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  • Writer's picturePhilip Drucker


By Philip Drucker

With my commute time from the back bedroom to the kitchen down significantly I have been using my "extra" time (you cannot save time) to read articles from newspapers, magazines and writers I don't consider part of my weekly must-read/watch list. In some ways, I found it a worthy endeavor, the overall zeitgeist of the experience was a bit like drowning your pancakes in syrup. It's only good to a point at which too much of a good thing is, well, too much of a good thing.

Without naming names, there are a great number of talented writers crafting succinct and often insightful, intelligent thoughts and viewpoints to help navigate through the choppy political waters (not Maxine) we find ourselves in. But the holes in the hull of our let's call it the Trump Dinghy, ain't a gonna patch themselves and baling water while waiting for the storm to be over in 11/2020 is becoming, as the death tolls rise untenable. Or, at least it should be. But Captain Hook or by Crook (mostly crook) is still at the helm, or at least what is still above the waterline.

Why? Keeping with our nautical theme, I suggest it's due to the lack of anyone in a position of authority to slap the irons on, keel-haul the blaggard and make him walk the plank into the dark, inky depths of the Ruby Red Republican Sea of shame and obscurity. Do not part the sea, do not collect $200 and with any luck, go directly to jail. In short, we need a hero and there are none to be found.

Oh, some of our elected figure heads are doing a better job than others. Some, given their druthers, would probably like to see this entire period of our history vanish like so much wind in the dust-bin (it's a Kansas song, check it) but lack the combination of courage, will, bravado and insanity necessary to snap the cuffs and perp walk the President out of the White House and into the caring, loving arms of criminal justice (or injustice) system.

I hear there is still an opening on Rikers Island in what used to be Jeffrey Epstein's cell. Hardly used. Might be a ghost or two hanging (ha ha) around. If you know what I mean, and I'm sure you do.

You may rightly be asking yourself, isn't that Bill "Klowndick" Barr's job? Why yes, as the Nation's AG and number one "lawman" it is his primary responsibility to hold a rogue president accountable for his illegal, immoral and quite often fattening misdeeds of ministerial malfeasance and misconduct. But it ain't gonna happen. Barr is a sociopath who tends to favor the "singular executive" school of presidential power and authority.

Meaning, the president acts in his own ways at this own pleasure without the inconvenience, interruption or intervention from the two other "co-equal" branches of the federal government. And yes, if you were thinking "singular executive" is a fancy but basically meaningless word, and clearly code for fascism and or at least a dickpotater in the White House, you my friend are 100% correct.

So, waiting for Barrsky with or without Hutch is a non-starter. Next, would I imagine Mike Pence doing the hokey-pokey with the 25th Amendment. Ain't gonna happen. Firstly, it's all but a given Pence can't dance. My guess is he's probably more like the town minister (played by John Lithgow) in Footloose on steroids and would faint at the sight of a woman's bare ankles. Unless of course they are shackles, that he would I believe find acceptable.

Editor's Note: did you know the mythical town former Chicago teen Ren McCormack (Kevin Bacon) moves to, Bomont, Utah is based on the real-life town of Elmore City, Oklahoma? Where since its inception in 1898 banned dancing to curb, well you guessed it, sexting (maybe not) drinking, carnal arousal (definitely) and generally everything that teens actually go to their prom for. But I digress. Back to the future, our future.

Clarity of thought is a wonderful thing. Muddy Waters wrote some great blues songs but as a metaphor for the state of our collective minds, such waters would be hard to navigate, investigate and if necessary (as in like right now) sedate, repudiate or whatever date you think will remove a madman who’s trying to kill us all from power. Again, I ask you who will that be? And importantly, when.

For clarity's sake, let me make crystal meth Lysol clear, the Republican Party is comprised of let's call it the three "C"s. Criminals, cowards and clowns. Brain dead, morally challenged by their inability to be the part of family values and, well, good old fashioned USA style morality, have tied their political futures to the mast of the SS Trump, a Carnival Cruise Ship themed around dubious sexual predilections, porn star chic, Russian mafia intrigue, including doctors falling out of portholes, and of course the 24 hour all you can eat junk food of your choice (mainly KFC and Hamberders) buffet all washed down with a shot of the best bleach rubles can buy. Needless to say, no help here.

For the rest, keeping in mind I'm being as kind as I can, isn't this whole political fiasco with Tabasco, is the Donkey Party really where the green grass grows, one long, already deadly, and potentially even more dangerous game of woulda, coulda, shoulda? I mean, how many more people must die before the backbone of the righteous rises to the occasion? If you have that slightly sickly, hell, he's right feeling in the pit of your stomach, know this. So do I.

How many more mothers, daughters, sisters, brothers, fathers, sons, infants, children (often in cages) young adults, Baby Boomers, Generation X Why & Z should and here is the big qualifier, unnecessarily suffer, feel the pain and grief of loss. Watch (or not watch) the tragic decline of the infected, the sick, and the dying? Who, will in all likelihood die alone, in quarantine?

How many doctors, nurses (angels), care givers of all kinds will needlessly risk contagion and yes, death. Or, we could remove the cancer that rots our American souls from the inside-out for nothing more than personal gain, comfort, bragging rights and I guess some weird chance to re-write history and therefore, glory?

Remember when in 2017 Trump was entertaining Chinese President Xi Jinping at Murder-a-Lago? I do. I remember the encounter as in the context of discussing the Syrian air strikes, Trump went on about the "beautiful" piece of cake he was eating at the time. It was during this interview I knew we had lost, all our worst fears would come true (as it turns out more) and it would only get worse from there. Why? Watch.

This is the face and demeanor of a monster who can't differentiate between the importance of dead children on a battlefield and the f*cking piece of chocolate he just shoved in his mouth. Each are of equal importance, equal gravity, both "events", worthy mention in the same sentence/sequence to his adoring public. Another gut twister? Yeah, me too.

Who will it be? Who will step forward and save us from the ever-consuming, never satisfied by just one slice jaws of the chocolate cake soul/eater who still rules us as if we were peasants from his lily white poached and shipped to the USA illegally ivory tower? Who among us can grasp the social/political/historical significance of the moment? Right here, right now?

How many people have the opportunity, the power, the moral and spiritual high ground and the will to act? To do what they have sworn to do. Protect the Constitution. Protect us, We the People from harm?

History has recorded no shortages of cowards whose ghosts likely haunt the Capitol Building, the halls of justice, the White House? We don't need another coward. We need a hero and we need one now.

Namaste. Be the spark of divinity within yourself that you have always wanted to be.

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