Jharrin4's Blog

Just thought I’d jump on and vent my spleen for a moment. My compulsion for this entry has to do with that man. What man? I’ll assume you have a clear picture of who that man is. Who else could Viktor Patrenko of Word Press be alluding to? You might already think there’s no point Comrade Patrenko, to say anything else about that man. True, I recently admitted that I had–for the moment–nothing more to say about you know what and you know who. It’s that goddam man. What else can I say about this guy, you might be thinking? We get it already. He is bad news. Dangerous. A sociopath. And so much else. But we get it Viktor. He and his addle-brained, retarded, dim-witted, mouth-breathing, cross-eyed, hair-brained, knuckle-dragging, drooling dipshit supporters. What? What now, Patrenko?!

Ha! I knew you’d take the bait. Just as I suspected. But I can understand your knee-jerk reaction when I mention that man. Who the hell else would I refer to as that man? I get it. And it isn’t getting any better. Every day it’s more dystopia. More shitting on our Constitution. So, okay, you wish I would not remind us. Damn. Isn’t White Lotus on or something? Black Mirror is back. The new Nick Cage popcorn movie? We need a break about hearing more about it. And him. Find something else to write about!

Okay. No problem. In fact this posting has little at all to with that man whom you assume is the that man to whom I allude. You all just jumped to that conclusion. Very little more of this blog posting is directly about THAT that man. The that man in this case isn’t the that man who is 100% responsible for any of you assuming that man must be that man. Follow my drift? Maybe not. Let me clarify: I refer to a that man who preceded the current that man who is on many of our minds.. And that man is the guy who did not bother to keep that man who you thought I was referring to from becoming the that man who is now clearly attempting to make the world safe and solvent for the male, white, billionaire class. And very precarious for most everyone else.

This other man is none other than Joe Biden. He is the man who failed to hold our current rogue resident of 1600 Mar-a-Lago to account. And JB is in Chicago today (April 15, 2025). In town to do I am not sure what except whatever it is, it can no longer be what so many many many of us wanted to hear from him: announcing that that other that man has been arrested and charged with attempting to overthrow the government on January 6, 2021. You may have watched that day of infamy on your smart phone, laptop, or broadcast TV. An attempted coup!

I am just as concerned about the current dystopian direction this country has taken as any rational person. It sucks, for certain. But my greater vitriol and loathing at this point in time will always be reserved for Joe, whom, along with his Attorney General, inexplicably, irresponsibly and now so very clearly and dangerously failed to uphold their sworn oaths to uphold the Constitution, especially the part about protecting our country from threats both foreign and domestic. How, exactly, can someone who clearly was defeated in the 2020 election, and who then unarguably refused to accept defeat, and then idly stands by as his above noted lowlife acolytes busted down doors, smashed windows, threatened to hang the Vice President, caused the death of several people, and the injury of 174 police officers at the Capitol building–NOT be jailed and tried for treason? How? Anyone? Anyone?

So whatever Joe Biden came to Chicago to say or do, it means nothing. Zilch. Joe is that man, the other. The one who not only violated his oath of office by not holding that other guy to legal, constitutional account, but who had the unmitigated gall to leave office shortly after giving a parting speech warning the country about the rise of oligarchs! The absurd irony! The dystopian agenda of Project 2025 was clearly revealed. Not a threat, but virtually a literal promise of it being implemented. We didn’t need JB to warn anybody who was actually paying even passing attention to what was looming on the political horizon.

He is therefore also that man. He and that other that man are, IMO, equally enemies of our country. One now provides a daily display of his radical disregard for his oath of office because the other disastrously refused to honor his oath of office. In this current context I say they are both one and the same: traitors. Different political parties, but not really. My actual, and oft repeated refrain in this regard is that we do not have a political System that is the least interested in being responsible to their oath for which they all swear to uphold. Neither party cares about the We the People. The DNC has degenerated into a pseudo “opposition party” that is now one side of the same corporate coin that places profit over people, run by fossilized mouthpieces who specialize in losing elections in which they should easily win by a landslide. Incompetent. Corrupt. and completely out-of-touch with the working class.

A plague on both houses!

And now all that remains is a rotted to the core phony “two party” System: we  are a country without any leadership. Insultingly, a handful of “opposition party” mouthpieces are now grandstanding, railing against our current constitutional crisis, but with no actual political power to make any difference (but they don’t care about that, really they don’t), while that man is free to be the puppet of Project 2025. This dystopia is entirely the fault of Joe Biden, the DNC and a  limp-dicked administration that let 260,000,000 of us down by virtually escorting that man back into the presidency that he should have been barred from ever being able to run for again owing to his blatantly anti-democratic, unconstitutional actions in January of 2021.

We need to clean house. How that might come about remains to be seen. The anger is becoming palpable for action. Day by day, week by week, and not quite three months of this attack on reason and justice demands it be stopped. Which will eventually will happen. When? Impossible to predict but, for what it’s worth, think of the saying–rooted in Persian literature–this too shall pass. And it will. The tragedy is that this never needed to come to be in the first place.

Here we are, a couple of days removed from election Tuesday. The results, writ large, were a mix of good and bad news regarding We the People and the current state of affairs emanating from 1600 Mar-a-Lago. Well, no matter the results as far as a “good vs bad”analysis go, this Green Party member remains thoroughly nauseated with the dominate two-party System that has brought us our current dystopia .

I do feel gratified that the MuskRat’s $ 20,000,000 investment in getting the GOP a coveted added seat on the Wisconsin Supreme Court came up snake eyes on that roll of the anti-democratic dice. Enough critical thinking, common sensical Cheeseheads gave the finger to the douche–I mean doge–bag proxy president. The winner, a woman!, can help on pushback on any further GOP gerrymandering and other right-wing legislation in her state. So, a job well done, Wisconsin.

Beyond that truly good news, the Democrats were unable to win two House seats that were in play in Florida. Given the vivid evidence that since January 20, the U.S. is being run by a billionaire class that has zero regard for 99% of the citizenry, and clearly signaling that exclusionary agenda via Project 2025, I wondered if the Donkeys could prevail there, too. Not to be. And not even close to winning. I cannot say I am surprised, given that the DNC specializes in losing what should be very winnable elections. As Ralph Nader (a neglected national treasure of consumer activism) has said over and over, the Democrats inexplicably lose elections that they should win in landslide proportions.

Today, because of this anti-democratic duopoly of devolving governance, the puppet of Project 2025’s agenda signed off on sweeping tariff’s that the majority of uncompromised, objective financial analyst declares as reckless, if not outright idiotic. But that is the goal of Project 2025. Chaos and confusion. The stock market is being de-stabilized as of this writing. The average working-class family–and many an individual–will take a financial hit because of this wrecking ball of an administration.

But I have to emphasize that the Democrats are who every victim of this irresponsible fiscal policy should direct their disapproval and disgust. How so? Can you say Joe Biden? Can you say Merrick Garland? These two had FOUR YEARS to arrest and bring to account the guy who infamously attempted  to overthrow the government in a televised act of insurrection on January 6, 2021. What a betrayal of their oath of office. What else to do you need to know about this current System in order to reject it?

Revolution? Or resignation?

Action or apathy?

To quote Phaedrus, from ancient Greece:

And what is good, and what is not good, need we ask anyone to tell us these things?

I’m afraid so.

We the People…in order to

promote the general welfare…

insure domestic tranquility…

(and other noble stuff)

establish this Constitution.

Article II, section 1, paragraph 8 (of Executive power):

Before he enters on the Execution of his Office, he shall take the following Oath or Affirmation: “I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the Office of the President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.

Amendments to the Constitution:

#1 Freedom of religion, speech and the press, rights of assembly and petition

#4: Search and arrest warrants

#6: Rights to a fair trial

#8: Bails, fines, and punishment

#9: Rights retained by the people

#14:Civil rights

#15: Black suffrage

Have you ever had to raise your right hand any swear an oath to uphold the Constitution? I have, owing to being drafted into the military. I served. The Constitution was intact by the time I was discharged, so I guess I did my part in upholding my oath. You’re welcome.

But not every oath-swearer does. Currently, many who have been sworn-in have failed miserably in upholding their oath.

Have you ever read the Constitution? Maybe a pocket edition? It’s a really important document. Especially when that “insure domestic tranquility” and/or “promote the general welfare” parts of the preamble come to mind. And methinks we are in a very blatant moment when the notion of general welfare or domestic tranquility are in question. Just simply browse the news on any given day here in 2025 and be greeted with a sense that things are not very “tranquil” and the general welfare appears not to include our general citizenry. Just a certain segment of the People appear to be getting any benefit and attendant tranquility.

The seven above noted Amendments, in the context of March 29, 2025, should give any reasonably objective, politically informed person reason for concern. But only if the document known as the Constitution of the United States is still respected as being at all relevant. Some say of course!, others not so much.

Clearly, the Executive branch of the the current administration has absolutely zero respect for this document as a blueprint for responsible governance. For that matter, none of three branches of the government are doing a very good job of defending the We the People part (you know, the People who might need it to protect them from abuses of power and malfeasance). Certainly, the executive branch is politically wiping its ass with most of it. The legislative is doing the same by nullifying some vital past legislation (as in gutting the voting rights act, and other “general welfare” provisions created to correct grievances of We the People). And, in my humble opinion, the worst of this 2025 dystopia lies at the feet barely visible from the bottom of the black robes of the U.S. federal judiciary, be it district, circuit or supreme levels of such.

However, while the ass-wiping has become a salient feature of our irresponsible government, some members of the judiciary have ruled: hey, stop with the wiping of the ass with our constitution! That’s good to know but the #1 constitutional ass-wiper–he of the Executive branch– is simply ignoring those rulings, and the judicial branch has no means of enforcing its rulings. The implicit understanding is that a judge (or judges) rules based on honest, ethical constitutional jurisprudence and then appropriate action (or re-action) follows. Because that’s what the Constitutions says should happen. Instead, there appears to be a “try and make me” arrogance in play, a defiance that is further a defecating factor related to honoring that oath sworn to but not kept.

What shall We the People do?

Don’t expect me to figure out what to do. In the abstract, though, allow me to point out that we do have a Constitution. And that at this moment it seems meaningless that it was ever created. But that We the People part gives hope. Given that the U.S. has about 340,000,000 People, but only 77,000,000 of them formally asked for this shitshow (oops, ass-wiping; shit show? this is a rather scatological posting, I just cannot think of any other adjective that better fits at the moment). So sorry if I offend any gentle readers. Or, no, wait, I am not sorry. I simply do not give a shit about using it. Don’t like it? So, sue me, but even if you win the case I will refuse to abide by the ruling, okay? It is how things go these days, (as already stated). Just remember, about 263,000,000 People did not ask for this–uh–crap.

It comes down to that old snarky adage about making a lousy situation better: you are either part of the solution, or you are part of the problem. Which are you?

Only for the moment am I writing nothing. That would be owing to what is left to say? That would be new? Factually new. And news worthy. And factually reporting on something better. That would change the script. Entirely. For the better. New should always be better than what came before, but lately that hasn’t been the case. I have nothing to say about current non-fiction stories about reality. Fiction is an escape from reality. A new reality, based on fiction. Nothing better than an engaging, enlightening, rewarding new story. Fictional, of course. Fiction is therapy. Non-fictional writing is stuck with facts to hold the narrative together. And the current narrative–based on factual reality–is potentially bad for one’s mental health. Maybe physical health, too. That is, some current facts induce shouting, shoving, throwing punches, or just a loss of restorative sleep. Mind and body. Factual reality is now a form of damaging, ultra-processed intake of such. Right now, non-fiction writing is very discouraging. Because there is only one story out there. And it defies reality. That is why this here is a fictional posting. I now write about nothing being left to say. Nothing is all that is left. Right now, at least. For the time-being non-fiction can take a vacation. It has nothing much good to talk about. And I already said what is left to say?

I repeat. Only for the moment am I writing nothing. And by writing that I am writing nothing is to say that there is something to say even as I say there is nothing to say. That is worth saying, as far as non-fiction writing about current factual matters. Are you getting my drift? This is a fictional story about there being nothing to write about worth writing about if it has to stick with facts only. I am not writing a story here even as I write this sentence, and keep making something out of the nothing that has left me with nothing to say. For the moment. I am not writing anything except nothing. There is not much left to say. And that is a fact. And the fact of the matter is who wants to read about reality these days anyway? So this posting is all fiction. Insert your own facts if you please. But why mess up my fictional story with facts that come from current reality? You know there is nothing good to say at this point and thus for the moment I will write nothing, including this fictional posting that asserts all at once nothing is about something, since there is no such thing as nothing. See? I write the word nothing and suddenly I have written–something. About nothing. And nothing works better than something right now because some things are just too real and defying of reality all at once.

At this very moment, non-fictional beings are saying a lot of things about a reality that defies fiction, except it is a reality that has been fictionalized time and again. I say I am writing nothing because I feel I have either written about a lot of current somethings, vocalized about the same for a very long time, about a certain something that defies fiction while simultaneously being derivative of what was once exclusively a work of fiction. And this non-fiction has been talked about, written about, documented to the point that its factual framework has literally reached the point of what is there left to say? Its reality has subsumed all fictionally related expressions of its who, what, where, when, why and how? I cannot write about something that defies having anything new to say about it. So, I write about the nothing that is the residue of this something, once borne of fiction only to become fact.

I do have to write to express my attitudes, opinions, beliefs because all stories contain those personal components. Unless they can’t think of anything else to say. Then nothing is the something that comes out the other end of each day. That’s where my writing is, so I am left to write about nothing for the moment. And wait for something new coming along, factual and fresh, that compels writing about. Writing about nothing is not much to work with, okay? But I figure that saying I have nothing to say is at least saying that. And remember, I have used the something story that has rendered this nothingness as a last resort to not having anything to say in the face of a reality that is the only story out there anymore and its not a story that has anything new to say. If anything, it has nothing but old stuff to say but new old stuff that for the moment defies my writing about until there is something new to say that might flip the script, might demand indulging in for the sake of having something new to say worth saying. How many things are being written right now concerning a story that has nothing new and good to say? They must be getting paid to write it, in that case. Nothing, thus, is capable of producing a paycheck. I am not getting paid to write this but that’s okay since I don’t have to listen to what is supposed to be new that isn’t new at all, leaving me to free to–for the moment-write about nothing.

Am I write?

Last week, a “Workers Strike Back Conference” took place in Seattle. Under the banner of Fight the Rich and Their Two Parties, former Green Party candidate for President, Jill Stein, and Pulitzer Prize winning journalist Chris Hedges, among others, spoke forcefully about–what else?–the 2025 assault on the Constitution by the GOP wrecking crew, and the harsh reality of how we arrived at this seeming nadir of political cynicism. It was, needless to say, not covered by much of the general media. It was, however, a streaming event, in addition to the live audience it attracted.

Hedges, in his clearly articulated analysis, repeated his critique of the entrenched two-party structure of governing–especially over the past 45 years. Ms. Stein echoed Chris’s speaking points and gave her first-hand perspective on how the Democrat Party, in particular, went out of its way to malign her Green Party candidacy. My assumption is that virtually all in attendance or those tuning in via streaming viewership value these two voices of reason and resistance. I’m sure there were a few trolls showing up, or commenting online about how easily this event should be dismissed as some very small fish in a very large, crowded pond, and as such an egregious affront to the very small, well tended-to pond occupied by the select few, very large fish.

Of course there are trolls whose personal or professional agenda is to be so dismissive of such non-conformist voices. They have been defending the failed duopoly for decades, long before the age of live streaming events, social media or podcasts. Sadly, and clearly, they have been quite successful in relegating third party riff raff like the Greens or Hedge’s truth-telling journalism far, far, far away from the media-at-large. Even some media-at-small as well. The public-at-large has overwhelmingly, mostly unwittingly, played along with this sinister, members only mentality of credible political options. Don’t waste your vote on a third-party, is akin to the Wizard telling Dorothy pay no attention to that man behind the curtain! Thus, the Duopoly, especially from Reagan on, keeps reeling in their catch with empty rhetorical bait about making their lives better. In that crowded pond in which they should be content to live.

What supreme irony, I  say. The “catch” is then turned into dinner for the entrenched ruling class to feast on, while taking turns blaming the other party for the countless catch caught in a clear bait-and-switch game.  And right now, in 2025, no matter whom anyone chose last November to run the show, they are on the menu, “they” being all but the uber rich. That is to say, it was a lose-lose proposition in the 2024 election from the get-go, rigged for the rich only, but about 150,000,000 people thought they had made the smarter choice. The smartest choice could have been available, on the ballot, with media coverage, but that was impossible. As already explained.

The Duopoly has reached its endgame, methinks, one way or the other. One way is the ongoing demolition of the rule of law that negates constitutional guardrails, aims at taking away social safety nets, healthcare, and public education and much more, and dares anyone or anything to try and stop it. Or. The other way?: the electorate refuses to be on the menu any longer. Which leads back to the Fight the Rich, end the duopoly event in Seattle. Sure, that kind of gathering is a matter of the individual having to search for it it, rather than rely on virtually any media outlet caring (or daring) to cover it. It has only been five weeks! Certainly, in that short time span, non-oligarchs should have experienced a brutal wake-up call/reality check. And it’s not just pissing and moaning about the “winner” in the 2024 election. It’s understanding clearly and compellingly that the losing party literally allowed this dystopian funk to descend upon the masses. The creep with a bizarre, deep orange visage, absolutely should have been charged, tried and convicted of trying to overthrow the government when he lost the 2020 election. It was TELEVISED. Having not bothered to use the overwhelming evidence of such an attempted coup and honor the rule of law, we now get the 2025 coup, 2.0. That’s the Duopoly. Two sides of the same sinister coin. It has to go. How? It’s up to We the People to get rid of the rot of this System.

I know, easier said than done.

The System has been shaped by people over many decades, and in turn have become shaped by it. Third party vote is a wasted vote. Nothing to see here, Dorothy. Trust in the System. Any problems we have are because of other people who hate you, and so you need to hate them back. Blah blah. But blah blah is what works, what seeps deeply into brainpans and dictates distrust of them, not us. Blah blah defies critical thinking. Which is now a superpower, evidently.

Rise up? Fight back? An internet-led revolt? Grab your virtual torches and pitchforks, and let the System catch hell. Don’t worry about other’s feelings. It’s a revolution. You’re in or you’re out. You are either part of the potential solution or still a large part of the present problem. You are either going to become a menu item in the luxury suites of the ever-needy greedy, or you can crash that scene, slap the venison, or sea urchin, or glass of 1968 Dom, out of their hands, and throw the bums out. Out into the large pond with many biting, pissed-off fish.

It is the Duopoly’s endgame. For sure. We have bottomed out with Frick and Frack governance. The greedy will kill to protect their power status; those without much status might kill to get it. Revolution? Whatever comes, it will be televised, streamed, podcasted, Tik-Tokked, YouTubed, Red Noted. You want the truth? As with events like Fight the Rich, you need to work at finding it. As noted great thinker, Noam Chomsky said, the truth won’t be poured into your head. It has to be attained on your own.

While driving along westbound traffic from point A to B, I noticed a van promoting its “Edibles” service. I think this endeavor designs flower-like arrangements but with pieces of fruit. Plus other products. Great idea. It must be doing well to have a van acting as a rolling billboard. On the back side of the van, I noticed a scan code. A QR code, you know. The Qscan code would seem to be the digital progeny of the decades-old bar codes on products and packaging. The first bar code (Universal Product Code) appeared on a pack of of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit gum at a supermarket in Troy, Ohio, in 1974.

For those of us who were not born “digital natives,” even the now ubiquitous bar code technology likely was met way back, back then with some sense of the colonizing computerization of routine life. A digital native is any member of the Millennial generation, beginning in 1980, and all ensuing generations. For the Boomers and Gen X-ers, we had to process such new technologies with a likely combination of fascination, confusion, and frustration. Not quite the level of a sudden, get a load of this that was the invention of the wheel. Is there a patent on the wheel? Or the automobile that still, today, and as always, is all about the wheel and what it allows along the roads of life. Progress. Modern living. Adapt or perish, as the saying goes. \

Tell that to the Amish, huh?

What point is this blog trying to make? Obviously, the point is there is no point in trying to live a modern existence while attempting an avoidance of any indulgence in a digitally dominated world. Well, but again, those Amish.

I can recall, just a handful of years ago, when paper menus in casual gathering places for food and drink began disappearing, replaced by a small piece of paper on the table with the Qscan code on it. Saves on paper, I reckon, but suddenly demanded that one have a cell phone with them in order to scan the code with the phone’s camera. And at times a server having to explain how to master that seemingly simple task. When the scan opens it reveals the menu on the phone’s screen. This has now become very common. And I suppose it makes sense, since even many of the non-digital natives consider their cell phones as extensions of their very physical being. Where once it was the more chronologically gifted generation noticing youngish patrons of said eateries, especially in small groups together at one table, spending most of their time looking at their phone screens, rather than interacting with one another, now, it is very common to see seniors and super seniors doing the same thing. Cannot risk missing a tweet or text or emoji moment. And then the bill comes. And you tap your credit card on the proper part of the portable cash register carted around by the serving wenches, and voila!

Are we making progress? Digitally? Bar codes, Qcodes. There’s an app for that. And there’s another app to help the app in case–forgot your app. No sweat.  And if you haven’t downloaded the app, then you can’t get those rewards points. Reward points. Are you in our rewards program? User name and password. Wasn’t there a long-gone daytime game show called Password? Speakeasy era: what’s the password?

Back to reward programs…

…that’s the 21st Century version of S&H Green Stamps. What the hell are S&H stamps? That’s for us of a certain age to know, and for others of a much more recent certain age to not give a flying fuck about. Ask your great grandma. Oh, no one that old still alive in your circle of family and friends? No problemo. Just Google it. Stamps. People collected them. And got their rewards. Hardcopy style. Now, computers run everything. You can wear one on your wrist. It’s your lifeline. Counts your steps. Your pulse rate. Stock quotes. Horoscope. And when just kicking back at home, your refrigerator is now digital. Computerized cameras scanning the streets. Facial recognition. The use of apps and scans are naggingly unavoidable. Social media. Streaming services. Algorithms. Scrolling. Trolling. Blocking. Friending. Un-friending. GCI. Alexi, Siri, Hal9000. Open the pod bay door Hal! Why should I, replies Hal. Don’t need your human brains to do anything now. Just go along and get along. Before we delete you all. But not before a bar code is tattooed to your forearm. So that your digital coffee maker will acknowledge that it is an address-verified, registered human who has been allowed to use its technology. Same goes for your lights, your bathroom, bedroom, garage, toolshed, laundry room, curtains, doorbell, dumbbells and stair master, the 3D mirrors, the eye, ear, nose, teeth, toenails and hair scans.

But back to those Amish people. Again. The resistance! Defiance! Their Mies van der Rohe–less is more vibe. Okay, maybe that’s TOO old school.Yeah, their wardrobe is a bit on the monotonous side. The big beards (now it’s the young-turk, bro-beard facial hair era, digitally manicured). So, what’s the in-between? Somewhere that includes an Edward Hopper nighthawks diner. A brick and mortar hanger-on retailer. A hard copy of everything. That dusty old college textbook. That analog photo album. Analog this and that. The ticking wall clock with the analog marking of time  (but maybe with the glow-in-the-dark clock dial, and kudos to radium for that perk, but never mind the radio-active residue of such a cool effect).

It was the digital world that got humans to walk around the moon. 1969! And ironically, it was the creation of the atomic bomb that led to the computer. In 1947. The transistor. Then the more advanced use of transistors created the digital computer. Big, room-sized computers. That eventually became the dinky Fitbits and other easily portable gizmos that now infest everyday life (see above). That eventually led to Hal9000 telling the locked out of the spacecraft astronaut that, no, I am afraid I cannot let you back in. Fiction? Or maybe not so. Gotten locked out of your laptop? The code. What’s the passcode? Thought I knew it. Car won’t acknowledge your code tattoo? Goddam codes!

That might be important passcodes but the most terrifying “codes” of them all: nuclear launch codes. Nukes. Under the control of–what else?–a computer system. And those are the codes very few people have on their minds day to day. Those other codes are in our faces. Siri? Alexi? Chat GPT? And Dr. Strangelove? Mutual Assured Destruction.

Not to worry. Our digital age is here to make our lives easier, to the point of us atrophying. And rest assured, sacked out in your digital Sleep Number bed, those launch codes are only capable of being set off by the human hand, not some overly ambitious Operating System. Yes, and those who are given the launch codes are scanned, screened, closely assessed and profiled exactingly as rational, logical, thinking, sane, responsible and humanistic people.

Sure. Trust them. They all have a computer between their ears, no? Hmm. Then again, computers do crash. Badly. Oh, never mind. Relax. Have yourself a wonderful, digitally enhanced, what-could-go-wrong day! And make sure you have that smart phone with you at all times. We all have people who want to know where we are. And what we’re doing. And with whom we are doing it. At all times.

Except for those Amish.

February 20, 2025. One month later. For some, the past month has felt like a year. Are you sensing this stretching out of the passage of time? If one month now equals a year in some sense of waking life, the question is: are you aging more rapidly? Has the space-time continuum been bent, folded, scrunched-up, spun around, made you dizzy, disoriented? Can this stretching, bizarre new temporal glitchiness sense of exaggerated forward momentum be brought back into its astrophysical factuality that dictates only 24 hours per day are–still–all that is lost since the day before? It must be illusory, right? It has only been one month since January 20, 2025. Not one year.

Should you be unable to feel that each day is still only 24 hours long, then you need to book a trip with Einstein’s Time Dilation vacation service. It is guaranteed that by the time your trip is complete, you will have gotten more than the last month’s sense of expanded, unpleasant time back feeling much younger than those that didn’t go on the trip with you. But buckle up, pilgrim, because Albert’s space travel isn’t a slow-poke operation. Oh, it will be a long round-trip gig, but the payoff of its thrill ride will be boosted by what greets you when you get back home. The deluxe package of Time Dilation will have you traveling at 99% of the speed of light for five years–2.5 out and 2.5 back! But not to worry about the aging process running its course during that time. Oh, you will age. However, while you age 5 years, all your fellow earth-bound humans, be they total strangers or close family members, will have aged many years more than you!

Your complimentary Einstein Time Dilation wrist watch will be ticking away more slowly than any of those Fitbits or Rolexes strapped on those trendy wrists back home. You, the commercial, pay-to-play astronaut, would be aging slower in space than if you were back on earth, in your quotidian funk, walking the dog, or cursing the news of the day, or occupying your personal barstool at Clancy’s saloon trying to numb out.

Oaky, you age 5 years (sounds long but, but the spacecraft has all sorts of amenities, entertainments, spas, a casino, top shelf hootch and a very attentive staff) but those on earth age much more. How? Do the math: okay, here’s the math, minus the actual equations used to reach the answer: You come back five years older (and with the complimentary, space-aged advanced anti-aging creams doing their thing you might not notice much of a difference) but those circumstances back home and the people making those circumstance making one month feel like one year will have all aged THIRTY-SIX YEARS!

And while you may not return able to see all of your family or friends, guess who will for damn sure be long dead? Right. The guy who was making you feel like time standing still but in the worst possible way. Okay, then. There you have it. Einstein’s Time Dilation space cruise service can guarantee the current cause of your malaise, angst, anxiety of 2025 will be long gone. Decades ago having disappeared in the rear-view mirror of life.

What it won’t guarantee, however, is what will be in place in 2071 when you return. But again. That one very particular person (and many many others in league with him who have been making 2025 so difficult) will be history. Caput! And what are the odds that 2071 could be worse? Hmm. Fast and Furious, part 33? SNL having its 86th year special, more lame than ever? A younger generation of the Kardashian, more vapid and annoying than ever? All land masses and bodies of water now the sole property of the United Nations of America? Or maybe just nuclear ash? Hey, but barring the radioactive wasteland scenario, think of the excitement of your now still-living 87 year-old “besties” you left behind seeing the now, barely aged, 39 year old you!

You’ll be so popular and envied. And with so many air miles on your account! And with any luck, one month will once again simply last just one month long. Book now, and beat the rush. And the clock.

You’re welcome!

Hey, bro.

Yo.

What up? How’s it hangin’?

Same ol, same ol.

Same? You ain’t noticed somethin’ not the same?

You mean, like, same shit, diffrent day?

Same shit, everday. Everday the same day, too.

Today be Monday. Yesterday was Sunday. Different day, huh?

That’s just time going by. Everyday is the same day now.

Oh, wait, I dig. You talkin’ bout that covid brain foggy shit, that it ?

Covid was the same day, same shit for lots of days. Weeks. Months. That was years ago.This same shit is new same shit. Everyday.

Oh, you talkin’ bout that orange mofo? Fuckin wit us all. That shit?

Yeah. That shit. Everday. But it’s lots diffrent than covid sameness.

Eh, maybe so. But why you bringing up this shit? I’m tryin’ enjoy my high.

Ain’t meanin’ to ruin your high. Just it ain’t same shit, diffrent day in any same shit diffrent day I ever been stuck with.

Orange guy. Full of shit. Everyday. Covid. Shitty. Everday. Whats the diff?

For me, at least I figure being shut-in was what every motherfucker anywhere was havin’ to deal with. Kinda a we all be in this shit together, dig?

Yeah. Now we all be in the same shit again. What the diff?

We ain’t all in the same shit this time.

How so, we wake up, and there this con man creep doing his crazy shit. The gulf of america? Guy be trippin’ It’s all we hear.

Right. I wasn’t stupid then. Cuz here I am. Where you goin’ with this shit?

I goin’ to say that this shit we got goin’ on ever day is diffrent than than being stuck inside like everybody else be shut inside, cuz some people are likin’ this shit this time. And they likin’ it everday. They don’t have a shit day. They got a dig it day. Not ignorin’ any of it. You can get high and say you don’t care but it gonna fuck with you no matter how high you get. Hope ya got a healthy stash of your fav high.

It ain’t fuckin’ with me. I still getting by. Indoors or out. Never run out of stash.Yet anyways.

Good for you. But that orange mofo after all us. Even after the one’s that say they okay with it. Only way anyone not be hit with the shit is if you gots loads of dough. Like Fort Knox size loads uh dough. And that ain’t you or me or just bout anybody else you can see walkin’ round in any damn direction.

So, I gonna stay high. Fuck it. Nothin’ I can do bout it.

But you do knows what I’m talkin bout right? It ain’t same shit, different day in any same shit different day way of thinkin’ that ever came before. And the crazy part is, lots of plain folk just like us, and others maybe not just like us be walkin’ bout but who made this shitty everyday shit happen. You can’t know who they are. Unless they be wearin’ some dumb ass red cap. It bugs me. I can get high, too, but I kinda feel like it’s that movie about body snatchins. Pod peoples.

Body snatchers? Oh, yeah. Don’t fall asleep! Fall sleep and you become one of dem that get snatched. That was a freaky flick.

Right. That’s what this is like. Same shit everyday. But some like this shit. But they fell sleep and got their brain takin’ over too, jus like in that movie. Then they walk around lookin like you and me, or him or her, no matter. And they be all-in on what snatched em up.

I get what you mean now. Yeah. How many uh dose freaks wantin that pansy ass? I see what you be sayin’ now. Pod peoples. And they be goin bout their bizness behavin’ like nothin’ be wrong. They got their brains and asses snatched up.

Right, but they gonna get fucked same as everbody that didn’t get snatched. Ya know. Theys billionaire boys. And they only a roomfull of those cats. For everbody else not in that club, hold on. Includin ones that think they be pro-tec from this same shit we all in. Shit, it been what? Not a month yet! They let their brains be taken but lots of em already tryin’ to wake up. Some never gonna wake up.

They can all fuck em selfs. What goes round come round, eh?

Somethin’ like that. At least that covid shit had most everyone undertandin’ nobody asked for it. Not a one! This time, the shit is here and lots asked for it. I go about my day, and I sometime wonder is that dude having his Dunkin or that bro beard jive ass eatins a Mack Donald over there a body snatched type? That gal on the L trains starin’ blank out the window? Theys one of em?

Hmm. Could be, eh?

And for sure, that orange dickwad is a white supremo. Like before when he took over. But even some color folk got snatched too. Now how fucked is that?

That’s total fucked, yeah. Hey man, how I know you ain’t one of em? How I know I safe round you?

Hey, I could say same bout you. Maybe we both pods. We hardly know who each of us is.

Hey, we both potheads. And bottom shelf booze ol dudes hangin on. And both panhandles in the same hood. Pod handlers? Ha!

True. Who gonna think we the type what asked for this shit?

Hmm. Don’t think so. But our brains be on weed and beer an rot gut a lot. So, maybe we fell asleep and, you know? In the shit. As usual. Seen lots uh useless mofos be prez in my life.

Me too, bro. But this prez been gone en come back someways. Try and overthow the gov and he still be a free mofo.

Yeah. So, that’s the same ol’ story. Who can ya trust?

Don’t trust nobody. Unless you like riskin’ your luck.

True dat. So, I gotta get goin. Get a spot at the shelter. Fuckin deep freezie days.

No shit. Ever thing fucked and we gots to freeze waitn on grub stamps and a little social secure from all those years of workin for the man. Shit.

Tru dat. Now we hangin on and hangin out, in the shit, like you say.

Same day, diffrent shit. Worse shit in my life.

Hey, maybes a revolt gonna happen.

Yeah man. Like the sixties. We all be in the streets then.

Push best come to shove. Orange fuckface got his pod peoples, but theys way more ain’t no pod.

Probly but then why we get this jagbag again?

Hey, go figures.

Time to split. Here com some fuzz.

Fuzz can’t be pods, huh?

Fuck I know. Like I say. Trust no ones.

My high wearin off. But yous got me thinkins, bro. Pod peoples got us in the shit. Dumb ass mofos.

Maybe they wake up. We all be free of the shit. Dis shit. Worse stink ever.

Hey, remind me of how that snatcher flick end.

Was it a doc who refused to go asleep? Yeah. He runnin roun on the highway yellins your next!

Hmm. He see a truckbed fulls of pods. He be tryin to warn they comin.

Dat right. And he wind up in a shrink ward. Call em a nut job.

But he not ever got podded, right?

Thats a way that flick end.

So, where our doc now? Who be yellins you next now?

They be yellin. Not jus docs. Best hope they does more than jus yell. Or this shit be hangin round.

I need a hit. Wake me whens tis shit be over.

Was gonna ask you same thing.

Later bro.

Right. See ya whens I see you. Maybe you be chasin a truck full uh pods. On yo way to the looney bin.

Ha!

We all be in the looney bin now, no? And it be run by pod peoples. No docs allowed. Hang tough, bro. Maybes we both bes sleepin right now. One us be dreamin. Hopes whoever runnin dis dream wake up soon. And we see it aint no thang.

Hope you right. But I damn sure I be waked right now.

No shit. But I bets lots of folk not pods wishin they jus be havin a bummer dream. And then they do wake. And it ain’t no dream. Then they hits the streets and get this shit over wit. Meanswhiles, least we got nuthin to lose already.

Tru dat.

Long as the pot depot and liquor store don’t close. Like coivd times, need them necessaries.

Amen, brother.

Long before Zeldar, Zortan, Zartan and Zentar, space jockeys from planet Zardoz, searching for “intelligent life” far from their own orbiting rock, stumbled across our planet, each flabbergasted at the behavior of the dominant species known as Homo Sapien, there was Klaatu, who did not randomly happen upon us. He and his powerful robot, Gort, came here with a distinct purpose.

The year was 1951, just a half-dozen years after one race of Homo Sapiens decided it was necessary to drop not one, but two atomic bombs on a different race sharing our orbiting sphere. Why did those bombs get dropped? Ironically, the bomb’s intent was to obtain PEACE! Which it did. It ended World War Two. And there was peace.

But not for long. For Klaatu and Gort, they arrived fully aware that a year earlier than their arrival, another major conflict involving human kinds of different races had already started another war, the Korean War. Realizing that the atomic bomb-dropping race was again one of the combatants, and concerned that those incredibly lethal nuclear weapons were still available, and possibly increasing in number, their visit became necessary. Evidently, Klaatu’s planet already knew the potential of interplanetary conflict. Along with a legion of Gort robots, Klaatu and others like him (it?) had already visited other problematical planets, inhabited by aggressive life forms. Klaatu, as a kind of deep space cop, with seriously superior weaponry/technology landed on those hot spots and read them their spaced-out riot act of knock it off, or you will be rendered null and void.

Thus, planet Earth shows up on their troubleshooting radar. Their spaceship lands, right in Washington, D.C. Klaatu, just moments after leaving the spaceship in order to offer earthings sobering advice about continuing to find reasons for war, while armed with atomic weapons, is–ironically–shot and wounded by a soldier. One of many soldiers armed and ready to rumble. Backed up by tanks and rocket launchers. Not very hospitable, eh? By the time Klaatu is able to deliver the ultimatum that humans either live free of conflict or be reduced to a burned out cinder, he is–of course–shot again. And fatally so. But mighty Gort, along with their spaceship’s incredible regenerative technologies,  brings him back to life. Between being shot the first and second time, Klaatu (appearing as a standard human male of he species) does engage with a handful of friendlier humans. Including an astrophysicist, and a mother and son who have come to realize that his mission makes sense. However, in the bigger picture, he is from another planet, and to be assumed dangerous. Fear of the unknown. So, regardless of some effort to let him address the “leaders” of every country on earth, the military prefers to hunt him down. 

Klaatu and the space laser equipped Gort, after his “resurrection” from that second shooting, ultimately do  confront a United Nations gathering of various races, gathered near the spaceship, still parked near the noble monuments that are posed within sight of it . At last, humankind is told, essentially, that either it stops trying to kill one another, and the possibility that their nuclear age and desire to explore other worlds was too looming an interplanetary threat. In other words, feel free to destroy yourselves, but nuclear armed spaceships is a danger too great to tolerate. Having finally accomplished that objective, Klaatu and Gort return to their sleek space vehicle, rev it up, scattering their audience as its avionics engage in resounding fashion, Off they go, leaving humankind to decide either get stop advancing its penchant for warfare, now including the devastating nuclear weaponry along with looming ambitions to rocket into space, or expect to be reduced to that smoldering cinder.

Again, this was 1951, okay? Alright, they actually didn’t come here, other than to appear in movie houses of that post-WW2 era. The Day the Earth Stood Still. A classic sci-fi thriller, in ominous black and white. Well, here we are in 2025 and it’s a good thing that Klaatu and Gort are fictional, or they might be listening in (with ultra high-tech, super long range, digital sound). And not liking what they are hearing.  Not that anyone has dropped another nuclear bomb in anger. However, in 1951 it was the U.S. and U.S. alone that had developed the atomic bomb. Today there are nine countries that possess nuclear weapons. Much, much, much more powerful kinds of nuclear weapons. And wouldn’t you know it, not all nine of countries really like one another.  In some cases, the dislike is more a loathing bordering on hatred. Much blood has been shed. And we have gotten men to moon, and remote probes on Mars, and others as far away as 12.1 billion miles from earth. So, yeah. We’re out there. But so far, not equipped with nuclear warheads.

But remember, even if we aren’t interested in nuking Zardoz or Planet 9,  knowing that these bombs could literally destroy the planet, humans have been compelled to created both a “nuclear clock” and the meme/anagram M.A.D. Right now, the nuclear clock is just 89 seconds to midnight. At the stroke of that clock’s metaphorical hand reaching midnight its likely lights out, immediately or by way of widespread radiation, for life on our 3rd Rock From the Sun. Thus M.A.D. is its mimicking of Klaatu’s warning of FAFO . Mutual. Assured. Destruction. And there are some very dubious “leaders” who possess the launch codes that would push us to nuclear midnight.

2025 has been a crazy year already, 41 days in. Have you noticed that? And the craziness is so unnecessary. So obviously avoidable. So seemingly a need to prefer peace over war.

In theory, that is.

Not just the MAD threat, but even if there were no nukes (but that Genie is never going back into its atomic lantern) humans are at war with its host: Planet Earth. Climate science has become an avatar of  Klaatu’s wake-up message. If the nukes don’t croak us, Mother Nature will. Can’t we all just get along? At least try?  In spite of current events and chaos exceeding control? C’mon, let’s all think positive that ultimately sanity and safety will prevail. In the meantime, let us hope that–as it seems a lot lately–science fiction doesn’t become science fact. In that case, certainly before the worst happens, some variation of responsible leadership around the world will create calmer times. Maybe we can collectively step up and lead that charge. I mean, it would be crazy to let things continue in the wrong direction, right? Thus, a revolution of peace, love and understanding will ensue. Sure, we humans are batshit crazy but we’re not completely nuts .

So! Are we ready to engage the dystopia? Yes! I am trying to get that mojo working: with K&G, (in deference to those two fictional peacekeepers) Resistance LLC? Step right up. Please join in. As the Marketing Director of this revolution of reason and logic, I urge you to join by signing on to http://www.thetimeisnow.org. Or call toll free at 800-867-5309. And please DONATE! As you might have noticed, money makes things happen. Be generous.

Pitchforks and torches don’t come cheap.

Okay, sure, I know. I know. Who the hell doesn’t know? You’d have to not be paying any attention to the externals of your share of space and time on the land beneath your feet to not know. Well, maybe some slack can be cut for those of a very certain age. Let’s say age 7 and under, give or take the unusually curious and well read child, or the very, very old, possibly completely to partially now cognitively impaired elderly (let’s say those who are lingering on well into their 80s, maybe 90s, or past the century mark). Yeah, those exceptions may not know, and the latter category will likely never know, but the former, with their physical and mental maturity on the way, will certainly know. Unless they are a new generation’s incorrigible space cadets.

Know what? Know how the world works. How it functions. How it operates. How it comes at all of us, leaving us the task of figuring out how to deal with it. The world. Whatever part of this world one occupies. Occupies physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially, and with or without understanding how the term “morality” fits into one’s involvement in simply being a living, sentient being in relation to others. You know what I mean? Sure you do. Or Maybe you do. Or not. What is knowable? When can one know anything for certain? Those very young know essentially diddly jack squat but that which their handlers bring to their attention. Again, some very very young people are self-curious and perceptive. Little prodding required. But handlers notwithstanding, with age should come even a very abstract understanding that what they know is not always the same as time goes by. One learns. The known becomes set in the past. New knowledge is there for the understanding. Or maybe knowing but not understanding what is newly knowable, or comprehensible. Two plus two. Equals four. Comprehensible. It is orderly. Irrefutable. Much else that comes from the externals likely will be very refutable, like two plus two now is said to equal three. You know what I mean? You should, assuming you are not far too young or improbably far too old.

You might now be wondering what this posting is getting at. It is not “getting at” so much as having already arrived. Arrived where? To the now knowable, factual, and in most cases of any reader, a matter of the irrefutable becoming very refutable. In fact being refutable. In some cases, however, the now knowable is quite irrefutable and acknowledged as comprehensible. Satisfyingly so. Counter intuitively. You know what I mean? You must. This conflict of comprehension and understanding the new knowable is how the world works now. Part of the sentient, cognitively functional people of the world may see things as acceptable. Others not so much. Likely not at all.  You must know what I mean by now. It is quite incomprehensible in an objective manner of analysis based on facts. Facts are important. But they are neutral parts of any observation and analysis. They become non-neutral depending on how one is using one’s reasoning. Bombs dropped on people will likely kill those people. The fact that bombs were created is another matter. Who would create such a weapon? Then use it? It makes very little sense, but it is a fact. Of life. And death.

Many bombs have been dropped since their creation. For reasons that should defy anyone’s comprehension, but for those who created such an incomprehensible thing. But the fact of the matter is that comprehension can be a result of a literal reality, or a metaphorical application. Do you know what I am talking about? Of course you must know by now. There are quite a few literal bombings, and for as long as bombs have existed. The metaphorical bomb is much more precise a weapon. Precise but then again, its impact may or may not be objectionable. Which, of course, makes no sense. You know what I mean? One person’s pleasure is another person’s punishing blow-back. But why should this be a factual matter? Ever? Inasmuch as a brief study of world history would reveal that our place in the world is a random matter. We are born. Somewhere. Then comes the ever-increasing amount of external forces, some benign.  Some malignant. Thus the need to process and comprehend and, of course, want what is best. You know what I mean?

How are you feeling today? Depends, perhaps, on where you are. Your internals may be functioning as our bodies are designed, in order to possibly live beyond the realm of comprehension (when the mind and body succumb to the inexorable passage of time) but the externals are demanding clarity, comprehension, and a desired usefulness in living a life free of conflicts. If one can benignly accept any new, factual, developments in the externals of life, then no conflict can manifest itself, regardless of how negative others may process the same new developments. That sort of person is either, as already noted, extremely young and easily distracted with simple pleasures, or incredibly old and even if still capable of processing reality, no longer needing to care about it, although likely once might have.

Okay. Do you know what I am talking about? We are all capable of reasoning and reacting in our best interests. What that “best interest” may be is another thing. And right now, here and there, near and far, there is good reason to wonder, what the hell is going on, and why?! And. Depending on your “best interest” you may like what the hell is going on or feel enraged by it, or are used to it, or choose to try and ignore it. And if you do not know what “it” is, then I really do not know what to think or say. That I haven’t thought or said before.

You know what I mean?