounced….. she had no problem. “That girl is fine, give her something to do.”, she said. Lizzie was a completely different child after that visit. I could see the pain in my boyfriends face. The daughter’s problems caused great division in his family, probably the primary cause of his divorce, and she had no problem. She never took another pill for ADHD and as his ex-wife explained, “Lizzie grew out of it”, miraculously, during her 10 days in the south.
Second husband was anxious to win the approval of Doc Lynn and always tried to impress her. She was apprehensive. No one was good enough for me. She decided to take Gunner and husband’s youngest daughter, both about 6yrs old, fishing. She wanted to talk to the kids in order to decide if he was okay. Smart woman. Doc Lynn told him, “He was the only Yankee she ever liked.”
Several years passed as I went through a long and difficult divorce. One day, Doc Lynn sent me her primary maid and gardener, Miss Lily. Again, I had no option. Unbeknownst to me, Miss Lily was a spy for Doc Lynn, just to see if I was okay, several times a week.
Miss Lily and I ended up as great friends. She became my primary exec housekeeper but I trusted her with my life and our relationship was deep. Miss Lily had a checkered past. She was a stripper, cocaine addict, and in prison for murdering her first husband…….. with a spoon. She found God and God could not have asked for a better person than Lily. She was a treasure. In fact, Miss Lily had a profound influence on Gunner and the girls.
The one thing I never tolerated was disrespect to our staff, no matter who they were or what the situation. Miss Lily had free reign to treat Gunner just as she would treat her own children. I don’t know if she ever spanked Gunner, but if she would have, she would have had a good reason to do so. Gunner knew better. When the girls came to visit and treated Miss Lily as a maid, Gunner’s little eyes went wide, “You’re going to get in trouble……”, he warned. Sure enough, they had their rooms cleaned up, beds made, in nothing flat. They were all cleaned and scrubbed, clothes freshly ironed, and ready for dinner. They were ready for a photographer. I thought……. what’s that worth…….. to a mom….. with 5 active kids? Oh…., Miss Lily was priceless.
One day, Lily and Doc Lynn showed up to grab the boys. Gunner had a bunch of friends spending the night, video game marathon….. Miss Lily and Doc Lynn had shovels in their hands and needed help. Never any argument. Off went the boys with them. The cleaned up an old cemetary where some of Doc Lynn’s ancestors died of yellow fever.
As the kids reached high school, one by one, they were involved in various pursuits. Our church would come out for support…. but Miss Lily’s church members came out as well. Pictures, picnics, and BBQ’s all around.
When Doc Lynn’s house went up for sale, Miss Lily came back to clean up the yard and get the house ready. Lily was there for several weeks. Our dogs, Football and Bucket would not stay in our yard when Lily was at Doc Lynn’s. They wanted to go and see Lily.
All the kids are grown and gone, with a few still left in college, two of them are married and we are waiting on our first grandchild. Several of them wrote their college essays about Miss Lily or Doc Lynn. Miss Lily retired and Doc Lynn died, age 94, a couple of years ago. Time marches on.
Yet, as I sit here, on this cool spring morning, looking across the street at Doc Lynn’s yard, awash in blooms, I cannot help but think of her as Mother’s Day approaches. Yeah, she would have been the mom I would have chosen. And Lily, well, Lily was amazing every single day. No dictionary has enough adjectives to describe either woman.
With a send cup of coffee, I glanced over to Bucket, our dog. Her mother, Football, died last year. As I’m watching Bucket, I realized she is perched on the top step of the side porch, surveying her domain, the yard, the school and Doc Lynn’s house. Bucket still barks when she sees an intruder at Doc Lynn’s. A dog always knows. Old loyalties never die.
While mothers and grandmothers have incredible influence in our lives, other women appear……… and change our lives, for the better. Surely, everyone here has a similar story about a woman. Who were these women to you? It’s time to talk about them. Tell YOUR stories……….
I’m already accumulating my list for Father’s Day.
Time to bake a cake. Happy Mother’s Day to all!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sorry guys, I’m slipping. MAGA Rally thread is up and running! Made sandwiches for everyone. Who has the Sweet Tea? And those terrific Lemon Squares?
Wait a minute, for the guys, a special treat…….. BACON Sandwiches.

Yes, I did notice the Wild Turkey in the background. Little bit of refreshment for all.
Post away and ALL are welcome!!!!!!!! Put your Bermuda shorts on, we’re in Florida today!
Stole this one from Ga/FL, thank you, sweet pea. The Women for Trump have already arrived at MAGA Rally and have staked out their spot. Surely, they have enough sweet tea for us all.
https://twitter.com/evellas/status/1126128716793430016/photo/1
RSBN Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OyPg_70proE
Fox Stream Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WIwGrZKdsY0
Golden State Times Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O5jEo94TqWI
 

On November 22, 1991, Donald J. Trump testified before a Congressional Committee which was a Task Force created to solve the problem of banking liquidity. Link
Here is the whole link: https://duckduckgo.com/?q=Donald+Trump+1991+video+testimony+in+front+of+Congress&atb=v106-1&ia=videos&iax=videos&iai=Rksd80-FCAw
At that time, Construction and Real Estate, both residential and commercial, represented 20% of our GNP (it was Gross National Product – back in the day). Obscure changes to the tax law killed this segment of our economy. In 1991, there was not a single high rise crane remaining in NYC.
Construction had all but stopped in the USA, causing the loss of 600K jobs, which rippled through the economy to cause a serious recession. As Trump recalls in his testimony, he spoke to H&H Construction, the largest in NYC, and they did not have a new building planned for the next two years.
In 1991, our motto was “Survive ’til ’95”, but frankly, we didn’t see ANY end to the problems in the real estate industry. So, what caused the problem? At the time, we were looking for ways to right the ship. Banking was stagnant. The only solution had to come from Congress… because Congress caused the problem.
As the story goes, the tax code was changed in 1986, called TEFRA. As heated negotiations for changes in tax code took place, the committees needed another 7 billion dollars of revenue to make the CBO score come in “revenue neutral”. A STAFFER suggested grabbing the deduction for “passive losses” on real estate (meaning income from real estate was NOT taxed as ordinary income and the losses could be shared among investors) — because the numbers, 7 billion, matched the magical number needed in Committee. There is speculation the staffer belonged to Ted Kennedy, since Ted wanted Capital Gains Taxes lowered to 20%, but the identity of the staffer has been lost to history. Well, the Congress got their 7 billion, and revenue neutral CBO score, but it cost the economy well over 500 billion in losses. Here is why.
More specifically, in TEFRA, passive income and losses were no longer allowed and the ability to syndicate real estate (meaning I could gather together a group of wealthy docs/dentists/execs to invest in a project and the investors would receive income as PASSIVE income) was no longer allowed. Additionally, depreciation schedules were lengthened substantially. Wealthy people, to avoid higher tax brackets, would invest in REIT’s (Real Estate Investment Trusts), to build shopping centers, apartment complexes, etc. As  group of investors, the risks were also minimized. I sold REITs back in the 80’s. With the change in tax law, the investors went away. All those slick brochures went into the garbage can.
Readers might recall, TEFRA was also the act which eliminated deductions for interest on consumer spending but DID allow deductions for HOME interest — that was when every homeowner took out a home equity line of credit. Remember?
Well, when the act was passed, the impact on real estate projects was like a Cat 5 hurricane. People who HAD invested in the project, no longer had an incentive to invest and investors which had their money invested were caught in the maelstrom. What investors THOUGHT would be the benefits of their investment evaporated overnight. As projects failed, and the snowball created an avalanche, banks tightened up their restrictions on lending for real estate. With no one to finance construction, the industry came to a dead stop. No one working, no one buying equipment, no one buying carpeting, refrigerators, tile, cabinets, couches, dining room sets……., and a recession was born….. all because an academic staffer, with no real world experience in business, no way to imagine the consequences of his actions, needed 7 billion dollars to make his spreadsheet match up for CBO.
It was the idiocy of government on full display, and a successful citizen, Donald Trump, traveled to DC, to speak to Congress. He wanted to correct the problem, not just for himself, but for all of America.
The testimony is fascinating. At about 39:40 in the C-Span video, Helen Bentley, a Republican from Maryland, questions citizen Trump about another concerning issue – American manufacturing and her attempt to keep manufacturing companies from going overseas. She mentioned a local bank, who offered a 1% discount on a car loan if the consumer bought an American Car. Trump like the idea. She talked about FREE TRADE versus FAIR TRADE………, and that was 28 years ago.
At about 43 minutes in the video, Congressman Jimmy Hayes, a Dem from Louisiana, begins to explain the real problem, with help from Donald Trump. All construction has interim financing, a construction loan. When the project is finished, the developer (even for our little B&B) searches out permanent financing. Projects which were in various stages of building – for a decade, sometimes, were NOT grandfathered. So, a project was planned, land acquired, zoned, engineered, built………, and suddenly, the rules changed. Everything STOPPED. Hundreds of thousands went bankrupt, because they were still on the hook for the stream of payments due and caught in the midst of a sudden and drastic change in tax law.
As Congressman Hayes continues to explain……, with the changes in tax law, and not allowing the benefit of tax consequences of rents as passive income (no income tax), a building which might be completed and occupied at 100% is suddenly WORTH LESS….. because it’s not producing the great income (now taxed as personal income), tax free, any longer. A 5 million dollar apartment house might now, in 1990, only be worth 1 million dollars… which meant banks then required additional collateral from the owners, for EXISTING loans. Sometimes these owners had additional personal collateral and sometimes they did not. Thus, an owner of an apartment complex, could, find himself in a situation where they DID NOT miss a single payment……. but had their loans called by their banks. Again, bankrupting successful projects, clean projects, on EXISTING properties. It was a nightmare. Do everything right, and still go bankrupt.
But it gets worse…….. The lowering of assessed value of apartment buildings/shopping centers/commercial space all over the country…… meant that owners sought their property tax evaluations to be lowered……. which meant LESS property taxes being paid all over the country….. which meant localities had to search for OTHER means to raise taxes to meet the shortfall. Again, all because some bureaucrat staffer, with no experience in the real world, needed 7 billion dollars in revenue to make his spreadsheet match up for CBO.
During the election of 2016, much was made of Trump’s 4 business bankruptcies, as opposed to the list of  515 companies where Donald Trump is a principal owner.
The Taj Mahal Casino declared bankruptcy in July of 1991 and others in March of 1992. All of these losses center around the problem with TEFRA, building, and financing of real estate development. Trump took the hit for the mistake of government. Again, the projects were started prior to the change in of TEFRA in 1986. Link
The Plaza Hotel and two casinos declared bankruptcy in March of 1992. Some media outlets list a total of 6 bankruptcies but it’s really only 4, depending on a complete understand of tax code (and common sense), which the media does not comprehend. Link

Trump has filed Chapter 11 bankruptcy for his companies six times. Three of the casino bankruptcies came during the recession of the early 1990s and the Gulf War, both of which contributed to hard times in Atlantic City, New Jersey’s gambling facilities. He also entered a Manhattan hotel and two casino holding companies into bankruptcy.

Chapter 11 bankruptcy allows companies to restructure or wipe away much of their debt to other companies, creditors, and shareholders while remaining in business but under the supervision of a bankruptcy court. Chapter 11 is often called “reorganization” because it allows the business to emerge from the process more efficient and on good terms with its creditors.

To be clear, as the article fairly notes, President Trump has never filed for personal bankruptcy.
We can only speculate what these kinds of financial losses did to a man like Donald Trump. We know, there is no sunshine without rain. There is no happiness without sadness. There is no love without heartbreak…… but we choose to love, anyway. Prior to this time, Trump worked hard but was massively successful. As Fred Trump said, “Everything Donald touched turned to gold.”, but adversity was on the horizon.
During this time period, Trump had an affair. He divorced Ivana and the details of his personal life were splashed all over the news rags. Marla became pregnant and Trump, unlike other wealthy men, didn’t opt for an abortion. He married Marla and embraced Tiffany. I wonder, no, I believe, this time period is what made Trump the determined man he became. Trial by fire. Trump came out on the other side….. stronger.
One other note, another corporate bankruptcy came in February of 2009. Link  If you were a regular homeowner in February of 2009, you were probably also struggling with foreclosure. Again, caused by bad government.
It’s an amazing coincidence, isn’t it? Congressmen never seem to lose their business or homes because of governmental failures. I recall Senator Chris Dodd even had a Countrywide Mortgage on his personal home. There’s never a consequence for a bad decision for a Congressman. No. It’s businesspeople who suffer the consequences of bad leadership and silly errors in governance.
I recall when I was transferred to Manhattan in 1984 and saw Donald Trump in a restaurant. He was larger than life but someone I would never consider being in my personal friend group. My aspirations in Gotham City were big but not quite as big as Donald Trump. Strangely, as I grew as a business person, I developed a great admiration for Trump as a businessman when the casinos went bankrupt in ’91-’92. It takes an extraordinary man to become a billionaire………. but to battle back……… and become a billionaire, again?
That’s one helluva man.
Think about it. In the Venn diagram of Earth’s population, how many of us become billionaires? In ’91-’92, Trump could have retired to an island, happy, and wealthy, with Marla and the kids. Yet, he didn’t. Trump battled back to the top of the heap……. again. Now, do the Venn diagram of those who become billionaires……. again, the diagram of those who reach a pinnacle….twice. Who has that kind of courage? Who has the tenacity, when quitting would be so much easier?
I can think of only one other such man who has a similar nature = Tiger Woods.

For both of them, Trump and Woods, there would have been no shame in retirement or quitting. Tiger reached an impossible dream, according to most men, and so had Trump. These men could have retired, rested, and the history books would have been effusive with praise. But they refused to rest……. When Tiger won the Masters in 2019, I had tears in my eyes. It wasn’t that he won the Masters, which is an extraordinary feat. Nothing about his win was ordinary. No, Tiger’s victory represented so much more. We all FELT Tiger’s win. He represented human determination. Similar to the way we felt when an American stepped on the moon. We were universally PROUD of Tiger Woods.
Tiger’s victory, and Trump’s battle back to the top of the heap in NYC, massive success in television, and winning the Presidency of the United States, represents a win for the human spirit. It says……,
“I’m not done, yet.
I want more.
I will not go quietly.
There’s more work to do.”
Yes, men like Trump and Tiger Woods are indeed rare men. These are men who inspire others. They are the very best of us. We wish we had more of them. We wish we were them. Men who don’t quit. We’re lucky and blessed to have one of them as President of the United States.
Gee, I wonder what Tiger Woods will be doing……. in twenty years……. when he’s 64?

End
 
 
 

My family is full of pranksters, and we find humor in odd places. We delight in the mundane and tend to make our own fun. Grandma Della and Daddy kept books by Mike Royko, Erma Bombeck, Lewis Grizzard, and Dave Barry, in every bathroom. Their humor inspired us and after all, “Laughter is the Best Medicine”.
The following story is NOT mine, but it’s too good to pass up. If I am to share with you pieces of my life, then the story of “Beyonce the Metal Chicken” is a mandatory read. We retell the story every July 4th, and howl with laughter. The story became “a thing” among my set of girlfriends and we all own smaller versions of Beyonce – my Beyonce sits on my kitchen windowsill and I still giggle every time I look at it. One girlfriend made me a suncatcher ornament for my kitchen window….. of a chicken. And yes, the girls hit pay dirt when we found chicken-printed Christmas wrapping paper for our gag gifts. The writer of this story, a New Jersey girl, would have definitely been a girlfriend. Our husbands laugh, but they understand and still love us…… which is why we love them. Here is the link to the original blog post: Link to Beyonce.
Grab a cup of coffee and a box of Kleenex. The story does have a few curse words, fair warning. Settle in. Here we go………..

And that’s why you should learn to pick your battles.

This morning I had a fight with Victor about towels. I can’t tell you the details because it wasn’t interesting enough to document at the time, but it was basically me telling Victor I needed to buy new bath towels, and Victor insisting that I NOT buy towels because I “just bought new towels“. Then I pointed out that the last towels I’d bought were hot pink beach towels, and he was all “EXACTLY” and then I hit my head against the wall for an hour.
Then Laura came to pick me up so we could go to the discount outlet together, and as Victor gave me a kiss goodbye he lovingly whispered, “You are not allowed to bring any more goddam towels in this house or I will strangle you“.   And that was exactly what I was still echoing through my head an hour later, when Laura and I stopped our shopping carts and stared up in confused, silent awe at a display of enormous metal chickens, made from rusted oil drums.
Laura:  I think you need one of those.
me:  You’re joking, but they’re kind of horrifically awesome.
Laura: I’m not joking. We need to buy you one.
me:  The 5-foot tall one was $300, marked down to $100.  That’s like, $200 worth of chicken for free.
Laura:  You’d be crazy not to buy that.  I mean, look at it. IT’S FULL OF WHIMSY.
me:  Victor’d be pissed.
Laura:  Yup.
me:  But on the plus side?  It’s not towels.
Laura:  Yup.
me:  We will name him Henry.  Or Charlie.  Or O’Shannesy.
Laura:  Or Beyoncé.
me:  Or Beyoncé. Yes.  And when our friends are sad we can leave him at their front door to cheer them up.
Laura:  Exactly. It’ll be like, “You thought *yesterday* was bad?  Well, now you have a enormous metal chicken to deal with.  Perspective.  Now you have it.”
Then we flagged down a salesman, and we were all “What can you tell us about these chickens?”, as if we were in an art gallery, and not in a store that specializes in last years’ bathmats.  He didn’t know anything about them, but he said that they’d only only sold one and it was to a really drunk lady, and then Laura and I were all “SOLD.  All this chicken belongs to us now.”

So he loaded it onto a trolley, but Beyoncé was surprisingly unstable, and the giant 5 foot metal chicken crashed over onto the floor.  And Laura and I were all “CHICKEN DOWN!  CLEAN-UP IN AISLE 3” but he didn’t laugh.  Then the manager came to see what was causing all the commotion, and that’s when he found the very-conservative salesman unhappily struggling to right an enthusiastically pointy chicken which was almost as tall as he was.  The salesman was having a hard time, and he told everyone to stand back “because this chicken will cut you“, and at first I thought he meant it as a threat, like “That chicken has a shiv”, but turns out he just meant that all the chickens’ ends were sharp and rusty.  It was awesome, and Laura and I agreed that even if we got tetanus, this chicken had already paid for himself even before we got it in her truck.
Then we got to my house and quietly snuck the chicken up to my front door, rang the doorbell, and hid around the corner.

Victor opened the door and looked at the chicken in stunned silence for about 3 seconds.  Then he sighed, closed the door and walked away.
Laura:  What the fuck?  That’s it?  That’s the only reaction we get?
me:  That’s it. He’s a hard man to rattle.
Victor was surprisingly pissed that I’d “wasted money” on an enormous chicken, because apparently he couldn’t appreciate the hysterical value of a 5 foot chicken ringing the doorbell.  Then I said, “Well, at least it’s not towels” and apparently that was the wrong thing to say because that’s when Victor screamed and stormed off, but I knew he was locked in his office because I could hear him punching things in there.  Then I yelled through his door, “It’s an anniversary gift for you, asshole.  Two whole weeks early.  15 YEARS IS BIG METAL CHICKENS.”
Then he yelled that he wanted it gone, but I couldn’t move it myself, so instead I said okay and went to watch tv.  Then when the UPS guy came I hid, but he was all “Dude.  Nice chicken” and Victor yelled, “IT IS NOT A NICE CHICKEN”.  Which was probably very confusing to the UPS guy, who was just trying to be polite, Victor. Victor seemed more disgruntled than usual, so I finally dragged the chicken into the backyard and wedged it into a clump of trees so that it could scare the snakes away.  Then I came in and Victor angrily pulled me into his office so that I could see that I’d stationed Beyoncé directly in front of his only window.  And I was all “Exactly. YOU’RE WELCOME.”  I told him that he could move Beyoncé if he wanted to, but he totally hasn’t.  Probably because of all of the giant rocks I piled on Beyonce’s feet to dissuade burglars.  Or possibly because Beyoncé is growing on him.  Still, I can’t help but think that we wouldn’t even be having this argument if Beyoncé was towels.  Honestly, this whole chicken is really a lesson in picking your battles more carefully.  Plus, he’s awesome and I can’t stop giggling every time I look at him.  Beyoncé, that is.
Best. 15th anniversary. ever.
UPDATED 2012: It’s been half a year and people still continue to laugh, scream indignantly and to ask questions, so here are a few follow-ups.  Victor and I are still (of course) happily married and after a few weeks he got over his giant rooster aversion.  Beyonce stares at him from outside his office window.  I eventually got new towels.  “Knock-knock, motherfucker” is embroidered on all of them.  Victor was not impressed.  Beyonce-the-giant-metal-chicken now has her own Facebook page with over 30,000 highly imaginative fans, and you can buy your own travel-sized Beyonce right here for under $20.  You’re welcome world.  Now please stop yelling at me.

 
And that’s our story of Beyonce, the Metal Chicken.

We haven’t talked about this but the red warning lights are pinging.
Take a look at Ben Sasse during the Barr testimony.
None of this makes sense to me.

 
Ben Sasse references page 129-144 of the Mueller Report and how it speaks to Deripaska. Remember, if the Mueller team can escape their inquiry by finding Trump innocent, but leave the impression of overwhelming Russian GUILT, then the inquiry is deemed valuable and the Dems are left with the conclusion “Hillary only lost because of Russia = Trump is illegitimate”
It appears imperative to the intel community to paint Russia’s involvement in the 2016 election as a big deal, something for which we need to form committees, spend vast sums of taxpayer dollars, and guard against for 2020. Also, if Russian involvement is legitimate, then previous actions by FBI/DOJ/CIA – spying on the Trump campaign – would be deemed legitimate = we did it to protect you.
At the Barr hearing on Mueller’s Report, Sasse comes out of the box with questions disparaging Oleg Deripaska. Barr says he would rather not give his opinion in an open setting. Not to be deterred, Sasse goes on to quote a publicly available document from US Treasury. Sasse lists a litany of Deripaska’s “crimes and allegations” and presumes “he’s a bad guy”. Yet, Sasse goes on to call Deripaska a “bottom-feeding scum-sucker”. Ouch! “And he has absolutely no alignment with the interests of the US people”, Sasse finishes.
Well, we know that’s not…. quite….. true. Deripaska’s interests definitely aligned with John McCain, Mueller, and the CIA on several occasions.

1. We know Mueller offered Deripaska 25 million dollars to help get Levinson out of Iran. Levinson was McCabe’s mentor and old boss to both McCabe and Ohr in SDNY, remember?
2. Oleg also wanted a VISA to the USA and Hillary denied it, which is, perhaps, why Levinson is still in Iran.
3. We also know, according to John Solomon of The Hill, McCabe approached Deripaska in NYC, for information about Trump colluding with Russia, and Oleg laughed.
4. We know about Senator Warner and his conversations with Adam Waldman, the lawyer for both Chris Steele and Oleg Deripaska. Adam Waldman stopped representing Deripaska the day before Deripaska was sanctioned by our Treasury.
5. And then…….. there’s that little matter of John McCain’s 70th birthday, on board Oleg Deripaska’s super-yacht….. which was docked in Montenegro.
6. And McCain’s push for Montenegro to be added to the NATO list of countries, so we are defending Montenegro, which is largely considered a Russian playground on the Mediterranean. Background see here: Link 
7. Oh, let’s not forget the old Soviet Naval base in Montenegro, bought for a pittance by Rothschild and Deripaska, who turned it into a super yacht marina…… where John McCain had his 70th birthday party.
8. And the subsequent fundraisers for John McCain, hosted by Rothschild, in London, prior to the election of 2008.
9. And who could forget Nastya, the Belarus model, mistress to Deripaska, who gave classes on “how to seduce a billionaire”, but was arrested in Thailand. She claimed to have been arrested because she had information about Donald Trump. Link

What a tangled web. Deripaska has been involved in US Politics for quite a while but let’s get back to Ben Sasse. Ben continues giving his speech during the Barr hearing and claims “Manafort was on Deripaska’s payroll”, and Sasse tries to imply a nefarious reason (Deripaska loyalty) as to why Manafort would volunteer to work for Candidate Trump. Well, that’s not an entirely accurate picture either. Deripaska and Manafort tried to put the deal together for Black Sea Cable, but the deal never went through. Although much has been made of this failed deal, Deripaska did not lose the entire 18 million (only about 2 million). This incident has been painted as the source of contention between Manafort and Deripaska, but it does not pass the smell test.
Then, at about 3:30 in the video, Sasse sums up his ‘speech’ and pivots. Sasse’s mission of establishing Deripaska as a bad man was completed. Sasse pivots to FINALLY ask a question to Barr, in essence, “what can we do to avoid this problem in the future.”
The setup is glaringly odd.
If Sasse is worried about foreign intel agencies in our elections, he did not need a long-winded prerequisite about Deripaska and Manafort. See what I mean? Why the over the top language about Deripaska, “bottom-feeding scum-sucker” when we know our intel agencies AND the hero of Ben Sasse (John McCain) seemed to like Deripaska.  Did I mention…. none of us have ever seen any proof of GRU involvement in influencing our elections….. we just have the word of CrowdStrike….. and the Mueller team.
We’re left with Senators and media, nodding in agreement about Russian interference, but what do we actually have as proof? From Mueller/CrowdStrike we have three main areas.
1. We have the Mueller indictment of military members of the GRU, which Russia denies and we know will never be brought to trial – even though Putin offered Mueller to trade info at the Helsinki Summit.
2. We have a few companies and individuals who worked for an alleged Russian troll farm indicted. The case is being defended by American lawyers, in a DC court, and the Mueller case is in trouble. It’s not going well for Mueller. Don’t be surprised to see this case fade away.
3. We have the charge of Russians buying approximately $164,000 worth of Facebook Ads. I looked at this one myself. From Congressional testimony of Facebook execs, we know the ads disparaged BOTH Hillary and Trump. We know the ads were placed for several months before and AFTER the election “to sow discord in the USA”. Well, I took a look at Facebook ad revenue at the end of Q1 of 2017. Facebook reported more than 9 billion dollars in ad revenue for a single quarter. Thus, if we do the math $164K/9 billion = .0000182222. Huh? That’s not even 2 thousandths of 1% of Facebook ads. AND the actual occurrence would be even less, since we know the ads were purchased over several quarters.
This is why we spent 3yrs of our time investigating interference by Russians? Think of the billions of dollars in media time spent on this subject. Think of the relatives not invited to Thanksgiving dinner because of the controversy. Think of the damage to our foreign policy. Wow, we could have teamed up with Russia in the Middle East against Islamic extremism or with Russia as an ally against China.
Yet, for some reason, our intel community, the press, and power brokers don’t want the USA and Russia to be friends. Wonder why that is………?
We have been way ahead of the curve on the Ukraine intrigue. I see Ben Sasse on the horizon. His reaction makes no sense to me, whatsoever, and we need to know why.

We’ve had many weddings at our B&B, and while all of them are different, one variable is guaranteed – high drama.
On a hot and humid summer day, a Navy Sailor called me from Pensacola, on station. He was was awkward and intimidated, young and not well spoken, but incredibly polite and respectful. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug him, but I could barely hear him over the din in the kitchen. He was exasperated in trying to tell me what he wanted, and finally, he blurted out, “I need a fairy godmother!”…… and I stopped on a dime.
My step grandfather was a Chief Petty Officer out of Pensacola. He accumulated vast wealth in rental property, and sailors were his tenants. I recalled the times we would go to collect rents on Saturdays, and he often brought diapers, hams, turkeys, or cash, to give back to his men. Grandpa Ray taught me how to be a “leader of men” in an honorable way. A generation later, with Grandpa Ray sadly deceased, I faced one of his men. The young man on the phone was one of those guys, Grandpa Ray’s sailors, pride of the US Navy. I felt instantly connected to this young man and willing to move heaven and earth, be the fairy godmother, to help him.
After hushing the staff, I moved into the butler’s pantry to hear him better and plugged my outside ear with my thumb. My sailor explained he joined the Navy right out of high school and fallen in love with a young woman from our town. In order to obtain base housing for married persons, they married secretly at a local court house, but both families did not know. He needed to stage a wedding for both extended families, who were deeply religious and highly traditional. He had to do the wedding fast, in August, as his time off was limited and his young bride was already pregnant. He also wanted to honor his new bride with the wedding she deserved. She already had her wedding gown, with a blue sash to honor his Navy service, but was unable to use it. My bottom lip fell, how sad.
My sailor only had a few moments to talk with me and communication with him would be difficult. We made arrangements for him to call me once a week at an appointed time for updates and questions we might have. He gave me a date, a credit card for a very limited budget ($500 was all he could afford), and put the rest in my hands. Understand, most weddings are lavish affairs costing tens of thousands of dollars. The facility fee alone was $1000. I was going to need a magic wand, pumpkins and mice, with only $500 to spend.
I walked out of the butler’s pantry with that “look of foreboding” on my face and the girls said, “What’s wrong?” I explained the situation. “He’s just trying to rip you off.”, “How are we going to pull off a wedding with only $500?”, “A wedding in August – it’s too hot” were the reactions from the staff. I told them the motives of the sailor were immaterial and we were GOING to do the wedding – we simply had to figure it out. Silence and grumbling…. we were thinking.
Weeks passed, we had a cake ordered, some minor hors d’oeuvres/coffee/punch settled/I ordered flowers to make the bouquets and boutonnieres myself, some of the staff agreed to donate time, and a severely limited guest list. The poor sailor was sending me $100/week, and his buddies were chipping in to help him. Yet, we had one major problem – the minister or judge who would charge $250. We had to have an official.
That’s when my Sailor said, “Well, since we’re already married, could you husband pretend to be the minister?”
The idea was delicious. My first husband as a pretend minister….. I chuckled to myself. I would have agreed to work the wedding for free just to see it happen. This was the guy who did 12yrs of Catholic School and whom I had to fight, to get him into a church for OUR wedding, let alone a funeral. He owned a construction company, had dirty fingernails, carried a weapon, was rough and tough…… as a minister? “I think it might be a possibility”, was my response.
It was the Thursday before the wedding. Husband came home, middle of the day, and we were moving furniture around, getting ready. He knew there was a wedding that weekend but did not follow the details of what we were doing. All the girls were here, we knew he had to “play” the minister role, and the moment was ripe to spring the idea on him.
Most of what we did at the B&B was done by my staff of girlfriends and a few high school aged guys. Every now and then, we needed husband help, help from his men, or to borrow big equipment. Of course, he would inevitably oblige but we had to fawn all over him for the help. No problem, we fawned well.
I can’t remember what I said, or how we told him he had to be the minister for a wedding, but I will never forget the look on his face as the idea washed over him. Then, came his objections.
“You want me to do what?” — re-explanation of the situation
“My blue suit is not cleaned” — it was back from the dry cleaner, shirt pressed, ready to go. We even made a boutonniere for you!
“Me as a minister? That’s illegal” — no, they were already married.
“God’s going to strike me dead in my own living room!” — No, the big guy would understand you’re being benevolent, helping your fellow man, doing a favor for a Navy Sailor, a young couple just starting out their life together….. It’s a charitable act, we insisted.
“If the guys find out about this, I’ll never live it down.” — It’s the right thing to do and you know it is. You’re the only one who can help us.
“I don’t even know what to say for a ceremony.” — Lisa stood up and handed him a printed out version of a ceremony and a small blue leather bound book of Psalms to hold. We were ready.
“So, you all have cooked this up and I’m the guy, right?” — Yep, you’re the guy.
Friday night before the wedding was a flurry of activity. Husband wandered into the kitchen and in his stern voice said to me, “Can I speak to you for a moment?” I was confused, “Wow, so formal”, I thought. We went into our small bathroom to talk privately. He said, “I’ve been going over the ceremony and think it would be proper to add a small prayer. I found one here”, he said, pointing to the page in Book of Psalms. “You think that would be okay?”, he said. I stifled my laughter. He was taking his role seriously, trying to do a good job. I was proud of him for rising to the occasion. “Yes, that would be lovely.”, I replied.
Saturday morning was easy. We fussed over husband, and he went upstairs to “calm the groom”. The bride was spectacularly beautiful. We kept the men, in their dress uniforms, in a separate location so they would not see the bride and her maids. The guests arrived and were all traditional, no incidents. We did have one talkative aunt to the bride arrive in a very short lavender dress. I was beginning to think we would skate. Families were situated on opposing couches in front of the parlor fireplace. Music started from a CD player. Husband walked into the room, with the groom, to perform the ceremony. We nodded at him, and all the girls were standing in back, nervous, waiting to see what husband would do….. and if he would blow his cover.
Husband did well. At one point, he looked directly at me and wrinkled his forehead, but none of us could tell what was happening. He kept his composure. Wedding done. Time to cut the cake. It was a little bit after 2:00pm and hot as hell outside.
Back in the kitchen, husband went straight to the beer fridge, grabbed a beer, peeled out of his suit coat, loosened his tie, and stood on the back porch to drink a beer. He came back in, grabbed another beer to ‘nurse it’, and was talking to the girls in the kitchen. We asked him about why he paused.
Husband explained. He was in the midst of the vows, staring down at his printed sheet, trying his best to be serious, but wondering how in the heck he got into this situation. From the corner of his eye, on the couch, the bodacious and extroverted aunt in her short skirt had her legs crossed. As a man, he looked at her legs….. and she had a perfectly formed devil’s trident tattoo, which started at her ankle – with a tail that went all the way up her calf and towards her thigh……….. He thought, if ever there was a moment “God would strike me dead”, surely, this was it…..
Husband was relating the story to the girls in the kitchen. He was shining in his moment of glory, with lots of laughter from the staff. We couldn’t believe he made it through the whole ceremony. I was standing in the utility room, when the mother of the groom wandered in, ready for the cake knife. She glanced into the kitchen at my husband, whom she thought was the minister, but turned abruptly. We both left to cut the cake.
A few minutes later, photographs were taken, speeches given. I was cutting and serving the wedding cake when I overheard the mother of the groom say to another relative, “I can’t wait to get out of the city (we have a population of 8,000), the ministers here…….They’re shameful……… They’re all beer drinkers.”
Oh my.

Are you ready? Are your little fingers limber? The Barr Testimony is like a NFL playoff game for the political class. The networks are bringing in the big guns to daytime — so the heavyweights can explain it to us — under the assumption we could not possibly understand it without their help. Well, our live thread has proved the pundits wrong, time and again. We are the news!
When we did the first live thread, I was surprised at the difference of what WE focused on, as regular American voters, as opposed to what quotes the pundits pulled and tried to twist out of cherry-picked testimony. Quite revealing. All are welcome for the live thread. Michael is in charge of snacks! Hope you can make it!
Here is the link to the live testimony from FOX. All the pundits will be out and wearing their best Easter outfits this morning. I’s a rehash of the Mueller report. Thankfully, Barr’s first appearance will be in front of the Lindsey Graham led Senate Judiciary Committee. At least the Republicans will have a chance to establish narrative before Jerry Nadler gets started tomorrow.

 
Put on a pot of coffee and we can have brunch together. The Barr testimony starts at 10:00am Eastern.
Here is a copy of the Barr opening statement, released last night. Only 4 pages. Easy read for those who arrive early. Link to BARR opening statement to Senate
See you soon!

Grass will NEVER grow underneath Trump Supporters’ feet. Members of Trump’s base are easy to spot, red hat, carrying a flag, slits for eyes, and a firm jaw. The President’s base is unwavering. Signs are going up already, far ahead of 2020. This large yard sign was spotted yesterday, in Massachusetts. Trump Supporters are READY for the 2020 campaign kickoff.
Back home on the office keyboard, I’ll admit, I had to create a new file today for Joe Biden. The memes, they write themselves. Looks like Biden will be with us for a while and it’s time to begin again.
We need to KNOW our opponents in this battle for electoral votes. Here is Biden’s first public rally, at the “Temple” for the Firefighters Union. Teamsters and the Teacher’s Union were also in attendance. I’m not going to disparage the turnout for Biden’s rally, you can judge for yourselves. Video is 28 minutes long.

If you don’t have 28 minutes to spend, I can save you 27 minutes in this video. Here are all the times Joe sputtered, stammered, and slurred his words, in 1:11. The editing is both brilliant and brutal. My kind of trollin’.

Joe had a hard time launching his campaign. Instead of a public event in a hometown, Biden chose to release a video. Yet, the video and the release date didn’t work, thus he pulled the video. Joe made another video, which has been widely criticized as “dark”…….. but the media loves it. In this CNN video, the panel does a 10 minute compilation of staged Charlottesville footage – before CNN released the Biden video. Of course, it was only a few days before Jack Tapper admitted President Trump’s Charlottesville comments were taken out of context. So far, Politico, USA Today, CNN, Wikipedia, Politifact, have all corrected the coverage of President Trump’s comments.

Days later, Biden appeared on “The View”, where he had problems explaining Anita Hill. Biden revealed he called Anita Hill, to apologize to her. Yet, Anita Hill was not amused and wrote an op-ed, refusing his apology.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUm11G9v6fo
 
So far, Biden has a “fail” on a video.
A failed apology to Anita Hill. A failed endorsement from “the McCain family” when Cindy McCain issued a clarification, saying she will not be involved.
And a failed staged rally with union people who were forced to be there.
Biden wants to be viewed as an ordinary likeable guy. You know, the kind of guy you might want to drink a beer with…….., during the day……, at a local pub……, if you were unemployed……. Biden rails against CEO’s and Hedge Funds but his son runs a hedge fund. I actually HAVE an Uncle Joe, and my uncle does not swim naked in front of female Secret Service Agents. Does anyone believe Biden can fix what’s wrong in DC if he has not done it in 50 years?
Joe is stumbling out of the gate. Let’s see if he recovers or falters permanently. Meanwhile, the Boss is giving Biden hell on Twitter.

Are you ready? It’s RALLY DAY!
President will be at the Resch Center, Green Bay, WI, at 7:00pm for a MAGA RALLY.

The President has been quite busy the past 24 hours. He held a presser yesterday morning, and gave a rousing speech to the NRA in Indianapolis. Check out our QTree thread for moment-by-moment comments. This morning, President is playing golf with Shinzo Abe of Japan. Shinzo and the Mrs., are in town to talk trade and celebrate FLOTUS Melania’s birthday last night.

While the Trumps and the Abes were having dinner, the Trump Supporters grew restless. No longer content to have a party ONLY on Rally Day, the Trump supporters have started a new tradition — the Pregame Warm Up Rally, the day before a MAGA Rally. On warm up day, Trump Supporters camp out, share food, sing, play, party, and enjoy fellowship with like-minded patriots.
Well, the RNC has taken notice of Pregame Warm Up Day and sent Kayleigh McEnany, Spox for the RNC, who visited with Trump Supporters last night and broadcast, live, during the Hannity Show.

Kayleigh found this man, a veteran who needed help, and shared his story. He’s better and made it to the Pregame Warm Up Rally.

It was 40 degrees last night, but Trump Supporters did not care. Hey, my Wisconsin relatives wore shorts at Christmas and drank beer for breakfast. People from Wisconsin are tough!

Here’s another report from Kayleigh.

Here’s the line at 5:45AM. Their group is growing.
https://twitter.com/CraigsMegs/status/1122089375620268032
And all over the land, Trumpers wake up this morning in anticipation of Rally Day. Even CatTurd is excited and looking forward to this evening.

Gay Republicans are ready for the Rally tonight!
https://twitter.com/Craig_Thurow/status/1122092621759942656
The local media breaks out the remote trucks to cover the rally this evening.

This guy was on the road, to get to the rally a 3:55am this morning!
https://twitter.com/therealtjrod/status/1122091785264738304
Local stations are covering Trump Supporters as dawn breaks over Green Bay.
https://twitter.com/QsentME69/status/1122101715971596288
Oh, that’s right, we forgot. Tonight is the White House Correspndent’s Dinner. With no guest of honor? A prom with no king? Where would you rather be – in Wisconsin with the President or eating rubber chicken with angry fake reporters?
https://twitter.com/ari_russian/status/1122101218778677249
When Trump Supporters can’t make it all the way to the Rally, they often plan special meals for the evening and settle in to watch the speech. Tonight, we will make grilled chicken, roasted potato wedges and a marinated asparagus.
What’s cooking at your house tonight?
Here is the RSBN Link