Echoes of Truth despite Reflections of Wild Boars

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Miro driving smallEvery time I allow my ever ready for adventure ChiPoo to escape the confines of home, her first action as she races into the outside world, is to release an impressive, ear piercing announcement of her taking the field, at breakneck speed right to the edge of her outer boundary — no electric fence nor wall is necessary to maintain her power over the lay-of-the-land, for it is her presumed, raison d’être.

Regardless of race, creed, gender or talent, Oscar like awards are subjectively dealt out over lifetimes.  Though, admittedly, more often, it’s Hearts with a ravenous Queen of Spades, than a winning hand from MSNBC for Melissa Harris-Perry.

The deck, too stacked in Wall Street board rooms by bankers producing sequels to, The Big Short too small to prevail, they stuff 99% of humanity into, the envelope please in the out-sourcing Room.

Until the Oscars of life are awarded to those who run the race like Jesse Owens, the ever increasing global danger is our failure to imagine beyond the hyperbole of self-serving politicians — some with ambitions as destructive as an Olympically defeated master race dictator like Karl Rove’s puppeteer.

Most often life isn’t an Oscar winning film, especially when we choose choices like Cruz’s Garden of Eden, and the lowest hanging fruits of justice:  senators refusing to consider replacing a deceased Supreme Court Justice who preached once its original ink dried, the Constitution died.

Despite our Founding Father’s lack of crystal ball expertise and inability to anticipate a Bridge of Spies between the FBI, Apple and Hillary, Franklin nonetheless suggested the possibility that, those who give up their liberty for more security neither deserve liberty nor security.

Unlike The Martian, there is no bringing us home to greatness, unless we are a nation forever progressing forward.  On Oscar Sunday, decisions, limited only by lack of diversity, are announced amidst tears, laughter, applause, speeches, regret and the politics of blackout boycott.

On Super Tuesday, decisions, limited only by the will of the people to demand greater value for their vote, will be announced amidst jeers & cheers, speeches of concession and for those herded and huddled by PACs for regression, the politics of hate.

In 2016, We the People are contesting via a personification of our built-up resentment, a coronation and a Mad Max escapee from the arrogance asylum.  So which will it be for us January 20, 2017…

  • Revenge on the We Built That gang
  • Decades old recipient of constant onslaught from every side, now potentially FBI investigated, dynasty, next
  • Huffing and puffing bore salivating over under-minding our exceptional law of the land:  The Golden Rule

This election, though not a feel good movie, is based on the truth and lies we tell ourselves, when the lights are low – produced by Corporatism, directed by partisans and starring those who vote and those who avoid the Spotlight, of civic responsibility.

Nevertheless, The Revenant self within is beckoned by the peace that comes from surviving the American saga – now recognizing right from wrong, justice and injustice, equality and discrimination, economic opportunity and income disparity.  Can’t we see the dishonesty in those who shout volumes of vagueness, provoking violence among those most vulnerable to the fear and frustration that accompanies, feeling being passed over, forgotten or ignored?

To the degree we are mesmerized by the least our political system has to offer, we echo 1930’s Germany, in 2016 politics behind the politics of a ratings crazed Media, rented lobbyists bribing career politicians and ranting Demagogues.

Miro Say What SmallUntil we stop fearing progress, oil slicked money changers will remain the greatest terror threat to our environment, rainbow and melting pot.

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