We are just me, for now. Facebook shut me down for things I wrote about fascism. So, here I am - writing about fascism.
About Us
Creating a Presence
About us, which I guess means about me. So, here's a story. Ten years ago my oldest sister decided to marry a very nice guy. Both were in their mid to late 70's, healthy as wellfed horses, wealthy as hell, the whole America the Beautiful. My wife, who has used a wheelchair since birth and I flew to a toney gated community in Florida, a state without even one primary color. There was trouble from the get go. My sociopath brother, now beastley dead, was three hours late to pick us up and blamed us for his delay. The Hotel got everything wrong, but Lisa had the documents for an accessible room. They danced and ran and called nobody and danced some more. We got to the house for the bride's "night-before" dinner. It was dry, old pizza in sticky boxes. The other sister, also older, was the hostess and handled the seating. The primary members of my family all had seats of honor in the big room. My wife and I were relegated to the kids' table in the kitchen. We took it in stride, though Lisa whispered that her chair disturbed the wealthy bubble people who depend on appearance and wealth to atone for everything. They are vipers. Near the end of three slices and the hard stare at three others we did not know, Lisa and I told stories, and it was great comedy and lightened the mood. Sister-hostess heard the noise, walked about, entered the kitchen and took a Kids' Table seat. then she smacked the table, hard, and yelled at my wife and me. In short, only the wealthy talk at her tables - even the kids' table. So, here I am with Lisa on my right and I, the best unknown writer in America will write essays critiquing this fascist administration of gangsters and an essay or two about growing up in a nest of vipers, of barely survivng the overwhelmingly evil members of the Society of Jesus. - the Jesuits. My karma, my fate, my destiny, was to be an observer who honed tools to express what I've seen. Without malice, but direct, intentional, and fearless. Trump will send me to Dachau and like prisoners in the Bastille I'll write on cell walls and pray for somebody with a voice to set the tables again, to return a sense of balance. I'm old and tired, but there are so many things that need to be said with the Freedom afforded by taking a seat at the Kids' Table.
o