deus ex machina –

It’s something of a classic in American politics: every presidential election period, there appears a rich contender who claims he will save the country because his wealth makes him a free man and living proof of the American dream. One such won the presidential election in 2016 promising to “drain the swamp” with a barrage of expletives, lies and vulgarity wrapped in a smokescreen of incoherence. The evidence of his nepotism, corruption and plain old incompetence keeps on growing as one Michael Bloomberg now steps up to the plate to take him on. In the “mine is bigger than yours” competition (meaning size of fortune, of course), Bloomberg clobbers Trump in the first round. But I trust copy editors across the land to stretch out the scenario as far as it will carry: the exchanges between the two men promise to rekindle the spark that makes the public aspect of politics something akin to the Heavyweight Boxing Championships. During which the not-so public parts carry on, with the public’s appetite sated with good showmanship for awhile.

I won’t bother translating this into French. I doubt any eventual French reader will give a hoot.

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But I do wish to use this opportunity to signal a website on which English-speaking readers have access to a translation of Italo Calvino’s Marcovaldo which happens to be one of my favorite books. A favorite in the short stories? Chapter 19,  Autumn The garden of stubborn cats ranks high on the list. Although the final paragraphs in the last story keep cropping up in my list of favorite literary images, and chapter 18 takes on special meaning in the context of this post.

At any rate, I like them all and since my only mention of it was on a French-only post, more’s the reason to stick to English on this one.

(Spoiler alert: Marcovaldo would never have rated as a billionaire contender to any election whatsoever. As for his deus ex machina…what can I say? Maybe it got stuck on a barge coasting down the river toward money-making markets while he attempted to bathe with the kids on the sandy and litter-strewn shores where ” …girls in bikinis, and young toughs who wrestled with each other and mattresses, balls, life-savers, inner tubes, row boats, kayaks, rubber boats, motor boats, life-saving boats, yawls from yacht clubs, fishermen with nets, fishermen with rods, old women with parasols, young ladies in straw hats, and dogs, dogs, dogs, from toy poodles to Saint Bernards: you couldn’t see even an inch of the river’s surface… of one thing he was certain: not a drop of water would touch him”.)