STOP IT. JUST STOP IT: Saturday Political Soap Box 163

It's true.  In a normal electoral system, in almost any other country, she would be our President.  Thanks, Red States, for your blind allegiance to the letter R.  Thanks, Rust Belt, for in your pain, falling for the con.

No one laid the groundwork for the future more than Bernie Sanders.  God Bless Bernie Sanders, and the bird who flew in on.

Stop it.  Just stop it.

Stop it, my fellow progressives, Democrats, Independents and thinking Republicans.

Let us close the era of vilifying Hilary Clinton or Bernie Sanders.  This ridiculous feud is only benefiting one person - Donald Trump.

Yes, it's true.  Hillary had serious flaws as a candidate.  Fairly or unfairly, she had a lot of baggage from the past.  The right wing media had spent two and a half decades turning into a cartoon villain.

She was too identified with the old politics, and the special interest money that had become the standard du jour for ALL politicians.  So, in a change election year she represented the old guard.

Yes, the campaign sometimes made bad decisions.  I would've picked a midwesterner who was very vocal, very progressive as a running mate, and would have camped him/her in the rust belt for the entire duration of the campaign.  She should have promoted ideas more than just that Trump was scum.  In my opinion, they knew he was scum and they voted for him, anyways.  If you hear your candidate say, "grab 'em by the pussy", and you still vote for him, then no appeals to character were ever going to work.

Yes, the Russian hacking  and Comey's foolish announcement, contributed to her loss.  But here's the bottom line - whatever obstacles, this should have been a landslide for her, along the proportions of LBJ in 1964 and Nixon in 1972.  She was running against the most unfit candidate in American history, one who had only about 37% popularity, even on the day of election.  It should not have been close.

And yet, there is little doubt that she would have made a good President.  No one else had her resume and qualifications.  She might have been too cautious, but her pragmatic temperament would have served us well. I admire her abilities  and had faith she would move us in the right direction  - maybe not as fast as I liked, but certainly better than full-reversal plunge to Ayn Randian style totalitarianism we are experiencing now.

Yes, it's true.  Neither was Bernie the perfect candidate.  Time and again, he failed to connect with a broad enough base to win primaries in diverse states.  The African American vote, particularly among those that were not millennials, never supported him in numbers sufficient to deny Clinton the nomination.  In my opinion, when he failed to win the Ohio primary, the race was basically over, and he was playing out the string

Many of the new voters he attracted were not people with great political philosophical depth. They came in for his personality. or a defiance of the establishment, and didn't understand that his ISSUES, which they enthusiastically agreed with, were more important than the man.  So a portion of his voters did not switch over to Clinton, and did not fully understand what the horrible consequences would be in Trump becoming President.

We can only speculate what a Sanders run would have been like in the General Election.  He would have attracted a different group of voters than Hillary did, at least to a degree, but whether that would have been enough to win, I just don't know.  And I'm sure the same right-wing media that demonized Hillary would be working overtime to do the same thing to Bernie.

And yet, Bernie showed the way to the future in politics.  A purer, more unabashed progressivism, one not tied to large corporate donors and special interests.  He polls now as the most popular politician in America.  And, if the right wing wants to try to damage those numbers, let them try.  But I'll tell you who shouldn't try to damage them - US PROGRESSIVES AND DEMOCRATS.  STOP IT.  JUST STOP IT.  

And it is equally true about Hillary.  STOP IT.  JUST STOP IT.

Acknowledge the mistakes and imperfections,  Learn from them and MOVE ON!

Lesson 1:  Be full throated in your advocacy of Progressive values.  On almost all of them, the American people poll WITH US.  They just don't understand it yet, and you know what?  As long as we equivocate, they never will.

Lesson 2: Stop taking corporate money.  Just stop it.  Now.  Bernie showed us the way to a new kind of funding, and we must adopt it.  That includes taking huge sums of cash to give speeches to big business.  Sorry, President Obama - fairly or unfairly, that includes YOU.

Lesson 3:  Grassroots is best.  Work from the bottom up.

Lesson 4:  Run EVERYWHERE.  Nowhere in this country should right-wing extremist thinking go unchallenged.  

Lesson 5:  The next Democratic Party candidate for President is not going to be Hillary Clinton or Bernie Sanders.  It's going to be somebody else.  And it needs to be somebody who can combine an appeal to the white working class AND the minority working classes.  Only when those two are combined do the Democrats become an unbeatable force.  Robert Kennedy did it in 1968, a run tragically interrupted by his assassination.  Bill Clinton did it in his run in 1992.  Barack Obama did it in 2008 and 2012.  We win when the working class recognizes their common interest.

I don't know who that candidate will be yet.  But I know whom it won't be - Clinton or Sanders.

So, please. STOP IT.  JUST STOP IT.

Let's stop bellyaching, and instead join together to launch the Progressive Revolution.

It may be our only hope.

History of the Trap: Revised Prologue

As mentioned in an earlier blog post, I had submitted the novel to a contest, and in the review, the only real negative was about my prologue.  They had a point, in that the prologue was written much earlier than the rest of the novel, and I had a different idea about pacing and focus at that time.

I am continuing my attempts at revision.  This section here, the second of the prologue, completely replaces the discussion Dr. Duncan has with the Morgan's parents.  I'm trying to convey the most essential elements of that discussion, but in a much more succinct fashion, and putting them in a Morgan-centric point of view.

The next thing I have to deal with is that the third part of the prologue also centers on Morgan.  I have to edit for things I've already said in this section, and continue to look at what important plot points I may have missed in sections I cut out.

Any feed back would be appreciated.

2

Present Day

Once, she ruled them all.

She was the Queen Bee, and everyone buzzed around her orbit.  She was the Princess of Loren high, and there was no one she could not charm or entice.  She was the Siren, and no boy could resist her call.  She was the fashion maven, always impeccably groomed and coiffed, and hundreds of girls tried to emulate her style.

Every word she said, every breath she took, every gesture and nod, could the very fabric of reality for everyone around her.  She determined who was in and who was out, who was to be detested or tolerated.  No one questioned the ultimate superiority of Morgan LaDona Tigh.

But that was then.  Before the Trap. 

Now, everything was different.  Now, she waited in a jailhouse hallway, plainly dressed and stripped of makeup, pacing like a jungle cat, waiting to meet with a prisoner, waiting for someone the old Morgan would have considered a nothing, but now was her whole world.  She was going to meet Lance Martin, and she was determined to do whatever she could to help him, no matter the cost.

In her hands, she clutched a carefully wrapped package.

One of the two guards looked at her, eyeing her warily.  She smiled at him, trying to disarm his suspicion.  “It’s Razzbutt Fudge, Mr. Guard.  It was a favorite of Lance’s while we were trapped.  I made it just for him.  I even found wild raspberries right outside Gregor Park, just like the ones that grew in the Trap.”

The guard scoffed.  “You’re as crazy as he is.”

Morgan huffed up.  “Well, Mr. Guard.  That’s a terrible judgement.  Aren’t you supposed to be neutral?  Do you think Dr. Duncan would appreciate you expressing such opinions?”

The guard just shrugged and stopped looking directly at her.  Thank God, Morgan thought, that he didn’t decide to take a closer look at what she was holding.  That might put a huge kink in her plans.

She desperately wanted to see Lance, but her parents had blocked her every effort. They were puzzled by her change in personality, and blamed Lance for everything. 

Then, in a sudden reversal, her father, Eddie “Speedy” Tigh, after a talk with Dr. Frederick Duncan, the adolescent psychiatrist assigned by the state to evaluate Lance, Daddy changed his mind and allowed her to have a meeting with Lance.  Why?  She didn’t know.  Dr. Duncan must have thought it would help him in his analysis of Lance, but why Daddy suddenly went along, she wasn’t sure.  It must have had something to do with money.  He was a highly successful entrepreneur, with car dealerships, restaurants, storage facilities, and who knows what else. It was hard for her to keep track of everything he was into, and frankly, she wasn’t that interested.

They kept her drowning in material things.  As if that alone would keep her feeling loved and wanted.  At one time, she didn’t mind.  Now, it just made her feel bought off. Her father thought a new car would take her mind off things.  Her mother wanted to get out of Loren and spend time with her Aunt in Battle Creek, and go on spectacular shopping sprees with her. They didn’t know her anymore.  She had grown to care less about … things.

Before she was granted permission to see Lance, Morgan had a talk with Dr. Duncan.  She didn’t think he was a bad man. But she also didn’t think he believed her or Lance.  He knew something happened that night at the house.  And he knew, of those present, she was the last one to openly express an attachment and belief in Lance.  It was important to figure out why it happened the way it did, and some explanation for Lance’s behavior, besides simple cold-blooded murder.  He had come to believe that Morgan was the only one who could open him up, get him to explain whatever madness or fear lurked behind the delusion that some of the children (in her mind, of course, they weren’t children – they were survivors, and by all logic, should really be in their mid- twenties) were originally expressing.

But now, Lance had stopped talking to Dr. Duncan.  He was losing hope that he could help.  It was a last-ditch effort on his part, allowing Morgan in to see if she could help kick start him in to talking again.

She didn’t care what Dr. Duncan wanted.  She had her own ideas as how to help Lance.

And now she would get her chance.

The Lesser Of

We have a real problem in this country.

Well, it's actually a worldwide problem, endemic to mankind, but right now, I'm more concerned about it's impact in the United States.  Well, our "kinda, somewhat" United States.

Here's a recent example:  Our new Attorney General, Jeff Sessions, was concerned about the the recent judicial ruling, from a Federal Judge in Hawaii, that suspended a Presidential executive order concerning visas and refugees.  So, in his frustration, the Attorney General said, in a recent radio interview, "I really am amazed that a judge sitting on an island in the Pacific can issue an order that stops the President of the U.S. from what appears to be clearly his statutory and constitutional power."

Say what?  Does that mean had the ruling come from, say, his home state of Alabama, that it would be more legitimate?

That "island in the Pacific" is a duly constituted state of the United States of America!  Is it lesser because it was the 50th state to enter the Union, and Alabama more significant because it was 22nd?  What is the cutoff point to be considered worthy?  40th?  25th?  Sorry No. 41 Montana - you just missed the cutoff!

Is it because that's where POTUS No. 44 was born?  Maybe it's an extension of Kenya rather than the United States?  Or maybe the state's population is too diverse and too far away?

Unfortunately, this is not new or idiosyncratic thinking for this country.  It's as old as the Civil War, and perhaps goes back to our very founding.  Some states are just more worthy than others.  And it effects those who migrate from one state to another.  Your opinion is worth less if you are a Yankee in Georgia.  And a southern redneck in Michigan may not be respected.

The whole idea of lesser of is even encoded into our constitution.  The electoral college gives greater weight to smaller states, under the guise that their opinion and influence should be balanced, when the actual effect is to give someone in Montana almost four times the voting power as someone in California.  I remember after the recent Electoral College victory of the current White House occupant, hearing people around me seriously suggesting that we can't go to a popular vote because that would mean our President would be picked by California and New York!  As if "one man. one vote" was a meaningless phrase.  As if those states were somehow less worthy than others.

And, of course, our attitude about different states is only the tip of the iceberg on our attitude concerning "the lesser of".  It was the basis for slavery - they are just not on the same level of the rest of us, and don't feel the same things.  It's okay that some people don't get the same things as you and I, because they're just not worthy of it.

It lets us participate in life without worrying who is treated less and exploited in order for us to have what we have.  What does it matter that others in other countries are paid starvation wages to produce our clothes?  The important thing is we save money!

It is a flaw in thinking in both pro and anti-immigration thinking.  I've heard even pro-immigration folks say that we have to have cheap labor to bring in our agricultural produce, because Americans won't do it for that low of wages, and we don't want to have to pay more for our food.  Yes, we want food at reasonable prices, but are we really willing to get it at a lower cost because we view some lives as less valuable than ours?

It's our great sin - the ability to bifurcate our minds and think of some people as less worthy, as less human. as "the lesser of".

Hopefully we grow out of it.

But I'm not holding my breath.

Tom's Top Ten Summer Movies 2017

That time again!

Time to list the ten movies I'm most anticipating this summer.  REMEMBER - this is a list of RIPPING GOOD YARNS...that means movies with more melodrama and action than most, movies that are most often best seen at a movie theater.  There are no quaint tea room dramas, no slice of life comedies, no biopics - just ripping good yarns!

These are the ones I most anticipate.  As they get closer, and I see more previews and reviews, they could move up or down the Anticipation Ladder.

As much as I may want to see all of these, I typically only see about half in the theaters.  I generally see all of them eventually, unless it is apparent upon closer examination that they really suck Donkey Kong.

10) Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets (July 21).  This is either going to be one of the best movies of the summer, or the worst.  I can't tell yet.  It's directed by Luc Besson of The Fifth Element fame.  It should be visually stunning, but the story?  We'll have to wait and see.

9) The Beguiled (June 23).  Remake of a Civil War drama, set in 1864 Virginia, where a a school for young ladies, where they lend aid to a wounded UNION soldier. Jealousy, lust and dread ensue.  It stars Nicole Kidman, Kirsten Dunst, and Colin Farrell.

8) Snatched (May 12).  The only comedy on the list, it promises to be a fast-paced, hilarious movie.  For the new generation there is the quick-witted and blunt Amy Schumer, and for my generation, there is the giggly spirit and incredible comedic talents of Goldie Hawn.  Win-Win.

7) Atomic Blonde (July 28).  Charlize Theron proved she could kick posterior in Mad Max: Fury Road.  Now she takes center stage in this graphic novel adaption, set in the dusk of the Cold War era.

6) Spider-Man: Homecoming (July 7).  Yet another update of Spider-Man. spinning from the Captain America: Civil War movie, and now firmly ensconced in the Marvel/Disney universe.  It's got the youth and spirit of the original comic book version, and the added bonus of...Robert Downey, Jr. as Tony Stark/Iron Man,

5) Dunkirk (July 21).  An historical opus listed amidst the Ripping Good Yarns?  It is historical, yes, but it also epic in scale, involving the movement of 300,000 English soldiers across the English channel, retreating in 1940 from a massive onslaught of Nazis.  It is directed by Christopher Nolan, the famed director of The Dark Knight and Inception.

4) Alien: Covenant (May 19) is a return of Director Ridley Scott to this popular movie franchise.  This movie sounds exciting and full of suspense, but it also will explore the themes of life, death, and the after-life.  But most importantly, it should be a ripping good yarn!

3) War for the Planet of the Apes (July 14).  This is the third movie in the revival of this beloved franchise, and if it's anything like the first two, it will definitely set this new run as the definitive collection.

2) Wonder Woman (June 2).  My name is Tom Strait.  I have been a lifelong comic fan, and you should not be surprised when so many comic book based movies rank so high on my top movies to watch list.  So when one of my favorite super-heroines, Wonder Woman, finally gets her own feature film, AND the film is set in an era of history that I have recently been fascinated with, World War One, you KNOW this has to rank way up there on my list!   

1) Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 (May 5).  The first movie was a brilliant combination of action, humor and cosmic wonder, all orchestrated by one of my favorite directors, James Gunn.  The previews are fantastic, featuring an incredibly cute and irresistible Baby Groot.  This is one that would be fantastic to see in IMAX.  I sense a trip to Jacksonville in the near future!

See You at the Movies!!!

well, maybe.  some I might see at home.  or if they look bad on closer inspection, maybe not at all,  we'll see.

Award Winning Monday Musings

Congratulations and super kudos to Alison!  She attended the Georgia School Nutrition Association, and won the Central Office Staff Support Award not just for her district, but also FOR THE ENTIRE STATE!!!  

Yes, that's NUMBER ONE out of support personnel from 181 school systems!

Alison works very hard at her job, and is very well liked by the administration, her co-workers at the Board office, the school nutrition workers, parents and students.  It is a well deserved honor.

I think my Dad won some state awards while he was principal, but I am hard pressed to find other family members who have received such honors.

I was in the final round of  a state Forensics (speech contests) competition when I was in high school, Humorous Interpretation Division.  I don't know where I finished, but it wasn't in the top three that got awards.

Accounting is not a profession chock full of awards, or even pats on the back.  So I was very happy to see her get this recognition.  

Kudos, Alison! 

This isn't an award, but it's something that made feel very happy, nonetheless.

My book, History of the Trap, has finally made its way into the public library!

The picture above is of Benjamin in front of my book on the new book shelf.

I confess this picture is staged.  That is one of my own copies of the book on their shelf, and not the library copy.  That's because the library copy had already been checked out! Woohoo!

-------------------------

But the awards don't stop coming!

We've been invited to an awards banquet for student academic awards.  So tomorrow night we will go and see what may be in store for Benjamin!

-----------------------

So the awards just keep coming!

Who knows?

I may be up for the award of being the second best accountant on the second floor of Higginson & Paulk!

You just never know!

Where the Real Power Lies: Saturday Political Soap Box 162

So, you have to ask yourself, if Bill O'Reilly wasn't a serial sexual harasser, would he still be on the air spewing this kind of racist crap?

Where does the real power lie in our society?

We can still vote.  That must mean something.  Many of us live in districts where competition has been withered away by gerrymandering, and we see the utter dominance of one party over the other, and we often have little choice whom to vote for. But theoretically, the option is still there.

We have our faiths.  And they can carry a large weight in the marketplace of ideas. But even though separation of church and state has often been blurred, different religious organizations don't always have the clout they wish they had.  It is a positive thing that our moral center and sense of social justice comes from our faith communities, but they don't always accomplish what the hope for.

We have power as consumers.  We can decide what products and businesses we choose to frequent, and it can be for any reason we choose.  In fact, since we all react to things differently, sometimes these boycotts can be very ineffective.  Chick-fil-A was barely thrown by the boycott engendered by their lack of support for gay rights.  Hobby Lobby experienced barely a blip from their religious imposition on employee's right to choose healthcare centered on reproductive issues.  Most recently, it can be seen with Ivanka Trump's line of products.  They weren't selling, so stores were withdrawing them.  But the subsequent caterwauling by Donald Trump and his staff, particularly Kellyanne Conway, led to  a temporary resurgence in sales.

So sometimes consumer boycotts, but most of the time they don't.  They really are only quasi-effective when they catch the eye of the real power center of America - Big Business.

Big business and their associated lobbying groups represent the true power in this country.  They give the money that elect our politicians.  They write the laws that Congress dutifully passes.  You think you get the Supreme Court you get because of wanting to upend Roe v. Wade?  No.  They are first and foremost people who support business interests.  Supreme Court Chief Justice John Robert did not go as far as Conservatives wanted him to in wrecking Obamacare, and he didn't because it was in the best interest of business interests (insurance, pharmaceuticals, hospitals) not to.

When Mike Pence was Governor of Indiana, and the legislature  passed an extremist restriction on gay rights, it wasn't Indiana citizens that made him retreat and get rid of it.  It was big business threatening to boycott the state if they didn't back down.

Most recently, we have seen the sudden departure of the leading cable news host, Bill O'Reilly. Throughout his tenure, he has said many questionable and even horrible things, both in relation to race and to women.  His history of sexual abuse and harassment is almost as long as Trump's.  It's true that millions despised him, but that didn't matter to the large entity, foreign-owned Fox News, because millions more watched him.  He'd had the largest audience on cable news for a decade and a half, and although it is true that Rachel Maddow of MSNBC was beginning to challenge his status, he still ended his run as number one.

So why did he have to go now?  Simply because the weight of sexual harassment stories and settlements just became too much for advertisers.  What started out as a trickle leaving him, quickly became a torrent of exits.  Fox News, for all its political zeitgeist, was in business to make MONEY.  And without advertisers, there is no money.

Big business is neither good nor evil.  They are fighting for the best interests of themselves and their stockholders.  I don't believe should be eliminated, or all power stripped from them.  They just need to be a part of the checks and balances that make this country work.


I like gas from Exxon.  I just don't want them to be Secretary of State, or to control climate change legislation.

They need to be A voice in American society.  They don't need to be THE voice.

My Europa Part 5

5

“Who leaked it?” bellowed Reynolds, pacing his office furiously.  “What damn mouthy pipsqueak slipped the mickey and tumbled his flaccid brain out to the press?  I’ll string the little melba beast up by his balls, I swear to Christ!”  The only others present in the Congressperson’s office was Thaddeus Wright, the sub-committee’s legal counsel, standing by a bookshelf filled with seldom read tomes, and Congressperson Barista, who sat sprawled on a sofa.

“Now, Dabney, you really didn’t think something like this could be kept quiet, did you?” said Barista, as if trying to explain the basic facts of life to a toddler.  “There’s some form of life outside Earth.  That’s big news.  How long did you think it would be before that came out?”

“It had to be that little weasel, Staninski.  That son of a bitch can’t keep quiet about anything!”  Arnold Staninski was a Communist Party representative from California, and the only one on the sub-committee.  Staninski was a solid, stocky man, with a crewcut, and looked more like a dock worker than a Leninesque radical.  He had a habit of blowing up hearings, revealing stuff he shouldn’t and then apologizing later that he didn’t understand that it was supposed to be kept confidential.

“That doesn’t explain the leaked footage that came shortly after the initial news broke,” piped in Thaddeus.  “That couldn’t have come from us.  That had to have been leaked by someone at NASA or the military.”

“So?” roared Reynolds. “That just means one of their little crappers leaked it, either on their own, or more likely, at Staninski’s urging.”  Reynolds pointed a crooked finger at Barista.  “I told you Progressives not to back letting the Communists form a party.  Y’all just did it to make yourselves look good by contrast, and now we is all paying the price!”

“Calm down, Dabney,” soothed Barista.  “It’s not going to do you or us any good to have a stroke about it.  They met the criteria to form a party.  It’s not us.  It’s the rules we all agreed upon.  And look, they’re the smallest party in Congress.  Seriously, nine members out of almost sixteen hundred?”

“Yeah, and it only takes one of them Trotsky pinkos to frack up the works!” Dabney challenged.

“So the Europian monster is out of the bag,” replied Barista, coming out of his slump and sitting up straight.  “Big deal.  Maybe the public has a right to know.  These are momentous issues and they have a right to participate in the decision.”

“No doubt they do,” replied Thaddeus Wright, going over to Congressperson Reynolds and putting in his hand on his shoulder. Dabney visibly relaxed and took a seat in a wingback chair opposite the sofa.  “From the polling I’ve seen, about a third of the people want us to fly up there right now with a manned scientific mission and make contact.”

“Yeah, well, this ain’t likely to be E.T.  or Mork, ya know.  It’s likely to try to eat everybody, ship and all,” complained Reynolds.

“We don’t know that,” said Barista.  “All that we know for sure is that it collided with the ship in such a way that knocked out communications.  We don’t know anything beyond that.”

“Bullcrap!  I think it ate it!” scoffed Reynolds.

Thaddeus reasserted himself, trying to take back control of the conversation.  “Please let me finish, gentleman. Then we can descend back to caterwauling.”  Barista and Reynold nodded their agreement to quiet down, and Thaddeus continued.  “Another third wants us to send another unmanned probe, but with scientific equipment specifically designed for better analysis. The rest are split between doing nothing, or going there with a full military force and exterminate what’s ever up there, and there’s even about five percent that want us to just go there and blow the whole moon up.  And yes, there’s even about 3 percent who think the whole thing is a hoax.”

“New Conservative Party extremists, no doubt,” smirked Barista.

“I’m leaning towards a mixed mission.  Some scientists, but mostly military people.  We have to be prepared to kick this thing’s ass if we have to,” said Reynolds.

Barista raised his hand, as if he were in a classroom, and then began to answer. “You know, I agree that we need a manned mission, but I don’t understand why it has to be so heavily militarized.  I mean, if aliens come to Earth, descending into our oceans, would they feel obligated to blast away a whale if it came near?  This most likely isn’t a sentient creature.  It’s probably some animal of some kind.  We invaded its territory. We just have to come in with more common sense and restraint.  I think over spending on the military aspect is a waste.”

Reynolds was infuriated. “Forget the beasty that ate the Nautilus IV!  What the hell was that green stick bug alien?  The damn thing had some kind of ghastly face!  Now that coulda been, what did you say?  Sentient?  Yeah, it could have been sentient!  It coulda been directing the monster to consume the ship!”

“That’s ridiculous!’ Barista responded, getting up off the sofa.

“Maybe,” replied Reynolds.  “But it’s a ridiculousness believed by the Sub-committee chairman and Democratic Party House Minority Whip.  So I got the toys, and I usually get my way.”

“Not without the Progressive Party, you don’t.  It’s almost impossible to get things through Congress without our support!” asserted Barista.

“Damn, boy!  Haven’t you polled your own members?  They’re all over the map on this!  How y’all gonna get together to force me to do anything?”

Dammit it all, Congressperson Alfredo Barista thought.  He’s right.  He’d had all kinds of opinions coming from Progressive members, everything except for blowing it up.  In a just a day of leaked news, everyone had scattered, worried more about their constituents than they were about the incredible scientific impact.  All the progress that had been made politically in the last decade, and still polls held sway for so many.

“Well, gentlemen,” Thaddeus Wright said, “it looks like we have a real important decision to make.  Let’s find out if this new, unwieldy Congress can actually function in a way that brings results.”

Barista realized that this was going to be a real challenge.  It wasn’t like minimum wage or the military budget, where each party knew where they stood, and how to make compromises to make something happen.  This was something completely new, and the public was all over the map.

Why, we might have to actually lead on this one!

Post-Tax Triumphs and Shortfalls

Georgia's Diebold voting machines - the Georgia Republican's best friend.

Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Primary tax season has done bit the dust!

I now stand on the other side of this time consuming, mental absorbing behemoth, and can hopefully now free up more brain space for other things.

We'll see, though.  Work continues to come in, but I least can resume my "Fridays off" schedule.  And I continue to contemplate a greater retirement from accounting.  I'll let you know more on that situation as it develops.  If you would like to see me have more writing time, the best thing I can tell you is - BUY MY BOOKS!  And encourage your local paper to run my column, maybe even someday with a remunerative component.

Gory, glory, hallelujah!

I've heard definite strong rumors that my book, History of the Trap, is in the local public library at last!  I hope to get out in the next day or two and check it out myself.  When I get Benjamin there, I'll be sure to run a picture.


Gory, glory, hallelujah!


Jon Ossoff got more than twice as many votes as his nearest competitor in the Georgia 6th Congressional district race to replace human scumbag. new Health and Human Service Secretary Tom Price,  I even had a family member who lives in the district vote for him!

Unfortunately, he fell just short of the 50% mark, and there will be a runoff in June.  This means Democrats, Independents, and thinking Republicans will have to shore up and vote again!  For Democrats, that often proves to be an almost impossible task, but we can hope for the best.

And I hate to sound conspiratorial, but I don't trust the Diebold voting machines that Georgians vote on.  Too much goes on inside those machines that we can't see.  Created by a rich Ohio Republican, a supporter of George Bush, Jr. in 2004, the record of Democrats in Georgia has been abysmal since their installation here in 2002.

Think I'm wrong?  Maybe.  But tell me what Democrat has won a statewide race since 2002?

So, with these machines, I just don't know.  I keep reading that red Georgia is on the verge of turning purple, but I remain skeptical.

MEANWHILE...what passes for a Spring Break in accounting may be beginning soon!  Woohoo!

Or not.  We'll see.

Anyhoo...Fridays are back, baby!

Smelling Season's Ending Monday Musings

Benjamin Strait, Rose Aldridge and Anita Lynn preparing food for those working hard getting Grace Church ready for Easter.

It's not quite here yet.

But it's close enough to smell.

Tuesday the 18th, tomorrow, will end primary tax season.

For the job I do, at an earlier part of the tail wag, most of the intensity is done.  There are too many steps after I am through with a return, to insure a new one that I would get today, could be processed and accepted by the IRS in time.  But anything is possible, so I may have one or two more days of intense activity.

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Our church jut finished a beautiful week of Easter activities.  We're no mega-church, but we had good attendance, and I was happy to be able to attend Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Easter Vigil and Easter.  Benjamin was so moved by the Good Friday service that he told Rev. Kit afterwards that it "was the most moving and meaningful service he'd seen, at least since he'd been paying attention."

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I now realize that there is a plethora of things that I've promised myself and others that I would do after tax season, more than I can possibly accomplish.  One of the things I will need to do in the next few days is to list all the different things I've thought about doing, and start to prioritize them.  That may be more organization than I can stand, but if I don't, I risk becoming overwhelmed and  not doing anything of significance.

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Lent is over, and I can restore what I gave up.  I'm not sure I want to.  I gave up re-posting memes on Facebook, particularly about politics.  Mostly what I posted was blog posts from The Strait Line, the Song of the Day, and a bible verse on Sunday.  This means if you see Tom Strait on your Facebook, it's pretty much going to be a The Strait Line post.

Ho much it has to do with it, I don't know, but my page views on The Strait Line have skyrocketed since Lent.  Posts that normally got 30 to 50 views are routinely now getting well over a hundred. some over 300.

It's not that they're politically free.  It's still true that political posts garner, on average, more views than other posts.

I'm still not getting a lot of likes or comments on The Strait Line stuff.  But at least I know it's being viewed.

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Those who support the current administration, in full or in part, should not take comfort in my lack of posting political memes.  Your act of voting for Trump has caused great damage in this country and throughout the world, some of it irreversible.  I pray that you see the light, but until then, I won't let you forget the damage you wrought.

Until next time.

T. M. Strait

Deep in the Well of Prayers Part 2

The quasi-exciting conclusion to my opus Deep in the Well of Prayers written for last year's Okefenokee writing contest,  Oh, well.  If nothing else, it was fun to write.

New Life Baptist Church, at an emergency vigil:

Oh, dear Jesus, heavenly father, we give you all the glory for this beautiful world, this church and faith community who preach your word and gather more souls to you, we give you thanks for helping Timmy be found.  Now we pray to all the police and firefighters and first responders in helping Timmy get out of that deep and terrible well.  Just like the deep and terrible well our whole country finds itself in, with all the evil perpetrated by liberals and godless heathens, leading this great nation astray from its core Christian virtues.  We can rescue Timmy and we can rescue this great nation, with your will, your assurance and your love.  Amen.

They didn’t know what to do.  Every time they got close, they felt the opening cave in a bit.  Timmy would be buried if they weren’t careful.  They brought in a vehicle with a rope and winch, but had trouble getting it close.

Grandma’s prayer circle were so many, that they had started circling up outdoors, a hundred or more holding hands.  Little Lucinda Cartwright, Timmy’s three-year-old sister, clutched her rag doll on the porch, watching the circle.  She felt sad, and decided she needed to do something.

Little Lucinda, praying in her bedroom, hands folded, leaning against her bed:

God!  Jesus!  You love me! This I know!  And Timmy too!  What you want me to do?  I ready to help!  JUST TELL ME!

Thousands of people, churchy or not, all over Dixon County, joined in prayer and hope.  Some posted on Facebook and social media, and the prayers were coming in from all over the world.

They finally got a rope down the well, but Timmy did not seem to be grabbing it.  For some reason, he wasn’t grabbing it.

Little Timmy in the well:

Oh, Christ almighty!  I’m so scared.  This rope scares me!  What if it starts an aver-ranch, or I get stuck and it pulls me in half?  I don’t know what to do!  Please tell me what to do!  I won’t never throw no rocks at Pepper Gibson no more!  I swear! 

As his Daddy and the fireman and others tried to encourage Timmy to take the rope, they didn’t notice little Lucinda come up.  Before they could stop her, she had thrown several things down the well’s small opening.

They called her back and she ran back into her father’s arms.  “Lucinda!” he cried out.  “What were you doing?  That was very dangerous?”

She patted Daddy on the back, “It’s okay, Daddy.”  She hugged him and whispered to him, “It’s all going to be hunky-dory now. Jesus told me to do it.”

It was then they heard the thunder.

St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, at the Bishop’s called vigil for every church in the diocese:

Our father, bless this family and those working so hard to rescue Timmy.  Give them the strength and courage to see it through, and let your love and hope shine upon them.  In the name of the father, son and Holy Ghost, we pray. Amen.

Their prayers echoed across the planet.  And now they were begging for the rains to hold off.

They did not.  Lighting struck the winch, burning out the mechanism and disabling the winch.  Volunteers came to grasp the rope, but no one was sure whether Timmy had put it around him.

As they say in the swamplands, it was now coming up a gully washer.  They watched in horror as the meadows became saturated, and the water poured into the well.

They pulled at the rope in desperation and it came up empty.  They threw it back in, but hope was fading.  The well was filling up and Timmy would drown.

Everyone everywhere, as the cameras and media captured the horrifying scene:

Oh dear God/Jesus/Allah/Mother/Spirit, please bring a miracle and SAVE THIS BOY!

Then suddenly, as the well filled, Timmy came splurting out of the well!  Everyone feared the worst, until they saw the boy gasping for air!  He was alive!  He wasn’t drowned!  He looked wet and scared, and there were strange things on his arms.

Ben hugged his little Lucinda.  “It’s a miracle, sweetie!  Timmy is going to be okay!”

“I know, Daddy,” Lucinda said.  “Jesus told me what Timmy needed, and I brought them to him.”

Ben stroked her hair and stared into her confident face. “And what was that, Lucinda?”

“Floaties.  Jesus told me to get him some floaties.”

Others around them heard this in awe and wonder.  Lucinda turned her head up to the sky, the rain abruptly stopping.  “Thank you, God!”

The world got to its knees and said, “Amen!”

Deep in the Well of Prayers Part 1

This is the first part of a story entry I did for the most recent Okefenokee Heritage Center's Writing Contest.  No, it was not a winning entry.  But our 89-year-old writing superstar, Grace K Lee, loved it, and what could be more important than that?

Deep in the Well of Prayers

 

Grandma Lockhart:

Dear Lord God, I hate to bother ya, but it’s an hour past lunch time, and little Timmy is nowhere to be found.  His dog, who follows him ever where, is back here, but Timmy is not.  Please guide him home afore I hafta throw out this grilled cheese sammich ‘n’ tamater soup. Amen.

Lassie inched her way towards the opening, just a tiny circle in the grass.  Her paws neared the edge, and dirt started to crumble underneath them.  She whined a bit and backed up a fraction.  She cocked her beautiful collie’s head, and was unsure as to what to do.  Then she heard her boy’s voice, coming from deep within the hole.  How did he get down there?  The opening was too small for her, much less her boy.

What was he saying?  She understood few words, mostly going by tone and non-verbals.  Well, she couldn’t see Timmy, but his voice sounded frantic, scared.  What did Timmy want her to do?  Was it the tone to fetch something?  Was it time to eat? 

Lassie was too scared to get closer. She inched back again, but was unsure what to do.  She barked impulsively, anxiously and she thought Timmy was making those strange sounds where his face would get wet.

Finally, Lassie got up to go back to the house, leaving poor Timmy down alone at the bottom of the well.

            Angela Cartwright

Okay, God.  We haven’t talked much, but I need to know, big time.  I promise to do better if you just listen.  Where’s my son, Timmy?  Can you help us find him?  Please, help this dumb dog lead us to him.  If he’s just over at a friend’s house without telling us, so be it.  I won’t get mad; I will just be grateful.  And, yes, I’ll take him to church.  Even if it’s Grandma’s Holy Roller, I will bite the bullet and do it.  You have my word.  Amen.

            Timmy’s Dad went out to look at the woods in back of Grandma Lockhart’s farmhouse.  He took Lassie, but the dog seemed more interested in chasing down squirrels.  The farm bordered on swamp lands, and he shuddered to think of Timmy out there.  It wasn’t likely that a gator would come around here, but it wasn’t impossible, either.

            Benjamin Cartwright:

Please, God.  Let me find my boy. 

            Three hours had passed, and noon had stretched to mid-afternoon.  The family had not stood still. They had combed the neighborhood and gotten everyone stirred up.  They had contacted all the friends they knew Timmy had.  Many were out looking, calling Timmy’s name.  Some had joined Benjamin, Timmy’s Dad.

Sheriff Alan Steel:

Jesus, I need to bring you in on this one.  Forget about the twenty-four hour wait for missing persons.  This is a little boy, and I am deploying all the resources the county has, and with your love and guidance, we will find Timmy and return him to the arms of his loving family.

Deputy Davis Gorland, a man too obese to be on active duty, but nevertheless someone Sheriff Steel always wanted by his side, brought in the bloodhounds, having sniffed some of Timmy’s unwashed shirts, and were set to find him, baying and howling a storm.  Lassie happily tagged along after them.

Grandma’s prayer circle, at the Lockhart farm:

Dear lord God in heaven.  Sweet Jesus who guides us in your love, we beseech and pray to you to reveal the whereabouts of our beloved Timmy, and return him to the arms of his family.

The news spread far and wide, and more and more prayed.

When the bloodhounds reached a meadow, not too far away from the Lockhart’s property, one near an abandoned home that was mostly collapsed in on itself, they found that Lassie had stopped in the middle of it, her head resting near a small hole of some kind.

Deputy Gorland came near enough to call out and was delighted to hear an answer back.  “Please help me,” cried out a distant voice.  “I been bad and I sorry.  I don’t want to be down here no more!”  Davis Gorland moved closer, only to find the ground crumbling near the hole.  He backed off, for fear he would create an avalanche of dirt that would bury the boy.