To be a witness to history, to sit in one’s armchair and watch those monumental moments unfold before your very eyes are rare, though, admittedly, in today’s chaotic daily 3-ring circus that fact is sometimes lost, as we all bear witness to this difficult transition between an America that was, and the America that will be.

Those fault lines, between diversity, about race, religion, creed, urban versus rural, are wider than they have ever been. 

The times, they are a-changin’, and the old men, and the sons of old men who had hoped to be a party to the old white guy club, who had expected to be able to get away with their past misogynies, grind their teeth in frustration.

What we are witnessing, from the 45th on down through those branches of government, right down through the trunk, is that fear of the inevitable progress of time, and values, and creeds, or else we’d still be living in caves, or in the trees, and never came down, and out, and forward.

For, in change, comes opportunities, and a open-minded response to changing times, ethics, and truths, unmasking inequalities ignored for centuries and centuries, if not millennia.

Fear is a powerful tool of putting us in crisis state where we are locked, not able to make rational choices and think in rational ways. Fear is a powerful tool towards control,  and keeping the many ignorant of their poverty, or instead accepting of their fate, one or the other, or both.

If I get up every day and assume that I still know everything, that I know everything there is to ever know, I shall remain ignorant. My knowledge will be only that, nothing more, and I will be blind to things right in front of my nose, so concentrated on my high and mighty surety, my rightness, their wrongness. Everyone and everything will pass me by, and I will rail against them at the dust they kick up in my face, as I stand there in the dirt chewing my cud, drinking a beer, thinkin’ I know it all, in front of my decrepit old run down Mansion on the hill. 

The arrogance of white privilege currently in charge of that old run down shack of a boy’s club, having put off paying for maintenance for years, ignored the leak in the roof, and the nibbling of the carpenter ants and the mould in the rafters poisons the very air they breath, and they are slowly dying and that their fruitless efforts to stay within its security they are blind, as they take their last gasp, a dying age is fading, yet a mirage they imagine of a bygone time is still before their eyes.

Oh, and tis all the fault of some whore, some woman who allowed herself to be where she was when she should have been elsewhere, or mere dread at the thought of their, or what they think are their, more righteous, more moral and Christian values, er, rhetoric, as their guiding light, frightened of the liberal democracy that has grown over the last two centuries, and they would hope to stop.

The last vestiges, gasping, grasping.

I don’t see this being an easy slog, nor is it over, but rather I believe it has really just begun, the beginning of the end.

Over the next while, as I don’t see there being easy compromises, as each side entrenches their fighters and thoughts, minds mired in hate, faces turned towards war, those such as Flake and Coons will be the rare hands holding some of the strands together, hopefully, more will turn up. The hope, the faith in the strength of what is really at the core of what Americans strive for, hopefully, is not totally lost. Although, granted, have often failed miserably at achieving, and perhaps more myth than reality. Still, the forces of opposition more ready to attack as talk, alliances such as theirs will be important before anything new can be born.

In their rush to have him appointed, rush to get him installed, in place, able to enact the changes they wished to see, what truths lay hidden behind the blather and ire? What problems do these fears mask? 

Call it devils advocate or maybe to just tp be fair, but I think I have to ask, could they both be telling their truth? It happened to her, and he did it, but he drank well over the limit, blacked out, and does not remember it? Could it be, that when he blacks out he does sexually aggressive things? 

I mean, obviously he wanted absolutely nothing to do with that line of thinking, and avoided any honest dialogue on the matter altogether, and rather aggressively, almost childishly, and denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. 

I’ve read where they said that when men blackout they do stuff to things, whereas when women blackout things are done to them.

I suspect we’ll never know whether Brett Kavanaugh experienced blackouts as a young drinker. I suspect he’ll never know, because what I took from the man at his hearing was that he was not interested in going there. Those days are gone; he has closed the door on that era. But as a wise man once said, just because we are done with the past doesn’t mean the past is done with us. 

New York Times | By Sarah Hepola

And, could that be the greater truth? That perhaps EVERYONE is too willing to just throw Kavanaugh under the bus towards their own ends?

There is an opportunity, as I mentioned, in change, and this is where that comes in.  In the end, the only way forward is to learn how to own your truth, even the dark and scary truth, or else it will always own you; from personal experience.

Looking at this another way, why has this man come all this way forward towards this thing, to at this juncture, at this late point, this new truth surfaces, a truth that is very hard to ignore? Why? What purpose could there be? If one is looking to understand how to own truth, begin first with a new perspective, which is creating the opportunity to grow where it may seem none exists. A new beginning, a new path, a chance to do something, perhaps, that may be your true purpose, part of God’s plan?

Though that said, I believe an appointment to the Supreme Court may not be in the cards for him, as you can not ignore that indignant rampage, understandable though it may be, his behaviour is just not befitting a Judge. Any judge. Regardless.