This Drivel [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Straw man (noun) 1. an intentionally misrepresented proposition that is set up because it is easier to defeat than an opponent’s real argument. 2. a person regarded as having no substance or integrity.

“…Americans use 500 million drinking straws every day.”

Actually, there is some debate about the actual number of straws used each day in these un-United States. The number falls somewhere between 175 million and 500 million. In any case, that is a ton of straws. Literally. I know this is a scintillating topic and you cannot wait to read on but keep in mind that among the mountain of executive orders pouring from the pen of the rapist-in-chief was a “an end to the procurement and forced use of paper straws.”

Some actions are symbolic. Language matters. Within the phrase “forced use of paper straws” is found the symbolic epicenter of the red-hat movement against “woke”. Apparently children and executives across the nation have been tackled, strapped into chairs, and forced to drink through compostable straws. Of course, as reported by the fox, after the horror of their involuntary straw encounter, they were bustled down the hall for an inescapable sex change operation. Now, legislators across the land are moving to slash the rights and liberties of the masses of straw-traumatized-unwilling-newly-transgendered. Trauma heaped upon trauma all due to the brutal mandates forced on the good-righteous-christian-red-hat citizens, simply trying to save their wives and daughters from the evil woke.

It’s a stinky victim tale.

Forced use of straws. “They’re eating the dogs!” Windmills are killing whales. Even as I write this I think to myself, “No one could possibly believe this drivel.” And yet…

Dedicated victim stories need enemies. Enemy creation is the oldest motivational tool in the authoritarian handbook. The enemy need not be real. It is equally powerful if actual or imagined. History is rife with fake-enemy-creation as motivation for a gullible populace to embrace. As victims, it is a small step to inflicting righteous pain on behalf of the tyrant. And feeling good about it.

That’s the point.

The entire narrative of the current administration is an imaginary battle waged on the evil woke who are busily deconstructing the American way of life, forcing horrid paper straw use and whisking away children for sex change operations without prior parental consent. It is ironic. “Woke” is a straw man used by the authoritarian-wanna-be (a straw man, definition #2), so weak and incapable of legislating his unpopular Project 2025 agenda that he must issue mountains of executive orders – all meant to consolidate power in the executive branch while also appointing loyal doormats to the justice department and military. In the meantime the gleeful DOGE, in the name of waste, fraud and abuse (yet another straw man) hastily dismantles – well, neuters – the powers of congress. It’s the textbook creation of a fascist state.

A note to victims: please keep your eyes on the evil-woke-left as the great leader saves you from forced use of paper straws. In that way, you won’t see – until it’s too late – the conservative right hand magically dismantling democracy, stripping away your rights and torching your liberties. Any good autocrat, like a good magician, knows the power of misdirecting focus.

It’s beyond ironic: a straw man using straws as a straw man. No one could possibly believe this drivel. And yet…

read Kerri’s blog on STRAWS

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Cartoon Possibilities [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Call it self-preservation. With the inspiration of MM, I am compiling a mountain of cartoon ideas borne of the laugh-or-cry idiocracy currently sweeping away the nation. There seems to be no bottom to the inanity of the red-hat cult and those that they’ve elevated to power.

The abundance of comic fodder spewing forth from overly sincere conservative faces has me meditating on what makes them both so horrific and so funny. It is this: they ignore – and expect us to ignore –Occam’s Razor. The Principle of Parsimony: It’s a good rule of thumb, if sanity is the goal, to seek the simplest explanation. It is usually the best. If insanity is the aim, seek conspiracy theories and complex machinations.

Take, for instance, the fires in California. Jewish Space Lasers meet unraked forests? Or, perhaps rising global temperatures and drought are to blame? The first requires a reliance on science-fiction and a multi-layer-cake of ill-intent, stupidity and bigotry. The second relies on science. And common sense.

Or, consider this snicker-worthy intrigue: Did the COVID-19 vaccine included microchips capable of tracking people? Or, was it protecting citizens from a raging pandemic? Again, the first requires a madcap sci-fi dystopian fantasy. Occum’s Razor would have us tip toward the reality of science responding to the pandemic. (note: if you use a cell phone or shop on line, there’s no need to vaccinate a chip into your body since you are infinitely locate-able. Google maps already knows where you are since getting you from point A to point B requires, well, knowing where you are…).

The red hats are awash in conspiracy theories. The fox revels in fueling the fantastic and muddling the minds of the easily led. In my comic-thought the actual red hats are lined with tin-foil to protect their brains from alien mind control. That, and better ham radio reception.

I suppose if human beings are capable of believing that the earth is flat, that climate change is a hoax, that the massacre of children at Sandy Hook Elementary was a scam, that Democrats are drinking baby’s blood beneath the streets of Washington D.C…they are also capable of believing in the big boogeyman, the Deep State. It’s the reason we’re been force-fed for the dismantling of our Democracy. Woke waste and fraud! George Soros secretly controlling the world’s economy! Lions and tigers and bears! Oh, my!

It is worthy of cartooning and lampooning. Or a good cry.

This just in from historian Heather Cox Richardson: “…the relative stability of American democracy in the late twentieth century allowed politicians to win office with the narrative that the government was stifling individualism, taking money from hardworking taxpayers to provide benefits to the undeserving…But the Trump administration’s massive and random cuts to the federal workforce are revealing that the narrative of government waste does not line up with reality.

Does not line up with reality. Occum’s Razor. It’s the simplest explanation for how we find ourselves in an era dominated by lies and lunacy. It’s a rich (and increasingly sad) field of cartooning possibilities.

read Kerri’s blogpost on THE CLOUD

an oldie from the archives at Flawed Cartoon International

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What Of Kindness? [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Kindness is not difficult to share within a friend-group or inner-circle. Kindness is easy with the people that you know. It’s the reason I’ve never met a person that did not consider themself kind. It’s the reason I consider myself kind. I can point to examples.

But what of kindness to those outside of the circle-of-the-known?

Lately I wonder if we can consider ourselves kind when our kindness is reserved; selective; picky.

This morning I read of a farmer who voted for the despot. He is astonished. With the sudden loss of USAID, the elimination of his market, he is losing his family farm. My first thought was not compassionate. My first thought was not kind. “You’re the only one who’s surprised,” I spat. “Idiot”.

What of kindness?

The farmer has been the recipient of government subsidies. He has had FEMA support after natural disasters. He is a veteran with benefits. His parents are on social security and Medicare. He has friends receiving Medicaid. Now, he fears the loss of these programs. Before the election he wore his red hat, pumped his fist and voted for the end of government handouts. He saw no reason to support childcare for single mothers so they might go to work. He did not see himself as a receiver-of-help.

He didn’t want his taxes benefiting those who do not look like him. Those outside of his circle.

For years the farmer has been misled by the fox. And yet, I can’t help but acknowledge that he has participated in his ignorance. He could have asked a question. He could have changed the channel. The despot made no attempt to hide his plan. He was not a stealth candidate. Did the farmer not understand the word “tariff”? Did he not read Project 2025 and the cuts it promised? He lives in the age of readily available and easily accessed information.

Was he too lazy to care? Was he truly blinded by a campaign of foxy-lies? He’s certainly been steeped in an ugly boogeyman of US and THEM. He’s been choked on fear-tales, encouraged to paint himself as a victim of diversity-equity-inclusion. Might he have challenged what he was being force-fed? Yes. But he didn’t. He agreed with it.

Now, he will pay the piper for his choice. We all will. He voted for it. He chose it. Now he will experience it.

What of kindness?

As he discovers his folly, as he meets the stark truth of his choice, does he really deserve to lose his family farm?

What of taking responsibility for the consequences of his choices and actions? He voted for hatred. He voted for indecency and amorality. He voted for misogyny and bigotry. It was not hidden from him. He posted signs on his fence proclaiming his proud allegiance to the despot.

Now, he and his family must rely on the social safety net that he has demonized as socialist. He voted for the safety net to be removed. Now that he needs it he has changed his tune. Soon, he fears, there will be nothing to break his fall.

Hopefully, he will learn – as will we all – that THEM is US. Before we are conservative or progressive, we are citizens of this nation. Together. WE. And we are a diverse community.

Friendly. Generous. Considerate. Descriptors of kindness. Perhaps, through his revelation, when he understands he is – and has been – the recipient of kindness, when helping hands (again) reach and assist him to stand, to survive, he will be more willing and able to extend kindness to others, to people who do not look like him.

Perhaps he will understand that a government is capable of helping all people to rise just as it is now crippling the majority for the sake of a few.

Perhaps in the future he will vote for kindness and equity that extends beyond his inner-circle. Kindness, he will learn, is a crop that is planted and cultivated. To reap the harvest, to experience it, one must first vote for it. One must first choose it. And then pass it on.

read Kerri’s blogpost about KINDNESS

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Consequences [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

The crescent moon. A sliver in the sky. A symbol of femininity and intuition, reflection as opposed to action. In alchemy, the crescent moon is the symbol for silver. Alchemy: the pursuit of the transformation of matter. Turning base straw into gold. Rumpelstilskin.

Rumpelstilskin, like Cinderella, is a tale that reaches back thousands of years. It pops up across many, many cultures. The Brothers Grimm did not invent it but like all their other tales, they caught it in their folklore net. It’s a story of transaction. It asks questions of value and worth. It begins with a father who wants to appear superior. He wants to be better than others, so he brags that his daughter can spin straw into gold. The king calls the father’s bluff. “Prove it or your daughter forfeits her life.” The father’s bragging has consequences. His daughter is locked in a room full of straw and to save her life has a single night to do something she has no capacity to do: spin straw into gold.

Today I’ve decided it is tale for our times. “The moral of the fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin is that people should not be consumed by greed, lying, or boasting. The story also teaches the importance of honesty, taking responsibility, and not making deals without understanding the consequences.” [A-I]

In a few short weeks we have seen the wreckage of the art-of-the-deal-made-with-a-complete-absence-of-understanding. Fools cutting off their noses to spite their faces. There are and will be consequences.

For years we have been subject to the lying, boasting and greed of the rapist-in-chief, his megaphone fox, and his party of hungry ghosts.

The Brothers Grimm were ethnographers, gathering ancient oral tales and committing them to the page before they were lost to time. Wisdom tales.

I considered sending a copy of Rumpelstiltskin to The White House but I understand no one there bothers to read. At any rate, a wisdom-story that teaches the importance of honesty and taking responsibility would most certainly bounce off, so thick is the fortress of ignorance, so wide is the moat of hubris.

Nevertheless, the moral of the story will find its way in to the halls of power. It always does. When the enchantment fails – as it always does – there will be – as there always has been – consequences.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SLIVER MOON

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Work A Circle [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Kerri has gifted me with the practice of looking close-in. Because she notices and photographs detail, I have the great pleasure of seeing things I never would have noticed by myself. I walk through the world seeing connective tissue and pattern, the view from 30,000 feet. I am grateful to regularly have my mind pulled from the clouds to witness the miracle of the minute. In her photographs I see connective tissue and pattern. It’s all one amazing fractal.

This is the very first post I wrote on my new blog named The Direction of Intention. I wrote it in 2010 following a meaningful conversation in a DEI facilitation about the nature of power:

1. Truly powerful people are dedicated to inspiring true power in others.

It goes like this: empowered people empower others.

Think about it.

How powerful must you be to free yourself of the need to diminish others? No more reducing others to elevate your self. No more reducing yourself to fulfill the mistaken belief that, “you are not worthy.”

What if your worth was no longer in question? What if your value was no longer an issue? What would you do with all of that newfound time and energy that previously was dedicated to bullying your self or reducing others?

In later posts I wrote about the distinction between Control and Power. They are not the same thing, in fact, they are opposites. Control is an action taken by the fearful and, ultimately, weak. It is the path of the bully. It necessarily sucks the potency of others. Control is the action of a vampire. Taking.

Power, on the other hand, is the generative creation of many. Empowerment. Giving to a common center. We learn about power after natural disasters: people coming together to help other people.

Control is the preferred action of authoritarians. Empowerment is the ideal behind democracy. Together, we-the-people are capable of creating a more perfect union.

I’d forgotten this tiny detail, the reason why I started writing. I felt as if I had something to say about power and how it is often confused with control. I did not consider myself a writer. It was scary new territory in 2010.

I’ve now put in my ten thousand hours and I find in these past few weeks that I am once again writing about power. I recognize that my words about power sometimes sound like raging, Captain Dan tied to the mast screaming at the storm. This storm is called the abuse of power, an assault on the power of a free people by a malignant leadership enamored with control fantasies. Vampires, all. There is good reason to rage.

My first 498 posts began with this phrase: Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine. And so, I work a circle. I return to where I started, to this one tiny detail, the original thought: empowered people empower others. There has never been a time more vital to remember – and serve – this simple imperative.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BEAUTY

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Become The Raft [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

It was during Covid that we started calling it “The Raft”. Our warm bed. With two broken wrists, all jobs lost and no work to be found, the heat turned down to save a penny, we felt like we were hanging on for dear life, afloat in the turbulent waters of the spinning universe on our tiny refuge. With Dogga asleep at our feet, we searched the horizon for hope, we launched our messages-in-a-bottle.

Our raft. It was one of the few places we felt safe and warm. Comforted. It was, during those scary and chaotic times, with the world in isolation, a haven where we might approach making sense of the senselessness. And, we survived.

I feel as if we are now back on the raft. The adults have left the capitol and the feckless man, the same nincompoop who suggested that we ingest bleach as a cure for Covid is now shoving Project 2025 down our throats – the ultimate aim is a Christian Nationalist Authoritarian State, a fate for our democracy that is far worse than swallowing bleach. He has returned with his clown car of bad clowns. Incompetents all, picked for their dull loyalty rather than their knowledge, experience or expertise. They know nothing of governing, or of creating or of problem-solving; they are solely capable of destroying.

Afloat on the raft we know that this time there is no refuge. There is no bubble thick enough to protect us from the virus that now infects our nation. There is no vaccine capable of minimizing the damage. There is no shot of courage available to legislators who have lost their moral compass and abandoned their spines along with their oath to protect the Constitution.

The isolation that helped saved us from Covid will now harm us. Of course, we necessarily practice social distancing from those contaminated by maga and made stupid by the fox but for the rest of us, the vast majority of the nation, we will eventually need to step outside, find each other, lock arms and become the raft for one another.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE QUILT

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An Open Hand [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Keep something beautiful in your heart to survive difficult times and enjoy good times.” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

Several times over the past few days I’ve read or heard variations on this theme: I will not let him (them) take from me my peace.

Although we recognize the necessity of pushing back against the maga-hatred worming the heart of the nation, we also know it is more potent and powerful to walk toward a better vision. Maga is a black hole and will suck the light out of all that enter its gravitational pull.

Kerri and I are taking John O’Donohue’s advice. We are intentionally and consciously incubating something beautiful in our hearts and minds.

Right now resistance and focusing-on-the-positive seem one and the same.* Perhaps they are. Saul-the-tai-chi-master used to say, “Look beyond the opponent into the field of possibility.” Even though we are reeling by the vote for salivating corruption, even though we are disoriented by the collapse of the government’s moral center, we know that obsessing on the muck and mire will only serve to begrime our spirits and bog down our lives.

To recover balance I daily remind myself of a simple truth: overcoming the obstacle is not the goal. The circumstance-of-the-moment is not the center.

The goal is presence – a woo woo word for a very basic intention: deal with what is actually in front of you rather than wrestle with the fear of an abstraction. To be in “what is” rather than struggle to get through “what should be”. Therein lives the capacity to see all the beauty of the moment. Therein lives the capacity to see and share goodness, to magnify kindness. Choosing to live in the moment is choosing a path of heart. The only requirement is to choose where we place our focus.

It is a necessity in these dark times, more than a survival strategy it is to learn how to thrive.

I delight each time I see the message float by in my stream, “I will not surrender my peace…” Each one a mantra from someone who feels as I do; an ally in sanity. A reinforcement to stand solidly in the clear center and not get pulled into the ugly circumstance. Each one a reinforcement of another truism: peace will not abide a closed fist; it cannot be held; the best way to grow peace is to share it. To give it. To spread it far and wide. Peace always finds an open heart, it flourishes in an open hand.

*(Peace, like love, need not be soft and amorphous. Peace, like love, can be ferocious. As we are told in our mythology, it can move mountains. It is not the absence of conflict, it is what we do in the face of conflict. Peace is the light brought by everyday people in dark, dark times. Peace is the light we shine on corruption, indecency and malice.)

read Kerri’s blog about THE PATH

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A Successful Ripple [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

In 1890 Eugene Schieffelin released 60 starlings in Central Park. A year later he released another 40. Starlings are not native to the United States and Schieffelin “…hoped to bring all the birds mentioned in Shakespeare’s plays to North America…” It is estimated that 100 million flocks descended from his original 100 starlings. One of the 100 million took respite in our neighbors tree and their sheer number stopped us in our tracks. Beautiful individually, beautiful en masse.

That’s quite a successful ripple. It reminded me of Paul who taught me never to underestimate my power to influence the lives of others. We never know the reach of our actions, the power of our words. The ripples we launch.

A lover of metaphor, I am given to researching symbolism, the genesis of every story. I was unusually moved by the starlings, by the unity of their movement in flight, so, imagining that they were messengers, I wondered what might their message be:

“When the Starling Spirit Animal comes into your life, it suggests careful consideration as to with whom you spend time and how much they influence your thoughts and behavior. It’s great being part of a sizable group, but not every single member has a positive impact on you. You need friends. That’s normal. But always take care with whom you let into your inner circle. Stay with folks who support your growth and positive thinking.”

I laughed when I read it. Could there be a more pertinent message for our divisive times? “Take care with whom you let into your inner circle.” We’re in the process of circling our wagons. We’re recently very particular about the information we plug into, the conversations we entertain, and with whom.

And then there was this relative to starlings as symbol:

“Don’t be afraid to put your truth forward. It takes a little practice, but relationships require clarity.”

As I’ve written, these troubled times have provoked quite the ongoing debate within Kerri’s and my Melange. What are the boundaries of what we write? “Put your truth forward…relationships require clarity.”

I was also amused to read this:

“Starling Spirit Animal offers insight on how you can remain assertive, but not overbearing.”

Ask Kerri. I could definitely use some insight in not being overbearing and the starlings are no doubt great masters and a worthy place to start.

And so, 135 years ago, Eugene Schieffelin let fly a starling ripple and his messengers recently landed in my neighbor’s tree which prompted me to ponder these very worthy missives:

“Put your truth forward.

“…remain assertive, but not overbearing.”

“…take care with whom you let into your inner circle.

read Kerri’s blogpost about STARLINGS

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No Comparison [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“So as long as the mind is comparing, there is no love, and the mind is always judging, comparing, weighing, looking to find out where the weakness is. So where there is comparison, there is no love.”
Jiddu Krishnamurti, On Love and Loneliness

The snow was nested in the pine needles when the wind blew the bundle from the safety of the branch. Together, snow and fascicle landed far below on the well-worn path. I would not have seen it had she not suddenly knelt, pulled her glove from her hand with her teeth and braved the bitter wind to snap an up-close photograph.

Many days later, while choosing photographs for our next Melange, she asks, “Which do you like better?” She shows me the snow-and-pine-needle-embrace among many other photographs. I rarely have a coherent answer to the better-or-worse question. Her photos are always beautiful or curious or interesting – they are certainly moments-in-the-world that I would have missed had she not stopped to capture the image. While she gazes at the beauty on the trail I am generally lost in my thought. It is generally impossible for me to compare the worth of one photograph over another.

I am working on a painting and have given myself full permission to make a mess. It’s harder than you might imagine to turn off the inner-critic, the one who demands better work, the one that compares me with others. In comparison, I always lose.

I am employing a strategy to silence my inner voice of comparison: when the critic roars I pick up a rag or wide-tool incapable of nuance and I smear. I am afraid that I don’t know what I am doing – so I make certain that I don’t; I dive head-long into not knowing. In splodging paint, I guarantee that there can be no comparison to others or to any version of my past-artist-self.

“When you are comparing, you are really not looking at the sunset which is there, but you are looking at it in order to compare it with something else. So comparison prevents you from looking fully.”
― Jiddu Krishnamurti, On Love and Loneliness

In the moment she kneels on a bitter cold day to capture the embrace of snow and pine needles, there is no comparison. She is looking fully. What I see when she shows me the photograph is a moment of seeing, a moment of beauty recognized. Love realized. It’s the same reason I stand at an easel and wipe away my trepidation. To see, subject and object undifferentiated. For a moment, no comparison. One.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW AND PINE NEEDLES

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The Fruit of Now [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“But the Tzutujil, with no verb “to be,” spoke about their temple as a non-rigid, fluid thing to be added to and fed with offerings. These offerings kept the world alive, like the fertilizing and watering of a tree, an ancient tree that continually bears the fruit of “now”. “ ~ Martin Prechtel, Long Life Honey in the Heart

The fruit of now.

Sometimes I try to imagine living in a culture that believes their actions matter not only to the health of the world, but the very existence of the world. All the world a sanctuary. What must it feel like to live with the understanding that what we do and how we behave, what we honor and what we bring to the sanctuary more than sustains it? It recreates it. No action is insignificant. To be the collective stewards of an ancient relationship rather than pursuers of an individual abstract heaven. The fruit of now.

Day one of a new year. Yesterday I wrote about my resolution, to be careful what I pretend to be.

Yesterday Kerri wrote about being a source of light. A luminaria. Illumination. “A lamp kept burning before the sacrament.” To be a source of light in a dark time.

This morning I awoke thinking about kintsugi: the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum. It was mentioned in the Hallmark movie we watched on Sunday night. A cherished angel, broken and repaired. Kintsugi is meant to take what is broken and make it more beautiful by highlighting rather than hiding the cracks.

Kintsugi is a nice compliment to my resolution of being careful about what I pretend to be. It is a worthy intention, rather than hide my broken bits, I might spend this year gluing them back together in such a way that I highlight rather than conceal them. To be an honestly messy human is to be a source of light in a dark time. In that way, might I become more beautiful?

Or, perhaps the becoming-more-beautiful never stops. Kintsugi is not an achievement, an end result. It is an ongoing process. I can imagine, as one of the many stewards of the ancient relationship, responsible for the health of the sanctuary, the ancient tree, becoming more beautiful is an intention, a daily practice. And, knowing that what I-and-we-do-and-say matters to the health of the whole, in this ritual passage into the new year, I-and-we might enjoy the fruit of now, taking this step across the threshold into the new year as if what we do matters to the health of the world, shining as a source of light in a dark time.

read Kerri’s blog about A Luminaria

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