President Anne Johnson's First State of the Union Address

Members of both houses of Congress, the United States Supreme Court, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, sitting members of the Cabinet, diplomatic corps, and my fellow Americans,

My name is Anne Johnson. I have been appointed to serve out the remainder of the term of presidency that would have fallen to Donald J. Trump. This is my first State of the Union Address.

I am going to ask you to do something, Congress. For this one bright, shining moment, none of you know anything about me. You have no idea what my policies will be or how I will act in office, and therefore in this one brief click of time, none of you know whether you will cheer me and shower me with standing ovations, or sit on your hands and scowl.

Wouldn't it be nice to keep that moment and live within it for awhile?

Because that, my friends, is exactly what we need. We've got to step back, acknowledge philosophical differences respectfully, and dedicate ourselves to working together for all citizens.

Nothing will ever get done if two sides both entrench and legislate by fiat when they find themselves in power. All you'll have is a sea change in policy every four years.

How about we try a new tactic? Let's bring some sanity and decorum back to this chamber. Let's take a deep breath and see if we couldn't possibly work together for the greater good.

Look at that! You're all applauding! It's a good idea, isn't it? I like it too.

Now, here is the part of the speech where the president gets down to brass tacks and starts crowing about last year's accomplishments and planning next year's, with an eye to the voting base and the party. I'm not going to do that. I'm a blank slate, remember?

Here's a novel idea: Go put your heads together and bring me some good ideas! I have no voting base to please, because I wasn't elected! I'm open to any reasonable, judicious, thoughtful, and sober suggestion, so long as it will make Americans better off than they are now.

There's one word I want to leave you with, my fellow Americans. That word is temperance. This past year, we have been sadly lacking the temperance and reserve necessary to do the important job of running the country. We are going to dial down the drama and look at this task as something that professionals do.

Temperance. If there's anything I've learned from my previous work experience as a school teacher, it's that nothing gets done when the heat is turned up and the voices go shrill. But if we keep things reasonable and respectful, if we converse with humility, we can restore this democracy to health.

Thank you, and Gods bless America!

Work and Play with My Union

I feel like I'm being let in on the final act of a play. At the tender age of 58 (almost 9) I have become active in my local bargaining unit.

Due to the resignation of one of my school's teachers mid-year, I agreed to be a member of my unit's Rep Council. (I'm already on the negotiating committee.) You know what I didn't know? Being a rep means you're warmly welcomed at state- or region-wide leadership conferences.

On Friday I went to my first-ever winter leadership conference. It was good ol' unionism at its finest.

The conference was held in Atlantic City, at a casino. We had a one-hour workshop Friday from 6 to 7 p.m., then a sumptuous banquet from 7-9. Then our unit's regional director cordially offered to drown us in alcohol at the hotel bar. Then the other members of my unit who were there decided to play beer pong in the large, loud pub on the casino's ground floor.

Saturday morning we had a gourmet breakfast, followed by four hours of workshops in which it seemed that everyone (myself excluded) was nursing a morning head. Let me tell you, readers. I've struggled through many a 5-hour teaching workshop, but this union one was riveting. The hours flew by. I'm not even being glib.

We had a mid-morning break during which we were showered with fresh fruit, hot beverages, and pastries. There were stacks of salt water taffy sitting everywhere.

After the final two-hour work session, we had a lavish luncheon buffet that featured five different desserts.

I had a private room in the casino. I've lived in New Jersey since 1987 and never stayed in a casino before.

I watched the sun rise out of the Atlantic.

EXHIBIT A: AS ABOVE

The union paid for my room, for all of the food, for parking, and (through a member) booze. I'll be reimbursed for the mileage to and from the conference.

I write this because in a few weeks the U.S. Supreme Court will render a decision that will make union dues 100 percent optional. This is a goal long sought by corporations and the one percent, who correctly perceive that collective bargaining benefits workers in terms of wages, health care, and working conditions.

Would you cough up $50 out of each of your monthly paychecks for union membership if you didn't have to? Especially if you were told that you would benefit equally with every member who does pay their dues?

So as I donned my union identifier badge and shouldered my swag bag, I had a sense of twilight, or autumn, in the whole organized labor adventure. It's a given that a conservative court will take a tire iron to unionizing's knees. Public sector unions will find themselves begging members to pay dues, and employers will be sure to hire candidates who won't want to join the union.

Until all of this crashes down, my fellow union reps and I will gather in Atlantic City to hold an idea dear -- that workers are stronger when they are bound by formal ties.

PS - I spent 24 hours in Atlantic City, New Jersey. I arrived with $50 and left with $50. Casinos and bars don't move me, wallet-wise.

Women's March on Philadelphia 2018

If you sit on the left side in the elevated train from New Jersey to Philadelphia, there's one place where you can look out the window and see the skyline of Philly all arrayed just two or three miles away. On a day when the sky is clear, it's a sight -- not Manhattan, but a vast, gleaming city nevertheless.

Growing up in the mountains, I never, ever expected to spend most of my life a stone's throw from Philadelphia. But as I looked out of the train on Saturday morning, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to become a citizen of the Great Blue Northeast. I even teared up a little bit. Sheesh. I'm a sentimental slob.

When I was young I thought the government taxes were too high, and I thought that through hard work and bootstraps and all that, anyone could become rich and successful. Moving to the city (first Baltimore, then Detroit, then Philadelphia) changed my worldview. Perhaps if I had stayed in Appalachia I would be like so many people living there now: conservative to a point where they don't even vote in their own best interests.

Instead, I live in the suburbs of Philadelphia. So on Saturday, January 20 (a day that will live in infamy), I got on the el with my tambourine and my fairy sweater and my Pagan jewelry, and I rode into Center City, Philadelphia. There were lots of other suburban white women on the train, even though I went in two hours early. Lest anyone sneer at suburban white women, please remember that we are a demographic that gets courted by politicians of every stripe. It's up to us to do the right thing, which is never a given.

I disembarked the train at 13th and Locust and got myself a breakfast sandwich at a little cafe called Jean's on Walnut Street. Then I walked around City Hall, in the opposite direction that I had come on New Year's Day with the Mummers, and walked down to Logan Square, across from the Free Library of Philadelphia (where Gumby works! I'm proud of her.) I had learned that a group called Drum Like a Lady would be forming at the fountain, and I wanted to get there before it got too crowded to see if I could find the drummers.

It's easy to find drummers. Have you ever noticed? They give themselves away. And in this case, the leader of Drum Like a Lady is not only an accomplished drummer, she's almost a goddess in human form -- tall, beautiful, vigorous even in a leg brace, and ready to do some upbeat leadership.

I joined the circle just as it began to gear up, and what a phenomenal experience it turned out to be. These lady leaders knew what they were doing. They had designated one person as the heartbeat (more circles should try this ... it's the essential piece so often missing). Drawing on the heartbeat, all sorts of women with all kinds of percussion were able to play along. I think we had it all, except for those hella heavy djembes and dun duns. I'd thought about taking my doumbek, but the tambourine turned out better, because occasionally I danced -- and the tambourine can keep an easy beat and fill in some spaces.

When we lady drummers got our groove going, we were sending energy to the sky. It was a very multi-racial and multicultural group, all in happy harmony. The leader, LaTreice Branson, took turns addressing the crowd through a bullhorn and playing a small djembe.

The crowd got thicker and thicker, pushing our circle in on itself. Only once did I have to ask a tall, young white boy to take his camera elsewhere when he pushed in front of me to get photos. Mmm mmm, yeah, they are always around. But at least he did as I asked.

As I said, the drum circle's diversity was awesome. No one would have mistaken me for anything but a Pagan in my fairy sweater, with my acorn necklace dangling. There might have been one or two other Pagan women there, judging simply by attire and hair. Readers, we all sounded great. And we drummed for two and a half hours.

We led the march (sort of), but in the throng we kind of got spread out a bit. All of a sudden I felt a tug on my elbow, and there was Gumby, grinning from ear to ear! We hugged, and I hugged Gumby's boyfriend (I really like him), but I had to move on to keep up with my circle.

Once we got to the Art Museum, we drummed for another long stretch before the speeches started. Then the leaders left, and the minute they did, all the rhythm went with them. It was okay, though. There were plenty of speeches. Dozens and dozens. I stayed for them all.

When the whole thing was over, I walked alone back to the train.

Quite a few of my teaching colleagues had gone in a group. Both Olivia and Gumby attended. But on this day I elected to make my own way and find my rhythm sisters and make a noise for the Resistance. It turned out swell.

It sure looks like we'll be marching for years to come. I can take it. I'm a Mummer.

Resist.
Persist.
And rise!

Another March

My my, I do get my exercise! Another year, another march.

The good thing about being appointed president (rather than elected) is that no one knows what I look like. I'm therefore free to mingle with the citizenry. I will do so in Philadelphia at this year's Women's March.

Last year my daughter Gumby and I went to Washington, DC for the Women's March on Washington. Gumby put me through it, I tell you. She wasn't satisfied until we got all the way to the White House ... from RFK Stadium, a round trip of 8 or more miles.

EXHIBIT A: GUMBY AT THE WOMEN'S MARCH ON WASHINGTON, WHITE HOUSE

Learned my lesson, for sure! Can't keep up with Gumby! As I understand it, both of my daughters will be attending the march in Philly, but I'm not going with either one of them.

Instead, I will be joining a troupe called Drum Like a Lady . I am totally stoked. I can't decide whether or not to take my doumbek, but the tambourine is portable and can keep a heartbeat. Being part of the drum corps means I'll get a front seat at the speakers' podium.

I don't care about front seats, but drumming up some energy ... well, that's the ticket.

Judging by how many of my friends and acquaintances are attending this march (12 in rough count), it is going to be a vast throng of humanity.

And what is the purpose of large political rallies? Solidarity and sisterhood. Sending a message. Considering how thin-skinned some elected presidents are, it's got to be a thorn in the side.

I hope, wherever you are, you'll set aside a few minutes on Saturday to petition the Goddess Columbia for a safe end to the madness. Take a minute and bang a pot in front of your house. Or put up a sign.

EXHIBIT B: THE PRAYER WARRIORS HATE THIS GODDESS

EXHIBIT C: ANNE'S TO-DO LIST

1. Make a sign or bring a drum.
2. March
3. Campaign
4. Vote

We resist. We persist. We rise.

President Anne's Address on the Occasion of Martin Luther King Jr. Day

My fellow Americans,

Nine years ago, when Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th president of the United States, many folks (myself included) believed that we had moved beyond the corrosive racism and prejudice that marked much of our nation's history. But most of the people who thought Obama's inauguration signaled an end to prejudice were, themselves, white.

Black people knew differently. They knew that the pulse of racism still beat strongly in America. They weren't optimistic about change. They saw the blow-back coming. It's no coincidence that Black Lives Matter was formed during the Obama administration. Even as President Obama sought to widen the safety net with affordable health care and protections for the poor, ordinary Black Americans faced an America that was "business as usual" -- police brutality, wage inequality, and fewer opportunities than white Americans enjoyed. Indeed, I have had Black friends tell me they weren't one bit surprised by the election of Donald Trump, they fully expected a racist to follow Obama into office.

Sure enough, that's what we got. A racist chief executive, with racist advisers, encouraging the most virulent racist behavior and indulging in it themselves. Now that we have seen this behavior elevated to the national stage in an unprecedented way, it is time for me to ask you: What can you do about this?

The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. didn't waste his wrath on the loudest racists. He reserved his scorn instead for the good people who did nothing. In his Letter from Birmingham Jail, Dr. King wrote: "Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will." How many of us blush a bit as we realize we are the "shallow people of good will?" I know I do.

And so, my fellow Americans, I would ask you: What can we "people of good will" do to deepen our commitment to absolute racial justice in our nation? We need to start in our own homes and communities, forging ties with minority citizens so that we can better understand their plight. We need to find government leaders who will actively seek to end racist practices in America, and vote for those leaders. We need to look our brothers and sisters of other races in the eye and witness their experience as citizens from their point of view.

We need to pay more than just lip service to the quest for racial equality in America. Because if we don't do anything, and the racists do something, then Black lives won't appear to matter at all.

Let us re-dedicate ourselves to the kind of America that would vote -- twice -- for an African American president. Let us be mindful of the needs of our fellow citizens and willing to assist them in their quest for equality and justice. And let us denounce, in no uncertain terms, any actions, any gatherings, any speakers, who advocate for a racist agenda. This hate is off the plate. Now and forevermore.

On this important day, I commend all Americans who took part in community service in their neighborhoods, in their cities, and in their school. Bright blessings upon you. You are the change that we need in this great nation. Keep up the good work! 

Finally, I wish to use this occasion to re-instate, immediately, all protections and benefits afforded to those in the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. Dreamers, your months of fear and anxiety are over. Your path to full citizenship is clear. We embrace you with open arms and encourage your wildest dreams -- because it was the dreams and plans of all the immigrants before you to become successful in America, and look at all they have done!

I make this announcement today in the spirit of justice, which was what Dr. King dedicated his life to pursuing. We will have justice for all in America. We will again be the land of opportunity. We will be a force for good in the world, and at home.

Thank you, and Gods bless America.

In Which I Find a Job for Steve Bannon

It's been a few weeks now since I, Anne Johnson, was asked to take over the presidency of the United States of America. Wow, what a job! It's nonstop. I've been pretty much overwhelmed trying to track down trusted advisers from previous administrations in order to fill all the posts that have either been open, or worse, filled with evil warlords from the pit of Hell.

The warlords are gone. The lot of them, with Bet$y DeVo$ leading the way! So long, chumps! Go back to your billions and leave us alone!

You know what, though? I'm a soft touch.

Poor Steve Bannon. Up on top in April, shot down in May. One's heart bleeds.

EXHIBIT A: NEWLY UNEMPLOYED

I don't know about you, but I've been unemployed a few times in my life. It's so tough. A real sock to the self-esteem and the wallet ... even if it's a layoff due to revised head count. But this is no layoff. This is a straight-out "go the hell away." Steve already looked like he'd seen the bottom of too many bottles of Fireball. What's he to do now, as a middle-aged journalist? Heck, even young journalists can't find a job.

But it's Steve's lucky day! Because I, Anne Johnson, had a good, steady job that I don't need anymore. As president, I will call my former employer and highly recommend Mr. Bannon as a public school teacher for minority students in Camden, New Jersey. Some of you will remember that I got hired on a provisional certificate and then had to earn a teaching license. It'll be a snap for him to do the same!

It's a good job, teaching at the Vo-Tech. The base salary for Step 1 is a solid $47,000 with health benefits (you have to contribute) and a pension plan (you have to contribute and work 10 years to be vested). If you don't need to make more money, you can take the whole summer off. And if you do need money, Mr. Bannon, you can take my summer job and paint the hallways in the school!

I know what you're thinking, reader. You're thinking, "Anne. You would recommend this shameless racist for a teaching job in a school that is 99 percent minority, including a heaping helping of Dreamers?" Yes sirree. That's exactly what I'm doing. No one needs to witness the humanity of minority teenagers more than Steve Bannon. It's so easy to dismiss entire segments of the population with a flick of the lily-white wrist, if you really don't know anyone in that demographic. Quite another thing to hold such contemptible views when kid after kid strolls into your classroom, smiling shyly and saying "good morning."

Steve, I defy you to call for the deportation of Dreamers after one of them grins and holds a door open for you as you ascend three flights of stairs with a home room folder and a travel mug of tea! Sweet kids, Steve. You will love them. Most of them work really hard and listen closely. The hardest workers? The Dreamers. Hands down.

So fret not, Mr. Bannon! You can teach school! I fear your colleagues won't welcome you with open arms, but the kids will be great, so long as you're humble and willing to accord them the respect that all of your fellow humans should receive.

Good luck in your new career, Steve! The first two years are rough, what with night school and weekend lectures at Rowan University (and extra observations and frequent pop-ins by teacher-coaches). But I got through it at just about your age (acknowledging here that your age is hard to determine by looking at you). You'll be just fine.

See? This is how a nation should be governed. With humanity and tenderness and a little bit of counter-intuitive thinking.

President Johnson (Me) on the Thorny Problem of North Korea

My fellow Americans,

Things have gotten so bad in the US of A that I have been asked to take over the helm. I'll be the first to tell you that I'm no expert on anything, domestic or foreign. A good president solicits advice and takes it humbly.

As president I will take suggestions from all kinds of knowledgeable people. In the meantime I'm going to be dignified and thoughtful in all my public pronouncements. I represent the nation, after all, and we don't want the world to see America as a bunch of foul-mouthed, shallow, self-obsessed morons, do we? (even if it's partly true)

One of the pressing questions facing our country right now is, what do we do about North Korea? The government is led by a shallow, self-obsessed moron, and they're dumping stacks and stacks and stacks into nuclear weapons. Worse, they're threatening to drop those weapons on America.

Although I intend to have high-level meetings with some of the finest minds in the country concerning this issue, my gut feeling as an ordinary semi-educated mortal is that the horror of nuclear weapons makes every thoughtful person unwilling to use them.

I will say this right now, pending further input from the experts: As president, I will not use nuclear weapons on North Korea.

The loss of life and devastation of landscape associated with nuclear weapons is unacceptable to me. Not only would we kill thousands of innocent citizens in North Korea, we would send plumes of radiation into neighboring nations. These nations are our trading partners and allies. They don't deserve plumes of radiation.

So my message to the dictator in North Korea is pretty simple. Kim, you will be responsible if you detonate a nuclear weapon over America or some other country. The world will see you as an aggressor and will probably help the US of A to retaliate. Because that's what we will do -- retaliate. We're not going to fire the first shot. So think long and hard about that button on your desk. If you push it, we will come. But we won't come until you push first, because as for me, I don't want that on my conscience.

As to the continued development of your program, even the possibility that you have germ warfare? As president I will push for harsh sanctions against your regime. I know that this is causing terrible hardship in your country -- hardship that is being felt by the innocent citizens there. It is my hope that the range of suffering among the citizenry will eventually lead to your ouster. But that suffering is on your plate, Kim, not mine. Feed your people, not your power.

My fellow Americans, please note that this presidential proclamation is subject to change pending long and thoughtful discussions with experts on international relations. No foolish and impulsive popping off on Twitter! We're going to do this sensibly.

A Tale of Two Marches

There's some spark inside me that makes me want to march. Parades, protests, it's all the same to me. You close the roads, I'll walk 'em.

Most of my marching has been in Philadelphia. It's a pretty good place to march, mostly, as it's a grid and not hilly at all. The only thing adversely affecting a march in Philadelphia is the temperature.

In the summer of 2016 I participated in a march that was held at the time of the Democratic National Convention. The temperatures that day topped out in the mid-90s.

EXHIBIT A: 2016 SUMMER PROTEST MARCH, PHILADELPHIA

The "Michelle" thing is a long story. But this is me on a blistering hot day, with City Hall in the background.

What I chiefly remember about that day was that everyone was trying to find a speck of shade to stand in. People were clustered in the shadows of buildings. When we set out to march from City Hall to the stadiums, I aborted mission at Pine Street, dizzy from the heat.

Fast forward to January 1, 2017. Now, rather than hovering in the mid-90s, the temperature in Philadelphia was flirting with 15. The wind chill made it feel even colder.

EXHIBIT B: 2018 MUMMERS PARADE, PHILADELPHIA

Not only am I wearing exponentially more attire, you'll note that I'm standing in the sun. This was the funniest part, to me. In the summertime in Philly, everyone was looking for shade to stand in. On New Year's Day, we were all in search of the sunniest spot to keep our bones warm.

For those of you just joining the action here, I am a Philadelphia Mummer, a proud member of the Two Street Stompers Comic Brigade. Here's a better photo of this year's suit:

EXHIBIT C: ANNE IS FROM THE 1950s

Bad lighting. You can hardly see the poodle.

The Mummers Parade is a competition, and this year my club won! Our theme was "Back to the Philadelphia Future." We had a time machine, and the brigade was split into three groups (1950s, 1960s, and 1970s).

If you go to this link, you need to scroll down to the Two Street Stompers, and you can see a somewhat truncated version of our routine. It was a terrific routine, if I might brag a little bit. Shout out to the leader of my unit, Murph, who thought it might be nice to go shirtless in the subzero elements.

It was cold, but the sun was out, and the New Year got rung in with maximum craziness, and the Two Street Stompers emerged with another big victory. And today, the front page of the newspaper ...

EXHIBIT D: ANNE'S IN THE REAR IN A RED SKI HAT WITH POM POM

If you judge a girl by the company she keeps, I would say I hang out with an interesting crowd. Please note that, as in the first shot in this post, City Hall provides the backdrop.

Happy New Year!

President Johnson, Third of Her Name

Welcome to the White House! I'm President Johnson, newly appointed. If you're just joining us, I have been given the responsibility of running the free world. There I was, just standing in the school cafeteria, and some very earnest men in dark suits asked me to change professions. Considering that I am never deemed a "distinguished" teacher in any of my evaluations (the best I can eke out is "proficient"), I thought I'd give being president a shot. Maybe I'll be a distinguished president!

I took over a few weeks ago. Do you know how many fabulous perks go with this job? I mean, to someone who already lives in the lap of luxury, the office of president might not be so cushy. To me it's like ... wow! Take Camp David, for instance. There it sits, nestled in the mountains west of Washington, DC, easy to get to, easy to guard, and light on the taxpayer pocketbook. Nice place! So that's were I spent the holidays with my close family. Wow, you should see the tasteful upholstery on the furniture and feel the whisper-soft towels lying in handy piles around the indoor pool. I could get used to living like this!

But now it's back to work. My first order of business has been to veto -- most emphatically -- the new tax bill sent to me by both houses of Congress. They're kidding, right?  Pretty much all this thing does is pay back the donor class and corporations for all the money they've spent on elections for their flunkies. Back to work Congress! First you have to convince me that we need to cut taxes, because what I think we need is to launch a major upgrade of infrastructure ... and that will cost a lot of money.

 Remember when you send me legislation to sign that I'm an appointed president, not an elected one. I'm not beholden to any special interest groups. So there!

Another pressing issue has come to my desk. My predecessor crafted a national defense report that excised climate change as a threat to our nation. Preposterous! You want to see a world in upheaval, just let the globe get hotter and hotter. So I'm restoring climate change as a major source of international tensions, possibly posing real danger for America and her safety.

One final little bit of work today and then I'll kiss some babies and give plaques to Girl Scouts. These judicial nominees being proposed? OUT WITH THE LOT OF THEM! I want a diverse judiciary with lots of experience and no damn political agenda! Either way! They are judges, not partisans. Send me people who have not been endorsed by any think tank anywhere.

For the record, I have a Twitter account, but I do not use it. I don't intend to start.

Also for the record, I don't play golf. I've got nothing particular against it, I would just rather hike.

Solstice 2017

Oh, these dreary days, these long, long nights! We try to push back the darkness by covering our homes with lights and bringing trees inside. And apparently it works, because by this time next week, the daylight will be returning, slowly at first and then in great gobs.

I'm sure all of us would love to go to a henge and see this sight. It's not always possible, though. Well, as luck would have it, there is a way to orient yourself so that you absolutely face the rising sun over Solstice Stonehenge.

Some extremely intelligent individual (not unlike the readers of this blog) has come up with a worldwide map of every single street that aligns with the Stonehenge solstices! Imagine that! You can find the site here.

I used the site to locate my city in North America, and what did my wondering eyes behold? A series of aligned streets are clustered around my school! It's quite a coincidence, too. It's not like Camden's city founders said, "Hey, let's lay our streets out so that, if you face east on winter solstice, you'll line up with Stonehenge! There aren't very many streets in my metro area that fit the bill. What an absolute joy that the little residential streets around the Vo-Tech are among the chosen few!

Snobville has one aligned street, too. If a girl were to get up at 3:00 a.m. to go face east and commune with Stonehenge energy, that Snobville street is closest.

But day to day, while I'm working, what a joy to know that a street I can see from my classroom window aligns with Stonehenge! This boosts my spirits.

A blessed Solstice to you, whatever your path. I hope your street is on the Stonehenge alignment grid.

We Interrupt This Presidency

It is with deep sorrow that I mark the passing of Beta Cat from the apparent world. She was old, and something went wrong inside, and you know how cats are ... she sat hunched up, eyes scrunched, ear tips cold. I took her to the vet, and they said there was something wrong inside, very wrong indeed. So Olivia came from Philadelphia, and we were both there to say goodbye.

Beta was a real yodeler, so the house is very quiet now. It's hard to even want to be at home. The holidays, never a happy time in my reckoning, will be even harder now.

Presidential duties will resume in a few days.

President Anne Johnsoon Articulates Her Political Philosophy

My fellow Americans,

You must recall that I did not ask to be spirited away to the White House to become president in the wake of the wreckage known as Donald Trump. I was just minding my own business, standing in the Vo Tech cafeteria, watching students eat breakfast and get ready for their day.

But here I am, and the New York Times wants to know my political philosophy. So, okay, I took one philosophy course in college (pass/fail) and zero political science courses. What do I know? Well, I know more than the guy I'm replacing ... but that's a low bar indeed.

This is how I feel about democracy:

Democracy is ideally a rule by the citizens of the republic, through elected officials who compete for votes on ideological -- not personal -- grounds. In order for a democracy to work, you need two solid ingredients:

*an educated electorate, and
*a system that is free from financial taint

I would say our electorate is fairly well educated (could be better). But our system is mired in financial taint. A small number of extremely wealthy individuals exercise an out-sized influence on our elections. (I won't even get into the Russians. I'll have some choice things to say about them in due time.)

As president I want to restore America to a true democracy. In order to do it, I will need to:

*put an end to Citizens United and other inappropriate financial influence in elections, and
*discourage partisan bickering for television ratings.

There's nothing more disheartening, my fellow Americans, than knowing that wildfires are burning out of control in California, but the nightly news on CNN, Fox, and MSNBC is all yak yak yak either in favor of, or against, the president. I personally do not know anyone who thinks it's a good idea for corporations and individuals to be able to buy political candidates and market them like breakfast cereal, then prop them up so that commercial sponsors can make money from worried people watching opinionated newscasts. Our elected officials should serve the good of the nation, not the whims of the super-rich and the media conglomerates!

Now, as to the government itself, my philosophy is that you can't rack up mountains of debt for future generations. (This would, at one time, have made me a conservative.) But the way to balance the national budget is not to cut taxes for anyone. People have to pay taxes! It's a fact of life. It's expensive to run a government properly, so that every citizen gets treated with respect and compassion. (This makes me a liberal.)

My administration will absolutely and gleefully veto the "tax reform" bill that is whizzing through the house like the Road Runner on a desert highway. For now we will keep taxation as it is.

Any true reform requires negotiation and cooperation. True public servants think first of ordinary people and how they will fare, not their "donors." I'm going to curb this whole donor mess, first thing. One person, one vote. Don't like it? Book a flight and scram.

This is the word of President Johnson, third of her name!

Oh, and by the way ... from today forward, everyone will wear their underwear on the outside of their clothing! I saw that once in a movie and thought it was an awesome idea.

The President Sneaks Out

It's been just about a week since a cluster of men in impeccable suits arrived at my urban public school and ushered me to the White House, where I was asked to serve as the president of the United States.

All sort of sudden, you know? I was still wearing my Vo Tech teacher ID when they escorted me into the Oval Office!

First thing I said was, "Take that painting of Andrew Jackson down! Put it in the attic." And it was done, just like that! Hey, I'm a school teacher. I'm used to spending five minutes just getting everyone to open their books to page 52.

Then some butler type sidled up and said, "Madame President, what would you like us to hang in the place of that painting?"

And I said, "Well, I have a picture at home with a California condor. Send for it, please. It will be the perfect backdrop for when I reinstate Bears Ears and Grand Staircase Escalante as National Monuments in full. Oh, and while you're at it, grab my bedside Salmon of Wisdom that Olivia gave me. It will symbolize how the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge will only be drilled over my dead and rotting corpse."

It's really daunting, suddenly being expected to lead the free world. My predecessor was unprepared for the task. As for me, well, if you've ever been able to command the undivided attention of 25 teenagers, you are eminently suited to running a cabinet meeting. That's a handful of adults! Think they're going to be texting in their laps?

Speaking of cabinet appointees, I was all ready to get to work on that when I remembered that this weekend was the annual Phoenixville Firebird Festival! I go every year with my daughter, Gumby. Well, we weren't going to miss this event, no sirree.

Kind of nice that I haven't done many public appearances yet, because the Secret Service gave Gumby and me leave to do our own thing. And it was snowing! Without expending one taxpayer dollar, Gumby and I drove out to Phoenixville, had supper at Speck's Chicken, and then went in the snow to watch the citizens burn down a giant bird they had built out of plywood! It was so magical in the snowstorm! I didn't get any good photographs, because my new government-issued phone had a faulty battery.

It's customary for presidents to keep their families close by as they govern. Heck, I could give Gumby her own office, or even make her attorney general. But not my Gumby. My gentle Gumby is going to live her life completely free from the limelight, a free bird like the Phoenix!

Gumby and I tend to do the same things over and over again, without expecting or wanting different results. We go to the Firebird Festival every year. The only novelty this year was that we spent the night in Phoenixville, so I wouldn't have to drive all the way back to Washington, DC after the bird burned. On Sunday morning, I dropped Gumby off in West Philly. We always have a swell time together.

I did ask her if she wanted to work in national government. She said no thanks, she didn't want to uproot her rescue cat. He gets nervous with any change and starts pulling at his fur.

President Johnson's First Press Conference

It has only been a few brief days since I was plucked from the obscurity of a teaching job at a public school and installed here in the White House as President Johnson the Third! Yes, Andrew, Lyndon, and now me! It's a fine American name. For the record, I'm not related to Andrew or Lyndon.

I will be appointing a presidential press secretary soon, and in fact I have a prominent person in mind for the job, if he will take it. In the meantime, I'm here to answer some questions myself! Yes ... you with the cross-eyes and sneer ... go ahead!

Sean Hannity: Johnson, is it true that you are a Satan-worshiper who kills kittens in pentagrams while plotting a socialist overthrow with Bernie Sanders?

President Johnson: You rude little man! If I did indeed worship Satan (which I most emphatically don't), it would be none of your business, or the nation's business, or anyone's business but my own! Yes, my first act as President of the United States is to declare a Church-State Separation of proportions not seen since Thomas Jefferson took scissors to the Bible! By executive order I am removing "under God" from the pledge of allegiance and restoring "e pluribus unum" as our nation's motto. Effective immediately!

Sean Hannity: What an outrage! You are a Godless communist!

Anne: Wrong again! I'm as far from Godless as you can get. Matter of fact, I glory, laud, and honor hundreds of deities from multiple pantheons and every part of the planet! See that spider crawling up your pants leg? That's Anansi. You'd better be respectful, or ...

(Sean Hannity faints. Anansi chortles with glee.)

President Johnson: This is more fun than I thought it would be, and a lot easier than teaching school! Next question?

Bob Woodward: I'm Bob Woodward from the Washington Post.

President Johnson: I know you. You rock! You were my mother's favorite journalist, and I've always felt warmth for you. What's your question?

Bob Woodward: What are you going to do about the Paris Climate Accord?

President Johnson: I'm so glad you asked! Effective immediately, I mean like yesterday, the United States is rejoining the Paris Climate Accord. Not only that, we will be taking a leading role -- as well we should -- in reducing carbon emissions by investing in clean energy sources like solar and wind. Oil and coal have served their purpose, I'm sorry to say, and the few of you billionaires who have reaped stacks and stacks and stacks from exploiting those resources will just have to live on your investments. As for workers in the coal and oil fields, this nation will re-train you somehow, so you can pursue healthy careers! Are any of you interested in construction? Because our nation's infrastructure is a global joke.

New York Times: President Johnson, could you please articulate your governance philosophy?

President Johnson: To be brutally honest, I'll have to get back to you on that. This whole president thing is new to me. But I promise to think deeply about it. Better yet, I intend to have in-depth conversations with thoughtful and decent people of both parties, as well as selected state governors and the former presidents who deserve a respectful ear. (Of course this does not include the slobbering dotard I'm replacing.) If I'm going to be president, I'm going to listen to sensible ideas and not be swayed by the crazy fringe groups or paid lobbyists. Let me just add that the salary y'all are giving me to run the free world is WAY higher than anything I've ever earned, and it will be quite enough to satisfy me, especially since it comes with health care and housing!

Reporter: But what about your years and years of blogging the most outrageous left-wing rhetoric and the most ideologically impure religious doctrines? You don't fit in any religion anywhere! You're all over the place!

President Johnson: I know. Isn't it wonderful? Gods bless America!

America's First Female President but Third Named Johnson

My fellow Americans,

My name is Anne Johnson, and I am humbled to have been asked to be President of the United States. I am here to begin a path of healing and prosperity for our wonderful, magnificent nation. I can't say why I was plucked from the obscurity of an urban vocational/technical school in Camden, New Jersey to be the chief executive, but hey ... I have a college education! And I was born here! (Anne shows her birth certificate and passport.)

I know you must have a million questions for me, but first I want you to get to know me as a person. I'll be moving in to the White House with the First Gentleman, Mr. J. He is an award-winning author with a deep respect for the Fourth Estate, seeing as how he made his living as a reporter for 30 years. I expect he will be clothed by Brooks Brothers, which now he will be able to afford to purchase new instead of at the thrift store. Mr. J will be in charge of hosting championship sports teams, the Easter Egg Roll, and  ... cough cough ... the National Endowment for the Arts and Humanities, which will have its budget increased ... emmmmm ... Oh, yes! Mr. J is an upright citizen, also born in the USA (shows birth certificate and passport).

My older daughter, Gumby, will continue to pursue her own artistic endeavors from her home base of Philadelphia. She requested anonymity, thank you very much, and she's not too keen about the Secret Service (nor are they keen about West Philly).

My younger daughter, Olivia, has replaced Matt Lauer on the Today Show, from which she will likely move to Saturday Night Live at some point. Please be advised that Olivia's views and mine don't always dovetail -- you know, she's young and hip, while I'm square as fuck.

Oh, shit. I forgot. Presidents don't curse in public! Sorry.

I'm sure the press (especially Fox News) will scan my background thoroughly for damaging details information regarding my oh-so-ordinary life. Up front I will tell you that I've never grabbed anyone by any appendage beyond offering a hearty handshake. The thing I'm most ashamed of in my past? I bought a parrot and kept it in a cage. Deeply regretful about that.

I smoked pot -- and inhaled -- in college. Haven't done it since. I haven't had a drop of alcohol (with the exception of New Years Day, when I'm in the Mummers Parade) in more than five years. There are no outstanding violations of the law whatsoever in my resume! Go ahead. Check it out.

So ... I will also be bringing to the White House my two darling kitties, Beta and Gamma. (There was once an Alpha, she is with Ceiling Cat now.) Beta is a senior torby, and Gamma is a fluffy orange male. Even though Gamma is three times Beta's size, it's Beta who is in charge! Between them I'm sure they will take care of all those pesky vermin problems that have only gotten worse in recent months.

One last thing before I move on to your questions. Here are my tax returns from 1980 until the present. Yes, every single year. You see, Mr. J is rather a stickler about keeping old papers piled up all over the place, and our tax returns are among them. Take a look! I have nothing to hide!

My favorite television show is American Pickers, my favorite color is taupe, and I'm a Pisces.

Any questions about my personal life?

Fantasy

Every morning from 7:04 to 7:34 I stand in my school's cafeteria and supervise the free breakfast students receive. (I think the food service provides the breakfast, not the government.)

The cafeteria isn't a hot spot for trouble first thing in the morning. The students come in, get their food, eat it, and usually they leave. I find myself daydreaming sometimes as I look out over all those youngsters who probably would have skipped breakfast altogether if they didn't get it this way.

I imagine that some men in dark suits come up to me and say, "Ms. Johnson, you are urgently needed to take over the presidency of the United States of America." And off I go with them to the White House.

Do you ever think about this? What you would do if they just asked you to step in?

What would I, Anne Johnson, do?

First I would introduce the people of the USA to my two lovely cats, Beta and Gamma. Nothing humanizes a leader like a pet.

EXHIBIT A: THE PRESIDENT'S KITTY CAT, GAMMA

Oh, I get all kinds of good ideas about what I would do and say if I suddenly became the third President Johnson! I won't bog you down with it all. Suffice it to say that my administration would be compassionate and fair-minded and environmentally friendly, and the upholstery in the White House would all be tasteful and easy to maintain!

Beyond introducing my cats to the American people, I'm only certain of one other thing about my presidency: I would not Tweet. As a sober stateswoman and servant of the people, I would deep-six that nonsense right off the bat.

Pity Poor Beta

Trigger alert: This post describes a sick kitty cat, including symptoms.



THE TRAGIC ORDEAL OF BETA CAT


Ordinarily you might be a tad annoyed if your cat relieved herself on one of your hoodies (albeit left on the floor all day). But if that hoodie had some wine-colored spots on it, you might look at it as a great way to find out your itty bitty kitty is ill.

Beta came to my back yard as a feral kitten, 16 years ago. She grew up feral and produced a fine litter of kittens before Olivia tamed her. We took the kittens to the shelter (they were adorable and adoptable), but we kept Beta. She's a plain Jane, getting grizzled with age.

EXHIBIT A: INSEPARABLE SINCE 2001

Long story short, I got home from work Thursday evening, and Beta was clearly sick. The vet gave me a 6:30 appointment.

(I'm sure you've noticed that even if a cat is on the Grim Reaper's doorstep, they can still fight going into that cat carrier.)

Off we went to the vet, and the first question they asked was, "Is she under stress?" Apparently stress causes the scary illness she had developed.

I said, "I can't think of anything that's out of the ordinary in our house or our routine." And there isn't. Beta gets her cans and her cot, she pushes Gamma around even though he's literally three times her size, and she is adored by her people.

Beta's treatment at the vet took quite awhile. We were there two hours -- so you can imagine the $$$$$.

At the end, as I was whipping out the Care Credit card, the vet gave me a flyer about Beta's illness.

When I got home, I read the flyer.

One cause of stress listed is construction outside.

Two years ago, my neighbors across the street sold their house to a developer who  plans to build two houses on the lot. Maybe I've mentioned this before. Well, nothing at all happened for the first 18 months, but just last month a gigantic machine arrived and demolished the 90-year-old house in three hours' time. Since then the builders have poured a foundation, and the property is a mad mess.

One day about three weeks ago, I saw Beta cross the road to the construction site. (She would never cotton being an indoor cat ... I didn't even try.)

It never occurred to me until I read that flyer: The property across the street is part of Beta's territory. There hasn't been another cat or dog on that lot for about six years. The place was probably even more inviting when the house stood empty and was the same as always. And now it's gone, replaced by huge mounds of dirt, piles of gravel, and noisy men with noisier machines.

Damn! It's causing me stress! Why wouldn't it stress poor Beta?

I feel like I ought to send the vet bill to the developer, but Mr. J disagrees. He thinks I should send it to the neighbor who sold the property in a hurry, knowing that a lovely old house and a two-car garage with a full apartment above it would be razed. Who does such a thing? Those people raised five kids in that house!

Anyway, someone should pay for poor little Beta. Who owes me money?


I'm still waiting to hear back from the vet about Beta's blood work, but I'm considering that a good sign.  She seems better today ... a little bit on the nod from the opiates, but she ate her vittles and purred while I told her not to worry, our house will not be demolished.

I'll keep you posted on her progress.

Just a Minute Navel Gaze

Don't read this. It's just a recording of one day of my life. Pretty much a typical day for a school teacher.

*5:45-6:45 showered, dressed, fed cats, fed blue jays, made tea and bagel, put on a little bit of makeup, brushed teeth.
*6:45-6:55 drove to work
*6:55-7:04 signed in main office, signed in assistant principals' office, took home room folder to classroom, posted learning targets, went to cafeteria
*7:04-7:34 cafeteria duty, watching students, greeting students, monitoring behavior
*734-7:50 home room, pledged flag (partial), re-iterated directions for tomorrow's dress down day, took attendance, called library to see if it was open to students, filled out missing ID and lanyard forms, got students started reading, checked email and responded as needed
*7:50-8:30 while students read and/or finished up their memoirs, reviewed all finished memoirs in Google Classroom, made notes in margin, created general notes for the viewing screen, monitored student reading, sent students to library/guidance/nurse/bathroom
*8:30-8:40 reviewed guidelines for student memoir, reminded students to capitalize "I" and all proper names (these are 9th graders)
*8:40-9:00 answered questions, reviewed memoirs, exhorted students to finish, and when finished to submit their pieces
*9:00-9:15 student volunteers shared memoirs with the class. Every one had missed capitalizing at least two "I" pronouns
*9:15-9:45 parent conference in guidance office
*9:45-10:00 distributed union updates to my assigned wing of the building (15 teachers)
*10:00-10:30 got students started reading, checked emails, reviewed all memoirs and made notes as needed, encouraged students who weren't finished to catch up
*10:30-10:40 exhorted students to take one last long look at their peer-reviewed work and make sure all capitalization had been done correctly and the assignment covered all the requirements
*10:40-10:50 students did final proofread and submitted work
*10:50-11:10 volunteer students shared memoirs with class. Every one had missed capitalizing at least two "I" pronouns
*11:10-11:15 showed gratitude video.
*11:15-11:20 modeled gratitude chart and letter of thanks
*11:20-11:30 circulated the classroom to make sure all students were on task
*11:30-12:00 lunch
*12:00-1:00 read writer's notebooks (with 70 total, now had 20 left to read, finished 5)
*1:00-1:30 tried to get students to settle down and read, had to raise my voice, had to distribute multiple bathroom/nurse/library passes, one student continued working on his memoir
*1:30-1:45 thoroughly reviewed assignment parameters and reminded students they had all seen examples of "A" work ... students submitted their "D" work proudly, convinced they were geniuses
*1:45-2:10 volunteer students (lots of them) read their "D" work proudly ... strangely all "I" pronouns were capitalized, I suspect the inclusion teacher must have been on them about it
*2:10-2:15 tried fruitlessly to get everyone's attention
*2:15-2:20 showed gratitude video
*2:20-2:30 tried fruitlessly to get students to make gratitude chart, at bell students leaped from the room like racehorses
*2:30-4:35 packed up chrome books and read writers notebooks, commented on each, submitted marking period grades and progress notes, reviewed possible articles for use next week, searched online for related content
*4:35-4:40 talked to secretary who had also come in at 6:55 a.m. about the meaning of life
*4:45-5:00 drove home

It's now 5:45 and I have to make dinner. Then I will need to do further research for articles matching the content of the one I want to use on Monday.

The Gods are exhausted.

Damned Woman in the Grocery Store!

So there I was, at 5:00 on a Friday evening, standing in line at the Snobville grocery store. It's less than a week until Thanksgiving, and the strain of actually having to cook is already showing on the faces of the kept women of Snobville.

Did these females spend the week trying to keep fractious 14-year-olds from tripping, elbowing, smacking, or pushing each other? Do they have 50 writers' notebooks to read between now and next Wednesday? Are they dealing with angry parents who have stopped blaming themselves for their kids' behavior and are now blaming me? Are they sitting in conference rooms until 9:30 at night trying fruitlessly to negotiate a new contract for their co-workers? No, no, no, and no. You know how they spent their week? Looking for online coupons!

On my feet pretty continuously from 7:00 in the morning, I found myself in a checkout line behind a person who had a $1.50 pie crust that she felt she should get for free, since she had an online store coupon for $1.50 off a pie crust. The cashier was completely flummoxed by the transaction. Why, I don't know. The person had the wrong brand of pie crust, it was clear as the fading daylight. But she insisted that this was the one that was on sale with the coupon!

Feeling herself being stabbed by the white-hot daggers emanating from my bloodshot eyeballs, the disgruntled customer finally said, "Never mind. Just take it off my bill." But then she persisted when the store manager came to clear things up.

Ten minutes later, two store employees and a third checker sent in to mop up the drama determined that the patron had the wrong brand of pie crust, that's why her little phone coupon would not scan.

Did I tell you that my school administration imposed a dress code on teachers this fall? We are not allowed to wear sneakers or running shoes. In other words, my feet were going numb from painful footwear, and I had six items that I had unwisely stacked on the conveyor belt.

What is it with people and online coupons? God damn it! What is more precious than time, lady? Tell me, please! Will your family go without Thanksgiving dessert if you don't get that graham cracker crust for free? We are all mortal, and you just spent almost 15 minutes arguing about a $1.50 pie crust. You may remember this on your death bed and long to go back and snatch that 15 minutes from the bin of squandered time! The worst part is, you stole 15 minutes from me -- and not 15 minutes staring at phone coupons, but 15 minutes in my easy chair, with my cramped toes finally expanding in comfy slippers! That's 15 fewer minutes of being awake, petting my cats, bagging up this week's newspapers, oh! The list goes on and on! You owe me, pie crust lady!

People get on my last nerve. They really do. I'm sick and tired of dealing with anyone who wants to argue about anything. Especially about a pie crust. Pie crust. Not even something decent and wholesome like a bagel, or a bag of Peppermint Patties. No! One of those graham cracker pie crusts encased in foil and plastic, the kind really bad cooks use for slipshod cheesecakes! She just did some group of diners a huge favor by refusing to purchase the item. That's one corner-cutting dessert they won't have to choke down and pretend to like.

Tired of teaching, tired of Snobville, tired of being tired. Tired of the Keystone pipeline rupturing. Yeah. That too.

Interview with a Bored Goddess: Cloacina

All Hail, and welcome to The Gods Are Bored! We're now in our 12th year, and up to 202 followers! In a nation of 325 million people, we're standing tall at the rock bottom of the heap.

But la di dah, we believe in the Divine and all goodness! And just between us ... have you seen the headlines on the busy God's followers these days? How low can they go? Disgraceful. No better time than the present to bliss out with a loving Goddess who wants you to have a healthy lifestyle and plenty of clean, clear water! Please give a warm, wonderful, Gods Are Bored welcome to Cloacina, Goddess of Sanitation Management!

Anne: Look, Cloacina, I painted the powder room! I know it's your favorite room in the whole house. What do you think of it now?

Cloacina: It's beautiful! I do wish you would put a mosaic tile on the floor, though.

Anne: Can't live like a Caesar on the salary of a peasant, dear Goddess.

Cloacina: What was that object you pulled out of the water throne while the top was off?

Anne: (aside) Isn't it cute? She calls the toilet a "water throne!" (to Cloacina) Funny you should ask. It was a paperweight from the Ronald Reagan Library, sent to Mr. J more than a decade ago by a clueless friend in California. I put it in the water throne, feeling it deserved to be there.

Cloacina: Who was this "Ronald Reagan?"

Anne: A Caesar. I thought he was the worst. Little did I know.

Cloacina: If this was a bad Caesar, why take out the paperweight?

Anne: Well, it had gotten a bit calcified after all that time. Besides, I need to make room in the water throne for something that deserves to be in there even more.

Cloacina: What could that possibly be?

Anne:

I found it in a strip club parking lot last week!

Cloacina: Anne, you might want to think twice about this. An item like this might clog the water throne, and then the dear thing won't work.

Anne: No worries, Goddess. This hat is cheaply manufactured by over-extended, poverty-stricken workers. It will fade on the first flush and dissolve within a week. Which hopefully will become a metaphor for the Caesar who is selling it.

Cloacina: Oh well, you needn't worry! I have learned all about your water thrones and the piping in your house, and I will keep everything flowing brilliantly!

Anne: Thus saving me plumbing bills ... O Great and Mighty Goddess!!!

Cloacina: I hope you don't mind if I'm late for dinner. All that wind yesterday brought down a lot of leaves. There are storm drains to be seen to.

Anne: And you are just the Goddess for the task! Work Your magic, Cloacina! It is an honor beyond measure, having You in my household. Blessed be.