Borborygmi #1-Warren Wampum

How many of you remember the old “Exedrin headache number XX” ads, examples here and here? Or the “spicy meatball” ad? They remind me of how I feel every day in this dystopian political age: That’s not a smile on my face, just the grimace of constant borborygmi. The endless left-turns of the Democratic candidate clown-car … Read more

Valentine’s Day massacres

[This piece is unfinished, a work-in-progress, posted today for reasons that will become obvious upon reading. Please make a note to return at a future date to check its progress.]

It’s Valentine’s Day, February 14th, a day usually associated with roses, over-sized and over-priced tasteless chocolate-covered strawberries, pajama- or bear-grams, frantic attempts to get a last-minute dinner reservation, and amore for those who played the game successfully. I pity the fool who forgot it, especially since it is easily remembered as the day after Galentine’s Day.

It was on this date in 1929 that members of Al Capone’s gang lined 7 members of the “Bugs” Moran gang up against a wall in a garage at 2122 North Clark Street in Chicago and opened fire with Thompson sub-machine guns—the so-called Saint Valentine’s Day massacre.

Today is also the anniversary of the mass shooting at the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, FL. in 2018, which I will refer to simply as the Parkland shootings or just Parkland. This post is an indirect result of that event and what has followed, but not specifically about it, although that was my original intention when I began drafting it in May of last year. I intended to write about the lack of parental intelligence, sense, and control to prevent their children from being astroturfed as the faces of ready-made organized political agendas that were just waiting for the right triggering mechanism to occur in order to use them as poster children by a thoughtless insatiable sensationalist media and their audience; and of course, politicians, who used them up and spat them out for their purposes.

It sat for many months as I continued monitoring what was being written about the shootings and the related social and political side issues. I realized the public narratives became a microcosm of the hows and whys of our nasty state of social and political discourse. My intention changed to addressing a larger concern about how reporting and commentary about Parkland, or almost any other subject in the public domain with political overtones (what doesn’t!), has become symptomatic of a much larger pernicious and destructive paradigm.

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New Year; Same ignorance and hysteria

As has been the case for at least the past three New Year’s Eves, I was deliberately asleep well before the ball dropped at midnight, thus I missed all the politicalization and instant punditry that apparently is now standard fare for any-and-all late night television and non-political social events. The new year began in the … Read more

Now Step 1 is completed

This post is a flow-up to its predecessor: Change required, not Hope and Hype which must be read first. In somewhat serendipitous timing, today I received a mailing from the Republican National Committee (RNC), as I have over the years from time-to-time. It was yet another solicitation for funds disguised as a “survey project,” under the banner of “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.” … Read more

Change required, not Hope and Hype

Like the vast majority of teens and young adults from my generation who were the first to vote at age 18 (the 26th Amendment in effect on July 1, 1971), I was the typical youthful know-it-all full of ignorant naiveté and ideas that were in line with the liberal mindset that bordered on socialist utopianism. I argued with my father—sometimes close to the point of fist-fights—over political issues of the late 60s through the mid-70s. On several occasions, he pointed out that perhaps I should put my principles into action and flee from the obvious tyranny of living under his roof and his rules that his principles and labor had provided.

Yep, I was the typical young and principled Democrat. I was an idiot. My father understood, gritted his teeth on many occasions, and, I’m sure, continued to repress his desire to punch me out after I had deliberately worked to push his buttons. I never gave him the credit he deserved.

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