Sanity, Simoleons and Somalians

img_0276Welcome to The United States of Ameristan, where our FUBAR presidency is in full bloom. Day 11 will surely bring more surprises. To maintain sanity, I portend advance consideration of the wackiest idea possible. Maybe Bannon will be SCOTUS nominee; I’ve heard from some people, some very important people, that he’s an excellent multi-tasker.

You see? The shock and awe is minimized when one is prepared for the crazy.

Our freshly tic-tacked leader is letting his hair down, fearless of the sans-cojones establishment. Gamesmanship and alternative facts manage the media, while tweets at corporations and Mexico maintain the frothy base. And for any legal geek who dare betray, it’s banishment from the kingdom. We are apprentice to the “Presidency for Dummies,” newly published from the White House dungeon, available wherever the uneducated shop, and in every trump hotel room.

In case you’re in flyover country, a simoleon is old-school New York slang for money. Use in a sentence like this: “I took a hundred simoleons from some schmuck who bet HRC would win.” Losers lose, winners take the simoleons. As for the rest of you, choose a side.

Our new normal has been brewing in the undercurrent for many years. Drumpf harks us backward to the days when men were king, women stayed quietly home and Camel-no-filters were puff-panache. Women’s rights, civil rights and same-sex sex were dreams kept in the closet.

The country has progressed too quickly for a minority base of white folk. Couple this demographic with the top 5%, socially softened, who seek only to regain their institutional status protections and wealth enhancements. In walks the DT, partnered with the master puppeteer, and blessed by golden showers from distant demagogues.

You can’t make this stuff up, nor do you have to, just turn on the damn TV.

As for Somalians, well, they’re no longer welcome. Whether a brightly striving candidate for a Stanford PhD or a graduate from Al Qaeda’s suicide school, we can’t tell the difference. So stay away, and blame Obama while you’re at it. And in case you’re wondering, we have plenty of Caucasian Christian terrorists ready to light up a crowd with an MR15. It’s legal in these here parts, so no others need apply.

If unclear, my satiric rant belies truer passions and commitments. For 18-months and 11-days, my eyes and ears have witnessed the unfathomable turned real. My heart hurts. I am proud of my second-generation American Irish status. And prouder still to know that, less than 100-years ago, blood of my blood was spilled in the fight for rights, dignity and freedom. Sound familiar?

History continually repeats itself until the lesson is learned for good. Another repeat brews before our very eyes. And instead of reading about it after the fact, in history books or newspapers, our social networks deliver in real-time.

Whether viewed through the lens of the annihilation of America’s First People, “The Troubles” in Ireland, Apartheid in South Africa, The Holocaust, internment of Japanese Americans, Rwandan genocide, or the ongoing Israeli Apartheid of the Palestinian nation, WE HAVE SEEN THIS MOVIE BEFORE.

The United States of America is a country of immigrants, and one of the greatest 240-year experiments ever undertaken. Yes, blemishes and murder abound, but that’s a human thing, not solely Americanized. The model of fleeing persecution, a fresh start, gained its best foothold on our shores.

I, for one, do not seek to give that up. I want the experiment to continue. I welcome the browning of our citizenry. I hope for feminine intuition leading the way, softening both American self-care and outward-facing diplomacy. I believe our next iteration, “America 3.0”, is within reach. The sooner we upload this new paradigm, the safer and saner we become. Roll forward with me.

‘Nuff said.

Photo credit: James D. O’Connor, November 2013, somewhere on the road of the American West.


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