Tweet, tweet

With apologies to The Playmates.

While riding in my Republic, what, to my surprise.
A little Snatch Grabber was following me, about one-third my size.
The guy must have wanted to feel me up
As he kept on tweeting his horn. Tweet, tweet!
I'll show him that a Republic is not a state to scorn.

Refrain:
Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)
Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet)
The Trump goes tweet, tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)

I pushed my vote to the primary to give this guy the curb,
But the little Snatch Grabber stayed behind; his caucus was superb.
He must have thought he had more time
As he kept on tweeting his horn. Tweet, tweet!
I'll show him that a Republic is not a state to scorn.

Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)
Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet)
The Trump goes tweet, tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)

My polls went up to 70%. I took off in disgust.
And soon I was past polling. The Trump left in the dust.
When I peaked in the basket of deplorables,
I couldn't believe my eyes.
The little Snatch Grabber was right behind, you'd think that guy could fly.

Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)
Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet)
The Trump goes tweet, tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)

Now we're up to two seventy, it certainly was a race.
For a Snatcher to pass a Republic would be a big disgrace.
For the guy who wanted to pass me,
He kept on tweeting his horn. Tweet! Tweet!
I'll show him that a Republic is not a state to scorn.

Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)
Tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet)
The Trump goes tweet, tweet, tweet. (Tweet, tweet.)

Now we're up to November eighth, as fast as I could go.
The Grabber pulled alongside me as if I were too slow.
The fellow rolled his window down and yelled for me to hear,
Hey, Hillary, how can I get this campaign out of my career?

Tweet, tweet.

Negotiation

Let's say you were the world's greatest diplomat. Let's say you could enter any negotiation and always get everything you want. You are a champion of justice? You got it. You are in favor of civil rights? No problem. You have a body of downcast people you represent? And you want to protect them? You're there.

You've got it. You're perfect.

No matter who you come up against, you prevail. When you go to negotiate with someone, and say, "I have these demands, 1, 2, 3... 10," and your partner says, "I have these demands, 1, 2, 3...10." You get them all. No, "Let's compromise. What will you drop and what will I drop? How will we negotiate?" No. You get it all. You're the great negotiator! You never betray your morals!

You see, in diplomacy there is always give and take. Always something that is a betrayal. Always a compromise. Always. We, here, in the trenches can look to our leaders and say, "Traitors! You betrayed us here! And here!" And we're right. They always betray their own folk, here and here. They can't help it. They have to. That's what it means to be diplomatic. To give in order to get. To betray one side in order to benefit another. To be a traitor. A moving traitor. That's a diplomat. A moving traitor. Just make their treachery worse than ours. Or make our two gains better than our loss. And call it a win for all.

But what's the alternative? Suppose you were the perfect diplomat. Suppose you could always get your way. Always promote your cause. Always stand for justice and refuse to bow down to compromise. Suppose you never had to put up with the diplomat dance of, "Who will I screw now to make sure someone doesn't get screwed later?" Suppose you could just be Superman and fight for Truth, Justice, and the American Way?

Every time you engage in diplomatic relations you win. Every time you raise one banner or another for human rights and freedom, you prevail. Every time you are asked to compromise your values you refuse. You are adamant. You are righteous. You are victorious. You are the champion of your people.

What would you call that?

A success?

A brilliant negotiator?

I would call that a dictator.

Be careful what you wish for.

High and Dry

I remember an old circus act and popular attraction involving public officials. It’s the water dunk! You certainly know. Someone sits on a platform over a tank of water in the midway part of a country fair. You pay for three shots at a target. If you hit it, he goes into the water. Good natured public officials will go along with the public humiliation as it is usually for a good cause. The library or fire department. Everyone thinks it’s fun.

Circuses do this purely for the cash. There is no ‘good natured’ about it. So they have a different strategy. The carny sitting on the wet seat taunts passersby. He makes insulting comments about people and taunts them, usually with a repeated phrase, “High and dry. Look at me. I’m high and dry. Can anybody touch me? Nope. Nobody has yet.” Of course he is trying to draw in the mark. He is playing some visceral game with a combination of taunting, insulting, and insolence. 

"Look at me! You can’t touch me!" Of course you can. For only a dollar. You get to play out a mini morality play where they are the serpent and you are St. Michael. Instead of swords your weapons are tennis balls. Instead of vanquishment, your quest is immersion. A play in three acts. Introduction, challenge, victory. Then, when the mark succeeds in hitting the target, the carny simply resets the seat, climbs back up, and resumes his chirping of, “High and dry!” The play begins again.

It occurred to me that this is what the Internet troll does. Their carny chant is to taunt, insult, and make groundless statements while dismissing anything you might say. It doesn’t matter if you have facts which can be substantiated by vetted, credible sources. It doesn’t matter if you state that you are willing to engage in a respectful dialog with the free exchange of ideas and opinions.

Nope. All you will get is, “High and dry!” They will simply ignore anything you say, accuse you of wearing a tin foil hat (they seem to have an unnatural fetish for metal headgear) and mumble something like, “Well. I can only give you the facts so many times! I won’t listen to your conspiracy theories!” High ground retaken. High and dry.

No matter how many times they are dunked in the cesspool of their own specious reasoning, they always pop back up, covered in their own shit, and insist that they are, ‘High and dry.’

Don’t feed the trolls.

Never Mind

Never mind that the Democratic National Committee was shown to be a corrupt organization that willfully sabotaged the campaign of Bernie Sanders in favor of their favorite, Hillary.

Never mind that the emails weren’t ‘hacked.’ They were leaked by a disgruntled DNC employee who was disgusted with how things were being run. All these CIA alleged claims are just smoke and mirrors.

Never mind that this is a crisis of confidence. Confidence in our democracy. In our party system. In our government. A vote for Trump was a vote against the Washington establishment. A vote against us. A vote thrown in our smug faces.

Never mind that Vladimir Putin asked if the US was a ‘banana republic’ that it could so easily be manipulated? Maybe he did us a favor, reporting what our media surrendered long ago.

Never mind, for that matter, that we routinely manipulate, overthrow, Color Revolt, and in any way possible, circumvent the governments of every country we can, up to and including total destruction. Never mind. It’s OK when we do it.

Russia did it. Lucifer Ras-Putin! Good. We can now never mind our own failings! What’s not your fault you need not fix.

But I have to wonder. What did we do wrong? We, the liberal elite? The coastal elite who think we know so much and have a mandate to rule? Well, the ruled ruled otherwise. And do we question ourselves? Do we ask the hard questions and practice self-examination? Do we ask what did we get wrong? How could we have addressed our opponents honestly without name calling and insults? Where do we go from here? No?

Never mind.

What I want for 2017

I want my country back.

No, not the fabled country of 1950's Americana or Walt Disney's Main Street, USA. Not the bigoted, misogynist country that Trump supporters supposedly want. We don't need that one back, though in too large a part it's still here. It's the parts that have gone away that I mourn the loss of.

I want the country where George Washington told us to "avoid attachments and entanglements in foreign affairs." The one where we no longer must "guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex" and it is no longer true that "War is a racket." The one where the White House does not believe that "(w)e're an empire now, and when we act, we create our own reality."

The one where the corruption of a major political party is more newsworthy than unsubstantiated allegations about "foreign influence." See also here. I would like to see all the "foreign influence" done by my country at the tip of a spear cease. I want it replaced by diplomacy. You know. That other thing besides dropping bombs?

The one where education is valued and deserves it. Where there is money for healthy lunches and none for metal detectors. Where we are taught to think for ourselves instead of being manipulated by psychology. The one where journalists aren't owned by six corporations, most with connections to the mat of corrosive crust that has grown at the top of our society.

I know. I know. All countries are corrupt. Ours no different. And the Military Industrial Complex at the time of the Civil War profited richly by selling goods to the government, sometimes to both sides. But there was a time when the military was called the War Dept. The Pentagon was supposed to be a temporary structure. When wars became unavoidable, you assembled an army, paid through the nose for shoddy equipment made by shysters and con artists, battled your enemies and won. Or lost. When the war was done, somebody won, somebody lost, everybody went back home. The war profiteers waited.

But it grew, like a cancer, into the Defense Dept. This meant the ungodly bleeding could persist. The Cold War was the Eisenhower's Military Industrial Complex's Nirvana! Limitless gouging with no definition of when it ends! There was no success so there could be no failure! And the public bought it! We really do make our own reality. Dive into the trough, fellow piggies!

Well, as with any cancer, it ends when the host dies. Fair enough. At the very end it'll be: All guns, no butter! All swords, no plowshares! What a way to go!

I want my butter and my plowshares back.

Play

I look at children

and say,

Play.

Play the day away.

Play and feel so certain

Of your life.

For life is wonder.

And magic.

And never ending glory.

So play the day away.

I look at young people

And say

Play.

Play your way today.

Play and be so sure

Of what you want, and are,

And surely will become.

For this is your day.

Play.

And be yourself today.

I look at less young people

And say.

Play.

Your children are your play.

And they

Some day

Perhaps

Will take your place in play.

So live!

In them your joy relay.

I look at older people

And see myself

At play.

Or not.

Or holding to the grey day

And gentle sway

Of noisesome fainting, under way,

My frame, to me, abject dismay,

Beneath my feet, less flesh, more clay.

And to the end there comes decay.

And once more.

From the advantage of extended day

I say.

I look at children

And say

From my perch at end of day

You've got it right! Hurrah, hurray! Kallee, kallay!

Play.

Play the day away.

Take my hand

And lead the way.

I look at children,

And say,

Play.

One

One.

One. One day. One day I'll be whole. One day I'll be at peace. And joy. And happiness.

One. One minute. One minute I'll be safe. And secure. And certain of myself. And my place in life.

One. One second. One second I'll be myself. No one else. Not beholding to anyone.

One. One instant. One instant I will touch God.

One.