Thru My Much Younger Eyes

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Forward: Three score and one day ago, my parents’ surname first appeared on the very deed which transformed one newly constructed, three bedroom ranch house into our home. Quite miraculous, considering their shared, humble, impoverished, public school teacher background. These three CliffsNotes style stanzas flip fastly thru the pages of our family history book.

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Nearly twenty-two grand times, planet Earth has rotated
Since renter ‘rents turned homeowners; pulled up stakes; relocated
With two hatchlings in tow, our fam of four played life’s game
Beatitudes cared for; vicissitudes overcame.

In due course, ailing / aging; commandeered mom and pop
The son became “parent”; trad roles’ age-old flip flop
Less lionhearted would’ve tucked tail; sped full tilt / run away
Yet, for all they had sacrificed; I had to repay; and stay

And so, time marched onward; on some predestined trip;
And since the ‘rents got “called home”, I now fly mother ship
My days of yore bedroom window; late at night still supplies
Vintage scenes to reminisce; thru my much younger eyes

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Grins & Glad Tidings Won’t Cut It

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Granted, this stream of consciousness is more about venting than revealing any fresh, significant insights into the American tableau / life itself. But, vent I must and vent I will. Hell, what have I got to lose, anyway, seeing how few, if any, will be clicking by.

The curse of stale politics, in particular, re the Stateside Two-Party System, has never been more glaring, unmistakable and inescapable.

This past November, ridding the American body of The Cancer, one Donald J. Trump, had left us little choice but to empower Joe Biden. And, seeing how Donny had set the expectations bar far, Far, FAR below rock bottom, to get elected, all Joe needed to do was smile and offer up an affable, “Howdy!”

That’s not to imply Joe’s road ahead will ever be smooth. Nope, not when all his nasty political foes offer is a roadmap (akin to a blank sheet of paper); or worse yet, role play the traffic cops from Hell; who pull him over to harass him.

Sadly, Joe had hoped to usher in an era of bipartisanship. But how, pray tell, can he ever expect to deliver on his campaign promise when he’s one of cooperation’s few advocates? Here’s the rub.

When the 18th century framers of the U.S. Constitution had established Legislative, Judicial and Executive Branch checks and balances, they, obviously, had never anticipated 21st century hyper-partisanship; i.e., the irreconcilable gridlock between the seditious, power hungry, greedy, devoid of all decency Trumper Republicans and the naïve and impotent Democrats.

Desperately needed are Action Hero Democrats; not the asses who meekly warm the very seats, which our legally cast ballots have awarded them.

That’s not to imply Dems‘ road ahead will ever be smooth, either. True they are, currently, the majority party in the Senate, however, that’s merely a razor thin mathematical advantage; their authority further compromised by two DINOs* (namely Joe Manchin and Kyrsten Sinema). Beyond that, so long as the archaic filibuster rule still stands, any innovative, life enhancing / saving legislative changes (that We can believe in) will still require the approval of 60 (not 51) out of 100 senators.

More to the point, America’s Founding Fathers had expected true love of country / respect for humankind’s core values to always trump penny ante politics; this best summed up thusly:

“We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity, do ordain and establish this Constitution for the United States of America.”

Preamble • United States Constitution ratified on June 21, 1788

How can those who fail to live up to such standards ever, even dare to call themselves U.S. elected officials; let alone Americans; let alone, humane human beings?

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*Democrats In Name Only

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UnAmerica UnCut

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In the case open-and-shut
Witness UnAmerica UnCut
Plant kiss on polluter’s butt
Knee the lib voters in gut
Whip up prejudice glut
Grant obscene wealthy tax cut
Goad each subversive gun nut
Fall for the autocrat’s strut

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Filing a New Flight Plan

It was seven-ish this early Sunday a.m. when, from afar, I ear witnessed the telltale dull thud against the dining room windowpane. Even while en route to investigate, based upon past similar occurrences, I already knew what I’d discover. The key, yet to be addressed issues:

• The particular species involved
• The navigation error’s survivability

Well, the identification came immediately / conclusively; namely, The Robin (Michigan’s official state bird). And, judging from how the “fluff” had yet to be replaced by the typical solid orange, my unfortunate feathered friend, obviously, had recently left the nest.

As for sleuthing that navigation error and its aftermath? Knowing that I could not possibly provide aid, in any meaningful way; how my moving in for a closer look would only frighten the victim further, I remained indoors; less than one meter away.

Oh, how relentlessly this, flat on its back, disabled bird responded to the survival instinct that’s been programmed into us all; continued to gingerly test / retest its wings; try, oh, so desperately to become airborne, anew; to, in essence, get back into the game of life.

Alas, all to no avail.

As is true with most stories, of this nature, we’ll now be taking upward flight to the realm of the parable. You see, Robin’s last assignment in life was to file a new flight plan; to soar higher than ever before; to make the transition to mentor for the benefit of any and all onlookers; to remind us to remain indomitable; to embrace precious life right up to our very last breath.

Hmm, to now say, “The End” would hardly be apropos. We’d better make that…

The New Beginning

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Juneteenth Linked Quick Limerick 107

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Brutality fatalities bequeath,
Spirit world tips: Mucked up, racist cops seethe.
Till they get canned; do due time,
Skin tone, alone, becomes crime,
Blacks’ dying words will groan/gasp, “I can’t breathe.”

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Broken Down by Demographics

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Preface: The finest, fair, foolproof method to honestly evaluate humankind involves one, particular demographic; namely, the determination of GOOD or EVIL. This is not about “playing God”; it’s a matter of indulging one’s survival instinct. To appraise a person, based upon far less meaningful characteristics, typically, invites unwelcome discriminatory practices; the type which also necessitate the more in depth blog, that follows…

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Up till June 19, 1865, African-Americans, enslaved in Texas, had not even heard of President Abraham Lincoln’s January 1, 1863 Emancipation Proclamation; which, in part, stated ”all persons held as slaves” (within the rebellious states) “are, and henceforward shall be free.” Alas, even honest Abe got bogged down by parentheticals, which in this instance, resulted in ALL not meaning ALL [read full text here].

Leaping forward, approximately a century and a half, to just yesterday, President Joe Biden signed into law the (mostly) bipartisan legislation, which this Saturday and henceforward, shall make June 19th (Juneteenth) a Federal Holiday.

The good news: We actually discovered that the U.S. Senate, in a rare moment of bipartisanship, had unanimously given this proposal their thumbs up.

The bad news: For no good reason, at all, 14 good-for-nothing U.S. Representatives thumbed their noses.

Such naysayers (and the constituents they suck up to), in all likelihood, were not ready to shed their (figurative?) white robes / hoods and brown shirts / swastika emblazoned accoutrements; such butt ugly attitudes and gaudy apparel already situating them on the wrong side of history.

To cut to the chase: When anyone allows society to be broken down by discriminatory demographics (e.g. skin melanin content), the phrase “broken down”, inherently, fleshes out the very conundrum, which has sickened American society; dating all the way back to 1619, when slave trader mariners first came ashore in North America.

Suffice to say, for us to wish African-Americans “Happy Juneteenth”, will serve more as the welcomed, long overdue morale booster than afford a sorely needed curative to the five centuries old bigotry / chronic mental illness that still afflicts our homeland.

Blameworthy, by and large, are the right wing extremist power junkies, who shamelessly prop up their entire, pathetic, political careers by promoting, provoking and prolonging systemic racism; all for the express purpose of pandering to their deplorable voter base.

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Biden’s UnInauguration Day Nears?

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Of late, the political pundits have been obsessing over Donald J. Trump’s contention that, somehow, some way, he’s to be reinstated / reinstalled within the Oval Office come August 2021.

Seeing how the language of the U.S. Constitution (Article II, Section 1, Clause 6 plus the 12th, 20th and 25th Amendments), provides absolutely no mechanisms for such an eventuality, just how, pray tell, would that ever become a done deal?

Well, for starters, we’d need to totally abandon the realm of reality. And, once ensconced within FantasyLand, that’s where all it would take is one swing of “the magical golf club” for an UnConstitutional mulligan to go down. Let’s envision how that might all play out on our devices’ screens.

First, we’d become eyewitness to Donny, the duly deposed despot, lumbering up to the White House (with his entire freakshow entourage of ex-cabinet member ass kissers / wipers in tow). Upon casually ding donging the doorbell, next, we’d find the legitimate President, Joe Biden, gingerly creaking open the door; to be instantaneously confronted by loony-tunes Trump delivering his insane ultimatum. Let’s eavesdrop on the following brief, heated exchange; oh, say, something along these lines…

Freak Trump: You’ve got 10 minutes to get the F out, OR ELSE!
President Biden: F off you Fascist Freak!*

*Freak enunciated in a multi-syllabic, contemptuous manner.

Assuming that, not unlike the unwelcome, unscrupulous door-to-door salesman, Donny has managed to wedge in his hobnail boot; you know, to prevent the door from closing completely…

Would Biden next get “invited” to his own UnInauguration Day? Would U.S. Chief Justice John Roberts suddenly materialize, POOF, out of thin air to administer the UnOath of UnOffice; oh, say, all impeccably delivered in Pig Latin? Would the U.S. Marine Band play their rendition of Hail to the UnChief; i.e., read their sheet music backwards to perform this ditty from finish to start?

Even were Joe able to totally slam the door in that insurrectionist bastard’s face, would General Nuisance Trump next bark out his marching orders to enrage / engage his private army; perhaps to the point where they’d burn down the White House? I mean, Donny wouldn’t be worried in the least. No sooner would all that billowing, ground zero smoke clear than, yet, another butt ugly Trump Tower (built at taxpayer expense?), would rise, lickety-split, from those horrifying, revolting ashes.

Alas (long sigh), it’d appear that the mechanism for fraudulent Trump’s (looming?) reinstatement is to involve his subversive plot; one akin to ideological diarrhea. This could be aptly branded: Insurrection Day No. 2. And, as is true with the hue of most No. 2, Trump’s and his MAGA morons’ fecal matter could be repurposed to paint the town brown; and from there, they’d trot out their shitty plot nationwide.

To state it vulgarly is not hyperbole. I needn’t remind that, back on January 6th of this year, some of Trump’s insurrectionists did stoop so low as to intentionally track their own fecal matter throughout the U.S. Capitol.

And, upon factoring in how D.J.T. has, to the best of our knowledge, never been punished for any of his crimes, we can expect him to keep on relentlessly attacking America; as will the legions of his freakshow sycophants; of whom he can always depend on to do his dirty work.

For the sake of America’s survival, we can only hope that President Biden has formulated what, in essence, is his Kaopectate® Plan; one that’ll KO / totally wipe out Donald J. Trump’s (impending?) Insurrection Day No. 2.

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