Signal the Ski Patrol

Did you read Roger Marolt’s column in the Aspen Daily News last month about his breakup with Aspen? It’s very good, and relatable for anyone who has lived and loved in our favorite local ski town. I can understand how hard it is to watch the place you love invaded by day trippers; America was just hijacked by billionaires, and we all watched it happen.
We watched Trump and Musk dance around to the Village People while Melania (disguised as The Hamburglar) covered her eyes. It was like watching a six-skier pile-up, and most of us couldn’t look away. Now it’s time to clean it up: someone signal the Ski Patrol to get a few toboggans out here, and kick some snow over those blood stains… The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be to contain this crash site of an administration.
Government isn’t supposed to be glamorous. It’s like skiers in the rain— bureaucrats in polyester making sure we have access to schools and hospitals on roads that are safe to drive. (BTW, Tesla trucks weigh too much to be stopped by a typical guard rail. So, slow your roll, Little E.) Government that looks like the TJ Maxx of Russian royalty is not gonna work for average Americans. Sure, we love a good drama with outrageous characters in ridiculous costumes, who doesn’t? But at the end of the day, Americans care about equality and fair working conditions. We’d rather have safety standards and a little overtime than watch our 4+trillion in tax dollars go to building some spoiled brat’s Barbie dreamhouse in space.
Speaking of governmental waste, whenever I see the acronym DOGE I think of how the Kens stole their houses from the Barbies and renamed them Mojo Dojo Casa Houses. That is exactly where we are right now: watching the Kens’ song and dance sequence, hoping they come to their senses soon and feel shame.
“…the shameless couldn’t care less. And their audacious behaviour pays dividends in our modern mediacracies, because the news spotlights the abnormal and the absurd.
In this type of world, it’s not the friendliest and most empathic leaders who rise to the top, but their opposites. In this world, it’s survival of the shameless.” -Rutger Bregman
What are we supposed to do with a shameless president, wait around in the cold until he gets up to speed?
That must be how my ski-school instructors felt. When I was learning to ski in Aspen in the 1970s it was about as glamorous as a kid in a hand-me-down down parka eating carrot sticks on the tailgate can be. My dad was ski patrol, so that meant catching a ride with him: leaving the house in the dark; all bundled up to no avail because the cold always found its way in; skiing from one patrol shack to another, breaking only to eat pb & j and carrots while sitting on a cold metal picnic table or the back of the pickup.
My dad took it seriously, rescuing locals and visitors alike. All the fancy-pants (literally) who like to hit the slopes to show off their moves would just be standing around in the cold like the rest of us without the patrollers (and lifties!) It taught me that money doesn’t make you anything but rich. The people who make this country great are the ones who work hard, not the one sitting on a golden throne of broken promises and bankruptcies, and definitely not the one dancing around like a tween buzzed on wine coolers apres-ski.
You know what’s classy? Truth and justice and looking out for those who are less fortunate. Aspen —and America— may be sidetracked by the granny in leopard-print leggings and sports bra, dancing on the table, but we can still bring it back to homemade casseroles and wool socks. We’ll be fine as long as we look out for all skiers— natives and those who are new to the sport.
After all, America’s just a bunch of immigrants sliding down a groomed run because someone else got up early. So, eat your carrots, and in the words of the ADN: ‘If you don’t want it printed, don’t let it happen.’