Political Fish

The litmus test for political propaganda swirling tidal waves of raw bull across the internet is as whacked as some of the stories: Is there a photo? OMG, there is a photo… this must be true!

Case in point: some joker out in California claims that he is a postal worker in Ohio in a tweet about shredding absentee ballots. My own sister buys it… argues, “but there is a photo!” She pulls it up on her phone to show me. “Don’t mail that,” she warns. “It will get shredded in Columbus.”

I picked up my absentee ballot application off the table to show her that the envelope is addressed to the local Board of Elections right here in Youngstown, Ohio. Our mail does not go through Columbus. It might get processed in Cleveland, but it is not going all the way to Columbus.

I should wait, just go vote at the polls. No… I mapped the location of my new polling place when I got the postcard confirming my change of address and it is too far off a WRTA bus route for a disabled non-driver like me to walk. Plus, I would have to cross Midlothian Blvd in a high traffic area. I would have to take a cab or find a ride, so I opted to vote via absentee.

If they are shredding in Columbus, they might be shredding everywhere… but, oh? What’s this? They’re only shredding absentee ballots from Trump supporters? How can they tell, with ballots in sealed envelopes? They must be opening them.

Am I dealing with a moron?

No… this is my sister, an otherwise intelligent woman who holds down a full time job, runs a successful business on the side, does volunteer work in her community, serves on committees, does all sorts of things… but when it comes to nonsense on the internet, she believes everything she reads.

Hillary wants to kill off the black population, abort all their babies, that’s why abortion clinics are located in predominately black neighborhoods. Putin will launch nuclear bombs on us if Hillary wins the election. Hillary kills everyone who gets in her way… she killed an airline pilot, she murders women who sleep with her husband, no veterans will vote for her. (Uh, try the vet in the next room… he’s voting for Hillary; I’m the one who has been undecided, considering 3rd parties and Hillary because my candidate of choice – Joe Biden – opted not to run and there is no way in hell that I would vote for Trump, thought he was a pompous ass long before all that “locker room” banter.)  And it’s not just her… I hear other people yak nonsense off the internet.

And ye gads… the rationalizations some people use to support Trump absolutely blow my mind. I’ve heard things like, “we are not really voting for a person… we are voting for a political party, choose the party that most aligns with your views as the president has no power, he doesn’t really do anything.”  Oh… so if we are not voting for a person, then why have a person run? Why not elect an inanimate object, a stuffed animal or a vase or something? Maybe a logo? Yeah, some symbol to represent the party? We could vote for plants… at least they are alive. It might be easier to spot the weeds.

It’s all nonsense. This whole election is kind of whacked. It reminds me of old sayings… take what you hear with a grain of salt… or better yet, it’s like eating fish, spit out the bones.

The last political debate is tonight… viewers might need buckets for the bones.

Thanks for reading!

Stray Words #2

He parted seas and mounted dry, tapped into a dream. Wild horses grazed in green meadows, fed by a gentle stream. She rises, sighs consent with closed eyes as the eagle carries her away.

Blue-green, yellow tinged flames dance with the familiar clouds. Pink swirls into red.

Marmion Crickets

Photo snapped before my son-in-law cut the grass.

“Grandma’s House” (Photo snapped before son-in-law cut the grass.)

The sound of crickets making rub legged songs to each other greets me when I flip off the porch light and slip outside for a smoke at night. I survey the freshly cut lawn and newly installed solar lights, and then look beyond, to the dots of solar lights accenting well kept lawns of tidy houses lined up and down the block, hoping the little bit of yard work will make my own little house less of an eyesore. It will blend in better next year, after the exterior is painted.

If other neighbors are outside at night, they are as quiet and motionless as I am.

Still I feel watched. I’m the newbie here, so I feel like they waiting to see what I do to this place, if I will blend in or disrupt their neighborhood. The first to introduce herself was Ms. Kravitz (not her real name, think nibby neighbor on Bewitched years ago). She seems to be running her own little block watch by keeping tabs on everybody. She talks to M more than me, shares tidbits about different neighbors.

M watches me, chuckles to himself while I’m fixing things. He’s not the handyman type, so it kind of amazes him when I come up with a creative way to do something that would otherwise be physically impossible for me to do. He’s learned not to argue over my homemade gadget tools.

He tells his friends that he’s just staying with me until I get used to my new environment, that he doesn’t want me to be here by myself until he’s sure my neighbors will look out for me. On days he has gone back to his own place for awhile, my daughter has stopped by, so I really haven’t had more than a couple hours alone in my own house yet. He’s really good at watching football in another room while I am busy doing things, but it is not exactly the quiet solitude I occasionally need. I find myself getting up in the wee hours to write or to just be alone with my thoughts.

Well, here is a photo of the back yard after cutting down baby maple trees that had rooted in untended flower beds. Most were seedlings. The tallest was ye 14 foot. As for the angel, she was there when I moved in… it makes me wonder if a pet was buried there.

The house definitely needs painted. What color should it be?

The color palette must go with browns… brown roof, brown gutters, brown rain spouts, and shades of brown of the stonework facade that covers half the front. I want to go with something different, maybe gingerbread it up a bit, yet still kind of blend in with the neighborhood.

M says, “Why do you ask? You are going to do whatever you want to do anyway.”

True… my house, my decisions, but I do value input from others. I may like a suggestion, or someone’s suggestion might lead to something else… thinking is a process and I have all winter to decide.

Speaking of time, I’m almost out of time… M will arrive on the next bus.

I’m really trying to make a go of this relationship thing, more often just learning to go with the flow of it, take it as it is, roll with what comes, if that makes sense. I’m not used to anything.

That may sound odd, but you have to consider… 34 years of my adult life has been lived as a single woman on my own.  None of this couple stuff comes easy; my “normal” is alone. I’m also kind of selfish and set in my ways. I ain’t right, so he says… oh well.

Thanks for reading.