Suspicious Sugar Sipping [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Breaking news! It was just discovered that most hummingbirds winter in Mexico and Central America. They are, in fact, migrants and not the benign sugar-sipping citizens of the USA as previously believed.

Rest assured, roving bands of ICE are on it. Luckily, the Supreme Court just dismantled constitutional protections against racial profiling. Hummingbirds join Latinos as groups who can be detained without cause. Any bird perceived to be a hummingbird is now subject to arrest and subsequent deportation without due process.

The court’s ruling clears the way for ICE to detain and disappear any bird, migrating or non-migratory residents, without cause or due process, based on looks (asian, caucasian, african american, latino, indigenous*…), occupation (chef, construction worker, professor, lawyer, artist, economist, democratic politician…) or language (truth, fact, data, wisdom, knowledge) spoken in Spanish, English or any of the other approximately 7,100 languages spoken on earth.

Residents are encouraged to immediately report any suspicious sugar-sipping-behavior – or anyone who espouses moral clarity – to your neighborhood roving ICE band.

(Dear maga reader: In case you missed it, this post is purposely facetious. Facetious is an adjective and means to treat serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humor; flippant.)

***

*The U.S. federal government’s race categories include American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, Black or African American, Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander, and White, with an option to select two or more races. In addition, these categories are often paired with Hispanic or Latino and Middle Eastern or North African to form a comprehensive list of seven co-equal categories for data collection on race and ethnicity.

Once racial profiling is legal for one group, it applies to all groups. The Supreme Court is sworn to uphold the Constitution, not to dismantle it as the six conservative justices are now doing.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HUMMINGBIRDS

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No Space. No Time. [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Our saturday-morning-smack-dab-cartoon was about feeling wistful in the fall. We very intentionally prompted something non-political, non-news-of-the-day-ish, so we might give our hearts and minds a break from railing against the incessant assault on our democratic way of life. And then I read something that deeply upset me. Instead of writing about wistfulness, I wrote about our national incapacity of dealing with the truth.

And then, at the end of my post, I wrote an apology for once again shaking my metaphoric fists and railing at the lies.

And then, I erased my apology. I did not want to lie. In truth, I was not sorry for railing at the lies and misinformation and abuse of the public trust. I call myself an artist and the very epicenter of that role is to hold a mirror up to my community. Sometimes the image in the mirror is ugly.

We were walking on the Des Plaines river trail, just north of Chicago, when two fighter jets ripped across the sky just above the tree line. The earth shook. It was the same day that the authoritarian wanna-be, in a meme no less…, declared war on Chicago. I made the assumption that the fighter jets were an opening salvo, a demonstration of power by a weak little man meant to shake the populace.

“Can you believe it?” she asked.

Isn’t it sad that my first assumption was that the president of the united states sent war planes over the region to startle the populace? Isn’t it sad that, in these times, even though my assumption was wrong, it was not an outlandish proposition, not a sci-fi-speculation, but actually within the realm of possibility?

Many of her recent photographs capture fading flowers. I am drawn to them. The brittle shapes. The muting colors. Life energy pulling away from the blossom and retreating to the root to rest and re-energize. It produces a different kind of beauty.

It is this waning beauty, this retreat into the root that has always evoked my wistfulness. I realized that this autumn I will probably not feel my usual wistfulness. The yearning of fall is made delicious because of the promise of spring emerging from dark winter. Wistfulness is letting go to open space for renewal. I realized, watching the fighter jets, aghast that a president would resort to such a childish meme to declare his ugliest of intentions, to turn the military on its citizens, that I do not know if our democratic nation will be here in the spring.

There is no space for wistfulness. There is no time for apologies. There is no longer any doubt that a fascist dark winter is descending. We are fools to think that it will lead to a democratic spring.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WANING FLOWERS

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This Simplistic Principle [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Years ago I facilitated a conversation with students about the first amendment. They were doing a research project and ran headlong into a wall of hate speech from the KKK. They were horrified and adamant that this kind of expression shouldn’t be legal. The question was this: if you restrict their freedom of speech are you not also restricting your own? Infringing on the core liberties of any group – no matter how much we disagree – damages constitutional protection and endangers the freedom of speech for everyone.

It’s not a fundamental right unless it protects everyone equally. That is the genius of our constitution.

In the past six months we’ve witnessed the suspension of due process (a violation of the 5th and 14th amendments), the suspension of habeas corpus (a violation of article one, section nine of the constitution) and, more recently, the Posse Comitatus Act (a violation of federal law).

People are being plucked off the street and “disappeared”. People are being sent to concentration camps without charge (violations of due process and habeas corpus).

The government is using the military as a police force against civilians (a violation of posse comitatus).

We’ve also been witness to The Supreme Court ruling that a president has absolute immunity from prosecution. The law no longer applies equally to everyone so, essentially, the law no longer applies to anyone. Witness the immunity granted to the January 6th insurrectionists by the president who has absolute immunity.

To MAGA and to the republicans who hear-and-see-no-evil, to the law firms that have folded, the no-longer-free press, to the tech bros scooping up our data and to the fox fueling the fascists, the message is the same to you as it was to my long ago students: what is being done unto others will soon be done unto you. It’s not a right or a fundamental freedom unless it applies to everyone. Everyone. Understanding this simplistic principle is what makes it an imperative to fight for the rights of others, even when you don’t agree with them. Understanding this simplistic principle this is what it means to be woke. We-the-woke know that you do not yet understand this simplistic principle. When due process dies for other people, it also dies for you. When immigrants or democrats can be incarcerated and disappeared without charge, it will inevitably happen to you.

Do you understand that this simplistic principle is the genius of our constitution. It’s why we are marching and protesting and resisting this authoritarian take-down of our democracy. We believe protecting the freedoms and rights of others is to protect our personal freedoms and rights – and yours. As you cheer the military rolling into L.A or snicker as the president declares war on Chicago, as the freedom to vote is being stripped from women and people of color…we-the-woke wonder at what point you will wake-up. At what point will you realize that these losses of freedom also apply equally across the board?

read Kerri’s blogpost about RIGHTS

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Into The Space [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

There is a space of time between when we script the cartoon and when we write our posts about the cartoon. Sometimes something – some bit of information or an experience – falls into that space and colors what we write.

A mother talking to her small child about school-shooter-drills fell into the space. It invoked a different kind of wistful. I yearn for a time in our nation when the leading cause of death among our children is something other than a bullet.

What else fell into the space? A fractal. Knowing that our pathological-liar-president is surrounded by people who perpetuate his fantasy. He is protected from the messy truth.

But wait! Take a step back. The fox protects millions of the intellectually lazy from the messy truth. It wraps them with a woeful victim tale. They are made angry and violent by the perpetual assault of an illusion. But wait! We are witness to the scrubbing of our history, the erasure of civil rights and DEI, the banning of books, the stripping of exhibits from museums…all to promote a fantasy-tale of the USA, all to protect us from the messy truth of our nation.

It’s not the first time in our nation’s short history that we-the-people have been protected from seeing the full story of our nation. We are – and have been – surrounded by a fantasy-crap-tale: it’s called manifest destiny. White-people-good; white-males-especially.

Am I feeling the fall-wistfuls yet? No. I am just incredibly sad. Today I am witness to a mother teaching her bright inquisitive child to crouch in a dark corner and try to disappear. Today I am witness to the power players of my nation protect pedophiles instead of the children they raped. They are drilling us to crouch in dark corner. They are normalizing us to the necessity of disappearing.

I yearn for a time that has not yet happened in our history: a time when we are unafraid to look in the mirror and see the whole picture, all of it; the good, the bad, the ugly. I yearn for a time when we are capable of dealing with our truth rather than whipping up fantasies.

Maybe then we will summon the capacity to protect our children from real bullets rather than perpetuating the fantasy that gun control is an infringement upon cowboy culture. Or, to pull the mask off completely: maybe we will prioritize the safety of our children above the profits of weapons manufacturers; maybe we will prioritize the rights and safety of all people above protecting the irresponsibility, the outrages of the privileged few.

Maybe. I’m capable of wrapping myself in a protective feel-good fantasy, too. I come by it naturally. I am, after all, a citizen of the USA.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WISTFUL

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

Greet The Messenger [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.” ~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Lately we’ve been walking an out-and-back that takes us south along the water. The turn around point is the Southport Beach House. It is a sacred place for us; ten years ago, on a beautiful October day, we held our wedding reception there.

Although not consciously intentional, there is something essential about our near-daily walks to the beach house. As we approach our tenth anniversary, we find that we are reaching back. In reminiscing, we make contact with our origin story. We are appreciating the distance we’ve traveled, the hardships we’ve endured, the support we’ve enjoyed, and the profound changes we’ve realized.

In our time together, life has taken a hard rock to our shell and we are better for it. We are more capable of standing in fire. Try as it might, circumstance cannot pull us from center. We know how to discern substance from nonsense. We are no longer in a hurry “to get there” and are more than content “to be where we are”.

A seagull stands watch on the light post. It’s greeted us each time we’ve take the steps down to the beach on the path circumnavigating the beach house. In symbol, a seagull represents “the spirit of exploration and boundless freedom”. I like what that bodes. I have come to expect to meet this messenger on our path and why not?

I’ve had plenty of experience focusing on the hardship and bemoaning the pain. Why not now expect to meet each day the spirit of exploration? Why not assume boundless freedom? Isn’t this the very realization that now pours forth, the understanding that was once imprisoned in the hard armor that our life-pain has opened?

Take Flight on the album This Part of the Journey © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SEAGULL

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Recognize The Real [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Dan has lived his whole life in this town. He told me that, when he was a boy, there were thousands upon thousands of monarch butterflies. Their habitat is mostly gone. We delight watching them each evening, the three or four that flutter through our backyard sanctuary. I’ve always appreciated the appearance of these vibrant orange wobbly fliers, these harbingers of fall. Now, I see them with different eyes. These few are intrepid survivors, the carriers of a flickering torch into the future.

An enormous black wasp flew in hauling a long blade of grass. It pulled the grass into the tubing of the chair in which Kerri was sitting. Thinking that it was odd that a wasp was going it alone – and being reactive against a potential sting, we did some quick research. We discovered that it was a Organ Pipe Mud Dauber. They are not aggressive. The females build individual nests either by creating or finding an appropriate tube shaped hole. Thus, the name, Organ Pipe. They are great for a garden. We watched her during the evening as several times she flew away and returned with more grass to pull into the pipe for the nest. We marveled at our wrong assumptions and the mountain of things that we know nothing about. Our initial reaction, based on wrong assumptions and absolutely no information, nearly made us miss the miracle.

The first day of September. En route to refresh the water in the birdbath I startled a tiny frog. It leapt and plopped into the pond, disappearing. We’d given up hope that we’d have a frog this year. They usually show up in early July. In the middle of August we stopped checking, accepting that it would be a frog-less season. “FROG!” I shout-whispered to Kerri and she came running. We sat by the pond for several minutes. “Are you sure you saw it,” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

We’ve come to understand the arrival of a frog as an affirmation. A bringer-of-hope. It’s remains a mystery how frogs find their way to our tiny backyard pond. This little frog is evasive and has become something of a metaphor in these fraught times: hope is present but hard to see. We hear it plop into the pond but have not had a second sighting. I’m certain our neighbors think that we are deranged as they watch us carefully tip-toe to the pond. “Are they sneaking up on their pond?” Michele wrinkles her brow and asks John. He shrugs. He’s grown used to our peculiarity.

Sneaking up on hope. Making sure we don’t miss the miracle. Recognizing the real value of the few intrepid monarchs fluttering by.

perhaps finished? Title: 66 & 19, 31.5″x36″ mixed media on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MONARCH

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Plant The Seed [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

And just like that, fall is in the air. The harvest is happening and jalapeno poppers are on the menu. We have a bumper crop of tomatoes and are making an extra batch of pesto since the basil is outdoing itself. In the middle of nature’s man-made erratica, our garden thrives and reminds us to appreciate abundance where she shows her face.

Over the Labor Day weekend, a woman, an elder on the block, decided to host a neighborhood gathering. People came out of their houses with platters of food to share. Kerri has lived here for 36 years and has a long history with many of the people who sat in a circle and chatted. I’ve lived here for 13 years and although I’d seen many of the faces before, I’ve waved to many of the faces as we walked by, but I’d never actually had a conversation with most of my neighbors. They are delightful and quirky, each with an interesting story to share.

I decided that the people of this nation need one-big-block party with one rule: no talk of politics. Bring food to share. Shake hands. Ask, “How are you?” Talk about the real stuff, the plumbing problem or share photos of grandchildren. Talk about the zealous garden that the hot and humid summer weather ignited.

Kerri and I used to host many, many gatherings: slow dance parties, midnight X-mas eve bonfires, ukulele band rehearsals and choir potlucks. Since COVID and with the rise of ugly-maga-madness, we’ve “pulled up the drawbridge”. We keep and guard a tight circle of friends. We cultivate a sanctuary in our backyard.

This morning I read a quote by Noam Chomsky:

Neoliberal democracy. Instead of citizens, it produces consumers. Instead of communities, it produces shopping malls. The net result is an atomized society of disengaged individuals who feel demoralized and socially powerless. In sum, neoliberalism is the immediate and foremost enemy of genuine participatory democracy, not just in the United States but across the planet, and will be for the foreseeable future.

Maga is neoliberal. Project 2025 is neoliberal: it promotes “liberalizing” markets, meaning the removal of all regulation and oversight, while eliminating anything that smacks of service or a social program. Neoliberalism has been a disaster in the past; it promotes oligarchy and fosters dictatorship. Our Civil War and our Great Depression were in large part produced by a neoliberalist agenda. It worships business, undermines service, and fosters division. It is the toxic philosophy creating the national disaster we currently endure. Neoliberalism is a Roman orgy for the wealthiest few. It is an economic speeding car with no brakes and cares not-a-whit for who or what it runs over. It always ends in a nasty crash.

The phrase in Chomsky’s quote that struck a chord was “The net result is an atomized society…” Here we are. Atomized. It is undeniable. It is antagonistic.

On my growing list of responses to the question, “What can we do?” I am adding, “Host a neighborhood gathering.” Breaking bread together is an ancient tradition, perhaps as old as humanity itself. At the very least it is a step toward connection. Social power is a group sport and begins when neighbors gather and talk. A neighborhood gathering plants the seed for participation and active community, a someday-place-of-appreciation, a mighty harvest, where abundance will gladly show her face.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HARVEST

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A New, Unique Personality [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

It really does not take much to transform a room. New furniture, accent walls or refreshed paint, area rugs…are all viable options. However, none of these work as well or as effortlessly as two googly eyes stuck on the wall. Try it. Your space will immediately have a new, unique personality. It will have an undeniable focal point. It will immediately fill guests with questions. It will, just like your conscience, look back at you. You will wonder what your new room reveals about your personality. You will catch yourself pondering what your room is thinking. Someday, inevitably, you will find yourself talking to your wall.

All of this transformation with the simple addition of two dime store googly eyes.

Keep in mind that three eyes are not better than two. One eye will confuse or irritate rather than illuminate. Eyes on every wall will cancel the magic. If personification is the goal, then two eyes are requisite. No more. No less.

It takes very little to personify, to project human qualities and traits onto – into – something as abstract as a wall. It’s why we find deep comfort in teddy bears or reach for the wisdom of the man in the moon. They look back at us. We endow them with compassion or quietly listen to the messages brought to us by the wind.

Conversely, it takes very little to dehumanize a human being. As easily as we assign humanity to objects we just as easily deny humanity to people. We make them objects. It’s easier to scoop them off the streets and put them into camps if we objectify them, if we downgrade their humanity. If we blame them for what ails us.

It’s simple. All we need do is project onto them our cruelty. Keep in mind, to be successful dehumanizers, it’s especially necessary to avoid opening your eyes. Opening your eyes will immediately fill you with questions about yourself. It will ignite your conscience; you will see “their” eyes looking back at you. You will wonder what your projection onto “them” reveals about you.

It really doesn’t take much to transform a culture. All you need do is close your eyes. It is just as effective to look the other way. It will serve to stifle questions especially the self-reflective variety. Averting or closing the eyes is especially useful when it is necessary to deny the obvious or to endow fiction with substance or abdicate personal responsibility. Choosing blindness you will become an easy mark, effortlessly misled.

All of this transformation with the simple condition of closing the eyes.

Rest assured, in the absence of sight, your community will have a new, unique personality.

read Kerri’s blogpost about EYES

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The Number One Need [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Recently we wrote about the ubiquitous question, “What can I do?” We-the-people are under assault by a government racing toward fascism and often find ourselves frozen in disbelief. John Pavlovitz’s answer to the question is to look local. Find a local need and fill it. A million small acts of kindness and support add up to a tsunami of good will across our injured landscape. It’s the Butterfly Effect.

It is also important to look nationally. Though we’re not hearing about it in the mainstream media, the Supremes are poised to strike a death-blow to democracy. They are hearing arguments to strike down Section 2 of the Voting Rights Act which prohibits racial discrimination in voting. It is, as Mark Elias says, “A Five Alarm Fire” for our democracy.

On the list of needs, raising awareness of the importance of this assault on voters rights is urgent. It, too, is the Butterfly Effect. Erase protections from racial discrimination in voting and there will be no constitutional prohibition on the republican gerrymander. A tsunami of republican political manipulations will sweep across our land and essentially end free and fair elections for all of us. Pushing back, protesting, ringing the alarm on this assault on minority voter protection…is utmost on the list of needs.

The republicans are attempting to push through their SAVE ACT that places limits on voting rights. The repeal of The Voting Rights Act would essentially be the nail in democracy’s coffin.

Number one on our national list of needs: a republican party that actually believes in democracy. They work to restrict voter access to free and fair elections while openly scheming to rig elections so they will forever remain in power.

Perhaps the number one need is mainstream news sources that actually report the news. Where-oh-where has the free press gone?

With a corrupt Supreme court doing the bidding of the wanna-be-king that they made, with a goosestepping republican congress and a largely AWOL democratic congress, it seems that the buck stops with us. A million tiny actions, like ringing the alarm or taking to the streets…can lead to very large consequences. After all, democracy, a government of, by, and for the people is, in practice, The Butterfly Effect. Every single individual act – every individual vote in a free and fair election -when combined with millions of votes – can send a tsunami of good will across our injured land. But first we have to actively protect the integrity of our right to vote from a deeply rotten Supreme Court and a republican party that serves a corrupt man rather than the oath they swore to our Constitution.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LIST OF NEEDS

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Meet The Firewall [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I’ve decided that I am stuck in the past. I used to call my doctor when I needed immediate doctoring, when I had the flu or, like this week, a suspicious bug bite that slowly started to take over my body. I admit to being a slow-study. It’s taken more than a few experiences to learn that when I need some medical attention from my “primary care physician” I will always – always – be met with a firewall called “the next available appointment”. Sometime in 2027.

A relevant side note: please keep in mind Master Marsh’s wise insight: “Customer service is a firewall against serving the customer.” I’ve discovered the same might be said of doctoring in these un-United States. My relationship with my primary care physician is, in fact, a firewall against primary care.

I’ve finally learned my lesson. As a first step, from this day forward, I will always go to urgent care. Or, I will join the legion of people clogging the arteries of the ER for non-emergency but very costly services. But I will never-ever call my doctor. I’ve learned at last that PCP stands for Periodic Care Physician.

In truth, I feel badly for my PCP. During my last visit for an annual physical he raced in and out with his rolling computer cart to maximize the seven minutes he was allowed to spend with me before he rolled on to his next seven minute patient encounter. He was moving so fast that he “mis-coded” my annual physical as a “welcome visit” so, apparently, in his mind, we sipped scotch and took a tour of the property. Sad. He barely had time to listen to my heart and has no time to listen to his own heart. I’m certain he went to medical school to help people but has found himself doing factory work and we-the-patients are his assembly-line-widgets.

I doubt that this was the career he imagined. It’s an unimaginable system that is designed for excessive billing and, therefore, is fantastically profitable – our healthcare system costs seven times more than any other developed nation – but has little or nothing to do with health or with care.

(Hey. Wait a minute! A spider bite was how Spiderman got started! I’ll keep you posted if I find that I am suddenly able to scale walls or swing through the city from self-generated webbing).

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEALTHCARE

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

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