By David Glenn Cox
I had correctly guessed Rudy Giuliani was an alcoholic. He had all the signs, the instability, and the erratic nature of life lensed through a bottle. But how could I have guessed his full depraved nature? But I have only two questions. First, how many times does your boss enter the room naked looking for sex before you tender your resignation? Secondly, when the boss is promising you a million dollars a year and all you’ve gotten so far are Waffle House wages?
I guess we’ve all been taken advantage of at one time or other, but 12,000 dollars when promised a million. But it sure sounds like Rudy is one sick puppy. Perfect to team up with Donald Trump as in birds of a feather. Offering pardons for $2 million each or three for $5 million provided you come in the back door. But a 50/50 split doesn’t sound quite right to me. I could see a $250,000 finder’s fee, but 50/50? Who knows, maybe Rudy was being suckered by the orange nightmare.
With the Trump crowd of criminals, even at a quarter million a pop. Rudy could get really rich off the deal. Trump stands all the legal risk but at this point, did Al Capone worry about parking tickets? It’s all very frustrating and pretty depressing sometimes. The first Trump Presidency and the worry of a second Trump Presidency.
Crazy shit going on from all quarters. The other day in Texas, a guy was pissing in the parking lot behind the local Sonic. When an employee asked him to stop, and an altercation broke out. A 12-year-old then took a rifle from the car and shot the employee killing him. The good towns people then commenced with the old thoughts and prayers routine. With candles, balloons, and crosses. Are these people crazy too? Maybe throwing a few virgins into a volcano might help.
Maybe burnt offerings from the altar might appease god to make the madness stop. Balloons and candles in answer to a senseless killing. There is no pain on earth greater than losing a spouse. A partner in life who went to work trying to support his family. Working an underpaid menial job who was murdered for asking someone to stop pissing in the parking lot.
My mother used to say, “good jobs makes good neighbors.” But I saw this news story the other day that the homeless population in San Diego was growing at twice the rate the homeless were being housed. And the city was having difficulty retaining the police. Thoughts and prayers everyone. Maybe a few candles and balloons maybe? Maybe someone should sit down and figure out why these people are becoming homeless. Maybe a good religious sermon about the love of Jesus or a few homemade crosses will fill their bellies.
Meanwhile, back in Texas, Greg Bubba Abbott blames mental health for the crisis of gun violence. But seeks to cut the state’s mental health budget in the same breath. Thoughts and prayers everyone. Take everything from someone, dump them out on the street and what do think will happen? When you see no hope or opportunity. Olga Levin wrote of her two years in Auschwitz by saying, “It was place were it was very easy to give up on life.”
Jesus preached feed the hungry and tend the sick and welcome the stranger. All the things that Republicans despise. Tax cuts for the rich, let the sky fall. Pollute the air and poison the rivers, “Mine for their gold until the land was forsaken and call it a step in the progress of man.”
A recent poll of Republican voters found they were most concerned about “Woke” polices. That’s another word for freedom. Banning books instead feeding the hungry, tending the sick and housing the homeless. I don’t know which looks worse, Republicanism or modern Christianity?
Since the Reagan Revolution, the rate of suicide has risen 36%. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for teenagers and young people. Ditto for Gays and Lesbians, maybe being targeted in Kristallnacht style pogrom has something to do with that? Whatever happened to freedom? The freedom to be whoever you want to be.
You can’t be poor and free. You can’t be homeless and free. You can’t be persecuted and be free. You can’t lose the right to control your own body and still claim to be free. Billionaires with vanity space programs and tens of thousands of homeless in streets. What sort of country is this where Donald Trump is a candidate or Reich’s Fuhrer Ron DeSantis turns Florida into the Fourth Reich?
I’ve been writing for fifteen years and struggle to stay afloat. This blog has close to a half million views. Countless thousands of Facebook likes but no job offers. Tucker Carlson was making $36 million per year writing from the billionaire’s side of the street. I don’t have a Patreon account or gold and silver memberships. I write about what I know for people who probably don’t have any more money than I do.
Saying the things that need to be said. Not for money (money would be nice) but I don’t do this money. This is my personal mental health program. I don’t want to write about cell phones or Golf clubs or air fresheners. I won’t beg. I’ve been homeless before and never begged. I might die, but I won’t be defeated. I’ll never own a yacht or my own space program, but I’ll have clear conscience. That’s the difference between me and the fictional Jesus, I’m on your side and won’t ever change.
“I hate a song that makes you think that you are not any good. I hate a song that makes you think that you are just born to lose. Bound to lose. No good to nobody. No good for nothing. Because you are too old or too young or too fat or too slim or too ugly or too this or too that. Songs that run you down or poke fun at you on account of your bad luck or hard travelling. I am out to fight those songs to my very last breath of air and my last drop of blood. I am out to sing songs that will prove to you that this is your world and that if it has hit you pretty hard and knocked you for a dozen loops, no matter what color, what size you are, how you are built, I am out to sing the songs that make you take pride in yourself and in your work. And the songs that I sing are made up for the most part by all sorts of folks just about like you. I could hire out to the other side, the big money side, and get several dollars every week just to quit singing my own kind of songs and to sing the kind that knock you down still farther and the ones that poke fun at you even more and the ones that make you think that you’ve not got any sense at all. But I decided a long time ago that I’d starve to death before I’d sing any such songs as that. The radio waves and your movies and your jukeboxes and your songbooks are already loaded down and running over with such no good songs as that anyhow.” ― Woody Guthrie