Despite intense and constant search, so far in this painful
new era of the Triumph of the Nasties, I have been able to dredge up only one
area of small consolation. It involves the
image I have always seen My-Country-Tis-of-Thee as having, namely that of a
huge sea-going vessel, like one of those oil tankers, or container ships, or
aircraft carriers, or cruise ships for which no adjective denoting enormous
size and unwieldiness really does the job.
I have never had the unpleasant experience of being asked to
pilot one, but I can easily imagine that it is one hellish job to turn one of
those monsters around so as to make it turn a full 180 degrees. At least not without having miles of open
space to do so, and not without taking all year, and also not without meanwhile
colliding with everything in sight. And
I would also think that this would be especially true if the pilot was so
unqualified for the job that he wouldn’t even know when to do the fun stuff,
like sounding the foghorns, along with knowing what numbers of blasts to make
for what messages.
The Tipped-Over States of America in a Time of T. Rump
In a word, the U.S. is a country that doesn’t easily change
direction, which means that it might take a while before the toxic fall-out
from the recent election starts reaching the places where I stand now.
So does this mean it will be some time yet before 23 of
those guys in the black vans and with their shoulders and their heads bent sideways at an angle of 45 degrees come for me? The Mossad
might, soon enough. I know that by this
time Yahuboy is quite fed up with my on-the-nose observations about his actions.
But as for the T. Rump brownshirts, that
could be another question. It’s hard to
find one’s way here from there.
Absurd as this sounds, I can’t help forgetting that, years
ago, the proprietor of another weblog where I would frequently post my unacceptable
opinions, mentioned to his readers that I had just started this weblog here
(this was in 2004 or thereabouts), and by way of apparent recommendation, he
said that I was on his list of surefire candidates to be carted off soon to
But just as Tennessee Williams had one of his female
characters say that she had always
depended on the kindness of strangers, I have always depended on my ringing
insignificance as a person. And if that
kind of thing worked for Blanche in “A Streetcar Named Desire,” then total
obscurity should keep on working for me as well.
As is my practice in these kinds of things, I will just have
to go on poking in the darkness, depending on the knowledge that, often as not,
darknesses turn out to be entirely empty, even when those 23 squatheads are
There is one other thing.
It may take time, but sooner or later, if it hasn’t sunk in
the meantime, that ocean-going monster can be set lumbering off in an opposite
and undesirable direction after all, before at length, because of the bad
charts its captain of the moment insists on using, it inevitably starts
scraping bottom, runs aground, and keels over, heaving its cargo sharply to one
side and eventually overboard.
This could be the case today, if the ship – that is, the
U.S. Government -- has been hijacked,
and by the usual, starboard-leaning