Misanthropic Boomer

TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE IMPEACHMENT

(With apologies to Clement Moore)

‘Twas the night before impeachment and all through the House

The GOP were trying their best to defend that damn louse.

The charges were posted for the Senate to bear

In hopes that the trial would be speedy and fair.

House members were settled all snug in their places

Both sides with visions of victory, had smiles on their faces.

Republicans selected John Turly selling his own contradictory pap

And as he droned on we all settled in for our very first hearing nap.

When on the White House Lawn there arose such a clatter

Trump said, “There was no quid pro quo, besides if there was, it still doesn’t matter.

“I was only trying to root out corruption in the Ukraine

Committed by Joe and Hunter Biden, again and again.

“You know they’re bad people for the things that they do

Besides, Joe’s in the way. I’ll bet you’d do it too.”

The Dems were all yawning wishing they were home in their beds

While visions of a conviction danced in their heads.

My wife watched on TV while I sat at my MAC

Waiting for the GOP to mount the next deflection attack:,

Deflecting Trump’s crimes their only real course

A tactic learned from the President their final resource.

The lights from TV cameras within the hearing room

Gave a lustre to Republican faces, hiding their gloom.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But three Democrat’s lawyers; that Nadler brought here

With one Constitutional lawyer, the Dems only woman

I knew in a moment it must be Pam Karlan

The Republican Reps continued the Deflection game

Ranking member Doug Collins calling each by name:

There was Steube, and Armstrong, Biggs, Lesko and Cline;

Reschenthsler and Johnson, Gohmert all fine

Gaetz, Roby, Rattcliff, Sensenbrenner and Buck,

McClintock, Collins, Chabot, and Jordan all trying their luck.

From the front of the Dais to the back of the hall

They lied and deflected for Trump, one and all.

As discarded garbage tends to attract flies

Republicans kept telling more, and bigger lies.

So up to the Senate the Impeachment was sent

The People all hoping Mitch would relent.

But then in a twinkling McConnell called out to Trump

Don’t worry my Prez, the Impeachment I’ll dump.

As I hung my sad head, turning away,

We all knew there would be no conviction today.

As Mitch took his oath to be impartial and fair

The smell of a fix was stinking the air

Mitch was dressed all in brown from his head to his foot

He had on his very best no conviction suit

His very best briefcase he carried in hand

Smug in the knowledge that Trump would not take the stand

His eyes how they twinkled! He was so proud of himself

Happy to be in the bag, the jolly, nasty old elf.

He went straight to the business of letting Trump go

He told all his members just to say no

“The fix is in,” Moscow Mitch said with a grin

Knowing the Impeachment trial the Dems couldn’t win

He sprung from the dais like the down on a thistle

Turned to his GOP team and gave a whistle

“Our work here is done; our votes we have plenty.”

Yet he knew in heart they were dead in twenty-twenty.

igor

THE ETERNAL EIGHT YEAR OLD

Misanthropic Boomer

The thing that keeps me from doing stupid and dangerous things is my age related physical limitations, not any desire on my part for a safe old age.

There is a certain place within the human male brain, I am convinced, that is forever eight years old. And, if not for getting too dizzy to prevent me, while climbing the ladder, I would once again jump from the roof of the house, umbrella in hand, yelling Geronimo on the way to yet another broken ankle.

THANKSGIVING MEMORIES - part one

Misanthropic Boomer

Some Thanksgiving Memories

Thanksgiving. Now memories of this holiday are so precious I had to create their own safe file space in my mind; a protected space, so that no matter what the future holds for me, I will have my Thanksgiving memories safely tucked away. I will open the vault door and be awash with the people, places, smells, tastes and feelings that mean so very much to me after so many wonderful years…not to mention the competition with all my other life’s memories.
The first Thanksgiving I remember I was four years old. We lived in a one bedroom mother-in-law cottage…that’s what they called it…it was a shack, on 82nd Street and Normandie Avenue, in Los Angeles. I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but we were poor: spaghetti with chicken wings four nights a week and meatless stew the other three nights poor. I’m not complaining because I do remember being very happy and never knowing we were poor. Aunt Melba and Uncle Bert had us over for Thanksgiving.
I loved Mel and Bert. Mel was glamorous, and Uncle Bert was a rugged big rig, cross country truck driver. As I said, Mel and Bert had us over and furnished all of the groceries, but my mother did the cooking. My mother was always in the kitchen on Thanksgiving; another treasure from the vault. I would slip in an out of the kitchen like a wraith unseen and unheard by everyone except my mother, who would slip me a taste of whatever she was working on at that moment.
We stopped going to Mel and Bert’s in 1955. They got divorced. They came to our new home in Gardena for Thanksgiving, but they came and left at different times. To this day I miss them tremendously. My Uncle Bert was killed in 1963 while working on highway construction. He drove a heavy grader, and was grading a section when a truck loaded with construction personnel lost its brakes coming down the grade and would have gone over the edge and fallen two hundred feet, except that Bert slammed the grader into the truck, pushing it to the safe side of the road to a stop. At which time the weight of Uncle Bert’s tractor caused the part of the road on which he rested, to collapse, and he, after saving all those men, fell two hundred feet to his death. He was a hero. My father had to identify the body. It’s the only time I ever saw my father cry.
Beginning in 1956 Thanksgiving took on a whole new meaning for me. That was the year we began having Thanksgiving with the Neffs. We swapped Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners from 1956 through 1965. Those were wonderful, eventful Thanksgivings. Our family consisted of three people, my mother, father, and me. The Neffs had an enormous (by my standards anyway) family, and they lived in Pedley, California (out by Corona…Norco…Riverside. It was damn near another country. There was no freeway. It took about two and half to three hours to drive from Gardena so we always spent the night. So Thanksgiving became an adventure.
The direct Neff family consisted of five people…Mom and Dad (Jane and Mike) and three children (Tommy, Peggy Jane, and Danny). Tommy was a year my junior, and we were best buds, and naturally it was us against the other two. We got into a lot of trouble for picking on poor Peggy Jane. Danny got his share as well, but we needed him to get thing down from trees and rooftops. Danny climbed as though he had suction cups on his hands and feet; he could go anywhere.
And naturally since it was Thanksgiving there were football games. Tommy, Danny, and I always played football on Thanksgiving. Sometimes just the three of us; me against the brothers, and sometimes we would pick up other kids. It didn’t matter just as long as we were outside, with a football.
As I said, we swapped dinner locations, i.e. Thanksgiving in Pedley and Christmas in Gardena; switching back and forth every year. In addition to the two immediate families we were always joined by Tommy’s Grandmother and his Great Uncle. 
The food was always amazing and covered every inch of the dining table. We had turkey, of course, with the addition of a ham sometimes. There were always string beans with bacon, creamed cauliflower, mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams, spinach, corn, both jellied and homemade cranberry sauce, two kinds of dressing, homemade biscuits, and both pumpkin and mincemeat pies for desert. Now that I think of it, we probably spent the night not because the drive was long, but because we couldn’t move.

end - part one

THANKSGIVING MEMORIES - part two

Misanthropic Boomer

Some Thanksgiving Memories – Part the Second It Is (I love writing like Yoda speaks)

I do apologize for not finishing my reminiscences in a timely manner, however, I was so full from dinner (you would think after sixty-nine Thanksgivings I would have learned to pace myself…the expression that fits is, “fat chance”) that I was unwilling to challenge the stairs to the basement. It is now 05:44 am, Friday morning and I’m ready to pick up from whence I paused.

Moving ahead to 1966 I had the second most bizarre Thanksgiving ever (the most bizarre came a few years later, and was a pip). I was dating the woman who ultimately became my first wife (that’s right, I didn’t get the whole marriage mishigas right the first time around…I look at those four years as practice for when I met my Mayo). It was the first year since 1956 we weren’t having dinner with the Neffs so it was important that I bring my affianced. No problem. Dinner was at 4:00.

Naturally, after the huge dinner I was stuffed (even more than the turkey), and that was when my lady leaned over and whispered in my ear, “We’ve got to get going, dinner is a 5:30. Dinner?

That’s right, she had, without telling me, committed to Thanksgiving dinner with her family. We made some lame excuse for having to leave, (I could tell by the twinkle in my mother’s eyes that she knew exactly what was happening and was laughing inside) thanked my mother and father and went on our way. That particular incident should have set off alarms about where I stood in the relationship…and it probably did, but I was completely blind to anything about her except how hot she was. 

Betty’s (my first wife) mother was an excellent cook, which spelled disaster for me because I ate as much at this second dinner as I had at the first. When dinner was over, her father and I went out back to smoke a cigar, complimented by a young single malt. I was so full that I was unable to smoke the cigar due to the pressure created each time I attempted to inhale.

The Thanksgivings years from 1967 to 1971 were, if nothing else awkward, since our parents did not seem to like one another. It was, each year, some variation of the two dinner scenario. I began to dread my beloved Thanksgiving…after all; it was trying to kill me. I began having nightmares of a Thanksgiving explosion caused by overeating at two separate dinners….similar to the scene in “Big Trouble in Little China,” for those of you who are familiar with the film, where one of the Storms (Lo Pan’s bodyguards) explodes.

Thank God for divorce; 1972 was peaceful and pleasant, sort of. I had just begun going out with my Mayo and she invited me to dinner with her family for the Holiday. I had a chat with my folks, gave them a hundred dollars and sent them off to dinner at the Velvet Turtle in Redondo Beach. It was, apparently, a very lovely and somewhat romantic Thanksgiving for them. I, on the other hand, was not quite so lucky.

My Mayo is one of the sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful people I have ever known…the rest of her family not quite so much. I will refrain from going into detail and besmirching the entire family; however, I cannot in good conscience let the dinner go. The turkey…shoe-leather. This was complimented (?) by boxed mashed potatoes, canned sweet potatoes, frozen peas, frozen corn; desert was, naturally frozen pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream out of a can. It was the T.V. dinner of Thanksgivings.

Now, as promised earlier, for my most bizarre, yet special Thanksgiving…I call it “The 1973 Thanksgiving Hot Dog Feast,” also known as “The Friday Thanksgiving.”

Mayo and I were by now a couple and lived together in Redondo Beach. I had a very dear, yet somewhat strange friend, one Frank Sullivan with whom I had worked in the past. He was a programmer, with a Masters in psychology who had quit his job at Northrop and moved to a small town in the Sierras with his wife Nancy, who was teaching Special Education at the grammar school in Coleville, California, along the East Walker River. Frank worked part time for the U.S. Forest Service, and grew hot house marijuana; and occasionally did consulting work in San Francisco.

They invited us up for Thanksgiving. What could be cooler? Thanksgiving in the high country, and if we were lucky there would be some snow. Apparently 1973 was one of the most brutal winters the Sierras had experienced since the Donner party had their special winter banquet.

Frank and his wife Nancy were supplying the accompaniments, so we brought the turkey. I picked up a fresh one (I waited while they killed the bird and dressed him) at Del Wee Poultry, in Torrance, on Artesia just west of Van Ness; where my family had gotten their turkeys since Ron Powell’s dad took us there in 1955. That was Wednesday morning. We could not leave until the afternoon because Mayo had classes at El Camino she could not miss.

We finally got my van loaded and ready to go, and left at about 2:00pm, Wednesday, Thanksgiving eve. It is about an eight hour drive from Redondo Beach to Coleville, where Frank and Nancy rented a beautiful, old two story, semi-Victorian style home.

Driving was slow due to both the somewhat notorious pre-Thanksgiving day traffic, and unbeknownst to us, a snowstorm that was hitting the Sierras. The result of these two events was that we found ourselves little more than halfway there by 9:00pm, and that I had to stop and put chains on my tires because we were in a full on snowstorm (my very first).

Driving was slow and scary, but doable. My heater was broken so my Mayo was sitting beside me zipped into her sleeping bag. About six, or so miles north of Big Pine we ran out of gas. My gas gauge was broken, however, I always knew when to stop for gas because I knew how many miles to go on a tank of gas before I needed to fill up…always, that is, until I forgot to take into account that we were in the mountains in a snowstorm where the air is thinner and the driving is slower because of the stop and go required by the severely inclement weather. The upshot was, I let us run out of gas in what turned out to be one of the worst blizzards in over a hundred years.

I was pretty sure we could not just stay there and freeze to death, so I bundled my Mayo up as best I could, left her with a Coleman gas lantern, locked her in the van and set out for Big Pine and gas. I hadn’t walked a quarter of a mile when I was startled by the honking of a car horn. I jumped and turned to look, and there just pulling to a stop was a brand new Cadillac convertible…with the top down and the radio blaring. Sitting behind the wheel was an enormous woman, wearing a mink coat; she was grinning a Cheshire Cat grin and said, “That your van back there? Break down, or just,” she threw back her head and laughed, “run out of gas?”

“Ran out of gas,” I responded sheepishly.

“Well, get in,” she said. “Big Pine’s just a few miles south and they’ve got an all night Texaco station.” I jumped into the car feeling both extremely lucky and grateful. She held out her hand, “Name’s Martha, and you?”

“Vance,” I replied.

As she pulled slowly back onto Highway 395 I looked over at Martha and said, “Aren’t you cold with the top down?”

“Oh hell no,” she replied. “I’ve got the heater blasting and I’m wearing my mink, and I’m really hot because I just left the sulfur hot-springs, I’m roasting see.” And having said that, Big Martha pulled her mink coat open and under that fur she was as naked as the day she was born. She laughed, picked up a bottle sitting on the seat beside her, and took a pull. She offered it to me, however, I declined, feeling that was the prudent thing to do.

It took about thirty minutes to cover the six miles back to Independence and Martha jabbered and drank the entire way. When we pulled into the Texaco station I was relieved, that is until I saw the four guys in the office pointing in our direction and laughing. Martha pulled up and let me out. I went to the office and explained my situation. The owner was very nice, even gave me a larger gas can than the one I was carrying. As he filled the can (remember this was 1973 when gas station attendants actually worked) he said, “You can just pay me when you come back to fill up” (people were still trusting in 1973 as well).

When the can was full I asked for a lift back to the van. “Oh we can’t leave the station, but I’m sure Martha would love to take you.” He chuckled. “Hey Martha,” he called out, “will you take this young man back to his vehicle, none of us can get away?” By now the other three were in the open doorway laughing outright.

“Sure thing. Hop in sweet thing.” I did and Martha took me back to the van. Nothing eventful happened (thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster) and Martha was really a kind, sweet woman who probably saved our lives.

We drove back to the Texaco station, where they were still laughing. We filled up and were on our way. It took us until 4:00am (six more hours than anticipated) to reach Frank and Nancy’s place (that’s the very same Nancy that was the best man at our wedding eight months later).

When I unloaded the van I took the turkey in first, when I returned with another load Nancy said, “I thought you said you were going to get a fresh turkey; this one’s frozen.” The bird had been sitting beside me on the floor over a leak to the outside and after sitting for more than eight hours in freezing temperatures…it froze.

We left the bird out to thaw; however, it was not to be. We had hot dogs and beans for Thanksgiving, and turkey with all the trimmings on Friday. And that is how “The Friday Thanksgiving,” came to be.

Mayo and I moved back to Los Angeles (Hermosa Beach) at the beginning of 1975 and began having our traditional family Thanksgivings with my folks at their house.

In 1977 my mother was too ill to go through the rigors of Thanksgiving dinner preparation so we decided to have Thanksgiving at our place in Hermosa. This is when the tradition of having our orphan friends over really began (friends with nowhere to go for Thanksgiving). That year we had my mother and father, and our friends George and Renee Kauffman and their daughter Lizzie. It was a wonderful day, and my Mother seemed better than she had in months.

After dinner my father went to the living room to watch football (take a nap), Lizzie went out back to play with the dog and the rabbit, and my Mayo, my Mother, George and Renee, and I sat at the kitchen table having coffee and chatting. George pulled out a joint (marijuana for the uninitiated) and lit up, passing it around. When it came around to my Mother, she laughed and declined. Then I noticed a funny thing, whenever someone exhaled the smoke they did so in my Mother‘s
direction…it wasn’t planned, it just happened. She got a contact high. By the time we were done she knew she was high and asked if she could have one to take home, because it made he feel better than she had since her diabetes had gotten worse. I supplied her for the following six months until her death in 1978. She swore it helped more than anything the doctors gave her.

In 1978 we bought our first home, and Thanksgiving that year and every year after (and soon Christmas and Easter as well) became the “Day of the Orphans.” We invited more and more friends who were alone for the holidays to our festive dinners. 

The tradition has been modified over the years due to circumstances beyond our control; for example being separated by three thousand miles for two years from 1994 to 1996 because of work. But through it all we three have always managed to be there for one another and to see to it that as many of our friends and acquaintances as possible had as wonderful a Thanksgiving as we did.

As wonderful as the entire Holiday time of year is, it is for me Thanksgiving that brings out in us our true humanity: that is, every man, woman, and child on the Earth has the right to have reasons to be thankful. Therefore, it is Thanksgiving more than any other day that makes me hope for peace on Earth, and good will toward all; so that we may all have the joy in our hearts that makes us caring and sharing citizens of our Big Blue Marble as it makes its way through the Multiverse.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING Type here

REGAINING THE TRUTH AND THE REPUBLIC

Misanthropic Boomer

We have a great deal of hard work to do in order to re-establish the rights of the people of our Republic. Over the past thirty plus years we have been silent, impotent witnesses to our own gradual destruction. If we do not wish to return to the feudalistic society of a thousand years past we must become active; we must seek the truth and refute the lies that are bringing the nation to the brink of such a second feudal age.

A 2011 survey out of Fairleigh Dickinson University indicated that people are more well informed who watch no news than FOX News watchers. Now eight years and a new President later things have not only not improved, but also with a mendacious head of state, and the acceptance of “alternate facts” (facts are facts…there can be no alternate) the situation is much worse. More recent studies by Emory and Stanford Universities indicate that FOX has a much more influential effect on Democratic voters than do MSNBC and CNN on Republicans…it is apparently easier to move voters to the right than the left.

FOX Entertainment is definitely the main propaganda arm of the GOP. This is, for the most part the legacy of the late Roger Ailes (even the "Rapacious Rupert Murdoch" was afraid of Ailes). Ailes spent most of his career as a political hack for the GOP. He worked for Nixon, Reagan, and Geo. H.W. Bush. And it was Ailes that drove the FOX propaganda machine. It was Ailes that intuitively recognized what neurobiologists are just finding out…if one repeats a lie often enough the lie doesn’t become truth, even worse the truth becomes irrelevant.

We must also recognize that the problem is much bigger than FOX. We have become ignorant through our own laziness; so that we accept, more often than not, whatever we are told. Social media also plays a large part in this, as became evident in the 2016 election. In addition, the advent of sites such as Facebook make it easier to spread misinformation as it creates tribal groups that pull in like minded people who then help to disseminate the falsehoods and propaganda. Once again, this seems to work more effectively for the Right. That is, perhaps a result of a longing for the status quo, while the Left is forever pushing change. People tend not to like change because it implies that something is wrong with the way things are…no one likes to be told they are wrong. It is, therefore a much more difficult message to sell, and lends itself less to a good propagandas story. That is, in part, how the 1% got where they are. A façade of the “good old days” has been created for them to hide behind. We cannot just blame FOX and Right wing talk radio; we must understand the part we played in allowing this to happen in the first place.

Remember Roger Ailes? He was counseling Reagan during the Air Traffic Controllers (PATCO) strike way back in 1981. This was in actuality the beginning of the destruction of Unionism in America: no mean feat. Ronald Reagan had always been pro union (he was president of the Screen Actors Guild, a very powerful union) because he knew that it was the unions that created the middle class through the process of collective bargaining. This it seems was anathema to Ailes, and it seems to Reagan as well once he began taking Ailes advice. Ailes was known as both a bully, and a re-inventor of truth. It is those who are today following in Ailes footsteps on whom we must shine our light; those who skulk in the dark, and manipulate the light.

The tools for accomplishing this are the very ones that are routinely used against us. Truth is a powerful weapon when handled properly. We must spend less time complaining and more time learning about what works. As I said, no one likes change as it is an automatic refutation of the situation requiring it. Therefore we must learn to present change in such a way as to make it palatable. For example rather than the current approach to gaining control of the firearms issue by attempting to sway people who are convinced that the Left wants to take away their guns by using statistics and what we believe to be reason, a better approach might be to agree with most of what the Right fears.

That is, we should first and foremost clearly state our recognition and support of the Second Amendment; acknowledge the value of a well armed citizenry. And then point out that a benefit of a national gun registry database will be to insure that owners weapons cannot be confiscated as it will be part of the legislation that creates the registry…it will be a protection for them. Additionally, since one must be licensed to drive a car, drive a motorcycle, go fishing, and engage in other specialized activities requiring greater than mere general knowledge, a gun license with appropriate testing and fees could be required to insure the safety of our citizenry; all fees would go toward providing firearms training, ranges, etc. This may not be the best example but I believe you can get an idea from it that the approach is different than the one currently in use; which has never worked and caused a great deal of animus. Think about the fact that no one has ever proposed or promoted the idea of taking away American’s firearms, yet the NRA has the Right convinced that every Democrat in the nation wants to repeal the Second Amendment.

Perhaps one way to shine the light on all of the lies, and to fight the mendacity and disinformation is to get as many people as possible to utilize the internet and Social media on a continuing and organized basis, to flood the mainstream media as well as FOX with emails calling out the liars. This also needs to be done regarding those both running for, and already in elected office. And it cannot be done with a brickbat, finesse must be the watchword.

Since we know that people have jobs and families, and so for the most part are very busy we cannot expect them to participate in something like this without doing most of the work for them. I would suggest something like the petition sites currently used to communicate with elected officials could be created with boilerplate messages and challenges to misinformation as it arises as one method of changing people’s minds through truth. The creation of a moderate group of both Left and Right leaning individuals to ensure the veracity of what is being said and or published would provide credibility. Everyone could then be encouraged to send proof of public lying to such a group, who could then research the accusation, draft an email of correction available for everyone to sign and send individually. That email would be addressed to the mainstream media outlets, FOX, the White House, and the person who told, or exploited the lie.

I know this sounds like a lot of work, but nothing is going to change for the better unless we get off our collective asses, and do something. We need to participate if we are to be free. What I am proposing above is a kind of civil disobedience, in that if done properly it could bring down servers everywhere. We must figure out a way to make it painful to lie to the American people.

WEAPONIZING FEAR OF THE “OTHER”

Misanthropic Boomer

A friend recently sent me the following link https://www.facebook.com/OccupyDemocrats/videos/2385511251509897/, posing the question, “WHADDA YA THINK.”

It is a recent interview on MSNBC with the actor and Social Activist Jeff Daniels. In it he states that he believe racism is being weaponized by the political Right in order to divide and control the United States. I believe Jeff Daniels is correct. However, he didn’t go far enough in his explanation. It is more than just the Republican far right exploitation of racial fears. I noticed this when Barack Obama was elected President. People who had for many years claimed to be unbiased, began to let their true leanings of fear of the “others” show. It rapidly expanded in scope to include anyone deemed “different,” by White America 

This seeming “change in attitude” toward Obama began to spread to encompass white racist feelings about all “others.” Although much had been accomplished in the area of reducing prejudice (mostly because the Democrats held sway), there was a growing undercurrent of general bias towards those who did not fit the White control paradigm. The religious Right became more vocal regarding what they saw as the deterioration of White control using moral issues as a major justification for their attitudes and actions.

Looking back historically from the concept of Manifest Destiny forward it is evident that regardless of what The Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights and the Constitution in general proclaimed,; or what the Founding Fathers May have intended, our White European antecedents were bent on insuring there was no resistance to their control...ever. One excellent example of this can be seen in how the Indigenous Peoples were treated.

In order to accomplish the nation’s goal of moving ever Westward, the government consistently supported the atrocities perpetrated upon the “Red Man;” including that sobriquet as a method of dehumanization. The United States government intentionally provided blankets exposed to small pox, broke up the tribal nations, and established reservations intended not merely to control, but rather to demean the inhabitants and thus eliminate what White European settlers saw as an impediment to expansion. They did not want to share the land they were stealing, so as in nearly every action of this type engaging in the theft of wealth, genocide was the order of the day.

One of the most insidious tactics exercised by the government  was the endorsement of the destruction of the  Indigenous People’s main economic base...the Buffalo. General Phillip Sheridan (famed, decorated Union Civil War hero) was one of those charged with dealing with the “savages.” Sheridan took his lead from his mentor General William Tecumseh Sherman, who destroyed everything in his path during his famous “March to the Sea.” Sherman’s attitude was that if one destroys the enemy’s assets the enemy must fall. Therefore Sheridan encouraged, participated in, and facilitated the destruction of the Buffalo as a method of controlling and wherever possible destroying the enemy’s economy; resulting in the destruction of the enemy: the Indigenous People

This is all documented and can be found if one does the research. However, this is not what is taught in our schools (one more example of controlling “others” by rewriting history).

There are many more examples of the cruel manipulation of those deemed “inferior,” or threatening to the status quo. The 17th Amendment is another excellent example. When the push for equal rights began, following the Civil War, the Suffragettes and Black Americans became natural allies. However, smart politicians saw the alliance as a danger to White male dominance. In order to circumvent the threat they gave Blacks the right to vote, but not women, thus alienating the Suffragettes (women didn’t get voting rights for another fifty years...plenty of time for their perceived betrayal by Black Americans to fester). In this way the White politicians created a further prejudicial divide, which has been exploited to their advantage ever since.

There are many more examples of White male exploitation of the masses in order to maintain their supremacy...always backed by the Christian Right: the turning away of Jewish refugees during WWII, the Manzanar atrocity, etc.

I could write a great deal more on this topic, however, I’ll stop here as I believe I have answered the question of, “WHADDA YA THINK?”

IT’S OUR COUNTRY TOO

Judge TS Ellis committed what I consider a travesty upon the justice system of the American people. Ellis completely ignored the sentencing guidelines provided by the Prosecution and gave Paul Manafort a mere forty-seven months (minus time served) for the eight felonies of which he was convicted. This is justice for a life spent cheating on his income taxes, defrauding financial institutions, representing foreign governments as they attempted to get over on the U.S., and passing election related polling data to a representative of the Russian government? Ellis said that Manafort, who worked for pro-Russian oligarchs attempting to influence the United States to allow Vladimir Putin to have a free hand in his attempts to regain the Soviet sphere of influence beginning with the Ukraine, led an “otherwise blameless life.” Lenny Bruce hit the proverbial nail on the head when he opined, “The only justice in the Halls of Justice is in the halls.”

Manafort is a convicted liar, thief, and a traitor to his nation, but other than that, he led a blameless life. Manafort was sentenced to forty-seven months in prison; meaning he could potentially be out in half that time (less if he receives a Presidential pardon). If   Paul Manafort were a person of color who stole a car he would have gotten fifteen, or more, years in prison. There is no justice in the U.S. Justice system. There is no equal justice under the law. Judge Ellis may be comfortable with this obvious miscarriage; I am not. I am disgusted not only with Judge Ellis, but with my country as well. They have allowed a Mercenary to beat the system. Manafort has no allegiance to this nation. This is especially galling in that Manafort is obviously an agent of the Russian government who gets to keep his ill gotten gains. This is one of the most stunningly obvious cases of White Privilege I have ever encountered. Juxtapose the case of Paul Manafort with that of sixteen year old Kalief Browder to understand how terribly broken the U.S. Justice System really is.

Sixteen year old Kalief Browder spent more than three years imprisoned on Rikers Island in New York for allegedly stealing a backpack.  The young African American’s case was ultimately dismissed without ever going to trial. In the mean time his life was stolen from him by a bureaucracy that only seems To function properly if one is wealthy and white. After suffering at the hands of this system Kalief Browder, unable to deal with the injustice took his own life at the age of twenty-two. Paul Manafort, on the other hand, committed tax fraud to the tune of over thirty million dollars, among the eight felonies of which he was convicted and in essence gets a free ride...not to mention the very real possibility of a Presidential Pardon. The nation that was supposedly built upon the rule of law, of which we continually puff out our collective chest with pride, is a cruel joke for any but those who are rich and white. I sincerely hope that someone can explain the two divergent justice system outcomes to the family of young Kalief Browder. I know no one can adequately explain it to me.

The Congress of the United States is just a guilty as Judge Ellis, Paul Manafort, and Donald J.  Trump for the outcome of both the Manafort  trial verdict, and the attendant unjust justice system that destroyed Kalief Browder’s life. Ellis and Manafort have helped Donald Trump to once again defecate  on the U.S. Constitution, and the people of the United States. Much of the collusion began before Trump showed up...it is certainly a fact that the Republican Senate did everything possible to prevent Barack Obama from having a successful Presidency. And, the gang leader, Mitch McConnell is the worst of the lot. McConnell, as much as Trump, Manafort, et al is a traitor to this nation, her people, and the very questionable “rule of law.” Examining the actions McConnell has taken since becoming the leader in the Senate one must wonder what illegal, back door activities in which he is involved.

I don’t know if I can ever have any respect for my nation again. The bad deeds just keep coming and the perpetrators get less fearful and bolder each day. the vermin are getting fat in a swamp they were supposedly going to drain. Finally, there is enough disgusting behavior to go around: there are the supporters of this administration, from the Hannity’s and Limbaugh’s to the brain-dead electorate that support Trump and his sleazy associates (eight of whom have already been indicted and/or plead guilty to crimes associated with their positions in the administration).

I can almost understand Hannity and Limbaugh’s actions because it fattens their wallets. But for the life of me I cannot understand how the alt-Right can let these people give our enemies secrets, allow their pockets to be picked and support a grifter like Trump who tells dozens of provable lies daily. And, just to be fair, in addition to the overt support of Trump and the White Privilege gang by those mentioned above, we must add the rest of America...the Americans who are apparently too lazy or content to get off their collective asses and do something about the failures of which I have spoken. There should be loud, directed, boisterous protests; boycotts of businesses and of government systems. Think of the havoc to the bureaucracies if the American people, in unanimity filed both their Federal and State income taxes just one day late. Or, perhaps like the citizens of Iceland, we could organize a series of  “Pots and Pans” rebellions, nationwide.

This nation was built upon a promise of equality governed by the rule of law, and over our two plus centuries of existence that promise has been stolen. It was done ever so slowly so as to be unnoticeable at first; much like the proverbial frog in the pot of cool water heating on the stove slowly enough so the frog doesn’t realize it’s being boiled alive until it’s too late. However, now emboldened by success the thieves no longer hide in the shadows and slow cook the frog...the heat is up all the way. Are we going to let our posterity’s future be stolen? Are we to become a tenth century feudal society? Will we become the sheep for which the only end is sad and bitter? I certainly hope not. They cannot hurt me for I am nearly seventy-three years old; but they can hurt my children and grand children...that I cannot allow. Please join me in stopping this mad dash to hell. You can start by sharing this post, and by telling those with which you do, exactly why you are passing the message along. I wish you all well.

TRUMP NEVER DISAPPOINTS

Misanthropic Boomer

Set the barrier as low as one can and Trump will still manage to crawl under it. I wouldn’t begin to call the spectacle Trump put on Tuesday evening a State of the Union Address. Trump stood in the People’s House and told lies, embellished what few truths he told, and stooped to making threats against the opposition. And, I wouldn’t call his cohorts in Congress, Legislators. The Republicans in attendance applauded and stood for the Orange Buffoon like so many Pavlovian dogs, while having done nothing of note for the two long years of His Majesty’s Presidency.

As the title of this pieces indicates, Trump never disappoints. He is a vain, egotistical, narcissistic, misogynistic, self serving blowhard who began the evening by stepping all over tradition and insulting Speaker of the House Pelosi when he ignored her at the podium, and just began to bloviate without introduction, or the accustomed acknowledgement of a new Speaker. When he did deign to acknowledge Speaker Pelosi it was with a condescending smirk and remark about how the past must be put aside in favor of cooperation and compromise if anything is to get accomplished as we move ahead (a theme he would regurgitate in the form of jingoism later in the speech). What Trump failed to notice was the way the Speaker applauded with arms outstretched and hands turned horizontal, along with a slight smirk of her own that said, “say what you will little boy, your spanking still awaits.” It was like watching a Mother dealing with a recalcitrant child in public…we all know what awaits said child at home.

Trump then launched into bragging about his economic successes for the nation, completely ignoring the facts that the nation already had eight years of tremendous growth thanks to President Barak Obama, prior to Trump’s ascendancy: taking full credit for something with which he had little to do. Since this was the economic portion of the Address he then touted his tax cuts (they were really Mitch McConnell’s tax cuts). Again he moved into mendacious territory as much as his tax cuts were supposedly to help the middle-class, but did little for them while making the wealthy richer, and providing huge sums of revenue for corporate America, both through the outrageous tax cuts for corporations, and the allowed repatriation of taxes owed but unpaid and stashed offshore by these same corporations: money he promised would help the American worker through wage increases but instead went for corporate dividends and stock buybacks, greatly enhancing their bottom lines. He was also pleased to brag about eliminating the estate tax; a tax that really only significantly effects the wealthy (people like Donald Trump and Family). He has apparently forgotten that he promised that the changes in the tax code would not help the wealthy, and especially not him.

The next portion of the speech was probably the truest part of the evening’s entertainment. Trump bragged about slashing Government regulations…in this he did not lie. His lackeys have all but destroyed Senator Warren’s Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, along with jeopardizing the environment by allowing coastal oil drilling, and the opening of the protected Arctic Wildlife Refuge to drilling as well. While the media have been distracted by his potential illicit ties to Moscow, he and his merry band of maniacs have been suborning environmental laws, public school requirements and banking regulations. 

Having gotten warmed up, he next bragged how under his aegis the United States is now the world’s largest energy exporter. Here again Trump avoided the truth; we have been the world’s largest energy producer and exporter for the last seven years…President Obama even mentioned this fact in a speech which he gave in 2015; before Trump was even a Presidential candidate. Trump then regaled the audience with his success as the commander in chief who rebuilt the U.S. Military to be the strongest military on the planet. This is not necessarily something to brag about, especially since he took away the rights of transgender military personnel. In addition he lied to the rank and file Soldiers, Sailors, and Marines when he told them he fought the hard fight and won them a ten percent pay increase (the truth here is that he:  1) had nothing to do with getting them an increase, and, 2) it was only three percent, not ten as he told them.

He also gave himself a great big pat on the back for his negotiations with the North Koreans and his new friend Kim Jong Un: who has played Trump like a Stradivarius violin. Trump got nothing from their first meeting where he signed an agreement with Kim, while Kim became a major player on the World’s Stage; something his family has been shooting for since the fighting stopped in July of 1953. And additionally Vladimir Putin convinced his good friend Donald J. Trump to forgo the military maneuvers held in the region every year with South Korea, Japan and Taiwan. Trumps actually claimed that were it not for his Presidency the world would have witnessed a nuclear war between the U.S. and North Korea; apparently forgetting the exchange of threats between Kim and himself prior to the meeting where Kim made a fool of him.

Then came the fun part of the evening, Trump told the Congress in no uncertain terms that he would allow none of the People’s business to get done as long as there was what he termed a partisan investigation. He made it very clear with his jingoism that there would be “no peace and legislation while there is war and investigation.” He apparently has no use for Madisonian Democracy: no checks and balances needed. The truly galling aspect to that blatant additional misuse of the perceived powers of the President is that the Republican side of the House and Senate stood and applauded these remarks; all the while knowing that now that Nancy Pelosi is Speaker and the House is controlled by Democrats he will not get a pass as he did for the two years Speaker Paul “no backbone” Ryan and Devon “Gollum” Nunez ran the show for the Republicans.

Following a few remarks about the successes of minorities and women in the workplace and implying that he had something to do with it, he moved on to red meat  for his base. It was definitely time for his favorite subject…immigration. He stood in the Well of the Peoples House and described an Orwellian scene where hordes of filthy, undesirable immigrants with the help of the Mexican government were prepared to storm the borders and destroy his beloved nation. Nothing, as everyone knows is further from the truth. He then touted the only solution he pretends to believe is viable…THE WALL. He told America how a wall was the salvation of El Paso, Texas. He said that El Paso was one of the most dangerous cities in the United States until the wall went up between Mexico and El Paso. It turns out that this is big news to the residents of El Paso, whose city has been considered as one of the safest since around the year 2000. The only time the city of El Paso’s crime rate went up significantly since then was following the installation of a barrier in 2006/2007. The Border Patrol Chief in the El Paso area said that border fencing helps, but not a barrier wall. He points to the ultimate failure of the Berlin Wall as an example.

Trump then went on to say that his border wall will prevent drug smuggling (a lie since ninety percent of illegal drugs come in to the U.S. through legal Ports of Entry), hospital closings (no one knows where that one came from), human trafficking, and the import of MS13 gang members (does he even know or care that MS13 was a Los Angeles based gang that incorporated, so to speak, and went worldwide?).

All in all Trump’s supposed State of the Union Address was merely more of the same pernicious mendacity that got him a base in the first place. This was just another stump speech. The only reason he wanted to give the speech before Congress was so he could publicly threaten the Legislators. Once again it shows how little Trump knows about his own nation. We don’t succumb to threats. And, although he has managed to do a great deal of harm, I am now firmly convinced that These United States will survive both Trump and Putin. As Japanese Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto, who planned the attack on Pearl Harbor would reportedly write in his diary, “I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.” These are words that Donald J. Trump, Vladimir Putin, and any other despots who have the misguided notion that we are about to fall had better take to heart.