“I never took a test. There’s been a mistake. I’m a supporter.”
“Shut up or I’ll break every finger. Capiche?”
The guard grinned a moon of bloody teeth and pushed his nightstick against Bob’s lips. Hard.
Bob grunted but said nothing; decided he’d bide his time for now. This will all get sorted later.
It didn’t get sorted. Why would it? Along with tens of thousands of other “supporters” the only thing Bob got for his support? A free one-way ticked to the burn pits. He’d been beaten enough that when his time came, he jumped of his own accord.
One of the things that the “winning side” of a war loses is the opportunity to spend those resources spent on war instead spent on making life better for its citizens. Even if the “winners” have a very quick and lopsided victory, they will have contributed to world-wide pollution and global climate change that will negatively impact nearly everyone on the planet including most of the people on the “winning” side and their descendants. Many of the soldiers will have died, but in almost every single case, many more innocent people will have died. In some cases, those will be minimal for the “winning” side, but not always. Meanwhile, soldiers who returned to society, even if they are not physically impacted permanently are surely impacted psychologically. Among other things, if they were successful, they killed other human beings. Some of those human beings were almost certainly innocents, but even the other soldiers were mainly people forced into fighting.
In a way, they will be carrying seeds of some very bad experiences and some of those seeds will undoubtedly leak out into that person’s environment impacting, his friends and family, as well as random strangers. But the war mentality is not limited to serious effects on fighting soldiers. To some small extent, everyone is damaged. There is more stress for everyone. There is always the threat of reprisal or that someone you care deeply about will be maimed or killed. Not only are people’s sense of fear heightened; typically, so is their hatred and anger. For many, this will be directed far beyond those actually most responsible for starting a war.
During a war, people will be asked, or ask themselves, to view the killing of a whole bunch of their fellow humans as the best course of action. Some will embrace that with relish and a side order of over-generalization. Others will embrace the killing with reluctance. Few will object outright. So, after your victory, you will be living in a society that rationalizes killing others more often and more easily than they did before. Of course, it’s generally even worse for the “losing” society. Both sides lose. The “losing side” loses more and that keeps the war fueled as long as possible. But make no mistake. Both sides lose.
Democracies have often gone to war against each other. But far more often in modern times, war has been instigated by dictators. They rule by hate and fear. Having an enemy is an entry fee and a talking point. If there’s no-one else around, they’ll simply pick on the vulnerable within their own society. Through constant repetition about extremely rare cases or even just outright lies, people can actually be made to hate people who have, in reality, done them zero harm.
When facts are hidden, the imagination blossoms. The facts of meetings between the former guy and Vlademort Putrid are known. You may have forgotten. I have not.
What we do know is that the former guy’s body language consistently shows that Putin is the dominant of the two. The former guy often looks a lot like a whipped dog. His eyes are downcast. His head is down. His shoulders are hunched. He contorts himself to look lower than Putin.
His statements about Putin (and other dictators) consistently show his admiration for brutal, cruel, murderous dictators. That is in contrast to his statements about democratically elected heads of state and American politicians, including those in his own party.
We also know that the former guy was born rich; lost a fortune; then begged his daddy for more. The former guy was not daddy’s favorite child, at least initially. TFG’s mother was often sick. If the American public knows this, you can be sure that former KGB officers knows it as well.
What follows is fiction. It is fiction in the sense that American citizens have no way to find out what actually happened in the secret meetings between Putin and the former guy.
Here is a link to a series of four fictional stories. As time goes on, however, it seems more and more probably that something like this may well have happened.
“No, Mister President, don’t worry. I can speak some English. And I have my translator here. Given that you’re such a smart guy, I’m sure you probably picked up few words of Russian. You know word for yes, da?”
“Yes, President Putin. I mean, da!”
“Good. Excellent. I don’t understand how the people in your country fail to realize how lucky they are to have someone as competent as you. And realistic. Not hung up on silly abstractions. Don’t you agree?”
“Da! Da!”
“And, just as you get a lot of unfair criticism, so do I. It’s jealousy. People in other countries are jealous Russia’s strength and progress. So, they tell lies about people I supposedly murder. You know it’s all lies, right?”
“Da! Da!”
“You know, it’s odd. Your English slang word for father, ‘Dada’ sounds lot like the Russian words for ‘yes, yes.’ And, that reminds me. I heard a rumor that your dada favored Fred Junior. But you got the good genes. Eventually, your dada figured out that you were the smart one—the one destined for greatness. Isn’t that right?”
“Da. Da.”
“By the way, did you know my people call me ‘Papa Putin’? Wouldn’t it drive liberals and your other detractors crazy if you called me Dada?”
“That’s a great idea! It would drive them nuts! Serve them right, Dada.”
“Yes, indeed. I know some people may try to rein you or make you behave like normal President. Don’t do it! Keep acting cra—unique. Keep acting unique. Different. That way, your fans have no way of knowing where you stand except by listening to you that day. And when you say something crazy—unique, I mean, like ‘pollution is good for you’ your fans will instantly repeat it. They will vie for most followers or most likes and for retweets by you—best prize of all. And liberals? They’ll go nuts. And you know what they’ll do? They will also repeat what you say! It’s amazing. They’ll say:
You know what crazy guy just said? That pollution is good for you! How stupid do you have to be to think that pollution is good for you? It kills! Ridiculous to think pollution is good for you!
“And, so Donald, do you know what people who delude themselves that they are independents will remember from those antics in three months time?”
“Yes. I mean da. Da. Da! Dada. Pollution is good! Pollution is good! Which is also a good excuse to give tax breaks to the rich.”
“My God, Donald, you are smart! Too bad your people don’t realize. Well, many do of course. Eventually, once you gain power, the rest will join your ranks. Everyone will know.”
“Da! Da! Dada! I should get you something! What would you like?”
“Donald, do you remember how cool it was when you were kid and it was America versus the USSR? Olympics! UN! Foreign wars! Two sides! To USSR, you were evil. To us, you were evil. Wonderful times. Now, you’ve got these terrorist groups, lots nations with H-Bombs, and for what? It’s hell for everyone. See what I mean?”
“Da. Dada. I do.”
“And, you know, we’re like favorite band that split up. We just want to get back together band. For instance, part of Russia we call ‘The Ukraine.’ It’s actually part of Russia as you know. You do, know that, right, Donald?”
“Da! Da!”
“Good, well don’t forget in case—they are just sort of people incite us to war. We might have to liberate Russians inside Ukraine. You are smart man. You will know enough to back us up. Right?”
“Da. Da. Dada.”
“Donald, you know what? You are favorite among all world leaders. We’ll rule together long time.”
When we see that word “Family” most of us think of a relatively small number of people. Maybe when you saw it, you thought of your family of origin. Maybe you thought of your family of generation. Maybe you thought of the people who live in your home which may include some of each. When I was a kid, we had “Family Reunions” which included the extended family of my maternal grandmother. It did not extend to my maternal grandfather’s family nor to my dad’s relatives. Typically, there were 30-40 people who showed up. I know of “Family Reunions” which are much larger, involving hundreds of people. Years ago, when I wrote in this blog of “Family Matters” I mentioned a subset of people who attended my “Family Reunions.”
Occasionally, people think of humanity as their family. I have been lucky enough to visit a respectable number of countries (28) and I’ve met people from over a hundred and in every single instance, it’s very easy to see that they are basically like me both physically and mentally.
Like many people, I was brought up in a religious tradition that reinforced the idea that all of us are in this together. Beyond my personal experience, it is just plain fact that human beings share most of their history (4 billion years) before we began diverging slightly a hundred thousand years ago. Beyond that, we are all sharing the planet. While, borders may keep some people out (or more commonly, keeping them in), in the long run, the water, air, and pollution is shared world wide across all “boundaries” of religion, philosophy, or nation.
It may be difficult for some to accept that all humans are part of their extended family.
The truth is that our actual family is far broader and wider than the 8 billion people on the planet today. We share more than half of our “family history” with every single creature and plant on earth today. When you think about vertebrates, for instance, we have similar bodily systems. We mate. We eat food. We eliminate wastes. Even those who live in the water actually breathe air that’s dissolved in the water. We learn. We flee. We are curious. We are aggressive. We solve problems.
The earth is basically covered with living organisms. That is our family. It can be a source of inspiration and comfort if you let it be. And, you can love that family.
Excuse me. Can I trouble you to listen to me for one minute? Yes? Fine. Just wanted to warn you about a danger you might not be aware of.
Snakes. Sharks. Poisons. Drugs that addict you. Diseases that afflict you.
You’ve heard of these. Did you know the government is doing it? No? Where do you think it all comes from? You’re a smart man (or you’re married to one). You don’t do stupid things, right? It isn’t your fault there are snakes, sharks, poisons, drugs, and diseases throughout the land. Of course not! Is it your family? No. Of course not. Is it your neighbor? No. Of course not. It’s foreigners and their liberal enablers.
Did you know that? They are hurting you on purpose.
Luckily, there is a solution. Oh, yes. A final solution. Once and for all, I can rid you of snakes, sharks, poisons, drugs and violent crime. Protect you forever. Of course, the government will try to stop me. But you’re too smart to let that happen. Just give me a little of your money. And give me your vote.
They will try to hurt me because I am your protector. But I won’t let that happen. I will protect us both. I just need you to help me help you. I just need, just for a little while, to be above the law. Then, I can be effective as your protector. And get everything we both want. We’ll get rid of all the people trying to hurt you. The bad people. They’ll be gone. The different people. They’ll be gone. The liberal people. They’ll be gone.
And when they’re all gone, of course, you’ll have far fewer problems. Far fewer. And, if your woman gets out of line, you will have the power to fix that right away. Put her where she belongs. She won’t have any choice. She won’t have any voice. It might take a little while, but not too long. I’ll fix things the way you like ‘em real fast.
Hey, you want in on the action? I need some folks to beat up some of the bad people. Can you do that for me? You can? That’s great. That’s great. You won’t be sorry. We’re going to take this country back for the real folks like you.
There we go. Wasn’t that fun? It’s kind of a waste to have two political parties, isn’t it? There’s no need. We all know what’s what. You’re a businessman, like me. Tired of taxes? No problem. I’ll cut them. Tired of rules and regulations? We’ll get rid of those too. Oh, your business will do so well!
See? Just like I said, your profits are soaring. A lot. So much, you might want to give me a little more of them just to keep things perfect like they are. A little more. Yeah, but you’ll still be way ahead. Say, that’s a cute receptionist you’ve got there. Want her? Well, now you can have her. No problem. None of that bull about consent. We know they all want it, right?
You know, your daughter’s kind of cute. I’d like to hire her myself and show her the ropes. Of course, I’ll treat her with the same respect as though she were my own wife/daughter.
What do you mean, she said I assaulted her? Nonsense. She’s not really my type. You know, for a white guy, your skin sure is dark. You’re just tan? Is that your story? No problem. We’ll just do a little DNA test. Well, look there. You’re actually not so very white after all. Well, the test doesn’t lie. We did the test. Afraid you’re going to have to be shipped out to the camps for people like you. No, don’t worry. We’ll take care of your wife and daughter. Oh, don’t worry. We’ll take care of your business too. Just sign everything over to me. Or, not. I can sign for you. What do you mean, that’s not your signature? Of course it is. I say it is. That’s the end of the debate.
What do you mean, you’ll vote for someone else next time? That’s treason, you know. You didn’t know? It doesn’t matter. People in the camps can’t vote anyway. Good bye. What other country? No, you can’t leave to go to another country. Don’t be silly!
We have walls to keep you in. And lots of guards. Lots and lots of guards. With searchlights. And machine guns. And trained dogs. We know what’s best for you. You just need a little re-education in our camps. So you remember better who is in charge of your life now. For your own benefit of course. You might get out eventually. Or you might get poisoned or beaten to death. It all depends on how loyal you are. And whether your family can prove their loyalty. To me. To me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Oh, how I love the lyrics of that song. Me. Me. Me.
Sunshine was one of my reasons for moving to San Diego. It wasn’t the most important, but it was important and I appreciate the Sunshine. For the past week, however, Sunshine took a long-awaited vacation. Apparently, Sunshine was running some sort of scam on the weather forecasters, calling up and saying, “Hi! It’s Sunshine! I’m feeling so much better today! I’ll be at work as usual tomorrow. You can count on it.
And then, when daybreak arrives the next day, it doesn’t. That is to say, when it should arrive, it doesn’t because Sunshine has overslept. Again. I suspect it might be because of all-night partying last night on the other side of the world.
You would think that the weather forecasters would catch on. You might even think that they would have seen the famous “Charlie Brown” cartoon meme in which Charlie Brown’s frienemy Lucy, promises him, year after year, that she will dutifully hold the football and not pull it away—not this time. And, dutifully, year after year, Charlie Brown decides that this will, or at least might be, the year that Lucy finally does the right thing.
But of course, she doesn’t do the right thing. And, Charlie falls flat on his back every time. Lucy smiles.
So apparently, this week, did the Sunshine. Taking vacation elsewhere and not showing more than a stray ray or two in San Diego allowed for the deluge. Other places farther north had it much worse, in terms of rainfall and damage. Worldwide, what we now call extreme weather may, in many places, become more “normal” and extreme weather will become deadlier.
In any case, I am have been just as foolish as the weather forecasters and Charlie Brown. Every day, my phone app has said the rain would be over in a day or two. And, then, two days later…same forecast is dutifully presented. But not the promised reality.
Sadie, meanwhile has been very patient about the fact that our walks have been typically much shorter all week. She has also been patient about not being allowed to dig in the dirt. More accurately, she wasn’t allowed to dig in the mud. There was no “dirt” around. It’s not idle digging. She hears and smells gophers and goes after them. Unsuccessfully. Every time. She’s dug for gophers more than the San Diego weather forecasters trusted Sunshine’s repeated false assurances that tomorrow the rain would end; indeed, even more often than Charlie Brown has over-trusted Lucy.
She persists. She enjoys the process. Maybe the weather forecasters enjoy knowing that they made everyone feel hopeful that could play tennis in a few days (or have a picnic or mow the lawn or harvest their fruit in sunshine). Maybe Charlie Brown enjoys being the kind of person who would give another one more chance to be good, even if they never take that chance than to be more cynical and realistic.
I can’t say what the motivations are for Charlie Brown and the weather forecasters, but I am sure Sadie enjoys the digging. She certainly has little care for how dirty her paws get or whether she spews mud on my shoes. My philosophy may be a mixture of Charlie Brown and the San Diego Cabal of Sun Predictors. I believe Sadie should spend some time “just being a dog.” In other words, she should be in at least partial charge of what she does and be allowed to follow her “instincts” unless it poses a true danger and not just because, say, she tracks mud into the house.
As I was watching Sadie dig, and I was sliding sideways to prevent becoming inundated with wet dirt, it occurred to me that I too, had some years of “just being a dog.” My parents, I think, thought of it as time for my “just being a kid.” In some cases, I heard adults say, “Oh, it’s just boys being boys” when we played in the dirt, fought with sticks, or had “rock wars” wherein we literally threw rocks at each other.
Not all adults were on this plan 100%. My own parents would let me play in the dirt often times, but they did not want me to participate in rock fights or stick duels. Evading those restrictions was trivial. We weren’t trying to be bad. But we knew our friends would not to try to blind us with sticks or stones. We believed implicitly that since we weren’t intentionally trying to blind each other, it wouldn’t happen.
Though there were local variations in the strictness of restrictions, we were always able to do some version of “just being a kid” which truthfully, was not all that different from “just being a dog.”
I had just as little care about muddying my shoes or fingernails as Sadie does about muddying her paws. I’d say my “dog years” were mainly between six and thirteen. Before six, my parents or other caregivers wouldn’t leave me alone long enough to get in real trouble. I mean, I managed all the usual little things like peeing into electrical outlets, throwing stuff down the “registers” (heating vents) to see what would happen, and writing in books and on walls, but there was no opportunity to have rock fights or get muddy from head to foot.
From ages six to thirteen, however, I spent a lot of time outdoors unsupervised. Plenty of time to be a dog. A few years later, however, it dawned on me that girls might find me more attractive if I were less muddy. My mother might have planted that suggestion.
There’s no doubt that many of the “instincts” I had were not very effective guides. They weren’t as effective as the knowledge that science and society had developed over centuries. On balance, I still believe having some dog years is a risk worth taking.
