Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
It seems like the United States’ GOP is working hard to divide the nation. Through actions like dictating what pronouns and genders must be used, and what can be read and taught in schools, they’re narrowing the boundaries of freedom and undermining intellectual thought and creativity.
Once the Republicans were happy to merely oppose the Democrats. Now they oppose personal freedom and choice, forging deeper and sharper divides based on the formulation of ‘us’ and ‘them’, far from the Founders’ vision of ‘we, the People’. Congress under the GOP, and as en extension, the Federal government, is obstructed from governing as Republicans do all they can to stop anything and everything the Democrats attempt to do, treating everyone outside of the GOP’s narrowing scope as enemies. They demand compromise while offering none. Even Republicans who do not heel hard to the line, “Our way or no way,” are ostracized as enemies.
It is one thing to disagree and debate, and another to throw tantrums and hold parts of the government hostage. Holding the government hostage is the modern Republican way, whether it’s:
In the GOP’s latest vision of the United States, the vision of who the people are and who may vote, and what rights ‘they may have’ is diminishing in front of the GOP’s idea of God, their idea of religion, their idea of science, and their idea of culture and history.
In so doing, they drive the United States further and more deeply away from being a welcoming melting pot of freedom, independence, and equality for all. Their tools to accomplish their vision are fear, intimidation, discrimation, and bigotry, fortified and encouraged by lies and hypocrisy, often done under cover of ‘religious freedom’, citing the Bible as the source for things it never mentions, in a nation where separation of church and state are supposed to be a foundation of our nation’s existence.
Ironically, the GOP marches down a path that is directly against the words of their party’s founder. President Lincoln declared in his House Divided speech (June 15, 1858), “A house divided against itself, cannot stand.”
It’s an insight which the GOP in its right-wing, short-sighted zeal, has chosen to ignore.
To set the dream scene, I was different in some ways to my real life self. Still white, I was tall and skinny with short black hair, and wearing a holey white tee shirt dingy gray with age. About nineteen years old, I was clean-shaven and despite my dirty clothes, I was clean. I knew I was poor but I was a happy and hopeful individual.
Walking among some dark industrial ruins, I came across a table. On it were about a dozen tarts. Six inches in diameter, they were custard, with cinnamon sprinkled across the top, and stacked about ten tall. Beside the tarts were a dozen empty tart pans in a stack.
Finding the tarts pleased me. I’d been walking for days, hadn’t eaten and was hungry, but more importantly to me, I’d been travelling alone and had not seen anybody the entire time. Finding the tarts, if they were fresh, was a sign that others still existed and could be close by.
I didn’t eat them, though, though I grinned widely as I looked at them. I didn’t know who owned them and refused to take them, thinking that would be stealing. Then, walking around, I found a cardboard sign with handwritten letters in red marker, “Free”.
I still didn’t take any. At that point, other people emerged from the shadows. Seeing them, I knew they were as hungry as me, so I called to them and started passing out the tarts. As I did, I found that there were more tarts than I thought. While I was surprised, I was also pleased because that meant that everyone could eat more.
Then, a voice told me that they’d been watching. They were going to provide me tarts, and I could sell them. That confused and surprised me. I queried them about why they’d want to do that. They answered that they thought I’d be good at selling them.
I shrugged. If they wanted to do that, it was okay, I guess, I said, but I’d rather just give them away because so many people didn’t have money or food. The voice replied, you can do what you want, they’re your tarts.
Dream end.
Mood: coffeemistic
Sunny blue skies greeted me in my home in Ashlandia, where orange barrels block streets as paving, repairs, and improvements continue and the roads are above average.
Already November 3, 2023, some folks are marking their calendars for next year’s elections. It’s also Friday, end of the work week for some and beginning of the weekend fun for others. Those of us in a quasi-, semi-, or permanent retirement state mostly look at the door with an eye toward social engagements. ‘Work’ except as volunteers, has mostly been dismissed.
As I prepared the floof royalty’s meals this morning, a glance out the window found gray smudges defacing the blue-sky fall scene. At least, I hope it’s fog, I thought with a chortle, and then imagined other possibilities, entertaining myself as I went about my business. Another glance out, and I perceived a wall of fall stealing in from the northwest quadrant. Six minutes later, the fog presented a solid front and the sky was gray. An hour after that, the fog is gone.
While it’s 48 now, we’re expecting our high to be in the upper sixties, ingredients for a enjoyable autumn day.
Moving on toward the theme song, a friend queried a group of us by email, do you remember this song? Who sang it? He was just playing around, of course:
He wears tan shoes with pink shoelaces
A polka dot vest and man, oh, man
He wears tan shoes with pink shoelaces
And a big Panama with a purple hat band
It’s Dodie Stevens with “Pink Shoe Laces” from 1961, of course. That started a firestorm of memories for the group and their wives. One spouse was really excited because it was her and her sister’s favorite song. They played it all the time while dancing around the house. Remember this, she began singing it and dancing around the house, and then called her sister, and they had Siri playing the song on the phone while they danced and laughed.
That opened the door on a vault in my head, where certain songs I know but am not crazy about resides. Reaching in, The Neurons pulled out a 1958 novelty song, “Beep Beep” by the Playmates and have it on loop in my morning mental music stream (Trademark dashing).
Behind the song is a car, a Rambler, product in my lifetime of a now defunct US car company, the American Motors Corporation. I had a friend with a Rambler. Although old, we used it to sneak people into the drive-in theater in the little car’s spacious trunk in the early 1970s. It was just like the one in the photo.
Also featured in the song was a Cadillac, a car much more expensive than the Rambler. More expensive, the Cadillac had a larger engine and was more powerful, capable of greater acceleration and top speed than the Rambler. That forms the song’s gist as the Rambler tails the Cadillac and the Cadillac keeps speeding up to get away, but can’t, astonishing and amazing to the Caddy driver. As this unfolds during the song, the song’s tempo keeps increasing until the punchline when the Rambler driver pulls alongside and asks, “Hey buddy, how do I get this car out of second gear?”
While riding in my Cadillac, what, to my surprise,
A little Nash Rambler was following me, about one-third my size.
The guy must have wanted it to pass me up
As he kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep!
I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Refrain:
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
His horn went, beep, beep, beep. (Beep! Beep!).
I pushed my foot down to the floor to give the guy the shake,
But the little Nash Rambler stayed right behind; he still had on his brake.
He must have thought his car had more guts
As he kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep!
I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
His horn went, beep, beep, beep. (Beep! Beep!).
My car went into passing gear and we took off with dust.
And soon we were doin’ ninety, must have left him in the dust.
When I peeked in the mirror of my car,
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The little Nash Rambler was right behind, you’d think that guy could fly.
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
His horn went, beep, beep, beep. (Beep! Beep!).
Now we’re doing a hundred and ten, it certainly was a race.
For a Rambler to pass a Caddy would be a big disgrace.
For the guy who wanted to pass me,
He kept on tooting his horn. Beep! Beep!
I’ll show him that a Cadillac is not a car to scorn.
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
Beep, beep. (Beep, beep.)
His horn went, beep, beep, beep. (Beep! Beep!).
Now we’re doing a hundred and twenty, as fast as I could go.
The Rambler pulled alongside of me as if I were going slow.
The fellow rolled down his window and yelled for me to hear,
Hey, buddy, how can I get this car out of second gear?
h/t SongFacts.com
What a hoot, when I was young. I would sing it in the car with Mom as we drove along, driving her a little nuts.
Stay pos, be strong, and keep leaning forward and reaching for the stars. Coffee is being consumed and the sun is shining. And away we go.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 