Wednesday, November 9, 2016

The Stock Market and Donald Trump

Investors embraced the election of Donald Trump as president, snapping up stocks and selling bonds in a bet that the Republican’s plans for fiscal stimulus would succeed in breaking the U.S. out of a postcrisis economic funk.
from the Wall Street Journal


It seems that investors no longer
think of him as a fishmonger.
With Donny in charge
stock margins are large;
the market gets stronger and stronger! 

My green thumb

My thumb has not been very green,
and even a snake plant ain't keen
to undergo care
from me without prayer
(I water my plants with caffeine)


Restaurant Review: Mi Lindo Guadalajara. Provo, Utah.

I had great hopes for this restaurant, because I have some very happy memories of performing in Guadalajara with the Payasos Educados pantomime troupe forty-three years ago. We performed our silent program at the Opera House and got a standing ovation for both shows. The newspapers compared me to both Harpo Marx and Stan Laurel. We were preparing to take the troupe on an around-the-world tour. Good times . . .

The place is cater-corner from the Provo Rec Center, so I stopped by after my swim session at 10 this morning.  I immediately liked what I saw of their fresh salsa and toppings bar:

But when I started to speak English to the senora behind the counter she looked at me like I was a boil with legs. Nobody in the place could or would speak to me in English. So I pointed at some things that looked good.

What I got was three plain tamales and a skimpy serving of refried beans:

The tamales were fresh made and slightly sweet. The refried beans were pretty soupy. That, along with a fountain drink, set me back $8.99.

I'm giving this place One Burp. And that's just for the sake of the salsa and toppings bar, which is outstanding. It is not a Gringo-friendly place. I imagine if you speak Spanish you can get a decent meal. But all I got was indigestion. I left exactly one dollar for a tip.


Evitar este lugar como un perro rabioso.

Judgment is a burden

"We sometimes forget that when He gave the counsel to be as He is, it was in the context of how to judge righteously."    Lynn G. Robbins. 


Judgment is a burden I would rather not convey
on my jaded shoulders for another weary day;
not to judge with hatred, spite, or rigid dogma cast
is near beyond my power as I think about the past.
When I lay my burdens down at thy feet, Lord of Hosts,
I pray my judgments ill will disappear like airy ghosts.
And if I must pass judgment to a large or small degree,
please help me do it in a manner pleasing unto thee!


Tuesday, November 8, 2016

When faith falters

"Just as we should open our arms in a spirit of welcoming new converts, so too should we embrace and support those who have questions and are faltering in their faith."     M. Russell Ballard.  


Each day brings new conversion to my weary questing soul;
some days it also brings about a doubt about the whole.
My path should be much straighter, and the incline less severe;
why is it I still struggle and cannot find simple cheer?
I look beyond the mark to find my faith become a blur;
are my doubts legitimate or really just a slur?
And then I see another who is faltering up ahead,
who cannot hold together all that's in his heart and head.
I find my qualms receding as I give that guy a smile
and tell him it's tough sledding but I'll go with him a mile.
We help each other stumble on, with focus on each other,
as my diffidence disappears while helping out my brother.
Though doubts may linger on, I find no need to referee
the game as it is played by tyros just like you and me!
For Christ is at the head and in the heart of all who try
to follow his example in this world gone all awry. 





Monday, November 7, 2016

Restaurant Review: Black Sheep Cafe. Provo, Utah.

As a young clown with the circus I hoarded every penny of my meager salary, trying to put enough away so that I could travel to Mexico some day to study pantomime with Sigfrido Aguilar. I felt all the great clowns were well-versed in pantomime, and I needed that same kind of training to get anywhere as a big top zany.
One way I tried to save money was to never order a drink at a restaurant; a glass of water is all I wanted. However, I had a powerful thirst which tap water didn't really satisfy, so I often brought along a carton of chocolate milk in a brown paper bag -- I would take surreptitious swigs out of this when the waitress wasn't looking, like a wino. My pals ribbed me about it, saying they were embarrassed to be seen with such a tightwad in any decent hash house, but I refused to be put off by their specious reasoning. A dollar for a glass of milk? Getoutatown!
But one day I was brought up short at a Chinese restaurant, where the owner spotted me sipping my contraband moo juice; he rushed over and began yelling at me in an overripe James Hong accent:

"You no bling in such a thing! No outside to dlink! You go way, now now!"

That cured me of the habit. It was the last time I ever blushed in public.

Until today.

I got to the Black Sheep at 19 North University at 11:15, all hot and sweaty from the long walk and from wearing my winter jacket without checking the weather forecast -- it was a mild and sunny 60 degrees outside. The faux maitre d', name of Ben, gave a tiny cluck and said: "We can serve you in another twenty minutes" Apparently the joint didn't open until 11:30. So I went and sat down in a wooden chair that was too small for me. As I grunted to get out of it without breaking off the handles, Ben sashayed over to give me a supercilious look and ask; "Are we from out of town?"  He sounded like Arthur Treacher telling Shirley Temple to use the salad fork, NOT the pickle spear.

I blushed furiously as I finally popped out of the chair like a champagne cork, and then answered him:

"I was, uh, just passing by, and, uh, wanted to, uh, eat here, uh, y'know?"

He gave me a haughty look that plainly said I was about as welcome there as Freddy the Freeloader, and just about as well-dressed. When he finally deigned to seat me, it was under a monstrous light fixture that looked like something dredged up out of the depths of H.P. Lovecraft's imagination on a bad night:


Apparently the place is also an art gallery, with numerous paintings displayed on the walls -- none of them of much account, to my way of thinking. The main artist seemed to be one Kelly Larsen, who specialized in what the French call 'papier hygienique sur toile'. Loosely translated as 'wet toilet paper on canvas'.

I had studied this same technique early on as an art student at the University of Minnesota. When my request for a transfer to the Sorbonne was turned down later that semester I let the whole thing drop.

I started with Mexican squash cream soup. It was perfect. Not much more I can say about it -- when something is really good there's very little you should add to the description; it's like gilding the lily or adding ketchup to fried chicken.

Next I had braised beef with red chile sauce over Navajo fry bread. It, too, was immaculate.

I cleaned my plate like the veriest greenhorn in the bunkhouse, scrapping the plate with my fork to get the last little bit of fry bread and drippings. 
So I'm giving the place Four Burps, hands down -- despite that Ben guy. He I can do without. But anyplace that serves food this good can be forgiven for some well-deserved snootiness.
My soup and my beef chile on fry bread came to $25.88. And that's not including the carton of chocolate milk I snuck in under my coat . . . 


Seeking Hope in a Dispiriting 2016 Election

In any case, if the upshot of Campaign 2016 is that voters feel better because they have gotten their chance to vent at the establishment, and Washington learns to listen better to the country, it will not have been in vain. There will be cause for hope.
from the Wall Street Journal


Elections are all about trust,
and who's got the very most crust.
There's always some hope.
It's just like the Pope;
we've got to believe in stardust. 


a welcome knocking on my door

"Many who are suspicious of churches nevertheless have a love for the Savior."   Dallin H. Oaks.

The pews are hard, the floor is cold, the stain glass window dim;
is this the place where I must go to find and follow Him?
I do not know these people here, and they do not know me;
I wonder can these strangers know the Man from Galilee?

The gatekeepers accumulate, wherever I may turn,
handing out requirements His love to somehow earn.
These megachurches and storefronts; just how am I to know
which is recognized by God without a real halo? 

And then it comes to me at last; no building do I need
to worship in simplicity without a rigid creed.
I fall upon my knees at home, His guidance to implore -- 
and when I rise there comes a welcome knocking on my door . . . 





Sunday, November 6, 2016

Timericks

The fight to isolate Raqqa and prepare for a coordinated assault on the Islamic State capital could take weeks or months, U.S. officials said.  WSJ

If you want a war to end fast,
don't hassle with bomb or with blast;
just make a big threat
to remove internet --
they'll give up in regiments massed. 


Strategists at Barclays PLC estimate the market will drop 11% to 13% if Mr. Trump wins and rise 2% to 3% if Mrs. Clinton wins based on how stock futures have responded to shifts in polls.  WSJ
The stock market ain't a good place
to bet on in this crazy race.
No matter who wins
it's all Mickey Finns --
investors will lose more than face! 


Throughout the tumultuous and unpredictable 2016 presidential campaign, one thing has been constant: Voters have been seething with frustration over the state of American politics.   WSJ
Voters are certainly seething;
almost as if they were teething.
Their mood is so black
that they just might attack,
their sabers and switchblades unsheathing. 



RENO, Nev.—No weapon was found after Donald Trump was rushed off a stage at a Nevada rally Saturday night, the Secret Service said.   WSJ
He shot off his mouth once again,
but all the security men
no gun play could find --
yet still they did bind
somebody for Donald's bullpen. 

“No matter who is president. No matter who controls Congress, the United States is always going to be interested and need security and stability in Europe,” Gen. Hodges said.   WSJ
That Europe is old and decayed
and ready to sink and to fade

is obvious to

the Red, White, and Blue -- 

our welcome we've sure overstayed. 



JAKARTA, Indonesia—President Joko Widodo postponed a state visit to Australia, citing unrest at home, after a massive protest called by hard-line Muslims against the capital’s Christian governor drew 200,000 demonstrators and stoked worries about deepening religious tensions in a nation long known for its moderate brand of Islam.    WSJ 

Joko Widodo postponed his long trip;

his public was restless and he'd lost his grip.

But when he stayed home and he tried to explain,

his public just looted the Christians again.

So Joko Widodo joined in with the group,

for fear that his ratings would otherwise droop.

He's no Erdogan, who can beat trouble down

and cow the fanatics with one single frown. 




Volkswagen said on Sunday that prosecutors in Braunschweig have named Hans Dieter Pötsch in their investigation. Mr. Pötsch was Volkswagen’s long-serving chief finance officer until September 2015, when he was named chairman in a management shake-up in the wake of the diesel scandal.   WSJ
There once was a fellow named Potsch

who got in a terrible botch

for which prosecutors

named him with the looters --

he won't get a gold-plated watch. 



 Five undocumented domestic workers, all named Maria, fanned out across Little Havana delivering a desperate, last-minute plea to Hispanic voters: We can’t vote, but you can. Vote early to ensure a President Trump does not deport us.   WaPo

Hispanics are not playing Bingo
when it comes to this crazy gringo.
His triumph would mean
that robots would clean
our houses (and speak our own lingo).


The FDA is seeking public comment. You have until Jan. 3 to tell the agency whether you consider a normal serving of Nutella to be one tablespoon or two.  WaPo
I don't want your census to mar,
but I always eat half a jar.
No use in restricting;
that stuff is addicting --
that's why I look like a boxcar. 


As Danlin pursues the story behind his ex-wife’s tawdry novel, he gets caught in the confluence of American capitalism and Chinese influence. In the United States, free speech may not be limited the way it is in China, but there are limits nonetheless. “I wonder,” he muses at one point, “if I might turn out to be the only loser in this scandal. Sometimes the whistleblower blows so hard he busts his own bladder.”   WaPo 
Exposing a scandal can lead
to more trouble than a nosebleed.
It's messier, too,
cuz out of the blue
you're kicked by the media steed. 


No doubt, dozens of campaign 2016 book deals are being inked right now, with political journalists and campaign insiders promising to deliver the inside story of this extraordinary presidential race. I hope they do deliver it, and I will read as many of those books as I can stand.   WaPo 

Explaining this campaign would be
the height of surfeit and folly.
Not even Einstein
could ever refine
the sense of its hyperbole. 



Big government is the new West Coast craze

Voters up and down the West Coast are quietly poised to extend a massive economic experiment this Election Day, probing the limits of how much states can soak the big guys to help the little guys.
from the Washington Post 

The rich have it all their own way.
They never are asked much to pay.
These liberal schemes
are merely pipe dreams
that won't last a night and a day.