From Senator John McCain

Senator John McCain penned this farewell letter to the American people. I encourage all of you to read it.

——

My fellow Americans, whom I have gratefully served for sixty years, and especially my fellow Arizonans,

Thank you for the privilege of serving you and for the rewarding life that service in uniform and in public office has allowed me to lead. I have tried to serve our country honorably. I have made mistakes, but I hope my love for America will be weighed favorably against them.

I have often observed that I am the luckiest person on earth. I feel that way even now as I prepare for the end of my life. I have loved my life, all of it. I have had experiences, adventures and friendships enough for ten satisfying lives, and I am so thankful. Like most people, I have regrets. But I would not trade a day of my life, in good or bad times, for the best day of anyone else’s.

I owe that satisfaction to the love of my family. No man ever had a more loving wife or children he was prouder of than I am of mine. And I owe it to America. To be connected to America’s causes – liberty, equal justice, respect for the dignity of all people – brings happiness more sublime than life’s fleeting pleasures. Our identities and sense of worth are not circumscribed but enlarged by serving good causes bigger than ourselves.

“Fellow Americans” – that association has meant more to me than any other. I lived and died a proud American. We are citizens of the world’s greatest republic, a nation of ideals, not blood and soil. We are blessed and are a blessing to humanity when we uphold and advance those ideals at home and in the world. We have helped liberate more people from tyranny and poverty than ever before in history. We have acquired great wealth and power in the process.

We weaken our greatness when we confuse our patriotism with tribal rivalries that have sown resentment and hatred and violence in all the corners of the globe. We weaken it when we hide behind walls, rather than tear them down, when we doubt the power of our ideals, rather than trust them to be the great force for change they have always been.

We are three-hundred-and-twenty-five million opinionated, vociferous individuals. We argue and compete and sometimes even vilify each other in our raucous public debates. But we have always had so much more in common with each other than in disagreement. If only we remember that and give each other the benefit of the presumption that we all love our country we will get through these challenging times. We will come through them stronger than before. We always do.

Ten years ago, I had the privilege to concede defeat in the election for president. I want to end my farewell to you with the heartfelt faith in Americans that I felt so powerfully that evening.

I feel it powerfully still.

Do not despair of our present difficulties but believe always in the promise and greatness of America, because nothing is inevitable here. Americans never quit. We never surrender. We never hide from history. We make history.

Farewell, fellow Americans. God bless you, and God bless America.

Obama Presidential Center

Barack Obama

"I just stopped by a high school on Chicago’s Southwest side to meet with students who spent the summer learning to code smartphone apps. These apps are impressive – they are designed to connect people in danger to emergency services, make it easy for students and families to get the latest information about their schools, and even help you decide what to eat to for dinner. It’s part of a program Michelle and I are proud to support called One Summer Chicago, which invests in local youth by providing meaningful educational and professional experiences in safe spaces over the summer. Programs like this aren’t just helping Chicago’s youth gain skills for their own future, they're also strengthening the pipeline of talent right here on the South Side, the community of the future Obama Presidential Center."

Memorials - and Blood on Your Hands

I understand what war memorials are about...I'm just tired, when every day of the week wars consume the news...which country is it today? Who was killed today? Wars are never ending. Will we be next?

Money and Power-hungry men, and hate, is what comes into my mind when I see these memorials…

Again, yes, we should honor those who HAD to fight and give their lives, and in self defense give us our freedom from tyrants, but I hate the men who seem to think the glory is in the fighting and in the killing of another human being for: Glory be the conquests!

Conquering the innocents just to gain land and power over human life. Is this what war is about?  Is religion the issue? Is skin color the issue? Is breeding, or the lack thereof..., is it land rights, oil rights, or water rights?  Is it heritage rights...or maybe it's just greed that propels the anger to war? Wanting what doesn't belong to them.

Is this the price you pay for life?

Whose lives were sacrificed and given to the greedy this time?

We sell war machines to foreign countries...

for what purpose?

Money makers...killing innocent children, mothers and fathers who know nothing of war except to either run or be killed...

for what price?

Guns and killing equals blood money. I pity those who hold this power of money---Their hands drip with the blood of lost lives.

Shit for Brains President

tRump’s solution:.....”The solution to mass shootings is to arm the teachers”

Yes, I heard it as he said it....the man is even more ignorant than I thought...and I never thought he could get any more ignorant. He and his sons make a real team.

What is it with people who think arming a teacher is the solution? Wake up people, this isn't the old west! It wouldn't make your kids feel safer going to school anticipating someone might be shot today!

Haven't you been listening to these students? Haven't you been listening to sane discussions on the solutions to this problem? What is life worth to Americans? The kids have had enough bs from paid-off NRA shills, and so have the "adults" in the room!!

Fundraisers for gun control are now being sent...when the kids stand up, we'll be beside them! I don't care if they're Dems or repubs., gun control has to start NOW...not tomorrow!  When these kids vote, you know who they are NOT voting for...fools who think it's a good idea to play cops and robbers, and Wild West shoot’m ups in our schools, in our neighborhoods...with our lives!

Right now I'm for banning ALL guns...!!!! I'll give mine up gladly if it will save lives! Listen to the people of Ireland! They banned guns and they couldn't be happier...they think the US is a dangerous place to live and they don't want to come here.... The logic of having guns is from the dark ages...we live in fear and it's time to give way and progress to a future without guns and without fear!!

The Injustice For All

Turning back time and the good for all, and erasing incentives and the laws...these are the times in which we are now living, the times of erasures and cancellations of any chance of decency towards one another.

This administration has a throttle hold and is strangling the breath out of human kindness; out of the expansion of love; out of the world of education; inventive investigation and disclosures to illuminate the minds of children - expanding their minds, not deadening them with repetitive mind numbing killings until it becomes common in their eyes.

This nation is a world in which the gun is the cure.

The worshiping of violence and notoriety.

The greed within policy, eradicating human safety and justice for all.

Katy Tur's book...Unbelievable!

---My Front-Row Seat to the Craziest Campaign in American History

I'm sliding into the finish line, out of breath, of Katy Tur's book, "Unbelievable"...a must read for anyone who's serious about wanting to know what goes on, on the inside of news reporting of this current WH anomaly, Trump.  A year and a half out of her life, what a sacrifice she’s given for all of us, showing the truth against the lies this man-child has thrown around at will.

There is no one word that I can use to describe his [Trump] hallucinations of his own ability. There are many words used in this book, and it will boggle your mind to know and wonder how he can still sit in this highly held office of the United States.  He should be in a prison cell, in my opinion.

The book also has a bit of memoir about it, Katy’s family stuff and a sort of ‘how did I get to this point in my life?’ - and a lot of introspection on WHY THE HELL DID I COMMIT TO DOING THIS SHIT? And, CAN I GO HOME NOW?!  (my words, not exactly hers). But I must say Katy's humor is there throughout this time in her life, and I thoroughly enjoyed her phenomenal writing!

No party lines were drawn in this book, just the inside, very inside, story of a journalist following the campaign trail of a candidate running for President of the USA! Unfortunately, she (we) ended up with Trump.

MeToo - Poetic Miss-justice?

Read....

Scott Rosenberg writes a beautiful acknowledgement and admission of knowing what was going on, but not knowing....

The world knows, the witnesses know, the perpetrator knows, the victim knows...but mouths are shut to this on-going crime.

What does it take to open your mouth and say, #MeToo? What does it take to stop this plague of users and abusers? Does it take a mountain to collapse on a village, or a village to resurrect itself and acknowledge the mountain? You tell me.

‘Beautiful Girls Scribe Scott Rosenberg On A Complicated Legacy With Harvey Weinstein.

So, uh, yeah.
We need to talk about Harvey.

I was there, for a big part of it.
From, what, 1994 to the early 2000s?
Something like that.
Certainly The Golden Age.
The “PULP FICTION”, “SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE”, “CLERKS”, “SWINGERS”, “SCREAM”, “GOOD WILL HUNTING”, “ENGLISH PATIENT”, “LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL” years…

Harvey and Bob made my first two movies.
Then they signed me to an overall deal.
Then they bought that horror script of mine about the Ten Plagues.
For a lot of money.
Also bought that werewolf-biker script.
That no one else liked but was my personal favorite.
They were going to publish my novel.
They anointed me.
Made it so other studios thought I was the real deal.
They gave me my career.

I was barely 30.
I was sure I had struck gold.
They loved me, these two brothers, who had reinvented cinema.
And who were fun and tough and didn’t give an East Coast fuck about all the slick pricks out in L.A.

And those glory days in Tribeca?
The old cramped offices?
That wonderful gang of executives and assistants?
All the filmmakers who were doing repeat business?
The brothers wanted to create a “family of film”.
And they did just that…
We looked forward to having meetings there.
Meetings that would turn into plans that would turn into raucous nights out on the town.
Simply put: OG Miramax was a blast.

So, yeah, I was there.
And let me tell you one thing.
Let’s be perfectly clear about one thing:

Everybody-fucking-knew.

Not that he was raping.
No, that we never heard.
But we were aware of a certain pattern of overly-aggressive behavior that was rather dreadful.
We knew about the man’s hunger; his fervor; his appetite.
There was nothing secret about this voracious rapacity; like a gluttonous ogre out of the Brothers Grimm.
All couched in vague promises of potential movie roles.
(and, it should be noted: there were many who actually succumbed to his bulky charms. Willingly. Which surely must have only impelled him to cast his fetid net even wider).

But like I said: everybody-fucking-knew.

And to me, if Harvey’s behavior is the most reprehensible thing one can imagine, a not-so-distant second is the current flood of sanctimonious denial and condemnation that now crashes upon these shores of rectitude in gloppy tides of bullshit righteousness.

Because everybody-fucking-knew.

And do you know how I am sure this is true?
Because I was there.
And I saw you.
And I talked about it with you.
You, the big producers; you, the big directors; you, the big agents; you, the big financiers.
And you, the big rival studio chiefs; you, the big actors; you, the big actresses; you, the big models.
You, the big journalists; you, the big screenwriters; you, the big rock stars; you, the big restaurateurs; you, the big politicians.

I saw you.
All of you.
God help me, I was there with you.

Again, maybe we didn’t know the degree.
The magnitude of the awfulness.
Not the rapes.
Not the shoving against the wall.
Not the potted-plant fucking.
But we knew something.
We knew something was bubbling under.
Something odious.
Something rotten.

But…
And this is as pathetic as it is true:
What would you have had us do?
Who were we to tell?
The authorities?
What authorities?
The press?
Harvey owned the press.
The Internet?
There was no Internet or reasonable facsimile thereof.
Should we have called the police?
And said what?
Should we have reached out to some fantasy Attorney General Of Movieland?
That didn’t exist.

Not to mention, most of the victims chose not to speak out.
Aside from sharing the grimy details with a close girlfriend or confidante.
And if they discussed it with their representatives?
Agents and managers, who themselves feared The Wrath Of The Big Man?
The agents and managers would tell them to keep it to themselves.
Because who knew the repercussions?
That old saw “You’ll Never Work In This Town Again” came crawling back to putrid life like a re-animated cadaver in a late-night zombie flick.
But, yes, everyone knew someone who had been on the receiving end of lewd advances by him.
Or knew someone who knew someone.

A few actress friends of mine told me stories: of a ghastly hotel meeting; of a repugnant bathrobe-shucking; of a loathsome massage request.
And although they were rattled, they sort of laughed at his arrogance; how he had the temerity to think that simply the sight of his naked, doughy, carbuncled flesh was going to get them in the mood.
So I just believed it to be a grotesque display of power; a dude misreading the room and making a lame-if-vile pass.

It was much easier to believe that.
It was much easier for ALL of us to believe that.

Because…

And here’s where the slither meets the slime:
Harvey was showing us the best of times.
He was making our movies.
Throwing the biggest parties.
Taking us to The Golden Globes!
Introducing us to the most amazing people (Meetings with Vice President Gore! Clubbing with Quentin and Uma! Drinks with Salman Rushdie and Ralph Fiennes! Dinners with Mick Jagger and Warren-freaking-Beatty!).

The most epic Oscar weekends.
That seemed to last for weeks!
Sundance! Cannes! Toronto!
Telluride! Berlin! Venice!
Private jets! Stretch limousines! Springsteen shows!
Hell, Harvey once took me to St. Barth’s for Christmas.
For 12 days!
I was a broke-ass kid from Boston who had never even HEARD of St. Barth’s before he booked my travel.
He once got me tickets to the seven hottest Broadway shows in one week. So I could take a new girlfriend on a dazzling tour of theater.
He got me seats on the 40-yard-line to the Super Bowl, when the Patriots were playing the Packers in New Orleans.
Even got me a hotel room, which was impossible to get that weekend.
He gave and gave and gave and gave.
He had a monarch’s volcanic generosity when it came to those within his circle.
And a Mafia don’s fervent need for abject loyalty from his capos and soldiers.

But never mind us!
What about what he was doing for the culture?
Making stunningly splendid films at a time when everyone else was cranking-out simpering “INDEPENDENCE DAY” rip-offs.

It was glorious.
All of it.

So what if he was coming on a little strong to some young models who had moved mountains to get into one of his parties?
So what if he was exposing himself, in five-star hotel rooms, like a cartoon flasher out of “MAD MAGAZINE” (just swap robe for raincoat!)
Who were we to call foul?
Golden Geese don’t come along too often in one’s life.

Which goes back to my original point:
Everybody-fucking-knew.
But everybody was just having too good a time.
And doing remarkable work; making remarkable movies.

As the old joke goes:
We needed the eggs.

Okay, maybe we didn’t NEED them.
But we really, really, really, really LIKED them eggs.
So we were willing to overlook what the Golden Goose was up to, in the murky shadows behind the barn…

And for that, I am eternally sorry.
To all of the women that had to suffer this…
I am eternally sorry.
I’ve worked with Mira and Rosanna and Lysette.
I’ve known Rose and Ashley and Claire for years…
Their courage only hangs a lantern on my shame.
And I am eternally sorry to all those who suffered in silence all this time.
And have chosen to remain silent today.

I mostly lost touch with the brothers by the early 2000s.
For no specific reason.
Just that there were other jobs, other studios.
But a few months ago, Harvey called me, out of the blue.
To talk about the bygone days.
To talk about how great it would be to get some of the gang back together.
Make a movie.
He must have known then the noose was tightening.
There was a wistfulness to him that I had never heard before.
A melancholy.
It most assuredly had a walking-to-the-gallows feel.
When we hung up I wondered: “what was that all about?”
In a few short weeks I would know.
It was the condemned man simply wanting to comb some of the ruins of his old stomping grounds.
One last time.

So, yeah, I am sorry.
Sorry and ashamed.
Because, in the end, I was complicit.
I didn’t say shit.
I didn’t do shit.
Harvey was nothing but wonderful to me.
So I reaped the rewards and I kept my mouth shut.
And for that, once again, I am sorry.

But you should be sorry, too.
With all these victims speaking up…
To tell their tales.
Shouldn’t those who witnessed it from the sidelines do the same?
Instead of retreating to the cowardly, canopied confines of faux-outrage?
Doesn’t being a bystander bring with it the responsibility of telling the truth, however personally disgraceful it may be?

You know who are.
You know that you knew.
And do you know how I know that you knew?

Because I was there with you.

And because everybody-fucking-knew.