Virgil Unrein passed away this week. When my sister Beth shared the news with me Wednesday night, I sat down and in seconds was flooded with memories of my dear friend. The Unreins belonged to St. Pat's and their family was large – Virgil had seven siblings, and he was the second oldest. We went to St. Pat's together, and I came to know a couple of his brothers, namely Richard and Nick. Virgil's dad Edwin worked in the oil field and died in May, 1975. At that time Virgil was 18.
So the conventions are over and we've entered the penultimate stage of this presidential demolition derby. Your muted murmurs of"yippee" and "hooray" have been duly noted. That's enough, put the horns away, this is not an overly large celebration.
Regulations are flying out the door in in Washington, where an already hyper-aggressive Obama administration is looking at its last chance to move its agenda forward while sidestepping the Republicans in Congress.
If Donald Trump could just "let it go" once in a while, the national media might actually report on Hillary's crass lies at the Democratic National Convention. But, no, Trump's a natural performer in the style of Kardashian and Jersey Shore "reality" stars, reacting foolishly to verbal slights.
The year-long primary season proved one thing - the pundits, pollsters, and experts were wrong. They were wrong about Donald Trump right up to the last, and they were wrong about Bernie Sanders, a dark horse candidate that dogged Hillary Clinton to the end before he finally came up short.