September 14 – Happy Birthday

September 14, 2019

September 14 – Happy Birthday

september 14

Mark Rubin

Birthday News

Who’ da thunk it? 62 years old today, and when I went to bed last night, I was 61. That’s 22,644 sunrises. 744 new moons. Lots of martinis, and a ton of fun times.*

I’m a very lucky guy, in so very many ways. I never miss a meal (except for lunch, which I avoid every day). I pay my bills. My daughter and my former spouse call often, and neither asks for money. My girlfriend / law partner loves me, and our blended family of Corgis and a Schnoodle love us.

(About Max the Schnoodle. He hates me right now. He’s on a diet, and for a dude who lives to eat, dieting leaves him grumpy. And Schnoodle? A client gave me a DNA test as a gift. Until I get the box opened and figure out what to do with the thing, he’s a Schnoodle.)

Our World

Enough about me. I’m watching an incompetent boob destroy our world order. Fretting, as I watch, for our future. How did we ever reach this nadir?

I have a theory. Capitalism and technology left us behind. Simply, the world got too complicated for too many people. Hope died, and when it did a few too many people in a tiny number of precincts in Michigan, Pennsylvania, and Wisconsin checked the wrong box.

I don’t know which part of Donald Trump we need to fear most: his greed, his dishonesty, his incompetency, or his insecurity. But I’m pretty sure about one thing: Mr. Trump is a product of our times, not its creator.

Maybe we got Mr. Trump in 2016 because of Barack Obama. People got left behind and resented an elegant, articulate African-American in the driver’s seat. Or, maybe any man would have beaten Hillary Clinton. Emails, Mrs. Bubba, and just plain female. Or was it this ridiculous notion that Mr. Trump knows business? (I’ve worked with and against businessmen and women for my whole working life. Mr. Trump has never run a real business, and his arc looks just like the arc of many a poseur.)

Regardless, Mr. Trump—or someone like him—was coming! Someone who dumbs everything down and spoon feeds it to the masses, while all around him malevolent malefactors plunder. (Mr. Trump’s thievery looks very small, when it gets matched up against the theft of our future.)

Frankly, our society can’t match up to this mess. By way of example only, take opioids. A major public health problem. And a means for enriching the Sacklers and their ilk, in ways we regular people cannot fathom. But, no matter what we do, we will never stop drug peddlers and the health care professionals who put money ahead of their patients.

Or, take guns, which represent another major public health problem. Here, we face an unsolvable crisis. Noisemakers will not allow any solution, unless it solves for everything. This law wouldn’t stop El Paso, and with that one Las Vegas still happens. Perfect represents the enemy of anything good. So, never mind!

Walt Kelly, through Pogo, told us we have met the enemy, and he is us. Smart man!


So, like, major downer? Nope! We’ve been digging a hole for ourselves for many decades. We must stop digging, and doing so requires, first, sending Mr. Trump packing next November. Then, we must set about restoring our society, but in a better way.

Mr. Trump offers us, every day, the opportunity to see and appreciate what ails us. Thank you, Mr. President. You’re the worst public human being our nation has ever known but your awfulness has shined a light on our challenges. May you be out of our lives on January 20, 2021!

*Happy birthday, as well, to friends Steve Alley, Diane Kerrihard, Carmen Marriott, Carol Sack, and Stacy Scheff.

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