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In Tolerance

When I am

in

tolerance

mode,

I accept

what is

and 

what is 

not

to my

liking.

Except,

it’s now 

hard 

to remember

tolerating

what I 

don’t like.

The noise

from the

train

of thought

is more

tolerable

than

the noise

on the tracks

(that tracks)

outside

my mind.

That which

offends

me

I defend

against.

In tolerance

mode,

I recognize

compromise 

as a potential.

But the torrential

down

pouring

of cynicism

and tribalism

for the sake

of upping

the ante

of the anti-

agreeable

for the foreseeable

future,

is intolerable

to me.

I tune out

more

each day,

as avoidance

fosters

my endurance

without

the persistence

of the nonsense.

In tolerance

mode,

I can listen

and know

I can

respect.

I suspect

those opportunities

are in your

communities

more than

you know.

I find

myself

in tolerance

mode,

when being

among

real people

who want

to meet,

not compete

for likes.

But I’d like

people

to like this

and share

these conversation

starters—

as I think

we are partners

in

tolerance—

in 

consonance

with a need

greater than

 dominance.

So Much Winning

The big surprise

was not 

the primary

prize.

Although

a disappointment

for her

and now less

of a contest,

the best

is not

necessarily

who gets

voted in.

What does

BE BEST
really mean

anyway?

But I digress,

as the mess

of us

is made

by the few.

Even in

The Academy

where Barbie

revived

the biz,

The Ms (es)

who delivered

something

new and

bright,

light 

and true,

were ignored.

The women

who created

a phenomenon

and actually

united

diverging views

emerging

over decades,

dividing

us,

somehow

found

the sweet spot

and got

snubbed.

Is Barbie

really

us?

When is it

Kenough ?

The competent

women

are still

driven

but can’t

win.

I actually

read

a comment

today

in the NYT

complaining

about

Nikki Haley’s

teeth.

Her actual

dental

appearance

was too

grating

for this person.

I won’t 

lower

the conversation

to her

rival’s

looks,

even if

it’s one

for the books.

Back 

to The Academy

which now reflects

the tragedy

of us…

Like Dobbs,

this too,

will soon

not be 

news,

and we’ll

proceed

as we bleed,

(too female

for you?)

in desperate

need

of the

Gerwigs

and Robbies

and even

Haleys,

Cheyneys,

Hillarys,

and Pelosis,

and so many

of the smart,

bold,

talented,

and yes, 

flawed,

but not 

frauds.

Among 

the many men

(Ken!)

who deserve

rewarding,

the easy

ignoring

of the women

who actually

require

much more

to compete,

is a defeat

of understanding

or simply

a retreat

to the familiar.

Is this winning?

Under The Influence

In the influencer

era,

an influx

of flummoxing

speech

and behavior

is driving

the culture,

media,

and politics

such that

verbal tics

become

propoganda 

tricks.

The most 

influential

and least 

presidential

still has 

the potential

to create

torrential

storms.

He inflicts

pain

while feigning

affliction

from unfair 

prosecution,

and his claims

of innocence

bring cognitive

dissonance.

He relishes

the influence

he has,

while

denying

plausibility

of influencing

the rioting

and the rest

of the insurrection.

Under The Influence,

we’ve been 

driven

to the precipice,

where every 

action

and utterance

feel consequential,

if not 

existential. 

Driving

while intoxicated,

the indoctrinated

keep drinking 

in 

the bathtub

gin—

a homemade spirit

of amateur conditions

against prohibitions.

We need 

Dry January

to Sober

October

to remember

November

requires

each of us

to be

a defender

of democracy.

Your influence

is needed

until

his is defeated,

which may

continue

from confinement.

There’s no 

requirement

for influencing

beyond the appeal

to how people feel

or wish 

to be

regarded.

So while 

we’re bombarded

by the craven

Maven 

of Influence

(and verbal

flatulence),

don’t let his

petulance

and contaminants

drive you further

under his influence.

Drive with focus

as the

auto

reply.

Flossing

I have never 

been much

for New Year’s

resolutions,

though

I tend 

to set

goals

anyway.

Of course

I forget 

the goals

I set

within weeks.

But 

at the end

of each

year

I promise

to adhere

to flossing.

My oral hygiene

is otherwise

pristine

with electric

toothbrush

and water pic.

But flossing

consistently

continues

to elude me;

I hate it.

It’s gross.

And my teeth

are too close

on one side.

That aside,

I know

it’s important

and despite

this chore

I abhor,

I want to

explore

the spaces

between—

flossing

as metaphor.

In 2023

the unexpected

tested

my ability

to adapt.

Being 

in the space

between 

what had seemed

to be

solid structures,

then fearing

erosion,

with protruding

particles

that needed

removing,

I often chose

merely

disapproving

hoping

to let

stuff dissolve.

But from

the personal

to the political

I now resolve

again,

this time

publicly,

to floss

each day;

to clear

a space

where no

articles

or particles

of what was

otherwise

digested,

remain

taunting

my tongue.

Committing 

to thread

instead

of mere 

disgust,

even when

there’s plenty 

of disgust

to discuss,

I intend to

explore

the metaphor

of flossing:

tossing

my own gunk

away

to better survey

all the stories

we replay

and say

on assumption

post

consumption.

Here’s 

to a cleaner

and healthier

space

we create

by resolution

and constitution

(and prosecution)

and evolution

and conclusion.

Flossing as metaphor

in 2024—

clearing space

to embrace

the better,

and to rid us

of the disgrace

that has threatened

our health.

Happy 

and Healthy

New Year!

The Nutcracker

I never understood

how a nutcracker

could

be

a favorite

gift

until now. 

Oh how sweet

the suite

has been

this week. 

Like the famed

ballet

our nutcrackers 

today

are soldiers

of the good

and just.

The Nutcracker

kills

the menacing

7 Headed

Mouse King,

allowing

the land 

of the sweets

to thrive.

Earlier this week

The Mouse King

made references

to his preferences

for dictators

and his desire

to hire

those 

who will impose

restrictions

and revenge.

But our 

Nutcrackers

have been

cracking

while

the nutty

keep attacking,

because

it’s what

they do.

Now Rudy

owes Ruby

and Shaye

a ginormous

pay day,

and more

to come

because

he won’t

succumb

to accountability.

Judge Engoron

closed the door on

the lies

of the “expert

witness”

of the Mouse King.

And Bravo,

Colorado,

for disqualifying 

the horrifying

candidacy

of the Mouse King.

Letitia James,

Fani Willis,

Jack Smith,

and so many

other

Nutcrackers

among us,

are doing 

the work

of justice

as we wait

for Christmas

whatever

time of year

it comes,

bearing

the gift

of blocking

The Mouse King

forever.

Heart Failure

Dis-ease

was becoming

chronic.

We became

fatigued.

Politics

became nauseating.

Ego edema

created swelling

that made

us 

unrecognizable,

as we 

itched

and twitched

for something

better.

Our organ

for filtering

waste

became wasted

on itself,

the damage

progressive

with conservative

treatment.

But conservative

now means

conserving

the dis-ease,

not the balance

or flow

to ensure

functionality.

And with

a sick

body

each organ

of the organization

becomes

compromised

without compromise.

This

is what 

being

seriously ill

feels like.

Our heart

is failing

us.

Waste

and bile

are no longer

filtered,

and our heart

is giving

out.

The heart

is our

center

with right

and left

sides

that need

each other

to fulfill

its task.

Our heart

is the core

of our

life.

Our heart

is our 

purpose.

History

is our brain.

It stores

the stories

that give 

meaning.

We have always

had a mean

history 

alongside

lofty aspirations

and accomplishments.

Our heart

and brain

contain

us 

but strain

us 

when either

is drained

of functionality,

no longer

self regulating.

History

(and therefore

life)

is a spiral.

But viral

contagions

can attack

various parts

of the body,

as we learned

in 2020.

The most

essential

part 

of us,

the heart,

is failing

us

from abuse

and under use, 

as it has

and hasn’t

before.

We can

restore

our functionality

without

the cult

of personality

and criminality

or sentimentality.

We see 

our own

banality

of evil

and those

who have

lost

their humanity.

Our heart

was attacked,

and the walk 

back

to recovery

is painfully

slow,

a feature

and a bug

of democracy.

But now,

the enemy

of the good

is not 

imperfection;

it’s insurrection

and rejection

of our heart. 

We must

reject

the heartless,

no matter

how taxing.

Don’t

just sit

there.

It’s bad

for

the heart.

Poison Ivies

There’s something

toxic

in the climbing

ivy

all the way

to the top

of the higher

education

totem pole.

Three ivies’

presidents

we heard

as defendants

of free speech

on their private

campuses

regardless

of threats—

documented

effects—

of anti

semitic

rhetoric.

No counter

to the hate

expressed.

No one

suggested

context

or debate;

just hate.

Why not

call out

those who

shout

genocide

as a remedy

for 

decades of war?

Unacceptable

admissions

of tolerance

that would

not

be tolerated

if other groups

were targeted.

Free speech

can be

ugly.

But why no

expression

of condemnation?

Isn’t education

supposed 

to develop

the ability 

to envelop

new ideas

and hold

more than

one view

at a time?

This war

in Gaza

has made

the campus

a plaza

for hate.

No longer

a 2 state

solution

discussed,

but disgusting

intentionally

careless

speech

that promotes

violence 

as much

as freedom.

Free speech

can be hateful,

so when grateful

for the right

to verbally smite,

the intention

is inspiration

for action.

And what action

follows

hate?

Legislate?

The lesson

from the Ivy

Presidents’

defences

is that 

the poison

released

is sickening

and could

prove deadly.

It’s not merely

the verbal

venom

spewed,

it’s the silence

ensued

in response

to free speech.

Mike Drop

News dropped

yesterday

about

the fateful day

of January 6th

nearly  

three years 

ago.

Pensive Pence

considered skipping

the election certification

proceedings,

noting 

that there were

“too many questions”

and it would be

“too hurtful

to 

my friend.”

His friend,

the fiend,

brought him

along 

for the ride,

and now 

it was getting

even bumpier

and Trumpier.

Pence’s book

notes,

“You know,

I don’t have

the authority to change

the outcome,”

but later

he contended

that the comma

never should have been

placed there:

“You know I don’t 

have the authority

to change 

the outcome…” .

Dropping the comma

changes the insinuation

about the situation

causing consternation

almost three years 

later.

His son,

a marine,

sought

to intervene 

saying,

“Dad, 

you took the same oath

I took….

an oath

to support 

and defend 

the constitution.”

Ultimately, 

Mike supervised

after

his life

was jeopardized

as the Capitol attackers

chanted

“Hang Mike Pence!”.

He survived

and certified

the election.

But to now get

an inkling

into his thinking

and the sprinkling

of information

almost 3 years

hence,

proves that Pence

was no better

despite 

knowing better

than the rest

who didn’t 

want to be

dropped. 

Thanks Given

I have been

given

everything.

Not 

that I never

studied

or worked

or pursued

or accrued

accomplishments—

if accomplishments

mean

that which 

I have

managed

to manage.

I have been

given

everything

to give

everything

I have.

That may not be

adequate,

but if 

another

can benefit,

then I reckon

it still 

matters. 

I have been

given

everything

to face 

the moments

like this,

when what

I thought

was 

a given,

is actually

a vison

I didn’t see

coming.

I am most

grateful

that I 

am not

hateful

except 

of hate.

I have

been given

voluminous

love

and was taught

to learn

from

everything

that I have 

been given–

even considerable

pain,

which I do not

consider

a gift,

but a continuous

lesson

nonetheless.

Asserting

gratitude

given

the magnitude

of awful

acknowledges

the whole,

not merely

the shards

that have marred

us. 

We are more 

than that which

is broken.

Words yet spoken

that recognize

what we’ve been

given

identify what we have

yet to give.

Post Impressionism

Vermin.

From the river to the sea.

Globalists.

Confederate flag.

Noose.

Ok gesture.

Welfare Queens.

Real Americans.

Law and Order.

America First.

MAGA.

Speech

can be

a weapon

that kills

the bodies

politic

and civic.

Let’s not

pretend

that words

may offend

without 

consequences.

Posting hate

through images

visual

and linguistic

is intentionally 

antagonistic

and characteristic

of the most

objectionable

among us.

Proudly

bigoted,

they promote

identity-based

appeals.

These signals

of utterly

inappropriate

appropriations

are coded 

language

that convey

affiliation

by othering

while intentionally

demeaning.

The Dog Whistles

that may have

once been

mostly political

are predictable

and critical

for everyone

to hear.

This coded

communication 

provides 

information

and plausible

deniability.

Hate speech

may be free

to post,

but the cost

of expression

that leaves 

an impression

of hate

and threat

as code

for action

is not 

an abstraction

or mere

distraction.

There is no

innocence

in a call

to violence

without

saying as much.

The impression

says it all.