There are four lights

It must be obvious by now, but just in case it isn’t: Everything the Trump Administration touches is going to be smeared with shit for the next three years.

The Kennedy Center, the Olympics — and now the Scouts.

Later this year, they’re going to smear July 4 with shit when they have a UFC championship on the White House lawn.

Instead of kids one day having fun memories of cartoons, fireworks and free concerts — like many Americans have of the Bicentennial in 1976 — the 250th Anniversary of the United States is going to be forever tainted by the specter of the shit-throwing madmen looming over it.

Nothing is going to be spared. But live your values and hold your line.

It’s literally the only thing you have control over — yourself, your self-respect and your integrity.

Hold the line for yourself, your family (including chosen family), and your friends.

Stay true to yourself. Have some self-respect. It’s the one thing these shit-stained Nazi morons can’t take away.

I mean, c’mon, my fellow Gen X nerds: We saw Capt. Picard overcome worse than this.

Was it over when Gul Madred tried to make Jean-Luc say there were five lights? Was it over when the Borg collective turned him into Locutus?

My God, those are the geekiest things I’ve ever written.

But no matter what these Nazi assholes say, THERE ARE FOUR LIGHTS.

Be one of the lights.

People, people, we gotta get over before we go under

We got a funky president, and people, it’s bad

(This is political. If you’re tired of politics, skip to something else.)

Ann Telnaes cartoon via Substack

I didn’t watch Kaiser von Shitzenpants’ address to the Reichstag last night, but from everything I’ve read — someone called it “probably the most divisive State of the Union in history” — I think I’ve got the flavor of it.

None of what’s currently happening is going to end well for us in the United States. The pathways from here are pretty grim.

To be clear: I think the side of justice will ultimately win.

Continue reading “People, people, we gotta get over before we go under”

Post-apocalypse

Jeff Bezos doesn’t understand why people liked The Washington Post. Therefore, he might as well wreck it.

When I was barely making enough money to pay my rent and was eating Ramen noodles and bagged salad for dinner every night, I still scraped up enough money to buy a Sunday copy of The Washington Post every week.

Later, I subscribed to the weekly edition of the newspaper, and then, when it went online, the digital version.

For most American journalists in the 1990s and early 2000s — especially those of us aspiring to break into the business — The Washington Post was very nearly the platonic ideal of what you wanted a big-city newspaper to be. It had everything: Serious news coverage, biting editorial columns and cartoons, and a very lively “Style” section and Sunday magazine.

Continue reading “Post-apocalypse”

Top 55 of 1965

Thank you to everyone who tuned in New Year’s Eve to hear our broadcast from “December 31, 1965,” and special thanks to Scott Fybush, who recorded the news for us from the “Mutual Broadcasting” newsroom. Also thanks to WRCT for allowing me to pre-empt several shows, as well as Chief Engineer Carmen Ting and “Steve the Roach” of the Deep Blues Hour for technical support.

Very special thanks to my long-suffering wife, Denise, for keeping me plied with hot tea throughout the three hours, because if you listened, you know I had very little voice that week. I am slowly recovering from a bout of the “super flu” that turned into bronchitis.

One technical note you might find interesting —

Because I wasn’t feeling well, I decided to do the show from my home studio, rather than WRCT. Early on, when Steve and I were testing the remote feed, we realized there was approximately a 30 to 60 second delay from the time the audio was sent to the network and when it was broadcast over 88.3 FM. That was an obvious problem on a New Year’s Eve show, because you want to announce 12 midnight as close to accurately as possible.

On the night of the broadcast, in the room adjacent to my basement studio, I tuned one of my trusty Zenith Trans-Oceanic radios to WRCT, started a song on the CD player, and started a timer. Then I listened to the playback from the next room:

When I heard the song on the radio, I hit the button again. The delay on Dec. 31 was about 42 seconds.

At 11:56, I pulled up the NIST atomic clock (time.gov) on my laptop and when it counted down to 11:59:18 p.m., I said “happy new year!” and played the WRCT legal ID. Forty-two seconds later (the most important number in the universe is always 42, after all) we announced the new year, just as NIST flipped to 12:00:00. We were about as close as we could get.

Several people have asked if we will re-broadcast the show — I don’t think so, because my voice was so weak and raspy that I found it hard to listen to myself. I appreciate everyone who stuck with me.

But I may re-create it soon during some holiday weekend; follow me here or on social media (Facebook, Mastodon, Bluesky) to find out when I announce it. I have to kick this damned cough first.

“Pen Avenue” for December 2025

Here is December’s “Pen Avenue,” my cartoon for Print, Pittsburgh’s East End newspaper.

Sorry for the delayed posts — I’ve been sick for most of the last three weeks and things got away from me.

Print is not available online; you can only read it in (what else?) print. It’s available at Giant Eagle and other stores in Pittsburgh’s East End, or subscribe on the website.

“Pen Avenue” for November 2025

Here’s this month’s “Pen Avenue,” my cartoon for Print, Pittsburgh’s East End newspaper.

Those Pittsburghers of a certain age will remember Pa Pitt, the personification of Pittsburgh popularized by the late Cy Hungerford, cartoonist for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette for almost 50 years. I have to admit, getting to draw Pa Pitt gave me goosebumps and I’m tempted to do it more often.

The cartoon itself is based on a 1992 cartoon by another legendary cartoonist Herb “Herblock” Block of the Washington Post, called “Your name Clinton?” I hope neither Mr. Hungerford or Mr. Block, wherever they are, are mad at me for stealing their ideas; I tried to give credit where credit is due.

Here’s Hungerford’s Pa Pitt:

And the Herblock cartoon to which I’m paying homage:

Print is not available online; you can only read it in (what else?) print. It’s available at Giant Eagle and other stores in Pittsburgh’s East End, or subscribe on the website.

You’re in good hands

Working from home today. Landline rings. Caller ID says “Sewickley, PA.” Someday I really need to start taping these calls:

Bill Lowenburg photo via Wikimedia Commons. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

Hello?

“Hello, sir. This is Justin from your Allstate agent. How are you today, sir?”

(We do not have Allstate Insurance. Also, he does not sound like a “Justin.” He sounds like a non-native speaker of English, at the very least.)

Oh, I’m really good, Justin, how are you?

“I’m fine, sir. This is a courtesy call about your Allstate policy. We’re doing surprise calls to our customers to explain how they can save money.”

Well that’s great!

“Sir, first of all, do you have a house and a car?”

Yes, we have cars.

“How many cars do you have, sir?”

Let me check. (Off-mike) One … two … three … uh … (on-mike) We have eight.

“Oh, my! Eight cars! Well, that is a blessing, sir. To have so many cars. And are these cars owned by you?”

Yes, I own all of them.

“Well, how lucky you are. Tell me, are these cars used for business or personal use?”

Well … a little of both. I mean, they’re demolition derby cars.

“Oh. Well. So would you say they’re more used for business?”

Hmm. I guess about 50/50, because the demolition derby is kind of a hobby, I don’t get paid.

“OK, then. So let’s say personal use. And are all of the cars running?”

Uh … no, only seven are running. The eighth one lost last weekend.

“OK then. So seven cars. What a blessing. Tell me, are they all insured?”

Oh, no. No, you can’t get insurance on demolition derby cars.

“Oh. Well. What about your house? Do you own your home?”

No, we’re squatting here.

“Oh. Well, in that case, we probably can’t help you over the phone. You’d have to go to your local Allstate office.”

Well, I’ll do that, Justin, thank you much.

“You have a blessed day, sir.”