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Tag Archives: civility
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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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!
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Fortune Cookie Blog: Roadmap Found?
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The rare, accident free, four-way stop intersection may yield
humankind both the very roadmap we so desperately need
and the glimmer of hope we long for; that the establishment
and maintenance of a civil, viable society is still within reach.
Naturally, our triumph will be contingent upon our eagerness;
deftness at evolving/interweaving rarity into everyday reality.
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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!
-30-
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The Sunshine in Our Name
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Bass guitarist-singer-songwriter-recording artist Andy Fraser certainly wound up “painting” a lyrical / melodious masterpiece back in 1978 and aptly titled it: Every Kinda People (EKP).
Most people who’ve spent their formative years in the presence of parents, mentors and anyone else in possession of a dust-free conscience, will find themselves instantly aligned with / drawn to Fraser’s lyrical advocacy for human equality / peaceful coexistence and his championing on behalf of everyday people, everywhere.
If you’re in accord with what you’ve read, so far, Every Kinda People, most assuredly, will strike a responsive chord.
Singer-songwriter-musician-recording artist-record producer Robert Palmer (b. 19 January 1949 / d. 26 September 2003) owed much of his mega-success story to his recording / releasing of EKP in March of that same year.
It had been his full throttle, impassioned vocal delivery, in tandem with an unpretentious musical arrangement, which, indisputably, had driven (and still drives) home these magnificent lyrics; the primary reasons why EKP wound up becoming his very first hit record. While this track’s upward momentum did halt at #16 on the Top 40 chart, in my book, his primo interpretation shall forever be a #1 chart topper.
It’s Fraser’s utilization of so few words to say so much; the universality of all he speaks of, which continues to wow folks fortunate enough to give ‘er an honest listen (or two or more). In my own case, such insights have been known to well up my eyes. I’ll elaborate further once we’ve taken a closer look at the final stanza which, in particular, from my very first listen of EKP and onward, I’ve always viewed as the epitome of his virtuosity…
“You know that love’s the only goal
Andrew McIan Fraser (b. 3 July 1952 / d. 16 March 2015) • [read full lyrics here]
That could bring a peace to any soul
Hey, and every man’s the same
He wants the sunshine in his name”
As for ‘splaining myself further… there have been way too many instances where the rolling in, metaphorical storm clouds have occluded my corner of our world; i.e., excluded love and peace of mind from my life. And once life’s essentials, such as these, fly south for the winter (too oft the spring, summer and fall, too) so goeth that sunshine.
But how, indeed, fortunate we all are that not all in life is one hundred percent; for that sunshine doth become all the more precious when, somehow, some way, it manages to afford each of us that rare glimmer of hope.
Granted, Mr. Fraser could’ve been less gender specific. On the plus side, it’d not take much effort to rework his final couplet, thusly…
Hey, and everyone’s the same
We want the sunshine in our name
There’s not much more to add, save to say…
No matter how long it may last, make sure to cherish the sunshine wherever, whenever it may appear.
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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!
-30-
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Fortune Cookie Blog (It’s as EZ as ET?)
It’s a damned shame that spacefarers Klaatu and Gort (his take
no crap from nobody robot) are just fictitious characters. Now,
more than ever, we, the defenders of equality, diversity, civility,
tranquility and liberty, need alien allies to help us realign all of
the “almighty” autocrats’ alleged minds to conform to our own!
Fortune Cookie Blog (itty-bitty ity words)
Itty-bitty, “ity” suffixed words can be rich with big ideas. e.g., Amenability,
Affinity, Credibility, Civility, Diversity, Equality, Felicity, Flexibility, Generosity,
Geniality, Humility, Integrity, Reciprocity and Sagacity. Each word’s Quality
represents a key Necessity, which facilitates the Sustainability of Humanity.
Fortune Cookie Blog (Herculean Task?)
To win the War on Terrorism, we’ll need to usher in a stable, global society.
To accomplish this feat will require heads / hearts harboring ethics, respect,
generosity, love, tolerance and civility; a green hued ecology and economy;
our commitment to end nutritional and intellectual starvation; our declared
cease fire re both gun violence and warfare; a cure for our nuclear insanity.
Two MUST SEE Dress for Regress Videos!
Subtitle: Vid(s) of the Day
A few days ago, while chatting on the phone with my nonagenarian next-door neighbor, we soon discovered how we’ve both been ruminating re the sorry state of our homeland and world. More to the point…
We share the POV that the Trumpian / Dystopian cancer has been rearing its ugly head… indeed taking root… primarily because too many of our compatriots are absolutely clueless regarding what Real American Values actually are / what basic human decency truly involves. I could go into a litany of the particulars, but will reserve such a discussion for another blog… another day.
Anyway… after a few moments of silence… I realized we were both pretty much bummed out. So, to slightly lighten things up, I half joked that… considering our homeland’s plunge into Donny’s bottomless pit of ignorance (e.g., [1] his being all fired up on “clean” coal, [2] his flat-out refusal to respect time-honored scientific principles, etc.) it’d be wise for we, who debunk Donny… to… at the very least… visually fit in with his retrograde society’s motif.
And follks… most assuredly… I’m already on top of that! For starters, I’ve been letting my grey beard grow long and wild.¹ Indeed, I could already easily blend in amongst a gathering of Dark Ages men.
Hey, who knows? That, alone, could easily save my very life. Think about it. You never know when Nazi Donny will start rounding up the scientifically inclined folks, intern us in concentration camps, put us on trial for heresy and burn us all at the stake. Whew… now that’s what I’d call a witch-hunt! Yeah, yeah, I know I’m conflating the Dark Ages / Colonial / WW-II eras, but… that too… serves a purpose… namely… to point out that those who fail to learn from history, stupidly, repeat it!
Naturally, we, who hope to blend in, will also need to conform to a period-consistent dress code… so… to that end…
As a public service… and to further everyone’s assimilation into Donny’s Dark Ages… I’m providing the following two dress for regress videos… based on illustrations in the Luttrell Psalter…
Ladies first…
As for the ploughmen…
¹ At present my beard measures out somewhere between retired CBS Late Show comedian David Letterman’s… but has not yet attained the ZZ Top range.
Dormant Seeds? Unpromising Soil?
Over fifty Junes ago, my parents, sister and I wound up moving into a 30-year mortgaged, freshly constructed, three-bedroom ranch and went on to transform it into our home.
For our folks, that momentous occasion had been nothing short of a financial miracle considering the paltry income of public school teachers of that early sixties era AND how The Great Depression of 1929 had put both of their lives and livelihoods on hold… had caused them to meet, marry and get into the baby making biz quite late in life. How late?
Well… by the time I had graduated from college, my Mom and Dad were both in their early sixties and in the early phases of failing health.
It was my heartfelt, undying love and gratitude for all they’d done for me, which had motivated me to put my own life on hold… to not only accept but also embrace the intergenerational, caregiver role-reversal.
In the end, I wound up inheriting my boyhood home. That’s where I’ve been “hanging my hat”, ever since the age of seven. I am so deeply rooted here I literally know my microcosm right down to the flowerbeds… i.e., where my Mom, who’d been an avid horticulturalist, had planted her flowers.
And that’s where today’s story actually begins…
Our My home’s roof has an overhang, which oft prevents the rains from adequately reaching every flower. Even the shortest such drought is apt to result in deadly consequences. And that’s precisely what had happened.
While I’d been busily tending to other higher priority matters in my life, I had neglected to water Mom’s prized, purple Irises. Five years ago, their blooms and foliage had all but vanished off the face of the earth… or so I had thought…
Just mere months ago, while tending to her precious daffodils, out of the corner of my eye, I had spotted something green. Several double takes rapidly confirmed the “impossible”. One tiny, fragile Iris leaf was poking through the soil… desperately seeking out the warmth of the early spring sunlight. I immediately redirected my sprinkling can’s nozzle and, ever since, this plant has been the recipient of my intensive care.
In the past several weeks, several dozen more leaves have appeared, as well. While I’m unsure, yet, if this resurrected Iris has regained sufficient strength to bloom this growing season, I’m still keeping my fingers crossed.
I cannot help but walk away from this experience without considering the more significant, symbolic message here…
My Mom’s Iris is living proof of Marcus Tullius Cicero’s timeless wisdom…
“While there’s life there’s hope.”
To dig a bit deeper…
In view of America’s January 2017, horrific, deplorable, corrupt power shift… we can only hope that the imperiled seeds of human decency can weather and survive the present-day drought of intellect and morality, which is presently overhanging DC… one that poses a serious threat to noble ideas and ideals such as brotherhood, civility, empathy, philanthropy, honesty, transparency, ethics, liberty and justice for ALL.
In light of both my Mom’s rejuvenated Iris AND of how the authors of truly great literature are oft advocates of the above listed inventory of virtues, this brings to mind the late author Carl Sagan’s wisdom. His analogy has never been more relevant…
“Books are like seeds. They can lie dormant for centuries and then flower in the most unpromising soil.”
Will there be a sufficient number of folks, who still give a damn, to counteract the drought. If so, it’ll be up to us to fill the sprinkling cans… to ensure we redirect their spouts at all the hard to reach places… and then?
We’ll hope with all our hearts that it won’t take centuries for the precious seeds to bloom anew.
CommonSenseTom 