Could the results of Election 2024 have been any more dreadful for the United States?
Is it worse that voters have mindlessly reinstalled Donald Trump into the Oval Office? One of the absolute least among all Americans. Weren’t his prior four years warning enough? What didn’t he degrade then?
Our language. Our honor. Our civility. Our integrity. He smeared shit across each. Continue reading The White Bone of Truth
It heartens hearing Barack and Michelle Obama chide black men into voting for Kamala Harris. Such eminences might be enough to prod them to do what’s necessary for America and right for themselves. How many years ago because of the figures involved neither of those sentences would’ve have been written nor even contemplated? Continue reading Our Past Remains Present
Seven months into retirement I’ve discovered this endeavor demands one requirement. Discipline. Continue reading No More Need
At the end of the last post, Strength Through Fear, I mentioned a prevailing thought among a certain kind of MAGA man. The low slouching kind, one who drools and whose knuckles scrape ground.
That poor dope thinks that for a woman to have exceled, to have reached prominence, she needed to have slept her way to the height.
Such insults every woman and offends any male who knows better but also knows he may be grouped among the belly scratchers. There’s a rumor circulating we all act alike. Continue reading Dispiriting the Right
New Yorkers living in and who once resided in the Metropolitan Area know Donald Trump too well. For worse, he’s one of us. However, the farther west and south one travels, the short-fingered vulgarian somehow morphs into a worthy figure.
What better demonstrates the concept of “two Americas”? Continue reading Strength Through Fear
Now into being retired for several months, I did a few things instinctively experts suggest. First among them, I didn’t splurge.
Free of punching any timeclock, I didn’t travel. As much as I wanted to beat as many July and August weekends of Mojave Desert summer heat and hit the Coast – particularly Hermosa Beach and Oceanside – I deferred. Prudence demanded I first evaluate my new financial circumstances.
If I got deeper in the hole at this stage of life, escaping would be difficult without regular income through regular hours. I have no urge to return to the daily grind. Continue reading In a Different Desert at 65
August is the Mojave Desert’s most challenging month.
While unavoidably sweltering, it’s generally less torrid than July. August actually starts letting residents kind of imagine autumnal respite in ways July absolutely forbids.
Until the last several summers, July counted as the “monsoon month.” Indeed, rain in quantifiable measures wetted if not outright soaked this region. Away from Las Vegas in the desert proper one might’ve believed he or she heard the parched dirt greedily gulp whatever rain had fallen. Continue reading Useless Clouds
Project 2025 is a plan that intends degrading Americans’ lives. Project 2025 is a horrible phantasmagoria. It has been concocted by the Heritage Foundation, an organization dead-set on turning back the clock to a time when it was believed the United States was solely a white man’s land.
Don’t doubt this screed also didn’t benefit from malignant contributions from every selfish, intolerant, greedy, twisted clergy, conservative group in our nation.
The contents of the fetid stew concocted by the Heritage Foundation that is Project 2025 are contrary to America. Therefore, the substandard among us will adore it. Continue reading America May End Here
Not even bothering with crocodile tears. The shooting at Donald Trump’s July 13th, 2024, Bund/klan/neo-Nazi rally was rigged.
That a spectator and the gunman as fall guy were killed were ultimately seen as insignificant prices paid by others for Cadet Bone Spur’s campaign. In the Convicted First Felon’s grift world, SOP is always finding others to foot the bill no matter the cost. Continue reading Stagecraft
Give or take a few years, a wave of contemporaries will join me sloshing into retirement. Some are younger and have ever-shorter distances to go. Others, having been there for a while, welcomed me at the finish line. A few leaned into the same tape as I did.
I think we share this mutual view: we don’t believe we’ve made it; we’re grateful to have “finished” the race. As I must’ve written elsewhere, now I know why my parents were so happy when work stopped scheduling their lives. Continue reading Arc of the Ball