By John Rolfe / Red Hook, N.Y. Two years ago, the Covid pandemic shone a spotlight on the national shortage of school bus drivers and how it was fueled not only by fear of the virus but low pay, high liability, great responsibility, costly certification requirements, and incidents like this: A video of a driver in Ohio recently went viral after she snapped and angrily cursed out the kids on her bus. Jackie Miller resigned but refused to take back what she’d said. (Among other things, she threatened to “start kicking some f–kin’ serious ass.”) Miller had endured years of constant misbehavior, disrespect and the prank spraying of perfume, to which she is allergic. She’d had at least one dangerous reaction to a substance and her precious cargo finally went too far. “This is a plight of all bus drivers,” she told reporters. “We are treated with such lack of respect.” As the jockey of a big, yellow madhouse (I drive middle schoolers and write about it in my blog “Hellions, Mayhem and Brake Failure”), I can definitely sympathize. So, apparently, can the people across the country who have donated almost $60,000 to help Miller cope with sudden unemployment. Disrespect, dangerous behavior and perfume/body spray clouds are standard fare on my bus. I’ve been blessed with some concerned parents and school administrators who try to help, but there is still a widespread lack of understanding of what we deal with while driving what is essentially a 40-foot building stuffed with rampaging urchins. Their scampering in the aisle, tumbling over seats, throwing things, shrieking, roughhousing and fighting are dangerous distractions when we’re trying to navigate streets where vehicles, pedestrians and animals come out of nowhere in a heartbeat. Defiance and insults make the veins on our foreheads bulge. As I watched Miller berate her passengers with forceful language that would make a dockworker blush, I thought of the times I’ve lost it and dropped a D bomb or slightly worse on kids who wouldn't stay seated while the bus was in motion or stop sticking their arms out the windows. During my five years behind the wheel, I’ve gotten better at keeping my cool. When things get too hot, I pull over in a safe spot and sit quietly, refusing to move until the kids settle down. “I get paid by the hour,” I inform them. “You are now funding my yacht and luxurious retirement.” But there are still times that try men’s and women’s souls. One day, after repeated warnings and a pullover, I had to stop again after a kid in the back released a cloud of body spray that made everyone near him scurry to open the windows. As I called in to my dispatcher to report the situation, a girl came up the aisle and said, “I need to get home and I’m tired of your pulling-over s—t.” “You’re sick of it?” I replied, incredulous. “You’re sick of it?!” I made sure to file a report and was happy to learn that she and the perfume bomber were suspended for a week. When they returned, they were clearly chastened, but not for long. They’re still a daily challenge. So are the kids who complained “Hey, bus driver! I gotta get home!” after I pulled over for the third time one day. “If you want to get home on time, stop acting like jackasses,” I replied. I felt guilty for that choice of descriptive noun, but then again, they spew far worse words during every trip. One of the most galling episodes was when I explained to my riders for the thousandth time that I am responsible for their safety only to have a wisenheimer in the back yell “OK, Dad!” and set off gales of laughter. “Come up here and say that to my face!” I fumed at them. We must always find a way to rise above the nonsense and be the bigger, calmer person, no matter how provocative that nonsense may be. But kids these days have no fear of adults and no sense of consequences. I blame the typical rebellion and peer pressure that is made worse by social media in a time of widespread behavioral conditions like Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Asperger’s Syndrome, a spectrum of autism, and dangerous mental illness. In this mix, we drivers must worry about kids with guns. I can only imagine how drivers in Missouri feel. Despite more than 375 school shooting incidents nationwide since 1999, state legislators in the Show Me State have decided against banning minors from carrying firearms on public property without adult supervision. Tell a kid to sit down when they may be packing heat? No thanks. I’d much rather have perfume sprayed on my bus instead of bullets any day. Here in New York, gun laws are stricter but my district in the Hudson Valley is going to provide active shooter training for drivers and hold drills that require us to help evacuate schools. So, does anyone really wonder any more why there’s a driver shortage? John Rolfe is a former senior editor for Sports Illustrated for Kids, a longtime columnist for the Poughkeepsie Journal/USA Today Network, and author of The Goose in the Bathroom: Stirring Tales of Family Life. His school bus drivin’ blog “Hellions, Mayhem and Brake Failure” is parked on his website Celestialchuckle.com (https://celestialchuckle.com) with the meter running.

By Naomi Serviss / New York City Richard Poole, who holds the Broadway record for the longest continuous run, from performing in Cats from December 1994 to Phantom of the Opera in April 2023, descended triumphantly to the 10th step of the legendary masquerade ball staircase during last August 6th's performance. The 11th step? Dicey. Poole, who had stepped in for an understudy, dazzled in his glorious cape. Unfortunately, it also slipped him up. Down he tumbled. The cast was aghast, as was the gobsmacked audience. “I proceeded to fall all the way to the deck, rolling and bouncing with momentum,” he recounts over a steaming bowl of matzo ball soup in Friedman’s Restaurant at midtown’s Edison Hotel. The dedicated actor, black ski cap augmenting his green-ish eyes, has been in two record-smashing shows, Cats (Broadway Gus, the Theater Cat) and Phantom. Poole, 68, made his debut 40 years ago in Dreamgirls. Back to the ill-fated tumble. “I ended up in a pile and suddenly realized I was supposed to catch the opera score the Phantom was about to throw to me,” Poole says. In true “The show must go on!” spirit, not only did he make the painfully awkward catch, but he also stoically hobbled his way through the performance, until the bitter end. A trouper! “I was spurred on by an incredible rush of adrenalin,” he recalls, as singing waiters vogue by, belting Broadway tunes and carrying drinks. “Immediately after the show I went to the emergency room,” Poole says. Not good news for an active thespian in a physically and mentally draining production. “My entire right knee quad was torn off. It’s been a seven-month recovery.” Physical therapy was grueling. It wasn’t the first time Poole had bad luck with dangerous obstacles. “A couple of weeks earlier, I had a backstage accident. I was playing the nasty stagehand and ran into the travelator [moving walkway] in the dark, breaking five teeth.” You think you’ve had dental issues? Poole had temporaries made while he waited for permanents to be made. You know the drill. One performance soon after, he was in a dramatic scene. His next line was: “It must be a GHOST!” “Well, the percussiveness of my voice ejected them out of my mouth into an arc seen and followed by everyone onstage, finally landing at the feet of Carlotta, the opera diva,” he adds. “After an eternal two seconds, my mind was made up. In character, I decided to retrieve them and replace them in my mouth ONSTAGE!” he says. “The gasps and laughter were really organic because it was disgusting, but justifiable for my slovenly character. A day to remember!” Among the many ensemble roles Poole performs and knows inside-out, are Monsieur Lefèvre, Monsieur André and Joseph Buquet. That’s a lot of singing and dancing! No need for extra workouts when your full-time job calls for thousands of steps daily! Who needs Fitbit?’ Poole’s Broadway and national touring credits include Cats, Les Miz, Evita, Mame (with Angela Lansbury!) and Dreamgirls (the original production). Another (sad) day to remember will be April 16, when the chandelier in Phantom of the Opera hurtles onto the premium seats for the last time. That chandelier has dropped nearly 14,000 times, terrifying and thrilling patrons. The New York production cost an astonishing eight million dollars in 1988. Try to put that together today and it would run at least 20 million. Poole’s gratitude is palpable. “It’s given me discipline and longevity and I’m eternally grateful for the opportunity to have been in the production for decades,” he says. The show remains magical for him, no matter how often he’s seen it from onstage or in the wings. “It’s a magic box in a magic box,” he enthuses. “Sounds like a cliché, but it’s gold. There’s something about hitting the mark and everything clicks with the audience. It’s a great story! That simple!” Surprisingly, Poole was not a theater nerd in school. One production he recalls having been in is A Christmas Carol, where he played Bob Cratchit. His fondest working musical memory outside Broadway? Six Flags Adventure. “I auditioned on a dare with a friend. “My friend didn’t get it, but I did,” Poole recalls. “I performed there all summer. It was a great gig, steered me to Broadway.” His childhood upbringing was not very supportive. His family was religious and conservative. “’If you don’t use your talent for the Lord, it will be taken away from you!’” Poole’s father admonished him. “I went through so much stress trying to please them and not being authentic,” said the baritone (with high notes). “I used to be so hard on myself, and self-critique nonstop,” Poole says. “It would just take me right out of a performance.” He looks forward to more time spent at the dog park with his canine rescue, Boone (after Daniel Boone). Fun facts about Phantom: More than 400 actors have appeared in the New York production, including more than a baker’s dozen as the Phantom. Howard McGillin holds the record for playing Broadway’s title role more than 2,500 times. The production uses 111 human and yak hair in addition to synthetic wigs. The chandelier is awash in 6,000 beads, weighs a solid ton and rarely malfunctions. Always reassuring to the orchestra seat holders. Tony-winning director Harold Prince calculated surprises in every scene. Which translates to an edgy anticipation experienced by attendees. For example, the gavel in the blackout at the show’s opening, the quick shift for full orchestral overture to a single, unaccompanied soprano voice, and flames shooting from the floor. All guaranteed to spook you unawares. There are 19 official cast recordings and the play has been performed in 15 languages. The show has been the single largest generator of jobs in Broadway and U.S. theatrical history. It was inspired by a real-life tragedy that occurred in a Paris theater, leaving one person dead. And as the world knows by now, The Phantom of the Opera was composed by Andrew Lloyd Webber, Charles Hart and Richard Stilgoe. Poole speed walks for therapy and mind-clearing. Now that Phantom’s closing, he’ll have plenty of time for both. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By Lydia Hope Wilen / New York City For great recipes, see Bonnie Fishman.  For survival tactics -- tips, ingredient substitutes, food facts, shortcuts, safety pointers, a corny joke, and a food recommendation, keep reading. Which Way to the Kitchen? Ah yes, the room with the range, refrigerator, microwave and the sink. I just discovered that there is a word for the fear of cooking. The word is “mageirocophobia.” I now have a new fear–having to pronounce that word. You Take the Cake If I had to bake a cake for company, I would buy a cake mix because I know how to make it extra fluffy. Simply replace the egg, oil and water with soda. Chocolate cakes mix best with cola and vanilla cakes mix best with orange soda. Getting a Rise out of This Most baked goods -- cakes, cookies, bread – require a leavening agent. If your recipe calls for yeast and you don’t have it, chances are you have baking powder. Healthline.com recommends it as a good substitute because the carbon dioxide in baking powder expands when wet and causes the dough to rise. An Eggs-cellent Tip Hard-boiling an egg is easy. Peeling the shell off the egg is another story. If you are hard-boiling many eggs in order to honor the tradition of eating a hard-boiled egg on Easter Sunday, or for a Passover seder, or if you want to prepare deviled eggs for company, here’s a wonderful way to make egg peeling fast and efficient: Once the eggs are hard-boiled, completely cover them in a bowl of ice water and put it in the fridge for 20 minutes. Then you can easily de-shell those eggs. An Eggs-tra Tip When you crack an egg and a little piece of shell falls into the bowl, use a big piece of shell to help get it out. There’s a kind of magnet-like attraction…shell to shell. What’s in a Name? White chocolate is not chocolate. It doesn’t have any of the components of real chocolate. It’s just a mixture of sugar, milk, vanilla, lecithin and cocoa butter. Stick with real dark chocolate for a treat and for its health benefits. My Two Faves Product Recommendation: Impostor Pasta Explore Cuisine has plant-based pasta from certified organic and dedicated gluten-free facilities. The pasta is outrageously high in protein and fiber, fairly low in carbs, very easy to prepare (even for me) and tastes good and goes well with whatever you do with pasta. Look for Explore Cuisine in your supermarket or buy it online. Herb Fact Oregano tastes better dried than fresh. Myth-Take We were raised to believe that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. That belief stemmed from a marketing campaign by General Foods in 1944. It was their way to boost sales of their cereal, Grape Nuts. And it worked for them. Is it right for you? Breakfast can help kick-start your metabolism for the day. Pay attention to how you feel after eating breakfast and on a day without breakfast. Your body and your choice. My Father’s Standard Joke Knock, knock. Who’s there? “Bisquick.” “Bisquick” who? “Bisquick! Your pants are on fire!” It’s My Jam…or Is It My Jelly? Jam and jelly are not the same. Jam is made with pieces of fruit. Jelly is made with fruit juice. So if what you spread on bread has little chunky pieces, that’s jam. If it spreads on smoothly, you’ll know it’s jelly. Or just look at the label on the jar. Does This Ring a Bell? Do you know the difference between a green bell pepper and a red bell pepper? It came as a surprise to me to learn that the red bell pepper is a ripened green bell pepper. As the pepper ripens and changes color, it also dramatically increases its sweetness, beta-carotene and vitamins A and C. You may want to keep that in mind next time you’re in the produce aisle. Corkscrew Screwup Your guest brought a bottle of wine and you can’t find the corkscrew. To safely open the bottle of wine, take a car key and insert the key at a slight angle. Turn the key in circles as you pull up the key in the cork. It works, but first you have to buy a car. Once you have the empty bottle of wine, peel off the label and keep the bottle if you want to bake and you don’t have a rolling pin. Rolling out dough works perfectly fine with an empty bottle of wine. Gotta Hand it to Ya’ “Avocado Hand” and “Bagel Hand” are the medical terms used when a person gets a laceration on the palm of their nondominant hand. It happens when they are holding a knife in their dominant hand and cutting an avocado or bagel that’s being held in their other hand. If you insist on holding the avocado or bagel while cutting it, use a serrated knife. The sawing action needed when using a serrated knife (especially a dull one) gives you control, unlike when using a sharp straight edge knife that can slip and cut your hand in an instant. Bagel and Bread Name History There is a lot written about how and why the name “pumpernickel” came to be. The dark, brawny German-born bread was made with rye flour, molasses and sour dough starter for a dough that would bake at low heat for a full day. This process caused a side effect: flatulence. And so the name “pumpernickel” came to be. “Pumpern” means to “to break wind”. “Nickel” is for “goblin” or “devil”. Put it all together American translation style and “pumpernickel” amounts to “a devil’s fart.” American pumpernickel bakers sped up the original process by using yeast and wheat flour, making for a lighter loaf that’s easier on the digestive tract. But the name stayed the same. Going Bananas If you bought a few bananas that you don’t want to ripen quickly, pull the bananas apart and wrap each stem in aluminum foil or plastic wrap. That will help prevent the stems’ release of ethylene, the gas that controls ripening. When the bananas are ripe, eat one and refrigerate the rest. Yes, the skin will turn black, but the bananas will keep their firmness for a few days. After that, the mushy overripe bananas can be used to make banana bread. Just like the caption on the banana picture, it’s a wrap. I hope you learned something new that may come in handy. Please keep looking for me in The Insider...but not in the kitchen. Lydia Hope Wilen had a successful collaboration with her late sister Joany as nonfiction bestselling authors (18 books), journalists, TV personalities, writers and talent coordinators on a Nickelodeon series hosted by Leonard Nimoy, Reading Rainbow episodes, skit writers for Dr. Ruth's TV show, Diet America Challenge on CBS, and writers of screenplays (optioned but not produced yet). Lydia is writing on her own now and has just completed an extraordinary book for young people and their parents. It will have them laughing and learning...once she gets an agent and it gets published.

By Jessie Seigel / Washington, D.C. In little more than a week, thousands of Tennessee citizens have been disenfranchised. Here’s what happened: On March 27, there was yet another mass shooting, this time at the Covenant School, a private Christian school located in Nashville. Six people were murdered: three nine-year-olds and three adults. Three days later, more than a thousand protesters—young and old—descended on Tennessee’s Capitol, demanding that legislators address gun safety. Instead, Republicans legislators—who hold a super-majority in Tennessee–tried to ignore the protesters and continue business as usual, debating dozens of bills related to regular state matters. The Republicans, who have spent years loosening Tennessee’s gun laws, deliberately turned a deaf ear, some of them even entering the legislative chambers wearing headphones to block out the protesters’ cries. Protesters flooded the public viewing areas of the state House and Senate, chanting “Children are dead, and you don’t care.” According to the Tennessee Lookout, when they refused to stop chanting, they were cleared from the senate’s public gallery. But on the House side, Democratic Reps. Justin Jones of Nashville, Justin Pearson of Memphis, and Gloria Johnson of Knoxville, went to the well (a podium at the front of the chamber), where Jones and Pearson spoke out in support of the protesters, whose voices had been ignored by their Republican colleagues. According to Johnson, who went to the well to stand with Jones and Pearson, as long the microphone was on, “they spoke and didn’t yell. When the speaker called a recess, I think that’s when the megaphone came out.” During that recess, Jones held a sign reading, “Protect kids, not guns” and—because the microphone had been cut off—he used a bullhorn to lead the protesters up in the House’s balcony in a chant of “No action, no peace.” Later, Pearson spoke through the bullhorn about gun violence and chanted, “Enough is enough.” The Speaker of the House, Republican Cameron Sexton, had the nerve to call the Democrats’ siding with the peaceful (if noisy) protesters, and their use of a bullhorn to speak after the microphone had been cut off, as an insurrection equivalent to or worse than the January 6 insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. On April 3, one week after the mass shooting, Republicans filed resolutions to oust the three Democratic state legislators on the grounds they “did knowingly and intentionally bring disorder and dishonor” to the House. The debate over ousting Rep. Jones lasted no more than an hour, with the Republicans voting to move on over the outraged objections of Tennessee House Democratic Caucus Chair John Ray Clemmons. In understandable consternation, Clemmons shouted, “You are talking about kicking somebody out of this body and you can’t sit through a debate?” On April 6, Jones was ousted, as was Pearson. Johnson survived by only one vote. Expulsion from the Tennessee legislature has only occurred three times before—of six lawmakers in 1866 because they tried to prevent the state from granting citizenship to former slaves; of one lawmaker in 1980 for seeking a bribe; and of one representative in 2016 during state and federal investigations for sexual misconduct. And what was the pretext for the expulsions of representatives Jones and Pearson? Breaking “decorum.” Speaking out of turn to support their constituents and chanting along with the people they represent. The fact that, of the two ousted, one was Black (Pearson) and one was of Black and Filipino descent (Jones) was lost on no one. When Gloria Johnson, who is white, was asked why she alone of the three survived the ouster, she replied, “It might have to do with the color of our skin.” On Monday (April 10), the Nashville Metropolitan Council–which has authority to name an interim replacement for Justin Jones pending a special election–voted unanimously to reinstate him. Jones was sworn in, and returned to the Tennessee House to great cheers. Memphis may do the same for Justin Person in the near future. The anti-democratic maneuver failed in this instance because the people of Nashville found a way around it. Nevertheless, this vulgar, open disenfranchisement in Tennessee was perpetrated against representatives of color and their constituents. Whites should not get comfortable, because they are next. And this battle needs to be joined throughout the country. Many commentators have pointed to the massive protests in Tennessee and say that the Republicans have overreached, are being driven by their base, are misreading Middle America, and will pay a price. They point to losses in some recent elections and maintain that Republicans will continue to lose elections because they refuse to acknowledge and deal with what the majority of Americans want—be it related to gun control, abortion, race, LBGTQ rights, or other such issues. But these pundits are missing the point. Overreach suggests one has gone too far and voters will vote one out. Republicans are not committing overreach; they are grabbing power in order to prevent anyone from voting them out. They are not driven by their extremist base—they created that base to help them stay in power. And there’s no evidence that these politicians are being dragged unwillingly towards ever more extreme positions. Furthermore, what middle or other Americans think or want is irrelevant if those who oppose the Republicans’ reactionary agenda cannot vote or have their votes counted. The error is assuming that Republican politicians consider themselves bound by the tenets of an ongoing, working democracy. Their actions scream that they do not. The Republican Party’s plan is to obtain Republican control of every level of government and hold it in perpetuity. Legitimate participation in the nation’s democratic institutions is not the plan and has not been so for decades. If you control the state legislatures, you can prevent anyone who disagrees with you from even speaking—as just occurred in Tennessee. You can impeach any judge you don’t think will do your political bidding—a fate some of Wisconsin’s Republican legislative supermajority are contemplating for the newly elected Democratic Wisconsin Supreme Court justice--who has not even yet taken her seat. You can fire an elected prosecutor who disagrees with your stance on abortion rights—as Republican Governor Ron DeSantis has already done in Florida. You can even push through a law giving a partisan board the power to remove a prosecutor elected by the people of your state in order to prevent her from prosecuting an alleged criminal you wish to protect—as the Georgia legislature is attempting in order to prevent Fanni Willis’s prosecution of Donald J. Trump. Not to mention passing legislation permitting your Republican-controlled legislature to replace the voters’ choice with that of the legislature—which is being attempted in numerous states. And if an appeal of any of this fascist tyranny ultimately goes to the U.S. Supreme Court, you can likely count on the six political hacks the Republican party has installed there to back your power grab and do your ideological bidding. As Justin Jones, the first to be expelled from the Tennessee legislature, stated last week, there is no democracy in Tennessee. He added “it’s coming to your state next.” Mr. Jones is incorrect about one thing—the effort to eliminate democracy in other states has already arrived. Democratic leaders tend to worry which issues are most important to the electorate. Should their pitch to voters mainly focus on the economy or healthcare, gun regulation or racial equity, school loans, or something else? In doing this, they, like some commentators, are missing the big picture. Citizens must be made to understand that no matter what individual issue they are concerned about, the most important, overarching cause on which they must coalesce is the survival of democracy—because without that, Americans will lose a say on any issue. Political columnist Jessie Seigel had a long career as a government attorney in which she honed her analytic skills. She has also twice received an Artist’s Fellowship from the Washington, D.C. Commission on the Arts and Humanities for her fiction, and has been a finalist for a number of literary awards. In addition, Seigel is an associate editor at the Potomac Review, a reviewer for The Washington Independent Review of Books, and a dabbler in political cartoons at Daily Kos. Of this balance in her work between the analytic and the imaginative, Seigel jokes, “I guess my right and left brains are well-balanced.” More on and from Seigel can be found at The Adventurous Writer, https://www.jessieseigel.com.

Fred Plotkin, a pleasure activist and passionate Italy and culinary expert, speaks each Friday with leading people in the arts FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By Judi Markowitz When Yeats penned his famous line, “That is no country for old men,” he might as well have been talking about the plight of baby boomers in America. In 2025, the oldest of us will be turning 80. This will result in an inordinate number of people requiring direct care services, in the form of support from agencies and family members. Most retirees don’t have the savings to cover long-term care. This is a huge problem. With each passing day, boomers are creeping closer to this threshold. I am a baby boomer and I can’t help but wonder how our last chapter will read. In the 1980’s, we baby boomers were appropriately dubbed “the sandwich generation.” Boomers were caught right smack in the middle of two slices of bread — our parents on one side and our children on the other. My father passed away in 2001 at 85. He had been in a rehab facility convalescing from his regular “tune-ups.” My dad required blood transfusions and iron infusions. But we never knew when things would go sideways. Our usual course of action was to call an ambulance, give him an in-hospital transfusion and bring him home — all within a week. But this last time was different. My dad’s strength was waning–walking was difficult, so he was sent to rehab. It was an upscale facility, and the staff was attentive. Physical and occupational therapy was his daily prescription and his ticket to go home. Insurance covered all of the costs My siblings and I visited every day, thinking this would be short-term, but we were wrong. Even with all our prodding and cheering, my dad wasn’t improving. Shortly after my dad’s death in 2001, our childhood home was sold. My mother never slept in their bedroom again. In 2016 Betsy Rust First Opinion wrote that “skilled nursing facilities are floundering while both home care and assisted living facilities are growing in popularity.” The problem here lies in funding. Since 2016 some states have increased Medicaid in order to cover expenses for these options. But the sad truth is that if you don’t have the funds most home and assisted living facilities are still private pay. We learned this all too well. My siblings and I convinced my mom that a change of venue would be helpful. She agreed and nine months later moved into a newly renovated independent living apartment complex. My mom was thrilled with her accommodations —out with the old and in with the new. She bought furniture, artwork, quilts, anything that would adorn her new digs. My mom seemed happy with the changes — she was 88 and vibrant. She was still driving and walking five miles a day. But after two years, we started to notice changes. Before my dad passed away, we would always say that our mother could not exist without dad — they were always together. But much to our surprise, mom made it for nine more years. Unfortunately, it was a real rollercoaster ride that kept moving downward. The first change occurred when my mom drove 25 miles out of her way to Fenton, Michigan. She was coming home from the market which was a quarter mile from her apartment. Instead of turning right, she merged on to the expressway and kept going. Finally at the Fenton exit, she meandered onto a backroad and asked for help. Without a cell phone, she was on her own. A kind man rescued my mom and called us about her pilgrimage. We took the drive to Fenton to bring her home. After that incident, my mom’s car remained in the parking lot of her apartment building for a year, until our teenage son needed it. My sister Gayle and I became her limousine service. And then, Sundowners arrived. According to Coleman Adult Day Services,” sunset can mean a time of increased confusion, frustration and agitation.” My mom would tell us there were musicians in the courtyard of the apartment complex performing several times a week. They kept her up at night. She also reported dogs barking and children running around at late hours. My mom even inquired about these disturbances at the rental office and they set her straight — there was no such occurrence. After this, she fell out of bed and broke her wrist. We then hired a private caregiver to keep her company and keep her safe. My mom’s personal finances paid for the assistance — she didn’t have long-term health insurance which would have covered this expense. The caregiver came five days a week, and we did too. On the weekends, Gayle and I would visit her as well, go shopping, go out to lunch or take my mom to get her hair and nails done. My mom liked the personal attention of the caregiver, that is, until she noticed that jewelry and checks were missing. The new hire was fired, and we began to look for more suitable living arrangements. The next move was to the Coville Assisted Living apartments in Oak Park, Mich. It was basically a one-room residence with a bathroom and a kitchenette. However, the stove tops were no longer connected and no meal preparations were allowed. A refrigerator and cabinets were utilized to stock all my mom’s favorites. Each day, the staff prepared three kosher meals and provided snacks. Residents ate together in a large dining room–it was definitely a social scene. There was even a communal area with a television and piano. It was filled with comfortable sofas and chairs. Staff were on site 24 hours a day and doctor visits could be arranged too. The situation was great until it wasn’t. Once again, this was private pay for my mom because she did not qualify for a government subsidized room at the time. Then, my mom started to visit other resident’s rooms—uninvited and in the evening as well. She also became an escapee. She would leave through the stairwell and walk the streets — after all, my mom did enjoy a long, brisk walk. We then hired a caregiver to keep her company and help with her daily living concerns—it worked. However, dementia started to creep in. With medication, it was kept at bay for some time. Gloria, her companion, was a trustworthy and loving caregiver. She would occasionally bring her children and my mom enjoyed the distraction. Gloria would take my mom to social gatherings or watch TV with her. My mom preferred to hang out in the common area since she truly was not the social type. But my mom’s days were numbered at Coville. Since she needed more assistance for daily living, the administrator pointed out that Coville was not intended for people who needed private help. Residents on my mom’s floor needed to be more independent. Our next stop was a nursing home and my siblings, and I were horrified. I often reflect on the time my mother spent in a nursing facility. It wasn’t what we wanted, nor what we would have anticipated —but there we were in 2007, faced with this proposition. We pondered if any of us could care for my mom in our homes. We all had full-time jobs, families, and homes that didn’t accommodate our mother’s needs. My mother’s next stop was the Alexander Mercy Living Center. It was two minutes from Huntington Woods, and we visited every day. Gayle and I alternated days and our brother Alan and his wife Cathy, who lived further away, came on most weekends. The grandchildren visited as well. And Gloria, her caregiver from Coville Assisted Living, followed suit. My mother had to spend down her remaining savings before Medicaid kicked in. Having savings in your name is a true disadvantage. Just like Coville, the nursing home had activities to engage the residents. There was bingo, arts and crafts, a hair salon, and music was always played in the hallways. My mom was not a fan of the food service, so Gayle and I would bring her favorites — Chinese or on occasion McDonalds, with a chocolate milkshake. The staff was dedicated, and I marveled at the job they did — it was not easy. But none of this mattered because my mom constantly asked to go home — it was heartbreaking. She passed away in 2010 at 97. On many occasions when we visited, residents would be sitting outside their rooms listening to music broadcast through the sound system. They were either in wheelchairs, sitting independently or using the seat of a walker to enjoy the music of their past — Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday or Ray Charles. I began to contemplate what it would be like when our generation filled these halls. What type of music would be blasting through the speakers? Will our favorite tunes of the ’60s, ‘70s and ‘80s be selected? Hopefully, they would take requests—Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young, the Rolling Stones, Metallica, and Carol King just to name a few. My in-laws were another prime example of the aging predicament. They spent their life savings on private-pay homecare during their final years. Every cent they had saved to give their children and grandchildren was gone in a flash. For five years they had round-the-clock caregivers who were a tremendous help. These ladies were nothing short of amazing—loving, compassionate and honest. My father-in law, Louie had Alzheimer’s and my mother-in-law, Claire fell, broke her hip, and then needed extra attention as well. Family visited regularly and my husband Jeffrey was on-call for errands on a daily basis. Even though Louie’s memory was fading, he never forgot to greet Jeffrey by name when he walked through the door. But the good part from this sad scenario was they were able to stay in their home until they passed away — sadly, just ten days apart from one another. It was May 2006. In 2021, business writer Andrew Osterland reported ongoing research from the Health and Retirement Study at the University of Michigan. The study indicated that an “estimated 20% of Americans will need no long-term care services before they die, about 55% will have low to moderate needs and 25% will have the type of severe need that most people dread.” Unfortunately, baby boomers have a lot in common with their parents’ generation. As the years progress, we will face similar issues of requiring direct care from a facility or in our own homes. Finances will dictate where we land. However, there is an ever-present difference looming over boomers — our numbers are larger due to improvements in medicine but nursing home facilities are shrinking. Money comes into play once again. A 2022 article from Forbes emphasized that “more and more aging baby boomers are living alone these days. It’s estimated that 26 million Americans over the age of 50 are living solo, making this the quickest-growing demographic in the U.S. They will have an impact on the housing market, eldercare and government programs shortly.” This is a frightening scenario. By 2030 all baby boomers will be over 65 years old. They will comprise 20 percent of the population as well. With no real plan in sight, government funding in peril, and healthcare jobs that are unfilled, what is to become of our generation? The baton will be passed to our children — they will become the next sandwich generation. It’s an issue that causes alarm and remains unresolved. Projected services to care for the boomers are alarming. Monthly costs for a homemaker or home health aide are approximately $5,000 a month, while nursing homes cost approximately $6,500 a month. Medicaid helps with costs when the individual qualifies. Facilities that cater to independent living, with step down aid for dementia, Alzheimer’s and other health issues may cost anywhere from $5,000 to $7,000 a month as well. This figure also varies depending on the number of occupants in an apartment. What are baby boomers to do? If there is no quick fix in sight, it’s a disaster about to happen. Judi Markowitz is a retired high school English teacher of 34 years. She primarily taught 12th grade and had the pleasure of her three sons gracing her classes. In addition, she taught debate, forensics, and Detroit film. Judi has four adult children and seven wonderful grandchildren. She is married to Jeffrey Markowitz, whom she met in high school. Judi grew up in Oak Park, Mich. which had a stellar school district, with excellent teachers. The city provided activities for all–and there were even sidewalks. Judi moved to Huntington Woods as an adult, which is a half mile from her childhood home. She wanted the same experience for her children as she had growing up, and Huntington Woods provided that. The View from Four Foot Two is Judi’s first book.

By Andy Borowitz | The New Yorker April 6, 2023 NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report)—Fresh controversy swirled around Ginni Thomas as reports emerged that a Republican megadonor paid for her fur pelts and horns. According to the reports, Thomas also accepted a set of red, white, and blue face paints from the same donor. A combative Thomas told reporters that the fur pelts and horns she received were not luxury items but were derived from budget-priced rabbit and bison. She said that she would “not let this latest tempest in a teapot interfere with all the good work I am doing on the United States Supreme Court.” Her husband, Clarence Thomas, had no comment. Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Bonnie Fishman / San Francisco Bay Area Over the years from 1980-2005, when I owned and ran Bonnie’s Patisserie and then Bonnie’s Kitchen & Catering, I had many jobs as a business owner. A toque (chef’s hat) was only one of the many hats I wore. I managed the staff, ordered the food, ran the catering business, did all the bookwork, created recipes, and dealt with the customers. I have to say that my favorite, though, was teaching cooking classes. What I love about teaching is the creative engagement that I have with the food and the students. Watching them light up and get excited about a technique that they may not know or have been doing wrong for years is a highlight for me. The students are really getting value. The classes force me to learn new ideas and recipes. I studied at the Cordon Bleu Cooking School in London back in the mid-’70s. It was strictly classical French cooking. Those techniques are applicable to any type of cooking. It’s like learning a language though. You need to practice a lot to get good at it. It took me years to incorporate that knowledge into my own cooking and baking skills. After creating semesters full of different classes, it was fun to see which subjects caught the students’ eyes. The popular classes were Appetizers, Just Chicken, Good Food Fast!, Chocolate Desserts, to name a few. I had quite a following over the years so it was important for me to continue to create new recipes and topics for the regulars. I spent years teaching Vegetables Galore! and ended up with six assorted menus to keep the students satisfied. Each class contained four recipes, demonstration only, but everyone got to eat what I made. The classes were relatively informal, so people could ask questions along the way. Maybe they didn’t eat the mushrooms I had in a recipe. What could be a replacement? Or someone may not eat shellfish. What can you do instead? Many students shared kitchen tips, ones that I may not have known. I learned from them too! I also loved it when students shared their kitchen successes after taking some classes. My favorite comment was, “You’ve inspired me to cook.” What better compliment could there be? In my new life here in northern California, I’ve gotten back into teaching cooking classes in my home. I built my kitchen to accommodate this activity. It has worked out beautifully. I take only 14 students per class. Each one sits on a chair or stool, and has clear visibility. No one is further than 12 feet away from the action, so it is intimate but not crowded. We have a lively exchange of questions and anecdotes along the way. Last month, I taught a class on Passover desserts. One of the recipes appeared two weeks ago in The Insider. The desserts were not the usual boring recipes but real showstoppers. A bit complicated but worth it! I was, of course, exhausted afterward as it is very physical work. True confession: that night I ate 3 desserts as my dinner! There. I admitted it. Why not? I’m going to continue teaching only once a month. I want it to be fun for me, not a chore. Plus, I have to intersperse the classes with my busy schedule of hosting friends and family at the Fishman Family compound, traveling, and swimming, not to mention writing my weekly insider column. Creating the content and recipes keeps my mind going all the time. One other huge benefit of teaching is getting to know people in this town. Being a newcomer can be challenging when you relocates. Today’s recipe, White Bean Dip with Tajín Pita Triangles, was taken from my recent Appetizers class. It is the simplest go-to preparation. Both components can be changed to make it your own. I can’t urge you enough to use dried beans here. The texture and flavor is far superior to that of canned beans. I have suggested a Tex-Mex flavor profile by using cumin, chili powder, and cilantro. Feel free to substitute those spices with, say, an Italian theme. Here I would use more garlic, some oregano, and finish with fresh basil or rosemary. For the pita chips, remove the tajín and add za’taar or a schmear of pesto topped with parmesan before baking. If you choose this option, leave the pita whole, skip the olive oil, spread on the pesto and sprinkle with cheese. Now cut them into triangles before baking. One last tip about making the dip from dried beans. Repurpose the leftovers and spread it on a flour tortilla, stuff with roasted veggies, and roll it up. You’ll have a wonderful vegan sandwich! Tell us here at The Insider which teacher inspired you. I hope it was for cooking! P.S. Phyllis Schwartz and her daughter, Marilyn Chandross, from Bloomfield Hills, Mich., baked this lovely Italian Almond Torte using my recipe. Marilyn chose to top it with strawberries. It was a huge success at their seder! Email your own photo of this week's recipes to editor@theinsider1.com so we can share them online! White Bean Dip with Tajín Pita Triangles (#1) White Bean Dip Yield: @ 1 Quart 1 1/2 c. dried white beans 2 garlic cloves 1/4 c. fresh lemon juice 1 1/2 tsp. ground cumin 1 tsp. chili powder 1/4 tsp. cayenne 1 tsp. salt 1/4 tsp. coarse ground black pepper 1/4 c. extra virgin olive oil 1/3 c. fresh chopped cilantro, parsley, or other fresh herb Put the beans in a saucepan; cover with 2” cold water. Bring to a boil; remove from heat. Allow to soak for at least 1 hour. Drain beans. Return beans to pan and cover with 2” fresh water. Bring to a boil; turn down to a simmer. Cook beans until very tender, about 45 minutes. Drain, reserving the liquid. In a food processor, mince the garlic. Add the beans and remaining ingredients. Puree until smooth. If the dip is too thick, thin out with some reserved cooking liquid. Adjust seasoning. Serve with tajín pita triangles. (#2) Tajín Pita Triangles Yield: @ 4 dozen pieces 1 12 oz. package 6-7” pitas 1/4 c. olive oil 1/3 c. Tajín seasoning Preheat oven to 375°. Line 2 sheet pans with parchment paper. Reserve. Cut each pita round into 6 triangles. Place on sheet pan. Brush each triangle with oil. Sprinkle on seasoning. Bake for 15-20 minutes to desired crispness. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

By Victoria Rolfe / Red Hook, N.Y. One person making one little change might not have a big impact on the world, but 300 million people making that one little change? Well, now you’re onto something! The little change I have in mind is growing your own food. We all know it’s healthy to eat organic and local. Well, it doesn’t get any more local than your own backyard, or even your windowsill! And growing it yourself gives you complete control and assurance of what has gone into what you are putting into your body. That alone would be reason enough for me to want to grow my own. But, beyond your own health and satisfaction, once again, this practice has far-reaching benefits to the greater good. Stop and think for a moment about how that lettuce leaf made it to your plate. Unless you bought it from a local farmer, chances are it was grown on a giant monoculture (one crop) farm somewhere far from your home There are several ways that is impacting the environment. Monoculture is an unnatural way for things to grow on our planet. If you look around at the uncultivated world you will find a diverse group of plantings coexisting together. This is the happy way nature intended things to grow. The soil below is constantly being renewed and replenished as the life in the soil works its magic on the decaying plant matter. The roots are joyfully intertwined and communicating with each other via a healthy fungal network of micro rhizomes. A monoculture farm does not contain this lively balance. The soil becomes dead and depleted. And to counteract that, farmers must pump chemical fertilizers into the ground to feed those undernourished plants. These chemicals pollute our home planet. Also, because the soil is dead and lacking organic matter, it does not hold water the way that living soil does. So, it takes a great deal of irrigation to provide the plants with the water they need before it drains out of the dead ground, thus wasting one of our increasingly precious resources: fresh H2O. As you might imagine, plants grown in this fashion are not at the optimum health that they could and should be. To add to this, without the diversity and balance of flora and fauna around them (including “good” bugs to counteract the “bad” ones), they now become easy targets for the pests that attack them. Can you guess what the farmers do to address this issue? If you guessed strong chemical pesticides to kill the bugs, you win! Or do you? Does anybody win here? Then there is that supermarket lettuce on your plate. How did it get from that giant farm to your kitchen table? Popular science reports that transportation makes up a fifth of all food system carbon emissions. In fact, much of what we typically buy travels an average of 1,500 miles in the U.S. Ecoguide.org, whose mission is to help us fight climate change, reports that the transportation for each pound of food releases 0.18 pounds of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. I recognize that most people do not have a farm-size yard on which to grow a great deal of their own food. But everyone, even those living in apartments in the city, can grow at least a little something. And here’s where that 300 million of us comes in. If we each grew just one pound of our own food a year, that would relieve the environment of 540,000 pounds of CO2 emissions into the atmosphere. Of course, it’s not as simple as that. It’s not like the farms are actually going to grow one less head of lettuce for each one we grow at home. But my point is, in time, as more and more of us start to grow as much as we can, and less food is bought from the grocery stores, a difference can be made. I would like to implore each and every one of you to pick up a packet of seeds and start the journey. If you have some land out there, devote some of it to vegetables. Even if you don’t have a separate plot to devote to them, mix a few in with your flowers or landscaping. And if you have no land at all? Perhaps you have a deck or a terrace or balcony where you can grow some veggies or herbs in pots. There are quite a few veggies that will be quite happy to grow in containers. Smaller edibles, such as lettuce, radishes, leafy greens (like kale), and bush beans will do fine in small pots. Even bigger plants, such as tomatoes, peppers, eggplant, cucumbers, and squash can flourish in a larger vessel. If you are growing plants in containers, it is best to buy the varieties bred especially for that purpose. For instance tomatoes come in indeterminate varieties (will keep growing forever) and determinate varieties, which are better for containers because they will stop growing at a certain size (usually about 4'). Zucchinis and cucumbers can also be purchased in a more compact bush type for growing in pots. It will usually indicate this on the label. If you want to get fun and creative, you can put a trellis out there and grow some pea or bean vines up it. They are both beautiful and edible. You can even grow certain fruits on an apartment terrace. Strawberries do well in pots (there is a type of pot “tower” called a greenstalk with many pots put together in a vertical manner that lends itself beautifully to terrace growing of strawberries, lettuces, or other small crops). There are also blueberry plants that are sold specifically for container use. And even those of you in apartments with no outside space can grow a things on your windowsill in tiny pots. Basil, oregano, rosemary, and mint are just a few of the herbs you can grow right in your kitchen. And try a small lettuce plant or two as well. Don’t have a sunny windowsill? You can buy grow lights for indoor growing. You can even grow “microgreens.” This is when you fill a small container with seeds and just let them grow to a few inches tall and then “harvest” and eat them. So, let’s start a grow-your-own revolution! If everyone grows a little, we can collectively grow a lot! And once you taste that homegrown goodness and feel what it does to your health and well-being you will never want to go back. You will become as addicted to growing fresh delicious food as I am. A long, long time ago, after the birth of her third child, Victoria made the life-changing decision to leave the work world behind and devote herself to being a full-time mom and homemaker. Along with her new title of Domestic Engineer, she took on the role of the Chief Home Economist for the family. At first, it was scary to try to live on less than half their income, but Victoria found that she not only rose to the challenge but thrived in the enjoyment of learning to live their best life with limited resources. She embraced this new frugal lifestyle of the at-home-mom and went on to add a fourth child to the mix. And their family was complete. Along the way she acquired a great deal of wisdom in how to not only avoid debt, but pay off mortgages early, buy cars for cash, travel on a shoe-string budget, and send kids to college with no student loans, all while also saving a tidy nest egg for retirement. She currently educates others in these skills through her business Bright Future. Now living the life of a modern homesteader in the Hudson Valley, New York, Victoria has added gardening to her list of skill sets as she grows many of her own vegetables to supplement her family’s primarily vegan diet. And she has come to realize that this waste-not, want-not, carbon-friendly, sustainable life she is living is not only benefiting her own family but also our Mother Earth, and that each of us has the obligation to live a responsibly sustainable life not only for ourselves, but for the greater good of our community, and our planet. We can all do this one household and backyard at a time. We are the world! And it all begins right at home. Victoria can be reached at brightfuture2budget4@gmail.com

By Bruce Shlain / Detroit Donald J. Trump was put under arrest on Tuesday and charged with 34 felony counts. There were no handcuffs, no mug shot, and no sitting in a jail cell, but he seemed none too happy about becoming America’s best-known criminal defendant. The New York City indictment is in fact for some of Trump’s lesser crimes, not like the ones that could be coming down the pike for fomenting a riot on the Capitol to blunt the peaceful transfer of power, the interference in the election in Georgia, or the stolen classified documents stashed at Golf-a-Lardo. It is kind of like getting Al Capone on income tax evasion after all of Capone’s murders, extortion, and influence peddling under the table. In fact, it is not strictly illegal to make a hush-money payment, as in a nondisclosure agreement (wealthy men, for instance, employ these agreements in harassment suits all the time). The charges laid out at the arraignment detailed how the money was allegedly funneled and covered up, business records were falsified and tax fraud was committed, all in an illegal conspiracy to aid Trump’s presidential campaign in 2016 by covering up his extramarital affairs. Trump attorney and bagman Michael Cohen was sent to jail in 2019 for this imbroglio. He served his time and came out singing forcefully about the “Individual 1” named in his indictment, none other than the then-sitting president. Even if it concerns a relatively minor matter, a crime is a crime, and it is an important historical precedent, adding to Trump’s résumé as the only president to be twice impeached. Minutes after the news broke on Thursday that a Manhattan grand jury had voted in favor of bringing charges against Donald Trump related to a hush-money payment made to adult actress Stormy Daniels, Donald Trump Jr. was responding angrily online. Obviously, DJTJ was taking it seriously because, as Jimmy Kimmel noted in his monologue, Junior’s hands were not waving around like the Swedish Chef on The Muppets. “This is weaponized justice at its absolute worst…Soros-backed Manhattan D.A. Alvin Bragg is actually indicting my father," Trump Jr. said on Rumble, a right-wing video platform. "This is communist-level shit. This is stuff that would make Mao, Stalin, Pol Pot — it would make them blush. It's so flagrant. It's so crazed." The rest of the MAGA voices, from Ted Cruz to Josh Hawley to Steve Scalise, dozens really, climbed out of the Republican Clown Car and piled on with a chorus of coordinated talking points. The indictment was variously deemed a political hit job, a catastrophic weaponization of the justice system, election interference, and an assault on democracy. Shape-shifting Sen.Lindsay Graham went on Fox News and had tears in his eyes while defending Trump, then went all Oral Roberts and ended with a plea to send in money to help Trump fight this terrible injustice. Naturally, it’s always about the grift, and Graham at this point appears so well-trained by the Master himself that nobody has to tell him to beg for donations. "They're trying to destroy Donald Trump,” Graham said, “because they fear him at the ballot box. To the conservatives out there, make sure you vote. If you’ve got friends, make sure they vote. If you don't have any friends, go make some friends but you need to help this man, Donald J. Trump. They're trying to drain him dry. He's spent more money on lawyers than most spend on campaigns. They're trying to bleed him dry. Donaldjtrump.com. Go tonight, give the president some money to fight this bullshit." Fox News tried fitfully to ignore Trump, his speeches, and his rambling phone-ins to Fox & Friends. The Dominion Voting Systems lawsuit revealed the private texts showing the true opinion that Rupert Murdoch and the on-air hosts held about Trump–that he was costing the GOP one election after another and was better left to his own devices (and those were the nice remarks). However, when Fox executives saw their viewers leaving in droves, they realized that they could not quite get off the Trump train so easily. Hence the hearty defense of #45’s political persecution, including a three-installment interview with Sean Hannity. Just as the leaders of the GOP walk on eggshells so as not to rile the almighty Trump base, the network aimed at right-wing oldsters watching an endless loop of commercials for adult diapers, hearing aids, and shit pills, has found it just as difficult to cast Trump aside. Presidential hopeful Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis finds himself in the same quagmire. He parrots one Trump policy after another so as to appear very much like Trump himself except for not actually being Trump –Trump-Lite, if you will. He acts the tough guy while coming down as hard as he can on Disney World for its support of LGBTQ initiatives, and makes it well known that Drag Queen Story Hour has no place in the Sunshine State he envisions. His “owning the libs” strategy includes dumping migrants in Washington, D.C. or on Martha’s Vineyard in the middle of the night because if they want to be sanctuary cities, let them deal with these tired and poor people. Nonetheless, DeSantis immediately declared that the indictment of Trump was “un-American” and pledged not to cooperate with federal authorities who wished to extradite Trump to New York to be processed and arraigned. It was an empty promise, as Trump was already negotiating through his own lawyers on how he was to be brought into the courthouse, with his Secret Service guard in tow. So it was typical DeSantis, presenting a tough-guy-warrior front while living in a wimpyland of cowering fear of his political rival. Trump has slammed him again and again, with the nicknames “Ron DeSanctimonious” and “Meatball Ron,” and accusing the governor of grooming underage students to be his sex toys or having come to him in tears to beg for his endorsement. DeSantis has said nothing in return. The MAGA pundits are already saying the felony charges revealed on Tuesday will energize Trump’s followers and hand him the nomination. Of course, that is hardly the case, and doing nothing but complain about your persecution and prosecution is not the kind of campaign that could ever attract independents and win a national election. Even though he may get a temporary bump from presenting himself as a martyr to the cause, Trump is finished, but like Bluto’s speech in Animal House, nothing is over until he says it’s over. Meanwhile, GOP House honchos Jim Jordan of Indiana, Oversight Committee Chairman James Comer of Kentucky and Administration Committee Chairman Bryan Steil of Wisconsin sent a letter asking Bragg to testify before Congress about his investigation into the hush money payment Trump made to adult film star Stormy Daniels, implying collusion between the state prosecutor and the feds. However, the House of Representatives has no jurisdiction over a state prosecution whatsoever. Bragg finally wrote back to tell them in effect to “Weaponize this!”–warning that their interference in a criminal investigation was on the brink of being criminal conduct. As for Trump, he remains his typical model of restraint, using his Truth Social over the last few weeks to call Prosecutor Alvin Bragg an animal, degenerate, psychopath, racist, and radical-left monster, and posing with a baseball bat next to Bragg’s head. Bragg has already received a death threat with an envelope filled with white powder. At the arraignment, Judge Juan Merchan let Team Trump know that he was very concerned about such comments, without acknowledging how problematic it would be to place a gag order on a criminal defendant who is also running for president. Trump cares little if he stirs up some nutty assailant to commit mayhem, since as a chaos agent, that remains how he plays the game. He scheduled a rally in Waco, Tex., a none-too-subtle reference to David Koresh and the Branch Davidians who waged war against the U.S. government. At Waco, he opened with a surreal musical interlude, a recording of Trump reciting The Pledge of Allegiance with the J6 Choir (the convicts imprisoned for the Capitol riot) singing “The Star Spangled Banner” behind it. Then he lied about federal prosecutors resigning because the case against him was so flimsy (in fact they resigned because the case was not being pursued) and claimed that they had already dropped the case against him in New York after mistakenly predicting the day of his arrest days earlier. The case against Trump was of course very much alive. It is not really a a moment for simple hoorays that the rule of law has been upheld, and proof that in our society no man can be above the law. The trial will take a long time, it may be terminally boring in the details, and we will have to see if Trump ever serves any time. More importantly, as the Washington Post editorial board pointed out, this could very well be opening a Pandora’s box of endless cycles of revenge, whereby the party in power feels free to prosecute the party members who just lost an election. It seems that many in the GOP are ready to do that now. Listen to Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene of Georgia, who was preparing to deliver a Lincoln Day address in Gettysburg, Pa. last Thursday night, but just had to tweet about Trump’s indictment: "The irony of standing on the battleground when I found out President Trump has been indicted is profound." Greene said Trump was innocent and “the only one standing in the way of these modern-day tyrants, just like our Founding Fathers did, to protect each of us from evil. “Impeach Biden,” she continued. “He’s given us every reason and the family banking records and more are giving us receipts. But now the gloves are off. Prosecute any and all crimes. Enough of this witch hunt bullshit.” Greene appeared outside the New York courthouse to protest Trump’s arrest on the heels of her controversial appearance on 60 Minutes, where she was allowed by interviewer Lesley Stahl to spew her toxic brew of hate-filled rhetoric. Some may dismiss Our Little Margie as a garden-variety, foul-mouthed, ignorant bigot who fell down the QAnon rabbit hole and emerged as a conspiracy wack job with a blood thirst for insurrection and civil war. But the Crazy Caucus that she represents brought Kevin McCarthy to heel before he was allowed to be House Speaker. It is really not clear in the fog of retribution and super-polarized mudslinging whether cooler heads will ultimately prevail, and just how this Trump indictment will serve as a clarion call for transparency, truth and justice. The sorry-ass truth is that part of Trump’s legacy may be that what we have always thought of as the Ship of State may have already sailed. Bruce Shlain is the co-author of Acid Dreams: The Complete Social History of LSD: The CIA, the Sixties, and Beyond; Oddballs: Baseball's Greatest Pranksters, Flakes, Hot Dogs, and Hotheads, and Baseball Inside Out: Winning the Games Within the Games. His work has appeared in the New York Times, Rolling Stone, Men's Life, Mother Jones, and other publications. Writer and producer for Major League Baseball, Good Morning America, editor of a Manhattan weekly, senior copywriter for BBDO. He is currently at work on a memoir A Changed Man.

By Eric Green / Arlington, Va. Like the lyrics of a popular song from the 1950s puts it, the 34 felony counts announced April 4 against Donald Trump for falsifying business records and other criminal offenses “could be the start of something big.” Or more precisely, enormous. How big it gets depends on whether the two other investigations involving Trump end up with the former president in the slammer, at last getting his just desserts for breaking the law. Especially since The Donald never expresses regret or apologies for all the unlawful things he’s ever done, as if being a pathological liar and accused rapist weren’t bad enough. This dramady, an exquisite blend of tragedy with comedy, that stars Trump and a cast of other unsavory sleazebags in his orbit, might be something a playwright like Neil Simon would write for a Broadway show. But the production probably would close for good after a one night’s performance, after theater critics panned it for the characters lacking talent and the subject matter too improbable. Knowing how Trump characteristically tries to escape trouble, could he actually be perversely brimming over with self-pride and excitement as the first president to be indicted and facing a court of law? He found the energy to give a campaign-style speech to cheering supporters at Mar-a-Lago when he got home on Tuesday night. Perhaps 45 can use the felony counts as a badge of honor to satisfy his narcissistic need to be the center of attention. Of course, you don’t necessarily have to be Sigmund Freud to figure that one out. With Donald Trump, it’s always somebody else’s fault. Never his. Well, Mr. Loser Former President, Judgment Day for you has finally dawned and it may end up with you in an orange jumpsuit peering out from behind prison bars. The prospect of Trump being put in shackles raises several interesting questions about the circumstances of his confinement in a correctional facility. Will the Secret Service detail assigned to him as a former president be housed in an adjoining prison cell? Will Trump be placed in the general prison population and share a cell with a roommate? Or will he be placed in solitary confinement to protect him from any inmate who doesn’t take kindly to the Trumpster and wants to dish out his own form of selective judgment? Just imagine who they might give America’s newest convict as a roommate. The name Rudy Giuliani pops up, as he seems likely to be indicted for conspiring with Trump to overturn the 2020 election. Or maybe Steve Bannon, who’s already been convicted of contempt of Congress and sentenced to four months in jail, pending appeal. Or is there a possibility that Trump, now that he’s been formally arraigned, might decide to go on the lam to escape what the law has in store for him? Let the judge in Trump’s case make sure that doesn’t happen by putting an ankle monitor on him to prevent the ex-president from trying to hide out at his private golf club in Scotland, or even somewhere even more exotic, such as North Korea to visit his old comrade-in-arms Kim Jong-un, loved by all his subjects in his paradise on earth. And then there’s the matter of how well Trump will take to prison food. The cooks at the pokey might not always have his preferred well-done steak with ketchup on the day’s menu. It’d be a change of lifestyle for him to see a slab of meat and lukewarm lumpy potatoes thrown on his tray for dinner, after enjoying a bowl of porridge at breakfast. That 1950s song mentioned earlier, “This Could Be The Start of Something Big,” written by the late comedian, author, and pianist Steve Allen, goes on to say “there’s no controlling the unrolling of your fate.” How apropos to the fate of The Donald, who’s been flimflamming law authorities on a long list of offenses that are reported to fall under three general themes--financial wrongdoing that brought in more income; his role in the January 6, 2021 riot at the U.S. Capitol; and his ongoing efforts to sabotage the results of the 2020 presidential election. That’s not including the current investigation of Trump having hidden top-secret and other classified documents at his Mar-a-Lago mansion in Florida. The 34 felonies, which allegedly include Trump paying hush money to adult film star actress Stormy Daniels to cover up their alleged affair might lead to, as one wag put it, a young child asking a parent, “Daddy, what’s a porn star?” As Jimmy Kimmel put it on his late-night TV show, “For the first time in the history of this country, an American president has been indicted for his role in paying hush money” to a pornographic performer. “Although in fairness,” Kimmel added, “that’s a pretty narrow window. Like, when Grover Cleveland was president (in the late 19th century), porn stars were very hard to come by. But, still, it’s historic and it’s funny.” Trump’s inexhaustible ability to stay in the public eye was manifested even further when Congress impeached him an unprecedented two times on such matters as his alleged attempts to seek foreign interference in the 2020 presidential election. But now after being charged with all these felonies, Trump really has something to write home about. And he might have a lot of time to do that writing once he’s spending his time in the “joint.” Trump may be vying to become America’s all-time leading criminal, facing at least 19 legal actions against him. That’s not even to mention the gratuitous insults he’s aimed at women and people with physical challenges. Added to that charming personal background, Trump is often characterized as a racist and antisemite who eggs on far-right extremist and white supremacist MagaManiacs like the Proud Boys, the Oath Keepers, and the Three Percenters in a vicious attempt to destroy democracy and subvert the U.S. Constitution. If the MagaManiacs had their way, we might all be hailing Trump as the next Julius Caesar, our Pontifex Maximus. For Trump, you might say he’ll never let the felonies go to waste. Just as his one-time lawyer-“fixer”- and now nemesis Michael Cohen describes him as the ultimate con man, Trump will use the felony charges against him to further inflame his rabid supporters for his 2024 presidential run by portraying himself once again as the victim. That he’s being done in by left-wing sadistic prosecutors engaged in, as Trump insists, a “witch hunt.” Since the former president has told his followers that he is their “redemption,” you might even see Trump crying to the heavens he’s being publicly crucified, all the while claiming to have sacrificed so much to save America from the radical left Antifa, the “communists” in Congress, and the “lamestream” media. We’ve previously been subjected to Trump University, Trump Steaks, Trump Wine, Trump Water, Trump Hotel, Trump Airlines, and Trump Magazine. Now add to that unimpressive list the crowning achievement of his career. We can see it now playing on an endless loop for posterity: Trump facing the jury as it pronounces to the world, with the utmost solemnity and for just cause, what his new brand name shall be forever more--I Trump, Convicted Felon. Eric Green has had many former incarnations. Topping the list is news writer for the U.S. State Department and U.S. Information Agency, newspaper reporter in Maryland, press aide to a U.S. Senator on Capitol Hill, and ESL teacher in Washington, D.C. Presently a freelance writer, his articles have appeared in such places as the Washington Post, Baltimore Sun, and Highbrow Magazine. In an attempt to be a latter-day Art Buchwald or Erma Bombeck, he writes satirical pieces about political figures and celebrities that appear on various humor websites. He is the author of several books, including Temporary Insanity: Costa Rica: My Way and My Penciled-in-Life, A Hoosier Pens a New Story in D.C.

By Andy Borowitz | The New Yorker April 4, 2023 NEW YORK (The Borowitz Report)—Rep. Matt Gaetz announced that he has decided to stop payment on several checks he wrote to a variety of payees. Gaetz, who appeared panicky and sweaty while talking to reporters, refused to reveal the identity of the payees, but said that he came to the stop-payment decision in the middle of Tuesday afternoon. “In the past few days, I issued payments for, uh, a variety of antique birdhouses, which I have been collecting for many years,” the congressman said. “But now, on reflection, I realize I have way too many birdhouses. I am freaking lousy with birdhouses. That’s what those checks I wrote were for—unnecessary birdhouses.” “Sometimes you make a decision that you think is going to turn out all right, and then you find out, no, it’s not going to,” he said. “God, I just hope I’m not too late.” Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.