Invite the Navy!

By David Grima | Jul 02, 2020

It is unfortunate that naughty journalists have recently begun paying attention to the Blessed Lord Prez Trumpleton, because now they are writing headlines such as "Trump is rescuing Maine lobstermen from himself and blaming Obama."

I not sure why they can’t get his name right, but I suppose that’s their problem.

It’s some half-baked story about Lord T causing the lobstermen’s problem by picking a fight with one of the greatest consumers of their little boiled creatures, which is China.

Because he picked a fight with the Chinese, thinking a Trade War would be quickly won by landing a handful of Marines on the beach in Beijing, our Lord did not worry too much about the long-term consequences. Of course, the biggest consequence turns out to be that lobstermen cannot get a good price for their product anymore.

So cash-strapped are they now, that many have been tempted to use their own children or grandchildren as bait, although I don’t think anyone has actually gone that far. Yet.

So our Lord Prez has quite nicely agreed to subsidize our lobstermen, just like he had to subsidize everyone else who used to sell their products to China, who now cannot, and who he still hopes will vote for him. And, yes, if you want to be mean-spirited about it, I suppose he is offering to help bail out the lobster industry from some minor problems his own policy created in the first place. If you insist.

But I don’t see why everyone had to keep talking about such things. Honestly, isn’t there enough trouble in the world, without journalists having to expose trivial little matters like this?

Really, I thought it had been pretty well established by the late and very great President Nixon (may he rest in peace) that the duty of the press is to report what the president wants the universe to hear, and not some stumbling nonsense they dream up on their own.

The above headline appeared in a news sheet called Vox, by the way. It is sure to upset the Lord Prez, and as I have said, he is feeling a little bit fragile right now. That’s another reason it should not have been written.

* * * * *

Setting aside the Lord Prez’s more than generous offer of free money for just a moment, what the lobster industry really needs is some kind of week-long extravaganza each summer, right here in Rockland, when prices are normally down, so they can sell all of their surplus to tourists and allow a few of us locals to kick up our heels a little. I think early August ought to fit the bill.

We could book a carnival too, and invite craft makers and all sorts of entertainment, even maybe a few bands to serenade us each night. And a beauty pageant, too. Get some local ham actor to impersonate King Neptune, why don’t we? And invite the Navy!

Just close your eyes and imagine all this taking place down at Harbor Park…

* * * * *

There is a photograph of the first prime minister of modern India, Jawaharlal Nehru (1889-1964) having a great time on a swing in Delhi in 1948 in the rain, which I am told is a traditional way for India to celebrate the annual monsoon rains.

Our equivalent, the annual spring rains, did not come this year, so there is no cause for swinging in Maine. It’s a bit damp this week, but we had none of the regular rains that are supposed to visit us in May and June each year.

Mrs. B was reminded of this when she tried to buy local peas the other day, and was told there were none to be had at that particular farm stand. No rain, no peas.

* * * * *

In these days of a million channels on television, most of them pointless, it might be difficult for some younger folk to imagine an era when radio was king.

Going back a little before that, I am told there was a time when there wasn’t even electricity. It makes me wonder what out dear ancestors used to do after dinner, say from roughly 1889 back to the Stone Age.

Then, last Friday, I discovered what they might possibly have done, now and then, when I was entranced by a display of fireflies, stars and a satellite gliding overhead, all on a summer’s night. I felt I was watching Stone Age TV.

* * * * *

I am starting to get a little worried about this border closure between the U.S. and Canadia. Without a healthy sharing of genes across the international line, it now seems possible that Americans and Canadians could soon start evolving in different directions.

It is an established historical fact that South America was once separated from North America, and as a result a myriad of unique creatures evolved there with no reference to creatures elsewhere. Australia went the same way, which is why they have koalas and kangaroos and nobody else does.

But this closing of international borders, caused by the Modern Plague, now seems likely (in my opinion) to have a parallel effect.

What if Canadians and Americans begin to go in different evolutionary directions? What if Canadians start to grow an extra 12 inches taller than us, possibly growing antennas from their heads or a third eye, while Americans start to morph into bioluminescent blobs (see bit about fireflies, above) permanently mounted on organic rubber wheels?

The prospect of us never being able to visit Europe again has been raised, too. Really, the potential for humanity to develop into separate species has never been greater than today.

Say, we could eventually have rules about which formerly human species are allowed to live in what parts of the future world, and walls could be built so that, eventually, generations not yet born would have no idea that on the other side live their distantly related cousins.

* * * * *

The loss of the Time Out Pub is quite a blow. Its owners apparently announced they will not open for business again, even when this Plague nonsense is all over. Which means the Monday Night Blues will need a new venue if it is to continue.

I started going to the Monday Night Blues years ago when it was still downstairs in the Trade Winds, and listened to Philip Walker, and Little Mike and the Tornadoes. Haven’t been in much in the last few years because I am now so damned old, but it was great fun while I lasted.

Even at my advanced age, the TOP often suited me rather well on a Friday night, when the last band I heard in the bar was Hank Lunn and his Merry Polka Brigade. Not quite headline blues stuff, but quite fun enough under the circumstances.

David Grima is a former editor with Courier Publications. He can be reached at davidgrima@ymail.com.

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