Cup of Coffee: January 16, 2025

Good morning!

I was in airplanes all day yesterday and got home very late last night so I'm not writing today. I do, however, have two guest posts, one from subscriber Robbie Roberts and the other from subscriber and frequent guest-poster Frank Schloegel.

Guest Post: Winesburg, D.C.

by Robbie Roberts

Are we on the cusp of an actual presidency this time or just another cheap knockoff that looks like a U.S. administration but tells the time like a Canal Street Rolex? I expect the latter.

It all seems so gross. Grotesque might be more exact. Comically or repulsively ugly or distorted.

Could there be a more comically or repulsively ugly or distorted president? Seriously, orange makeup? On a man. Every single day. And we take his shit seriously when he comes out to talk about COVID-19 or attend a state funeral?

In diapers. On Adderall. Eats only McDonalds or steak cooked to cardboard. Watches TV all day (unless he’s playing golf or tweeting or weaving for the press). Lusts after his own daughter. Corners (assaults) a writer in a department store dressing room that he later mistakes for one of his wives. Screws a porn star then pays to cover it up. Supposedly it’s all OK for us to look the other way because he is a businessman extraordinaire, a dealmaker who will lead us to the promised (Green)land (but who’s gone bankrupt over and over). But wait, he did play one on TV. Seriously, America? What the Actual Fuck? You would close the door and call the police if such a resume rang your bell.

Look at his cabinet choices, not ones of Dr. Caligari but of Winesburg, Ohio. (Sherwood Anderson. 1919. Worth your time). Every one a grotesque of the department they’ve been nominated for. A drunken reservist covered in Nazi tattoos, who’s been fired for mismanaging two small non-profits, is supposed to lead the biggest bureaucracy in the world?  One built on honor, on integrity? But like the diaper dandy at the top, he can play one on TV because he can read the news with a square jaw.

How about an anti-vaccine namesake of U.S. nobility who picks up roadkill and drops it off in Central Park, has had part of his brain eaten by a worm, an admitted heroin addict? He did talk Samoans into dying of measles when prevention was at their fingertips, so he has some (mis)conception of public health.

How about a Putin confidant and Bashar al-Assad house guest in charge of the nation’s intelligence?  Big, beautiful word intelligence.

Or an impatient dog murderer looking over the homeland?

But only Matt Gaetz is too over the top? How come? Sexual assault is top line on most of the resumes and he even has an advanced degree. Since rape’s not even a bridge too far, maybe it’s the Botox.

And Elon Musk? A drug-addled cuckoo who thinks he can take over the world, one government at a time, because he has all the money in the world. Actually, he may be right. Gonna need a new Bond.

We’ve no collective sense of opprobrium but we certainly have the worldwide market on irony cornered.

It’s all just gross and they’re all grotesques. I was too old for this in 2016, and most of a decade later it’s in reruns. Or maybe it’s a remake and four more seasons have been ordered.

Would it were only TV and I could shut it off.

Guest Post: Abe

by Frank Schloegel

In real life I am a gregarious person. I was thinking about those personality tests Craig was writing about the other day. How would other people see me? I’m Midwest nice. Perhaps a bit edgier because I am liberal among conservatives and am a bit judgy. A lot like a lot of you.

I am only thinking of it, because I am submitting another downer post. It never occurred to me to put into words for this group a story about my friend Abe. But as I have been turning it over for the last month, I realized I am doing the same thing I used to do with my sister. I’m keeping this pain a secret, just for me. It is a selfish act.

That got me thinking about this group. To post on Facebook or other social media is a sort of boast – an aggressive act of over sharing. But this group feels different. It is like an old chat room. I appreciate that.

But you are also a bunch of old dudes. (yes, I know there are exceptions and I am so happy for that.) But I’m also an old dude. And Fellas, we need to talk. Suicide is a thing we do. White males accounted for 68.46% of all suicide deaths in 2022. Generally, we shoot ourselves.

I found out the Friday before Christmas about Abe. I have two other friends here in Kansas City that know him. It was rough. We were both at family parties when we found out. We didn’t get the details right away. My friends here in KC that knew him don’t have kids, which only means that they had their own experience. I had Christmas. When you are a 40 something dad, you don’t get to ruin Christmas with your personal feelings. So I didn’t talk about it. I told my wife. I tried to hold it in.

Why? In hindsight it is so obviously a mistake. The exact kind of mistake Abe made. Instead of saying, “Hey, I feel like shit and need some love and kindness and therapy,” I took on the standard yeoman’s task of organizing all the dinners and brunches and stockings and late night Christmas eve business.

Right now I want to tell you about my friend Abe. But I also don’t. It feels like a violation. And though I want you to know his story, I’m not sure he wants you to know. It is another dumb wrinkle to the 49,000 people who commit suicide every year in America. It’s all so secretive. So I’m not going to tell you about him. Just that he was my friend from back in the city and that we both left Brooklyn disillusioned with the dreadful reality that we needed people with money to pay us that money.

So we got through Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. I talked to Abe’s brother and sent a lot of texts to old friends. I sat in my car and cried by myself. Then wiped away the tears and went on to the next family party. I have a great family with tons of cousins and we still do a white elephant game and we play a card game on Christmas night. We also drink a lot, which is fun, but has its drawbacks. It is a great way to mask emotional crises and get through a few days without thinking about anything.

So Christmas night, we are at the 31 card game. And it is going fine, but I just can’t play the game. And my family is cool. They want me to play but are not pushing it. I think about 30 people are playing. And it finally just hits me. I go outside to get some air by myself and I lose it. I’m just sobbing. I remember reading that article about sports and crying. About how you can’t really cry until you feel safe. So I was relieved in my own way, that I guess I felt safe. Christmas was over. We all made it. We had a couple hours left of tradition and merriment. And I could just cry about my friend Abe.

I wish I could share more. But that is what therapy is for. I have never done that, but I think I should. If you need help, please call the number or reach out to someone. And damn, if you think suicide might be an option, please get rid of your guns. Even the long ones.

Thanks, Robbie. Thanks, Frank. Take care of yourselves, you all. And take care of the people you know and love.

Have a great day, everyone.