Quite a turn life has taken since my last column. Poor Mr. George Floyd was murdered by police, which set off worldwide protests, COVID-19 deaths continue to mount, and our favorite cat ran off but was fortunately found by a nice family a half-mile away the next day.
But to the most important issue. How sad that it takes the death of another black man at the hands of police to get authorities and certain members of Congress to wake up and see the bigger picture that many of us, most notably those in the African-American community, have been seeing for years. From those recently awakened it’s, “Oh, yeah. Maybe there actually is some racial inequality in our society. Thanks for showing us. We’ll have to think about that.” Duh.
I’ve heard media persons and younger individuals saying what we’re witnessing is unlike anything we’ve seen previously. As of my most recent birthday, I’m now two years older than God and can remember living through the turmoil after Dr. King’s assassination in 1968 One night, protesters and suspected rioters were supposed to march out of the city of Chicago through all-white, segregated Cicero. Cicero Avenue was the racial dividing line at that time. Residents along the route were urged to stay inside. Because I was young and stupid, I picked up my girlfriend and we went to our usual hangout, a bar on the West Side of Chicago. The owner was guarding the door and only allowing his regulars inside. There were probably about a dozen of us that night. After we entered, the owner barred the heavy wooden door and stood his shotgun next to it, at the ready. We all listened on the radio to the unfolding events outside.
The mass march never made it to our area that evening, but along Madison Street west of its intersection with Pulaski, blocks of buildings were looted and burned. My former brother-in-law was in the National Guard and in the midst of the pandemonium, patrolled the area sitting on the back of a jeep and manning a mounted machine gun. Some time after things quieted down, I took a ride down Madison Street and the once-vibrant shopping area was completely destroyed. It never recovered. I’m not making any judgment here, other than my being stupid earlier, only an observation.
A few months later came the Democratic National Convention. Once again, my brother-in-law was on call, this time on Michigan Avenue, to provide backup to mayor Daley’s police while they whacked away at protesters. It was quite a year, 1968. Yes, we have seen something similar to these recent weeks. In some ways back then it actually made a difference.
Last week, our cowardly, draft-dodging commander-in-chief was cowering in his gopher-hole bunker, bravely tweeting, while outside the police with backup troops fought his imagined war, doing the tough work of trying to disperse the protesters for a short walk and sometimes brutally. You wouldn’t expect President Phony Bone Spurs, who was afraid of serving his country in the military, to show his face to the crowd and offer some reassuring words, would you? Some protester might say something he didn’t want to hear and, unlike members of his administration, couldn’t be fired by The Donald. I did note there were quite a few who did show respect when his motorcade passed by, with a salute with a single finger.
I heard the news report of our illustrious “president” doing his bible photo op at the church and thought I wouldn’t be surprised if he held it upside down and it burst into flame. Sure enough, when I saw the video that’s exactly what he did, minus the flaming bible: An inverted bible with an inverted cross. How many demonic horror movies have depicted that image?
I’d always suspected it but now I know: The Trumpster is the antichrist. No, he’s probably more of the vice-antichrist, the first runner-up who will assume the crown and duties of the real antichrist if he is unable to fulfill the responsibilities of his position. In the past, I’d mentioned George Orwell’s 1984 in this space and how it uncannily mirrored what’s happening now with current administration, but it seems Good Time Donald has morphed his adoring minions into something like Steven King’s The Stand. If you haven’t yet read either book, you should. If nothing else, watch the movies. Scary.
This guy inhabiting the White House is doing his best to flush himself down the porcelain bathroom receptacle. If he swirls away out into the great sewer treatment plant of life, he’ll have no one but himself to blame. Religious and military leaders have courageously voiced their disapproval of Trump. Even well respected Colin Powell believes Trump shouldn’t be reelected. In spite of it all, Donald is planning to spend millions on a July Fourth Kim Jong Un-style military weapons parade.
There’s a quote that hits home for me that’s been attributed to different individuals, in whole or in part: “When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross.”
But I digress. We’ve reached a turning point. Change will come. It has to. I feel it’s already begun.