We are a culture with a gun problem exacerbated by a rage problem, resulting in an era of political violence. So here we are, in this hot summer of ‘24, recognizing that we are the canaries in the coal mine. It’s hotter than the hinges on The Gates of Hades, and The Gates of Hades are hotter than usual with the heavy flow of traffic passing through them these days… 

The question festers, how do we restore a modicum of respect for the next fellow’s beliefs? Well, first, a little history…

As Mark Twain told us back in 1897 in his excellent book, Following the Equator…

“The ordinary reverence, the reverence defined and explained by the dictionary, costs nothing.  Reverence for one’s own sacred things -parents, religion, flag, laws, and respect for one’s own beliefs -these are feelings which we cannot even help. They come natural to us; they are involuntary, like breathing. There is no personal merit in breathing. But the reverence which is difficult, and which has personal merit in it, is the respect which you pay, without compulsion, to the political and religious attitude of a man whose beliefs are not yours. 
You can’t revere his gods or his politics, and no one expects you to do that, but you could respect his belief in them if you tried hard enough.  But it is very, very difficult; it is next to impossible, and so we hardly ever try.  If the man doesn’t believe as we do, we say he is a crank, and that settles it.  I mean it does nowadays, because now we can’t burn him.”

Thank you, Samuel, for reminding us that our irreverence is not new. What is new, is that while hate continues to diminish all haters, both major political parties are suffering from primordial instincts of rage. Both continue to call each other hard names, names derived from primeval emotions that eclipse reason.

Even our revered Supreme Court is no longer above reproach, as we come to realize that although our justices are very smart people, they have no better grasp of what’s right and what’s wrong than that fella selling ice cream from his stand on the corner. 

The way I see it, a president who knows right from wrong will not have any need for immunity, so to avoid the immunity issue, we need to elect a president who knows right from wrong…

Being an Ancient Father of Unborn Historical Incidents, I do hope I live to see the day that Beethoven wrote about with his Ode to Joy, when our world is ruled by women, and all men have become brothers. My good VA doctor tells me I will not live to see that day unless I quit smoking cheap cigars, drinking cheap whiskey, and staying up half the night swapping stories with wonderful characters. Life’s a crapshoot, so I will rub my lucky horseshoe, and take note with keen interest…

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

As we continue to confront the delicacy of our American democracy, even I, who am no prophet, foresee a new dispensation dawning over America.  Granted, a benevolent autocracy might be the laziest way to govern, but if you are older than twenty years of age, you can foresee the inevitable tragedy of tyranny and oppression inherent in autocracy. No, my mate, democracy remains the best possible form of government, and tattered as Old Glory appears to be, we cannot let our democracy slip away.

I used to have the honor of reading the Declaration of Independence on the Village Green on the Fourth of July, and it became my responsibility to trim the number of grievances toward King George, to coincide with the timing of a Marine Corps flyover. Timing was all important, and when it worked, well, it gives me chicken skin to think about it…

How could we have guessed that in 2024 one little caveat from that wonderful document would jump out at us: “Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes…” 

I shall record a few of the 1776 grievances here to see if they might reveal a harbinger of possible perils to come…

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.

He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.

He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.

He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.

He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harass our people…

He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws…

For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury.

For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments.

He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us…

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

Wow! How prescient, that our grievances of 1776 should herald cause to sound the alarm of the threat of similar abuses in this Year of Our Lord, 2024…

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

Dear honorable neighbor, it’s no longer us or them. We are one big quarreling family trying to get along. Compassion lingers as our common bond, yet we sometimes bow to feelings, and mistake those feelings for thinking. We will pick up a flag, swear allegiance, then proceed to beat that flag as blood sport upon others who carry different colored flags.

If we are to save this planet and ourselves, we must accept that we are all kin, and recognize that this little blue ball we call home is in fact our mother. It’s time to stop calling each other, “dirty no-good bastards,” and start shoring up civility in our daily discourse.

Mark Twain cautioned us away back in 1902 in a letter to his good friend Joe Twichell regarding America’s political and commercial morals, “There’s one good thing: we’ve struck bottom and can’t sink any lower.” Samuel must be spinning like a lathe.

Naturalized United States citizens take an Oath of Allegiance…

“I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign prince, potentate, state, or sovereignty, that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America…”

I humbly suggest we amend the Oath of Allegiance to read, “I hereby declare, on oath, that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any foreign or domestic prince, potentate or sovereignty, no matter who he is, who he thinks he is, or who his daddy is; and that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America…”

While I’m up on this soapbox I might like to mention bump stocks. They should come complete with orders to report to Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

We won’t be thinking bump stocks once we check our egos at the door and start to see our world as the fragile bionetwork it is. The very air that we breathe requires our steadfast stewardship, as does the water that we drink and the food that we consume. Let us estimate our grandkids’ needs, and attend to those needs. It won’t take long when we start thinking about grandkids for our consciences to get into gear and inspire our best selves to insure a safer and more hospitable environment for those runny-nosed little door-slammers that we love.

Finally, if you’ll excuse me, my pet jay, Huckleberry and his wife Emmeline are taking turns sitting on four brand-new grandbirds, who are about to fledge any minute, so I need to spread a sleeping bag out to soften their first landing.

In closing, I would like to extend an olive branch to each of the political parties here at home, President Putin and Prime Minister Netanyahu. We are all one big quarreling family, so let us lay down our swords, and take to sharpening our ploughshares… 

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

While staying at the enchanting Renaissance recently, I had a view of the Truckee River, and a half dozen homeless folks dwelling there on her silent shores. They pretty much kept to themselves until a gregarious gentleman came along with something to eat that he passed out to one after another until they were all up and around on the riverbank, bargaining and trading with what little they had to offer. This was quite possibly their main meal for the day, and they were exhibiting great gladness in celebrating it…

Most of us Americans have never experienced real hunger as opposed to just feeling hungry. The only time I ever experienced hunger was in Vietnam when a low hanging cloud cover kept us Marines from being resupplied. We went four days without eating before we came upon a field of onions, dug a few up, and ate them raw, without any condiments or complaints. Of course we had the breath of a buzzard for the next three months, but we didn’t care.

Back to our homeless folks on the Truckee, they seemed delighted with what little sustenance was bequeathed to them by the Good Samaritan gentleman, who looked to be homeless himself. My first impulse was to go down there and invite the seven of them to dinner at the Renaissance, but I had to go downstairs and talk into a microphone for my own dinner. It did not go unappreciated by me that could I not talk for my supper, I might be out there on the riverbank, sharing a few KitKats with my new neighbors.

But help is on the way. I’ve been reading about Emergency Urban Sleeper Pods. They’re called, “Amazing Grace Spaces Pods,” and are 8ftX6ft with a bed, light, toilet and USB socket. They even have a coded smart lock to protect the no longer homeless person on the inside. Nobody would want to live in one of these pods for long, but it would give someone time to find a better life. My hat is off to Amazing Graces Spaces for caring, and expressing that care with Emergency Urban Sleeper Pods.

I had a dream last night that I was asleep in my pod there on the bank of the Truckee, when the river rose and floated me downstream into Pyramid Lake, where I bobbed around for an hour or so before some merciful Washoe folks banged on my door, and towed me back to land, where we dined on dried trout. 

As a nation, we have got to deal with homelessness, this stain on our good name. There are more caring folks out there capable of building pods as a short-term stopgap measure toward a permanent solution to homelessness.

Meanwhile, Nevada Cares Campus is providing shelter to folks who are seeking more permanent housing opportunities. Bravo to them!

There are so many caring people on deck and ready. We need hammers & nails, and some charitable counseling. Go Reno!

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

Over the years I’ve had the distinct honor of delivering a few commencement sermons to some great graduates. So I dug down into a dusty bin to find out if any one of those ancient relics holds any water today. I shall share Sierra Nevada College here (abbreviated) and let you be the judge…

For the class of 2006 I have some good news and some bad. The good news is, as Bergson tells us, “Life, in all its color, warmth and complexity, is far greater than any intelligible formulation of it.”

  The bad news is, after today, the word “party” is no longer a verb. You are now a Republican, a Democrat, or an Independent. So keep in mind what our friend Mark Twain advocates, “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.”

Yours will be the first generation whose foremost responsibility, whose foremost obligation, will be to stand up in an over-heated environment and shout, “Fire!”

It will take an intellectual process to predict the impact that greenhouse gasses will have on our environment in the year 2100.  You have the intellect to make the predictions and deal with the problems.  And, to facilitate this process, Sierra Nevada College will soon unveil the Tahoe Center for Environmental Sciences, just behind us here…45,000 square feet of scientific space dedicated to the study of our Alpine ecosystem. 
  I come today equipped to offer our graduates one hundred life lessons, but will spare you, and offer five for your consideration.  

Life lesson #1:  Money, you might be surprised to find out, money is not for throwing from the back of trains.  Save your money.  Don’t gamble.  But if you do gamble…don’t split your tens.  And don’t waste time on Keno, it’s a 17% house-hold.

Life lesson #2: You must travel, far.  St. Augustine tells us, “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”  In your travels you will eventually come to appreciate what Mark Russell discovered: “The rings of Saturn are composed entirely of lost airline luggage.”  Always pack a change of underwear in your carry-on.

Life lesson #3: Read good books.  The man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them.  Today’s literature is mostly about sex and not much about having children, whereas life is the other way around.  And when you consider having children, remember this caveat from Martin Mull: “Having children is like having a bowling alley installed in your head.” 
  For life lesson #4 we can thank Marcus Aurelius: “Waste no time debating what a good man should be…be one.”  And as an addendum to life lesson #4 we can turn to Robert Frost:  “You have freedom when you’re easy in your harness.”

For those who aspire to go into acting, I offer life lesson #5 from George Burns: “Acting is about sincerity.  If you can fake that you’ve got it made.”  George used to call me on my birthday, God rest his beautiful soul. And I asked him the last time I spoke to him, “George, I understand you’re still going out with young women…why!?”  He said, “Because their stories are shorter.”

Yes, on that note, I can hear William Hazlitt, an Essayist from the 1830’s, shouting these words to our graduates of today:  “Look up, laugh loud, talk big, keep the color in your cheek and the fire in your eye, adorn your person, maintain your health, your beauty and your animal spirits.”
           

Sierra Nevada College class of 2006:  Have a good life – have a good time – and God’s speed…

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

I usually whistle past the obituaries, but Larry Young caught my eye. He was a scientist who discovered Love Potion Number Nine. Yes, Larry unearthed a chemical that heightens desire, not that the world needs it. A drug that would diminish desire might do the world more good in the long run. But Dr. Young was singing the praises of a chemical to make the heart flutter in a good way when he died of a heart attack at age 59.

Does Dr. Young’s work signal the day when perfect mates will be selected at the pharmacy? I can see the ads now: “Perfect Husband Drive Through.”

So what would Mark Twain say?

“Young people seem to think love is the swiftest of all growths, but in fact it is the slowest.  No man, no woman, can know true love until they’ve been married a quarter of a century.”

Why don’t they do a study on the mating drive of cicadas? They build-up a libido underground for 13-17 years before busting sod and singing their odes to Aphrodite loud enough to wake Muddy Waters in his Illinois grave.

Poets? Who will need poets anymore when we have chemicals to stir the passions? Poets will be out to pasture and will be hauling in their signs when Love Potion Number Nine hits the market.

So why have scientists failed to study the mating habits of the cicada? Probably because no scientist can wait 13-17 years for the cicada to come calling. Scientists as a general thing are not patient people. I went out with a scientist once when in college, and just as I was about take her hand she announced without emotion, “You blinked sixteen times in a minute, and that indicates irritable bowel syndrome.”

Personally, I hope the old-fashioned way of finding a mate prevails, that of hanging out on the corner near the ice cream parlor, and watching the girls go by…

But while I’m thinking about it, a person’s last words, as they might show up in an obituary, are so important. I tend to favor, “I done my damndest.” We just don’t want to go out mad, like W. C. Fields, whose fiery last words were to his long-standing mistress, Carlotta: “Damn the whole world and everybody in it but you, Carlotta.” (Carlotta must have been an exceptionally nice person.)

This causes me to consider the possibility of a future life. Hey, if a cicada can take a dirt nap for 13-17 years, and come up singing, why can’t we?

All I know for sure is, we have to make the most of this life we’ve got, choose a good mate, raise some good kids, and make the world a little better place. Above all, while I’m up on this soapbox, please, in this great land of ours, where we can be anything…be kind.  

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

Mark Twain was once given a pocket watch engraved, “Governor of the Third House.”

 Now unless you’re from Carson City, you might be wondering why. So I’m going to set out here to tell you why as best I can. You see, the Third House was a loose comingling of legislators, lawyers and journalists who would gather together at a groggery following a session of the Constitutional Convention away back in the early 1860’s to burlesque that day’s law making.  And Sam Clemens so enjoyed lampooning the legislators they made him Governor of the Third House. Here is a small sampling of his attentions…

“Mr. Youngs, how do you suppose anybody can listen in any comfort to your speech, when you are fumbling with your coat all the time you are talking, and trying to button it with your left hand, when you know you can’t do it?”

 Subsequently the Third House asked Sam to give a public talk to raise money for a new roof on the First Presbyterian Church. So he cobbled together his first public talk and had flyers printed up that were handed out in Virginia City & Carson…

The man lecturing has a very large nose and anyone whose nose exceeds its measurement will be admitted free.  All other noses must pay one dollar.

Well, two or three noses did get in free, but they raised $200 and put a new roof on that First Presbyterian Church.  One of the parishioners suggested that because it was Mark Twain who put a roof on their church, it would collapse and crush the congregation.  But it never has… 

I only wish we had a Third House in Washington today, as we Americans are getting better at throwing bricks than we are at laying bricks. I can just hear Sam following today’s Supreme Court hearing regarding immunity of a sitting president…

“Honorable Jurists, Complete immunity comes with knowing right from wrong.” (My words not Sam’s.)

As an impartial observer not living in a small corner of the internet, Sam might just go away from Washington today with a parting word, and yet another watch. 

“It could probably be shown by facts and figures that there is no native American criminal class -except congress.”

Finally, as is our custom, we shall leave the last word to Mr. Twain…

“I covered the legislature for the Enterprise, and in all these years, nothing has changed. Never have I seen a body of men with tongues so handy and information so uncertain.  They could talk for a week without ever getting rid of an idea.  If any one of them had been on hand when the creator was at the point of sayin’, ‘Let there be light,’ we never would have got it. No, the legislature meets every two years for sixty days, when they ought rightly meet every sixty years for two days. When the Nevada legislature is in session, nobody is safe.”

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

We’re Back…bigger and better than ever! Please welcome the Second Annual Mark Twain Days, May 10, 11 & 12. For a listing of events take a gander at… www.visitcarsoncity.com/mark-twain-days/

You will find something of interest or my name’s not Mark Twain, or used to be anyways. And this year Virginia City is joining in on the fun. Wow!

The driving force behind last year’s Inaugural MTD, my hero, Debra Soule, has handed the reins to Nevada Arts & Culture Program Manager, Eric Brooks, and the BAC’s Valerie Moore. You might want to pass along this year’s MTD mementoes to your grandkids, as they will be worth their weight in gold come 2124.

Last year everybody sported a mustache, even the ladies. This photo captured many of us in time…

When I returned home from last year’s extravaganza I slept face down in my white suit for twelve hours…

So what might Mark Twain have to say?

“At last we disembarked in the Silver-Land, Nevada. This was in August of 1861, and back then, Carson City was the most uninhabitable place on earth.  Nothing grew there; even the birds when they flew over, carried their own provisions. But we climbed into the foothills and looked back on Carson City nestled in that flat sandy desert, and surrounded by such prodigious mountains that they seemed to expand your soul, until you felt yourself spreading into a colossus, and in that instant, you were seized with a burning desire to stretch forth your hand, put Carson in your pocket, and walk off with it.”

Somewhat retired now, I hope to visit as many events as possible to shake a few hands, slap a few backs, and thank everybody I can for honoring the Father of America’s Literature, who took his pen name right there in Carson City. That pen name would appear the next day in Virginia City’s Territorial Enterprise as the byline, Mark Twain.

“The publisher of the Enterprise, Joe Goodman told me when I hired on, ‘Sam you have but one responsibility here. Get your facts straight. Then you can distort them as much as you like.’ I learned in Virginia City, a good lie can travel twice around the globe before the truth gets its boots on. But our little ‘quaints’ were obvious sagebrush humor, and Nevada was built on tall tales. We had three kinds of stories back then, ‘Stretchers,’ that stretched the truth beyond the horizon of fact, ‘Lifters,’ that actually lifted the furniture, and ‘Powder Burners. Here lately I’ve stopped lying all together since the amateurs have taken over the field.” 

So young and old, let us get out and celebrate the fact that America’s best loved author got his start in the Great State of Nevada. And should you see this old Codger wandering aimlessly around the grounds, do take a picture with him and pass it along to your grandkids. It might be worth an extra scoop of ice-cream come 2124… 

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO

Michael Lucido, raised at Tahoe by sterling parents, is now CEO of a Reno advertising agency, “Eighty 8 Studios.” Michael recently asked me to portray a fictitious character, Mr. Bundox, King of the Kingdom of Bocce. Michael’s objective is to promote the sport of bocce ball within the lavish courts of Reno’s Renaissance Hotel. So off we went, with his creative crew of six talented technicians, to focus the attentions of the world on the regal Sport of Bocce.

In full disclosure, I have never played bocce ball before. I cannot even spell bocce ball, but that has never deterred me, as, given an opportunity, I am always ready to pretend to be king of just about anything. And thanks to the art of special effects, I can do things with a bocce ball that nobody has ever been seen before, like spinning a bocce ball on my finger, and rolling a bocce ball around on my arms like a Harlem Globetrotter rolling a basketball, I can even pull a bocce ball out of my hat!  

Promising me that my wide-brimmed Panama hat will hide my face, Michael asked me to hop up onto the longest bar in Nevada and do a bocce ball dance. These television commercials are due out next month, and I sincerely hope Michael is right about that hat, for those who criticize my writing never saw me dance.

So what does the King of Bocce do when not coaching bocce ball? Well, most responsibly, he uses his bully pulpit as king to declare cease fires in Ukraine, the Middle East and Sudan. Who can say no to the King of Bocce? Here is his declaration…

DECLARATION

As King of the Kingdom of Bocce, and Pro Tempore Sovereign of the World, I, Mr. Bundox, do issue this Decree: All parties involved do hereby Cease and Desist Hostilities in Ukraine, Sudan and the Middle East, while allowing the United Nations to author Articles of Sustainable Truce and Lasting Peace. 

In order to tap the brakes on an escalatory path toward dire straits, I shall fly to the United Nations myself tomorrow and deliver this decree. The time has come in this year of our Lord 2024, to put violence on the dustheap of history as a means of solving problems.

Once the cease fires are firmly in place, I shall humbly step down as Pro Tempore Sovereign of the World, and return to my calling as Renaissance coach of the great sport of Bocce Ball…  

Your humble servant and dedicated middleman,

Mr. Bundox,

King of Bocce

Audio: https://open.spotify.com/show/7Fhv4PrH1UuwlhbnTT23zO