"This Americana ying and yang...."

I don’t really recognize this nation anymore. I pretend like everything is normal, because on the surface, everything IS normal. People are out and about. Working. Playing. Spending what they have. And perhaps spending what they’re not going to have anymore. Restaurants. Movies. Highways. All bustling. There is no noticeable difference in the day to day minutiae. The sun rises and sets. The stars come out and look the same as they always did. But a closer look reveals something out of a Stephen King novel. The sewers are filled with maniacal clowns. It’s a zombie apocalypse that we cannot see, because we’re too glued to our phones. Over these last few weeks large 40 foot deep sinkholes have opened up on Wilkes Barre and Scranton streets and backyards, swallowing parked cars and, in one case, somebody’s patio furniture. Surely this is some cosmic sign from the deep? Our nation is in distress. Somebody needs to dial 911 before they cut the funding for that, too.

Also, Rob Bresnahan is my Congressman. One of the most spineless weasels to ever slither into that hallowed chamber. He’s an absolutely shameless liar who makes me wish I believed in hell so I could wish him there. He and his little dutch boy hair cut will damage this state more than Hurricane Agnes. He can go fuck himself.

There. I feel better already.

Rage and apathy are partners in crime. They are like the guy sitting at the end of the bar. Always bitching in his cups, but pretty content to allow somebody else to fix things so he can have another Miller Lite. I care deeply about this place, while at the same time not really giving a shit about it at all. If this is what you want, have at it. If this is what you voted for, then take the pain that’s coming your way. If you see cruelty as strength, then you should be able to withstand the tsunami of shit coming your way. Hoist that flag on your pick-up truck, put on your made-in-China red hat, and say the pledge of allegiance when the bank forecloses on your house because of your unpaid medical bills. Buckle up buttercups…

“We’re all going to die”

—Joni Ernst

“They’ll get over it”

—Mitch McConnell

“It’s immaterial”

—Vice President Vance

“I feel great”

—Lindsay Graham

And with these words ringing in your head, I bid you onward, Christian soldiers!

It’s strange feeling this way. This Americana ying and yang. I’m tired in a way that sleep doesn’t touch. I rotate between shock and awe. I have my family and my friends and my books and my reading chair and my dog Max, who is so uncomplicated that he sometimes confuses me. I have this space to try to make sense of it all. Someday I hope to mine these pages to explain to my grandchildren the way things were, and how it was their parents who fixed things. My generation….I just had to look up what we’re called because I always forget…..Generation X…..has fucked things up to the point where the country became unrecognizable on our watch. It’s now perfectly legal and acceptable for masked, anonymous agents to disappear me. I can be sent away to a foreign prison and tortured, or threatened with alligators in Florida. Generation X is overseeing the revival of the concentration camp. Baby boomers landed on the moon, and Generation X are not only building “Alligator Alcatraz”, but appending a gift-shop to it so you can buy hats, t-shirts, and mugs. My as yet unborn grandchildren need to know that in my little corner of the world I was not a part of this nazi inspired fuckery. My word might not be enough. I won’t blame them one bit for that. But this can serve as my character witness.

I do not comply.

I do not comply.

I do not comply.

We’ve gone from immigrants eating the dogs and the cats to feeding immigrants to alligators in just a few months, so there’s no telling what’s next on the Republican bingo card. Heads on pikes maybe?

Tomorrow is the 4th of July, and that just feels weird as shit right now. The usual suspects will blow shit up, and completely miss the irony of what they are celebrating vs what they truly believe. If King George was around today he might make a fortune selling cologne and bitcoin digital trading cards, and poor George Washington would be derided as a woke liberal with a crooked smile. We banished one mad king and managed to replace him with another. Paul Revere could have stayed in bed knowing all this.

Trump’s domestic policy bill passed. Republicans cheered like K-pop stans as the gavel banged down. Damn the expense. The actual expense, of course. Something in the trillions. The numbers get lost in a haze of fiscal absurdity. But also the body count. Lawmakers never vote to take away something that they haven’t already secured for themselves. Other than in the pages of history, they’re gonna be just fine. But this bill is a literal death sentence for some, a long terminal illness for others, and yet another reminder that the cruelty is not a byproduct of the cult, but the point of it to begin with. 77 million people will have blood on their hands….and way too many of them don’t realize who’s blood it’s going to turn out to be.

In a bit…

—tf