Saturday, March 11, 2017

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Sunday, November 20, 2016

Punch & Judy Show


Question: What do you do when you hear a racist joke?
Answer: Beat that motherf*cker!

(sigh)

I'm so tired of the current divisive mood. 

No, I didn't vote for Trump. Yes, I had an anxiety attack when I found out. 

(Hey, who doesn't like to start their day off with a good cry in the shower?)

TMI? Thematic, I'd have to retort. 

Because, currently, it seems like there's a lot of personal sharing that's pretty public. 

Example: Some 'tard referenced Michelle Obama as "an ape in heels" on f*cebook.

Which is racist -and- and stupid and... worthy of national news?

MSN thought so - despite the fact it was some West Virginia local yokel - and put it on their national feed. 

Great. As if this pressure cooked wasn't already on high, we need more fuel on the fire. 

Do I believe there are racist, stupid people in the world? Yep. Do I need to hear the utterances of each and every one so that I have a place to focus my anger? Not really. 

Oh, and on the flip-side of the coin, for those of you currently championing equal rights, etc.- kudos - but before you start framing things "to the haters" or some such - consider the following...

Its all us. The 'tards, the racists and the illuminati + all those in-between - including you and me - is still us. These United States. We are all in this same boat, pulling these same oars. 

And yeah, you can get out of the boat, try to swim for some distant shore, but there are going to be ripples. Or maybe even big f*cking waves.

No matter how far you go you will not escape the effects of this. 

My grandma was racist. She kept it pretty well hidden, until one day, after losing her purse, loudly exclaimed to my mother and I, "maybe that n*gger took it!" 

Which broke my heart. I was 11 and she'd just met my best friend, Darren, who was black. 

The smile she'd smiled at him - now revised in my mind to a grimace or even predatorial teeth baring - and things soured between us.

After that, I dissociated myself from her - she had become unclean - an 'other' to be judged and dismissed.  

Then, 10 years later, my mom checked herself into a 30 day clinic. 

Grandma flew in to Tucson from Illinois and I drove down from the mountains; each day we'd go into a little room with her ex, my grandfather, to do family therapy - and grandma would start to shake. 

Turns out, twenty years previous, grandpa beat her so hard she'd had an epileptic seizure.

Yet, despite her obvious terror, she came back each day.

She loved my mom and was willing to re-experience those feelings in order to soupport her.

Which gave me a new perspective. 

It didn't give her a pass for racism -but- it re-opened a door between us.

She was, after all, family. 

Not unlike you and me. And that guy. And that one over there. We are all extended family, born out of the same origin, derived of the same source.

So whether you're a redneck peckerwood, inner city gangsta, elitist cake-eater,  or whatever - you are a still a part of these United States. 

The US. 

Which is composed of us, not them. 

A house divided and all that jazz. 

What do you do when you hear a racist/sexist/whatever-ist joke?

Maybe we skip the beat down, verbal or physical... 

And say"I don't feel that way" and maybe, given the opportunity, "here's why."*

Create a dialogue - begin a conversation - 

*a shout out for this last sentiment as handed down by the Reverend Blind Lemon Buzzard, a.k.a. Popi! a.k.a. my Dad. 


Sunday, September 18, 2016

Monday, September 05, 2016

Confluence




Having dashed off to mountain bike after work, then hurtling home through space and time as the sun set while a storm rolled in, I grabbed my phone and snapped this pic.

Blurry though it may be, it seemed to represent something;

iconic, blurry, fleeting.


Life is a confluence of events.