Don Polson

While this writer has been frolicking about the countryside in Idaho and Oregon, it turns out that there has been no pause in the foolishness inflicted on our fair state. More on that below.

More on the strange, weird reality of Kamala’s California below, but first:

Employment numbers, the flip side of unemployment, appeared in Saturday's Daily News; as usual, “the rest of the story” (hat tip Paul Harvey) is the millions of workers nationally who've simply dropped out of the working/job-seeking “labor participation force.” The local 6.6 or 6.9 percent rate is realistically closer to 10 percent or more, depending on how many “workforce dropouts” there are.

You could say that California's political class, the elites in government—as well as the high-tech titans who are unaffected by, even oblivious to, crime, homeless encampments, drug culture, and an unaffordable cost of living—create the Newsom and Harris type of political figures. They could never succeed in “red” states like Idaho or Oklahoma without shedding their radical leftist skin like snakes to appear devoid of their quasi-Marxist, Alinsky-ite, power-grabbing ways.

About the glitch in the round-a-bout project on South Main Street: It may seem trivial that clay, despite many decades of use for the I-5 off-ramp without such issues, may experience compaction under the proposed circular replacement of the former T-shaped intersection.

I’ve neglected to mention the Republican headquarters for a couple of weeks. It’s in the former Ramsey Jewelers location at 748 Main Street. Stop and visit, even volunteer.

Advice for Democrats: After losses to Obama and Biden, we found solace in skiing. Look around; find some of your own “joy” in life.

You may have noticed some irritation, aggravation, even anger among friends, acquaintances and families, over apparently irreconcilable political differences. This isn't written to comment on a national phenomenon but as a way to provide some heartfelt guidance regarding the approaching Thanksgiving and Christmas season, for local readers with their extended network of family and friends.

Too little of that life-sustaining substance recalls the cowboy song about “cool, clear water” (written by Bob Nolan, popularized by Marty Robbins). It captures the lament of a parched man and his mule traveling through a wasteland, while tormented by mirages.

For many folks, ourselves included, celebrating Christmas is a quiet, even private, affair. Distant relatives and recently-visited friends mean it's a selective, intentional event. The festivities, come and gone over decades of married life, move us to skip the falderal (def: a useless ornament or accessory…) because it's become irrelevant to the “reason for the season.” We indulge in tChristmas music, Christmas movies (Polar Express and the Hallmark channel), and consider the mission of the Messiah's birth.