Everybody Wants My Money (A Piece of Prose)

The dentist wants my money

She said I need a couple of crowns so we scheduled it

I showed up and she said $1,000

I said, don’t I have insurance?

Yes, but this is your part to pay

Everybody wants my money

I had to pay for the campsite in the forest I am taking the kids to for vacation

The initial investment was modest

Turns out I did not have all the camping gear I needed

REI wanted some of my money

Amazon wanted money for the books we will read as a family

and for the mosquito repellant

and for the inflatable mattress

the gas station wants my money and they collude with the supermarket to get it

if I am loyal to the supermarket I can get 10-cents, or 20-cents, off, per gallon

(again by being loyal to the fuel provider)

What’s the profit margin on that gas?

The supermarket definitely wants my money

And I have been uber loyal over the years

The store is clean and comfortable with great variety

I enjoy grocery shopping and often buy too many groceries

Heads of salad sometimes rot inside of my refrigerator

It’s so good to have fresh fruit around

Until you feel like a consumerist pig because the bananas and tangerines have rotted on the counter

Half used onions turn in my crisper drawer because I never turned, to them

Everybody wants my money

Including the restaurants

When energy wanes and instant gratification spikes I have a multitude of choices

The onion can wait

Mexican food.  Now.

Of course Costco pulls me from the supermarket

My family is not big enough, I am not big enough, to warrant Costco

That won’t stop me

I now buy kitchen trash bags every 2.5 years

I buy granola bars every six months

Everybody wants my money

The roof over my family’s heads costs money

The power in our home

The water

The vehicle I drive

Insurance! 

I have never once in my life made a claim on my own auto insurance and yet…

They want my money

They get my money

What do I get for my money?

Funny commercials with lizards and geckos and Flo

Gee.  Thanks.

Everybody wants my money

Bernie Sanders wanted my money last year

For his, no, our ideas, to compete in a moneyed system

I was happy to give Bernie some money

It is the best money I have spent in years, maybe in my lifetime

So it is that Ironstache Randy Bryce needs my money

Elizabeth Warren needs my money, (and deserves some,)

The men looking to unseat the corrupt Messers. Rohrbacher and Issa want my money

The financial planner wants his cut of my money

Eddie Vedder wants my money

(Or, he wants the Surfrider Foundation to have it, anyway)

When you endure a relentless barrage of moneylust, you kind of need some Eddie Vedder when you can get it

All manner of service employees want my money

I can’t say no

I live in the 18-25% range

Like 98% of the work force, they are not paid enough and oddly, I get to affect that

Wait-am I forced to affect that?

Capitalism is

Capitalism wants my money…and I can’t say no

I won’t say no

I haven’t said no

I’m weak

I admire those who have said no

Everybody wants my money

The bar wants my money

The American Youth Soccer Organization wants my money

The car wash wants my money

The coffee industry wants my money

Frozen yogurt too

Sprint demands my money

I don’t begrudge how necessary our devices have become

I begrudge the profit margin in the telecom industry

Norton antivirus wants my money

iTunes and Spotify and Pandora are in a race to gain my money on a subscription model

an open ongoing source of cash releases corporate capitalist endorphins

The YMCA wants my money

My ex-wife wants my money

After school care wants my money

Ireland and Cuba want my money and it can only be a matter of time

Dude on the bike with the dreadlocks outside the Panda Express wants my money

Groupon wants to give me a discount to get my money

(Did they cut the actual price or was it inflated first in order to sustain the sacred profit margin?)

Amazon offers me everything in exchange for my money

Everything

Walmart absolutely positively does not get my money

Demand Progress wants my money, sometimes for informing me how bad a company Walmart is

Rest In Peace Aaron Swartz – Your story makes my heart so heavy

Holidays want my money

On behalf of See’s candy and Hallmark and firecrackers and Butterball turkeys and Toys R Us and increased wattage and liquor

Hair restoration wants my money

All manner of age remediation wants my money

My money is wanted in the name of family safety and security

Madison Avenue wants my money by fear and by sex primarily

Netflix and Amazon want my money, the unread books on my shelf be damned

New wants my money-Old can pound sand

Technology wants my money

The aftermarket wants my money

Pep Boys and Firestone and Castrol and Tune-Up Masters want my dollars

The fitness gurus and purveyors of equipment want my cash

The vitamin makers will sustain my joints for money

The illustrious businessmen of health care, with some help from the doctors, will help me as I grow infirm, for money

The estate planner wants my money and one day the funeral director will too

I am not planning on paying him

I prefer to retire a grifter

Invisible Hayseeds

There is something about reading this story in this time.  I mean, Invisible Man.  Ralph Ellison.  The wunderkind of letters who penned only the one novel, prolific as it is. 

A moment comes in Ellison’s story when our main character, the nameless Brother, eulogizes the dead Tod Clifton.  He advises the mourners to go home and mourn no more as their mourning is impotent.  He chides them their inaction, their inability to organize and do anything, their complacency and willingness to be subjugated. 

Our nameless Brother, the Invisible Man, is a hayseed, too.  His every circumstance is a product of innocence, which underscores the fact the world has always suffered a dearth of real teachers. 

I prefer the classics and Invisible Man is just one I never happened onto previously.  However, my reading it coincided with the fact I have been in Chicago recently; the city of brotherhood.  The city of unions.  The city of high values and organized corruption.  The people are angry.  Every political discussion I was privy to, on the ‘L,’ on the tv, in the office, at the barbecue with so many Eastern Europeans, was derailed, derided, divisive, dehumanizing. 

My friend said all the violence is happening in six square blocks.  Someone else referred to it as black on black crime.  The morning after the President made a speech as part of the procession of speeches nominating Hillary Clinton for President I told my classroom I was back in a bromance with this President.  I had endured a season of disillusionment but now I was back.  I believed he was honorable.  80% of my classroom was black women and they practically cooed at me.  After all I was in the land of Obama. 

Dee, in the front row, smiled slyly at me and confirmed she would have been nowhere else but in front of her tv the night before. (That she said that felt like an unexpected surprise, like someone coming up to me standing in a long line and offering me a chair on wheels and a cool drink.  I needed to hear that from the people and Dee was the people.)  Dee being short for Deahjahnay, which is of course a pretty name, French sounding and unique and in no way obnoxious.  Other black women in the room nodded approval and I mentioned to Dee directly that President Obama had somehow regained my respect through no fault of his own but as my knowledge and insight grew and shrunk and changed and morphed. 

I am pissed about drones.  I don’t like that he appointed Federal Reserve Insider Timothy Geithner. He was the product of a corrupt campaign finance reform system, too.  He negotiated with unreasonable cavemen who were themselves products of a corrupt campaign finance system and who acted from every interest other than altruism. 

In this speech however he reminded me why I voted for him twice.  He is after all, an honorable man.  He operated within a corrupt system and ultimately succeeded beyond his rivals from the other side of the aisle, they the purveyors of a cruel sense of justice and morality.  He found a Xanadu of middle ground that seemingly did not exist between the establishment of corporate America and the moral right.  He pulled socially to the left.  He followed through on some truly noble ideas slam dunking gays in the military and re-opening relations with Cuba.  There is a real litany of good things this President’s legacy will include. 

On this night he spoke to me and a million other Bernie Sanders supporters of campaign finance reform.  His words?  He said, “Don’t Boo.  Vote.”  Three fucking words and he overwhelmed my ideas on this subject. 

Like many I am so indignant at our system.  How unjust.  How unrepresentative.  Like so many of the falsehoods I was given as an American born child here was another case that might cause so many to throw their hands in the air and choose to just fly off the rails or join the parade of soiled, silly, suckers of greed.  “Don’t Boo.  Vote,” he said.

He is right.  In the end it does come down to more than voting.  We have to work at voting.  We have to get others to vote.  We have to work fiercely.  We have to educate the electorate.  We have to invigorate the masses and create a social responsibility that becomes a cultural sea change. 

The people are mad now at Hillary Clinton for being yet another product of a corrupt campaign finance system.  They don’t know how to direct their anger.  They’re so pissed about how powerless they feel with their one vote-they are mad at the one person who has been fighting for the values they espouse, (discounting a few errors in judgment,) and who wins against the truly corrupt fascist pigs of and on the right.  It is as if they are mad at Hillary Clinton for being good at what she does.  They’re mad at her for playing their game and winning as if they want Donald Trump, or John Boehner, or Mitch McConnell, or Lindsay Graham, or any of these other creeps who hate fags, detest welfare, love war, want to sell America for their own personal gain, cheat to win, gerrymander, play to the lowest common denominator, use fear, race bait, bible thump, parade around in sheep’s clothing seeking whom they may next devour. 

“Don’t Boo, Vote,” he said.

Guilty.  I am guilty as charged by the President of the United States.  He got me.  I’m so indignant and yet, he is so right.  (And she is too.)  What a buffoon I am.

Not really.  My error is one of altruism and of not being satisfied with the slow pace of progress.  (I forgive myself.  I’m so big like that.) 

And so in a way we’re all hayseeds, we supporters of Bernie Sanders.  We are noble hayseeds.  Everyone should be a hayseed but still, we are hayseeds. 

This voting President Obama refers to will happen.  Campaign finance will change like Citizen’s United will be overturned like a woman’s right to choose will be safeguarded like our military budget will decline.  Eventually.  Change is slow, however in spite of corrections, moments of retrograde activity, things are getting better and history shows us this is true. 

Ellison’s great novel is as relevant today as ever. Similarly, it is as colorful and engaging and modern as ever.  The enmity between law enforcement and the people they are meant to protect and serve remains a constant in our society.  The hayseed is invisible.  Who listens?  Who knows?  What’s the quote from Baudelaire?  “The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity.”  (Okay, so I looked.  It’s WB Yeats’ poem, The Second Coming.) I always took that to mean the pure of heart have nothing to feel convicted about or for, while the liars, cheaters, connivers, the unjust and unkind, the wicked and inglorious, petty,  dishonest mother fuckers of the world tend to yell and scream because they're trying to convince you of something beyond fantastic.  They are trying to sell you a bill of goods.

Brother is treated with indignity after indignity in The Invisible Man.  His best nature, his altruism, his earnestness, they’re all fodder for those who would devour.  His intentions are golden at every turn but he is seen, in the South and in Harlem, as breaking from cherished norms or wanting to place himself above others. 

Obama chided us in the same way Ralph Ellison chided us.  Ellison understood what it meant to be invisibly black in America, to be absorbed into a socio-cultural belief system.  Obama understood what it took to ascend to high office in America.  He knew of what he spoke.  “Don’t Boo.  Vote,” he said rightly.  He was telling the hayseeds in the room and across America watching on their televisions, stop talking and go do.  He must have had this awakening at one time too, right?  The day he decided if he wanted to do something altruistic, if he wanted to help the under-served and underrepresented black communities on the south side of Chicago he had best go there and try to put some of his Harvard education into practice in the real world for the purpose of helping people better their lives. 

On a night that underscored the ultimate failure of the Bernie Sanders campaign and feeling like an insignificant hayseed I understand Obama’s message, (and Ellison’s too.)  I have to find ways to go do.  We all have to do that.  Ours is a utilitarian society and in so many ways the pressures of life, of economy, will pin us to a station, but the true hayseed must find ways. 

And so, Brother is a hero.  I admire him his gift of altruism.  I absolve him of whatever he has been accused of or blamed for.  Moreover, I am so thankful for reading this book now and not because some professor forced me to read it when I was 20-something and a different sort of hayseed altogether. 

Obama too, is a hero.  His dignity in the face of so much racism and ignorance is an example I hold up to my kids when I speak of emotional intelligence.  He is and has been for my family the Commander of Emotional Intelligence in Chief.  His ability for candor, his grace under attack, his empathy, they all were and are downright Presidential.  Hence why I adore him anew, in spite of the frustration I felt almost from Day 1 of his Presidency. 

Full Circle

I switched the radio as I drove the 60 westbound towards my office to NPR because I didn’t feel like bothering with a podcast or listening to all the NFL games rehashed ad nauseam.  They said a killer had mowed down some 40 or more people and injured hundreds of others at the Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas.  My Aunt works in that casino as a Pit Boss.  So as I listened to details I became increasingly concerned. 

 

A couple of years ago she had gotten me passes to go see some singer at “The Beach,” at Mandalay Bay.  I remember watching and listening to the show and looking back up over my shoulder at the façade of the hotel with all those windows where anyone might be looking down on the spectacle, perhaps unable to hear the music.  I imagined this shooter spraying The Beach with so many bullets from an AK-47.  I thought of my Aunt, who is as fun loving a person as there is, and her affinity for country music and how she always ends up getting a picture with the celebrity who happens into the casino.  (Just a couple of weeks earlier she could be seen on Facebook with one of the big boxers and a couple of years ago when my beloved Kings won the Stanley Cup she sent me pictures of her with one of our players a few days after the victory.) 

 

I worried she might have been there.  I did not yet know the event the monster aimed his weapon at was across the street.  So I called.  No answer.  I texted her: “Aunt Laura-I trust you are okay?”  Nothing.  I called again, this time not leaving a voice mail.  Then after some more driving as I arrived at work I texted her eldest son, my cousin Frank: “Cousin.  Have you heard from your Mom?”  He said he was calling her right then.  I responded by telling him I had called-no answer.  I said it was probably a crazy scene and maybe she had only gotten to bed a couple of hours ago and so she was probably sleeping. 

 

Frank called me 90 minutes later.  He said he had spoken to his youngest brother, Vinny, and that Aunt Laura was fine.  When she was evacuated, he said, they did not let her go get her purse or her cell phone or anything…

 

It was an odd couple of hours to start the day.  I consumed the requisite news stories about the person, the victims and the events around the tragedy.  I knew my Aunt was okay.  I expected she was inside the casino and not across the street at a country music concert.  Still, I contemplated her death and I contemplated my own death and I considered so many deaths and I struggled with the tragedy that was. 

 

I imagined this destroyer and I wondered what he was like as a boy.  He was 64, I thought?  64?  I had rage all the way to 40 and I think I was an outlier.  Men should be angry in their 20s but 64?  What was he like as a child?  Was he a demon-seed?  Did he know laughter and the unbearable lightness of being?  Did he love?  Was he loved?  I mean real love-did he ever feel like he would die for someone if it came down to it, if a deranged man was shooting from atop a perch into a crowd for example?  Did he ever love someone like that?  

 

I don’t want to think of this ghoul of a man as simply that.  I don’t want to just say, evil, and let it be that.  I don’t want to earmark as monster and move on.  I want the gun control but gun control is certainly not enough for me.  When he was a baby was he evil?  When he soldiered into his 1^st grade classroom sans his mama was he a monster then, too?  When he had his first kiss?  I can’t humanize what is  human.  I want to know what happened.  I am quite sure as a baby he just wanted love and to give love back.  What the fuck happened to a man that he meticulously plans to amass a stockpile of artillery in a hotel room for the purpose of reigning fire down upon the heads of so many human revelers, out for the evening with their favorite partners and friends, enjoying the end of Summer with the soundtrack of their lives, killing them en masse?  What twisted him and made him into such an aberration?

 

I felt relief from the mounting tension when I did not know.  I eased back into a project I was working on and finally made some progress.  Right around lunchtime a coworker walked into my office and informed me Tom Petty had died.  Tom Petty, I marveled?  Hadn’t I just watched like a 4-hour documentary on this guy a few months ago on Netflix?  Wasn’t he relatively young?  I googled and quickly discovered it was true.  Cardiac arrest.  Death in heaping portions this morning. 

 

Thing is I am not a big Tom Petty enthusiast.  I think of Refugee as a classic song for sure.  A couple of others were good.  I had put American Girl on a cd we played during childbirth for Terra.  Still, death is.  Tom Petty, cut down at 66.

 

Later after picking up the kids from school on the drive home I played a song by REM; The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight.  Those lyrics.  I explained to Mark in the back seat who Michael Stipe is.  I said this singer is kind of retired now as he’s getting a bit long of tooth, (Mark loves when I use outdated colloquialisms.)  Mark liked the song, which pleased me to no end. 

 

When Mark or Terra likes the song I feel capable of living on.  When I read those rock and roll biographies there is always that step dad who turned Jeff Buckley on to led Zeppelin at an early age, or the Dad who loved opera, or what have you.  I think of my own Dad and how born again he was and opposed to all things rock and roll, but every now and then he would let it slip.  What?!  His favorite song when he was in high school was Time is on My Side by the Stones?!  Or when Bob Dylan went all Christian I discovered he knew all these songs I had never heard of.  Everybody Must Get Stoned, indeed…

 

This is life.  These are the things of life.  And now that Michael Stipe is retired, now that my occasional glimpse is limited to him popping up all tarot card Hermit looking on Stephen Colbert’s show to sing a duet with the host.  Now that I ponder this great American Singer, and think back to the time he wore all those t-shirts on the VMA's, or consider how fiercely private he is about aspects of his life.  I realize now that my respect for Michael Stipe is nothing short of love.  It is ardor and adoration for sure but it is love.  There are a million possibilities for how one conducts himself in public or how one accepts celebrity.  Michael Stipe’s way has been one of utter integrity.

 

Michael Stipe once said his favorite REM song was Fall On Me.  That is my favorite REM song, too.  It is a simply profound protest.  As we headed home I sang along knowing Mark was memorizing lyrics.  He has a gift for that, I think. 

 

“Today I need something more sub-sub-sub-substantial,” I sang.  “A can of beans or black-eyed peas, some Nescafe and ice.”  It felt good to sing these words.  I had not listened to this song in forever.  REM, such artists.  Incorporating The Lion Sleeps Tonight, into their modern pop song and also drawing on myriad references from Americana and life in these times.  “A candy bar, a falling star, or a reading of Dr. Seuss.”  At the mention of Dr. Seuss a mass of emotion roiled in my stomach and chest suddenly, like nausea or joy or a car crash.  I reached inward past the wave of emotion to draw the composure I needed to stifle my Mini breakdown. 

 

I know the reference to Dr. Seuss piqued Mark’s interest.  I could see he was listening intently back there.  Terra was listening too but Mark was dialed in and I know this reference to someone he knows and appreciates resonated with him even if he did not quite understand the context.  

 

So it was I drove down Santa Anita Avenue stifling the urge to cry.  I would cry because I love my son and I want to influence him so positively.  My ego would also cry at the longing to be remembered.  I would cry because Michael Stipe is a beautiful, dignified man of the world I too, inhabit.  I would cry for my Aunt, who continues to be of my closest family and my primary link to a Mother who departed a long, long time ago.  I would cry at the thought of my Aunt crying until noon the following day.  (Her heart is tender-she has always cried so easily.)  I would cry for so many victims, too many victims, lives cut short and interrupted by dark, random chaos, by deep psychosis.  I would cry for their people, so angry and confused and disillusioned and, angry.  And sadsad.  Profoundly sad.  Depression…  I would cry too upon hearing the stories of people who held dying strangers for two hours as they slowly succumbed.  I could cry at the remarkable beauty, the random acts of love seen or unseen but always there with our kind.  I would cry at the consideration of how a person takes on such darkness, contemplates such evil and acts upon it. 

 

The kids asked a few questions about the horror in Las Vegas.  Terra shared something she heard from one of the youth leaders at the Y.  I explained that the shooter was obviously ill in a way that is hard to comprehend and I let them know Aunt Laura was okay.  I showed them the picture of my Aunt next to the CNN reporter in the aftermath.  Terra asked if the reporter interviewed her.  Mark did not recognize Aunt Laura.  And so it is emotional days happen...

Aunt Laura behind reporter mid-evacuation

In the aftermath if I cry I will cry from counting my blessings.  I will cry at the richness of life that is my children and my career and my avocations. I will cry at my good health.  I will cry at the luxury of crying.   I will cry at the knowledge that Everybody Hurts.

 

Grand Illusion

Do I have any illusions about the USA?  No.

There are so many bad behaviors and actions in our shared history: slavery, manifest destiny, Native American removal or even genocide, Japanese internment camps, (internment = concentration,) unnecessary use of the bomb, interference in South American politics, including opposition to democratically elected Salvador Allende in Chile and support of his replacement, (notice the second sentence therein,  economic warfare ordered by US President Richard Nixon,^[2]) the murderous Augusto Pinochet, (US covert and violent activities in the South American country of Chile being anything but a one-off,) the Vietnam War, the Iran Contra crimes, the war in Iraq based on a lie, to name several prominent examples without exhausting an exceedingly long list.

There are many examples of good behaviors and actions in our shared history as well: our history of immigration as personified in the Statue of Liberty's famous base, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!", putting Neil Armstrong on the moon, (inspired the peoples of the world,) the Civil Rights Act of 1964, entry into World War II and the subsequent defeat of Hitler, the Marshall Plan, women's suffrage, the Emancipation Proclamation, and of course the greatest living document on the planet; the US Constitution, to name but a few and it is worth pointing out, even many of these things have their dark side.

The world is gray after all.  It is interesting however to look back at history.  The War in Iraq seems a good place to start since it is such recent history and we can see how quickly things change and evolve.  At the time the President of the United States, likely being strongly advised by Vice President Dick Cheney and to a lesser degree Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld, made a decision to invade Iraq that given certain factors could not possibly be for its stated purpose, to hit back at those who had hit us on 9/11.  Long before the campaign of shock and awe began we knew that Al Qaeda was not in Iraq, indeed that Al Qaeda and Iraq's corrupt, strongman President, Saddam Hussein, were anything but on the same team.  The information was available and widely known to those who cared to know.  This is to say a great swathe of Americans did not care to know and were, to whatever degree, bloodthirsty.  

It is increasingly common knowledge and accepted that President George W Bush concocted a reason to make war on Iraq that involved the CIA, Niger, yellow cake powder for uranium enrichment, a phantom spy with a novel pseudonym in Germany, Colin Powell addressing the UN and the use of an amount of political capital he reasoned was due him based on his being in office on 9-11 of 01.  (More, he wanted to get the man who had crossed his Dad back so the story went.  Never mind the photos of Hussein and Rumsfeld from a decade earlier cheesing it up for the camera at the US War College.)  Shock...and awe.

In the early 2000s there was a great deal of confusion.  Many believed Iraq had attacked us.  Others believed Al Qaeda was based inside of Iraq.  Few knew that we had recruited Taliban fighters to oppose the USSR and had thereby helped to create the organization even arming and training them.  (See Charlie Wilson's War.)  

Time typically changes our view.  At the time George W Bush was at the top and so the buck stopped with him.  In making the decision to invade Iraq he knew he was pleasing a great many friends of substantial influence, (read: power or wealth.)  In weighing his decision he probably understood, particularly if found out, it could damage his legacy, but he plowed forward disregarding legacy.  He may have thought who cares about legacy when I am filthy rich?  My friends will consider me a hero.  (And they probably do.)  At the exclusive gatherings of the wealthy and powerful down Texas way I bet he is treated like a bona fide champion.  His public appearances however are rare and measured.  He is responsible for the death of some 500,000 unique, individual human beings.  (Estimates on Iraqi deaths range from 150,000 up to one million.  American deaths number 4,424, including US Army Specialist Casey Sheehan.)  It is unlikely George W Bush will ever leave American soil again as he is wanted abroad and could seriously face prosecution for war crimes.  (He could even be arrested in a couple of small towns in the US.)  

In his quiet and lucid moments I tend to think George W Bush harbors some regret.  He may practice some self loathing at ever having listened to Cheney and Rumsfeld.  No doubt he lives a comfortable life.  Still, legacy is a bitch.  He is already viewed as one of the worst Presidents in our history.  No amount of philanthropy and public humility will bring back 500,000 people to say nothing of the financial crises, which happened on his watch, or the politicization of the Attorney General's office, (which really bothered me personally.)  If he could be honest wouldn't it be an interesting conversation?  

Presently we have a new President in Donald Trump.  He is in so many ways the Reality TV President.  He doesn't like to read or be briefed.  He gets his news from the television and tweets his responses out to the world as if we were sitting right there next to him.  As a millionaire if not billionaire, (we can't know because he refused to allow his taxes to be made public, which should have told us something but many Americans don't think that sort of accountability is important,) he feels especially accomplished and he both trusts his wealthy class and wants to engender loyalty in those circles and so his decisions actions and policies since taking office a mere three weeks ago have been solidly aligned with the interests of the rich.  

The crux of these policies in addition to catering to the wealthy are for the stated purpose of making America great again or putting America's interests first, even at the peril of others.  These motives will certainly ensure President Trump's legacy is a poor one.  Moreover, they will degrade our standing in the world and they are largely not representative of the ideals of most Americans.  

Virtually all of his cabinet choices are inclined to destroy their departments.  Surely that will be Betsy DeVos's role as Secretary of Education.  On the day of her confirmation a Republican congressman from Kentucky introduced a bill to abolish the Department of Education.  This is a coordinated effort.  The bill was scant in its content for reasons associated with the fact it is a trial balloon.  The republicans and the puppet masters behind the party want to see how the democrats react.  I don't think they expect success this time around but having said that their plans to overturn Roe v Wade and weaken the federal government as much as possible is coming along nicely.  

Rick Perry is Trump's selection to run the Department of Energy.  Just a few years ago Perry advocated closing down the DOE.  (He has just recently changed his tune upon learning of his appointment and what the DOE is.)  

Jeff Sessions was chosen as Attorney General to enforce the laws of the United States.  Jeff Sessions is a known good old Alabama boy racist who once upon a time used his powers in the state of Alabama to discourage certain people from voting.  We know more about this thanks to House Majority Leader Mitch McConnell bringing so much attention to it when he rebuked and stopped Senator Elizabeth Warren from reading Coretta Scott King's letter to the Judiciary committee in 1986.  So as Americans we have to ask ourselves, do we want someone who would discourage voting and who is widely thought to be a racist to be our Attorney General?  I mean, of all the people.  

This is typical of the new President's selections for his cabinet however, as well as his advisers.  What is the goal?  What is the endgame?

To appease the Christian right that they have been working hard for many years to overturn Roe v Wade.  The non-religious wealthy do not mind.  If  their daughters need an abortion they have the money and will get them a safe one.  It's the poor who will suffer, first the unwanted pregnancy no matter the circumstances and second, the insurance policy on staying among the impoverished.  

Their other big objective is to weaken the federal government.  Their battle cry is states rights.  Leave it to the states.  The states can do anything the federal government can do and it can do it regionally and locally and thereby better represent constituents.  

The problem with a weakened federal government is once it is weak, there is no power capable of standing up to and checking the power of corporations.  As it is the top corporations or conglomerations in the USA have an awesome amount of power.  If corporations want to get back to polluting so ardently the Cuyahoga again becomes as incendiary as the Sun, who or what will stop them?  The oil companies would dominate the state of Ohio in court.  Even if Pennsylvania and West Virginia joined in oil companies with their vast resources would sue and counter sue and tie up in litigation until such a time as they were damned well ready to stop polluting, (I might as add 'you puny sons of bitches.')  If GE wants to put poor children to work for slave wages because they are delinquents anyway and working for $4.50 an hour is better than on the streets and not going to school because of course they can't pay for the paid education that is the only kind of education in the republican dystopian vision of the future I cringe to bring you.  

It is important to fight this agenda.  I'm all in.  I sent a few dollars to Jeff Merkley last week because he seems as impassioned as I am about not allowing the republicans to select a Supreme Court Justice other than Merrick Garland.  Ideally we correct this thing that happened in 2016 in future elections.  The damage already being wrought is vast but we just have to do what we can do.  There is not point in whining about it.  Denouncing-that's what I am into.  

The other part of this though is that seemingly unimportant legacy.  If you clicked on that Presidential rating sheet I linked up above you saw who rated high and who rated low.  George Washington was highly rated.  Why?  I would say because of virtue and valor.  I would say the same of Thomas Jefferson who is one of my personal favorites.  Abraham Lincoln has been called the greatest President ever, (as well as The Great Emancipator.) because he worked to abolish slavery.  It was virtue that granted Lincoln his illustrious standing.  

Some might suggest legacy is overrated.  In Lincoln's case after all, he was also shot dead for his virtue.  I don't see it that way.  If I could be Lincoln I would be Lincoln.  So what value is there in legacy?  There is the value of moral goodness.  Doing the right thing is its own reward, right?  I would also posit that goodness also radiates outward to those around us and to the environment in a way.  (If the sins of the father can visited on the son after all, it stands to reason the virtues of the father can too.)

George Bush's legacy is not good and he is living with that.  Donald Trump's legacy similarly will not be good.  His is a fragile ego to begin with so the pain of criticism is already affecting him and will continue to do so largely because it will be cutting, (because the criticism is valid.)  I don't think President Trump is in anyway motivated by his legacy, though he might be deluded in part by thinking his will be a legacy of greatness.  It won't be however.  Humanity does not remember those who treated the masses badly in a favorable light.  Hitler, Stalin, the many corrupt Popes, Nicholas II, all the way back to Attila were left with horrible legacies.  Legacy is real and it has consequences and it is another reason the path being laid before us now foreshadows gloom for those who are paving it.