The DisEase of PoliTicks

I don’t recall a time when our political divide turned sustainable differences into an uncompromising contention, transforming constructive discussions into combative clashings, turning everyone into savage foes.

This is the fallout of propagating lies and misinformation masked as science and well caring, parading as paternal concern for the willfully ignorant multitudes transfixed by mass propaganda.

The smoking downward spirals of civility and prudence darken our skies.

Poisoning even the most stalwart with its whistling siren song.

Methinks evil communist forces are afoot.

Political anger is the weapon wielded in Washington by both parties and their corporate cronies against We the People, viciously turning us against one another in a souring feud. Bulldozing the foundation of our country, wrecking friendships, and severing family bonds. Creating an ambiance of fret, hate, revulsion, and racism.

Bitten by PoliTicks induces partisan addiction, causing inflammation of the psyche, resulting in myopia and obstinacy.

I am a recovering junkie of the PoliTick venom myself.

It helps to admit.

Recently, I confused a friend’s passionate comment as an attack on my character. I’m ashamed it happened. But as it is, it took that to start the recovery process.

While my friend and I have our differences in opinions, some spanning great distances, there are always bridges connecting us (veganism, for one). His observations and opinions have always given me pause for thought, no matter how antithetical to my enduring thesis of life, theories, and gruesome inevitabilities.

PoliTicks, like religious FanaTicks, is a disease of the mind. Infected, one cannot undermine the psychological ramparts the ego erects to protect its precious notions; no matter how fervently reasonability begs, we ignore.

However, for milder cases, there is a countermeasure.

A self-thrown gut-punch to the psyche.

Resulting in the appreciation of fallibility.

A receptivity for the probability of wrongness.

These finer faculties you gain by exploring a particular from multiple angles. It’s tough, I admit. But this is where varying ideas and respectful discourse comes to play in building harmony. As should the bitter-tasting thought of alienating a friend or family member over some nonsensical bull dung such as our psychopathically infused politics inspire.

My own gut-punch ushers in the next chapter of my life.

In keeping with my innate spirit, seen by the consensus as the repugnant rebellion of individualism, I’m returning to my anarchical paradise of old. The peaceful retreat into living with reduced emotion of circumstances I’m powerless to change. A contented life of de-energized politics, complete with its resurrected suspicion of the State, and every other damn thing that says it wants to help.

I’ll focus on my favorite things: veganism, family, friends, fast cars, firearms, and my misanthropic misgivings.

Too, I may write about health and fitness. Mine in particular, how at sixty-seven I can still do more chin-ups than you.

Godspeed.


Feature image courtesy of Matryx at Pixabay

The Bell Rings

“Adieu, the Bell rings, and I must go among the Grave ones and talk Politicks.” ~ Benjamin Franklin

For every thought, opinion, and belief, there is its opposite.

And a lot of conflicted emotions in between.

We can’t all be right.

But we can all be wrong.

I’ve been wrong about several things all my life. I’ll forgo the details.

But in that light I’ve realized a thing vital to personal growth — Kathryn Schulz puts it eloquently in her TED Talk — being wrong, feels exactly like being right.

Until you realize you’re wrong.

From this hindsight perspective, I reckon I’m wrong about some things, still today.

Time will tell.

That, and an open mind.

I didn’t join the right out of allegiance to the conservative party, although I’ve always leaned right in many respects. Things like freedom; free speech; family; firearms; less government; fewer taxes, fees, tolls, permits, and licensing; fewer social programs, and an ennobling system based on meritocracy — to which I’ll add, to both tyrant and slothful dullard, Marxism paints a tantalizing albeit deceptive picture, thus raising its recent popularity whilst waging war on liberty.

Our country is run by psychopathic pedophiles. The extent of immorality we’ll likely never learn, but my gut tells me it’s extensive, earth-rattling. There’s too much circumstantial evidence to ignore, and most of it implicates the Democrats, in both recent popular past and the present occupiers.

So it comes with reluctance that I associate myself with Politicks. But the bell rings, for reasons that threaten our freedoms, and left with no alternative short of expatriation, I’ve joined the ranks of Republicans — possibly the last viable stronghold against the violent socialist burdens threatening our sea to shining sea.

However, we’re not a perfect match.

Oddly enough, for a political party that rants about freedom, many conservatives find veganism (freedom for our fellow earthlings, something I’m emotionally invested in) an object of ridicule, and condemn my lack of religious conviction, and vehemently deny a woman’s freedom of choice — just saying.

But, go figure.

And there’s this, this nagging notion that the two parties are colluding against We the People in a wily attempt to overthrow democracy. A good cop bad cop game. It’s what any capable tyrant would do.

But I could be wrong.

“Proclaim Liberty”: IMPEACH BIDEN/HARRIS

Trump / Noem 2024! Or sooner
Save America Trump 2024


Liberty Bell image courtesy of Phil Roeder

“Did you know the Liberty Bell was named by abolitionists fighting to end slavery?” From the NPS, learn more here.

Perception

From Where We See

They see and I see,
but from where we see, things appear differently.

Where they see their colorful illusions, the joys of life,
I see the dreadful pallors of an unjust fright.

They see clouds speckling a vibrant blue sky,
I see the contrails of fighter jets fly by.

They see the ocean waves crest high and true,
I see the mighty warships cut them through.

They see the gaiety of flowery blossoms covering  the earth,
I see the blood-steeped battlefields nourishing their mirth.

They see victory parades, loyalist colors flying a patriotic hue,
I see military conflict, war, and a bloody coup.

They see the exciting hustle and bustle of a vibrant downtown,
I see the rapes and pillages of villages burned down.

They see a God of love and forgiveness given their kin,
I see a myth fashioned to forgive them their sin.

They see energetic kids playing happily-go-luckily,
I see inanition from empty bellies swollen hungrily.

They see birds and bees pollinating the greens,
I see the herbicides and pesticides that silenced their wings.

They see the pitter-patter tracks of animal trails,
I see the spent and littered shotgun shells.

They see the comforts and pleasures of companion pets—
puppies, kittens, dogs, and cats.

I see the hell of slaughterhouses, factory farms, test labs—
their tortured animals, primates, and rats.

They see and I see yet for all the world from where we see,
things appear so damnably differently.


This is the re-envisioned version of a poem I wrote in 2017, and here it is four years later… How time flies, like bullets whizzing by. Screaming missiles through the sky.

Pick a Fight, Get a Fight

Pick a fight, get a fight.

I didn’t become an advocate of the Right until the Left intensified its war on liberty while cramming their regurgitated Marxist vomit down our Amber Waves of Grain.

Perfectly content, I was, to live and let live.

Literally, live and let live.

It’s why I became vegan.

Get it? Live. Let live.

It’s all I ask.

But with the Left’s demonization of the white race, their nuclear bombardment on free speech, their unrelenting attacks on the second amendment, their cataclysmic open-border policy, their sinister designs for a socialist one-party state (aided and abetted by traitorous RINOs), their blackballing the unvaxxed, to their loony mathematically challenged president and his vice maladroit, I was left with no choice.

Pick a fight, get a fight.

Trump / Noem 2024!
Save America Trump 2024


Featured image courtesy of thommas68 via Pixabay.com

A Penny on the Issues

Capital Punishment

Killing is an ugly business. Yet, might some violent crimes warrant such extremes: death or life imprisonment? How about we keep our hands clean and let the condemned decide for themselves.

Abortion

Killing is an ugly business. I suppose there are grounds for abortion (though beyond the scope of this post). Regardless, while men might have a voice in the matter, ultimately, it’s not our call.

Gun Ownership

Killing is an ugly business. Even when executed in self-defense, it ain’t pretty. However, the world is insanely dangerous, and if you hadn’t noticed, worsening. Politicians, the elite, the police arm themselves or employ armed guards. Why shouldn’t the average law-abiding citizens possess the right to arm themselves, to defend and protect their loved ones, their property?

Veganism

Killing is an ugly business and, like abortion, particularly reprehensible against the vulnerable and innocent. Stop eating animals. They have as much claim to freedom as we. Maybe more, because nearly everything wrong on the planet results from our misguided actions and inactions. Not theirs.

Freedom of Speech

Killing is an ugly business, but words are not sticks and stones, bullets, or knives. If speech isn’t threatening, bullying, or downright hateful, and you still find yourself offended or in opposition, get over yourself.

Religion

Killing is an ugly business, and the Abrahamic religions own a disproportionate share of both human and animal bloodshed. If someone doesn’t believe the things you do, it’s okay. Okay, as long as they live in peace. Which is contrary among the overly zealous followers in religion—as well as politics.

In Conclusion

It all comes down to live and let live. Simple, right? So why not? Because of human greed, gluttony, selfishness, a hankering for power, resistance to entertaining concepts competing with our cherished beliefs, traditions, and progresses.

—I once knew a thing I thought I disliked. Then I got to know it.

Regret

They say, as your hour draws near, you’ll regret the things you never did, you wish you had done.

But now, as I reach the end of my pier, I don’t.

I don’t regret not learning to scuba dive, rock climb, or bungee jump off a towering bridge.

I don’t regret not running a marathon, for fuck’s sake.

I don’t regret not traveling the world.

I don’t regret those drunken sexual orgies I never attended. Okay, well, maybe a little.

But I still have regrets. Hard regrets. Regrets for the things I did do. The people I’ve hurt, the animals I’ve killed, the ones I’ve caused harm.

My slights weigh heavy; it’s not a joke—the burden of my transgressions—the sins against the gods, goddesses, nature, and humanity.

So in this life or the next, I can ask no mercy, no compassion for that I’ve denied. I can only but bow my head and acquiesce to the atonement, regret the suffering I’ve caused.

Haiku 004

Blood flows a river
Behind the slaughterhouse walls
Sharp knives, stony lies


Most everyone has a polite, euphemistic idea of what happens inside a slaughterhouse. Someone summed it up nicely, animals go in alive and whole and come out chopped up in little pieces, and somehow, somewhere in between, people believe something humane happened.

Euphemistic, as in self-delusion.

Read more

Driving

Driving

Remember when you got your driver’s license? The excitement. I live that. I’m an automotive enthusiast, love to drive, love to tinker, and polish. I’m one with the vehicle, a cyborg.

Driving is recreational, if not medicinal, a chance to get out and see the countryside or cityscape. Whether it’s a quiet morning commute or rocking out to the Rolling Stones on the way to grab some vegan fare. Or perhaps a little Esteban on a slow Sunday cruise with the wife in her Beetle—top down, sun shining. The Beetle’s top-down, dude, not the wife. Get your mind out of the gutter. Although we do occasionally… well, here ain’t the place.

I enjoy the hours driving cross-country, seeing new places, RV in tow, which can sometimes prove challenging on back roads and crowded gas stations designed for little more than a Fiat 500 (cool little car, BTW). It all made for some entertaining tales, those experiences. But as the old saying goes, smooth seas don’t make skilled sailors. Ditto for drivers on the open road.

What I like best—on a summer-like day when the heat of the blacktop gets blistering hot and the Michelin Pilot Sport Cup 2 tires get gummy like glue and adhere to the road like proverbial stink on shit—is a spirited sprint in the GT350. I call her GT Vudo (as in Voodoo, Mustang owners get the allusion)—the ripping, roaring thunder of 526 naturally aspirated horses unleashed. The exhilaration of acceleration. It’s damn near orgasmic. No forced induction required. Although I consider the mod. Shh, mum’s the word.

No matter what or where or how I drive, courtesy and safety are important. I might punch the gas and burn a little rubber now and then, but I’m rarely over the speed limit. Unless there’s a begging stretch of lonesome interstate. Then all bets are off.

Most drivers, at least a significant number, are cautious and courteous. Others are rude if not downright dangerous or dangerously distracted. It seems most everyone’s in a damn hurry. A hurry to go where? To do what? Get to a job they don’t like. A hot-foot home to watch boob-tube propaganda, YouTube maybe.

Slow down, be in the moment.

I’ve seen people get all giddy shopping for a car, buying new air-conditioned, comfortable, sleek-looking mechanical marvels that set their hearts on fire, then when at last they’re behind the wheel, seems they can’t wait to get out.

We’ve all seen the impatient driver while we idle away in a traffic jam. They’re going nowhere fast, but still, they try, riding your bumper, swapping lanes, cutting you off, and all-out general rudeness. Relax, spin the tunes, count your blessings. Better stuck in a traffic jam, than the one caused a traffic jam. Stay calm and you’ll reach your destination. That person up ahead might not be so lucky.

Drive safe. Be courteous.

Knowing & Understanding

Knowing there’s always more to know is my most daring teacher.
Understanding there’s always more to understand is my most challenging endeavor.

Attaining knowledge, expanding understanding, elevates character in sagacity and virtue. Virtues like compassion. Compassion for the earth, for her creatures. And is why I’m vegan.

The courage of knowledge and understanding undermines the authority of convention, subverting society’s sacred covenant, the Consensus. And is why I’m free.

Raven’s Head Stew