Former VP Mike Pence posted: “The Trump Tariff Tax is the largest peacetime tax hike in U.S. history.” Wow — Trump is really going to hang him now.

I’ll just address the tariffs briefly. Since I did major in Economics, there has been much interest in my views of the matter. Just kidding, of course, none of it stuck. But the one point I will make is a general one. If you are pushing an idea that is fundamentally sound, you should be able to push it without being deceitful. Here’s just one issue. Trump correctly noted that Canada has tariffs exceeding 250% on some US dairy products. However, he claimed that “the first little carton of milk” exported to Canada faces a “very low price,” but “then it gets up to 275, 300%.”

In fact, the Canadian tariff does not kick in until the amount of milk imported exceeds a certain level. And the actual amount it imports is below 50% of the kick-in point. So no U.S. dairy product actually comes close to being subject to Canadian tariffs: zero. Trump’s point is thoroughly deceitful. Why resort to deceit unless you know what you’re peddling is full of shit?

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Headline from The Onion:

Washington Monument Collapses After Someone Pulls Loose Block

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Today’s outing, our last, was to the Keukenhof Gardens, a huge park near Am’dam devoted to tulips (voo den?) and other flora. We were very lucky on two accounts: (1) the weather was excellent, and (2) the flowers only this week emerged in force. Whew. Here are some shots:

That covers about one one-millionth of the place.

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This poem is from today’s Writer’s Almanac. It’s by Sue Ellen Thompson and is called “Vegan.”

My daughter hauls her sacks of beans
and vegetables in from the car and begins to chop.
My father, who has had enough caffeine,
makes himself a manhattan-on-the-rocks.

It’s Sunday, his night for sausage and eggs,
hers for stir-fried lentils, rice, and kale.
Watching her cook eases his fatigue
and loneliness. Later, she’ll trim his toenails.

He no longer has an appetite
for anything beyond this evening ritual.
But he’ll fry himself an egg tonight
and eat dinner with his granddaughter. For a widower,

there is no greater comfort in the world
than his girls and his girls’ girls.

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It’s our last night on the water. Should touch down in Jersey around 11 am tomorrow, kinehora, God willing. If the plane goes down, tell Linda I loved her. Oh, — never mind, she’s right here — I’ll tell her myself.

We loved the young woman who was our room steward, Amalia. We left her this note: To beautiful Amalia — wishing you much happiness and long life. And I signed it with a smiley face. When we returned from dinner, she had made up the room for the last time, and wrote on the bottom of the note: “Thank you! Was a pleasure!” And she drew a heart with an arrow through it. We’ll let Amalia bid you goodnight tonight.

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