by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Jan 27, 2026 | Featured, Law, Personal, Politics
As our country has become more and more divided over the last 10 years, I go back to this little story from a long time ago.
Back when I was practicing law, I was hired to represent a brokerage firm that sold huge airplanes. The firm believed it had been deprived of a commission by the Christian Broadcast Network (CBN), in particular Pat Robertson, who had just run for president.
I arranged a deposition of Mr. Robertson at CBN’s corporate offices in Virginia. The offices were opulent. When I entered, several TVs in the waiting room all showed the same image: Pat Robertson, raising money.
I was kept waiting for over half an hour, and I realized that I would know when the deposition would start when Robertson was no longer on TV and had let somebody else continue the fundraising.
Eventually, I was ushered into a large conference room where the court reporter had already set up. The lawyer representing Robertson and CBN was about ten years out of law school and a sole practitioner. He stood and warmly greeted me as I entered the room.
When Robertson entered, everything changed. My first impression of Reverend Robertson was his extremely elegant bejeweled cowboy boots. All of a sudden, I was in a war room with everyone but me standing at attention.
My impression was confirmed when I asked the court reporter to swear in the witness. The court reporter immediately turned to Robertson and said, “do you prefer to ‘swear’ or ‘affirm?”
I’m still not sure what the difference is, but I insisted he be sworn in and, of course, his lawyer came over the table at me. I fully expected this to be a contentious proceeding, but this seemed a little ridiculous nonetheless. He was in battle mode.
I started out asking whether the airplane that had been purchased had been used for political trafficking, which would, if Robertson admitted it, have put the tax exempt status of his religious organization at risk. Robertson refused to answer the question and of course his lawyer again came across the table at me.
This is not unusual behavior for a young lawyer, particularly if he happens to be representing an instrument of God in southern Virginia. We could not have been more different, but somehow I liked his youthful, pugnacious representation.
I was pretty happy with the deposition. I got everything except that question about the political use of the airplane. (My prior research had revealed that, in fact, my assertion was true.) Robertson had been forthright with his other answers and over the next two hours his lawyer demonstrated nonstop hostility toward me, showing off to Robertson.
At the end, I told them I would be scheduling a conference call with our federal judge to see if my question should be answered. It was a close call whether it was even relevant but the stakes were high for them, and I respected the young man for his tenacity.
When it was over and I was headed back to the parking lot, I was surprised to feel a tap on my shoulder. It was the young lawyer who had been representing Robertson. He was a different person now, returning to the person who warmly welcomed me before Robertson arrived. He invited me to have a drink with him and join him for dinner not far away in Virginia Beach, to go see his favorite zydeco-band, The Subdudes.
Over the rest of the evening he couldn’t have been friendlier. He had gone to a local Christian law school and was looking for work for several months before so he went to a Christian retreat, where he claimed he got this client because he was extremely good at “speaking in tongues.” As we talked, I was convinced that his Christianity was real, even though his marketing strategies were suspect. Anyway, The Subdudes were great and the beer was cold. I bought their CD. He refused my offer to buy him dinner because he said it was a conflict of interest, which I guess meant he thought I was Satan.
Although we were from different worlds, he introduced me to his music as an act of kindness, and perhaps because of the beers we drank, we laughed, asked each other lots of questions about our entirely different lives, avoided conflict, and opened up to each other.
About a month later, the federal judge’s video conference call was scheduled and the case was diplomatically settled.
I never saw him again, but we shared our lives for a short time and the supreme polarization and differences disappeared.
In the end, I think it was because we shared what we both liked: the music and, eventually, each other’s company. We could not have been more politically different. Maybe it was the beer, but I thanked him for a fun evening and actually commented on how different he appeared from when we first met. He smiled and shook my hand and said, “We’re not that different. We’re Americans having fun.”
If we all really want to fix this country’s polarization we should ask each other real questions and not preach to our chosen choir. You might find common ground and make a friend.
You might even get a good CD out of it.
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Oct 21, 2025 | Featured, Personal, Politics, Travel
This past weekend, I was reminded of this excerpt from my book, “The Older You Get the Shorter Your Stories Should Be” (page 169):
As the lions slowly approach, my fellow riders in the safari jeep become either “believers” that the jeep is safe territory or “nonbelievers” who, with every step of the lions, seem to be counting down the last seconds of their lives. They can’t move and the fear becomes palpable. The eyes are wide and the breathing becomes slightly labored.
On the other hand, the believers are happily photographing and silently adjusting their telescopic lenses. The lions grow closer and closer and, within 10 feet, three veer to the right and one veers to the left so that it will be behind us. Everyone in the jeep recognizes that they must keep their eyes on the three lions that will pass to our left within several feet of the jeep, but we will not be able to turn and watch the one lion that is moving behind us on our right.
The believers continue to happily photograph adjusting their telescopic lens to catch the reflection of the jeep in a lion’s eyes. The nonbelievers are breathing softly, their eyes closed, waiting for death.
After a few moments they were past us and we started the engine and continued our day.
(You can find the book on amazon or support local bookstores at bookshop.org.)
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Sep 9, 2025 | Featured, Humor, Politics
Last week Putin told a joke and the whole world laughed, except for America.
This was remarkable.
Have you noticed that there aren’t a lot of jokes in foreign policy? Jokes have to be told in the same language for both parties, which is hard in foreign policy.
(There are not a lot of jokes in boxing either. Different punch lines… sorry.)
So foreign policy jokes have to be not what you say, they have to be what you do .
A couple of weeks ago, Trump invited Putin (a spy during the Cold War who Trump admires and has assured us is his BFF) to meet as a guest of America in Alaska. He was given the red carpet treatment: gun salutes went off, he rode in the presidential limousine with his friend the American president, and received full and complete respect from the American military.
He had been invited by our president to negotiate the end of Putin’s takeover of Ukraine, a free country and ally of the United States.
Putin accepted this invitation, held a press conference upon arrival on American soil, then skipped the planned meetings and flew back home before lunch. Then he bombed the hell out of Ukraine.
Trump declared victory. Now that’s funny!
We are all safe because Trump will always get the last laugh. Ask him. He’ll tell you. I’ve never seen him laugh, but I’m sure he’s funny.
Several weeks later, Putin joined a parade in China with North Korea and some other Eagle Scouts of the totalitarian world to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the end of the Second World War and the defeat of Japan, without inviting Trump.
But in the alternative, the world‘s antidemocratic countries invited India, the largest democracy in the world and an American trading partner upon whom Trump had recently artfully imposed 50% tariffs, which drove India into the arms of the totalitarian world leaders.
It’s hilarious because obviously Trump got the last laugh, showing off his well-known genius for “the Art of the Deal.”
It was kind of like a junior high school “mean girl” movie and Trump was the only girl not invited to the party. What really made the joke work was Trump made it look like his feelings had not been hurt. It was a perfect foreign policy joke because his actions spoke louder than words. He definitely got the last laugh.
I used to think he wasn’t subtle.
We have midterm elections coming up in a year, so guess why Trump brings in the military and plants them in Los Angeles, Chicago, and our nation’s capital, Washington DC. My guess is all the polling stations will be guarded by his police by the midterms, so we can happily celebrate our Constitution.
Why shouldn’t we believe the President of the United States? The economy must be safe even though the deficit has skyrocketed with his tax cuts for the rich, because he also has doubled his net worth over the last nine months since he was elected, so that he is now worth $5 billion.
Ya see? He’s one hell of a businessman and he’s also president of the United States. He must be an excellent straight-faced jokester because I’ve never seen him laugh.
His best jokes are often at our own expense. Nobody’s threatened and everyone seems to believe that the military buildup in our major cities isn’t really serious and, do we really even need those midterms anyway?
It’s the art of the joke.
Because Trump has been so funny, we should set up a joke in return and see how he responds.
Let’s get Congress to vote against funding the government in exchange for bringing back our democracy to make America truly great again.
Maybe that will give us all the last laugh.
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Jun 17, 2025 | Featured, General, Humor, Law, Personal, Politics
When I started to practice law, Jimmy Carter was elected president. To avoid some unimaginable conflict of interest, he sold his family farm for peanuts. Since I retired from the practice of law 10 years ago, apparently the ethics have changed.
President Trump for his birthday last week gave himself a military parade, which which cost the American taxpayers approximately $25 million and tore up the streets of Washington.
Several news services have recently reported that since the early days of President Trump‘s reelection campaign he has made more than double his net worth, about $5.4 billion dollars.
In the past, I would’ve been horrified, but now my reaction is that it’s a shame I didn’t somehow make a bigger profit back when ethics prohibited me.
Back during those ethical times I would preach to the lawyers at my firm that the easiest way to check your professional ethics is to ask yourself if what you were about to do would be embarrassing if it would become a headline in the New York Times. If so, don’t do it.
President Trump has re-organized and turned upside down the professional ethics of the presidency and the ethics I was used to. Everything unethical or untrue that Trump has done now is routinely front page headlines on the New York Times, which nobody reads anymore.
I have gone back to thinking about how rich I would be if I’d taken on cases that I ultimately rejected long ago because of ethical concerns.
Consider the amount of money I could’ve made if I had taken that case long ago of two Hindu businessmen who came into the office and told me they wanted to incorporate (for personal liability reasons) an ongoing business that provided Hindu Americans a chance to bury their families in the Ganges River for about $5,000 per loved one.
They told me that the contract that they offered guaranteed that the loved ones ashes, with which they were entrusted, would be respectfully sent to the Ganges, a boat would be hired as well as a videographer to make a movie of the ceremony as the ashes were transported in a beautiful urn, and a man rowing the boat out in the Ganges would be filmed opening the container and emptying it so the ashes were visible as they were were gently poured into the river.
The $5,000 would be collected in exchange for the video of the ceremony.
I will admit I was intrigued by this novel, religious practice and I asked about the heavy cost of the procedure and the profit they were making per contract.
Without batting an eye both businessmen looked at me and said it was about 95% profit. I asked them how could they possibly make such a profit and they answered: “We send everyone the same video.”
If you’re using the same video and you are making a 95% profit you certainly don’t have to be greedy. You could include a beautiful hologram of the soul rising from the Ganges and fluttering off into reincarnation.
Also they completely missed the opportunity for relics, swag, and real cool T-shirts.
When you include the total Trump’s family and political friends have made in the “pay to play” access and favors, which have included the opportunity to show your personal love and respect by purchasing Trump bitcoin and Trump Bibles, and such gifts as an airplane from the government of Qatar, no wonder Trump wants a third term.
I was so stupid I refused to represent the two Hindu businessmen, even though they generously offered me a free burial in the Ganges.
I could also have befriended the President by referring him to another client who I rejected. For a while, “viatical contracts” were easy money. Several people had the idea at the same time. During the AIDS epidemic several entrepreneurs were going into hospitals or hospices and offering to buy life insurance policies at about 10% of their face value from those who would soon die. There’s nothing illegal about that, but for me it didn’t pass the smell test.
There is some justice in the world. Once effective HIV treatment became available, they were stuck continually paying for ongoing life insurance policies.
I suspect that the Trump family has already seen the future of medical profit as is evident from the appointment of Robert Kennedy, Jr. and the future of TMD (Trump Measles Deterrent). This is not a vaccine. it is free and called “The Trump Blessing,” which is administered over a Zoom call after you buy some of the remaining overstocked Bibles that will become collectors items soon.
I think the only benefit Jimmy Carter received from his presidency was a gift given by his brother: a couple of cans of Billy Beer.
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Apr 16, 2025 | Featured, Humor, Personal, Politics, Travel
I’m not really worried about Trump taking over Harvard, so Susan and I are going to Paris this Saturday for a couple of weeks.
Why is everybody so upset? It seems like all the commentators have completely overlooked Trump’s leadership skills when he ran Trump University.
Trump has been very vocal about his business acumen and, by his own account, he ran the university brilliantly for the five years before its bankruptcy.
There was some unsubstantiated criticism about gold toilet seats, but he claimed he was always very hands-on and was good at keeping the overhead low.
For example, despite its name, Trump University was never an accredited university or college. It did not confer college credit, grant degrees, or grade its students.
Think about the savings on the cost of paper.
In contrast, the data from the 2023–24 academic year, 72% of Harvard University’s first-time, full-time undergraduates received financial aid. In the alternative, Trump University was apparently so popular, it never needed to offer scholarships. And Trump has already said that he wants to get rid of Harvard’s nonprofit status.
Really! So where is the art of the deal?
Harvard is not effectively selling its product! No. Harvard has been giving it away for free.
What is also great is that Trump has the experience to navigate these litigious times. In 2011, Trump University became the subject of an inquiry by the New York Attorney General’s office for illegal business practices, which resulted in a lawsuit filed in August, 2013. It was also the subject of two class actions in federal court. The lawsuits centered on allegations that Trump University defrauded its students by using misleading marketing practices and engaging in aggressive sales tactics.
Of course!
Everyone knows that Trump is a marketing genius! Okay, let’s get down to what Trump‘s real motives may be.
Both schools have one thing in common.
Neither school has a mascot.
Everybody knows that Trump is a master marketer. I think the hidden agenda will be that Trump will insist that Harvard finally adopt a formal mascot, befitting our country’s white Christian heritage: a Pilgrim, of course!
But even more importantly, this way he can get rid of that out of date logo “Veritas” and change it to “If you piss off a pilgrim, you’ll get yourself a witch trial.” Then he can raise money at halftime with a raffle where the winner gets whisked away for a lifetime in El Salvador.
Anyway, just like last year, Susan and I will be sending back Parisian commentary and pictures to celebrate our spring time and hopefully brighten yours. À bientôt!
by Robert Bowie, Jr. | Jun 11, 2024 | Featured, Humor, Personal, Politics
Have you ever just stopped in the street and said to yourself, ”Wow, I wish I had that to do over!” and then found yourself exploring even larger questions?
Because of my short-lived political background, I ponder irrelevant questions and worry about them all the time.
I have some regrets.
For me it all happened back in 2014, but it only became clear what my concern should have been about two weeks ago.
Back in 2014, I was asked a question that I couldn’t answer. That was the problem.
Back then, I hated gerrymandering and concluded that the country was getting dangerously divided because of it, so I ran for political office on a theme that ”We must not lose our common ground.”
My strategy would be to find common ground with every person in my divided district and thus bring them together so we could reason together.
Maryland is two-to-one Democrat and the state legislature had crammed as many Republicans as possible into the district where I lived. I am a Democrat but I was sympathetic to my outnumbered Republican neighbors. I consulted the experts and was informed that I had at best of five percent chance of winning as a Democrat in this district.
I jumped right in!
I really believed I would win if I could find some common ground each time I knocked on another door.
I was all in. I contributed my own money to the campaign and I raised over $150,000. Susan and I and a small group of overoptimistic diehards spent that summer and fall knocking on 5000 doors, and debated the three incumbents who raised only around $5,000 together. They did not need the money. They had all been in office for over a decade in this gerrymandered district.
Late one hot summer Sunday morning, it turned out I didn’t know “ common ground” as well as I thought I did. Only about two weeks ago, did it all became clear.
When I knocked on the doors, I always had the same pitch: ”I believe we must find our common ground so we can all talk together.” Then for humor I would add, because I was over 65 years old, that ”if they were worried about term limits, nature would take care of that in my case.” Everybody laughed, and we talked as friends until I was asked whether I was a Republican or a Democrat, at which point the door was slammed in my face.
Of course, I remained optimistic. As I would drive home while the sun was going down, I believed the depth of my commitment would pull me through.
The depth of my commitment was only challenged once, when I could not find “common ground.“
Late in the August heat, I knocked on the door of a well-kept home in a trailer park, which had three steps on either side of the front door.
I knocked on that door and a heavyset woman dresses in a giant muumuu answer the door and after my pitch she announced: “I can’t talk to you right now because I don’t have any underwear on.”
How was I to answer that? For the first time maybe ever, I was speechless.
I couldn’t say, “You don’t need to be wearing underwear to read my materials,” or, “No problem I’ll wait til you put on your underwear.” I was dumbfounded. I could find no common ground.
For almost ten years, I have pondered this interchange. I thought and rethought about my inability to find an answer. I have not hesitated to tell this story to others in the hope that they might suggest something. Then about two weeks ago, a friend of mine had an answer right off the top of his head!
He said, “You forgot your theme. Why didn’t you just say, “That’s okay, I don’t either!”
