The Boondoggle Border Wall ~ 1 Quick Limerick #071

 

The border wall plan of fake prez and fool peers,
Is built on foundation of unfounded fears,
Since Mexico will not pay,
Let’s allay fears / costs defray,
Construct it with concrete found ‘tween Donald’s ears.

 

Folks possessing normal gray matter ‘tween their ears certainly wish that the fake prez would wise up… realize he’d be getting far more bang for his requested 5.8 BILLION BUCKS by not being locked into his wall ONLY boondoggle.

I wrote that above limerick on the premise that… eventually… House Speaker Nancy Pelosi / Congressional Democrats will wind up appeasing that Oval Office terrorist’s demands… i.e., allowing him to build his wall just for the sake of sparing government workers the hardship of yet another shutdown and/or preventing the fake prez’s declaration of a (non-existent) national emergency.

That latter prospect is fraught with peril considering how it reeks of Martial Law where there’d be too few limits… IF ANY… on Donny’s dictatorial powers. One has to suspect that he’s already gotten plenty of Putin’s Pointers on how to take a dump on democracy.

WTF else would Big Bad Vlad and Dummy Donny be discussing… where / when no other Americans… not even the translators… are allowed in the same room.

Ironically, The Wall could wind up doing far more to secure America than originally intended… e.g., just by protecting us from our own “leader”. And… as an American… that’s one sentence I never thought I’d ever need to utter and/or commit to print in my lifetime!

 

 

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A Political Pat on the Back(side)

The above video, amply demonstrating how a narcissist desperately hungers for applause, also serves as the rationale behind U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s recent strategy to stand up to that unreasonable, un-presidential prez.

As one of the few, effective adult leaders left within America’s dysfunctional government, she takes her responsibilities seriously… fully understands the Constitutional system of checks and balances / the separation of powers and her role in implementing and maintaining these vital to democracy functions.

Bottom line… she’s keenly aware that someone has to finally get tough and say “NO!” to the ersatz prez who… concurrently… is an out of touch with reality, spoiled rotten, temper tantrum throwing man-child AND an out of touch with reality, spoiled rotten, temper tantrum throwing terrorist.

In either capacity, he’s been holding 800,000 furloughed government workers hostage.

Think about it… just because he’s being denied HIS WALL, he’s denying these federal employees their lives and livelihoods… plunging these hardworking, decent, innocent bystanders and their loved ones into financial ruin.

Indeed, he’s been adamantly vowing that the government shutdown will go on FOREVER unless / until he’s allowed to piss away over $5 BILLION taxpayer dollars for HIS BORDER WALL… even though that same sum of money could be far better spent on more practical, logistically effective homeland security measures. If he really possesses the business acumen he claims he does, one would think… at the very least… he’d be on board with getting more bang for his bucks.

Were Pelosi to back down now, the fake prez would resort to routinely shutting down the government in the future… as in… each and every time someone would justifiably attempt to rein him in. Her decision to inform him that he won’t be allowed to deliver his State of the Union address until he reopens the government was / is a stroke of genius. This is SOOOO akin to a mother disciplining a misbehaving child.

That infant’s initial, all too predicable protestations over such discipline had NOTHING to do with a prez who actually cares about America and has EVERYTHING to do with a narcissist, who has become crestfallen at the mere notion of not hearing his robotic, sycophantic, Republican congressional cronies bleating / roaring out their on cue, (sincere?) hurrahs… dispensing their (heartfelt?) affection / adulation / applause.

Oh… sure… for awhile the fake prez pretended that [1] the Pelosi snub wasn’t all that big a deal to him, [2] he’d show mean ol’ Nancy that he doesn’t need her at all and [3] he could deliver his speech in any venue in America.

Yet… obviously… even he didn’t / doesn’t buy into this. Hence… he has now caved.

My bet is the more that man-child stews over this… the longer he goes sans the applause he aches for… the better the chances are that he’ll capitulate further.

Just how could anyone who has reached the ripe old age of seventy-two still be so childish? That he’s so obviously turned out rotten certainly does point to a lack of good parenting during his formative years. We can only hope that Pelosi’s “tough love” punish him when he’s bad, pat him on the back when he’s good type of “parenting” is not too late.

In a different, less enlightened, earlier era… he’d have been taken out to the woodshed where that “pat on his back” would’ve been applied to his backside.

 

 

A Wall-Less House of Worship ~ Sunday Song Series

We’ve now reached week #18 of our Sunday Song Series. This time, country recording artist Craig Morgan covers That’s What I Love About Sunday… a.k.a. composers Adam Dorsey / Mark Narmore’s, seen through Sunday eyes, ode to life / life’s simple pleasures. While these lyrics harbor a distinct southern perspective re this day of rest, is not such serenity also sought by souls, planet-wide?

And this need not involve Christians / Americans only. Musically inclined folks… spanning our vast globe… could easily customize this mellow melody to pen lyrics to address their own spiritual / cultural values. And lest we forget, one can even view our world through secular eyes and still cherish / yearn for the “little things in life”.

Indeed… whatever loving God we worship… or not… wherever we hail from… basically… we ARE the same.

What I love most about That’s What I Love About Sunday stems from an outgrowth of the visual aspects… namely… the videographer concept of a wall-less house of worship. To be sure, my idea of the ideal Sunday services would be meeting in an out-of-doors setting. To commune with society / nature does imply peaceful coexistence… a wide open, toll-free bridge to the rest of humanity.

As 2018’s ending, heartbreaking current events now spill over into 2019… now more than ever… such a unifying span is what’s sorely lacking and so desperately needed.

Our Sunday Song Series will continue seven days from now…

 

ICE’d Over Kids ~ 1 Quick Limerick #070

The fake prez prolife claim? Fake news! Effing Lie!
He oft will ICE over downtrodden small fry,
Watch that aberrant tyrant,
Tear Gas / cage children, migrant,
And heartlessly make them cry / get sick and die!

 

 

 

 

 

Make America Stable Again ~ 1 Quick Limerick #069

 

Give strongman / crooked Don his concrete wall,
To stay secure? Make that FOUR walls in all!
Plus concrete ceiling and floor,
Plus steel barred, deadbolted door,
Then LOCK HIM UP in his prison cell / stall!

 

For more limericks (as well as other verses and song parodies, etc.), head over to my “Categories Menu” and select “Poetry”.

 

 

 

Super-Patriot? Political Partisan? Pedantic Pedagogue?

During my sophomore year, my guidance counselor told me our high school’s college prep program required that I enroll in a public speaking course.

Wow… how pleasantly unexpected and win-win his revelation had been! I mean, finally, something mandatory, which could actually jibe with (maybe even enhance and advance) my fledgling aspirations of becoming a writer, radio announcer and DJ.

There was some icing on this curricular cake, too. The instructor (let’s refer to her as Ms. W) APPEARED to be cool… well… at least that was the “411” from my elder sibling, who had previously taken this same course from this same teacher.

Of course… as is oft true in life… APPEARANCES can be deceiving (more about that in a moment).

Traipsing back into the positive territory… my speaking, regularly, before a roomful of my classmates, wound up extracting this introvert from his shell, as it were. My boost in self-confidence was greatly aided by Ms. W allowing us some freedom to choose topics we felt passionate about while knocking off each of her assignments (e.g., staging formal debates, oral interpretation of literature, composing/presenting original poetry, delivering a eulogy, etc.).

It had been that last listed assignment where I had run into trouble… learned how uncool my teacher actually was.

My “mistake” had been to “eulogize” President Richard (Tricky Dicky) Nixon, even though my praise was thickly saturated with damning satire… in spite of the fact that, at that juncture, he was, most assuredly, physically alive.

My rationale for doing so? As a passionate pacifist, Nixon’s broken campaign promise to end the Vietnam War… indeed, his doing a total 180 to escalate his war rendered me deeply horrified. The accompanying upsurge in atrocities attributable to him forced me to deem him both morally and politically dead… a conscience barren, lying, warmongering political cadaver… a figurehead who was (figuratively) lying in state in the Oval Office.

On the morning I had delivered Nixon’s eulogy, as I got in my political digs, I had a tough time maintaining a straight face… the proper, somber presentation for the circumstances. And upon my conclusion, as I stepped out from behind the lectern, I found myself amidst the enthusiastic cheers and applause from my liberal compatriots. Unfortunately, this left lefty me oblivious to the ominous signs that not all who were present were in agreement… inclusive of our instructor.

Well, the sobering moment of truth had arrived. Not unlike what we commonly see during today’s primetime, TV talent show broadcasts, Ms. W presented her customary, in-classroom, for all to hear critique. Long blog short, she was totally uncool with my presentation. Her ice-cold appraisal followed where she patronizingly suggested that perhaps I didn’t know the definition of the word “eulogy”. She then went on to mention that since my other classmates would still be presenting their eulogies the following day, this would give me some time to prepare a proper tribute… and that it had better be for someone who had actually died. So, it all boiled down to this…

Either “correctly” complete Ms. W’s assignment or accept a C+ for my Nixon piece.

Well, I wasn’t inordinately concerned. Since my past performances throughout that semester had netted me much higher marks, I knew that one and only C+ was not going to significantly drag down my overall GPA. Ergo…

With nearly all eyes in this classroom now focused, intently, squarely upon me, I used my best public speaking skills to deadpan…

“I’ll accept that C+ because all that applause I got makes me feel as if I earned an A+!”

My not knuckling under to my teacher had netted me a second round of applause… just as the bell rang to end that day’s class session.

Later on, during that evening’s family dinner table chit chat, my politically liberal, Chemistry teacher father (employed at the very same high school, no less) was also hard-pressed in maintaining a straight face as he informed me that Ms. W had confronted him in the teacher’s lounge to vent her still unresolved outrage towards me.

Of course, I knew fully well that Dad was a professional, who’d never do anything to undermine a colleague’s authority. BUT… neither would he do anything to further punish me. How could he? He loathed Nixon as much as I did. Besides, nowhere amidst Ms. W’s complaints had she accused me of sassing off to her. So, Dad knew that, while standing my political ground, I had tempered my assertiveness with respectfulness.

Possible Psychological Profiles…

Even over the passage of four+ decades’ worth of time, I’ve yet to conclude, decisively, exactly what raw nerves my Nixon eulogy had struck. But I have narrowed it down to these theories.

  1. Ms. W might’ve been a super-patriot… one who wholeheartedly subscribed to that “My country right or wrong” dangerous, mindless nonsense. Just for the record, a true patriot always questions questionable leaders and their policies… to not do so promotes fascism and enables tyrants.
  2. She might’ve been a political partisan… an amoral, hawkish, war profiteering, no questions asked, archconservative… one who’d brand anyone who disagreed with her as an un-American, Commie pinko. Again, for the record, I am a true blue American. And since my country deludes itself into believing it’s a Christian nation, I ask, why the hell can’t the “devout” find it in their hearts to accept pacifists?
  3. She might’ve been a pedantic pedagogue, who the rockers, Pink Floyd, (nine years later) would lyrically classify as an uninspired / uninspiring teacher. More to the point, they did sing… “All in all you’re just another brick in the wall”. And once more, for the record, Ms. W apparently could not see beyond the literal meaning of the word, “eulogy” and that got her caught up in something akin to a head-on collision with, yet, another viable literary vehicle… namely… satire.

Lessons Learned…

  1. Whether or not Ms. W was aware of this, she had tried to squelch my imaginative (if not spot-on) premise that it is possible for someone to be morally and politically dead… and eulogize said person accordingly.
  2. She taught me that, as a liberal, I am viewed as a political leper (even more so in our troubled contemporary times). She served to condition me / desensitize me to the point where I don’t give a flying F that, perhaps up to 51% of my compatriots strongly disagree with me… if not outRight loathe me… if not outRight wish me dead.
  3. While I would’ve never expected any staunchly conservative, non-critically thinking, “my country right or wrong” teacher to ever agree with my anti-Nixon message, at the very least, she should’ve been able to check her blazing red political cloak at the classroom door… hang her red hued, hang-ups in the cloakroom long enough to reward this messenger for his creativity.

And need I even remind that I have history to vindicate me, too?

A scant four years after my mild run-in with Ms. W, Nixon, himself, eventually came to the realization that he was morally and politically dead. Hell, he even delivered his own eulogy… a.k.a. his nationally broadcasted, August 8, 1974 resignation speech. I vividly recall how, the very next day, at high noon, he performed his fancy footwork to tuck tail, cut and run and get out of Dodge/DC… to be rarely heard from again… and I’d wholeheartedly add… rightfully so!

Epilogue… I cannot help but wonder just how many of today’s flag wavers, conservative “thinkers” and “bricks in the wall” are continuing along the same lines as my above featured teacher. In a YUGE [sic] way, those engaged in such undertakings have, either unwittingly or otherwise, been doing their damnedest to bastardize the true meaning of patriotism, warp public opinion towards the far, Far, FAR right and stifle young, creative minds. If left unchecked, these formulaic, “teach to the test” “educators” will continue to breed an electorate filled with enablers of political vermin / viruses, who’ll infest / infect the body of our nation… this all leading to America’s premature death?

If that, indeed, were America’s dismal fate, I, for one, would never want to be around to deliver that eulogy!

 

Tear Down (Your Plans For) This Wall!

 

In keeping with his campaign promise, #45 is now chomping at the bit to break ground on his $8 – $12 BILLION wall along the southern U.S. border… and to (somehow) force Mexican President Enrique Peña Nieto to pony up.

Well, as we already know, there’ll be no such payment… which all leaves #45 in a bit of a quandary. Or does it?

Has he forgotten about the furniture within his Manhattan palace? And, no, I’m not suggesting he sell it off.

All he need do is check between the living room sofa cushions for those BILLION$… what he’d consider chump change. It’s bound to be hiding there.

Of course he had better dig a bit deeper because it’d appear that his guesstimate has been way too conservative. The more realistic price tag attached to his wall could easily fall within the 40 BILLION BUCK range… so says one expert, Konstantin Kakaes.

Another predicament? Maybe not.

Obviously, it’d be a YUGE [sic] stretch, but, it’d behoove #45 to behave a bit more like #35 (a.k.a. John F. Kennedy)… to deep six this wall… to understand that waging and winning a war on poverty is a far more productive, permanent project… to accept that this would all take more time and patience… but it’d be well worth it!

The best part of this… it’d require finding “only” 30 of those 40 billion bucks and then utilizing it to feed ALL 870 Million of our world’s undernourished and starving people (btw, be sure to read Leen Abdallah’s Blog).

No fooling… for $30 billion no one would go hungry for ONE FULL YEAR!

Yes, at first #45 would need to assume the role of Santa Claus. But, as his “elves” would be delivering this humanitarian aid, they’d also be building the foundation of good will, worldwide. What’s imperative here is the fed recipients would need to be fully aware that the U.S. is their benefactor. After all, it goes against basic human nature, to “bite” the hand that feeds you.

At that point it’d be time for the U.S. to build on two astute and timeless sayings…

“Idle hands are the devil’s workshop.”

-and-

“Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.”

In subsequent years, #45’s helpers, if doing their jobs properly, would be instilling a strong work ethic within their “fisher folk” along with the accompanying feelings of satisfaction one generally gets upon reflecting upon a job well done at the end of each workday.

Eventually, criminal activity… and in some instances even terrorist activity… would be on the wane… if for no other reason than honest work gives everyone purpose… prevents idle hands and minds. Not to make light of this but folks would be yawning too damned much to even listen to devilish recruiters (e.g. ISIS).

Yes, stronger, happier humans make for stronger happier homelands.

Ultimately, be it at America’s coastlines or borders, the folks attempting to enter would be friendly tourists… not illegally entering foes. For those who chose to emigrate, with nothing to fear about them, Americans could always welcome them with open hearts, minds and arms.

However, for potential émigrés, it’d would likely be a tough choice to make since their homelands would be just as attractive as America… maybe even more so… after all…

“There’s no place like home.”