T and Andrew Jackson.

The visit was as obvious a signal as Reagan in Neshoba County. Some of you may have forgotten, but the early 'Warblogger' generation allied themselves with Jacksonianism, later morphing into neocon and Tea Party mouthpieces. All now T faithful. They still spout faith in Jackson from time to time.

To me, the disturbing bit of history is Jackson's purposeful denial of jurisprudence, choosing to ignore the Supreme Court. "John Marshall has made his decision, now let him enforce it." Yesterday's bit of modern theatrical PR makes a statement about future rule, in other words. He is telling us clearly that, once again, he will ignore legal and political traditions.

Is it just me?

I already hear the murmurs. I think Ms Maddow has done more to de-escalate the demand for Trump's taxes than anyone, left or right. Conversations all over the place, both sides of the aisle: "No smoking guns." "If he'd been doing something illicit, there'd have been something in '05."

I repeat: The media is working for their own bottom line, kids. "Political entertainment" is, once again, proven to be exactly what it claims to be. Entertainment. Mortgage opinions from these sources at your own risk.

[I will continue to advise triangulating from good quality sources before forming solid opinions. Ideally, one of those triangulations should be from an ideologically-opposing source. News is no longer 'easy.' You must test.]

Die, Workwear: Horsebit Loafers, A Bit Questionable.

As opposed to a paragraph in this article, '80's Wall Street was awash in horsebit loafers. You weren't worth squat unless you owned the Gucci version.

I soldiered on with my beefrolls, pennies firmly inserted. I refused to rattle as I walked. And because of my budget in those days, I'd walk roundtrip from the WTC to 1 NY Plaza (next to Battery Park and the Ferry) every workday. Horsebits would have driven me bananas.

RIP, Tom Negrino.

We've lost another one of our foundational, irreplaceable bloggers. Tom Negrino passed away today.

Death is what brought me to blog; my father's long illness and death are events that are far away in time, yet still at my fingertips (those who have lost loved ones to cancer know this crushing reality). My own pain drove me to start this strange pursuit called weblogging, to distract myself from reliving the events leading up to his demise on Xmas day in '97. The pain of loss, the relief at the release from pain. And now here we are, another life cut short. Cheated again. It brings all the emotions back to the surface. Pain like flailed, fevered skin.

I didn't know Tom well enough to offer a eulogy; we only passed by each other in the early days, virtually waving at each other, never engaging deeply. As such I have no wish to intrude on others' better reminiscences and eulogies; I can only offer eulogia.

I read Tom regularly, bought his books, and thoroughly enjoyed his writing style. Yet in that is great praise; I only linked and read people who could successfully express character in their writing. Authenticity. It was especially difficult to do, plugging that internet cable into your frontal and parietal lobes and coming up with tasty prose on a regular basis in this new form of expression. Forthright, logical, pragmatic, consistent he was. Back then, we didn't know what we might be risking because comments had not yet turned into Dante's Malebolge. Tom's entries were on another level than the rest of us. We learned writing as we went. He was already a uniquely skilled writer. I consider him one of my blogging archetypes.

If our early days of blogging were Camelot (and many of us feel that way about that particular time), Tom sits at the Round Table now with Brad and Anita. One can only imagine the discussions they'll have. I do so hope there is an Avalon for our blogging generation, so we may meet again.

And if so, I expect to be handed a QuickStart guide authored by you-know-who when it's my turn.

RIP, Tom.