fall guy. In order to give the police something to keep them out of their way. The truth is that in most things, you need a fall guy. The guy who takes the blame.
A bunch of kids are rough housing just as the teacher walks in. One kid, not even the worst offender, gets caught climbing a chair. He gets punished while the rest of the gang look on like the boys choir in a Bing Crosby movie. You need a fall guy.
Same as with health care. With Obamacare the rich, and the successful small businessman took the fall. They had to pay the extra taxes and fines. Now the Republicans are writing a plan and all the taxes and most of the fines are gone. The problem is there's no fall guy. That's why it doesn't make fiscal sense. If there is any fall guy, it's the poor. The poor are getting rambunctious though. They are tired of being the fall guy and could make it difficult in the next Congressional elections.
The question is who should be the fall guy. The insurance companies? The doctors? The hospitals? The old? No, the old will vote you out of office. The young? Yes, let's hang it on the young. Let young people take the fall. They talk big but they don't vote.
When I was in high school there was another kid in my English class who applied to Rutgers. We both had pretty much the same grades, but we couldn't both go to the same school. College admissions wouldn't allow two guys from the same school on campus. He had to take the fall. In politics, as in life, you need a fall guy. In the Maltese Falcon it had to be Elisha Cook or Peter Lorre. Somebody has to take the fall.
Sunday, March 12, 2017
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
WXPN radio celebrated the day with an all woman's playlist. The Internet had lots of articles on the day including an article about how women do a lot of unpaid work in this country. Somehow, I feel left out of enjoying all this unpaid labor. Mother in the cemetary and no wife on the horizon I have to cook, clean, shop, launder, etc. all by my lonesome.
Sometimes I get wistful and imagine married life. I come home and am greeted by the smells of a hot manicotti in the oven. The bathroom is pristine clean. My laundry is divided into whites, colors, and my shirts have been ironed. Unlike the rug in my living room, the rug is freshly vacuumed and a smell of pot-pourri fills the air. Fresh daisies greet me in the living room. The kids are back from soccer practice and the wife parks the car and kisses me hello.
Like William Powell in Life with Father I inspect the kids ears at the dinner table, then take a look at the stock page in the paper. Married life isn't so bad. As I take off my shoes and watch the basketball game I can hear my wife running the dishwasher in the kitchen. After that she will fluff up the pillows in the bedroom and check on the lad's homework. Is this the way most married men live? Perhaps but I am doubtful, just a bit.