2013-21 Santa Fe-Albuquerque-Houston-Atlanta-Anniston-Atlanta-Denver-Albuquerque-Santa Fe

O dark thirty in the Albuquerque Sunport. Eight ticket agents at the United counter and no passengers. Scary! On the way to Anniston, AL (drive to ABQ, air to Houston, connect to Atlanta, 2 hour motor coach to Anniston to take a FEMA course that I had previously completed at FEMA’s national training center in Maryland, taught there by the acclaimed “dean” of instruction). But here is it required to “check a box.” Go figure.

Departed Santa Fe in the midst of severe statewide flooding, described by one official as “biblical.” I’m not a religions person, but would direct her attention to the section of the Bible that references Noah and the Arc. But troubling nevertheless, with arroyos that can morph from dry to a raging torrent in 30-minutes time.

Spent most of the week in the company of first responders discussing the consequences of someone (anyone) trying to confiscate their firearms. And lots of locker room talk that took me back to junior high. But they do rush into burning buildings and confront terrorists, so I cut a ton of slack.

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“Cut off your nose to spite your face,” a favorite expression of my grandmother, a tough Pennsylvania Dutch matron who baked & sold pies, squirreling away some of the proceeds from her husband (a loving but tightfisted German) in order to dole out a nickel here and there to each of her five kids.

I never fully comprehended the meaning, but it does appear to have some relevance to the current political theater inside the Beltway.

My namesake George Will provided a Lincoln quote with the power of a bazooka. If (the horrendously misnamed) Affordable Care Act is as bad as some believe, allow the “silent artillery of time” to bring it down.

Yet an immutable that might join "death and taxes" is the certainty that given government largess to the populace in whatever form, the likelihood of its withdrawal approaches that of lottery winners and lightning strike victims.

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“Happiness is complicated; freedom is not.” This may not be original. Thoughts occasionally pop into my head and I’m never sure whether they were self- generated or inadvertently cribbed. I tend to submit such items to Google, and am occasionally amazed that the likes of Oscar Wilde, Flaubert, Lincoln and I have similar thoughts.

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I’ve clearly been watching too much TV lately. Current annoyances:

“Limited time offer” and “supplies limited” vice “offer good to the end of time” and “infinite supplies available”.

The plethora of “reality TV.” As folks slink with excessive stealth to repossess cars, boats, airplanes and whatnot, I can’t blank out the fact that there is a TV camera crew in close proximity that could blow their cover.

A proliferation of ads that announce "if you owe the IRS more than $10,000, we can help you get up to 85% of the debt quashed." How proud they sound helping deadbeats while we poor schlubs pay and pay.

But isn’t that what we have become, a burgeoning class of “takers” and a diminishing group of "givers"? Historians muse that all great civilizations of the past have withered, and speculate on when it will be our turn. Perhaps the tipping point will be when the 1% is no longer able (or willing) to subsidize the 99. Actually the ratio here is more like 45-55, but going south daily. Gerord Bernard Shaw opined that "those who rob Peter to pay Paul will always have the support of Paul."

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Government shutdown tomorrow. Perhaps. Incredible stupidity or a “march into hell for a heavenly cause”? The coin is in the air.

2013-20 Santa Fe.

A vexing conundrum that has baffled the scientific community for decades focuses on the fact that a win secured by one’s preferred sports team can evoke mild elation and a restful night whereas a loss can spiral into clinical depression.

Last evening outside of Washington, DC my team, thought by talking heads to have a chance for the best season in years, fumbled (literally) and bumbled (literally) to humiliating defeat at the hands of a neighbor to the north.

Though gone from the nation’s capital, my heart rests at the old RFK stadium, and I cannot hear the team fight song without evoking stirring memories of Joe Gibbs, Doug Williams (the quarterback who led the team to Super Bowl victory yet no one remembers) and even Joe Theisman before his aging prostate started giving him fits.

Hail to the Redskins indigenous people

Hail victory

Braves Native American males on the warpath acting aggressively

Fight for old DC.

Some day before it’s all over I hope to get to FedEx Alternative to the US Postal Service Field and see them play, hopefully to vanquish the dreaded Dallas Cowboyspersons or the Philadelphia Eagles National Symbols.

Note: to my international readership confused by the above, don’t even bother!

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I’ve tried to stay away from the current political fray, but can’t resist passing the thought from a faithful reader that perhaps this means Putin will be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Don’t see why not. It was once awarded on the basis of a dazzling smile and a host of promises (largely unfulfilled). But if so, would that mean he must relinquish his KGB credentials?

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Last week was Fiesta in Santa Fe. A brief history lesson is in order. In 1680 indigenous people from northern New Mexico pueblos got fed up with Spanish colonists and laid waste to Santa Fe. The conquistadors, realizing they were no match for natives scorned, fled to El Paso and spent the next 12 years drinking margaritas and complaining about the bad accents of the Mexican people.

In 1692 Don Diego de Vargas was appointed Governor of New Mexico by the Spanish throne, and returning to Santa Fe he discovered the locals had mellowed somewhat. He bravely declared victory and restored Spanish authority to the city.

Every year since then the return of de Vargas is celebrated at Fiesta in Santa Fe Plaza. Somehow the indigenous people selling trinkets throughout the area do not appear caught up in the excitement.

 

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