Today's Mostly True Short Story: Rich Man, Poor Man

F LoBuono

We were boys, really. I was 22 or 23, fresh out of graduate school, and my kid brother, Joe, was about 20. We were like the main characters in Irwin Shaw's 1969 classic novel, Rich Man, Poor Man. I was all about learning with dreams of eventually making it to medical school. And, all my brother wanted to be was a Steel Cowboy, trucking all over the Country. As kids, while I buried myself in my books, my brother played almost incessantly with his Tonka Toy and Matchbox trucks. After graduating high school, I went off to institutions of higher learning while my brother went to work driving big rigs. He was serious enough about it that he even convinced my parents to take out a second mortgage on our home so that they could help him finance buying a tractor trailer.

And, what a truck it was: a bright red, cab-over Peterbuilt with a 350 Cummings engine, chrome wheels and 2, 100 gallon fuel tanks. To quote Tom Waits, her dashboard lit up like a Madame LaRue pinball machine! She sure was a beauty. In truckers parlance she was called, simply, a BIG TRUCK.

Even though he was inexperienced, my brother was an awesome driver. I swear that he could make that thing stand up on its hind legs and howl if he needed to. He was masterful with that rig. The only problem was that trucking involved more than just driving - it involved running a business. And, as good a driver as he was, he was simply a shitty businessman. It would eventually cost him his livelihood.

One day, my brother called me with some exciting news: he had a job for his new rig. He was to go to the Port of Newark and pick up a trailer of chemicals to take to California. After delivering the chemicals, he would pick up a load of fresh oranges to bring back to the East Coast. He wanted to know if I wanted to come. Now, I had no clue as how to drive a tractor trailer and my brother knew that. But, I could keep him company and at least give him a hand loading and unloading the truck. I was substitute teaching at the time and we were on Easter break so I would have the time. I jumped at the chance.

I remember meeting my brother at my parent's house (my brother was living at home and I had my own apartment) at dawn to begin our journey. We loaded our travel gear into the cab of the truck and my brother fired that diesel up. The image of my father, tears in his eyes, waving from the corner as we pulled away is one that I will never forget. The truck gradually accelerated and we headed down the New Jersey Turnpike to Newark.

This was not only MY first trip by truck to the coast, it was also my brother's. So, we had no idea what to expect. All we knew was that we were free. An almost infinite, open road and adventure lie ahead. We found all of that - and, so much more.

We made good time our first few days and traveled virtually trouble free. We stopped only for fuel and food, covering almost 500 miles a day. However, after the fortuitous start our luck began to run out - we started blowing tires. The open road and 500 miles/day hauling nearly 70,000 lbs. of freight can be murder on a truck's tires - and, we started blowing them with startling regularity! We would hear a loud PATSSSTTT followed by a FLAP-FLAP-FLAP, signifying the loss of yet another tire. Calling a tractor trailer an 18 wheeler is literal: there are 18 tires on a big truck. So, unless it's a front tire, you can live  temporarily losing one or two of them until they are replaced. But, replace them you must. That requires a stop at a repair shop. One does not change a truck tire on one's own. So, now you have the cost of the tire itself - which is considerable - plus, the labor to mount and balance it. At this point, we had already lost 3 or 4! Throw in a few other minor repairs and we were rapidly running out of $. Maintaining a tractor trailer on the road ain't cheap!

It took nearly a week of hard driving but we actually made it to California. The problem was that we were almost broke. The repairs were killing us. My brother calculated that if we had no further mishaps and conserved our money, we just might have enough to make it home - but, not with much to spare. In fact, Joe would be lucky to actually MAKE any money on this trip.

I asked, "what do you mean by conserve"?

"It means rationing our meals and sleeping under the stars in rest stops - no more motels or big meals for us"! he replied.

I shook my head in disbelief.

We made our first delivery at a warehouse just outside of LA without issue and headed for the orange grove to pick up our load for the return trip. I remember feeling the warm, golden California sun on my back as we packed the orange crates into the trailer. I felt like a character out of Steinbeck novel. By the time we finished, it was approaching evening. My brother figured we could still make a few miles before nightfall and stopping for the day. We got as far as Barstow where we found an empty field to park the truck and get in a few hours of sleep. While my brother crashed in the small bed located in the back of the cab, I pulled a few orange crates from the trailer and fashioned them into a makeshift bed (at least it would keep the scorpions away). I slept on top of those crates and under the spectacular, starry dessert sky, the smell of fresh oranges wafting me to sleep. All was right with the world. It was a magical moment.

The next day, at dawn, we lit out to continue our journey.

We made it as far as the Midwest, Nebraska, I believe, without further incident. And, then, whatever luck we had, ran out. The truck had a transmission issue that simply could not be ignored. It would have to be fixed and THAT would be expensive. I asked Joe if would have enough money to make it home.

He said, "well, yes and no".

What's THAT supposed to mean"?, I asked.

Joe replied, "no, we won't make it if don't cut back on our expenses like eating full meals 3X's a day. We won't have enough $ to buy fuel - and, yes, we might if  don't spend much and nothing else goes wrong".

Exasperated, I inquired, "does that mean we can't eat until we get back - in about 3 days"?!

"Not exactly", he responded. "Here's what we are going to do. When we stop to eat, we will ask for separate checks. I'll order a bunch of food - enough for the two of us to eat well. You order coffee and a piece of pie. When it comes time to pay, you take the more expensive check, go into the bathroom and flush it down the toilet. In the meantime, I'll pay the other check and bring the truck around. Of course, we'll leave a good tip for the waitress (we don't want to screw her). Then, sneak out. I'll pick you up out back and we'll be on our way before anyone knows what the hell happened".

Really.

But, we had no alternative. Borrowing more money from our folks was no longer an option. And, we were in the middle of nowhere!! The situation had become desperate. We were thousands of miles from home with barely enough money left to put fuel in the truck for the journey. We HAD to do something. My only concern was why I had to be the one to "flush" the check. Joe reasoned that since he was the only one who could actually drive the rig, I would be the one who would have to do the running. Unfortunately for me, he was right.

I remember that the first time we pulled the routine I was nervous as hell. It's not my style to be ripping off Truck Stop restaurants. My brother and I were not brought up that way. Besides, I was the one with the college education - why should I be the brigand? But, I understood the logic and did my part. Besides, I was hungry and we were desperate. So, I walked as calmly as I could to the men's room, check in hand, went into one of the stalls, and flushed it down the toilet. I preceded to do my best to casually stroll back out of the restaurant as if I hadn't a care in the world. But, my heart was racing and my head pounding. I tried my best to maintain my composure as I cleared the front doors. I saw my brother heading around the corner with the truck and coming in my direction. I fought the urge to run until I just couldn't stand it any more. First, I broke into a fast walk, then a trot, and, eventually, into a downright sprint until I reached the passenger side of the truck. Slowing the truck down, but not stopping, my brother swung the door open. I quickly climbed in. Together, laughing and howling, swelled with victory,  we were back on our way without missing a beat.

After my initial trepidation, the routine got easier and easier and we pulled it off without incident for the next few days and we got back into New Jersey - without starving.

I'm sure that my brother lost money on that trip, unfortunately, like he did on most. As I said, Joe was a spectacular driver but a shitty businessman. After a few more years, he was forced to sell his beautiful truck. He still drives - just locally now - no more cross country trips for Joe. As for me, I went back to my academic pursuits. But, I'll never forget the adventures I shared with my brother on that trip and many others. In the end, we are both very rich men for having spent that time together.

A Birthday Message

F LoBuono

Today is my birthday. It is said to be MY day. Whereas holidays like Christmas are celebrated en mass, your birthday is the one, singular day that belongs exclusively to you. You may share the date with others but the day is essential YOURS.

It certainly is fun to be treated so special, even for just a day. But, I have always felt something missing- there is another person in this equation who deserves at least as much, if not more, attention; our mothers.

Let's face it, gang, without our mothers there is NO life. THEY are the ones who did the most to make sure that we arrived on this planet. They are the originators of this trip we call life - and, they suffer willingly, even gladly, to introduce us to the world.

So, happy birthday to me AND Stella. The day is OURS!

:)

Word for the Day: Greary or Dray

F LoBuono

GREARY or DRAY:

A combination of weather elements that create dreary, dismal, damp, dank, depressing, miserable, foggy, colorless, gray conditions.

Today's MOZEN: Playing Opossum

F LoBuono

There was a recent post from a Facebook friend who was confronted with the "dilemma" of what to do with an opossum that was hiding under the shed in her backyard. She was frightened by its size and the fierce appearance of the animal (they have a mouth full of pointy teeth). She also feared that the creature would harm her dogs. So, of course, she elicited help from her Facebook friends. Most of the comments where of this variety:

They are such disgusting creatures. They creep me out! Lure it out of it's hiding place and blow it's friggin' brains out!!

Really.

Let's get a few things straight here. Opossums (Didelphis virginiana) are indeed funky looking to say the least. Some would say that they are downright hideous. Even their name is not "normal": it's spelled with an "O" but is pronounced with a "P". And, they are marsupials, the most primitive class of mammals on earth. That means that have existed, virtually unchanged, for millions of years. And, THAT means they are very good at what they do.

And, what exactly IS it that they do - besides mess up our garbage cans?

Well, they do a great job of eating things that are really harmful to us - like ticks, devouring thousands of them each weak. They also consume other disease baring pests like mice and grubs. Obviously, this helps prevent the spread of diseases like lyme. And, they are SO non-violent that their only defense when attacked is to play dead (i.e. playing opossum). No, they won't be attacking anybody's dog soon.

In other words, despite how they LOOK, they are useful creatures worthy of our respect. So, why DO we see them as so loathsome?

This is typical of human nature. We tend to fear, and then reject, those things that are foreign and/or strange to us. Like the hideous monster of Frankenstein movie lore, we renounce the simple opossum simply because of its rather unpleasant appearance, without considering what the animal has to offer. They have dark, beady eyes, pointy teeth, a rat-like tail, and disheveled appearing fur. I mean, what's to like? But, the lesson is to look beyond our preconceived notions of how things should appear and concentrate on what they can contribute.

It is the same with people. Never decide something's or someone's worth solely by their appearance. Don't judge a book, a person, OR an opossum, simply by their appearance.

The Peg-Board 4/20/2017

Still waiting for these chicks on Pinterest to put grapes in a crockpot and make wine.... it's like they're not even trying.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: The Little Fig Tree

F LoBuono

When we were kids, my brother, sister, and I spent lots of time at my grandmother's Brooklyn town house. Located on Avenue W, between Ocean Parkway and Coney Island Avenue, the house was a classic piece of early 20th Century architecture: solid brick construction, center-hall skylight, 3 floors, front and back porch, garage, and a tiny patch of earth that passed as a backyard.

On that tiny wedge of land, my grandmother planted a fig tree. Legend has it that she grew it from a cutting of a tree taken from her ancestral property in Sicily. Wherever it came from, she treated it with the utmost TLC - almost like an adoptive child. She dutifully watered it during the hot, dry summers. She pruned off dead branches in the fall. She even carefully rapped it in burlap to protect the plant from the cruel winter winds.

We all reaped the benefits. That tree produced some of the most delicious figs I've ever eaten. And, it did so year after year.

Eventually, my grandmother aged to the point where it was no longer feasible for her to live alone in her townhouse and we had to place her in a nursing home. My family kept the home for a time until we could decide what was the best way to deal with it. We did our utmost to maintain its condition. But, of course, certain things would eventually fall by the wayside - like my grandmother's house plants (mostly begonias) and the little fig tree in the back yard. It was if that bush had lost its mother. After a few weeks, the fig tree appeared to be in distress, almost lonely, if you will. We did everything we could to try and save it - extra water - fertilizer. Nothing worked. The little tree just seemed to get more and more despondent. Eventually, nothing that we did would bring it back,and it simply died - we felt of loneliness.

My grandmother passed soon after. Perhaps, on some little plot of land somewhere, they are together once again.

Today's LESSON IN SARCASM: The Trump Doctrine

F LoBuono

Bomb the shit out of anyone who even thinks of threatening us. Kick the crap out of ANY uncooperative airline passenger. Screw any transvestite who uses the wrong bathroom. Fuck the environment. Blast endangered animals. Deprive women of their right to choose. Deport the filthy Mexicans. Deny the loathsome Syrians entrance. Lie whenever it is convenient. Strip due process from stinking minorities. Hate those who may be different. Worship wealth over justice. Save money by denying Healthcare for the most fragile. Spend money on weapons. Degrade science. Mock intelligence. Reward idiocy.

And, above all play golf.

That is all.

Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: The Whole World Smiles With You

F LoBuono

Rexie and I were bounding up Broadway, approaching the corner of Main St. It was a spectacular early Spring day, especially in comparison to the most recent spate of dreary, dismal weather. The warm sun kissed our faces and the gentle breeze caressed us, filling our hearts with the feeling that everything was once again right with the world. I'm sure that the simple joy of the day must have been reflected in our brisk pace and in the look on our faces - the popular song, Walking On Sunshine, might provide an appropriate sound track.

I noticed two women approaching. They also seemed to also be enjoying the day, window shopping at the Chocolate Shop located near the corner. One of them was observing Rexie and I as we gleefully continued our sojourn. Catching my attention, she said:

 I don't know who has the bigger smile on their face - you, or the dog.

Of course, this turned whatever grin I might have had into a full blown, beaming smile. It was if someone had taken something already pretty damned pleasant and made it even more so.

I love this town.

It can be so nice to share the joy - and, it's so easy to do.

Remember: When you're smiling, the whole world smiles with you.

:)

The Peg-Board 4/12/2017 Child Rearing

The pediatrician told me my daughter is going through a growth spurt . . . as if the 4 inch floods she's been wearing didn't give me a hint.

Today's MOZEN: Syrian Ambivalence

F LoBuono

When I was a kid, both of my parents took the time to teach me how to deal with bullies. And, they shared the same philosophy: never start a fight and walk away if you can. But, never let anyone touch you or shame you. And, if you have to, strike back with conviction. Let them know that you are force to be reckoned with.

I have followed these teachings my entire life and they have served me well. As a young man, I encountered many bullies. I hung out with a pretty tough crowd and any weakness, actual or perceived, was dealt with harshly. You had to be strong to survive. And, I was. No, I was never that tough. But, I was tenacious in defending those principals. I would take a lot of shit. But, at some point, I was just not going to accept it anymore and you'd have to fight me - you might kick my ass, but you weren't going to get away without a tussle. I lost most of those fights (if not all). But, that didn't matter. At some point, the bullying stopped simply because they knew that EVERY TIME they picked on me, they would have a fight on their hands.

With this in mind, I have very mixed feelings about our Country's recent retaliatory attack on Syria. The cause of the retaliation could certainly be seen as a righteous: Forces loyal to Syrian president Bashir Al Assad used deadly nerve gas against their own people, including many women and children. The images of suffering and dying children were enough to fill anyone with horror. They apparently had that effect on President Trump who subsequently ordered the missile strike against the Syrian air base that allegedly launched the attack, claiming that a "red line" had been crossed. The United States was taking direct action in response.

This action has filled me with a great deal of ambivalence. On one hand, there seems to be no doubt that Al Assad is little more that a brutal dictator with little love for his own people. Most of the world, with the exception of Russia and Iran, see him as a monster who needs to be replaced. In other words, he is the consummate bully. And, as I mentioned above, at some point, the only way to deal with a bully is to punch him in the nose. Our missile attack can be seen as that punch.

However, on the other hand, I have some doubts as to the long term effectiveness of this strategy. As with most of Mr. Trump's decisions, they seem to be made quickly and viscerally. Normally, this can be a recipe for disaster.

First, it has not been COMPLETELY confirmed who exactly perpetrated the attack. It LOOKS like government forces executed the attack. But, we need more than just that. What if another entity accomplished this attack and made it LOOK like the Syrian government did it in order to create an intense, international backlash? This is not beyond the realm of possibility.

Second, why now? Syrians have been dying by the thousands for years - and, by various methods. Sure, nerve gas is particularly egregious and horrifying. But, isn't death from above, ultimately, all the same: death from above - whether it's by a 1,000 bomb or a nerve agent? In the end, the results are the same: dead innocents. Why have we not acted sooner? I'm sure there are many complicated reasons (The President seems to be discovering this about a lot of issues) for our failure to do more. The path to our future involvement in Syria is unclear.  One of Mr. Trump's campaign promises was to never get involved there. Now, by his actions, apparently, that policy has changed - or, has it?

Also, I am perplexed by the incongruity of an administration that one week BANS Syrian refugees, including desperate women and children, and in the next strikes their oppressors with vicious conviction. Unfortunately, this seems to be the modus operandi of this President and his administration. Mercurial is his way and we are left to interpret his meaning.

Only time will tell if this was the proper decision made for the right reasons at the correct time.

Today's MOZEN: SCREED

F LoBuono

There must be a way.

There has to be a way.

We can't continue on this path.

It's a world on edge - closer and closer to insanity.

Reason has gone to shit.

Intelligence is mocked.

Truth is denied.

What is left when we lose our humanity?

Where is courage?

There is no one else to blame.

We are the captains of our fate.

Don't look to the heavens for the answer.

It lies within. . . Each of us.

Today's MOZEN: Stay Hungry

F loBuono

When young children are frightened, they draw inwards. They are less open to people, ideas, and, therefore, learning. If a child was to grow up to live his or her entire life in some type of fear or mistrust, it is obvious that they would be "less complete" as adults. However, as we mature, we (at least most of us) begin to open and experience life without (or with less) fear, leading to a fuller, more productive existence. We learn more. We do more. We live more.

So it is with the government.

I think that we may see government as having a personality. That personality is shaped by the people who form it. They set the pace. That is a good thing - that's (supposedly) why these folks got elected in the first place. And, so is the case with the Trump administration. To their credit, they are creating the society that they promised they would. To simplify, at least in my mind, what that society represents is embodied in the President's America First platform.

On the surface, what's wrong with taking care of one's own first, right? But, when you look at it more deeply as a philosophy, you see how short term the thinking is. It's mostly based on fear, not strength. Like a frightened child, the Country is being drawn inwards. We are becoming less open to people, ideas, and, therefore learning (see paragraph 1, sentence 2). This may provide temporary comfort but it also stifles positive growth. Unfortunately, it seems that virtually every action by the government, be it Executive or Legislative, seems to be taking us in that direction. And, for better or worse, the world is taking notice.

There is a wonderfully obscure movie called Stay Hungry that stars Jeff Bridges and a very young Arnold Schwarzenegger. Bridges plays the rebellious heir to a Southern families dynasty and is fascinated by the sub-culture of bodybuilding. It is within this environment that he meets Arnold. Bridges is amazed by the intensity of Schwarzenegger's workouts and tells him so. Arnold responds by saying:

well, you can't grow without burning!

So, it is with America - you can't grow without burning.

To achieve the greatest results we have to do difficult things with open minds and hearts. To draw inwards is to live in fear and that has NEVER been the American way! And, that's another thing that I don't quite understand. The America that I know has always been fearless, open, protective of not only its own people and our best interests, but those of the world at large, too. THIS is leading. But, there is always an element of risk in leading. And, there always will be. We have always been willing to take that risk. So, why do the people who profess their tenacity about America and American values fail to see the weakness in the current approach of isolationism?

Bold people, bold nations do not live in fear. They do not cower. They do not look for excuses. They keep open minds and hearts. And, they lead.

The Peg-Board 4/5/2017: Menopause

Gentleman, its not our fault....its really not.......I once read a quote that said "Middle age is a unending insult"....and not until now did I get it.......although unless I'm still kicking at 96, I'm past middle age, it's happening now....right now...as we speak.....this thing called Menopause.....When i was a kid, my mother used to keep frozen hand towels in the freezer for her "hot flashes".....and she was always screaming and yelling...and 5 seconds later laughing at Carol Burnett..........she would just break down, or go for a walk by herself........I always thought it was because she had 7 kids (could of been part of it)....but she was going through "The Changes".....back then mothers just suffered in silence.....but I'm telling ya...the struggle is real.....never in my life did i know my thighs could just break out in a sweat.....or I would cry because my kid broke a "jelly jar", and I guess we just cant have nice things........and what the frig is with the weird increase of hair growth?....why do I suddenly have Madonna Poppa Don't Preach eyebrows?........and sleep?.....Yes, I can totally fall asleep......and sleep like a baby......until 4 a.m........What is that about?.....I'm not Amish.....I don't need to churn butter..........Menopause.....Change of life....whatever you wanna call it.....it blows ......I totally get it now Mom......

Today's MOZEN: No Substitute for Experience

F LoBuono

In the Academy Award winning film, Platoon (1983), one of the main characters is Sgt. Elias, played brilliantly by actor Willem Defoe. Elias, in a sense, is the conscious of the platoon, fighting for survival in the dense jungle warfare of Vietnam. He is a fierce and accomplished warrior but, at the same time, never loses his compassion. This is in direct conflict with the more brutal approach of the platoon's leader, Staff Sgt. Barnes, played with chilling effectiveness by Tom Berenger.

As is noted in the film and supported by statistics, most casualties in that war occurred within the first few weeks a soldier spent "in country", when raw troops were first exposed to combat. This, of course, makes sense: inexperienced soldiers make rookie mistakes that are often fatal. This fact was complicated by the attitude of the more seasoned soldiers who made little effort to share their own experiences with the younger ones. In a way, they were isolating themselves emotionally from the new recruits whom they felt were mostly doomed anyway.

Elias confronts Barnes, charging that if they made just a little effort to share their experience about survival in the jungle with the new men, more of them would live past the first few weeks in the bush. Both of them had survived long enough to know all the tricks of the trade - not just the ones taught in the Army field manual and basic training. Both knew that only the knowledge that comes from practical experience would help them to survive. There is a wonderful scene from the film where Elias puts his theory into practice with a new arrival, Chris, played most capably by Charlie Sheen. After a grueling hike through the dense jungle, Elias notices that Chris is exhausted from hauling all of his gear through the bush. He goes to Chris and asks to see what he has in his backpack. Elias, handling each item one at a time, distinguishes what is essential and what is not. What is not necessary is discarded, lightening Chris' load and, therefore, burden, considerably. This, of course, could prove crucial in a firefight. Without the benefit of Elias' intervention, Chris would simply continue to struggle, attempting to find his own way through the fog of war.

One of my father's favorite slogans was, "there's no substitute for experience". He repeated it constantly. In fact, he lived by it. I always wondered if it was cemented into his psyche during his time as a combat engineer in WWII (he survived 2 years of heavy fighting). Wherever it came from, it was burned into my own ethos. And, I use it in my own career as a teacher.

I am not "formally" trained as a journalist. I was a microbiology major in college with dreams of attending medical school. When that didn't work out, I went searching for a new career and found it working in television. I started on the ground floor and worked my way up. In a career that has now spanned nearly 35 years, I have experienced virtually every aspect of TV News and production: from assistant to manager, from studio to field, there a few aspects of TV journalism that I have not been exposed to. And, THAT is what I share with my students. Just as Sgt. Elias prioritized the essentials from Chris' backpack, I do the same for my students. I use my extensive, PRACTICAL experience to inform them of what is important to know and what is not. I use traditional texts and computer websites for the basics but, just like Elias, what I have actually SEEN and DONE  determines what is necessary to know and what can be "discarded".

Teaching - and, LEARNING - can be accomplished in many ways. But, in the end, the best way, in my opinion, is the use of personal, practical experience. There is NO substitute - indeed.

Today's MOZEN: Ergo Ego

F LoBuono

There is little doubt that I have a healthy ego. Some might find that an understatement, claiming it's FAR more than just healthy. In fact, I've heard it described as enormous. This may be true, but I would tend to disagree. I have a strong sense of who I am and what I am good at. BUT, I am also cognizant of what I just plain suck at - and, that's plenty! I am never falsely modest - I AM good at many things, but not all. This gives me a sense of balance. That's why I say that my ego should be seen as healthy, not YUGE.

I would counter that our President, Donald J. Trump, is the one suffering with ego issues. In every word, every deed, and, seemingly, EVERY thought, Mr. Trump trips all over his. And, this should not be a surprise to anyone. He has exhibited this behavior long before he even considered running for President. Every interview before, during, and since, especially if it personally involves his deeds, is filled with self-aggrandizing accolades like (H)YUGE, GREAT, ENORMOUS, FANTASTIC, and the GREATEST EVER. Furthermore, you must BELIEVE him simply because he says so. THAT is an enormous ego and he falls all over it all of the time. And, it will prove to be his downfall.

Without balance, there can be no compromise. Without compromise, nothing of value can ultimately be accomplished. And, this is exactly what is happening in Washington. Mr. Trump's enormous ego drives every decision that is now being made in Washington. And, this is creating even more of the dysfunction that he promised to eradicate. EVERYTHING done by this administration seems to be calculated to increase Mr. Trump's power, visiblity and status, regardless of whether it seems to be good for the majority of the Country or not. If it's good for Mr. Trump than it's good - PERIOD. The President can SAY that he wants to help YOU, but it is his ACTION that says ME, ME, ME.

Well, what you see is what you get - a man who's very presence SCREAMS look at me; the hair, the girth, the spray-on tan, the attitude of I'm better than everyone. THAT, my friends, is an ENORMOUS EGO - a trait that, in the end, makes for poor leadership. Until he finds that balance, he is doomed to be a legend in his own mind only. . .