Author: Randy Seaver

Randy Seaver is a cranky, nearly insufferable malcontent living in Biddeford. He is a retired newspaper editor and the principal of a small strategic communications consulting firm. He may be contacted at randy@randyseaver.com

The Long Goodbye

~ Randy Seaver ~ 3 Comments

A reporter recently asked me why I put so much effort into a campaign to oust Biddeford City Manager James Bennett from City Hall.

I thought about my answer carefully.

As I said during that interview and elsewhere over the last few days, Jim Bennett was well-qualified to be Biddeford’s city manager. During his nine-year tenure, he accomplished several good things for the city.

Biddeford City Manager James Bennett (right) addresses the City Council and members of the public regarding his planned resignation.

But along with his skills and qualifications, Bennett brought something else to the city: a storied reputation for ruffling feathers in other communities that hired him; a reputation of a quick temper and a dismissive personality.

Unlike the three previous city managers in Biddeford – and unlike all of the other city managers that I have observed over the last three decades as a reporter – Bennett had a brash personality and an ego that was both easily bruised and always on full display.

During an interview earlier this year, I asked Jim if he wanted to “walk back” or provide context for comments he made during a public meeting about the neighboring city of Saco.

He bristled and said, “I am a guy that says what he means, and means what he says.”

There was no sign of contrition. No attempt to smooth over and repair the anger his comments created on the other side of the river.

It was not the first time that Bennett lost his temper in public. As I began to dig deeper, a clear pattern began to emerge. It was not just city employees who complained about Bennett’s temper and demanding management style.

I heard the same stories from people in other communities; from business people trying to accomplish projects in the city, even from non-profit civic groups. The stories were varied, but the theme was constant.

Bennett presented himself as an iron-fisted arrogant bully.

On Tuesday evening, I sat in the back row of the council chambers, listening as Bennett announced that he would resign his position in April. He described it as a “phased retirement.”

Until the very end, Bennett was trying to massage reality and morph it into something that fit his narcissistic personality.

Let’s be real. Bennett made his announcement Tuesday for just three reasons: 1.) He is smart. 2.) He saw the writing on the wall; and 3.) He really had no other choice.

Bennett had worked out a deal that would allow him to leave Biddeford gracefully, without another black mark on his resume.

You don’t “retire” halfway through your contract. You don’t walk away from a planned $15,0000 retention bonus that would have been paid in 2026.

Much like Richard Nixon’s “concession” speech after losing the 1962 California gubernatorial race, Bennett was bitter and somewhat defiant with his remarks to the council and viewing audience.

A defeated Nixon lashed out at members of the press in 1962.

“But as I leave you, I want you to know—just think how much you’re going to be missing. You don’t have Nixon to kick around anymore. Because, gentlemen, this is my last press conference.”

 

A distorted view

True to form, Bennett distorted reality and painted a picture of a victim with a long-suffering wife who had been subjected to frequent moves across the state as Bennett’s career meandered from town to town since 1986.

But it was Bennett who made the choice to pick up stakes and move eight times over the last 40 years. No one forced him to move or to accept any position.

Other parts of his farewell notice were simply galling and might work for someone who had only recently moved to Biddeford. But for those of us who were here long before Bennett arrived (and will likely be here long after he is gone) some of his comments were just laughable.

Bennett told a tale of a city that was in chaos when he was hired in 2015.

What he didn’t mention was that chaos was driven by external forces outside of City Hall; by citizens upset regarding allegations of sexual abuse by a former police officer.

That chaos had nothing to do with then City Manager John Bubier or anyone else at City Hall. However, the more recent chaos that has consumed City Hall was generated by internal management miscalculations and hubris.

Bennett also said the city’s financial standing “is as strong as it’s ever been.”    I almost choked and literally had to leave the room to regain my composure.

In recent weeks, there have been multiple stories about vendors and creditors not being paid on time. There have been reports that city-issued credit cards were declined; checks had been returned. The audit was nearly two years overdue; general assistance reimbursements had not been filed for months.

The city had to spend up to $300,000 earlier this year to hire an outside accounting firm to conduct a forensic analysis of the many problems in the finance department. In fact, the city is now on its sixth finance director in the last five years.

Does that sound like financial stability to you? Are you freakin’ kidding me?

During his rambling, sometimes incoherent remarks, Bennett also told a tale of how he guided the revitalization of the city’s reputation and its downtown area.

“ . .  .while there was momentum towards making change, there was no centralized plan to a theme to achieve that,” Bennett said.

I immediately thought of people like Doug Sanford, former mayor Wallace Nutting, residents such as Renee O’Neil and businesspeople such as David Flood. I thought of all the people who labored for years to rid downtown of a trash incinerator.

I thought about all the work done by so many people to chart a new course for Biddeford’s downtown. All those efforts – all those accomplishments – all that hard work — was underway years before Prince Bennett arrived on his white steed to save us from ourselves with magic fairy dust and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

As former city councilor Richard Rhames told me during a recent interview: The revitalization of downtown Biddeford was inevitable. Market pressure and changing consumer trends is what fueled Biddeford’s revitalization.

Jim Bennett deserves very little credit for that transformation.

When things get tough, when his back is against the wall, Bennett plays the victim card.

“If I’m equally responsible for everything that’s wrong with the community, I’m equally responsible for everything that’s gone well,” Bennett said.

As I told the reporter who interviewed me, Jim Bennett has done some good things, but it’s now time for him to leave.

The bully finally got what was coming to him.

Never miss another installment of Lessons in Mediocrity! Subscribe today for free!

Angels and Demons: The best lie I ever told

~ Randy Seaver ~ 1 Comment

I think Stephen King would probably agree with me when I say that the very best horror stories are the ones that are based on a true story.

Despite my childhood proclivity for lying, the story you are about to read is, unfortunately, true.

It happened on a very hot day in the summer of 1976, almost 50 years ago. I was 12 years old, and I told a whopper of a lie that ended up on the front page of the daily newspaper.

Let’s pause here for a moment. Please allow me to explain why I am publicly sharing this story for the first time.

Two guys having a hissy fit

Ed Pierce, now the managing editor of the weekly Windham Eagle, got upset with me about something I posted on Facebook regarding Biddeford City Manager James Bennett a few days ago.

Pierce publicly questioned my “journalistic ethics” in posting the story about Bennett. I replied that I am no longer a “professional journalist,” despite the fact that I occasionally write puff pieces for Saco Bay News as a freelancer. My days of covering Biddeford City Hall are behind me.

To make a long story a bit shorter, Ed Pierce and I began trading barbs on social media. We were each very snarky with our slings and arrows.

Fun stuff — two, white middle-aged newspaper guys who both live in Biddeford – going at it like a couple of high school girls arguing about who gets to be prom queen.

Pierce got especially pissed when I brought up an unfortunate incident that happened in 2018 while he was the editor of the now closed Journal Tribune in Biddeford.

Maine media critic Al Diamon — who writes a column in several publications throughout Maine – had a field day with Pierce, who was duped into writing a news story about something that never happened.  [Read Diamon’s blistering column here.]

Pierce was getting angrier by the second until he somehow found an equally damming story about me.

Here’s the difference: While I was going after Pierce for a silly mistake he made as a newspaper editor, he decided to come back at me with an embarrassing story from my childhood, when I was 12 years old.

What’s the frequency, Kenneth?

As I said, it was a hot day in July 1976. I was getting ready to head out on my paper route. Ironically, I delivered the Journal Tribune in my neighborhood in Saco, near the armory on Franklin Street.

I got into an argument with my younger sister. Our fracas woke our father from a mid-day nap. He was enraged. He came flying out of the house and almost literally beat the shit out of me.

I was both angry and hurt, I took off running and stayed away for a few hours. I made it as far as the Five Points Shopping Center in Biddeford before getting hungry and tired.

I started to walk home, but I was still angry. Only a few hundred yards away from my home, I threw away my wristwatch and my belt near Don’s Variety, a small corner store that was located at the corner of Maple and Bradley streets in Saco.

Don’t ask me why I threw away my watch and belt. It’s been almost 50 years. Who knows what I was thinking?

My parents had called the Saco Police Department and reported me missing. It was now evening as I began my way back up Franklin Street to return home. A patrol officer spotted me only a few yards away from my home.

My face and shirt were covered with dried blood. My parents came running over to the now parked police cruiser. The officer asked me what happened. I glanced at my parents and then back at the officer.

I then did something I would regret for many years to come. I lied.

I told the officer that I was attacked by a big, fat bald man wearing a red tee-shirt and blue jeans.

You can probably guess what happened next.

The city of Saco basically went into lockdown. The story swept across the city like a wildfire. A child molester was on the loose in Saco.

At the officer’s advice, my parents brought me to the Webber Hospital in Biddeford. The ER doctor was concerned about damage to my right eye. I was transferred by ambulance and admitted for overnight observation at Maine Medical Center in Portland.

My lie had worked, but not for long.

Extra! Extra! Read all about it!

The next day, the Journal Tribune ran a front-page story about the attack. I was the victim, so they used my name, despite the fact that I was 12.

Then my lie began to unravel.

A friend of my parents told police that she had seen me at Five Points and was concerned because I had blood on my face and clothes.

Now the Biddeford Police Department got involved. Detective Gagne questioned me. I offered up a new story. I said that I was beaten by a group of teenagers near Mayfield Park.

Gagne wasn’t buying what I was selling. My tissue of lies disintegrated.

Finally, after being threatened with juvenile detention, I told the “truth.” I said I “fell down” in my backyard.

Of course, I was once again lying but everybody bought it. Hook, line and sinker. The police, my parents and even the local newspaper.

The very next day, the Journal Tribune ran a front-page story above the fold: “Youth Admits Lie.”

They had to do the story to quell panicked and concerned citizens. They were just doing their job. But again, my name was included in the story. I went from victim to outcast in less than 48 hours.

The owner of Don’s Variety was understandably pissed. He kicked me out of the store a few days later.

The first few weeks of seventh-grade sort of sucked.

All in all, I had told three lies. The first about a fat, bald man. The second, about a gang of kids on May Street, but it was the last one that everyone seemed to believe for nearly five decades. I fell down. Okay. Sure. Whatever.

That last lie held up right until Ed Pierce decided to use that story as leverage in order to publicly embarrass and hurt me.

Near the end of our Facebook exchange, Mr. Pierce made a not-so-subtle reference to wristwatches that could be found at the long-since closed Don’s Variety.

When confronted by me and some others, he quickly deleted his comments.

What Ed Pierce probably doesn’t know is that he actually did me a huge favor. I’ve been carrying that shame around for almost 50 years. It was a relief to finally let go. To finally tell the truth; to finally reconcile something that should have never happened.

The angels wanna wear my red shoes

My father passed away a little more than four years ago. They say you should never speak ill of the dead, and that’s probably good advice.

One of the earliest photos of me and my dad; Circa 1964.

Did my father act like a monster? Yup. Did he physically and emotionally abuse me and my younger sister? Yup. For many years, he routinely referred to me as “queer boy.” My sister struggled with her weight, beginning around age 9. He routinely referred to her as “baby elephant.”

It would be easy and quite convenient to simply label my father as a monster, but to do so would be telling a much bigger lie.

Yes, he was abusive . . . to me, my sister and my mother, but here’s the hard part: He was also a loving and generous father. He sometimes worked three jobs so that my sister and I would want for nothing.

My father worked his ass off to make us middle-class. Clarinet lessons and Boy Scouts for me. Ballet and tap lessons for my sister. Every Christmas was magical. In many ways, we were spoiled kids.

We went on vacations every summer, and Dad helped us with our homework. That was him. Singing and playing guitar in the church choir while my sister and I were altar servers at Most Holy Trinity. He was a talented musician, well-known for his charm and sense of humor.

My father’s professional career was spent teaching students who were in those days mostly ignored.

He was a teacher at the Cerebral Palsy Center in Portland. He had to help some of his students use the bathroom. He patiently helped them eat their lunch. Day in and day out, he was gentle and kind to those kids. But it took a toll.

It seemed like one of his students died almost every month. It gutted him. He cared so much about them. He was a walking, talking, breathing contradiction of terms.

Dad always had a soft spot for the outcasts and the troubled kids. He was a friend, a dedicated mentor with tons of patience.

Two years after I “fell down,” my mother finally filed for divorce. That was not pretty.

My father was a demon, and he was an angel, and that’s about as fair as I can be.

Life is complicated.

I have forgiven my old man; something that became a lot easier to do once I was confronted with how hard it is to be a father.

This is a sad story, but it is true. If you think I’m exaggerating, you can check the police records or the Journal Tribune archives on microfiche at the McArthur Library in Biddeford.

The next time you a hear a child say that he or she got hurt by “falling down,” please remember that they are likely feeding you a load of baloney.

Thank you, Ed Pierce. It feels good to finally have the truth out there. Now how about some fresh sushi and French Fries?

Never miss another installment of Lessons in Mediocrity! Subscribe today for free!

Stop Making Sense: the birth and resurrection of a monster in Biddeford

~ Randy Seaver ~ 4 Comments

Over the just the past few days, two journalists have reached out to me in order to criticize some things I’ve said on social media.

Ted Cohen, a former and respected reporter from the Portland Press Herald, and Ed Pierce, now the editor of the weekly Windham Eagle, both think I need some guidance.

Cohen was sincere and well-meaning with his criticism. We’ve known each other for more than 25 years. He raised some valuable points for me to consider. Pierce, however, was much less than cordial. He really, really does not like me.

In fact, during our back-and-forth exchange – while we were both hurling insults and snarky comments at each other on Facebook — Pierce decided to bring out the big guns and tried to publicly shame me about something I did when I was 12 years old, an incident that was on the front page of the Journal Tribune in 1976. (You can read about that incident here).

Cohen just thinks I am wasting my time and frittering away my resources as an old-school reporter. He thinks I should just “shut-the-fuck up” on social media and go back to being a full-time journalist covering the city of Biddeford. He does not like my blog posts about my struggles with mental illness, a topic he says “nobody really cares about.”

During a camping trip last weekend, I gave a lot of thought to the criticisms raised by both Cohen and Pierce. Again, I admire and respect Cohen. Pierce? Not so much. But I realized both men provided a glimpse into the viewpoints of many other people, especially in the Biddeford-Saco area.

Although I generally get a lot of positive feedback from readers, there are, apparently, a lot of people who are annoyed by what I write. Several people think I suck at journalism. Many others are bent out of shape and hate the fact that I am an administrator of the Biddeford-Saco Community Facebook page.

If you think my ego is hyper-inflated, and if you think that I have too much influence in the city of Biddeford and elsewhere, don’t blame me.

Put the blame where the blame belongs.

Blame David Flood. It’s all his fault.

It was David Flood who set this unfortunate series of events into motion. He created the monster that some of you despise.

David Flood Press Herald photo

Let’s pause and back up a bit for context.

A bad seed is planted

It was October 1998. I was sitting in my parked car (a 1987 rusting Subaru) on Washington Street in Biddeford, not far from the former Wonderbar Restaurant.

My stomach was in knots, and I was just starting my second pack of cigarettes that day. I really wanted this job. I really needed this job.

My life at that time was a giant, hot mess. I was basically broke, living in a studio apartment in Westbrook and had a credit score somewhere near the 300 mark.

I was 34 years old and considered myself a complete failure. No close family connections. Few friends, and not even a bank account.

I was working for another weekly newspaper when I interviewed for the job at the Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier, a weekly publication that was then owned by David and Carolyn Flood.

The job appealed to me to me for two reasons. First, it seemed more interesting than the job I had covering the towns of Windham and Standish. I had grown up in the Biddeford-Saco area. My family had deep roots in both communities.

Secondly, the Courier position would pay roughly 50 cents an hour more than my current gig. That’s a difference of about $20 per week. When you’re flat broke, an extra $20 per week sounds really good.

I think David was impressed by my enthusiasm and the fact that I had experience. But I think what clinched the deal was that he recognized the value of hiring a reporter who had a basic understanding of the community he would be covering.

We shook hands, and I was set to start in two weeks so that I could give my current employer notice.

That was it. That was the moment when my entire life changed.

If not for David’s decision to hire me, I would not have met Laura who had decided several years ago to run for a seat on the Old Orchard Beach School Board. I would not have had the opportunity to help raise my kids, Tim and Matt.

If not for that job as a reporter covering Biddeford and Saco, it is quite likely that you would have never heard my name. More than 99 percent of the people I interact with on social media only know me because David Flood hired me as a reporter.

If not for David Flood’s decision, I would have never been hired a few years later by Barton & Gingold, one of Maine’s most respected political and public relations consulting firms. I would have never bought a house in Biddeford.

Had David Flood not hired me, it is more than likely that you and I would not know each other. So, if you find me insufferable or just plain annoying, blame David Flood. It’s all his fault.

Jumping in feet first

Just a few days before Halloween 1998, I hit the streets as the newest reporter covering Biddeford and Saco. Other than a couple of family members, I basically knew no one in the area.

The few friends I had at that time all lived near Portland. I grabbed a reporter’s notebook, a pen and an old camera on my quest to find a news story. I walked less than 20-feet when I bumped into a man wearing the costume of a deranged chef. He was holding a rubber chicken and a meat cleaver.

It was a Friday afternoon, and downtown merchants were participating in a Halloween trick-or-treat event. I asked the man with the rubber chicken if I could take his picture for the newspaper.

That man’s name was Brian Keely, the son of Vincent Keely who owned the Wonderbar Restaurant on the other side of Washington Street. Five years later, Brian Keely was the best man at my wedding.

Brian’s father sort of adopted me. Vincent always had a sly grin and had a mannerism that was both charming and subdued. Because the Wonderbar was near City Hall, it was a popular place for city councilors and other politicians to hang out after long, tedious meetings.

I spent a lot of time at the Wonderbar. Vincent Keely pointed me to some great stories. He knew almost everyone. He seemed to like me. Brian and I became good friends.

Back then, there was always a lot of drama at City Hall. The stories were easy to come by, but the competition was stiff. Every meeting was also attended by a reporter from both the Portland Press Herald and the Journal Tribune.

I was trying to establish myself and pushing to make the weekly Courier the paper of record in Biddeford and Saco.

I worked my ass off. We gave the Journal and Press Herald a run for their money. A few months later, David gave me the first of several pay raises. It was February 1999, and I received a notice from Northern Utilities that my heat was going to be turned off.

Without me asking them, David and Carolyn paid my overdue heating bill. They never asked for repayment. You never forget things like that. I was battling with some severe depression back then. David and Carolyn basically saved my life.

It was there and then that I decided I would treat the Courier as if I were its owner. I didn’t work 40 hours a week. I worked, 60, 80 hours a week. Sometimes more. It didn’t matter. The Courier was not my job.

The Courier was my life.

The beginning of the end

Eventually, I became the Courier’s editor. David and Carolyn were kept busy as their company grew by leaps and bounds. They soon added the South Portland Sentry and the Kennebunk Post to their existing publications, which included the Courier and the Scarborough Leader.

It was at about this time that I approached David and asked permission to begin a weekly opinion column, which would focus on statewide politics. He agreed. The name of that column was called All Along The Watchtower.

To this very day, people routinely tell me how much they loved that column, which had morphed into a catch-all of snarky local political commentary.

Doug Sanford offered me an apartment on the third floor above the Happy Dragon restaurant on Main Street in Biddeford. I now lived and worked on Main Street. I was immersed into Biddeford’s culture.

I became a fixture at City Hall and regularly annoyed local politicians including former mayor and city councilor Jim Grattelo, who repeatedly asked David to fire me.

Brian Keely and I started a live call-in television program on the public access channel. The name of the show, of course, was called Along the Watchtower, and it was a live, no-holds barred hour-long program about local politics.

I could keep going and going, but that’s basically it. That’s how it started. The staff at the Journal Tribune didn’t much care for me. Their days were numbered, and they knew it. Reporters at the Press Herald’s Biddeford bureau respected my work ethic but kept their distance.

David promoted me to become managing editor of all his publications.

I left the newspaper business in 2006 to pursue a career in political consulting. A few years later, in 2011, former Biddeford city councilor Alan Casavant asked me to be his campaign manager. He wanted to oust incumbent mayor Joanne Twomey.

We won that campaign by a margin of more than 65 percent. I repeated my role in Casavant’s re-election in 2013; and I helped with his next four campaigns.

Serving as master of ceremonies at Alan Casavant’s inauguration in 2011

In 2001, a woman named Laura Kidman Hayes sent me a curt e-mail, pointing out that I screwed up in my coverage of the pending election in Old Orchard Beach. I responded with a pithy and sarcastic retort.

She lost that election, and we were married less than two years later. The next year, we bought our home in Biddeford. A few years later, she won a seat as an at-large representative on the Biddeford City Council. She easily won reelection for a second term.

I missed writing about Biddeford politics and started this blog. A couple of years ago, I agreed to do some freelance writing for Saco Bay News. I had to step away from writing about Biddeford news a few months ago, however, because of a conflict of interest. I also can no longer write about Saco politics because my stepsister is now that city’s mayor.

So today, I continue to run my own, very small consulting business and write this blog and occasionally write puff pieces and feature stories for Saco Bay News.

A moment of clarity

Let’s get something straight right now. I no longer consider myself to be a professional journalist. I share personal opinions and observations on social media. I am basically a semi-retired consultant. That’s it.

You should also know that I am not very bright as I outlined in a prior blog post from two years ago.

I do enjoy public feedback — the good, the bad and the ugly. You can find samples of that criticism on this site. Maybe your criticisms can someday make that list.

To Mr. Cohen, I say, thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather be a free-wheeling blogger than a full-time journalist.

To Mr. Pierce, I would say . . . dude, you have a serious anger management problem, and you should really get some professional help.

To Jim Grattelo, I would say: remember what Obi-Wan Kenobi said to Darth Vader, if you strike me down, I will only become more powerful.

To the rest of you, thank you so much for taking the time to read my stuff. It means the world to me. To think that you give up even a few minutes of your day to engage with me is almost beyond my comprehension.

Finally, to David and Carolyn Flood, you guys not only saved my life, but you gave it meaning. I know I that I often drove you guys nuts, but please never doubt how grateful I will always be.

Never miss anther installment of Lessons In Mediocrity. Subscribe now for free!

Radio Free Europe

~ Randy Seaver ~ 2 Comments

With each passing day, I am becoming further convinced that the United States is inching closer and closer to another civil war.

It just seems inevitable.

But this time around, I don’t think the lines of demarcation will be so neatly drawn or conveniently labeled.

In 1861, it was easy to identify “the enemy.” Geography was the name of the game. North versus South. We even had a rather convenient and mutually acceptable dividing point: the Mason-Dixon Line.

Jan. 6, 2021 Capitol Riots. Photo: Pew Research Center

As you probably recall from your sixth-grade social studies class, the Mason Dixon Line ran between Pennsylvania and Maryland, separating the good guys from the bad guys. Defining who were the good guys was purely subjective, depending solely upon which side of the line you found yourself.

To this day — more than 150 years after the first Civil War started — many southerners still adamantly deny that it was about slavery.

While living in Nashville during the early 1990s, I had a good friend who vigorously tried to convince me (a Yankee) that the war was simply about state’s rights. That the south was simply trying to defend itself from “northern aggression.”

He was right, of course. The southern states wanted the “right” to own slaves. Everything else was (and remains) a smokescreen.

The practice of slavery was essential for the economic survival of the southern states that lagged behind the economic bustle and prosperity of their northern neighbors.

In short, it was about money. But isn’t it always?

While the north was humming along with mills and factories, the south was mainly dependent on an agriculture economy that required lots of manpower.

Today, however, the lines of dissension are much less clear and are muddled across a constantly shifting variety of social and political boundaries. Reproductive rights, gun rights, climate change, LGBTQ+ issues and so much more.

Sure, it’s easy and somewhat convenient to say it’s about Democrats versus Republicans, or about red states versus blue states, but I think it’s a lot more complex than that.

I don’t think it’s going to be that easy to spot the enemy in the next Civil War.

I think in this next civil war – and it is coming – it will be more of a neighbor versus neighbor thing.

A cold wind is blowing

We know that our country is divided. We know that there is an increasingly apparent undercurrent of rage brewing just beneath the surface of our political infrastructure.

We saw a hint of it on January 6, 2021.

But that was just a glimpse. The Democrats seized upon that event, pointing to all that was wrong with Republicans.

Many Republicans downplayed the incident and tried to shift blame onto people like Nancy Pelosi for “allowing it to happen.” They pointed to inner city riots that had happened only months earlier when mostly minority residents were enraged about examples of police brutality.

The Democrats miscalculated the incident. Many of them mistakenly thought that event would “seal the deal” and would be the long awaited and much anticipated death knell of Donald J. Trump’s political career.

The American people would be horrified, the Democrats reasoned. The people would be galvanized by what they witnessed on their flat-screen televisions and smart phones.

It would be sort of like Sept. 11, when most all Americans would rally behind truth, justice and the laws of our democracy. When we would stand united in the face of evil.

On Sept. 11, 2001, we knew – or at least thought we knew –who the enemy was. We swore vengeance.

But this time was different. The Democrats had miscalculated.

Trump and his supporters did not suffer any meaningful blowback from the Jan. 6 incident. In fact — court cases be damned – the Capitol riots only made Trump and his growing legion of supporters stronger.

Sure, a handful of Republicans condemned the incidents of Jan. 6; but they were almost immediately expunged by a political party that was tipping to an extreme and rather rabid position.

The GOP, it seemed, was ready to eat its young. Chaos descended over the Republican-controlled House of Representatives. The extremists were now in charge.

No one was even pretending to be civil.

Democrats, too, dropped the ball, using the Jan. 6 riots as little more than an endless rallying cry for political purposes, a four-year campaign ad to prevent the GOP from ever again occupying the White House.

Meanwhile – beyond the media frenzy, beyond the ensuing federal indictments and beyond all the talking heads and all the noise – some Americans started quietly making plans.

While living in the south, I once made the mistake of joking with one of my work colleagues who was busting my chops about being a Yankee. “Relax,” I told him. “The Civil War is over.”

“No, it ain’t,” he replied with a grin. “It’s just halftime.”

I remember a chill going down my spine when he said that.

He wasn’t joking.

Pawn Takes Queen

You can already see the ads on the internet and on late-night television. Survival kits and emergency meal rations. We laugh at these “preppers.” A bunch of delusional, paranoid conspiracy theorists.

We dismiss them and their concerns. Our arrogance only fuels their not-so-hidden rage about the “elitists.”

But when the shit hits the fan – and it will — what will be your first move?

Will you take sides or will you sit back and hope that other people – the government – can fix it? The good guys will win, right?

But riddle me this: What if the “government” splinters? More aptly, what if the military splinters?

What happens when you see the “troops” marching through your neighborhood and you’re the only one without a gun?

Or . . . what do you do if you’re the only one on your block with a gun? Are you willing to shoot your neighbor? Someone you know? Will you defend your home or surrender and just hope that things work out for the best?

How will you know the good guys from the bad guys? Who decides? Who will you believe? The news?

Who’s to say that our police department will not be fragmented, same for the fire department. The guys and gals who drive the snow plows and the trash trucks?

Speaking of trucks, what about all the cross-country truckers? The airport personnel? The hospital staff? The reporters and media outlets? Second-shift at Wendy’s?

What happens if all these groups are suddenly fractured?

I am not trying to scare you.

But if you’re not scared by now, then my silly blog post is sure as hell not going to motivate you to consider a rather dark reality.

Will the next civil war bring out the best in us or the worst in us?

Me? I’m not preparing for some kind of half-assed Armageddon. I’m not stocking up on guns, ammo, Hot Pockets or even toilet paper. Nope. I’m just gonna sit back and watch. I refuse to let fear control my life.

I will take each day as it comes – on its own terms.

But when the shit gets real — and it will – just remember, I told you so.

History is written by the winners.

Is it over, or was my former co-worker correct?

Is it only half-time?

It’s happened before. It will happen again. It just won’t be so easy to sort the good guys from the bad guys this time.

Never miss another installment of Lessons in Mediocrity! Subscribe for free today!

A picture tells a thousand words

~ Randy Seaver ~ 2 Comments
research vessel diagramDownload

Time Is On My Side

~ Randy Seaver ~ 4 Comments

I have some good news and some bad news to share with my friends and family who live in the Biddeford-Saco area.

Apparently, officials at both Thornton Academy and the University of New England are none too pleased with yours truly.

According to my sources, representatives from both institutions have reached out to the publisher of Saco Bay News, essentially telling her that it would probably be best if Randy Seaver didn’t write anymore stories or opinion columns about their respective institutions.

I was not included in those conversations, so I do not know exactly what was or was not said, but it strikes me as sort of the same vibe as when John Mitchell, President Nixon’s attorney general, threatened Katherine Graham, publisher of the Washington Post, during the Watergate scandal in 1972.

Mitchell warned reporter Carl Bernstein (one of my heroes) “Katie Graham’s gonna get her tit caught in a big fat wringer if that’s published.”

Let’s pause here for a moment. I am not Carl Bernstein. Saco Bay News is not The Washington Post. And my stories are much, much less than microscopic when compared to historic stories such as Watergate or The Pentagon Papers.

I am just a semi-retired, overweight, underachieving, middle-aged, bald man with very few of his original teeth left and no college degree. (In fairness, Carl Bernstein also never earned a college degree).

So, if you stop and think about it, why should anyone at either Thornton Academy or the University of New England give a rat’s ass about anything I write? What are they afraid of?

I completely understand why Liz Gotthelf, the publisher of Saco Bay News, decided it would probably be best if I no longer covered stories about Thornton or UNE.

Saco Bay News is a one-woman operation. Liz has nowhere near the resources and muscle that Katherine Graham had during the Watergate scandal.

Consequently, you will not see any more stories on Saco Bay News about either Thornton Academy or the University of New England written by me.

It remains unclear whether either of those two distinguished organizations will allow anyone to write about them. Perhaps permission slips will be required in the future. Who knows?

I am crushed, and trying to work through my grief.

But in reality, and generally speaking, elitists have never responded well to my words and questions. So, I should have seen this coming.

A hazy shade of winter

To be honest and fair, I get why officials at Thornton Academy are pissed at me. While the news story I wrote about their ongoing negotiations with the city of Saco was quite objective and very balanced, I sort of eviscerated them a few days later in my latest column: A Campus Set Apart.

I knew that column would piss them off, and that idea delighted me. It is more than understandable why Thornton would throw a hissy-fit. I get it. I don’t blame them at all.

Thornton Academy’s main building (T.A. Photo)

That said, I wonder why John Lamb (Thornton’s PR guy) didn’t call me first. In fact, he never followed up with me. He has my number. My phone seems to be working. It strikes me as a chickenshit move.

In my world, if someone pisses you off or treats you unfairly, you respond to them directly. At least, that’s how real men solve their differences. I have zero respect for someone that complains about me behind my back.

Then again, we’re talking about Thornton Academy, so it’s par for the course.

All that aside, I own plenty of the blame here. In larger publications with more staff and resources, news stories are generated in the newsroom. Opinion pieces and editorials are kept separate and isolated from news reporters. There is an invisible, yet clear, wall between the editorial board and the newsroom.

I was trying to do both, and that’s a basic no-no, even if you try to be careful. You’re still blurring the lines.

But the University of New England’s complaints about me represent an entirely different animal.

Straight, No Chaser

Over the past several months, I have written three very comprehensive news stories about a new pier being proposed by the University of New England: Part One: City Manager Quashes Harbor Master Part Two: Controversy Surrounds UNE Pier Proposal; and Part Three: Biddeford May ‘Step Away’ From Review of UNE Pier Proposal.

In the days and weeks after my first two stories about the proposal were published at Saco Bay News, other media outlets — including the Portland Press Herald, WMTW-TV, WGME-TV and the Biddeford-Saco Courier – also picked up the story.

I put a lot of effort and time into those stories about the controversial pier proposal. My reporting was straight-up. I took great pains to be as objective and unbiased as possible.

In fact, I received accolades for my reporting on the issue from colleagues who work (or worked) for other media outlets.

But guess who didn’t call or e-mail me? That’s right, not a peep from the University of New England. And yes, they have my phone number. My email address is included at the bottom of every story I write.

Apparently, the University of New England could also use a good set of gently used balls.

So, what’s the good news?

Only hours after delivering a devastating blow to the United States Pacific Fleet at Pearl Harbor, Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto reportedly said, “I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.”

From my perspective, I have now been set free and unleashed from needing to worry about objectivity. I can now publicly criticize both Thornton Academy and UNE as much as I like.

The bad news for both Thornton Academy and UNE is that they have now poked the proverbial bear; a bear with nothing to lose, lots of time on its hands and a decent social media following in the local area.

Yes, the Japanese kicked our ass at Pearl Harbor, but I don’t think I need to remind you about how the United States responded.

Seriously, this feels like Christmas morning.

Never miss another installment of Lessons in Mediocrity! Subscribe for free today!

Wanna be ‘Woke?’ Well then wake up

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

It’s always easier to say someone else should pay more.

Take From the Rich and Give to the Poor is a popular mantra used for thousands of years. It also is the underpinning of the Democratic Party’s campaign machine since . . . well, since forever, basically.

The entirety of government is built upon taxes. Government simply cannot exist without some measure of taxation.

The government does not produce anything, and they sort of suck at investing the money that they take from you and me. They also pretty much suck at bookkeeping. I mean, seriously, who else can get away with Trillion Dollar deficits. It’s absolutely insane. Did we not learn anything about money management and irresponsible spending in 1929?

It’s truly unbelievable. We have trillion-dollar deficits and we talk about spending more money as if it’s really no big deal.

Both – yes both – of the major political parties are responsible for this mess. If you’re reading this, it’s too late for you. You’re fucked. But what about your grandchildren and their children?

If you think the government is going to “take care” of you, wait until that moment when you do not — or cannot — give them every penny they demand.

There is a reason why Treasury agents are heavily armed and well-stocked with assault rifles (Oops! Sorry.) Semi-automatic rifles are only called “assault weapons” when a citizen holds one. When the police show up with the same exact rifles, we (the media) call them “long guns.”

Funny how that works. Same exact weapon. Two different names. You wanna be “woke?” Well then wake up.

Photo from Forbes Magazine

If you can’t pay your taxes, they (the government) will take your house, your savings account, put a lien on your wages (even though you are already paying taxes on those wages). They will take your car, your inheritance, everything of value.

They will show up with heavily armed personnel. If you even dare question them, they will threaten you with prison. And then those threats become a reality when you find yourself doing laundry in a federal prison because you decided to keep a little bit more of your own money.

The so-called “benevolent government” taxes everything you earn. And if you can’t pay it on time, they will charge you interest that would make a loan shark blush.

Think hard about this next example: The government actually makes you pay taxes on the Social Security pittance that you receive after a lifetime of contributing (by force) part of your hard-earned wages into the Social Security system.

If this kind of robbery happened in the private sector, heads would explode. But you need to be quiet. Keep your head down and follow the rules. It’s the government, the same rules do not apply.

The government taxes you for the roads you walk upon. They tax you for toilet paper, soap and shoes, all the things you need to survive with some manner of dignity.

They tax you for the fuel you need to heat your home or drive your car. They even tax you when you die.

They tax you on the home and property that you think is yours; and then make you pay “fees” for sewer and sanitation. They tax you for your phone, your internet usage, even your cable television.

They charge you an “excise” tax every year on your car, despite the fact that you paid huge taxes when you purchased that car.

And get this, the car dealer had to pay taxes on that sale and the salesperson was taxed on his/her commission.

It’s like Meyer Lansky’s wet dream.

It’s so fucking ludicrous that even John Lennon was moved to write a song about it

“Should five percent appear too small/ Be thankful I don’t take it all/’Cause I’m the taxman/Yeah, I’m the taxman/I’ll tax the street/ (If you try to sit, sit) I’ll tax your seat (If you get too cold, cold) I’ll tax the heat/ (If you take a walk, walk) I’ll tax your feet.”

It’s is virtually impossible to live 24 hours in the United States without the government holding out its hand and demanding more and more and more of your money.

The illusion of a government here to help and protect you fades really fast once you can longer give them what they demand.

Do you really think it matters whether you vote for Candidate A or Candidate B?

Liberty? Sure. As long as you pay for it.

Never miss another installment of Lessons in Mediocrity! Subscribe for free today!

Top-10 reasons why I’m voting for RFK

~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

1.) He’s batshit crazy, just like me. And I like his style. Look, even paranoid people have enemies;

    2.) I am so sick and tired of the two-party system that is always blaming the other guy and pointing fingers.

    3.) He’s not Donald Trump.

    4.) He’s not Kamala Harris.

    5.) I live in southern Maine, thus it doesn’t fucking matter who I vote for. Thanks to the electoral college someone else will make that decision for me.

    6.) This way, I will equally piss off my friends on both sides of the aisle.

    7.) When the real shit starts to go down after the election, I can proudly say: “Don’t blame me. I voted for Kennedy.”

    8.) There are reasons why his father and uncle were both removed from the equation. Do you really think that was a coincidence? Really?

    9.) I really do not like either of the mainstream choices, Harris and Trump. Nope. No thank you. Kennedy worked hard to get on the ballot here in Maine. Thus, he is a legitimate choice, unlike Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck.

    10.) I know he won’t win. That could never be allowed to happen, but at least I will feel better when I go to bed on Election night. I will have actually voted FOR someone, not against someone.

    NEW YORK, NEW YORK – JULY 25: Democratic Presidential Candidate Robert F. Kennedy Jr. listens as he is introduced by Rabbi Shmuley Boteach during the World Values Network’s Presidential candidate series at the Glasshouse on July 25, 2023 in New York City. Kennedy Jr., who is running a longshot primary campaign against President Joe Biden, joined Rabbi Shmuley Boteach to discuss fighting antisemitism and the championing of Israel. Kennedy has faced backlash for his stances on vaccines, most recently for comments he made suggesting that the coronavirus (COVID-19) disease could have been “targeted to attack Caucasians and Black people,” while sparing Jewish and Chinese people. He has denied allegations of racism and antisemitism. (Photo by Michael M. Santiago/Getty Images)

      A Campus Set Apart?

      ~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

      Originally published in Saco Bay News August 24, 2024

      A Campus Set Apart

      George Orwell once wrote “Journalism is printing what somebody else doesn’t want printed. Everything else is public relations.”

      Since I have worked as both a journalist and as a public relations professional, I can tell you that quotation from Orwell often rings quite true, especially in a small town where some things are considered off-limits for pesky reporters.

      Since this is a column about the city of Saco and Thornton Academy, and since I graduated from T.A., I lifted the title for this column from my senior year yearbook: “A Campus Set Apart.”

      Sounds nice, doesn’t it? A Campus Set Apart. A distinguished honor, a trumpeting of high achievement.

      But what I want to know is this: A campus set apart from what, exactly?

      Let’s pause here for a moment for some very necessary disclosure: I graduated from Thornton Academy in 1982. My sister also graduated from T.A., as did my father and both of my aunts. In fact, my grandfather taught there briefly before teaching at Biddeford High School.

      So, I know a little bit about Thornton Academy, its reputation and its history.

      More disclosure, since we’re also talking about the city of Saco: My youngest step sister, Jodi MacPhail also graduated from Thornton and is today the mayor of Saco.

      A Social Media Firestorm

      Last week, just a day before Laura and I were set to leave for our annual trip to Moosehead Lake, I published what I thought was a rather innocuous news story regarding the ongoing contract negotiations between Saco and Thornton.

      Although Thornton Academy is a private school, it has also served as Saco’s default high school for nearly 200 years. That’s quite a history.

      But despite this long-standing relationship between the city and Thornton, and the fact that these negotiations happen every few years, there seems to be a fair amount of friction between the two parties.

      I posted the story on the Biddeford-Saco Community Facebook page on Wednesday morning. Within just a couple of hours, the accusations and fervent defense of one side’s position went almost off the rails.

      That Facebook post reached more than 2,000 viewers within the first 24 hours, and it generated more than 117 comments.

      I was stunned by the commentary, the bulk of which was aimed at defending Thornton Academy and criticizing the city’s negotiating team.

      Honestly, I expected the reverse. As someone who tracks local issues very closely, I wrongly assumed that Saco taxpayers would naturally align closer to the city’s negotiating position.

      Then again, the city of Saco does not employ a public relations professional, but Thornton Academy does. And it appears to be money well spent.

      Maybe I’m a cynic, but it appeared that Thornton Academy had rallied their troops and circled their wagons even before the story was published. Many of the commenters didn’t disclose their own connections to the private school, including teachers and other employees.

      Commentary in support of Thornton Academy pummeled the opposition by a margin of close to 9-1.

      Wow, I thought. I better be careful about what I write about Thornton, especially if I have the temerity to tackle some of the school’s beloved mythology.

       I was born in a small town

      Sometimes it can be weird: being a reporter in a small town. Reporters are supposed to be objective and unbiased. Sometimes, it’s a bit tougher to accomplish those high ideals of journalism than it looks, especially when you bump into the people you write about at the grocery store or if your kids play on the same Little League team.

      Simply questioning Thornton Academy or sympathizing with the city’s negotiating team feels almost treasonous to me. I am an alum, after all.

      But unlike almost all of my 1982 classmates, I have a rather unique view of Thornton Academy.

      It’s no secret that I was experiencing some difficulties during my teenage years. When things got too far out of control, my mother sent me to live with my uncle in West Peru. That transition happened just a few weeks into my sophomore year at Thornton.

      Kids from the town of Peru were sent to Rumford High School, now Mountain Valley High School. I finished my sophomore year and then attended my entire junior year in Rumford.

      But I begged my mother to let me return to Thornton so that I could graduate with all my “friends” from Saco before heading off to basic training in the U.S. Air Force.

      In retrospect, I should have stayed at Rumford. I never really fit in at either Thornton or Rumford. It may surprise you – and I now find it quite ironic – that many kids from Rumford looked down their noses at kids from Peru. Imagine a snobby kid from Rumford. A contradiction of terms.

      At least the undercurrents of elitism at Thornton were based on some measure of reality. But kids are kids, no matter where they go to school. Still, I was able to compare two high schools as a student of both.

      Oh, the places you’ll go

      The defense of Thornton on social media followed two very basic themes. 1.) Thornton Academy is a top-notch school, and 2.) Saco should just be grateful, stop asking questions and shut up. Thornton Academy, after all, is a private school. They answer to no one except their own self-appointed Board of Trustees, a virtual who’s who in Saco’s power structure.

      But here’s one of the main rubbing points in this current negotiation: Saco representatives want just a bit of accountability and transparency from Thornton, including a proposal to have a city representative appointed as a non-voting member to the Board of Trustees.

      Sounds reasonable, right?

      Yeah, not so much. It was as if the city asked Thornton to change its name to Saco High School.

      Make no mistake. The city of Saco is damned fortunate to have Thornton Academy as the primary option for all its public high school students.

      But it should also be noted that Thornton Academy is also quite fortunate to have such a close relationship to the city, a steady, reliable and predictable source of income.

      Many private schools struggle when the economy disrupts the ability of parents to pay private tuition costs. Thornton has a healthy buffer from those recession and inflationary woes: a buffer to the tune of more than $17 million per year in tuition costs from Saco taxpayers.

      Furthermore, even though Thornton Academy can charge prime market tuition for its private students, it is still a non-profit entity and does not pay any property taxes on its acres and acres of manicured lawns and the several brick buildings that make up its campus; a campus set apart.

       Let’s make a deal

      From all accounts, the ongoing negotiations between Saco and Thornton Academy are based upon something that both sides agree upon. Both Thornton and Saco ultimately want what is best for Saco kids.

      In any negotiating situation, both sides have to come to the table in good faith. Both sides have to give a little and both sides have to get a little. Otherwise, it’s not negotiating. It’s blackmail.

      But let’s remember something for all of the people bragging about the success of their kids who went to Thornton and later got into very good colleges and universities: not every kid is college bound.

      In fact, several Thornton Academy students take vocational classes at the Biddeford Regional Center of Technology.

      However, according to Saco City Attorney Tim Murphy (who also serves on Thornton’s Board of Trustees), use of the word ‘Biddeford” anywhere on Thornton’s campus is a felony offense that carries a minimum two-year prison term in the town of Dayton.

      Relax, Tim Murphy never really said that.

      All kidding aside, some Saco school kids also require special-ed services. Not every kid is college bound. Saco has a responsibility to advocate for ALL of its students, not just the college-bound students or the outstanding athletes.

      Eight of the 11 private high schools in Maine provide all their students with free lunch, consistent with a new state law that requires all public schools to offer free lunch. Thornton is one of the three private schools that does not offer that option. Why?

      Although private schools like Thornton are exempt from the new law, it creates a dividing line between the haves and the have nots. Remember high school? Now imagine being one of just a few kids who has to ask for a free lunch.

      To their credit, Thornton has a policy to expand free lunch for any student within 260 percent of the federal poverty rate, but it still forces students and their parents to go through the humiliation of asking for financial help.

      The city of Saco is not looking to “take over” a private high school with an exemplary reputation, but if I’m going to fork over $17 million for something you can bet your sweet ass that I’m going to want something in return.

      For comparison purposes, the city of Biddeford has a contract with a private firm that handles repair, maintenance and operations of all its photocopiers. That annual contract is roughly $150,000 a year and includes the school department.

      Biddeford’s contract with that private firm has more transparency and accountability for photocopiers than Saco has for all of its high school students.

      If Thornton doesn’t want public accountability, then maybe it should stop taking public funds. Many private companies across the country have government contracts, but they also have to follow certain rules including accountability and transparency.

      Bath Iron Works strikes me as an exceptional shipyard, but when the Senate Appropriations Committee comes sniffing around for accountability and transparency regarding federal contracts, you can bet that BIW doesn’t tell Sen. Angus King to go pound sand.

      Thornton Academy: Myth, Legend or Reality?

      On a final note, while Thornton certainly has the prettiest high school campus in southern Maine, how does it stack up against other high schools when it comes to things other than landscaping?

      As I said previously, I went to Thornton and Rumford High School. I would be hard-pressed to come up with any objective measure of which school was better.

      I was one of those college-prep kids. In my sophomore year at Rumford High School, we were studying the works of Marcus Aurelius – in Latin. English teacher Richard Mullins – one of my favorite high school teachers – required us to do a deep-dive into Orwell’s Animal Farm, requiring essays and research to critique that work’s inspiration: the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution.

      Thornton also had amazing and dedicated faculty who pushed us hard. One of my favorites was Norman Trottier, who adamantly refused to let me drop French IV during my senior year so that I could just coast toward basic training.

      Phil Curtis was such a passionate and dedicated teacher at Thornton. He was so incredibly patient and kind towards me, even though I barely understood the mathematical foundation of two-plus-two.

      There were so many other fine teachers at both Rumford and Thornton. How do you objectively measure which school is better? You really can’t.

      Public schools in Maine are required by law to publicly post their MEA (Maine Educational Assessment) scores.  Not Thornton.

      So how do Saco taxpayers really know what they’re getting for their $17 million per year? Do taxpayers just have to blindly accept what the cheerleaders are screaming on the sidelines?

      Maybe, but it would appear that there is also more than landscaping that “sets Thornton apart.” They also have a pretty good public relations department.

      Never miss the next installment of Lessons in Mediocrity! Subscribe today for free!

      What do you expect?

      ~ Randy Seaver ~ Leave a comment

      And now I’m depressed. No joke.

      I was just talking with one of my closest friends about how quickly summer is fading. We talked about time, and the error of counting the days; but we also talked about politics. (It’s expected. We’re both self-described political junkies.)

      I commented, “I’m so ready for this election to over. Just 72 days until Nov. 6, the day after the election.”

      And he said, “Over?” Nope.”

      And then I realized he was right.

      On November 6, – – no matter who wins the election — many of my friends will be celebrating and filled with happiness and satisfaction. On the other side of aisle, many of my friends will be feeling somewhat hopeless, disconnected and fearful.

      A wise man once told me: “Expectations are pre-mediated resentments.”

      What are we expecting from this election? After CNN tallies the results, do we all walk out onto the playing field and shake hands with the opposing team? Hardly.

      So, I am now tempering my expectations and reminded of the fact that the Reality Fairy doesn’t carry a wand. She carries a 2 x4.

      Thus, here are a few of my expectations about what life will be like on November 6 (the day after the election), regardless of who wins.

      1.) We will still fight with one another. People will still weaponize social media in order to push and cement their own political narrative.

      2.) Too many of our neighbors will still be living in tents, mostly forgotten.

      3.) We will still be easily distracted by celebrity “news” and gossip. We will continue paying some people millions of dollars simply because they are really good at running and catching a leather ball.

      4.) Our political leaders will still fight and offer us plenty of finger-pointing, blame and derision, but few — if any — solutions will be built upon innovation and collaboration: bipartisanship.

      5.) People will continue using credit cards for the things they really cannot afford, whether it’s a vacation or a new tattoo.

      6.) We will not be satisfied with anything. The cost of housing, utilities and food will continue to climb, no matter who sits in the Oval Office.

      7.) Global hunger will continue and actually get worse.

      8.) The rattling of war sabers will continue in Gaza, Ukraine and so many other places around the globe.

      9.) Many other nations (North Korea, Iran, China, Russia and so many others) will still hate us and seek to weaken us.

      10.) Poor people will still be poor and rich people will still be rich (That’s actually a constant that dates back more than 200,000 years)

      My advice? Don’t count the days. Don’t expect things to be fundamentally different. We are all — all of us — Republicans and Democrats — saddled with the same unfortunate reality: that everyone is human, and thus we are all somewhat flawed.

      May God have mercy on our souls.

      Never miss another installment of Lessons In Mediocrity! Subscribe for free today!