A Street Sign & A Bumper Sticker
Yesterday, My Mother brought My grandMother to an animal shelter to adopt a new cat because her old one was recently put down. The poor thing had severe diabetes, she lost the majority of the function in her kidneys, and had zero control over her bladder. The old animal was weak, emaciated, and she lived a life of suffering. Rest in peace Akasha; I did not know you well, but I know you’ll be well missed. The new cat’s name is Mango, she’s a beautiful orange sweetheart about nine years into the first of her nine lives. My grandMother didn’t get to take Mango home that day because of Red Tape in some form or another, but as I’m writing this, they’re back at the shelter, cat carrier in hand. Hats off to Mango.
En route to the animal shelter yesterday, Mother and grandMother were driving behind a line of cars ending in a box truck that was about three hundred or so feet in front of a convertible jalopy being driven by a ninety-year-old lady with blue hair and a Kennedy ‘64 bumper sticker. The speed limit was thirty miles-per-hour but they were hardly pushing twenty, plus, it was about seventy-seven degrees outside and sticky humid, and the woman didn’t have the top down! Like, what the hell? grandMother was about to pull out a crossbow and get a little saucy, but fortunately Beatrice turned off the road and Mother was able to close the gap.
As a car somewhere higher up in the line was turning onto a road, traffic slowed and the mother-daughter duo came to a stop at a street called Hillary Court, right behind the box truck. grandMother looks at the bumper of the truck and notices a Trump 2020 sticker and laughs, pointing out the Trump-Hillary coincidence. Mother snorts and on they went to the shelter.
I was hanging out at grandMother’s house for a few hours earlier today for a visit, and she asked Me what she described as a sensitive question: how do I feel about the Trump Presidency?
I said, “Everything that happens happens because it’s s’posed’ta happen, so obviously he’s the home-grown weed that this prescription-popping Population needs right now. Plus, I don’t follow the Laws anyway, so I don’t really pay attention to Politics.”
Later on that day I went for a solo hike, sat in a tree, and participated in Nature for a few minutes, just enjoying the vibrations. With the residual Political theme in my mind, I got to thinking: that’s exactly why Trump won and Hillary lost the presidential election of 2016.
Like the street sign, Hillary is part of the Political scenery. She rolls with the Status Quo, keeping the Public aware of what was already built in the past. It’s not that She Herself wouldn’t make any of the Necessary Changes, She’s just incapable of it because Her life experiences leading up to this point gave Her the mindstate and beliefs that She has. Trump, on the other hand, is like the box truck: using the roads to deliver the goods to the customers, or in other words, using the Systems that have already been built to bring the Necessary Changes to the Grand Populous, who He ironically sees as customers for the most part anyway. He’s capable of seeing what needs to be changed because of His life experience up to this point, just like Hillary isn’t.
While I’m at it, let’s get symbolic; just look at how Trump and Hillary are identified by the General Population. Hillary uses Her first name, Her own individual identity; She is entirely fueled by Her own ego, looking out for Herself and Those Who Will Do What She Says. Trump is identified by His last name, His family’s identity; He may be fueled by an ego, but it’s a family ego, an ego that’s been used to take care of many Trumps over the course of History. If I had said Donald and Clinton after the semi-colon, it would have seemed odd, just a little bit off, like it would have taken You a second to actually realize about whom I was talking. Or maybe not because of context clues, but I digress.
Hillary is out for Hillary and all the Hillaries out there, blood-related or not, and Trump is out for all the Trumps out there, blood-related or not. And look, there are more Trumps out there than there are Hillaries; you really think a Universe as brilliantly put together as ours would let the Hillaries win?
But Hillary’s out of Politics now, if She was using it to finger Her ego then She would still be in the game. She’s a Writer now, haven’t I heard? She spends Her time Writing down Her Thoughts that She comes up with in Her head to share with Her Followers. Her story is actually very empowering, just look at how She came back after Her being cheated on became national news! Clearly no ego there, or reason to feed one, either; now that I’ve fleshed it out and read it back to myself, I really don’t know where I got the idea. Oh well, all part of The Process.
And Trump, well Trump is pushing and passing preposterous policies that literally leave a lingering smell of the eleven-hundreds, plainly plagued with His Individual Biases and Beliefs. Clearly He’s just jacking His ego ‘till He hits the moon with a new coat of paint. Sure, successful souls are saved but what about The Rest of Us who want to waste our world wallowing in the water at the bottom of the old weathered well?
The Washington Monument
Listen, if You don’t like living how the Politicians tell You to live, then stop paying attention to what the Dickheads say. Dick is ego and, whether it’s an Individual ego or a familial ego, all Politicians are focused on one thing: the growth and sustainment of their ego. The Washington Monument, the timeless reminder of the First President of the United States, is a giant erect cock with the head replaced by a point; literally America’s ego, the reminder that no matter what you say, America was fought for and won by one of the greatest humans who ever lived.
And that He was; Washington literally scrapped the plans for his monument when He was President, the man didn’t want to waste the Taxpayer’s Money. Washington didn’t commission or endorse His own monument, just like He didn’t endorse or suggest America’s dividing into two Political Parties. But here We are, the latchkey children of his actions living in the long shadow of the Washington Monument, the twisted dystopian fantasy novel written by the Aldous Huxley or the George Orwell living in the universe where the Humans of America didn’t fuck up.
Don’t rebel, don’t burn shops down, don’t riot or make a fuss. Just live in Your own way.
“But then there would be no System of Checks and Balances, you dumbass! Humans would go Crazy and kill each other!”
Keep calling other humans dumbasses, see how long You last before You get properly checked and balanced on a sheet and lowered into a hole by your crying loved ones. Everybody believes in something, and when enough humans believe in that something, then there’s a good chance that something is fuckin’ dogma.
A Simple Joke
At the end of the day, You don’t have to act on My Words; I never asked You to, after all. I just want You to laugh at My Words, if you happen to read them. I’m just a self-diagnosed shaman who likes to Write, after all, nothing more and nothing less. Wow, isn’t it incredible that I got this far from a simple joke My grandMother made? Don’t You love My Words, My Dear Followers And Hypothetical Readers? Don’t You love this stain of intellectual shit smeared on the seat of my underwear? grandMother loved it, so what choice did i have but to put it here?
What other choice did i have?!