Hacked off

I instantly went into panic mode.

I'd clicked onto a text message. The next thing I knew, the screen on my laptop filled border to border with a message that my MacBook Pro had been infected, and instructed me to not hit the "off" button.

Oh, yeah. And here's the 1-800 number to Apple Security.

I know. I know. Whatever you do, don't call that number. There is no such thing as Apple Security. Little bells were going off in my head, clearly warning me not to call that number. In fact, I should have hit the "off" button.

But I called the number.

I mean, jeez, this was my $1,500 computer. I wanted it back.

So I'm on the phone with a fellow who speaks English with a Middle Eastern accent (another red flag, I guess). I'm on the phone with him for 90 minutes or so, following his instructions. He gets control of my cursor and I see it flipping around my screen as my mouse sits silently on its pad.

I'm sweating, feeling really uncomfortable about this. But he promises me we're almost done and I'll have my laptop back soon.

He transfers me to another person, who also speaks with a Middle Eastern accent. We're in my banking accounts. And then I get transferred again, to yet another Middle Eastern accent. It finally dawns on me that I'm being scammed. It's probably some troll farm halfway around the world, since everybody is speaking with the same accent. I hang up in the middle of the phone call and go directly to my bank, where I tell them what I did. I keep mumbling "idiot" to myself the whole time.

We start closing accounts immediately. We call my wife at work and tell her what happened. She's understanding, but I suspect I'll be divorced by the end of the day because she never bargained to be married to an idiot. She asks our banker if any money has been moved and we discover that $1 has been routed from one account into another. A test.

Kim gets home, and there's no shouting. No blaming. No accusations. I figured I'd deserve everything she could throw at me, but all she did was try to calm me down. We take the laptop and drive to Best Buy in Winston-Salem, where we let the Geek Squad take over. 

They look at the screen, where the hackers' "Any Desk" program was running. "Ah, the infamous 'Any Desk,'" said the associate. "We have the tools to repair this." Apparently, they've seen this hack before.

I have to tell you, those guys were great. They told me the computer would be ready in six days, but two days later, I got a text from them telling me my device was ready for pickup.

In the meantime, Kim and I were doing everything we could to protect ourselves. We've changed a lot of passwords. We've changed accounts. The computer has been scrubbed. We froze our credit cards. It's been an exhausting and stress-filled hassle to finally get here, but here we are. Finally.

I've been telling my friends what happened and several suggested that I write this blog to serve as something like a public service announcement. I mean, I have a college education and I still did this. It could happen to anybody. The bank told me that. The Geeks told me that. My friends have told me that.

So if anything happens to you while you're on the computer, just TURN IT OFF!

And DON'T CALL THE NUMBER!

Take it from me. 

When Johmmy Comes Marching Home

So now we're at war.

I thought president and convicted felon (and don't forget adjudicated rapist) Donald Trump was going to keep us out of any future wars. He's a peacemaker. Wasn't that one of his campaign promises? What, you mean he lied to us? How is that possible?

Sometime yesterday afternoon, Trump ordered an airstrike against the nuclear facilities at three separate locations in the sovereign (albeit terrorist sponsoring) nation of Iran. If I understand this correctly, several 30,000-pound bunker buster bombs were dropped on the underground uranium enrichment plant at Fordo, while 30 Tomahawk missiles launched by the Navy found targets in two other sites.

I don't know how surgical these strikes were. I'm assuming some people have died. It's hard to imagine a 30,000-pound bomb as being surgical.

While the strike may satisfy the insatiable cravings of MAGA (comments like "It's about time," "He's the best president we've ever had," and "I've been waiting for this since 1981" have shown up in social media), there is a sense of constitutional illegality to this.

Article I, section 8 of the U.S. Constitution says the president cannot unilaterally declare war. That privilege is the sole responsibility of Congress, which is supposed to serve as a check and balance to presidential overreach. The Founding Fathers foresaw this when they divided the powers between the legislative and executive branches to prevent a rogue president from having unchecked power over military actions. Los Angeleans might know something about that what with Marines and National Guardsmen in their streets in the wake of a civil disturbance that local law enforcement has under control.

The War Powers Resolution of 1973 also limits a president's ability to commit troops to military action without Congressional approval. It requires the president to notify Congress within 48 hours of deploying troops. It also requires the president to withdraw troops within 60 days unless Congress authorizes deployments.

I'm sure a felon president who insists on wearing MAGA baseball caps at cabinet meetings like some obtuse cartoon character would do this. Not. 

As the sun breaks through the morning twilight today, we can only wonder what Iran's response will be. American foreign military bases are clearly now in jeopardy of Iranian retaliation. Heck, I think Americans in our own country are in jeopardy. I wonder if that includes immigrants?

Trump apparently ignored American intelligence sources (putting the words "Trump" and "intelligence" in the same sentence seems like an oxymoron. Or maybe just moronic) insisting that Iran was not close to building a nuclear weapon at all. "I don't believe it," said Trump, disparaging American intelligence collection yet again. That makes yesterday's attack by the U.S. very opportunistic, especially in the wake of Israel's military actions against Iran in the days before. 

Some reports state that Iran already moved its fissionable material to other locations prior to the bombing. 

Trump promised (Oh, no. Not another promise) us a two-week pause while making a decision whether or not to attack Iran, but he waited less than two days instead. It has the feel that Trump had already made up his mind to bomb Iran in the moment. Like a child opening his Christmas presents early, he couldn't wait. Instead, he's fulfilling Israel Prime Minister Bebe Netanyahu's wildest wet dream, because no other country in the world has bunker bombs.

And, hey. Have any of our allies commented on Trump's actions, or shown any support at all (other than Israel?) Not that I've heard as I write this. If a response from our Allies does come, it certainly won't be considered immediate.

Instead, we're left wondering what the Iranian response will be. You know Iran will not let this go. Could we find pain on American soil? Cyber attacks? Biological attacks. Do you not think Iran has sympathetic proxies and sleeper cells around the world? Is air travel less safe? Expect the cost of gas to soar. Maybe the stock market takes a dive. Did Trump consider any of this in his eagerness to blow up Iran?

In his desperate bid to win a Nobel Peace Prize (you know, because President Obama got one), Trump said he would keep us out of war. 

All we know is that we're in an undeclared war waiting for the next foot to fall.

And people die in wars. 

 

 

Brian Wilson

A friend of mine surprised me several years ago when he told me that he didn't particularly care for The Beach Boys music.

That didn't compute for me.

The reason, he said, was that their music was mostly about surfing and the southern California lifestyle, things he couldn't really relate to in North Carolina.

Brian Wilson

 To each his own, I guess.

The Beach Boys reached me in a different way. I loved their layered harmonies, catapulted by the shared DNA of the Wilson brothers: Brian, Dennis and Carl. Throw in cousin Mike Love and friend Al Jardine, and suddenly you might find yourself in the harmonic realm of the Everly Brothers.

I didn't particularly care what they sang about – cars, girls, high school – it just sounded good. Heck, the music was so enticing that I actually wanted to go to southern California just to see what all the excitement was about.

As I grew older, I learned that Brian Wilson was the core genius of the California Sound the group produced, although each of the members made their own significant contributions. And as books and movies appeared, I was astonished to learn that Brian was the product of an abusive and controlling father. It was this abuse, said Wilson, that contributed to the mental illness that prevented him from touring with the group after 1964.

I didn't clearly realize it at the time, but The Beach Boys were running through the music charts concurrently with The Beatles in something of a friendly, unofficial competition.

In one of the stories that I like to read about, Wilson was stunned by the mastery The Beatles produced with Rubber Soul, a mostly acoustic pop music game-changer that came out in 1965 with many of the tunes inspired by work of Bob Dylan.

Wilson, in response, countered with a masterpiece in 1966, Pet Sounds, featuring such tunes as "Wouldn't It Be Nice", "Caroline No", "Sloop John B" (a remake of an old Bahamian folk song going back to 1916. Pete Seeger and the Weavers covered in in the 1950s) and "God Only Knows".

Wow.

When Paul McCartney of The Beatles heard Pet Sounds, he reportedly cried after repeated listenings. And so was born Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band as a response in 1967, yet another pop music game changer.

For those of us who lived it, we were awash in spectacular music.

Wilson's genius was not only in his songwriting and arranging, but also in his studio work. "Good Vibrations", written by Love, features an odd sounding electro-theremin, and Wilson's modular recording style, which splices together takes from different sessions, which was unusual at the time.

Wilson passed away Tuesday at the age of 82. There is a void out there now, I think. The passing of the hallmarks of my youth reminds me of my own approaching mortality. God only knows. 

 

 

Go Crimson

I don't understand Trump's vendetta against Harvard University.

Or higher education in general.

But Harvard. There's something about the sound of "Harvard" that suggests (or perhaps screams) intelligence. Or innovation. Or research. Or even America itself.

It's the oldest university in the United States, founded 389 years ago by Puritan clergyman John Harvard in 1636. That's 152 years before the Constitution of the United States was ratified. Holy smokes.

And almost from its very beginning, Harvard has been a magnet for the intelligencia. It's where smart people go to become even smarter, with the ultimate idealistic aim of making the planet a better place to live. Eight former presidents have attended Harvard, including John Adams, his son John Quincy Adams and Civil War hero Rutherford B. Hayes. There's also Franklin Delano Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, George W. Bush and Barack Obama.

Notice that Donald Trump is not one of them.

Trump's rationale for attacking Harvard – he wants to limit or block the admission of foreign students to satisfy his xenophobic tendencies, and at the same time accuse the university of antisemitism  for student disruption on campuses based on the conflict between Israel and Palestine.

Trump also cites alleged civil rights violations, diversity, equity and inclusion policies and university agendas as reasons to freeze assets. 

So the threats come, including withholding grant monies not only to Harvard, but to Columbia, Princeton, Brown, Penn and Northwestern, to name a few.

So Trump, in all of his wisdom, has cut $450 million in federal grants to Harvard. In all, he's withheld over $11 billion in cuts.

Much of that money goes into research grants – like cancer research, especially at Harvard. I think this is an incredibly stupid move by the Trump administration as we move closer and closer to being a more unhealthy country. I mean, let's take the fluoride out of our drinking water. Let's discourage measles vaccinations. Hell, let's discourage Covid vaccinations while we're at it.

We are in the middle of Trump's retribution  presidency, the one where he pays back all the people and institutions he thinks wronged him during his first term. How does making us a dumber, sicker, crueler people make America great again? How does a 34-times convicted felon get to wield such power against a private university?

I think Harvard can survive the Trump era. It has a $50 billion endowment (which is not bottomless) and, so far, the support of the law community.

We need Harvard to survive, even if you might think it's elitist and liberal. It's still the beating heart of American education.

 

More crap

On Friday, we learned that the Trump administration denied North Carolina's request to extend FEMA's Tropical Storm Helene relief funding for debris removal.

The storm caused about $60 billion in damages for the state and killed approximately 100 people. It was awful. North Carolinians are still trying to figure out how a storm with the force of a hurricane could ravage the mountains.

To be fair, FEMA is still providing 90 percent funding, but the remaining 10 percent is the equivalent to $200,000 million, which is not insignificant when people are still living in tents.

A few months ago, Kim and I went to Asheville to hear one of our favorite bands, Underhill Rose, perform. On the way up, the first hint of damage we saw was at Old Fort. Trees were still down. Some buildings were uninhabitable. 

By the time we reached neighboring Black Mountain and Swannanoa, the scope of the damage was clearly evident – and almost unbelievable to process from the inside of a car.

When we finally reached Asheville, the Interstate still had a layer of river silt imprinted on its surface and storm damage – particularly fallen trees – lay strewn on either side of the road. And this was five months later. It's going to take a long, long time for complete recovery.

But on Friday, the Trump administration said nope, further assistance is "unwarranted" and gave no reason why. So much for the transparency they claim to have.

And this coming from a guy who criticized then-President Joe Biden for abandoning the state and mishandling the hurricane response. Forgotten, I guess, was Trump's own response to North Carolina in 2017, during his first term, when the state requested $929 million in aid in the wake of Hurricane Matthew. North Carolina received just one percent ($6.1 million) of what it requested. Thanks, bro.

In the back of my head I'm thinking the only reason to deny the state recovery funding is retribution. Governor Josh Stein is a Democrat who doesn't mind sparring with Trump now and then. And Buncombe County, where Asheville is located, voted heavily Democratic for Kamala Harris in the 2024 general election. She received 98,602 votes (61.47.percent) while Trump totaled 59,016 votes (36.77 percent). So the payback presidency continues because a child pretending he's a clown sits at the Resolute Desk.

Roy Cooper, another Democrat, was the governor in 2017, in case you're looking for a pattern.

Meanwhile, the idiocy continues. When he's not denying FEMA funding, Trump's trying to punish Harvard University by banning the enrollment of foreign students for absurd or inexplicable reasons. Fortunately, a federal judge has issued a temporary restraining order to block the ban. That action puts a stop – at least for now – of a potential brain drain that could hurt this country for decades. Harvard, like most prestigious universities, do invaluable work in research and development. For example, Harvard is probably the leading university in the world in cancer research. So, yeah, let's shut that down.

•   •   •

On a side note, I've noticed that whenever MAGA responds to criticism of Trump, the explanation often given is that the critic is suffering from Trump Derangement Syndrome (TDS), as if it's an actual thing that is treatable with counseling.

I've been seeing and hearing that for years. I suspect I'll get a few TDS's for today's blog. 

Political debate is a natural, even a genetic, part of this country's heritage. Unless free speech is suddenly declared illegal by executive order, agreeing to disagree is part of a normal and healthy exchange. Declaring that an opponent has TDS amounts to nothing more than a tired, childish ad hominem attack in an attempt to extinguish a person's viewpoint from the debate with a weak insult. 

Be better than that, MAGA.

 

 

 

 

Immigration game

The other day I saw a story published by The Wall Street Journal – a conservative newspaper owned by Rupert Murdoch, who also owns FOX News – that the Department of Homeland Security is considering a reality TV program that pits desperate immigrants against each other in a competition for U.S. citizenship.

I thought this was pretty much more dystopian Trump administration nonsense until I got to the part where TV producer Rob Worsoff has been pitching a show like this as far back as the Obama era (Worsoff, by the way, helped produce Duck Dynasty).

The story gained further credence for me when it noted that DHS spokeswoman Tricia McLaughlin said she has been in contact with Worsoff and that the Trump administration is interested in the concept, revealing the idea is "in the very beginning stages of that vetting process."

Holy hell. Is there no end to Trump's indignities? His excessively corrupt administration (see: gold-plated Qatari 747 jet airliner) thrives on the pain and despair of others, and immigrants are an easy and special target for him. Not all immigrants, mind you. South Africans, who are white and speak English, are coming to the United States as asylum seekers and are welcomed by the Trump clown show. But Hispanics, who are usually non-Whites, don't generally speak English and are often being labeled, without due process, as MS-13 gang members, are being deported (probably unconstitutionally) to foreign nations not native to them. Cruel and unusual? Well, yes. That's the point, isn't it?

All this abomination got me to thinking about immigration in this country. It's not a particularly pleasant picture when you get right down to it.

Oh, sure. We've seen the images of poor Europeans coming off ships at Ellis Island under the shadow of the State of Liberty, and it's as feel good an image as there is. It's what America is all about. It's the Statue of LIBERTY, for crying out loud.

Until you consider that Black Africans were brought to these shores in 1619 to serve as slaves – by white Europeans, and primarily, by white Englishmen and who were mostly Protestant Christians.

Which makes the white Englishmen this country's first immigrants, not to mention its first slave holders. And one of the first things the white Englishmen do is steal the land from native Americans, who are not white. Oh, my God! It's an invasion!

It's a slippery slide from there.

As the country grew, so did its biases. As humans, we don't seem to do well with things we don't know about. Like somebody else's culture. Or their religion. So when the great potato famine sparked Irish immigration to the U.S. in the mid-1840s, it also brought with them large numbers of Catholics, and well, you know the rest: Irish need not apply.

Then it was the Germans in 1848, crossing the Atlantic to escape revolution. The resident Englishmen were so confused by this they called the Germans "Dutch" because the German word for German is "Deustch." Makes sense, right? It's a dehumanizing tactic to label an ethnic group something they're not. Well, we know that now. Because we're still seeing it happen.

About the same time that the Germans came over, the Chinese arrived, hoping to take advantage of the gold rush in California. Here's a factoid: the Chinese were primarily used to build the western section of the Transcontinental Railroad. Approximately 12,000 Chinese immigrants helped with the construction of the project from 1865 to 1869, often working under horrendously dangerous conditions. Imagine that. The American railroad system, made in China.

Then came the Italians in the 1880s, trying to escape hardship and political strife. Oh, my God. Mafia. More Catholics. And that Mediterranean dark skin. Watch out.

Meanwhile, Jews are coming to the United States in three significant waves from 1820 to 1924. One of the most shameful moments in American history, to my mind, occurred in 1939 when the German ocean liner MS St. Louis tried to disembark 900 Jewish refugees who were fleeing Nazi persecution in Germany immediately prior to World War II. But the United States, Canada and Cuba refused to admit the asylum seekers. Some returned to Germany, only to perish in the Holocaust.

And, of course, we have the Muslim ban. After all of our past history, it's no surprise, I guess. 

We like to think of ourselves as a nation founded on Christian values, but our past often reveals us for who we really are: humans who struggle with prejudice, fear and ignorance. The hope is that we can learn from our past.

And then the next thing you know, we find ourselves with government sanctioned immigration games on TV. 

Do you feel like we're being set up for something?

 

 

 

 

Mom, again

There's this picture of Mom that I love when she had just turned 19. She's just graduating from high school, so I figure it's about 1947.

I don't think the photo was professionally done because the top of her head was nearly cut off. It might have been taken by a family member. Perhaps one of her four siblings. Or maybe her dad, Harry. Or even my Dad, who was dating Carol at the time. I'll never know. 

 But it's beautifully posed.

She's standing in an open field, in heels, wearing dress gloves and an above-the-knee skirt, complete with a shoulder bag. And a corsage.

She might be smiling, but I'm not quite sure. Maybe it's the hint of a smile. Or perhaps the suggestion of one, as if she knows some really good stuff and she's not going to tell anyone. At least not yet.

What I love about this picture is that she is standing firm on her ground, facing 45 degrees from straight on. She's looking ahead. There's confidence there, I think. She's holding her shoulder bag with a measure of authority.

Mom and Dad are already an item by this point, and it'll be three more years before they are married. I remember hearing stories that Dad would take the trolley from where he lived in Allentown to see Mom, who lived in neighboring Bethlehem.

There's no way she can clearly see what awaits her, however. 

She never goes to college (she did major in accounting in high school and worked for an insurance agency for a while) but she and Dad end up having three sons who kept them pretty busy.

I'm supposing Mom was the ideal 1950s-60's housewife, but I have to guess this part: even though I lived it, I was in my world, she was in hers. Dad changed jobs fairly often, first as a high school English teacher, then a Red Cross counselor, then a teacher again, and then a Moravian minister before becoming a teacher once again and then, at last, back to the church again. I like to say he couldn't keep a job, but that wasn't it. I think he needed to find his true challenge; his authentic self. It always seemed to be somewhere he wasn't.

Consequently, the Wehrles lived in Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, Connecticut and back to Pennsylvania before moving to Ohio, and then, finally, to Wisconsin before Dad found himself. I'm pretty sure Mom never factored in all the traveling she would do as a housewife in her life, but there it was.

Sometime in the 1960s, Betty Friedan wrote a bestseller called The Feminine Mystique and a copy somehow ended up in our house. It wouldn't surprise me if Dad bought it for her because she was a voracious reader, but the book challenged the belief at the time that "fulfillment as a woman had only one definition for American women after 1949 – the housewife-mother."

I'm not sure if this book was life changing for Mom or not. I was only 12 in 1963. But I think an independent streak emerged and evolved in Mom. She got a job at Moravian College to help with finances while Dad was in seminary. A few years later, when Dad had a church in Coopersburg, Mom turned to oil painting. She was very good at it. I'm sure she found a sense of fulfillment in her talent and soon Carol Wehrle originals were hanging in many of the rooms of our house.

I have a few to this day.

She died in 1991 at the early age of 63 when she could no longer hold back the breast cancer that  ultimately ravaged her body. She outlived Dad by four years (who died of the prostate cancer that found his bones), and in those four years she displayed a courage and strength I don't think I'd seen in her before, even though she needed courage and strength to raise three sons.

I didn't see it then.

I see it now.

Thanks, Mom.