1) The Big Lie 2) It Was the Best of Times. It Was the Worst of Times

THE BIG LIE

The City That Never Sleeps. It’s a big lie. 

The Lyft picks me up at 3:47 AM in front of my apartment building in Fort Lee, but a hop, skip and a Bob Beamon long jump from the bridge (the GWB for those who don't realize there is only one crossing anywhere deserving of the designation "the bridge").

As we head into New York, I can count on one hand the cars entering or leaving this metropolis. A few trucks hog their lanes but they are as singular dots on the landscape.

The Drive (the Harlem River for the uninitiated) feels like a speedway, not the parking lot it so often appears at most daytime hours. I sit in the back seat and watch as the miles to my destination melt away as quickly as a Paul Skene's fastball reaching the plate.

Exiting the Drive, the local streets are as empty as most campaign promises. When  the Lyft drops me off it feels as though virtually no time has elapsed. As though I was teleported here in a blink of an eye or a touch of some magic wand.

The building I enter is typically teeming with activity  Now, a lone man at the front desk greets me with some surprise, seeming a bit uncertain as to exactly my purpose  in arriving here at this ungodly hour. And the elevator to the 18th floor, so often stutter stepping its way up, carries me without interruption to my chosen elevation.

The city that never sleeps? It definitely requires an asterisk.

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IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES. IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES

This seems like the best of times to be a Republican. Donald Trump, despite leaving more litter in his wake than a World Series victory parade, has come out smelling like an altar boy. 

The Supreme Court and the loose Cannon in Florida giving him a free pass, collect $200 and move directly to the Presidency. The attempted shooting in Pennsylvania leaving him with a nicked ear and an aura of invincibility.

And the Democrats tripping all over Joe Biden's words and his advancing don't call it old age. Joe refusing to admit the picture of Dorian Gray is a fable.

So the Republican convention, which I have studiously avoided viewing, is more a coronation than a nomination. Their sneer visible through the darkness of their policies.

The Dems get their turn soon, but unless they act with great conviction (which is a four letter word to Republicans) and great haste to give Joe his walking papers, I fear their time in the spotlight will feel more funeral than celebration. 

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