Stop Saying You Got This
Stop saying you got this.
you ain’t got this.
you ain’t got nothin -
nothin but the opportunity to
make a choice, make a decision,
make your next step,
so make it,
blind faith that
whatever comes,
you just keep making
choices,
and come what may
everything will fall
into place.
MR
2022-0616
The way I see it, American Government is like a marriage. The Republicans and Democrats are spouses. Now, to ascribe them normative historical gender roles, let's say the Republicans are the abusive husband and the Democrats are the battered spouse. The Republicans want out of the marriage, but the Democrats still think if they both just work together, then the marriage will be salvageable.
An abusive relationship always ends. It never suddenly turns into a good, wholesome, mutually supportive marriage. The two spouses either divorce - or eventually, one of them dies.
Our Bodies are Nothin
Our bodies are nothing
we are little gods
my fingers once, were my fingers,
now they are my toes
I will it that way.
how many times can I
use the word I when describing the i
that is i
my eyes are my heart
what I see I desire
my mouth is my mind/thought/brain/command
I speak and existence becomes the “is”
I speak and existence
is
you are not i
I is the only i
there is no you
but the you that i
desire to be
come.
How the Class War Masquerades as a Race War
When I was in college, I was trying to date three girls at the same time. Each one I told them that I was seeing them exclusively. Everything was working perfectly ... so long as they did not ever talk to each other. When they met each other (in some class some semester) and started talking, then my plan fell apart.
From this, I learned that you can lie to different people (or groups of people) and the lie will continue only if those groups never mingle.
Since then, in my study of Labor History, I have found two examples to illustrate how racial divisions aid the upper class to remain in power.
California, 1960s, Cesar Chavez. Even the briefest overview reveals that, until the Hispanic workers stopped crossing the picket lines of striking Filipino workers, the bosses would be able to keep wages and conditions down for everybody.
https://ufw.org/research/history/mexicans-filipinos-joined-together/
Another example is the Ludlow Massacre in 1914. Put succinctly: 32 different ethnic/linguistic groups united for better working conditions, so the bosses called in the state militia to murder as many of them as they could, including their wives and children.
https://history.denverlibrary.org/news/diversity-then-now-ludlow-massacre-and-western-history
These two examples illustrate just how afraid the ruling class (yeah, sure, read "CAPITALISTS") are against ethnicities working together.
Now ... I'm not suggesting there is a cabal of these guys sitting around eating caviar in a luxurious club somewhere. What I'm saying is that there is a system in place by which owners of corporations and investors have a vested interest in ensuring that the workers do not organize to demand higher wages and better working conditions, two things that noticeably eat into net incomes. What I am saying is that such in the ruling class, thus, have ZERO vested interest in any program that creates communication across different ethnic communities. As long as they are in different housing projects and generally don't talk to each other in society, then it is no danger if, by this division, they naturally fight amongst each other instead of uniting to fight side by side.
Granted, this is a generalization of these societal forces, based on both personal experience and a few examples; however, I believe the theory is sound, and to date, I have seen little evidence to contradict it.
Saw on Twitter someone talking about the new series focused on Wednesday Addams and they said, "Bring back the original Wednesday" and some people were laughing, saying that Christina Ricci is now 44 years old and the actress who played in the original 60s series is now 64.
And I was thinking, would be cool to have a show with all three Wednesdays. You could have each character playing Wednesday Addams at different points in her life. Across time.
Or if you wanted to make it a freaky mind-bender, you could have each of them going back in time to meet their younger selves. Or to be really odd, you could have the oldest one still in the earliest time period, and the youngest one now, and it's like she's pulling a Benjamin Button and growing younger.
I mean, we've got three actresses here playing one iconic character... let's stretch the cinemagraphic possibilities!
Lucky Moran: Hear me out! Rogers and Hammerstein's "Oklahoma!" ... only reworked in "Brokeback Mountain" style!
Lucky: No it's not! It'll be a hit.
John Steppenwolf: So the Farmer and the Cowman are not only friends, they're now lovers?
Otis Redwing: Won't work unless over half the cast is PoC.
Lucky: Way ahead of you! At least two characters will be trans.
Neill: Definite hit.
It wasn't that Beatrice didn't love Dante; it was just that she couldn't stand him anymore.
Especially his nightly routine, just before bed. GOD! it was insufferable. Year after year, the same routine! 9:15pm, sharp, and Dante was at his sink: floss first, then gargle with hydrogen peroxide, then brush - each tooth, exactly 30 seconds, then the water-pick, exactly 2 minutes (she used to time these things until she realized that the time frame never changed - ever!), and finally, after the second rinse with a mouthwash, the eyedrops.
It was the eyedrops that really got under her skin. He would hold open one eye and then hold the dropper over his eye, at least 4 inches, and let the drop hang in the bottle for ten full seconds, before finally dropping into the eye.
Why did he do that? Why hold it so high? Why wait exactly TEN seconds? Was he imagining the eyedrops to be some champion high diver? Did he think it was more effective that way? Was he simply giving in to some sort of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? It was infuriating!
So, Beatrice smiled to herself the night she decided - finally! - to shake things up. As Dante stood there, eyedrop suspended in time - the droplet exactly four inches above his waiting eyeball - she almost ALMOST called out to him to stop, not to do it ... but she didn't.
The droplet fell, and it was a gleeful, suspenseful eternity, watching that droplet fall, a droplet of pure hydrochloric acid.
