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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Category Archives: COVID-19

Overheard Conversations of Fiction

13 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, story, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

cheat, collution, con man, conversation, fiction, graft, GRU, KGB, Putin, story, treason

“Nyet, nyet, Puppy. I told you. Polls mean nothing. You just stick to your strength: Cruelty.”

person s hands covered with blood

Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on Pexels.com

“If you say so, Poppa Putey Bear. But it’s hard. You know? Everyone’s out to get me.”

“I told you before. Don’t listen to anyone who disagrees with you.” 

“I know. I know. But it’s so hard to be Dick-tater. Maybe, I should have more rallies. But we still have the damned CHINA virus. If I have a rally, a rally it might kill some of the people who’d vote for me. Maybe none. Maybe all. Maybe some. Who knows? We’ll see.” 

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“Da! Da! Hold a rally! Great idea. Just have them sign a waiver. They won’t read it! They’ll just sign it. Make a joke about it. Blame it on the lawyers. They’ll laugh with you. And, you’ll be safe from lawsuits. A few hundred of your followers dying is a good thing. Powerful. It shows how much you value their lives — not at all. And that will make all the others realize that you are super-powerful because you can get folks to kill themselves! Another day, another step toward Dictator.”

“I hate being President. I want to be Dick-Tater!”

“You will be. Just be patient.”

“But what if they wake up and realize I haven’t actually done anything to make their life better. Not in three years.”

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“They don’t care! They only care about what you tell them to care about. Tell them — this is a good one — tell them you would have made their world perfect but you just don’t have enough power. Tell them you need absolute power to make their world perfect. Just keep telling them how great it’s going to be and how great they have it now. Just keep telling them there is no virus. And even if they do get sick, tell them they can take a bogus drug or drink bleach.”

“But what if one of them dies from taking the drug?” 

“Now, Puppy, we’ve talked about this before. What do you always say?” 

“It’s not my fault. It’s Obama. It’s China. It’s WHO. It’s a liberal hoax. It’s the fake media. It’s Hillary’s fault. It’s the CDC’s fault. It’s George Soros’s fault. It’s Muslims. It’s Black People. It’s NATO’s fault. It’s the UN’s fault. It’s the governor’s fault. It’s the mayor’s fault. It’s the ANTIFA! It’s the Mexicans. It’s the immigrants. It’s the Deep State. It’s the anti-conspiracy theory conspiracy!”

coronavirus

Photo by CDC on Pexels.com

“Okay, okay, Puppy. I can only stand so much of your BS. I have things to do, Puppy. Don’t call until you have something important to say. Understand?”

“Yes, Poppy Putey Bear.” 

“Good boy. Now go kick Billious Barr or Missy Lindsey to make yourself feel better.” 

selective focus photography of black rotary phone

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


Series of Fictional Stories that are meant to illustrate how the mind of a fictional child sociopath works.

Donnie Plays Bull-dazzle Man!

Donnie Plays Soldier Man!

Donnie Plays Doctor Man!

Donnie Learns Golf!

Donnie Visits Granny!

Donnie Gets a Hamster!

Donnie Boy Plays Captain Man

Donnie Takes a Blue Ribbon for Spelling

 

 

ANTIFA?

06 Saturday Jun 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

America, ANTIFA, Democracy, fascism, life, politics, racism, relationships, truth, USA, work

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/twitter-fake-antifa-acount-white-supremacists-removal/

The content of the article corresponds to the URL. This got me to thinking: why has no-one ever asked me to be in ANTIFA or at least send them money?

usa flag waving on white metal pole

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

I’ve had junk email from all sorts of organizations asking me to join and send them money. Most of them are on the left but I get such stuff from the right as well. I get spam for products and services I’ve never asked for and have no interest in. Spam-friendly e-mail tells me about conferences and journals completely outside my field. 

In all this sea of e-mail, I have never once had anyone ask me to join ANTIFA or send them money. I didn’t think we needed an organization dedicated to being against Nazis. I thought our country is anti-fascist. Or, at least it was from 1941 through 2016. 

We fought a war. Millions died. We won. The Nazis lost. As well they should.  And, in the end, as they surely must. Like cancer, they are incapable of life on their own. The body’s immune system rejects the cancer — usually. If so, then the cancer dies. Sometimes, however, the cancer kills the host. And then it dies anyway. Cancer always loses though sometimes it destroys innocent life along the way. 

Cancer always loses in the end.

If you put power as a higher value than truth; if you think “might makes right,” then all you are is a parasite on the cooperation, hard work, good will, and creativity of others — the country around you now, the inventions and productivity increases of those who contributed before you — people inclined to do the best job they could. 

You also owe a hell of a lot to the moral position of America in the world. And by “owe” I mean you literally would not have a lot of the stuff you love about your life if it hadn’t been for those people who worked to make American products and services world class. 

If fascism replaces democracy in America, many of those good things will disappear. It’s cancer, pure and simple. Such a philosophy of “might makes right” makes nothing. All they can do is steal effectively. 

Yeah. Fine. You may hold a gun to a baker’s head and get him to bake you bread. But the quality of that bread will deteriorate over time and the first chance the baker gets, they’ll poison the damned bread.

bread food fresh hands

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Even if you’re one of the thieves, you’ll have to look over your shoulder every minute of your pathetic life. You never know who is going to betray you or who made a side deal with whom. You are going to put way more energy into making sure you know who is on whose side and how the winds are shifting and how to kiss your boss’s a$$ most lovingly, and you’ll have almost no energy left over to improve your craft or care for your family. And, whenever the choice comes between explaining to your boss why his idea won’t work and simply keeping your mouth shut, you’ll keep your mouth shut and as a result, productivity will go down, or service will suck, or lives will be lost. Over time, if you value compliance over effectiveness, then eventually, you will have a very ineffective, very compliant workforce. Less and less will get done. Don’t you remember the pictures of East and West Berlin before the wall came down? We don’t have to guess what happens in dictatorial regimes. We know what happens. A very few people live very well and everyone else is much more miserable. It’s no accident. It’s designed that way. You will suffer from fascism. Your family will suffer from fascism. 

abstract barbed wire black white black and white

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Speaking of family, since power trumps love at work, you will find yourself being more short-tempered and crueler to your kids and your spouse. At first, you might even think this is cool because you get your own way now by screaming and pounding your fist and if that doesn’t work by pounding the people in your family. And when those kids grow up, they are predisposed toward cruelty, and violence, and a$$-ki$$ery. But you won’t care because torn-apart families that hate each other is just fine with a totalitarian regime. Parents turn in their kids and vice versa. Spouses turn in each other. The fascist state loves that. 

Fascism doesn’t want sufficient power in order to get things done. It wants all power because all it wants is power. 

Cruelty is the point. 

woman in black tank top blindfolded

Photo by Thuanny Gantuss on Pexels.com

There is no reason Trump needs to be cruel to people in order to accomplish things. Whether it’s attacking his opponents or chastising his lackeys, he doesn’t name call and attack dead war heroes because he thinks it’s necessary to accomplish something for America. He does it because he loves to be cruel himself and he loves to evoke cruelty in his fans.

And that folks, is a Trumputinistic AmeriKKKa in a nutshell. Nut’s Hell? Needless (?) to say, racism fits right into the Nazi world view. It doesn’t matter what people do, or contribute. All that matters is how much they are “in favor” with the “powers that be.” It fits right in with mistaking a hat slogan such as “Make America Great Again” with — you know — actually making America great again.

Labelism

Meanwhile, in the civilized world, where one’s word still means something (and people value truth, love and contribution more than hatred, death, and power), people are curing diseases; inventing new sources of energy; having fun; loving each other; creating new recipes and dances and games; planting trees and building bridges. 

scenic view of waterfalls

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com

Alas, we don’t want any part of that party! We’re going to stay over here in our dark little corner of the basement and do whatever master says we should do and feed on whatever scraps he throws us. 

I don’t think so. 

The vast majority of us are still anti-fascist. 

woman raising her hands

Photo by Marlon Schmeiski on Pexels.com

———————————————

Trumpism is a new religion. Now turned to suicide pact/death cult.

You Bet Your Life  Are some so enthralled with the entertainment value of the drama, they fail to act in their own interests?

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

A Profound and Utter Failure

Rejecting Adulthood

What about the butter dish? (Think *whether* to defend before thinking *how* to defend)

The Truth Train

Absolute is not just a vodka

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

The Loud Defense of Untenable Positions

The Temperature Gauge (on transparency in government)

Where does your loyalty lie?

You Know (which wolf do you feed)

America

Life is a Dance

Author Page on Amazon

Index to a Pattern Language for Collaboration

Essays on America: Poker Chips

02 Tuesday Jun 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ Comments Off on Essays on America: Poker Chips

Tags

America, Democracy, Dictatorship, life, poem, poetry, prejudice, racism, solidarity, truth, USA

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Oh, the pride, the swelling swell of pride

To be a chosen for the window side

On this long and deadly suicide ride, 

This pact of humanity’s genocide!

ace of spade and multi colored chips

Photo by j.mt_photography on Pexels.com

Thank God you’re white! You’re white!

It proves you’re bright! You’re bright!

A Poker Chip of Whitest White! 

That shows that you will win the fight.

woman in black tank top blindfolded

Photo by Thuanny Gantuss on Pexels.com

 

Poker Chips of Red and Blue

Have nothing whatever to do with you!

You were born perfect – a White Chip too!

And Male to boot! How clever of you!

man in muscle back view

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

And, if you’re straight, that’s really great!

All will cheer when you find your mate!

If you can’t find, just buy your play date.

If you can’t afford that, just masturbate.

woman with face paint with pumpkin

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

If you’re dumb enough to say what’s true,

We may shoot out your eye, your orb of blue.

Turn it into gooey goo. You can’t sue, 

Just ‘cause you did as you’re free to do.

cold freezing frost frosty

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

Be glad you’re a White Chip; they’re the best!

Till the game is over and then, like the rest.

You’ll also be subject to false arrest.

Swept away and put back in the chest. 

abstract barbed wire black white black and white

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

How do you like being a Poker Chip, friend? 

Red, White, or Blue — all killed in the end. 

Our bus careens round another tight bend!

An exciting plunge is what will send

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Us to our cliffside fall of fabulous fame.

At last to extinguish the last of our flame. 

There’s no-one left but ourselves to blame.

Do you like “Poker Chip” now for your only name? 

tombstone on cemetery during daytime

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Poker Chip” —  doesn’t it have such a nice ring!

We must be grateful for our chance to sing!

The praises of our mad, inept, & orange king!

Putin’s Puppet, Mini-Hitler, Russian quisling!

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He’s out to kill us all, don’t you see?

He’s putting an end to democracy.

Poker Chips: we’ve now no rights nor any dignity. 

Regardless of our skin’s chromaticity. 

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

We were just toys to move and check and slay.

He told us so from his very first day. 

But you only heard he’d put them away.

You thought Poker Chips White could stay up and play. 

man wearing blue suit

Photo by Minervastudio on Pexels.com

That’s not the way it works, dear Poker Chip buddy, 

Your thinking’s been muddied by Fuddy-Duddy.

And soon you’ll see we’ll all be sick and bloody,

Look around you! It isn’t Great. It’s cruddy!

person s hands covered with blood

Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on Pexels.com

Take my hand; let’s break boxed greed. 

Regardless of color; regardless of creed.

It’s everyone’s time of greatest need. 

Stand together. At least, it’s a seed, 

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Of what we can do with Red, White, and Blue.

Working as one to get everyone’s due. 

Working as one to grow out of this goo,

It’s up to me. And up to you. It’s what we do. 

  IMG_9802

  

Author Page on Amazon

Trumpism is a New Religion

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Where does your loyalty lie?

Rejecting Adulthood

My Cousin Bobby

Labelism 

The URGENT E-mail

31 Sunday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, management, politics, psychology, story, Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, ecology, fiction, greed, pandemic, Sci-Fi, Science fiction, story, USA

man in black holding phone

Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com

“You ready to head home, Barry?” 

“Yeah, just let me read this URGENT e-mail. Hold on.” 

DO NOT REPLY TO THIS USERID. THIS WAS SENT FROM A DISCONNECTED SERVICE MACHINE. IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, PLEASE DIAL THE TOLL FREE NUMBER AT THE BOTTOM OF THIS MESSAGE. 

“What the heck? I’d better read the rest.” 

WARNING: You have an incompatibility possibility between your X-CalDYS system CWP and your YODEL system HGH. If this continues, you will either cease to exist or your SNABLE account will be cancelled or both or neither. In any case, please fix this immediately by following the proper procedures. Dial 1-800-555-9876 for help. 

“What procedures? What are they talking about? I didn’t even know I had these systems.” 

“Sorry, Barry, I can’t help you on this one. Hey, it’s 8 PM. I’ve been going since six this morning. I’m gone.” 

“See you tomorrow. I’d better call.” 

Barry’s fingers beeped out the tones and then heard the cheery voice of concatenated speech: 

“You have reached the help center. Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line and you’ll be helped by the first available agent. Meanwhile, please listen to these important and informative messages from our CEO!

man wearing blue suit

Photo by Minervastudio on Pexels.com

“Hello fellow employees. Our results for the second quarter of last year are not so far behind the analysts’ expectations for our results for the third quarter of next year as they had been thought to be by the fifth quarter of this year. What does this mean for you? Work harder! Work smarter!! And, whatever you do, help make us the most efficient company in the world so my bonus will be bigger. Next quarter, we….” 

The pre-recorded and completely irrelevant message of the CEO was replaced by the concatenated speech synthesis.

“Thank you for holding. Press 1 for help on Windows, Doors, and Sewer Pipes. Press 2 for help on recipes for Chicken Tetrazzini. Press 3 for general counseling. Press 4 for other help.” 

Barry jabbed the 4 key. 

“Thank you. You have reached general help. Please enter your employee number followed by the Hunkdab.” 

Barry keyed in his employee number. “The what? Hunkdab? This must have been mistranslated from Serbo-Croatian. Probably the pound sign.” 

“That is not a valid employee number. There is no corresponding record in the SNABLE system. Please enter a valid employee number.” 

“What? Maybe the asterisk key?” 

He rekeyed his employee number followed by the asterisk. 

“That is not a valid employee number. There is no corresponding record in the SNABLE system. Please enter a valid employee number.” 

“Oh, crap. What is this all about? Geez. It’s 8:30. I’m outta here.” 

Barry moved the cursor to the entry line and typed “LOGOFF.” 

The computer beeped. “ERROR 95433-J: Machine cannot be logged off by a non-existent user.” 

“What the–? What is this? Some kind of virus?” He hit the power switch. “What a day.” Barry packed up his laptop and opened his office door. 

Beyond the door, the dim hallways and locked doors that typified the drab and depressing departmental decor had disappeared. Instead, Barry looked out on pure whiteness, infinite and featureless in every direction. He blinked. Tentatively, he began to stick the tip of his finger into the white goo, thought better of it, and used his pen instead. The pen felt as though it was going into hot tar. It disappeared beyond the plane of his doorframe. He pulled the pen back. The half that had been enveloped in the whiteness was gone. 

He went back to his desk, grabbed some loose change and tossed a few pennies into the white space. He waited for the coins to hit something far below. Barry cocked his head. A long time went by. There was no sound. He shouted into the whiteness, waiting to hear a tiny echo. 

Nothing. 

“Okay. Okay. Possibility one. I’m crazy. Possibility two. I’m in some really new weird part of the universe. Possibility three. I’m the victim of an elaborate practical joke.” 

close up photography of a snow

Photo by Constantin Dorin Adrian on Pexels.com

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J slid to S’s work bubble and peered at S’s progressively overheated dance. S blinked at J’s presence and joined her hands. The bubble popped. 

woman with face paint with pumpkin

Photo by VisionPic .net on Pexels.com

“Problems with your A-life studies, S?” 

“Yes, Master. Just like all my previous experiments, the organization reaches a certain level of complexity and it self-destructs. Each of the autonomous agents still seems rational but the whole doesn’t work. What am I doing wrong here, Master?” 

J laughed his mighty laugh. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, S. Even I haven’t totally mastered the emergence.” 

“I guess you did have a problem…there were some creations you had to scratch. Just recently, the Sol Project, I believe?” 

“Rumor races faster than fact. I call it the Earth Project after the planet with the intelligent life forms, but you are right, I might well have to scrap it. Same problems you’re having but at a larger scale. The so-called intelligent agents are destroying their own ecosystem.” 

air air pollution climate change dawn

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“Smart!” said S sarcastically. He pondered for a few moments. “Are they too smart? Is that it?” 

J considered. “I don’t think they are too intelligent. Cetaceans are more intelligent and they are doing just fine except for being killed off by the two-legged apes and having their oceans befouled. No, these particular forms grew into this weird combination of being intelligent problem solvers and inventors yet nearly blind to Ka and Karma.” 

“How can they survive at all?” 

“Not completely blind. I said ‘nearly’ blind. They are aware of the fact that they are destroying the ecosystem in a kind of frenzied self-centered greed. They have actually made a scientific study of their own behavior; written books about what they call ‘The Tragedy of the Commons’.” 

“Well, then, with all those insights, what’s the problem?” 

“They aren’t doing anything about it, or at least not enough to survive. Instead of baking more pies, they squabble about the pie they have.”  

“It’s the same thing really in my little experiment. Everybody knows the company has too much bureaucracy and greed and some people do try to fix it but as often as not, the fixes make things worse. But, you obviously already solved it for the company case, right?” 

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Barry found the number for the crisis line, picked up the phone to dial. Then, he noticed that the whiteness was creeping closer like a sea of living, moving, Elmer’s Glue, thick and deadly. And closer. And closer. The office, just a few feet in front of him, was disappearing with a hiss. He dropped the phone, turned, then ran to the emergency exit. Then, he remembered that it was locked from the outside to prevent people from stealing equipment — though, in fact, that had never once happened. 

“What the hell?!” were the last words he uttered. 

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————————————-

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Pies on Offer: Mincemeat & Rhubarb

Index for Pattern Language for Cooperation & Teamwork

Author Page on Amazon

Screaming out a Warning

30 Saturday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

America, coronavirus, COVID19, Democracy, Dictatorship, fascism, life, pandemic, truth, tyranny, USA

selective photography of flying black falcon

Photo by Nigam Machchhar on Pexels.com

I have been screaming all my life
For you to wake up.
I see the train coming
And you lie there on the tracks
Arguing in your drunken stupor
Over this and that
Tit and Tat
While the mammoth Midnight Express
Barrels toward you full tilt
A million pounds of steel
Headed toward your soft
Mammalian bodies
And your huge but fragile egos.

group of people walking beside train rail

Photo by Guduru Ajay bhargav on Pexels.com

Do you think that if you win the argument
Somehow your flesh
Will withstand the razor wheels?
Somehow, the sheer logic of your position
Will harden you to titanium?
Or that the diamond sparkling clarity
Of your almighty rightness
Will armor that sweet soft skin?

medieval armor

Photo by Ott Maidre on Pexels.com

What kind of drug are you on?
That you don’t hear the roar
That you don’t see the lights
That you don’t feel the track vibrate?

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And I always marvelled at the squirrels
Darting into the road, zigzag,
Throwing themselves stupidly under squealing tires
When peace and safety were so close
And so, so straight ahead.
Congratulations!
We make them look like mammalian geniuses.

brown squirrel on ground

Photo by Irina Wildlife Photographer on Pexels.com

Clickity-clack down the track
We’ll all be sliced in two
And never even have eyes to look back
Never even

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Where does your Loyalty Lie? 

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Truth Train

A Profound and Utter Failure

Rejecting Adulthood

You Bet Your Life

Essays on America: Wednesday

Trumpism is a New Religion

Creativity in Issue Resolution

Build from Common Ground

Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

 

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

28 Thursday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 96 Comments

Tags

Corruption, crime, Democrat, GOP, graft, JFK, loyalty, Nixon, politics, Republican, treason, Trump, truth

————————-

usa flag waving on white metal pole

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

Remember the days when you flew a lot for your organization?

Do you remember getting bonus miles from an airline? 

Do you recall that many them (and companies in other industries) called this a “Loyalty Program”?

Why do you suppose some of them called it a “Loyalty Program” instead of a “Frequent Flyer” program? 

Did you ever work for a manager or supervisor or boss whom you felt loyalty toward? 

Why did you feel that loyalty? 

What would you do if you caught your boss stealing from the company? 

Was your relationship to your boss more personal than your loyalty to the company?

IMG_3320

Artwork by Pierce Morgan

I had many part time jobs working my way through college. One of those jobs was as a projectionist (1964). It did not pay much (less than $2/hour), but it was a fun job in many ways. I got to stride all over the large university campus, mainly to show slides or movies to classes in the School of Architecture, Law School, Medical School, etc. I had a direct supervisor, Ted, who taught me the facts of life — at least, when it came to male & female plugs, the value of looping your cords, and of carrying with you at all times on the job, a spare projection lamp, a spare sound drum lamp, and a small film-splicing kit. He happened to be a Democrat. 

Another man, tall and bald Mr. “Cramer”, served as boss for the whole A/V department. He was a Republican, like me. I liked both of the people in my “management chain.” Neither one played any stupid “power games.” So far as I could see, we all just wanted to do a good job. That applied to my co-workers as well though I only interacted with them rarely. The nature of being a projectionist then led almost exclusively to solo gigs. 

That was okay with me. If there had been two of us in a projection both hidden away from fellow students and faculty, by sight and sound, being Sophomores, we probably would have acted sophomoronically and made fun of the material being presented or ignored it entirely and played cards or solved the world’s problems in a BS session. Working alone, I listened to every single lecture on topics that I would never get to in my paid classes; e.g., American 20th Century Architects including my favorite, Frank Lloyd Wright (awesome!); Collagen as a possible cause of aging (it isn’t); Alcohol and Driving. (Spoiler alert on that last one — not a good idea). 

close up photo of martini in cocktail glass

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

In order to get paid (for attending these free lectures), I had to fill out a time card every day and sign it at the end of the week. My direct supervisor hinted that I could put down a few more hours than I actually worked. I didn’t do that. He hinted again. I still didn’t do it. Eventually, Mr. Cramer spoke to me. He explained that if the department didn’t bill for their allotted hours, the departmental budget for the next year would be cut to match the hours that were billed for the current year. I still didn’t pad my hours, though I certainly could have used the money. It did seem a bit unfair to me that the department would have their budget cut because they were efficient. On the other hand, from the perspective of the entire university, it didn’t seem like such a ridiculous system. I didn’t feel as though I was being “disloyal” to my direct supervisor or the department boss to write down my true hours. Nor, did I feel particularly virtuous in putting my hours down accurately. It was just what I felt was the right thing to do. I don’t think it actually occurred to me to try to “rat on” my boss about the policy of padding the hours. I’m not sure whether that thought ever crossed my mind, but I didn’t do it. 

It should be noted that at that point in my life, I considered myself a Republican, though I was not yet old enough to vote. My parents had both been Republican. My mother’s entire family was Republican. I was enthusiastic about Eisenhower and  went to see Nixon talk at a nearby shopping center. I was likely only about 20-30 feet away. I have zero recollection of what he said, but he had seemed wonderful at the time. 

That same year, I also went to see Kennedy in an open car motorcade down Triplett Boulevard in Akron. He didn’t give a speech; he just waved to the crowd. I was curious because I had heard that he was super handsome. To me, he looked awful and not the least bit handsome. I could not understand why women thought he was attractive. His face looked like wrinkled leather to me. I grew up Republican and was “rooting for” Nixon. (Even my mother thought JFK was handsome, though she still voted for Nixon). 

Nonetheless, like nearly everyone I knew, I was fairly well devastated by John F. Kennedy’s assassination the year before I began working in the university A/V department. I was deeply saddened by his death and wondered seriously about the “conspiracy theories” about Johnson (among other possible criminal masterminds) having engineered the assassination. I didn’t believe any of them, but I did consider many of them as real possibilities. 

But even if it had turned out that Johnson had engineered he whole thing, I wouldn’t have believed that every Democrat was a crook or an evil person. I knew people who were Democrats and they weren’t any more or less ethical than Republicans. They had a different agenda. And a different espoused philosophy. 

woman with face paint with pumpkin

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Ayn Rand had written two of my favorite books (then), The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. Great stuff, I thought at the time. I felt like I could be one of the heroes in her books. I see now that people are much more interdependent than I realized back then (although, the degree of interdependence has also increased over the last half century — a lot!). Her work, at that time, gave me a philosophy somewhat in line with what the Republican Party said it was about — a high degree of individual freedom coupled with a high degree of individual responsibility, focused on, but not limited to yourself. 

In the current days, there are still people who label themselves as “Republican” who claim to subscribe to Ayn Rand’s philosophy. As someone who used to be very simpatico to her ideas, I cry “Bullshit!” The character of folks like Mitch McConnell, Donald Trump, and Rand Paul are much like some of the villains in her fiction — nothing like the heroes. The heroes of The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged are the people who get paid a lot of money for actually producing something worthwhile; e.g., amazing buildings or a new and extremely cheap energy source. The villains are the cheats and the con men and the people who call in political favors and give contracts to people for kickbacks. The villains are the people who try to subvert the cheap new energy source to keep their oil profits!

Moreover, though it’s risky business to speak on behalf of a dead person, let me put it this way. I cannot imagine Ayn Rand agreeing to the kind of shenanigans that the GOP is trying to pull off now. She would have no doubt been against social security and for privatization. But she would not have thought it ethical to steal the money from the social security taxes and give it out to billionaires. In fact, she was for a progressive income tax. Her rationale was that the rich benefit so much more than do the poor from all the legitimate functions of government: police, fire, roads, post office, armed forces, courts of law, education(?). I’m not sure any more of her precise list, but it’s very short. It certainly doesn’t include having the government take on the job of dictating religious beliefs, or restricting a person’s sexual behavior among consenting adults, or of subverting elections, or of taking on the role of Crime Family in Chief. 

Trumputinists are not in any way shape or form taking their values or agenda from Ayn Rand. Some of them are absurdly accurate real-life portraits of her villains. None are anything like her heroes. All her heroes provided actual value. Trading money and favors and telling lies and making false promises and being a con man and a child molester — these are not value-creating activities. Not heroes. Villains. 

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Of course, there’s nothing sacred about Ayn Rand’s (mislabelled) system of “Objectivism.” There’s no particular reason why the Republican Party, or any other party, should base it’s own philosophy on “Objectivism” but it has made me suspicious about what the Republicans are really are up. They have claimed to be about individual freedom, but have increasingly been for taking freedoms away — the Second Amendment being the singular exception. Instead of being for real freedoms that actually matter such as — very importantly — Freedom of Religion and Freedom of Speech, they now generate and promulgate made up freedoms such as “The Freedom to Infect Others” or “The Freedom to be an Asshole” and the “Freedom to Call the Police when POC Exists Somewhere I Can See Them.” These are not freedoms. And they are certainly not in line with responsibility. 

So, as you might now guess, I have come a long way politically from being an Ayn Rand fan and a Republican to being a Democrat. Some of that is because I have changed. As I said, it’s far clearer to me now that we really don’t earn our money independently of each other. We don’t live our lives independently. All of us are in this together whether we admit it or not. 

It hasn’t just been me who has been changing though. When I was first forming my opinions about the two major US political parties, it was more often the Southern Democrats who were promoting racism than it was Republicans. And, it was Democrats, not Republicans, who seemed more instrumental in getting us into dubious wars, dubiously led.

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Some of the Republican values seemed to have completely reversed from before. For instance, at this point, the Republican Party is far more ready to embrace racism and racists. No serious Democratic political entity would do that — at least not intentionally. That, to me, is sufficiently evil to put the GOP out of the running for my votes.

On the other hand, until recently at least, the GOP had some quite reasonable positions. I didn’t agree with them all, but they were reasonable. How much should America put time, energy, dollars, and the lives of our citizens at risk to make the world a more democratic place? You can’t look up the answer to a question like that in a trig table. It’s a complex issue requiring a balance of long-term direction and short-term flexibility so you can do the right thing even though the “right thing” is a choice between the lesser of two evils.

How fiscally conservative should the US Government be? How much should the government try to regulate different industries and companies? How much of our tax dollars should go to research various topics in science and medicine? What do we do about climate change? There are a host of issues where it’s actually useful to get input from a variety of different sources and where working together makes sense. 

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Lately, however, the so-called “Republican Party” has made such a sweeping change, that it seems absurd to me to even call it the “Republican” Party any longer. 

For example, “How fiscally conservative should the US Government be?” is not a question that the so-called Republican party even deigns to consider. They have new position which is: “Make the economy look good and do whatever it takes to make the DOW go up all the while funneling as much money as possible to us and a few of our friends.” That is not a political position! That is a criminal position.

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“How much should the government try to regulate different industries and companies?” is not a question that the so-called Republican party wants to consider. Their position is, “How can we make Americans sick by rolling back EPA and OSHA regulations while simultaneously getting kickbacks and making the economy look better.” That is what they are about. Again, it is not a political compromise about where to be on some tradeoff function between economics and health. No. It’s a strategy for crime; for graft; for stealing your tax dollars and making the planet worse for your children and grandchildren — not better — worse. 

“How much of your tax dollars should go to various topics in science and medicine?” This no longer interests the So-Called Republican Party (SCRAP). What does interest them is to funnel as much of your tax dollars as they can to their friends and family and donors. Scientific peer review? So experts will determine what should be funded? Ridiculous! We’ll fund whomever we damned well please. Again, that is not a political tradeoff that should be debated; e.g., how much research money should go to long term versus short term research. No, it is a criminal agenda. That is what SCRAP is up to.

“What do we do about climate change?” This is an issue that everyone in every party should care about. It is about the quality of the world that we leave for our children, our grand-children, our great grand-children and all the living being son this planet! And what is the SCRAP position on how we should go about this? It isn’t a problem! It doesn’t exist! It’s all a hoax! 

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What? Seriously? 

Not so long ago, Republicans and Democrats differed in their philosophies about Judges. The Republicans generally preferred “Strict Constitutionalists” while Democrats preferred judges who would take into account the current situation in interpreting the Constitution. This is nothing like what current SCRAP are doing. They want to select as many judges as possible who will swear loyalty to them. This is tough to carry out because people often, but not always, get into the law because they respect the Law. So, “conservatives” and “strict constitutionalists” may refuse to render opinions just to please the people who got them confirmed. But the fact that SCRAP is trying to execute an ineffective criminal plan doesn’t make it any less criminal. 

Political parties evolve. They change. They will continue to change. 

Evolution takes time though. The Republican and Democratic Parties changed their positions on racism over the course of decades.

The changes I am talking about above are massive changes. And, they have taken place only since Donald Trump took office and they have accelerated after the GOP Senate refused (save Mitt Romney) to convict Trump on his impeachment charges. Perhaps even more important than the fact that they failed to convict Trump is that Mitch McConnell swore, along with all the other Senators, to hold a fair and impartial trial. And, then, Mitch McConnell, in full view of everyone, smiled and laughed and promised that Trump would be found Not Guilty and that he would coordinate his running of the trial with Trump’s defense team. He promised Trump that they would subpoena no documents and call no witnesses. 

This goes way beyond being loyal to “your team” or “your party” — this is putting the Party above the Country. This is SCRAP, not the GOP, not the traditional Republican Party. If anything, my expectations are that actual Republicans might be faulted too much for sticking to the rules and might do so even when common sense demanded a slight bending of the rules. But this is not “bending the rules.” This is throwing the whole idea that rules matter completely out the window. You may think that’s just swell. I don’t. And maybe we can debate that later. But the point here is that it is a massive change in SCRAP. 

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If you think of yourself as a Republican, you have to do some real soul searching here. Are you being loyal to the “Republican Party” that you’ve been a part of for awhile? Or are you being loyal to SCRAP? Old Time Republican Party — believed in the rule of law; believed in playing fair; believed American power in international affairs was important; believed in individual responsibility. SCRAP – believes in dictatorship; believes in cheating; believes in letting Russia dictate foreign policy; believes in magic and crime not data-based management of government. 

And, there are consequences. In the rush to fulfill Trump’s agenda (make the Trump Crime Family Rich and stay in power as dictator), people have died who did not need to die from COVID19. More people — many more than have died so far — are also likely going to die — also people who did not need to die. Is that really what you signed up for? Is that really the Republican Party? I don’t think it is. But I’m no longer a Republican. I’m looking at this from the outside. The Republicans I have known throughout my life would not support most of this SCRAP. Mr. Cramer, my old A/V boss would not have supported this SCRAP. My grandfather would not have supported this SCRAP. My three uncles who fought in World War II would not have supported this SCRAP. My mother would not have supported this SCRAP. My father, who also fought in WWII would not have supported this SCRAP.

How about you? 

Where does your loyalty lie? 

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Donnie Boy Plays Captain Man

25 Monday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, management, psychology, story, Uncategorized

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

criminal, drowning, evil, fiction, liar, maritime, ocean, sailboat, sailing, sociopath, story

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“Donnie, look, I told you. My Dad has strictly forbidden me to let anyone else steer. Get away from the wheel.”

“I know navigation, Biff. I’m following Pluto.” 

“What are you talking about Donnie? You can’t see Pluto with the naked eye?” Biff shook his head; sometimes, it was unfathomable how ignorant Donnie could be about even commonsense things.

Donnie went on. “It’s the brightest star in the sky! It’s huge. It’s Jupiter! It’s the Jupiter of stars, I mean. It’s the biggest and the best and the smartest and it’s the farthest away so it’s the brightest so we can see it!” 

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As Donnie spoke, his voice became more and more impassioned. At the end of this meaningless drivel of words, Biff found himself wondering whether perhaps everything he knew about navigation and astronomy were somehow wrong. Then he sighed and shook his head. 

“Donnie, look. We need to get back to the dock. Look at the radar. There’s a storm coming. See these?” Biff pointed to a bunch of blurs on the screen. 

It made no sense to Donald so he ignored it. Best to change the subject, he thought. “Hey, Biff, how come you didn’t bring any girls on board? I could use one about now. I mean, if we’re going to die in a matter of minutes, why not spend it making them.… Do you keep any on board, like chained up?” 

“No. God, that’s sick. Donnie, go tell the crew that we’ve got to come about. Now.” 

Donnie thought to himself, what a big prick. He thinks just because his daddy owns a sailboat, he can order me around. Yeah, we’ll see about that. Jerk. Prick. “Aye, Aye, Sir!” Donnie saluted as he said this but Biff was looking at the instruments. 

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Donnie went to the cabin door. He could see that Biff was paying no attention so he shot him the bird and thought to himself: my friend Jeffrey would have thought to chain some girls on board. Young, skinny ones. I could beat the crap out of them till they did what I want. I could be just like Daddy. 

The wind freshened so that Donnie had to shout to be heard. “BIFF SAYS TO DROP ANCHOR!” 

John and Mitt looked at each other and frowned. “WHAT?!” John yelled. 

Donnie repeated himself, “BIFF SAYS TO DROP ANCHOR!!” 

Mitt scuttled over to Donnie Boy, “That makes no sense. Look at the horizon! There’s a storm coming! We don’t…you must have misheard him. Go ask him again!”

Donnie screamed, “I’M NOT YOUR DAMNED ERRAND BOY! GO ASK HIM YOURSELF!” 

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Mitt stepped up onto a railing to get around Donnie. As he did so, Donnie gave in, as he often did, to a sudden urge to hurt someone. He wrapped one arm around the back of Mitt’s knee and shoved hard with this other hand. The boat lurched just then and instead of watching Mitt scramble to keep from falling overboard, which would have been great fun, he instead watched Mitt plummet into the ocean — which was even more fun! Donnie looked around. No-one had seen it. He held tightly onto the gunwale as he leaned over to watch Mitt bobbing among the waves. He was waving his hand and shouting something about throwing a life preserver. Hell, why, thought Donnie. He’s already wearing a life preserver. Stupid. Mitt was screaming in earnest now. Somehow his desperate voice carried enough to alert John who managed to slide and walk over to the starboard. He looked over to see Mitt floundering in the icy water. He looked at Donnie who was standing right next to a life preserver. 

“THROW HIM THE LIFE PRESERVER!” he screamed. 

Just then, the boat lurched again and the boom of the mainsail flew across the deck and caught John across the back of the head and it made a wonderful sound to Donnie’s ears as it cracked the back of John’s skull. John flew into the water in a wonderful sort of drunken cartwheel that was great fun to watch. 

Donnie figured he would go somewhere where he couldn’t get hit by the bang. Or blast. Whatever it was called. So many fancy schmansy terms. Holding on against the bucking of the small craft, Donnie managed to get back into the small cabin. 

Biff saw him out of the corner of his eye and yelled, “What the hell is going on out there? Are those guys too drunk to help me?”

“I don’t know. I told them to … I told them your orders and they said to tell you “F&&& You! They wanted to drop anchor and watch the lightening.” 

“WHAT?!! Don’t be ridiculous! Why would they do that? Did you tell them a storm was coming?” 

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“Oh, they already knew. You can see it without the radar gun, Biff. Look!” Donnie pointed one of his teeny fingers toward the horizon. The sky had turned and ugly dark orange color. 

“Oh, crap. Why aren’t they trimming the sails then?!” 

“Biff, when I talked to them, they sounded high. Like they’d been smoking marijuana or drinking beer.” 

“Okay, Donnie but where are they? I don’t see either of them?” 

“Don’t worry, Biff, I’m sure they’re doing something to help you out. But, like you said, I don’t know anything about sailing so I can’t make head or tail out of it.” 

“You’ve got to help me trim the sail! That wind’ll tear the mast right off the boat! Or, capsize us.” 

Donnie looked at Biff, “God damn, Biff. With all your money, you couldn’t afford to get a sail the right size in the first place?” 

“WHAT?! Donnie, oh CRAP!” 

There was a terrific crash and the boat seemed to be coming apart. 

A string of unprintable curse words came out of Biff’s mouth and then he screamed some primitive non-verbal cry of rage. He ground his teeth together. How the hell could this be happening!? he asked himself.  (More profanity followed). Biff clenched his jaw and his hands tightly. Damn, he thought; I’ll be grounded now for the rest of my life! Or, the summer, for sure.

As horrible as that might be, Biff was no dummy and realized it was better to be alive and spend the rest of the summer in the house than it was to be dead. “COME ON, DONNIE. HELP ME GET THE DINGHY.”

“I’M NOT LETTING YOU DO MY THINGY!” screamed Donnie. 

“DINGHY! DINGHY! You dolt, not your thingy. Where are John & Mitt?” 

Biff let out another string of the usual profanities interspersed with some nautical terms and the names of various Saints. He poked a button on the Captain’s console. He managed to have a strained conversation of sorts with the Coast Guard who said they would come give them a hand or a chopper if at all possible. 

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Relieved a little to know help was on the way, Biff cautiously worked his way out onto the deck to search for his friends. He was soon convinced that they must have fallen overboard.

He came back in the cabin. “DONNIE, I THINK THEY WENT OVERBOARD! I don’t see either one anywhere. Help me LOOK!” 

Donnie Boy put his teeny hand near his temple and said, “AYE, AYE, SIR!” 

Donnie cautiously went over to a part of the railing that had good hand holds. “BIFF!” he shouted. “BIFF! OVER HERE! I FOUND THEM!” 

Biff worked his way across the deck to where Donnie stood. Donnie held on with both hands but gestured starboard with his head. “THERE!” he shouted.

Biff leaned over to look into the waves. The waves were so high, it would be hard to see them. He might just catch a glimpse. They would soon freeze in this cold Atlantic water, he thought. As Biff leaned over for a better look, Donnie got down behind him on all fours and then stood up suddenly throwing Biff overboard with the weight of his body. He quickly stood up and watched Biff struggling in the water. “THROW ME A LIFE PRESERVER! THROW ME A LIFE PRESERVER! I FELL!”

Donnie held on with one hand as tight as he could but he couldn’t resist saluting “Captain Biff” one last time, “AYE, AYE, SIR!” Donnie shook his head. It was so easy to destroy people on your own side. They kept assuming you would work with them and you could literally get away with murder. That idiot Biff still didn’t realize that Donnie had pushed him. It was a lot more pleasant in the cabin, but Donnie braved the rain and wind to watch Biff’s stupid face as he realized right before hypothermia and exhaustion turned his features to stone that Donnie was not, in fact, going to throw him a life preserver. 

Later, safe and sound in the cabin of the large Coast Guard Cutter, Donnie tearfully explained how the storm had taken them all by surprise. Slowly, and as though against his will, he let it be known that his shipmates had been drinking a lot and smoking marijuana and that they began to get naked and engage sexually with each other because that’s what pot does to people and booze.

“It was disgusting! It was awful. They tried to force me to join them. Of course, I wouldn’t. But they were so busy fighting me that I guess they didn’t notice the storm coming. When it did, they panicked and started screaming at each other. I stayed inside the cabin. I didn’t know what to do. It’s probably my fault I guess that they’re dead. If I had given in, maybe they would have noticed the storm. But it’s so gross. I just couldn’t.”

The kindly gray-haired officer in charge put his hand on Donnie’s shoulder to comfort him. “It’s not your fault son. You did the right thing not giving in to those homos.” 

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Donnie bit his quivering lower lip and nodded sagely, “I suppose you’re right, Sir. But Biff. Mitt. John. Whatever their sins, now, they are gone. It’s terrible. Just terrible. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever really get over it, Sir.” 

Donnie was playing the part so well and then suddenly he damned near laughed out loud. He had learned to see this coming in himself and quickly bit his tongue and jammed his right toe into the back of his left calf. He didn’t want to get hurt, but he did manage to cause enough pain to wipe the grin off his face. 

He thought to himself, and not for the last time, that it’s so easy to cheat people if you pretend to be their friend. How stupid everyone is, he thought, quickly hiding his grin in his hands. He pretended to cry as the idiot Coast Guard guy again patted his shoulder to console him about the loss of his friends, or as Donnie himself liked to think of them, his toys. 

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Donnie Plays Bull-Dazzle Man

Donnie gets a Hamster!

Donnie visits Granny! 

Donnie plays soldier man

Donnie Learns Golf

Donnie Takes a Blue Ribbon for Spelling

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Sports Fans Only

17 Sunday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, politics, sports, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Corruption, Democracy, fairness, fascism, games, life, relationships, sports

Sports Fans Only

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Many people in America, as well as many other parts of the world, miss watching sports during the pandemic, or participating. In many places, it is okay to play tennis and golf with special procedures in place. (e.g., no rakes in the golf bunkers; don’t take out the flagstick). Other, more full contact sports pose problems. But the biggest problem is the in-person audience when it comes to professional sports. 

If Trumputin is re-elected, we won’t have to worry about that — because there will be no sports — not in the true sense of the word. There may be acted-out charades of sports. But instead of actual competitions among people who are mainly on the “up and up” rather than “on the take.” At first, the replacement of honest sports with charades of sports, will only be sporadic and limited to the sports Trump happens to care about. But eventually, everyone in the administration will join in to wield their power and influence — not for the good of America — but for their own petty interests. The best athletes will simply quit. I can’t imagine the top tennis stars would participate in a scripted simulation of sports with the outcome known in advance so that money would flow from other people’s pockets, yet again, into the coffers of the Trump Crime Family. 

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I’m reminded somehow of Lyme Disease and deer ticks. Deer ticks are the vector for spreading this disease to humans. It’s a nasty disease, and in some cases even crippling, but you don’t notice the worst effects for a long time. You get this little tick, barely visible, and it burrows into your skin. Then, it starts sucking your blood. You would think that if something started sucking your frigging blood out of your frigging body, you would bloody well notice! But the tick has a little trick. A tick trick. It squirts out a local sedative. Isn’t that sweet? You don’t feel the pincers pierce your skin. You don’t feel the barbed mouth parts drilling in to lap up your blood. You don’t feel a thing. You’ve been sedated. 

Getting back to organized but predetermined “sports,” when people realize that all of professional sports is simply a charade — a show put on for the rich and powerful and that it has nothing to do with skill, or experience, or tactics. It’s all about who already has the most wealth. It’s a table with no bet limit. It’s a table with no bet limit. Now — what does that mean? It means that whoever has the most wealth and power can determine the outcome every single time. Everyone else will lose on average.  

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At some point, the deer tick becomes completely engorged with your blood. Her body swells up grotesquely, but apart from looking gross and losing a bit of blood, she has likely left behind a little gift for you as well. That gift is a packet of bacteria that will now proceed to infect your entire body. As I said, it’s nasty for most people, and some never fully recover. 

At first, the corruption due to any infection is somewhat localized. But soon, sports at every level will be corrupt. And why shouldn’t it be? Isn’t school to prepare people for life? What kind of school would prepare children for a fair world when the actual world is completely unfair? So, the incentives will be for school to teach children — not actual physical skills and fair play — but instead, teach how to cheat, what to do when caught, how to bully, how to kiss ass. These are the skills they will need in sports or in any other endeavor.

I hope we do fully recover. The Class of 2020 gives me hope.

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Trumpism is a New Religion.

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Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

11 Monday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 127 Comments

Tags

America, Constitution, Democracy, Dictatorship, Election, essay, Rule of Law, truth, USA, voting

Demanding Absolute Power Leads to a Far Worse Hangover.

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If you continue to support Trump out of loyalty to him, please understand that your loyalty to him supersedes every other thing that you care about in life. You may not yet realize that, but it does.

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Everything. 

The Truth. 

Your Possessions.

Your Soul.

Your Neighbors.

Your Friends. 

Your Spouse. 

Your Parents.

Your Siblings. 

Your Kids. 

Your Wealth. 

Your Reputation. 

Your Feet.

Your Arms. 

Your Face. 

Your Mouth. 

Everything. 

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Your life is over. You are now part of the Trump machine. And, as such, you are expected to fulfill your role as subservient and without question. You may think I am exaggerating, but if so, go back and look at what he has done to the careers and lives of those who questioned him when he was dead wrong!  This is the way of dictatorship. Read about Stalin’s Russia or Hitler’s Germany or Mao’s China before it’s too late.

You will believe as you are told to believe.

You will give to the State whatever it requires.

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You will embrace evil. And, you will know in your heart that it is evil even though people will give you all sorts of rationalizations about why it’s for the greater good and it’s only a few people dead and a few more and a few more and ….

You will tell authorities about any neighbors who are people of color or people of a different religion or people who have a funny accent or people who don’t watch Faux News. Of course you will. 

You will betray your friends as well if you overhear them saying something that used to be true such as “The earth is round” but which is now out of favor as being just a sissy-science nerd thing. 

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You will betray your spouse as well if they don’t go along with the new regime. It sounds as though it would be a pretty soul-wrenching thing to do but then it occurs to you that they might do the same to you. Of course it will occur to you. 

And you decide to beat them to the punch. So, you gather evidence so that in a case of he-said, she-said, you will have the upper hand. Of course, it might not even be true at all. You might just be tired of your spouse, but a convincing accusation is all that is needed. Even if your spouse is completely innocent, it will serve the purposes of the state by making their execution public. 

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You will betray your parents if asked. They did it in Russia. They did it in Germany. They did it in many places where absolute tyranny ruled. Not everyone did so, of course, but it’s easy to make rationalizations. 
“Oh, they were old anyway.” “Oh, they were in bad health and they probably would have died anyway.” “Oh, they were never that nice to me anyway. Always preferred my older brother.”

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You will betray your own children as well. Of course you will. You’re currently supporting someone who is in bed with oil companies including Russian oligarchs. And, they aren’t snuggling just to stay warm. No, they are in positions that would even make Caligula blush. 

As a result, Trump has worked tirelessly to roll back as many environmental regulations as he possibly can. This means your children — and their children — will grow up in a world of dirtier air and dirtier water and a more corrupted food supply. It will smell worse. It will taste worse. It will be a world that predisposes people to diseases such as cancer, asthma, and auto-immune disease. In some places, such as Flint, Michigan, it will cause brain damage in children. So, yes, you will betray your children for the sake of your loyalty to Trump. 

It’s not that you don’t care about your kids. Of course you do! But Trump knows that too. He and Putin’s targeted cyber-campaign have used that love to help convince you that the only way you can really protect them is to let him have absolute power.

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And do you know what you will get from Trump in return for giving him absolute power?

Nada.

Nothing.
Zero.
Zilch. 

No protection. No wealth. No opportunity. Nothing.

Maybe that’s not quite true, because you might get, perhaps, a thrill out of being on the winning team even if the team cheats in every possible way. Personally, I find those kind of victories make me feel worse than losing fairly when I’ve done my best. Your mileage may differ. 

Perhaps you get a thrill out of chanting along with the President. 

Perhaps you get a thrill out of thinking about all the pain Trump causes “liberals.” 

I don’t know. 

But I do know this. There are many ways to get thrills that do not require you to give up everything you care about in return. Why not enjoy one of those instead? 

woman playing golf

Photo by Jopwell on Pexels.com

Other than that thrill? 

Look around your life. Look at the people you care about. Do they look more peaceful and loving than they did four years ago? Do they look happier? What about you? Are you happier? Are you wealthier? Do you feel safer than you did four years ago? Do you feel healthier than you did four years ago? Does the nation seem better off? More united? More respected throughout the world? 

Well, however your life is different than it was four years ago, that change is what you are trading your life for. You are pledging to give everything to Trump if he wants it.

Everything. 

Everything you love. 

You have no real choice. 

You have given up your life as an autonomous human. 

And, as nothing more than a meat machine, you will inevitably be replaced by a cheaper, faster, metallic and plastic version. It may take a little longer if you are a lawyer, or a banker, or a manager, or a computer programmer or paid companion than if you are a grocery clerk, or meat packer, or bus driver, but it will happen nonetheless. 

What you have forgotten is that your life, like every other human life has value in and of itself. 

architecture art clouds landmark

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The value of your life, as enshrined in our Constitution, comes from being born. The framers of the Constitution called it a God-given right. 

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. 

And if you let one person have absolute power, then they can absolutely take away: 

Your Life

Your Liberty 

Your Pursuit of Happiness. 

usa flag waving on white metal pole

Photo by Element5 Digital on Pexels.com

Instead, you will be working for their happiness. And, you’ll be giving up your own life and the lives of those you love for the word of someone who doesn’t even know you exist — someone who will throw you under the bus for nothing more than the pleasure of hearing the crunch beneath the tires. 

When one person has absolute power, no-one else has any at all. 

You may comfort yourself by thinking that, while you may not have much control over your work life, at least you’ll have control over the rest of your life. 

No. 

You won’t. 

flight sky sunset men

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

There is no invisible boundary around your property or your house or your bedroom or your body. Of course there isn’t. In a democracy there is such an imaginary boundary. 

There are things like courts of law, and search warrants, and fair trials. Those are gone. So, if someone in power wants your property, or your house, or your son or daughter, or your life — who’s to stop them? You’ll haul out your assault weapon? Come on. 

Once the rule of law is gone, a whole truckload of weapons won’t help you keep what’s yours. And neither will a truckload of MAGA hats. But don’t worry! You won’t even need to fight!

Because you’ll want to give it all away. You’ll convince yourself it’s for the best. The power over you is then absolute. People are already putting their lives and the lives of their families at risk for no better reason than that they’re told to do so. And it feels to them as though they are freely choosing to do so. 

You may want to exercise your freedom to choose while you still have any such freedom. Because it is disappearing a whole lot faster than the virus is. 

close up photo of martini with olives

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

Absolute is not just a vodka. 


Essays on America: Wednesday

What About the Butter Dish? 

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Essays on America: The Game

You Bet Your Life

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Snowflake

08 Friday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

brotherhood, Democracy, fascism, globalism, love, pandemic, peace, plague, poem, poetry, snow, snowflake, truth, UN, USA, world

Snow. 

Made of Snowflakes.

Snowflakes. 

close up photography of snowflake

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

Everyone comments: “Every snowflake’s different.”

It’s a cliché.

However amazing that may be, 

Amazing still is every snowflake’s sixfold symmetry.

“What’s so special about that,” you say. 

How does the three millionth molecule out near northeast

Know what the three millionth molecule out near southwest

Is doing?  

person holding snowflakes decor

Photo by Jill Wellington on Pexels.com

I’ve a story to explain: 

Once upon a time,

Everything was One.

If truth be told, 

It was a boring too much One of Oneness.

So, 

As matter is wont, 

We Big-Banged Ourselves into this far-flung Universe:

22FAC19F-5ABE-4C2B-8102-313BC7FAE5EA_1_105_c

A multi-colored, 

Multi-facetted 

Extravaganza of galaxies. 

And yet, 

We (not just you and me)

We (meaning all of existence)

Seek that underlying, undying, 

Unification.

silhouette people on beach at sunset

Photo by Dana Tentis on Pexels.com

Hence, 

The mystery of gravity. 

(Why else would everything 

In the universe be attracted to everything else?)

In between the ting and tang of bells;

In between the yin and yang of all;

In between the sweetness of the notes of song;

In between this moment and the

Next… 

In all those in-betweens we glimpse:

59F746D3-44C7-4058-AB5B-69DF3980C697_1_105_c

Reality.

Universality.

We are all One.

And always shall be. 

So quell your fears of Worst.

Slake your thirst.  

Let the snowflakes, 

Fall, fall, and melt upon your tongue.

DCA8FC9A-F229-4538-9EA2-D9E13D4796EB_1_105_c

Wars? Scars? 

Hate? Fear? 

What chance do they have

In the longest run of all who run?

Division is but the ignorance of too    few    years

Brewed into flat, stale, tasteless beers.

Routed and touted as though it were a fine wine

Touched by Heaven’s Gate – a touch divine. 

photo of woman near wine glass

Photo by Elly Fairytale on Pexels.com

The Mad King shatters all of US

And all the US of US

He throws each one of us

Under his failing falling galling bus. 

The roads all darken with the dirt and blood and salt.

man in black jacket and blue denim jeans standing in front of yellow bus

Photo by Zichuan Han on Pexels.com

“It’s not my fault! It’s all your fault! 

And you and you and you and you — you all must lose. 

And I will lie and check and slay all day. 

I sing the electric assault. 

I sing it’s time to kill my foes. 

I sing it’s time to burn the world!”

And all the while, each snowflake shows, 

Each flag unfurled,

Each insult hurled,

Turns the earth a greener hue;

Turns the air a cleaner blue. 

In the stillness and the in between, 

We now begin to see 

That we are we. 

woman raising her hands

Photo by Marlon Schmeiski on Pexels.com

Bound thus together by our common scenes

And bound together by our common genes

We reject the clown’s inept inanity.

We see so clearly now that we are one humanity.

And all the screaming, scheming, double-dealing

Gets rightfully confined to back ward dreaming. 

All across the world, humanity is teaming. 

This is one large, deadly test 

To see if we could see

That we are we is manifest 

For all humanity.

4770779D-0898-482C-B861-83F8498070A4_1_105_c

Let snow abound.

Our unity is found.

We very nearly drowned.

Our feet at last are touching ground.

Our voice: at last a singing sound.

Prometheus at last unbound!

Our truth at last is found!

Our world is very clearly round!

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

————————————————

The Impossible

Mother’s Day

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

Author Page on Amazon

Index to Pattern Language for Cooperation

 

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