Those were the first words out of my mouth last Saturday when I heard that the United States had joined Israel in starting a war with Iran.
Why would the president that brags about all the wars he’s already stopped, and all the wars he is going to stop, actually start a war of his own? Didn’t he promise us he wouldn’t do such a thing? And why would he announce it to the world dressed so casually and in a nonchalant tone mention that Americans were going to die?
In the deep recesses of my consciousness, I’m aware that I’m aware. Everywhere else, I could not possibly be thicker. You know when you know you’re awake before your body does?
Or has the old excitement become so normal that it’s just not as noticeable anymore. Has all the road construction dampened our enthusiasm for progress?
About twenty years ago or so there was a real buzz about Omaha. We had just built the arena and convention center. We were building a new stadium with a 25 year guarantee the College World Series would stay in town. Events like the Olympic swim trials, brought new luster and international attention to our fair city.
I watched the press conference President Trump held after the Supreme Court ruled against him on his unconstitutional tariffs. As I saw him rant and rave from the podium, I had this random and unique thought… I wish President Trump treated politics more like professional football, and less like professional wrestling.
Many of you reading this know that for years I was a radio talk show host. I worked on stations that carried syndicated programming like Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, and Michael Savage, as well as other conservative hosts.
I considered myself conservative, but never as conservative as most of those guys. I rarely thought a person was bad or the enemy just because they had a different opinion than mine. I thought of them as a fellow American with a different point of view. I still do.
About ten years ago now, I was serving food at a homeless shelter by the airport. Not many memories stay that long in my mind anymore, and all that I did on that day is lost as background noise but for a single line in a single conversation. The memory is hazy enough that an elderly woman who could have been serving next to me or who could have been on the other side of the line who was being served, said to me in conversation as she spoke about her life,
Former Nebraska Democratic Governor and Senator Bob Kerrey’s name is in the Epstein Files, and the Nebraska Republican Party is trying to use that to their political advantage. They are demanding that all Democrat candidates plus independent candidate for senate Dan Osborn return any political donations Kerrey may have given them.
A murky visage hangs over me, rippling in and out of focus. I’ve only been under water for 15 seconds – what’s her problem? Teresa reaches down and grabs a handful of my tunic, yanking me straight up and out of the trough.
“People are staring,” she growls in my ear, before dropping me right back into the water.
I roll begrudgingly out and flop to the ground.
“I’m sure they are now,” I grunt as I push myself up to my feet.
She pushes my scabbard and gloves into my gut while leaning into my ear.