Needed to pop into the hospital for some tests….hate that……go in healthy, come out sick….is the way I see it.  Or, worse, you don’t come out at all!  Hospitals are the shopping malls for bespoke diseases in my opinion.  But, anyway….storm warnings all day long. Everybody stay hunkered down!  Meetings cancelled, visitors stay home. The ferry runs 1/3 full.

But we have stuff to do!  First thing is that I may have sold my ‘parts’ bike, the 1976 Honda XL.  Secondly, the guy wanted to have a look at that damn clutch that isn’t working on the other bike….so, I reassembled them both and wheeled them across the deck to the upper funicular.  Carefully putting a 300 pound bike in a stepped, two-level cart perched high on a hill doesn’t always go well.  This time it did.  I should have waited for Sal but she was at quilting.  Got it down to the lower deck but simply could not get it off on my own.  So, then I waited.

Sal came back early and helped.  We half-lifted it down a ramp-from-the-cart and rolled it to the second lower cart.  I got the bike on to the cart, Sal went to get her boat.  I lowered the cart into the water and when Sal was alongside, wheeled it onto her little 11 foot skateboard.  The bike is almost 8 feet long.  Top heavy on that boat.

We propped it standing and off she went – looking between the rear spokes to see where she was going.  Seas flat, dead calm until some Trumpy went screaming right by her to get a look.  The boat rocked, the bike moved, the props fell out and so she used her strong left arm to keep it standing til the waves passed and then she replaced the prop.

I went ahead in my boat, got the truck, went to the beach, placed the back luggage carrier into the tow-hitch and got ready for her arrival.  She came in too fast, hit a rock, the boat rocked hard, the prop fell out, the bike began to fall.  Sal threw herself between the bike and the edge of the boat and was pinned – half in, half-out.  Inches from the water. One leg soaked. One leg pinned.  Bike was good.

We eventually got her sorted and the bike off the boat and onto the beach.  Then we pushed it up to the car and mounted it onto the carrier.  That was hard.  Then we drove it up the hill with the car and off-loaded it and into the trailer we have at the top.

Then we went back for bike #2.  Repeat.

By the time we were done, it had taken hours and we were tired so we went home and, the next day, left for the city (Campbell River).  First we attached the trailer to the Pathfinder.  Then we drove down the logging road.  Damn logging trucks needed passing.  Sometimes that can get dicey.  But we got there, found the guy and unloaded the bikes.  Then we went about doing our other chores.  Another town day so soon on the heels of the last one usually makes it a light trip but we got the truck loaded somehow.  Stayed at a B&B that night.

Next day.  Tests.  Everyone in the hospital talking about the BIG storm coming.  So, we decided to cut this trip short and make a bee-line home.  Maybe beat the worst of it.  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, sweetie, I bought an old treadle sewing machine.  We gotta pick it up on our way home.”

And, so we did that.

Now we are packed.  Plywood on the roof, machine on the carrier and the interior stuffed full of crap.

Got back to the boat.  Sky was like lead.  Air was even heavy.  Waters calm, tho. Felt like impending doom.  Got home.  Unloaded everything in five minutes onto the BRILLIANT lower funicular and went to tie the boat up.  Then we did our re-stocking of the home with the new crap jammed onto the old crap and we now have enough crap to keep busy til the end of time.

“So, what exactly do you DO all day all alone out there, anyway?”  

“Nothing much.  At our age, things can get a little dangerous.  Gardening mostly.  You know… and Netflix, reading, turning the compost…..couple glasses of wine.  That kind of thing.”

“Sounds nice, but I would be bored.  I need the city.  It’s the excitement, ya know?  Starbucks and all?”

My last blog was not clear.  I apologize for that.  Buttons pressed, I tended to tangents.  But clarity is the whole point of writing. So I am going to re-state what I said in the last blog more cogently, I hope.  And briefly.  Sorry.

1. Sexual behaviour in our era has been radically modified from times past. Some of it very recently.  And some of it I find a bit weird.  Almost all of it I find hypocritical.  And it has become a news topic ‘out of all proportion‘ as far as I am concerned.  Further to that, men and women have been to’ing and fro’ing over what constitutes ‘acceptable’ forever and it would seem apparent to anyone that the twain shall never fully meet. NOT completely. BUT WE OBVIOUSLY WORK IT OUT WELL ENOUGH TO KEEP US GOING AS A SPECIES.  Gender politics is the original never-ending story.
2.  Trump should be condemned for his ‘locker room’ banter (mostly because it is not presidential nor is it common in the locker rooms I have been in but walking home after the game with your teammates…well, that is sometimes different), to be sure but, to my mind, he should have been condemned far more for his attacks on the Khan family, Muslims and Mexicans.  And a rich man running for president who has not paid taxes in his country for almost twenty years is beyond my comprehension.  How is he even eligible?
3. The Republican party as a whole turned a blind eye to all the major flaws in his character but when he said he ‘groped pussy‘, they drew the line!  What the hell kind of value system is that?  A man acts like a pig by groping is enough to condemn him but hate-speech on Muslims and Mexicans is not? And they are PROUD of him for NOT paying taxes?  That says so much about the Republican party.
4. No woman likes to be violated.  In any way.  Neither does any man.  But women have been voluntarily accepting compensation for sexual violation since the beginning of time. They have made an industry of it.  Not all women, of course, but many.  Especially in the USA.  Money, it seems, ‘makes it all better’.  And I find that behaviour deplorable, too.  And all too common. Tell me I am wrong……………. ?

OK………….on to the debate.  The media have it for Hillary.  The occasional commentator says Trump won primarily because he did not fold and implode.  I think they both won.  Hillary because she actually spoke like a proper presidential candidate and because the Donald was back in his typical clown-ish way after having been beaten up badly by the ‘grope’ story.  But…. (clarity at stake here)….they both lost.  

They both lost a helluva lot!  NOT for themselves but for the office they are trying to gain.  The big loser in the debate was the status and esteem of the Oval Office.  No longer is that hallowed ground viewed as a modern day Mt. Olympus.  It is now viewed at street level.  I saw the gutters.  It is a rooming house on the bad side of town.  If these people are vying to live there, I, for one, prefer my place.  In fact, I might prefer a clean Motel 6 over that stinky joint.  They debased the White House simply by being there and talking like that.

There were times during the debate, I actually cringed.  The conversation was so coarse that I was embarrassed for them.  Had Robert DeNiro walked on stage and punched the Donald in the face, I would not have been in the least surprised.

Someone should have.

That Trump is an outrageous pig is no longer news.  We’ve known that for some time.  In fact, they say ‘all men are pigs’ and I have to oink to that.  But, as Orwell wrote, some pigs are more equal than others and so Trump is clearly piggy #1.  At least this week.

I propose that we all get behind condemning piggery and pass laws and impose sanctions and generally join together in setting our collective hair on fire.  And chant:  Bad piggies!  (I am being sarcastic!)

Because, actually we have already done all that.  We have passed laws, created new behaviours and changed the social status of the genders and we have all burnt our hair clean off for the last thirty or forty politically correct, holier-than-thou years.

In fact, the topic is off the rails.  We now officially hate piggies even to the extent that a man is condemned for looking-with-lust at a woman.  If she has been breast and lip enhanced, made up to the hilt and is semi-nude, we still really should NOT stare.  It’s rude.  Talking to her may even constitute harassment.  That’s crazy!

So, let’s just say: that men-are-pigs is a given.  And we hate piggies.  We all hate piggies.  Piggies are bad.  Hmmm….that kinda means all men are bad, too, doesn’t it?  But, don’t we just have to learn to get along….like we have for eons?

Except gay men.  Or men who dress up as women.  Or change their bodies to become women.  There is nothing wrong with that.  Flirting?  Bad.  Gender modification?  Good.  Sex in 2017?  Weird.  

Unless, of course, the pigs are rich.  If they are rich, then they ‘can do whatever they want.’  That’s what Trump said.  And we know it is true.  We have seen plenty of evidence of money buying ‘accepted behaviour’ from women.  In fact, money-buying-acceptance from a woman is the oldest profession, is it not?

And, if they are rich, are they not fair game?  Can’t we say and do anything to get them?

So, rich pig #1 walks into a room and acts like a pig to a woman.  She is appalled. Outraged. Furious at the violation of her person.  She is gonna have the bad-boy arrested.  Unless, of course, he then pays her some money.  Then, it is OK.  So, poor pigs get prosecuted, condemned, shunned and vilified but rich ones enjoy pleasant interludes with the smiling beauties.

Money makes it all right?

Am I missing something…………?

It is also true that 50 Shades of Grey – a novel about sado-masochistic sexual behaviours – was a best seller.  AMONGST WOMEN!  It is also true that Kim Kardashian is famous and celebrated primarily for having a big butt.  It is also true that most of us ordinary piggies are gentlemen and behave ourselves.

What the hell………?

One could be forgiven for thinking that there is a weird, double-standard about our current views on sexuality that pivots not on morality, gender equality or even the safety of women but, rather, on the wealth and celebrity of the man or woman involved.  Trump is a rich piggie, thus a target.  Melania scored a bullseye on Fifth Avenue.  He was her target.  They are both living their dream.  None of our business.

But his campaign made it our business and this black hole of society’s sexual hypocrisy is obviously sick.

And confusing………

Especially for Trump.  He has been ‘doing this’ for decades.

There was some woman who claimed that he was a pig (groping, attempted rape) while she and her husband were doing business with him in Florida.  FOR SIX YEARS!  Then she divorced her husband and later dated Trump because ‘she was scared about her future’.  Then she left Trump with a ‘settlement’.

And now Trump is condemned by her and everyone else for his pigginess.  NOW? Of all times to complain about his pig slop, NOW is the time?  And they quote her?

Please do not get me wrong.  I am not defending Trump.  He is indefensible. Readers know my feelings about him.  He is way, way worse than just being a spoiled rotten piggy.  And I understand that NOW is a good time politically to drive a few more nails in to his custom, self-made coffin.  Go for it.

But American/western and even most foreign cultures either encourage, condone or accept that women flock to rich and powerful men.  They bait their hook for even really ugly ones.  And it is not because the men have great personalities.  It is because they have great big wallets and everyone knows that.

And now, in western society, if it does not go as the ‘hooker’ planned, they can sue and press charges?

I am NOT defending Trump or even lecherous behaviour. I am condemning our duplicitous social values and, in particular, the GOP that could turn a blind eye to everything else Trump but the word PUSSY.  What the hell is wrong with those people? 

If we are going to condemn Trump for acting like a pig (and we should), we also have to ask the women what they were doing being voluntarily in the same pen with him.   And, if the answer is apparent and obvious, we should just send the little piggies to separate corners and let them both wallow in their own filth.

Before you say it: I know that some women just innocently wandered within his grab-o-sphere. That’s different.  I know that.  

But my main point: no more collectively setting our hair-on-fire over this kind of crap! 

Jus’ sayin’………..

Town day yesterday.  Same ol’, same ol’.  Trek in, run around, split-when-exhausted and dog-schlep the last leg to load stuff in-and-out-of-the-boat as dusk turns to dark.  That part is now routine monthly restocking and somewhat normal going for us. But yesterday was the first big storm of the nasty season.  Lots of dire warnings.

We were trying to be quick-like-bunnies. The idea was to start early, get it all done and escape the worst of it before it comes down like the hammer of Thor. And we mostly succeeded.  Soaked to the skin but setting a fire in the house just as the skies opened and dumped a literal waterfall, we did manage to beat the worst of it. Biggest plus was getting unloaded while the seas were still calm.

Can’t say as I was calm the whole day, myself, tho.

We so much appreciate the extra effort that town-folks usually give outer-islanders when they know you are on a ‘town-day’  Their usually casual and molasses pace picks up and they help you keep to schedule.  As a rule.  But, as a rule, we do not ‘play’ the outer-islander card unless stressed or simply by way of explaining why ‘coming back tomorrow’ doesn’t work for us.  It’s all usually pretty good.

So good, in fact, I decided to try calling ahead to have orders ready this time.  You know, storm and all?

That didn’t work.  The doctor’s office was supposed to call the pharmacy days before (even with an extra reminder the day before) but hadn’t.  Sal placed the call back to them while standing in front of the pharmacist who was annoyed that Sal was using the phone!  The doctor’s receptionist said, “Oh!  Oh, yeah.  I’ll do it now.”

That’s pathetic.  Sal would have been quicker carrying the paper.  That little hiccup added over an hour to the trip.  Why?  Because our order had to go into the ‘queue’ as per store policy.

I needed some more lumber and parts.  So, I called the BIG store and made the order.  “It will all be here except we don’t cut lumber til you are present.”  “OK.  Fair enough.  But every time I do that, your ‘cutter’ seems to be on a break or has disappeared.  Takes forever.  I’ll pay double.  Can you get it done?”  “Sorry sir, against store policy but tell me when you are coming in and I will make sure our guy is there.”  I told him.  And I went there.  And the guy was there.  17 years old.  First day on the job.  Couldn’t find the wood.  Barely found the saw.  Worked like a sloth on Valium.

He had to cut four sheets of plywood in half lengthwise.  I saw him do one.

“Yo! Dude.  Small hint:  You can run all four sheets at once.  Saves time, makes better cuts and all the pieces are the same.”

“Huh?  Sorry, sir, you are not supposed to be on that side of the line……..”  So, I stepped off.  That transaction took 50 minutes.  If I waited for him to lash the materials to the car, we’d still be there.

Last stop was to check in at the doctor’s office.  She had forgotten to get a BP reading while on her ‘remote rounds’ the other day and they love BP readings.  I like her so I was willing to do that.  But, knowing me, if I had to sit in the waiting room for no bloody reason for more than ten minutes, my readings would be off the scale.

AND I had just experienced an unforgettable hour with sloth-boy and then the always frustrating BC ferry.

“How ’bout I just tell you what my blood pressure is and we can all save time?”  

“I’ll just be a sec,” said the nurse, as she wrote in a file and ate some apple slices.

“Sit in the chair with armrests and we can do it in the waiting room.”

I sat.  Calmed myself down and started counting back from 600 (that’s ten minutes). I have had a personal policy for years: I keep my appointments.  Always.  You (whoever you are) get a 15 minute ‘allowance’.  After that, I am gone.  That applies to doctors, lawyers, gangsters and royalty as much as it does to anyone.  I keep my appointments. And I leave if you don’t keep yours.  She was quick enough, tho, but she could see I was ‘verging’ on leaving.

“Tough day?”

“Town day.  Always stressful.  Makes me tense.  And tense makes me grouchy. Grouchy makes me dangerous (i then growled at her).  I am generally a lot sweeter than this.  Cuter, too.  I’d try to get more likable for ya but that would take time and would actually make me worse.”

“Hahahaahahah……..”  (She thought I was joking)..“You said that you could guess your blood pressure…?”

“Yeah.  Days like this, 145/90.  Days at home: 120/80.”

“OK, let’s see…………………wow!  117/74.  Looks like you are handling the day rather well.”

We rarely say the time around here.  But when it is nearing dinner time, we tend to fix on it and say it out loud because Sal does not like to drink her first glass of wine before 5:00.  So, we KNOW 5:00 to the second.  And, when we are working on a project, we naturally seem to KNOW 2:00 pm approximately well (plus or minus ten minutes) because it is then we naturally need a tea-break.  But, basically, other than those two ’embedded’ inner clock-times, we are less than accurate, not enslaved by and less than conscious of the time.

We wake up when we want to which is anywhere from 7:00 to 8:30 am.  We retire to bed and a spell of reading whenever we want to and that ranges from 9:00 to 10:30…sometimes 11:00.  So, we are regular but not predictable, scheduled but not by the clock.  In fact, I never wear a watch anymore and, unlike most people today, I don’t carry a cellphone either so I never KNOW the time exactly.

But I am pretty good judging from where the sun is at.  I can get within 15 minutes or so if I work at it.

NOT knowing the time out here has few drawbacks, but it has one.  When you lose track of the time, by the hours, you tend to graduate that habit to losing track of the days as well. I am currently entering my senior years anyway and so I am adding the months forgotten to the syndrome now, too.  I hardly know what month we are in until we are at least a week into it.  I never seem to know what day of the week it is.

Missed my son’t birthday this month.  Only by a day.  He’s not the type to care, anyway.  But I did.  I only remembered because I saw the date on something and it prompted a reminder and it was a reminder a day late.  No big deal.  But clearly I have been swallowed by Island time.  I am a local yokel now.  At any given moment, I don’t know what time it is, I do not know what day it is and, half the time, I am not even sure of the month.

Apparently, those are the first questions doctors and emergency responders ask the patient if they suspect brain damage, concussion or dementia.  “Do you know your name?  Do you know what day it is?  Do you know what month or year it is?  Who is the president of the United States?”

“Uh, my name is Dave but you can call me ‘sweetie-pie’.  I answer better to that.  I have no idea of the time, the day, the month or the year.  And, God forbid, the president might be Donald Trump.”

The nurse turns to the attending physician, “He’ totally out of it, doc.  Completely whacked. Maybe too much pressure on the brain..may have to chop the top of his head off…waddya think?”

Disclaimer: I know nothing.  Not even as much as Sgt. Schultz did.

The world’s economy is flat.  Slow-to-non existent growth.  Inflation around 1%. Interest rates (at government levels) practically zero.  Many countries employing or considering negative interest rates.  And forecasters see nothing but more of the same for the near future.

Woe is us.

“US, kemo sabe?”

Not me.  Not my friends.  Your average wage earner has been fighting uphill against inflation, stagnating wages and decreasing government investment for decades. ‘US’ welcomes flat.  No one getting an increase in wages ever wants the prices they have to pay to rise to erase that increase.  ‘Leave it stagnate, for Gawd’s sake!  I may have a chance to catch up.’

So, what’s the problem?  For the average Joe, there is no problem except that wage increases are also just as unlikely so the stagnation is happening BEFORE they had a chance to catch up.

But that is NOT the economic problem being discussed today – not by the economists and governments and institutions and, maybe even the corporations.  Those groups have the foundation of their financial projections firmly affixed to SOME level of inflation.  Decades ago, an acquaintance of mine was the president of a major insurance company and he told me, “Everything is based on a 5% inflation.  Our investments, our payouts, our premiums our everything…5%.  We need 5% inflation just to continue in business.”  

So, they are not happy.  And that is why the governments have been still pumping in the cash (quantitative easing).  They WANT inflation.  The idea is to have so much money floating around, we all borrow cheaply and buy like crazy thus heating up the economy and creating the feedback cycle of inflation.

It’s not working.

So now these very same ‘experts’ are wondering why…..  “Geez, why ain’t this working?  I went to Harvard.  I worked at Goldman’s.  I know the economy.  THIS should work.  But….it isn’t?”

Our Harvard/Goldman geniuses know spreadsheets and Friedman and Derivatives. They know M1, M2, M3 and all the other sexy ‘M’s.  They even know how to short credit default swaps and currency futures.  These guys are smart cookies!

But they don’t seem to know people.  Not real people.  And ordinary people, for the most part, are THE essential part of economics.  In fact, economics is really just psychology-in-numbers-of-people-in-numbers.

In other words; most economists – focusing on just their numbers – are dickheads.

Well, not completely…..they have identified the increase in savings and the decrease in borrowing but they don’t know why.  They have identified the unpredictable China influence but they don’t quite know what it is.  They have acknowledged wealth disparity but haven’t made the connection that it inhibits the losers from buying – and creates MORE losers all the time.  They are smelling the smells but haven’t quite identified what’s cooking.

And they are missing a really big elephant in the room.

Baby boomers drove the economy for the last three decades and they are entering the non-accumulation stage of life.  They are downsizing.  They buy less.  They don’t buy real estate unless they sold one worth more and bought something worth less.  They do NOT lust after big fins on shiny cars anymore.  And the old TV works just fine.  And, really, do they need a new I-phone 10 when their I-phone 4 works just fine?  Don’t forget, the first tranche of boomers is even going to bed a lot earlier.

Hard to pump up the local bar and restaurant when you are horizontal and curled up with a good book.

Exacerbating the increasingly slow spenders on slow food and slow cars is the poor, impoverished generation following dolefully (both sense of the word, ‘dole’ as in welfare) behind unable to even afford to rent.  This hapless group has been dubbed the sharing generation and part of that is not idealistic but forced. They ride bikes because it is cheaper.  And healthier.  But cheaper comes first.

In other words, two whole, huge segments of the first world’s population simply are not in spending mode.  And they won’t be until Generation Boom dies off and leaves Generation Share their inheritance.

And there is more.  It goes back to Adam Smith’s basic principle of supply and demand.  If there are only ten phones and one thousand people want them, the price goes up.  But, if there are a thousand phones (thank you, China) and there are only ten customers, the price goes down.  Simple, basic economics, right?

Not quite.  Phones are not like loaves of bread.  We need bread every day.  One phone will likely do you for a long time.  Especially if you are old and still use the phone to just make phone calls.  So, innovators innovate and offer up I-phone Mark ll. Mark lll comes next.

But, in a dynamic society where the next generation was integrated early into the BIG game, light-blasting, molecular transporters would come next, NOT I-phone Mark XX.  In other words, by losing generation ‘share’, the world has stagnated in innovation, too.  Those kids living in your basement are NOT experimenting and taking risks except, perhaps, with drugs and video games.  They are NOT the new Edisons, Fords or even Musks.

Plus, the products are just NOT as sexy.  The customers-with-money are old and so are the products on the shelf.  Seen one big screen TV, seen ’em all.  The problem with the planned obsolescence economy is that the cycle gets faster and faster as the market gets older and slower.

Ironically, in the age of technology, it is innovation that is missing in the market place.

One more crazy point: Real estate.  Real estate has been a major driver in the economy since boomers hit their reproductive years.  And it will continue to be a force because the population of the world hasn’t dropped.  But the big global bubble is over.  Maybe NOT for some places because Chinese money and Russian money is fleeing and looking for a haven and because more and more places are becoming unlivable but, for the most part, the big, initial, post-war baby boom demand is done.  The only reason it is still a bit of a factor is that mortgage rates are so low.

But that is like blowing on the embers of a dying fire.

So, what’s in store?  I dunno….I am not an economist.  But I know me.  I am a very typical, ordinary guy.  I am so average that Stats Canada once wanted me to pose on a brochure as the average Canadian.  So, the way I am feeling is the way a lot of boomers are feeling.  And I recently told a real estate hustler (in Panama) that I wouldn’t buy real estate ever again.  I won’t live long enough.  Like George Burns once famously said, “I do not even buy green bananas.  I even have to pay for a three-minute egg in advance at my local coffee shop!”

Ol’ Dave is just NOT a major consumer anymore (exception: one Yamaha outboard sometime, someday, maybe).

We MAY invest in what keeps us alive longer (pills and healthcare) but even that has limitations.  At a certain point, you don’t care enough to take your pills.  And, when that happens, it will herald a new economic time.  When we boomers go, things will start up again – missing, sadly, a lost generation to the basement suite – but it will start up again.

One possible exception to that forecast as I see it: if the planet gets any more toxic, the world will ‘innovate’ as fast as they can to survive.  That may work.  It may not.   

I kinda promised to NOT copy Howard’s blog and this violates that.  BUT, in my defense, this part (being quoted) is from one of his readers and the writing and the content are great.  I think he/she nailed it.  Trump is a Salesman-to-the-max.

“In the responses to my blogs, some are critical; others are laudatory. But sometimes they offer a very different angle to my own, but usually a complementary one. The feedback below is an excellent example”.  Howard

READER RESPONSE: Trump and Heidegger

This is by no means a defense of Trump, just some musings about his psychology and the context in which he thinks he is operating. Trump, posing as the Republican candidate, can afford to be more openly critical of the prevailing system, given that he, as it happens, is its opponent.  His voter base is the people, who did not vote for the current president and are highly critical of him and want change at almost any price, thinking: “Anything is better than what we have got to put up with now.”  The candidate whose followers expect a radical change always has an easier time as there are always enough angry, hurt, disenchanted, disappointed, anxious people who are the most sympathetic audience to work with. Their being receptive to any pitch you hurl at them is a given: they are psychologically available to your promises of change. All marketing works like this: it exploits your neediness, offering solutions and ointments to your perceived or real vulnerabilities.

Trump, the seasoned salesman, recognizes this fertile context of anger and vulnerability and exploits it instinctively. He does this, not because he has high ideals to serve the people, but because he wants to show that he can make this most prestigious sale.  It is an irresponsible game of thrones to him – it is not about truth or public service. His comment “I got him to produce his birth certificate” is telling.  In hindsight, Trump still prides himself, and considers the whole affair as his personal triumph because, as an ordinary citizen, he succeeded in forcing the president to present his documents; the actual substantial outcome, namely, that after all, the president was found to possess the birthright to serve is irrelevant at this point (perhaps it was irrelevant all along?). I still believe the whole presidency is only important to Trump as a further proof of the strength of his pitch: he does not really want to be a president for any other, more profound or noble reasons.  I can imagine him after winning to shrug and smirk and boast: “I showed you, didn’t I?” and secretly wonder just what the hell he is gonna do now with this burdensome responsibility…he will probably sabotage it and welcome an impeachment.

When Trump is caught at being inconsistent or lying, he can shrug it off because in the moment he had uttered those inanities they sounded, at least to him, like the right line to convince the customer to buy his product.  Like a used car salesman who begins pitching the car with the heated seats, until the customer complains that she is suffering from hot flushes, in which moment the salesman promptly switches the lines to extol the virtues of the superior AC system. This is not about truth or analysis, but about tuning in on the vulnerability of the buyer and promptly offering the snake oil treatment. In this sense, Trump is “other-oriented” like no one else, albeit for totally self-serving reasons, to be sure.

That’s why he did not prepare for the debate; he trusted his radar to detect the emotions of his listeners and zero in on them to beat them that way; he had no idea that his key listeners, his opponent and the moderator were skilled in poker face, much more than his usual crowd; that a debate like this required a preconceived strategy, ideas and analysis and a cool and detached demeanor.  Trump did what he always does; he kept melodramatically reciting the problems of the system as perceived by him, in order to heat up the room: that is an excellent starting point in marketing, but not so great in a debate.  He was clearly out of his element there…that’s why he appeared sulking, making faces, unable to control his emotions, resorting to jabs, falling into his opponent’s words, and ultimately outright denying everything when he felt cornered (if we lived in the Victorian era, he could have perhaps strategically fainted and clamored for his smelling salts).

Strangely, Trump fulfilled the stereotype of why some people think feminine persons cannot lead, while Hillary performed according to the stereotype of a strong masculine leader: controlled (almost to the point of an automaton); prepared, speaking coherently and clearly (albeit in a somewhat schoolmarmish manner, monotonously over pronouncing her rehearsed lines), and showing great stamina – yes, stamina – taking her opponent’s childish kicking the table during the whole dinner with a pained, yet benevolent smile.  The funny thing is that Trump, despite all, may win the sympathy of some voters, precisely because of this open-book readability of his emotional states while Hillary’s behavior, wearing an impenetrable mask interspersed with toothy full smiles that seem as if they could be turned on and off with the press of a button, most of the time wholly unjustified by the situation, is ultimately a turn-off.

I don’t have to apologize for a political blog this time.  Everyone is talking about the ‘debate’.  Some pub in Vancouver promoted the event (like a prizefight complete with Don King) and expected 75 people to show up.  Four hundred came.

We live in the forest in another country and we still watched…along with people in Ethiopia and Chile and Mozambique.  They reported that over 100 million watched the debate and I am sure that is an underestimate.  

I think they just counted the ‘Mericans, when they reported that.  Hell, they were even quoting people in Sierra Leonne and the Ivory Coast!  

But that is the ‘spectacle’ that has become this presidential election.  Sad.  Weird. Unprecedented and so incredibly ‘Merican.  Celebrity Politicians!

In some way, I suppose, we should be glad.  The electorate is engaged.  There will be a turnout…likely a modern record turnout.  That’s a good thing for a democracy.

But maybe they WON’T turn out.  That, too, might happen.  So many Republicans are so completely disgusted at their nominee that many will NOT vote so it may SEEM like voter ambivalence (if there is a low turnout) but NOT voting has always been more of a protest than lethargy.  It is NOT necessarily ambivalence.

Everyone knows when an election is being held and the majority everywhere clearly don’t like their choices most of the time so many simply do not vote. In 2008 the Canadian Conservatives got only 37.6 per cent of the votes cast by only 59 per cent of those eligible who actually voted.  No one liked anyone in that case.  Bluntly put: we don’t like career politicians….we just don’t.

And so it may be in the US this time around.

But this time I think they will vote.  The choice is SOOOOO bad, it will prompt voting.

I, frankly, thought Clinton wiped the floor with Trump.  She nailed him and, where she may have missed a nail or two, he filled in with his own self-crucifixion.  “That’s called doing business” was his response to his ‘bottom feeding’ after the 2007/08 financial crash.  Even Wall Street winced at that.

But this is NOT about the Donald or the Hillary.  You have had that from smarter people than me.  And it is NOT about democracy or the sham, lies and crap that go with it either.

This is about something very much smaller.  This blog is about the superficiality of –not only the so-called debates — but the spectacle, made-for-TV nature of the serious business that is managing the United States.  The job itself, has been sullied, demeaned and made into a reality-cum-celebrity show.

My first response – had I been in Hillary’s shoes – would have been humiliation and embarrassment.  ‘Surely, after all these years and all that I have done, right or wrong, I should not have to stoop to this!’

Even the announcer on the website I was watching before the almost-a-sitcom-show began said, “The Trump team is already celebrating.  That they have actually come this far, to this elevated stage is a major accomplishment for them!”  

It was notable because it was so true.  Trump should never have gotten past the doorman.

And, why do I say all this….?  Well, as a Canadian, I am pleased that we threw Harper as far into oblivion as we could — far short of where he will eventually end up, I am sure.  But then we went with a ‘pretty boy’.  Just-in has no experience.  He has not got ‘chops’.  He is still ‘just a celebrity’. Like a Kardashian.  Lots of show.  Not much ‘go’.  Not yet, anyway.

To be fair, it was enough that he put a nice Canadian face on what was previously a mean-spirited, haughty, arrogant, paranoid official position (Harper).  But image only goes so far.  He has to make some really good moves.  And he already dropped the ball on site C (Peace River).  He’s good looking but, so far, that’s all he has shown.

And that is the point.  That is what I am saying.  Have we become so shallow that all you have to do is look good, be rich, have a trophy wife or talk dirty?  Have we all become so vulgar, base and coarse that not only our movies and entertainment is gutter-level but so — NOW — are our politicians?

I suppose I shouldn’t complain.  If we all are really that stupid and primitive, I may have a chance at being an elected politician after all.

Some of the folks out here decided to host a harvest lunch to celebrate the bounty the summer yields.  They invited the whole community to the event.  Sal went.  I didn’t.

There is no question – I am enjoying my own company more and more and it is not because I am getting more interesting.  It’s not me.  It’s them.  I simply don’t ‘get’ large social gatherings. Never did. Not likely to change.  I prefer one on one.

Don’t get me wrong; I love people.  I really do.  Especially the ones I don’t know. And I still like pretty women (though, I forget why).  But I prefer a few rather than a bunch.  Eight people is about it for me.  Sal and I and four others is perfect.  Sal and I and three women plus one guy is even better.  I talk to the guy.  I flirt with the women.  But, with that mix, I can do all that and not get distracted.  It’s an ‘old guy’ thing.

But this is not about me – it’s about the Dutch.

For some odd reason the mail plane has been bringing in a lot of Dutch tourists lately. Last week they had so many they needed two planes!  There were almost ten of them!  And this for an island that has only fifty residents and few, except the postmistress, are ever there to greet them.  What is the draw?

We get tourists, of course.  95% by plane. The odd boater.  Usually only in the summer and usually one or two at a time.  And they have been an eclectic selection.  We’ve had ‘Mericans, ‘Strailians and the ever-present Germans. Germans love the forest.

And the forest loves Germans as much, if not more. Well, the bears do, anyway. 90% of all tourists eaten by bears are Germans who arrive by bus.  It’s a fact.  

But this summer, it has been the Dutch in droves.  And the pilot often takes the tourists on a little jaunt up the hill to see the quaint, rustic buildings and the little two-room school.  It is all part of the ‘package’.

This time they came while the first Harvest Lunch was being held.  About ten Dutch tourists wandered into the old rustic bunkhouse and looked at the 50 or so ‘islanders’ eat lunch and mill about to live music (a saxophonist and a singer – odd combination but somehow fitting the occasion).

Of course, the Dutch were welcomed and they, too, milled about until the pilot had to get them back on schedule.  So, off they strooped slowly (Dutch joke) and the island returned to normal….whatever the hell ‘normal’ is.

As my neighbour, J, often says about life out here: “You can’t make this stuff up!” And, it is THAT  kinda ‘stuff’ I would have gone for.  Sorry I missed it.

We have a nurse practioner (90% of a doctor in drug-pushing rights and capable of all the minor in-office surgeries) as well as a full-on doctor who regularly visits our remote island this past year or so.  They are great!  The main reason for this program is that so many of the old hippies are developing issues that it made sense to ‘go to them’ rather than have old hippies miss their appointments or drown at sea trying to canoe in. First rule of the Hippocratic Oath, ‘Do no harm.’

So one of them comes every two weeks.  I usually pick them up in my skiff from the other island and deliver them to this island’s ‘doctor’s office and, by doing so, can claim first appointment.  If someone books ahead of me, I just do the ‘appointment’ with them as we walk up the steep hill to the ‘clinic’.  I am always first.

Lately, they have been taking in young NPs-in training.  These are nurse practitioners that have yet to graduate.  And our remote island is deemed ‘colourful, challenging and real seat-of-the-pants’ doctoring. They think: if the NP can handle the OTG’ers, she can handle just about anything.

And, remember, I am usually first.

I get in the room with the student, A, who makes a point of looking studious while she looks at my chart.  “Do ya need me naked?”

“No.  I don’ think we will have to do any kind of exam.  This is just blood test results.”

“I prefer getting my results naked.”  I start to take off my shirt.

“No!” She says, giving me her stern-nurse look but smiling. “Keep you pants on, dude.”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we should do a prostate exam, eh?  I mean, you being just a student, eh?  Better get in there and get familiar, right?” 

“Wrong!  No prostate exams today, Mr. Cox.  Not on my watch!  P told me about you!”

“P has never done a prostate exam on me.  That’s how rumours start, you know?  I might now tell everyone in the neighbourhood that P claims to have done a prostate exam on me.  Maybe we should make an honest woman of her?”  I start to undo my pants.

“That’s it!  I am getting P in here, right now.  We are gonna do a psychiatric assessment on you, that’s for sure!”

“Now you’re talkin’…….”