The plan was to join the crowd out in Fort Worth at the March for Life and help try to make Washington do more than provide lip service to us.
But family matters mattered more than making it out there and I somewhat unhappily forced to adjust but if I have learned anything during the past decade it is how to just roll with it.
So instead of being out among the people and signs I had to spend some time online where I voiced my displeasure with the fools, liars and cheats whose duplicity and general stupidity set me off.
It was disappointing to see how the opposition isn’t made up of the tin foil hat brigade but contains significant numbers of educated people who choose to believe lies, false statistics and mishegoss.
The thing that set me off the most were the compassionate assholes who referred to the march as tantrums and or the forced march of fascism.
These jackasses left civility at the door, attacked free speech and cried crocodile tears about how others are trying to take their Constitutional rights.
That they couldn’t see how they were trying to remove those of others while complaining about what was happening to them was more than disappointing. Tolerance seems to be…dead.
Fear & Madness
Long ago I told someone that when the song of your heart permits decisions to be driven by fear and madness you are lost.
That is not limited to lost lovers, past lovers, present or future.
Hell, it is not limited to lovers at all–it is applicable to people.
All too often we let fear and madness drive our decision making–if ever there was a day when this was pushed out at me in crystal clarity it was today.
I battled with people and wondered why we couldn’t have a simple conversation. Wondered why we couldn’t just talk and asked if maybe it was me.
Maybe I was too aggressive, too angry, too frustrated or too sad.
I concluded I don’t have time to waste wondering if the lack of civility is solely my responsibility. I know I am on edge and that I haven’t any patience for certain things.
I know I have avoided certain conversations because I won’t be kind but I also know that if you engage me on Facebook or Twitter and start by calling me names I am going to do my best to run you over with a bulldozer two, three or 198 times.
Don’t mistake that to mean I would use literal violence with these people because unless we are talking about self defense that is not going to happen.
Of course the funny thing about that is how few of the people I have spoken with about guns have been in real situations.
I have been through riots, forest fires and earthquakes. I have been in situations in which having a gun might have made me more comfortable and certainly would have been considered sensible by many.
But I don’t walk around with anything like that in my pants or pockets.
Haven’t really needed it and I suppose that is part of why I roll my eyes when they talk about the need for a good guy with a gun to take on the bad guys.
I’d much rather have a good guy shooting memos and hard remarks at Dummy Devos and Forrest Trump, but hey that is me.
Happy Jack Was A Dude
Had dinner at the Yellow Rose Steak & Chop House tonight. Got myself a Moscow Mule, great New York Strip and a decent chocolate lava cake.
That made some of the madness out in the world a little more palatable and a little less irritating.
Instead of coming home and unfriending most people I came back and wrote this silly post and a few other things.
One of them was going to be called Happy Jack was a dude.
It was going to talk about how he used to two hands and then it just sort of fizzled. Instead of hearing Jack say, ‘you need two hands on the back of your head’ there was silence.
Longer and deeper were the thoughts that followed that, you have to go longer and deeper-show the depth others demanded you display during your debates.
Except those duplicitous and disingenuous folks proved to be dumberer than a box of rocks and so we ended up with a bigger mess than we had before.
People are peachy. Bleah.
