Get behind me, Senator Ernst

U.S. Senator Joni Ernst’s (R-Iowa) flippant and tone deaf response to a woman distressed at possible cuts to healthcare benefits during a recent townhall meeting was patronization cloaked in patriotism: “We are all going to die.”

Obviously, everyone in the room already knew that.

What many of her constituents were protesting were proposed policies that could increase the risk of untimely, needless, preventable deaths; in other words, the kind that decent governments around the world care about and try to limit as much as possible.

After she was called out for her bad behavior, she doubled down on the diss and delivered a dripping-in-venom “FAKE APOLOGY!”… Read the rest

A “Made in the USA” Swiss watch

I was having a conversation with an acquaintance as we stood gazing into a showroom display case full of Swiss watches that were probably worth at least a quarter of a million dollars.

He was throwing the “t” word around. No, not the “T” word, although its presence hovered heavy in the room.

He was defending tariffs, which of course has everything to do with the “T” word he was trying desperately to avoid saying aloud.

It had started with a simple question from me, a fellow watch enthusiast: “How do you think tariffs will effect the sale of Swiss watches in the United States?”… Read the rest

4/22/25

My father died 45 years ago today at age 47. I was 18.

That event shaped me in immeasurable ways, and in his absence I have borne a deep wound, a hole in my heart I have struggled to fill. I am one of the few tangibles left of his legacy and have tried and failed many times over to live in a way that honors his memory.

For years after he died, I had a recurring dream. He would appear at the door of our house in Virginia and knock. I would open it and exclaim, “Dad, where have you been?”… Read the rest

Ill-timed Epiphany

When I stare at the crucifix hanging

Above the altar at a Catholic friend’s funeral.

I do not see the crown of thorns or

The five holey wounds.

 

All I see is the outline of a lifted up figure,

Covered in a purple shroud because it is Lent.

Without context, it could be any stick figure human, god,

garment hung out to dry, or monster that visits in dreams.

 

But this is a Catholic church we’re talking about,

And Easter is still a couple of weeks away,

So I know it’s supposed to be Jesus

Sent to save our souls from our sins.… Read the rest

“Earth, Our Island Home*”

We sail on a ship called “Earth, Our Island Home*”,

Shackled and bound galley slaves skimming star-capped electromagnetic waves.

Smash your irons and break your bonds if you dare,

Jump into the Empty,

Uncaring black sea where there is

No treading space to breathe,

No lucky lifeboat,

No luxury liner with safe passage to Mars,

No opt-out, even for taskmasters cracking cat o’ nine tails on blistered backs.

*Book of Common Prayer 1979, Eucharist Prayer C… Read the rest

Always has been and ever will be.

In the worst of times, We the People, left to our own devices, have always tended toward lawbreaking, hatred, and cruelty.

In the best of times, we have been held in check and guided by our better angels, a reliable system of self-correcting, democratic government, and the leadership of conscientious and courageous people in all fields and at every level of American society who possess keen insight and unwavering true north moral vision.

It has always been and ever will be both “the best of times and the worst of times.”*

Outcome TBD.

*Now is worse than most times.… Read the rest

Held to scale

When I consider a line on a desert floor,

4.3 miles long, marked off in 11 yard increments worth 20 million years each,

and take in the time and distance since our kin first tamed fire,

1 million years tucked in 2.5 feet of that 4.3 miles,

 

and then discover that every name

ever spoken or heard

fits neatly in 0.4 inches of that 2.5 feet in the 4.3 mile, 13.8 billion year old score

stepped off on a stony plain,

 

I find the breadth of my life is less than the width of a human hair

(do I even need to tell you how small that is?).… Read the rest

Rich gnat, poor camel

I chuckle–morosely–anytime I hear a religious person state their belief that someone surviving a life-threatening event such as a shooting is “god’s will”, especially when someone else dies. Quite a god you got there. Sounds a bit capricious, sort of like Zeus.

There are shootings all the time. Some bullets hit their mark, others don’t. Some people live, others die. “Time and chance happen to them all” reads Ecclesiastes 9:11.

What’s ironic in the case of the current “subject of discussion” is the widespread belief that a bullet that missed him is regarded as a sign of a god’s favor and somehow makes him an “instrument” of that god’s will.… Read the rest

’Tis grief

’Tis grief.

For story unwound

For truth obstructed

For lies unbound

For faith deconstructed

For country splitting

For Lady spayed

For Liberty flitting

For patriots betrayed

For servants abandoned

For dirt poor dying

For now open-handed

For despots thriving

What I am feeling

’tis grief.… Read the rest

Near misses

Slow, arcing convergence.

What are the chances?

One in a million?

A little more headwind here,

A little less tailwind there.

Totally different outcome.

“Time and chance happen to them all.”

Old words written truer than new ones hastily spoken.

Here we sit in the glow of our screens,

Survivors of a thousand near misses.… Read the rest

1/20/25

ἀντίχριστος:

Limp, slouching wolf of unbridled appetite and self-love

Cloaked in a FAKE! “Made in China” tunic of an ancient itinerant Jewish preacher

And immigrant

Who didn’t give a g-damn about politics,

Head crowned with 47 red-tipped, gilted thorns and a

Halo of Lies.… Read the rest

11/17/24

For E.C.

It was a most excellent  “36th birthday” . . . /s

I shared CHEEZ-IT communion with E.C. and held her hand.

I watched her go down the tube slide “One more time!”—many times.

Thinking her Dad was trailing behind her (a physical improbability), she stuck her head back into the maw of the slide, cupped her hand to her mouth, and called out:

“You comin’ Daddy? You comin’?”

How does an “almost” 2-year-old girl learn to amplify sound with her cupped hand and call out around a blind curve and through a tunnel? From whence comes the courage?… Read the rest