A Word Or Two About Words

                    L.E. Caldwell 

 …The Inane Ramblings of a Geezerly Septuagenarian

      Some of my happiest and most fulfilling time is spent writing. I love words…I like crafting them into sentences…paragraphs and stories. Aging (now in my 70s) has allowed me to find peace in writing meaningful columns and informative essays without sounding as preachy…aged experience will eclipse middle-aged folly every time.

Each morning I’m greeted with “A Word A Day” created by Anu Garg, who sends me a vocabulary offing via email. I look forward to its arrival; many words are familiar, some are less known or forgotten, while others are new and informative. We are never too old to learn…knowledge is our best ally. If you are interested, visit wordsmith.org/awad/archives.htlm to re-ceive 'A Word A Day'.  It’s worth the time and effort and it is free.

New words are added to our vocabulary every year, while others fall from favor and are retired. For 2025 some of the additions are ‘nepo baby’, ‘naked quitting’, ‘gut pop’ and ‘rizz’…none of which I will be using anytime soon; I’m glad to know of their existence just incase the need should arise. I could save you the time and define each, but where is the fun in that.

And then there are the words that have fallen from fashion…it’s ongoing. Some of the more recently removed (especially from print editions are ‘hoad’, ‘snollygoster’, and the ever popular ‘frutescent’. 

I look forward to seeing the latest additions and subtractions. I usually have a few suggestions of my own; when was the last time you used ‘griffonage’, ‘sybaritic’, or ‘lypophrenia’ in a sentence? Perhaps ‘griffonage’ should remain as I still have a few friends that hand write letters and their penmanship is not always legible…however I am usually able to decipher their scrawling griffonage.

Okay…here is my pitch for a word that should be removed, but not for lack of use…but over use…honestly. The use of the word honestly has skyrocketed the past several decades and has become annoying. For me anyone who uses ‘honestly’ is either stalling for time, beating around the bush or on the verge of being less than truthful. 

For example: ‘I honestly don’t know why I said that’, or ‘I honestly don’t know the answer’, or ‘It honestly doesn’t matter, or I honestly believe it’s true’…my advice, just leave out honestly and remove any doubt. Save yourself and others the trouble of trying to figure out why you said that.

  Just to be clear, being honest and being truthful are not the same and should not be considered interchangeable: Honestly implies intent and reflects one’s belief, while truth and being truthful is about accuracy…being factual.

It’s a slippery slope…let’s assume that Tom honestly believes that the earth is flat and he conveys that to a friend. Tom is being honest in his own belief even though the statement is false. Unless of course you are a ‘flat-earther’ and in that case we should talk.

It is just like many of our elected officials that honestly believe they are legislating in our best interests; when truthfully they are not. 

What about transparency and accountability?…perhaps those seemingly less used words these days should go on the list. I suggest that our government officials find a dictionary, refresh their memory, take the appropriate action in representing their constituents and do what is best for all of us. And if they really want the shed outdated policy decisions…congress could enact legislation on term limits, aggressive campaign finance reform and the unhealthy timeless act of springing forward and falling back. Springing and falling back is never good for older people...Just saying.

Sidebar: The other day I heard a commercial touting a restaurant as having ‘good honest food’. It may well be food, but the description as good and honest is of course subjective and refers to information shaped by personal feeling, taste, opinions, or biases varying from person to person.

Wouldn’t it be just as effective to say ‘wholesome food made daily with fresh local ingredients’…I’d eat there.

Retirement-palooza

                       L.E. Caldwell 

 …The Inane Ramblings of a Geezerly Septuagenarian

      I never have liked the word retirement…seems it’s just a hop, skip and a jump away from ‘throwing in the towel.’ And even less now, as I stand at the precipice of a new chapter in my life…one of uncharted waters and uncertain times. Yes, it seems seven-plus decades have somehow passed in a blink of the eye, reaching those magical numbers that deem me old enough to receive senior discounts and brand me as a bonafide geezer…I have the scars to prove it.

    Retirement is what my maternal grandfather did when he moved from the family farm to the small town of Healy, Kansas in 1955, and what my father did as his health declined at age sixty-two; he didn’t live to see 63. 

    It’s a numbers racket of sorts…some are mandatory with possible penalties for non compliance while others are self imposed; lest we become a danger to ourselves and others. Retirement it would seem, is what we choose to make of it, as long as we are willing to follow an ever changing set of rules that have purposely been designed to corral and wrangle us into submission.

Don’t get me wrong, the idea of retirement is a grand proposition, as long as you understand the expectations going forward and are willing to be subjected to a litany of old age monikers such as ‘golden-ager, ancient history, rusty, geriatric, elderly, codger and of course geezer'. It also helps to be fluent and well versed in the art of swearing, which can come in handy. I’m a life-long, card-carrying member in both the spoken and written forms.

Sure…the ‘Art of Retirement’ is a perk-palooza of opportunities as touted by the AARP, with perk being an abbreviated form for perquisite which means a benefit, a tip or in this case a bonus for getting older and cheating death. The accepted spelling for the abbreviation of perquisite is perk and is usually seen in its plural form…perks, just to be clear. There, you learned something…I’m always looking for the opportunity to be useful, considering my advancing age and apparent weakened mental state. 

And as touted by the AARP (American Association of Retired Persons) opportunistic adventures are just a stones throw away for the recently retired. As a member of  AARP, a monthly magazine can be delivered to your home or is available online for those that are computer savvy. On the bright side, discounts at motels will eventually pay for the cost of joining, if you live long enough to enjoy it. Frankly I prefer a good novel.

Since we now have more free time on our hands, volunteer schemes are a dime a dozen. There are numerous groups out there looking for help under the guise of volunteerism; some are better than others. And then of course there are part-time employment opportunities for the retired…How about the prestigious Walmart greeter position? At our local Walmart I once asked the store greeter, an older gentleman, (at least older looking than me) how he was getting on?…and without missing a beat he replied “I’m living the dream.” And there you have it in a tongue in cheek sort of way.

Just between you and me…come a little closer…it’ll be our little secret: I’ve been told that my chances of becoming a “store greeter” are slim and none. It unclear whether I should be enraged or ecstatically happy at such an accusation. In fact, my ability to last a full day on the job has come into question. Perhaps it’s my geezerly manner in turning a phrase, or somewhat frequent use of four-letter words, or an unwillingness to engage in friendly chitchat or perhaps the thought of me telling customers where they can go…obviously directing them to locations within the store.  

But that is changing too. Walmart has systematically been replacing the ‘greeter’ with ‘customer hosts’ who have been given added responsibility and no surprise…they look a bit younger too. At least a bit younger than me.

Older age, in some ways, is like being put out to pasture on the side of a cliff without a rope or safety net below. We are expected to become fluent in geezer-ese along with a new repertoire of fundamental, naturally age appropriate abilities. Are you familiar with dominos, horseshoes, pickle ball or corn hole? The last one sounds painful.

Retirement basically means you have to learn a new set of life skills…it’s not for the faint of heart. Managing life now requires a deep dive into medicare, social security, supplemental medical insurance plans, prescription drug plans, doctor visits, rising prices, and a master’s degree in living on a fixed income, not to mention the death of friends, neighbours, and loved ones at a more rapid pace. It’s like geriatric Russian roulette. 

Probably one of the hardest pills to swallow with getting older is invisibility. You’d think that might be neat. As a youngster I would have given anything to be invisible and to have had x-ray vision; now the only x-rays I get are at the doctor’s office. It probably comes as no surprise to anyone over 60 that we are becoming invisible to the younger generations, unless of course they are DNA proof positive connected or mentioned in a Last Will and Testament. 

But now in my seventies, I find it down right rude and reprehensible. We are a nation that revels in youth while casting aside the old like last week’s news, unless of course you are a politician. No pun intended. I understand that with age comes wisdom, but there is that fine line when it comes to slowed cognitive function and bat shit crazy. What ever happened to term limits for Christ’s sake? We will discuss that another time. You may have to remind me.

    We have all witnessed it or have been a victim of ageism…you know…the tilt of the head, the deep sigh, the fake smile, and the rolling of the eyes are all dead giveaways. And then there are those that simply don’t wish to engage you in conversation…why?… Because  We  Look  Old. 

‘Don’t bother to explain, he won’t get it,’ I overheard one employee say to another while waiting in a customer service line. “He’s old.”

Well, just for the record, I refuse to become invisible; a poster child for the walking dead (misunderstood). I understand that I’m closer to death now, but in my defense and as an advocate for the some 54 million American over the age of 55, I believe we still matter…we still have much to say; there should be no expiration date when it comes to being relevant. What ever happened to knowledge is power? There is enough information in my head to fill a library. Unfortunately my filing systems is in need of a reboot from time to time.

Just because we are no longer young, that does not mean that all of the sudden we have some how lost our ‘marbles’ and are unable to put two complete sentences together or that we fall into some sort of sleep induced coma promptly after the noon meal. Hell, that’s just retirement talk. I never consider napping until at least two o’clock in the afternoon.

‘Leave of Presence’ is what I have decided…there will be no retirement for me. I read the phrase a while back when learning of the death of Chicago Times Movie Critic Roger Ebert. His words rang true as he described Leave of Presence “as slowing down,” perhaps a metamorphosis or a reinvention…but by no means going away.

Roger Ebert had cancer that had previously ravaged his body; it had returned and he was making some changes, but definitely not retiring. He had other plans in the works. Unfortunately his Leave of Presence was short lived. He died at age 71. 

For me it means, in short, Leaving the daily grind behind, and fully living in the Present every day. Frankly speaking…there are people to visit, places to see, photographs to make, and of course stories to write. 

It doesn’t take a math whiz to figure that loss of time is no longer my friend…nor on my side for that matter. I do however take issue and scoff at the premiss that perpetuates the “it’s never too late” theory…Have you looked in the mirror lately? As I have said many times before, reality trumps expectation every time. 

As we age, time is our most important commodity. Wasting one minute of it, which others are so willing to do at our expense, take the waiting room at the doctor's office for example, is like wishing your life away. While it is true that a stopped clock is right twice a day,  trying to turn the hands back is simply a fool’s errand. We must journey on exuberantly and with purpose. Grab for the gusto…I’m a firm believer that we all need something to believe in…for instance, I’m retired and I believe I’ll have another beer. We must throw caution to wind and hope it doesn’t get blown back in our face.

So, it is with a certain amount of trepidation, that I have pulled the main plug…choosing to dangle from a less secure extension cord; free falling as a livewire so to speak. There is no sabbatical in the future, no hiatus, break, or reprieve, and definitely…most assuredly, absolutely…No Retirement.  

We have a choice. I refuse to roll over and play opossum (not dead), time marches on and so most assuredly must we…Perhaps at just a little slower speed for some of us.

It's The Little Things

                       L.E. Caldwell 

 …The Inane Ramblings of a Geezerly Septuagenarian

    Sometimes it’s the smallest, most insignificant infractions that cause the most angst. I have very few pet peeves, but this one is like that irritating thorn in the side and appears more often than one might imagine. Just for clarification, a pet peeve is a specific annoyance that is particularly bothersome, it’s personal, recurring and often frustrating; such as people who think because I’m older, compensate by talking too loudly, drivers traveling 20 miles per hour under the posted speed limit, or grammatical errors…Bingo, that’s the one.

Every week, like clockwork I receive a small town newspaper. I subscribe to the paper because my great-grandfather, grandfather, and uncle published the paper over a hundred years ago. I enjoy reading what my grandfather, who was the editor, was writing about in the100 years ago column.

So, I receive the paper as usual on Tuesday, and the first thing I see is the banner headline…It reads: 1st Annual Winter Carnival Brings Community Together at the 4-H Building. “What the hell,” I mumble out loud. My grandfather is probably turning in his grave. I’m guessing most people read the headline and think nothing about it…that of course would be wrong. Contrary to popular belief, 1st Annual or First Annual is a logical impossibility…it’s a misnomer.

Think for a minute…if it is indeed the first, it cannot be annual…that’s just wishful thinking on somebody’s part. I’m sure the people that planned the event are hoping it will be successful and will become an annual event, which of course can be mentioned in body of the story. I finish reading the story and discover another error involving the word annual; I decide the editor must have been absent from journalism class that day or just never received the memorandum clarifying first and annual.

To be correct, the headline could read Inaugural Winter Carnival Brings Community Together at the 4-H Building or First Ever could be substituted to replace first annual.

In fact, the AP (Associated Press) Stylebook explicitly states an event cannot be “annual” until it has been held for at least two “successive” years. In my opinion it should be taken a step further and should be “consecutive” years. After all, annual by definition implies a years’ time. In what universe would a second annual event be held five years later? Just say’n.

Comedian George Carlin mocked the term “first annual” as a linguistic contradiction, arguing that you cannot have a first annual event because annual implies a recurring tradition that has already happened at least once. His critique was part of his focus on soft language and oxymorons, where he dismantled everyday phrases for lack of logic or intent to mislead.

“As a matter of principle,” Carlin said, “I never attend a first  annual anything”…and I’m inclined to agree. That way I can stay home and not take my pet peeve with me. I’d have to keep it on a short leash anyway. No one wants to be accused of being oxymoronically challenged.

Grammar And Punctuation Are Not Dead, But May Be In Need Of Life Support.

Most of the correspondence I receive these days is via email and text messaging. I won’t name names, but much of the mail I receive barely qualifies as readable, let alone anything resembling proper grammar with punctuation. It is digital rubbish, and those responsible (you know who you are) should be ashamed. Most of you are old enough to know better. 

I don’t expect much, but capitalizing the first letter of the first word in a sentence would help…gosh, what a novel idea; and maybe a little punctuation tossed in to separate phrases, clauses, or thoughts really doesn’t seem too much to ask. It’s not that I expect a miracles…like no dangling participles or a sentence not ending in a prepositional phase; after all I am a realist…but come on, it’s just common sense and courtesy.

Rules, I agree, are meant to be bent from time to time, but total disregard is chaotic and disrespectful to the reader.

Have we become grammar lazy and punctuation poor?, or  just another causality in the dumbing down of America? We can and must make an effort to do better.

Both good grammar and punctuation serve a purpose. But just to be clear, punctuation is not grammar. It does fall under the grammar umbrella in the mechanics of writing category. In short, grammar provides standardized structure and punctuation assists in the process through symbols and marks that give meaning to readers and writers.

To illustrate the importance of punctuation, here is a humorous example I came across a few years ago. In this particular instance, a missing coma could well cost an old man his life.

        A. “Let’s eat grandpa!” / B.  “Let’s eat, grandpa!”

It goes without saying I’d rather be invited to dinner, not  part of the main course.

To be fair, I was discussing my grammatical / punctuation angst the other day with an old friend, and he noted that through no fault of our own, that the times they are a changing.

He was quick to point out, for example, that Generation Z (Gen. Z), those born between 1997 and 2012, often omit punctuation, especially periods in texts. 

Why would you do that?

Well, it seems that Gen. Z in all their wisdom, who make up some 20% of the US population, perceive periods as overly formal, passive-aggressive, or angry, and prefer to use emojis, exclamation points or capital letter to set the tone instead. Gen. Z or Zoomers, prioritize speed and conveying emotion subtly in formal settings, making traditional punctuation feel unnecessary or hostile.

Apparently a period can make a simple text like “ok” seem harsh or angry, while no punctuation feels casual and friendly.

I have found over the years, that the use of words and sentences , proper grammar and punctuation have served me well whether writing online or sending snail mail. Proper grammar and punctuation affords us the opportunity to tell someone to go to hell in a way that they look forward to the journey.

My advice is: Slow down…take a deep breath…compose a thought…breathe…and write. Some believe everything needs to be done at break-neck speed…Just Stop…take time to smell the metaphorical ink on the page and enjoy the fruits of writing well.

And while we are on the subject of grammar, I’ll plead the case for why Words Matter. Proper word selection goes hand in hand with good grammar…say what you mean and mean what you say. I don’t understand, particularly in this day and age why we are throwing around words and bandy them about without giving consideration or too much thought to the usage and exact meaning. There are over 600,000 words, past and present, in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) for us to choose from. Just so you know, the OED is accepted as the authority on the English language and regarded as the quintessential guide for meaning, history and pronunciation. There is really no excuse to get it wrong or not get it correct when we write. Of course no writer should be without the Chicago Manual of Style and the Associated Press Stylebook and Libel Manual.

As a youngster growing up, I heard the phrase ‘sticks and stones may break your bones, but names will never hurt me’. The school yard rhyme was of course used to stave-off name calling and repel verbal attacks. Sometime that particular defense worked, other times not so much; I recall a fist fight or two that might have resulted from verbal hurlings before punches were thrown. 

The second half of the rhyme, ‘names will never hurt me’, is just one of several variation to the original phrase that used ‘words’ instead of ‘names’. 

And just to be clear word can be hurtful, perhaps not as much as a physical punch in the nose…but still hurtful. A punch in the nose or a broken bone will eventually heal, but hurtful and unkind words can linger in the memory…sometimes lasting a lifetime.

So…WORDS MATTER, I repeat: WORDS MATTER, and that’s the point. It should be the ink slinger’s motto. I sport a t-shirt from time to time that reads: ‘Words Are Weapons…Choose Wisely’…enough said.

     

     

We Can't Coffin Dodge Forever; Obituary Writing

                                            L.E. Caldwell 

 …The Inane Ramblings of a Geezerly Septuagenarian

    “All men have an emotion to kill; when they strongly dislike some one they involuntarily wish he was dead. I have never killed any one,” wrote Clarence Darrow, “but I have read some obituary notices with great satisfaction.”

Without doubt, most everyone is familiar with the word obituary. With every passing day, we are closer to taking that eternal dirt nap; we can only coffin dodge for so long. But just in case there is any uncertainty, an obituary is a notice of someone’s death, typically published in a newspaper  or online. It usually includes a brief biography of the deceased person’s life, his or her past and present family, and what funeral arrangements have been made.

As a youngster, our local weekly newspaper (my father was one of the editors) printed death notices on the front page…not buried in the back like last week’s news (no pun intended). It was important. 

And depending on the size of the newspaper and the staff, some larger paper had an ‘obit desk’ and a specific staff writer who took the information and wrote the obituary notices according to the guideline of that newspaper. I have written my fair share of obituaries over the years…in fact I wrote my father’s obituary when he died in 1983 at age 62.

I recently received an email from an old editor friend, feigning his death in obituary form…he wasn’t really dead, just making a point. He had a message to perpetuate…an agenda to push.

His writing is on point, though religiously slanted in this instance. I worked with him before his religious transformation from heathenism (his words) to which he credits his second wife. He was a great writer then. And I’m not here to throw stones or cast judgement, but for me religion, simply-put, is a faith-based belief system. And it’s called faith-based because of the lack of supporting evidence. But I digress. That’s a topic for another day.

My friend did bring up some interesting points, saying “I recognize that there are many Christian denominations and not all have the same beliefs, but I think most believe in eternal life.

“I wrote my obituary myself,” he continued, “because I wanted to depart a Christian message to readers who might not understand any of this. Also, I suppose it could be said, I wanted to have the last word.

“But the actual fact of the matter is that God has the last word. Hope to see some of you in the  hereafter.”

Okay, for me the take away here, has nothing to do with religion and God having the last word, it’s more about the writer having the last say…the final word. I have already written my obituary, except for the ending which of course remains to be played out on the stage of life. I prefer to speak for myself, tell my own story and perhaps impart a few words of wisdom…an obituary with editorial license if you will. Writing in objective third person may take some practice...there is a learning curve.

Who better to write about what we represent and who we are than ourselves.  It’s concerning when someone else claims to know more about us, than we know about ourselves and feel the need to speak on our behalf when it comes to matters of life and especially our final words. An obituary is our last best attempt to set the record straight…it’s a personal accounting of sorts.

Growing up in a newspaper family…reading, writing and english are second nature. You could get a less than stellar grade in Math, but it was ‘Katy bar the door’ if you didn’t excel in English. When I enrolled in college and signed up for Introduction to Reporting, the first assignment was to write about ourselves as if we were telling our own story in obituary form…it was interesting to see the faces of my classmates; the paper was due by the end of class. There were no personal computers at that time…just pen to paper. It proved to be a daunting task for some.

I read obituaries everyday…you know the punchline…if my name is not listed, then I’ll go ahead and have that second cup of coffee; in my case with an extra jigger of Bailey’s Irish Creme. 

It’s important to be truthful when telling your own story. I have read many an obituary that was so saccharin-filled that the page was sticky to the touch…it may well be an honest accounting, but not necessarily true…there is a difference. It is even more troubling when you know with certainly that some of the information is simply not factual. Just for clarification, truth is objective fact, while honesty is more about one’s beliefs…making honesty about intent and truth about accuracy. No need to muddy the waters, it is often best to just leave some stones unturned.

It reminds me of the famous Samuel Clemons (Mark Twain) quote. Setting the stage: It was May of 1897 and Clemens was in London on a speaking tour that had begun nearly two years prior. He had hoped to use the fees from the speaking engagements to pay off the considerable debts he owed in the United States.

While he was in London, someone started a rumor that the author was gravely ill. It was further reported by at least one newspaper that he had died. When Clemens got wind of the stories and his impending death, he humorously told a newspaper writer…“The report of my death was an exaggeration.”

As we get older, it is important to ponder life, and write down what you know to be true and accurate…don’t leave it others. Death has a way of masking our true selves from the reality of who we truly are, at least according to those that claim to know us best. Death pushes those most dear to exaggerate the good and eulogize the deceased as someone above reproach. 

        Just for the record: I am not the life of the party, overly kind or generous to a fault. My smile does not light up a room, nor have I never met a stranger...enough said.

  Flogging A Dead Horse

                               L.E. Caldwell 

 …The Inane Ramblings of a Geezerly Septuagenarian

Have you ever been accused of ‘flogging a dead horse’ or as we say in American English ‘beating a dead horse'?

A while back, I wrote to an old editor friend of mine (just a little older than me) complaining that I had become tired of reading the redundancy in columns written by the same editor on the same topic…it is like flogging a dead horse I said.

He was quick to remind me ‘that all of us who write regularly, will from time to time, beat a dead horse, and even borrow someone else’s dead horse to beat anew’…he’s right of course.

Just to be clear…flogging is a type of beating, defined by the use of specific tools (like whips, rods and canes). Beating is a general act which may include the hand, fist or about any implement of your choosing. The horse remains dead just the same. You say ‘tuh-MAY-toh’…I say ‘tuh-MAH-toh’. 

So, where am I going with this? 

First, perhaps a little history is in order. The expression ‘flogging a dead horse’ is reported to have been spoken by English politician and orator John Bight in the House of Commons.  According to newspaper accounts, while debating parliamentary reform in March of 1859, Francis Wemyss Charteris, 9 Earl of Wemyss, also known as Lord Elcho remarked that Bright had described his own efforts to revive interest in the issue as ‘flogging a dead horse.’

For context: Horses, at the time were a primary source of labor and ‘flogging’ or ‘beating’ was a standard practice to make the horse move; doing so to a dead horse was considered the ultimate metaphor for futility. 

  Flogging a dead horse is nothing new and continues with little chance of slowing any time soon…much to my chagrin. 

Many of our elected officials engage in flogging…generally along party lines. When in doubt…create a conspiracy theory, promote it, blame others, and then beat the lie to death, all the while sweeping the truth neatly under the rug.…There is not enough 20 mule team borax to adequately wash out the offending mouths. What happened to all the talk of truth and transparency?

In the United States it would be safe to say that the majority of us that are old enough to vote remember the January 6, 2021 attack on the Capitol, when Trump supporters, smashed windows and doors and assaulted law enforcement officers; believing the lies of a rigged election. 

Over this past year, in his second term, President Donald Trump continues to beat the stolen election dead horse and is actively engaged in a campaign to rewrite history.

On Tuesday, according to the New York Times, the five-year anniversary of the Jan. 6 attack, Trump was again spewing doubt about the integrity of American elections. “Our elections are crooked as hell,” Trump told congressional Republicans.

Also Tuesday, the Trump administration created a new page on the White House website attempting to rewrite the history of the riot, criticizing congressional Democrats and former Vice President Mike Pence for standing up to falsehoods about the 2020 election and allowing it to be certified…again continuing to flog the same dead horse.

It is just the latest turn of events in a year in which Trump has attempted to rewrite election rules, take control of state and local election systems and offered support to those who promote election conspiracy theories. He granted clemency to all of the nearly 1,600 people charged in connection with January 6, including attackers of law enforcement officers and the leaders of right-wing extremist groups.

A New York Times review of Trump’s public statements found more than 150 instances in the past year alone in which he falsely claimed he had won the 2020 election, and went on to portray January 6 rioters as victims, while deprecating investigators of the Capitol riot.

Even this past weekend, as the United States was carrying out a military operation to capture the president of Venezuela, he was still fuming over his 2020 loss to Joe Biden.

Trump repeatedly posted on social media over the weekend, sharing conspiracy theories about American elections, including that the CIA rigged his election loss; that widespread fraud may have stolen state-run elections from him in Georgia and Pennsylvania; and that election machines made by Dominion Voting Systems were somehow in on the plot. All these claims have been repeatedly disproved…yet the beat down goes on.

Trump is indeed the master of beating and riding a dead horse into the sunset.

I would urge the President to read (in between his late night textcapades) the humorous Dead Horse Theory. In part, it is often used to illustrate the futility of continuing to invest time, effort, or resources into a failing or unproductive endeavor in a tongue in cheek sort of way. It is based on an old Dakota tribal wisdom that says, “When you discover that you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount.”

Sounds like good advice.

Editors Note: The writing here would not be complete without hearing from PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) who have graciously weighed-in on the flogging/beating of a dead horse. 

PETA, argues that the ‘beating/flogging of a dead horse’  trivializes animal cruelty and has proposed replacing the phrase with ‘feeding a fed horse’ as a more humane characterization. 

Perhaps we should reclassify the dead horse as “living-impaired” and use the euphemism to avoid facing the reality of talking about death altogether.__lec