Flush Twice

Here we are, a collective dynamo of a freedom and compassion loving nation, thrumming not with throaty, synced up horsepower and quick shifting velocity but with a horrifying noise, like cats in flames leaping off collapsing nuclear plant cooling towers.

A small sect of extremists have held a jagged chunk of dirty broken glass to our throats and hissed


No, that's not what they are hissing


Don't talk uppity to us, boy. We don't do shit for your kind. We'll shut this town down for talkin' to us like that.

I'm going to set my controls for the center of the sun and go to the core and base issue behind this nightmare.

Extreme right wing tea partying white men do not cotton to an intelligent black man who is, by virtue of his elected status, one up on them.

It is visceral and it is grounded. They are willing to put on suits of flames and leap into pools of gasoline holding their political futures in little paper baskets soaked in kerosene. Extremism in the defense of stupidity and hate is no virtue. It is a vice.

The gasping vestiges of an ideology long ago left in a wastebasket by folks who like their country clean of trash, is making one last lunge at us.

It ain't about socialized medicine. It ain't about slowing the growth of government. It ain't about abortion or granny facing a death panel.

It's about white wing politicians and their shambling microcephalic base wanting to take that Kenyan liar communist down a notch or two. Don't believe any of the other narratives and dialogues.

Obama knows this too. No accident he called their leaders in the other day and told them no, I'm not negotiating with you crackers.

The self destruct button on extremist ideologues is always pushed down by the belle curve outliers. It is the step that comes once they lose whatever attention and expansive base they had. Expected. But this time they really hit the Kamikaze button. They have no exit strategy but to try to take everyone down with them into the deepest whirlpools of hatred and fixations. But we are standing on the banks of the river America and shaking our heads in both disgust and a sort of wonder.

Namaste, motherfuckers.