Why I Wear My Veteran's Hat

I often wear my veteran’s hat in public.

- It pisses redneck conservatives off because a liberal-commie-hippie served and they didn’t.

- It makes liberals feel a little ashamed to see I don't pose much of a threat.

- It scares the hell out of people at Walmart and they don’t block your way talking on their cell phones.

- A DD 214 carries much more prestige than a flag lapel-pin.

- It allows another Brother to spot me.

- And … twice I’ve had strangers pay for my meals.

Good enough reasons, I would say.

Once in a blue moon, someone will say “Thank you for your service.” I’ve wondered what to say back.

“You’re only 50 years too late.” – No, too snarky.

“I didn’t serve, I survived.” – No, too whiney.

“It was my honor.” Oh, for Christ’s sake.

“Thank you.” – That will do in a pinch, but too passive.

Lately, and until next week, I’ve come up with what I consider a good one.

“I just did my duty. Please do yours and vote.”

On Redemption

I use two redemptive concepts in holding out hope for America: “The Thomas Beckett Moment” and the “Saul on the Road to Damascus Realization.” The first happens when a person decides that there is a higher calling than political expediency or personal riches. The second happens when a person decides that one doesn’t have to be a jerk forever.

We can hope, can't we?

On Kneeling …

Yesterday, I spent two hours with an AT&T tech, fixing an internet snafu at our Little Rock condo. On leaving, I discovered that he had served in the U.S. Army, with assignments in the Middle East, including Afghanistan. He didn’t learn his technical skills there. He served as a medic. My mind shot back to when I was waiting for the bus to take me to the air base at Da Nang to “leave country.”

Amidst the happy, talkative group waiting to go home, there was a young man in a wrinkled outfit with insignia stating that he was a Navy Corpsman. He didn’t talk, just stared through vacant eyes into space. I remember thinking how, after a year in a war zone, I couldn’t imagine what that man had experienced. That’s why I don’t respect people who swagger around with flag decals on their lapels and ask why I don’t wear one.

My oath of enlistment stated that I would “… support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I [would] bear true faith and allegiance to the same.” I’ve researched it numerous times, and I can’t find an exemption limiting that oath to people who look and believe like me.

After we boarded the plane, and it rose aboard the blue waters of the South China Sea, applause broke out. Among the celebrants was a sizable number of shipmates and comrades who, when arriving home would find themselves denied the opportunities and personal safety that I, a white man of Northern European descent, would enjoy. Some had fought their way through Hue, during the Tet Offensive. Some had defended Khe Sahn. Some had held dying friends in their arms. Some had served on riverboat patrols.

All had spent a year or more not knowing what breath they took might be their last.

Some had been called “boy” on the same day they had had suffered wounds on behalf of their country. Some would be stopped for “driving while black” on arrival in an ungrateful country. Some would be denied the opportunity to purchase a home, as I did, in a decent neighborhood. Some would be denied jobs because of the color of their skin.

Their oath of enlistment, which they had fulfilled with honor, was the same as mine.

I think about these things. In the famous line from the movie, they just wanted “their country to love them as much as they had loved it.”

 Kneel for the music, or stand for the music, it’s your right. I don’t give a damn one way or the other, and don’t expect me to. Flag decal or no, standing without having sacrificed will never make you as tall as a kneeling comrade who was shortchanged by the country he served.

On honoring honor …

Yesterday, a friend and I discussed the phenomenon that has accompanied death of Senator John McCain. It has been amazing, nearly causing a psychotic episode with at least one of his enemies. Overall, the outpouring of respect and admiration has been grandly comforting and reassuring. But why?

One can’t simply apply the usual explanations to this unusual situation.

We must, I think, avoid the temptation to under-symptomize our analysis, that is we shouldn’t seek one overlaying reason for the national outpouring of respect for John McCain’s life. It isn’t based on any uniform set of catalysts.

There are those who respected his military service but didn’t care for his political views.

There are those who scarcely know of his military service but resected his career as a senator.

There are those that believe he was following noxious orders when shot down but exhibited sublime heroism as a POW.

There are those who simply believe he was an orchid growing from a cesspool.

We could go on and on, and add greater complexity, but let me add a reason of my own to the mix.

First, I recall that someone once commented, I think it might have been Thomas Hobbes but I’m not sure and too lazy to research it, that “Our passions don’t change, just the objects of those passions.” Add to this my belief that our passions can either be good or evil “monsters of our Id.”

This reference to the film Forbidden Planet responds to my lifelong fascination with the science fiction films of my youth. In many, the Earth harbored subterranean monsters of cosmic threat and danger. Something (in the 1950s it was nuclear testing) unlocked these monsters, often mutations of insects or reptiles. The monsters rose to surface and threatened to destroy our way of life until some hero, often as not B-Actor John Agar, pronounced the ubiquitous phrase “It just might work.” He would then save us all from the monster-of-the-day.

In a social, but horrific, negative example, we witnessed, with the election of Barack Obama as president, such a seismic release of our national monster. We thought we were conquering the lingering rot of racial hatred. Alas, that monster only lay buried, awaiting a nuclear bomb-like explosion in the form of the election, to our highest office, of an African-American. In contrast to the movies, though, society was not united in defeating the monster and sending it back to the bowels of the earth.

No, evil people fed and nourished the monster. Worse, they set it upon their enemies and opponents, enlisting the services of a foreign enemy and the foreign owners of an influential television show. It worked. The monster grew and began consuming us. Would we survive? Where is our John Agar?

Perhaps we see hope. Can goodness lay buried in a subterranean tomb? Can some event loose it from its captivity? Can the better monster of our nature rise to fight the other?

Enter the phenomenon of John McCain’s death. Has it freed forgotten forms of decency and respect for honor that have lain buried for so many years? If so, how can we find ways to nourish it and make it grow? Can our salvation await us, birthed from the contemplation of this brave man’s life?

Perhaps it can if we realize that we are our own John Agars.

A Minor Comparison

Before being sent off to do my patriotic duty in SE Asia, I spent two full days in a fake “POW” camp, the intent of which was to prepare me in the event I was captured by the enemy. The “captors” were allowed to physically abuse us within guidelines set forth by my government.

During the ordeal, I suffered three major indignities, other than hunger and general humiliation.

While standing buck-naked next to large pile of dead tree branches, I refused to offer more than my name, rank, and serial number. For this, a gigantic guard knocked me into the middle of the brush pile and repeatedly hindered me from extricating myself.

For refusing to denounce “Ameeerica,” I was slapped six or seven times real hard by a drooling interrogator.

For being in the wrong place at the wrong time, I had an unopened package of toilet tissue (from a C-Rats box), that had laid on the privy floor for several days placed in my mouth and made to stand for what seemed like hours, but maybe 15 minutes or so.

During moments of contemplation, I have deduced that if I were suffering from two broken arms, a battered body, minimal medical care, no restraints on my torture, and could multiply that two-day experience by more than a thousand, I might be able to understand a little of what John McCain went through as a result of service to his country.

That is why I become so angry when I receive a political ad in the mail from a member of Donald Trump’s political party saying I should support that party because it loves veterans, when its very leader dishonored John McCain's military service, and the man himself, so disgracefully. 

“Oh, someone says,” that’s just him, it’s not the party.”

I invite that person to view the scene from the film Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri in which the Frances McDormand character tells the priest that if you belong to a gang that commits a crime, even though you had no part it that actual crime, you are still guilty.

I’m sorry for being political this morning. I try not to be, but my heart is too full. As Elie Wiesel put it, “The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.” Any true American must eventually serve country and the common good. A close friend won't vote for an "independent" because it means they won't take sides, even when the consequences are clear.

Another close acquaintance of mine once said, “Silence and inaction can carry honor or dishonor with equal ease. Political opportunity can determine which course people or parties choose.”

I’m afraid our country is in grave danger and its only salvation lies in a mass denunciation of power, greed, selfishness, distrust, and loyalty to group over community. In short, we need to turn toward fellowship with all. We must take sides with those who believe in such fellowship.

History, though it may be uncovered amidst the rusting ruins of our Statue of Liberty, will tell us who was on its right side and who wasn’t.

Speech Crime as a Leading Indicator

I’ve been attempting to explain my fear of the fall of our society by using an analogy with the debasement of our language. Will crime against language presage crimes against societal norms? I worry that it is so.

For example, the term “parameter” is a mathematical one, referring to the attribute of a variable. It closely resembles the word “perimeter,” or a boundary. The terms were confused by careless writers and speakers for so long that “boundary” is now an accepted meaning of “parameter,” a linguistic crime against the glorious language of Shakespeare and Milton. It has so far gone unpunished.

I now know people with doctoral degrees from major universities who, unabashedly and without embarrassment, say “It is a secret between you and I.” In fact, I once heard, on Book TV, a woman with a graduate degree from the Columbia School of Journalism, thank the school for “inviting my sister and I here to speak.”

Let’s not even mention the misuse of “nauseous” to mean “nauseated.” Oh hell, let’s do. Ironically, it may have a ring of verisimilitude when a vapid speaker refers to himself as “nauseous,” meaning having the power to nauseate others. It sure does the trick for me.

Can societal communication survive the legitimization of such talk-crime? I, for one, don't see how.

My point? I think it may happen that this current presidential administration will burn itself out. Unless someone manages to push the wrong button, it will go the way of all sociological transgressions. I worry that, by then, we may find that our collective level of social decency may so debased that, like allowing our children to think that it is allowable to say, “would you please help he and I,” our ability to recognize the good and proper in our societal conduct may be forever lost.

"By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Zion." - Psalm 137

A Trip Back Home

We decided, my wife and I, to take a “spur of the moment” trip to my hometown of Pine Bluff, Arkansas today so I could mow some pasture land my brother owns, a part of the old home place. He’s not enjoying good health at present and isn’t even able to put diesel in his tractor. I took him some, fueled the tractor, and mowed the field while he and Brenda sat in the shade and talked. I can only hope that it wasn’t all about me.

I wasn’t bored. A portion of the field I was mowing once boasted the best homemade baseball backstop ever built by boys under the age of fourteen. It comprised sweet gum saplings sunk in the ground and backed by burlap feed sacks stitched together. Since the lads were better builders than batters, it held up to a lot of hard use. Each time I passed the spot, I could hear the sound of a ball pounding into burlap, oh, and, on rare occasion, the crack of a bat.

I mowed alongside an old stock pond that probably saw more youthful recreation per square foot than any patch of ground in America. It was partly filled with debris now. But the sight of a young boy sitting with his grandmother and begging to “pish” just a little more still shines through the dim past.

Across the field, I mowed along a dirt road that lead no place geographically but to amazing places in the minds of young boys: cowboy hideouts, Indian camps, unseen spots for smoking pilfered cigarettes, and a gathering spot for bemoaning the vicissitudes of childhood and the unfathomable allure of girls for older boys.

The family home and grocery disappeared long ago. To a person growing up there, though, key markings remain. There’s my dad’s favorite tree, still bearing the signs of white paint left from a trick my brother played on our nephew. There’s the road to nowhere, originally named “King’s Road,” after an African-American man who lived toward the end of it. That name didn’t suit the 9-11 addressing crew, so it’s now named after my family, over the strenuous protests of Sainted Mother at the time.

She was a stickler for tradition and truth. I still recall her “aghastness” when a group of yuppies moved onto a road near where she grew up and made the County change the name. To mother, it had always been “Hog-eye Ben Road” and should have remained so.

There’s the house across the highway from our homeplace, standing in the exact shape as it did over 70 years ago. In my brother’s yard, if one looks closely, he can see the remnants of the pipe where our pump house once stood, From there, one can triangulate, using the painted tree, to the location of our chicken yard, barn, wash house, and even the privy.

I finished the mowing and we left, deciding to “drag Main,” and see what was happening. The old town has suffered in modern times. There’s nothing more fun for the residents of “Sundown Towns” than to laugh at the old girl and the troubles she’s seen. I suspect it’s better, though, to live in a town full of problems and people who are willing to work on them, than in a town full of bigoted assholes.

One final joy, the old Community Theater still stands intact. In fact, we enjoyed a conversation with two nice young men doing some repairs to the flooring. When I was a kid, if you were white and had a quarter, you could spend an entire afternoon there. You paid ten cents to get in, ten cents for a box of popcorn, and five cents for a cup of soda. For that, you got a double-feature and four cartoons. You had to be white, though.

Still a handsome city.
My great-grandfather's
Civil War unit once defended
this street from attack
by the Rebs.

Folks are now spending big money in the city for projects that are available to all citizens. They are even beginning work on restoring the old Pines Hotel on Main. There’s lots of new building going on, some near the University of Arkansas at Pine Bluff. A once distressed shopping center in our part of town now appears fully occupied. There are glimmers of hope everywhere.

Things change in this world, and they don’t change toward equity. It takes luck and hard work to provide livable and diverse communities. My hometown takes no back seat to any in terms of the latter.

Oh, and my brother was grateful for the help.

What's normal?

Okay, here goes. Seems we need to repeat this from to time.

Gender orientation and sexual preference are physiological conditions. They result from perhaps billions of impulses, triggers, and connections within our genetic makeup, any one of which may affect our final condition. One scientific premise, for example, is that all embryos start out as female. Over time, and countless genetic maneuvers, physical folding, merging, and transformations, some develop as male, although with useless breasts, hirsute shortcomings, and a dearth of nurturing synapses.

Over geologic time, the pairings of genetic types of mostly male and mostly female tend to enjoy of the evolutionary advantage of reproduction-capability. Thus the predominance of so-called, “heterosexual” genetic models. Since we don’t believe it aborting rarer genetic types, (Right?) we fully expect to share the planet with models whose sexual preference or identity lies outside the majority but who stand among us nonetheless. In short, we are all brothers and sisters within the genomic bell-curve.

It all evolves from scientific determinants.

On the other hand. Bigotry and prejudice are conditions that erupt like projectile vomit from the basest of human sources, the worst of those among us. We, as individuals, must accept or reject the venomous teaching and societally induced impulses generated by humans, even when they are fed by so-called religious sources. Actually, we should reject those in particular, as they demean and sour the acts of truly spiritual people seeking love, stability and harmony in an unpredictable world.

So there you have it. If you went to church this morning and paid attention to the minister when he or she preached love and grace, go forth in peace. Peace and understanding may yet save the planet.

On the other hand, if you listened to a drooling bigot when he urged hatred and bigotry against a fellow creature whose genetic makeup differs from yours, you need to find another source of religion.

In short, using an exalted position to repeat false witness, hatred, and bigotry to a cult audience deprived of critical-thinking skills is a sin.

Being born with a genetic makeup that differs from that of a hegemonic minority is not.

Quit trying to create a moral equivalency.

Amen. Closing hym: Just As I Am Without One Plea.

Contributions to this sermon may be mailed to my home address or to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital, folks who really know how to treat kids.

??

Thoughts, random and otherwise

I'm curious. Our governor has committed Arkansas National Guard troops to the president’s "border protection caper." Will they be asked to participate in Jeff Sessions' final solution of tearing babies from their mothers and sending them to tent-city concentration camps as a warning to immigrants?

I know many in our National Guard. They are fine people, among our best. I don't think they will participate, even if ordered to, some from religious principles, some from personal virtue, some from an inborn sense of decency.

More than a few are likely familiar with the word "Nuremberg."

Despite our voting record of late, I still have faith in the people of our state, at least those who are willing to serve in the military. I can't imagine that fine Arkansans will join in this atrocity. Say they refuse. Will this precipitate a crisis or will they simply leave to be replaced by Eric Prince's private army, i.e. "Trump's Troopers?"

When one enlists in the United States Military, active duty or reserve, they take the following oath:

I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice.

National Guard enlisted members take a similar oath, except they also swear to obey the orders of the Governor of their state.

Eric Prince’s army takes no such oath.

We may soon learn some fateful information about the American people. With the both the morality bar, and the definition of “normal” having been lowered to such an extent, the news may not comfort us.

Rampage du Jour

I’ll irritate some people today. I don’t care. I’m in one of my “plague on both sides” moods. So stay out of my way.

There are movements in history that started out with the best of intentions, justified in many ways, unarguably benign and understandable, at least by many folks. Then those movements went to hell or found themselves being subverted by the Law of Unintended Consequences. At worst they became monumental tragedies. At best they became fodder for the opposition.

Fodder? Yes fodder. There is an old sports adage among coaches that you never present the opposition with something they can attach to their locker room wall.

Back to good movements that went astray. I think of the French Revolution.

I think of Prohibition in the United States.

I think of the American labor movement.

And maybe I even think of the sexual revolution each time I have to “fast-forward” through increasingly vulgar, tasteless, trite, and gratuitous sex scenes in any mystery novel with which I try to relax, or movie I try to watch.

Well anyway, here comes the “piss-off” part.

I fear that justified movements like “Black Lives Matter,” and “Me-too,” could charge into an overzealous rampage that becomes counter-productive.

I mean, Monica Lewinsky as a victim, for goodness sake.

Now don’t get me wrong. What Bill Clinton did was beyond stupid. Among other things, by letting his “little head” rule the “big head,” he tarnished what may have been, in my opinion as one who enjoyed and profited from his eight years of peace and prosperity, one of the greatest presidential administrations in our country’s history. How could he have been so stupid? His picture will forever grace the locker rooms of conservative opponents who believe the poor deserve poverty, the rich deserve to inherit wealth, and women should keep their damned mouths shut.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should attend his foundation and practice both reticence and celibacy, be more Jimmy Carter and less Donald Trump.

But, Monica Lewinsky?

I’ve never worked for state government, but I’ve worked around it a lot. Let me tell you, I’ve known dozens of individuals like Monica Lewinsky. They are seduced by, and obsessed with, power. It is an addiction as strong as alcohol and drug abuse. They deserve treatment, not aggrandizement. They cast a restraining shadow of resentment over the efforts of every hard-working female trying to overcome the systemic prejudice toward and oppression of their gender. This includes the political arena, the job market, and American mythology.

They hang around the seats of governmental power like hyenas waiting for a meal. They grin and drool and show themselves ready like some wild creature needing to expand its species with the most powerful male around. They would chase after and have sex with a rabid skunk if that skunk held high enough elected office. An additional layer of tragedy is that they have the talent to enter the halls of power but not the desire to increase the respect and elevation of their gender while they are there.

Ah. I’ve taken a few deep breaths. Let me just finish by saying, we need, in order to defeat the plans of a fascist government to destroy our democracy, to choose our heroes carefully, not provide matter for the opponents’ postings.

Rosa Parks was a hero. John Lewis was a hero. The Little Rock Nine were heroes. The firefighters and police officers who charged into the bombed buildings on 9-11 were heroes. Michael Brown was not a hero, a sad victim of his own demons and an explosive environment perhaps, but not a hero.

Medgar Evers was a victim. Emmet Till was a victim. Martin Luther King, Jr. was, as many others, both hero and victim. The women hanged in Salem were victims. The Central Park Five were victims, as were all those now represented in the new National Memorial for Peace and Justice (the Lynching Museum) in Montgomery. Every slave in America was a victim. The children being torn from their parents by our government are victims. Workers killed or wounded in the labor wars were victims. The list can go on and on. No thinking person, particularly those who claim the guidance of Christianity, could cast doubt on true victimhood.

But Monica Lewinski? Give me a break.

The progressive side of love, understanding, and fairness has an unending litany of heroes, none of which could offer fodder for the locker rooms of the vile and mendacious. We must choose carefully.

Love and Grace

Saw something unusual yesterday, a post by a Christian espousing love and grace. Yes, of course it was from  a member of one of the mainline religions that still follow the teachings of the Galileans.

You don't hear much about love and grace from the Evangelicals these days. There's lots about the joys of greed and the dangers of not worshiping their new Messiah, nothing about grace or love for our brothers and sisters.

The new Messiah? Oh he's a billionaire who's on his third wife and who doesn't allow an hour to pass during the day in which he doesn't violate the Commandment that we not bear "false witness." I think he's a little light on the adultery one too, maybe some others as well. The Evangelicals don't mind. Situational morality is their newest and strongest doctrine.

Franklin Graham loves him for some reason and pronounces dire punishment to those who don't.

I think I'll take some time today and try to determine what, if anything, the God of the Good Book says about the ownership of vengeance.

Divide and Conquer

Sometimes Americans have a hard time understanding one another. I fear that social-media makes it worse and may lead to our downfall if we don't change our ways.

For example, I wish those among us who are liberal and progressive in their thinking (more in tune with the man from Galilee than with Ayn Rand, it is true), would consider the following.

There are brothers and sisters among us who, if asked, would say, "I've always tried to do right as a citizen of this great country. I obeyed my parents and showed appreciation for having been provided a stable home environment. I never embarrassed anyone. I may have bitched, but I've always paid my taxes in full and on time.

"I obtained an education. I served in the armed forces. I went to work and have remained employed for my entire adult life. I've never been arrested and am considered a solid member of the community. I've never looted, stole, robbed, or caused massive traffic jams while I protested what I perceived as injustice, thus alienating the guilty and innocent alike.

"I only blame others for my troubles when I perceive that they are taking my taxes in order to live large, free of work and worry at my expense.

"Now, I'm considered a deplorable citizen of some in our country because I have little patience with those I see who haven't done right and who depend, it appears to me, on governmental largess as opposed to individual initiative and hard work. You may say that my attitude enables the unworthy to gain elected office. I say I am looking out for my own."

Yes, one might observe a lack of thoughtful contemplation that would lead to one's understanding that not all people are equally enabled. These include children fathered by men who face little consequences in generating children with no intention of providing their care, and who face little stricture for such neglect within a male-dominated hegemony.

It includes the women, some who are ill-prepared for the trials, who must care for the abandoned children while struggling for a success that came so easily for me, a white male of European ancestry.

It includes the babies bred and fed into a society that increasingly cares little for their fate. I think of the secretary with whom I worked once whose husband kicked her and their two-year-old child into the street one evening so he could bring his new girlfriend over. A male judge awarded her a  child-support payment that was $12 less than the monthly cost of a day-care center.

The ex-husband's new girlfriend was from a rich family that owned stables. After "visitation weekends" the child would return home all aglow, asking his mother why they couldn't buy a horse.

It includes my brothers and sisters who served in the same war I, but weren't allow to return, marry, find a good job, and buy a home in a stable neighborhood, as was I.

Our differences lie not in morality, it seems to me, but in levels of understanding and empathy. The demands required for a successful life don't always allow time for reflection upon the conditions of others. So we misunderstand one another, blame one another, and avoid one another, except through the anonymity of Facebook or Twitter.

Unfortunately, there are politicians who eschew such misunderstanding, preferring to utilize our mutual disaffection for their evil purposes. Social media is proving to be their most effective tool in modern times. As they attract moderates such as the one quoted above, they secretly muster in the worst dredges of society, forming a coalition that appears more and more to be unstoppable. Fox News, for reasons known only to its owners, joyfully promotes distrust and deceit.

Deceitful men like Franklin Graham use perverted religious thought to separate us into groups who would despise one another for no reason whatsoever.

Divide and conquer has been a strategy for destruction since we left the savanna. It's best antidote is to, at the risk of sounding maudlin, unite, respect, and love.

May we all hope for better understanding.

Will We Never Be One Again?

Yesterday showed us that there may be few days in the future of our country in which events don't occur to divide us further.

A popular actress in a popular television show posted a rather tasteless comment on social media. The furor was exacerbated by the fact that the actress is a vocal admirer of the current president of our country. Further, the character she plays in the TV series voices support of Donald Trump in her dialogue. Opponents of the president were already angry about the show. Fans of the president were equally joyful.

The network cancelled the series with great fanfare. The results proved predictable.

Opponents of the president chortled and danced like fairies.

Supporters of the president stiffened in their resolve to hate anyone who is not an avid member of their cult.

Americans in the middle scratched their heads. Rumor has it that tears ran down the cheeks of the Statue of Liberty, but no dependable source has verified this.

I've never watched a segment of the TV series in question, either in its original or current form. It's not my cup of tea. So far in America, we have freedom of choice. At any rate, I can't vouch for the quality of the program. I do feel for the many actors and support staff who lost their jobs along with the transgressor.

The problem is, as I see it, that she, the transgressor, will enjoy the fame, and profit by the enhanced support that she will receive from the president's supporters. I also believe that an added percentage of previous neutrals will take her side. Americans are about fed up with what they perceive as "political correctness," even when it points out acts of hatred and bigotry. I think maybe we crave love and grace, but who am I to say?

Franklin Graham will say that the transgressor was speaking through God and her firing was a direct blasphemy of the Almighty. He may even go so far as to recommend that God's treatment of the Midianites be replicated against anyone who doesn't love Donald Trump. He's that crazy.

The president's political party will gain an additional five percent or so in voter support.

America will continue toward Gotterdammerung.

In a few months, the effects of the flareup will remain, but the reasons will have been forgotten.

Good morning America, I hardly know you.

The End of Truth

Yesterday we watched the segment of the film version of Band of Brothers, where the unit discovers the remnants of a Nazi concentration camp.

We find it particularly disturbing that a major political party in the United States of America is fostering a sub-cult that believes, and teaches, that the World War Two atrocities against the Jewish population of Europe never happened. The president of the United States of America has opined of the sub-cult, "Some are fine people." A sickening percentage of this party doubts the truth of the Holocaust

How can this be true? There are films. The U.S. Army Signal Corps made sure that the findings were filmed in detail.

There were millions of personal accounts by survivors and victims families.

There were remnants: stacks of shoes, eyeglasses, human hair, gold teeth, and suitcases.

There were books by survivors.

There were even trials and executions.

We knew the truth and the stench stained our nostrils.

Then came Fox "news." It became both effective and fashionable to spread falsehoods. The act itself created a profit center for the major stockholders, an Australian and a Saudi.

This was followed by an attack on education, particularly science and history. Africans captured from their homes, stacked like cord wood, shackled like animals, and shipped across the ocean were no longer slaves, but "guest workers" seeking employment in the New World.

Evangelicals like Franklin Graham began using the Holy Bible to preach hate instead of love and grace.

Truth may be dead. If so, America may pay an awful price for this.