9.3.2026 – extraordinary

extraordinary
becomes ordinary
through repetition

First off, yes I can count and there are 6 syllables in extraordinary.

My blog, my rules (anyone else remember the Australian TV show, The Librarians?) …. but I digress.

Today’s haiku is adapted from the passage in the Wall Street Journal Opinion Piece, The Art of the Self-Deal (download pdf of article) by one time Ronald Reagan speech writer, Peggy Noonan (which used to count as Republican Royalty) where Ms. Noonan writes about Trump-era corruption:

We’ll quickly posit what we mean by Trump-era corruption. I see two general areas, personal enrichment and the use of government to satisfy private goals.

The personal-enrichment part is suggested by recent and frequent reports showing that Mr. Trump’s net worth, and that of his family, has surged dramatically in his second term. This isn’t just wealthy folks seeing their stocks go up: Trump businesses have developed positions in industries over which the administration exercises power.

And there’s the sheer scale: The extraordinary becomes ordinary through repetition; scandals add up and become a blur, not a call to action. But the country pays a cost for all this. Institutionally, everything happening today sets a precedent. Every abuse we accept widens the range of possible misbehavior for the next administration.

As always, the whole world is watching. What it has seen lowers the esteem in which it formally (if grudgingly) held Americans. It embarrasses us before the world. It hurts our heart a little. We were the morally rectitudinous Doughboy GI Marshall Planning JFK and Ronnie People who made the wall come down. We did our best each generation to be equal to our reputation, or at least to have some class. There are foreign-policy implications to all this. Some day we’ll need friends and see only the satisfied spite of the previously jealous.

Nothing good comes from this. When corruption is allowed, it governs not today but tomorrow too.

The extraordinary becomes ordinary through repetition.

Nothing good comes from this.

When I think that we are already so worn out with all of this and there two years to go, the bearable, in the face the extraordinary becoming ordinary through repetition becomes un bearable.

I can no longer see any light at the end of the tunnel.

I cannot imagine a light at then end of the tunnel.

I cannot even see the tunnerl.

All I can see the end of the movie, The Planer of the Apes.

Charleton Heston character, Taylor, rides along the ocean to find what is left of the Statue of Liberty and he realizes that all the technology that was supposed to send him off into space and bring him back home worked.

Taylor was home.

But while Taylor was gone, the World went a little crazy and a destroyed itself as it once was.

The unthinkable had been become thinkable.

All Taylor could do was pound his fist on the sand in frustration.

And say, “You maniacs! You blew it up! Ah, damn you! God damn you all to hell!”

I watch the news.

I read the news.

And I pound the sand.

And I say, You maniacs!

And I say, You blew it up!

And I say, Ah, damn you!

You knew what you were doing and you did it anyway.

Right now I that’s what I see when I look for any glimmer of light at the end of any tunnel.

9.2.2026 – on the assumption

on the assumption
president is rational …
admit have my doubts

We must therefore prepare for the following possibility: That Mark Carney was right, and this relationship will remain altered, regardless of who occupies the White House.

No one is coming to save us. Our response must take these facts into account if it is to be effective and sustainable in the long term. While it is entirely understandable that tempers are running high and that a majority of our fellow citizens are feeling a strong desire for revenge, a response based on retaliatory tariffs will not take long to rebound to our collective detriment.

Let us look at this purely objectively: This response assumes that Mr. Trump, when backed into a corner by any damage arising from countertariffs, will call off the tariff threat in order to save face before, or soon after, the midterm elections. In short, it is based on the assumption that the U.S. President is a rational actor – something I must admit I have my doubts about.

From the opinion piece, Canadians can’t assume the next U.S. president will drop tariffs by Daniel Dufort in the Toronto The Globe and Mail (Ontario Edition) 2 Sep 2026.

In short, it is based on the assumption that the U.S. President is a rational actor

– something I must admit I have my doubts about.

One more time.

Something I must admit I have my doubts about.

What is the word I am thinking of here … what is that word?

Understatment?

I feel using the word understatement is an understatement.

9.1.2026 – let’s be clear it’s not

let’s be clear it’s not
about house or rules any
HOA would make

It is NOT about the house.

It is what the house stands, well, stood for.

There are places around the world that most folks feel better knowing both these places are and that these places are protected.

I think there was, for a large part, a global sigh of dismay when the Cathedral of Notre Dame burned down.

I would count the White House where the President of the United States has lived since the John Adams moved in 1800.

Yes the place has been renovated, added on to, rebuilt from the inside out and even burned down.

But at its core, in a country where anybody, it was said, could grow up to be President, it was where the President lived.

Where Ronald Reagan, JFK, Ike, FDR, Teddy and old Abe himself all lived.

It’s where Thomas Jefferson once served ice cream.

That house stood for something.

It said to the occupant that they were temmporary.

That holding the office and living in that house was a trust that came with the job.

It was implied that who ever lived there would work for all American’s to make America better by the time they moved out than it had been when they moved in.

That’s what that house …

That’s what living in that house stood for.

Well, maybe anybody could grow up to be President, but I think we have proved that having just anybody doesn’t work.

So the Supreme Court says the National Trust for Historic Preservation has no standing is saying what should and should not be allowed in the way of White House Renovation.

The National Trust for Historic Preservation has no standing when the most recognizable home in America gets an addition that any HOA would have over ruled anywhere else.

You know what I mean?

Any HOA Board of beer drinking neighbors would have made a better and quicker decision that the group sitting in the Supreme Court Building.

And ONCE AGAIN, here is the real tradgedy.

Five of nine members of the Supreme Court ruled against the National Trust for Historic Preservation.

And when they made their ruling, they knew, in their hearts, in the F. Scott Fitzgerald world where it is always 3 a.m., they know they made the wrong ruling for the wrong reason for the wrong feller at the wrong time.

They knew it.

They know it.

And I will say this.

If it wasn’t for the hatred in their hearts for anything opposition, I would bet that 99% of American’s don’t like this either.

They know it.

And still, it goes on.

The trick of this administration has always been taking the level of offense to the next level so that earlier levels of offense pale in comparision.

But we think each day, now we have reached the limit.

And each day, we find, there are no limits.

As former President Obama said once about the birth certificate nonsense, “remember when we thought that was as crazy as he could get.”

I am sick about this and sick about what it stands for as a measure of how far we have fallen away.

I am sick, that as a measure of what was destroyed by those people, it could turn out to be a half way mark.

North Front of the White House at the time of Lincoln’s inauguration. Iron fences and railings control public access to the grounds. The graveled walk, set in a flat-rolled lawn, encircles the Pierre Jean David dAngers statue of Thomas Jefferson, placed there by President James K. Polk in 1847 and since 1874 in Statuary Hall in the Capitol. To the right of the house barely can be seen the Conservatory, which was built atop the west terrace in the later 1850s and was filled with tubbed camellias and fruit trees.

Library of Congress

8.31.2026 – these are the days of

these are the days of
miracle and wonder and
don’t cry baby … don’t

Adapted from the refrain of the Paul Simon song, The Boy in the Bubble that goes:

These are the days of miracle and wonder
This is the long distance call
The way the camera follows us in slo-mo
The way we look to us all
The way we look to a distant constellation
That’s dying in a corner of the sky
These are the days of miracle and wonder
And don’t cry, baby, don’t cry
Don’t cry

The song came out 40 years and has the verse about:

It’s a turn-around jump shot
It’s everybody jump start
It’s every generation throws a hero up the pop charts
Medicine is magical and magical is art
Think of the boy in the bubble
And the baby with the baboon heart

And I believe
These are the days of lasers in the jungle
Lasers in the jungle somewhere
Staccato signals of constant information
A loose affiliation of millionaires
And billionaires and baby

Staccato signals of constant information.

1st meal in new pad …

I spent the weekend up in the State of Ohio (and such a state that State is in … as I understand it most of the folks who live there CANNOT spell OHIO unless someone else first gives them the O and the H) moving one of my kids from one place to another place.

I left on Friday with a backpack with some clothes for three days, my iPhone and my credit card.

I flew.

I ubered.

I uhauled.

I stayed overnight.

I ate.

I got rides from available family when I could.

I shopped.

Didn’t sleep for three days it seemed.

Hands are swollen from lifting and toting but I survived and kid survivied.

I handed that credit card over when I had too.

Read the credit card off when I had too.

Started services.

Stopped services.

So long as everything showed that magic word, approved!

All I had was a backpack, an iPhone and a credit card.

Some numbers and a connection.

Staccato signals of constant information.

These are the days of miracle and wonder

This is the long distance call

The way the camera follows us in slo-mo

The way we look to us all

The way we look to a distant constellation

That’s dying in a corner of the sky

These are the days of miracle and wonder

And don’t cry, baby, don’t cry

Don’t cry

Even my enemies will say no one can pack a uhaul the way I can pack a uhaul.

8.30.2026 – two bridges across

two bridges across
river one closed for repairs
other for painting

Education a Failure

The minor stupidities
of my world
dominate that world—
as when

with two bridges across
the river and one
closed for repairs
the other also

will be closed by
the authorities
for painting! But then
there is heaven

and the ideal state
closed also
before the aspiring soul.
I had rather

watch a cat threading
a hedge with
another sitting by
while the bird

screams overhead
athrash
in the cover of the
low branches.

As published in The Collected Later Poems of William Carlos Williams by William Carlos Williams (James Laughlin: Norfolk, Connecticut, 1944).

According to Wikipedia, “William Carlos Williams (September 17, 1883 – March 4, 1963) was an American poet and physician closely associated with modernism and imagism. His Spring and All (1923) was written in the wake of T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land (1922). In his five-volume poem Paterson (1946–1958), he took Paterson, New Jersey as “my ‘case’ to work up. It called for a poetry such as I did not know, it was my duty to discover or make such a context on the ‘thought.'” Some of his best-known poems, “This Is Just to Say” and “The Red Wheelbarrow”, are reflections on the everyday. Other poems reflect the influence of the visual arts. He, in turn, influenced the visual arts; his poem “The Great Figure” inspired the painting I Saw the Figure 5 in Gold by Charles Demuth. Williams was awarded a posthumous Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for Pictures from Brueghel and Other Poems (1962).”

The Great Figure

By William Carlos Williams
Among the rain
and lights
I saw the figure 5
in gold
on a red
firetruck
moving
tense
unheeded
to gong clangs
siren howls
and wheels rumbling
through the dark city.