From the Life of a President Elect

Exit Poll Questionnaire

EXIT POLL QUESTIONNAIRE

I voted for Donald Trump because I am. . .

A] a racist.
B] a misogynist.
C] anti-Muslim.
D] anti-immigrant.
E] a good Republican.
F] a fascist.
G] completely clueless.
H] all of the above.
 

The Wise Responsible Adult Choice

If Donald Trump is elected president next Tuesday it will be as much the fault of progressive Democrats who insist on "voting their consciences" as the fault of the bigoted, clueless bunch of bozos who currently call themselves Republicans. There, I said it. Please, please, please. Don't throw away your vote.  Swallow your pride, put your fragile little egos on ice for a while, and vote for Clinton. Bernie Sanders supports her and so does Elizabeth Warren.

Don't stay home. Don't vote for Jill Stein (or, God help us, Gary Johnson!). She can't win, but voting for her might take enough votes from Clinton to put a unstable, narcissistic, fascist demagogue in the White House. A Trump presidency would be the death of the progressive movement and of everything Ms. Stein and her Green supporters hold dear. If you care about your country you'll vote Democratic. Strike a blow for American democracy and make the wise, responsible, adult choice.

You're good people, I know you are. You have live hearts and active brains and you want to do the right thing. Don't do the wrong thing for the right reason. The only effective way to stand up to an evil sonofabitch like Trump is to support the one person with a legitimate shot of stopping him and his legion of racists, misogynists, homophobes, religious bigots, and gun toting douche bags from taking over the United States government, and that person is Hillary Clinton. It is not the choice between the lesser of two evils, it is the choice between a great evil and someone you've been taught and trained to dislike over the course of twenty-five years by the right wing media..

Of course, I'm not telling you anything that you don't know already. This is not your ordinary, run of the mill election. If things turn out badly we won't get Mitt Romney or John McCain or George W. Bush or Bob Dole, we will get Donald Trump. Think about that for a moment. Think about the last eighteen months. Think about every nasty, vindictive, misinformed, ignorant piece of verbal vomit that has ever fallen out of this man's big fat stupid mouth. Do you really want to say that you didn't do everything possible to prevent such a disreputable piece of human garbage from becoming the most powerful person in the world?

Whatever mistakes or missteps a Clinton administration might make, the country will survive. In four years there will be another presidential election and you can choose someone better to your liking to be the leader of the free world. If Trump is elected I'm not so sure that will be the case. Clinton isn't perfect -- she's a hawk militarily and she's far too cozy with Wall Street -- but she's intelligent, experienced, hardworking, and a believer in democratic government. And, at the moment, she's the only viable option sane voters have. It isn't rocket science, guys.

Politics is the art of the possible. Don't throw away what little power you possess on a Utopian dream. The Green Party will never hold a single reign of power. Not this year, not next year, not in a hundred years. This is not the time for a protest vote or to reject the system outright. Moral victories are illusionary victories at best and of no use whatsoever to those of us who live in the real world. To hell with your conscience. And to hell with Susan Sarandon. I'm sorry to be so blunt -- I actually like Susan Sarandon -- but I get like that when I'm frightened. And at the moment I am scared shitless.

Three Drumpf Jokes

THREE DRUMPF JOKES:

1
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Donald Trump.
Ha, ha, ha. (No further punch line required.)

2
How many Trumps does it take to screw in a light bulb?
One to grab 'em by the pussy.
One to attempt to do the job himself.
One to screw up the job despite assurances that he is the best light bulb screwer-inner in the history of the world.
One to hire an electrician to do the job properly.
One to refuse to pay the electrician after the job is completed.
One to hire fifteen attorneys to defend himself in court when the electrician sues him for his fee.
One to bad mouth the judge at his subsequent trial.
One to bribe the state Attorney General not to investigate his bad mouthing the judge.
One to blame everything on Muslims, Mexicans, Blacks, Gays, Democrats, or a Clinton.
One to notify the Russian mob.
And twenty-five surrogates to spin the whole sordid affair on television the next day.

3
Donald Trump, a rabbi, a priest, and an 800 pound gorilla walk into a bar. The priest orders a beer, the rabbi a glass of red wine, and the gorilla a soft drink. The bar tender  looks at Trump and asks him what he would like to drink? "Nothing" Trump says. "I want to keep both hands free for pussy grabbing." The priest blesses himself. The rabbi looks embarrassed. And the gorilla grunts and sits down anywhere he wants. "Okay" the bar tender says. "But there's a twenty-five dollar cover charge. "No problem" Trump replies. "I'll have my charitable foundation write you a check. Oh, and I'll pay the gorilla's tab too. He helped me prep for the last debate. I owe him big time. For that. . . sniff. . . and for the coke."

Another Day in America

Another terrorist attack.

Another mass shooting.

Another unarmed black man murdered by the police.

Another racist, misogynist, or outrageously ignorant and illogical tweet from Herr Drumpf or one of his cronies.

Another televised protest.

Another panel of white people on FOX News analyzing the situation.

Another season of Dancing with the Stars.

Another day in America.

I am the Anti-Everything

 I am the anti-everything. A song no one will ever sing.
My smile is a frown. My dance step is falling down.

My jokes will make you weep. And my enthusiasm put you to sleep.

I grimace instead of wink. And I don't care what you think.

I am the anti-everything. A bird with neither beak or wing.
My creed is non-belief. My greatest joy is an acceptance of grief.

My profile is chiseled in the mud. And my portrait painted in blood.

I am a most peculiar man. And I don't give a good god damn.

I am the anti-everything. A poet priest and philosopher king.
My light is the lack of light. My blindness is my only insight.

My holy book is a blank page. And I haven't mellowed with age.

I am the salt sullied sea. And I am no one but me.

I am the anti-everything. A butterfly kiss and a bee sting.
My comfort is distress. My attempt at order is a holy mess.

My whisper is a clarion call. And my doorway a thick stone wall.       
I am a heart alone on a shelf. And I am apt to repeat myself. . .

I am the anti-everything. A song no one will ever sing.
My smile is a frown. My dance step is falling down.

My jokes will make you weep. And my enthusiasm put you to sleep.

I grimace instead of wink. And I don't care what you think.

I am the Dark Side of the Moon

I am the dark side of the moon. My movements go unnoticed. My mind is bathed in shadow. My voice complains to the cosmos. On Earth I am thought mute.

I am neither friend or companion. My presence comforts no one. My creed is iceberg cold. My words sour the milk of human kindness. Take a sip at your own peril.

I am a cure worse than the disease. My lips murmur no prayers. My arms offer no shelter from the storm. My eyes water for no one. These tear ducts dried up long ago.

I am the original odd man out. My wickedness posing as logical thought. My longing captured in couplets. My dreams clog ancient arteries. And speak only of oblivion.

I am the anti-everything. My footsteps disappear in the sand. My touch is a dead man's embrace. My wisdoms are foolish rhymes. I am the dark side of the moon. . .

Expositoty Repository

The natural end to all human life is despair. Make yourself as comfortable as possible and try not to think about any of it too deeply.

When a belief no longer serves a useful purpose it's time to believe otherwise. The assumptions upon which we perpetually act must be logical and life-sustaining. Otherwise, an arsenal of sophisticated psychological weaponry is being used only to shoot ourselves in the foot.

Don't kid yourself. Everyone dies. And not with the sweet smell of success in one's nostrils. Failure is a major part of life.

The largest life is still microscopic.

Words can make anything seem important, no matter its inherent triviality.

"Make America white -- ah, I mean, great -- again!"

Boredom is the key to trouble's door. What is done for amusement's sake can sometimes ruin lives.

Everyone is taller on the moon.

I am a fool in April and in every other month.

Addressing the facts -- all of the facts -- is the first step in finding a solution to any problem.

Most jobs require qualifications. The presidency only requires the assent of the unqualified.

Long days ahead. No end in sight. No reward at the end of a long journey. No cookie. No pat on the back. No heaven. No hell.

The bigger the lie the bigger the liar and the bigger the eventual double down.

Saint Francis never went to the beach in search of the perfect tan.

When I lay on my back I'm sure I look like a corpse.

Intolerance and stupidity have been repackaged and re-labeled as religion. Religion is now an excuse for all behavior that would otherwise be deemed inexcusable.

How easy it is to speak for God. How easy it is to place your own words in the mouth of deity.

If the political demographics are against you, rig the electoral process. All arguments can be won by silencing your opponents.

Fair play is a spectator's virtue.

My Charnel House of Thoughts

The world has changed. Not for the better, not for the worse. It is different with no rhyme or reason. There was no thought involved. No plan was created and implemented. It just became what it became.

We are all just wandering around in the dark.

Drumpf, Druzef, Dubiof, or Domneyf. A dhoicef is no choice at all.

The light isn't dying, Dylan, the light is dead and buried.

I frequently take comfort in my own negativity.

Public and private are not mutually exclusive spheres. One can clearly affect the other, both for good and for evil.

I wanted instant gratification. They told me to take a number and stand in line.

The expiration date on my milk carton of human kindness ran out a month ago.

Pro golfers have a leader board. Soft drink companies have a two liter board.

Gun violence is the gravy on the meat and potatoes of American culture.

Silence. The absence of noise or the the inability to hear.

Just do nothing. Both the best and the worst advice possible.

There is no advantage in thinking poorly of people.

Twenty years ago it was already too late.

Searching for a reason to forget.

It takes a hole in the wall to let the light in. Don't shut yourself up too too tightly. You miss much that is worth experiencing by trying too hard to protect you and yours.

Try to appeal to people's better instincts, not their worst.

Stand on Your Head

Piety is almost always respected, but very rarely embraced.

Lip service costs nothing and delivers the same. Verbal praise helps no one.

Like life in general, individual lives evolve over time.

I am alone most of the time. And most of the time I like it that way. I am rehearsing for eternity.

There is nothing more pathetic than a devious dullard.

It will be one month before they become proficient at the job. Two months before they are thoroughly bored with their work. And three months before they can't stand the sight of this place or of you.

Most people are too busy with the work-a-day world to worry too much about abstractions. All art, all literature, all philosophy, all higher thought in general, is the result of leisure time.

Oh, Mr Technology, can you lend me your screwdriver?

Early morning of a middle weekday and mildly annoyed with life.

Life gets old fast. Sometimes you just need something new.

If it ain't bleeding don't apply a tourniquet.

There's difference between glad handing a customer and giving him a hand job. One is good business and one is Yuck!

The government isn't to blame if you can't get an erection.

America is a fading myth. Something that never was, but could have been, is now gone. The thing with feathers -- politically speaking -- is losing its plumage fast. The eagle is now really bald.

A leopard can't change its bullshit.

All flaws are fatal (for someone).

This frown is as near to a smile as you are going to get from me. If you're really worried about my happiness, stand on your head when you look at my picture.

Expect nothing and you will never be disappointed with what you actually get.

When two clairvoyants meet and immediately form a romantic attachment with one another its called "love at second sight."

He who doesn't care if he is liked or not is, inevitably, disliked.

Sour Grapes

There is always time to pay our respects to the dead.

Why chew when it can be swallowed whole?

Filthy minds cannot be sent to the dry cleaners.

The sublime and the ridiculous often exist in equal measures.

You are responsible for the action. The reaction is someone else's fault.

Sociopath politics.

Sooner or later you have to take the training wheels off of the bicycle.

Control is an illusion. We are all helpless in the arms of fate.

Wisdom is not born on cold writer mornings before the drive to work. Poetry doesn't suddenly appear in margins between fitful sleep and drudgery.

There is nothing more difficult to explain than the obvious.

My head turns momentarily to follow the object I'm passing and then pivots forward again.

I want to see her for the first time again. I want to introduce myself to her again. I want to talk to her after class again. I want to walk her to her car again. I want to sit next to her in film class again. I want to feel my pulse quicken when she walks into the room again. I want her to break my heart again.

Trash is a designation, not an intrinsic quality.

He who laughs last often doesn't understand the joke.

Who'd have thought that I would be the talkative one?

Life remains a mystery in more than a few ways.

All I want to do is write.

Sometimes sour grapes taste very sweet.

I'm on the "Living with Rick" diet. Eat your heart out Doctor Tarnover; because that's the only food your going to get around here.

Beer and Bullshit

Tea and sympathy. Beer and bull shit. Hot chocolate and clean socks. Coffee and soft words. It's all the same. Comfort for a weary soul.

"No Imagination" is just about the worst label that can be hung upon another person.

It's funny how unlike me most other people are.

Every Tom, Dick, and Harry these days is named Michael.

Jesus was a vagrant. They passed laws to deal with his kind.

"Meet me at the trysting tree." You don't hear many people say that anymore.

I'm thinking of writing a paradigm store novel. I know there's no market for it at the present time, but there might be sometime in the future.

Waste of money. Waste of time. Waste of energy. Waste of sentiment. Did it anyway. Regretted it. Waste of regret.

Life is mourning. That's all I remember of life anyway. If there was time before loss and regret I am unable to envision it. Me, with my funeral face, move from one disaster to another.

Time turns experience into a literary endeavor. What was lived is eventual read like a novel.

I like to call the Republican Presidential debates "The Tiny Penis Parade."

Selective compassion is no compassion at all.

He's a horse and buggy personality in an age of jet planes. One step behind and a dollar short would be an improvement.

Fuzziwuzzy was a bear. Fuzziwuzzy had no hair. Fuzziwuzzy died of exposure because of his physical deformity and the harsh Michigan winters when he was still a cub.

Our eyes naturally look ahead, least we trip over the future.

If you knew what kind of life was ahead of me without you, would you have cared?

Happiness is problematic. Only misery is pure. Such is life.

There is no remedy for my malaise. The time for cure has long passed. I will carry this virus until my blood runs dry.

Another year. Another trip around the Sun. All that traveling and we all just end up back from where we started from.

Natural Causes

Life is far too short to accomplish anything of note and far too long to waste entirely. That's the problem.

I have nothing in common with anyone.

In terms of dramatic narrative, there is nothing about my life that is particularly interesting or engaging.

Donald Trump is a boil on the bum of the body politic.

The importance of celebrity evades me.

A gift from Swiss Colony says you care. You just don't care very much.

Jesus was breast fed.

People don't pass away, they die. Passing away implies that you are somewhere and then you are somewhere else. Death is not being somewhere else, is not being at all.

Just because you can't image not being does not mean that some day you will not be.

There is something wrong with the legal system when the police can murder someone and the official cause of death is listed as "died from natural causes."

Christmas week. Sugar plums are already dancing in my head. At least I think they're sugar plums. They could be some sort of large insect, I'm not sure.

Those in love with poverty do nothing to combat it. They are part of the problem of poverty, not the answer to it. Love the poor, if you like, but hate their poverty with a passion.

The poor don't need your prayers, but food, shelter, education, healthcare, and a means to all of the above. They don't need a place in Heaven, but a reason to live on Earth.

The poor are not to blame for their poverty; neither are they blessed for it. God does not love the poor for their poverty, He loves them in spite of it.

God does not love suffering for its own sake. A hair shirt is expensive to make and painful to wear, but is of no practical use to anyone, including the Almighty. Sacrificing your comfort to aid another is good and proper, sacrificing it to prove your holiness is something else entirely.

Mike Judge's latest creation. Jesus and Butthead.

Macaroni and cheese is no feast, but it's still better than a plate of dirt. That's why I vote Democrat.

For the young all problems are solvable and all truths are simple ones. Those of lengthier years know, however, that no problems are simple and all solutions are gerry-rigged approximations of truth only.

One Against the Other

I am the original lost soul.

People plead not guilty when they damn well know that they're guilty and guilty when the prosecutor damn well knows that they're not; Such is the nature of the criminal justice system in the United States, where mutual dishonesty is forged into the official state record of the truth.

Now-a-days people parade their bigotry like it was a wounded soldier back from the war; in full regalia and in lock step with their neighbor. Many a lynching will be performed by the self-righteous. Many an evil event will be set in motion by those firmly convinced that God is on their side.

The longer I live the more I come to embrace the medieval view of creation. The vast majority of people are damned and rightfully so. The better angels of our nature have been stripped of their wings and lined up against the wall for summary execution. We wallow is in our own evil. Paradise was lost the second Man appeared on the scene.

There are days when "Fuck You" is the nicest thing you can say to anyone. Mondays and Tuesdays mostly, but the list varies.

I find joy where I may. In sounds that please my ear. In sights that catch my eye. In thoughts that delight my mind.

There are always enough hands to do the Devil's work.

Platitudes become attitudes.

A child learns how to further its personal goals by playing one parent against the other at a very early age. This pattern of behavior persists until it is no longer effective. Depending on the intelligence of this or her parents, sometimes the pattern persists throughout a lifetime.

The first question on the Fox pundit job application is "Are you stupid?" Answering "yes" won't always get you hired, but answering "no" will always result in additional time on the unemployment line.

Throughout the long winter, the heart sleeps. The mind reposes. At the window or at the hearth. The body moves only to keep warm. Its enthusiasm for life on the wain.

Nothing goes with plaid. Well, maybe polka dots or stripes, but nothing else.

Movie Parodies we never saw on SNL, but would have liked to see: Harold and Maude with Bud Cort and Bea Arthur. "God will get you for that Harold!"

No ending is happy, but all happiness comes to an end.

Shenanigans. The Irish have the perfect word for everything.

Oscar Wilde's sister was a pip.

Everyone ages. Do so gracefully if you can manage it.

Waiting. . .

Deep pockets. Shallow minds. Hollow hearts.

Evil always has excuses. Paradoxically, some of them are good.

"Guns for Toddlers." Donald Trump's latest idea intrigues his fellow republicans. They want to hear more, but only if the wee ones in question are Christian and White.

Every man is his own benchmark.

Remember what you need to. Forget what you can.

Half of life is waiting for the good stuff to happen. The other half is spent wondering why it never did.

Morning wisdom degenerates into mere common sense by mid-afternoon.

Eating One's Young: a Parent's Guide to crushing the life out of your children. Great name for a bad book, don't you think.

A Midsummer's Hard Day's Night. Ringo is Puck.

People don't pass away, they die. Grow up, world! You're adults now. Stop talking to each other like you're talking to young children. Life is harsh sometimes, but being an adult means being able to deal with harsh realities. Death is a harsh reality. Passing away is a pleasant fantasy.

Certainty is ignorance. Certainty is intolerance. Certainty is damnation.

If you still cling to the faith of your youth you have never really grown up. Popular religion has never fostered an adult view of the universe.

The when, the where, and the how are easily answered. The why is more difficult to nail down.

Conventional wisdom tends to be more conventional than wise.

Clouds: nature's Rorchach test in the sky.

Before the first definition, all terms are arbitrary.

It was a kind of crucifixion. A death in theological terms, if not an actual physical demise. Painful and dramatic and psychologically fatal.

The good die young and the wicked live forever.

Small Stuff

Religion, as the enforcer of conventional morality, has been an abject failure. The damned have always outnumbered the saved. No matter what the prevailing view of proper behavior has amounted to. Greed twists creed.

Yesterday I dug a hole. Today I'm filling it in. As to the significance of that, you may draw your own conclusions.

I'd rather have ethics than morals.

Ben Carson demonstrates a monumental ignorance of just about everything outside of his own profession.

Merely a branch on the crucifixion tree.

A discerning assessment of light and shadow.

All week long I've had a Halloween hangover. Caused, no doubt, by a video cabinet full of unwatched horror movies and a belly full of leftover candy.

I've got my weekend shoes on. . . Really, I do.

I make my apologies and I write a check for the rent. As if poetry can justify a lifetime misspent.

Pill down the drain. Bad day ahead.

Only so much can be pried from the lips of the dying.

I struggle with the small stuff and am crushed by the large.

Brevity is the soul of wit. His speech was long-winded, soulless chatter.

Once you've buttered the toast you can't shove it back into the toaster.

Real ignorance can be awe inspiring.

I do not march towards the future as much as I slouch and creep. Out of step. Resisting orders. Ill-armed. God's perfect little soldier.

If I have to tell you why it's wrong, your probably won't understand why it's wrong. True morality is self-explanatory.

Information is effectively negated by misinformation. The big lie is always more palatable than the big truth.

The fringes have moved to the center of the political stream. Common sense is now radical thought.

Uncertainties

For society to advance, it must be willing to tolerate uncertainty. Certainty is stagnation.

Health science has shown that the best type of walk is the silly walk.

Driving on the freeway at night with new glasses is not a pleasurable activity.

The fear of eminent death is nothing compared with the terror of aging.

Drowning in this sea of consciousness. Stoned by the word. Metaphored to death.

The upwardly mobile sheep is still a sheep.

Born with a silver spoon up his ass.

Every time the man opens his mouth something stupid falls out.

The lies we tell ourselves are far worst than anything an outsider could concoct.

There is nothing less likely to fill one with the milk of human kindness than the drive to work in the morning.

Ah, Saturday, king of days! Let us fall down on our knees to sing your praises!! We salute your god-like presence at the end of the week!!!

The Cubs have lost and Jesus has gone back to Heaven. The Second Coming has been postponed for yet another year.

I didn't do it. I'm not to blame. It was San Andreas' fault.

You gotta watch where you step around here. I guess that's a good motto for life in general.

Time is an unreliable friend. It heals yes but, ultimately, it kills.

The inverse square law of celebrity. The smaller one's talent the larger the public's fascination with one's life and activities.

Fame is fleeting, but infamy is forever. Nobody remembers who Edwin Booth was, but everyone recognizes both the name and the face of his younger bother, John.

Only a believer can blaspheme.

Mornings are for anxiety.

Several Small Nothings

Just be yourself. Unless you're a total asshole. In that case, be someone else. That's my advice.

The myth of perfection is more easily maintained from afar than at closer proximity.

We are all at our best when we are alone.

Shit happens. In fact, mostly shit happens. That is to say: shit happens more than anything else happens.

Long night. Weird dreams. Welcome to my life.

Here is a man who has clearly had one martini too many from the open bar of life. . .

Be careful what you take on faith, least you be taken in by faith.

Nothing has brought out the racist in the average American more than having a black president. What was supposed to be a hopeful sign -- of a supposedly increasing color blind society -- has instead exposed the intolerant, illogical, paranoid, racist underbelly of American culture.

A big nothing followed by several small nothings.

It never ends; then, it ends.

Once you've stepped in the quicksand there is no way out. Struggle only kills you quicker. Calmness buys you time, but time only means a slower death.

"It's neat, it's more than neat, it's Cugat."

Relegated to the trash heap of linguistic history.

The times in which religion has marred natural behavior are as least as great as the times it has improved it.

It all goes by so fast. Keep your eyes open and enjoy the scenery.

Some people should just be slapped.

Crawling Back Into a Hole

And what Ivy League school did your degree in political science come from?

It was a time I will always remember. And sometimes I wonder how I live with the memory. So sweet and so bitter. So much hope and so much confusion and pain. The autumn of my thirty-third year.

He told me that he had always wanted a smoking jacket, so I set his coat on fire.

Failure is the beginning of greatness, not the end.

Crawling back into a hole. And glad for the shelter.

For most people, the glass isn't half full or half empty, it's mostly empty.

He who remains optimistic with no good cause is a fool at best, blind at worst, and possibly developmentally challenged.

Pollyanna is dead and her body lies moldering in the ground.

I'm declaring this Friday "Punch the Optimist" Day.

You may call a shit hole anything you like, but it's still a shit hole.

Christians remained a marginalized sub-group within the Roman Empire until the powerful and the wealthy discovered that belief in the Christian God could be used as a medium for social control.

There is nothing more brutal, more confining, more life-draining than state religion.

The enlightenment began only when the church took her boot off of the common man's neck. Thus, blood was once again allowed to pump freely to the European brain.

Religion isn't about personal faith, it's about public creeds and institutional control.

First the Peach Festival. Now National Library Card Sign-up Week. The international jet set continue to flock to Romeo to satiate their decadent desires.

"Bristol Palin" that's native Alaskan for "shit for brains."

The Way It Is

They cut down all of the large trees -- some of them a hundred years old or more -- along Ewell. Why? Some mischief of Saraman's, no doubt.

Fuck you: a term of extreme disdain, based on a cavalier attitude toward sex.

What is written in the stars frequently perplexes the planets.

The fruit on the vine is poisonous. A midnight snack of nightshade. A delicacy to turn the body cold. A tasty end to worry and pain.

I stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection. This is me. I see myself, but no one else does.

It's all written in code. A cipher understood by one and only one. The story of my life.

The days grow shorter and emptier. A glass drunk to the dregs. Barely enough wine left to wet a pair of parched lips.

Stupidity this fine must have been nurtured from an early age. I blame his mother.

Free will is a problematic concept at best.

I have nothing to offer but an unreasonable facsimile of hope.

In North America, it's Santa Claus and his caribou.

History changes, the past remains the same.

I have no active belief in God. Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. I have been offered none. Thus, the existence or non-existence of a deity has no effect on how I live my life.

This is not the way it was supposed to be, this is not the way I wanted it to be, this is only the way it is.

In the democracy of the damned every wicked soul has his say.

My objective soul abuses my subjective heart.

Empathy

People are capable of doing horrible things to one another and to the creatures with which they share the earth. The only thing that stops completely self-motivated behavior is a sense of empathy. The larger and more encompassing the empathetic envelope, the better the person, the better the society, and the better the world.
 

Christmas Carol Disconnect

I don't know about you, but when I was a kid we spent very little time rocking around the Christmas tree. For middle class, Midwestern American families in the fifties and sixties that type of thing was kind of frowned upon. For that matter, I don't remember decking the halls with boughs of holly either. A string of lights and a wreath on the front door were the extent of our holiday decorations. Oh, and I have never heard sleigh bells jing-jing-jingling. I have no idea what type of neighborhood you were brought up in, but on my street automobiles were the order of the day.

Intelligence

Intelligence-wise, I probably rate myself higher than I should. I communicate well, I admit, but linguistic ability is only one type of smarts. Mastery of words has its uses, but so does hand-eye coordination, an ear for the placement and production of sound, an eye for line and color, the ability to organize ideas or synthesis facts, an understanding of human emotion and individual need, and a hundred other talents which I possess in smaller quantities than others or not at all. Intelligence comes in many forms and many colors; some measurable on standardized tests and some not.

Troll

The apartment was small, but there was an internet connection. What was lost in physical footage was gained in cyber space. There wasn't room for a full sized sofa, but the troll in me was allowed to roam free. The first night there I slept under a narrow foot bridge that spanned a ragging river. It was mildly uncomfortable, to be sure, but boy, were those billy goats surprised!
 

Unfortunately I remember

The past can only hurt you if you let it. And I let it time and time again. My guard comes down. And my save-face is pounded like a pound of beef steak. Every failure. Every discourtesy. Every Hail Mary that hit the turf with a resounding thud. Every night spent outside looking in. Balls up its fingers into a fist. And strikes. Blow after blow.

You cannot box with days gone by. You cannot punch a shadow. But it can punch you. No matter how many times I re-stage a fight. The outcome is always the same. Defeat. Wounds I thought long healed. Open again. Scars burst with new blood. The heat of moments long gone burns anew. The second I turn my head backward. I am vulnerable.

On Parade

Don't parade your happiness please. The miserable masses don't want to see it. They aren't waiting for you and your wonderful life to pass by amide streams of confetti. They don't line the sidewalks of your neighborhood with their small children perched on their shoulders. They didn't get up early on a Saturday morning to secure a good place along the curb. They won't be cheering as you smile and wave oozing beneficent charm. You aren't Lindbergh landing in Paris. You aren't Santa Claus coming down the chimney. You aren't the troops returning from battle overseas. You are only annoying. . .

Let Us Cry

Let us cry for things lost.
For faces we will never see again.
For experiences clung-to though barely remembered.
For crayon colors no longer in the box.
For tastes dried like straw on the tongue.
For moments extinct as terrible lizards or elephants with fur.
For things that were and never were.

There are no real words for the terrors of time.
For the death of innocence.
For the demise of purpose and direction.
For deficiencies in hearing and sight.
For photo albums of yellowing black and white prints.
For voices now muffled by dirt and stone.
For long hours spent lonely and alone.

Let us cry for things lost.
For the buried and the bygone.
For names with no future only a past.
For stories told to sleepy children.
For one small knot in a great spider's web.
For a night sky so dark the stars must peek around its edges.
For a thousand feet toeing a thousand ledges.

There are no real words for the terrors of time.
For waiting in hospital corridors.
For standing next to newly tiled earth.
For October memories of April skies.
For calendar pages flipping on newsreel frames.
For dated fashions and friendly facades.
For weary winks and tired nods.

Let us cry for things lost.
For boot prints left in melting snow.
For haystack needles un-found and forgotten.
For comforts we've moved beyond.
For dreams we've dreamed, but outgrown.
For Saint Theresa's homilies dripping with un-godly grace.
For life slipping from our embrace.

There are no real words for the terrors of time.
For peeling skin on ancient lips.
For flecks falling from chipped figurines.
For taking our place at the head of line.
For a chill in the bones and an ache in the heart.
For wisdom won at a terrible cost.
For things now lost, lost, lost. . .

Slide Show

It's easy. . .

This is a lion.

This is a sack of horse shit.

-And-

This is a lyin' sack of horse shit.

Any questions?

Post Election Spectulation

What should be done with the Republican Presidential field? I have some suggestions. For anyone who's interested, here's my entire list: 
1] The electric chair for Trump. 50,000 volts for Mr Electricity. It'll light up both Broadway and the FOX News studios.
2] The gas chamber for Cruz. Poisoned gas for the largest bag of gas in American politics since Joe McCarthy.
3] Crucifixion for Huck. He'd like that. No resurrection though. It's been done before.
3a] A lobotomy for Dr Carson. Oh, wait a minute, I think he's already had one. He performed it himself just before his last television appearance.
4] Starving to death for Christie. It may take a while for him to die. He'll be able to live off his fat for several months. Maybe several years.
5] Impalement for Rubio. A long stick up the rectum ends all pretension. At least, I'm hoping.
6] Drowning in a crock of excrement for Bush. He's always been full of shit. He might not even notice he's being executed.
7] The hangman for Kasich. Mr Death for the Masses can try his new dance moves at the end of a good stout rope.
8] A chain gang for Jindal. It's a Southern tradition. After all, he dropped out of the race 'cause of "a failure to communicate" with the Republican base.
9] Pressing to death for Walker. No special reason. I just think it would be fun to see someone putting the squeeze on him for a change.
10] The comfy chair for Graham or, maybe, the dish rack. I'll ask Cardinal Fang next time he's around for tea.
11] A penal colony for Paul. Devil's island is lovely this time of the year. If he's still alive after ten years maybe we'll parole him. Maybe not.
12] Carly may live, but she won't be allowed to see visitors, lie to the press, or play the stock market.
13] Rick Santorum will also be allowed to live. I can't think of any punishment worst than having to live out your days as Rick Santorum.