Wading Thru Roe v. Wade’s Deep End

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Preface: The original, official WP Time Stamp:
CommonSenseTom 12:31 pm on May 8, 2019
3-fold motivation to reblog my 3-year-old post:

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  • The May 3, 2022 leaking of Supreme… correction… Extreme Court Justice Samuel Alito’s rough draft; one that virtually vows to run roughshod over Women’s Rights; i.e., by overturning the Supreme Court’s, 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, which had legalized abortion. Beyond that, now that Alito’s views are in the public domain, among his five conservative bench-mates, who’d ever feel free to possibly mitigate their colleague’s hardcore harangue; perhaps present their own dissent?
  • While I steadfastly believe in gender equality / women’s rights; maintain that misogynistic, big government control freaks have absolutely NO RIGHT to intrude in the procreative process (one of the most personal issues conceivable); NO RIGHT to insist every pregnant person gets left holding the (unwanted) baby; that I, myself, have NO RIGHT to impose my own life-begins-at-conception belief upon anybody else, NONETHELESS, I cannot help but wonder how we ever wound up with a society that, apparently, doesn’t give a F about parenthood?*
  • Seeing how I don’t have all the answers to such a complex issue, I am interested in your thoughts; perhaps reactions to my past post, “The Right To Choose: An Evolution? A Revolution?” as well as any other articles / videos you’ve read / viewed? Let’s meet up, BACK HERE, to start and sustain an intelligent, courteous, comment section thread.

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*BTW, I’m not excluding myself from my own societal critique; tho my (from age 12 onward) opt-out from parenthood is deeply rooted in my ongoing ecological, ideological and socioeconomical misgivings; belief that our world is unfit for human habitation.

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Folks’ F’d Fate (Poetic Acrostic)

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Fragile Earth moldering diurnally; environmentally
Untold (f)lawmakers legislating; unconstitutionally
Coronavirus variants sickening slaying; microbially
Killer sociopath Putin dying to blow up; atomically
Expletive laced acrostic spelling our fate; vertically
Downward fallen curtains; End of Earth; eventually

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Fallen Curtains

Total Eclipse’s Total Eclipse

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It was within this past Sunday evening’s waning hours when our Universal Overseer aligned, to perfection, our inner solar system’s essential spheres; namely, the Sun, Earth and Moon; thereby (at least in theory) presenting astronomers (accomplished and amateur, alike), one of the few, awe inspiring delights still remaining in modern life.

Alas (as usual), all did not go well for all of us Michiganders. At the most inopportune moment, storm clouds rolled in, start to finish, to totally eclipse this total lunar eclipse.

In other words… the literal clouds; the metaphorical “fallen curtains” had overruled; ruined all our fun.

While most dedicated sky watchers are left little choice but to take, in stride, such dismal celestial washouts, it’s my contention that Great Lakes Staters, such as moi, have been forced to weather far more than our share of the absolutely, disproportionate levels of disappointment.

Such is our sorry “lot” in life (both in the cartographical / geographical and metaphorical sense).

The grand scheme’s far less stellar elements can and do come into play, too; e.g., lifelong occupational and financial disadvantages that still continue to bog down my homeland’s and home state’s citizenry; this all piling on additional disproportionate levels of our shared disappointment. Once again, fallen curtains syndrome.

Yet another relevant to this discourse aspect revolves around one’s relative position on life’s road; in my own case, the nearly seventy Earth orbits behind me along with the expectant, tagging along, alarmingly fewer “laps” before me. Yep, once we reach the onset of “aging out” within society, an entirely unique, awareness heightening perspective kicks in; summed up best as yet, another example of our bearing witness to the fallen curtains.

Consider, too, the looming, far deeper levels of disproportionate disappointment, which our dystopian “leaders” are ignorantly and/or intentionally leaving unchallenged and unchecked.

As I type and you read these very words, these autocrats are allowing humankind’s Final Act to practically author itself. It’s tough NOT to view our collective presence upon the world stage as all but over; such an ill-fate seemingly, already hammered and chiseled into our communal tombstone; all but awaiting those final fallen curtains.

The detailed rundown to The End…

Fragile Earth moldering diurnally; environmentally
Untold (f)lawmakers legislating; unconstitutionally
Coronavirus variants sickening slaying; microbially
Killer sociopath Putin dying to blow up; atomically
Expletive laced acrostic spelling our fate; vertically
Downward fallen curtains; End of Earth; eventually

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Hares’ Heirs’ Hairs

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I cannot help but notice… whenever I happen upon the Hare Family, unexpectedly, my next door neighbors seldom act in a skittish manner.

Just yesterday, with sundown heralding my yard chores’ quitting time, whilst in the (literal) thick of my weed whacking; i.e., my full throttling that device (absolutely cranking out some serious decibels), none of my ferocious racket had proven sufficiently hair-raising to the adorable hare I had happened upon. Nope, I hadn’t “turned a hair” (as it were) at all!

I cannot help but wonder… can hares intellectually and/or instinctively differentiate friend from foe?

After all, a friend, such as moi, would never harm one hair on a hare!

And for that matter… factoring in how we’ve all been enjoying peaceful co-existence for untold generations (theirs; they’re the prolific ones), same goes for how…

I would never harm hares’ heirs’ hairs!

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Honor Thy Mother

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“In most countries Mother’s Day is celebrated on the second Sunday in May, among them the USA, Canada, most European countries, Australia, New Zealand, India, China, Japan, the Philippines and South Africa.”

Google Search non-credited author • 8 May 2022
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Hence, what better time, than this very Sunday, to speak of a related issue? Namely, the urgent need to also honor Mother Earth. By and large, the human race has been thoughtlessly, relentlessly trampling her domain with our supersized carbon footprints.

So much so… that our insatiable addiction to fossil fuel generated electricity has been releasing excessive greenhouse gasses; constantly triggering increasingly deadly, freakish rain, snow, ice, wind and fire storms.

So much so… that our empowered [mis]leaders, unintelligently and/or intentionally, have been going the drill baby drill / burn baby burn route.

Suffice to say…

“Nations have delayed curbing their fossil-fuel emissions for so long that they can no longer stop global warming from intensifying over the next 30 years, though there is still a short window to prevent the most harrowing future, a major new United Nations scientific report has concluded.”

Google search non-credited author • posted on 11 Nov 2021
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In other words…

It’d appear that human[un]kind is ill-fated to wearing respirators, perhaps even NASA magnitude spacesuits; just so we’ll be able to schlep thru the no longer great outdoors; i.e., sans hacking up our lungs.

Seeing how science deniers are notoriously eco-unfriendly (and coronavirus allies, to boot), it’d not be inappropriate to remind / taunt them, thusly…

Since it’s already your belief that pandemic masks have been infringing upon your PERSONAL freedoms, do you actually expect the (life or death) donning of oxygen masks / tanks to make you feel any freer? And what about spacesuits? My gawd, imagine the nearly incomprehensible irony of moonsuit apparel; just so we can traipse thru our human mucked up, un-Earthly environment?

Beyond that…

How will actual flesh and blood mothers feel, in the not too distant future, if, at the split second the obstetrician cuts the umbilical cord, (s)he’ll need to instantaneously stash the wailing newborn inside an oxygen tank enhanced incubator / survival chamber?

Oh… btw…

Is it too late to say, “Happy(?) Mother’s Day ’22?”

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A++ i tudes ~ Fortune Cookie Blog

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When conscientious leaders have earned a wide latitude and lofty altitude;
all amidst the atmosphere of quietude & solitude, the situation’s magnitude
is highly conducive to converting aptitude, attitude, solicitude and fortitude
into dedicated problem solving; resulting in a society resembling beatitude;
thereby motivating the led citizenry to express their undying gratitude. too!

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“We Meet Again” (Part 2)

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Compelling how that headline’s quotation marks can express such contrasting sentiments. When specifically connected with this post’s Part 1, it involves words I don’t really mean; i.e., signifies my shunning days of yore, superficial, dreary students. Yet, when associated with Part 2, it refers to an actual quotation; words which showcase a long ago, meaningful, far too fleeting friendship with a delightful classmate (more about her in a moment).

BTW, if you happened to miss Part 1, my following catch-up synopsis should prove adequate.

Of late, I’ve been flouting bygone, classmate acquaintances’ persistent messages (logged on my landline answering machine / lodged within my snail mailbox); thwarting their attempts to invite me to OUR… correction… THEIR 50th Class Reunion. Here’s why…

  • From the 4th grade, onward, bullies had rendered me a social pariah
  • As such, I have absolutely boycotted all of THEIR previous reunions
  • Past reunion organizers could not track down THEIR other outcasts
  • If “lepers”, such as I, aren’t gonna to show up, why bother attending?

Even so… truth be told… I certainly would love a second chance at transforming that above mentioned fleeting friendship into something more forever. Alas… long sigh… No Way On Earth could that ever, possibly happen.

You see, a delightful young Miss had officially joined the Class of ’72 at September’s outset of the 2nd Grade. Assigned to the desk directly in front of mine, on that Day-1, she spun around to introduce herself. Tho she had certainly needed no assist from beauty, Debbie’s charming presence did get further enhanced by her shoulder length wavy blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and beguiling smile.

And that was just for starters. From each school day, onward, she’d turn to face me, remind me, “We meet again.” Wow, what an original expression from someone so young!

Regrettably, that was not for long. Debbie was destined to complete her formal education ten years too early; “graduate” in a most unexpected, unconventional manner when her oncologist meted out his death sentence diagnosis.

Sadly, in that bygone era, schools didn’t, yet, have grief counselors in their employ; delegating such a duty to our teacher, Mrs. M. Her sixty seconds, tops, somber announcement was all we could rely on to console us.

The problem with such a scenario… developmentally speaking, seven and eight-year-olds have yet to fully grasp the finality of death. Personally, up to that very moment, my only previous experience was as an even less aware six-year-old; my ambivalence to my maternal grandmother’s passing on, due, mainly, to the multiple hundreds of miles between Minnesota and Michigan; the expense of travel keeping us apart (my school teacher father was working for peanuts).

Returning now to the life that Debbie might have had… to this day, I cannot help but wonder. Had she remained healthy, been allowed a full lifespan, what might our friendship have become? Considering how well we had gotten along, might the phrase childhood sweethearts have been appropriate?

Returning now to the life that Debbie had been denied… due to the custodian’s next day, get ‘er done efficiency, my classroom’s far left column, where I was situated, was now shortened by one desk; that omission advancing me forward. Somehow, none of this seemed right. In essence, I was now seated at Debbie’s desk; and even worse, would never, again, ear witness her cheerful greeting… unless…

Theologians’ claims of an afterlife do prove true. If so, once my final day on Earth arrives, perhaps I will finally be granted my second chance at transforming a fleeting friendship into something more FOREVER?

I do intend to train my ears… correction… fine tune Eternity’s equivalent telepathy, which will permit me to discern Debbie’s in good spirits, three welcoming words…

“We meet again!”

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“We Meet Again” (Part 1)

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Ever since late last December, an ex-classmate has been doing her damnedest to call attention to our… correction… THEIR… 50th class reunion; has been overburdening my landline’s aged answering machine; of late, has also been farming out this onerous (odious) task to a confederate, who is now snailing me similarly themed, junk mail appeals. All to NO avail. So, why my disinterest?

Stated diplomatically… not everyone has fuzzy fond memories of their K thru 12 experience.

Stated exhaustively… from 4th thru 8th grade, inclusive, that bygone student body’s bully faction had rendered my life utterly miserable; my avoidance of their verbal abuse and physical assaults depending upon how well I could “sell”, to my folks, my allergy related raspy voice, runny stuffed up nose, sneezing and asthmatic wheezing as an affliction of a more serious nature; my ability to parlay such cold / flu / pneumonia like symptoms into the perfect excuse to cut classes.

And, typically, my Academy Award worthy performance art would prevail; provided my folks didn’t whip out a thermometer.

Had both of them not been college degreed educators; fully capable of home schooling me (dad’s disciplines the Sciences and Math; mom’s expertise English, Lit and History), I could’ve easily wound up falling behind, flunking (perhaps even dropping) out.

Eventually and inevitably… my father had eye-witnessed, from afar, these bullies physically attacking his son; resulting in his outrage fueled letter; next-day delived, by me, to my school’s secretary.

However, rather than the principal extending me a helping hand, he publicly humiliated me. While angrily wagging his finger in my face, he vociferously accused me of being a liar; the venue for his fury fueled tirade being my school’s lunchroom; eye-witnessed by multiple hundreds of my stunned into a dead silence classmates; among them, the very bastards who were bullying me.

Returning to the here and now… that these people would even try to reconnect, I view akin to a testimonial; either to their forgetfulness or, far worse yet, a further demonstration of their thoughtlessness.

Let’s keep this all real… I’ve never attended any of our… correction… THEIR earlier reunions. Even chance encounters (grocery store, auto service waiting room and at my former workplaces) have been limited; our (lack of) quality time, grand total, amounting to approximately fifty minutes, tops. That’s 50 minutes out of the past 50 years; which begs the key “Q”…

Having not missed me for a freakin’ half century, why start now?

Beyond that… quite telltale is how, prior to past reunions, the organizers’ missives have included entreaties for locating hard to track down classmates; that roster, invariably, naming the very people I’d want to reconnect with. Hey, if they’re not gonna show up, why the hell would I?

Truth be told… there is one former classmate, in particular, who I really do miss; would love to see once more. Alas… long sigh… that’d be impossible. I’ll relate more about her once…

“We Meet Again” (Part 2) merges with the www within the next seven days…

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Anyone up for a roll call?

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Having opted to receive notifications to keep me au courant with the posting times of all the super, superbly talented WP neighbors who I follow, there’s an understandable unnerving feeling that descends whenever my email inbox remains empty. Such a feeling IS reasonable considering how someone should be wide awake somewhere within our multi time zoned world. My concern…

What if one or more of the following crises, which are confronting our global community is / are actively curtailing WP activities?

  • Vladimir Putin’s impending nuclear meltdown
  • Fascism fueled insurrection(s) (stateside/globally)
  • Coronavirus & the Variants’ (to die for) world tour
  • Justifiable unrest re socioeconomic disparity
  • Climate change fueled deadly/destructive force(s)

In other words, if you’re reading these words, how about clicking a LIKE?

  • DON’T consider this my pathetic attempt to get attention
  • DO deem this, at least for the moment, a reassuring roll call!

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