Tag2020

044

The Official Issuance of a Challenge That Could Be Accepted Sometime Never, Maybe


Ambiguous, thick, largely inaccessible {to the average intellect} section about me:

Should I have known that Thierry’s father not only grew up a lucky orphan in a charming haven near the Scottish border, but also that he made himself a hard-working, easily amused Englishman who lived by the seat of his pants into adulthood? Early in life, Papa D learned about the nutritional benefits specific to bivalves (namely mussels and scallops [nothing against clams {at least not fundamentally}]). To protect his anonymity, [&] henceforth, I’ll call him (some derivative of) Daniel. His childhood isn’t sad—he enjoyed good health in daily life well into his sixties. [REDACTED] Before the arbitrary legal assignment of “adulthood,” the old chap whose crooning yarn spins upon our fortunate wheel of procedurally generated time, her future father happily let himself get swept away to Ireland alongside his more experienced {and more than apt to teach} bonnie lass [4 years his senior]. Never forget that my genetic coding dictates a colorful divergence from ordinarily wild perspectivity. I can’t think like you think; therefore, I will phrase things differently (even when we’re expressing the same thought/emotion). Evidently, their “X-rated” [you know, chromosomally] sexual primes overlapped in twisting trains of magnetic heat and fruitful passion. Madeleine [TNT] was the third of their five girls. Her “Daddy” [you remember Danny Boy, don’t you?] aligned his loyalty seasonally with a new underdog every year (in the Premier League). How could I possibly know this? A ladylike house of noble manner on the street, but a starving clan of poetic freaks between the sheeted lines of inaccessible exorbitance [REDACTED] through the linen pockets of cloudlike dreams upon the timed laps of luxurious oblivion[/oblivious luxury].

ARK
🤨

Now I have a story to tell about another. It goes like this.

So. A rather simple boy—and for some reason, I‘d be skeptical of any tales suggesting that he came into the world “very quickly and very easily” [oops, is this a spoiler?]—born into a life of obscene wealth, and who grew cocky in his confidence of living consequence-free amidst a celebrated facade of savoring indignity through indignant behavior, whether by design or otherwise, has redefined the American presidency. Cool.

Oh, dang, this is real life? So cool.

Also, in case you missed a major point of underlying implication, yeah, I’m saying that he’s still a boy. Indeed, emotionally, #45 is a little. Period. Noun.

Also, in case you were wondering, yup, I would say all this to his face; the only “challenge” would be trying not to laugh (too much). I’m just kidding—I’ve learned not to suppress laughter; it’s involuntary and feels good, after all! I’m not joking. Plus I’m not that insensitive when it comes to children with special needs. I’m just/not kidding.

In fact, give me a stage with a podium and—in a debate that would haunt The Donald for the rest of his life—I’ll make allllllllll the fluids evacuate his tired, shitty body.

Wait, am I (still not) kidding?

Even when I kid, I’m serious.

“Just another day in paradox.”

Somewhere in here, a moral about quick and easy fixes beseeches our acknowledgment, but I can’t do all the work, okay? Use your own brain, dammit. Plus I feel weirdly drunk despite having not recently imbibed any yeasty byproducts. Blame the anomalous connectivity of my neural pathways if you must.

Ahem, to be crystal fucking clear, I am saying with profound certainty that yes, absolutely, 100%, I would make a better POTUS than Donald John Trump.

Then again, I’m also quite sure that so, too, would you.

And that’s the point.

A bumbling blind person stumbles and fumbles repeatedly in leading a loyal procession across an unforgiving desert—metaphorically speaking, obviously; don’t worry about it; gosh—while slinging sand across the many faces of the people who pledged to follow him over an undulating sea of endless dunes under a scorching sun?

Hard pass.

Put another way, hell naw.

And one day, he’ll know, too.

Postscript:

Yeah but for real gimme the opportunity to man an opposing podium and I’ll pummel his plump rump into an undignified, messy submission, and this is coming from the female voice of an illegal alien.

Mmhmm. Ouch.

“Come at me, bro.”

In case you were (not) wondering, no, Donald’s appearance in Wrestlemania 23 didn’t intimidate me.

Kissy face.

Addendum:

Words just come out of me, okay? Can’t help it. I thought I was about to take a breather, but while listening to the American President’s commencement address at West Point, my head got split wide open by a freshly brewed freight train of stormy brain-puke. May I never run out of steam. Here are the contents found inside only a handful of the boxcars.

• Half-serious question: has he ever a taken speech class, and if so, what grade was he given, was it above the letter G, and am I dead?

• Unbiased observation: he can no longer say “China” without inflecting underlying hostility.

• Hyperbolic take: he announced his administration’s plan to pump 2 trillion dollars into augmenting this country’s already obscenely loaded military. He even repeated the word “trillion” before blurting, “With a T.” First, what about the “r”? Second, from which magical money tree will those funds fruit? Please provide exact GPS coordinates because I might wanna punch my ticket to Mars. Because third, are we gearing up to murder the whole fucking PLANET??

• Recurring feeling: 🤢

• Conservative opinion: increasingly, and through the synergistic combination of both his limited vernacular and inflexible demeanor, he personifies, shall we say, a one-dimensional would-be tyrant. What you see? Yeah, that’s what we’re getting.

• Liberal assessment: he falls somewhere between a black-and-white caricature of himself and a little brown bag of feces that was dropped on our porch and set ablaze.

• Remotely polite, pointlessly direct address: Mr. Trump, you should immediately abandon the mindset that the pandemic is a war and by extension that the virus is our enemy. It confuses you. COVID-19 couldn’t care less how many fancy missiles you’re stockpiling, POTUS-45, because it is physically incapable of caring at all due to being a virus and thus it technically contains NOT ONE SINGLE CELL.

• Outburst of exasperation: GOD.

• Connected exclamation: Damn!

• A word as telling as it is stupid: ‘Merica!

039

A Willful Race Against the Wheel of Reality


“Roy G. Biv”

Say hi to one of my favorite—and, as far as I can tell, most universally useful—mnemonic devices. With any luck, the above “name” can help you remember the reliable order in the kind of magic that happens, if you will, when light filters through a prism.

Red, orange, yellow.
Green.
Blue, indigo, violet.

Got it?

Good.

Bent by gravity.

But that’s just 7 of 9, though. Indeed, there are 2 more {electromagnetically matter-born} colors [numbers] that exist in essence—and in relation to human perception—as ghosts.

To be crystal clear (in case it’s necessary), your pupil(s)/brain are biologically/physically incapable of directly observing the outermost colors—ultraviolet or infrared—on either edge of a rainbow, at the barriers of light’s distinctive dispersion into hue-rich diversity, around the shade-filled fringes of our collective mind’s balanced eye.

Relevant aside: do you know why polar bears bear white fur? Key factors include the interconnected processes of evolution and natural selection. And it doesn’t happen overnight; these variables move slowly; for example, it took thousands upon thousands and thousands of years to turn wolves into dogs. Geography largely dictates both physical and mental fitness, impacting an organism’s chance of survival into a successful future. See, a dark-coated bear can’t exactly camouflage amid open arctic terrain, thereby enabling food sources [e.g. seals] to more easily avoid becoming dinner. This explains how and why polar bears are the color of snow.

(Albert was right; relativity is important.)

Here comes the point.

Compared to caucasians, people “of color” are born with a generationally earned, genetic resistance to the first and lowest band in any real rainbow, a.k.a. ultraviolet, which, to reiterate, is one of the only two prismatic wavelengths [again, along with infrared] that our oh-so well-rounded and middle-grounded eyes can’t see—the bookends of the spectrum that paints our world’s canvas so very gloriously full of breathtaking wonder.

Question. Could this deeply rooted racial difference influence {if only at a subconscious level} why so many white folks are so painfully blind to how black lives matter?

Only by opening (y)our eyes may you we truly let there be light.

Circular.

Please let in the light, people. We require it to be, after all, and we will become better as a whole as more and more of us grasp the total scope of its vital, unrivaled significance. (More on that momentarily.)

Plus, once we get a widespread handle on the thorny interracial tension plaguing civilization—in other words, when at long last we awaken and stop acting like stubborn, ignorant, childish fools—and resolve our currently ailing society’s counterproductive climate of self-destructive inequality, humankind may must push toward global acceptance of the profound realization, too, that sentient life actually shepherds matter.

Yeah. Life matters. The entirety of Earth’s colo{u}rful catalog{ue}. Every kingdom in each of Her three domains as well as all the species contained among the myriad ranks therein—it’s all here for good reason. One depends on another. We have thus far come up short in our thinking. We are bigger than this. We should be playing the long game.

We (humans) really should party up. Immediately.

We are all connected.

We must band together.

The time to act is now.

We need to mentally separate our sense of self from the bodily burdens we carry.

Who are you? Do you even know? Have you “personified” your identity?

Look, you are not merely a complex collection of atoms—you’re the other thing, the stuff that shines.

Understand that.

And listen, we’re the same.

We have to lighten (our individual loads).

We must share the weight of our existence.

We need each other.

We have to allow our consciousness to evolve.

We were born to be what we are.

We need not be heavy.

We need to be light.

Be cause.

True love is weightless, and…

…light…

…is god.

That’s who we’ve always been, who we still are, and who we could, would, should, and will be someday, but only as one.

Matter is not the only thing that evolves. (Duh!)

There is another variable on the right side of the equation.

Light evolves, too.

Ah ha.

Hello, heaven.

See ya soon.

034

Remote Access

Only remotely can you access the sentence upon which you’ve managed to stumble and through which you presently slip. 👋

Did you lose your footing along the way?

Are you sure??

An undoubtedly hefty portion of anyone armed with the ability to navigate my wacky words surely must assume that I’m “just another diehard libtard who hates Trump because he’s amazing” by default. None of that is accurate; nevertheless, I forgive your lazy assessment. See, I lament his poisonous presence not due to politically rigid affiliation, but because I am, in fact, entirely human (mostly). I’m pro-US. 💪

Elbow-bumping might be more appropriate today, but tomorrow it could be the thought that counts.

Us means you. It also means me. Wee! 🙂

Plus I’m such a girl, omigod. 🙃

But for real—why pick a side when both teams have already lost? 😐

Anyway, as I wasn’t yet saying, the primary motive behind the trending movement to quash a vote-at-home system is obscenely transparent, is it not? 🤨

A certain side fears that (too many) more voters from across the aisle will participate in the upcoming presidential election [assuming it even happens, of course 🙄] {no matter how ho-hum the candidate might be} if “the People” don’t have to wait in hurriedly herded, highly hostile, hypothetically hazardous lines while knee-deep in a firmly entrenched pandemic.

You know the difference between a virus and a bacteria, yeah?

“No”? 🤔

🥴

I’m as certain that you’ll make a better, choice host as I am sure that you’ll make a better choice, host. 😉

Clearly I know nothing. {Serious.} 😳

But…

In my estimation, the chief factor influencing this bipartisan conflict (of interest) stems essentially from age distribution among recent voters—in general and crudely put, more “old people” bother voting, and of that demographic, most vote straight red—so the right-wing strategy to disallow exercising {from home} your constitutional right makes as much sense as the fear fueling it. Really, it does! Kids today are awfully apathetic, amirite?

Guise??

In a nutshell, Republicans are more likely than Democrats to balk at simple safety guidelines—at least to an extent—which wholly reeks of counterintuitive loyalty given that COVID-19 tends to hit older folks hardest.

In other words, the Left is more likely than the Right to heed overwhelmingly uniform advice issued (on repeat and ad nauseam) by the clear consensus of the medical/scientific community. For this, reasons aplenty abound.

Let us debate, but not that.

Not now.

“Not like this.”

Statistics, people. Percentages. Odds. I didn’t bake the cake—I’m just reporting measured, active ingredients that could be destined, rather sorely, to glide over your dome, flyby after flyby. Hope not, though!

In lieu of these observed trends and in response to the ongoing fallout therefrom, the effort to throttle voter participation reveals general cunning on the GOP’s part, but don’t kid yourself: this is not about minimizing “fraud”; it’s about avoiding (at all costs) a drastic, pivotal loss of power.

Mentally reverse-engineer the aforementioned tactic in order to pinpoint its essence. What are we really saying here? That liberal youngsters will hijack votes from their conservative grandparents? If so (and applicable), then color me offended on your behalves, grands. 😘

Too, truly, I do realize that we’re all terribly distracted, often enthralled, and thoroughly blinded by our own individual notions of what freedom means precisely; however, should it come to pass, would the blockage in question (not) constitute an authoritarian deprival of liberty?

Not that I want to—I don’t; I have not been compelled, quite honestly; and disregard my lack of citizenship 🤫—but why can’t I cast a vote via my cellular device? I mean, heck, the stupid thing knows my stupid face and listens to every stupid word I say—I can tell!

Deductive reasoning based on mathematical evidence can be a rewarding hoot (should you find yourself equipped with the ability to read and think), and “common sense” must be extra annoying when you possess it but feel a prescriptive obligation to pretend that you don’t.

One person’s freedom can mean prison to another. Put another way, terms are subject to objective definition.

Dare you{rself} to stop clinging to one of two broken, ever-breaking, problematic parties. Opt instead to start being human. Be a vibrant hue, man. Embrace all the shades. Get colorful.

Take your partisan politics and shove ’em.

I mean it.

At both the beginning and the end of the day, our kind—the proverbial primate, the latest and greatest of all apes, we Homo sapiens, the species that grew the skulls housing the most complex objects in the universe, the biological conduits transforming photons into consciousness, the fire-wrangling shepherds of an electric blue planet’s matter, the crowning achievement of life, the (an)atomic miracle beckoning light’s cosmic awakening, all of us together, humanity—personifies spirit, embodies soul, and constitutes the sole tribe to which each (and every one) of us can rightly claim a lifetime membership by inalienable birthright.

Phew.

🖤💚🤍