A tale of two candidates. Or Fear of Flying.

For several years there was a program about a poor man, with little education, who had been a petty criminal trying to turn his life around. He was obsessed by a belief in Karma, and felt the need to make amends for all the bad things he had done. "My Name Is Earl," was about a man and his brother living in a cheap hotel and working on repairing the path they had laid to waste.

On one episode they were flying to Mexico. Being poor, and unsophisticated they had never been on a plane before. When the flight attendant went through the pre-flight instructions (about emergency evacuations, water landings, all of the wonderful things) to the passengers Earl became increasingly agitated. Finally, he jumped up and ran off the plane, stopping just long enough to tell the Flight Attendant "here's a little tip for you, next time tell some stories about what to do if the plane doesn't crash."

This may be why Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders are enjoying such unexpected success. They are espousing ideas that involve moving forward. Taking steps to improve things, make life better for people. What they are going to do to keep the plane flying.

Too many politicians are saying things about their first day in office they are going to rescind this order, denounce a treaty, undo an official act. In essence telling the constituents, the plane is already on doomed, put your tray table up, and be grateful you have a little time to make amends.

Or, they may rely on the old tactic of pointing out how their opponent has made a mess of things, and could only be expected to do worse with more power. Sort of the Peter Principle Political Variety. Elected to their level of incompetence, and down goes the plane, please put your head on your lap and weep softly.

Sanders and Trump maybe promising things that make little sense, or have any chance of succeeding, but they are proclaiming their commitment to action. Even if you think "there is no way that guy is qualified to fly this plane" it is nice to hear someone say they have ideas about keeping the heavier than air, coffin like projectile in the air.

Hold On, it's going to get rough!

They probably have no chance at all of being elected, high hopes and popularity will only take you so far. Particularly when the political parties are marshaling their forces to encircle and crush the wayward candidates. There is a lot of power in the major party forces and they will have no problem wielding their might.

But, it has been fun hearing stories about what to do when the plane doesn't crash.

Primary Preseason, Where Candidates are Made.

Our internal Presidential Primary is starting to heat up, a little.  Things are mostly civil, but tension is rising, and tempers are, perhaps, a little short.  But, there are moments, terrible, frightening moments where the worst of man, the politician in our otherwise humane and decent employees rises takes control.

Yesterday in the kitchen was one of those moments.  Roberta and Bob, from payroll, were both getting a midmorning pick me up.  Bob was getting a latte, extra foam with shaved chocolate, and caramel.  Roberta was grabbing a banana, strawberry smoothie with crushed pineapple, cream, and whipped topping.

"Hey, it sure is a nice morning, don't you think.  It would be a great day to cut the taxes on the nations largest international conglomerates, to help them generate jobs, wouldn't it?"  Bob asked, looking out the window, admiring the bright sun glinting off the frost covered roofs.  An aroma of espresso, and hot chocolate made him smile.

"It is a beautiful day, Bob," Roberta agreed, looking into the cut crystal goblet holding her frosty drink, she could almost taste the smell of the fresh banana and strawberry, it was intoxicating.  "But, we should probably use the bright light to offer a ray of hope to the poor immigrants who are waiting in limbo, wondering what will become of them."

"It is typical, left wing, bleeding heart crap.  They came to this country illegally, which makes them criminals.  We should deport them, and give those jobs to Americans."

"Yes, Americans are lining up to take jobs, mowing lawns, working in picking onions, and peaches.  Our country is stronger when we welcome those trying to build a new life."

An impromptu debate, this was great.  People were starting to gather around, a circle of spectators waiting for a vigorous exchange of ideas.

For the next several minutes the debate raged, both candidates expressing cognizant theories on the best way to ensure American survival for four more years.  Of course the longer the debate went on, with neither side willing to budge from their position, the more venomous it became.  Soon it was reduced to accusations, and name calling.

Bob scoffed, then added., "whiny little democrat, you will ruin this country.  Wimp"  He turned, and began to shadow box in the mirror like polish of the stainless steel refrigerator.

When he started the Ali Shuffle, and asked his reflection "who's the man?"  Roberta had had enough, and rammed him with her motorized wheel chair.  Bob's knees buckled, and he started to collapse, whimpering,
he was in obvious pain.  Roberta hammered him in the temple with her insulin pump, as he crumpled to the floor.

You could barely hear him say "I withdraw my candidacy for President of the United States."  As Roberta used her oxygen hose to strangle him to unconsciousness.

We really thought Bob was going to have a chance, too, until the concussion.  Well, there are more candidates, more debates, the cycle is really only beginning.  Stay tuned, and don't forget to vote.