American Gulag – From the Archive – 2015

A concrete room seven by twelve
measured by feet
placed one in front of the other
in a straight line I have walked for decades.

Concrete furniture permanently arranged
table, chair, bed
I have no right
to move furniture anymore.

Red metal door with opaque window
Just a slot to pass the food
I will always eat alone
I have no right to conversation or company.

Dark and light, cameras watch me
even on the low water toilet
lest I try to escape to the next world
low water lest I drown myself.

I used to get off
while they watched
but not anymore.
It’s no fun when you can no longer imagine.

My room is sound proof;
No window to the outside; there is no outside
twenty three hours a day with nothing to do
save Penance.

I hear no one
I see no one
nothing to fill the void
but the sounds of my breathing and heart beat.

I am exercised one hour a day
under a tiny piece of sky
surrounded by concrete walls
No birds fly over this place.

I don’t know where I am
I am kept in a room at this hotel
I’ve never seen the other guests
though I am kept alive by someone.

If I don’t eat
the tube goes up my nose to keep me healthy
prolong my living;
Why do they want me to live?

I can no longer remember my mother’s face
or the love of a woman; or green grass.
I can no longer remember the color green
There is only the electronic zoo; and there is no green.

Stalin would have been more merciful
He might have simply worked me to death
under a forest canopy in Siberia
I might have died in Spring

in the arms of others
still with the memory of my mother’s face
the love of a woman
the color green.

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Italygate, Vaccinations and Joe Manchin

 

Well its a hot humid day here on Florida’s west coast as summer is  officially here no matter what the calendar says.

Red Tide has reappeared along many beaches with dead fish fouling the pristine sand. Even the manatees are dying.   Not good for tourism.  More about pollution in the coming weeks.

Last week we heard a laugher that made late might television.  A conspiracy theory has been floating around that the Dems paid people in Italy to use military satellites to change votes on our voting machines from Trump to Biden.  It is now known as Italygate.

Donald Trump’s final White House chief of staff, Mark Meadows pressured the acting attorney general Jeffrey Rose to help push the lie.  Rosen refused.

The New York Times stated Meadows  emailed acting attorney general  Rosen five times in December and January.

One email dealt with the “Italygate” conspiracy theory, the Times said, adding that Rosen refused to set up a meeting to discuss it notwithstanding those  pushing the claims online.  He stood up to Trump directly noting that there was no evidence of election fraud.

The emails were discovered by a Senate Judiciary Committee investigation.

No come on folks!  This is funny! Italy no less!

“Yes, that’s right. He thought the election had been stolen by space Italians,” Stephen Colbert cracked on Tuesday, calling it “obviously insane.”    Seth Meyers spoke for pretty much all sane people when he basically said what everyone was thinking already: Italy?!?

“For one thing, have you ever been to Italy? If you asked them to tamper with an election in November they might get around to it by March… ”

We are in trouble people!

We also have a whole bunch of folks in red states who won’t get vaccinated cause it’s their God-given right.  I guess God cares nothing of the common good.  These folks certainly don’t.

Firstly, the “gummit” is injecting a chip into you in order to assert control.  Yawn.  Recently it was “discovered” by some Face Bookers that the shot magnetized you and metal now sticks yo your skin.

Laugh.  Get me my spoon so I can let it hang from my nose. Seriously, I’m starting to believe in voter suppression.  🙂

Hospitals have a lot less Covid patients – but they are virtually all un-vaccinated.

Do I care?  I will do what I can to keep myself and those I love well.  I will support the common good.  As for those who won’t I don’t particularly care if you won’t get vaccinated, get sick and make yo momma sick.  That’s karma.

And finally for today I’m thinking about Senator Joe Manchin of West Virginia, the home of Appalachia, hill billies and coal miners.  One of the poorest states in the union. Manchin is one Democrat (nominally) making up the 50 Dem senators who together with the Vice President make a majority of one.

Except that Joe doesn’t support the President’s agenda.  He alone is standing in th e way of the infrastructure plan, the voting rights plan and the effort to reform the filibuster.  He wants “bi-partisan ship.”  Mitch McConnel is laughing his ass off.

Why is Joe in the way?  Because he takes his money from equity firms, law firms, business groups and big coal.  Why equity and law firms?  Because they got hugh gifts under the Trump tx cut.

If Joe votes against the Democratic agenda there should be a price to pay.  Strip him of all his committee assignments.   What is he gonna do?  Switch parties?  By his actions he already has.

He and his fellow Republican West Virginia Senator don’t seem to give a rat’s ass about the  the people of West Virginia.  Enough said

 

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Autumn Sunrise at a Port Richey Diner – From the Archive

The “R” in the neon “Diner” flashes intermittently
with that annoying buzz of a busy bee;
the sun is rising over Florida flatlands
dawn now causing the shadows to flee

illuminating a rising tide in the Pithlachascotee
and a sheen on the window
through which the white aproned cook
is staring blankly at a U.S. highway. 

The sign winks, blinks and goes dark
amid a coming change of shift
as the lone cook removes his white apron
leaning forward awhile as if cut at the nape

dreaming of his father
 long gone in Ann Arbor
wondering if the leaves have yet turned
where they used to fish along the Huron.

.

P.S.- Everyone in Florida is from somewhere else

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Pulse – Five Years

Well its 8 A.M. here in Florida and in Tampa its already well over 80 degrees and humid.  Its going to be a hot weekend.

Its been a usual Florida week around here.  There has been a road rage shooting just about everyday as well as a couple of murders. Not enough to rate mass murder status mind you; just you ordinary one or two victims at a time.

Today is also the 5th anniversary of the Pulse Night Club shooting in Orlando which killed 49 and wounded 53 more.  The shooter didn’t care. They were gays.

If you’ve seen anything in the media about the Orlando killer’s Afghani father you know why the son, born in New York City, was the way he was.  He might as well have grown up in Afghanistan.  His first marriage lasted 7 months.  He regularly beat his wife until her parents found out; they came down from New Jersey and took her home.  His second wife was more compliant and was probably an accessory.   He raged against gays but apparently regularly hung out in the Pulse.  Closeted?  Who knows.

Daddy came here from Afghanistan and made regular appearances on a talk show on a California-based TV channel,  expressing  support for the Afghan Taliban.  He said he could not understand what had motivated his “good boy” to kill, adding that he was “really sorry” for his actions.

Daddy also told NBC News that the 29-year-old son had recently become angry when he saw two men kissing but rejected suggestions that religion or Islam had anything to do with this.”  The hypocrisy is monumental. Afghan warlords, whom daddy supported regularly keep “dancing boys” around them; look up Bacha Bazi on wiki.

Sonny had been turned down by one gun shop which ran his background check and used good judgement but a second one legally sold him the weapons.  Being on a Federal watch list is not enough to ban you from buying guns and assault rifles are readily and legally available here in Florida.

Another broken son of a father who should have stayed in Kabul where he could actively support the Taliban rather than coming here to the safety of Florida, spewing his Taliban crap  and infecting his son.

When my family left Italy they left behind the padrone and prominenti, the N’Drangheta and the priests; they didn’t come here to recreate the Italy they left behind.  Our Orlando killer’s daddy never left Afghanistan.  What in that culture is worth saving?  Name one thing.

And what is it about America that produces unstable people who kill innocents they don’t even know and yet are not legally insane?

Far too many of our people feel isolated, lonely, disconnected, unsuccessful, unfulfilled.  Carrying “grudges”, they lash out at the society they blame for their shortcomings  – usually after writing rambling manifestos or making their views known to anyone who will listen – our killer listened to the Greek New Dawn Neo-Nazi party and other  terrorist websites.  Or Facebook.  Our Orlando killer went on Facebook as he gunned down people he didn’t know and who had done nothing to him.

When no one listens – after all they are “losers” and loners, “weirdos” to be ignored or ridiculed, they exercise their god given NRA right to turn their guns on a old woman and her grandson  grocery shopping in Publix (this week)  or gays in a club sanctuary.

“Now they’ll listen!”  No.  We won’t,

People pull out guns and open fire on our highways  everyday because someone cut them off.

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The Asmara Con – From the Archive – 2015

Toritto in Massawa, Eritrea in 1965 wearing the prize hat.

I learned to ride a horse in Brooklyn.

As a teen in the ‘50s I would ride regularly in Prospect Park or Gerritsen Beach renting horses from local stables for a couple of hours.  It wasn’t cheap but I had a part-time job and saved my pennies for my outing every few weeks.

The bridle path at Prospect Park is a three and a half mile circle over varied terrain.  Kensington Stables, at the park entrance still rents horses and gives riding classes.

I got fairly proficient over the years – not an Olympian mind you but this 130 lb. kid could gallop around the park or along the beach with the best of them.

No style points. No jumping. I could however tuck my right cheek into the neck of my horse and go. I  It felt like flying to a skinny kid still too young to drive.

 

Prospect Park

When I was 21 I entered the Army and ten months later was packed off to Asmara, Eritrea. Eritrea wasn’t an independent country then – it was under the U. N. Mandate to Ethiopia.   The entire Horn of Africa and Ethiopia had been under Italian fascist rule.

The fascist Italian settlers were still there in the 1960s. They ran gas stations, night clubs, movie theaters. They sent their kids to Italy each year for education.  They grew coffee and built churches.  None wanted to return to Italy after the war.

They even had horse stables – where a visiting Italian-American G. I. could rent a horse!

My favorite was a small grey stallion – kind of diminutive like me. But he loved to run. Rather run than stay in an Eritrean stable.  So run we did.

It was a couple of miles to the Asmara “Airport” – actually a building and a runway in an open field at the time.  The only regularly scheduled flights were a couple of Ethiopian Airlines flights daily and a twice a week Lufthansa flight from Frankfurt.  It was our favorite.  It had blond stewardesses.

We lived three or four to a room on Kagnew Station, the Army base in Asmara.   I lived with a couple of Pennsylvania guys.  Next door we got some new guys – two Texans and an Okie.  I introduced myself. The Italian kid from Brooklyn. They wore boots and cowboy hats.

Over the weeks the talk in the Oasis Club turned to home and family.  They were ranch kids. (Smile). “Any horses ‘round these parts”? (Bigger smile).

“Why as a matter of fact there is a local stable.”

“Want to go riding”? they asked each other.  Sure.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to go would you Brooklyn?”

Well,  “I don’t know – but I’ll try anything once.”

We went to the stable on an off-duty day – I asked the owner in Italian to keep his mouth shut.

I saw my grey all saddled and ready to go.

We walked out to the Airport Road and rode along side it in the packed earth.  I held on to the saddle horn like a rookie.  The Texans had laughingly given me a cowboy hat for the occasion.

“Hold on there Brooklyn!”   Then I smiled.

“Race you to the airport yahoos!!”   And I was off.

Leaning forward in the saddle, left hand on his neck.  Horsey and me, both young and free as the wind.

Behind three cowboys chasing a Brooklyn kid.  Eritreans yelling and waving as we thundered passed at full gallop.

Crazy Americans.  A honk from a Topolino.

Approaching the airport I slowed and we all laughed.

“Where did you learn to ride like that?”

“Brooklyn!   What took you so long to get here?”

Smirks all around.

The Lufthansa flight was in – the blond stews were waving at us  cowboys from the top of the movable stair case outside the plane door.   Crazy Americans.

Just a perfect day.  And in view of my performance I was permitted to keep the hat and tell the story at the bar for months.

🙂

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Crossing the Atlantic in a Gooney Bird

So its 1965 and young soldier Toritto was in the Army, a part of the U. S. Army Security Agency stationed in Asmara, Eritrea on the Horn of Africa.

My new bride was at home in Brooklyn, New York living with her parents while I was away.   I was 22 and she was 19; we had been married for 16 months and separated for half of that time.  There was no internet; no iPhone; no Snapchat.  There were only letters and periodic tape recordings.

I was serving at the A.S.A ‘s Kagnew Station in Eritrea for 18 months and was planning to take a month’s leave in June 1965.  And indeed I did.

The A.S.A. doesn’t exist as an independent military unit any more.  The Agency existed between 1945 and 1976 and was the successor to Army signal intelligence operations dating back to World War I. ASA was under the operational control of the Director of the National Security Agency, located at Fort Meade, Maryland; but had its own tactical commander at Headquarters, ASA, Arlington Hall Station, Virginia.

We liked to call ourselves “snoops”. Asmara was located on a plateau some 7,600 feet high and we could listen to everyone’s regional communications. The ASA had bases all over the world..

It’s been  55 years since my tours; much has changed.  Kagnew is no more nor is the A.S.A.  The N.S.A. goes on.

Back to my leave home.

I applied to take leave and go home for a month in April of ’65.  My commander knew I was newly married and had actively discouraged any of the lower ranks from bringing their wives over, although it was not strictly forbidden.  A number of troops did just that, renting apartments downtown in Asmara where the left over Italians from Fascist colonial days lived.  They ran all of the businesses in town; the movie theaters, clubs, auto repair shops, jewelry stores, cafes.

My wife had decided not to come over, wisely thinking of the future.  We would save our money and buy a home when I got out.  After all, I was not a “lifer” and no intention of re-enlisting.  She worked and I sent her allotment checks from my pay.

We planned the leave at the 9 month mark instead.

The first obstacle to approval of my leave was proving to my C.O. that I had the money for the trip.  I had to show evidence that I had enough cash in the event I had to take commercial flights back to Eritrea.  He wanted to see a bank statement from my wife and she had to send me enough funds so that I didn’t leave Asmara penniless.

Letters flew back and forth between me and home until I finally was able to demonstrate financial responsibility to my commanding officer.

Leave approved.  “Have fun!  See you back here in a month Toritto!”

“Yes sir!  Thank you sir!”

It was then time to visit the Military Air Transportation Service (MATS), leave approval in hand, to see it I could hop a flight toward home.  No guarantees.  Then to Personnel to pick up my passport.  We could not travel to Eritrea on an Army I.D. card; I carried a passport.  A diplomatic passport, red in color which always got me waved through at the front of the line.

“Yes Toritto!  You are in luck!  We have a flight leaving on your approved date, stopping in Cairo, Jeddah Saudi Arabia and overnighting in Beirut Lebanon!  Next morning it would be on to Adana, Turkey (where the A.S.A had a base) and Chateauroux, France.  That’s as far as we can get you; you will have to pick up another flight from there to the States.’”

So on the appointed day, filled with youthful excitement I got a ride from my buddies to the air base and there waiting for me was a Hercules C-130 four engine turbo-prop military transport plane.  I was in dress uniform, carrying my civilian clothes in my luggage.

“Welcome aboard young trooper!  Take any sling seat in the back.  We’ll check on you now and then.  Sorry; no windows and no stews.  Got your lunch?  Good!”

And so I took a sling seat in the back with the cargo, stowed my bags and off we went for Cairo.  About half an hour from our destination the commander came back to see me.

“You got civvies?  Good.  Put them on.  The Egyptians don’t like to see any foreign military walking around their airport!  Nasser was ruling the country. And so I changed clothes.

Upon landing we taxied to a remote part of the airport and upon opening the doors were met by Egyptian military, with guns, who escorted us to a private building – all done with utmost courtesy.  We were out of sight of anyone.

The cargo for Cairo was unloaded, some items destined for elsewhere were loaded and we were off to Jeddah.  When the cargo doors were opened in Saudi Arabia I thought I was standing in front of a blast furnace at U.S. Steel.  I had never experienced such heat.

The only thing unloaded from the plane was liquor and beer for the U.S military.  The crew was laughing as we delivered our precious cargo to a young American lieutenant.

Then it was on to Beirut and a night in the town.  And what a city it was!

Beirut was then the “Paris of the Mid-East;” – under  French influence for decades.  Beautiful women in the latest fashion walked its streets in high heels, speaking fluent French.  It’s bars and cafes decidedly European.  The crew and their young charge took a cab to the Hotel Phoenicia where we were staying the night – at government expense.

To this young soldier just coming from the Horn of Africa this place was a revelation.  And my room (which I didn’t have to share) had a bath tub!  I hadn’t sat languorously in a tub in more than a year!  I filled it up, ordered a scotch and indulged.  That night I went out with the crew to a couple of bars.  Nice.

Next morning it was up early, breakfast and a box lunch and on to Turkey and France.  Uneventful.  Chateauroux was my last stop.  After good byes to the crew it was back to the MATS office.

“Anything going to the east coast?”

“Put your name on the list.”  Ouch.  It might be a day or two before I got a flight.  I found an empty bunk for the night and ate in the mess hall.  Flashed my diplomatic passport and took a quick tour of the city.

Late next afternoon I was notified of a flight toward America – going to the Azores. I took it; there was nothing scheduled to be flying the entire Atlantic in the next few days,

Went out to the runway and there it was – a vintage two engine prop Douglas C-47 Sky Train, the military transport version of the DC-3.  No windows.   I was going to cross the Atlantic in the back with the cargo at a blazing 200 miles per hour.

“Take a sling seat in back; got food?”  We were off.

As I sat in back listening to the two engines I thought of those WWII paratroopers who might have sat here in this very spot.  Chutes at the ready; preparing to jump out of that door over there into the darkness and the unknown.  I was a very lucky soldier so far.

We landed at Lajes Air Field, a Portuguese base with an American detachment on Terceira Island in the Azores.  Checked in with MATS.  “No more flights today.  Check in tomorrow  – or the day after.  “Find an empty bunk, eat at the mess or the enlisted men’s club.

Two days later I grabbed onto another C-47 headed to Newfoundland and then to Dover, Delaware.  Yaay!

After long hours in the air, a quick stop to refuel  in Canada, I was in Dover.  Called the wife.

“I’m taking the bus from Dover to the Port Authority Bus Terminal!  Will grab a cab to the house!  See you tonight!”

In civilian clothes, baggage in hand I took the bus (more hours) and got to New York. I arrived at her front door at 2 A.M.  She was in her sheer nightie and embraced me at the door.  “You’re so tan! And skinny!”  I was in shape!

We took to the convertible sofa bed in the living room where my in-laws found us the next day.  We moved to my parents place where they had an empty bedroom for us.  But we still had little privacy.  I vowed next time we would have more of our own space.

The time was filled with family and friends while we tried to get to know each other again.  It was awful knowing we had to part but we vowed that by the time I was discharged we would have our own home.

 

Our first house in center purchased in 1966 – $24,500 with ten percent down!

I had to go back to Eritrea and as the time approached there was nothing but tears and anguish thinking of another nine months apart.  While I was home, the crisis in the Dominican Republic broke out and all MATS planes were going south.

I had to buy a ticket.  TWA from New York to Athens to Eritrea.  $516.20.  A lot of money in 1965.  I still have the ticket stub.  At least I was on a 707 taken care of by the hot stews of the 1960s.

“Welcome back Toritto!” as well as “Why the hell did you come back!”  Snark.

I went back because duty called.

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TakeThe Test!

Take the test

See how many of these you know.

Better yet, see how many your college student kid knows.

(Smiley Face Here)

🙂

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Taking Up Photography

Four year old Clark has learned about photography!  He was home with a cold today and used his mom’s phone to take some pictures!

🙂

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Fascists in America

“If you tell a lie big enough and keep repeating it, people will eventually come to believe it. “The lie can be maintained only for such time as the State can shield the people from the political, economic and/or military consequences of the lie. It thus becomes vitally important for the State to use all of its powers to repress dissent, for the truth is the mortal enemy of the lie, and thus by extension, the truth is the greatest enemy of the State.”

This is an excellent definition of the “Big lie,” however, there seems to be no evidence that it was used by Nazi propaganda chief Joseph Goebbels, though it is often attributed to him.”

The OSS on the other hand in its psychological profile of Hitler described his use of the big lie:

His primary rules were: never allow the public to cool off; never admit a fault or wrong; never concede that there may be some good in your enemy; never leave room for alternatives; never accept blame; concentrate on one enemy at a time and blame him for everything that goes wrong; people will believe a big lie sooner than a little one; and if you repeat it frequently enough people will sooner or later believe it.

Sound familiar?

Sitting in prison after the Munich beer hall putsch taught Hitler 2 things.  First that it is well neigh impossible for a mob to overthrow a state and seize power.  The Russian revolution succeeded in overthrowing Czar Nicholas only because the army joined the mob.

Secondly, that a state can be paralyzed.  After his release Hitler became respectable.  Nazis formed a  political party and ran everywhere.  Though never winning a majority they put enough Nazis in the Reichstag to paralyze it.  President Hindenburg eventually appointed Hitler as Chancellor and the Nazification of Germany got underway in earnest.

The paralysis of the central government was the key and to accomplish it the Nazis never needed a majority.  Only respectability and big lies repeated over and over.

Our nation has been poisoned with the big lie.  Donald Trump didn’t lose the election; it was stolen from him with massive voter fraud on the part of Democrats.  The fraud makes Joe Biden’s Presidency  illegitimate and makes the Democrats criminals and traitors.  Criminals and traitors need to be imprisoned and executed.

Based on the big lie Red States everywhere are making voting more difficult to make it more “secure” notwithstanding that the 2020 election was the most secure in our history.  Makes no difference – the election was stolen so there HAD to be fraud.  Too many Republicans cannot accept that Trump lost; they are all for “democracy” and elections so long as their candidate wins all of the time.

Sounds like Russia or Hungary. They have elections but the same candidate wins all the time.

After the insurrection last January and the assault on the Capitol, 147 Republicans voted  the House and Senate voted to overturn the results of the election.  After all the election was stolen from Trump.  And besides the riot consisted not of his supporters but Antifa.

These same Republicans blocked an effort to establish a bi-partisan committee to investigate the attack.  Lets just move on; there’s nothing more to see here.  Never mind that the FBI has arrested and charged hundreds of insurrectionists many of whom are claiming they took their orders directly from Trump and were storming the capitol to ensure that Biden’s election was not validated in the Electoral College according to law.

All the while screaming “Hang Mike Pence,” building scaffolds and searching for Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer.

The obstructionism by Republicans begun in the Obama years is in full swing particularly in the Senate where Republicans can and do block everything the President wants to do utilizing the filibuster which requires 60 votes rather than a simple majority of 51 to pass virtually anything.  Democrats have 50 seats and the Vice President in case of a tie but there are two Democrats that continue to seek “bi-partisanship” and have gotten nowhere twice since the inauguration.  The Covid relief bill got zero Republican votes and the bill to set up an independent commission to instigate the insurrection got only 6 and needed 10.

Both of these “moderates” are being played for fools.  I can hear the odious Mitch laughing his ass off.  Dems will continue to bring Biden’s agenda to the floor and watch defeat.  How long will it take before our two “moderates’ become convinced the GOP doesn’t want to rule with Democrats; it wants to rule.  Those 147 Republicans who voted to overturn an American election and install Trump are still sitting in the chamber.

Meanwhile, Trump indicated this week that he expects to return to the Presidency in August and that a new inauguration date has already been set.  I presume he is counting on the “audits’  of votes being conducted in Arizona and Georgia by local Republican governments.  Both states have been counted 3 or 4 times.  Arizona has become a laughing stock what with  examining paper ballots for bamboo which would indicate the ballots were shipped in from China.

A few days ago retired General Michael Flynn called for a Myanmar style  coup de tat here in the United States which would correct the stolen election and re-install Trump in the White House.  Nobody ever heard of General Flynn prior to Trump’s election.

The first clue that we were dealing with a Strangelovian Jack D. Ripper character, however, was when Flynn appeared at the GOP convention and led the crowd in “lock her up” chants about Hillary Clinton. It was clear: He was afflicted with the right-wing disability called Fox News Brain Rot. So when Trump unexpectedly won his upset that November, one of the most unnerving of his early decisions was to make this unbalanced former general his national security adviser.

After the election and Flynn’s elevation to the White House the New Yorker published  hair raising profile of Flynn’s descent into madness at the Pentagon and everyone knew he’d had some very odd interactions with the Russian and Turkish governments. Suffice to say that Michael Flynn was nutty from the get-go and the mere fact that he was once the director of the Defense Intelligence Agency and then became the White House National Security Adviser should make all Americans question the quality of our national security system overall.

It would seem to  this old retired guy that calling for a  military coup constitutes sedition and that he should be locked up in a jail somewhere pending trial.  Oh wait.  I forgot. He was in jail until give a full pardon by Trump.     And of course there is Marjorie Taylor-Greene sitting in the House.  I find it difficult to believe that voters in her Georgia district actually elected  this woman who is clearly bat shit crazy.

A Qanon devotee she believes the California wild fires of last year were started by space lasers owned by those wealthy Jews.  Last week she blasted mask wearing as akin to Nazis forcing Jews to wear the Star of David.  This woman sits in the American House of Representatives.  I could find a better rep in an hour at any decent restaurant.

So listen to the lies, the talk of a coup, the Congress stacked with those who voted to overturn the election results, the movement to restrict voting, the Qanon conspiracies of Dems and pedophilia, lock her up and Trump returning triumphantly to office in August most assuredly followed up by arrests.

Oh and last month more than 100 retired U.S. generals and admirals signed an unhinged open letter parroting former President Donald Trump’s falsehoods about the integrity of the 2020 election results and accusing President Joe Biden of driving the country toward a “Marxist form of tyrannical government.”

Released under the banner of a group called Flag Officers 4 America, the letter (pdf) was viewed by analysts and other ex-military officials as an alarming use of rank to launch an overtly partisan broadside against the sitting government.

If you don’t believe the Republican party is now thoroughly neo-fascist in nature you had better get out more. I have some nice land here in Florida to sell you.

There may come a time in the near future when I will not be able to write this; indeed a time when I will have to take it down.

😦

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Dog

By Pamela T. in chalk and Magic Marker

Created for an art show themed “Dogs” benefitting local animal shelters.

🙂

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