Pay No Attention to That Man on the Debate Stage

Baby, it was actually cold outside today—below the seasonal norm for a change. I could feel the chill as I ambled through Van Cortlandt Park alongside dozens of squawking geese soaking up the ample sunlight. I pondered the state of the nation, the world, and the fact that single-use plastic bags won’t soon be available to me. To get a jump on what’s to come, I carried on my person—and in my pocket—a vinyl orange-colored “green bag,” a rare gift from the city mothers and fathers. I will say that I do feel a whole lot better on matters green since I learned that actor Joaquin Phoenix is re-purposing his custom-made tuxedo. 

In other news, an Upper West Side mom-and-pop hardware store shut its doors after 120 years in business. Its present owner cited a precipitous drop in sales as the reason. In these contemporary times of big-box retailers—Home Depot, Loew’s, et al.—and the sprawling Internet, the little guys on Main Street, Broadway, and Amsterdam Avenue really don’t stand a chance.

The venerable shop’s demise wasn’t, too, helped by the virtually snow-free winter to-date. Thus far, I have shoveled up an inch of the white stuff, if even that. In fact, this makes three consecutive years with below-normal amounts of snow and ice, which translates into a lot of lost shovel and ice-melter sales.

In past harsher winters, stores often couldn’t stock enough shovels and ice melter to meet the unceasing demand. I remember a particularly bad one in the mid-1990s when there was a widespread ice-melter and rock-salt shortage. Price gouging was commonplace on the limited supplies available.

So, what better thing to do on a chilly winter’s eve than tune into the theater of the absurd, also known as politics. I must admit that my previous youthful and lost fascination with the sport of politics has returned in 2020. I even subscribed to an online political magazine that once upon a time—a long time ago—received in the mail.

Politics is such an interesting, unpredictable, and unsavory spectacle at this unique and critical moment in American history. The man in the White House pardoned some swamp rats this week, including a former Illinois governor, “Blago,” whose main claim to fame is attempting to sell a U.S. senate seat to the highest bidder and, of course, his hair. I'd wager the Orange Man envies that head-healthy ‘do of his.

I actually watched the entire Democratic debate a couple of nights ago, which proved to be a simultaneously entertaining and painful experience for me. You see, I was wishing and hoping that New York’s former mayor, the ever-haughty Mike Bloomberg, would prove himself worthy of his considerable investment. He didn’t and then some!

During Bloomberg’s past mayoral campaigns, he didn’t impress many with his debating dexterity. But debating skills and governing ones are two different animals. That said, Mayor Mike’s performance in Tuesday’s debate was agonizingly bad. Watching him squirm and squirm some more, I was reminded of the Wizard of Oz, specifically the scene where the shadowy wizard gets unmasked. “Pay no attention to the man on the debate stage!” The wizard is on the commercials.

Why, pray tell, would Mike Bloomberg walk onto that stage so ill-prepared? He had to have known he would be the target of relentless incoming fire? And, Mayor Mike, please cease and desist with the pathetic, half-hearted apologies for your “Stop, Question, and Frisk” (SQF) policy, which you were defending whole-heartedly until you decided to run for president. Why not just say that it was a well-intentioned policy aimed at reducing crime, which it did, but ultimately got out of hand and was ended? And another thing: I don’t understand why you didn’t tout your generous philanthropy on matters like climate change and gun control, which are very important to voters in the party in which you are now a member. If you are keeping score, Bloomberg’s currently a Democrat. I’ve known him as an Independent, Republican, and Democrat on two non-consecutive occasions.

It’s unquestionably an intriguing spectacle to behold: Hectoring Bernie Sanders, the socialist septuagenarian, shouter par excellence is the front-runner of a party in which he doesn’t belong. And he had a heart attack several months ago! Old Bernie’s waging battle against a septuagenarian troika: the aforementioned Mayor Mike, old Joe Biden who is way past his prime, which wasn’t anything to write home about, and Elizabeth Warren, who has less Cherokee blood coursing through her veins than I have French (thanks Ancestry.com).

The torch should be passed to a new generation, I guess. As a civic-minded citizen, I tried to grease the skids in this regard when I sent “Steve Bullock for President” twenty-five dollars. All that got me was a never-ending series of e-mails asking for more. Now, with the Bloomberg off the rose again, I’m seriously contemplating chasing Amy and praying for a better return on my investment. In the meantime, it's dinnertime. To be continued…

(Photos from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)