106. Super Tuesday

Super Tuesday, March first. By the time this hits the ‘net many of you will already have voted, because I am on a west coast schedule.

You surely know more about this day than I do, since I am writing this in late January. Today, Trump is ahead of everybody on one side, and the other side is up for grabs.

I have no intention of suggesting whom you should vote for, but I do have something to say. Politics is about now and tomorrow and the next day. Politics is about making the best of a bad situation, and the situation is always bad. Politicians shouldn’t outright lie, but any politician who answers every question with the full truth, will never be elected.

One standby that never fails to get a vote is:

They are coming to get us, to smother us, to bury us, to kill us, but I can stop them if you will help me build a wall.

American has been building walls since before it was America. They never work.


In September, when this website was only three weeks old and no one was listening yet, I posted a poem. Here it is again, for your consideration.

Poetry should stand without explanation, but, like anything else, it can be misused. So, be notified! This is not a right wing call to man the barricades to keep the enemy out, but a cautionary tale about what it will cost us if we don’t find real solutions.


We who horde the common wealth
Upon this crowded planet,
Must look to see what lies beyond
Our barricaded borders.

The world stares back,
Unblinking eyes — prepared
To eat us all alive, and still be hungry.

                              It’s happened all before.

Once, seven in a cave drove out the eighth
With stones and fire-sharpened sticks,
Because the antlered carcass on the ground
Was not enough to feed them all.

And then in ancient days when kings and priests
Invented both religion and the law,
To fill their coffers so that they could eat
While those who raised the food went hungry.

Or yet again, when men of white
Despised the black, and black despised the gray.
And those whose colors ran together were disowned.
Color was enough to make them hate
But hunger taught them how and why
A thousand years ago.

Yet still we breed and laugh,
And play at deafness, though an angry sound
Declares the world is poised to seize its bread.

They will march like locusts through the earth,
And eat us all alive, and still be hungry.

This world is troubled. We are surrounded by people hungry for bread and freedom. Pointing a finger at them and saying, “It’s your fault!’ won’t solve our problems.

And a wall won’t do it. Never has; never will.


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