Mike Rowe, the familiar voice of cable shows highlighting people who do the so-called “dirty jobs,” made a splash in Pittsburgh a few weeks back when he said out loud that we still need such workers even amidst the rush to deify computer coders and artificial intelligence.

I know from firsthand knowledge how difficult it is becoming to find reliable people to do basic tasks. I’m not talking about the hysteria that shipping illegals home would grind the farming, construction, hospitality, healthcare and trucking industries to a halt.

That’s proven to be a false talking point.

But, percolating beneath the surface for years is the harsh reality that it’s getting harder and harder to find people willing and able to do necessary tasks that risk getting one’s hands dirty, or having to mop sweat from the brow.

For some time, I have been looking to dispose of a window air-conditioning unit. It used to be appliance outlets such as Best Buy were obligated to accept them for recycling. No longer. And, due to the abundance of environmental regulation, you can’t put them out for the annual cleanup collection.

My wife, trying to be helpful, noted some online “Neighbors” site she has signed up for – a misnomer since some listings are 10s, if not hundreds of miles distant – had people looking to pick up air-conditioners.

The site is populated with people purporting to be eager to come and collect such appliances, for purposes of recyling them for profit.

Good. A win-win situation. Just one problem, a vast majority of these people fail to show up to collect the air-conditioners, or refrigerators, or whatever.

They promise. They make excuses for not meeting their promises. Finally, they ignore, even while they continue to post their willingness to come and get these things from fresh contacts.

After about 10 tries, I was eager to go with another alternative. But my wife, ever the optimist, wanted to try again.

This time, after several false starts and failed appearance promises, success. Along the line, my wife had tried to assist a neighbor looking to unload a refrigerator, by putting her on the pickup list.

I suspected problems when the two guys showed up driving a compact SUV. Not exactly the size vehicle one would bring to remove a refrigerator. I had visions of a Laurel and Hardy scene of the two, one an undersized type, trying to hoist a refrigerator onto the luggage rack atop the roof.

It did not transpire. The two took the air-conditioner and passed on the refrigerator, promising to come back in a truck. Meanwhile, they wanted the person to have it plugged in and running so they could assess its condition.

She told them it didn’t work. The guys never were seen again. But, in the interest of fair disclosure, they later contacted my wife to tell her they had resurrected our air-conditioner. Also, the neighbor had discovered a switch on her ‘fridge that had been turned off somewhere along the line. She flipped said switch, it works again, so she’s keeping it in the basement as a spare.

It’s not just these lower level workers who seem to be unreliable at best; nonexistent at worst.

Another neighbor has a roof that needs attention. She’s been turned down by several roofing contractors – too steep, they say.

Others just fail to show up to provide estimates.

Of late, she’s gotten two estimates I find to be extremely high, including one that’s probably for half of what she paid for the house. It is not a big house, by the way.

Another example of lack of motivated and proficient help involves my 1984 Corvette. I spent more than a month trying to get into an automatic transmission shop to address a shifting concern that cropped up last year, disappeared, and now has returned.

During my wait, I had extensive conversations with the two men who work there, telling each maybe 10 times it was not a stock automatic transmission, but rather an aftermarket TCI StreetFighter, a beefed-up, modified example based on the Chevrolet Turbo-Hydramatic transmissions of the past.

I dropped the car off one morning – the guy who actually works on transmissions was not there. Later, I dropped in again; still not there. It turns out he likely didn’t come in at all that day, which helps explain the month-long wait.

The next morning I got a voicemail from the guy who runs the shop. The absent worker apparently had showed up that day, took a quick look underneath the car, and declared he could not work on it because – wait for it – the car did not have its stock transmission.

Jesus H. Christ! Had they bothered to pay attention when I told them this, repeatedly?

I drove down, picked up the car and spent a few days fuming about having wasted a month, a significant slice of remaining life when you get to be my age.

During the voicemail, it was relayed that the worker was not confident he could find parts for it. I found an entire StreetFighter transmission listed on the Summit Racing website for a little over $3,000. They also sell parts. I checked.

This transmission shop came recommended to me by the garage that does most of the work on my others cars. It is, supposedly, the best in Johnstown. My God!

I’m left to cast a wider net. I’ve found in the past that Altoona tends to have more capable providers in almost any capacity than Johnstown.

Why I should need to leave Johnstown to get work done on a transmission that is based on widely used GM transmissions of the past baffles me, except to reinforce that Mike Rowe is right, in spades.

This is a tale of two Stephens.

The first is Stephen Colbert, the modestly talented late night television host scheduled for unemployment next May as CBS cuts its losses, said to be $40 million or so a year. The network tired of losing so much merely to provide a platform for Colbert’s political screeds.

In a commentary on our times, and the widespread delusion of the political left, Colbert’s demise has been blamed on President Trump. Consequently, a smattering of protests have been heard, mostly from similarly marginally talented types perhaps fearing loss of their positions on the public airwaves.

Censorship, they allege. Economic reality, I reply. When people aren’t buying what you’re selling, you lose your job. Period, Full stop. Even PBS and NPR are being dragged kicking and screaming to that reality.

Ever wonder why the government doesn’t have to subsidize Fox News?

The hyperbolic describe Colbert as a genius. Are they talking about the guy whose idea of COVID humor was dancing around with people dressed as syringes? Have they noticed that since he got his walking papers, Colbert has used his low-ratings show as a vehicle for absurd attacks on Trump, including some F-yous?

Genius? I think not.

Now, to our other Stephen, better known as Steve Allen. He didn’t, as Colbert has, fiddle with the pronunciation of his last name in a pathetic attention seeking ploy. Allen easily could have gone that route by using his full name, that being Stephen Valentine Patrick William Allen.

A brief history lesson is in order for the younger crowd that tends to be both ignorant of history before their birth, and a lot that has happened since their arrival. It is Steve Allen who invented the Late Night TV genre that Colbert inhabits (not for long), first on a local TV station, and then nationally on The Tonight Show beginning in September 1954.

Allen was the first host of The Tonight Show. Not only was Steve Allen a funny comedian, he also was a trailblazer, introducing the staples of man-in-the-street interviews and comedic interaction with audience members.

Along the way, Allen might showcase his musical skills, playing the piano, for example. I’ve seen clips of him playing the trumpet, in a foursome with Doc Severinsen, then a member of the Tonight Show band who would go on famously to lead that ensemble.

Allen was a prolific music composer, said to have written more than 8,500 songs, Perhaps the best known is “This Could Be the Start of Something Big.”

Allen wrote more than 50 books, he acted in TV shows and movies. He hosted a variety of other TV shows.

This Stephen has not one, but two stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, recognizing his monstrous contributions to TV and to music.

Steve Allen also had a political side, but didn’t shove it into our faces on a nightly basis. Yes, he was on the political left, back when that end of the political spectrum practiced rational behavior.

I feel sure Allen would not have approved of riots to support criminal illegal immigrants, or anti-Semites.

Steve Allen was a strong supporter of free speech, but thought raunchy comedians Lenny Bruce and George Carlin went too far with their profanity.

Allen was a Democrat, yet he married a Republican, actress Jayne Meadows.

Allen had shows canceled, but never gave the verbal middle finger to anyone over it. He didn’t encourage protesters to take to the streets and proclaim his genius.

But Allen deserved to be described as a genius. He was funny, a talented host, musician, composer, writer and actor.

Allen was a titan. Compared to Allen, Colbert is a comparative dwarf and, most assuredly, not a genius.

Canada, our northern neighbor with an inferiority complex the size of, well, Canada, is a continuing source of amusement amidst tariffs and President Trump trolling these insecure types about becoming our 51^st state.

Their pitiful pushback began with the Canadians booing our National Anthem as played before 4 Nations Faceoff contests, as well as regular-season and Stanley Cup playoff NHL games involving franchises from both countries.

This protest didn’t do anything of note. A Canada-based franchise still has not won the Stanley Cup since 1993, way back when Bill Clinton was years removed from soiling blue dresses with semen, Sears and Roebuck still had a catalog operation, along with a huge chain of retail stores, and X-Files was debuting on TV.

Canada Prime Minister Justin Trudeau was still holding the job – barely – last year, and since has given way to Mark “The Carnival Barker” Carney. But still there are hard feelings up north, with some delusional types suggesting they might slug it out militarily with the United State. That’s a big mistake unlikely to unfold. Perhaps they saw some Iran footage that cooled their ardor.

Somewhere along the way, I missed the outbreak and fighting of a ketchup war. Growing up, the only friction regarding this condiment was between those who called it catsup and those preferring ketchup. For the most part, ketchup has won that skirmish.

I only became aware of this current ketchup conflict while watching a baseball game between the New York Yankees and the Toronto Blue Jays Wednesday. This was made possible because DISH is having a free preview of its Major League Baseball package. I won’t pay for it, but free is good.

Of great importance to the story, this game was being played in Toronto. Early on, with a runner on first base, the camera kept panning to the runner. Behind him, on the low wall separating fans from playing field, was a message between a pair of Heinz logos. Read the message: Canadian Ketchup. Made with Canadian tomatoes.”

Later, I saw similar messages farther down the right-field line, with Heinz logos.

This caught my attention. Curious about it all, and unwilling to wait for a news conference as too many current media members do, I commited some journalism and researched the story.

The background is that little Trudeau, taking a break from prancing around in blackface and making lives miserable in Canada last year, had accused Heinz of selling ketchup in Canada made in the U.S. Trudeau was threatening ketchup tarrifs on that All-American condiment, although I understand some say salsa has supplanted it in popularity here. I guess Biden sneaked more illegals into this country than we had imagined.

Heinz, the once-proud Pittsburgh based company that now is part of Kraft Foods, fired back at Trudeau (figuratively, of course) pointing out that, with the exception of 2015-2020, Heinz has made its ketchup for Canada, in Canada, for about 100 years. That is in Quebec and the tomatoes are sourced from Ontario.

But, but, but, protested the butt-hurt Canadians, some Heinz ketchup bottles for purchase in their land say Product of USA on the labels.

And Kraft Heinz replied that only when demand outstrips the capacity of the Quebec plant, or in the case of some speciality ketchups not made in Canada, does USA ketchup leave stains on the Great White North.

This charge and countercharge was transpiring late last year and early this.

But, judging from the signs at the ballgame, the battle for the hearts and minds, not to mention wallets and stomachs, of Canadian ketchup consumers continues to be waged.

As an aside, the way the Yankees choked away the game in comical, error-prone fashion, TV coverage of the ketchup war might have been more entertaining than the baseball game.

Wasn’t it cute the way WNBA players used their All-Star Game to demand more money with those ‘Pay Us What You Owe Us” T-shirts?

Like so many Mamdani The Commies, they want their fair share of money that isn’t there.

Understand, the WNBA is an economically subsidized program of the NBA. To put it another way, if WNBA players got their share of profits (actually losses) they would end up owing the league for the right to play in it.

Reports on readlucid.com indicate the WNBA, founded in 1996, has lost $10 million to $20 million a year since then. Yes, even with the Caitlin Clark phenomenon raising the league’s profile, it still bleeds red ink.

Clark is the poster girl for many aspects of the WNBA, including hatred of her for being white, hatred of her for being widely recognized by the public as the face of the league, hatred in All-Star postgame remarks for her allegedly not supporting the cause, even though she wore one of the ridiculous T-shirts.

By the way, when convenient, WNBA players will use Clark to make their case, noting her salary is a reported number of about $80,000 for 2025. They neatly omit she has signed lucrative endorsements, including one for $28 million from NIKE. You won’t see Clark using a SNAP card to buy groceries anytime soon.

It’s like the faux outrage over CBS canning Stephen Colbert – next year! – due to his show losing huge money.

The left is outraged. It can’t simply be that he repels viewers with his political screeds and costs boatloads of cash to keep on the air No, there must be another agenda here, most likely the network bowing to Trump censorship demands.

Speaking of other agendas, does anyone else wonder why Colbert, the wrinkle-eared humorless comedian pronounces his last name with a French twist. I did a little research and discovered that the COAL-BEAR pronounciation was dreamed up by little Stephen. His father prounced the last name COAL-BERT.

I guess COAL-BEAR was Stephen saying FU to his father.

WNBA players want 50 percent of the revenue, avoiding the unpleasant reality that those revenues don’t cover expenses. So, do they want to share the losses, too? Take the lower reported loss of $10 million a year, divide it by 150 players and you get a number of $66,666.666 each player would owe the league. Symbolic.

Three quick points before we close.

First, if you hear people whining about economic fairness, they often don’t share all the facts. When billionaire Warren Buffett lamented publicly that his secretary paid a higher tax rate than he did, he didn’t mention that was due to his income mostly coming from capital gains, not a salary. If Warren really felt bad for the help, he could gift her with stock and let her pay a lower tax rate due to capital gains. If the stocks went down — think the WNBA losing money – alas, no capital gains and no income.

Second, the quality of play and officiating in the WNBA is, shall we say, suspect. There is a viral video on social media of star Angel Reese double-dribbling at least twice, travelling and carrying the basketball repeatedly on a trip down the court to a layup. My brother, something of a college women’s softball guru who maintains a web site on the sport, wondered about the Clark phenomenon a year or so back and tuned in a game, only to see her have more turnovers than points, as she alternated between coughing up the basketball and clanking heaves off the rim. He called me to express his dismay.

Third, it strikes me as perfectly understandable that the WNBA players, both white and black, seem to hate Clark despite her being the best thing that ever happened to their DEI league. During a career of covering sports, I knew several coaches with experience coaching both boys and girls teams. They almost all agreed that their girls teams were more difficult to keep together in terms of locker room unity or playing together on the court. The girls, they told me, tended to get caught up in cliques and had difficulty leaving personal dislikes at the door to the dressing room.

In conclusion, I say pay those WNBA women what they are owed. They should share the wealth, or in this case, the losses.

When can the WNBA expect their $66,666 payments?

(EDITORS NOTE: This is the second stab at writing this post. The first copy disappeared into the ether as the attempt was made to cut and paste it to the blog. Yes, I’d been saving the file as I wrote, but . . . As these things go, probably the first draft was better!)

Lovers and haters of President Trump likely would concede that he keeps things interesting, dominating the news cycle as predecessors could only have dreamed of doing.

Daily, sometimes hourly, Trump provides red meat to supporters and critics alike. Keeping up with it all can be a full-time job, and I’m retired. But, here are some thoughts.

The Jeffrey Epstein matter has caught the attention of both pro-Trump and anti-Trump factions, even provoking a post written for this blog a few days back. The latest update is that Trump is talking of filing suit against the Wall Street Journal and others for publishing what he says is a fake love letter of sorts to Epstein. It occurs to me that perhaps Trump has played 4D chess, provoking his opponents to demand something be put into the public record that Trump wanted to have done, but just desired to maintain plausible deniability for promoting.

CBS shill Scott MacFarlane revealed on a leftist podcast that he had to take a leave with PTSD after being present when Trump was shot at Butler. You likely recall Trump, after having his ear creased by a bullet from a rifle, rose to his feet, pumped his fist, and yelled fight, fight, fight to the crowd. Meanwhile, MacFarlane presumably was hugging the floor, fearing the crowd might turn on the media that helped villify Trump and perhaps encouraged the would-be assassin. Just one question for MacFarlane: Did he get the PTSD disagnosis from his obstetrician or gynecologist?

Zohran “The Commie” Mamdani, the far-left candidate for mayor of New York City, is promising free stuff if he gets the job. This means he is being deified by the radical Democrats, even as saner types are trying to point out this sort of thing never works. Mamdani, is a typical leftist, living off mommy and daddy and eager to spend other people’s money on pet causes. I go back and forth on whether or not I want him to win. It seems to me he’s like the proverbial dog chasing the car. His problem arises if he catches said car, or in Mamdani’s case, wins the election. Then he would be expected to deliver on all the wild promises, which he cannot. Meanwhile, Republicans can make hay painting him, correctly, as the new face of the Democrat Party. I’ve talked myself into it. Vote for Mamdani.

Meanwhile, in Minneapolis, a Mamdani mini-me by the name of Omar Fateh is running for mayor. Son of Somali immigrants, Fateh is – stop me if you’ve heard this somewhere else – promising free stuff if people just vote for him. It’s not clear if he professes hate for Jews, like Mamdani. Borrowing a page from the Joy-less Reid playbook, critics of Fateh are dismissed as racists. I can’t find it in Fateh’s campaign literature, but I would suspect if he wins he would demand the NFL Vikings become the Muslims, the Twins become the Scimitars or Cresecent Moons, and the U of Minnesota Gophers be rechristened the Camels. The NHL Wild franchise could keep its nickname due to lack of interest.

From the department of so-called conspiracy theory being proven to be reality, the CEO of Crowds on Demand has been making the media rounds noting he turned down a potential $20 million contract to drum up and pay “protesters” for anti-Trump events. It’s not that the guy disagreed with the cause, understand. It’s just he feared being associated with failed operations. If Mamdani wins in New York City, expect the government to cut out the middle man and fund the “protesters” directly.

And finally, from the karma is a female dog department, it’s amusing that Trump hater, pencil-necked tough guy Adam Schiff of California (presumably) is under fire for potential mortgage fraud. It is alleged that Schiff claimed primary residences both in California and Maryland, thereby getting more favorable loan terms, not to mention perhaps saving a lot in taxes. As I recall from my days working the 2010 census, a person can have but one primary residence. How fitting that Schiff joins New York Attorney General Letitia James in mortgage purgatory. Recall that James is being investigated for allegedly claiming residency in Virginia and New York for better loan rates, mis-stating the number of units in a New York property, and even claiming her father as a spouse. Now that’s sick. It is James who persecuted Trump for alleged mortgage mis-statements. Schiff, of course, pushed the Russia conspiracy hoax, among other affronts to the truth.

Bonus thought: The rising rate of assaults on ICE agents could be stopped as quickly as illegal border crossings have been, simply by allowing ICE agents to shoot first when protesters raise their arms to throw rocks or other objects at them, or to try to shoot the ICE types.

I got in a doubleheader Tuesday, combining a trip to the Ferndale Jubilee to start the evening, with the nightcap of coming home and watching most of baseball’s All-Star Game.

Along with two granddaughters and their father, I went to the Ferndale carnival shortly before 5 p.m. Tuesday evening. Weather was threatening; hot and humid. The crowd was small at first, unlike memories of years past when it was difficult to move around the grounds. We got the girls’ ride bracelets at $18 a pop rather quickly and, after about 15 minutes of them riding the rides, the power went out for 40 minutes or so. Not a good start.

The girls killed time with the huge burlap bag slide and the funhouse, both of which could operate without electricity.

But, the power came back on, the rain held off, and the girls were about exhausted from riding by 8 p.m., so it was time for a run to Sheetz for their equivalent of the 7-11 slurpee frozen drinks, and then home.

At one point, while the girls were waiting in line to access the Cobra ride in Ferndale, two young teen punks had sidled up to talk with the first two boys in line, then just decided to stay and cut the line.

This annoyed me, but uncharacteristially I decided to let it go. Surprisingly, and happily, the guy running the ride was paying attention. When he came back from seating some other riders, he told the two they weren’t there the last time he checked, so they could either leave or go to the back of the line.

The guy was firm, no-nonsense, and the two moved on to jump other lines without the usual smartmouth pushback one might expect from such.

It turns out that my son had chatted with the worker earlier. He’s from Moxham, but travels with the carnival in the summer. He’s no stranger to bad behavior, and knew how to deal with it.

A shoutout to him.

As for the All-Star Game, once it would have been a priority. Today, not so much. It was OK with me that, after showering, I tuned in during the second inning, with the NL already up 2-0.

One of my most vivid All-Star memories was the 1967 game. We were visting an uncle, aunt and cousin and watched the game at their place.

Back then, when the Pirates were a serious Major League franchise, there were three Pirates in the starting NL All-Star lineup – Gene Alley at shortstop, Bill Mazeroski at second base, and Roberto Clemente in right field.

The pitchers were dominant in this game, with the hurlers on both teams combining for 30 strikeouts.

Plans to leave were put on hold as the game ended nine innings tied at 1-1. My memory was of Tony Perez winning the game with a homer, which I confirmed. He hit a solo shot in the top of the 15^th off Catfish Hunter, and the NL held on to win, 2-1.

Last night, the game ended nine innings tied, after the NL had coughed up a 6-0 lead.

But, no extra innings this time. Instead, there was a gimmicky, impromptu home-run derby with three hitters for each side to decide the thing. The NL won on the strength of Kyle Schwarber hitting three homers on his three allotted swings.

I think I’d have rather seen extra innings, but I’m a traditionalist. The fact baseball’s All-Star Game actually tends to mirror regular-season play is an attraction. Long ago the, the NFL, NHL and NBA turned their All-Star contests into a variety of displays only kind of looking like regular games.

Baseball has held true. But, it has tinkered with its extra-inning formula for regular-season games, so it would follow it would do similar with the All-Star Game. The result of this was better than that 7-7, 11-inning All-Star tie in 2002.

No need to stay up late this time. The game ended with me still nursing my extra large frozen cherry drink, the final punctuation on an enjoyable evening.

It is the late Joe Schmidt, Pittsburgh native, football player at Pitt and in the NFL, coach of the Detroit Lions, who is credited with the quintessential observation on the human existence.

“Life,” Schmidt is quoted as saying, “is a shit sandwich and every day you take another bite.”

The maxim so impressed author/sportswriter Larry Merchant that he used the sanitized “And Every Day You Take Another Bite” for the title of his 1971 book on the NFL, which is described on Amazon as a humorous look at players, owners and a league that tended to take itself too seriously.

Things really haven’t changed that much, either regarding the NFL or life in general.

Schmidt’s catchall philosophy comes to mind as I contemplate the curious events that unfold day after day.

Consider today’s inflation report. Amidst the shorthand alphabet soup that describes various aspects of gayness (LGBTQ) or vapid, attention-seeking politicians (AOC), we have the various government inflation gauges.

Tuesday we had the CPI (Consumer Price Index) information released for June. This is not to be confused with PCE (Personal consumption expenditures) or PPI (Producer price index), to name a few.

These measures are the equivalent of rubber rulers. One can stretch them to indicate whatever is desired by that individual.

Consider that today a headline on zerohedge.com regarding the CPI number headlined “Tariff-ic! Core Consumer Price Inflation Cooler Than Expected In June.”

Meanwhile, on CNBC.com, the web site of the cable news channel inhabited by an unexpectedly large number of Trump haters who pepper their observations with snarky remarks about the president, the headline was generic. But the story emphasized that this month’s increase of three-tenths of a percentage point, to an annual inflation rate of 2.7 percent, was just the start because the bogeyman of tariffs is yet to be felt fully.

The zerohedge people, in the story on that site, noted – correctly – that we’ve been warned repeatedly that tariffs already would be making our existences that much more expensive. Yet the impact is nowhere to be seen in the numbers.

They noted that shelter and energy accounted for the modest uptick in June inflation, even as prices of new and used cars were falling, which was not supposed to happen with tariffs in place.

What it means, mostly, is that when Federal Reserve Chairman Jerome Powell convenes his gang of Fed governors at month’s end (July 29-30) the expectation is yet again for no cut in interest rates.

President Donald Trump wants Powell gone, feeling that the head man of the Fed is demonstrably political. Powell had cut rates by 50 basis points in September last year, close to an election and when most observers said he would not, fearing he would appear to be political in trying to get Kamala elected.

Powell also presided over massive Clueless Joe Biden spending initiatives, with nary a negative word. Yet, this same Powell has been all over the airwaves lamenting the potential impact of Trump tariffs and using that as justification to keep interest rates untouched.

In case you missed it, largely due to those tariffs, the U.S. ran a trade surplus of about $27 billion in June, the first such positive month in eight years. By way of comparison, the May trade deficit – not surplus – was $316 billion!

Fed man Powell plays both sides of the issue. When the numbers back his reluctance to cut interest rates, he insists he is data dependent. When the data indicates interest rate cuts are in order – and some of his Fed governors have been saying so publicly – he hops from data to expectation. He thinks tariffs will be inflationary, sort of like he thought previous inflation was “transitory” despite it lingering for years under Biden.

In this way, Powell serves up yet more shit sandwiches for consumers and the nation.

Simply put, his actions cost you more any time you or this massive debtor nation, borrow money.

Meanwhile, the Federal Reserve continues to run up operating losses, being more than $100 billion in the red in 2023 and currently having a remodeling project at its headquarters that is $700 million over budget, up to $2.5 billion.

The Fed is a reported $235 billion in the red over recent years.

And they’re the people running the nation’s money supply and deciding interest rates, feeding you shit sandwiches on a daily basis while they eat cake – Marie Antoinette reference intended.

The ongoing Jeffrey Epstein matter passes neither the eye test, nor the smell test.

We refer to the traditional, nonscientific – but exceeding useful – standards of common sense formerly employed widely to discern truth. These tests are the sort of thinking long ago neutered in a disturbingly large percentage of the populace by gaslighting.

For the rest of us, in times such as these, the tests continue to be useful tools

Simply put, Epstein’s convenient suicide, while in prison and supposedly under close surveillance, just doesn’t look like it could have happened as portrayed. This is the eye test failure.

More recently, insistence from Donald Trump and his administration that, despite all the promises and innuendo about total disclosure, Epstein was no more than a disgusting sexual pervert who killed himself in shame, has the stench of a whitewash job. It reeks, plain and simple.

We are told to accept that there is (was?) no Epstein client list, ostensibly rife with recognizable names. This is what we now are being told, in direct opposition to what we had been told to expect. This is not going over well with MAGA crowd, nor should it.

We’ve been promised names and instead we’re getting a rubber stamp of previous vague public disclosures. Never mind, is their message. Old news. Nothing to see here.

Yet, a March interview has resurfaced with famed lawyer Alan Dershowitz, who once represented Epstein legally. In it, Dershowitz insists there is a client list, he knows the names and who is suppressing the release. But, Dershowitz said he can’t go public with details due to confidentiality dictates from judges.

And the conspiracy crowd rushes to fill an information void.

Was Epstein part of a multi-national intelligence operation designed to get the dirt on prominent members of the world community, to be used to control them down the line? A New World Order blackmail game?

Was Epstein silenced the old-fashioned way, with an alleged suicide enabled by cameras failing and guards falling asleep, seemingly on cue?

What about the one-minute gap in the tape?

Has this absence of promised disclosure led to a falling out between Attorney General Pam Bondi and FBI chiefs Kash Patel and Dan Bongino, with Bongino reportedly saying either Bondi goes or he goes?

There was a widely distributed interview a few weeks back in which Patel and Bongino, seeming to display the body language of little boys fibbing to their parents, both endorsed the current contention that Epstein committed suicide. Now we have the thing going a step further, with the assertion there is no client list.

Watching Patel and Bongino squirm while repeating the new party line was yet another eye test failure. It seemed as if even they didn’t believe what they were saying.

Now, reporting on the matter indicates at least one – Bongino – and perhaps Patel, too, are upset with Bondi and on the verge of showing themselves the door in protest.

Donald Trump needs a cleanup on the justice and intelligence aisle, immediately if not sooner.

This Epstein case is the sort of coverup he promised to undo if re-elected. He’s been re-elected and, despite all his other followthrough on campaign promises, this is a big issue that will tend to counterbalance that good work he’s done on matters ranging from illegal immigration to cutting off governmental funding for left-wing causes.

Trump and Bondi need to come up with a better explanation than the equivalent of a the-dog-ate-my-homework story.

I lost my Johnstown Mill Rats virginity last night, partial celebration of the passage of Donald Trump’s Big, Beautiful Bill earlier in the day.

It was my first time taking in a Mill Rats baseball game. The weather was perfect. There would be postgame fireworks. The granddaughters were up for that, and of course ballpark concessions, if not necessarily the baseball game that was part of the package.

These days, I’m not big into watching sports in-person. I’m spoiled by decades of getting paid to attend, which also meant getting into games free of charge, often being wined and dined while there in press lounges, having a nice comfortable press box seat with no one kneeing one’s back or standing in front, or needing to move to allow others past at inopportune times.

It is much easier now that I’m retired to sprawl on the recliner, consume drinks and food from the home kitchen, and switch to another event if the current game is uncompetitive or otherwise disinteresting.

All that having been said, the Mill Rats game reminded me of the attraction of live events. I’m glad I went and more imporantly, the grandkids were thrilled, too.

It was well-done on many fronts, even if the baseball was a bit error-prone.

The crowd at Point Stadium reportedly was in excess of 4,500, a monumental turnout for one of these games. I know, I’ve driven past when games were being played in front of a crowd that was more like just friends and family. I’ve read of crowds for home games in the three-figure range.

But on this July 3^rd evening, the place was crowded. Anecdotal reports tell me the place was papered with giveaway tickets and that I’m one of the few who actually paid for my family to get into the game. But it was a modest $5 a head so $20, no big deal.

For that $20 investment, not to mention the $15 my son spent on the obligatory trip to the concession stand to mollify the kids, it was hours of the sort of entertainment that explains why I love living in the area.

There was all manner of between-inning entertainment, from water balloon tossing to a taco race in which the apparent winner face-planted maybe 20 feet short of the finish line.

The center-field video board had constant entertainment.

The members of the crowd were well-behaved.

The Milton Mill Rat mascot strolled the stands and we got a picture of him (it?) with the girls. The youngest granddaughter recounted how Milton doesn’t like to have its tail pulled and once lost its nose during fan interaction. How she gleaned all this from a brief interraction baffled me.

Later, it was explained to me that Milton had visited her elementary school in the past and had provided the background then.

The game was starting to lag in later innings and the kids were getting impatient, but Johnstown’s relief pitcher got the job done and preserved a 5-4 win.

The fireworks were unexpectedly good. I’ve seen better, but I’ve also seen a lot worse. There was a flurry that I mistook for a grand finale. But, no, it was just a highlight of a show that probably ran 10 minutes after that.

I spent the night chatting with a long-time acquaintance from the sports world.

It was a great night.

Alas, as these things go in Johnstown, there is potential discord in our baseball future.

The Mill Rats won the first half of their Prospect League and so already have qualified for the playoffs. The way it was explained to me, if they win a preliminary round or two in those playoffs, the potential is present for the league playoffs to run into AAABA week, and produce a conflict for use of Point Stadium.

That is one thorny problem, the sort our local leadership has not shown the ability to resolve amicably.

Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that.

We’re still winning. And I’m not tired of it.

Republicans in the House of Representatives Thursday have passed President Donald Trump’s cornerstone project, the Big, Beautiful Bill, the ultimate present as our nation celebrates its birth on July 4. Thankfully, in the end they opted not to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.

Of course, the bulk of the credit goes to Trump. It is his strength that bulwarked Congressional leadership, most notably Senate majority leader John Thune and Speaker of the House Mike Johnson, allowing them to overcome typically fractured Republican membership and get this bill turned into law.

But special consideration must be given to Johnson. He is, without a doubt, the most effective Republican speaker of the House in my lifetime. I say that with all due respect to Newt Gingrich, whose Contract With America program allowed Republicans to take the House in 1994, for the first time since 1954.

Gingrich got a lot done legislatively, but he had a considerably larger edge in members, which means every vote was not a life-and-death struggle to herd outliers in order to gain passage.

For Johnson, operating with a limited majority and Trump’s constant deadlines, it was a much tougher challenge. And yet this bespectacled, soft-spoken guy from Louisiana got it done, repeatedly.

That legislation will be on Trump’s desk for signature July 4, just as Trump had demanded.

Likely, history books will not note the mammoth job done by Johnson. We should do so in the moment.

It wasn’t easy. Reports in recent days had the bill failing, but those naysayers were beaten back into the real world, perhaps by the massive Democrat speeches that, according to vice-president JD Vance, convinced one undecided Republican to vote yes.

As expected, House Republican Thomas Massie was one of two Republicans voting against the bill. And I observe what a fitting coincidence that these political incompetents such as Massie and LA mayor Karen Bass, both have last names that rhyme with ass.

Both are losers, politically and otherwise.

But the winners of the moment are the people of the U.S., at least those who are non-socialist, love America types. Their counterparts in the Democrat party are left to their usual method of handling rejection, that being ginning up street protests funded by shadowy leftist oligarchs (to use the favorite term of the left), and generally rushing to LameStream media to mis-state what was passed here.

If you witness, read, or hear any of this tripe in coming days and weeks, understand the facts.

Democrats voting against this were voting to raise your taxes.

They were voting to end special programs to prevent taxes on tips, overtime or, in general, Social Security income.

They were voting against secure borders and controlled immigration.

They were voting against your safety, both from problems domestic and international.

They were voting against men being kept from competing against women.

They were voting against energy self-sufficiency.

They were voting against school choice.

This Big, Beautiful success does not guarantee the nation will triumph without interruption. Stuff happens. We’re still massively in debt, still facing the equivalent of a civil war as the left pouts and tries by any means possible – legal or illegal – to harm the nation.

What we got with this passage was a chance for Trump’s socio-economic plan to work, to move us toward his oft-stated goal to Make America Great Again.

Two parting thoughts:

First, Johnson was every bit the artful tactician in getting this positive result, with one vote to spare, as were the people who planned and executed the raid on the Iran nuclear facilities.

Second, we could have been celebrating like this four years ago if the liars in the intelligence community, Congress and LameStream media hadn’t scuttled Trump’s first term with the Russia, Russia, Russia impeachment hoaxes.

On the second note, ’tis true that revenge is a dish best served cold.