Georgia on My Radar

For many Americans, life in these United States is pretty good. Though I might fancy living in Italy or France, both of which offer far superior coffee and food than we can get here, I feel somewhat blessed that my parents chose to have me stateside.

Though about as far from wealthy as one in the upper echelons of the lower classes can be, I’ve not wanted for much. I have a wonderful family for whose well-being I’ve worked hard to contribute, and my chosen career took me wide and far. I’ve met hundreds of influential and interesting people, and I even took nearly twelve years off to pursue a career as a chef/owner of a restaurant in my adopted hometown.

I’ve not traveled as much as I would have liked, but I’ve seen more exotic and wonderful places than many. Alaska is the only state I’ve yet to visit and as soon as Sarah Palin leaves, I’m booking my flight.

At 71, I have a limited number of goals yet to achieve; my bucket list, such as it were, is short.

First of all, I’d like to see all of the various news outlets honor a year-long moratorium on mentioning a certain former President by name unless it’s to report that his ass is finally in a smallish room on Cellblock C. That, we might all agree, would be newsworthy.

I’m realistic about that ever coming to pass. It won’t. The reason is that the left wing of the media has way too much fun vilifying the Orange Menace while the right wing gets its kicks by spreading the nefarious lies of his party’s supporting factions. The center just seems to go along for the ride. Intelligent discourse seems limited to the editorial pages of the Times, the Washington Post and Oregon’s Clatskanie Chief.

What’s clearly missing from today’s political climes is a sense of theater. To that end, I suggest that we all contribute to Marjorie Taylor Greene’s political war chest. Because she was stripped of any chances to sit on any committee, the University of Georgia’s dumbest graduate has only a single vote on any issue. She is, if nothing else, a sideshow of her own creation and I’d like to keep her around just for her entertainment value. From Jewish lasers to her seditious praising of Vladimir Putin, her marginal stances are (as the MasterCard commercial goes) priceless.

Speaking of Georgia… How about that Herschel Walker? With his Cracker Jack police badge, an abortion controversy, and an intellect on par with that of a brain-damaged reptile, he represents the chance to give the Republicans a much-desired (by them) Senate majority. Even the many-times-married Republican from Georgia, Newt Gingrich, couldn’t get his tongue out of his cheek when endorsing the former NFL running back. It is Gingrich who, when House minority whip, gave birth to the voter-fraud movement. Don’t forget that.

Next up is that kid from Illinois who traveled to Wisconsin to kill Black Lives Matter protesters. He showed all the chutzpah of the child who kills his parents and then asks for the court’s leniency because he is now an orphan. We need to follow his career path of selling T-shirts to extremist groups who believe that white is right.

There is no shortage of extremist organizations that need exposure by the investigative press: the Elks, the Rotary, the American Kennel Club, and the PGA. And why, I want to know, do the houses of worship of the Jehovah Witnesses have no windows? Inquiring minds want to know.

Everybody remember Jeffrey Epstein? The former hedge fund manager who was convicted of sex trafficking in 2008 and was found dead in his jail cell a couple years later was a member of the Trilateral Commission, a non-governmental international organization aimed at fostering closer cooperation between Japan, Western Europe and North America. Founded in July 1973, it lists among its members luminaries in the fields of economics, diplomacy, education, and banking. Some conspiracy theorists believe the organization to be a central plotter of a world government or synarchy. Still others believe the Commission orchestrated the 9/11 attacks to initiate the new world order, and increased overdraft fees banks can charge up to $37.

Why Epstein would belong to such an august group of governmental scholars escapes me. Maybe he was in charge of entertainment.

Another membership sought after by the rich and famous is to the Bohemian Club. Based in San Francisco, it has a 2,700-acre virgin redwood grove in Sonoma County, California. Called the Bohemian Grove, it is host to a summer camp each July when its members, in conjunction with the Shriners, plot to overthrow the government. William Randolph Hearst was a member, as was Richard M. Nixon, the latter of whom was rumored to enjoy peeing in the woods.

I can’t think of a single reason to re-elect Senator Tommy Tuberville (R-AL), who suggested that Black Americans are criminals who “want to take over what you got,” other than the fact is that his name is the most humorous in all of Congress. It’s like the last train to potato land.

And finally, who can forget Arizona? Gubernatorial candidate Kari Lake, a 2020 election denier, said that she would respect the election results as long as they were “fair, honest and transparent.”

Unless she loses.

Photo illustration by Courtney A. Liska

Bohemian Sausage and Cabbage

This is a common dish throughout Eastern Europe. It is Old World comfort food that is easy to make and absolutely delicious.

1/2 pound smoked kielbasa or smoked Polish sausage, cut into 1/2-inch slices
2 tablespoons butter, divided
1/2 large head cabbage (2 pounds), coarsely chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cans (8 ounces each) tomato sauce
1/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon paprika
2 large potatoes, peeled and cubed

In a large enameled cast-iron or ovenproof skillet, brown the sausage in 1 tablespoon butter; remove and set aside. In the same pan, sauté cabbage and onions in remaining butter until onions are tender.

In a small bowl, combine the tomato sauce, sugar and paprika; pour over cabbage mixture. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat; cover and simmer for 20 minutes. Add the potatoes and reserved sausage. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes or until potatoes are tender.