BEWARE OF MEDIA AND THEIR POLLS: They are not perfect!

The election of 1948 had a lot in common with 2016. It was CLOSE. All kinds of results from polls. Day after election the Chicago Tribune (probably the second biggest newspaper in the United States) ran with a Dewey victory! The single most famous newspaper error…..ever.

Harry Truman was not popular. He had taken over the Presidency when popular President FDR died. Truman ended up making the most important decision in the history of the United States: to drop the Atomic Bomb on Japan.

Thomas E Dewey was the Governor of New York and was relatively unknown throughout the country. Dewey had “made his mark” as New York City District Attorney in successfully prosecuting “The Mob”.

I trust Presidential polls as far as I can throw them. They are only as good as the people who participate in them. I have never been asked to participate in a Presidential poll AND I AM NOT ALONE.

Finally a story about Dewey. In 1948, Presidential Candidates did not rate Secret Service protection. (Not until 1968 when candidate Robert Kennedy was assassinated).

I was on a train from Utica, New York to New York City in 1948 near the election. Our train stopped at Albany Union Station. We looked out the window and saw Governor Thomas E Dewey on the platform headed for OUR TRAIN. He was accompanied by just a single New York State Trooper (in uniform and armed with his service revolver).

Now I thought in 1948 that the New York State Troopers were great and could do anything. My grandfather (at that time Paymaster of the NY Central System) joked that Dewey should have ridden in a “Pay Car”. A Pay Car had a railroad detective and two armed paymasters). Of course, by 1948 all the pay cars had gone to scrap and the whole system was paid by check from Utica (the reason I was born in Utica).

Written by Ken Kinlock

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Hate Me Faster

Skinny and Single

Hate Me FasterBlah blah, go ahead and hate me. Super juicy.

The number of hateful comments I’ve received lately has just made me realize that my blog kicks ass. Serious, incredible ass, wait, that’s a mirror.

I have made an effort to anger, enlighten and enrich the lives of those who spend their time here. Good for me!!! I get paid oodles of money and get to read mean tweets for days on end. (I don’t make any money)

I should make a video “Skinny reads mean tweets.” Viral!!!!

One request, can you hate me faster? Don’t throw out a tweet, let me answer and then cry in your bed for a week. Come on now, hate me all at once, I have a life to get back to and you’re wasting my precious time. Why the long, drawn out shit?

I know why you hate me, you hate me because your…

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Down the Alley

L.T. Garvin

This alley stretches long

starting from the small, scrub houses

past the old man’s semi shack

his possessions spilling

willy nilly

into the grass forsaken yard.

Ramblers travel this alley

from the postwar huts

to up behind

the 1920 mansions

with pool courtyards

brimming with

moss roses and sweet potato ivy.

Make me a laurel

of purple sage blooms

and moon flowers.

On these blocks

down they go,

alley wise and seeking.

The drifters, the treasure hunters,

the ab-fit joggers

tracing its path

from decay to grace

the madams and marsupials

night creatures

delve into the alley place

as the mansion owners rest

in money sleep.

In the light of day,

traffic slows

from the cracked, overgrown

meager origin

to the pristinely paved ending

and that is where

I find the opossum

now decaying

unlucky nomad

who was busy

about in the laurel flowers

meeting his end

with restless canines

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Retirement

Perspectives on Life, the Universe and Everything

Holes in the sole reveal
an era has passed
move over
go lower
time has lapsed
so fast, so swift
No chance to go astray
no drift
paltry wealth
dwindling health
linear lines, no lift
Now, what of now
is a good question
admission to vegetation
Rodents infestation
to weakened bones
lessons learned
ready to impart
audience depart
that attitude, that flair
no one cares,
all was left has left
daylight robbery, theft
or just life’s bitter end
when no one lends
an ear, supportive hand
any time to a poor soul
punishment for own goal,
grave solitude

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