Jesus in America Pt. 7

Jesus in America... 

Makes me think of Joseph Campbell's great book, "A Hero with a Thousand Faces." So many great quotes from that book...

“..enlarge the pupil of the eye, so that the body with its attendant personality will no longer obstruct the view. Immortality is then experienced as a present fact...”
― Joseph Campbell, The Hero With a Thousand Faces

Any one of us can be that hero. Any one of us can be somebody, nobody, anybody. Just like Jesus in America.  So many faces. Faces with names, faces without names...

Jesus in America Pt 6

Just another Wednesday 2017

I must admit I'm stuck on this Jesus in America thing. It's my new mantra. I say it with a bit of a Southern twang: "Gee-Zuss N 'Merica!"

Calms me. Mellows me out. There is a subtle power in that little mantra.

I suppose, I could just as easily replace Jesus with Krishna, Mohammad, Buddha, Dali Lama, Zeus, Apollo, The White Goddess, the Lord of Light, or some other random God or Holy Entity, but no, it's Jesus. Must be all that Judaeo-Christian tutoring. Those Nuns did a superb job - tattooed Jesus and the Bible into my cell structure forever and ever, Amen.

No getting away from it. So I've kind of adapted my own thing with it. What does it all mean? Don't rightly know.

No Jesus in America sighting yesterday. But... I... know... he's... out... there! 

Jesus in America Pt. 5

The Day After the Day After 2017.

Once you start this game it's hard to stop. No Jesus in America sighting yesterday, but, of course that means I spent the day wondering where he could be, what could he be doing? I spent the day speculating, fantasizing. 

I know he's out there. Doing something.

I did spend some time thinking about Jesus in America's hair. He has lots of hair. It's unkempt. Uncared for. Seems Jesus in America isn't into shampoo or conditioner. No 100 brushes every night for this Jesus.

He is not a "bald-headed" Jesus.  Bunny Wailer is on the money. Seems there is no bald-recessive gene in Jesus in America's matrilineal line. Hair. Plenty of it.

It's sort like a Brillo-pad. Tough. Spiky. I'm pretty sure that with a little attention and determination Jesus in a America could sport some pretty epic Dreadlocks. 

I think Jesus in America is an Immigrant. No surprise. I mean, aren't we all? I'm thinking he could be from just about anywhere: Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Israel, Mexico, anything Middle Eastern or Central American. Could be from Africa, even Asia. Who knows?

Hell, now that I think of it, it's a good bet that Jesus in America is an illegal immigrant. An alien. Maybe got in on a student visa or something, over-stayed his welcome, fell through the cracks, living on the edge in the shadow world of American Capitalism. Black Market Jesus!

Let's just say there is a little spice in Jesus in America's genetic bouillabaisse. He is sort of a Heinz 57 kind of guy. A little bit of this and that. He could be anybody. He could be everybody.

Jesus in America Pt. 4

Day After Easter 2017

Let's just say it's another Monday. After a glorious weekend. You can't keep the glory going indefinitely. You have to get back to normal. Which actually sounds impossible. There is no normal.

Yes, my friend and I did have a Jesus in America sighting yesterday. Easter Sunday. He did rise, he did get up, just like the rest of us.

He was on the bike path, whizzing by on his bike. He does indeed have ear-buds, little white ear-buds. Hopefully he was listening to music, sweet music. It would be great if it was Mozart, or Bach, but it could have just as likely have been The Smiths' "Meat is Murder," or "Louder than Bombs."

You can't catch Jesus' eye. He won't look you in the eye. He is really good at just starting straight ahead, probably at some glorious future no one else can see. Yes, he is that kind of Jesus.

So yes, there he was, on the bike path. Trying to be anonymous. And for most of the folks, he did an admirable job. No adoring fans. No fanfare. Just Jesus in America pedaling down the bike path, bobbing and weaving past the needy, wanting, unknowing, sin-filled, hordes. 

Jesus in America Pt. 3

Easter Sunday 2017.

The Big Enchilada. The Liftoff. The Rising. 

No Jesus in America sighting yesterday. Which makes sense, the Harrowing of Hell don't you know?!

There's the Olde Tradition. The Old Myths. The Legends. The Fables. The Lies. The Metaphors. The Cheap Poetic License. Jesus in America is a different kettle of fish all together. Jesus in America is a Lone Wolf: No Apostles. No Acolytes. No Followers. No Community.

Everyone here is on the Wheel. Chasing after the Golden Calf.  Gold. The Do Re Mi. The Big Score. Money, Money & Money. No room for Wild-Ass Prophets.

So yes, Jesus may have a smart phone, (see previous post), but really he has no one to call. Maybe he's miming, pretending to be in conversation? Lost in his own head. Kind of makes a sort of sense.

Jesus in America is street-hardened. A street-level person. He is rugged, ragged, burnt around the edges. He is a bit wild, untamed, unkempt, scary, dangerous. Unpredictable. He doesn't know his place. Or maybe it's just his place is on the street, with the noise, the garbage, the jet-trash, the piss, the shit, the pus, the old condoms, the plastic wrappers, the blood, semen, sweat, spit.

Not sure any Dogma can contain him. No Commandments can command him. No Denomination can explain him. He is there and then he's gone. Jesus in America.

Jesus in America Pt. 2

Holy Saturday 2017.

I'm such the poorly-trained, wayward Catholic, I didn't know what they call the "day after Good Friday." 

I had to Google it: "(Latin: Sabbatum Sanctum), the Saturday of Holy Week, also known as the Great Sabbath, Black Saturday, or Easter Eve,[1] and called "Joyous Saturday" or "the Saturday of Light" among Coptic Christians, is the day after Good Friday. It is the day before Easter and the last day of Holy Week in which Christians prepare for Easter. It commemorates the day that Jesus Christ's body lay in the tomb and the Harrowing of Hell."

A not insignificant day. 

Maybe it's no coincidence that I saw Jesus fly by on his bike yesterday. He was there in a flash and then he was gone. He was heading South on the main boulevard. I was heading North.

I was lost in my own head, tripping down the avenue, and caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes weeks go by and no Jesus. And then sometimes you get a cluster of sightings. 

This time, no cat. Where does that cat go when he's not hanging with Jesus? 

Can't be positive about this, (they say eyewitness testimony is notoriously unreliable), but I think Jesus has a smart phone. And ear-buds. Not surprising. I mean, I guess, it would be more unusual if he didn't have a smart phone. Jesus in America. 

Jesus on the mainline.

Jesus in America!

Good Friday 2017.

You can take the Boy out of the Catholic. But you can't take the Catholic out of the Boy...

Jesus lives in our neighborhood. It makes sense. Jesus in America. He'd choose to live in a college town in the Midwest, on the shores of one of the Great Lakes. A prestigious institution. Lots of smart people. Big-time Business school.

Jesus is sort of a hanger-on. Maybe a "gradual student." Not enrolled. Monitoring classes. Spending lots of time on the lakeshore campus: biking, hiking, skate-boarding, windsurfing, playing Hacky-sack. Yes, Jesus is trying to bring back Hacky-Sack. What happened to all the Hacky-sack players of yesteryear?

Jesus owns (ok, maybe better to say he is friends with), a cat. He brings the cat with him wherever he goes. Sometimes you can see Jesus riding his bike with his cat-friend perched on his shoulder. Sometimes it kind of hangs off the side of his head, like some very exotic and lively hat. That is one cool cat.

Jesus is looking a bit ragged lately; over-cooked. Out in the sun too long. He's always outside, on the move. Get yourself some sunblock Jesus! Anyway, my friend and I are always reporting on Jesus' latest movements. Sending text messages back and forth about Jesus sightings. 

This exchange is from 2 days ago...

Outgoing Text Message: "Jesus is eating bad Chinese today!"

Incoming Text Message: "Does he have his Cat with him?"

Outgoing Text Message: "In his meal?!"

Incoming Text Message: "Yikes!"

I am the Weather!

This might sound weird...

I am the weather. I wake up, and I don't know if it's sunny or cloudy, cold or steamy, a breezy light kind of day, or a heavy, clunky one.

I used to think I was separate from the weather. That there was me, and then there was the weather. But over time, slowly, I have come to the startling realization that I and the weather are one.

What is in my heart and my head is also in the sky, in the air, in the ground. I reflect and am reflected. Weird. Yes. I know.

So it looks like I'm pretty much rainy today. I will be showering intermittently today. I'm cold, gray. I expect to be pretty much that all day with little variation. Sorry.

All Biblical!

And then, the Universe went all "Biblical" on me... what is it with that old book?  

I mean, yes, a rain of fat horny toads. Floods. Lightening. Thunder. Hail coming down on my head like a fighter squad of sharpened lead pencils. Pestilence. Blood terrors. Nightmares.

Pricks and Kicks from every corner. Little hungry mouths chattering at me. Demanding attention. Shit. Piss. Tears. Blood. Mucous.

The wind rose up, the sky parted. A chilling breeze on one side of my head, a humid stain on the other. How is that even possible? Divided. A divided land. 

Dark thoughts. Strange premonitions. My only refuge. Music. Sweet music. Soul, Jazz, Folk, Rock. R&B. Funk. I lay my head down. And pray. "Please don't let the music stop..."

The Little Black Incubus.

The little black Incubus has my number. He watches my every move. He reads my every thought. He is a dark cloak and a shadow that I can't shake. He is waiting. Holding all the evil inside his ravaged vessel. He accumulates ungodly, uncounted numbers of sins in his belly. He refuses to let go. He is waiting. Waiting for me to leave. When I do, he will run down to the basement, squat in the middle of the cold, concrete floor and unloose his dark stream of evil. He will unloose a steaming, rancid, pile of shit. The shit of the world. Shittier than any shit you can imagine. He will howl with delight. A furiously happy little black Incubus adding another pile of his sweet misery to the Universe.

He resembles a meth addict in the depths of his desecration. He is electric. Always on. Humping, thumping, wheezing, tongue dangling from his lips like a dead worm. His energy is corrosive. Wears the edges off things. Tears holes in the people, and the things around him. He is all appetite. Everything is sex. He humps. Constantly humps. Humps objects, animate and inanimate. He doesn't eat, he swallows every thing up in big sloppy gulps. Things disappear inside him. He doesn't reside in the Universe, he nibbles on it's edges. He takes pieces of it into himself and turns it into evil. Evil which he unleashes like a concentrated pile of mass destruction. Even when he sleeps, he is on; wheezing, huffing, puffing, a series of odd, spooky noises rattling around in the air around him. He speaks an unholy language, the language of the dead, the desiccated, the mummified. His breath is razor-sharp, cutting, fetid, overwhelming, over-powering.

He is happy to see me. I light his fire. He feeds off my energy. I resist him, and even as I do, I can feel his energy leach into my body. I can feel it enter me like a deadly black fog. He can't get enough of me. He surrounds, envelops. A dark wraith wrapping around my very heart. Every moment I am with him is a slow, steady, dribbling death. I have developed a dead, rattling, black, coffin-cough.  There is a darkness in me too. That's what he smells, sees, loves, wants. He is working me, breaking me down, cell by cell. He dreams of licking and nibbling and ripping with his shattered, broken, nubby teeth.  He dreams of licking and nibbling, lulling me to sleep with his dead-worm tongue. He sends me psychic pictures. Puts them in my head.  Shows me a future of  deep, ravenous, unquenchable oblivion. 

Nothing Worse!

Jean Paul Sartre said it first: "Hell is other people."

Yesterday, in a text conversation, via my old "dumb" cell-phone, this sentence bubbled up, and it has the gravity and the force of truth: "Yeah, nothing worse than listening to people talk..."

Penance...

I heard this bit of dialogue a few days ago, and for so many reasons, reasons not worth going into now, this bit of dialogue has resonated in my head ever since.

"What are you doing here?"

"Penance."

There is a war going on inside of us.

There is a war going on inside of us. Every day. A war. A battle of thoughts, feelings, emotions, desires. And don't forget the bacteria. The war of bacteria in our guts.

We aren't what we really think we are... 

"The human body is made up of 10 trillion cells governed by about 23,000 genes; the microorganisms that reside within it, mainly in the digestive tract, account for 100 trillion cells and about 3 million genes—we're mightily outnumbered in our own innards. This gut microbiota, as they're collectively known, doesn't present a unified front, though: Its constituent species compete for resources, and you may be seeing the results of those skirmishes every time you step on the scale."

One day up. One day down. One day mobile. One day flat on our back. A battle. A war. Inside.

Success & Failure!

We like to recount all of our successes, but really our lives are a long string of failures. The challenge: how do we cope with failure and carry on with optimism, and hope?

Job Posting. Seeking: Right-Wing, Loudmouth, Political Blowhard!

Bill O' Reilly. Why does this man still have a job?

Is "Right-Wing, Loudmouth, Political Blowhard" that difficult of a job to fill? I mean I have seen the man huff and puff on-camera over issues of the day, and it's not very impressive. 

He worked for Roger Ailes at Fox News, until Ailes stepped down after a long career of bad behavior. What is it with these Rich, White, Privileged, Right-Wing, Men? Do they think $ and Power gives them the right to demean & disrespect Women? Just a perk of the job?

Kind of makes me ashamed and embarrassed for my Gender. 

And what about Fox News? Not only a shitty source of News, basically the GOP's disinformation Network, but seems like it has been run like a quasi-criminal entity. And what of the people who worked for these Creeps? The Accountants, the Lawyers, Co-Workers, the Human Resources people? Did they all just look the other way? How can they live with themselves?

We can thank Gretchen Carlson for being the first Woman to call out this corruption. She was smart and brave enough to backup her claims with secret recordings on her Smart Phone. Without the recordings she probably would have been dismissed and discredited. She had the goods and started this whole thing to teeter.

So anyway, back to my question - "Why does this man still have a job?" Of course, we know why. $$$. O'Reilly generated lots of $$$ for the company. But sorry that's just isn't good enough. Actually it's kind of disgusting. 

Lots of Advertisers are now pulling ads from his show.  Hope it continues. This man should be shown the door. I am amazed he can get up, put on a suit, get in front of a camera and talk to the world. The man should be ashamed of himself. 

Run That String.

You don't really want to get old. But dying young is not very appealing either. That famous phrase: "Live Fast, Die Young, Leave a Good-Looking Corpse" might work in Celebrity Culture, but what about all that missed living? And you think maybe there is something to be said for "making old bones?" So you lean on the idea of being a Survivor - "a person who continues to live..." But you can only run that string out for so long.

The Electric Guitarist!

I'm re-reading Charles Shaar Murray's book "Crosstown Traffic - Jimi Hendrix and Post-War Pop." It is really one of the great books on music, culture, society, politics; pretty much everything all rolled into one dense, intelligent statement.

At the center of it, is James Marshall Hendrix. Supreme musician. "If I'm free, it's because I'm always running." - J. Hendrix

Of course, as we all find out... no one is really free. But I'm sure when he was on stage, with a guitar in his hands, he got as close as one can possibly be...

Eureka & Bullseye!

Ok. Sometimes you learn something new. The new info hits you right between the eyes. Instant understanding! The veil is lifted. Eureka & Bullseye!

That's my reaction to Clint Watts - Former U.S. Army, FBI. He comes on a bit like "Just the facts Ma'm," Joe Friday.

Watts explains how the Russian Disinformation Campaign worked in the 2016 election. It seems obvious now. So obvious that you never quite saw it. Putin and his online Bots were helped tremendously by one of the major candidates in the race, both in the primaries, and the general election, who gladly and enthusiastically help spread their false narratives. 

That's how you kill Democracy. One false story at a time. If you don't like the truth of the facts, push your own. You need a willing Dupe. Any story you don't like claim "Fake News," while you are pushing false info yourself. The Little Baby Man fit the profile perfectly. A willing Dupe. We all thought he was a total idiot, and, of course, he was, but at the same time he was a valuable asset in Putin's disinformation campaign.

I watched this interview on Meet the Press and found myself saying things like: "Yes. Of course. Why didn't I see that? No kidding. Sure. Yep. Holy Shite. That explains a lot. WTF?!"

A Saga of Fortune & Fate!

Sometimes a photo...

There is a cool story, a musical history of influences, a competition, a saga of fortune and fate, all wrapped up in the Yardbirds (London, 1963).

And from the Yardbirds - The Jeff Beck Group, Cream, Led Zeppelin. Here's Jimmy Page and Jon Bonham in the midst of the glory years...

What a Freaking Idiot!

Sometimes you realize your fellow human beings can be really stupid. Incredibly stupid. They have brains, the same equipment as everyone else, but it's usually their "ideology"  and/or their religious beliefs that bring down the wall of stupidity.

For instance. The Vice President of the USA. An incredibly stupid man... 

"He does not eat alone with a woman or attend an event where alcohol is being served unless his wife is present."

This is in 2017 AD. What a horrible person. He is supposedly an adult. And he's afraid to be in a room with women without his wife? What a cretin. I mean, pathetic. Really. And so stupid. How "small-minded," how ridiculous, how insulting, how backward, how inhumane. Silly too. What a total freaking idiot!

It is Raining Shoes!

Hah. You think maybe you've overstated the weirdness, the balls out craziness of the story unfolding before your eyes... but as soon as you pause to take a breath, events conspire...

Another bombshell yesterday. 

Maybe the rats start turning on each other? The ship is sinking. Taking on water. The rats scramble and start gnawing at each other.  Rat eat rat!

It's like a new Netflix series... but this one is a hybrid, think: "House of Cards" meets "The Three Stooges." The Little Baby Man is played by Moe Howard. He's mean. Lots of eye-poking, and shouting, and stomping around. Trying to hide a big whomping conspiracy. But unfortunately, this lead character is no Kevin Spacey. He's just too dim. Bad haircut. Really incapable of holding two thoughts in his head at the same time.

A bumbling, mean-spirited fool. Way in over his head. Taking on water...

And still there are layers and layers to this weirdness. Josh Marshall has another installment in his "The Gravity is Strong" series... another shoe just dropped. It is raining shoes!

Wow!

I was misunderstood. And I misunderstood.

"I was misunderstood. And I misunderstood. That is the over-arching theme. Things rolled out from there. Such a large, mobile, all-consuming Cloud of Unknowing followed me wherever I went. There were choices, consequences. Always. And in even the simplest ways, the easiest things, there was great confusion, indecision. Mistakes. False roads. Busted dreams. I would fall back on the lamest consolation: I tried to be a good person. Not knowing how to try, or what it means to be, not knowing what's good, or what fully constitutes a person. That can't be the story, the full story, there has to be more to the story, right?!"

One Grand Explanation for the Unexplainable...

If you can explain everything with a conspiracy theory, you would be a conspiracy theorist. There would be no simple explanations, there would be no coincidences, accidents, or random, unconnected events. Everything would fold into a grand mosaic. All the pieces would fit together.

Sometimes it seems the Universe itself is sort of like one Grand Conspiracy. Lots of moving parts. One mammoth structure encompassing everything. Every atom, every molecule. And everything has it's place and purpose. Even if the Universe doesn't have to explain a thing. It just is...

Sometimes there really are "conspiracies:"
noun, plural conspiracies.
1. the act of conspiring.
2. an evil, unlawful, treacherous, or surreptitious plan formulated insecret by two or more persons; plot.
3. a combination of persons for a secret, unlawful, or evil purpose: He joined the conspiracy to overthrow the government.
4. Law. an agreement by two or more persons to commit a crime, fraud,or other wrongful act.
5. any concurrence in action; combination in bringing about a given result.

This morning I find Josh Marshall is back on the Russian Hacking/Dupe in the White House case. It is not crazy to see a revelation of a conspiracy slowing unfolding. We are watching a coverup, a kooky, inept coverup, and it's unraveling. It's odd, disorienting, confusing. But those of us convinced there is an underlying crime, or sequence of crimes, are not wrong. We are not batty. Not kooks. We are on the right trail.

I think the story is so big, complex, all-consuming it's almost impossible to see it in all it's mad glory.  I think Big Little Baby Man built a branding empire on a culture of corruption. His deep immersion in corruption blinded him. All this money from foreign entities, he thought it was all good. Money is money.

He and his empire were built on laundered money from Russian Mobsters and Oligarchs. His business was/is a money-laundering operation of long-standing. Which maybe in New York Real Estate isn't so bad. I mean, another corrupt real estate guy. Who cares?!

But then, this Idiot stumbled into the White House, and he brought his casual corruption with him. And he was vaulted forward by some incredibly bad actors. And now, it's all coming home to roost. Hell, even USA Today is now on the story... Little Baby Man's Empire is built on $ from Russia/Putin/Mobsters/Oligarchs! A Hostile Foreign Power has a Dupe in the White House!

USA Today: “Anybody who is an oligarch or is in any position of power in Russia got it because (President) Vladimir Putin or somebody in power saw some reason to give that person that job,” Hall said in an interview. “All the organized crime figures I’ve ever heard of (in Russia) all have deep connections and are tied in with people in government.”

What a wild, terrible, amazing, story...

We are Watching the Unraveling of the Coverup!

My theory about what's going on...

Are you paying attention to the Russian Hacking/Dupe in the White House story? It's hard to miss it, but it's all very confusing. Lots of weird details floating around. Conspiracy theories. Lots and lots of smoke. But no smoking gun.

Although, if you are checking in on the Russian side of the story, lots of people (up to 8 now), close to Putin are turning up with "lead poisoning" - bullets in the back, in the front, dead on the street. Plus suspicious early deaths, falling out of windows, etc. I suppose it could just be back luck, incidental accidents, but just so happens these unfortunate souls may have information that would be helpful to investigators about the whole Russian Hacking thing!

And on this side of the story, there are quite a few folks under a cloud of suspicion. People very close to the Little Baby Man. A former campaign manager, a key former NSA advisor, early supporters, and close confidants. Lots of information floating around. Contradictory. Confusing. Not sure what the hell is happening.

What we know for sure: The FBI has a major investigation underway. People close to the new President are under investigation for "coordination" with a Hostile Foreign Power. And it turns out that lots of these folks have had many meetings (in secret!), with Russian officials. And these Russian officials are known to be active Russian agents.

We also know that the Little Baby Man has been swimming in Russian money for years and years. His empire was built on lots of shady deals, and huge amounts of money flowed in from Russia and Russian ally states. Investigators suspect that some of this money was from illegal sources that needed to be laundered. A perfect setup for our Fraudster in Chief!

So what's happening right now?! We are watching, in slow motion, the coverup. We don't know the exact details of the crime, we can't see the ins and outs of what actually went down, who, did what, and when, but we are watching an active, kind of panicky, and fairly sloppy coverup going down before our very eyes.

And the coverup is unraveling! That's why everything seems so weird, strange, uncertain. It's also why I believe this is the major story of our time. It will go down as one of the biggest political scandals of all-time. A compromised election. A compromised candidate. A compromised President. Pretty sure more people will be implicated, more people will be resigning, more people will be lawyering up.

Powerful people will be going to jail... keep your eyes peeled, this story has legs!

Always Around Us!

"Mojo - a quality that attracts people to you and makes you successful and full of energy..."

Muddy Waters: "I got my mojo working, but it just don't work on you..."

Yes, I believe in mojo. Sometimes we have it. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes our mojo gets sort of neutralized by other people, other powers.

Worse than that, we can come up against some major "hoodoo -  a run of bad luck associated with a person or activity."

Or place. Don't forget the major hoodoo that permeates some places. Just getting in the orbit of the wrong place can set you reeling. You get dizzy. Spin in circles. Get lost. Disoriented. Start to quickly lose your bearings. Your mind starts to crack.

You have to "fight the power." Stay grounded. Focus. Blow those bad vibrations up. Visualize it! You can power thru. But maybe it is good (if you survive it), to be reminded that there are forces beyond us. Always around us.  

A Clueless Dolt!

Gee. It's almost like the guy never had a real job in his life. Like he was born with money or something. Given a leg up by his Daddy. And has skated through life, blundering from one bad deal, one bad divorce, one fraud to another.

No real skills. Lots of bluster and hot-air. Lots of huffing and puffing, preening and gloating. A big, bloated Ego with nothing to show for it, but an empire built on Fraud, Bad Taste, Mob Money.

And he bluffs his way into a job with the help of a "hostile foreign power." Coordinated disinformation! That's the ticket! 

And he has no clue how to do the job. He's at sea. Lost. Over-matched. He berates people, threatens them, stomps around like a big baby. It's funny. A joke. A sad state of affairs for the Ship of State.

So far, he's a loser. Big-time. And it seems every loss for this Clown is a win for America.  It's a tricky, dangerous situation.

No clue how this ends, but it is sort of enjoyable to watch the Little Baby Man stumble around like a clueless dolt.

The Art of the Deal = A Fraud!

Pardon me for one moment...

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha!

Remember how the New Guy, the Little Baby Man, was supposed to be a "rainmaker," an extraordinary salesman with almost magical powers of persuasion, a closer, a "deal-maker?"

Nope. Love this quote from Politico's writeup: "Forget about the little shit." Boldly taken out of context, I propose he was talking about himself, or Paul Ryan? Ha! Yes, we'd like to forget about the little shit!

"The little shit" = the policy details. Of course the Little Baby Man didn't know what was in the bill. You know this guy. The Sales Guy who has no clue what he's selling. He thinks his charisma, bravado, can-do attitude can do the trick.  Sorry, that's a no-go. What a loser!

What happened? A total debacle. A shit-show. The GOP and the New Guy showed the country just how clueless, inept, weak, ineffective and counter-productive they really, really are. Good job!

New definition: "The Art of the Deal:" - "You better pass this piece of shit bill or else I'm gonna look bad and weak, and I'll be really, really, really mad."

Too bad, so sad! Go suck your thumb Little Baby Man! Hah!

Yes, in Washington D.C. it is all seen as a big deal... 

"There is a Smell of Treason in the Air." - Douglas Brinkley

"There is a smell of Treason in the Air." If I were to say or write that sentence, you might think "conspiracy theorist" (see previous post). 

Douglas Brinkley is a learned man, an esteemed, distinguished Historian. A credible source. Not to over-sell the man, but he has the credentials, he's no dummy, he knows his shit.

“Imagine if J. Edgar Hoover or any other FBI director would have testified against a sitting president? It would have been a mind-boggling event.”

Right on Professor...

And just what is Treason? 1: the betrayal of a trust : treachery  2: the offense of attempting by overt acts to overthrow the government of the state to which the offender owes allegiance or to kill or personally injure the sovereign or the sovereign's family.

If you are interested you can read Section 110 of Article III of the Constitution - "Treason Against the United States." To sum up, it's heavy-duty shit!

And what is the Punishment of Treason?  "Under common law, punishment for treason generally included drawing, hanging, beheading, and quartering. As with other crimes carrying sentence of death, those adjudged guilty of treason and finally sentenced were considered attaint, or stained, meaning dead in the eyes of the law—even before execution."

And  

"According to the Constitution, punishment can be set by Congress, but not to include corruption of blood or forfeiture extending beyond the offender's life."

Things are getting a bit heavy around here, don't you think?!

Conspiracy Theorist Extraordinaire!

There are those people, those totally, all-knowing, always annoying, people, that say, whenever anything happens: "Everything happens for a reason." 

This is usually said in a smug, condescending, or patronizing way.

Nails on a blackboard!

I'm of the camp that says: "Everything happens. Then, we make up our reasons."

And what about the reasons? Some of them are reasonable, some of them are batshit crazy. Depends. 

And when the really big, consequential stuff happens, the reasons people come up with are always totally inadequate. Sometimes shit happens for no good reason.

There are accidents, even freak accidents, coincidences, random noise. Bad luck. Weird shit. Happens all the time. Every day.

So anyway, this a long, roundabout way to get to my point this morning. Yesterday, I was muttering on my dumb flip-phone about "The Russian Thing." A friend overhead me and rolled their eyes. "Oh yeah, Russia again!"

I suppose if you've been paying attention to me, you know that I'm a bit obsessed with this Russian Hacking of the Election/Russian Dupe in the White House Story. Maybe it's sort of an unhealthy obsession?

A rabbit hole? I am beginning to worry that I have become a "conspiracy theorist," - "a theory that explains an event or set of circumstances as the result of a secret plot by usually powerful conspirators."

And I suppose in this instance, about this case, yes, indeed, I am a conspiracy theorist. There was a plot, by powerful and not so powerful, smart and not so smart people to hack and influence an American election. And their guy won! 

And this plot was hatched by a Hostile Foreign Government, and enlisted people in America.  That's a freaking conspiracy right there.  I am not the crazy one. I promise. You see the crazy shit right before your eyes, and declare "That's Crazy!" Doesn't mean I'm crazy... really...

What kind of freak-azoid zone have entered?

I agree with Zack Beauchamp of Vox...

The FBI Probe into Trump & Russia is Huge News.

And our Political system isn't ready for it. Maybe unable to deal with it. And our populace is so divided, and jaded, and weary: people are yawning, some are in deep denial, and some of us, a few of us, are jumping around with their hair on fire...

Here's Beauchamp: "We’re so used to reports on Trump’s Russia ties that it’s easy to lose sight of the enormity here: There is an official FBI investigation into a presidential campaign’s possible collusion with a hostile foreign power for the first time in US history."

The impossible is possible, and then well, it's sort of old news. But not really, not at all. This is the deepest stuff. Cuts to the heart of everything we ever thought about America.

How does it get to the point where the impossible is the new normal? What kind of freak-azoid zone have entered?

The NYT's Matthew Rosenberg: "Folks, let’s take a step back and absorb the fact that the FBI has confirmed there is an espionage investigation involving the White House."

Not sure where this all goes, but for sure it's going somewhere... unchartered territory... this is mind-blowing stuff, we all should be stunned, and worried, and engaged. And if we are not, we are in deeper shit than we all realized...

Let it Come Down!

Josh Marshall gives a nice overview of the Russian Hacking Investigation that opened for business yesterday in the House of Representatives.

There is a major FBI investigation going on, it started in July of 2016. It implicates people in the highest levels of our new government. Pretty interesting, existential, life-changing stuff.

Hard to read the tea leaves. 

The FBI Director was pretty cagey yesterday. Yes, he did confirm that our new President is a "wack-job" who Tweets really, really stupid, nonsensical, and inflammatory things, and yes, he did confirm that an investigation of Russian Hacking, and "collusion" between political operatives in Russia and the USA is on-going, maybe only in the early stages.

Evan Osnos from the New Yorker also has a tremendous write-up about it all. Must-read. I love this line, you know, sometimes History reads as Destiny & Fate: 

"Trump, too, now confronts the prospect of a Presidency shaped not only by the events to come but by past events that he cannot change."

No one quite knows where this is all going, but it's a real story, not fake news, not just politics. Dare I say it, maybe overstate it, the fate of the nation kind of hinges on what happens next. Pretty sure, really bad, stupid, things went down to undermine a free and fair election. Not good, can't & hopefully won't stand.

Let it come down! Let the cleansing and the healing begin. 

The Mad, Bad, Little Baby Man!

The best "satire" is close to the bone, with a deep strain of truth underlying it. Take the reality and nudge it slightly. For instance when Angela Merkel and The Little Baby Man recently met in the White House, you can imagine this conversation, because, of course, this Little Baby Man actually does hire Nazis...

"Sick in the Head" Politics...

Try to understand the Little Baby Man?! 

Not so much politics as pathology: something abnormal, the structural and functional deviations from the normal that constitute disease...

You can try to plumbs the depths of the man's mind. A scary journey to the heart of darkness. 

Read Josh Marshall, he gives it a go: "I would say that this ability - both the President's pathological lying and our institutions' inability to grapple with it - is the big, big story. The particulars of the accusation basically pale in comparison."

Little Baby Man tells us: 

"I alone can fix it." (Delusions of Grandeur.)

"I am smart." (Doesn't know what he doesn't know.)

Every day we find that the man is incapable of grasping simple things, he is unsound of mind. Unsound. Quite amazing that one man so blatantly "sick in the head," could rise to this very public position of power.

Sick.

I am stunned by the constant, blatant, pathological lying. Lying with no chance of passing the "smell test." Any thinking, sentient being can see that the man has a very slim grasp on reality.

Blame-shifting. Taking no responsibility for his words and actions. Claiming super-powers, never admitting a mistake, never taking responsibility for failure. Totally insecure. An overblown, gaudy, over-bearing, EGO.

This is beyond politics. This is not "conservative," or "liberal" or "moderate." I see no coherent politics at all. Just disease. And this diseased mind leads us to a politics of "breaking things." 

We are in a new era of the  Cult of Personality: when an individual uses mass media, propaganda, or other methods to create an idealized, heroic, and at times worshipful image, often through unquestioning flattery and praise. Sociologist Max Weber developed a tripartite classification of authority; the cult of personality holds parallels with what Weber defined as "charismatic authority". A cult of personality is similar to divinization, except that it is established by mass media and propaganda usually by the state, especially in totalitarian (or sometimes authoritarian) states.

Where is this sick in the head person leading us? Most of us can't, won't follow. Impossible to follow. Not possible to go with him on his journey into madness. He is a madman. Alone. This can't, won't end well. Just hope he doesn't take us all down with him.

Questions...

Questions I think I will be asking until my last breath (hopefully that's not for awhile...):

What is it all about?

What is life?

What is death?

Is there a God?

Why are we here?

What should I do with my life?

Why are things so Fucked Up?
What's wrong with people?

Where do all the flowers go?

Am I on the right track?

How come I'm so confused?

Will I ever get an answer?

What's the question?

Why a Duck?!

"The mark of a basic shit is that he has to be right." - William S. Burroughs

You don't want to fall into a "siege mentality:" a strong feeling that you are in constant danger or are surrounded by enemies.

Still, you can't help feeling you are in the midst of groups of really terrible, ignorant people. People more ignorant than you, and they all have more money and power than you do.

"Paranoia" - a tendency on the part of an individual or group toward excessive or irrational suspiciousness and distrustfulness of others.

Still you remember William S. Burroughs pointing out that "a paranoid man is a man who knows a little about what's going on."

And you come across this quote from Burroughs... and you realize you are indeed a shit spotter: 

"You are a Shit Spotter. It's satisfying work. … We have observed that most of the trouble in the world has been caused by ten to twenty percent of folks who can't mind their own business, because they have no business of their own to mind, any more than a smallpox virus. Now your virus is an obligate cellular parasite and my contention is that evil is quite literally a virus parasite occupying a certain brain area which we may term the RIGHT center. The mark of a basic shit is that he has to be right. And right here we must make a diagnostic distinction between the hard-core virus-occupied shit and a plain, ordinary, mean no-good son of a bitch. Some of these sons of bitches don't cause any trouble at all, just want to be left alone." - Wm. S. Burroughs

What a complete noxious, toxic, ignorant Fool...

That Man is a noxious, toxic Fool...

You tell people you want to implement a "Muslim Ban." You write an Executive Order banning Muslims. A Judge reviews it and puts it on hold, saying "It's Unconstitutional" to ban people because of their Religion.

That Man goes back to the drawing board, and has his people rewrite a new "watered down" version of his EO banning Muslims, and puts that one out. A New Judge reviews it and puts it on hold, saying "It's Unconstitutional" to ban people because of their Religion. And the Judge further points out that we all know that the Toxic Fool is trying to ban people because of their Religion, because he said it at rallies, he campaigned on it, and he Tweeted about it too.

Toxic Man is furious, pissed, unhappy, fumbling, fuming. He goes to a rally and complains & whines like a little stuck pig: "It's political..."

Close, how about it's all "Constitutional?!"

What a complete noxious, toxic, ignorant Fool...

In the Middle of the Gathering!

I may be a fool. A fool for love. A fool for intrigue. A fool for being a fool...

Still, something tells me we are in that special anticipatory moment right before the big storm. We are in the middle of the "gathering." We are in that hush-filled void, a place, a moment in time where we don't quite know what's gonna happen next, but something big, something really, really big is about to go down! I can feel it. It's in the air, the water, the dirt, the molecules and atoms within and around our bodies.  

Just you wait!

2017 GOP = Nest of Vipers!

Health Insurance. Healthcare. Yawn. It's a very complicated issue...

My own take: Universal Healthcare for all Americans! It's not a luxury, it's a right! Yes, Socialized Medicine! I'm for it! 

Turns out Healthcare in America is really, really, really excellent for the 1% income bracket. But for the rest of us, it can be a long, dark, slog. It's an ugly thing when you have to deal with Insurance companies, Hospitals, Doctors, Co-pays, Deductibles, Catastrophic Shit...

Why can't we have a system like France, Canada, Israel, England? Turns out the latest GOP version of Healthcare is a total Clusterfuck, meant to replace Obamacare, which was also sort of a Clusterfuck, but at least Obamacare has provided Health Insurance for nearly 20 million people.

The GOP plan (Trumpcare?!), unmakes those gains, it would make 26 million uninsured! It punishes the common folk, and rewards the 1% with a nifty tax cut. Yikes. How diabolical!

This will not stand...

And maybe it's all been a shell-game? Just a way for Steve Bannon and his God Emperor to take down Paul Ryan? Wouldn't that be just the shits, and so "Game of Thrones?!"

What a Nest of Vipers today in Washington D.C. We need more Democrats!

Mysterious World...

There are hallucinations: "perceptions of objects with no reality," there are visions:  "a supernatural appearance that conveys a revelation," there are dreams: "a series of thoughts, images, emotions occurring during sleep." 

There are strange, uncommon things in our lives. Mysteries. How to explain them? A Person Known To Be Dead, coming for a chat? Where does that fit into your cosmos? How to get your head around that?

A visit from the dead? A visit seemingly as real as you or me? As "real" as anything else you can conjure or imagine, or perceive? "Not artificial, fraudulent, or illusory." 

Some things you can't explain. You just experience them. And remember. And in that way you and your world become a bit deeper, stranger, weirder, more mysterious.

You think you are more than your body. Reality is more than you know. There are platforms, tunnels, doorways, windows into other worlds within and around us. 

Surrender Dorothy!

Some say: Be a Fighter. Never give up. Never let go. Never say "Uncle." Never, ever under any circumstances surrender.

Others say: Let go. Give up. Surrender.

This week I took the second, more economical route. I just let go. I gave up. I totally surrendered. 

I decided: No worries. No heavy thoughts. No desires. I took one step, one step, one step.

I totally emptied myself. I was a void. An empty void. It felt good.

Some of Us Love the Con!

On the other hand (see previous post), turns out lots of people actually like to be conned, flattered, & lied to. It can make them feel good, important, understood. Think of it as the frailty, the vanity of the human thing...

You Wonder When the Light-Bulbs Will Start Clicking On Throughout the Heartland?

It didn't take long...

Trump = Fraudster

Trumpism = Fraud

TrumpCare = Fraud

There is a theme here. You wonder when the light-bulbs will start clicking on throughout the Heartland? We all know how hard it is to change folk's minds. They back a guy. They stick with him thru thick & thin.

How long does it take for all the lies, untruths, misrepresentations, misdirections pile up too high for any and all to ignore? Hell this new administration lies about things for no good reason. Just to lie. It's their fall-back instinct.

"Make America Great Again." Nice bumper sticker. Looks good on a baseball cap. It's total BS. Crap. Meaningless. With a frankly stupid, backwards-looking and somewhat sinister edge.

Trumpsters have bought a "pig in the poke" - The idiom pig in a poke can also simply refer to someone buying a low-quality pig in a bag because he or she did not carefully check what was in the bag.

My Fellow Americans. We are sometimes pretty damn ignorant. Stupified by all the "isms." But we are also a decidedly pragmatic group. This cat or dog meat pig won't fly.  Can't get off the ground. Come back to your senses. Yes, it's embarrassing, and difficult to admit you made a mistake.

But sometimes you have to cut bait and run for the hills. It's time for running from this grand Fraud!

Suddenly a New Abyss in the Middle of My Being!

Changing the subject...

I had a dream two nights ago. It was more than a dream. Not just a "lucid dream."  It was more like a lived experience. Something that really happened to me in the middle of the night.

A fish emerged from my body. It rose up and traveled thru me. It began to push out thru my mouth. It was enormous. Not a little fish. A big, ugly, robust, thrashing, scaly, bug-eyed, slimy fish.

I was reminded of Jeff Goldblum in "The Fly," which I haven't seen since it came out many years ago. I can still recall the scenes where Goldblum's body goes thru it's metamorphosis. It was powerful. Horrifying. Recalled some kind of primal condition.

Anyway. This morning I Google "dreaming of fish," and come up with a few interpretations, here, here, & here. 

Doesn't quite explain it. Although, I kind of like these threads: 

• Pagan: Great Mother goddess was often depicted as a fish or a woman with a fish over her genitals.
• Chinese: Kwan-yin was often symbolized as a fish.
• Indian: The goddess Kali was called the "fish-eyed one."
• Egyptian: Isis was called the great fish of the abyss.

So what happened? Seems that big old fish emerged out of me. I believe I thrashed around on my bed for a bit as it made it's exit. I "passed out" or "went into shock." I woke up in a cold sweat.

All the next day I felt this incredible hollowness, an emptiness in the core of my being. Isis, yeah, maybe I'll go with that one - "the great fish of the abyss." 

Suddenly a new abyss right in the middle of my being. My tentative, halting, uncertain interpretation? I have reached some kind of stasis, an equilibrium. I am suspended within and without the great fish of the abyss.

The Mad King Part 3.

The Mad King Part 3.

The Mad King. Think: The Lord of Misrule. The Abbot of Unreason. An officer appointed during the Feast of Fools.

The Mad King breaks, does not make things. He speaks, but he only speaks lies. He builds grand & hollow edifices that serve no discernible purpose.

He declares he is omniscient, omnipotent , declares himself the "great one." He tells the peoples of the land, "I alone can fix it!"

He is a viper. His words are venom. He is poison to the land and all the people who inhabit it. And he is Mad...

More Notes on the Mad King!

More notes on The Mad King. (See previous post.)

The Mad King is a petty tyrant. He is easily angered by trivialities. He mis-understands. Everything. Some think he does it purposely, but it's just that he is blinded to the needs & desires of others. He only sees his own needs and desires.

The Mad Kings rages, blusters, cavils.  He strikes out at all those below him. He dominates, preens, and struts. He throws his weight around. He is big, heavy. Unhealthy. He uses his unhealthiness like a weapon. He feeds his unhealthiness, he cultivates his madness. Madness is his special wound. He tends to it, magnifies it. Idolizes it.

The Mad King is an ignorant man. He believes he is endowed by his Creator with a special mission. His mission is to feed himself, care for himself, build his massive Ego into monuments all over the kingdom. 

He hates. Hates anything not him. With vigor. 

He wants applause. Applause is never enough. He wants love. There is no love for this Mad King. He conjures up vast seas of loyal subjects who look up to him with respect and admiration. This vast sea of adoring subjects is a complete, deluded mirage.

The Mad King can't sleep. He paces his dark nights alone. Sputtering, scheming, inventing conspiracies. He sees and hears conspiracies in every corner. He doesn't trust anyone. He doesn't trust his own henchmen. No one can ever be considered trustworthy. No one can follow the Mad King down every mad rabbit hole. Only he can go there. He is truly, truly alone.

He builds, but he only creates monstrosities. Ugly, garish, hideous monuments. They are public constructions made from excrement. Mountains of shit. The Mad King puts his name on countless mountains of shit and claims an uncommon excellence. 

Some of the Common Folk pretend to see excellence, but most of the Common Folk are not fooled. The stench coming from these monuments of shit is overwhelming, disgusting. Peoples of the land holds their noses, cover their faces with rags.  They try their best to not let the stench invade them.

To smell the shit, is to eat the shit. Madness. 

In these times, Kings are no longer what they used to be, Kings are now subject to laws, the Press, the "consent" of the people,  still, this Mad King is a special case, a true embarrassment, he has been empowered, and he is determined to wreak a certain havoc on the land. He will break things, and claim he is creating. He will multiply problems and claim he has found solutions. He will constantly make mad, insane, senseless proclamations. Anyone with common sense will be rendered speechless by his baseless, unworthy, insane words.

An unlucky land for sure.

Only Madness in the Madness!

The Mad King. It is the unluckiest of unlucky lands to be ruled by a Mad King. Madness - "severe mental illness," an "inner darkness," "foolish, dangerous, extreme folly, intense anger."

A high office. Imbued with power and prestige. Sullied by an unsound, unkempt, unmade mind. What a terrible, terrible thing.

Terrible for the King, and terrible for the Kingdom.

Unreason is spread throughout the land. The Common Folk ask each other, "Is the King well?" The answer, "No, unfortunately, the King is mad." 

Some look for method in the madness. But there is really only madness in the madness. It is like a plague, a rain of locusts, a dark forbidding cloud that descends upon the land. Nothing, no one is untouched by the darkness.

Life. Death. So. What?!

Under seige. Under "serious, persistent attack." 

If you engage with the world, and you should, sometimes you will find yourself feeling assaulted by the things of the world.

You know, you take things way too personally. You start thinking the world is all about you. And it will feel like that, that you, yourself, are the instrument of your particular perceptions of the world, everything flows within you and without you. (Didn't George Harrison write the song?). 

And it's true. You will be right. It does. But the world isn't about you. You may be about the world. But, you shouldn't take anything too personally. Or seriously. Even though every thing is a serious business. You need to take things a bit more lightly, easily.

Try to care, but not too much. Try to engage, but not too much. Try to stay interested, alive, aware, but not too much.

Don't be so damn sensitive. Most of the world, the universe and the things in it, don't really even know you exist. You are not the center thing. You are not the most important thing. Not even close. Hell, you may not even be the most important thing to yourself either. (Although much of time you may think you and your survival are everything...)

So yes, you feel all these things. You know things in your heart, your soul, you take everything in... but also you must let it all go. Breathe deeply. Exhale. Let it all go. It's OK. Not so important. 

Yes. Life. Death. So. What?!

Flashing on the Scandal!

Yes. I have also been flashing back to the summer of 1973, the summer of the Watergate Hearings in Washington D.C.

An engaged press, a few intrepid reporters, a deep source inside the FBI, a large Senate Committee digging for the truth, helped reveal and unravel a scandal and brought down a President.  It was a thrilling time to be engaged with Politics. 

We watched the impossible. Nixon resigning in disgrace.

The newly-elected administration of 2017 seems to be gripped in the throes of a scandal that rivals Watergate. A President and his henchmen colluding with a "hostile foreign power" to win an election, and to remake relations between old enemies.

So much weirdness. So much uncertainty. So many damaging leaks coming out. Such an engaged press. And this new President seems so unhinged, unmade, unworthy of being President.

I do think it's all starting to unravel. There are people in Washington D.C. who have the goods on this man. The relentless flow of damaging leaks is mind-boggling. Already just over a month into the new term and folks are resigning, and recusing, and found to be lying.

Here is the President, Tweeting into his smartphone, in his bathrobe in the darkness of his quarters on early March 4 2017. Is this the beginning of the total unraveling of this man's mind?

No fun in the Furher-Bunker. Seems like it just dawned on this guy that he has been under investigation by the FBI for quite awhile. Karma... the chickens coming home to roost?!

Of course, as Ben Rhodes, Obama's Foreign Policy Advisor says in reply to the above rant: "No President can order a wiretap. Those restrictions were put in place to protect citizens from people like you."

*** BTW - If it is true that the FBI has been wiretapping and monitoring Trump and his associates, it's because there was probable cause a crime was committed,  and the FBI had to present evidence before a  special Judge to get the wiretaps approved. Even I knew that... our current President, not so much... sad!

The Early Years...

That Bruce Springsteen memoir is still rattling around in my consciousness. 

I have been flashing back to my own childhood. So much of Bruce's early life seemed so similar to my early life. Catholic Grade School. Forbidding Nuns. Mass every morning. Hell. Sin. Damnation. Stations of the Cross. Big family. Difficult relationship with my father. Shy. Super-introverted. And then in certain places and times totally extroverted. Rebelling against the way things are. Finding music early. Growing my hair long. Not fitting in. 

I almost dropped the book when Bruce said his best friend was a kid named Bobby Duncan! Holy Shite! My best friend was a kid named Bobby Duncan!

Always trying to escape. Leave. Vanish. Get away. Feeling trapped. Worried about getting sucked into the cycle of failure and humiliation. Vowing not to be my father. Seeking my father's love. Unable to really communicate all the most important things to the people I loved and cared about.

The book churned up so much of the old stuff. And you think, all of it counts, none of it disappears, nothing is resolved. Everything is just part of who you are today. Whether you think about it or not. We work thru our experiences, try to incorporate them, carry them forward, or transform them, make them work, try not to be consumed or destroyed by them.

That's the trick... easier said, or thought, than done.

Russian Dissidents of the West!

Russia. Russians. We are all Russians now. Lots of news stories about Russia. Something very, very weird is happening. I remember as a child, we hid under our school desks, practicing for the day of Armageddon, the day that the Soviet Union and the U.S. exchanged nuclear weapons, and together they obliterated the world.

Yes, there were drills, sirens, we practiced. Even as a child huddled under my little school desk, I could kind of understand the futility of it all. It was serious business but absurd too. 

Seems in 2017 we are all Russians now. There are the Russians from Russia, led by Vladimir Putin, and then there are Russia's "friends" and dupes, in Washington D.C. Every day the story of Russian officials and newly-elected American officials gets weirder and weirder. And weirder.

Check out The New Yorker for a good overview of the entire story. So strange. So weird. Do we all need to learn Russian? Should we all start eating Borscht? 

Seems yes, we are all Russians now. Although, actually I suppose we are all Russian Dissidents now. Some of us just happen to live in the West! We are the Russian Dissidents of the West!

In Illustrious Company with Some of the Worst Amongst Us...

Etymology. The study of words. Where do words come from? How did they evolve? What are their meanings? An interesting thought-trail for sure.

"Enemies of the People." It's been rattling around in my head.  A phrase "fraught" with meaning. A pretty unique string of words. A charged phrase, with a rich history. This New York Times article takes us through the history of this phrase, who has used it, and when.

Seems Nikita Krushchev thought the phrase was just too "toxic" to use. Usually if a strongman, a leader, a person in a position of power uses the term "enemies of the people," the next step is to round folks up, to ship them out to a work camp, or a Gulag, or put them up against the wall for shooting, or using some other means of "neutralizing" them - guillotine, hanging, etc.

Lenin, Stalin, Mao Zedong - they all used this phrase to target specific people. Once you become an enemy of the people, you are fair game. When it comes to Autocrats: “formulas of insult, humiliation, domination, branding, enemy-forming and name calling are always the same.”

So it's true, our so-called President is in illustrious company with some of the worst amongst us. When you label a FREE Press as "enemies of the people" you are throwing down a marker, a statement, drawing a firm line in the sand.

Words have consequences, have meanings... and once spoken, can not be taken back... some things are clear... words reveal so much...