Get Back (Let It Be Forever)

There's good news and bad news.

The bad news is that the long-anticipated documentary film from Peter Jackson--The Beatles: Get Back--which was scheduled to premiere this September, has been rescheduled by Disney for August of 2021. This due to the COVID-19 pandemic that is currently plaguing every corner of the little blue planet we call home.

But the good news so greatly outweighs the bad that it will require this announcement and one or two follow-up articles to detail it all.

Don't let me down.

The video you watched at the top of this page is a clip taken from the last public performance by the Beatles. It was filmed in January of 1969 on a cold, overcast day (hence the fur coats borrowed from two significant others) on the rooftop of their newly-built Saville Row studios in London. Until now, this and a small handful of songs from the final act of Michael Lindsay-Hogg's documentary film Let It Be are all we have been able to see of the director's film for the several decades since it was allowed to go out of print.

This because the magical mystery tour that is the Beatles legacy had long since taken a sharp, oblique turn that is hard to understand and harder to explain. Which is especially puzzling considering that on March 16, 1971 the Fab Four's Let It Be album--five of whose tracks form the film's final reel--was awarded a Grammy for the Best Original Score Written for a Motion Picture.

It's even more mysterious considering that a month later, on April 15th, who should show up to accept the Liverpudlians' Academy Award for the Best Original Song Score, but the television broadcast's musical director--coming up out of the orchestra pit for thirty seconds so that someone would take it--who then rushed back to work. No question, Quincy Jones was a good last-minute choice. But, really? 

What was immediately discernible to alert fans and other observers was that the apparent schisms in the band, particularly the one between Lennon and McCartney, had left us with the worst possible ending to the story of the most beloved musical organization in the last 50 years. In the wake of Lennon's bizarrely angry, badly-conducted-and-edited interview with Jann Wenner and published in Rolling Stone two months earlier, Wenner had left both us and the boyhood friends--the most successful songwriting team of the 20th Century--in a confused state. 

Yes, yes, yes... we know all about the terrible "truth" or "truths" that came spilling out of the cauldron of bile that filled our favorite tabloids. The real mystery is how people like Jann Wenner sleep at night.

But by August of next year, all of that will be an asterisk attached to a minor footnote--a steaming garbage skow floating down the Hudson or out to sea (San Francisco Bay will smell sweeter). 

The film was cut/edited from director Michael Lindsay-Hogg's 55 hours of original 1969 footage and 140 hours of audio, nearly all of which has never been seen or heard by anyone other than Peter Jackson, Paul McCartney, and Ringo Starr. We know record producer Giles Martin (George's prodigal and actual son) listened carefully to every minute of the behemoth vault of Beatles (White Album) and Abbey Road recording tapes, so it is likely he did the same here. Mr. Martin, I am sure, has quite a CD planned for the occasion--he has the entirety of the Fab Four's rooftop concert (which will be part of the film) for doing one grand remaining remaster.

Look forward to it. Anticipate it. Historical revisionism will take several cannonades across the bow. And the band we've known for all these years will get back.      

Shine On, John, Like the Moon and the Stars and the Sun

"We'll get it right next time," you said.

Let's hope so. You left us with a lot to consider, not the least of which are the politics of gun control, the unworkable infighting of democratic republics, the abysmal failures of prison/mental institutionalization, the perpetual foreign entanglements and wars, and learning to love each other long enough to survive, in spite of it all. All of that with your sublime music, and all before you shuffled so soon off this mortal coil. 

Instant Dharma

Dharma (där'-ma, dûr'-) n.
1. (In Indian religion) the eternal and inherent nature of reality, regarded in Hinduism as a cosmic law underlying right behavior and social order. (Oxford Dictionary)

On December 8, 1980, as I walked into the Jilly's East tavern located half a block down the hill from where I lived on 24th Avenue E. in Seattle, the television above the bar showed Howard Cosell breaking into the Monday Night Football broadcast to announce that John Lennon had been killed outside the Dakota Hotel, in his adopted home of New York City. 

It turned out this was the second time the incorrigible Cosell had interrupted ABC's broadcast with the terrible news (minutes earlier, his was the first national media report). Which explained why none of the normally raucous football fans gathered around the TV above the bar were talking about the Miami Dolphins-New England Patriots game in progress.

Even patrons who detested Howard Cosell (part of a large viewership segment who disliked his unorthodoxy and haughty frankness) were listening raptly. Cosell was a Beatles fan speaking to Beatles fans. He was speaking to all of them. Punching through journalism's Isinglass ceiling to interject the news to the television audience in his typically hectoring manner, saying "this is just a football game," he was speaking to all of us.



On that particularly dreary December night in 1980, he didn't seem the least bit concerned with the game on the field. He and his associate in the broadcast booth, NFL icon Frank Gifford (who had here introduced Lennon to yet another fan and future U.S. President), had lost a friend. Cosell was a John Lennon fan speaking to John Lennon fans. 

The same abrasive, cigar-chewing New Yorker (and NYU law school graduate) had once interviewed Muhammad Ali and championed his conscientious objection to military service. Never shy about expressing himself, he was openly aggrieved now and in a state of shock. Once again he was taking umbrage, taking it personally. Among other things, he had been an early advocate for Lennon's ultimately successful struggle to acquire a green card, despite enormous politically-motivated legal opposition. 




[Note to reader--references in this article to the linked interviews and music recordings will make more sense if you can take the time to listen to them.]  

Sailing Into the Mystic

A revelatory discovery can occur when you're alone in a room with a book, or with a recording of someone singing as beautifully as John Lennon could. The Author of the Universe can be revealed to be not a single lonely, islolated, all-seeing, all-knowing, all-pervading deity, but instead a singing, guitar-picking, piano-chording working-class songwriter from Liverpool, England... as well as his friends Paul, George and Ringo. And thee.

Or in the case of Mark David Chapman, as he bounded rabidly through the gates of Hell, authorship can be dictated by a hallucinated apparition in the guise of an unsuspecting American author, a typewriter-pounding novelist who, if he'd ever toyed with coming out of seclusion to do an interview with the New Yorker before 1980, immediately abandoned all hope as he re-entered his own private Idaho/New Hampshire.

Because it's personal. It remains personal, even when you fancy yourself to be Shiva the Destroyer and decide to shatter all the clockworks during the blackest hour after midnight in the garden of good and evil. 

Chapman was denied parole for the tenth time last August. He can recant all he wants, continue to consume all the nerve-rending psychiatric drugs he's fed by his uniformed and lab-coated keepers, but when he's eligible again in August of 2020, it will just result in parole denial #11. 

It's about deeply personal choices and living with the consequences. 

Looking Through A Glass Onion

My own timeline is demarcated by hearing particular Beatles recordings for the first time. One occasion was a day that a girl I didn't know brought a copy of Meet the Beatles to my Jim Hill Junior High School science class, invited by a gracious teacher whose name I also don't remember, to play "I Want to Hold Your Hand" on a portable hi-fi for the class to hear. Another was when my pal Russ Hansen lowered the stereo needle and I heard Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Or the night I stepped into the lounge area inside Brantley Hall, the University of Montana dormitory where my future bride Kathy lived, and heard John Lennon singing "Dear Prudence" to Mia Farrow's sister. 

This past November 22nd marked the 50th anniversary of that Montana milestone. For the last few weeks my music-listening rotation has almost exclusively consisted of discs #1 and #2 (and a bit of the Esher demos on disc #3) of the reissued The Beatles, a.k.a. the White Album, on which Prudence was famously invited to "come out to play." The nostalgia pangs have been fierce, thanks in great measure to personal vicissitudes and the re-issue's producer, Giles Martin, who was recently named the Universal Music Group (UMG) Head of Audio & Sound, based at Abbey Road Studios. Giles was, of course, raised by another big Beatles fan, his father and the Beatles' producer from day one, George Martin.

For anyone who has heard the astonishing new 50th anniversary CD reissue, the following comments will amount to preaching to the choir. The 2009 remaster (linked below, now available on YouTube for reasons known only to mad solicitors and Englishmen... for how much longer?) is by no means relegated to the ash heap of history--with a flick of a browser click you can listen to these seminal recordings in stereo on your laptop. But if you have not heard the new 50th anniversary edition, well, you ain't heard nothin' yet. If such things matter to you, immediately send a telegram, text message, FedEx overnight letter or well-fed carrier pigeon to the North Pole and ask Santa for a copy. Or if you would like to celebrate John Lennon's October 9th birthday, get it now. 



Imagine listening what you just heard from the 2009 CD re-issue, but with such sound fidelity that you can hear the doubled harmonies of John Lennon, Paul McCartney, and George Harrison as three distinct, uniquely musical voices. Or Ringo's endless snap and sizzle on the snares and cymbals. Imagine hearing both baritone and alto saxophones in separate and integrated performances in the "Savoy Truffle" horn arrangement. Imagine hearing Eric Clapton wring tears from his strings on "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" as John plays a bass guitar line so dense that it sounds like he's beating a rug with a lead pipe. 

Forget all the cliché reissues that have become such a joke in recent years. That's not what Giles Martin and his bosses Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr, Olivia Harrison and Yoko Ono were doing with Sgt. Pepper and now the White Album. This isn't a record label desperately cashing in by issuing scraps. These are immaculately remixed and remastered works of art. 

I'm going to take a deep breath and avoid invoking comparisons to the Sistine Chapel... I hope. I've been listening to iterations of these recordings for decades now, but every time I listen to the new reissue I hear something new. Arguments and discussions about warm analog on vinyl vs. cold and lifeless digital on compact disc? Been there, argued both sides long and well. Forget it. These new Giles Martin-produced reissues are the proverbial shit. Or if you prefer more genteel language, the bomb. Or a more sacred appellation, the Holy freaking Grail. Find a good playback system, a pair of good speakers or headphones, and play it loud and proud. 

Then go back to the top of the slide, stop and turn, and go for another ride.

All You Need is Love

One more thing about the White Album (which, for the benefit of all you audiophiles, critics, graphic artists, fact-checkers and other readers of tea leaves, is correctly titled The BEATLES, per both sleeves' original and reissued embossings):

For the last fifty years we have been hearing tall journalistic tales of the acrimony that supposedly dominated the Beatles' musical and personal relationships during these waning days of their association. Sniping, whining, trash-talking, threats, and worst of all, mutual desire to virtually break up the band and record separately from each other. Like a latter-day Inspector Alan Grant from Josephine Tey's novel Daughter of Time (a title taken from Sir Francis Bacon's wise comment that "Truth is the daughter of time, not of authority"), I had scrutinized photos of the Liverpool Lads during these recording sessions and could never see a bit of evidence to support any of the stories. 



Turns out, I wasn't mad. In fact, these guys loved each other. I know, I know... some will ask about Lennon's song "God" in which he says "I don't believe in Beatles," or later, his song "How Do You Sleep?" that was directed at the other half of the most successful songwriting team of the 20th Century. What about it? Anyone who has ever been through a divorce, or endured a real heartbreak with someone close, knows the answer. To paraphrase the H.W. Longfellow poem, in a relationship this close (c'mon, for over two years, these ambitious friends literally huddled and slept together for warmth, traveling back and forth to Hamburg in the back of a van with their equipment): when it was bad it was horrid. But when it was good, it was very, very good.  

And when John, Paul, George and Ringo (whose pithy analysis was "I love the White Album!") recorded these tunes, it was very, very good. They were having tons of fun. Many of the recordings were done not off in separate facilities, but live in the studio. Much to George Martin's chagrin, his protégés eschewed the refinement and complicated technical trickery of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and Magical Mystery Tour, and went back to basics. From simple and sweet to raw, loudly distorted, rip-it-up rock 'n' roll. In Giles Martin's assiduous detective work while archiving and carefully listening to the hundreds of hours of unedited tape recordings replete with ongoing studio instruction and collaborative discussions between tunes, he was able to shed the light of truth on the petty fictions and half-truths perpetuated all these years by controversy-hungry music journalists. He confirmed what millions of Beatles fans had suspected all along while listening to this music: the boys were having the time of their lives. 

John Lennon and his mates left us with an incredible musical legacy that not only has outlived him and his friend George Harrison, it's one that will outlive us all. But where does that leave us, me and thee, now that our friends are long gone? Who's to say? "What on Earth are you trying to do?" he asks as he sings in "Instant Karma." And then answers, "It's up to you, yeah you." 



Instant karma 

Again the question is, "What on Earth are you trying to do?" and the answer is still "It's up to you, yeah you."

I like that advice. For right now, I'd like to not mourn the death of my friend John Winston Ono Lennon, but instead, celebrate his life in a manner he himself would have appreciated. I think I owe him that. He gave me so much. And he left me no doubt that we are only beginning to solve some of the biggest mysteries of this life. 

Thank you, John. Your life does indeed shine on, like the moon, and the stars and the sun. And if you really did immediately get out of one car and into another... then give or take a few days, Happy Birthday, mate.
   

The Wet, Hot & Hairy American Political Season, Part 2: A Wetter, Hotter & Hairier House of Cards

Larry "the Bernie" David

John "the Donald" Di Domenico

Note to international readers: If you aren't doing so already, I'd encourage you to follow the American political season this year. The sensibilities and fortunes of this country's experiment in democracy (which some Americans insist on calling a republic due to the representational form it takes) once upon a time produced, blues, jazz, and Miles Davis--so it might well produce something else you have never seen or heard before, something good. Additional note to everyone else: Please don't take offense at being called stupid. 'Tis the Season.
-- CLH


I almost hesitate to say "I told you so." Almost. But I told you so.

In case you missed it, I predicted last August 16th that a showdown between Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump was coming for this election cycle in "The Wet, Hot & Hairy American Political Season." (I can hear many of you mumbling to yourselves, "Wait... Bernie Sanders? Isn't he lagging so far behind in his delegate count that there isn't a chance in hell he could ever catch Hillary?" Keep reading.)

This political business is tricky terrain to navigate. No subject rivals it for the heartbreak endured by all of us, the bitterness and hatred it generates, the wars it starts, the friendships it casts asunder. Popular myth likes to assign these difficulties to fundamental, intractable differences that are hardwired into human beings. Republicans and Democrats, like Conservatives and Liberals, Tories and Whigs, Tea Partiers and Greenpeacers... are all born that way. Natural enemies. Right?

There is a grain of truth in there, but only a grain.

Because it is observably true that people with different ideologies and orientations are capable of getting along just fine. We do it all day long, wherever we go, whatever we do. Certainly, the struggle to survive involves some competition, but a kind of peaceful coexistence is the natural consequence of deliberate cooperation--if for no other reason than it makes sense. It's easier. More is possible. Life is more interesting. If you tend an apple orchard and I raise chickens, we can share and both eat apple tarts and scrambled eggs. If survival is the goal, then my life usually improves when yours does.

Clearly, there are instances when striking down an irrational aggressor becomes necessary. But even in the animal kingdom, where competition for food and warmth often does involve combat or create natural enmity, species living in a plentifully supportive environment tend to get along. Where privation exists, hostilities occur proportionately.

Could it be that the capabilities of great intelligence and sophisticated communication can just as easily be used by irrational human beings to do the opposite? Could it be that a small percentage of humanity believes that keeping the rest of us at each others' throats better enables their own survival? Of course it could be.

The problem comes in sorting out who that irrational element is. The tendency, of course, is to target the most visible, the most easily labeled troublemakers. Lunatics are easy to identify. The problem is, those high-profile targets the newsboys write about are almost never the ones who are causing the underlying problems. So in a political season in this country, we involve ourselves in seeking out and electing a hero to do the sleuth work. Lots of candidates show up, all claiming to be the smartest monkey in the zoo, all claiming to know the answers, all claiming to be the hero we are looking for. Eventually the throng winnows down to the ones who strike the most heroic poses and manage to make the most convincing arguments for their suitability. Our New Age of immediate internet communications and 24-hr. news cycles enable the hack journalists to shovel loads of steaming-hot opinion and controversy into our lives, and the anxiety level rises rapidly.

The greater the perceived problems are that need to be solved, the more anxious we are to solve them--and the more desperate we are to find that hero and make him or her President of the United States. So desperate, that once we find one we like, we creatively invest that person with whatever heroic qualities are necessary until, like a mosaic or paint-by-numbers portrait, our hero emerges.

Eventually we discover that our hero is a product of our imaginations. The more heroically-endowed our delusional figure is, the more profound our disappointment when the flaws we overlooked or pardoned are revealed. And that's only if we can tolerate the mental anguish of the discovery.

Which is precisely where the American electorate finds itself today.

In some ways, a culture like ours that encourages and protects a unique degree of free expression just makes the heartache worse. A democracy's strength can also be its weakness. In theory, it should be a direct path to self-governance, but in practice, as soon as you allow other people to have their own individual viewpoints and give them a vote in influencing the outcome, you have to prepare yourself for the inevitability of being governed by someone else. If you align yourself with a political party or faction that you feel supports your own interests, and view an opposition party's victory as a personal defeat, then you had better be prepared to suffer what Alexander Hamilton described to Thomas Jefferson as tyranny of the majority.

As quickly as you can utter "One man, one vote," all hell breaks loose. Considering all the blood and tears it takes to pull it off, you must wonder occasionally if a nice, benign monarchy wouldn't be easier.

It's important to keep in mind that this approach to self-government had never been done on quite the unprecedented scale attempted in this country. Many of the attendant problems were not predicted. After nearly a hundred years, freed black slaves were upgraded to human beingness and granted the right to vote by the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution in 1868-70 (made more enforceable by the 1964 Civil Rights Act). Feeling emboldened, Susan B. Anthony came along in 1872 and tried to change the slogan to "One man or woman, one vote," then got arrested and tried for her trouble, having voted in Rochester, New York. She refused to pay the court fine, instead spending the rest of her life championing women's suffrage legislation. In 1920, fourteen years after her death at the age of 86, the Nineteenth Amendment to the Constitution was ratified and women at last had the right to vote. And finally on July 1, 1971, the Twenty-sixth Amendment lowered the minimum voting age to eighteen years old. The doors opened and in came the tired, poor, huddled masses, yearning to breathe free and register as Republicans, Democrats, and Independents.

Well, sort of.

Up Against the Wall

In many ways, what those tired masses yearned for most was free expression--theoretically guaranteed by that critical First Amendment to the Constitution. None of the subsequent amendments, even the right to vote, would have come into the discussion without it. None are as important to the individual or as alien to group thought and the herd mentality. As a result, none are fought harder or require as much defense.

Photo by Charles Rex Arbogast/AP Photo

So when you hear Hillary Clinton's and Donald Trump's new post-primary speeches in which each repeatedly emphasizes a newfound interest in unity and inclusion, it is permissible to yawn politely or roll your eyes. Neither believes it for a minute. Freedom of speech and right to assemble? Don't count on either of them insisting too loudly on either. What the current American election cycle is going to mean for the participants is civil war.

The current nomination process is amounting to nothing more than selecting each party/army's field commander by convention time next July. After that, it will be bombs away in waging the larger Civil War. Fists are already flying. Will it come to armed conflict? Let's hope not. But thirty plus congressional seats (including seven in the U.S. Senate) and a critical Supreme Court justice are the immediate spoils of victory. The battlefields at Cleveland and Philadelphia will be strewn with the dead and discredited, and there will most assuredly be no prisoners taken.

So you might want to be a little careful of what and who you wish for. No matter what your allegiances are, expect the unexpected. Wars can be messy.

Hillary would like to declare the Democratic nomination a fait accompli right now, of course. Bernie might disagree. He would point to a few observable facts. For example, that the headline in Missouri should have been (as it was in Iowa) not that he lost, but that by conceding defeat despite a razor-thin margin of 1,539 votes (Hillary 49.61% to Bernie 49.37%) in order to save the taxpayers of Missouri the cost of a re-count, he lost virtually nothing, because the Show Me State divides the delegate counts proportionately. Meaning that Bernie got 34, and Hillary got 34 plus 2 awarded for being declared the "winner." In Bernie's Iowa concession? He got 21, and Hillary got 21 plus another whopping bonus of 2 delegates. Even in a state like Illinois, where Hillary's 50.5% victory over Bernie's 38.2% was trumpeted by the press, do you know how the delegates were apportioned?

Ready? Hillary 68, Bernie 67.

And in the three primary/caucuses in Arizona, Utah and Idaho yesterday, who came out with the greatest number of delegates? Hint: it was not Hillary.

As another example, Bernie might cite the record-breaking $42 million he raised in the month of February. That's an average of $27 per person (no joke) from a faithful following his spokespeople say he will champion to the end, which is not likely to come soon with that kind of cash on hand. But to really get past all the journalistic smoke and mirrors and understand the impact of what he is accomplishing, it is necessary to suffer through another little math lesson.

His total of 927 delegates compared to Hillary's 1681 could make it appear that, despite his triumphant charge and astonishing momentum, he's losing his ass anyway. But look a little closer. Hillary was given a big head start with 400+ Super-Delegates--a Frankenstein-like block of prefab primary voters consisting almost entirely of the Democratic party's establishment leadership, including all sitting state governors and members of the U.S. Congress--the vast majority of whom were automatically seated as delegates from the start, their support pledged to their favored candidate in advance of the primaries--with the idea of stacking the deck.

Did someone say this process is rigged?

However, if you were to subtract Hillary's 467 super-delegates and Bernie's 26 from their respective totals--i.e., if you judged this primary race by how many delegates she had earned through votes actually cast, compared to the number earned by Bernie, the totals would be 1,170 votes for Hillary versus 870 cast for Bernie. Hardly a landslide just yet, when a total of 2,382 is needed for a deciding majority.

If you add to those figures Hillary's 467 super-delegates and Bernie's 26 for the aforementioned 1,681 to 927, it looks a little different. You could even say that it might just be a bridge too far for Bernie, and that's precisely the effect the block of super-delegates is supposed to have on the opposition--and yes, on you, the voter. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here...

Except for one thing. The super-delegates can change their minds as they wish.

What if those 467 super-delegates were taken away from Hillary and given to Bernie? Hillary's total becomes 1,213... and Bernie's? 1,394.

If these governors and congresspersons have pledged their support to Hillary, but it becomes clear she's going to be a problem--that for this or any other reason, Bernie is a better choice--then that support pledged to Mrs. Clinton can be changed to support for Bernie, without so much as a "by your leave.'

Why would they do that? Well, why do you think? Self-preservation, baby--this is national politics!

For one thing, if they are thinking of their congressional seats, backing a loser now can put their own jobs at risk later. If they bet on the wrong horse and the Republican candidate is elected to the Big White House, their subsequent re-election prospects won't look quite so good... It could even mean having to get an "honest" job in the semi-real world that employs K Street lobbyists, corporate board members, think tankers, lawyers, and authors of political tell-alls (thrillers and dullers, fiction and non-fiction). The Folding Green Party.

The point is only that the super-delegates are a block of pledged supporters who could be handed over to Bernie in the event of, say, the FBI asking the Attorney General for indictments on the appropriate State Department personnel, especially the Chappaqua heiress herself. Two weeks ago, Bryan Pagliano (Hillary's IT specialist who ill-advisedly set up her off-site server and acted as its traffic controller) accepted an immunity deal with the FBI. What happens from there depends on what and how much Pagliano tells the FBI. The reality of it is that when immunity is offered by a law enforcement agency, it is in exchange for testimony when two things are true: (1) the agency has reason to believe there was a provable crime committed, because the criminal has told them so, and (2) the criminal knows that he or she has been (or likely will be) caught with no other way out, and wants to personally avoid prosecution by naming other people involved in those criminal activities.

Done methodically, this approach produces a ripple effect, or more accurately, a domino effect. The idea is to get the Big Domino. In due course the investigative/police agency (in this case, the FBI) acquires new information through a series of leap-frogging immunity deals with other guilt-stricken/frightened/willing person(s) which lead to more and more names and/or knowledge of other known criminal behavior. This is continued until the FBI is satisfied they have found the instigator, Domino #1, usually someone who was able to convince others to commit crimes on his/her behalf. Whoever is found at the center of these activities can then be prosecuted and justice served.

Photo courtesy of thefrontierpost.com

So Bernie might get lucky. His presidential bid is certainly not dead. The momentum of his massive grassroots campaign is evidence enough of that. If he's as smart as he appears to be, he won't change course or listen to any b.s. about being Hillary's running mate. If rumors are true that Hillary's old boss is beginning to tell donors that he'd like to see them circle the wagons behind her and start getting down to the serious business of how to take on Donald Trump, Bernie will start feeling a whole other kind of pressure.

But Be Careful What You Wish For

With the exiting POTUS showing flop sweat this early in an election year, it could appear that the only reason Bernie was ever tolerated was that (1) no one believed he would even be in contention at this stage, and (2) Hillary needed to have someone to argue with to give her a sparring partner. More than that, no one thought Trump would still be in the race--and not only is he in it, Hillary is looking a bit wobbly as his opposite. So anyone hoping against hope, that all those people feeling the Bern are going to buy into the idea of switching their allegiance to her, needs to take a closer look.

What Hillary lacks in charisma, Bernie has in buckets. He's not just another crackpot socialist. When Bernie calls for a political "revolution," he knows what the word means, even if most of his fervid millennial followers don't know (or care) what the difference is between a 90% income tax rate and a 15% gratuity on a grande lowfat latte. Despite his power-to-the-people fist salute and eat-the-rich populist economics, he also knows what the words "socialism" and "communism" mean, and the wide gulf between them and what he calls democratic socialism. While it is true that he and wife Jane journeyed to Yaroslavl, USSR, the day after they wed, it was because he, as the mayor of Burlington, VT, had planned the trip months earlier as part of a sister city program. Of that trip, he concedes in his 1997 book Outsider in the House, "Trust me. It was a very strange honeymoon."

I do trust him. Beyond protecting Social Security and salvaging some workable aspects of the Affordable Healthcare Act, he might succeed in getting tuition-free public university education taken seriously. It's not likely he could get much of his utopian chicken-in-every-pot economic agenda through Congress if he were elected, but no matter. He is an authentic man of the people. His heart is in the right place, even if his head is a ways up his ass, politically. He would be in a state of shock for his first few weeks in the Oval Office. Like many presidents before him, he'd get over it.

On the other hand, the Republican party's own presumptuous nominee knows perfectly well what he's doing politically, as he rallies half the Republican base while he bullies the other half. Unfortunately, he's wrong on several points he'll have to get right in order to win a general election, or his inflammatory ad lib and tough-guy rhetoric is going to be his downfall. He might smarten up fast, or he might not. He's poised to declare the Republican race over and done at a time when there are at least two roiling internal revolutions happening within his own adopted party.

The first revolution started when he filed and declared his candidacy last June, and has built with the momentum of a messianic movement ever since, despite the sneering of the party establishment. In their usual fashion, the party poohbahs have been ignoring the press while they try to steer the outcome and remain uninfluenced by either the Fourth Estate or the electorate, and have spent months dismissing Trump as nothing more than the most colorful clown in the circus. It took until three weeks ago for them to finally overcome their denial and mount a desperate counter-revolution. Now, at last, they are taking him very seriously, attacking him ferociously, fearing the worst and fearing it could get much worse than that.

The internecine Republican revolution will unquestionably provide the biggest exchange of black powder cannonades of this election cycle. While the Democrats stand along the sidelines like a patriarchal royal family keeping their powder dry, pointing fingers and gasping in offended horror, the Republican party is engaging in the most colorful ritual sacrifice in the storied history of the post-Watergate GOP. But so far, not much of their last-minute maneuvering seems to be influencing primary votes. Rumors are swirling and being denied that party officials are huddling about what can be done to out-maneuver the Don by jiggering and re-writing the convention rules before July. Not that they have a candidate--unless the idea of running Ted Cruz as a third party takes hold amongst the mathematically challenged party members.

Oh, boy... now wouldn't that be fun!

It is possible the conservative press could lend a hand, although the combined efforts of the Wall Street Journal and National Review don't seem to have changed Trump's trajectory. The Republican electorate engaged on social media, such as they are, might be of use. The #nevertrump campaign has attracted everyone and everything, from Mitt Romney's speechifying to Louis C.K.'s email to Lindsay Graham doing a 180 and endorsing Cruz. The number-crunching and delegate-counting will certainly dominate the news for weeks to come. Ted Cruz will continue to strike his poses and try to close the gap between him and Trump, while performing his best Jerry Falwell/William Jennings Bryan imitation (one imagines him up in the middle of the night with a mouthful of pebbles, oiling and combing his hair and practicing his lines in front of a full-length mirror)--while Kasich tries to steal his own handful of delegates from Trump-leaners who can't abide Cruz, as he recites "I think I can, I think I can" and dreams of a contested Republican convention in July. It remains to be seen if any of the crop of PACs will keep scrambling to air anti-Trump television ads without further energizing his supporters, or just save their money and let Hillary spend hers.

It appears that the only person who can assure the defeat of Donald Trump's candidacy is Trump. Even when his legendary PR instincts and campaign canniness deserted him during his three-day bout of moral deafness and amnesia about David Duke and the Ku Klux Klan, the Donald side-stepped and tap danced, scattering the party militia. But he's not going to side-step inciting violence that easily.

It was all well and good that Trump offered to pay the legal expenses of 78-year-old partisan, John McGraw, after the cracker's sucker-punching of a black protester at a recent North Carolina rally, but where was the contrition at his role in provoking this? Where's his condemnation of the assault? Instead, he told Meet the Press that McGraw may have gotten carried away, but that he "obviously loves the country."

What country would that be, exactly?

I'm sure we can expect the schizophrenic Republican establishment to engage in as much of a coordinated assault against Trump's hostile takeover of the party as they can muster. (Are they afraid if he gets the Republican nomination that he won't beat Hillary, or that he will?)

Now think of that coalition for a moment! The Republican ruling class unwittingly uniting in solidarity with the Democratic establishment in an all-out effort to block the billionaire vulgarian from rolling his gold-plated Trumpmobile up Pennsylvania Avenue. Now we're talking a grassroots rebellion!

And a brokered or contested convention. What the Don's response would be is not certain. True, he could take his candidates over a cliff and start a counter-counter-revolutionary third party (after smugly revealing that he had been crossing his fingers behind his back when he made that loyalty pledge back in September). He could also just confidently stick around for the bloodshed.

And the counter-counter-revolution in the Democratic party? The FBI is conducting at least two separate ongoing investigations of Hillary Clinton. The one on the back burner concerns that little Clinton Foundation business of influence peddling and money laundering while she was Secretary of State. While that might turn up some interesting war crimes, the ruling class of the Democratic party are continuing to bravely use the now-infamous Clintonian Linguistic Defense of "It depends upon what the definition of the word 'is' is," maintaining that a crime is not a crime unless or until the criminal is tried and convicted of it, and even then... But the FBI's hundreds of agents on these cases have their hands full. It's unlikely they will get to the Clinton Foundation any time soon.

One possible outcome would be for Attorney General Loretta Lynch to decide that the best way to serve at the pleasure of the President is to decline any of the FBI's requests to prosecute Hillary for her mishandling of the 22 Special Access Program emails, designated as so likely to cause "exceptionally grave" damage to national security that they cannot even be reviewed by Congress, or any of the other 2,000+ that merely comprised top-security breaches.

An early test of whether calling off the Lynch mob was in the works would be to see how Hillary's polls and delegate counts hold up throughout the various stages of an indictment of one or more State Department personnel. But there are no sure things here. The Democratic base has been oddly unresponsive to her misadventures with the FBI investigations. Apparently, the only thing they would find unforgivable would be her losing the election and allowing a Republican to take over as commander-in-chief.

But even if her polls started tanking and Bernie started winning unexpected numbers of delegates... and even if her former State subordinates' heads started to roll and her own started feeling threatened... and even if super-delegates with upcoming re-elections started screaming, the Attorney General might still be directed by her boss to leave Hillary alone. Short of her actual conviction of a crime, if he thought Trump (or any Republican) would get past her and into the White House, he might start feelin' the burn. Hillary knows where a lot of bodies are buried, so the one thing that could never be tolerated would be her acceptance of an immunity deal of her own. You just can't tell with these Clintons.

Enter her understudy.

If the President thought she could come through it and still win the election, thus assuring a politically acceptable appointment to the Supreme Court (either before or after the election) plus preservation of his health care legacy, such as it is, and a continuation of certain key executive orders, he would do what he could to make sure she whistled right past the graveyard and into the Oval Office. But if he thought she was going to cost him all that or worse, he wouldn't hesitate to throw her under that prison bus and start feelin' the Bern.

As is the case with anything else in an election year, the timing of the Attorney General announcing such a decision would be critical. A last-minute upgrading of Bernie from also-ran status to leading contender would, of course, demand that Bernie still be around.

If not, if the whole Draft-Elizabeth-Warren-or-Joe Biden Movement needed to be rekindled and refinanced on short notice, the Democratic party would have their own revolution on their hands and start looking a lot like the Republican party.

Viva la revolución(s)!

Start the Revolution Without (With) Me

That's as good and bad as the news gets. When the revolution or counter-revolution or counter-counter-revolution is over, one of the Republican or Democratic candidates will be the next President of the United States. Hillary's camp has been talking trash and saying they are gleefully looking forward to a race against Donald Trump, and Trump's camp has made the same claim, saying they can't wait to wage a vicious war against Hillary. If Hillary can't cheat the hangman and Bernie gets the nod, or if the earth opens and swallows the Donald, leaving us with... somebody... one of them is still going to win, and one is going to lose. On the first Tuesday next November, two grimly smiling candidates will be photographed as they ostentatiously arrive early at their polling places and wish they could vote twice. Only one of them will wake up the next morning as the President-elect.

Who knows what will happen between now and then? The rules that once governed the institution known as the American Political Season are now a thing of the past. Revolution is in the air.

You say you'll change the Constitution
Well, you know
We all want to change your head
You tell me it's the institution 
Well, you know
You better free your mind instead
But if you go carrying pictures of Chairman Mao
You ain't going to make it with anyone anyhow
--from "Revolution" by John Lennon and Paul McCartney

There is something else that's hinky about this political season.

For starters, the Democrats' fear of Hillary's talent for self-destruction is stoked by the even greater fear that Donald Trump, no matter how scornfully he's mocked, is such a force that if he can't be stopped and becomes the Republican party's presidential nominee, he could give Hillary a real run for the money in the general election. And it gets hinkier.

Some Democrats have finally noticed that the better the Donald does in his primaries, the better Bernie does in his (see above). And the better Bernie does, the better the Donald does!

Why? Because they are both feeding a similar cultural narrative. As long as they are both in the race, they are influencing the primary results like a pair of running mates. These guys share so many qualities that if they wanted to guarantee themselves a place in history, all they would have to do is... well... join forces, and create a third party.

No doubt about it. This has been the strangest American political season since it all began in 1789. Back then, we were led by reluctant heroes like George Washington (or “1” as he would be called today). “2” (John Adams) didn’t initially want the gig either, but warmed to it quickly and accepted the position for various reasons, among them the same sense of duty to our new republic that had convinced his predecessor to postpone duty-free farming for a few years. When Thomas Jefferson came along and took the job away from Adams, their friendship and lifelong arguments became the intellectual anatomy of every bone in the American body politic for the next 200 years, give or take a mid-term election.

Then something changed.

"It's the Economy, Stupid"

...quoth James Carville (not Donald Trump). As Bill Clinton's election strategist, Carville famously posted a sign in the Arkansas campaign headquarters in 1992, advising other staffers to keep three things in mind as they went up against incumbent president George H.W. Bush:

(1) Change vs. more of the same
(2) The economy, stupid
(3) Don't forget health care

Twenty-four years later and surprise!... the issues are the same.

No wonder American voters are so angry, frustrated with a Washington that has failed them on all three strategic points, Democrats and Republicans alike. Oddly enough, the presidential candidates who understand this are the ones still in the game. The ones who are emphasizing that (2) incorporates (1) and (3) are faring the best of all.

Various economic experts put the date when the air started coming out of the U.S.S. Economy's balloon in early 2000, around the time Time Warner and AOL mistakenly merged (1+1=0). The ensuing communications company collapses and dot com devastation was underway. When the NYSE staggered and took four days to reopen after September 11, 2001, the Hindenburg-like conflagration of the domestic and world economies was complete.

Real Median Household Income (inflation adjusted) is a statistic monitored very closely by economists. Mindful that Twain's caution that the "three types of lies: lies, damn lies, and statistics," was issued because such numbers are often used to confuse people who don't understand them, I'm going to explain this one and make sure it is clear.

When the the full monetary value of all the goods and services produced in the United States is measured, that number is called the Gross Domestic Product (GDP) for a given period of time. If you were to determine who pocketed those dollars in the U.S. population, listed them all one-by-one from biggest income to smallest and then drew a line down the middle of the pack, that line would be called the median. Half of the population above the line and the half below it. When it's adjusted for inflation (a currency's relative loss/gain of purchasing power compared to what it was at an established earlier time) you have a number called the Real Median Household Income.

For the 2002 U.S. Census, the Real (supposedly inflation-adjusted) Median Household Income was $55,807. Obviously, if the median was $55,807, there were some people at the top of the heap who made substantially more than that, and a lot who made much less. That subject, income equality, has its own statistics and is a central part of the discussion--it is self-evident and self-explanatory. So for now, we're going to fasten on just the statistic of Real Median Household Income.

Between 1990 and 2000 the figure rose steadily from $52,623 to $57,724. In the wake of the 2000-2001 collapse, the 2002 U.S. Census figure had declined to $55,807, but in true fashion the 2006 Census showed it was on the rise again, having risen to $56,598. Smiles all around.

Then something happened. But instead of getting into all the complex factors here and who's to blame--minimally four U.S. Presidents and counting (along with their masters and minions) and scores of congressmen/women, plus untold thousands of political appointees, federal regulators, bankers, mortgage brokers, loan officers, unqualified buyers, unqualified sellers, hit-and-run real estate agents, hedge-funders and other speculators, debt packagers, etc.--all were guilty of wanting to get something for nothing, whether it was political capital, cold hard cash, or both. The cost to this and many future generations of American taxpayers for rushing all the hook-and-ladders to the scene and supposedly extinguishing the hideous second Hindenburg inferno that occurred in 2007-2009 was very high indeed.

But despite the ocean of money poured on it, when the numbers were crunched for the 2010 census the Real Median Household Income had dropped back down to $53,507. The federal government, now under President Obama's stewardship, proceeded to double down on predecessor George Bush's Troubled Asset Relief Program's $475 billion by opening the floodgates and pouring additional borrowed monies into the U.S. economy in what continued to be dubbed "the bailout," which in fact was a great number of bailouts. By April 30th of 2011 the initial estimate of $700 billion had turned into $2.5 trillion spent and paid forward (and backward) to the American taxpayers, with commitments for another $9.7 trillion. The banks that had been considered "too big to fail" continued to fail spectacularly, resulting in a 0% Federal Reserve lending rate in 2013 which inspired a bull market that stampeded along Wall Street right up until the first of this year.

But... the Real Median Household Income when the next U.S. Census was done in 2014? $53,657, up a nearly imperceptible $150 over the previous census.

$150. Per household. Enough to take the family to a ball game, parking not included.

Some early calculations indicate that 2015's Real Median Household Income began to tick up, but no reliable figure has been published, nor anything to indicate a significant change in the trend. But it's an election year, a time for fuzzy math and hyperbole. The pertinent fact from the census figures is that the four-year trend was, and continues to be, a statistical flat line.

So the big question is: whose part of the national economy was bailed out, exactly? Where have all those trillions of dollars gone?

The Road to Hell is Paved

"Good intentions will always be pleaded for every assumption of authority. It is hardly too strong to say that the Constitution was made to guard the people against the dangers of good intentions. There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters . . .  but they mean to be masters."

-- Noah Webster (1758–1843)

Noah Webster learned twenty-eight languages in the course of creating etymologies for his masterwork, An American Dictionary of the English Language.

I learned a lot about the meaning of economics back when I'd watch our big, orange tabby, Bob, as he'd eat his dinner. He would be hungry when he came inside after a day spent patrolling the yard and surrounding neighborhood, in his capacity as an ambassador (he knew more of our neighbors than I did) and security guard. If he was feeling safe and secure that day, he would just quietly go about devouring every crumb in his bowl, but if he'd had a dust-up with a neighborhood dog or raccoon, or was feeling uneasy about some other aspect endangering his feline existence, he would crouch defensively over his food for the first few minutes.

You've seen people who eat a meal in the same way. Anticipating some hidden interruption or threat, they hover over their victuals armed with a knife and fork, ready to subdue an intruder or fend off a firing squad captain, stabbing away at what could as easily be a last meal as a feast fit for a king. Ask any physician about the effects on a human body's digestive tract, its glandular response, cardio-vascular and nervous systems, etc., caused by the stresses and pressures of daily life.

Thus, according to the simplified survival model supplied by my hairy, departed friend Bob, economics consists of: (1) doing a good job, (2) getting what you need, (3) keeping what you've got, and (4) having enough security to keep going and enjoy the process.

Thus, when an unsuspecting citizen who's come home after work and is eating a meal in front of a TV set hears that a major in the U.S. Army has murdered 13 people on the Fort Hood base in Texas (mostly fellow soldiers), and wounded 32 others, he or she is bound to have difficulty swallowing food; that the murderous officer shouted "Allahu Akbar!" before opening fire in the base's Soldier Readiness Center, and said diner loses his appetite completely; that the incident has been officially ruled "workplace violence" instead of terrorism, and he wants to vomit; that the murderer was employed by the military as a psychiatrist, and he starts to look over his shoulder whenever he eats again, wondering if it is safe to take his eyes off the horizon.

Even more upsetting to the digestion than the unwillingness to treat a terrorist as a terrorist is the unwillingness to treat innocent citizens as innocent. In the spring and summer of 2013, four years after Nidal Hasan's murder spree at Fort Hood, two historic events in rapid succession brought this into focus and changed everything.

First, on April 13, 2013, thousands of local law enforcement officers locked down the city of Boston, Massachusetts, and inexplicably suspended the Fourth Amendment to the U.S. Constitution's prohibition against unreasonable search and seizure while performing hundreds of warrantless searches for Dzhokhar and Tamerian Tsarnaev, two Chechen brothers suspected of having built and detonated a pair of home-made bombs earlier that day during the annual Boston Marathon. The illegal searches were bizarre enough, but more startling still was the total absence of comment from anywhere in the American press. A few radical libertarian bloggers may have rattled off a tirade here or there, but apparently the national press was now in such a state of shock that the unquestioned suspension of the civil liberties of Boston's citizens was acceptable in the name of national security, at least in the face of domestic attacks from two suspected radicalized Islamic terrorists.

Next, on June 21, 2013, in an incident rich with irony, the U.S. Department of Justice unsealed charges against Edward Joseph Snowden on two counts of violating the Espionage Act of 1917 for "unauthorized communication of national defense information" and "willful communication of classified communications intelligence information to an unauthorized person," plus theft of U.S. government or foreign government property. These charges consisted in large part of blowing the whistle on his former employers, the Central Intelligence Agency and Booz Allen Hamilton--a contractor for the National Security Agency--i.e., the "communications intelligence information" that was "communicated to an unauthorized person" was intelligence gathered in massive programs of warrantless surveillance conducted on American citizens and ultimately communicated to those same citizens--thee and me--through the journalistic efforts of Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras and Ewen MacAskill in the pages of The Guardian and later The Washington Post.

The impact of Snowden's revelations soon started unfolding, and the stark realities of this Brave New World started shaping a national debate that had been looming since the enactment of the National Security Act of 1947 and the establishment of the CIA and NSA. The question being, who are these people working for, exactly? Whose interests are being served by spying on our own citizens?

In response to these developments throughout the summer of 2013, and coupled with Barack Obama's asking a quibbling Republican-controlled Congress for a too-little-too-late Authorization for the Use of Military Force to go into Syria a few weeks later, gadfly/bomb-thrower/troublemaker/punk/provocateur Matt Drudge tweeted on September 3, 2013: "It's now Authoritarian vs. Libertarian. Since Democrats vs. Republicans has been obliterated, no real difference between parties..."

Which is obviously an oversimplification that ignores some important social factors. But on the issues of the U.S. economy and its adjunct, national security, not so much. Once again, which party is looking out for our economic health and safety?

Good question.

Which party is responsible for the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) that working class Democrats and Republicans view as a sop to corporate interests and a destroyer of their jobs, among other things? Proposed in 1990 during Republican George H.W. Bush's administration, it was ratified in 1994 during Democrat Bill Clinton's.

Which party is responsible for the Trans-Pacific Partnership (TPP) and requisite renewal of the 1974 Trade Promotion Authority (TPA)--equally as contentious in the hard-hit working middle class. It was conceived in 2008 by Republican George W. Bush's administration and promoted heavily by Democrat Barack Obama's, stalemated but scheduled to be voted on and ratified by the U.S. this summer. But don't count on it in an election year.

In fact, don't count on anything going as expected this summer, not during this Act II of Potomac Kabuki Theater (all that Beltway world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players).

Once again... it's the economy, stupid! The grand rhetoric and ideological posturing, the earnest pleas for unity and support, all of it is spouted to redirect you from the vital issue that is driving this election. Which party is looking out for your economic health and safety? Which party were the primary voters in Michigan, one of the very hardest-hit Rust Belt states, turning to for help when they gave a big victory to Trump and a shocking upset victory over Hillary to Bernie Sanders? The answer is...

Good question.

A Democracy's Basic Flaw

Come senators, congressmen,
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside and it is ragin'
It will soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'
-- from the song "The Times they Are A-Changin'" by Bob Dylan

There is revolution in the air. The two presidential candidates who have dominated the discussion this year are the two outliers. Neither has the support of the party whose nomination he is seeking. In Bernie's case, he's a socialist who vehemently insists on branding himself a democratic socialist. In the Donald's case he's a lifelong Democrat who became a Republican.

For several months following the 2012 general election, the common thread in most Republican post-game analysis was that Mitt Romney had not made an effective case for his candidacy, i.e., if he had only... taken the time to explain the details of his plan for his presidency, reached out to the women voters, the minority voters, the Millennials and other disenfranchised, he would have won them over. As my wife and I watched one such political commentator go on in this vein one day, she turned to me and said, "All these pundits are wrong... Romney's mistake was that he explained his plans too much." And Obama pretty much stuck to his hope-and-change mantra. Nice and simple.

The strongest candidates for the White House in the current election cycle are the two people least identified with any recognizable political party or ideology. Like human Rorschach tests, these two populists are actually trading on being the least well-defined of any of the candidates. Neither is hiding anything. Neither really knows what he would do if he became President, only that he would go to work on the economy. They both shoot straight and answer the questions asked of them, without filtering their remarks. Whatever else you see in either of them, it is just what you want to see. The fewer details the voter knows of their values and ideologies, the more can be supplied by the voter.

It is that Rorschach Factor that is the basic flaw in a democratic form of government. Whether it's a direct democracy or a representative form like a republic or parliament, its effectiveness depends on citizen-participants who are rational, moral, ethical, tolerant, educated, informed about the issues. Those participants need to know they have a stake in the outcome, and see that other citizens participate in the same manner--a democracy's value and power depends on the inclusion and resolution of other viewpoints.

So of course, by the same reasoning, a democratic form of government fails to work to the degree that it is composed of people who are irrational, amoral, unethical, intolerant, uneducated, not informed about the issues, and without a stake in the game. All of which is made worse if there is an insufficient number of viewpoints represented.

In either case, the citizen/voters see what they are able to see. You can guess which type is most perceptive, and when faced with relatively little information, who will seek out more information, and who will dream up their own. It's Be Careful What You Wish For, Part 2. As George Harrison wrote in "Savoy Truffle," a song written as a tweak/warning to his chocolaholic friend, Eric Clapton, "But what is sweet now, turns so sour."

(Note to partisan Liberals, Conservatives, Democrats, Republicans: not only would a democratic form of government that is composed entirely of Liberals (or Conservatives, or... fill in the blank) fail ultimately, it would fail fast.)

Because underlying that is this even more basic flaw: voting is only one of many responsibilities of the citizen. Unless the voter is also an active participant in the society and the government being created with his or her vote, a democracy, like any other form of government, amounts to satisfying the urge of an individual citizen to relinquish control and responsibility for some aspect(s) of his or her life to someone else.

That can be bad news in a culture of non-participants and spectators. But it can be really good news in a democratic society of responsible citizens participating in free elections.

Total self-governance is an ideal, of course. Transferring self-determination from yourself to another person or entity is part of everyday life, especially in a complex society. Whenever you employ someone else to perform a service, you are asking the other person to take over the controls in some area of life. But the degree to which you are successful in the endeavor depends on how smartly you have selected that person, and how smartly you observe and direct the other person(s) in the transfer.

The less willing you are to participate and guide those persons employed to assist you, the more apt you are to be dissatisfied with the outcome. Taken to the logical extreme, utter disconnection and lack of participation in a government's functions, relinquishing the burden of responsibility and putting it all on the shoulders of the elected/employed officials, predictably results in disaster.

In the case of our American republic, it ceases to be a government of, by and for the people. Instead, the elected representatives become more and more autonomous, until the government is finally an oligarchy (per Oxford--"a small group of people having control of a country, organization, or institution").

Actual representation is no longer possible at that point. And there's the rub.

In his essay "Civil Disobedience," Henry David Thoreau begins the discussion of this slippery slope with his own take on the Jeffersonian idea that a "government is best which governs least," writing: "That government is best which governs not at all; and when men are prepared for it, that will be the kind of government which they will have. Government is at best but an expedient; but most governments are usually, and all governments are sometimes, inexpedient." Inexpedient as in "not practical, suitable, or advisable," (per Oxford). To the degree that this form of government is, or becomes, less under the control of the citizen who gave it existence, it has the very opposite effect from the one intended. Most agree that pooling community resources and hiring a militia or security force is useful for dealing with hostile aggression or criminality. But what if members of that force disagree with the group's consensus values and betray them by selectively choosing which laws to enforce and on whom?

Like Thoreau, another American philosopher, L. Ron Hubbard, stated the point more bluntly when he wrote: "It could be said that a government is the aggregate irresponsibility of a people. They are not taking responsibility for the course of justice or protection of the state from foreign aggression, and they shove all this responsibility over onto a government," (from his book, Scientology Clear Procedure).

Henry Thoreau's good friend and philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson, was also blunt in his comments: "The more reason, the less government." The more unreasonable, irrational or irresponsible a people or nation becomes, then, the more important the role of government in guiding the individual. But that's another even slipperier slope. The end goal and salvation of the individual and that people would lie in eventually taking back whatever autonomy they had lost as individuals in the process. Or as Emerson wrote in his famous 1841 essay entitled "Self-Reliance," "There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried."

These basic concepts of Emerson's, Thoreau's and Hubbard's are rooted in the same concerns as what Thomas Jefferson and the framers/signers of the country's charter forewarned when they wrote, at the request of all the members of the Second Continental Congress, of the rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness in the Declaration of Independence: "That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it..." Understood in its entirety, this document is likely the most radical political document in the history of the West. A lot of refinement was needed over the ensuing years to sort out definitions of "rights" and "citizen," etc., but it was a great beginning.

Self-Reliance Defeats Voter Apathy and Whatever Else Ails You

In 2016, voter apathy has morphed into voter antipathy. Civil war is looming. The political season has gotten so brutal, and so early in the year, that the voter apathy/antipathy is dulling our senses and wits into a state of voter neuropathy, our nerves numbed and weakened by diseased governmental bureaucracy and a dysfunctional political class.

A big part of the cure lies in self-reliance. Certainly, the oligarchic sea monster we created has done some massive damage to the Ship of State. A good, new President in January of 2017 might make life easier, provided the new commander-in-chief understands that... it's the economy, stupid! Even then, it's going to take the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives and the Supreme Court, plus all 319 million of the rest of us Americans, to get this thing right.

When November 8th arrives, by all means, dust off your civic duty and vote for any candidates still standing who you think will do some good for all of us. But don't leave it at that. Take John F. Kennedy's advice that he gave in his inauguration address: "And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country." Think long and hard. Then do it.

Don't leave it up to a bunch of desperate politicians. Your personal happiness, the happiness of your fellow Americans, and even the happiness of all Mankind, depend more on how successful you are in becoming your own hero. So do something heroic. Do your part. Contribute your own unique skills and charms. Do what you know is your best and don't settle for less.

A few days ago I went poking around on the the internet to see if I could find a live performance of the Beatles' song "Revolution 1" from their 1968 album The Beatles, aka "The White Album." The Lads from Liverpool never performed this song live, but I've always been partial to it for a number of reasons. In the process, I found Baldwin Wallace University in Berea, Ohio (10 miles south of Cleveland). As a counterpoint to their annual Bach program (the oldest collegiate Bach Festival in the United States), in 2011 the students in BWU's music conservatory began performing an entire Beatles album each year, LIVE. Just for kicks. It was a smashing success, drawing larger and larger audiences of enthusiastic students each year. (In fact, if you're in the area, the 6th annual festival is coming up on April 8th. This year they will perform Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, in its entirety.)

No one had ever taken on performances of this material on this scale. Not even the Beatles themselves.

Beatles fans don't need to be told that the Fab Four stopped doing live performances in 1967 after their manager, Brian Epstein, died. Not coincidentally, their music became more complex in structure as they poured their considerable creative energies into studio recordings that included orchestral arrangements large and small, complete with beautiful arrangements for strings, woodwinds, brass, etc., as well as recorded sound effects and musique concrete.

So, in the playful spirit of creativity and self-reliance, I'll leave you with a video of "Revolution 1" performed in 2014 by the various Baldwin Wallace University's music conservatory majors in music theater, music performance and the orchestra. And as a bonus, their performance of another song from that sublime White Album, "Honey Pie," sung by BWU graduate (one of his degrees is in composition, handy for these horn arrangements) Patrick Hyzy, multi-instrumentalist and a full-fledged Beatles fanatic who, with a little (lot) of help from his friends, decided to make his own unique contribution to the world.

Listen again to John Lennon's advice...

You tell me it's the institution 
Well, you know
You better free your mind instead

Elvis

On April 14, 1956, RCA Victor Records presented Elvis with the one millionth copy of his landmark hit, "Heartbreak Hotel," recorded just three months earlier at their McGavock Street studios in Nashville. (Photo courtesy elvispresleyphotos.com)

Contributing writer Bruce E. Boyers celebrates what would be Elvis Presley's 81st birthday today, with a short essay on an "Aha!" moment he experienced when he was a very young man. Listening to a car radio, he heard Elvis singing "Heartbreak Hotel," a song written by Tommy Durden and Mae Boren Axton (singer/songwriter Hoyt Axton's mother, for you music scholars) and recorded with, among others, Chet Atkins on guitar and Floyd Cramer on piano. The world would never be the same again. -- CLH 

Elvis

by Bruce E. Boyers

I've always been a bit ambivalent about writing about Elvis. You see, my mother brought me up musically in such a way that, by the time I was 10 or 11, I knew for a fact that the greatest music in modern times had been written and recorded by African-Americans. Although she didn't own any "race records," she told me all about them—78 RPM vinyl singles that brought a musical form known as Rhythm and Blues into the world. Historians now point to one such record—ironically, recorded in 1951 at the same Sun Studios in Memphis where Elvis would, four years later, make his first impressions onto wax—as the very first Rock and Roll record ever made. The song is called "Rocket 88," and it was written and performed by the highly controversial (years later) Ike Turner.

In that I was aware of these earlier efforts that eventually resulted in Rock and Roll, I've always been chafed by Elvis being called “The King of Rock and Roll.” In my mind, that title should have gone to Chuck Berry, Little Richard, or one of many other black pioneers like Ike Turner, who in reality taught Elvis everything he knew.

Well, a few years ago I was considerably softened up on the subject. I read about a 1971 press conference that Elvis held in Las Vegas following a hugely successful performance he had just had at the newly opened International Hotel there. At that press conference, a journalist referred to him as “The King.” It just so happened that Fats Domino was standing in the nearby crowd of onlookers. Elvis gestured at Fats and said, “No, that's the real king of rock and roll.”

Okay, Elvis, you made a bit of peace with me with that one. So here's a bit about Elvis.

Kid Galahad--and Kid Bruce

By the time I started to become musically aware—just before the Beatles hit the US in 1964--Elvis Presley was somebody you could only see in movies. Thanks to a killer schedule of filmmaking he had been pushed into by his manager Colonel Tom Parker, the only way anybody could experience Elvis between 1962 and 1968 was to go to their local cinemas. I was a poor kid who rarely if ever got to go to the movies. Hence, Elvis was kind of off my personal radar.

Well, almost.

In 1962, when I was 7 years old, my entire hometown of Idyllwild, California was totally abuzz,  the name Elvis Presley on everybody's lips. Although my mother did not take me to see it, she and many other townspeople got to witness Elvis making the film Kid Galahad right there in our little town. The locals also got to witness a bit of Elvis's good spirit—in between takes, he'd play football with the local kids out in the street.

Years later when I actually got to see Kid Galahad. It was amazing to watch Elvis singing his way past all the bits of the town (many long gone) that were firmly fixed in my memory as a kid—and knowing that at any of those moments I hadn't been very far away.

The Inspiring Elvis

But enough about me. Who was this Elvis Presley person anyway? He must have had something going for him. The number of famous musicians who cite his name as the performer that got them interested in playing music is endless. A seven-year-old Bruce Springsteen saw Elvis on the Ed Sullivan Show and was inspired to take up music. Bob Dylan once described the sensation of first hearing Elvis as being “like busting out of jail.” Elvis was also a prime influence on a little band called the Beatles.

It wasn't until I was about 11 years old that I really understood why he had such an influence—up until then I had only heard the second-rate songs Elvis was forced to record for his movies, and I couldn’t figure it out at all. But late one night I was riding with my mom in the car, and a song came on the radio that instantly riveted my attention. She reached over and turned it up, and said, “That was Elvis Presley's first record.” (It wasn't, but it was his first release on a major label, so it was probably the first she'd ever heard of him.) The song was "Heartbreak Hotel." Like much of the blues and R&B I had been exposed to, it was raw, it was ferocious, it was dirty. And it was INCREDIBLE.

That, as I was later to learn, was real Rock 'n' Roll. Elvis in the beginning was this beautiful, untamed sexual animal. Guys sat by patiently while their girlfriends screamed in ecstasy over him. Some weren't so patient, and downright hated him. Bigots tried to have him boycotted because he sounded black. Television shows at first banned him, and then demanded him as his records flew up the charts, one after the other.

In actual truth, Elvis was just doing what came naturally to him: singing. And when the rhythm moved him, dancing. It just so happened that both made women everywhere insanely desirous of bearing his progeny.

Elvis Presley was a dream come true for one Sam Phillips, owner and operator of a small Memphis outfit called Sun Records. Elvis had been in the studio a few times, but hadn't really impressed anybody. Phillips, however, was constantly on the lookout for a white performer who could bring the sound of black music to a white audience. One night he had Elvis in the studio, and had him sing just about everything he knew. It proved entirely fruitless—until they were about to give up and go home, when Elvis picked up the guitar and starting singing his rendition of a 1946 blues number. Suddenly, the other musicians—and Sam Phillips—were wide awake. They recorded the song. "That's All Right" became a local sensation, and launched the career of a legend.

Elvis had made some careful observations over on Memphis' Beale Street, the black part of town where all the rhythm and blues clubs were. He'd obviously learned his lessons well.

The wild, out-of-bounds Elvis had a long string of hit records, including "Hound Dog," "Don't Be Cruel," "Love Me Tender," "All Shook Up" and many more. Unfortunately, it only lasted until 1958, when the US government—who already had rock 'n' roll on their radar as something dangerous to be carefully watched—decided to draft Elvis into the army. While Elvis's two-year army stint didn't even come close to killing his career (as I'm sure some hoped it would), things were different when he came out. He got into movies, and tamed down quite a bit. The old Elvis—the one who has now inspired generations of rockers—was gone forever. When Elvis died in 1977, John Lennon commented sarcastically, “Elvis died when he went into the army.”

To be fair, he didn't. Once out of his encumbering movie contract in 1968, he came back out into live performances with a vengeance. While not the wild man he once was, he proved he could still pack a hell of a punch as a performer. He started choosing his own songs—instead of the crap of the type foisted off on him during his film career—and the results were fantastic. He had new hits with songs like "Suspicious Minds" and "In the Ghetto.” And up until his health began to really slide in the mid-1970s, he sold out concerts—many of them arenas—everywhere he played.

So here's to you, Elvis. The dream lives on.