Rocks and hard places

I recently received an email asking me to split a political contribution between a US Senator running for reelection in his state, and a member of the House running for the Senate for the first time in her state. I don’t look forward to living in a country with MAGAts in charge, but I’m not overwhelmed with enthusiasm for many Democrats, either. So, I did some research and found what I consider a fatal flaw in the “conservative Democrat’s” credentials. She supports a buy-in Medicare option but not Medicare for All. On that basis I’m declining the invitation to split a contribution between the two campaigns.

Your Voice Your Vote Use It

Photo by J. Harrington

Politics has become the equivalent of answering the question: “Which eye do you want the sharp stick in?” I’m not convinced it has to be that way, but neither am I naive enough to believe it will improve voluntarily. Part of the problem is that Democrats seem to believe they only have to be a little more sane than Republicans to appeal to those who aren’t entirely greedy and self-serving. But that, to me, represents a difference between necessary and sufficient. If I really wanted to stretch things, here’s where I’d throw in William McDonough’s concept that making things “less bad” is not making them “more good.”

It seems to me that an inevitable consequence of putting the inmates in charge of the asylum is that, eventually they’ll burn down the asylum and everyone is then homeless and starving. Maybe that’s what it will take to get some folks to recognize that magical thinking isn’t what wins elections or successfully runs a country.

Based on my analysis so far, the odds I’d vote for any Republican are the proverbial slim to none. But that doesn’t mean I’ll try to settle for less bad by donating $$ to a conservative Democrat. Have I got this all wrong?

What Kind of Times Are These

By Adrienne Rich

There's a place between two stands of trees where the grass grows uphill

and the old revolutionary road breaks off into shadows

near a meeting-house abandoned by the persecuted

who disappeared into those shadows.

I've walked there picking mushrooms at the edge of dread, but don't be fooled

this isn't a Russian poem, this is not somewhere else but here,

our country moving closer to its own truth and dread,

its own ways of making people disappear.

I won't tell you where the place is, the dark mesh of the woods

meeting the unmarked strip of light—

ghost-ridden crossroads, leafmold paradise:

I know already who wants to buy it, sell it, make it disappear.

And I won't tell you where it is, so why do I tell you

anything? Because you still listen, because in times like these

to have you listen at all, it's necessary

to talk about trees.

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.