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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Category Archives: politics

All We Stand to Lose

13 Wednesday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics

≈ 25 Comments

Tags

Democracy, fascism, history, holocaust, poetry, politics, truth, USA, world-war-ii

Before we bought a new dishwasher, a new deodorant, or a new doodad, most of us would want to read some opinions from others about the dishwashers, deodorants, or doodads we were interested in. We would want to talk to some folks who had first hand experience with those dishwashers, deodorants, or doodads. 

That makes sense. 

We certainly wouldn’t buy a new dishwasher, deodorant, or doodad simply because the sales person said it was going to be great. Would we?

Democracy is a difficult and time-consuming deal. It’s frustrating. And, it is likely the worst form of government there is—except for all the others. 

So, before we throw it out with the dishwater because someone tells us how great a dictatorship would be instead, it makes sense to see what has happened with some of the other dictatorships that went before. 

There was Mussolini. It’s said that he made the trains run on time. But would we ever really know? No, because the one thing dictatorships always have in common is that they refuse to allow others to measure, comment, or critique on what’s actually happening. Free press? Gone. Independent monitoring agencies? Gone. 

The complaint department in a democracy may not always seem to listen to your particular concern. The complaint department in a dictatorship sends you to prison. If you’re lucky. 

How did Italy fare under Mussolini? According to the online Britannica, nearly a half million Italian civilians and soldiers died. And in return? Nada. How about Mussolini? Oh, yeah, that’s right—beaten to death by an angry mob. 

Well, we can’t make a sound conclusion based on just one customer’s experience, right? 

How about Hitler? After all, he promised to make Germany great and said his Reich would last a thousand years! That must have been a pretty cool outcome. Hitler, was famously responsible for about 6 million deaths in the Holocaust, but he was also responsible for needless deaths of German soldiers, the people who died at the hands of German soldiers, and many German and other civilians. And, how did that end for Hitler? Oh, yeah, that’s right. He committed suicide rather than face the defeat of his own making. 

Stalin? Surely, Stalin did better. Right? Well…in a word…no. It’s complicated. Stalin was responsible for Russian deaths by war, criminal execution, starvation due to inept government, and neglect. Here’s a link if you’d like to try to disentangle it. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excess_mortality_in_the_Soviet_Union_under_Joseph_Stalin

Then, there was Mao. He is generally credited with the death of about 40-80 million of his own countrymen. As is often the case with totalitarian dictatorships, it’s hard to know how many died of starvation due to ineptitude and how many died of intentional cruelty. 

—————

Once upon a time, there was a bratty kid who wasn’t very good at tennis. And, because he wasn’t very good, he cheated. And because he wasn’t even a very smart cheater, he got caught. And because he didn’t like getting caught, he destroyed all the factories that made tennis balls and told everyone else that he had done it for them. And he promised everyone that it was just a cool thing and he would make tennis much, much better because he replaced all the tennis balls with ping pong balls and that they should therefore put him in charge of officiating all tennis matches. 

And, he picked the winners and losers of every game. Those people who said he was amazing and wonderful and the best tennis player ever were allowed to win. And those people who said that was nonsense were allowed to lose. Some were arrested and said to have committed suicide. 

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

—————-

And when the people blinked their eyes,

They found there wasn’t any prize. 

Their faith in lies had no reward.

Those they loved were put to sword.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

Two century’s worth of progress died. 

The nation humbled once had pride. 

A sales switch and fever pitch.

Soon love was kicked into a ditch. 

Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

The greed for power trumped it all.

There were no eyes upon the ball. 

A million lies but no-one cared.

A million dead since no-one dared. 

Photo by judit agusti aranda on Pexels.com

Author Page on Amazon

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-Taters

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Truth Train

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

The Dance of Billions

A “Strong Man”

11 Monday Dec 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, Dictatorship, encouragement, faith, politics, strong, USA

I think that one of the worst sins of the media is to call dictators, “Strong men” or Strong women.” They are anything but.

Photo by Pikx By Panther on Pexels.com

A strong person is not afraid to treat others as equals.

A strong person is not afraid to put their ideas up for discussion or vote.

A strong person is not afraid to enter into a contest even though they might lose.

The strong admit to mistakes and learn from them.

The strong do not rely on having their egos stoked by those they have power over.

The strong surround themselves by those with diverse opinions and the courageous.

The strong lead by appealing to the best in others.

The strong are not afraid of love.

The strong show gratitude and humility.

The weak think they must be treated as special and above the law.

The weak demand everyone accept their ideas without debate.

The weak refuse to admit they were wrong and refuse to learn from their mistakes.

Photo by Julissa Helmuth on Pexels.com

The weak surround themselves with cowardly sycophants.

The weak appeal to the fear, hate, and cruelty of their fans.

The weak show others contempt.

Choose wisely.

————

Absolute is not just a vodka.

Dick-Taters

The Crows and Me

The Orange Man

Stoned Soup

The Three Blind Mice

Author page on Amazon

Don’t Say Gray!

20 Thursday Apr 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, diversity, fascism, poem, poetry, politics, satire, USA

“Don’t say ‘gray’, oh me oh my.

Ban the rainbow, prisms too!

And by extension, ban all glass

You can never be too careful!

Better ban those solar nerds

And better yet the sun’s own light!

Let’s make this earth the living hell 

That God intended it to be!

“It’s not enough; I should have known!

Even though I’ve kept it out of sight.

Folks talk still of hope and light.

The very words should be a knell

That immigrants are coming here!

Hide your Bible! They draw near!

Women are a problem too, I knew

I needed them in shackles too.

“And yet the heaven I foresaw 

Is nowhere near the fun I thought.

I hear God telling me that only those

Who give me gold and loyalty

Deserve their place beneath my feet.

The rest can burn in hell right here.

You have to wonder if they see

How foolish they have been for me.” 

Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

It’s not your fault; send me money

Poker Chip

Essays on America: The Game

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Hot Dog

The Truth Train

My Cousin Bobby

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Essays on America: Wednesday

Labelism

D4: Dictator’s Degenerative Delusional Disease

Love and Guns

16 Sunday Apr 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, USA

Children today

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

In America

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Face the Chance 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Of an Early Death

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Surprisingly

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Not from drag queens

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Or even from books but from

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

People want to defend

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Their families

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

This I understand

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Who doesn’t? 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

A problem is that having Guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Increase the chance of dying by

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Everyone feels blue 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

From time to time

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And sometimes people are more than blue

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And may have momentary feelings

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

That guns may be the answer

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And guns are too quick and sure

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

For second chances

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

 

In many other countries

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Are not such a common 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Cause of death 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And yet their governments are not tyrannical 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

And though they still have folks maniacal

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

They cannot get guns

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns don’t therefore cause such deadly damage

Guns: Another gun, another life undone. 

Guns are not revered as proof of manhood 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns are not bandied about 

Guns: Another gun, another life undone. 

Guns are not brought to peaceful protests

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns are not the number one priority

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns are not beyond the libel laws

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

Guns lobbies do not control the government

Guns: Another gun, another life undone.

What do you suppose would happen

Love: It helps a garden grow

If we had fewer guns and more love

Love: It helps a runner go

Could it be that love saves lives

Love: It helps a parent know

Could it be that love is more productive

Love: It helps a farmer sow

Could it be that love could help prevent despair

Love: It helps an artist draw

Could it be a healthful thing

Love: It helps the singer sing

Could it be stealthy thing

Love: It helps spin gold from straw

Could it help to heal wounds

Love: It helps us all along the way

Could it help us building bridges

Love: It helps to spin a tale

Could it be that love is strong

Love: It helps us win and not to fail

Is more important even than the bottom line

Love: It helps us when we need to learn

Life existed for four billion years 

Love: It helps us make the fire burn

Did Life invent Love

Love: It helps give us the why

Or was it the other way around

Love: It tickles us to smile and sigh

Perhaps love in its exuberance

Love: It is a thread through all

Invented Life to Spread more Love

Love: It alone prevents the fall

After the Fall

The Crows and Me

Guernica

After All

Word for Water

Essays on America: The Game

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Donnie’s Last Gift

Tie-Dyes, Freedom Fries and Sickly Lies

03 Friday Mar 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, life, poem, poetry, politics, truth, USA

Tie-dyes, Freedom fries, and Sickly Lies

And there were protestors, once upon a time,

And they chanted in a kind of rhythmic rhyme. 

And some wore colored glassy beads;

Some wore green and purplish tie-dyes. 

And they spoke of people’s needs. 

And childish, foolish things like that.

“Well, hit ‘em with a baseball bat.”

The oil tycoons didn’t want to hear of warming global, 

Cutting near term profits? Pathetically disloyal.

A true accounting for the cost of raping earth?

Pathologically insisting on a birth?

Will we let them write the final chapter of

The U S A? 

Will we let forget the fights before and throw—

Throw it all away?

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

There was a time of Freedom Fries

A time of endless love, bespoken trees,

Freon bands, designer drugs and endless ‘Why?’s

The time of hurricanes, fires, endless freeze.

Tornado and flood, mudslide and drought. 

A time when planetary ruin was up in the air

And the greed and the fair balanced to nought 

Invented a lie machine—corrupt without care.

 

Will we let them write the final chapter of

The U S A? 

Will we let forget the fights before and throw it—

Throw it all away?

The thickly laid, sticky, sickly lies 

Reverberated through the Gerrymandered land

And things that anybody rich enough disliked were banned,

The mud grew thick as irony within their sties. 

And in the time of Freedom fries, and sickly lies…

In the time of aqua tie-dyes and reverberating lies…

When hypocrisy reigned supreme across the states

And freedom itself, (never mind the fries) 

Became a goal too lofty for a nation of prideful boys;

Democracy became a thing to break like plastic toys

Just to show we god-damned can so there! 

And stomping feet and screaming without care.

Will we let them write the final chapter of

The U S A? 

Will we let forget the fights before and throw it all—

Throw it all away?

————

The Three Blind Mice

Stoned Soup

Absolute is not just a vodka

Dick-taters

Plans for US; some GRUesome

The ailing king of agitate

The stopping rule

The update problem 

Addicted to Lies

My Cousin Bobby

Cancer Always Loses in the End

After All

Guernica

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

Essays on America: The Game

The Extreme Court

Alito and the Egg

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Draw the Line

The Wall

Siren Song

Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Be Careful What You Wish For

21 Saturday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Democracy, irony, Kevin, poem, poetry, politics, USA

The Kevin said he’d lead the band!

Be strongest man in all the land! 

But when the traitors came to slay,

The Kevin hid then ran away.

The Kevin blamed the Trump that day! 

But soon, it seemed, he flew the coop! 

To Florida to eat a scoop. 

And there he pledged to be a wimp. 

For coups and couscous be a simp.

For nuts & guns, he’d play the pimp. 

And now he sits atop his throne.

He reaps as sown; his cover’s blown.

Photo by Ben Phillips on Pexels.com

He brags that now he leads the band!

When really he just pounds the sand.

The saddest man in all the land. 

Pretends to power; total slave. 

Photo by Clown Caramello on Pexels.com

And here’s the really foul deprave:

By wanting all the power for him.

The Kevin’s just a shadow limn.

There’s nothing left of what was him.

Photo by Min Thein on Pexels.com

A rootless rot upon the land,

He opens gate for treason’s band.

So bent upon his bid for power.

He lost it all in shameful hour.

The joyous tune has turned note sour. 

Photo by Julius Silver on Pexels.com

Bereft of honor, truth and heart,

Robotic role – a walk-on part. 

The words upon his lips are dust.

As Putrid speaks, so Kevin must.

His mettle now just rotted rust. 

Photo by Wendelin Jacober on Pexels.com

Essays on America: The Game

My Cousin Bobby

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Poker Chip

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Come back to the light

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Crows and Me

After All

Peace

Life is a Dance

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

BREAK IT!

Satire Slain

Freaky Friday Fibbing Fest

BREAK IT!

09 Monday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

America, Democracy, ethics, government, morality, politics, psychology, USA

Sure. I get it. 

I was a kid once. And, like most boys brought up in the 1950’s, few things held as much pleasure as destroying things! 

Photo by Torben Bu00fchl on Pexels.com

When winter came to Ohio, sledding was fun. Don’t get me wrong. Especially, when we took the time to go to sled down the Derby Downs track or the toboggan run behind. But a snowball fight? Especially one where you really nailed someone? That was great. 

Making a snowman? That felt cool. To use free snow to make a sculpture! And, it was fun to “shape it” and make it resemble a human. But tackling it at full tilt and thus smashing it down? That was great. 

Spring flooding led to overflowing gutters which led to wading in the water and deeper is better! I didn’t exactly want to have the water spill over the black rubber and pour down to soak my shoes, socks, and pant legs. No. On the other hand, I would enjoy being able to brag about it to my buddies. “I was on Elm Street & the water was deeper than my boots!” On the other hand, I wouldn’t really enjoy my mom yelling at me for it. But it wasn’t as meaningful as having bragging rights with my buddies. 

For many years, I’ve thought it absurd that I lived in the supposed “Temperate Zone.” We had cold, snowy winters, flooding in the spring, thunderstorms and tornados in the summer as well as hazy hot days of summer. And, no school. So — plenty of time to get in trouble. Just to take one example, we loved to break glass. If we found an empty coke bottle or jam jar, we would put it on the ground or better, a large rock or tree stump. Then, we’d typically take turns trying to destroy the glass with a well aimed throw. We did take turns. I mean, after all, we were civilized. 

Photo by omar william david williams on Pexels.com

Kinda. 

Autumn leaves brought raking and piles, but more importantly, the opportunity to jump into them. (And, to some extend destroy them). And, by the way, I thought my dad was a real killjoy when, after spending an hour raking leaves, he would yell at me not to wreck it up. I thought, “What’s the point of raking up the leaves into a pile except to jump in it!?” 

Even to this day, there is a part of me that would positively relish taking a sledge hammer to an abandoned house or a junked car. Or, maybe even my own car! As an adult, however, I realize that actions have consequences. And, that ideas about what to do have alternatives. 

If I smashed my car, I wouldn’t be able to use it afterwards. Also, there’s a chance of really injuring myself by embedding a shard of glass or metal or hard plastic in my thigh of eye. If it’s someone else’s car, there’s the added likely consequence of criminal penalties. Besides that, penalties aside, there is karma. Most likely the person whose car is destroyed will be stressed, angry, and possibly even violent. Violence begets violence. I would have sent a wave of negativity into the community. Even if I never got “caught,” I would be contributing to a world worse that the one I was born into. Is it worth a momentary pleasure? 

Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com

I can get much the same kind of “pleasure of destruction” from hitting a tennis ball hard and winning points, but at this point, it isn’t only superior power as a source of winning a point that I like. I can also experience pleasure through outthinking my opponent; by using feints; by concentrating better; by having a better plan. It feeds into the same pleasure center but it doesn’t destroy things in the process. No shards of glass. 

There is only one thing worse than being a destructive little kid. That is being an adult who wants to destroy things that they don’t understand and they can’t replace with something better. Those are not actually adults. They are children in adult bodies. They should never be in a position of power. Not in politics. Not in business. 

It’s natural to feel some destructive impulse, at least, if history or personal experience is any guide. It’s also natural to want to relieve yourself. But if you’re an adult, you don’t simply pee your pants because you can’t be bothered to hit the head. 

Destroying American democracy because you’re too lazy to win votes, understand problems with all their complexity and try to find potential solutions, build consensus, collaborate and cooperate to improve our country — that’s a lot worse than are smashing glass, wrecking up a pile of leaves, and peeing your pants. If the very best pleasure you have is blowing stuff up, okay — get a job in demolition — not in a Constitutional Democracy. 

———-

Other Essays on America:

The Game

The Stopping Rule

Wednesday

The Update Problem

A Little is not a Lot

Cancer always Loses in the End

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a Vodka

My Cousin Bobby

Where does your Loyalty Lie?

Poker Chips

Trumpism is a new Religion

——————

Author Page on Amazon

The Fungus Fools the Foolish Forest Tree

07 Saturday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Democracy, poem, poetry, politics, psychology, seduction, truth, USA

The Fungus Fools the Foolish Forest Tree 

Photo by Martin Schneider on Pexels.com

“It is a kind of loyal test.

I need a place to briefly rest. 

Upon your lovely shiny bark 

Just until the sky turns dark.”

The fungus begged the trusting tree.

“And I will keep you oh so free!”

“Thanks so much, you will be glad.

Now, if I fell it would be bad

So I will hold against the breeze.

Don’t you fret. I think I’ll please.”

The fungus promised to the tree:

“And I will keep you oh so free!”

The night was done; the sun was hot.

“Oh, tree, my roots are deeply caught.

It wouldn’t do to rend apart

Our friendship from propitious start.”

The fungus held the hapless tree.

“My bonds will keep you oh so free!” 

Each day, the orange fungus spread.

Upon its sap the fungus fed. 

“Now indeed, our friendship’s fast. 

I feel it’s going to last and last.”


The fungus fingers filled the tree.

“All this sap’s too much for thee!”

The tree felt tired when springtime came. 

Its leaves were few; its flowers lame.

“No matter,” tree, “it’s not so bad. 

“For fungus is the newest fad!”

“Don’t you worry, dearest tree!

I guarantee that you’ll stay free!”

At last the tree lost all its leaves.

The promise though it still believes,

Although it toppled to the ground. 

With such a rotten, hollow sound. 

“I’ve felled another silly tree!

So silly to believe in me!”


Dick-taters

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Donnie’s Last Gift

Absolute is not just a vodka

The Ailing King of Agitate

Where does your loyalty lie?

My Cousin Bobby

After All

Essays on America: The Game

Guernica

They Lost the Word for War

The Crows and Me

Siren Song

Dance of Billions

Freaky Friday Fibbing Fest

06 Friday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Democracy, life, politics, USA

Freaky Friday Fibbing Fest

What mainly distinguishes the two major American political parties has varies tremendously within the course of my own lifetime. And, while I’m not ancient, my life so far is about 31% of the time since The Declaration of Independence. That’s not most of the time, but it is all of the most recent 31%. Of course, if you did pay much attention in American History and weren’t just spending time surreptitiously carving your initials, passing notes, or throwing spitballs, you likely remember that the US began as rather disunited States under the “Articles of Confederation.” It wasn’t until June 21st, 1788 that it was ratified. Thus, my life so far is roughly 1/3 of the time we’ve lived under that Constitution. 

The first time I became consciously aware of politics was when Eisenhower won in 1952. The principal of our school arranged to have the radio broadcast of Eisenhower. I don’t really know whether it was his acceptance speech or his inaugural speech, but I suspect the latter. Anyway, I was leading the class in cheering through much of the speech. At some point, my teacher said maybe the people I was getting to cheer didn’t really know what they were cheering for. That was probably true. It was definitely true that I had no idea why I was cheering except for two things:

1. Eisenhower had been a general partly responsible for our winning the war. My dad & all my mom’s brothers fought in WWII. 

2. Eisenhower was a Republican and they were the “good guys.” I don’t recall having much of a discussion about it before hand. But I had certainly picked up that vibe. 

After the teacher’s comment though, I got to wondering why everyone in my family liked the Republicans rather than the Democrats. As I recall, the basic reason given was that Republicans believed more in personal responsibility. 

Later, there were entirely different reasons for disliking the Democrats; viz., the Vietnam War and beating up the protestors in Chicago. 

Photo by Clown Caramello on Pexels.com

But now? What has happened to the “Grand Old Party”? 

Forget politics for a moment. In what area of life is perpetual lying a good way for people to cooperate? If the scientists & engineers lied like the Trumputinists, we would still be shivering in caves. How would you like farmers to send you poisonous bulbs and call them onions? 

The fish rots from the head. That was bad enough. But that rotten fish head has been out of power for two years. But the putrefaction continues. 

No platform. No policies. No allegiance to the Constitution. No sense of fair play. No limit to cruelty. No allegiance to the rule of law. 

Who benefits from all that lack of governing? 

Who benefits from a weaker, less effective US government? 

Photo by Julius Silver on Pexels.com

————

Plans for US; some GRUesome

Satire Slain

The Ailing King of Agitate

Donald’s Last Gift

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: The Update Problem

The Extreme Court 

Alito and the Egg

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Dance of Billions 

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Kevin Unclogs the Toilet

03 Tuesday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

fiction, House, parody, politics, satire, story, truth, USA

A Story of Pure Fiction

The manager of the hotel (or, “Stable Mighty Emperor Genius Maganificent Adiposity*” as he prefers to be called) called Kevin on his private, “Master Only Line.”

“Kevin? What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Well, I … “

“Get down here. Now! I have a pipe I need you to unclog!”

“Are you serious? I’m in the fight of my political life here! And, anyway, I don’t know plumbing.” 

“Get down here. Or, you’ll never get my endorsement again. Come clean my pipes and I’ll make sure you get the position you deserve.” 

“I don’t know how to clean pipes!” 

“Get down here. I’ll show you everything you need to know.” 

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

————-

A few hours later, at taxpayer’s expense, Kevin arrived and was ushered into SMEGMA’s anteroom to wait. After a few hours without any communication, a scantily clad model ushered Kevin into SMEGMA’s office which stank of rotting, overcooked Brussel sprouts, slug slime, and limburger cheese gone bad. 

Kevin began extending his hand, but the odor nearly knocked him down. He jerked his hand back reflexively. He reeled from the Putrid smell and steadied himself by putting his hand on a nearby table. Unfortunately, it rested ever so briefly on a plate of cold catsup-covered French fries. The hand that was supposed to steady him instead slid violently off the table causing him to twist as he fell through the air and smacked hard into the rug. The thought flashed through his mind: “Thank God he’s got really large piles.” (Unlike his iPhone, Kevin’s brain had no autocorrect.)

One of the hard metal legs of an ergonomic chair nearly hit his skull. Kevin cried out in fear, pain, and outrage. The fall and twist and pain combined to disorient Kevin. The laugh disoriented him even more. “Whose (Unlike his iPhone, Kevin’s brain had no autocorrect.)

 laughing? Why? I nearly broke my arm — and my head. And what is that smell?” 

“That was great, Kevy. Do it again!”

“Do what again? Are you serious? I damn near killed myself!”

“So what? It gave me pleasure. Well, never mind. The moment is at lapsed.” (This brain was missing more than a spell-check app!). 

Photo by BROTE studio on Pexels.com

“Look, Master, I have a fight to get back to. Can you just tell me where the pipes are you need cleaned. And, what is that smell?!”

“Just like everyone else who’se everyone held office held, I may have had people flush classified documents down the toilet. It’s the most beautiful golden toilet in the world, by the way, the universe, the galaxy, even the whole solar system!” 

“Fine. Where are your tools?” 

“Tools? Don’t you know? All you fools are my tools! You’re cleaning my pipes with your body. Some send me their rent money. Oh, it does make me laugh. Now, get in there and clean. And, I’ll just might make sure your Talker of the House.”

“It’s actually called…never mind. You want me to dive into the toilet in order to clean it? I mean, couldn’t I drown?” 

“It doesn’t matter dear, so long as I am satisfied.” 

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

——————

Needless to say, (or is it needless?) Kevin never got what he was promised, no matter how clean he got the toilets.  

Essays on America: The Game

Essays on America: Dick-Taters

Absolute is not just a vodka

Poker Chips

Siren Song 

Their Dead Shark Eyes

After all

Plans for US; some, GRUsome

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

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