Number 45 and His Twitter Behavior – Not the least bit “Presidential”

It’s like caustic, explosive diarrhea every single morning.  Apparently He really, truly wants people, ALL people, to like Him.  What He doesn’t get about that, or simply refuses to recognize is that those “people”, the rest of us, have a moral compass inside that guides us and our outward behaviors.   

That compass tells us that His behaviors are wrong, hateful, spiteful, arrogant, pompous, patronizing, xenophobic, racist, and on and on.  Pretty much any and ALL negative things you can imagine.  

And yet, again/still, He wants people to like Him.  That would mean accepting and just generally being okay with his negative behaviors, including His hate speech and verbiage.  Dude, NO ONE, is okay with that stuff.

So, yes, it is perfectly safe to infer from this that He simply doesn’t care about your feelings or thoughts.  He has no reason(s) to change because, as He regularly points out, “I’m President, aren’t I? ‘People’ love the job I’m doing.” 

Let me shine a little light on that last part: ‘People’, as He refers to them, which would be His ever-dwindling base of supporters.  Yes, they elected Him into office, but not without much Russian interference, phony, personalized anti-Clinton ad campaigns on social media, and so on.  Basically, yes, He needed help to get where He is today.  That’s NOT “fake news”, those are the FACTS.

He talks a tough game, “They hit me, I hit them back 10 times harder!” Yeah, right. Real, “tough guy” talk… on social media.  He should be doing more of this:

And if you’re not clear what “more of this” actually is, let me help you out – Taking questions from reporters, ANY and ALL reporters, in front of television cameras.  That would be tough guy talk, not cowering behind His Twitter account.

Now, on the other hand, if you check His Twitter feed, you’ll notice it is rarely His official POTUS account, and primarily His @realDonaldTrump account.

And, you know, at the end of the day, wouldn’t this be a shame? – 

It has gotten to the point now, in August 2018, that Special Council Robert Mueller is methodically, deliberately digging through Number 45’s Twitter feed in order to find examples of potential corruption, obstruction of justice, and yes even collusion.

Carry on, Mr. Mueller.

The “Mommy” Connection

It’s an incredibly strong bond, that of a mother and child.  Unbreakable. Amazing.  Truly remarkable.

Having this little life grow, develop inside of you, is well, nothing short of a miracle!

I was there for the conception, pregnancy and yes, even the birth of my son.  I cut his umbilical cord.  His grandma, Alice, almost got stuck in the room.  She was over by the window, rosary beads in hand, reciting the rosary when the call went out for, “All hands on deck!”

The equipment started rolling in and Grandma Alice slipped quietly out into the hallway.

I remember we were watching Wheel Of Fortune, and the puzzle was (I kid you not!) 

“ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE”.  Rather fitting.

But, I digress.

The Mother/Child bond is an amazing thing, one that fathers, try as they may, will simply never achieve.  The best we fathers can hope for is a loving friendship with our children once they become adults. 

Until then we love them, guide them, nurture them, hold their hands walking down the street and in crosswalks, remind them to eat their vegetables, and wash behind their ears.  (Moms are usually the ones who remind us to always have on clean underwear!)

My own parents divorced when I was very young, about 6 years old.  My father had some personal issues (“indiscretions” we would call them nowadays), and he wanted out of his marriage so bad that he not only moved across town, he moved to another state.

My mother remarried rather quickly, within 2 years, and our stepfather took us in, and accepted us as though we’d been family all along.  He provided us with a nice, modest home ( a ranch-style house on 2 acres of old growth timber) and just generally a wonderful, wonderful life.

My brothers, aunts, uncles and cousins, grandparents and I lost our beloved friend, sister, daughter and mother early in 1977 to lung cancer, just shy of her 45^th birthday.

40 years ago this year was our last Christmas with her.  Every year at this time it gets harder and harder.  So many hopes, joys, laughs, tears, good times and bad that we’ve all wanted to share with her that we haven’t been able to.

She, mother, Mom, brings us into this world, shows us unconditional love, hope, encouragement, a guiding hand, a warm embrace and that gentle little nudge forward out of the nest.

Author, on left; my Mother, Barbara; younger brother, Dan, 

and older brother, Barney, far right.