Sunday, March 08, 2026

War


The wrathful deity is a projection of the soul.

The Republic is the soul writ large, says Plato.

“Death and destruction from the sky all day long,” says the Secretary of War.

The Party is concerned that the war could harm its chances in the midterm elections. The Other Party hopes the war’s unpopularity could work for them in the elections.

The President plans to attend the dignified transfer of the dead bodies.

The President does not make decisions in a vacuum, says his spokeswoman.

You only want to talk about the dead to make the President look bad.


We consult the scribes and priests and look at the New York Times and FOX and the Revelation of St John

Recall the stories you have heard all your life about Armageddon 

Stories about the sky falling down. Stories about the Great Pumpkin, or The Revolution, or The Last Days.

This is one of those critical times when certain archetypes return.

Such as Nero, memorably portrayed as 666 by John the Revelator, returning as Napoleon to Pierre in War and Peace. When Pierre thinks he has decoded a prophecy he feels called to assassinate Napoleon. He fell for the fallacy of taking apocalyptic literature literally.


Jesus predicted the destruction of the Temple and warned his followers to be prepared to become refugees.


I don’t remember the stories telling us exactly what to do when the sky is falling down. 


Watch out for falling debris.

Watch out for falling empire.

Know where the exits are when your castle is burning.


Don’t panic 

Pay attention 

Update your Go bag 

Help your neighbor 

Love your enemies 

Breathe 


See? I got nothing 

I’m an empty handed painter drawing crazy patterns on your sheets 

I steal words from old songs because I don’t know what to say 

A hard rain is gonna fall all day every day for five or six or seven weeks or years or whatever it takes to achieve the objectives we haven’t yet identified 

Gimme Shelter

War is just a drone strike away

Instant karma is gonna get us

People Get Ready

I’m planning to participate in the March 28 No Kings Day events whatever they are. 

Release all the Trump/Epstein files before he bombs another elementary school 

Thoughts and Prayers and Actions and Revolution 

We need to become a crisis intervention movement


Decapitate the regime, I think and pray. 

If my thoughtdreams could be seen.

Better free your mind as well.




Watch your step

 


The winter wonderland is melting away and there is dog shit everywhere.

Yesterday I slipped on some ice, but wasn’t hurt. Only my sense of well being was damaged. By “sense of well being” I mean, the confidence in my ability to walk without falling down .

Today my toaster oven would not toast. Am I supposed to eat my English muffin raw? Hard times.

I’m an old man.

On the way to work I stop at the Marketplace to get something to eat and the big TV screen says that 33 years ago today the World Trade Center was bombed.

A flash of confusion— How old am I? — No, the first attack. 1993. I lived in Kansas City. I knew my way around KC. I was a delivery driver. Car radio on the highway. Nirvana, Beck, Golden Oldies, NPR. Everywhere I went I could smell barbecue and people had Rush Limbaugh on, stirring up fake scandals. Bill and Hillary. I try to remember what was going on around then. When was the Ruby Ridge incident? And David Koresh at Apocalypse Ranch or whatever it was in Waco. 

I think of my friends in Kansas City. That was over thirty years ago. How old am I?

Don’t worry. I remember. I pass the cognitive test, just like our President.

Every year seems apocalyptic.

Waco was April 19 and the Oklahoma City bombing was April 19 because the Battle of Concord was April 19 and here the embattled farmer stood and fired the shot heard around the world and I began reading about the mythology of the militia movement and the World Trade Center bombing killed six people and the Oklahoma bombing killed how many again? 167. Still the worst domestic terrorist attack unless you believe 9/11 was an inside job then don’t talk to me. Truthers trigger me.

Five years after the 93 bombing I’m working at the World Trade Center and receiving deliveries in the same underground loading dock where the truck bomb was detonated.

Tread carefully on this ice but especially where you don’t see ice because that is the trap set for you. I’m fortunate I’m not sore from the fall and that I didn’t break, didn’t shatter like that mirror I broke on Friday 13.

I get off the J train at Broad Street, same as I did from 1998 to 2001. Now I walk South, very carefully toward the harbor at the center of the world.

 


Sunday, February 22, 2026

Stand!

 A couple of years ago one of my nieces, the one who lives in Minnesota, was visiting her mother’s church in Alabama. The pastor of this church claims to operate in the realm of prophecy. He has long hair and wears a long leather coat and plays electric guitar in the church band. His interpretation of scripture is strange, often surreal, and focused on a combination of prosperity gospel and apocalypse. The church is a family business much like the church I was raised in, in that the whole family is involved in the preaching and singing, only they are reportedly raking in millions, unlike First Baptist of Palm Beach Gardens. My mother had a job at Pratt and Whitney and was the principal breadwinner. My sister played piano. Taught Sunday school. 

And my parents were lifelong Democrats. This other church is of the pro-Trump faith, comparing him to King David because he is anointed and somehow fulfilling the End Times prophecies of the pastor. 

Such is their confusion.


When my niece visited, one of the self proclaimed prophets was behind the pulpit, alarming the congrégation with scary stories about children becoming transgender furries due to satanic plots in public schools, repeating stories our President tells at his rallies and in the Oval Office and  in bed on his phone and talking in his sleep, constantly rehearsing and revising a mythology that explains the universe to his followers, a universe with Donald Jesus Christofascist Trump at the center.


The person who was teaching that day told a story about a man whose child said he identified with a cat, so the father supposedly commanded his child to sleep in the barn and eat mice. This must have got a laugh from the congregation but my niece was horrified. She jumped up and shouted Bullshit! She accused them of condoning child abuse. She told them she is both a mother and a schoolteacher and what these fake prophets were saying about public schools was false. Then gave the church a two fisted double bird flip and left the building.


I heard about this incident from her, her brother, and her mother. The family was in disagreement about it, but I thought she did the right thing. My sister said she was proud of her for taking a stand. She told me that she and her husband raised their kids to think independently.  But my sister still believed in Trump.

I think her church gave her a sense of community and belonging.


When Betty was in her last days we didn’t argue about Trump anymore. I postponed visiting her because I don’t like flying and we’d seen each other in Chautauqua a few years ago (I took a bus). I knew if I went to her church the Holy Spirit might demand I make an even bigger scene. Betty and I said our goodbyes on the phone.


Betty died before she could vote to re-elect Trump. She admired Marjorie Taylor Green. MTG’s rethinking of her opinion of Trump over the Epstein Files helps me to wonder if my sister might have also had a change of heart about some things. Would she have listened to the survivors? Green said that the President told her if he released all the files unredacted his friends would be hurt. His friends in the Epstein class. I want to believe that at some point in the last year some line was crossed, some hearts changed, but I don’t know if the spell will soon be broken. He still has supporters.


It is no oversight that some of the President’s friends´ names were redacted from the files released so far. And I am certain that it was no accident that the names of some of the Epstein/Trump survivors were not redacted. It is a deliberate act of retaliation by Trump. He is punishing the accusers and intimidating any witnesses who have not yet spoken.


If you don’t understand why those girls let themselves be dominated and degraded by the creep in the White House you need to understand that we are all letting ourselves be dominated and degraded by a corrupt and cruel system. The Epstein/Trump crimes and the continued coverup disgraces the nation.


I thought what my niece did was comparable to the Gospel story of Jesus acting up in The Temple. Jesus warned he would divide families and start intergenerational warfare. Maybe God chose her to do a necessary prophetic action because I chickened out.  I thought of her when the protest in a church in St. Paul was in the news and Don Lemon was arrested for committing an act of journalism.  If Jesus of Nazareth walked into that Trump cult church and started to teach about loving the stranger and loving your neighbors, actual Bible teaching, that ICE preacher would’ve had him killed or deported. 


Cruelty is the style of the Trump Cult. They have no good ideas. No New Deal. No New Frontier. No Morning in America. Just the political equivalent of a low budget exploitation movie, a splatter flick. Just cheap shocks to fill the screens of our information devices. Fascist porn.


America is a disgrace. We need to change. In evangelical terms, we need to repent. The people of Minneapolis are doing what they can. My niece has been participating in the resistance and bearing witness. Many people are doing what they can.


Where do you draw the line ?

When will you change your mind?

When will you stand up?

When will I?




Liberty on ice.

   























Friday, January 30, 2026

The New Common Sense


Waxing gibbous up there almost egg shaped, looks like it’s giving birth to itself.

The Doomsday Clock now says eighty five seconds to midnight.


It’s cold and my numb finger jabs at my phone, poking at the alphabet, trying to form meaning. Fight fascism with mere words, write the Facebook post that will change everything. Two hundred fifty years ago Thomas Paine published a pamphlet that brought down an empire. Something to aspire to.


In Minneapolis the Resistance is showing force in subzero cold. I wish I  was home, in my steam heated cave, but I feel I should be doing something.

The term inflection point is used a lot these days. Turning point, tipping point, points of no return. How many points of light will it take to reach critical mass?

It is easy to imagine ten million of us filling the streets of Washington DC and forcing the government to represent the people instead of oligarchs, creating democracy in America, changing the regime.

Knock on the White House door. We are here to make a citizen’s arrest. We are here to enforce the Constitution.

We demand that the government obey the law.


I am a brain worm and I will get inside Trump’s head because it’s the only way to get him out of mine. I don’t want to eat his miserable brain. I imagine his mind tastes like a clump of rotten Big Macs left on the front seat of a car for week. 

We will feed him the New Common Sense. You call it a Derangement Syndrome, fine, call me The Lone Deranger. Cue up the William Tell Overture, isn’t it Romantic? 

I don’t wear a mask like Trump’s ICE thugs and I am unarmed. My only weapon is my numb index finger jabbing at the screen like a maniac.

This post has to change everything.


  

Sunday, January 18, 2026

We have whistles. They have guns.





Good is dead


The bold broadcaster goes forth and back across and around this Troubled Earth broadly casting magic spores from a big bag slung over his shoulder 

This diaspora is scattered randomly in the air and on the ground, mostly lost in the winds but a chosen few spores spill into the cracks of broken heads


Good is dead



We have whistles

We have whistles

We have whistles and they have guns

Good is dead


You have reasons 

You have reasons 

You have reasons you say

There are reasons you say

To shoot a woman close range three times

 

And Good  is  dead


You have reasons without Reason, unreasonable thought habits, reflexes, and ingrained fallacies that have made a mess of your map of the world and you call it the gospel of Christ

Well

You have your Christ and I have mine 

We watch the same video and see different things, I guess, or you are being dishonest, or you think I am just a stupid lying knee jerk libtard 


I don’t know what to do to speak to your mind and open your heart


We are not just talking about politics 

We are not just talking politics

The shooting has already started

You see a different scene, a heroic Christian patriot law enforcement officer threatened by a leftwing terrorist

because you believe what you are told when the man you voted for is telling you what you see and your friends tell you what you see or your spouse tells you or your preacher tells you that you are supposed to see this is holy work to cleanse the Nation of filthy refugees 

 

The woman in the car is a lesbian terrorist and the man with the gun and the mask is doing the Lord’s work and when he said “Fucking bitch” after he killed her it was his way of saying “Jesus loves you”


Good is dead

 

God save us

God save us

God save us 

I pray God saves us from your Nazi Christ.