Out of Sight, Out of Mind

I was going to research to find out who was first. What country first began interring segments of their populations in camps? I decided it really did not matter. Something told me it was a practice as old as Civilization was. Concentration camps have been around since before I was born. As far as I am concerned, that is all I need to know.

What brought this to my attention was a MEME a Hoser friend from Canada put up and passed through my Facebook feed. Oh, he is no Hoser. I just like the term, it is so Canadian. My friend is a stand up guy who more than likely spread more good than I ever did.

After considering the MEME, I decided that the point of the MEME is spot on, though one claim was not correct. 

A prison in El Salvador holds our recent deportees. Many, if not most, are held without Due Process. The hope was removing them from within our borders might remove them from our minds as well. "Out of sight, Out of mind" is a tried and true method to help folks forget the unpleasantries they are responsible for. Works for the current administration, or so they thought.

The problem with the MEME I have, is the claim the El Salvador prison is the first concentration camp created by the US government. From what I have sorted out from the mutated history spoon fed me over the years, is we started building concentration camps back in the early 1800's when Andrew "Asshole" Jackson started rounding up Native Americans and forcing them onto reservations. I guess that was better than just killing them, but it was not right then, no matter what the apologists of today would have us believe.

The solution brought about by the reservation system, with some serious genocide mixed in, was ultimately successful. White men had successfully stolen a continent from the original inhabitants and just as the Crusades were a religious excuse to extend White Power over those pesky Muslims, so was the genocide and containment of the American Indian hidden behind an excuse that used in part, the word of GOD. It was our God Blessed "Manifest Destiny" to own both coasts and everything in between. 

We had a system of control, while maybe harsh, it worked. Our country moved forward and began raping and killing the land instead of the Indians. We became a world power eventually and were able to finally pee in the tall grass with the other big dogs from across the Big Pond. 

Life was good, until it wasn't. WWl, the "War to end all Wars", should have been enough warning to the planet; that out of control Capitalism run by autocrats was a recipe for disaster. No, we needed a second lesson. WWll involved more of the planet and killed millions more people, military and civilian, than any war up to that time.

During WWll, the US government was rightfully paranoid.  There actually were enemies everywhere. We were in a two front war with two countries who were bigger assholes than we were. It was indeed a fight for survival. The rights of many people were put on hold. Roosevelt's Executive Order 9066 placed 117.000 people of Japanese descent in concentration camps. They were treated better than the Jews were, but they were still uprooted, moved and forced to live in barracks like so many other concentration camps created by Man to control populations they considered dangerous.

What this leaves me with is sadness, anger, and a feeling that America is no better than any other country. The lie we have fed ourselves for over 250 years that we embody the lofty morals and ethics created by Man for Man to aspire to, are just words. In the scheme of what is important, a country will pursue its interests without much consideration of what will result and who it will hurt. Self interest will always rule the day.

Bottom line. Nobody should be surprised at what Trump is doing. It has all been done before. And he is at best, nothing but a stupid, very stupid, copycat.

I'll stop here and get off my high horse and shovel the dung now.

Later ....................................

________________________

At first, when attempting to pick a song for this post, I was sure it would be a bitch to find one I liked. I first googled, "Concentration Camp music". That was a non-starter. Everything seemed to be in Yiddish. I don't know Yiddish except for a very few Americanized words. I decided then to use the title of the post, "Out of Sight, Out of Mind" music. ......... Jackpot. 

Seems there are a sizable number of tunes with the sentiment at their core. Problem was, the first few tunes were all heart rippers: girls who had left me, boys who jilted me, Life can't go on because you will never be out of my mind, tunes.........

And then I came across George Strait's, a take you back to the good ole days of Country Music tune, "Out of Sight Out of Mind". It's tear jerker, but a good one. Old Skool country music was meant to be tear jerking music.

While I was listening to George, I noticed in the queue of next songs lined up on the right, was a great tune from an English folk punk band from ............... wait for it .......from England. I discovered them a few years back. They are political and damn good musicians. The song is "Criminal Justice".

I have included both. Enjoy. 

I Got Around

1977-Philly-W/college friends - ELO Tour
~ The next day- jack knifed my truck into a ravine

I have always been interested in turning the clock back and enjoying the memories of times gone by.  Whether they were good times or bad times, it really did not matter. I enjoyed the respite from the drudgery of the here and now.  Combine this love of my past with my love of writing and it is understandable I have now written over 50,000 words recording my trips down memory lane.

The compilation is a hodge-podge collection of stories and tales that follow no discernible timeline and often appear to be nothing but sadly constructed rhymes looking for a reason. But throughout all of them is a taste of what I was back then, whenever then was.

I have always endeavored to write the truth and barring that, mimic it at the least.  Some of my stories are fictional narratives based on real events and/or people. But most are written down as I remembered them with only enough embellishment to keep the flow going. I have strived hard to nail down specific facts from my past that really put me in that place, that time, that situation.

In my effort to be true to the stories of my life, I have acquired a taste for researching basic data from my past.  Real dates, old addresses, old friend’s names, old schools, etc. I went to 14 schools before college, and lived in 18 different locations before I was out of my 20’s. That’s a lot of crap that was easy to forget back in the day once I had moved on to the next burg on my map. Just locating tangible information of where I existed and with who only helped to add weight  to the stories I was telling.

What made me think of my crazy assortment of adventures, trials, and tribulations was the meme from Facebook about a guy who got around. He had a most interesting life and shared parts of it with people worthy of note. As I read the meme, I realized that I too had gotten around. And like him, I also occasionally ran in the same circles inhabited by the famous and beautiful.

So, as I sit here at age 69 and troll my past for some of the adrenalin I wasted and left behind, I realize I had lived a lifetime before I lived the lifetime that is now approaching an uncertain time limit in my future. I have experienced two different lives, one as a solo act; the other as a member of an ensemble cast. And I would not trade one for the other. They are both what made me what I became and for better or worse, at least I got around and have lived long enough to put it down in writing. 

Later Gator ...................................................

_________________________________________

 (465 words)

The Swimming Trunks

When I was a young child I became used to having my older brothers drop in and then out of my life without warning or notification.  After all, they were twelve and thirteen years older than I was. There was not much we had in common when I was a kid.  Our interactions only lasted until the next new adventure entered their lives.  Army, college, marriage and professional careers all interrupted any continuity I may have wanted or expected.  But being a military brat, I had become used to inconsistency in the flow of my life. So, their erratic presence in my life was nothing I took note of.  They were just here one day and then gone the next.

When I was nine or ten, D was living with us on San Rafael Street in Tampa, Florida.  I cannot remember whether he had just gotten out of the Army or was about to enter the Army.  Regardless, he lived with us for a period.  At that point in my life he was twenty one or two.

D was not quite just another adult in my life.  He was something in between someone I had to listen to and someone I didn't.  Or so I thought at the time.  As soon as he showed back up in my life, I jealously and selfishly thought I should be the main focus of his attention.  My view was there was so much to do together, we had better get started.

I heard he was talking about scuba diving with friends in the clear waters of limestone caves scattered around the state. Of course I wanted to be included.  But I wasn't.  Not once.  Not ever.

In my mind, I was being punished for some reason.  There was no good reason to keep me from coming along.  I was an excellent swimmer who loved the water. Excluding me was just mean and I was not going to put up with it. 

It never occurred to me that besides being a pain in the ass little brother, cave diving was dangerous and he knew damn well Mom and Dad would never let him do it.  To his credit, he did try to tell me all this and more.  I heard what I wanted to hear. It was punishment, pure and simple.

I watched him leave for his various dives and plotted my revenge.  He would be sorry he did not let me go with him. Yeah, I was going show him. But how does a nine year old get payback on an adult without serious repercussions?  As it turned out, they don't. 

 One night I heard D on the phone making new plans with whoever it was he dove with.  By that time I had come up with what I was sure a fool proof plan. I was going to hide his swimming trunks. So, I stashed them in my room out of sight. He would not get them back unless he let me come along. That would show him. 

Yeah, right.

What happened the next morning is why I remember this incident so clearly.

The next morning D was frantically looking everywhere for his swim trunks.  He was fired up and getting angrier by the minute.  Mom was telling him to calm down, we would find the trunks.

Twenty minutes or so later of fruitless search and D is ready to scream. I sat on my bed, ostensibly minding my own business but beginning to realize I may have over played my hand.  D was really pissed he could not find his swim trunks.  So of course, I kept my mouth shut, now more afraid than vindictive.

It was the second or third time he asked me if I was sure I had not seen his trunks, when I caved and came clean. The look in his eye at that revelation told me if I had been anywhere close to his size, I would have probably been beaten senseless.  Never saw even tempered D as a scary human to that point. I produced the swim trunks, and with a disgusted last look in my direction, he headed out to meet the people he would go diving with.

Since a parent was involved in the search, this dust up with my brother fell under parental interest.  From my mom's demeanor, I knew to expect incarceration in my cell until suitable punishment had been deliberated. Since Dad was at work, any final decision would have to wait until he got home. So I cooled my heels in my room.

I heard dad drive up.  I opened my door a crack and listened to my parents as they conversed in the kitchen.  Too many walls turned their conversation into gibberish accented by laughter and then silence. In a few minutes, my dad appeared at my door. His face gave away nothing, but when he spoke, I knew I had screwed up.  He listed all the reasons I could not possibly have gone with D and all the reasons they were angry at what I did. And then he surprised me.  He told me I had been punished enough and I was free to go.

Mom came to the door and looked in at me in my sad sack state and then looked at Dad.  When their eyes met, they both busted out laughing.  Each time they looked at me, they laughed harder.

Go figure  .........................................

The Three Little Pigs

My brothers and I have been trading memoirs these past few months. The different ways we three have approached our memoir activity reflects I think basic outlooks we each have regarding our time on this planet.  Think of the Three Little Pigs.

My brother D is methodical, chronological, and logical in his approach.  Start at the beginning and tell the story as he remembers it unfolding.  I am jealous of his ability to line up his life so cleanly in his mind. I'll call him the Brick House Pig.  D's the guy who sets a goal and with nose to grindstone works on it, whatever "it" is, until realization.

J has offered brief vignettes that do not necessarily connect any dots chronologically, although his stories do favor the early part of his life. J is the Stick House Pig. He was focused and successful, but always looked fondly at the grass on the other side.  

Me? Well I am a loose dog.  There is no logic or continuity between the tales I share.  When I am reminded of something from my past, I write about it.  Memories from the age of first awareness to some less than a decade old and everything in between. And yeah, I am the logical choice for the Straw House Pig.  I'm the brother who wandered aimlessly through Life trying to latch onto that next bright object. The butterfly catcher.

Three brothers of the same mother but different fathers.  Three brothers who were well prepared for Life by imperfect parents who struggled with their own demons. Three brothers who approached Life on their own terms.  All three of us have had victories.  We have all experienced failures.  But each of us lived our lives without livng in each other's shadow.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................

The Tortoise - An Almost Completed Dream

I went through a phase some years ago when I was sure I had stopped dreaming.  I know of course this is not so because everything I read about dreaming is that we all do it, all the time.  We often just do not remember doing it.

Well, I missed dreaming.  Or rather, I missed my ability to recall a dream. I found myself waking up and immediately wondering if I dreamed this time.  Then about a decade ago, I began to remember pieces and parts of sleep time adventures again.

Okay. I had re-established the fact that I still dreamed and that the dreams were as odd as they ever were.  Now I wanted to remember them enough to write them down.  

So, this is my best recollection of what I dreamed last night between trips to the toilet to pee.

Suddenly I found myself in a van. Of course I was driving.  After all this was my dream. With me are several unrecognizable people. Their faces were vague and blurred, basically just three voices talking at the same time. I couldn't tell what they were talking about.  They seemed to be enjoying themselves, so I concentrated on the deteriorating rural dirt road we were traveling on. It quickly became a road set at a steep angle to the side.When I looked out the right window I looked directly into the ditch.

No one seemed concerned other than me.  The blurry faces were too busy talking and laughing.  I decelerated because of the embankment and we began to crawl along at a couple of miles per hour.  Up ahead I saw a tortoise in the ditch huffing it the same direction as we were going.  As we slowly passed him, I could not take my eyes off him. Only a last second yank on the steeering wheel kept the van from going into the ditch.

All the while I pointed to the tortoise and shouted multiple times, "Did you see that? Did you see that? " 

The Blurry faces in the car stopped talking.  As if on cue, eyes appeared on the blurry faces. They glared at me for a second and immediately turned back and fired up their conversation again. 

I said, "Hey, calm down assholes. You just missed something you won't see again any time soon."

I wanted to stop and check out the tortoise. But there was no safe place to do so.  The road had become a goat path, leaning this way and that. I was now faced with a real possibility of rolling the van.  Magically, or because I am such an awesome driver in my dreams, I lifted my legs and the van kind of jumped and landed tires first on a road of asphalt with proper ditches on both sides.

Before I could get back up to speed, a house appeared on the left that had not been part of the upcoming landscape before I saw it.  Suddenly it was there with a proper driveway, a huge two car garage and many gabled windows built into the roof of slate shingles.

I pulled up the driveway and right into the garage like I lived there. Leaving the chatting trio in the van  I got out and went into the house by the front door.

Entering a huge foyer, I stopped and considered where to go first.  I heard voices straight ahead.  Down a hall and into a den or family room filled with worn out furniture. An older couple was sitting on a couch watching TV.

Without any introduction, I started right in. "Do you know you have a tortoise walking this way.  It can't be more than 100 yards away.  It's huge.  Big as a spare tire.  Must be 100 years old I bet."

The old man turns in my direction and waves me off with an insolent and smug shake of his hand.  He points at the TV screen and turned back to watch it.  I stood mute for a few seconds considering how no one was interested in the huge tortoise outside.  It pissed me off.  I moved in front of the couple and blocked their view of the TV.  In unison, they looked up at me.  Again I stood mute.  

The old lady finally says, "Well, what is it?  You're blocking our TV."

I did not move.  Just as I am about to speak, something wet and cold hit my face..............

My eyes opened and Maggie's nose was about three inches from my face.

Damn!  But I smiled, scratched Maggie behind her ears and immediately set to remembering the dream.  And now here I am having successfully retold as complete of a dream as I ever have. Total accuracy is a bit sketchy, but its close.

Good morning everyone.  Getting off to a great start. 

Later .................................... 

Free Speech and Other Nonsense

I have mentioned my run as a moderator for a local Facebook page, "What's Up in Acton".  It is a closed group page that only insists new members have some kind of connection to Acton, however vague. It is a private page with no official connection to the town government or those who run things here.  

The page is popular I think because Jim (the main man) has rules about keeping it a page free of animosity, political garbage, and senseless whining.  To that end, Jim brought on board as moderators folks he thought would help him run it as he had envisioned.  I think he picked me to keep me from breaking the rules.  I have heard the best cops are the ones with law breaking in their past.

When I began this thankless task I think we had under 1900 members. As of today, 4/6/2021, there are 4,872 members.  Thankfully, most of them follow the rules and post their recipes, their proud images of sons, daughters, and the new brood of baby goats videos.  It's really not a tough job moderating the page, until it isn't.

Every so often someone will get a hair across their butt about politics or other controversial subjects and the posts end up getting out of hand.  A moderator will show up and quash the animosity ASAP.

What follows is often butt hurt responses about Free Speech no longer existing in this country. I won't get into from which side of the aisle these claims come from, but they are a predictable result of shutting comments down.   Moderators are called losers, Big Brother, and once I was called a POS in a private message from some guy who was kicked out of the group. The POS comment was a badge of honor I am proud of.  Made me wish I had actually been the moderator who had shown him the door. The guy was a constant thorn who was sure the World revolved around him and his petty stupid whining.

What instigated this blog post and the title regarding free speech was last night a post was able to gain legs and really take off.  Apparently all four moderators had better things to do than monitor the Acton page at the time. 

It was another rant about a resident who lives on our conduit to the world, Route 109.  This citizen finds it neceesary to fly an American Flag upside down in their dooryard.  It has been up for quite awhile now.  And at least two posts about it have been a center of hate and discontent.  What I find interesting about the post is it points out the folks who really have not taken the time to understand the rules of flag flying as opposed to the laws of flag flying.  There are no rules, only US codes with no penalties attached. The back and forths also establish just how many folks hypocritically pick what flag code is sacred and which flag code isn't.

I found the post at 2:00 AM and after 3 minutes of reading the stupidity, I deleted it.  

So now I am guilty of stepping on someone's Free Speech rights when in the post they posted they were all for stepping all over the Free Speech rights of the flag flier.  I did explain that on a private FB page, the owner or their designees establish what is considered acceptable.  

I only post this piece today in my blog because I can't post it on the Acton Page.  It would be against the rules.  But here on the BoZone, I make the rules and if I want to whine, then by jeezus I will whine.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................

Anger & Sadness

So I lasted a tad over two minutes into Trump's final Presidential Bloviation at Joint Base Andrews before I had to leave the kitchen and come in here to my office and begin an effort to find some personal perspective that might help me understand what I , my family, this nation has gone through over the last four years.

This will take some time.  Closure and Perspective can be elusive when Anger and Sadness mix in such volatile quantities. 

Keep it 'tween the ditches .................................

CRUM's Official 2020 Seasonal Salutation

I have never been a big fan of the Christmas season.  As a child, I learned to dread it's coming.  My father, who struggled with depression and alcoholism, ramped up his pain at this time of the year.  I inherited his tendency for both the demon rum and the depression. I tried to break the chain, but was only able to rein in the alcoholic overloading. Depression is part of me year round, but worse in December.

So here we are in a year tailor made for me to wallow in more depression than ever before in my life. Covid sucks, Trump sucks, and I discovered that what I suspected is actually true.  The planet has been allowed to be run by self serving jerkwads proving that the average slob, peon, serf, or drooling minion is getting what they deserve.  So yeah, I should be in depression heaven here.

Oddly, I feel more upbeat than Christmases from my recent past.  For all the lousy and hateful things we have done to ourselves this past year, there has been a tidal wave of care sharing, as average folks coast to coast rose up to meet the various challenges of 2020.  Against many odds and nattering idiots, millions of good people put nose to grindstone and carried our load. 

Their existence has re-confirmed my faith in Humanity and I see lights at the ends of our tunnels.

HO!

Democracy is Cracking Apart

I have had it with lies from the Right, especially the lies from election fraud idiots, Covid deniers, Evangelical wackos and their brain dead idol, D. Trump. We will be years getting over the damage Trump and the spineless leadership of the Right has done to our country.

Hoping that a new year with Joe Biden leading an often clueless and fractured Liberal Cavalry will somehow fix it is using an overly optimistic dose of wishful thinking. The light at the end of the tunnel is but a fading glimmer.  Like the McCarthyism of the 1950's, the Trumpism of the 2020's will most likely have to burn itself out over time.  How much time is anyone's guess.

A sizable chunk of our dumb ass population has allowed itself to be sucked in by baseless conspiracy theories and lies fomented by morally corrupt mouthpieces operating with the support by authoritarian leaning One Percenter's.  These insensitive money grubbing mercenaries have no ethics and care little what form of government we have as long as their coffers and interests are in front of everyone else's. But they do seem to find the Representative Democracy we supposedly exist in now particularly problematic and loathsome as it actually relies on the very people they want to exploit. To them its like herding cats.  Doable, but it would be so much easier if we all were brain dead drones. Sadly, because the Right has lost its mind, their goal seems to be in site.

In short, the USA appears to be headed for Banana Republic status and I do not see any way out of it unless the Right blows itself up.

Later .........................................

A Big Hole in My Life

So there is a big hole in my life now.  A hole that I oddly seem to miss.  As much as I pissed and moaned, I had become used to and if truth be told, looked forward to it every day.  A day without Trump tweeting, waving his tiny hands and moving his ass like lips somehow now felt empty after 4 years of his daily dosage. The new normal that Trump introduced in 2016 had become customary, SSDD ordinary, not unique and different.  How sad is that?

I am actually very happy, some would say, ecstatic that our sad excuse for a President was trounced by a guy he called "Sleepy Joe".  I am thrilled especially that he is really showing who he is with his 2 weeks of tantrums and holding his breath til he turns blue.

But with only Trump Flu to hold my attention now, I am beginning to jones for my daily dollop of Trump, the man.  The two of them sort of canceled each other out by keeping my brain busy multitasking the fear and loathing I had for both.  By keeping me busy, the two kept me from dwelling on one alone.  And now, all I have to be worried about is Don's flu. And its not enough.

But then I am heartened by the knowledge that from now on, our new normal will be throwing all of us new curves that may end up fucking us royally, but it will be an interesting ride.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................

CMA Snubs Again

Country music has a special place in my heart.  It was the first music I remember hearing as a toddler in Colorado Springs, Colorado.  Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Webb Pierce, Roy Acuff, and countless other hay seed crooners and twangers filled my early years with the music of white trash America.  Smitten, I never looked back until it became nothing but Top 40 garbage in the 1970s. 

As I grew up, other music genres turned my head.  Folk, Blues, Rock, Jazz, Metal, and even Classical all have their place in my heart.  None however had the impact of that first kiss, Country Music.

I turned my back on the twangy Pop music that passes for Country music today.  It had become more about the flamboyant factor than the talent factor.  It all sounded the same. How big your belt was or how long your tassels were seemed to override the actual musical ability of the performer. Sure there were talented people performing, but they had caved to the POP music mentality that mediocrity sells. Their efforts became homogenized, pasteurized, no edge crap.  With the exception of the Outlaw movement in the mid 1970s, Country music became dead to me. And it has only gotten worse.  Style over substance.

For awhile the Outlaws realigned Country music with its roots.  But then it too became a sad reflection of itself when all the up and comers claimed that they too were outlaws.  Sorry but they weren't.  Wannabes who failed to carve their own unique niche.  Posers, the lot of them.

So here we are in 2020, post CMA awards show.  I don't like awards shows.  I figure already huge egos need no stroking from me by watching them prance in front of a camera.  Anyway, so what do I read today?  They did not even mention 3 country performers who passed in 2020 who represented Country Music more honestly than they ever have.  John Prine, Jerry Jeff Walker, and Billy Joe Shaver were snubbed.  What a bunch of thankless, self important assholes those CMA honchos are.  Not even a mention.  WOW!

Some current Country stars took notice.  Two claim they will return their CMA membership cards. And I love Sturgill Simpson's reaction on Instagram;

“Don’t get it twisted…wouldn’t be caught dead at this tacky ass glitter and botox cake & cock pony show even if my chair had a morphine drip,” 

But America loves mediocrity and this snub will pass under the bridge without notice.  

Keep it 'tween the ditches .............................................

The "I Don't Give a Shit Cult"

I started out Life as an Episcopalian.  Once confirmed, I spent time as an acolyte and briefly considered traveling the road to priesthood.  I changed direction that day at Hot Shoppes in Bethesda when I watched my priest snuggling against and kissing a woman not his wife. I quit playing the religious game. Ever since I have only stepped foot in a church when customs warranted it; Weddings, funerals,etc.

No longer being a believer does not mean I am an Atheist or an Agnostic.  No, there is one place to settle that will drive the extremist advocates of the other 3 choices bonkers. I now belong to the Cult of the "I don't give a shit people".

We just do not care if there is a supreme being in charge of it all.  Believing or not believing does not alter our path from the cradle to the grave.  Shit will happen and has happened to us.  Worrying about fixing blame or credit is an exercise in futility.  Worrying about after life nightmares inflicted by mythical beings is just crazy.

What I do worry about though are all the abuses, billions of deaths, and cultural separations that have been part and parcel of almost every religion since their creation in Holier than Thou twisted minds before recorded Time began. It has nothing to do with silly fables thought up to scare children.  

Religion is about control and power in the here and now. Anything positive that happens through religion is only allowed as long as it helps in the continued dominance of the targeted population.  

That is not to say the emotional crutch Religion offers should be banned.  Believe. Don't believe.  I just do not care. But I will care deeply and will resist should religion ever become mandatory.  

Keep it 'tween the ditches .................................

A New Level of Stupid

I never anticipated the level of Stupid some of my fellow citizens could attain.  It seems the 2 thousand people who make up a Facebook Group called "Loaded Guns Pointed at Benis" have reached new heights or maybe depths of moronic behavior never before in existence.

Using some obscure and at this point, unfathomable Right Winger Logic, taking a picture of  themselves pointing their handgun at their crotch somehow "owns the Libtards".  Regardless, it appears that finally someone ruined the fun and shot their sack.  Fear not though, these rugged individuals gave the hero a big "atta boy".  That'll show them dirty Liberals who is serious and who is not.

The madness gripping my country at the moment is really beginning to do more than just worry me.  Each new day with Trump in charge of the tensions between us makes sure we hate each other as much as possible.  The animosity is so thick it cannot be cut with a knife.  The only way I see our anger with each other dissipating is by wearing it out until both sides are just too exhausted to carry their cause's torch another inch.  And given the entrenchment tenacity in play at the moment, it will be years before we see any serious bipartisan cooperation like it used to be.

The new normal is beginning to take shape.  Fight it wherever you can.

The Originating Article from BroBible

Later ................................................

1619

With a new school year pending, one of the many irrational gaslighting notions coming from the Right is back near the top of the Winger Fears of the Week.  The 1619 Project.  Mention it in the wrong place and eye balls don't just roll, they may even fall out as the afflicted grab their heads in mortal fear of the new Libtard attack on their mindless Father Knows Best, Life is a White Paradise state of mind.

It seems the 1619 Project  aims to change the Nation's historical narratives proud White people consider sacrosanct.  Anything challenging the popular but inaccurate rendering of how the USA became and is still becoming rattles their many cages which are now comfortably numb to truth , facts, and what the American Way should have been and should be today.  Throwing Black folks into the mix is like adding fuel to an already blazing fire.  You can almost hear those proud White sphincters nationwide pucker up hard.

I became suspicious of historical accounts after I experienced 12 different school systems before I graduated high school.  Each state had their own twist on their regional history that may or may not have jibed with a state somewhere else.  In Virginia, I learned that Virginia had always been the Center of the Universe, not just during the Revolution and later, the Civil War.  In Florida I learned that the most important thing to happen was some Spanish dude looking around like a moron for a fountain of youth.

I realized that history is not only written by the victors, it is being constantly re-written by those in charge.  Historical accounts are always in a state of flux because of new facts and more importantly new perspectives that come from viewing the past through different lenses than the lenses of those who wrote the first, second, or even third version.

Fear of the 1619 Project is nothing but another Right Wing tempest in a tea pot.  Calm the fuck down.  Any new version of History taught in schools has to first make it into print.  And to make it into print, it has to be approved by the school systems in the various regions and states.  So no matter how radical the 1619 Project seems, we can count on a mostly watered down version at best.

That said, it is well past time to re-write our history to include a more honest narrative regarding Native Americans and African Americans.  The popular vision of stalwart heroic figures fighting the oppressive Red Coats is over stated.  The saga of a noble war being fought over "States Rights" that left over 600,000 soldiers dead from both sides needs to be updated.  And possibly the most egregious of them all, persuading ourselves that robbing and killing an indigenous people carried with it some level of  moral superiority.

So many of the truths and facts of our past have been conveniently ignored, denied and re-framed for a G audience that we have no real clue about what and why things panned out as they did.

A healthy Historical rendering is one that is constantly looking for more of the truth and less of the fluff buried in those events that made us what we are today. 

White history is only a partial history.

Later ..........................................

The Asian Century

I hear folks whining about the poor choices we have for President this time around.  I agree. Neither one of the top contenders are ideal.  But we need to step back from the disaster we created for ourselves in 2016 when we allowed a complete idiot take over the White House.  The damage he has done will take years to clean up.

Right now, we need a responsible gatekeeper, a practical man who will work to restore sanity to the national insanity that currently has our nation in its grip.  Joe Biden does that for us.  He is our check valve, our pausing moment while we figure out just how much damage Trump and the Right have done to our country.  Once Trump is gone, we can begin bickering over the details of putting us back on track.  

Regardless, the US is no longer the power that it was through the last half of the 20th century.  Trump and Covid19 have made sure of that.  As part of our healing process Americans will need to own this reality and do it quickly.  We keep floundering and thrashing around wasting time pissing on each other's feet while the rest of the World is already months ahead of us in what is now the Asian Century.

Stop wasting time worrying about what we once were and focus on what we want to become.  Because the days of being the only big dog in the dog park are over.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..............................................

Drunk & Disorderly

Turning a deaf ear to the obnoxious noises coming from south of here down there inside the DC Beltway where the empty suits reign, I have decided that tonight I would sip Evan Williams whiskey from my 100th anniversary Stainless Steel Stanley Flask.  And to fill those empty moments between swigs, I'll slow scroll through my FB feed and listen to music turned up to Wow.  I will know I have reached full on, in your face inebriation when the music is no longer heard but rather felt through the hairs standing up straight on the back of my neck.

More than a few swigs later, I realize I just don't care anymore.  The alcohol has done its job.  Tomorrow, I'll pick up where I left off, restack the worry, the fret, pack up my anger, and fall back into line like the rest of the citizens who don't dare to guess but still worry what tomorrow might bring.

My new normal is starting to fit me now.  I am coming to grips with a different Reality packing different rules than the ones that ran things not even a year ago.

I think we have finally arrived in the 21st century.

Buckle up ..................

And BTW - the image has nothing to do with the post.  I just liked it.  It's a close up of a personal custom build I put together over a decade ago now.  I loved that bike.

Arguing With Myself

Earlier today I was mousing my way down Facebook Lane and not paying much attention to the meme's that passed by.  I must  have been distracted or just deep into my FB Daze earlier than usual.  Suddenly I stopped my scrolling.  It dawned on me that it was nothing but muscle memory that had me wandering aimlessly around Facebook at 5:30 in the morning.

I began to internalize and an argument with myself broke out about me always being sucked into useless endeavors that had no real importance in the scheme that was my life.  Yeah, I began to give myself Hell. Then, totally out of character for me, I stopped arguing with myself.  I realized, not only was I deep into another round of useless mental masturbation, now I wanted to argue with myself the merits of said useless endeavor.

"Screw this, I'm taking Maggie over to Mary's Woods, sparkin up a doob while I stretch our legs and forget Facebook even exists, if only for a brief moment or two."

Smart choice.  Wake n Bake to the rescue again.

Wish Us Luck

This morning on TV news, a supposed expert on crime said he and the rest of the experts had no idea the why violent crime stats have risen.  What came to my mind was it was not a Libtard conspiracy to turn us all into Comrades, not the stupid number of guns in the US, nor was it illegal immigration or pedophilia clubs run by Hilliary .

What came to my mind when I heard this guy say he had no idea was, "Damn dude, people are scared, angry, and oh so fuckin tired of being cooped up."  I went on to shout at the TV, "The current leadership and its insistence on fanning the flames of fear, hate and discontent is not helping either you asshole."  As usual, the TV ignored me, cheerfully continuing on its merry way spreading the latest serving of said hate and discontent.

Call it a perfect storm where three plus years of divisive and fearful rhetoric from Donald Trump ramped up to breakneck speed and was swallowed by a catastrophe that should have been foreseen and planned for, but was not.  And then everything really went to Hell in a hand basket because our leader couldn't think himself out of a wet T-shirt, let alone deal with a worldwide pandemic.  Mass ignorance and stupidity on the grandest of scale now has us by our short hairs.

Hang in there and wish us luck.

He Walked the Walk

As part of my coming to grips with the racism in my past, I remember when Muhammad Ali refused to be inducted into the Army.

I was just a kid of 14 or 15 who echoed the hateful admonishments of the White people in my small circle. We called him a traitor. We said he was just another uppity N****. We hurled all sorts of insults at a man who had more balls than the whole American White Race combined. He stood against the Vietnam war and stood tall for his race. And we punished him for it. I am so sad I had any part in that.

Years later, I came to admire Ali. I came to look past his bluster and tried to understand where he was coming from. Ali, Malcolm X, and the Rev. King became my trusted teachers of how to treat all men, not just a chosen few.

__________________________________

A Facebook posting about his arrest for refusing to be drafted inspired the above BoZone post.  

Ali is quoted in the post:

“I ain’t draft dodging. I ain’t burning no flag. I ain’t running to Canada. I’m staying right here. You want to send me to jail? Fine, you go right ahead. I’ve been in jail for 400 years. I could be there for 4 or 5 more, but I ain’t going no 10,000 miles to help murder and kill other poor people. If I want to die, I’ll die right here, right now, fightin’ you, if I want to die. You my enemy, not no Chinese, no Vietcong, no Japanese. You my opposer when I want freedom. You my opposer when I want justice. You my opposer when I want equality. Want me to go somewhere and fight for you? You won’t even stand up for me right here in America, for my rights and my religious beliefs. You won’t even stand up for my right here at home". 

Word !

A man worthy of admiration by all of us.

Later Gator ................................................................

Brainwashed Culture

The following  is a post I placed on my Facebook page.  A Facebook bud from Texas decided to ignore its thrust and attempt to criticize me for criticizing my own race.  Not sure he meant it, but he completely lost my point when he posted a silly image in the comment section.

My post ran like this....

"The years under my belt have turned me into a cynic. The trend of White Exceptionalism has taken many hits over the years and yet it is still with us, buried even deeper within the systems White Folks created to mask its existence.

Every decade or so minority anger has flared up. White platitudes and empty promises of reform only amounted to the echoes of those promises blowing out to sea.

When I am wearing my cynic's jacket I often wonder why we should consider this time any different. Promises spewed from the lips of our leaders have never lived up to their hype.

But then my anger at leadership's inability to bring about real change diminishes and I become hopeful once more that maybe this time it will be different.

Hope does indeed spring eternal. I am proof of that."

I was saddened to realize that not only did he not get my point, his focus on race pride was even more disturbing.  My message being lost as he knee jerked himself to defend the "White Race" told me many of us White Folks are being deliberately and willfully ignorant.

Unless someone reminds me, accuses me, or I look in a mirror, I rarely think of myself as a member of any race.  My racial curse or my racial blessing means less than nothing to me.  And until it means nothing to everyone else on the planet, no matter their race, religion or ethnic ancestry, this country, this world will continue on its way as a crippled species that cannot get out of its own way.

Hate the haters, don't hate the victims ................................. Later Gators.