I am far from an expert on matters political. However, I do know lies when I hear them. Our President lies. The Attorney General lies. Who doesn’t lie? Who can we count on?

Was it always so and are we just coming to the national awareness that the “Nixon Era” of underhanded and deceitful governance was merely the norm? The customary practice?

Whaddaya so exorcised about? This is the way it’s done. It’s just the way governments work. Oh yeah? OH YEAH? Let’s not sink into the false hopelessness of retroactive corruption-tolerance.

I do understand that politics is a fairly slimy business. But I also understand that there’s a big difference between the level of stupid disregard for even the pretense of legitimacy and honor that is in full flagrance currently, and what had heretofore been national business as usual.

But I ask you: How many are surprised that Donald J. Trump is a serial and compulsive liar and that he can’t be trusted as far as we can heave his overweight carcass? When you lay down with pigs you get mud on your clothes. N’est-ce pas? We have collectively laid down with a real PIG.

And now a word regarding the current New York outrage about Shakespeare in the Park – because Julius Caesar is being portrayed as DJT and – as the story goes – is stabbed repeatedly to death.

That’s what you’re all upset about? A play? How about redirecting some of that outrage toward the despot in the White House. Our White House. We have a rabid dog running around as our head of state.

Thoughts go back to Nixon, but – as appalling and devastating as Nixon’s crimes were – they t’weren’t nothin’ compared to those of the fair-haired sociopath now at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Is it that we have become inured to evil? Or is it just that we are otherwise engaged…watching our favorite shows, playing video games, enjoying the comforts and hypnotics of our culture?

Okay, kids. This is now the real deal. Our way of life, the U.S.of A. as we know it, is under threat. No insurgency could be more powerful than the loosening of our values in the service of avoiding the hard questions…and answers. Don’t look away. Yes, I know it’s pretty ugly out there, but we have a duty – to ourselves – to stay the course (yes, I quoted HIM).

Start burning up the phone lines to your congress people; make them understand that THEIR political future is at stake if they don’t push back against this toxic tide.


Now, you may think that’s just a clever little ploy – to start this blog off with something that would appeal to my readers and make them want to read more. But, no. It’s the truth. I think it finally happened – I’ve run out of words. That’s what I’m faced with. Running out. It does raise a larger question (whew, that’s a relief!)

Are we all going to run out?

Of patience (you know to whom I’m making reference – don’t you? DJT.)

Of brain cells. We do burn them off in many customary and not so customary ways: alcohol, drugs (yes that includes whatever pharmaceuticals you are taking), mind-rotting television (which I so love!)

Of good will – that would be: in the world at large. Friends and allies are looking at us with a newly jaundiced eye.

Of natural resources. According to Newsweek, “Renowned physicist Stephen Hawking has warned that humanity needs to become a multi-planetary species within the next century in order to avoid extinction.”

And I might just run out of paper goods. Nah, not likely.

I pause to check out my inner writer: Wake up, girl! Don’t leave me in the lurch today.

Which brings to mind something that I’ve lived with for a while: I seem to be two bifurcated (don’t you just love that word? And, yes, I see the redundancy.) people. The writer of five books and a frequent blogger; and the observer of such, who can’t imagine ever coming up with another creative idea. Ever.

And then there’s the other element: the lack of general enthusiasm for my great works. Oh,sure, I’ve gotten praise and interest – but not on the global level that my idealized expectations had anticipated. I haven’t been nominated for a Nobel Prize for literature. I had assumed the response out there would have been fulsome and adoring. Well – I guess that was left over from some early experiences as a precocious only child. That ship has apparently sailed.

Bucking up here. No other option. Well, whining is, in fact, another option – one that I am clearly unwilling to forego…