By Patrick F. Cannon

“It’s a wonderful modern world we live in,” said Captain Jack Aubrey in director Peter Weir’s movie Master and Commander, based on Patrick O’Brian’s novels about the British navy during the Napoleonic Wars. He was commenting on a new American ship design. I could make the same comment about television streaming services that permit you to find at a whim just about any movie you might like to see, including that one, which I highly recommend.

            Just the other day, I watched 12 Angry Men, a 1957 movie about a jury wrestling with the verdict in a murder case. Written by Reginald Rose and directed by Sidney Lumet, it has an extraordinary cast, headed by Henry Fonda, but including Lee J. Cobb, Martin Balsam, E.G Marshall, Jack Klugman, Jack Warden, and Ed Begley. I can think of few films with so many quality actors. If you haven’t seen it, you should.

            If you would like to focus on a single actor, who better than Spencer Tracy? Like the team of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, Tracy is often linked with Katherine Hepburn, and the movies they made together are certainly worth seeing. But I would also recommend three of his later roles: Bad Day at Black Rock, in which he uncovers a murder while searching for the father of a soldier who had served under him in World War II (Robert Ryan is great too as the villain); Inherit the Wind, a thinly fictionalized story about the famous Scopes Monkey Trial, in which he plays the role based on Clarence Darrow (Fredric March is also superb as a fictionalized William Jennings Bryan); and The Last Hurrah, where his Irish-American  mayor of Boston makes one final run for office.

            Although he appeared more on stage than in films, the British actor Paul Scofield is best known here for his Academy Award-winning role in the film version of  Robert Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons. He also won a Tony Award for the stage version that tells the story of Sir Thomas More’s refusal to support Henry VIII in his difficulties in getting the Pope to agree to his divorce. As a result, he lost his head, but was later made a Saint.

In another role with religious overtones, he played the chilly Judge Thomas Danforth in the movie version of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. A special favorite of mine is John Frankenheimer’s The Train. Scofield plays an obsessed Nazi Colonel, who packs up a museums worth of French paintings and puts them on a train bound for Germany just before the Allies liberate Paris in 1944. His nemesis is a French railway worker played by an indominable Burt Lancaster. Burt doesn’t know a Monet from a Miro, but he’s determined to stop this demented Nazi from stealing French culture.

Finally, in the female actor category, no one was bigger from the 1930s through the 1950s than Bette Davis. Before Meryl Streep came along, Davis had the most Academy Award nominations, ten (she won twice). One of her wins was for 1938s Jezebel, whose title says it all. I would also recommend The Little Foxes, based on Lilian Hellman’s play; but especially All About Eve, which was 1950s Best Picture Academy Award winner. In it, she plays veteran actor Margot Channing, who is challenged by the devious Eve Harrington, played by Anne Baxter, who, coincidentally, was Frank Lloyd Wright’s granddaughter.

So, if you’re tired of streaming series that never seem to end, why not search into the past for the work of some very great actors?

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Last Thursday, I was leading a tour of Frank Lloyd Wright’s Chicago-area sites called “Wright Around Chicago.” It begins in the lobby of the Rookery Building in Chicago’s Loop, which Wright remodeled in 1905. A bus then takes the group to Oak Park for a tour of his Unity Temple; after that, the group walks to the architect’s Home and Studio a few blocks away.

            During the walk, I describe several Wright-designed homes we pass on the way. Last Thursday, we passed a home with Roses growing along its fence. Several members of the  group actually stopped to smell those roses, so I did too. It was a sunny day. The rose bushes were in the shade of one of the most beautiful residential streets in the world. Why wouldn’t I stop and smell those roses? Things aren’t all that bad after all, I thought to myself.

            Usually, it’s all too easy to smell the rot instead of the roses. Just to take one example, have we ever had a sadder group of politicians? Maybe we have,  but in the past they hid their ignorance better, or at least didn’t insist on it. The Chinese want to dominate Asia; and the Russians want their empire back. The Earth is warming, and we don’t yet know for sure what that means. And the Cubs and Sox seem to be back to their old ways.

            But when I turned the radio on early Saturday morning, I was greeted with one of Mozart’s thrilling horn concertos. At my whim, I could play CDs that would yield the genius of Beethoven, Shubert, Bach, Brahms, Gershwin, Porter, Cohen and Berlin; and the voices of Bennett, Sinatra, Fitzgerald, Armstrong, Astaire, Pavarotti, Flemming, and even Blossom Dearie. You may prefer the Smashing Pumpkins, Kiss, Led Zeppelin, the Stones, Alexisonfire, The Sadies, Beyonce, or Taylor Swift. It’s all out there, and much more.            Any day I want, I can take myself by EL or car to the Art Institute, where I can be reminded of the creative genius of men and women who live both today and a thousand years ago or more. They saw something in people and places that they thought were worth preserving for all of us. And the Institute has a school that encourages talents that may be remembered a thousand years from now.

            In about a month, I will travel to the Laurel Highlands of Western Pennsylvania for the Donnelly Family Reunion, the first to be held since Covid. The attendees will be descendants of my Grandparents, Frank and Catherine Donnelly and their seven daughters and one son. I will be the second oldest; the patriarch is my cousin Jimmy Goldstrohm (no actual Donnelly’s are left). The 50^th Anniversary Reunion took place in 2016 at the Seven Springs Resort; the first was a picnic held at Renziehausen Park in McKeesport, PA. As I recall, the men of my generation – still in the bloom of youth – played softball to work up an appetite. What can be better than to see once again the cousins you grew up with, and their children and (now) children’s children?

            Finally, when I opened my blinds this morning, the Sun was out, and the four pots of flowers I bought to hang on my balcony railing were in full bloom. The pots were planted by Pesches Garden Center in Des Plaines, and to tell you the truth, I’m not sure what all the flowers actually are, but they give me pleasure, and maybe also to passersby who look up. Throughout Chicagoland and where you live, people have planted and are tending gardens that we can all enjoy. If there are Roses, why not  stop and smell them?

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

In one of the great about-faces in recent sports history, the Professional Golfers’ Association (PGA), specifically its subsidiary PGA Tour, has entered into an arrangement with the Saudi Arabia Sovereign Wealth Fund to merge its tour with LIV (the Roman numeral for 54, the number of  holes in its tournaments), the tour the Saudis organized to compete with the PGA.

            With unlimited funds, LIV had lured some PGA members away by paying them huge upfront bonuses. It was reported that an aging Phil Mickelson, known to be a heavy gambler, received no less than $200 million to turn his coat. Amusingly, Phil did call his benefactors “scary MFers,” presumably because Saudi Arabia’s de-facto ruler, Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman Al Saud, had almost certainly ordered the murder of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi, a Saudi who had dared to criticize him and his regime.

            Salman is laughingly called a reformer because women can now get a driver’s license in the desert kingdom. This gives them the right to drive to the many public executions that are such a feature of Saudi justice. Perhaps they can also watch as the odd hand is chopped off, maybe with the other three wives they share their husband (whom they must obey in most matters).

            The Sovereign Wealth Fund has been seeking this and other opportunities to invest in sports in what has come to be called “sportswashing.” Investments have been made in football (soccer to us), Formula 1 auto racing, boxing, the WWE, and – I kid you not – cricket. Perhaps the sport the Middle Eastern rulers have been involved with the longest is Thoroughbred racing, and the breeding of its participants.

            The leader here has been and continues to be Sheikh Mohammed bin Rashid Al Maktoum. He is the ruler of Dubai, part of the United Arab Emirates, for which he serves as prime minister. While a student at Cambridge in England, he began attending the races and became a fan. His family owns Dubai and its oil, so he was able to get into the racing and breeding business at the top. Since he was willing to bid for the best-bred horses against a then-dominant syndicate of English and Irish owners at American auctions in the 1980s, particularly the produce of dominant sire Northern Dancer and his sons, he was able eventually to begin breeding his own horses.

            Last year, his operation, called Godolphin after one of the three foundation Thoroughbred sires, led both the owners and breeders lists in the United States. In addition to this country, Godolphin has similar operations in Great Britain, Ireland, France, Australia and Japan. He also built a race track at home, which hosts the Dubai World Cup ($12 million purse) and associated races with purses totaling $30.5 million. Not to be outdone, the Saudis now host the Saudi Cup, which has a purse of $20 million!

            Held in February and March, these meets have effectively destroyed major winter racing in this country, since I’m not aware of any American owners who can resist the Middle Eastern dough, regardless of the dismal human rights records of their smiling hosts. The legendary Santa Anita Handicap now can only attract horses not quite good enough to ship to the desert kingdoms.

If you read equine industry publications, you would not be unduly reminded of the unpleasantness behind the wealth of your benefactors. You would be more likely to hear what a nice chap Sheikh Mohammed is, and how generously he treats his employees. The fact that he had to kidnap his own daughter after she tried to escape his clutches is never mentioned, nor is how Dubai treated the foreign workers who created a modern city to lure big-spending tourists.

Many of the PGA golfers who supported the PGA Tour in its struggle with LIV have felt betrayed. The Irishman Rory McElroy was a leader in defending the PGA Tour, and has said he was blindsided and appalled by the merger. But like the Thoroughbred breeders in Kentucky, he’ll have to get used to dealing with autocrats. After all, the money’s really good.

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon   

By Patrick F. Cannon

Later today, I’m going to pick up a new suit. It replaces my former blue suit that was slightly out of style and – to be frank – a bit tight. The new one was tailored just for me, and took about five weeks from first fitting to delivery. I bought it because I’m scheduled to attend at least two weddings this summer; and I think there may be others to follow.

            I also own a navy blazer, a brownish patterned sports jacket and three pairs of dress slacks. This is a sufficient wardrobe for an elderly chap such as me, but when I was going to the office every day (for nearly 40 years),  I would have had a minimum of six suits in my closet, as well as at least a dozen dress shirts and maybe 30 ties. And, of course, a navy blazer and at least one other sports jacket. I usually got by with three pairs of leather dress shoes.

            I bring this up because I recently had a conversation with a younger relative, who’s a senior executive in his 50s, who said he regrets that dress codes seem not only to be a thing of the past, but are considered stupid. Let me stipulate that there is no logical reason for requiring any particular mode of dress. Recent generations will argue that comfort alone should be one’s guide. How can one argue against comfort? (Don’t you love seeing TV personalities wearing a suit and tie and white tennies?)

            Over time, the trend in men’s clothes has been to less and less formality. The Regency fop (love that word!) would be appalled at how drab men’s clothes steadily became. But I can tell you  that even 50 years ago, it was common for a man of means to not only own several business suits, but formal wear as well. Wealthier chaps who got invited to chic soirees might own a tail coat, as well as both a black and a white dinner jacket. The first time I went to an evening concert at Orchestra Hall in Chicago, at least half the men were dressed formally.

            Opening night at the Lyric Opera was a major Chicago social event. Everyone was dressed to the nines (why not the “tens” I often wondered?). And I can recall that when the new Arlington Park opened in 1989, gentlemen were required to wear a jacket and tie to lunch in the Million Room. Later, only jackets were required; then finally only a collared shirt and no jeans. I was there one day and noticed two young men at a table wearing t-shirts. I asked the waiter about this, and he explained that they were big bettors. By then, the track was owned by Churchill Downs, Inc., whose greed resulted in the track’s sale to the Chicago Bears.

            Some private clubs still have dress codes, but do any restaurants, other than requiring shoes and “no shorts?” In recent years, I have been to restaurants which would have once required at least jackets for gentlemen, and seen male patrons wearing jeans, t-shirts and (horror of horrors) baseball caps, often with the bills at the back (are they perhaps loathe to cover up their tatts)? Even Alinea, Chicago’s only three-star Michelin Guide restaurant, and perhaps its most expensive, no longer requires jackets for men, although I’m sure it likes to see them. No mention is made of hats!

            As it happens, one of the weddings I’ll be attending specifies formal attire. While I’m sure the wedding party will be wearing formal attire, I can’t believe they expect the guests to do the same. But I  could be wrong. My guess is that they at least hope that male attendees will be wearing a suit and tie. If they insist on formal dress, and bar my entry, I should be sorry to miss the celebration, but secretly delighted they were trying to uphold a higher standard of decorum.

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

I was in at the beginning. The beginning of the women’s movement I mean. The marches, the bra burnings, the demands for equality in opportunity and pay. It was also the heyday of the “sensitive” man, the husband or partner who was willing to share child care and household chores. “Stay at home” dads suddenly became commonplace; those who resisted often found themselves in the divorce court.

            If this social revolution had happened 20 or 30 years sooner, it might have been truly earthshaking for men. I remember my mother hauling out the wringer/washer once a week and spending most of the day doing the laundry. During warm weather – and if it wasn’t raining – the laundry was hung outside to dry. During the winter, it was hung in the basement or attic (if you had one). The next day, out came the ironing board and iron. There was no such thing as no-iron or permanent press, so almost everything had to be ironed. Another day shot.

            In my youth, men didn’t cook. And, if you can believe it, the food you bought was largely raw, expecting to be actually cooked. The floors one trod upon did not then have protective coatings that provided an everlasting shine. The poor housewife could often be found on her hands and knees scrubbing away, then applying a coat of wax that had then to be buffed.

            But in the secret halls of male power, wise heads could see the inevitable rise of feminist discontent. A series of meetings were held in remote locations. For example, manufacturers brought to fruition long suppressed plans for labor-saving  appliances: automatic clothes washers and  driers; dishwashers; frost-free refrigerators that actually made and dispensed ice cubes; micro-wave ovens; and ranges that cleaned themselves!

            Also unveiled were the long-known secrets for treating fabrics so laborious ironing was no longer necessary. Rugs and carpets that repelled stains suddenly became available. Wood floors could now be coated with miracle finishes that retained their shine. Linoleum – which required constant upkeep – gave way to perpetually-glowing vinyl. The large and clumsy vacuum cleaner with its annoying cord gave way to the battery-powered light-weight wand.

            Beginning with the TV dinner, food companies developed a sometimes bewildering variety of prepared dishes that one could simply pop into the oven or micro-wave. Already-prepared gourmet dishes became available at the local super market. No longer was ordering-in limited to the local Chinese restaurant or pizzeria; meals could dash to your door from even the finest eatery.

            All of this and more was planned to come to fruition just as the women’s movement reached its peak. Men were thus shamed into sharing housework that had largely ceased to exist. House-husbands were able to ship the little tykes off to day care. When they reached school age, things got even better. After they put them on the school bus, they could get together with their fellow men for coffee or some poker, or even a round of golf. Thus refreshed, they could commiserate with their returning wives, who had spent the day clawing their way up the corporate ladder.

            So, men everywhere have this now-disbanded secret society to thank for their new-found leisure. I can now reveal that one of its leaders, the legendary Henry Kissinger, has just celebrated his 100^th birthday. Happy birthday Hank, and thanks!

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon  

By Patrick F. Cannon

When I was a young lad in the Pittsburgh area, my choice of beers seemed more than adequate. The main brands were Duquesne, Iron City and Fort Pitt. McKeesport, where I lived from 1950-56, had its own brand, Tube City (McKeesport was the home of the National Tube Company, part of US Steel). If you had a few extra pennies, and wanted to show your sophistication, you could order Rolling Rock from distant Latrobe, PA. The country and private club nabobs may have quaffed national brands like Budweiser or Schlitz after their golf or tennis, but not we mere mortals.

            In those days, bars had to close on Sundays. Wily and thirsty Pennsylvanians would leave their favorite tavern at midnight on Saturday and meander (or stagger) over to their nearest private club, which were exempt. As it happened, the Sons of Italy, the Greek American Protective Association or the Ancient Order of Hibernians, didn’t care much about your ancestry as long as you paid your membership dues.

            While I drink beer only rarely now, my local liquor store – Binnys, a major Chicago-area chain – probably has at least a hundred brands to choose from (actually more like 700. I checked). In addition to the traditional national brands (Bud, Coors, Millers, etc.), there will be a bewildering array of imports and “craft” beers. I’m sure Pittsburgh has a similar culture of beer lovers thinking they have come up with a new way to make beer. They go into (and out of) business on almost a daily basis. Some succeed in a big way. In Chicago, Goose Island was such a notable success that it was bought by the folks who own Budweiser.

            I rarely drink beer myself anymore, but I do keep some on hand for guests. At the moment, I have some Stella Artois from Belgium, Bernard Bohemian Lager from the Czech Republic, and Two Brothers Domaine Dupage Ale from Warrenville, IL (which happens to be in DuPage County). Lurking in the back of the fridge is one 16 ounce can of Pabst Blue Ribbon. It’s there in case my daughter Beth wants a Radler, which is beer mixed with 7-Up or something similar. She feels using expensive beer is a waste for this German-invented thirst quencher.

            Just think about this embarrassment of riches! What a great country! Instead of choosing from maybe 10 brands of beer, Capitalist entrepreneurship has given you 700! (Actually more, but that’s all my Binnys has space for.) There are lagers and pilsners, ales and stouts. Some are now aged in used bourbon barrels, or flavored with rare fruits and spices. You can find the palest of pale ales, and the blackest of stouts. Like dry? Like sweet? Like hoppy? Or malty? Some brewer is ready to please.

            Don’t like beer? The craft spirit folks are ready to oblige. Just take Bourbon for example. Binnys has 277 kinds available, priced from $10.99 to $399.99 for 750 ml (you can actually pay up to almost $3,000 for the rarest of elixirs).  If you prefer Rye whiskey, don’t despair (although you have only about 100  brands to choose from).

            I won’t even start on wine. The point is that it’s a Golden Age for the drinker. As long as people are willing to risk their money, talent and passion to come up with a better brew or spirit, they’ll have a receptive audience. It’s like building a better mousetrap.

            But I wonder what they’re drinking in Havana and Pyongyang tonight? 

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

Spring has sprung! I know, I know. According to the meteorologists, it sprang on March 1, that being the date, I suppose, when meteors start falling from the sky. The astrologers beg to differ, claiming it actually sprangs when we experience the vernal equinox, which can happen between March 19-21 (it was March 20 this year). In case you skipped Science in school, that’s the day when we have equal amounts of day and night.

            To me, however, it only begins when the first Crocuses begin to appear, followed by the Daffodils, Tulips and flowering trees. It culminates on or around Mother’s Day, when people who live in our climate feel it’s safe to begin planting their annual flowers. When we still had our Oak Park house, my late wife Jeanette and I would make our annual pilgrimage to Pesches Garden Center in Des Plaines to buy flats of Impatiens, Begonias and Petunias. Most years, we would also get a new perennial or two, as well as tomato and, pepper plants; and seeds for lettuce, carrots, basil, mint and parsley.

            I was the preparer, and Jeanette the planter and nurturer. Before planting, the vegetable and annual plots had to be tilled, adding compost and fertilizer to get the stuff growing properly. We also had extensive perennial gardens, which required similar care. I also did some weeding and mulching, but my main  task for the rest of the growing season was watering, one of the more satisfying of human endeavors.  In later years, an outside service dealt with the lawn, keeping it healthy and cut.

            (Let me come here to the defense of the beleaguered lawn. There is a radical element of the population that thinks yards should be left to themselves; that the dreaded Dandelion should be permitted to prosper; that maybe you should even plant the front yard with corn, wheat and alfalfa. The general idea is this would be better for the pollinators. They seem to forget about the annuals, perennials and flowering bushes that gardeners plant in and around their grass. I frankly never had a lack of bees, wasps, hornets – and even hummingbirds – in our yard. Of course, it is easier to take care of a prairie – you just ignore it, even if your neighbors can’t.)

            When we sold the house and moved to a rental townhome, we still had a planting area in the front yard, and a deck, where we put some planters and pots. There was also a community garden in the back, and Jeanette did her share to make it pleasant. We finally found a condo we liked, and it has a balcony only. While it’s only about 5 feet wide, it’s fully 18 feet long. While obviously limited, Jeanette managed to fill oversize pots with flowers, cherry tomatoes, basil and other herbs. Again, I was the designated waterer.

            As many of you know, Jeanette died last February. When Spring came, I looked out at the lonely balcony and decided that the season demanded my participation. So, I did the logical thing, or at least the logical thing for a man with no horticultural talent. I went to Pesches and bought four pre-planted flower pots. Each has a variety of flowers and green plants. To contain them, I bought four plant containers that I could hang on the balcony railing. I watered them faithfully and they lasted until late Summer, when I replaced them with mums.

            Last week, I again went to Pesches and bought four of the same. I’m looking at them now. At last, it’s really Spring.

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

I’m inclined to think that no citizen of this great republic needs to own a military-type assault rifle. Most of my fellow citizens agree with me. But there is a minority, most of whom are just as appalled at mass murder as the rest of us, who think that any limitation on gun ownership is counter to the Second Amendment to our Constitution.

            If you read the Bill of Rights, which I do from time to time, you can’t help but be impressed by the simplicity and  clarity of its language. Let’s take the famous First Amendment as an example: “Congress shall make no law respecting the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press, or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” Notice that there is a semi-colon after the freedom of religion clause. To me, that means that the framers saw all these freedoms as related, but that freedom of religion was distinct enough from the others to merit a semi-colon instead of a comma.

            Let’s now look at the Second Amendment, which reads: “A well regulated Militia, being necessary for the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” Now, the founders could have proposed an amendment that read simply: “The right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.” But they didn’t, and because there are only commas separating the clauses, it’s clear that they saw a direct relationship between the militia and its arming. (By the way, “arms” in those days didn’t just include firearms, but swords, lances and similar weapons.)

            There are many legitimate reasons why one would own a firearm – hunting, target shooting, and personal protection, among them. But we have long outgrown the concept of the “militia” as was understood in 1787. It has been replaced by the National Guard system, which is a partnership between the Federal and state governments. While a governor may be the titular commander-in-chief of his state’s National Guard, its organization and arming are under Federal control. No  member of these units provides his or her own weapon, just as they don’t provide their own fighter planes, tanks or howitzers (are these “arms” also protected under the Second Amendment?).

            I think it’s interesting that the judges and other folks who prattle on about “original intent” are so willing to ignore it in this case. But then many of our politicians and judges see the Constitution more as a suggestion than the basis for our government. I suppose that’s why so many of them think we’re a Christian nation, and consider the Bible our real Constitution.

Copyright 2023,  Patrick F. Cannon    

By Patrick F. Cannon

We come into this world pre-programmed. Despite what some people may think, we are either male or female; our eyes and hair will be one of several colors; and we will end up being short or tall, stocky or lanky. Our genetic make-up will determine these and other traits, including intelligence. But being the only organisms that are conscious of these traits, we are also the only ones who think God or Mother Nature, or some other power, has made a mistake or two.

            You may be surprised to know that only 2 percent of folks are naturally blonde, since about a third of women you see seem to have blonde hair (and, it must be said, increasing numbers of men). Red hair is even rarer in this country – one percent or less – so all those red heads you see are flying false flags. But at least the false blondes and red heads are sporting colors that actually exist in nature. What are we to think of those brave souls who wander the earth with purple, pink, orange or blue hair?

            They are making a statement: I want to be noticed, even if I look goofy. While this abomination is largely limited to young women, I have recently noticed that older women are splashing some primary colors in their hair, as if to say: “you don’t have to be young to be foolish.” I can just imagine what some young rebellious teenager must think when she finds mom has gone nuts too. Her only recourse might be to shave her head and have it tattooed.

            Tattooed! As my regular readers will know, I have written a history of this so-called art. Titled “Tattoo Mania,” in a mere 873 words it told the sad story of the transition of this body desecration from primitive peoples to drunken sailors to its present presumption as “body art.” Art shmart! I have yet to see a tattoo that improved upon Mother Nature (or Father Nature or Them Nature if you wish). As it happens, some people I know and respect have gone to the neighborhood needleman in a weak moment. Since I may myself have an as yet undiscovered fault, I am inclined to forgive them. Body piercing is another matter, however.

            I have no objection to piercing one’s ears. This has been done for so long that I would have thought that Darwinian evolution would have provided humans with pre-pierced ears. But can I argue for one hole per ear? Sufficient to hang an attractive ear ring? Rather than the six or eight studs or loops that crawl up the unwary ear?  And what can one think of (mostly women) who line their lower lips in a similar way? Or their eyebrows? And who punch a hole in their nose to insert a ring, much as one does with a bull? What, I wonder, do they do when they have to blow their nose? Yikes!

            I have no particular objection to plastic surgery if it’s done to repair, for example, a hare lip or a misshapen nose. But its use by the wealthy to stave off natural aging often backfires, as they keep repeating it on a regular basis until they have no more skin left to lift and can no longer even close their eyes.

            So let’s face the world as nature intended. Or at least mostly. I myself have a fine head of white hair. What would my friends and relatives think if I suddenly appeared with green hair and a tattoo of Old Ironsides on my manly biceps? Oh, the horror!

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon

By Patrick F. Cannon

I am indebted to David Brooks of the New York Times for pointing out in a recent column that Capitalism isn’t entirely the bogeyman that the left would have you believe. I have written about this before, but it’s worth repeating.

While free-market Capitalism is largely responsible for lowering abject poverty around the world, let’s just concentrate on the United States, which leads the world in economic development, a leadership – despite the naysayers – which is increasing. Thus:

• In 1990, we were neck and neck with Europe and Japan in gross domestic product (GDP) per capita; now we’re clearly  ahead.
• The US accounts for 58 percent of the GDP for the G-7 nations, up from 40 percent in 1990.
• Per person income in the US 30 percent higher than in Europe, up from 24 percent.
• Labor productivity here increased by 67 percent since 1990, compared to 55 percent in Europe and 51 percent in Japan.
• And despite China’s amazing economic growth, the US has maintained its 25 percent share of global GDP.

The national unemployment rate is 3.5 percent, about as low as it’s likely to be (it’s 6.6 percent overall in the European Union, with Germany’s the lowest at 5.7). Even inflation – largely driven by excessive government largess during the pandemic – has been reduced to 4.98 percent from last year’s high of 8.54 percent.

Much is made of the poverty rate, which probably averages about 13 percent over the last few years. The rate is based on reported income. For a family of 4, in 2021, it was set at $26,500. If this were all that family had to live on, it would be pathetically low, but it’s not. At a minimum, you could add the earned-income tax credit, food stamps, free school lunch, housing assistance, job training, and the additional benefits provided by local governments and non-profits (like food banks). You’re probably tired of me pointing this out, but the top ten percent of earners are paying for 90 percent of the social spending that has increased from 14 to 20 percent of GDP since 1990.

Even our cultural life would be poorer without Capitalism. Governments at all levels provide minimal financial support for the arts, with the bulk of the funding for our museums, orchestras and universities coming from wealthy individuals and corporations. My relatives in the Pittsburgh area will know how much they are indebted to the Carnegie, Mellon and Heinz families. A similar list for Chicago would be much longer.

While Capitalism has bestowed incontestable benefits on our economy, it’s not perfect. There have been abuses that have caused serious harm to the country. Only the government can prevent these, but it has been historically negligent in doing its job. Even when it does, instead of sending corporate leaders to jail, it lets them off the hook and fines the companies instead. Which leads me to the bad news.

While Capitalism just keeps rolling along, our politics are about as bad as they could be. Absent a miracle, it looks like we might once again have to choose between Trump and Biden in 2024. Think about that. In one poll, only 41.3 percent of Americans think Biden is doing a good job; and 38.3 percent actually look upon Trump favorably.

No wonder only about half of our countrymen and women think of themselves as Republicans or Democrats. In my own Illinois, the Republican Party has more or less self-destructed, leaving us with the Democrats who have failed to solve – or even confront – the serious problems that plague us. In addition to an extremely low credit rating, and massive pension debt, Illinois also has the fifth highest unemployment rate. It’s also losing population. People not only vote at the ballot box, but with their feet. And who really believes the criminal justice system is working?

Thank God the economic system keeps rolling along. We know there will be occasional recessions, but the general trend is up. Remember when everyone was afraid automation would put everyone out of work? And all those immigrants would steal jobs from real Americans? Sure you do, because they’re still saying it..

Copyright 2023, Patrick F. Cannon