A major expansion of right-to-work laws looks likely under President-elect Donald Trump.

Trump — No Friend To Labor

Trump has consistently demonstrated that he’s no friend to unions. After Trump International Hotel in Las Vegas voted to unionize earlier this year, Trump violated their labor rights by refusing to enter into collective bargaining with them. Back when he was running the Trump Taj Mahal casino in Atlantic City, Trump used the casino’s bankruptcy proceedings

Trump’s Democratic opponent former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton won the support of all major unions during the election campaign.

A Pang of Sadness

Have you ever had something cause a slight pang of sadness or melancholy? Along the same line as loosing a sweetheart and years later, their favorite song plays, and all of a sudden a flood, held back through the years breaks through. It’s not a profound sadness but rather, just a dampening of otherwise lightness and happiness. That’s how I feel about Trump and his supporters.
At first, I was shocked and appalled. I mean, this is the same man who was mocked for his reality tv catchphrase ‘you’re fired’. A man who was featured in Home Alone 2, or Penelope Spheeris remakes. A ‘birther’ who was best known for bad hair, Marla vs Ivanka blonde showdown on ski slopes and ridiculous feuds with fellow C star Rosie. Bankruptcy and baffooning about on Entertainment Tonight.
The more support he mustered the angrier I had become. His remarks on women; his misogyny. His xenophobia his flat out racism. If I cared to quote him on these awful things I’d preoccupy myself for several weeks. Each comment more shocking than the next, but what angered me were the people cheering. He’s like the Lorax…but instead of speaking for the trees, he’s speaking for tree dwellers I thought. Even Barbara Bush, a grand matriarch of the GOP couldn’t back him as a woman. His supporters turned on her faster than a trump contract. Frankly, I never thought I would agree with Ted Cruz but he held his ground, terra firma and the conference. I’d beg his supporters to explain why it’s acceptable for their candidate to insult women so: more jokes about bill clintons bj. After his insults to senator McCain, a true patriot, just more prattling on about emails. When you point out racism, it’s blamed on the liberal media. As if somehow they are putting words in trumps mouth. When you question his long record of failure, more Benghazi rants. In other words, no matter what he says, there’s someone else to blame. I draw the line at his thinly veiled threats on the 2nd amendment. His supporters quip about jokes. Stooping so low as a representative of this country, to me is no joke. Just like making fun of a person with disabilities is no joke. However they wear that god forsaken ‘make America great again’ hat. Great for who? What idiotic Leave It To Beaver fantasy do they live in? For a great many Americans it wasn’t that great and not all of us live in the rosy glow of displaced nostalgia. It doesn’t matter. Trump said it best: he could shoot someone in the face and he’d still have support.
This is where that sadness comes in. I’m sad that my fellow Americans are being duped. I could point out thousands of reasons, cite my sources but they’ll just hold their fingers to their ears and scream Benghazi! Email! Monica’s ex boyfriends wife! Crooked! I can point out, people I have cared for be made a mockery of, and they’ll turn fast if you don’t agree. They harp on about 2nd amendment rights but, oh, let’s not let anyone else have an opinion! Let’s shame those that pray or worship differently! Let’s get rid of any potential gun regulations…but let’s regulate the hell out of a uterus. Hypocrites are a term that comes to mind. And I ask why? Are they ignorant? Uneducated? Rednecks? Devoted Christians? Alarmists? No. Not necessarily…the answer is far more sad.
My answer came today playing superhero with my son. They desperately need a hero. They are forgotten people; the canaries in the coal mine people. They’ve put in a lifetime of hard work, or feel as they have and no one for them has put them first. We’ve had many social movements that have changed the way they are allowed to conduct themselves and rightly so, and we’ve pushed them to their collective breaking points. Why do they care if a gay couple can marry? To them, they’re barely making a truck payment and can’t afford that Disney vacation, a week away from skull drudgery. They don’t care about refugees. They care about paying out of the ass for diabetes medicine and healthcare. They don’t want to hear equality; they want to be heard, seen, their stories cared about. Many democrats can speak to some of this politically perhaps, but no one is speaking FOR them. Do you think they want to hear more about firearms? They’re frightened as much as anyone and to these folks, they can depend on themselves to protect their families, a strong distrust of government and to this, I understand completely. They need someone to come ‘save the day’! That authoritative savior quality we see from anyone from superman, batman, ironman, Jon Snow, Walking Dead, even Jesus Christ. We look to those who look out for us, the little guy. A lot of those found that quality in Trump. What he says might be terrible but at least he’s saying something for them. That’s his appeal. This is what saddens me so. It’s deeply sorrowful that it’s not the content of what is being said but that it’s being said at all.
You see, Trump is not what is wrong with our country or these people. He’s a symptom. He’s a direct result of what happens when a people are in fear and feel as if they don’t matter. Trump is the gangrene limb but somehow we as a people failed, and caused this injury. His disease must be cut off but we must all address the reason that we now boast such deformity. We must prevent injury and most importantly we have to heal. The sickness will kill us otherwise.
Whatever your voice, your innermost voice, your conscience commands you to do, to vote for, by all means exercise your right to do so, but do not impede on others doing the same, or attempt to malign opinions based on emotion, not facts. Do not admonish that gays can be cured by tax funded therapy while yelling your tax dollars are funding abortions. Which they don’t. The likelihood of your guns being taken are far, far less that the rights of women being impeded upon. The point being, have your opinions without expecting legislation. Have a voice but ask if that voice is saying harmful things that can hurt others. People who aren’t like you necessarily but want many similar things.
I asked my five year old this: if you knew a little boy was hungry would you feed him? “Yes. Of course.” I then asked if that same little boy could have his chicken nuggets. “I don’t like that. I’ll give him one. Maybe two.” I said he needed more. He wasn’t keen on the idea at all. However that is the point of politics. It’s not what’s best for one or a few but all. That is the hallmark of diplomacy and kindergartens are not known for their diplomatic prowess and skills. I for one remember those school lessons and I will never tolerate the playground bully.
Next time I state that between now and November, realize I’m not asking you if you agree or not. I’m utilizing my rights as an American and not impeding on yours. A concept I’m hoping my republican counterparts can start grasping a bit better.


I’m increasingly disappointed with Southports Fourth of July festival as a local and especially as a business owner. This is our States festival and understandably, a big deal. However it was, not long ago something very different.
Historically, a small smattering of Victorians in white eyelet gathered upon the garrison lawn of ft Johnston for homemade strawberry ice cream and pound cake, the salubrious breezes, welcomed relief from the scourge of malarial fever, various period maladies and not to mention, the layers of camisoles, pantalettes and woolen knickers popular in that time. In its infancy, and paralleled in the youth of the nation itself, the gathering was quaint, subdued and symbolic; a humble celebration spent amongst families nestled between two great pillars of freedom. The protection of our fort and the protection of our river, both standing unfettered against the tides of wars through the ages.
Of course, its popularity grew into a fashionable event for families. It developed into a lovely hometown event complete with picket fences adorned with Stars and Stripes, white washed banisters with patriotic buntings. Darling parades with endearingly off-key student marching bands and silly old men in their club hats. Local craftsmen selling their little homespun treasures in the park and Charlie on his barge with breathtaking fireworks. Miss Y would sell beef egg rolls and yell at boys if they ate too much. Grandfathers would cut chilled watermelons and the little children would clammer to the waterfront for games and fishing, the occasional poagie would be a great treasure, and the proud little fisherman would be followed home by every feral cat in town. The streets would be closed and children could freely ride bikes without fear and fun loving adults could share mimosas on their porches.
Somehow, it began to change. Local businesses would be forced to close their doors and the local crafts replaced with cheap Chinese crap sold at exorbitant rates to eager tourists. Restaurants barred their doors, money spent on the Iranian corn dog stand. Wedding singers belting in out on the waterfront replacing local talent. Sweaty restless youth fighting in the streets, shooting, cussing. Gangsters on crotch rockets drag racing on side roads. Drunk men pawing and cheaply dressed women in white cut offs, so short, one can tell they need a good waxing. Junkies stumbling around Whittlers Bench and hot screaming babies in dirty diapers.
I have not worked in two days. Someone who lives here, pays taxes, spends money in local establishments and gives back to the community. I’ve made nothing. Some of these ‘businesses’ aren’t even from here: they’re from say, Charlotte. They feed off our area, take what they want and leave, like rats on a ship. They aren’t even worthy to be called vultures; vultures serve a biological purpose. These people use us, like a cheap prostitute, wipe their soiled bits and leave without so much as a coin on the nightstand. Is this really the festival we celebrate? Our sweet parade now peppered with more advertisement and endorsements. It’s a wonder Walmart isn’t sponsoring it. Rude clowns in the park who chastise children who ask politely for a face paint. New York couple who charged $38 for souvenir mugs, then argue over a $6 refill after taking my picture in uniform to promote their tawdry, sub par root beer. Which was undeniably flat.
Last year I was so afraid walking home from the fireworks on account of the drunk drivers and drag racers my child would be hit. Turns out a child was hit…and today, those cars are still racing on my street. I’ve already spotted multiple people drinking while driving. It’s not even 5 o’clock anywhere!
There’s many aspects of our towns festival that are enjoyable and wonderful for families, but it’s turned very quickly into a trash fest. Mad Max on meth. A fourth festival sold to the highest bidder and throngs of hungry feeding on the carcass that was an American town. To me, that’s not a celebration. Amongst the rancid street food, loud music, drunks in beach chairs, realtors convincing you to ‘be a real local’, cars racing and revving, and heroin addled millennials do not forget the meaning of the day, or at least have a bit of pound cake.