Another Moment on the Soapbox

 

                Hey, would you lend me your soapbox for a moment? Thanks.

 

I just read an article that made my blood curdle and my eyes tear up. A Virginia schoolboard voted to restore Confederate names to two schools. The schools had been previously named after Confederate Gens. Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson, Robert E. Lee and Turner Ashby. They were changed four years ago in what I feel was an appropriate vote to remove the vestiges of the Old South and the history of racism and segregation. 

                Now they have voted to change Mountain View High School and Honey Run Elementary School back to their former Confederate names. Because it’s 2024 and the history of the South should not be forgotten, apparently. Proponents of the plan to restore the names stated, “I ask that when you cast your vote, you remember that Stonewall Jackson and others fighting on the side of the Confederacy in this area were intent on protecting the land, the buildings and the lives of those under attack,” said a woman urging the board to restore the Confederate names. “Preservation is the focus of those wishing to restore the names.”  And “that revisiting this decision is essential to honor our community’s heritage and respect the wishes of the majority.” 

                Which is the stupidest pile of crap I have ever heard. The Confederacy lost the war. They were traitors to the Republic and Democracy. Losers don’t get buildings named after them. They belong in the history books as the losers of the war and that is it. There was no honor in their cause. It was to keep slavery as an American institution. Which is an absolute moral wrong. Without question. The bondage of humans by other humans is abhorrent and vile and we should not honor those that wanted to sustain that institution. 

                The Lost Cause narrative espoused by the Daughters of the Confederacy in the early 20^th Century is absolute nonsense and any “honorarium” for traitors should be resoundingly rejected. The romanticism of the Civil War by Southern revisionists should be absolutely rejected.  It was wrong then and it is wrong in the 21^st Century. 

                Yet, I’m not surprised by this disgusting move by the “majority” in Virginia. It fits part and parcel with the current wave of nostalgia politics. This strange yearning to go backwards in time to remove women’s rights, return to segregation, expel those different than White Christians and basically a want for days when white men could do whatever they wanted with impunity. It’s a baffling trend in this country and frankly if you believe any of those things are good, then quite frankly, you’re an asshole who should be shunned and set adrift on an iceberg. While on fire. 

                The worst kind of asshole too, pockmarked, and oozing smelly puss, while smeared with diarrhea.  The worst of the worst of the very and absolute worst. That Grinch song, it’s about you. I’d rather you just curled up into a festering pile of dog shit and fucked right off. Because if you think you’re better than anyone, or think the Country was better in the 1950’s, or your rights as an American supersede the rights of other human beings, then you can just go to hell.   

                I’m really exhausted by these assholes and their “All for me and none for thee”, attitudes. I can’t contain my absolute disdain for them. I can no longer try to see the other side of the conversation. Any side that actively advocates for the Lost Cause, White Christian Nationalism, the politics of division, or that sews hatred, bigotry, and nostalgic whimpering for the “good old days” can just go fuck themselves. I won’t waste any more time on them. 

                Okay, here’s your soapbox back. Thank you for letting me borrow it.

 

 

https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/09/us/shenandoah-county-confederate-school-names-reaj/index.html

 

                 

A Little Bit of a Rant

 

There’s a long list of things I’ve been meaning to write about, but time is a cruel task master, and she’s been whipping me into the mundane tedium of “life as normal” with devious intent. 

Not that I mind normalcy,  the regular everyday-ness of life; it’s not too bad most of the while. But there are times when the madness scales the walls of mediocrity and must stand on the corner in ragged

robes, proselytizing about the terrors of a normal life.   

Let me just fix my tattered robes and get on my soapbox, which is cardboard now, and is smushed under my weight, so forget that.  I’ll just do this on the sidewalk in front of the old paint store. 

I’ll just come right out and say it; we are facing an existential crisis to Democracy in the US and abroad, and action must be taken to defeat fascists, dictators, autocrats, and anyone who thinks Putin is a swell guy.  He’s not. He’s a despot bent on dominating the West in an antiquated view of Imperialism and, frankly, I don’t know what his ultimate goals are. It’s a mystery to me why in the modern age any country would make a land grab. I think men in power miss World Wars sometimes and want to etch their names into some immortal history at the bottom of a forgotten landmark in some empty field. 

Donald Trump is a narcissist ass-munch who is a direct threat to the actual American way of life. Do not vote for this circus of a human being. He is the epitome of everything wrong with the US. He only cares about himself and not the American people. He craves power and nothing more. He is driven by his own lust for authority, or maybe his Dad didn’t hug him enough, I don’t know. But I do know that his serious overtones of self-congratulation, impossible thinking, and clear misunderstanding of the fundamentals of the American Republic makes me think he’ll want construction to start on a Death Star next. You know, with Space Force.  

A true man of the people puts the people first, he does what he can to help raise people up, facilitate progress, and generally help the Country achieve the lofty goals of a Republic;  not divide and insult whole groups of citizens through the worst insensitive foulness I’ve ever heard.  Politics is a nasty business, but those individuals that sacrifice their personal ambitions for the ambitions of a unified citizenry will almost always get my vote. As a representative of the people you must forego your personal beliefs about religion, social order, religion again, mostly religion, and do what is best for the people, rather than for just your base. I don’t care if you don’t like unwed teenage mothers, you should still do everything you can to help them get the assistance they need to be fruitful members of our society.  

It really sickens me at times, the state of my Country and I’m sadly terrified of the future. I was once extremely optimistic about what was to come; now I don’t even want to leave the house for fear of some gun-toting racist idiot will start shooting up the 7-11 because they’re filled with hate over some abstract belief about something they don’t understand or care to try and understand. Because Conservative news outlets told them so-an-so was evil or cultivated their hatred into action by not condemning the actions of those in power who say or act in ways unbecoming of a tolerant and progressive society.  

There are problems in this Country, I’m not so naive to think everything is wonderful. I know we have serious economic, educational, and social issues to address, but I’d rather have an elected official working towards finding reasonable and rational solutions with any eye towards progress, rather than trying to drag the country back to 1958. It is not normal to want to go backwards to a “simpler time”. It was not simple. It was not easier. It was not a Golden Age. Looking at history through Rose-colored glasses only make you blind, not wistful. 

I am baffled by the assault on women’s rights. That somehow women, again, cannot be trusted to make their own decisions about the reproduction of our species.  I was raised to see women as equals without condescension or recriminations. So I can’t understand this right leaning stance that women cannot be trusted, and States need to enact legislation to “help” women make decisions about their own reproductive rights. The end of Roe V. Wade by this Supreme Court made me sick, and it shows the cowardice of Conservative ideology. To let people have any control over their own lives is akin to blasphemy as far as Conservatives believe and I find that reprehensible. 

I am a firm believer in the Separation of Church and State. I believe religion has no place in the halls of power. Any religion whatsoever. So I’m disturbed when individuals in power use it as crutch to justify legislative strategy. The King of England, King George, was allegedly placed in power by God and we had a whole rebellion against him and in the aftermath, we made damn sure that no elected official could ever claim that they had been appointed by God and were therefore “infallible”. God is not a politician. God or Gods are an abstract concept to explain the things we do not understand. 

I will fight for a man's rights, but not his God. 

This street corner is getting chilly, and my robes are fluttering in this strange winter/spring breeze. So I will step off my smushed soapbox for now. I feel better getting a lot of that off my chest. I hope my ranting and raving can help expose the warnings of complacency in these “normal” times. We have to continue to fight for the true freedoms we have, for the rights of the marginalized, oppressed and forgotten. We have to embrace each other with kindness, humility, and patience, since none of us are getting out of this normal life alive. 

Tune next time when I might go pack to writing a poem about, I don’t know…, cats maybe.

God doesn't Vote

 

God doesn’t care if you vote.

Really, God doesn’t.

God isn’t really into Democracy,

or any “governments” really.

That’s just not the sort of

omnipotent being it is.

 

Sure, it could be said that

perhaps the King of England

was appointed by God,

but I’ve always had my doubts

about God’s involvement in Royalty.

Serious Doubts.

 

If God actually cared about

voting, or letting human beings

have a say about anything at

all within this vast universe,

things would be very different.

But God isn’t interested in what we have to say. Really.

 

The Son, though, that guy seemed

really interested in hearing the voices

of the marginalized, the downtrodden,

the misfits and those individuals left

behind or outside the systems of

government they were forced to live under.

 

He was into taking care of the poor,

feeding the hungry, curing the sick,

and pretty much standing up for the little guy.

While I can’t say I know anything for certain about his

political ideology, I’m pretty sure he laid

it all out in The Beatitudes.

 

The Beatitudes, unique to Matthew are

Blessed are the meek,

the merciful,

the pure of heart,

and the peacemakers.

To me, that sounds like a political tenet structure.

 

Which I think we can translate into today’s

more common parlance:

Don’t be a dick,

be nice,

be honest,

and don’t start shit.

 

So voting for people who

reflect those ideals,

might be pretty cool.

But then again, “Voting”

wasn’t in Jesus’ lexicon as

a persecuted person under Roman occupation.

 

I think invoking God,

or Jesus, Allah or Ganesha,

in the Election process,

is just wrong and not

what either Religion

or Democracy had intended.

 

So when you vote,

vote with consideration

and thoughtfulness

about what sort of person

you want representing you

in our Democracy.

 

A gun toting loon who believes

Jesus comes down their Chimney

every Christmas to give him more guns

and that the poor are just poor because

they want to be and don’t work hard enough,

and how God “hates” certain people.

 

Or someone who believes in civil service

for the betterment of our society, Country

and planet, through unbiased Justice,

mercy, compassion, and an open mind

about the potential for excellence

we may present through our charity towards

the meek, the merciful, the pure of heart

and the peacemakers.  

 

Whomever you vote for today,

remember: God doesn’t vote.

Jesus doesn’t vote.

Allah doesn’t vote.

Ganesha might vote though.

But you Vote. 

 

 

Problems

 

If you see conspiracies everywhere

and are filled with a constant paranoia

about people in power, or believe that

lizard people are wearing costumes

of human skin and are impersonating

members of the government all

while being pedophiles,

then you are the problem.

 

If you think Gun Control is a

“Mental Health Issue”,

you are the problem.

If you think your “right”

to carry a weapon is

more important than my right

not to get shot,

you’re the problem.

 

If you think a woman’s

right to choose what happens with her body

is an affront to your religious beliefs,

then you are the problem.

 

If you feel persecuted for

your beliefs, perhaps it’s time

to re-evaluate what those beliefs

are. If you can’t see that your belief

system is hurtful, selfish or spiteful,

then you are the problem.

 

If you believe that Jesus or God

chose anyone to “lead” America,

then you are the problem.

 

Yes.

You.

The person who will never

read this poem, because that type,

that type doesn’t read poetry.

That’s the problem.  

 

I feel like I’m just repeating myself,

shouting into the void.

That’s a problem.

Harder To Write Than I Thought

 

As it is Pride month,

I thought we should

spend this Minute with

Michael discussing

Destructive Pride.

 

Typically, Pride is the

ego manifest in the

justified adoration of

a well-done deed or task.

An off-shoot of being

proud, as it were.   

 

Destructive Pride is unearned,

a narcissistic tendency

to self-aggrandize in

spite of evidence

contrary to any accomplishment.

 

Destructive Pride is often

obstinate in the face of

new information.

It will not bend, waiver or

re-evaluate.

 

Destructive Pride will echo

its moral superiority over

any affront or perceived

slight, unflinching in its

stubborn self-imposed superiority.

 

Destructive and Stupid Pride,

go hand in hand, repeating in unison,

“That’ll never happen to me. I am far

too good, too important, to special

to ever be crushed by an avalanche!”

Just as the snow starts its destructive

flow down the mountain.

 

“It’s just snow.

Weak and melty,” says Destructive Pride.

 

Even in the face of Death, Destructive Pride

will not abandon their unfounded,

ungrounded beliefs of their own self-importance.

It will manipulate, cajole and harass until

everyone believes things the way they do.

Regardless of facts, science, reason or accountability.

Killing everyone.

Pride, destructive pride, does indeed

cometh before the fall.

Yet, in these modern times, I never

see the fall any more.

 

Destructive Pride just keeps going,

on and on, denying anything ever

happened, repeating its own mantra

of infallibility and doubling-down on

charisma over substance.

 

Sadly, I can hope it will

indeed destroy itself while clinging to

some antiquated notion of

superiority based on nothing

but air. Fingernails broken

on the ledge of some nonsense.

 

Pride is earned.

Deserved Pride is modest,

humble, and meek.

It is open to the new;

the evolution of experience

over the dogma of the past.

 

Earned Pride is tearful and

covered in the scars of self

sacrifice. It is quiet.

Only beatified by those who

struggled along.

 

Has it been a minute yet?

 

  

TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY!!!!

 

Yesterday, October 25^th marked the 10-year anniversary of A Minute with Michael.  Ten years of poetry, short stories, and essays for your enjoyment and my relief. 

Ten frigging years of it, resulting in 1,251 (including this one) posts on Blog Spot. That means you could read one article a day and it would take 3.4273 years to finish.  I think that’s quite a milestone of personal achievement. 

I’m exhausted; not by the writing though. If anything, that has been the saving grace of the last ten years as I’ve battled depression, newly discovered anxiety issues, personal setbacks, money issues, dental issues, minor health issues and the general daily annoyances the universe throws in our paths in some attempt for us to build character.  And building character is so tiring. 

I feel absolutely privileged to have been able to share with you. I like to think that in these ten years I’ve grown as a writer, poet and as a human being. I have hopefully matured in some of my thoughts, actions and deeds. I hope I will continue to have the opportunity to grow and always become better than what I started as.  I hope to continue to see the depth and beauty in the world, point out the hypocrisies I see, leave any judgment at the door and have a body of work worthy of looking back on and saying, “Meh, not all of it is terrible.”   

Here’s to another ten years, perhaps another book or two. Here’s to my hopes that some of what I have written has touched you in some way or another and will continue to do so. I sincerely thank all of the people that have supported me and continue to do so. I totally owe you all a Coke. 

Thank you! 

Michael, with whom you've spent many minutes. 

Is it Scary Enough?

 

Normally, around this time

of year, I write mini-horror stories

and terrifying tales of mysterious

doings and bone-chilling, skin-crawling,

nightmare fuel.

It’s a tradition with me, of sorts.

 

I typically get a kick out of the

macabre around Halloween and

I think it’s fun to write some silly

little story about a haunted house or

cursed carnival ride or a desolate

desert highway.  

 

This year however, the fun, make-believe

chills of Halloween seem to pale in

comparison when the real world is

already far scarier than any fictional

drama or suspense my little noggin

can come up with.

 

Rampant sickness sweeping the globe?

Check.

Major Political Unrest at home and abroad?

Check.

Maniacs, fires, and global catastrophe?

Check.

Candy Corn?

Get bent you monster.

 

Writing a little bit of horror escapism seems

like a wasted and futile pastime.

I know it has value, but who wants to add

to the real-life terrors right now.

The knife-wielding killer is in the darkened hallway;

so what, does he know the state of my 401K?

 

The real terrors of getting sick and shitting myself

to death or waking up in an ever more present dystopian

horrorscape far outweighs any fictional misty moors of Scotland

and being hunted by a blood-thirsty werewolf.

The real-life human blood lust is all too much,

and makes for a better horror story anyway.

 

Although, who knows, maybe as we get closer to

All Hallows Eve, I might find some inspiration and

crank out some blood curdling twisted tale ripe with

Twilight Zone inspired twists and drama.

But for now, I’ll just watch

the Presidential Debate tomorrow night and

clutch my pillow close and pray that the

noise I heard from under my bed is a mouse

and not Tucker Carlson.  

A Fable from my Youth

 

I was a child when I heard

the Aesop Fable about the Sun

and the Wind.

 

As far as I remember it,

The Wind saw a cloaked man walking

along a long and winding dirt road;

as a gag, the Wind said to the Sun,

“I bet I can make that man lose

his cloak. I’m clearly more powerful

than you, Sun.”

 

The Sun looked down at the man and

said it was a bet. So, the Wind began

to blow and howl right into the poor man,

who was just walking by.

 

The Wind blew and blew, swirled and

spun, tossed dust in the breeze and

pelted the man with debris.

The Wind called upon the rain to

spit and splatter on the man.

 

The man, chilled by the Wind, cold from the rain,

pulled his cloak tighter around himself and

kept trudging forward.

 

The Wind, out of breath, collapsed.

“How did that not work,” the Wind cried,

“I’ve blown over cities, towns and bridges,

and none can resist. That cloak should have

flown from his shoulders. I was cheated!”

 

The Sun, seeing this said, “I’m sure that I might

be able to make the man take off his cloak.”

The Wind scoffed, “You are just the Sun, so far away,

what can you do?”

 

The Sun smiled and started gently beaming

on the road on which the man was walking.

The bright sunshine filling the scenery.

The clouds in they sky parted.

The rain dried; the flowers perked up.

 

The man in the cloak on the road,

pulled his hat off his head,

he dabbed at the sweat beading on his

brow.  He untied the cloak from around his

neck and pulled it off his shoulders.

 

The Sun, now satisfied, had proven the more powerful.

The Wind was breathless. The Wind frowned.

The man kept walking, smiling, with his cloak

slung over his arm.

 

I remember this fable,

this story, because it always

made me think that bullies

never get their way, and simple

kindness will usually lead to the

desired result.  Force and Bluster

are less effective than kind persuasion.

 

This Fable is always with me, ingrained.

 

- Thank you Aesop.

Little Bit of a Rant

Patriotism is recognizing that we

are all one, sharing the lofty ideals of

a society free from the corrupting

sins of gluttony, greed, self-aggrandizing,

and superiority.

We are to govern ourselves through

the hierarchy of elevated ideals and

educated thoughts. Power should

not be the ambition, only the

outcome of reason and knowledge

through the trials and tribulations

of a truthfully informed populace.

Mediocre or ill-conceived thoughts

lead to ruin and a corruption of

power, corrupted power is a sickness

of which no society can benefit.

The societal contract in which we

are to take care of one another, our local community

and all humankind is often brushed

aside through the ill conception of a

violation of one’s “Rights”.

“Rights,” are merely socially agreed

upon privileges. They are not real.

They are intangible, yet infringement

of these intangible rights can lead

to terrible outcomes, outrages and

the destruction of the elevated truthful ideals

we should strive to protect for the

betterment of all and not for the few.

Short-sightedness of thought has

only put us in a place in which any

perceived slight or inconsequential

injury side tracks the progress of the

whole.

One small hole in a ship may not sink

it, but thousands of little holes most

surely will. That single hole is not

special, but the person that plugs it

may turn out to be, as long as they do

not forsake the thousands of other

special holes.

It is special to do one’s duty for

the betterment of society; not for

material items, greed, self-service,

or a perceived slight. That is not

special. It makes you one of the holes

that needs to be filled.

As people resist the high ideas of

limiting exposure to a deadly virus

by wearing masks in public, they are

actively confusing individual rights

with the rights of a society to exist

peaceably.

Patriots wear masks, because they

care about the people of their country.

People insisting that wearing a mask is an

infringement on their rights are not

patriots. They are King George, who believed

his divine rights outweighed the rights

of his people.

If we govern ourselves with the worst

off of us in mind, we can elevate the

whole. If we understand that Patriotism

is sacrifice, then we increase the chances

of our beliefs carrying well into the future.

To a time when rights are more than

mere constructs of hope, but tangible,

and cohesive. Unifying and indestructible.

  

Nine Year Anniversary!!!!

                It’s an anniversary! It’s been nine years of A Minute with Michael on Blogspot.com, or Blogger, as it's known now. In that time, I have written (including this) 1,204 posts, I’ve written two books, Never Said Enough, and the follow-up Saying Too Much: A Second Volume of Poetry and have hopefully touched some part of my readers lives in a small way. I’m really awestruck that if you read one post a day, every day, it would take 3.3 years to finish. That’s an astounding trivial fact!

                I’m proud of the work I’ve put into this blog site, even if “blogging” isn’t exactly as popular as it once was. And if I think about it, I might have been a little late to that party as it was.  I am thankful that an old friend showed me how to even start up a blog page nine years ago and even though time has essentially erased the connection I had with that friend; I am still appreciative of her help. Without her assistance, I don’t know what I would have done to express myself creatively and artistically.

                I know that with each follow, re-post, share, like and re-tweet, I’ve been allowed to become a small part of your lives and your thoughts. My wish is that this curious form of telepathy has meant as much to you as it means to me and I am sincerely grateful for all the support, likes, re-tweets, shares, and comments I’ve received over the years.  I’m always appreciative of any words of encouragement, support or share; as well as any constructive criticism. So don’t be shy!

                I know not everyone has the time to read much these hectic days and I do try to keep my posts to the minimum of a quick read. I do aspire to try and adhere to the “Minute” part of the title. (Although I am a pretty fast reader so that method of timing might be a little skewed.) I deeply recognize the effort my readers put in to make time for my little pieces about life, love, sadness, joy and occasional lunacy. I’m proud to identify as a writer and as a poet and welcome the gracious encouragement I have received.

                I will continue to post and write and create to express not only my internal struggles, woes, happiness’s; but be a relatable platform for all those that might feel the same things stirring inside themselves but just don’t have the words to express it. And to make sure use of the semi-colon doesn’t vanish.  

                I am looking forward to the Ten-year anniversary next year and I hope before then to have a collection of my short stories in print. So keep a lookout for that sometime in the coming year.

                Thank you again for the Nine years of support and love!

https://www.amazon.com/Saying-Too-Much-Second-Poetry/dp/1727135490/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1536762783&sr=1-1&keywords=saying+too+much

https://www.amazon.com/Never-Said-Enough-Poetry-Collection/dp/149970450X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1572015998&sr=1-5