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Halloween

They call me “Dad” like it’s my title, my name, like I’m some mythical creature who rises out of sleep on Halloween morning with a job to do, and I roll over, meet the eyes of three kids in costume. One, my medieval traveler; Two, a Reese’s candy pack with the crinkly edges;
and three, she’s the littlest of them all,a princess with a pink dress and even pinker running shoes, because princesses are swift these days. Their smiles are full of hope and expectation, and when they say “Trick or treat,” they mean it like a promise.

The oldest two are already out with their friends, my almost-men, who once stumbled around the block as chubby-footed toddlers, hands in mine, holding on for dear life, but tonight? Tonight, they’re solo, off finding themselves in the night’s misty glow. They say “Dad” like it’s a greeting card they’ve outgrown, and part of me aches at the thought, like I’m a ghost in my own home, wondering where the years slipped off to when I blinked or didn’t take enough photos, when I missed recording those simple breaths and smiles.

Reese’s Kid is in middle school now, and even he darts off, running with a friend down the street like a marathoner in orange and brown, leaving me and my wife to escort the last little crew – a princess, a traveler, a pack of neighbors – down streets that spark like campfires, porch lights like signals saying, “We’ve got buckets of candy! Stop by! Take as much as you like!”

As the sun dips low, the neighborhood springs to life, a parade of pint-sized monsters and caped crusaders, and I laugh at the simplicity. Some folks just sit there, a couple in lawn chairs, a big bowl of candy, a dog in a pumpkin suit. Others go all out, haunted house setups spilling onto the lawn, smoke machines, skeletons on swings, the smell of cider in the air.

These are the moments I carve deep into my memory, a day I claim every year as mine because soon enough, the costumes will stay in the box, the kids will outgrow “Trick or Treat,” and these blocks, these blocks we wander year after year, will lose their magic.

But tonight, tonight is a feast I savor, a day I devour whole. I pull my daughter close, feel the warmth of her tiny pink hand in mine, as she runs up to the next house with all her seven-year-old might, her voice a chorus of every child before her. “Trick or Treat!” echoing through the night like a promise finally kept.

And I stand back, this small grin on my face, knowing what I know, dreading what I dread, the years slipping away like shadows, like leaves drifting down. But tonight? Tonight, I’m right here, with all my ghosts, my little ones, my heart a bright lantern in the dark, and I swear I’m holding on to every last candy-crinkled, costume-draped, sweet, sweet step of it.

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In The Line

I’m in this line, feet heavy, soul dragging, wrapped around the library like a snake, past rows and rows of books gathering dust on wisdom no one’s cracked open in years. There’s an old man wearing a coat that’s older than me. He smiles at me with no teeth. A woman in a business suit, running a meeting on her phone loud enough for everyone here to participate. A girl ahead, pink lollipop, smiling, holding tight to hands that are older and wiser and, I hope, gentler than these times.

Ads ring in my mind, mud-slinging soundtracks for nightmares, campaign slogans etched in my brain like scars. All I wanted was a few quiet moments but that’s too much to ask in the month before November.

I watch the woman at the front, checking IDs, the lines of her face drawn with years and patience. “How’s your day?” “Just trying to stay out of trouble.” I grin. “Trouble just got here.” She laughs. For a moment, it’s simple, just people.

I’m angry, at systems that circle power like crows, but never drop a morsel down to the rest of us. Is this even for us? Are we all just cogs? Does anyone in this line see that, or are we content with blind faith that our vote will fix the fracture in this cracked foundation?

Finally, I’m seated, pen in hand, staring at names I know from yard signs, bad commercials, initiatives that’ll be gone from memory come Monday. Mark my choices. Make my mark. One small voice, drowned in a flood of others but somehow, still mine.

Then the sticker: proof I played my part, in the mess of it all.

All these voices here, murmuring their stories, their hopes, fears, silent screams. This is all we have, isn’t it? The ballot box, the check, the line snaking past dead words on pages, but maybe, just maybe, our whispers together make enough noise to shift the world.

So join us here. Make your mark. Let’s dream, that maybe tomorrow we’ll find a way to heal.

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Cartwheels

She cartwheels through the living room like gravity forgot her, a streak of joy in pajamas,
hair a comet’s tail. One, two, three flips and spins, tiny feet slapping carpet like a heartbeat.

I sit on the couch, pretending I don’t see, pretending I’m not the audience to this private circus. But she knows. She knows I’m watching, waiting for her to soar again.

Then she pauses, hands meet hands in the air. A heart, and she points to me. “I love you,” her fingers say, without saying a thing.

I grin, make my own clumsy heart, fumble through the motions like an old magician with a new trick. I point back. Two fingers. “I love you, too.”

She laughs, the sound like windchimes in the summer breeze, and just like that, the show is over. She blows me a kiss goodnight, disappearing up the stairs, a tiny tornado in the making.

But in that brief moment, as she stood there smiling, I saw it. The young woman she’ll soon become. Cartwheeling through life with the same wild grace, the same laugh that lights up the room.

I hope I’m around to see her make it there, to watch her flip and twirl through the world. But if I’m not, if time doesn’t allow, I’ll hold onto these moments, these glimpses of tomorrow wrapped in the joy of today.

Because tonight, I got to witness the future, and it is beautiful.

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The Final Countdown – Big Joe and Dr. J Discuss Politics (again)

We’ve done it a few times this election season, and we’re back for more! My good friend and fellow mad scribbler, Dr Jamie D. Greening, and I have tackled five important questions about the remains of the election season, wrestled those questions to the ground, and made them tap out.

Hoo-Ahhh!

Here are our thoughts. Go check out Jamie’s post as well (link forthcoming once it’s up).

1. How do you read the polls?

Joe Shaw:

In order to correctly read the polls, you must first choose a room in your house cleanse it by reciting the necessary incantations first drafted by Tom Brokaw and Peter Jennings at the annual meeting of the Bohemian Grove in 1983. Peter was dressed as an owl. Tom was dressed as Ziggy Stardust. You don’t have to go THAT far, but you can if you want to. It helps. 

After this, you must sacrifice a live pig, a live turkey, and a live chicken, then wrap the chicken inside the meat of the turkey inside the meat of the pig, wrapping each layer in strips of candied bacon, shredded pineapples, and finely chopped green onions. Cook this monstrosity in a smoker for 24 hours, then serve it to your unsuspecting family.

Record a video of this meal, and post it to YouTube. The 3rd letter of each comment taken in ascending order by post date will spell out the insights to the polls that will INCONCLUSIVELY prove who will win the election. 

This the ONLY WAY to know what the actual heck is going on this election season. There is no other way. 

Jamie Greening:

I don’t trust the polls. Not because I believe they are biased (although some certainly are) but because the sampling on those is skewed due to fewer landlines, reticence of people to answer those kinds of calls, and the increased dependence upon AI and other internet driven methodology. So, the only thing I think the polls are telling us is this is a close race. I don’t think it necessarily shows momentum one way or another, but that it is close.

JG Responds:

Although I am unsure about your set up, Shaw, I agree with you in terms of perspective. There really is no way to know what is happening as so much is unprecedented and the mood of the country is hard to tell. I do feel like it might break hard one way or the other, though, as the election happens, much like Reagan in 1980 – he won in a landslide, but four weeks before the polls all had Carter winning re-election.

JS Responds:

I’m with you. I don’t trust them, either. As I hope my response above shows, I’m exasperated with them, as well, mostly because of the bias and what seems, to me at least, like cherry-picked responses. “According to polls hand-picked by our candidate’s team … OUR CANDIDATE IS WINNING!!!” It’s a faux scientific approach to marketing, which makes them about as useful as Peter Jennings in an Owl Costume.

2. What surprises, if any, do you expect?

JS: Elvis Presley, John Lennon, and Kurt Cobain could descend from the skies, riding gigantic demon squirrels, shouting the lyrics to “All You Need Is Love” while assaulting the poor huddled masses below with super soakers filled with strawberry Fanta, and I would just shrug, saying, “Seems about right to me.”

The chaos of this election season has reinforced in me the Socratic Philosophy that all knowledge begins when you admit that you know nothing, except I don’t expect to know much else, moving forward, either. 

JG: That’s a tough one. I suspect a surprise might be Wisconsin going red for Trump, but then that being offset by North Carolina going blue for Harris. I can also see a world in which one of the big red states like Texas, Ohio, or Florida go for Harris this year. I mean, it has been a while since Florida surprised us. They are due. It might be my home state of Texas, even. The Trump Campaign is spending money on airtime in Texas, which is a place they usually don’t usually spend. I think their internal polling is telling them something. 

JG Responds:

Strawberry Fanta sounds delicious. I always drink red Kool-Aid while watching election returns. Maybe this year I will put on a little Elvis/Lennon/Nirvana playlist to go along with it. However, I am not as cynical as you are, Shaw. I do think some things are concretely knowable. The challenge is figuring out what those things are.

JS Responds:

Don’t say things like “It has been a while since Florida surprised us,” Jamie. We will respond to that with a big #ChallengeAccepted. I agree, though. With so many people having left states like New York and California for states like Florida and Texas, I could see either flipping. That would be a huge swing.

3. How would you strategize for each candidate?

JS: What I want is for the candidates to stop the tomfoolery and focus on policy. I’d also like to be able to dunk a basketball while riding a unicorn, and that ain’t happening, either. So, what each candidate needs to do is address their weaknesses with independent, younger voters while working to drive out their base in large numbers. 

For Trump, that means focusing on being relatable. His biggest problem with folks under 40 is he is an a-hole who doesn’t care about other people. The problem here is that being an a-hole is part of why large parts of his base love him, so he needs to balance being relatable to folks who maybe have not considered him in the past with letting his longtime supporters know he can still throw a punch when needed. To achieve this, he needs to stay away from traditional media, focusing on social media, longform podcasts, and his patented rallies. He needs to talk about politics interspersed with fun, lighthearted conversation, focusing not on his opponent’s failings, but what he plans to do once he wins (or, as he would likely call it, assuming the sale). Trump did just this, recently, when he was on Andrew Schulz’s Flagrant podcast, and rumors that he’s going to do Rogan as well tells me he sees this and is headed in the right direction. 

For Harris, her weakness is legitimacy. She didn’t get much support in the 2020 primaries, and was installed, not elected, to the candidacy she is in today. As a result, there is a perception, even among Democrats, that she shouldn’t be there, and her recent fumbling interview history feeds into that. She speaks, in her campaigns at least, like someone who is desperately trying to get in as many talking points per minute as she can. It feels to me like she’s got a team of analysts telling her to DO THIS and DON’T DO THAT; as if she’s BEING directed and not LEADING.  What she needs to do is open the floodgates and just be who she is. Answer questions honestly, addressing what her interviewers are saying rather than staying on whatever message she hopes to deliver. Drive the narrative, drive the campaign, and both her problems go away. I haven’t seen her take steps in this direction, though, and I’m not sure there’s enough time to get effective gains if she does. 

JG: The best strategy for Donald Trump is to focus on Pennsylvania and Pennsylvania only. He might want to consider buying a house there. I see no path forward for him to win the White House without Pennsylvania.

Kamala Harris must whittle down the gender gap. She doesn’t have to close it much, but there is a narrow sliver of men who might be persuaded she’s okay. I actually think that is why she has mentioned owning a gun so much of late. Now look for her to do something ‘sportsy.’

JG Responds:

You might be right about Trump and the likeable factor, but my feeling is people already, after nine years in politics, four as POTUS, a lifetime of New York headlines, a cameo in Home Alone 2, a bigtime TV show – people already know Trump. That bizarre sliver of undecideds really are making up their mind about Kamala, not Trump. They are weighing her against him and I think most people feel they don’t have enough information about her.

JS Responds:

Picture a commercial. Lebron James is playing Michael Jordan in a 1v1 game. Finally, we get to decide who the GOAT is. Both men are exhausted, but neither will quit. A few plays pass in quick succession. Then, MJ pulls up for a baseline jumper. We watch the ball fly through the air, bounce off the rim, and then … Kamala Harris catches the rebound and drains a shot from the other side. MJ and LBJ turn to each other and say, “I guess we know who the GOAT is, now!”

Then Donald Trump crushes everyone in a gigantic monster truck.

4. What do you think will be the biggest factor?

JS: Voter turnout.

JG: We don’t know how the nation feels yet about the legal activity against Donald Trump. I was against it and thought it unwise. Will people – and all it takes a tiny needle change – decide a convicted felon shouldn’t be president and either refuse to vote or vote Harris or, just as possible, will they punish Democrats for what they view as a political maneuver? I think that is one big unknowable factor.

The other, as I’ve been screaming about for a while, is abortion. I am prolife, but most Americans are in favor of some abortion protection as we have seen in even very red states like Kansas. This will play a factor, not in Louisiana or Montana, but in Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Florida, and Michigan. It played a big part in 2022.   

JG Responds:

That’s weak, Shaw. Voter turnout is always a key. If we had time for follow-ups I would ask what do you mean. Will more voter turnout, like 2020, help Harris or Trump? What about turnout in individual states. I suspect, for example, low turnout might help Harris in some places because I think some of the energy factor for Trump from 2016 and 2020 has evaporated. I mean, I don’t see many ‘Trump Trains’ anymore, just to point out an indicator.

JS Responds:

Did you see the rally in Butler? The second one, I mean. The one where he DIDN’T get shot at. It was massive and full of energy. And Trump had a rally in Manhattan not to long ago that was huge (or, as he would say, “Yuge”). I’m not usually a fan of his “look at my crowd size!” rhetoric, but … to pull that many folks in NYC says something, even for him.

I’m suspect about the abortion issue. You can say Trump has been KNOWN for a long time and you have a point, but abortion has been argued and fought over for even longer. Yes, there was renewed, fightin’ energy on the side of abortion supporters in the wake of the Dobbs decision, but there has been almost as much fightin’ energy from the conservative side who believe Trump is being railroaded through lawfare. So I put the two at a wash.

5. What about the House and Senate?

JS: Republicans need to win two competitive states to win the majority, and I think they’ve got a good chance at doing that. Tim Sheehy will overtake Jon Tester in Montana, and I think Bernie Moreno will unseat Sherrod Brown in Ohio. Dems have a shot at a Colin Allred upset over Ted Cruz in Texas, though, so it’s a no-holds barred steel cage death match to the finish for all parties involved in the Senate. 

I don’t have as much of an ear on the House as I do elsewhere, but I get the feeling it will either stay or deepen Red once all is said and done. 

My predictions overall: I see Kamala winning an extremely narrow victory but facing a Republican House and Senate. Of course, I still think there will be World War 3, soon, like I said in one of our previous posts. Because I’m just a happy guy. 

JG: Democrats have a tough road for the Senate, so I expect the GOP will take back the upper chamber but in a great flip-flop the Democrats will win the House with a more comfortable margin than many would suspect. And from where I set, that would make me happy because divided government is usually better governent.

JG Responds:

I am not predicting World War III. I do think there will be a growing land war in the Middle East, but that has been brewing since …. forever. At this point, I feel like Harris will win the Presidential election as well, and it will be razor thing in the margins per state, but I think she will have a large electoral college cushion. I could be very, very wrong. I confidently predicted Biden would win four years ago and nailed some of the individual states like Arizona and Georgia, but I am not as confident this year. It really could swing in either direction.

JS Responds:

You predicted Florida in 2020, too, even though I told you it would go for Trump. I know this state. It’s MY state. Or, rather, it was my state before Helene and Milton. Now, it’s just a mess.

I honestly have no idea what will happen with the Senate or the House. Your guess is as good as mine. I do have to agree, though, that divided government is the best government. At worst, some of the more ridiculous ideas have a good chance at being shot down. At best, people of differing ideologies being forced to work together moves us toward the kind of unity we so desperately need.

Until Trump crushes all of us with a monster truck, that is.

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See

I see you,

Scrolling, swiping, liking,
Chasing that next hit, that dopamine drip,
The flicker of a screen like a neon god,
And you bow down.

I see you, chasing promotions,
Suit and tie strangling the heart that once ran free,
Trading hours for dollars, but at what toll?
You say it’s for success, for status, for family,
But I see the strings.
Marionettes dancing to the tune of selfishness,
The first handshake with Pride,
Ink drying on the contract of your soul.

I see you, playing, always playing,
Video games, fantasy leagues, Fantasy sites and streams
As the real world burns in the corners of your eye.
You laugh at the screens,
But you don’t see the chains tightening around your wrists.

I see you, my friends, my blood,
And I think I am better.
Better because I do not chase like you chase,
Better because I don’t fall to those same distractions.
I sit in my high tower,
Looking down on the world like a god.
And that’s the first step, isn’t it?
The first step to becoming the very thing I despise.

Then,
I feel it.
The heat of my own pride creeping in.
The road to damnation is paved, not in grand betrayals,
But in petty frustrations.

I hate the traffic,
I curse the ones too slow, too stupid to see.
I judge those selling meaningless things,
Those hawking emptiness to the masses.
They fill the world with noise,
Loud words with empty meaning
And I judge, I curse, I burn.

But who am I now?
Isn’t this the same damnation?
This quiet hatred in my bones,
The condescending smirk behind my eyes,
My own agreement with the darkness.

God,
I see it now.

I stand on the edge of the same pit,
No different, no holier.
Forgive me for the pride that chokes me,
For the small, bitter angers that eat away at my spirit.

Let me walk through this world in love,
Even if it’s hard, even if it’s just today.
Let me release the petty judgments,
Let me release the need to be above.

Help me see not the distractions,
But the hearts behind them,
The souls trying, stumbling, searching.

Let me be humble,
Not in thought but in action,
Not in grand gestures but in the small, daily breath of kindness.

If I fall, if I falter,
Grant me the grace to rise again.
Not perfect,
Just striving to be better.

Let me love,
If not for always,
At least for today.

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The Calm of the Storm Before the Storm

Sunday night’s a trainwreck
rolling downhill, off the tracks,
five kids,
five stories,
five plates still stacked with homework,
responsibilities,
and dishes
but only two parents holding it together like scotch tape on a hurricane.

The oldest two—
teenagers with thumbs glued to controllers,
piling up points like responsibilities,
pressing buttons like those last-second calls to push back deadlines—
They whine like it’s their Olympic sport.
“Mom, it’s Sunday,
why do we have to think about Monday?“
as if Monday is some faraway place,
some never-land,
but it’s creeping up behind them like the unfinished math homework
sitting in a heap on their desks.

Kid three? He’s chill,
already got his backpack packed, shoes by the door,
but his eyes are locked on the football game.
The clatter of helmets smashing
echoes through the room
while he sits still, like some Buddha among the chaos,
letting the mess of the night orbit around him,
content to stay wrapped in the cocoon of the game
while the world just spins.

Kid four walks in the door,
head full of stars and stardust,
astronomy books under his arm,
like he’s just returned from another galaxy.
He stumbles over toys and laundry
but doesn’t see the mess—
just thinks about the vastness of space,
the calm of the night sky.
What’s a little chaos when you’ve touched the infinite, right?
His room smells like night air and wonder.

And then there’s her—
the youngest,
she’s everywhere.
Cartwheels across the living room,
leaps through the kitchen,
dolls scattered in her wake,
her laughter spins the air like a gymnast herself,
untethered, unburdened,
with no concept of clocks or calendars.
She’s on her own time,
and all the clocks are broken anyway.

The mother?
She’s a silent storm,
holding the weight of the world
in the slump of her shoulders.
Exhaustion hits her like a freight train
with no brakes,
but she keeps moving,
because Sunday night doesn’t care if you’re tired,
and there’s still laundry to fold, lunches to pack,
emails to send,
and a meeting in the morning
about the meetings you’ll have next week.

But the father—
oh, the father—
he’s tired, too,
but his tired’s got a different flavor.
A contentment, a joy, a peace
in the eye of this wild storm.
His boys are arguing,
his daughter’s a tornado of cartwheels,
but he breathes it in,
like the scent of fresh-cut grass at a ballpark.
Because what’s work,
what’s baseball practice,
what’s Boy Scouts and homework
and all the chaos,
when there’s laughter?

The week’s going to be a marathon:
Boy Scout meetings, cross-country practice,
baseball games,
homework deadlines snapping at their heels,
like hounds at the hunt.
But tonight,
amidst the clutter of schoolbags and video game controllers
and a living room that looks like a battlefield
of socks and Legos,
he finds peace.

The house is loud,
but his heart is quiet,
because the mess means life,
the chaos means love,
and the work,
oh, the work,
it’s the price of joy.

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Ice Cream in the Rain

We sat there, me and you, under a sky that couldn’t decide if it was crying or just playing around. Raindrops like teardrops, dripping, dropping,but there we were, eating ice cream.

Chocolate chip in one hand, your tiny fingers curling around the cone, like it’s the last thing in the world you’d ever hold.

I’m watching you laugh,mouth full of sweet cream,like you just discovered joy was made of sugar,like this moment wasn’t supposed to happen— Rain? Ice cream? Together? But here it is, and so are we.

We’re a puddle of wet sneakers, melted vanilla mixing with raindrops on the sidewalk, like the sky’s got a thing for flavors too.

I say, “This is crazy,” and you say, “This is perfect.”

And maybe you’re right. Maybe rain is the sauce no one ever knew ice cream needed, maybe this is the soundtrack to a memory we’ll never forget.

You, me, a cone of something too good for words, and a sky that decided, just for today, to rain down laughter.

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Outside The Machine

At a Data Conference this week. Lots of talk about the future. Not much talk about thise left behind. Here’s a poem about that.

******

It’s like a cold wind,
blowing through the streets, through the wires,
through the circuits and the high-rise dreams.
Everyone’s talking about the future,
but nobody’s asking if we got the password to get in.
They build the towers tall,
shiny glass fingers stretching for the sky,
and down here,
we look up, wondering what the hell they reaching for.

I see the screens glow bright,
but it’s not for us.
Nah, we stuck outside, faces pressed against the glass,
watching the world move fast,
faster than the bus that don’t show up,
faster than the hours that don’t pay enough,
faster than they tell us to catch up.

“Learn to code,” they say.
“Just get online,” they say.
But what happens when your Wi-Fi’s a prayer,
and your data’s gone before the rent’s paid?
What happens when you’re stuck
using a phone three generations old
to fill out forms they never meant you to complete?

They say technology’s the great equalizer—
but how equal can you be
when the gatekeepers got keys you can’t afford?
They’re racing toward tomorrow,
leaving us in the dust,
telling us, “You should’ve moved faster,
you should’ve planned better,
you should’ve known the game was rigged.”

But this is more than bandwidth, more than lag.
It’s being left in the cracks,
where opportunities don’t reach,
where futures get blurry behind pop-up ads
for things we’ll never buy.

See, it’s not just about who’s connected—
it’s about who gets left behind.
And while they talking about 5G,
we’re just trying to get free,
free from being forgotten,
free from the spaces they erased us from,
where we don’t exist, except in footnotes and fines.

It’s like we’re ghosts in their machine,
whispering in the background,
but they don’t hear us.
Not in their algorithms, not in their plans,
not in their world where we’re always
just a glitch they trying to ignore.

But we here.
We’re still here.
And one day,
they gonna hear our voices
louder than their download speeds,
breaking through the static,
telling the truth they can’t scroll past,
a truth that won’t get lost
no matter how far they run.

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Love in the Query

I was in a training session, recently, where the trainer said, “Sometimes, data relationships can be complicated.” Because my wife is a huge fan of those Hallmark Rom-Com Christmas movies, and because I like to let my mind misbehave sometimes, I came up with a three book, romantic comedy series about complicated data relationships.

Here’s the synopsis for Book #1: Love in the Query…

In the bustling, digital metropolis of Data City, where every byte counts and every table has its place, the Columns of the LoveDB database lead surprisingly complex lives. Our story centers around Colin, a charming but somewhat disorganized column of type VARCHAR, and Rowena, a strict and structured INTEGER column with a knack for sorting things out.

Colin and Rowena reside in the same database, but their paths rarely cross due to their differences. Colin enjoys being part of free-form text queries, mingling with wildcard searches and string concatenations, while Rowena thrives in the orderly world of numerical operations and index optimization.

Everything changes when a new query is introduced—one that requires both of them to join forces in a highly complex relationship. As they navigate foreign keys, composite indexes, and left joins, Colin and Rowena start to see each other in a new light. Despite their differences, they realize that together they create something meaningful: a perfectly balanced dataset.

But their relationship faces challenges when Charli, a BOOLEAN column with a penchant for binary decisions, enters the picture, threatening to disrupt the fragile balance they’ve built. Colin and Rowena must overcome their relational challenges, understand each other’s strengths, and realize that love, much like a well-constructed query, sometimes requires a little compromise and a lot of collaboration.

In a heartwarming and humorous journey through inner joins and outer conflicts, Love in the Query is a romantic comedy that reminds us that even in the structured world of databases, love can be a complex, yet perfectly executable, function.

 

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Five Questions About Super Tuesday

Super Tuesday has come and gone, and – surprise, surprise – Joe Biden and Donald Trump are clearly in the driver’s seats for their respective parties. It seems like, now, we’re finally going to get the last movie in the Grumpy Old Men Trilogy: Grumpy Old Men Go To Washington. 

Fun Fact: Donald Trump at 77 is older than Jack Lemon when he died, and Joe Biden at 81 is older than Walter Mathau was when he died, so this could technically be “Extremely Old Grumpy Men Who Are Lucky To Be Alive and (mostly) Ambulatory Convince People There Really Are No Better Options.” But I imagine that one would be hard to fit on a marquee.  At some point, I’d like the opportunity to vote for a candidate who wasn’t eligible for the Senior Citizen discount at Denny’s when Nixon was president. Until then, we will do our best with what we have. 

My good friend, Jamie Greening, has asked that I address FIVE BURNING QUESTIONS about Super Tuesday, specifically, and the election in general. He’s doing the same on his blog (which you can read here). So here we go. 

HOW BIG OF A WIN WAS THIS FOR MAGA? 

I guess that depends on what you mean by MAGA. For some, MAGA is synonymous with white supremacy, racism, sexism, and all the other bad -isms you can imagine. For others, MAGA is simply “the Trump faction of the Republican Party.” For others, still, it’s something like “an American, nationalistic approach to conservatism, currently spearheaded by Donald Trump. 

There are almost as many definitions for MAGA as there are for genders now, except that people don’t ask what your MAGA pronouns are when you speak it. They just make decisions about your moral turpitude based on THEIR interpretation about what MAGA means, and respond accordingly. Much like the Fashion industry, current TikTok trends, and anything Kanye West has tweeted in the last year or so, it’s all very confusing and likely has no basis in Reality. 

So, when I think about whether this was a Big Win for MAGA, I have to think about what it means for Trump in this election, what it means for the Republican Party and conservatism overall. 

For Trump, this was an obvious huge win. It was a big, massive, but, but it was an expected, massive win. The only place Nikki Haley won was Vermont, which is not exactly a Republican stronghold. You have to be somewhere left of Stalin to carry that state in the general election, so there’s a good chance this was more “Socialists Behaving Badly,” than an actual groundswell for a Trump alternative. 

For the Republican Party, it means they’ve clearly and decisively selected Trump as the standard bearer, but I don’t think it means they’ve solidified Trumpism as the prevailing party philosophy. I haven’t seen a lot of articles from Republicans or conservatives discussing what Trump’s policies mean for America post-election and into the future. It’s mainly just “Trump can beat Biden! Yay Trump!” And I think this stems from a pre-2016 election mantra I heard often. “We need to elect Trump so we can keep Hillary out of office and define who will be on the SCOTUS bench,” people said. No one was saying “Trump’s economic and foreign affairs acumen is sublime.” Whatever happens from here on out, this is Trump’s last rodeo. The Republican Party specifically and Conservatism in general need to work out their respective identities. Trump is many things, but he is not an ideological leader. The Republicans haven’t had that since Reagan, and it’s not been morning in America for a long time.  

At present, the Republican Party is whatever Trump says it is. Once Trump is gone, they will need to figure out who they are again. 

 WHAT ABOUT HALEY NOW? 

First off: props to Haley for sticking around so long. She had the only true and possible path to victory out of any of the candidates. If the Republicans are going to start figuring out who they are post-Trump, they need a diverse set of ideologies to choose from. Haley was that for this election cycle. Unfortunately for Haley, all she succeeded in was proving that, in response to the question of whatever the Republicans will become, “Not Nikki Haley” seems to be the first and easiest answer. 

If there can be unity between her supporters and Trump’s supporters, Trump might gain some ground with moderates, but I don’t see him going that way. One of the biggest criticisms of Trump I’ve seen from conservatives is that he wasn’t strong enough in response to Fauci with COVID and with members of his administration that undermined his efforts. To reach toward the middle with a selection fo Haley for VP would be to make that same mistake, at least in the eyes of his most rabid supporters. 

I expect Haley to drop out of the race and become an answer to some of the more obscure questions in Trivial Pursuit 2025 edition

IS JOE BIDEN IN TROUBLE ?

TLDR: Yes. Very much so. 

Longer: Joe Biden is in trouble, but it’s trouble of his own making. The economy. The border. Foreign affairs snafus. That creeping feeling that he’s in decline. He has a lot to answer for this time around. Both candidates do, but Joe’s questions are more pressing. It will be interesting to see what happens. 

WILL EITHER CANDIDATE MAKE IT TO NOVEMBER?

For the longest time, I’ve been expecting Joe Biden to drop out. When Jon Steward came back to the Daily Show and, right out of the gate, attacked Biden due to his age and declining mental faculties, I thought, “Well, now that Jon Steward has said it, it’s cool to say it, and all the Democratic news outlets will start pushing for him to step down.” 

That largely hasn’t happened. Jon Stewart isn’t young and hip anymore (he’s 60), and the news outlets have, instead, chosen to focus on Trump’s alleged decline. So who knows? 

I could see someone convincing Biden to step down. His declining state is clearly the most egregious, but I don’t see that happening. Absent Obama finding a loophole and running for a third term, I don’t see anyone in the Democrat Party with enough OOMPH to seriously challenge Trump in the general. 

Trump is in it for the long haul. No one will tear him out of that role. He’d have to have a heart attack and actually die from it and, even then, I think he’d find a way to run. 

VP PICKS? 
Biden sticks with Kamala. If there’s going to be a change, it will be at the top. 

Trump, I think, will go with someone like Kristi Noem or Tim Scott. Personally, I’d like to see him pick J.D. Vance. But only because JD Vance is from Ohio. I’m from Ohio and I like it when hometown folks do well. 

Alright. That’s it. Go check out Jamie’s post on these same questions. Have yourselves a great week and, as always, don’t break anything.