Blinded By The Light

Word. Or more accurately, words. It appears that I seem to be full of…wait for it…words. “You writers are so full of words,” as Adriana tells Gil in “Midnight in Paris.” 

Hence, my reaction to Herr Gropenfuhrer’s outburst against American Jews who vote Democratic as being disloyal was puzzling in a “say what?” sort of way. Is he crazy? Guess I just answered my own question. I thought I better check in with Ramona Vallindaklopf, who has been tracking the demented tyrant at the G7 summit in France. Plus, I love her wit, and her sense of humor.

JM: “Hi, Ramona. I was compelled to call.”

RV: “Back so soon, JM? You must like me.”

JM: (mildly blushing) “Well, yes. I had to inquire about your thoughts concerning Herr Gropenfuhrer’s bizarre strategy of characterizing the Jewish faithful in America as traitors.”

RV: “Clearly he has one foot in a bucket and the other in his mouth, not to mention the fact that his suits are ill-fitting.”

JM: “Yes, I noticed. I couldn’t help to think of St. Paul, another antagonist struck down by a protagonist, in this case, God.”

RV: “Clearly, he's a lemming with a death wish. Unwittingly sparking a renaissance among the Jewish people who have not forgotten about the Holocaust, he confuses anti-Zionism with anti-Semitism. He’s devoted to the Israeli right. But few Jews want to move to Israel. They like it right here, thank you very much. His ill-conceived approach stings the Hebrew faithful in this country severely.”

JM: “Let’s see. He’s insulted African Americans, Muslim Americans, Hispanic Americans and American Jews. Am I missing anybody?”

RV: “Well, yes. Women. He’s toast in 2020.”

JM: “Agreed. It’s high time we elected a woman president. They will restore order in this country.”

RV: “One key difference between St. Paul and Herr Gropenfuhrer.”

JM: “Yeah? What’s that?”

RV: “St. Paul made amends for his error. Herr Gropenfuhrer won't.”

JM: “Nice analogy, Ramona. I’ll check in with you later.”

RV: “Buonasera, amico mio.”

Ramona, Ramona

Had a quick chat with Ramona Vallindaklopf, correspondent for the GonzoPR blog based at the Hotel Columbo near the Porto Antico and the Porta Soprana in beautiful downtown Genoa following the conclusion of the G7 summit. Here is her report:

JM: “Well, no trip to the Carlsberg brewery for you, meaning no Elephant Malt Liquor. How did it go otherwise?”

RV: “As you might expect, JM. More poppycock and nonsense from Herr Gropenfuhrer.”

JM: “So, no further references or discussions of purchasing Greenland from the Danes?”

RV: “Not a word. What does he think this is? The 18th century?”

JM: “Apparently. Yes, his royal pronouncement was very revealing about the man, the myth, the fool.”

RV: “Yes, he rattles an ally and clearly demonstrates how little he understands about world politics. The U.S. discovered long ago how to achieve its ends without conquests.”

JM: “Lest we forget, the military has bases worldwide. The U.S. already has access to Greenland through NATO. Herr Gropenfuhrer clearly misunderstands strategic alliances.”

RV: “Yes, his mental map of the world is viewed like a property developer playing a game of Stratego. He celebrates the military with parades and tanks like a two-bit dictator but his ill-advised budgets close bases everywhere.”

JM: “Indeed, I’d call him a baboon, but that would be insulting to baboons. He’s more of a paramecium. Well, check in when the next international crisis arises, Ramona. We won’t have to wait long.”

RV: “Will do, JM. Meanwhile, I’ll suck down a couple of Ceres, another Danish bier, since it’s cocktail hour here.”

JM: “Talk to you later, Ramona. Salud, and ciao.”

Cradle Of Western Civilization

Next up: we hear from Ramona Vallindaklopf, the GonzoPR correspondent covering Europe, the Middle East and Africa. She’s the twin sister of Helmut Vallindaklopf, who ranges the Americas for GonzoPR, though you’d never guess that they're twins.

Ramona is dark and half-crazed, olive-skinned and outspoken like an Italian partisan, while Helmut is fair-skinned, blonde and rather subdued. The pair are fraternal twins; he says she’s his evil twin. She says the opposite. They’re both right.

JM: Finally caught up with Ramona from her stunning berth high atop the Hotel Columbo in Genoa, Italy. “Hear you’re on your way to Copenhagen, Denmark, Ramona."

RV: “Well, not now, after reports emerged that Herr Gropenfuhrer was interested in buying Greenland, the Danish prime minister called the notion “absurd.” The putz retaliated, calling her “nasty” and scrapped a state visit. Pisses me off too; I had planned to tour the Carlsberg factory after the G7 Conference in Biarritz, France.”

JM: “Well, yes, Herr Gropenfuhrer does have a tendency to step into his own shit, doesn’t he?”

RV: “He can’t help it. Contrary to what he and his minions say, climate change is frighteningly real. Witness the disappearing coastal island in Louisiana, and record heat everywhere.”

JM: “Don’t forget Greenland, where it’s being documented that glacial recession is proceeding at record pace. ‘Who cares,’ says the demented despot, ‘Scientific facts hinder my objectives of making the rich richer and the poor poorer. Science. Who needs it?’”

RV: “Perhaps he’s hoping to build a resort and golf course in Nuuk after Greenland melts.”

JM: “Well, if so, he might want to construct on higher ground. Proceeding around the horn from Europe, what’s happening in the Middle East?”

RV: “The same thing that’s been happening there for millennia: the Holy War between the sultans and the saints. While the Muslims continue to battle the Christians in places like Syria, Afghanistan and other spots in the Middle East, not to mention the rest of the world, Herr Gropenfuhrer has targeted ground zero of the sultan’s forces in Iran. He’s playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse, and he risks having his underwear pulled over his head.”

JM: "To be sure. And as if to add to his delusion of grandeur in Israel, didn’t he declare himself as “the chosen one” and proclaim himself the “King of Israel?”

RV: “Yes. Ironically, real Christians, not fakes who claim allegiance to Herr Gropenfuhrer, believe that the only true King of Israel is God. It’s quite blasphemous really. Messianic claims are dangerous because God doesn’t share glory with anyone. In the New Testament, when King Herod, the ruler of Judea, was called “God,” he took credit. God’s response? He sent an angel to kill Herod.”

JM: “Dangerous territory indeed. He is truly a loathsome miscreant. In a recent rant on the White House lawn, Herr Gropenfuhrer said he’d like to give himself the Medal of Honor.”

RV: “Politically, he’s only a candidate for the Darwin Award.”

JM: “And what’s out of Africa?”

RV: “More of the same from the Trump-described “shithole” countries. Those who aren’t attempting to float their way across the Mediterranean in rafts are trying to milk rich Americans out of the nest eggs in the states through offers of cash from their deceased father, the king of some obscure country in Central Africa.”

JM: “It’s a grim picture indeed. I think I need a vacation.”

RV: “Come on over, JM. We can meet in Casablanca at Rick’s Café Americain and lament that “we’ll always have Paris.”

JM: “Great, Ramona. Keep an eye out toward the back of the bar. I'll be incognito. We’ll have an editorial meeting and plan to locate Herr Gropenfuhrer’s letters of transit to political obscurity.”

Empire Of The Sun

Allow me to introduce you to Wolfgang Majoris, Greater Asian and Australian correspondent for the GonzoPR blog spanning a beat from Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia in the north to Delhi, India and Ceylon on the south, and from Karachi, Pakistan in the west to Brisbane, Australia and Christchurch, New Zealand on the east.

“Wolf,” as he is known, holds a doctorate in Chinese from the University of California in Berkeley and currently resides in Bangkok, Thailand. His undergraduate degree is in journalism from the University of Oregon in Eugene. Wolf is known among friends as “Big Dog,” and he wields a mighty pen, as they say.

As editorial director and grand poobah of the Gonzo PR blog, I conducted a video call with Wolf from his home base in Thailand to discuss the goings-on in China -- particularly Hong Kong -- but also North Korea, South Korea and the entire east side of the Pacific Rim. What he had to say was alarming, but not terribly surprising, to most voters in this country. Here's the transcript:

JM: “Good morning, Wolf, I know it’s early in Bangkok, but it’s approaching cocktail hour here in the states.”

WM: (groggy) “Yes, it’s early here. I’m just having tea.”

JM: “Lots happening in East Asia. What’s the political climate?”

WM: “Chaos, even more than usual. No country in these parts can trust the U.S. anymore. South Korea feels more isolated than ever. And we know how they feel about North Korea. South Korea is desperate; they’re looking to Japan for support. How weird is that? They have an inbred hatred for the Japanese dating back centuries, and especially during World War II.”

JM: “Strange times, to be sure. But China has been the focal point of news reports here in the U.S. What can you tell us, Wolf?”

WM: “They have their own troubles. Trade war with Herr Gropenfuhrer, riots in Hong Kong, and general unrest in Tibet and other parts of China.”

JM: “And Japan?

WM: “They don’t know where to turn either. It’s a mess.”

JM: “So what you’re saying is Herr Gropenfuhrer’s foreign policy approach in the Far East is a dismal failure.”

WM: “Without question. Clearly, only a demented screwhead could ignore the obvious: he’s dumber than a rock. He shows blatant disregard for concerns about Chinese repression, and cares not about democracy anywhere. He won’t discuss human rights if it interferes with his monkey business. He’s a greed head.”

JM: “Yes. I prefer my presidents to be smarter than me. His intelligence quotient is lower than snail excrement at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. He prefers to watch Faux New rather than read policy documents. All he does at meetings is roll his eyes whenever discussion turns serious, although he may interject an inane comment like: ‘Did you see my crowd size for my visit to El Paso? Bigger than Beto’s!’ He'd rather tweet from the cheap seats.”

WM: “No doubt. This trade war is bad for everybody, including the U.S. There will be no winners here. As far as he is concerned, any bad news is somebody else’s problem, including all of Southeast Asia.”

JM: “What’s next on your radar, Wolf?"

WM: “South Korea. I worry about our allies, so my next communique will be somewhere south of the DMZ, but not Seodaemun prison. I‘ll be eating kimchee and sucking Beck's at the Ibis Seoul Hotel.”

JM: “Yuck. I cannot abide cabbage. But I will drink German bier.”

WM: “Fair enough, JM. I’ll check in with you from Seoul, where the streets have no name.”

JM: “Ciao, mio amico. Until then.”

Resilient Roger

In an excruciatingly long Wimbledon men’s final that lasted nearly five hours -- a new record -- Novak Djokovic edged Roger Federer in an exhausting five set match that, for lack of a better way of describing the heart-pounding, nail-biting experience, went into triple overtime. I’m still tired from the experience.

The Joker prevailed over Resilient Roger in five sets, 7-6(5), 1-6, 7-6(4), 4-6, 13-12(3), in a heavyweight championship men’s tennis match for the ages. While Federer was on the short end of the decision in the end, he nonetheless battled relentlessly in an epic donnybrook that lasted four hours, 57 minutes.

Federer, of course, reigns supreme in the men’s tennis world, with 20 Grand Slam championships. Djokovic, along with Rafael Nadal, another great champion, are not far behind with 18 Grand Slam titles each. Whatever happens, Resilient Roger, who turns 38 this month, will always be “The Greatest” in my book.

I’m not the only one with those sentiments. Federer is a Swiss national hero loved worldwide. At the Swiss National Museum in Zurich, he was a featured figure, to be sure. He had more exhibit space than Jean-Luc Goddard, Huldrych Zwingli and William Tell, and finished in first place along with Albert Einstein.

Everyone loves Roger. What's not to like? He speaks eight languages, he’s funny, charming and humble, consistent and resilient, gracious in victory and defeat, can cry without shame, and is a model family man with two sets of twins (Myla and Charlene, and Lenny and Leo) with his wife, Mirka, a former tennis player.

I will always be a Fedhead. What makes Resilient Roger so durable is his ability to turn the page. He’s very good, of course, but he also excels at pushing forward. Both are part of his superpowers. He is fit and motivated, as witnessed by his charge to the Wimbledon finals, and is a tennis legend among mere mortals. Always will be.

Rude Notes From The Field

As editorial director for the GonzoPR blog, I have established a vast network of reporters, correspondents and stringers spanning the globe on all sides of the seven seas, from Baghdad to Bogata, from Tunis to Tukwila, from Moscow to Manila, from Nagpur to Nuuk, from Adelaide to Algiers, from Rangoon to Reykjavik, and all points in between.

Hence, what follows is a three-part series called "Rude Notes from the Field" featuring communiques from a far-flung network of staffers. GonzoPR's roving reporter covering the U.S., Helmut Vallindaklopf, reported in via Skype this morning from El Paso with an update from that beleaguered West Texas town.

JM: “Thanks for checking in for this editorial update, Helmut. Pretty gruesome times for the people of El Paso. What can you tell us?”

HV: “It’s horrific, JM, hell on earth. It’s a time of fear and greed. Politicians are fleecing the weak and the helpless with their hateful, vindictive ways. How much more cheap-jack nonsense can we take from our corrupt, lying leadership? This country is being flushed down the toilet as we speak.”

JM: “Yes, we’ve been subsumed by greedheads only interested in running the country their way, not the people’s way.”

HV: “Well, greedhead certainly captures part of that segment, but it’s also the white supremacists who flaunt their hate with assault weapons and the phony baloney pious types who enable the charlatans in the White House while they screw the little people.”

JM: “Yes, and I needn’t remind you that the gun lobby is thicker than thieves with Herr Gropenfuhrer, Moscow Mitch and the rest of their merry confederation of fascists with a tight death grip on the throats of the rest of us.”

HV: “Agreed. The current leadership has laid waste to our country as we once knew it. They must be removed in the next election or there will be hell to pay.”

JM: “No doubt. What can we do, Helmut?”

HV: “We must turn out in force and run the bums out of office. Now. We can’t pin our hopes on an aneurysm or a heart attack. There’s too many of them. The people must vote, now more that ever. It’s a matter of life or death, folks.”

JM: “I’m with you, Helmut. Thanks for checking in this morning.”

HV: “Ciao, amico. I will notify you from my next base of operation by carrier pigeon in a few days.”

Woodstock Generation

Fifty years ago, this month, nearly half a million people collected on Max Yasgur’s 600-acre dairy farm near Woodstock, New York to witness 32 acts perform outdoors at a rock festival considered a key benchmark in popular music history. But Woodstock was not the apex of the 1960s, but the genesis of the 1970s.

The moon landing by three U.S. astronauts was actually the climax of the ‘60s. Hippies before 1970 were largely an urban phenomenon. But Woodstock’s “get back to the country” motif led many hipsters to move to the country, where they were not exactly greeted warmly by some rural communities. Witness Easy Rider to learn more.

Well, you know what they say, if you remember the ‘60s, you weren’t really there. Me? I was a 17-year-old high school junior at Lincoln High School in Portland, Oregon at the time of the seminal event known as Woodstock. Inspired by The Beatles and other up and coming rock bands, we all started growing our hair long.

When my mother asked, “Are you a hippy?” I quickly replied, “Well, no, not exactly,” which was the truth. More accurately, I was a hippy sympathizer. True, my hair was long, I opposed the Vietnam War (a cousin of mine stepped on a landmine in Vietnam, thereby terminating his very existence), and I marched in moratoriums.

But was I a hippie in the classic sense? No. I enjoyed working for a living, and indeed, toiled my way through college at the University of Oregon School of Journalism. I also enjoyed athletics, and especially backcountry excursions into wilderness areas, which led to jobs at Crater Lake National Park and the U.S. Forest Service.

But despite the long odds, the hippy sentimentality prevailed in the face of opposition from “the establishment,” and the movement continues to survive today at events like the “Oregon Country Fair” and similar gatherings around the country, where tie dyes, a Japanese invention, still rule the day.