“Now I’ll tell you something, once you don’t have it, that’s why you see many more people coming,” Trump said, referring to family separations. “They are coming like it’s a picnic, because, ‘Let’s go to Disneyland.’”
From The Washington Post:
President Trump has agreed to shut down his embattled personal charity and give away its remaining funds amid allegations that he used it for his personal and political benefit, the New York attorney general announced Tuesday.
The Post’s reporting showed that, for years, Trump appeared to treat the foundation — which was, by law, an independent entity — as a checkbook for gifts that bolstered his interests.
The largest donation in the foundation’s history — a $264,231 gift to the Central Park Conservancy in 1989 — appeared to benefit Trump’s business: it paid to restore a fountain outside Trump’s Plaza Hotel. The smallest, a $7 foundation gift to the Boy Scouts that same year, appeared to benefit Trump’s family. It matched the amount required to enroll a boy in the Scouts the year that his son Donald Trump Jr. was 11.
From McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, by Ryan Weber:
The Virtual Paintout is back after a long hiatus this year.
(Check out the link in my blog roll on the right of the page.)
Each month Bill Guffey, the wonderful artist who runs the whole shebang, picks a spot somewhere on the planet for artists of all stripes to convene and travel the streets via Google Street View and then submit their artwork of the spots they find interesting.
The choice this last month was the U.S. Virgin Islands.
My husband of 42 years passed away in June. He always encouraged me in my artwork and had been after me to get back into it, but his months long illness and radiation treatments took their toll on both of us and I just didn’t have the will to do that.
So when Bill started up his website again in August, I thought I’d give it a go. I didn’t have quite yet what it takes to do a full blown painting, so I found this rooster strutting his stuff in front of a house and did a quick sketch using color markers. And here it is.
I call this one “Funky chicken.”
The ever-expanding sexual abuse scandals involving the Catholic church have been in the news for days now.
It’s time to re-post part of a piece (“A Tale of Two Pedophiles”) in which I wrote about my encounter in the late 1980’s with Father Oliver O’Grady.
Unfortunately, it seems nothing has changed in the wake of that scandal:
Thoughts of Jaycee Dugard brought up my brief brush with one of the worst pedophiles the Catholic church has known to date. His name is Father Oliver O’Grady, who spent years being shuttled from one diocese to another even though the hierarchy of the church knew he was molesting children. He finally wound up as the parish priest in a small town in Calaveras county, California. I was working as a dental hygienist for a local dentist and Father O’Grady happened to be one of our patients.
The dentist I worked for was a devout Catholic. My employer was, on the whole, a nice fellow who felt strongly about his convictions. He had anti-abortion posters hung quite visibly in his lab where patients would see them as they were escorted to their dental chairs. Some patients took offense at being subjected to something like that in a dental office and angrily left the office–and in some cases they left the practice itself. To me, this dogmatism on his part was like wearing a pair of blinders which allowed you to see only what you were supposed to see.
Often the dentist, his assistant and I would have lunch at a nearby sandwich shop. On some occasions the dentist’s wife would join us. At one of these informal lunches we were talking about water wells; a common topic in rural areas where having a good well is essential to life itself. I happened to mention that a neighbor of mine, whose father was half Native American, taught me how to dowse for water with a forked branch. The usual term for that was “water witching”, a skill that even the men who worked for our local electric company, PG & E, knew how to do.
My employer turned to me and said, very serious and straight-faced, “Isn’t that witchcraft?” At first I thought he was kidding, but quickly realized he wasn’t. I was nonplussed and stammered something about “No, it’s just something you feel.” The dentist’s wife was in our little group and she tried to smooth things over a bit, but I have to say I was taken aback that someone in our modern age would bandy about the charge “witchcraft.”
Now, post-Palin anti-witchcraft blessing ceremonies, I’m no longer surprised.
I mention all of this in regard to Father O’Grady only to make the point that while my employer was looking behind the dental chair for imaginary witches, here we had a man who was actually doing unspeakable things with children. Father O’Grady was a figure of authority and power, as was the diocese that sent him to this unsuspecting little hamlet. Everyone in my office fell all over himself in deference to this man when he came in for his appointments. It was “Father this…” and “Father that…” but no one had the slightest clue that he had been molesting children for years and the powers that be knew about it, but kept it hidden.
The sadly laughable thing about it was that he was such a little milquetoast of a man when I finally did meet him. I took an immediate dislike to him because he would not look me in the eye. What kind of a priest won’t look you in the eyes? Aren’t the eyes windows into the soul? Father O’Grady’s soul was hidden from view. There was too much ugliness there.
Father O’Grady as he looked sometime around when I met him.
It was several years after I left that practice that the whole story surrounding Father O’Grady came to light. I could only imagine what they thought at my old dental office. Had real evil replaced the imaginary? I somehow doubt it. Excuses were made all along the line for the transferring of O’Grady from one place to the next, without punishment or warning. The man involved in Jaycee Lee Dugard’s abduction seems to have had every break in the books also. It shouldn’t have taken so long in either Garrido’s case or Father O’Grady’s for someone to step up and put a stop to the abuse.
The kids deserved better.
From New York Magazine on Trump’s angry response to Sarah Sanders being kicked out of The Red Hen restaurant, by Jonathan Chait:
“There is a problem of political hypocrisy here, of course — if the Trump administration supports the right of bakers to withhold service from gay and lesbian weddings because they are disgusted at the thought of gay people getting married, it should also support the right of restaurant owners to deny their delightful creations to people who work for an authoritarian racist presidency.”