A Matter of Fact On the fact question, there are three elements to the question of responsibility and one to the question of exculpation. These four elements, as questions, are: (1) did it happen? (2) did he cause it to happen? (3) did he intend to cause it to happen? (4) did he (try to)…
He’s been murdering people week after week, sometimes day after day, now month after month. We’re getting used to it. It’s not a big story anymore. It isn’t the headline. It isn’t the lead story. Oh, sure, at first, some folks were shocked, outraged, demanded an investigation. At first … but not now, not anymore. It’s become normal. Dog bites man. No big deal. Happens all the time. Not news.
Channelling is an important element of the tax system. We have no other way of rewarding – therefore, encouraging – good behavior. And we can’t punish – therefore, discourage – bad behavior except by making it illegal, and our Constitution and other rights often prevent us from doing that.
We all remember that kid — the one on the playground who threw a tantrum when he lost. You called him a “Sore Loser”. And even though you were just kids, you knew — everyone knew — that nobody likes a sore loser. The Republican Party is the party of sore losers.
Were they walling people in? Or out? Both, it seems. As much as they tried to keep people in, they also tried very hard to keep western influences out. Jeans, rock’n’roll, Coca-cola, all the symbols of decadence that Americans thrust at them. The Berlin Wall sent a message. Like a giant billboard, it shouted out to us. We heard fear. We heard weakness.
Everybody on one side says everybody on the other side hates Donald Trump.
No, I don’t hate him.
To be most charitable, I don’t care about him enough to hate him. I know other people who are crude or selfish or conceited or overbearing or loud or crass or ignorant. I’ve responded by ignoring them.
No, I don’t hate Trump. But I do hate – wait, let me think… yes, I do hate what he has been doing.
It took the Resistance, the nationwide gaggle of Indivisible groups, ADAPT protesters, health care advocates, and the people themselves to bring this reality to the forefront. They marched and shouted, they posted and tweeted, they emailed and called and sang, they carried photos of their friends and family, yes, they disrupted and got arrested – but mostly they told their stories.
Into this world came this song. It certainly wasn’t on the radio, but I had bought the album – my second Dylan album – and listened to it, late at night, in the living room, on the hi-fi console, with my headphones on, in stereo.
When I first heard it, it was just “the next track” on the album. But halfway through, I stopped and moved the needle back to the beginning. I listened. Then played it again. And again. And again.
I learned, in 5 minutes, about poverty. Farming. South Dakota. Pain. Helplessness. Desperation. Terror. Loss.
perhaps these months away from the job have allowed workers to think about the work they were doing, the pay, the benefits, the responsibilities, the supervision, the hours. Perhaps they took the time to examine the path they were on – to re-imagine the career path that they had once dreamed of, the one they were now too busy – too exhausted – to pursue at the end of the day.
A wall is a nightmare. A wall is the opposite of what America offers the world. A wall says:
America is Closed
America must never be closed.
