The Unwise Experiment

We are running a terribly unwise experiment: What happens when you replace U.S. presidential leadership with the slapstick antics of a clown?
-- Eugene Robinson

Comparing politicians to the noble circus clown

Is slander pure and simple -- it would make a jurist frown.

Equating Donald Trump with Weary Willy is a crime

For which the guilty party ought to serve some real hard time.

For clowns with all their slapstick are at heart such gentle souls;

You can sense it neath the costumes of their merry roles.

They champion the downcast and wield cap and bells to hold

Back the tide of misery that comes from prude and scold.

A politician wreathes his face in smiles as cheap as tin;

His heart is but a weathervane, his courage mighty thin.

A clown exhibits truth that leaves us rolling in the aisles,

While politicians cheat us with their patriotic wiles.

Has Al Franken been Kissing and Groping?

A morning news anchor in Los Angeles is accusing Minnesota Democratic Sen. Al Franken of kissing and groping her without consent in 2006, when he was a comedian headed to entertain U.S. troops overseas along with other celebrities.
from BuzzFeed.

Kissing and groping is all the new rage,

By congressmen, businessmen, stars of the stage.

Even Al Franken, that North Star boychick,

Is up to his waist -- but can they make it stick?

Had there been drinking? Was there horseplay?

What kind of clothes did the woman display?

Is she a Democrat or Tea Party snot;

Was she quite proper or was she quite hot?

The man in the case will remember that she

Took it in jest -- there was no villainy.

The only way out of this terrible puzzle

Is to have ev’ry man wear wool mittens and muzzle.

Is it still okay to make fun of Mormons?

The late-Catholic theologian Stephen Webb observed that “mocking Mormonism is one of the last frontiers of verbal lawlessness to be untouched by the vigilante powers of political correctness.”

From The Atlantic.

The world is growing tolerant of great diversity.

We respect most ev’rything with true sincerity.

There is room for all beliefs, nobody needs get sore --

Until, that is, a Mormon tries to come through our front door.

Then we start to snigger and to snipe at their beliefs --

Shaking heads about their Salt Lake City holy chiefs.

Oh yes, they are nice people -- but you wouldn’t be caught dead

Sitting in a pew of theirs and bowing your smart head.

And what’s with all the temples and the missionaries who

Do not teach us how to vote but rather what is true?

I’d rather have old Donald Trump a-stirring up a mess

Than any kind of President who has gone LDS!

Photo Essay: Saying Goodbye to Daisy.

This is my youngest child, Daisy Torkildson. She is named after my maternal grandmother, Daisy Gagne. After struggling with finances and physical challenges for several years, she finally received her mission call from President Thomas S. Monson several weeks ago to serve for 18 months as an LDS missionary in Irvine, California.

Daisy and her niece Brooke have a very close relationship -- especially after several ice cream cones at Chuck-A-Rama.

Daisy with her sister Sarah; catching them in repose is like trying to catch a Golden Snitch.

Grand daughter Cici asks "Why can't I be in this photo essay, too? Ain't I just as cute?"

President Rahlf, Second Counselor in the MTC Presidency, set Daisy apart this morning. He graciously allowed me to participate in the ordinance. He lived in eastern Montana and knows some of the same people Daisy knows in Willison, ND.

There have now been 3 missionaries in the Torkildson family; me in Thailand, son Adam in Sacramento, and Daisy in Irvine. Soon it will be time for the grand kids to decide if they are going to step up and serve the Lord in the same way. I hope I am still around to see at least some of them get their calling and go into the MTC.

An LDS Mission is like no other education or vocation. Sometimes it can melt your bones, Daisy.

********************************************************************

Here is Daisy's first email from the MTC, written this afternoon:

Hello Family!

Uff da. Times a million. But it's a good Uff da, because I feel the spirit so strongly right now, that I could probably lift a car. At the same time, I'm so tired, I could literally fall asleep on this concrete floor. Anyway, the reason I am able to write so soon is because it's part of our first day activities, which is nice! I'm so happy right now, it's unbelievable. And I know I said goodbye to almost all of you literally hours ago, but I miss you all already. My companion's name is Sister Stout and she's great! She loves to sing, which is a plus for me, and she's from Northern Virginia (I told her about you, Madel) and she's serving in the Reno, Nevada mission. My official P-day is Saturday, so that's when I'll be writing to you from now on. I've met so many people today, that I hardly remember my own name or where I'm going, but it makes me so happy to meet so many people who are here for the same thing as I am: to share the gospel, and serve the Lord. We had a huge meeting with all the new missionaries where the MTC presidency spoke( Presidents Martino, ?, and Ralph) and it was super powerful. We talked about how important it is to have a good relationship with our companion and how we need to become as the Lord is. I was very uplifted at the end. Okay, I don't have much time left because I'm supposed to go to another class, but I love you all so much!  Until next time,

Sister Torkildson

Free Money

The idea is gaining traction in many countries as a proposal to soften the edges of capitalism. Though the details and philosophies vary from place to place, the general notion is that the government hands out regular checks to everyone, regardless of income or whether people are working. The money ensures food and shelter for all, while removing the stigma of public support.

From the NYTimes.

Inadequate wages have spurred the debate:

Should countries free income for people create?

It might be a blessing, or terrible jinx.

A riddle, indeed, worthy of the keen sphinx!

They’ve tried it in Kenya, in Finland, in Canada too.

The city of Oakland might also come through.

Conservatives, though, are not beating a path

To give it a whirl -- they are swooning with wrath.

“There is no free lunch” has been thousands of years

Dinned into peasants and pauper’s sore ears.

But maybe it’s time for all those who won’t spread

humane economics on crow to be fed.  

The Great Italian Clown Illustrator: Roberto Formigoni

The great Italian circus clown illustrator Roberto Formigoni is from Bescia, in northern Italy. His father worked as a political cartoonist in Rome, until Mussolini forced him to flee the city or face a long jail sentence.

Roberto loves all clowns. He calls Chaplin "the Mime King" and considers Laurel and Hard to be "the Maestros of Mayhem." He is especially drawn to circus clowns in his native country, drawing them frequently for newspapers, magazines, and for sale at art galleries.

Formigoni calls Italian circus clowns "the only people on the Earth today who can save us from the Void." His illustrations on this blog show some of his work illustrating circus programs for Il Circa del Mosca and for the academy La Scuola Del Circo.

 Formigoni once tried his hand at being a circus buffoon. He said that the audience knew he was not in love with them the moment he walked into the ring, and so they wouldn't believe his clowning and refused to applaud him.

He admires the work of American clown artist Jim Howle, calling him "the Norman Rockwell of the big top circus -- he's a worshipper first, and a painter second."

Formigoni says that the Italian Circus is not under any cloud or pressure to change their traditional animal acts.
"All this false publicity about our circuses going under is a black falsehood. Only a sick person would want the Italian circus to fail. Only a sour soul wants to end something that is so fun and beautiful!"

The Street Performer. Dedicated to Johan Figueroa-Gonzalez

Remarked upon, then left behind, small change tossed in a jar;

The street performer follows a peculiar canny star.

Competing with reality, he aims beyond the crowd

For something quiet and sincere that comes off very loud.

Roasted by the sun or dampened by the sullen rain,

She counts donations carefully -- until she’s robbed again.

Hoping for reporters to give her publicity

So she can get the tourists to pay for photography.

You don’t find many seniors on the street as mimes or wits;

The hours are too long and then the money often quits.

But young and reckless buskers are a salt to savor oft --

They make the dark streets brighter and hard avenues quite soft.

Read about Johan Figueroa-Gonzalez at https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/14/nyregion/a-wall-hanging-stirs-to-life-in-washington-square-park.html

There's a Special Prosecutor Just For You!

"You must be guilty of something . . . "

WASHINGTON — The Justice Department said Monday that prosecutors were looking into whether a special counsel should be appointed to investigate political rivals President Trump has singled out for scrutiny, including Hillary Clinton.

From the NYTimes.

There’s a special prosecutor for the Clinton campaign staff;

They are going to investigate with writs and polygraph.

And then there is Obama -- he will not get off scot-free;

His uranium shenanigans will get the third degree.

There are special prosecutors for the Congress and what’s more

They will multiply like fruit flies to help even up the score

With anyone who trifles with the current status quo --

They will soon invade each condo and each liberal chateau.

They’re swarming o’er the countryside, a legal locust tide

Inspecting ev’ry folly with a mandate blunt and wide.

Whether in the office or while driving your own car

A special prosecutor can bring you before the bar.

The job requires nothing but a nose that is voracious

For information scandalous, embarrassing, salacious.

A smattering of Latin and a dogged loyalty

Will set you up in office to start spying instantly.

Unemployment disappears as prosecutors breed

From the ranks of ward heelers like some dark noxious weed.

So watch your P’s and Q’s, my friend, or they will prosecute

You for next to nothing -- and your future will be moot.

Just Sayin'

In Heaven do they say “Have a nice day”?

Can a zombie roll over and play dead?  

Instead of license plates why don’t cars have barcodes?

At my last job I went postal -- I didn’t arrive until two weeks later.

I work as a freelance politician -- I’ll cheat anybody.

Birds don’t find anything funny -- not even their own feathers tickle them.

I never go fishing for compliments -- I’d rather shoot ‘em in a barrel.

Why do they call her the “First Lady”? Were all the previous ones tramps?

If the universe is expanding why aren’t airline seats?

I’ve believed in reincarnation ever since I had to repeat the second grade.

When I make a picnic the ants hitchhike to the nearest McDonalds.

Ever get the feeling your life is an extended Candid Camera episode?

Why do people look for closure before they find an opening?

It snows here in the winter, but I never have to shovel my driveway -- I moved it to Florida.

I have a friend who can’t eat alphabet soup -- he’s illiterate.

I bought a marionette, but I had to return it -- there were no strings attached.

You wanna live dangerously?  Try stir frying popcorn.  

PETA wants to give flying squirrels parachutes.

A waffle is just a pancake with a skin problem

I know a lot of Catholics who take Mass Transportation

The NSA Has Been Hacked -- So What Else is New?

Current and former agency officials say the Shadow Brokers disclosures, which began in August 2016, have been catastrophic for the N.S.A., calling into question its ability to protect potent cyberweapons and its very value to national security. The agency regarded as the world’s leader in breaking into adversaries’ computer networks failed to protect its own.

From the NYTimes.

When the doughty government of Uncle Sam decides

It will deal with scoundrels with effective pesticides,

Agents with rare training and deep cunning are employed

To keep the villains running and to make them paranoid.

And so the NSA was formed to decimate the ranks

Of those who lurked in cyberspace attacking on our flanks.

They gathered so much data and intelligence for war

That no one cloud could hold it, so it lay upon the floor.

And so those nasty hackers who delight to thumb their nose

At our lovely government swept intel up in rows.

Now it is residing god knows where in cyberspace --

And NSA admits it may have lost a little face.

But some new agency will rise to carry on the fight,

With taxpayer-fueled funding that will bankrupt left and right.

So terrorists, just watch your step -- we’ve got your number now.

You cannot sink our Ship of State (though it might be a scow.)