A Good Samaritan and the only lasting democracy

By: Chuck Orloski

 

thumbnail_img_1815All human beings can recall times when they (selflessly) helped an anonymous “someone” in either dire need or in trouble, and felt good? Upon reflection, approximately four years ago, a mentally challenged fellow, nicknamed Moose, age mid-60s, approached me and explained how sad it was that he did not have a bicycle and could not go fishing during opening of Pennsylvania “Trout Season.” Unable to work and dependent upon meager monthly Social Security checks, Moose lived alone in a simple Taylor apartment and he never owned an automobile. I liked to go fishing whenever I had rare spare time, and feeling pity for Moose’s condition and hurt, I offered help.

“Moose, I happen to have a ten-speed bike which only needs a rear tire and it’s ready to
roll! Excellent condition, all it needs is washing, new streamers, and a rear tire. Are you
interested?”

“Uh, yeah. But how much do you want for it?”

“For you and you only, you can have it for free!”

“Yikes, Chuck, do you really mean that? Can’t I kick in $0.50 or so?”

“Nah, Moose, the bicycle won’t cost you a dime, and besides, you’ll need some bucks in order
to buy a new tire… maybe get front brakes too!”

“Yo, Chuck, that’s so kind, and I’d vote for you to become Taylor Borough Mayor!”

“No more pointless praise, okay, Moose? Besides, I’d likely run our town like the Tammany
ward boss, George Washington Plunkitt, an Irishman butcher, who once ran N.Y.C.”

“Oh, you mean that you’d do good things for bad Taylor people like me and Peabody
Bracey?”

“Who knows what having mayoral power would do to my soul, Moose?”

“Yea, buddy! I have my tackle box ready, so when do I get the ten-speed?”

“Give me fifteen minutes, and it will be at your porch!”

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As Governor Brown’s ex-girlfriend, Linda Ronstadt, once sang, “Poor, poor, pitiful Moose!”
And to boot, there I was, hitting him with the example of George Washington Plunkitt, who I nominate as one of America’s least-known practitioners of “honest graft.” 1. After placing bicycle in Moose’s possession, I told him that it should run like The Lone Ranger’s horse, “Silver.”

“Yup, Chuck, I’ll be yelling ‘hi-ho Silver’ while cruisin’ down cemetery lane to ‘da river!”

“Good deal, Moose, I hope you have fun and remember to use hand signals during
turns.”

For a few weeks, I privately considered myself a model of the Good Samaritan. Besides, since I had a Suzuki motorcycle, there was little use for riding bicycles (uphill) upon Taylor streets?

One afternoon, feeling pleased with the state of my Byzantine soul, I walked across Union Street, and decided to chat with Tom “Peabody” Bracey,” who lounged upon an exterior Fire Department bench. Peabody had an intense campaign raging to become a Taylor councilman. A very comical and street smart fellow, he began to explain a desire to create a New Taylor World Order. Maybe he’s joking, but then again, as a diehard fan of Jesse “The Body” Ventura, maybe Peabody’s not joking? At any rate, it’s hard to tell, and soon as campaigning stopped, I told him how I felt sorry for Moose and gave him my bicycle.”

“What are you nuts, Chuck? Ha-ha! So that was your bicycle that Moose brags about having sold at his tin pot “Yard Sale” a while ago? He’s a shyster and now he’s telling all the guys who hang out at The Convenient Market how he “snookered some stupid kid and got $50 for your ex-bike.” Jesus Christ… what an asshole Moose is, ha-ha!”

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Peabody slapped legs, belly laughed, and I watched white smoke from his Marlboro blend into air. Putting my nose “in it” to a friendly degree, he said, “Well, Chuck, given when I come to full power in Taylor, and I need to make big & shady business decisions, I figure it’s best that I consult with Moose rather than a Good Samaritan. Ha-ha, your bike gift & Moose’s sale almost tops what Trump is planning to do and make the crooked Mexican government promise to pay for a gigantic wall… until after Donald’s inaugural ball that is!”

For a good American person, let us say (for example), one who is in synch with the “Mayberry” values of The Andy Griffith Show, the rather wacky crust fallen from Peabody’s Taylor Fire Department bench, is actually health food – especially for those citizens who now frantically try and decide for whom to vote, November 2016 – either Hillary or Trump. Character, character! As H.L. Mencken wrote, every candidate always has superior character over their opponent! Every single day on television, Talking Heads, those who shill mouthy for Trump, will tell viewers how Hillary is too crooked and ill to wield power and force. After station breaks, we get elite Hillary backers who passionately explain how she promises to be brutally tough in order to eradicate ISIS and allow Saudi Arabia to smash mouth Yemen.

Given immense oligarch control over (especially) US foreign policies, I recall receiving an email response from the late-Joseph Sobran, a former editor of The National Review. Initially, we spoke about how perfect, for injurious Big Bank/Wall Street exploitation, is US style democracy. I quoted Karl Marx who said, “Once a politician has the power of the purse, democracy is over.” Mr. Sobran never heard such quote, and via email, he countered with the following definition of democracy: “Democracy is two wolves and a lamb deciding upon what will be next for dinner.”

Today, and politically speaking, I deal with the realities which I strive to believe are disseminated by web sites dedicated to delivering truthful journalism, in a nation dominated by the wolfish “Big 6,” Mainstream Media. Regularly I look to writers, for one example, Paul Craig Roberts, to give me a constant basis for understanding the insane US Empire actions, and he does so in clear English which I, a Scranton School District bus driver, could understand. Going forward to 2017, such journalists/web sites (of character) are destined to do big things for small people at the most inconvenient times for Tammany Hall, D.C.

Voters everywhere should be brutally honest with themselves, and like Immanuel Kant, start
thinking about both Democrat and Republican nominees for POTUS, and scream to selves, “I know that I know really nothing about the character of Hillary and Donald.” As both candidates have made ritual promises to Israel, I fear for the intensified process of US self-induced “War Against Terror” and hastening along the Wall Street magic milking of US revenues which are already trillions into the “red.” For young people who might vote November 2016 and never watched The Andy Griffith Show, next up I will describe an instance where a local “Good Samaritan”acted and got surprisingly rewarded (on Earth) by a “Rich Man.”

Mid-1990s, President Bill Clinton engaged in eastward NATO expansion, annually I made about $32,000 as a Environmental Health & Safety Coordinator, employed by Environmental Products & Services, Inc. Come April 1996, wife Carol had given birth to 2nd son, Joseph, we owned a Chevy Cavalier, and she worked as waitress at Brutico’s Restaurant, Old Forge, PA. Carol told stories on how the “Quiet Don,” Russell Bufalino, dined at Brutico’s, and in contrast, a tale about boxer Muhammad Ali having dined at the less expensive Revello’s Cafe. One Summer evening, in our shared backyard, our beautiful and gentle neighbor, Barbara Pane, sat upon picnic table and told us one of the most incredible stories I ever heard!

For a couple decades, Barbara Pane worked at Insalaco’s Supermarket, in the meat department! I do not care to be a wise ass, but just in case one in Melania Trump’s caste does not know much about a “meat market,” I will briefly explain. Such employees must cut up meats; for example, slice a chicken into parts, separately package legs, breasts, thighs, and afterward place them in an attractive counter for sale. The working environment is always cold and Barbara eventually developed arthritis, an affliction which shortened her career. On that hot Summer night, Barbara Pane told Carol and I about an Insalaco’s co-worker ‘s “back& forth” trip to an Atlantic City casino.

(Note: I can not recall the date on which Barbara told us the remarkable tale, and I have recently spoken to neighbors with whom Barbara likely shared the following true story. To date, no one recalls either the name of the Good Meat Cutter Samaritan or the exact year which the incident happened. I ask readers to place faith in my best recollection and “Trust me”?)

The meat cutter had weekend time off, and like thousands of Northeast Pennsylvanians, he and spouse journeyed to Atlantic City in order to gamble at “the slots.” Of course expenditures kept within family budget and Barbara emphasized how the happy couple were “comp’d’” a meal at Bally’s Casino. The couple reportedly were “up” about $300 but decided to keep pulling One-Arm Bandits and fortunately, they broke even. Upon return home, the fellow decided to “take long & scenic way home ,” and opted to drive the Garden State Parkway, north. Along way, he encountered heavy rain, and windshield wipers “could not keep up with the torrent!” Slowing down near the exit for Tom’s River, the gambler noticed (ahead) a limousine pulled off on the Parkway’s shoulder.

Slower, slower, and some twenty yards away, a limo driver came into view – he struggled mightily to change a flat tire! Instinctively, the fellow pulled close behind the limo, and activated 4-Way Flashers. In downpour, he exited car and immediately helped the driver get the limousine’s spare tire on. Both gentlemen shook hands and ran back to respective vehicles. The meat cutter delayed for a moment, as the driver made it safely to the limo’s electric rear window, which lowered a bit, and the occupant commanded, “Get that guy’s name, address, SSN # , and return right back to me!”

Barbara described how they safely arrived home, including the meat cutter’s return to work on Monday. Weeks later, he went to the bank in order to make monthly payment on the hefty mortgage on their house. Barbara gasped and near cried, “When the teller ‘looked up’ the loan data, she found that the mortgage payments were paid in full!” My sweet wife Carol often calls me a “Drama Queen” so I will spare time and reveal exactly who paid the mortgage, in full. No one can liken him to the better spirit of Charles Dickens, but it was Donald J. Trump who ordered his driver to “Get that guy’s name…”

One can reasonably deduce from this article that, based upon “character,” I support Donald Trump for POTUS. A good point – otherwise, why should I write and submit a work like this to honorable web sites operated by principled people? Would http://www.Breitbart.com display a Good Samaritan act done secretly by Hillary? More chance for an Animal Farm snowball’s survival in Hell.

If professors taught a little more, a percentage of undergrads would have the gift of Richard M. Nixon’s words, “We (Americans) must keep in mind that those who have the most power do not necessarily have the most experience, the best brains, the keenest insights, or the surest instincts.” 2. Having the luxury of going deeper, I buy into Joe Sobran’s rather defeatist definition of democracy, “It’s two wolves and a lamb deciding upon what will be next for dinner.” Subsequently, “the question is begged,” and why the hell should “sheeple” cast votes? Answer: getting out of the house… perhaps exercise? “Cut to the meat,” and according to the following (2nd thought) pattern laid out by Paul Craig Roberts, “The US is no longer capable of producing leaders.” http://www.paulcraigroberts.org/2015/06/20/trump-president-paul-craig-roberts/

Essentially, if I believed Catholic character and statesmanship have anything to do with post-November 23, 1963 POTUS candidates, I’d be a flat out imbecile.

Sadly, The Voice of my story, Barbara Pane, shrunk down to flesh & bone; she passed away, May 28, 2008, under hospice care, age 70. What’s more, my #1 Taylor political consultant, “Peabody” Bracey, lost election bid for Taylor Council and he resumed drinking lots of Budweiser. Early this morning, at Taylor Fire Department, I asked Peabody, “Who do you like… Hillary or Trump?”

“How about we talk about something else, Chuck? Don’t ‘ya get it yet? Them goof balls
are just master beaters. Relax and enjoy the rough fucking… ha-ha!”

“ O yea, ‘gotcha, but you forget I grew up when (at least) a butcher would give kids slices of
bologna.”

“Yup, at least Dubya had the moxie to stand up to The Butcher of Baghdad, eh?”

“Yes, Peabody, a cow always goes into the CIA as Black Angus, comes out as steak, and then
becomes a tennis racket which is good for busting our balls ’til they crack!”

1. “One of the best-known (USA) practitioners of ‘honest graft” was a Tammany ward boss, George Washington Plunkitt, an Irishman and a butcher who deserted his trade for the care and comfort of his neighbors; and on the side made a fortune out of harbor transport and general contracting, when the second generation Irish were coming to political power in the 1870s. He remains the model of The Samaritan politician and has left a diary that contains an incomparable account of a day in the life of a Tammany ward boss, which (Plunkitt) called, ‘The only lasting democracy’.” A direct quote taken from a Brit book for which I have great respect, “Alistair Cooke’s America,” 1973; Page 290.
2. From Leaders; Richard Nixon, 1982, Chapter “Winston Churchill,” Page 33.

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