The Good Fights

Lately, I've been doing a lot of fighting.

Not the squabbles you might see me engaged in online in the various social media platforms. Those are merely sparring matches that keep me on my toes for battles that matter. They're good for a laugh. And nothing more.

Besides, as I've seen it aptly put, trying to convince a Trumpster with facts and truths is like administering medicine to a corpse.

I've been putting my oversized nose to the grindstone elsewhere. Where the wars being waged have real consequences.

As I mentioned earlier this week, I'm doing work for a non-profit. And as I've come to learn I'm making very little profit. And the cause, which I still don't want to mention by name, has me re-thinking my predispositions towards dairy. And meat. Though, like a die-hard Trumpster I will go to my grave unconvinced there's anything better than a perfectly seared, medium rare Tomahawk steak. Sorry, not sorry.

I've also been helping my friend, whip smart Josh Weltman, whose ad career has had more twists and turns than San Francisco's Lombard Street. And that included several years as a Producer on the show Mad Men. Josh and his equally smart wife formed a PAC, a political action committee, on their own and have committed time and money to oust Captain Ouchie Foot from the people's house.

Months ago Josh called and asked if I'd like to help. He said he didn't have a lot of money. And he wasn't lying.

Though Elizabeth Warren may not have been my first choice, the truth is there are 330 million Americans I would rather have at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Including you, the reader who has gotten this far. And there's a chance I don't even know you.

If you get a chance you should visit the website. I can tell you from personal experience the T-shirts are a crowd stopper and often spark random meetings on the street.

If you get another chance, you should read this enlightening article by Former Secretary of Labor, Robert Reich.

Finally, there's this.

When scouring Southern California for an assisted living place for my uncle we opened up a Pandora's Box of ugliness. These places, in case you haven't been there, are depressing. Worn out carpet. Tiny rooms. And minimum wage earning workers who frankly don't give a rat's ass about the residents.

Moreover, you'll pay a pretty penny for all that luxury.

The good news is there's federal assistance money for seniors who have served in the military. And my uncle has.

The bad news is, that money is only put aside for seniors who served during combat times.

I would not begrudge one penny to our combat veterans. I don't think any American would. Nor do I think any American, on either side of the aisle, would disagree that veterans who sacrificed for their country during more fortunate peaceful times are not entitled to any assistance.

As it stands now, they're not.

If you ever wanted to know what the journey through the Nine Gates of Hell would be like I suggest you start climbing up a phone tree from the Veteran's Administration. I'd rather have an anesthesia-free route canal. Performed at the DMV.

It's a daunting challenge. Not dissimilar to the vegetable lasagna plate served at my uncle's senior care center.

But I'm up for the fight. And should I prevail I've already got the name for the change in legislation:

The Ronald Siegel Veteran's Tiered Benefits Act.