Refreshing

 Nearly every day of mine begins with a cup of cop coffee – a strong brew served hot, black, strong, and bitter – along with a glance at the news.  But today was different; the news wasn’t too dire.

 

Rather than the typical homicides, plane crashes, auto wrecks, muggings, and fires, today’s news actually made me smile.

 

It seems as though Tiger Woods, the tired golfer, who is often compared to the Second Coming of Jesus, dropped out of a golf tournament because he was playing poorly and could not compete.  Evidently, although he was 10-over for his third round, he was the primary focus for the drooling announcers on television.  Let’s send flowers or offer him a Biden administration cabinet position.

 

Hillary Clinton is, once again, popping up like the turd-in-the-punchbowl.  This time she is being sized-up for an orange jumpsuit – the type used in federal prisons for, well, prisoners.

 

"Madam President" experiencing Karma

That deplorable is shriveling in the antiseptic sunlight shining through the self-created clouds of her 2016 presidential run against Donald J. Trump.

 

Clinton, desperate to add “Madam President” to her list of guvment accomplishments, conjured up a false scenario involving the British’s M-I6, Russia’s President Vladimir Putin, the FBI, CIA, nearly every American “news” agency, most of social media, and former FBI Director, Robert Mueller, III.

 

All these were complicit and delighted to level false charges against candidate Trump, thereby creating a muddled soup of misinformation to not only injure Trump’s term, but wreak havoc within the United States’ political arena.  And she almost got away with it.

 

Almost.

 

Special Counsel for the United States Department of Justice, John Durham, is on the case, though.  And he appears to be closing in on which cell Mrs. Clinton may be residing.  And that’s good news.

 

Elite Georgetown University seniors – those that are on the cusp of graduation and purported to be “educated” – just trashed the Lincoln Memorial.  Yes, THE Lincoln Memorial.

 

During a party-like festival on Lincoln Memorial grounds, bottles that once-contained wine and champagne, along with drinking vessels made of glass – were broken and oozing liquids all over this sacred monument.

 

I’m willing to wager a good attorney could get tuition refunds for these self-proclaimed geniuses.  Perhaps a college course in civility would have been beneficial.  Just saying.

 

On another positive note, the Supreme Court of the United States may be considering reversing the abortion-on-demand laws currently being exercised in America.  That would do nothing but help the current administration collect more tax money from the babies that aren’t killed by their mothers.

 

Sixty-three million extra taxpayers might be enough moolah to fund many of the Democrat’s frivolous projects.  What do you think?

 

Then there’s some douchebag named Patrisse Cullors.  In case you’ve been in a three-year coma, Cullors is one of the few creators of some inane, racist group called Black Lives Matter (BLM).

 

Cullors, seized upon George Floyd’s death to gin-up hate and violence through mass marches and riots, many of which resulted in additional deaths, along with causing billions of dollars of damage, and mayhem, allegedly caused by racism.

 

Coercing big businesses into paying extortion money to BLM, Cullors piously offered one television interview after another on subjects such as “No Justice, No Peace,” and “All Cops are Bastards.”

 

Always wearing a smirk, she gleefully insisted only money could calm fears of BLM’s victims – white people – while she kept moving the goal line further and further away.

 

But the millions and millions of dollars of extortion cash she received was spent on her boyfriend’s salary and on several multi-million dollar houses for herself.  Alas, she was unable to file tax returns for that money because they were much too complex for her.

 

Her plea?  It was mostly racist white guilt money that funded her scam, so it was okay.

 

A federal investigation of Cullors and her wealthy boyfriend is underway.  Yea!

 

And finally, an agenda-driven Bronx, New York, judge Naita Semaj, who has a history of cutting loose violent teens, just released some thug, 16-year old Camrin Williams without charges.

 

Charges for what?  Williams whose rapper stage name is C Blu, was let off in an illegal gun and assault case.  Unfortunately, Mr. C Blu was involved in another gun case in which he shot a cop with another illegal gun in January.  He was released without charges then, too.

 

And whiners complain about crime in America.  Let’s give these deserving ALLEGED criminals another, and another, and another chance, until we have a mass shooting on our hands, not unlike the racist clown in Buffalo who killed all those innocent people.

 

The only bad news is there may not be enough electricity generated in America to recharge all of President Biden’s, VP Kamala Harris’, or Mayor Pete Buttigieg’s electric vehicle push.

Contorted

 As a young child I was often asked by kind, curious neighbors and relatives what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Of course, I had no idea other than an “adult.”

 

But those kinds of questions certainly put the pressure on me, unbeknownst to the inquirers.  For the record, as of today, I still have no idea what I want to be after nearly 70-years of searching for an answer.

 

Being a news junkie, I regularly absorb meaningful news articles from a variety of sources, all day long.  Over time you realize that most of those articles are ‘re-treads,’ much like tires for vehicles, especially semi-trucks.  But I digress.

 

They are recycled by various “news” organizations who are all too often delighted to put their own, individual spin on the item-in-question to “make it their own.”  Unfortunately, those exact reporting agencies simply repeat the original story without any editing.

 

That sort of reporting is called “circular reporting,” indicating the news item is nothing new, merely recycled.  I’d like to think the reporters are lazy, but the older I get, the more cynical I become.

 

Under communism, there is favorite saying: a lie repeated often enough becomes the truth.

 

And knowing how these sensational stories evolve into fantastical tales of virtual un-belief, I find it difficult to imagine all of today’s circular reporting is the result of sloth.  I’m going with something more nefarious.

 

Take something newly created, apparently out of whole cloth. 

 

For generations, Americans have been striving through churches, schools, workplaces, societal meeting situations, sports, music, television, and compendium of other venues, to erase – once and for all – the ugly monster called discrimination.

 

Discrimination can be found in any number of places, directed toward any number of ‘victims.’  Sexism, ageism, racism, are a few, as are associated phobias, to include homophobia, xenophobia, and hoplophobia, quite often mixed together for effect.

 

People will be people as they are all individuals.  And because there are so, so many variants that divide our populace, combined with lightning-fast, world-wide social media, there are more victims appearing nearly daily to argue for inclusion, fairness, or equity.

 

However, life isn’t really complicated, we just make it complicated.  Let me explain.

 

Back in paragraphs one and two, I gave you enough information to witness a personal conundrum.  Although monumental to me, nearly everyone faces those same challenges.

 

Families occasionally dictated possible career paths for their offspring.  If dad was a firefighter, perhaps his child would be a firefighter, too. If mom was a doctor, she might become a role model for her progeny. 

 

And so went our familial nation with kids following in their parent’s footsteps for any number of reasons.  Respect, pride, intense interest, sense of belonging, and obligation, could be deciding factors in producing future successes.

 

But recently, I’ve been hearing more and more jabber about disruption than unity when it comes to youngsters finding future aspirations and endeavors.

 

It seems as though this past COVID-19 school year wasn’t disruptive enough, with children engaged in distance-learning or home schooling.  Our anointed school administrators have been covertly teaching America’s youth something called Critical Race Theory (CRT).

 

CRT is a method by which the ever-fluid “people-of-color (POC)” resurrect some rusty axe to grind against society-in-general.  It is a way to shame innocent white kids into guilt about something that ended 150-years ago: slavery.

 

Apparently this propaganda has been taught in high school and on the college and university levels for years.  And this destructive, phony lesson about a lie called “systemic racism,” has been ruining families ever since its inception.

 

Unfortunately, since it was introduced during their formative years in early education, kids have been soaking up this tripe as gospel, largely because of its origin – teachers.

 

Growing up I was instructed to ‘trust teachers and heed their orders.’  And I did.

 

Had I been subjected to this type of false indoctrination of self-guilt, white guilt, or black lives mattering over everyone else’s, I, too, might be a programmed zombie.

 

There is a positive, unintended consequence to the COVID-19 lockdown.  It seems as though parents, who stayed home to house sit with their children while the kiddies Zoomed their school lessons, inadvertently discovered this brainwashing curriculum was being forced into those little mushy kid brains.

 

Suddenly school board meetings were inundated with angry parents, television news was deflecting the negative aspects of this as “misinformation,” and public denials descended like a fog in this already cloudy world.

 

A very dangerous parent against CRT arrested at
a school board meeting 

As the scholastic vermin attempted to lie their way out of this evil, illegitimate curriculum, the media began their assistance campaign with fabrications, outright denying the letters ‘CRT’ even appeared in the alphabet!

 

Fast forward through countless arrests at school board meetings, and parents fired by their employers for taking a stand against creating racial animosity among 5 to 12-year olds in a racially healing nation.

 

Now we have those same teachers and administrators insisting they teach those same confused, innocent first-, second-, and third-graders that they may not be the sex their parents told them they were.  In other words, their parents lied to them.

 

Children are gullible because they have no developed reasoning abilities.  That naïveté makes these ‘learners’ especially susceptible to all sorts of lies and disinformation that is introduced to them as fact.

 

Changing one’s sex, according to current White House “experts” is not related to “following the science,” as we were instructed to do about COVID; it is an opinion that is ever-changing, and subject to interpretation and/or individual feelings.

 

Men can become pregnant and have an abortion, according to a Democrat witness recently testifying before the House Judiciary Committee on abortion rights, Aimee Arrambide.  Oh, my.

 

And on that note, I believe that I want to be a white, non-racist, heterosexual man when I grow up.

Quack!

 
Once again I awoke this morning to more bad news: Joseph Robinette Biden, Jr., was still the President of the United States.

 

Since January 2021, this doddering fool has been leading the charge of pure stupidity as the leader of the once-greatest-country-on-Earth.

 

Upon his inauguration, he has spent a full third of his time in his representative state of Delaware.  There, he has two houses, one of which is alleged to be a waterfront beach house; that should be a clue as to Biden’s miniscule cranial capacity.

 

A duck

As a federal senator from Delaware for over 40-years, then the Vice President for another eight, Biden has been very vocal about the impending doom coming from “climate change.”

 

Why anyone who ardently believes the oceans are rising to deadly levels would buy a beach home is evidence of a diminished brain.  But he is the textbook example of insanity on steroids.  But I digress.

 

Biden has spent the last year-and-a-half of his Presidential term attempting to destroy – with some great success – the framework and associated camaraderie of America.

 

During his senatorial terms he made blatant racist remarks that remain on-record, should he or anyone else want to review them for accuracy and posterity.  He smeared 7-11 store employees, donut shop workers, and everyone else of a different race, to clearly differentiate himself from the ‘working class’ among us.

 

He was, in his early years on Capitol Hill, a buddy of many Ku Klux Klan members, and even delivered a eulogy for the late Senator Robert Byrd, (D-WV).  He gushed over their friendship during his widely-viewed delivery amid Byrd’s televised funeral.

 

He eventually made public comments regarding keeping black students out of public schools which were attended by his children.  He referenced jungle-like environments and disruption from the unwashed masses, in an effort to keep schools segregated.

 

At least one person called him on these tirades of exclusion and division, though.  It was Kamala Harris, his candidate for Vice President.  During a televised debate, Harris gave Ol’ Lunchbucket Joe the “what fer.”

 

Her rambling sob story about her being discriminated against while attempting to merely acquire an elementary school education was dramatic, to say the least.  On the split screen, Joe seemed totally uninterested to Harris’ rehearsed, passionate speech regarding her bus trip to school.  She punctuated her monologue with a true claim of racism.

 

That would seem to be the first and last time these two would ever communicate with anything over which they agreed.  It was.

 

Until last week, that is.

 

With Biden’s plan for America in full swing, and the proverbial American bus rapidly heading for a steep cliff, President Joe seems more delighted every day on the job.

 

Closing oil pipelines, draining the country’s bank account, lying about the COVID-19 flu and approved vaccines, pushing for Americans to buy electric vehicles at insane prices, causing hate and distrust among our citizens, being  policed by an Attorney General with an axe to grind, filling cabinet positions with people who would have difficulty collecting my garbage, turning a blind eye to the influx of illegal aliens, and attempting to bankrupt the United States for decades through prohibitively expensive “free” health care, while forcing the middle class taxpayers to pay off student loans for the rich and anointed, Biden is the one constant in the universe of spending good money after bad.

 

All this changed a few days ago when someone – likely a Left-wing activist – probably a Supreme Court Clerk, divulged sensitive, proprietary information about a decision involving abortion.

 

Abortion is one of those topics not necessarily discussed anywhere except in private, lest there be bloodshed or at least police intervention.

 

There are two sides to an abortion: pro and con.  Women have long held that abortion is sacred and is carved in stone.  It is not.

 

They claim it is a Constitutional Right.  It is not.

 

They insist it is solely for them to make the decision to kill their baby.  Again, it is not.

 

That baby did not ask to be created, and it took two people to make that child.  Unfortunately, it seems as though women have been brainwashed since the early 1970’s to believe abortion rights reside in The Constitution.

 

No where in The Constitution does the word “abortion” appear, anymore than “condoms.”  Period.

 

But the riots and hoopla began nearly immediately upon the leak of this Supreme Court writing.  Laws that are on the books have been ignored by the Attorney General and politicians, alike, hence the Molotov Cocktails and police interventions, nation-wide.

 

Even lesbians who cannot procreate without necessary male ‘help’ are complaining about aborting babies – who don’t seem to be an issue in their private and sexual relationships.

 

However, VP Harris found her grown-up girl voice and publicly promised that abortion would not be stifled because, well, she’s a noisy Leftist who believes what her boss said about keeping abortions safe and rare.  Tell that to the 63,000,000 aborted babies.

 

Still, it is amazing how much disruption can be foisted upon Americans who still refuse to act or become angry.

 

Today’s Big Biden Blunder from his Build Back Better plan was his administration’s ignoring the dwindling supply of baby formula.

 

It appears as though through a series of missteps and intentional redirecting of current baby formula supplies, our citizens are at a loss to find it, while the illegal aliens seem to have plenty at the Southern Border.

 

Ineptness and haplessness are the norm for this administration, with no one able to hide from the mess they have caused.  Their solution is to blame everyone else for this massive debacle, except themselves.

 

If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.

 

Likewise, if it looks inept, walks inept, and quacks inept, it’s inept.

Who Is That?

 
As a small child, way back when, my Father had a small camera.  It was nothing special, just a clunky black box with a lens and some knobs, plus a dial or two.

 

It was very basic compared to today’s single lens reflex cameras, or the newer digital models.  I’m not even going to attempt a description of the cameras now built into our cell phones; they can take, besides still photos, videos and special effect images.

 

And as our family grew, so did the photos of everyone – everyone except the camera operator, my Dad.

 

This basic of all cameras captured hundreds, perhaps thousands, of family disasters, fun, vacations, gatherings, meals, holidays, vehicles, landscaping, and smiles, all of which are now stored in an old steamer trunk awaiting perusal by the next curious ‘victim.’

 

Associating a face with a name has always made stories, along with history, more explicit and exciting, hence the photo albums chock full of period clothing, furniture, memories, and facial expressions.

 

This dated camera served our family well for decades until the Smithsonian Museum begged for this relic.  Unfortunately, it was sold at a yard sale for one buck in the 1980’s before it could be memorialized.

 

My sainted wife has a void in her life because of a house fire when she was a child.  At that early time in her life, her family’s version of photographic documentation vanished without hope of recovery.  Still, she has some of that history etched into her mind for her to enjoy for an eternity.

 

But then that’s the point of photographs: memories for historical documentation.

 

Part of our family documented life through an 8mm movie camera.  For you youngsters, it used actual film that needed to be developed by a professional.  It was pretty costly at the time which is why my immediate family didn’t own one.  However, two of my uncles did.

 

Since viewing those films was done on a screen with the benefit of a movie projector, they slowly made their way to the back of the closet or attic for “safe keeping.”  Alas, eventually they were forgotten to time and became “lost” to a ride to the dump.

 

Once again, any few remaining memorials to family history contain everyone but my uncles, who were dutifully behind the camera making the magic happen.

 

Neither my sainted wife nor I are enamored by celebrity, unlike that exhibited by countless others seeking hugs, photos, or autographs from ‘famous’ or near-famous people.  So it is rare when I ask her to indulge me into capturing a special moment for posterity.

 

She’s a lovely woman with lots of assets both visible and covert, alike.  She’s a fine artist, great cook, terrific au pair to Smokey the Cat, and an excellent listener, most likely because she’s somewhat hard-of-hearing me.

 

In any case, she, very much like my “missing” uncles, rarely appears in photos because she doesn’t like for her picture to be taken, or she is operating the camera to photograph me for a notable moment to be captured.

 

Because of truly advanced technology, society doesn’t use boxy antique cameras unless they want to use them.  Perhaps it’s the effects, the use of film, or special techniques, but today’s images and movies are captured digitally.

 

That method ensures immediate results, and can prevent poor framing or bad lighting that would otherwise ruin a once-in-a-lifetime photographic moment.

 

For us, that special time would involve a UFO landing in my yard, or an errant elephant meandering down the middle of the street.

 

But every other blue moon, or so, I would wind up in a position to meet a notable person with whom I would like a photo.

 

Those rare moments for me include my meeting Pelé, the Brazilian soccer player; my time spent in my brother-in-law’s Ferrari, and a chance meeting with the late President Ronald Reagan.

 

Throughout my life I’ve met actress Linda Lavin, a Miss Mississippi, a Washington Redskin, or two, and baseball player Cal Ripkin.  And at no time during these brushes with greatness did is want or need a picture or an autograph.

 

But there was a time when I asked my sainted wife to snap a pic of me with a big celebrity whom I admire.

 

For the decades we have been married I have tried – repeatedly – to teach my sainted wife about the art of capturing the ideal photograph.  Unfortunately, she invariably peers through the camera eyepiece, and once seeing the focus dot for the lens, loses her concentration.

 

She believes that dot is supposed to be on the person’s face; she’s wrong.  Of course, it’s under duress that these spur-of-the-moment chance meetings occur, thereby offering little in the way of second and third or fourth retakes.

Photo of me meeting President Donald Trump

 

Upon post encounter examination of the meeting and subsequent photo I often learn it was pretty fruitless for me, and simply annoying for the celebrity.  I took the liberty of posting an actual image herein, as evidence of a typical “Sainted wife photo session.”

 

So if you run across my sainted wife and need a picture snapped as a souvenir with another person or a landmark, here’s a free tip:  ask someone else.

 

And that is why I actually have no photographic proof of “bragging” about my meeting anyone, much less anyone of fame.