Flash Fiction: A Phantom Menace – Santa and the Attack of the Drones

Santa Claus stared at the large computer screen over the shoulder of Head Elf Flick, with Cookie, his wife of almost 1000 years, standing by his side. They watched a video showing a drone dropping off packages on house doorsteps.

Cookie rubbed his belly and said, “Nick, dear, don’t let this upset you.”

Flick giggled, “Yeah, Santa, so they can deliver packages faster than us. Who cares?”

Santa lifted a hand, raised Flick from the chair, and slammed him against the wall without touching the elf. Flick fell to the floor moaning as Santa said, “Don’t test my patience again.”

“Yes, Santa,” Flick moaned.

“Oh, Nick, you never used your powers to hurt anyone before,” Cookie said.

Santa staggered until he fell onto his red velvet throne. “I am sorry, Flick. I just lost it.”

Flick stood up, brushed himself off, and adjusted his pointy hat. “I understand, Santa. I should know this isn’t funny.”

Cookie said, “Dear, you’ve known about this drone thing for years.”

“Yes, of course, I’ve encountered them, but it was nothing like this.”

Flick sat down in front of the computer again. “Many companies are using delivery drones, but the one giving us the most competition is The Kringle Express.”

“They dare use the word ‘Kringle’ in their name?” Santa roared as he leapt off the throne and stomped over to Flick. He saw the image of the box with the hat that looked very similar to his own. “And they dare to appropriate my hat as their logo?” Santa’s cheeks became enflamed but he controlled his temper. “Who is the head of this company?”

“I guess you want to put him on the Naughty List,” Flick giggled.

Santa stroked his beard. “Uh, you can say that.”

Flick did a quick search and said, “Seems the CEO is very cloak and dagger. He keeps his head and body covered in long robes and wears dark sunglasses in public. The name is Lucas Winter.”

“Hmm, I don’t recall ever delivering toys to him as a boy.”

Cookie started toward the kitchen and said, “I’m going to make your favorite Christmas Eve snack before you depart, Nick.”

Santa sighed and Flick asked, “What’s wrong, Santa?”

“Usually I love Cookie’s midnight soup, but not this Christmas Eve!”

Flick pushed a button and, after a series of beeps, handed Santa his iPhone 7 plus. “Your itinerary is plotted for tonight, Santa; please try to have a good journey.”

Santa put a firm hand on Flick’s shoulder. “I’m going to leave a little early this year.” He glanced at the kitchen door. “Let Cookie know I had to take care of some business.”

“That Winter guy?” Flick asked clapping his hands. Santa put a finger to his lips and took the elevator to go down to the reindeer paddock.

*

Along the journey to the northern California home of Lucas Winter, Santa encountered several of The Kringle Express drones. Using his newly installed Laser Cannon 360, he quickly incinerated each one. “So much for them!” Santa chuckled.

The reindeer quietly pranced onto the roof of the palatial home set on 25 acres overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Santa pressed a blue button, and the sleigh landed silently.

As Santa headed toward the chimney, lead reindeer Dasher asked, “Santa, why don’t you have your bag?”

Santa said, “This kid is on the Naughty List.” He descended the chimney, extinguishing the fire until he stepped away from the mantel. He heard someone clapping and turned to see a cloaked figure in the corner.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the familiar voice said.

Santa twisted his fingers and the lights came on in the dark room. “I know you were; I was counting on it.”

“I see you still have a few parlor tricks, Nicholas of Myra.” The figure removed its cloak and revealed a jewel-encrusted image.  “But then, so do I.”

“You’ve tried to ruin Christmas for centuries.” Santa said.

The creature walked toward Santa on long legs with cloven feet. “Why should I endure a huge birthday party for my chief adversary?”

“Lucifer, you‘ve always failed because Christmas spirit is stronger than your hatred.”

“Not this year,” Lucifer said, moving toward the window and opening the black curtains with flurry of long, scaly fingers. “Behold, the way I’ll defeat you this year – millions of Kringle Express drones ready to take away your thunder!”

In the last rays of light from the sunset, Santa saw the drones loaded with packages spread across the acres of the property. He turned to Lucifer and howled, “You cannot do this!’

Lucifer chuckled, “But I am doing it. Soon the air will be flooded with my drones, and the children of the world will forget Santa Claus.”

Santa stroked his long white beard. “You have miscalculated as usual.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lucifer snapped.

Santa walked toward the fireplace, turned, and took something out of his pocket. “Almost forgot your present.” He threw a lump of coal toward Lucifer who caught it in his webbed hand.

Santa ascended the chimney and got in the sleigh. Soon he and the reindeer were aloft, and they observed the millions of drones rising into the sky like a flock of buzzing locusts.

Santa glanced at his laser cannon, but instead stood, raised his arms, and invoked the power given to him centuries ago – a gift from the One far greater than Lucifer, a fact that the cursed one had yet to grasp after countless millennia.

The power shot out from Santa’s white-gloved hands, causing all of the drones to waver in flight. As he brought his hands together in one thunderous clap, the drones all battered and rammed one another, every one of them exploding before plummeting to the ground.

Santa saw the moon rise over the ocean, sat down, and grabbed the reins. “We have work to do, lads – so dash away all!” Santa steered the sleigh across the sky to begin the journey that would take them all night.

Movie Review: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story – A Slice Empire Pie with a Dollop of Some Hope

 Since this film is considered part of the Star Wars canon with it also being dubbed a standalone story, viewers must consider the ramifications of what is learned as well as the implications of what is not. I am not going to go into spoiler territory here, but there are some surprises along the way despite there being one glorious problem – we already know the ending of the story. With the box office exploding this first weekend the film is in theaters, it doesn’t seem to be presenting any problems for Disney thus far.

People have gone to see movies before when they already knew the ending – everyone knew the Titanic was going to sink, but that didn’t stop anyone from going to see Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet in the film because the story surrounding the sinking mattered more than the ship actually hitting that iceberg. Rogue One: A Star Wars Story has the quest to steal the Death Star plans as its central story; we already know from Star Wars IV that this deed is accomplished, but the characters (led by a tenacious Felicity Jones as Jyn Erso) are compelling enough for us to go along for the ride.

All the while watching the film with my seven year old son (a more avid Star Wars fan than I it seems at times), he kept asking when we were going to see Darth Vader (again voiced by the incomparable James Earl Jones) and then when he does finally show up, instead of a menacing visage we get an answer to a question I long wanted answered – how does old Darth take a shower?

That said Vader does then appear in a much more frightening moment, confronting Director Krennic (Ben Mendelsohn as the new villain in this film). Krennic’s obvious competition with a recognizable Star Wars face in the form Grand Moff Tarkin (more about him later) spells trouble for him as Vader gives Krennic the invisible force chokehold as a convincer to get his act together.

Felicity Jones does a great job as the leader of a rag-tag group who take it on themselves to steal the Death Star plans after the rebel council declines to pursue the dangerous mission. This group includes Captain Cassian Andor (a solid Diego Luna), former Imperial pilot Bodhi (a terrific Riz Ahmed), droid K-2SO (voiced by Alan Tudyk as a wise-cracking but action hero alternative to the stolid C-P30), and super duo Chirrut Imwe and Baze Malbus (Donnie Yen and Wen Jiang). Along with some of Andor’s ready to rumble rebel buddies, they steal an impounded Imperial ship and as they fly off on their mission Bodhi christens it Rogue One.

That these totally new characters can capture our attention and bring us along on their journey with interest is a credit to director Gareth Edwards and writers Chris Weitz and Tony Gilroy. While there are many nods to the Star Wars fans throughout (and even a couple of surprise cameos of old favorites), the central focus remains on the new characters and their dogged efforts to get those Death Star plans. Since most of the film’s action takes place a few days before the events of A New Hope, we get a good idea about how dark and evil a place the galaxy has become in the years since Revenge of the Sith.

There are many great action sequences throughout, and this is the first Star Wars film to really emphasize the “war” factor of the title – we get lots of combat and casualties on both sides. Against more than staggering odds Jyn, Cassian, and company push forward with individual motivations. Jyn’s back story adds complexity to the mix – her father Galen (Mads Mikkelsen) was a scientist who had a hand in creating the Death Star. Scenes of her as a little girl are reminiscent of Rey’s (Daisy Ridley) in last year’s Star Wars: The Force Awakens, and make us wonder why all our heroes in this galaxy are either orphans or from fractured families.

As is expected in any Star Wars film, the battle scenes, space sequences, and vistas of numerous alien worlds are exceptionally realized, this time by cinematographer Greig Fraser, and the stirring music by Michael Giacchino swells and flows appropriately to accompany the many visual delights. It goes without saying that some of John Williams’s iconic score comes into play in the Darth Vader scenes, and it’s difficult not to feel that same unsettled but welcome feeling as he stomps into a scene.

Now to get to the eerie inclusion of Grand Moff Tarkin (so memorably played by the late Peter Cushing in A New Hope), the computer effects are such that he is inserted into the film almost flawlessly, except for the fact that Cushing died in 1994 kept gnawing away at me. Audiences know it can be done now and seem to accept the use of a deceased actor in this manner, and my son had no clue that Cushing was dead until I told him later on, yet there is something disturbing about it even though Tarkin has to be there on the Death Star at that moment because it would not make sense otherwise.

Besides the Tarkin issue, Rogue One: A Star Wars Story is a fine addition to the growing Star Wars canon. We know that Disney has plans for many more of these lucrative adventures, including a film about a young Han Solo. Since the appetite for Star Wars related projects seems insatiable (my son and I devour the TV series Star Wars Rebels as proof of that hunger), there will be no end in sight for tales from a long time ago in a galaxy quite far way. All I can say to Disney about that is “May the force be with you.”

TV Review: The Walking Dead – Midseason Finale Almost Saves Season 7

*This review contains spoilers.

Since season seven’s premiere episode – the one in which we witness Negan (Jeffrey Dean Morgan) bash in the heads of two beloved characters, Glenn (Steven Yeun) and Abraham (Michael Cudlitz) – The Walking Dead has been in its own death spiral. For a series that I (and millions of others) have loved to watch, it has been a struggle each week to stay tuned (and ratings have plunged). I have been hoping that things will get better, but each week they get worse.

Now don’t get me wrong; I am still a fan – mostly because I am invested in Rick (the amazing Andrew Lincoln) and Carol (equally amazing Melissa McBride) and also terrific Daryl (Norman Reedus), Morgan (Lennie James), Michonne (Danai Gurira), and the rest. I want to see them move ahead and perhaps find some kind of peace and happiness.

But as a fan of Kiefer Sutherland in 24, I know that dark, tragic dramas like these rarely bring the characters there. His Jack Bauer has about three minutes of normalcy with his family in episode one/season one and then never experiences it again throughout the series. We don’t go to see Hamlet or Othello and expect the titular characters to be waltzing off into the sunset with Ophelia and Desdemona respectively, because tragedies never end that way.

TWD is in essence an extended TV tragedy, and if that is the case then following Rick since he woke up in the hospital in season one/episode one means that we are inevitably going to see what we don’t wish to see. With that said, the series creator and executive producer Robert Kirkman, the writers, and showrunner Scott Gimple have played around with us with abandon. They seem to believe that they have us hook, line, and sinker, and there is nothing that we can do about it. Alas, they don’t know how close I have been (and other people I know) to tuning out permanently.

So we have been treated to seven difficult to watch episodes leading up to this midseason finale. Being that it is TWD and we know that we will not see Rick and company again until February, we are usually left with a slam-bang episode that keeps us wanting more. This eighth episode almost gets us there, but just not quite all the way.

Maggie (Lauren Cohan) increases her chances for leadership at the Hilltop, Rick and Aaron (Ross Marquand ) get to swim in a lake full of walkers in order to gather supplies to please Negan; Michonne takes one of Negan’s women on a ride to the gates of the Sanctuary planning to kill him, Rosita (Christian Serratos in her best performance in the series) takes a shot at Negan with her one bullet, Morgan and Carol get a visit from one of the Kingdom’s soldiers asking to help lead an attack on Negan, and Daryl actually escapes from his jail cell. There is so much going on in this episode in an attempt to bring together all the season’s meandering stories, but while some of it is satisfying it also feels as if Gimple is trying to push too many threads through the eye of a needle.

The problem is that after spending eight episodes establishing just how bad Negan is and how everyone must fear him, I am longing for the Governor or even the Termites. Nothing against Morgan, who has done good work here, but the way the writers have gone about building him up has been more than irritating – did we have to have the threatening scene in the kitchen with Carl (Chandler Riggs), baby Judith, and doomed Olivia (Ann Mahoney)? By also simultaneously breaking Rick down to almost nothing, there has been no hope or anything to really keep us watching.

Toward the end of this episode we start getting glimmers of hope. Daryl escapes and reunites with Rick (and even gives him back the gun Negan had taken away from him). Everyone is smiling at the Hilltop, locking arms and hugging in a reunion of sorts, and there is a sense that now Rick has got his spine reinserted in his body and he will be able to get back to what Rick does best – kicking some ass.

If you have read the comics like I have you know what is coming – and I hate to break it to you – but there is a hell of a lot more of Negan in the forecast, and I am talking multiple seasons perhaps; however, I do not think the TV version of TWD can withstand that as it is written in the comics.

Now, of course, the TV TWD has certainly veered away from the source material many times. Characters who are still alive in the comics are dead on the series (like Andrea), and Daryl does not even exist in the comics, so there has to be hope that Gimple, Kirkman, and company realize the TV fans need something very different than the readers of the comics.

One thing is very clear after watching these eight episodes of season seven – Negan has to go. The way he is being portrayed may be keeping close to the source material (probably way too close actually), but the patience of the TV viewer is way shorter than the comic book readers. Negan has worn out his welcome, and we can only hope that Kirkman and Gimple realize this and give us a satisfying ending to season seven (unlike the terribly unsatisfying ending to season six).

So we already get that the Kingdom, the Hilltop, and the Alexandrians are all going to have to join forces to confront and defeat Negan. It will not be easy at first getting everyone on board in all the communities (and I fear a long, drawn out process), but from what these people are experiencing there is no other alternative and perhaps a quicker move to resolution will be found.

In this episode Rosita had the passion and spunk to try to kill Negan. After the bullet gets lodged in his barbed-wire covered baseball bat, affectionately called Lucille by the maniac, Negan asks her incredulously, “Did you just try to kill me?” This has to border on the most absurd rhetorical question because either Negan is living in a solipsistic world or all his cards are not in the deck. Yes, Negan, she tried to kill you – almost everyone hates you and wants to kill you, even your own people.

After a not so friendly outdoor game of billiards, Negan guts Spencer (Austin Nichols) for being a sniveling rat and turning on Rick, and then he has one of his people randomly shoot anyone, which turns out to be poor Olivia, who has endured ridicule and abuse from Negan and then gets a bullet in the head. These deaths, while rather inconsequential to the fans, are monumental in giving Rick a slap to the face worthy of Cher in Moonstruck – it is about time Rick snapped out of it!

It is difficult for any series to keep going as long as TWD has, and the fact that the cast has become so bloated makes it hard to give any of the tertiary characters meaningful arcs. If the impending conflict should do anything (besides remove Negan from the planet) it will probably wipe out many of these extraneous characters and bring us back to the core group that we care about most of all.

The real question is how long can Kirkman, Gimple, and company sustain the story line. Yes, there are copious amounts of comic pages to work with, but I wonder how much of it is truly translatable to the TV series. The more they take stories from the source material (including some verbatim dialogue) the less inclined many of us feel a need to keep watching.

I am cautiously optimistic that the rest of season seven may be much better than the first half. If Rick gets his act together and the others follow, maybe we can have a war that will eventually eradicate the Negan menace. I am not certain Kirkman and Gimple want to give up Negan all that quickly, but if they do not I don’t know if I (and many other viewers judging from what I have been hearing and reading) will be along for the ride. Season six ended with Negan bashing in the head of someone we cared about; here’s hoping that season seven ends with Rick keeping his promise to kill Negan, preferably with that hatchet.

Celebrating The 70th Anniversary of It’s a Wonderful Life – Its Indelible Spirit Never Grows Old

Seneca Falls, New York - perhaps the inspiration for the town in the film

This weekend in Seneca Falls, New York, the surviving cast members who played the Bailey children – Karolyn Grimes (ZuZu), Carol Coombs (Janie), and Jimmy Hawkins (Tommy) – in the classic Christmas movie It’s a Wonderful Life are gathering to celebrate the film’s 70^th anniversary. While it is debatable whether director Frank Capra based Bedford Falls (the film’s fictional town) on Seneca Falls, the people who played these memorable characters believe it to be so, and that is why they are there to celebrate.

Karolyn Grimes and Carol Coombs

While Grimes believes that Seneca Falls was the inspiration for the film’s setting, she also thinks that Capra never made the connection public for a specific reason – he wanted the audience to think of Bedford Falls as any town in order “to identify with their own community.” Of course, the universality of the time and place is what made the film connect with the audience when it premiered in December 1946 and that has continued to happen for viewers of the film for the last 70 years.

The first time I saw the film was back in the 1980s. At the time my mother noted it would be on TV that evening and that she remembered it to be a great movie. Since I was going out I popped a blank tape into the VCR and recorded it. I eventually sat down to watch it and fast-forwarded the commercials that appeared on old Channel 5 here in New York – most notably numerous ones with Tom Carvel hawking his ice cream cakes for the holidays.

Grimes as ZuZu with Stewart and Reed

I was simply blown away by Frank Capra’s masterpiece – I had never seen anything like it before. A normal everyday guy named George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart in a magnificent Oscar nominated performance) gets to a point in his life where he feels that he needs to kill himself, and an angel named Clarence (Henry Travers) is sent down to show him what a poor choice that would be.

To accomplish this task Clarence takes George to an alternate world where he had never been born. Hundreds of lives are affected by George’s absence, including almost everyone in the small town of Bedford Falls, but also many others a world away during the war. George likes the idea of having no strings attached at first, but as he gradually becomes aware of his signifcance in all these people’s lives, he realizes that his life is not only worth keeping but that it was truly important to so many others – he had actually made a tangible difference in their lives.

All these years later I have watched It’s a Wonderful Life probably over 100 times. I usually take it out (now I have it on DVD) on Thanksgiving weekend and watch it with the kids as I put up the tree and decorate the house. This is a cursory viewing, meant to let the kids see it and for me to watch some of it without getting emotionally involved.

The next viewing will be when I am alone, and it will be a fully invested one. This was the case last evening when, after the kids had gone to bed and the wife went shopping, I could sit down and truly enjoy it. As always, I find some new things in it (even after all this time) and savor all the moments I remember so well and, despite seeing it so many times before, I reach those moments when a box of Kleenex is in order.

I will probably watch it again with my children during Christmas vacation when there is no school, and then sometimes during the year when I am feeling down and I need a little shot of Christmas cheer, I’ll pop the movie in to be reminded of the happiest season of all.

One thing that any new viewer – and I am amazed at how many people have told me that they haven’t watched this film yet – should know is to be prepared to go down with George as his world seems to crumble. The film takes us to some very dark places, and as we see the man we know who is so good at heart break, tears inevitably flow and we wonder if he can make it through.

For me these are tough scenes to watch, but the most notable one is when George finally explodes in the family’s living room, knocking things down and smashing his blueprints and the children’s drawings. His wife Mary (a terrific Donna Reed) and the kids are shocked by their father’s incongruent behavior, and when Mary sends George out into the cold night, we know he is headed for the darkest place of all.

George with his family after seeing the light

Throughout the film though there is a ray of hope – the light that comes through the darkness to eventually brighten the world. This is why we stick with George all the way, even when it seems as if he is going to destroy himself. When he does see the light, there is glorious relief for the viewer, and Stewart does a remarkable job of transforming inside and brightening the character – his redemption is a beacon that brightens our own lives, which is why the film still endears itself again and again to people all over the world.

You may not be able to get to Seneca Falls this weekend to celebrate, but all you have to do is pop the DVD (or the newly released Platinum Anniversary Edition Blu-ray) into the machine, grab some popcorn, and visit good old Bedford Falls. You’ll definitely be glad that you did.

The Turkey Hunt: A Short Story by Victor Lana

A week before Thanksgiving in 1938, my teenage brother and I walked through vast fields that sprawled behind the house where we lived in Queens, New York. In those days most of the area consisted of woods and farmland.

Dan wore Dad’s old Mackinaw coat which was worn on the sleeves at the elbows and a little tattered about the edges. We got to the top of the hill and the woods smelled sweet after the rain the night before.

``Dan, can we pick some berries up by the stream?'' I asked.

``Sure, but what's the use? We'll have a pie for dessert and no turkey for dinner.''

I heard a funny noise and said, ``Dan, you hear that?''

``Hear what?'' he asked.

“That!'' I said as I pointed at a large bird staring at us from behind a big oak tree.

``That's an honest to goodness gobbling turkey,'' Dan whispered back. He looked around and picked up a big rock.

``Talk to it,” he said, “while I creep around and pound him.”

Visions of a steaming bird on our Thanksgiving dinner table filled my head. I said, ``Hey, Tom, Mr. Turkey, I mean, how are you? I guess not too good since next week is Thanksgiving.”

Dan threw the rock but missed. The bird ran right past me in a flash and disappeared into the dark woods.

``Did you see how fast that bird ran?'' I said. ``He’s faster than Jesse Owens!''

Dan said, ``Say nothing about this to Ma and Pop, okay?''

``Sure, if you say so, Dan.''

``We'll take Pop's shotgun tomorrow after school and we'll roam these woods until we find that bird and bag ourselves Thanksgiving dinner.''

*

For the next few days we did the same thing after school: we came into the house, kissed our mother, put our books away, and sneaked into Pop's closet and took his shotgun. I carried the shells and Dan rested the gun on his shoulder as we walked quickly toward the woods. Each day seemed to get colder and the darkness came earlier. On the day before Thanksgiving we heard the funny little noise again. Dan put his finger up to his mouth. 

``Don't make a move,'' he whispered.

``Do you want me to talk to him again?'' I whispered.

``Yes,'' Dan said, ``I'll go over and get him from behind that bush.''

The turkey stared at me with dark eyes, its big black-banded wings fluttering ever so slightly. It made little curdling noises while bending its head to the side as if to study me. It suddenly came into my mind that this bird was a victim, a lost soul in a world of lost souls, and we wanted to eat him for a holiday dinner and couldn't care less about his troubles. I looked up and saw Dan as he started to take aim at the bird. I ran forward, waving my arms back and forth yelling, ``Run, Mr. Turkey, run like Jesse Owens and get away.''

Dan had pulled the trigger but the turkey once again flew past me faster than my favorite athlete. Dan ran toward me and screamed, ``Are you nuts?''

``I felt sorry for him, Danny,''

``Sorry for him?'' Dan asked.

``I thought he might have a family.''

Dan grabbed me by the coat and shook me. ``If I wouldn't get in trouble, I'd beat you up.'' He let go of me and went off into the woods and back towards home.

As we came toward the house we could see Pop waiting for us on the front porch, the lit pipe glowing in his mouth. Imposing in his police uniform coat and hat, Pop asked, ``Where have you boys been with my shotgun?''

Dan handed it to Pop nervously. ``We were trying to shoot a turkey for dinner tomorrow.''

``A turkey?'' Pop asked. “There's been no turkeys around here for twenty years.''

``We saw one, Pop,'' I said.

Pop said. ``Get inside and wash up.''

*

The next morning I woke to the aroma of Ma's cooking. I went into the kitchen and found my mother basting a huge bird. I said, ``Ma, did Pop get that from Krauss the butcher?''

``I don’t know,” she said. “He surprised me this morning with it.”

I went out to the garage where Pop was sawing wood. I asked, ``Where'd you get the turkey, Pop?''

``You boys said that you saw a turkey out there in the woods, so I went to take a look.''

I felt my stomach turn and asked, ``You shot Tom?''

``I didn't stop to ask him his name,'' Pop said.

I felt sick and went outside and started up the hill in the cold, thinking about the turkey and how my father had shot it for us. He didn't think about the turkey's family, or if it was lost, or even if it had a name. These were hard times and people were starving all over our country. Who was going to mourn the loss of one bird?

I started thinking that I was going to enjoy this meal just as much as anyone in my family would. The gravy and the stuffing and the bird itself would be delicious. The Fantinis of Queens, New York, were going to have a true feast this Thanksgiving, one to rival ones being eaten by those rich people living on Fifth Avenue.

I thought about my mother's pie made with the raspberries I had picked along the stream. Ma said it would be one of the best pies we had ever eaten. I stood up and looked at the smoke coming out of my chimney, the windows of my house so warm against the cold, and at that moment I couldn't have wanted to be anyone else or live anywhere else in the world. I was more certain of this than anything I had ever known in my young life as I started back down the hill and headed home for dinner.

Talking More Than Turkey – Preparing for Election Rancor to Rock Thanksgiving

Ah, the holidays – those warm, cozy times of families gathering around the festive table to eat a great meal and enjoy one another’s company. This year – not a chance! If you are feeling like I am right now, you are dreading the inevitable holiday dinner sit down that could possibly turn into something like a wrestling cage match.

As it is, holidays bring out the best and worst in people. We like to think of the past at these times – those fuzzy moments when we all gathered around the table with friends and loved ones who are no longer with us. Looking back now (still from the vantage point of sitting at the card tables in the living room with young siblings and cousins), I like to think of it as a Disney version of things – remembering everyone getting along and passing the sweet potatoes with melted marshmallows, instead of Uncle Jimmy yelling so hard about something that his false teeth popped out into a glass of cider.

Yes, we tend to glorify that past as the good old days and  gloss over squabbles and bickering and the drunken relatives who would not leave the table until draining that wine bottle. Alas, they were also good times and everyone who is gone seemed so healthy and vibrant then, even my grandparents and other older relatives.

As a boy I took comfort in us all being together, and I figured every family had its disagreements. Back then the bickering could be Mets-Yankees or Jets-Giants more than anything political. Though I do recall when turning 18 and registering to vote being lambasted by my older relatives on Thanksgiving that year for not registering as a Democrat or a Republican – I chose to be an Independent and shook them all up a bit.

Though I recall one contingent of my family loving JFK (they adored him mostly because he was the first Catholic POTUS) and being fiercely loyal Democrats, they never fought with the Republican family wing who worshipped at the altar of Reagan. Maybe life was simpler then, but the disagreements tended to be much more about local politics (the two sides either loving or hating New York City Mayor Ed Koch, for example) and sports.

This year is poised to be different for my family and no doubt yours. The divide is much deeper now – the rift wider than ever before. In the past you didn’t see people most of the year and got together without knowing much of what was going on in their lives since last New Year’s Eve, but now courtesy of Facebook, Twitter, and email, we know everything that every cousin, aunt, and uncle thinks and does all year long (like seeing pictures of that great vacation Aunt Ester had in Florida or knowing about the deer cousin Jerry hung upside down in his garage after shooting it last week).

We also know about our family members’ political views and, this year in particular, the battle lines have been drawn in the sand in deep red and blue. The prospect of friendly banter may be subsumed by acrimonious conversations, especially if that annoying cousin Millie makes her usual one contribution to the conversation – this year no doubt being something along the lines of “How about that Trump?”

Since war may be waged over the Thanksgiving dinner table, perhaps keep the option open to using plastic utensils. Those big drumsticks – good possible weapons for sure – should probably be left on a platter in the kitchen, and don’t let Uncle Ralph (who will no doubt be wearing his red Make America Great Again Donald Trump hat) sit next to Hillary Clinton supporter Dad as he is carving the turkey, unless you want the shower scene from Psycho to unfold.

I don’t know about you, but I am contemplating skipping the whole dinner thing and going out to look for someplace that is open on Thanksgiving Day. The prospect of sitting down alone and eating some General Tso’s chicken at Szechuan Palace is infinitely more appealing than being there to witness the battle of the red and the blue over turkey and cranberry dressing.

So, gird your loins, America – this Thanksgiving is going to be a bumpy ride, but take solace in knowing that it will pass, and then everyone can kick the crap out of one another the next day trying to get the best deals in the stores on Black Friday. Man, you just have to love the holidays.

Why a Write-In Vote for President Is Not a Wasted Vote

While I had promised myself not to write anymore about the 2016 Presidential election until it was over, I find myself getting agitated by people saying, “A write-in vote” is a waste of time or a wasted vote. For those people like me who are thoroughly disenchanted with the two main candidates for the highest office in the land, saying something like this is as condescending as it gets.

To begin with, I am a registered Independent, so here in my home state of New York that basically means that I don’t exist. I cannot vote in the primaries, and the candidates that usually are considered the leading ones never represent my party (on occasion they do get an endorsement from my party, but that doesn’t mean they are the ones for whom I wish to vote).

After a raucous and obnoxious campaign waged by both Hillary Clinton (the Democratic Party nominee) and Donald Trump (the Republican nominee), I still have no inclination to vote for either one of them. This is more than about the issues or the personalities of these two totally unqualified candidates – it is about the lack of equity and accountability in the way nominees are chosen.

Earlier this year I wrote about getting rid of the conventions for both parties because they seem meaningless. When I see the machinations that went into depriving Bernie Sanders of a fair shot at being the Democratic nominee – and I firmly believe that he was robbed of the opportunity by the DNC, chair Debbie Wasserman Schultz, and Ms. Clinton herself – how could I ever bring myself to vote for the nominee whom I believe does not deserve to be there?

On the Republican side, there were so many supposedly “qualified” but unlikeable and annoying candidates that Trump – in no way the cream rising to the top – became the nominee by default. You can say what you want about his tactics and personality, but it was his opponents’ haplessness and lack of personality that catapulted Trump to the nomination.

So, after watching the unthinkable become the unimaginable – two of the most unpopular candidates in American election history running for the presidency – can you blame me and people like me for wanting another option?

Someone I know whom I respect a great deal said about my wanting to write-in Bernie Sanders for President that “It is just sour grapes.” He, a staunch Hillary supporter, went on to say “Any write-in vote is a vote for Trump.” However, I have heard Trump supporters saying just the opposite – that a write-in vote is a vote for Hillary. Of course, I couldn’t disagree more.

A write-in vote is a vote of conscience and integrity. It indicates that I (and many like me) am unhappy with the system, disgusted with the way we are expected to vote like cattle, and that many American voters want more options than just Republican or Democrat.

I have liked some of the things that both Libertarian candidate Gary Johnson and Green Party candidate Jill Stein have said; there were also things that I did not appreciate. I was bothered by Johnson missing the beat on Aleppo and Stein seeming to lean toward policies I disagree with in some areas, but more than that, I just am not comfortable casting a vote for either one because they were not my first choice, and I still think my first choice is the best one for me.

From the beginning I liked what Bernie Sanders had to say and what he wouldn’t say – he never knelt down in the gutter like Trump and Clinton, who have repeatedly gotten on their knees mired in the muck to attack each other. Bernie’s candidacy was fueled by high ideals and the notion of not the bluster of making America great again, but rather making it a better place to live for all people.

I know that many voters feel that a write-in vote is meaningless, but I beg to differ. A write-in vote can shake the world – if only more Americans would be able to join with me and others like me and take that giant leap. Your write-in vote is not just one small step calling for change in this election but a giant leap for redefining democracy in America. By choosing to write-in a candidate for president you are saying so much by not uttering a word and casting your ballot against the status quo.

Imagine if enough of us went into the voting booths all over the country on November 8 and wrote-in Bernie Sanders’s name? Perhaps he would not win, but if a tangible percentage of votes went to him it would send a message to the parties and to the politicians that people want change; it would signal that the “political revolution” that Sanders promised during his campaign is not over – it has only just begun!