Telltales

On my last and final job, the new CEO on his first day wanted to change my schedule effective immediately, and let my sons find another way to get home that day. That was a telltale. His insistence on my instant obedience told me clearly that I was soon to be unemployed. I was.

When I walked into Doré’s apartment in 1976, I saw a sea of stuff from where I stood in the doorway to the farthest wall—lone boots, rolls of toilet paper, stacks of magazines, dirty clothes and dishes, canned goods, a set of wrenches, a basket of knitting, pillows, ashtrays, and more. That was a telltale, and I knew then she was as crazy as her décor. There were compensations, though, that made it seem like a good deal, and she was the first in a series of crazy women that stretched for years into the future. I’m a lucky guy.

Then there was Daunta, whose place looked like a model apartment. There was nothing on her kitchen counters, not a cup or plate, not a scrap of food, not a toaster, not a fork, nothing. There was nothing on her kitchen table. There was nothing in her living room but furniture. That apartment was a telltale, and she was as neurotic as advertised.

In the 2008 presidential campaign, when neither Ralph Nader nor Cynthia McKinney got to debate on national television, but Barack Obama did, it dawned on me that Obama had been approved by the power elite. I tried not to think of that as a telltale, except that he had a real chance to win.

When I read about him stumping Congress last year for the bailout bill, and as soon as possible handing out pretty much with his eyes closed bazillions of my tax dollars to rich bankers and the rest of them, I tried not thinking of that as a telltale that he wanted to please the insurance and finance industry more than he wanted things to change.

And although his administration has always resisted even the idea of universal single-payer health care—clearly the most civilized system, though not so hot for AIG and the rest of the insurance racket—maybe that’s not a telltale, and he’s not gonna settle for his lifelong no-limit health care for him and his family while the rest of us sit in the waiting room with the sticky floor and the unfortunate odor.

Barack Obama is not a knight in shining armor, although that was his brand. He’s a millionaire lawyer, and many thought he was progressive because they think they would be if they were black, and he didn’t say for sure that he wasn’t. Pretty funny.

Barack Obama is a suit, of course, and a good one. As for health care, he may deal with the odor, but we may as well get used to the sticky floor, especially over there by the cashier.