The Prosperity of a Lie

Misanthropic Boomer

If you are caught telling a lie to the FBI you can go to prison. However, you may not only lie to the American people with impunity, you may use the lie to get elected to public office. Everyone is concerned about the disintegration of our democracy…it has apparently already begun.

So Spake the Curmudgeon

The Hitchhike Home — A Reminisence

Misanthropic Boomer

It was late in the summer of 1966. Harold Payne and I had  recently turned twenty. We had flown up to Sacramento a few days earlier to meet up with a couple of our former bandmates who had been playing in Lodi. The four of us had gone to the California State Fair in Sacramento. Rather than fly back home I convinced Harold that we could save the price of airfare, and it would be a great, fun adventure to hitchhike home. And so on a Monday morning at the end of August we were headed south out of Sacramento on our way to Old Route 99 and eventually back home to Gardena, California.

It was 92 degrees Fahrenheit at seven forty-five in the morning—humidity was off the chart. We had been standing at the base of the highway on-ramp for just over an hour; cars and trucks flying by us as though we were mere mirages. Harold was getting antsy and I could see that he was beginning to regret agreeing to hitchhike back home to Gardena with me. The more I tried to cheer him up, and make light of our inability to catch a ride, the more I could see regret in his eyes. He was quickly losing his enthusiasm for the adventure, and it would seem my apparently annoying patter.

I had been relying on my thumb to get around since I was fourteen and always found it to be an exciting way to see the world. So while I saw hitching rides as an exciting way to travel and meet interesting fellow travelers and learn about the various denizens of the road, seeing myself as a burgeoning Kerouac, Harold was at this  point, just seeing it as a tedious trap with no escape.

Then, seemingly out of the hot mists rising from the green, sweet smelling alfalfa fields that bordered both sides of the highway, there appeared a light-brown 1956 Ford Station Wagon that looked like it hadn’t ever been washed. The driver, an affable looking man, sporting a dirty grey fedora that had certainly seen better days,  who looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, pulled over and waved us to come on. “From the look of you I’d guess you boys have been in this spot near long enough to take root. I’m only going as far as Stockton, fifty or so miles up the road but you’re welcome to join me. C’mon, get in.”

We immediately accepted his most welcome offer and climbed aboard. I climbed into the front passenger seat which had most recently been the resting place of our new benefactor’s rather loud red, white, and brown plaid sport coat. Harold, our bags and his Washburn acoustic guitar were relegated to the back seat.

As he draped the jacket over the front seat-back the older gentleman introduced himself as Fred. He told us he owned a traveling carnival and was on his way to meet up with it: then immediately offered us jobs with the carnival which we politely declined. We explained that we were college students and were going home to resume our education. He laughed and told us we would certainly get an education if we joined him.

Fred then looked at Harold’s Washburn guitar, and as he pulled out onto the highway, addressing Harold said, “Radio’s broken. How about you make some music, it’ll shorten the ride. You do play that guitar don’t you, or do you just carry it around to attract girls?” He laughed.

Harold, in the back seat seemed reluctant. I, on the other hand, being a well seasoned thumb-traveler knew we owed this man a debt easily discharged with song. Not to mention the fact that I was a born performer and looked for any excuse to capture an audience. Harold and I had been singing together for quite some time, both for the pure pleasure and as bandmates, so it wasn’t too difficult to coax him to perform for our benefactor. And so Harold began to play and together we sang for Fred. He was right, it did shorten the ride. 

Roughly sixty minutes later Fred took his exit from old State Road 99. As he pulled over to let us out he again suggested we join the carnival. This time he was much more enthusiastic in making his pitch. He told us we could be a featured act in the evening in the main tent and work the midway during the day. Although he made the carny life sound exciting both Harold and I were sensible enough to thank Fred for both the ride and the offer of employment, and politely declined. In truth Fred was offering Harold a job with me as an add-on. Without Harold I would just be a carny roust-about. Fred then handed me his business card and said, “If you should change your minds.” He waved and drove on.

It was now just a bit past 9:00am and a little over 100 degrees in the shade. Harold and I crossed under the overpass where Fred had dropped us and again stood with our thumbs out. This time we were much more fortunate and within just a few minutes we had our second ride. A young farmhand in a red Dodge pickup loaded with bales of hay pulled up and we tossed our bags in with the hay bales then hopped in. It was an uneventful ride that ended thirty-five miles and forty minutes later in Modesto.

We hadn’t had breakfast before we started out, and since it was still early we crossed the highway and had breakfast at an old truck-stop diner. The place was clean, the food was good and Helen, our waitress sporting the ever popular beehive hairdo and makeup that might have been applied with a trowel—was one of the funniest people I‘ve ever met. I remarked that she should be performing standup. A sly smile crept over Harold’s countenance. He winked and said knowingly, “She is.”

After we had eaten our breakfast, Harold and I walked back down the highway and once again at the on-ramp, thumbs out, we waited patiently. It was just past eleven and we still had three hundred plus miles to go. Fortune again smiled upon us and ten minutes later we got our third ride.

As I said, we didn’t have long to wait. An older immaculate black Chevrolet, maybe a 1953  Bel-Air pulled to a stop maybe 100 feet ahead of us and an older African American gentleman put his arm out the driver’s side window and waved us on, yelling back, “C’mon boys, shake a leg. Me and the old woman got a court date waitin’ for us in Visalia.”

Harold and I began to run, afraid of missing the ride. We got to the  car and the woman riding shotgun said, “Get in children, the door’s open. The couple were husband and wife, maybe early sixties; dressed in their Sunday church-going finest. The driver was wearing a tan suit, over a starched pastel pink dress shirt, a brown polka-dot bow tie. Beside him on the seat was a white straw fedora. His wife was wearing a red, periwinkle, and blue flower print dress. She held her purse tightly on her lap as though she were worried that it might be taken from her. I got the distinct impression that it was her husband, not Harold or I from whom she                                                                          sought relief. The couple was very pleasant to Harold and me, however, to each other, not so much.

They were, we found out in due course, on their way to a court date in Visalia, the County Seat and home of the Superior Court. It was there where Joshua had to appear on charges of domestic violence and battery. He had apparently thrown an unopened can of beer at Maria and hit her on the cheek, blackening her eye.

It was a three hour ride to Visalia that began pleasantly enough, but which soon deteriorated into Maria picking at Joshua. For a long time the old  man said nothing, just listened to his wife berate him. For his various faults. Sitting behind him I began to notice Joshua’s shoulders begin to tighten and his grip on the steering wheel became intense and claw-like. If the old woman didn’t let up Joshua was going to explode. Harold and I were trapped and so we just sat there wondering not if, but when the old man was going to lose it.

When the old man finally pulled off Highway 99 he didn’t slow down and pull over to let Harold and I out, but instead drove straight down Main Street and pulled up in front of the Court House: their final destination. As we were exiting the vehicle and trying to thank them for the ride, the old guy finally let go. Not only did the not hear us thanking them, but in reality we no longer existed. “Bitch,” the old man yelled, “if you had just dropped the charges we wouldn’t have had to waste the entire day to come down                                                                                                    here for your nonsense.”

The old woman countered with, “If you hadn’t tried to take my head off with a beer can there wouldn’t be charges to drop you old fool.” That last remark was a step too far for the old man. As I bent to pick up my duffle I saw his arm extend at lightning speed toward his wife—smack—he backhanded her straight into her mouth and suddenly the court date was gone; replaced by an arrest and a visit to jail. Harold and I beat a hasty retreat and headed back down Main Street to the Highway, lest the police decide they needed to speak with us.

It was 2:30pm and we still had three hundred miles to put behind us before we could call the day a success. Once again “Lady Luck,” came through. We hadn’t been standing by the on-ramp even five minutes when a well worn 1962 Ford Fairlane pulled over and waved to us. When we got alongside the car the passenger began a soliloquy in Spanish, waving his arms and pointing. My two years of high school Latin were less than useless, and we might still be standing there but for the fact that the ever sensible Harold Payne had taken two years of Spanish in high school and another year in college and was quite fluent.

It seemed our present potential benefactors were Mexican migrant farm workers and had been working the fields just north of Visalia and were going back home to Mexico. They wanted to know if we knew how to get to Interstate 5 which would take them to the border at San Ysidro. Harold asked me if I knew how to direct them and I assured him that if we could hitch a ride with them I would get them to Interstate 5. The young migrant farm workers agreed and Harold and I had our ride. Harold asked me if it was going to be difficult to get from Highway 99 to I-5. I explained that we would transition to the 5 as we went through Bakersfield…it was a straight shot.

While Harold and I were having our conversation about directions, the young man behind the wheel was apparently attempting to achieve escape velocity. When I stopped talking with Harold and looked up, the speedometer needle was bouncing between ninety and ninety-five miles per hour, with an occasional brief encounter with one hundred. Harold and I exchanged a brief glance that let each other know of our discomfort, nay, fear brought on by the young driver’s need to break Craig Breedlove’s land speed record.

A somewhat heated three way discussion then ensued between Harold and the two young men occupying the front seat. As previously indicated I spoke not a word of Spanish, however, I knew exactly what was being said. I asked Harold to tell them that this corridor was heavily patrolled by the CHP and that these speeds were considered reckless driving and could land the driver in jail. This got the young man’s attention and he slowed down…for a while.                                                                                                         

It being a weekday, and the fact that we were on much less used State Road 99, we were making up a lot of time. We were also making exceptional time due to our young driver having managed to speed back up to about 90 miles per hour. I again suggested to Harold that he remind the young men about the Highway Patrol. Harold spoke with them at length in Spanish and when he was through he told me they said they were always on the lookout for the CHP and  didn’t think we would be caught. It was very shortly

Thereafter that we heard the CHP loudspeaker from the chopper overhead advising us to pull over…immediately. Harold translated and our host pulled to the side of the road, where we waited for a CHP vehicle to arrive.

We didn’t have to wait very long, just a few minutes, and a CHP Pursuit vehicle pulled in behind us. I could see the officer’s very unhappy expression as he approached. The next few minutes were a bit tense as the Highway Patrolman discovered the perpetrators spoke not a syllable of English, and his Spanish was apparently on par with my own. Fortunately Harold began to intervene from the back seat. The patrolman asked Harold and the driver to get out of the car and to go with him. He told me to stay in the car with the passenger.

To this day I still do not know how he did it, but Harold, acting as both translator and advocate managed to avoid any repercussions for our new found friend. He got the young man off with a stern warning, and the assurance that a CHP vehicle from the air and ground would be observing us as we traveled on to ensure we stayed within the posted speed limit. Within twenty minutes of being hailed by the helicopter we were again on our way: this time within the speed limit.

Still on State Road 99 we approached Bakersfield and I pointed out the transition to Interstate Highway 5. The driver and his companion then began a very animated exchange in Spanish. When they finished the passenger turned his attention on us and told Harold in Spanish how grateful they were for his intervention with the Highway Patrol, and that since they were way ahead of schedule they would be happy to take us all the way home to Harold’s house in Gardena. I gave Harold the directions which he translated and an hour and twenty minutes later our grand adventure ended as we were dropped off at Harold’s parents house on 153rd Street in Gardena. Harold thanked the two young men for the both of us and gave them directions back to the freeway. 

Although that was Harold’s first adventure on the thumb, it was not to be his last. Harold has told me that following his graduation from UCLA and his start upon his magical music journey he again took to the road, as many musicians did in those much more safe, halcyon days, relying on his thumb and his wits to get him from place to place; coloring his music along the way. It gives me a sense of parental like pride to know that I held that door open for him, and a vicarious pleasure in his marvelous musical journey. 

Balancing the Scales

Misanthropic Boomer

Whenever the subject of reparations is broached there is a furor that arises unlike no other. There are many who believe, and I am one, that nothing can make up for the unjust treatment visited upon persons of color. However, pecuniary reparations would, at the very least tell those so unjustly treated that we are admitting the wrong done their antecedents. It would be a way to balance the scales, so to speak.

On the other hand, there are just as many who opine “what’s done is done.” They also argue that it is in the past, and finally it wasn’t done to the current generation by us. For those who argue these points I put forth the following.

When the War Between the States ended people of color were technically “free.” However, they had for the most part received no education or training that would help them get established and support their freedom. Many had to go to work for those from whom they had so recently been liberated. For many this often resulted in conditions worse than they had before the war.

They received no compensation for their prior enslavement. And, in the Southern States, although they were in the majority they found themselves dealing with laws enacted by the white minority designed to control and suppress their rights. No reparations…no help from the Federal government. On the other hand however, reparations were made available.

Former slave owners, almost entirely wealthy white men were compensated by a generous government for the apparently “unfortunate loss of their property.” So while the abused were destined to suffer still more abuse their abusers were gifted with compensation; reparations. Wealthy white men who lost what morally wasn’t theirs to begin with were made even more wealthy, giving them more power over their former chattel.

Now let’s consider the internment visited upon Japanese Americans during the Second World War. Once again white America thought slavery was justified. This is what it ultimately was, a form of slavery. People of color were once again forced to live under rules that denied their rights as free Americans. And once again with the government’s cooperation wealthy white people were given the opportunity to increase their wealth at the expense of those whose rights were denied them. 

This time it wasn’t through government payouts, but rather through the government allowing wealthy white people to acquire property belonging to those who were “illegally” imprisoned. Property was seized and auctioned off, or allowed to be acquired through the payment of delinquent taxes. Taxes that were delinquent due to the inability of those imprisoned to make enough money to pay the taxes. And so once again white Americans were able to improve their lot by a complicit government. In 1988 reparations of $20,000 each were paid those WWII internees still living…not nearly enough considering what they suffered and the wealth they lost.

Finally there are the Indigenous Americans. They were, between 1946 and 1978 paid 1.3 billion dollars for the theft of their land (that would be the entire contiguous United States) and the attempted genocide visited upon them. That amounts to roughly $1.40 an acre…not a bad deal for White America

It is long past the time that we rip the blindfold from the eyes of Lady Justice, that she may see what has been wrought in her name. Her scales will forever remain out of balance unless we admit to the nation’s wrongdoing and take action to give the same consideration to people of color that is given the descendants of white Europeans. Reparations would be a good start.

The Two Americas

Misanthropic Boom

Our nation and democracy are in trouble. It is not due to Donald Trump…he is merely the worst symptom of a problem that has existed since the nation’s founding. Simply put there are two Americas. There is the America that is presented publicly to both ourselves and the rest of the world: fair, egalitarian, generous and strong. Then too there is the real America; the one that cannot look itself in the mirror nor open its Kimono all the way for fear of being seen as avaricious, duplicitous, and cruel. The two Americas co-exist in a fragile symbiosis which up until now has allowed a semblance of sanity and possibility, providing hope to those of us who want to believe in a nation successful due to its reliance on the rule of law. Law the great equalizer and guardian of possibilities.

That there have been two Americas from the very beginning is evidenced by the dual nature of the reasons for the country’s schism with Great Britain. While what Jefferson detailed in the Declaration of Independence is true and justifiable, it is also true that there was another just as true motivating factor…the acknowledgement by the rest of the world (Europe) that slavery was cruel, inhumane, and immoral. Slavery was, at the time of our founding, being outlawed in most of the civilized world. England, being part of that world was outlawing slavery, which meant that it would be outlawed in the colonies. This would have caused great economic distress since the colonies heavily relied on the use of slaves in support of both its economic and social way of life. In order for the colonies to thrive their participation in slavery was essential…thus the two reasons for the break with the Motherland; one public and one private.

The early success in the duplicitous approach of the justification for her actions was further exacerbated in the drafting of the Constitution. Wherein it was decreed that all men are created equal (however as George Orwell would point out some one hundred fifty years later “some are more equal than others”) yet women, slaves, and Indigenous Peoples were denied the vote and Equal Protection. That established a pattern that has been followed ever since…tell the people what they need to hear to keep them peaceful and content while providing the “landed minority” with the special treatment which would allow them to attain great wealth and power without being subject to the laws by which everyone else must abide. This is how we wound up with a grifter con-man in the White House.

Our current problems with Trump and his seemingly endless coterie of sycophants is exacerbated by a media which apparently isn’t as liberal as advertised. While everyone is complaining about Rupert Murdoch and FOX they are ignoring the fact that no one in the main stream media has challenged Trump and his mendacity as he is spreading his lies. That is to say, they allow him to lie without calling him out direct and in real-time. The result is that half the nation buy into the con because it is never directly exposed…he has time to shore up his public grievances before he is called out. The civil action by the state of New York is a good example of this. He has lied directly into the cameras about not being allowed a jury trial and it is only later on the news shows that the reporters and pundits point out that it is as he and his attorneys wanted it. By that time the half of America that only watch FOX and listen to Right-wing radio talking heads never hear the truth.

And now the same thing is happening with the Republican Party. They spin tall tales and support this sociopathic misogynist in the hope of gaining power and, once again are only challenged after the fact…when again half of the electorate believes their lies. Ron DeSantis continually complains about the Liberal Left spreading the philosophy of “WOKE,” yet no one has challenged him to define “WOKE.” The expression was commandeered from the minority community where it is meant to define a hyper-awareness of one’s surroundings, meant to keep young people on their toes so as to avoid problems with those on the Right.

Finally, there is a Supreme Court that, for the most part, is bought and paid for by billionaire elites, who would destroy the power of the United States Constitution. This tactic is taken straight from the playbook of Augusto Pinochet, who after assassinating his predecessor hired Right-wing American economist James McGill Buchanan to help rewrite the Chilean Constitution to put all power in the hands of the dictator. The billionaires bribing the Supreme Court are using the same playbook.

The 2024 elections will probably be the most significant in the nation’s history. If we don’t hang on to the Presidency and Senate, and take back the House the Right will destroy the ability to govern and with it the nation. This is all so much bigger than “little Donny Trump.” Or, as I like to call him Trumplethinskin.

WOKE UP

Misanthropic BoomeWOKE UP

What is “Woke?” Why is it important? What will “Wokeness” do to our nation; to each of us? I believe, given the apparent import of the word and its frequent use in explaining the jeopardy from which the nation and “We the People” must be extracted and protected, requires a closer examination.

Right leaning Politicians are worried about the consequences of “Woke.” Media pundits are now using the word in their reporting as though it were representative of a well understood concept. “Woke,” has in the last six months, become the “flavor of the month," as it were. It is a demon that threatens our way of life (as if we, collectively have a single way of life).

Not since the 1950s when it was Communism that frightened half the nation into a deep mistrust and fear of the other half has a word invoked such a strong reaction from every strata of the political and social spectrum. “Woke,” has become something to, if not fear, at least be reckoned with.

Yet, something about, “Woke,” as it is being presented, just doesn’t seem to ring true. It is being used to, at various times in a variety of situations, to frighten, to brag about knowing how both to prevent and to fight its effects, and to influence as yet undetermined legislation. Yet, once again, something isn’t right. Something would seem to be missing.

What could it be? What does it need? What is missing? Wait. I think I know. Could it be that none of those who are using the word have the faintest idea what they are talking about? Yes, that’s what it is. “Woke,” has never been publicly defined by the people using it. Neither have those who have weaponized it, nor those who help legitimize it’s use. None of these so-called leaders and experts have any idea what “Woke” is about. Ask Senator Tuberville, who’s worried that our Military is becoming “Woke,” to explain in detail what“Woke” is. Make Rick De Santis explain the intricacies of “Wokeness.” They can’t, and they won’t. They’re running a game on the American people, and half the nation has gone for it.

The word “Woke” is part of set of words which would seem to define consciousness: awake, awoke, wake, etc. As used to represent a concept, its definition comes from the Minority communities. To define it “Woke” in its simplest coded form means to be aware; hyper-aware of every aspect of one’s environment and the consequences of not paying attention. From the veracity of the man who comes into a room dripping water and tells you it’s raining; to assessing each social and cultural interaction for the subtleties that tell the participant the direction the encounter will take.

So, contrary to what opportunistic politicians having been spouting about “Woke,” it is really good to be in a condition wherein you are in tune with reality and completely aware. Such awareness can, if followed to a logical end, can help us find enlightenment. And, just perhaps help to make the world a better place. Stay “WOKE”

Post Script…it was a real pain placing quotation marks around “WOKE” each time I used it, however, I felt the need to constantly draw attention to it…just like our fearless politicians. I’m hoping to make it go away: certainly not as a useful concept….but definitely as a poitical hammer.

The End…or a New Beginning

Misanthropic Boomer

In ten days the fate of our Grand Experiment in governance will be decided. It is, in historical fact, an idea initially put forth some eight hundred seven years ago on the fields of Runnymede in Great Britain where King John issued the proclamation known as the Magna Carta. The Magna Carta is the antecedent to every democratic constitution drafted and based upon the rule of law. It, in very clear, unambiguous language posits that no one, not even the King himself is above the law.

The Great Charter, its English sobriquet, was written by a group of English Barons as a counter to the tyranny of the crown and to protect the rights of landholders and tradespeople from the abuses suffered under the English feudal system. It was accepted and subsequently issued by King John, June 15, 1215, in order to avoid a civil war. And, has been revised half dozen times over that eight hundred year period.

The reason I am bringing up the Great Charter is that I am hoping that by putting our democracy in its proper historical perspective “We the People,” will fight to save our nation from the very same human failures that forced the drafters of the Magna Carta and its subsequent posterities, the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States to face down the tyranny which has again risen and threatens to devour our democracy.

Since the election of Donald John Trump to the Presidency of the United States there has been an ever widening chasm dividing believers in our democratic form of governance so carefully built upon that original foundation provided by the “Great Charter,” and those who would, for personal benefit install an authoritarian, Fascist government. The rule of law upon which our governance relies has been made a mockery by those on the Right seeking power at the expense of the majority of the electorate. They have stolen, lied, cheated, supported violent, murderous insurrection in their selfish attempt at destroying our nation and the democracy: her heart. The egregious acts committed by the likes of Trump, Bannon, McConnell, McCarthy, Stone, Flynn , et al are too legion to detail. But consider their biggest common crime, “The Big Lie;” their denial against overwhelming proof that the 2020 elections were fair and free and consider the absurd fact that the deniers claim the Democrats rigged the Presidential outcome but weren’t clever enough to rig the votes securing the House and Senate.

Sixty times Federal judges and the former Attorney General of the United States have categorically denied that there was any election fraud that contributed to Donal Trump’s sound defeat by the largest margin in United States electoral history. In reality, the only documented voter fraud perpetrated in the 2020 Presidential election was effected by Republicans…both during the vote and after the fact when they tried to use forged documents carried by fake electors to overturn the results of the election.

Consider too that these same people would initiate state processes that would deny the voters their right to choose. Instead they would have state legislatures overturn elections of which they did not approve. These are not the actions of those who believe in freedom or justice.

As you go to the polls to cast your midterm vote ask yourself is this the legacy you would bestow upon your posterity? Does the past eight hundred seven years mean nothing? Are you comfortable having two judicial systems…one for the wealthy and powerful and another for everyone else? Does it seem reasonable that if you ignore a subpoena you will spend two years in prison, while Steve Bannon receives only four months., and is allowed to walk free while he appeals his conviction and openly mocks the system from which he has benefitted more than the average American citizen?

I ask that you seriously consider that these same people do not respect the rule of law. Donald Trump has violated a number of laws and Constitutional provisions for which most of us would be immediately prosecuted yet he continues to be free of any justice. America’s voters must decide who will win the House and/or the Senate: will this be the end…or, a new beginning. We will sl know by November 9th.

Misanthropic Boomer

A WORD (or two) TO THE WISE

As everyone in this nation is aware the mid-term elections are a mere one hundred days away. This election cycle may be the most important in the history of the Republic. There is no doubt it will be the most important event in the history of humankind’s attempt at establishing and maintaining a lasting democratic paradigm. Therefore what happens this November will not only effect the United States, but will either give, or take away hope for the rest of the world. With the criticality of the mid-term elections in mind I believe I must bring up two issues which I am certain will be fundamental to democracy’s survival. The two issues are the Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States, and the composition of the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS). I shall speak to the second issue first because it is SCOTUS who is the ultimate arbiter of the use of the Constitution as the playbook for the brand of democracy under which we are governed.

Since the Republicans, through the auspices of Donald Trump and Mitch McConnell, successfully stacked SCOTUS with Right Leaning justices it has become evident that SCOTUS, as much as the Democrats and the Republicans, is a political body, and as such in its present composition, is willing to skew all interpretations of the Constitution in the direction of Right Wing Religious Conservatism. In the reversal of the precedent of Roe v. Wade Samual Alito, writing the majority opinion uses what can only be considered intentionally misinterpreted historical citations to justify denying half the population the right to control their own bodies. That this fundamental change in how the Constitution is viewed will obviously continue for at least a generation since the six Right leaning Justices (with exception of Clarence Thomas) can be expected to occupy the bench for at least twenty years. We can, therefore, expect the continued erosion of our rights. Expansion of the Court has been been discussed as a remedy: a way to rebalance the Court as it were.

I believe the court will absolutely be expanded if the Democrats lose control of the House and Senate in the November mid-term elections. If the Trump Republicans regain control of Congress there is every indication that they will attempt to solidify Oligarchic control over the government in perpetuity. The easiest way to achieve their goal is to take a page from Augusto Pinochet’s playbook and to expand the Court and stack it with even more politically Right leaning justices just was done in Chile following the coup in 1973. Interestingly, this was the brainchild of James McGill Buchanan, an American Political Economist. This will especially be made possible if the American electorate puts a Republican in the White House in 2024. Now consider the fact that if the Right can pull off such a political coup they will no longer be dependent upon the voters who so foolishly, against their own best self interest, gave the Republicans the “Keys to the Kingdom,” so to speak. This is where and when the Second Amendment comes into play.

Support for the misinterpretation of the Second Amendment has been necessary in order to keep firearms manufacturers and Right Wing gun owners happy. Ever paranoid, yet happy Right Wing gun owners vote Republican out of fear the Democrats will seize their firearms. Happy firearms manufacturers can be depended upon to contribute an inordinate amount of money to their supporters in Congress. The convergence of these two conditions are what made the January 6, 2021 insurrection possible. Once again, this event could only have occurred because the Second Amendment has been purposely misinterpreted.

The Second Amendment simply states, “A well regulated militia being necessary to the Security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” This has been used to justify private gun ownership, and especially to allow the possession and ownership of military style weapons by private citizens; to maintain a well regulated militia. However this is not what the Constitution says. The definition of what is meant by “a well regulated militia,” and how it is to be maintained and used is clearly stated in:

Article 1, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution…

Powers of Congress.

It is as follows:

To provide for calling forth the militia to execute the laws of the Union, suppress insurrection and repel invasions.

To provide for organizing, arming, and disciplining the Militia and for governing  such Part of them as may be employed in the service of the United States,  reserving to the States respectively the Appointment of the Officers, and the Authority  of training the Militia according to the discipline prescribed by Congress.

This clearly states that the Militia is to be controlled by the United States government up to, and including the provision of firearms. Nowhere in the Constitution is there any reference to the Militia being necessary to assure the government does what the people want over and above what has been approved through the electoral and legislative processes. Therefore the right to bear arms is really the right to do the government’s bidding and not an individual right.

This leads me to my next prediction; something I have been saying for years. Gun owners have nothing to fear from the Democrats. The Democrats merely want the same level of control of gun ownership that the government has over flying an aircraft or driving an automobile: testing to ensure ability, registration to ensure legality and licensing to ensure compliance. One cannot drive a Formula One race car through the city streets because “we the people” recognize the inherent danger in doing so. Why, therefore, should it be legal to carry around an automatic weapon specifically designed as an instrument of war for killing the enemy (human beings)?

As I said, gun owners needn’t worry about Democrats taking their firearms, it’s the Republicans who will not merely want a greater level of control they will want to eliminate private gun ownership completely. Once the Republicans successfully ensure their desired Oligarchy has been established they will need to protect it by eliminating any and all threats to the feudal style system of governance. At that point their expanded, stacked SCOTUS will suddenly interpret the Second Amendment as it was originally intended. Private gun ownership will become a threat and therefore will be eliminated.

I realize most of you won’t believe what I have posited herein, however, my prognostications have been unerringly accurate over the last thirty odd years. If you don’t believe me vote Republican…take a chance. Don’t say I didn’t try to raise your awareness. Good luck.