America, On The Occasion Of Your Birthday

One day long, long ago, summer vacation and we talked Dad into FINALLY taking the INNER beltway, rather than the OUTER one, that went way way outside and you saw nothing.

We would never have stopped anywhere if it had been up to Dad. Thankfully it was Mom’s decision, so we ate and pee’d and got a walk about once a day. God help us all, Dad would never, ever, ever, stop anywhere near that place, due to a complete loathing of all things to do with a large city, so this concession was well received by all.

Our trips south to visit my American cousins and grandparents was short on stops, long on drives, and hour stretches of silence through the mountains and bible belts, or endure some radio preacher peddling doom and gloom to those who don’t send him lots of money, and that one time a visit with the Pennsylvania Dutch got Lexi Mom’s personal undivided attention while she pukes up all her food in the backseat, and delighted by every gag, as I finally got to sit up front with Dad.

Well, that year we had finally talked him into this, or Mom had, this brief glimpse of that storied place, that grand White House, maybe, and the swamp back then was thought to be drained after they got rid of Nixon.

So, the year was 1976, Paul McCartney and Wings Silly Love Songs was on the radio, watching anxiously for that brief vista of that place I’d been waiting to see my whole young life, opened up before me, and we got this completely and utterly disappointing, I think I saw something white, glimpse of Washington D.C.

It took 20 years till I had a better view, like right across from the White House as the Air Force One Helicopter landed, and some far far away people wearing long black coats got out.

These are some strange times, when Watergate reporters step out of the past, prophesying with some experience the 45ths potential doom.

Again, the sh!t show of greatness goes on, and we knew they knew more than they let on, and that they figured they would never have to tell what was known, by who, anyway, here we are. Who knew? Yet again. Who knew, indeed, who knew.

Em, everybody knew. Flip-flop.

Just that some I hear don’t really care who knew what, when and how they knew. And that right there is the problem, I think. The main one, that defines the divide between the loyal and who are not, and why. And I wonder what the heck is up with that.

And into those murky depths, one by one the pieces float up from that infamous Steel Dossier, and whattaya-know, proven true, and nothing has been proven wrong, so far, which is a technicality, but worth a thought.

Significant? I certainly don’t know, though I care, as I find myself becoming that opinionated old woman seeking her own truth, thank you, and that ageing skepticism points the way thru the forest of bullsh!te and indifference, and I care about another’s dire plight because I’m not a heartless friggin’ cudgel.

But this alt-right hero appeals, to some, rank loyalty oozes from others, and that is worthy of note, and the GOP follows the followers in lock-step, one, two, three, and should be given a level of respect, as they will not just go away even if he does.

Why? well, far be it from me to pretend I understand the thinking of those who are disenfranchised with the elites who run the liberal showboat, with their big words and ultra politically correct too idealistic, perhaps naïve, beliefs and just ONE right way to be, hiding behind their designer rose-coloured glasses to protect their fragile snowflake blue eyes, or so I’ve been told.

And off with the ‘heds of all who disagree to save the whales, the land, the very sun, threatening we’ll be truly gone with the wind, and with every breath you take, and more rules for every move you make, even if we’re all doomed.

Seriously, blawdy, fracken doomed, who knew? I don’t know, 20,000 really smart geeks knew. But whatever.

Today, go left or right, no tolerance at all for in-betweeners, no middle-way, no gray, no gay, just that fight for who is right straight to the top, even though he lies, he will always be MORE right then, say, someone who’s black, or female.

So, back and forth with lofty words like sissy and loser, in all CAPS, in defense of a chiefs chest thumping tweet, and commentary the likes of a schoolyard bully doxxing {whatever the f that is} the new kid in town, all paid for by an ex-KGB, or three, maybe, we’ll see.

All thee nationalistic racist Christian hypocrites, heads up, you will be judged by how you treat the least of you, as well as the worst. Your rule, not mine.

So, riddle me this some say, how can you flip on an innocent man? Em? I suppose we just may soon find out.

Course few know this better than I, one can lie, sure, yet often that is not most peoples strong suit, though, some succeed and take it to a whole new crazy level, believing themselves beyond truth and consequences. Believe me, I know, I lived with one, or, one of the masters of the craft, if we’re comparing the two, Trump is “winning”.

Like twisting up more will-knots on the daily works for some, yet sticks your butt-cheeks together. Sure, it only goes so far, eventually, against the mounting wall of evidence to the contrary piling up for all to see.

Now, from my vantage point up here in the Great White North (our battle cry sounds something like kalukukukalookacoo), it would seem as though they caught some actual real live bad guys, and a few juicy indictments passed about, and one dude I guess is cooling his jets in jail, and all that REAL justicey stuff slowly plauds along, as always, the truth is out there.

Though I am reminded that some evidence may just speak for itself, like Nixon’s cold dead hand, and voice gave him away, and he rolls in his grave.

And just when we weren’t looking our preconceived notions were snatched up and given a bespoke meme, manufactured via Russia, for each of our unquestioned long-held beliefs.

We wait, watching tariffs and toadies send jobs overseas, that adult movie film stars bald litigator offers up another “I told you so” annoyingly, so they focus on debt and have no regret.

Exit stage left, or right, it doesn’t matter now cause you’re still in a cage, all extremes are the same, caged, there is no relief from social media’s blank steady glare, and how can you really still even care, maybe even possibly care less, but what about this, and not about that, about us, them, you, me, scary.

UP is down, and DOWN is up.

Conspiracies spread faster with half-truths and lies, like fleas on a poor man’s dog, cherry-picking a verse from some ancient book to excuse deplorable acts towards another, dripping irony lost on other horizons, for the great sin of requesting asylum from the storm, cry instead over the loss of a favourite nothing burger.

A champion of all those closely held unsubstantiated fears, the ballot cast, even if the gig was rigged, the shady means justified the ends. With the noose dangling that still may hang the lot, following along, blinded by misspelt words, freedoms lost and found with the truth, confusing greatness I just do not see, with a dog and pony show maybe he thinks he got free.


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