Jeffrey D. Tharp's Blog

Up there at the top of the page, right under my name is the phrase “A voice of sanity in a world gone mad.” That’s been there since the early days of my time on WordPress. In fact, if I remember correctly, it went up on day one as I was originally putting the site together.

Over the last 18 years, I’ve done my level best to stay true to that motto as I came down left, right, and center on the issues I thought were worth discussing. I won’t claim I’ve always been dispassionate, but I’ve always tried to come at the issues of the day from a position of rationality and reason. Sometimes I’ve obviously fallen short of that mark, but overall, I’m awfully proud of the 4,058 posts that make up the lion’s share of my body of “published” works.

With that said, I don’t have the ability or desire to run color commentary through another Trump Administration. The first go around was enough. This is clearly my cue to take a step back.

I’ve always been vaguely annoyed by blogs that stop with no obvious reason given. That’s why instead of just walking away, you’re getting this one last post to state without rancor or regret that jeffreytharp.com is going on an indefinite hiatus. I expect I’ll still be doing some writing, but for the foreseeable future, I want to do it purely for me instead of in hopes of reaching an audience.

In addition to stepping back from my writing here, over the coming days I plan to begin curtailing my social media presence overall. I don’t expect that I’ll have anything helpful or productive to add to the current political discourse, so where I do engage will most likely be focused on animal welfare, history, and books. Others may have an appetite to continue the circular arguments indefinitely, but the fight seems to have entirely gone out of me. I may drop in from time to time and post a missive on something strongly felt, but I have a sense that it may be a good long while before I feel like that’s an option I want to exercise.

After 18 years, 4,058 posts, and 59,301 visitors, all that’s left is to say thanks to everyone who’s been following along. It feels unlikely that I’ll ever take up a project of such scope or duration again. The feedback, comments, and one-on-one discussions these posts have triggered are experiences I absolutely treasure. In my heart, though, I know it really is time to take a break.

I wish us all the very best in this brave new world.

Good night, and good luck.

Well, here we are. It’s Election Day eve. The candidates and influence groups have spent billions of dollars on advertising. The airwaves have been flooded with partisan screeds for months. I wonder if any of it moved the needle in any meaningful way for either party. As we come down to the wire, the polling remains unsurprisingly “too close to call.”

I’ve been wracking my brain to come up with some argument I could present – some turn of phrase I haven’t already tried – that could possibly resonate with potentially disaffected Republicans – to convince them that even if it’s just this one time, their best self-interest is served by defeating Donald Trump by an overwhelming margin. MAGA has to be ended before traditional, conservative Republicans can find their historical voice in the American political discussion. This election, in my estimation, is the last best chance for the Republican Party to begin rehabilitating itself into a party of principled conservatism rather than a cult of personality. That process can only begin when Republicans themselves decide that Donald Trump is leading them into a cul-de-sac where constitutional restraints and historical norms simply don’t matter. 

Something north of 70 million votes have already been cast in this election. I expect most people who this post might reach have either already voted or have made up their minds long ago who they’ll be voting for tomorrow. For the ones that haven’t, all I can ask is that you consider something more important than individual policy positions, what you’ve always done, or what your friends and neighbors are doing. More than those things, this election should first be about fidelity to the rule of law, the paramount supremacy of our Constitution, and whether America should be led by someone who openly admires the world’s current crop of tin pot dictators and petty despots.

Even if you disagree with that premise, I have every confidence that history will show Mr. Trump is wrong on tariffs and the economy, he’s wrong in opposing separation of powers, he’s wrong on dismissing freedom of the press, he’s wrong on supporting Russia, and wrong on rejecting the vital importance of standing strong with our NATO allies. He reflects the worst impulses of our contemporary political discourse – and normalizing it is simply dangerous. If you’re determined to support Mr. Trump, I know there’s nothing I can say that will change your mind. If, however, you’re on the fence, I’m begging you with tears on my eyes to throw your vote to anyone but Donald Trump.

1. Texts, emails, and phone calls. I’m awfully curious if there’s any campaign advisor anywhere who really thinks bombarding voters with an endless stream of emails, texts, and phone calls is going to win them over. It’s so bad from both the left and right that I expect it’s more likely to drive people to say politics can fuck all the way off and stay home out of spite. Maybe that’s the point? That feels far-fetched, but whatever I learned as a political science student a quarter century ago clearly no longer applies, so who the hell knows.

2. Return to office. No, I’m not talking about a plot from my actual management to get me back into my cubicle more often. This was a dream in which I went all the way back to set up shop in my old cubicle on G Street in DC – a place I haven’t been since probably 2007-ish. This nightmare version was, of course, much smaller and had far worse lighting than I remember, but the old workspace was instantly recognizable. I feel like being back there in my brain in the middle of the night should at least be some kind of billable time. It was a proper nightmare.

3. Candidate Trump. As we slide into the final days of election 2024, I’m completely perplexed by how this thing is polling inside the margin. I could rattle off half a dozen viable reasons why Donald Trump has no business holding an office of public trust, but there he is, showing every possibility of being returned to office to commence his scourge of the “enemies within” and casting aside centuries old constitutional norms and precedents. I don’t especially like Candidate Harris, but after listening to and watching Candidate Trump on the campaign trail, reading the key points of Project 2025, and observing the general antics of internet famous MAGA “personalities,” I don’t know how I could be expected to believe they’re competent to manage something as complex as the executive branch of the U.S. Government. It’s a serious business that requires serious people. A large swath of my countrymen are obviously seeing something I’m not… so I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for the distinct possibility that next week will mark the beginning of the bloody world turned upside down.

There are eight days to go before the 2024 presidential election. Eight days that are going to feel like time has slowed down to the point where the human mind can no longer perceive any motion at all. It’s going to feel as if we’re eternally trapped in the most contentious election cycle in living memory. Good times. 

I’ve cast my vote already. There’s no part of the new cycle now that can influence my vote. That, of course, won’t stop the endless text messages, auto-dials, emails, television and radio ads, and breathless reporting from wall to wall. Millions of other Americans are in the same boat. We’ll wait and watch and hope that the whole thing doesn’t suddenly shift from absurdist farce to goddamned Greek tragedy.

As the antique machinery of the American electoral system creaks to life once again, I think many of us are holding our breath in hopes that the guardrails emplaced by the likes of James Madison and George Mason hold together one more time. The pressure we’ve put it under in the 21st century is immense – beyond, perhaps, anything the founders could have reasonably envisioned. As vitriolic as the election of 1800 was, it’s hard to imagine a victorious Thomas Jefferson turning the Army against the “enemy from within” who supported the vanquished John Adams.

I cast my first vote for president in 1996. Since then, I’ve voted for president faithfully every four years. The candidate I’ve voted for has won election maybe half the time. While I’ve often been disappointed at the outcome, 2024 marks the first year the closing days of an election of left me with an undeniable feeling of dread for what the future may hold in a United States where the norms and customs that have governed us for two and a half centuries no longer hold.

1. Plateaus. I’ve been hovering about a pound or two on either side of 190 for a little over a month now. I’m not doing anything different than I was when I was steady losing. I’m just… stuck… in a spot where the numbers say I should be losing slowly but steadily. The obvious option – slash another hundred or two hundred calories out of the day isn’t appealing since I’m already coming in around 1800 a day. Losing even more time in the day to being out walking or on the damned exercise bike is equally unappealing. This process has already monopolized more time and effort than I really wanted to allocate for it. Fifteen months in, and there’s still not one bit of this effort that has proven to be a good time. 

2. The reward for good work. The reward for good work isn’t recognition, or accolades, or more money, it’s simply being assigned more work. In some cases, it’s being assigned more work that someone else in your work unit can’t or won’t do. Not only does that become a bit awkward when passing in the hall, but it’s also a bit agitating in that I don’t have the stomach to just let projects die on the vine because I don’t want to work on them. I wish I did. In the government there seems to be a whole cottage industry in being able to duck assignments you don’t want just by quietly refusing to do a damned thing with them. As I trundle into the last third of my career, I wonder if it isn’t time to take a page out of that book since there are no obvious consequences.

3. Buyer’s remorse. I bought a spanking new La-Z-Boy recliner a few months ago. It’s very comfortable. It looks good. I spent at least an hour sitting in it in the showroom before making the decision that it was the one I wanted sitting in the living room for the next 10-15 years. I thought I made a solid decision. Here’s the thing… I don’t like it as much as the recliner that it replaced. I don’t enjoy the fact that it’s a rocker as much as I thought I would. Because it’s a rocker, it also comes on a raised platform, and this is where my displeasure was unexpected and something I couldn’t have reasonably accounted for in the store. I’ve always kept a dog bed on the right-hand side of wherever I ended up sitting in every living room I’ve ever had. While I watched TV or read in the evening, I’d casually dispense ear scratches or pets. Because of the raised platform configuration of this chair, I can’t sit there and pet the dog while he’s laying down without throwing myself into some oddly convoluted listing position. So, I’ve done the only reasonable thing and pulled the old recliner out of mothballs and pressed it back into service while relegating the fancy new La-Z-Boy to the sunroom/office as a comfortable place to sit during the duty day.

Once upon a time I was among the first in line to upgrade each year when the new iPhone was released. That’s back when each new release was a giant leap forward in the state of the art. Now that the market segment for smart phones is well and truly mature, advances are, at best, iterative. I honestly couldn’t tell you the last surprising or novel capability Apple added. The iPhone as a platform is polished, unsurprising, and in the finest traditions of Apple, “just works” for 99.999% of anything I need a cell phone to do. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I’m not using anything but the smallest percentage of the device’s native capability. Sitting here the back half of my 40s, I’m grudgingly learning to accept that most “new and improved” technology isn’t targeted directly at me anymore.

In any case, over the years I have fallen off the “as soon as possible replacement” cycle. Now I’m about a month behind in bringing the latest and greatest tech home with me. Some of that is driven by the terms of the iPhone replacement program – essentially a lease agreement by Apple has adopted me as a guaranteed monthly revenue stream in exchange for sending me their newest kit every 12 months. It’s a good deal for them from a business perspective and it continues to scratch my itch for wanting new electronic toys on a regular basis.

I’m sure I’m leaving money on the table. In the old days I was able to sell my old phones not quite at cost, but still recouping a large percentage of what I spent originally. Apple, of course, has made it easy. When I’m due for an upgrade, they send me an email, I click on a few buttons, and two boxes arrive on my porch – one empty, to send in my old phone and the other chock full of new iPhone.

In any case, I’ve signed up for another year of throwing a monthly iPhone subscription fee at Apple and I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of my fresh new Pro Max 16.

1. Calling an associate for assistance. Look, I’m standing in your store. I have money to spend. When you put the items I need to buy, let’s say deodorant and toothpaste, behind lock and key you’ve made it very secure and there’s definitely no way I can walk off with it. But you’ve made the transaction wildly inconvenient and guaranteed that while I’m still standing in your store, I’ll purchase the item from Amazon and have it delivered to my front door before the end of the day. I get why businesses are doing it, but as a customer I won’t play that game. I have no interest in spending money with a business that is actively adding inconveniences to my day. Either sort out how to deal with shoplifters or don’t, but expecting I’ll be doing the work for you is 100% daft.

2. Five-day weekend. This past weekend was five days long. Not one of them was a day of rest. I plugged back in to work on Tuesday not feeling like there was any pause at all from the previous Wednesday. That honestly feels like no way to live a life. It was busy out of necessity, but I damned well hope the weekends that follow will be a whole lot lower effort. That feels like the only fair trade off for blowing through a five-day weekend like it was nothing.

3. The undeniability of fall. Temperatures are dropping into the 30s in the mornings now. It’s mid-October and I’m steady burning propane to keep the chill out of the house no matter how sun-shiny and clear the day looks. It’s not my favorite time of year. There’s too little heat, too little daylight, and a general sense that the only thing to do for the coming months is hunker down and wait for the promise of spring. I wouldn’t be even a little surprised if the ancients thought the arrival of autumn every year could truly mark the end of the world. I know I’m always just a little bit surprised when we come though the dark and cold and find there’s still a world on the other side of it.

Last week I had my standard cardiology follow up. The good news is that we continue to observe nothing abnormal. The bad news is that we’re no closer to identifying why my heart went wonky a few times nearly 18 months ago. I’m beginning to think this could be one of those unfortunate unknown unknowns that I’m just supposed to learn to accept. 

Acceptance of “what is” has never been a particularly strong suit for me, but since we’ve basically run out of non-invasive tests, options are a bit limited. It was made very clear to me that a consult is only a phone call away, but unless old symptoms reemerge or new ones develop, I’m to check in year hence for a follow up. 

I know I should absolutely treat this as a no news is good news situation… maybe I will eventually. At the moment I’m still trying very hard just to wrap my arms around the idea that I am, in fact, a mere mortal after all. One thing at a time, I suppose. 

In more important news, doc cleared me to start easing back into the world of caffeinated beverages. It turns out I can take or leave getting a morning jolt of fully caffeinated coffee, but I’m really, truly appreciating the return of a proper cup of mid-afternoon tea. My days of burning through two pots of coffee a day are probably over for good, but it’s an awfully nice option to have back on the table. 

1. Pay their fair share. I hate the phrase “pay their fair share” when politicians, particularly Democrats, talk about tax policy. What the fuck exactly is a “fair share?” In 2021 the top 1% of income earners paid almost 46% of federal income taxes while earning 26% of total income. Sticking your hand in someone’s pocket “because he can afford it” smacks of confiscatory do good-ism at best and undisguised socialism at worst. Maybe the actual issue is the government simply has too many irons in the fire and is spending entirely too much money in areas where it has no business operating. God knows I’ve seen enough cash poured directly down the toilet in my 20+ years driven entirely by a general officer who was visited overnight by a series of good idea faeries and decided some new project or program was his one big chance to leave a mark in the history books. 

2. Training. I sat through what I expect was the 20th iteration of “threat awareness” training this week. Look, being aware of terrorists and insider threats is a good thing. But the material hasn’t changed in as long as I can remember. Some of the case studies they discuss are now 30 years old… as if we haven’t had a bevy of fresh new insider threats crop up since then.  Do the bosses really expect I forgot everything from fiscal year 2024 already? If the training is going to be mandatory – and worse yet – in person year after year, the minimum I feel like the audience could reasonably expect is to change up the delivery a bit. Unless the objective is to check a box on some form somewhere. In that case, mission accomplished. Carry on.

3. Florida. People who live there seem to love it, but watching storm after storm slam into Florida I’m trying to imagine any situation that would ever make me want to live there. Sure, Maryland gets a little too humid in August and maybe a little too cold in January. We get tapped by a hurricane maybe once in a generation and even then, it’s mostly a glancing blow from a storm that expended most of its fury by the time it clawed its way to the middle and upper reaches of the Chesapeake. Unless you live on perilously low ground, it’s an inconvenience. Compared with living in a location where I’d have to be prepared, for a good part of the year, to load the car with my most irreplaceable belongings and flee for higher ground. From the looks of things, plenty of people think it’s worth it, but I’ll never be one of them.

Other people go over the moon for chocolate or other sweets, but it’s always been the bag of potato chips or bowl of pretzels that’s been my weakness.  Being on this damned diet hasn’t changed that in the least. If I’m having a craving, 99 times out of 100 it’s for something salty rather than sweet. That has been a unique challenge while trying to keep my daily sodium intake somewhere close to the AHA’s recommended daily allowance. You don’t realize how sodium heavy everything is until you really start tracking it relentlessly. 

I find I’m just now arriving at a place where I can have a bag of Doritos or salt and vinegar chips in the house and reliably hold myself to a one ounce “serving.” Some days – yesterday, for example – all the counting in the world doesn’t make much difference. Between my morning bagel, 100 grams of ham salad at lunch, and a cup and a half of beef stew, my sodium content for the day was shot to hell. Believe me when I tell you it doesn’t take much for the day’s allowance of salt to slip entirely off the rails.

Fortunately, I don’t seem to be one of the people whose blood pressure responds absurdly out of proportion to sodium so my reading this morning didn’t go stupid. I have, however, noticed that weighing in after a high sodium day easily packs on 1% or more of my previous day’s body weight. That’s an absurd increase while still being in a nominal calorie deficit. Sure, I know in the next day or two I’ll literally piss that water weight away, but goddamn if I’m not feeling just a little salty about it.

Anyway, I’ve been doing this for almost a year and a half now and there’s honestly none of it where I would look back fondly and say, “yes, I was having a good time.” As long as the status quo holds, I continue to be willing to trade flavor for a promised increase in yardage. Should the status quo change, rest assured, all bets are off.