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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Naw! Nyet!

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With America’s midterm elections looming (less than nine months off), hardcore rightie, legislative foes, in stonewalling a newbie, centrist president’s pro-proletariat agenda, have already, successfully portrayed him as politically impotent.

Such an orchestrated characterization, in turn, has caused many a centrist / leftist legislator’s job approval rating to plummet, too; has alienated the very voters, who had empowered this whole kit and kaboodle, in the first place.

Now, that’s not to suggest that the understandably, disaffected electorate is about to jump ship / join the ranks of rank Trumpers. However, their failure to vote, come November, will net the same deleterious effect.

Soooooo… is this all as hopeless as it seems? Maybe not???

Seeing how no top billing, ballot player can ever attain / retain such power, sans having at least one top advisor on retainer; one who’s superbly adept in mass media communication; is an extraordinary manipulator of politics, press and public, perhaps Mr. President may have turned this entire, mucked up mess over to his fixer-upper; who in turn, ultimately, opportunistically, has already tapped into a preexisting, potential World War III?

Has this puppet master pulled on the strings of a has-been foreign leader; one who’s desperately ISO an image makeover of his very own; a public relations kick in the ass that could aid and abet this pathetic little dick-tator’s ongoing, pathetic little plot to restore his flaccid, floundering nation to its bygone, storybook, superpower status?

Hmm, one, who, in turn, has been bluffing a looming attack; oh, say, by deploying 100,000 troops in the vicinity of a third hapless, leader-player’s bordering nation?

The End?

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By now, you, my perceptive, critical thinking readers, have begun to connect my dots; conclude that our chains are getting yanked. True, appearances can be deceiving, but, it’d appear that a particular screenplay’s fictional plot has been afoot; has stepped right off the silver screen and into the real world.

For anyone who may still be in need of a dot, one of that flick’s lines should do the trick…

“We’re not gonna have a war, we’re gonna have the appearance of a war.”

Actor Robert De Niro / Character Conrad Brean [More Wag the Dog Quotes HERE]

Soooooo… could such infantile hamming it up / posturing (in actuality dangerous brinksmanship) do an image makeover; bolster the egos, job performance / poll numbers and national / international standings of both questionable leaders, in question?

Naw and Nyet!

This won’t likely even apply a dull shine to Messrs. Joe Biden’s and Vladimir Putin’s scuffed up IQs.

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Yawwwnnn… Uh… Excuse Me…

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Since late November, my landline’s answering machine has been working overtime. Nearly lost within the phalanx of telemarketers, robocallers, interest rate slashers and revenuer scammers, has been Sharon, a former classmate, who’s taken on the task of organizing our 50th high school class reunion.

Admittedly, even her mentioning her maiden name had failed to ring a bell. I had to blow off a thick layer of yearbook dust just to stir a vague recollection. Had I actually picked up the handset, that would’ve been our very first conversation, ever.

Well, since then, she’s called two more times; perhaps more, considering all the logged, no-message-left hang-ups. Hmm, might her persistence indicate she’s been encountering other classmates’ yawns, too? I dunno.

So, why my own reluctance to talk to her? Well… let’s just say that not everyone winds up with fuzzy, fond memories of their K thru 12 public school experience.

Unless one has a yen for PAIN, who’d ever yearn for the “good old days” of being subjected to snooty, snotty, yer-not-good-enough-to-be-in-our-clique ‘tudes and, worse yet, getting bullied into prolonged stretches of emotionally devastating, social isolation.

Granted, I don’t believe Sharon to have been an ally of my tormentors; she may have even been oblivious to all that crap. While I am tempted to return her calls to clue her in, truth be told, I’d much rather have her equate my telephone silence to my no-show intentions. Having yet to attend even one class reunion, why would I start now?

For fleeting moments, I’ve even entertained the notion that some of those bullies may have outgrown their odious, immature personae. Yet, why risk facing down further disappointments; indignities? To flesh that out, who’d ever want to hobnob with Mister Mike, who I’m sure still sports his permanently plastered on, I-know-something-you-don’t-and-you’re gonna die, menacing, ear-to-ear sneer.

Transcending all of that psychodrama enters the coronavirus, marching in lockstep with the ever-growing phalanx of deadly, batcrap contagious, cohort variants. Who knows, the “festivities” could all play out as a Zoom Reunion Yawner.

There’s no way in Hell that this 50th reunion will be 2022’s “to die for” event… well… unless Covid-19 crashes the party.

And ya gotta know that bugger WILL be eagerly RSVP’ing its YES!

Soooooo, Sharon, if you, somehow, get to read this, know that I’ll be RSVP’ing my NO!

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The We / Me Scale

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It’s a forgone conclusion that We v. Me pretty much sums up today’s ugly, never the twain shall meet, THICK, hyperpartisan divide; especially Stateside. If your own homeland suffers from a similar mental malaise / meltdown, you do have my heartfelt sympathy and, for what it’s worth, my Get Well Soon wishes.

Naturally, dual connotations of a word, such as THICK, not only define that vast divides’ dimension, but also aptly describe the Me-oriented persons’ density. To get a better handle on this, we’ll need to…

STEP #1: Establish / Title a Scale and briefly describe each tier’s people…

The We/Me Scale

  • Free We: Progressives, who accept laws, which lead to society’s betterment
  • So-so We: Capitulators, who obey life enhancing laws only to avoid penalties
  • Sorta Me: Bellyachers, who seem to obey; yet, litigate virtuous laws to death
  • PO’d Me: Anarchists, who’d overthrow a nation to absolutely overturn all laws

STEP #2: Run a thought experiment to assess how each brand of beings will likely react to, oh, say, their local communities’ public safety motivated, public sidewalk snow / ice removal mandates; oh, say, in the wake of a climate change generated, freakish winter storm.

  • Free We folks will willingly shovel every several hours, throughout the entire, seemingly interminable event, in an eco-friendly manner; only resorting to snow blowers if they have medical issues.
  • So-so We peeps won’t venture outdoors until the bitter end; barely meeting the stipulated snow removal deadlines.
  • Sorta Me individuals might hire enterprising neighborhood youngsters to get ‘er done, but, typically, will await the spring thaw. In the meantime, these scofflaws, if/when fined, will delay payment while litigating till hell freezes over.
  • PO’d Me entities will flat-out flip-off all laws and fines; all the while fantasizing about off-the-beaten-path plots to browbeat civil society into submission or obliteration (whichever comes first); their responses varying; i.e., depending on the severity of their psychoses.

Most worrisome is how that last on the list ilk might even consider bizarre tactics, such as…

  • Setting up a “hunter’s blind” to ambush any enforcer who’d have the “audacity” to fine them.
  • Hiring a backhoe operator / helicopter pilot to excavate / evacuate the public sidewalk; airlifting each snow / ice loaded concrete section to a nearby airport; to be jetted off to some torrid locale; and, once everything melts, reversing the entire process.
  • Literally going ballistic by hacking into their homelands’ nuclear facilities; targeting and launching the nukes, thereby melting down every molecule of frozen H2O; HELL, every molecule / atom period (nation / worldwide).

Granted, even the possibility of that sounds astoundingly farfetched, BUT, then again, prior to January 6, 2021, so did the possibility of a sitting U.S. president, first, rallying HIS private army; next, deploying them to attack the very nation that he had sworn on the Holy Bible, to preserve, protect and defend.

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Vile, Volatile Vigilante

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Vile, volatile vigilante
Conceived in grubby grotto
Gestated in amniotic venom
Poisoned by toxic masculinity
Reared in evil environs’ dungeon

Vile, volatile vigilante
Schooled weekdays weakly
Sunday unschooled bleakly
Untutored in civics and ethics
Stripped naked of civility and integrity

Vile, volatile vigilante
Radicalized by hate traffickers
Brainwashed by propagandists
Sheeted/hooded Deep South white
Shirted World War II Scheisse brown

Vile, volatile vigilante
Militarized by gun nut sociopaths
Mollycoddled by militant gestapo cops
Freed by jury of like-minded, brain-dead peers
Unpunished by headless, bench warmer judges

Vile, volatile vigilante
Rewarded handsomely for ugly mayhem; murder
Morphed stick-figure role model
Trotted out fraudulent hero
Dubbed the abnormal new normal

Vile, volatile vigilante
Elevated soon to Sheriff?
Appointed soon to the Bench?
Elected soon to Congress?
Installed soon in Oval Office?

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Service Interruptus

Subtitle: Ma Bell’s Bells and Whistles

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For the benefit of WordPress readers, who may not be American History buffs and, as such, are unfamiliar with what Ma Bell stands for, it all hearkens back to

“The common nickname for the Bell Telephone Company when it was the monopoly communications provider in the U.S.; a slang term referring to AT&T Corp., which provided the original telephone service in the United States, and thus was considered the ‘mother’ of the telecom industry.”

Non-Credited Google Search Goddess or God

Moving along to “her” Bells and Whistles…

Not long ago, I discovered a small, mysterious package on my front porch. Since Sunday deliveries are rare, this had likely been “camping out” there overnight.

With that WHEN issue readily resolved, the more ominous aspects became WHO delivered it and WHY something so valuable and visible (to both motorized and on foot passersby) would not get readily ripped off? Also, in an era WHERE OrangeMan has rudely awakened his rude, psychotic, domestic terrorist sleeper cells, I realized HOW a call to my local police department might not be a bad idea. Just to be on the safe side…

  • Perhaps one of their canines with a nose for nitro could give it a sniff?
  • Or, in lieu of that, the bomb squad could do a bucket of H2O “baptism”?

Anyway, my more rational head prevailed and remained, intact, on my shoulders, too; i.e., when, no Kaboom resulted from my DIY, more conventional box opening tactics. Of course, that didn’t necessarily mean there’d be no explosions; after all, aggravation can cause one’s head to go BOOM, too, as it were. I’ll get into the brain strain particulars in a moment.

So, there I was, staring down a brand spankin’ new flip phone; one which I had never even ordered. Well, at least, my service provider’s accompanying cover letter dispelled any lingering notions that this might be some sorta diabolically designed IED.

Their “love letter” continued, (my word choice, not theirs): As you’ve heard by now (no I hadn’t) we’ll be sun-setting (how lyrical) our 3G network by next spring (Ahh, when love in the air hits the cell towers?). To ward off service interruptus, we’re providing you the latest 4G model; at no cost to you.

And so, I lived happily ever after? NOPE!
Service Intrerruptus? YOU BETCHA!
Check out this Litany of Laments:

  • Quick Start-up Guide sans open phone/install battery instructions
  • While online manual did resolve the prob, it soon led to a new one
  • Annoying Google Assistant’s (GA) spoken words oft unintelligible
  • Worse yet, “she” loved telling the time every minute on the minute
  • Yelled all incoming/outgoing phone numbers for the world to hear
  • Online tech manual’s TOC could not direct me to mute GA tutorial
  • Tech Support call led to agent who, help-wise, couldn’t phone it in
  • Techie’s www was down, so she could not research the prob, either
  • She recommended a visit to their brick and mortar retailer for help
  • Not wanting to go public during a pandemic, I re-boxed this device
  • Meanwhile, I wrote 2 monthly checks for a phone I could not stand
  • Eventually, I violated my tuff pandemic rules to visit the local store
  • The savvy techie needed barely two scant minutes to silence the GA

Naturally, I do recognize how folks, with vision issues, would find the Google Assistant a Godsend. Even so, I’m certain that they’d find being told the time 60 times per hour annoying, too!

Now… long sigh… not being one to complain sans dispensing any constructive criticism, at all…

Would not everybody’s lives be much easier if smart and stupid phone designers* would OPT-IN to making each fresh out of the box phone, just that, a basic phone?

Devices where the user would then need to OPT-IN to, NOT OPT-OUT of the damned bells and whistles.

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* Double entendre discovered and italicized while proof-reading.

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How about a Fast Food Fast?

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Forward: The below mentioned, fast food behemoth shall remain nameless as will its CEO. Opting for anonymity is not only wise within a litigious society, it also serves as a reminder of how, within a business world awash in copycats, we’re not discussing a freakish anomaly.

To say the least…

For nearly seven decades, a notorious junk food purveyor and his predecessors have been persuasively detouring gullible consumers down a one way, dead end road; emphasis on the word DEAD.

To say more…

These customers wind up pigging out on foodstuffs devoid of life sustaining, essential nutrients; overloaded with saturated fat, excess sodium and sugar; all the while, watching their ill-advised, sickening, dietary choices enlarge into an entire, unhealthy (albeit short-lived) lifestyle,

The youngest of these patrons are particularly vulnerable to this company’s manipulation, when tiny toys, trinkets and other worthless swag get served alongside their grub; when aired and streamed weekend cartoons’ adverts trot out their corporate stooge / playful mascot; the affable doofus whose main mission is to deviously indoctrinate these tykes; relentlessly reprogram them until they morph into inveterate, junk food junkies.

In time, when morbid obesity induced, critical illnesses start to strike down these unfortunate youngsters, guess what?

Lo and behold, oft too little and too late, it’s the corporate monsters to the “rescue”. You see, they’ve, oh so conveniently, erected multiple hundreds of pediatric care hospitals to house both their self-made, gravely ill patients; as well as their worried sick folks.

Little doubt, such a corporate gesture has less to do with displaying genuine compassion; more to do with helping Mister Moneybags back-burner whatever vestigial guilt he MIGHT be “feeling”.

Granted, even an unintentional merciful act is a wonderful thing, and, beyond that, it IS the very least he could do. But, how about doing more?

Look, I’m not about to suggest that he shutter his eateries. All I’m asking is why not, instead, supply healthier food to his ravenous captives? In time, once the demand for junk food wanes, he might even be able to shutter a few of his hospitals.

Or better yet, repurpose them so their medical staffs would wind up caring for all who are ailing; both physically and fiscally.

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Sure Bets

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On 01/22/2021, in a fleeting moment of lunacy, Democratic Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer’s signed legislation opened the online gambling house and sports betting floodgates. Her way of placating the vast legions (or is that lesions?) of her state’s hardcore conservative, corrupt, crybaby, wallowing in wealth, income tax scofflaws? Of making damned sure they’ll never pay their fair share of taxes?

Hmm… that these righties will still NEVER vote for her sounds like a Sure Bet!

Anyway, this now means that raising sufficient revenue to keep our home state plodding along, heavily depends upon how successful the scum of the earth, opportunistic casino owner-operator-pigs can manipulate the gullible sheeple.

To flesh out this looming human tragedy: According to our Bureau of Labor Statistics (as of February 2021) that targeted for coercion audience involves anywhere from 600,000 to 1,000,000 on the pandemic dole, down on their luck Michiganders.

In other words, the very people who can least afford to lose whatever few bucks they may still have are gambling and losing whatever few bucks they may still have.

So, what happens when the monthly mortgage or rent / auto loan / utility bills all come due? When the fridge and cupboard are bare? When the in tatters kiddies need new threads? I can only imagine the brewing and erupting marital discord / domestic violence / family infighting when all of these unfortunate souls’ next “wardrobe” change involves the one-size-fits all, shabby street life.

One thing worse than the gambling, itself: Ever since, Whitmer’s* chain of “Hard Knocks” Casinos have collectively thrown open their virtual front door, their parasitic bosses have been shoveling in their untold wealth to fuel media saturation buys; i.e., to unleash advertising campaigns that leave no media streams and airwaves unpolluted; no nanosecond of each day untapped; inclusive of sunrise Sunday time slots.

*Since she OK’d ‘em she now (metaphorically) owns ’em, too!

My God, how disturbed does a person have to be to wake up, whip out his device and start wagering on a Sunday morn? Hell, why not stuff that dough into a house of worship’s collection plate, instead?

In a past post I spoke very highly of our guv. Guess I spoke too soon, huh?

So, WTF would it take to get these gambling hell holes to give it all a rest? A REST? Hmm, how about ARREST?

NOPE, since all they do breaks no laws, that ain’t gonna happen! That means avoidance of their insufferable, ceaseless ad blitzkriegs will necessitate shutting down my TV’s antenna/amplifier and PC’s router/modem.

Hmm… to me, that sounds like a Sure Bet!

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BioPic Trailer: Quick Limerick #111

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To run down biopic: Dumbo Encumbered
Into our lives, orange white elephant lumbered
He’d trumpet sick, toxic isms
To dredge societal schisms
Caused Covid dolor and death; ‘cause he slumbered

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Y a www XSive Xistence is UnYs

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Here’s why an online excessive existence is unwise:

Let’s say that we’re overly dependent on:

  • Streamed reportage to stay abreast of current events
  • Streamed music, movies and TV to amuse / entertain
  • Social networks to act as our digital photo repositories
  • E-commerce to purchase goods and peddle our wares
  • E-banking / E-bill paying to manage all of our finances

Now, let’s say that, someday, some devil-may-care electorate permits a cultist to rise to power; perhaps some narcissistic, fascistic, morbidly obese, bleach blonde, tousled hairdo’d dude with troweled on orange, clown make-up?

To keep it all real, what would stop that asshat from staging a coup d’état? Hey, it’s been tried before!

The top priority of any till-death-do-us-part type tyrant would be to sever all communication. And what could be easier than his throwing the Internet Kill Switch

The net effects of a net-less nation / world being:

  • Molded-over fake news; molded to flatter that Fascist bastard
  • A dispirited, disconsolate, alienated from loved ones populace
  • Consumers unable to secure life’s essential products/services
  • Entrepreneurs discovering their E-businesses shuttered tight
  • Frozen assets and the consequent inability to pay off creditors

There you have it folks. The unfed minds and bodies; unpaid mortgage/rent and energy bills would, quite literally, leave the huddled, miserable masses out in the cold.

In other words…

To abandon our in-print books, periodicals, newspapers, cardboard covered photo albums, in person theatrical performances / concerts, as well as brick and mortar businesses, could quite easily herald the demise of any robust, full-bodied healthy and happy society.

Exactly how far beyond that it could go, would depend, for the most part, upon the degree of the mercurial tyrant’s zealousness / doggedness.

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