A Freudian Christmas Carol.

It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse.  Well, if you listen a little more closely, and with a tincture of dread, you may have heard the soft distant creaking of a weak wooden bed.  But let’s ignore this, and just turn out the light, after all, Santa is coming, it’s Christmas night!

So on Dasher, on Rudolph, on Donner, on Blitzen!  Mommy likes Zoloft, and Prozac, and Paxil prescriptions!

Onward Santa! Slide down that bright red chimney, that narrow canal, that symbol of birth.  Give children presents and, finally, they can evaluate their worth.  Did Tommy get more than Bobby?  What about Jane?  What did little Timmy get, beside a year’s worth of shame?

But who is this Santa?  And is it really alright, that he sneaks into our house on each Christmas night?  He certainly looks like daddy, and he sounds like him too. And we always see Santa wearing our own father’s shoes …

But it can’t be, I just can’t believe, it can’t be such.  I cannot believe parents would violate their children’s trust. And why would daddy dress up like that, with a goal to deceive?  If Christmas is a lie, what can we believe?

It does seem odd, first they surround us with toys, then off to the bedroom, to make that strange creaking noise. I say, something is terribly amiss.  Just last night, I saw mommy with Santa, she gave him a sweet, soft, sugary kiss.

It was something more than a familial embrace.  But I don’t care, I certainly don’t feel, at all, displaced. Still, Santa has no right to disturb the family dynamic.  In fact, the more I consider it, the least I can stand it!

Now I know the true meaning of Christmas and this sad season of yule.  These toys have done nothing, save make me the fool.

Drone Violence

The media has another sensationalist story about gun violence to push, and they are going to push it, hard.  And of course, anytime a child dies, it’s a tragedy.  When it occurs with violent, brutal force, it is especially repulsive.  But there is something even more disgusting than this.  When we only concentrate on the deaths of american children that are murdered by a mentally disturbed individual, we offer silent complicity to the scores of children that the US government murders in cold, rational, calculation.  According to the Bureau of Investigative Journalism, the US government has killed 176 children with drone strikes in Pakistan.  Where is the outrage for those deaths?  I guess when it occurs at the hand of Obama and Clinton, it becomes convenient for the media and the so-called american left to look the other way.  The consummate celebrity, Obama had a press conference to show his tears to anyone who could stomach them.  If the sight of a crass, unrelenting killer is so upsetting for the president, someone needs to quickly remove every mirror from the white house.

Wake up call: Democrats are not substantially better than Republicans. But they should be.

It’s easy to call out Republicans – almost too easy.  We have reached a point where the United States is a one party state, with two slightly different factions of corporate interests.  What benefit is there in lampooning Republicans when the Democrats refuse to commit to the values of the left?  Sure, such tactics assuage our guilt and give us an unflagging sense of self-righteousness, but it does nothing to create change or provide even a semblance of hope.  It’s time we got our own house in order and we should quit feeling superior because there are some loud idiots across the street.

Between the sunset and the light

Between the sunset and the light,
there lives the beauty of wild night.
Of ramphastidae, with rainbow beaks,
the poet dies, before she speaks.

The people march, the workers strike,
there exists the chance of light.
But the presidential bark should give
us change and hope,
to take the serpentine and coiled rope,
to hang ourselves, to shy away,
to not confront the dying day.

But there are sable palms, with chocolate bark
and pastel leaves, its beating heart
is ours. Ignore the call to praise the flag,
to crush the ramphastidae on crooked crags.

For we can glean the newness of a pulpous love where
two lovers engaged, united, share
the chance of organic sense
if only we dare utter, “resistance.”

Or is all the drone
strike, from far away
when we’re alone
in dying day.

Surely, it’s someone else
it’s not thus
when we kill them
we’re killing us.

The king whispers
with golden crown
the court shivers
the peasants frown,

Whatever ye do, please
don’t do this,
do not
resist, resist, resist.

authority

We are meant to share power horizontally and we were not meant to be ruled in static hierarchies.  Those who fear chaos fail to realize we are living in its midst.  If we do nothing, the chaos of the status-quo, of inaction, will destroy us.  The oppression of apathy is tyranny.   Happy Thanksgiving.