The World Cup of Soccer begins June 11, partly in the United States, and we are being bombarded with suggestions that our national team will fare well.

The timing of the optimism is propitious, coming as it does before the dark reality of results must be factored into the equation.

Simply put, the United States is far from a world soccer power. It’s been that way for decades and probably will be for many more.

Picking up on that underdog theme, I’ve seen ads referencing the 1980 Olympic Miracle On Ice, when an American hockey team upset the Soviets and went on to claim gold. Why not us? we are asked.

Sure, we won Olympic hockey gold again this past Olympics. But, back in 1980, the Soviets were professionals and our team was a bunch of amateur college players.

Fast-forward to 2026 and the Russians were banned from the Olympics and the U.S., like other countries, fielded a team of NHL players.

Can the U.S. men’s soccer team duplicate that success? Very unlikely.

But, for a few weeks we can continue to witness the triumph of hope over experience.

Just Sunday, I was watching a “friendly” match between the U.S. and Senegal. By way of background – I had to look it up myself – the U.S. team is ranked 16^th in the world and Senegal is 14^th.

So, when the United State jumped out to a 2-0 lead, the announcers were euphoric and were rambling on about our greatness. Then, Senegal scored a late goal just before halftime and there was considerably less excitement.

I tuned the TV to something else, after the U.S. had an apparent second-half goal taken away on an offside call. I see Senegal did manage to tie the game at 2-all – understand overcoming a two-goal deficit in soccer is stunning – but the Americans pulled out a 3-2 win.

As for me, I was glad to see our unquestionably No. 1 player, Christian Pulisic, assist on the first goal and score the second, before not playing in the second half. Pulisic had been on something of a scoring drought, both on the national team and with his club AC Milan in the prestigious Italian league.

Americans will go nowhere in World Cup play without significant Pulisic contributions. I have written here before, and will restate, Pulisic is the best American soccer player ever.

I heard the announcers singing the praises of Landon Donovan during that Sunday friendly game broadcast. In my mind, there is no contest. Donovan tried to play in the foreign pro leagues and pretty much failed. Pulisic played for a championship Chelsea team from the English Premier League that also won the Champions League.

Pulisic currently is a starter and main contributor for AC Milan.

If you are ranking Americans all-time, Pulisic is first based on pedigree and Donovan is second.

What will that mean in this World Cup, being hosted by the United States, Canada and Mexico? Probably not much.

The good news is the United States team isn’t in an extremely tough group. It will open play June 12 against Paraguay, currently ranked 40^th in the world. Also in the Americans’ group are Turkey (No. 25) and Australia (27).

There are 12 such four-team groups. Each team plays the other three teams in its group and the top two advance to the knockout round, along with the eight best third-place teams.

Do the math and you will find that fully two-thirds of the 48 teams advance to the single-elimination knockout round. Not exactly elite status.

Remember this should the Americans make it that far. But, understand that our national team could lose to any or all our group foes, too. Such is the state of American soccer.

When all the stars align, when every key player is healthy, when the opposition perhaps is not playing well, we can be competitive, even win. But, the margin for success is slim when you are talking U.S. men’s soccer.

Another friendly, Saturday vs. a German team ranked No. 10 in the world, may or may not provide some insight ahead of the World Cup. This is, after all, a friendly game in which neither side will move Heaven and Earth to win.

Enjoy this upcoming friendly and the World Cup games. Root, root, root for the home team. Just don’t expect much beyond advancing to the round of 32.

The shocking death of race driver Kyle Busch, due to sepsis rising from pneumonia, dredged up unpleasant memories of family members stricken by sepsis.

And I ask: Why does a condition as deadly as sepsis tend to go undiagnosed in its early, most treatable stages?

Also, I ask, how does such a prominent personality, being treated by presumably what are very skilled medical types and monitored closely if only to keep him able to race, die from sepsis while under their care?

For those who have not been following the sad Busch story, he was a 41-year-old NASCAR driver, a two-time series champion, and one of the all-time greats in terms of wins. I was a huge fan because of his skill and his take-no-prisoners attitude.

Alas, Busch was in the twilight of his career, driving for an uncompetitive Cup team and, truth be told, was not the driver he had been two decades back.

That is not to say he wasn’t still a talent. In one of his last drives, when he had good equipment under him, he won the NASCAR truck race at Dover. During the post-race interview, when asked why he still got excited about winning, he noted ironically that one never knows when the next win will come. Days later, he was dead. He’d run his final race.

And I think of my late mother, who had experienced sepsis, and a cousin, who was put in a nursing home for six months when his sepsis was missed. Fortunately, he survived.

During TV coverage of a Cup race at Watkins Glen two weeks before Busch’s death, his in-car radio was relayed to the viewers with Busch asking the doctor to meet him after the race to administer a shot. The announce crew said Busch had been ill all weekend with sinus problems and it would be tough to drive a race car with one’s head feeling like a balloon.

As mentioned earlier, Busch did race the next week. But, in the leadup to the Coca-Cola 600 Memorial Day, it was announced he was ill and would be replaced. Within hours, news broke that he was dead.

A death certificate was reported to have noted Busch was suffering from bacterial pneumonia for days to weeks before his death. That led to sepsis, an ailment in which the person’s immune system goes extreme and actually begins attacking the body’s organs. Sepsis claimed Busch’s life in about a day, according to that report.

The usual requests for privacy have limited details being released. Or maybe it’s a CYA operation being conducted.

We really don’t know whether Busch’s bacterial pneumonia was being treated specifically, or had been missed. We have read reports that he was in a race simulator when he collapsed and an ambulance was called.

I recall, as my mother spent the final couple of years of her life in a personal care facility, my ongoing battles with staff to treat what I perceived to be repeated urinary tract infections. My brother and I remember one of those leading to sepsis, as we were told by an ER doctor. My elderly mother survived. She was a tough one.

There was no sepsis admitted to when my mother died, but my brother and I both suspect it.

In the case of my aforementioned cousin, he was suffering extreme back pain and just happened to have a visit scheduled with his family doctor. The doctor noted to him that he was getting old and offered an MRI.

Understand, that MRIs and CAT scans are the local medical profession’s equivalent of the fast-food worker asking “do you want fries with that” as you order at the drive-through window.

MRIs and CAT scans might be ordered for any malady from a hangnail, to a sniffle, to an ingrown toenail, just to help pay for the machines and keep the workers busy.

My cousin ended up being taken by ambulance to our local hospital, where again sepsis was missed and he was sent home with a prescription for pain medication.

A rapid return to the ER resulted in someone there finally getting it right, but precious time had been lost.

During the course of his hospitalization of six weeks or so, some nurse was indulging in an orgy of self-congratulation, telling me they finally had helped him turn the corner. To this, I responded “Too bad you ran him face-first into the wall before helping him around that corner.”

As mentioned previously, he eventually had an intensive six-month stay in a rehab facility, regaining the ability to walk, among other things.

But, at least he’s still with us. I just visited him yesterday. I’m sure Kyle Busch’s family is wondering why Kyle had to die

It occurs to me, at a time when days, weeks, even months are given over to celebrating abnormal sexual orientation, minority status of various varieties and other assorted virtue-signaling subjects, that we who live in Johnstown and its surrounding communities are due recognition simply for residing here.

Something other than a day set aside to honor us seems appropriate, if only because the City can’t possibly afford to have another paid holiday for workers, including the beleaguered police force.

Yet, the Memorial Day observance only heightened my thinking. Wounded soldiers receive Purple Hearts. Heroic soldiers have honors up to, and including, the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Then there are the service/combat ribbons worn with pride on the upper left side of military dress uniforms. This is the so-called “fruit salad” that demonstrates a veteran’s military history in real time. Beware, though, that the term fruit salad is like the N-word, to be used face-to-face only by those within the fraternity as a friendly term, but never by those on the outside.

I propose similar awards for residents of Greater Johnstown, service/combat ribbons to acknowledge our time in this backwater, which has become a front line of sorts when it comes to violent crime.

Admittedly, I never served in the armed forces of this nation. I reached the age of 18 just as the selective service draft was being put on hold. I still was required to register for the draft and have a card classifying me as 1-H, a holding category just in case we didn’t exit Vietnam and needed more troops.

The joke was, the 1-H meant that in case of ongoing war, we’d be held as hostages.

I’ve never been shot at, just like many current military members, but the odds of that changing are growing with each passing day. Maybe a stabbing? I do, after all, routinely transit Moxham, Kernville, Bridge Street, the last becoming our modern day interpretation of the Wild West’s lawless Front Street in Dodge City, Kansas.

Of late, the violence has intruded on Geistown and Richland Township. Can Southmont, Westmont, Upper Yoder be far behind?

This is being written Wednesday morning and, so far, there have been no reports of violence. It is, however, still early.

The latest chapter in the carnage reportedly occurred very early Tuesday morning at the Coopersdale Homes, yet another of the public housing outlets that have served as incubators for such.

This time, sketchy reports indicate a fight by numerous women, being observed by two males, one of which stabbed the other. Those same sketchy reports indicate the stabbing victim just might have been more than an innocent bystander, with indications he was the aggressor before being stabbed and might have assaulted some of the women before they began fighting each other.

All that is left to be reported is whether he is another imported mischief-maker from Filthydelphia or, as a door-to-door canvasser for utility service told me the other day, possibly from Baltimore. This man noted his house has a nearby encampment of almost an entire block of former Baltimore residents.

A little fruit salad for our shirts or blouses would be tangible recognition of our plight of living with this Johnstown decline, and perhaps galvanize the public to refuse to accept this.

It would be a daily reminder that our once “Friendly City” has become more like downtown Chicago.

The ribbons would give people something to talk about at those candlelight vigils, or in public meetings during which our elected officials give nothing more than lip service to the problem.

I’d wear one with an uncomfortable mixture of pride and shame.

There is a lot on my mind as we sit in the midst of the Memorial Day weekend.

Let us begin with that “weekend” aspect. Oldtimers will recall when Memorial Day, which my one grandmother always referred to as its original name of “Decoration Day,” was celebrated on May 30, every year, no matter what day of the week it fell upon.

It was a day of observance, begun in 1868, the wake of our Civil War, to honor deceased veterans by decorating their graves. The May 30 date was picked intentionally to avoid any specific battle or surrender date, but instead give both sides a chance to honor their military dead without opportunists trying to leverage the day. The observance was meant to begin the healing process.

But, modern politicians 100 years removed from that reality, saw the chance to “give” the public something while heeding the wishes of their lobbyist masters, and passed the Uniform Monday Holiday Act. This moved four federal holidays, including Memorial Day, from their traditional dates to Mondays.

The legislation was signed by president Lyndon Johnson in 1968, but did not take effect until 1971.

Citizenry, especially those in government, celebrated the gift of a three-day weekend, a phenomenon that has been borrowed to turn Thanksgiving into a week away from work or school. The business and transportation industries were giddy over the opportunity for increased sales, increased travel and generally more money flowing into their coffers that the 1968 law provided

Some at the time, including West Virginia Senator Robert Byrd, opposed the change, noting it would create a time of “hilarity and merriment” instead of solemn reflection. He was not wrong.

Take a quick poll today among the rapidly diminishing working class – why work when one can live a middle-class lifestyle on the dole? – and you will find few who are aware, or care, that Monday is officially Memorial Day. Forgive them, I guess. For them, every day is a day off work.

It is fitting on some level that the Memorial Day celebration used to include what came to be known as “The Greatest Day In Racing.”

The Formula One Monaco Grand Prix was run in what are early morning hours in the United States, followed by the Indianapolis 500 and the Coca-Cola (formerly the World) 600 NASCAR race.

I used to make it a point to watch all three. Today, not so much.

First, the Monaco Grand Prix race date has been moved to June and today’s Formula One race is the Canada Grand Prix. I might have considered watching that, except the rulers of Formula One have turned the series into an unrecognizable mishmash of virtue-signaling, political correctness and general disorder. Plus, broadcast rights in the U.S. have been sold to Apple TV and I’m not about to throw that multi-national left-wing lovefest any of my money.

The IndyCar series is similarly unrecognizable to traditional fans, a state of affairs accelerated by the sanctioning body’s ability to change the rules seemingly by the minute, to the point where almost no one, even the drivers, can coherently state what is or isn’t allowed.

It doesn’t help interest that the series is remarkably uncompetitive, a recent hallmark of Formula One, and that is not a good thing.

As for NASCAR, fill in the blanks with the same failures of the other two racing operations. There is general confusion having to do with ever-changing cars, formats and rules, too much time spent in currying favor with the political left at the expense of traditional fans, and general tone-deafness in turning racing from a meritocracy into a DEI operation.

I did take a break from writing this to race (pun intended) to the upstairs TV, just to turn it on to the Indy race channel and put it on pause, that I might view the race start, then move on to something productive, like checking my email.

It seems the Memorial Day holiday weekend increasingly mirrors the ongoing loss of traditional values in this country. And that is a painful thing to watch.

In my youth, we did not have smartphones, personal computers or the internet to project our memes. We did, however, have T-shirts.

Two themes from those meme T-shirts that hit home with me in the distant past involved birds, ironic in that I am something less than an avian fancier.

The first depicted a mouse, from the vantage point behind him, extending his middle finger to a hawk-like bird, its talons deployed, swooping in to end the mouse’s existence. The message was: The Last Great Act of Defiance.

The second meme had a couple of buzzards, with one observing to the other: Patience My Ass I’m Gonna Kill Something.

Those who know me, would back me up when I say that I’m reluctant to give up and I am short on patience.

Regarding President Trump and Iran, I am beginning to give up on him to finish the job and, along that line, I say to our leader, patience my ass, let’s break things and kill people.

Trump critics, apparently addicted to Mexican food, have coined some descriptive acronyms for Trump’s hesitance. There is TACO – Trump Always Chickens Out – and, more recently, NACHO –Not A Chance Hormuz Opens.

Once, I would have argued with these naysayers. Today, not so much.

Perhaps my viewpoint is colored by the fact that every time Iran peace is promised, my precious metals holdings rise in price, which is pretty much the opposite of what one might expect. And, every time promised peace progress is denied, precious metals hit the skids.

For all you people whining about gasoline being up $1 or so a gallon, I lose many multiples of your expected annual increase in gasoline expense each day this pathetic ebb and flow occurs. It has put me in a sour mood.

Trump should revisit the maxim fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice, shame on me. Iran and its peace-talks apologists have promised an agreement about as often as Somalis commit fraud in Minnesota. They have delivered about as often as prominent Minnesota politicians who enabled that fraud have been sent to prison, which is exactly zero times.

Again, I can’t blame the Iranian zealots, or their enablers, for trying to postpone reality. Funny, these maniacal types profess to welcome death and martyrdom, yet hide in bunkers anytime bombs or missiles are in the air.

It seems obvious to me that if they seek martyrdom, they should just stand in the streets during the next raid.

But, no, it seems they are willing to resist to the last drop of someone else’s blood. I guess there is a virgin shortage in the Middle East.

Why let them continue this farce, which is turning Trump and his administration into a never-ending joke on this matter?

Set a date. When it passes without agreement – as history shows us is all but a 100-percent certainty – push the button.

I’m thinking neutron bombs, those thermonuclear devices designed to have a small explosive effect, but spread deadly radiation for maybe 2000 meters.

They kill people, but don’t knock down the buildings. Can you say win, win?

Drop two of these in downtown Tehran, having first given Iranian leadership time to gather outdoors for their mass martyrdom. I am willing to guess peace talks would progress soon thereafter.

Maybe I’m wrong. But, how do we know unless we try? And we haven’t been trying hard enough.

RINOS, Ebola and mass shooters, oh my, it’s time for more News and Views.

NEWS: Anti-Trump Republican Congressman Thomas Massie of Kentucky went down in flames, by 10 percentage points or so in a primary election Tuesday.

VIEWS: President Trump bagged another RINO (Republican In Name Only) when Massie (which rhymes with Assie) lost BIGLY in that primary vote. An incumbent not even being able to get his party’s nomination to run again speaks to the discontent with Massie, who voted against Trump often, including on such foundational issues as stopping illegal immigration. Usual leftist media suspects such as The Beast, had headlined how Trump confidant Stephen Miller “melts down” in “crazed video rant” against Massie. The Beast gave Massie a pass on apparently anti-semitic remarks, both before the election and after when he suggested he had to call Tel Aviv to concede to his opponent. Don’t let the door hit you on your Massie on the way out, Tom. Maybe the Democrats will have you. Not likely now that you are soon to be a mouth without a platform.

NEWS: Bill Cassidy, the Senator from Louisiana, and would-be Georgia Governor Brad Raffensberger also lost in Republican primaries, each finishing a distant third.

VIEWS: Two more RINOs in the bag for Trump, but despite what you might hear, this is not an endangered species. When Trump talks of draining The Swamp, he isn’t only referring to Democrats. There are reports Republicans gave the defeated Cassidy a standing ovation at a “closed lunch.” I guess the door was not closed tightly enough, because word leaked out. As for Raffensberger, he was, shall we say, a Democrat tool in making sure the Georgia election returns in 2020 didn’t get too close a look. Now, if only Trump could take out more RINOs, including, but not limited to, John Thune, John Cornyn, Rand Paul, Susan Collins, Lisa Murkowski, etc., etc. etc.

NEWS: A shooting at a San Diego mosque resulted in five deaths.

VIEWS: Consider for a moment, the slapdash reporting on this incident, in which two individuals are alleged to have killed three at the mosque, then killed themselves in a typically gutless manner. Almost immediately terms such as “Islamophobia,” “white supremacy,” “right-wing extremism” were trotted out of the LameStream media locker to spin coverage. Yet, a report in the New York Post cites a supposed manifesto cobbled up by these two alleged killers, in which they are equal opportunity in expressing hatred for Trump, liberals, homosexuals, Jews and women. Given that lengthy list, we get Islamophobia topping the chart as the perceived motive? Just because a mass killer shoots people at a school, does that make him/her/it school-phobic? An interesting aside, the internet is flooded with assorted pictures of one alleged shooter, Cain Clark. Interesting first-name choice by parents in view of the Biblical story of Cain and Abel, Cain having killed his brother, Abel. But, I digress. Clark seems to be white, although in one photo he does sport a cornrow hairstyle. But, what of the other alleged shooter? Begin with his surname, for which I have seen with various spellings of “Vazquez,” “Vasquez,” and “Velasquez.” And photos of Caleb V-something have been tough to dredge up. As I wrote this, I took another stab and found a supposed picture. I’m confident in saying Caleb is not white, as his last name – any spelling – would suggest to be the case. Did media just run with photos of the supposed white guy suspect and ignore the Hispanic-looking one to shape the narrative?

NEWS: An American doctor has contracted Ebola and may not survive, according to one headline.

VIEWS: The World Health Organization, and sympathetic leftists in these United States, ran hantavirus up the flag pole hoping to gin up another COVID-style lockdown/panic/over-reaction, but not enough saluted in Pavlovian fashion by donning masks, demanding to work from home, and avoiding public events. When that didn’t work, enter Ebola. This is, after all, an election year, and we have to build a case for increasing the amount of easily falsified mail-in ballots. That American doctor, by the way, is said to have gotten his Ebola dose while operating on a patient in the Congo. Again, we now are expected to put on ineffective masks, stay home and generally grind life to a halt. Or, we use the pragmatic solution of President Trump, banning travel here from the Congo, South Sudan and Uganda. Sitting in backward Southmont, with no plans to travel to third-world African countries, I see no need to worry about Ebola. But, I’m sure some acquaintances are digging out their masks and feverishly – pun intended – searching for places to run to in order to obtain rushed, likely ineffective, vaccines. I just shake my head.

A cousin mines the internet for memes, which he delivers in daily email “dumps” as he calls them, sometimes multiple “dumps.”

His meme bowels are working just fine of late. I note an increase in memes having to do, ironically, with hantavirus.

And the cynics see the fine hand of the left, trying to elevate a minor disease outbreak into a global event that, to borrow from the words of John Galt, the protagonist in Ayn Rand’s classic “Atlas Shrugged,” stops the world from turning on its axis.

I’m sure it is mere coincidence that these manufactured panics seem to coincide neatly with election years.

How long until they make up a random personal distance number, as they did with COVID-19? Already, I see some are screaming in public places that we all should be masked up to prevent the spread of this horrid disease.

All this despite the fact that there are serious statistical reports that masks did little or nothing to rein in COVID-19. Worse, we’ve known this even involving the 1918 outbreak of Spanish Flu. Instead of halting that pandemic, filthy masks may have produced additional deaths due to respiratory disease the masks helped incubate.

So it was with the COVID-19 great masking, which proved to do little beyond making the wearers feel smug and superior. Two lasting memories are burned into my mind from that hysterical overreaction, those being maskholes crossing the street to avoid me while I was out walking – unmasked – and similarly delusional types driving past in their cars, alone, wearing their masks as badges of honor.

Hopefully, those people were past the reproductive stages of their lives.

The topic of COVID vaccine hysteria came up last week as I was breaking in yet another personal care physician – a family doctor.

I told her of my experience with her predecessor on the subject and assuring him back then that if I had a 96 percent likelihood of surviving, even if I contracted the disease, I would take my chances rather than gladly have an unproven vaccine injected into me, with the manufacturers granted immunity from legal action should it prove to be harmful.

COVID visited my body at least twice and as I’m currently typing away, obviously I survived, without the vaccine.

I long have been familiar with the hantavirus ailment. You probably forgot, or didn’t notice, that it was the listed cause of death in the high-profile passing of the wife of actor Gene Hackman, who himself died from the more pedestrian heart disease and Alzheimer’s.

That was in early 2025, too late to influence an election, so it was spared feverish headline promotion.

I used to be a fan of the TV series “Roadkill” in which the hosts went around resurrecting old cars. Frequently, said cars were filled with rodent nests and feces from same, and the hosts would joke about reactivating hantavirus as they power-washed the vehicle interiors.

The latest hantavirus outbreak is reported to have begun when tourists visited a rat-infested South American garbage dump in pursuit of bird pictures and inhaled aerosolized rodent urine or droppings. They returned to their cruise ship and passed it along.

Never having visited a dump trying to snap pictures of Tweety, or taken a cruise of any description, I feel pretty safe from the hantavirus scourge.

You should, too. But, if you are a member of the radical left, feel free to parade around in your useless masks and avoid human contact for, say, a year. And for God’s sake, don’t take the chance of voting, even by mail.

Political partisans are like Charlie Brown when it comes to polling, only too willing to believe in a favorable future outcome and often having their faith proved to be misplaced.

Lucy always pulls away the football just before Charlie can kick it. Pollsters often provide similar false hope, which gives way to crushing reality on election day or, in the case of California and other bastions, weeks or months later when the vote counts finally are completed.

If you take the time to check, too many political pollsters are about as accurate as weather forecasters, which is to say, not very accurate at all.

The quintessential example was the infamous 1948 headline in the Chicago Daily Tribune “Dewey Defeats Truman.”

An aside is pertinent here. Yes, that happened before most of us, including me, were born. And that is a familiar refrain of our age when one is citing history, to have people note that it happened before they were born. Well, I have read the Bible, chronicling events that happened before I was born. Similarly, I am aware of significant history of all kinds that happened before I was born. That does not make such history irrelevant, or give the ignorant ones a pass for not knowing it.

Now, back to Dewey-Truman.

The paper, embroiled at the time in labor strife involving its printers, went to press with early editions before final vote tallies were done. The headline and story were based on widespread polling that Dewey would win in a landslide, and the rubber stamping of that by the paper’s lead political writer.

Indications on election day that the race was tighter than anticipated were ignored, for reasons of production expediency.

Embarrassment followed.

Surely, polling science has improved since then. Or has it?

Shrillary Clinton would have achieved her most-desired “Madame President” title had 2016 polling been accurate that had her ahead of Donald Trump by 3, 4, 5 percentage points. This just in, Shrillary lost, and never has recovered psychologically.

Fast-forward to 2024 and many pollsters had Cackling Kamala beating Trump for the presidency, including a very suspect Iowa poll just before the election that showed a statistically unlikely surge into the lead by the Cackling One.

It wasn’t “Dewey Defeats Truman,” but it was on par with that gaffe.

Of late, polls in the Peoples Republic of California have produced shockingly encouraging results for Republicans. Steve Hilton, a Republican, leads the latest polling for governor and another Republican is in fourth place. The top two vote-getters in this primary advance to the general election.

In Los Angeles, sitting mayor Karen “Rhymes With Ass” Bass leads in the chance to preside again, perhaps, over another burning of her city. Think of Nero and Rome.

But neophyte politician Spencer Pratt, a Republican, is a strong second and some national pundits are predicting he will win it all.

Bass and her fellow Democrats bombed in a televised debate, leading to Bass and others on the left pulling out of a planned second debate.

There is no way an incompetent such as Bass should even be a contender. But this is California, where men can be women, no illegal immigrant is a criminal, fraud is the sanctioned business of government and crime and homelessness are allowed to run rampant.

Along that line, I will celebrate Hilton’s success only after he is sworn in as governor.

California does have a track record of, shall we say, massaging the vote.

The polls provide encouragement and a brief respite from the typical head-scratching behavior coming from California and similarly deep blue states.

Before you take them too seriously, recall Dewey and Truman.

The hypocrisy so prevalent among the political left really grinds my gears, if only because it is virtually impossible to escape the ravings of these demented individuals.

I try to avoid social media — megaphone for morons – never having posted on Facebook or Twitter/X. I do have a Twitter/X account, necessary in the past to get communiques from an investing service to which I subscribed. But, to repeat, I never, ever, post. I do check Facebook Marketplace for car ads and read investing posts on Twitter/X by a select few investment gurus I trust.

Yet, still I am unable to escape the wildest, most ridiculous leftist posts because so many otherwise legitimate sites are eager to share them, or so many friends feel the need to call these absurd screeds to my attention.

Sometimes, the exposure is mere, unfortunate, happenstance, like the other night when I got on to Facebook to look at car ads – using my brother’s account – and was greeted by a local legend in his own mind pontificating about gasoline prices.

This arrogant prig, who is not at all like his mild-mannered, humble brother, is a hypocrite with a capital H. I have been led to believe he has been making six-figure salaries for decades.

Yet, there he was, whining about the price of gasoline.

In a past blog post, I did the math that an average driver, driving the average miles and having a vehicle that gets average MPG, would pay about $13 more a week if gasoline prices were $1 higher per gallon.

Unless this guy is a complete money-management moron, that $13 a week would be chump change to him. Yet, he rushes to Facebook to whine in the interest of making a snide, sarcastic political statement.

Whey are these people always operating under the delusion that they are the smartest people in the room, that their thoughts are righteous and those who disagree are racist, misogynistic Nazis not fit to draw breath in this world that revolves around the hypocrites?

If smugness was a disease, they’d be on the terminal list.

And I think of the Pollyannas who envision a day when political left and right can bury the hatchet and live together in calm and thoughtful disagreement without the current rancor.

Get real, people. The hard left Democrats have a lot in common with Iranian zealots, hardcore Muslims of many stripes, and homegrown communists and socialists who fail to answer the most basic question, that being if socialism and communism are so great, how come they fail miserably anywhere, and anytime they are tried, at least in terms of making life better for the populace in general.

If you are in the Bernie Sanders socialism echelon, owning three houses and flying around the country on private jets to decry oligarchs, socialism is a winner.

If you are a starving Cuban driving a 50s era Chevrolet in Havana, not so much.

And, if you are a well-off type crying crocodile tears over gas prices, allow me to suggest a trip to Havana, on a one-way ticket. You might benefit from some real-world experience there and gasoline prices would be the least of your concerns.

Today, we offer a Mother’s Day edition of News and Views, beginning with a mild lecture.

Mothers should be appreciated, even revered, 365 days a year, not just on an arbitrary day designated by those who would profit from sales of greeting cards, flowers and other assorted gifts.

Fathers also should be appreciated more than one day a year.

Does anyone else find it telling commentary on our warped society that moms and dads get just a day each, while Gay Pride, Black History, International Masturbation, Ice Cream, Pizza, and Pets – among others — get entire months?

NEWS: AT&T reports that their customers prefer to text their mothers rather than calling them on Mother’s Day, at a rate of three to one.

VIEWS: An AT&T executive was quoted as saying “A text is immediate, it’s personal, and unlike a call, it’s something she can hold onto.” A call is not immediate, is not personal? What am I missing here? As far as holding onto a text, give me a break. If I’d ever texted my mother on Mother’s Day, even if she had a cell phone to receive such text, she’d have clubbed me on the head the next time I saw her. And I would have understood completely.

NEWS: A popular meme tells us Mother’s Day is a low-crime day, with the tag line that mothers are too busy being celebrated to commit their usual amount of crime on that day.

VIEWS: Fact-checking Snopes.com, which prefers to ignore obvious misstatements by the left, took the time to look into this meme. They concluded that, while there is no definitive, all-encompassing statistical evidence that crime is down on Mother’s Day, there are isolated reports from cities that domestic violence crimes tick up on or around Mother’s Day. If only those domestic abusers had texted instead of showing up in-person.

NEWS: A state lawmaker in Tennessee wants Memphis to secede from the state because the Supreme Court has ruled Congressional districts that have been gerrymandered based on race are unconstitutional.

VIEWS: Yes, the man is a Democrat and yes, he is black. The obvious question is where would Memphis go? President Trump has made inroads in curbing violence there, but it is not yet a garden spot. It is unclear what state would want to claim Memphis. California, New York or Illinois, maybe, but that presents logistical concerns, Memphis being so far geographically from these outposts of rampant leftism. Those states would, however, be only too happy to tax the Memphis residents into submission to make up for residents fleeing the oppressive state taxes of those three.

NEWS: Bartender-turned-lawmaker AOC thinks no one can earn a billion dollars legally and the American War of Independence was a battle against billionaires.

VIEWS: First, I think leftist sympathizers from Oprah Winfrey to Taylor Swift would beg to differ with AOC on the subject of all billionaires being thieves, exploiters, or a combination of both. As for the Independence War, it is not surprising that a socialist proponent of intrusive government would fail to understand the American colonists were fighting the English government and its taxation without representation. It is notable that, even back then, colonists paid lower tax rates than citizens of England. And, current confiscatory tax policies in Blue states such as California, New York and Illinois are higher as percentages of income, than the British levies that spawned the revolution. Thankfully, AOC is not yet a mother we would be compelled to honor today, although she has a domestic partner and there were rumors in the not-too-distant past of pregnancy when she started putting on more than a few pounds.