Skip to main content

Maybe Move to a Promised Land?

A protester at Saturday's Tea Party on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. made clear that she was afraid, saying "We are losing our country, we think the Muslims are moving in and taking over."


Well, let's be honest.  I have been worried, too.
I have heard a lot about these Muslims, as you have,
every since our hopelessly religious Black Christian President
was elected.  Honestly, I have tried not to make a case
that he was dangerous because he had a God-compass.

I have handled that pretty well, I think. 
He gets to pray to whomever he thinks
will help him tame that Portuguese Water Dog,
and maybe for strength to get through the next
Cabinet Meeting or chat with Chuck Grassley
without telling Chuck how he really feels,
because we all need our own secret resources.

And Barack Obama's Daddy was a Muslim!
Had he not been a Muslim, we might very well have asked
whether he was born in a Muslim country, as he was.
But I don't want to bring up all that birther business
about whether Barack's Daddy was really born in Alaska,
from where he could see Sarah Palin's porch. 
Why waste our time on what could have been
a much better story than the one we have?

What I do know, for sure, is that none of us Christians,
had we been born in a Muslim country, would have
agreed to be Muslims.  We would have pointed
right down to our genes and said it was impossible.

I have been checking out our neighbors,
trying to assess how many of them are Muslims,
converted by Barack Obama, to subvert the nation. 
There are the McGilligans.  I have nothing against
the McGilligans being Muslims, but they seem to.
They remains staunch Catholics, supporting Obama.

Over the other way, the Olsens still have a yard sign
showing support for a single payer health care system,
but I attribute that to their appreciation for Medicare.
They don't have any of those, "Get the Government
out of our Health Care!" signs in their yard,
maybe because they know who provides Medicare.

It isn't an insurance company.

Our partying neighbors, over the other way,
hardly need to deny they are Muslims, so they don't,
and I believe them.  They don't fast during Ramadan:
they just eat junk food and drink cheap beer.

Phyllis, next door, might be a Muslim, I suppose.
She wears maxi skirts, most of which she has saved
from the time when she and two other guys drove
to Woodstock and think they stayed there for a month.
She is not sure, but she loves those tie-dyed skirts.
I don't think she is a Muslim, though.  Honestly!

I want to be a patriot, but it is difficult when
none of the signs of subversion show up
in your own neighborhood, except for the Lawsons,
who say they do not give a good god-damn
about politics, and refuse to vote.
They might be Muslims, I suppose, if Muslims
are the kind who don't give a good god-damn.

I am puzzled by the Secret War Obama is said
to be waging against us:  better health care,
an economy that won't go into a depression,
all that nuisance trying to save Chrysler, which has
produced three good cars in the last eleven years,
and two of those were K-cars that actually started.

I understand that our educational system
could use a lot of help, but isn't it socialist
to use government money to support public schools?
And who can explain why we still have troops
in Iraq and Afghanistan, when we could as easily
just hire more Blackwater or Swiss Guard
mercenaries to do the work?  That is hard to explain!

And what is wrong with letting market speculators
send the whole nation, and known universe,
for that matter, into a decades-long deep depression?
Why invest public money to save the economic system?
The very foundation of Capitalism is that, from time
to time, some people will go broke, and they did!
We have to learn to live with these inconveniences!

I don't really believe in buying firearms to protect
myself against all the Muslims I cannot find
in my neighborhood, because I worry that Mari,
having a particularly vivid nightmare, might
haul out the shotgun and do me in, prematurely.

I intend to keep you informed about this menace.
The moment Sture Berg starts hinting that he needs
a couple of extra wives, or that he is going on a
pilgrimage to the Holy Land (Sweden), I will let you know.
The GOP (Grumpy Old Party) may be right.
People like Sture may be undermining democracy.

It may be time that we considered moving to Alaska.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friends-- My step-father of 35 years died this morning. His name was Conrad Royksund. He was 86 years old. He was born into poverty on a farm near Puyallup, WA. He was the first member of his family to attend college and earned a PhD from the University of Chicago. He paid his way through all of that by fishing in Alaska. He spent his professional career as a college professor. I met him when I was just 3 years old and don't actually have any memories of my life befor e he was in it. He was intimidatingly smart, funny as hell, and worked his ass off. He taught me to meet people with kindness and decency until I was certain they could not be trusted. He taught me to meet ideas with carving knives until I was certain they could. I will remember him as one of the bravest, most curious, and funniest people I have ever met. He left this world with a satisfied mind. We are so grateful. Dan Hubbard

Caliche Busters and Government Work

When I was young and both stronger and smarter than I am now, I put my might and brain to work doing nothing useful, unless it might be thought that hand/foot/eye coordination might come in handy.  Those were skills to be learned and practiced.   I found an iron bar our grandfather had shaped in his blacksmith shop.  He took old car, truck, or wagon axles, and made tools from them for digging post holes.  He sharpened one end to a tip, and the other to a blade.  Washington State, like many places, had a hard layer of soil, probably created by water and limestone, or some such materials, that made digging holes a miserable chore.  The bar chipped through the natural concrete so that a shovel could take it up.   I found Grandpa's iron bar, and since I was young and dumb and strong--or so I thought--decided to punch a hole down to hardpan and ultimate truth.  I knew how to do that.  Raise the bar vertically with both hands, and then slam in straight down.  On the second try, aimi

The Sea is Rising

Let us just step back:  two hundred and fifty years ago, or so, the ships of England and Spain had drifted onto a whole new continent, as they saw it, from far north to a savagely cold south; pole to pole, as if there were such things. Millions of people already lived here, some of them still hunters and gatherers; some of them very wealthy, indeed!  Gold and silver stolen from the southern Americas funded Spanish and English dreams. There was land, lots of land, under starry skies above, rich land, and oil and coal and iron ore.  The whole western world learned how to build industries not on simple muscle power, but on steam and oil.  We farmed, too, of course.  All we needed was cheap labor--slave labor from Africa, mostly, so the ships came with slave labor.  Chinese labor built railroad beds where there had been rock cliffs. Europeans, long used to killing each other for good, religious reasons, brought their religious savagery with them.  Even when all they wanted to do w