Either Way [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Imaginary problems.

It is my personal favorite phrase – and point – pulled from Jimmy Kimmel’s special monologue for the republicans in our families. It’s an appeal to their sanity, a summary of the nonsensical incoherence and hate daily spewing from the mouth of their dictator wanna-be and his enablers.

He creates imaginary problems.

For instance: Imaginary problem: that there is rampant voter fraud in our elections. Reality: we have safe, fair, and free elections. There was no evidence of voter fraud in 2020. There is no evidence of voter fraud in 2024.

Other examples of a ridiculous and dangerous imaginary problem: immigrants are eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. Gangs of immigrants are taking over Aurora, Colorado. There are dangerous imaginary problems within the imaginary problem. For instance, immigrants are murderers and rapists set free from the world’s prisons and running amok in our nation. Or there is this: The border is an open door. In reality – yes, in reality – none of it is true.

The “invasion” rant, the immigrant-hate-speak we hear daily, the voter fraud screed…is nothing more or less than fearmongering. Fearmongering: (noun) the action of intentionally trying to make people afraid of something when this is not necessary or reasonable.

Imaginary problems are meant to make people afraid of something when it is not necessary or reasonable.

Imaginary problems cause real problems. Here is a real problem: A full 47% of our citizens are preparing to vote for the dissolution of our democracy. They are basing their vote on imaginary problems. They are voting for fascism as the way forward. That’s a real problem. They are voting for the end of the constitution, the promised use of the military to silence voices of opposition, the end of free and fair elections.

Real problem: People in a democracy are voting for fascism because they have been thoroughly steeped in the imaginary monsters set loose by the wanna-be-dictator and magnified by his X oligarch and the fox-megaphone. Very real problem: 47% of the voting public have lost faith in our system based on lies and imaginary problems; fear manufactured in order to sway them.

The monsters are imaginary. The hate and fear it invokes is very real.

The impact of the wild conspiracy theories and incessant lies aren’t imaginary. For instance, the refusal of the dictator-wanna-be to accept the results of the free and fair election of 2020 led to the deaths of 5 Capitol police officers. 140 police officers were injured by a mob responding to an imaginary problem. The families of the 5 officers who died viscerally know the reality of death, all due to the imaginary problem whipped up by the only president in our history who refused to accept the results of a free and fair election. Real problem: the same man – the only man in our history – who incited violence rather than carry on the American tradition of a peaceful transfer of power – is once again whipping up the same imaginary problem. Real problem: his maga-party is enabling his lie.

Yes, we have a real problem.

Keep in mind, the facade that the dictator- wanna-be is a successful business man is imaginary. Reality television is, well, not reality. Neither is his business acumen. His six bankruptcies are real. His grift is real.

His 34 felony convictions are real. His civil conviction for rape is real. The multiple felony counts he faces are real. What’s imaginary? That the charges against him are politically motivated. He would have his supporters believe that he bears no responsibility for his actions. That is a real problem.

His love of the world’s dictators is real. The world’s dictators love him, too. He is, as those who know him well and served in his administration, famously easy to manipulate. Their cautionary tale to us is not imaginary. They are screaming for his supporters, for the nation, to wake up and see what is real before it is too late. The consequences of his ill-intent are and continue to be very real.

And so, we vote. And the question we answer with our ballots is whether or not we are capable of discerning between what is real from what is imaginary, what has substance and and what is falsehood, whether or not we will step forward as a real democracy or step off into the dark fascist imagination of a tired angry reality tv star, a fabrication of a man whose only gift seems to be creating imaginary problems.

Our vote can be an actual solution to the wanna-be-dictator’s abundant imaginary problems.

Either way the consequences of our vote will be real.

read Kerri’s blogpost about IMAGINARY PROBLEMS

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The Guardrail [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

It’s a windy day and the chimes are singing to us. The wind is from the west so the temperatures are rising. We opened the windows. It feels as if the house is breathing, taking in the fresh air before the temperatures drop and the doors and windows are sealed against the cold.

I know that we are breathing. Kerri said that there’s nothing like a ride in an ambulance to give you perspective. She thought of our children. She thought of me. “Nothing else mattered,” she said. Each breath we take includes a sigh of relief.

Life can change in an instant.

We walked the rim trail. We sat on the edge of the Grand Canyon. It’s an awesome thing – especially for someone who is afraid of heights as I am – to sit on the edge without any guardrails. Full exposure. To me, it feels as if the canyon is pulling me over the edge. It’s disorienting. Of course, it is not pulling me, I know. The feeling, the fear, comes from inside of me.

I heard a powerful statement this week. With the supreme court’s jaw-dropping ruling on presidential immunity, with the Project 2025 plan ready to replace civil servants with those who will swear an oath of loyalty to the dictator-wanna-be, with a cabinet of sycophants and loyalists, there is only one guardrail left between our democracy and our nation being pulled into the abyss of fascism. The maga-clan isn’t even trying to mask their hatred, their authoritarian intention; it was on full display in Madison Square Garden.

The GOP has dissolved into a puddle of cowardice. Fearing it will lose a dollar, the business community and much of the media have tucked their tail, dropped their collective spine and are playing hear-no-evil-see-no-evil.

We are in the ambulance, now. What world will we leave our children?

The guardrail is us. You and me. Our vote. I suppose that is as it should be. A “Government of the people. by the people, for the people…” – a democracy in crisis – should necessarily depend upon the people to deliver it from the hands of an autocrat.

We are and should be the guardrail against tyranny.

It only takes a minute to read the full text of The Gettysburg Address. Lincoln’s final thought in his very concise address are as relevant today as they were the day he dedicated The Soldier’s National Cemetery, November 19, 1863:

“—that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain—that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom—and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth. ~ Abraham Lincoln

It is our turn. We are the guardrail. We are the generation that will determine whether or not our nation, “…conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal…can long endure.”

Vote as if our democracy depends on it – because it does.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GUARDRAIL

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Shake The Sickness [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

We thought it was motion sickness or perhaps a brush with heat stroke. In retrospect, it was her first symptoms of COVID. Fever and nausea. Perception is a funny thing. We were on a pontoon boat on Lake Powell, a miracle of water in the middle of the desert. We ascribed her sickness to the circumstance of the moment, blinding ourselves to the presence of the virus.

20 days later, now at home, I called an ambulance. Searing pain in her back, intense nausea. She couldn’t move. She lost consciousness and when she came back into her body, she was utterly incoherent. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. I dialed 911. I thought she had a stroke or heart attack. It never occurred to me that it was COVID inflaming her spine. Sometimes we miss the obvious sickness in the pressure of the moment.

It is through these two experiences that we witness and interpret this moment in our nation’s history. The sickness is right in front of our faces. Is it the pressure of the moment, the circumstances, that make so many of our citizens willingly blind to the hate-filled virus? To what do we attribute the appeal of this maga-fascist movement within a multi-cultural democracy? I am writing ahead so am freshly disgusted by what we witnessed last night at the maga-rally at Madison Square Garden.

This morning I heard this question: Why do we hold Kamala Harris to a high standard for her position on issues, her capacity to articulate ideas, for the emotions she does or does not exhibit – and yet, there is no equal standard or expectation for her opponent? For him, there is no bar too low, no lie too repugnant, no assertion too vile…We’ve normalized his hate-speak; we’ve come to expect his racist, misogynistic rhetoric.

Why the disparity? His fascist rants drive ratings. In a decent society it should disqualify him.

Are we truly this sadly transactional? Is our moral center nothing more than quid-pro-quo?

Kamala holds herself to a high standard. She actually has ideas to articulate. She has and follows a moral compass. She holds fast to a firm belief in public service and champions the tenets of our constitution. She believes the occupant of the office of the presidency should lead by example, should elevate rather than diminish others, should support rather than threaten, should solve problems rather than make accusations, should embody and lead from a high standard, should take responsibility rather than blame. I’m almost embarrassed to write this as it should be a given for any candidate for our nation’s highest office: she also has a firm grasp of reality.

Her opponent and his party have no such expectation of themselves.

We’ve just witnessed a major newspaper withhold an endorsement for fear of retribution if maga-man wins the election. Jeff Bezos does not wish his future business deals to suffer in the event of a maga-win. We are witness to politicians – like Mitt Romney – who fear retribution and banishment from their party if they speak honestly about authoritarian big daddy. That our business leaders, that our politicians fear retribution – retribution from a candidate for president – this is the sickness. This is the fascist disease currently infecting the tongues and minds of those who have platforms to speak.

Think about it: In the United States of America, many of our senior republican politicians are so fearful of defending our democracy that they ask us not to hear what we hear. They gaslight without shame. In 2024, in the United States of America, some of our most successful business people, some who control much of our media, are choosing silence at the very moment we most need their voices. Or, worse, they are actively spreading the lies of the autocrat-wanna-be. Apparently, magnifying the bile could be good for business.

Quid pro quo. No virtue necessary. No moral fiber required. This is the virus attacking the courage- the spinal system – of our nation.

We hold Kamala Harris to a high standard because she holds us to a high standard. She believes that we will vote for a healthy future and not a diseased-fantasy-past. She believes that, after the maga-fever-dream passes, we will as a nation reunite, regain our health. We will hold ourselves and our elected officials to a higher standard. We will re-embody our famous optimism – and those who lost themselves in cowardice and hatred will reawaken, shake the sickness from their hearts and brains, and ask, as Kerri asked in the ER, “What just happened?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE VIRUS

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It’s Our Turn [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

You may have noticed two things. First, our weekly Smack-Dab uses the same artwork every week. Our explanation: Kerri’s computer died weeks ago and, since she is her mother’s daughter, she will resist replacing it until all possible work-arounds are exhausted. Therefore the Smack-Dab dialogue changes because we can edit it. The images…not so much.

There is creative liberation in limitation. Years ago we created a cartoon featuring the eternal optimist DogDog and the ever-cynical BabyCat conversing at the front door. The dialogue changed while the images remained constant. It was a riot of fun. The unchanging image – the visual parameters – often determined the dialogue possibilities. This morning I realized that Smack-Dab has become At-The-Door.

Second, Smack-Dab is now a political cartoon. In a recent interview, historian Heather Cox Richardson spoke of the critical times in our nation’s history that democracy was threatened and the people of the nation rose to meet the challenge and preserve the constitution. She said, “Now, it is our turn. It is our time to rise and meet the challenge to our democracy.”

We never dreamed that Smack-Dab would become a political cartoon, Neither did we ever dream that our democracy would give rise to an authoritarian with so many of our fellow citizens wholeheartedly supporting his fascist intentions.

We – all of us – are sitting at the existential door. The question we consider is basic: do we believe in democracy and the way of life enshrined in our constitution? Or, do we swear an oath the rantings of a fascist madman? He’s a cartoon but he’s not funny.

We are asking momentous questions in our cartoon. We will answer these questions with our vote. The way we meet this historic challenge to our democracy couldn’t be more serious. It’s our turn. It’s our time to preserve for future generations the Constitution of The United States.

At The Door © 2016, 2024 kerrianddavid.com

read Kerri’s blogpost about OPEN THEIR EYES

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Scratches On The Wall [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Scratches on the wall. Petroglyphs, the only evidence that remains of a people who once lived in these canyons, who lived by the river we’ve named Fremont. We do not know if they had a name for the river. We do not know if they had a name for themselves. We call them the Fremont, after the river. A location name.

The Fremont River is named for an American explorer, John Charles Fremont, so the people who scratched pictures into the rock over 1,000 years ago also carry his name. As is the nature of history, we locate them from our point of view. We build an identity-structure and civilization-story about them based upon our story of them. We’ve placed them in our narrative timeline, 1 – 1300 CE. We have no idea how they thought of or marked their time.

We have no idea what became of them. They disappeared into time. We have no idea what the petroglyphs mean or why they scratched them into the canyon walls. We wonder at the semiotics, the inner symbolic life that produced such strange (to us) images that remain on the red rock walls.

This morning, through my COVID aches and chills, I watched the news. I would like to say that I am mystified by the civilization-story currently being spun and supported by half of my nation but I am not. I would like to say that the hatred and fear-mongering of the red hat tribe is as much a mystery to me as the way of the Fremont, but it is not. The concurrent xenophobia and wild-eyed-creation of an internal enemy (anyone not in a red hat) has roots that are all too easy to see. It’s a fascist popcorn trail, a page from Hitler’s handbook. The language is identical. The images, scratched into the red-fox-walls of our time are all too easy to interpret. A frightened and misinformed populace is easily manipulated. Fooled.

What is a mystery to me is the inner symbolic life of my nation’s conservatives that seem so ready to trade our sacred democracy for a populist authoritarian. What scratches on the walls of their minds are so easily storied into hatred. What has so hardened their hearts that they embrace with cheers the repulsive bile spewed by their candidate? It is as incomprehensible to me as the petroglyphs of the Fremont.

All societies disappear into time. Ours, relative to the Fremont, is still in its infancy. We can only hope that an explorer in some distant future finds our petroglyphs – and although a mystery to them, we will have known that we transcended the authoritarian threat and overcame the fox-fear-fantasy, manufactured hatred and dark lies. And, over the next thousand years, our scratches on the wall tell the tale of how we matured to fulfill the promise of our sacred ideals. Out of many, one.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PETROGLYPHS

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“We Have A Problem.” [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Yesterday I opened the door to the basement and heard a waterfall – not the sound you want to hear coming from your basement. I knew it was a waterfall because two years ago I opened the basement door, heard the sound and asked myself, “What’s that sound?” I’m sharing this with you as proof-positive that I am capable of learning and retaining what I learn. This time, I knew without doubt – because I remembered – the cause of the sound. Waterfall.

The first time I heard the waterfall-in-the-basement-sound I could not imagine that the sound was water pouring from the ceiling. It was inconceivable since it had never happened before. I was ankle deep in water before I allowed the penny to drop. That’s the great thing about learning: greater efficiency in understanding the situation, fewer steps to right-action. This time I didn’t need to investigate. I simply turned and announced to Kerri, “We have a problem.” We knew exactly what to do. We knew exactly what our day held in store.

It’s a line. Past experience is useful in present and future choices. To ignore past experience – to ignore what we know – is called ignorance. I thought about the line between knowing and head-in-the-sand as I stared into the sky. Sometimes it’s a curse to see all-the-world as a metaphor. We stopped on the path so Kerri could take some photos of the storm line over the lake. It was distinct. The light behind the dark clouds was startling, hopeful.

Here’s what I thought while staring at the line in the sky: we had four miserable years with the maga-candidate as president. He left us a bloody mess. His time in office was a daily festival of chaos. He lied so liberally that media organizations initiated a daily count of his lies and instituted fact-checkers as a regular part of their reporting. He mismanaged the greatest health crisis in a century costing thousands of lives. He was impeached twice (side note: watch the new documentary From Russia With Lev and ask yourself how it was possible that he was protected by his party from impeachment).

Each day I ask myself, “How is it possible that people do not remember?” Of course, I know the answer – I’ve heard this sound before. We remember though many are choosing to ignore what they know. They feel it necessary to step into the ankle deep water again before admitting that there is a problem.

We are on the eve of an election. The maga-candidate is like a waterfall in the basement, seeping into and destroying everything. We’ve opened this door before. We know without doubt the sound. We’ve heard it before – we’ve heard it all before. The lies. The threats. The fearmongering. The blaming. We need not descend into chaos to know what’s happening – what will happen if he is elected.

That’s the great thing about learning: greater efficiency in understanding the situation, fewer steps to right-action.

Vote to stop the waterfall in the basement. We’ve already learned what will happen if we don’t.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LINE

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Beyond The Deception [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I’m sure by now you’ve surmised that I am capable of a good rant. Early on in my blog-life I added a cleverly disguised category label, Rant, because, like you, I surmised that I am capable of a good diatribe. I don’t always archive my rants in the Rant category because I am human and not capable of admitting to myself how often I yada-yada. I admit it: I hide the evidence.

For Kerri, there is no place to hide. She is my constant audience and is subject to the full spectrum of my verbose disbelief (again, this is a good time to send her your condolences and heartfelt wishes).

Lately, in addition to the obvious abandonment of their brains, I am deeply saddened and alarmed by the reds’ ability to relinquish their hearts at the door. People have died, people are dying, living in fear, all due to the daily maga-lie-spew. That the river of claptrap is easily refuted makes no difference at all to the dedicated, seemingly brainless-heartless faithful. Their VP candidate admitted that they make stuff up and will do whatever it takes.

As Pete Buttigieg remarked, it’s sleight of hand. Deflection. While the media and the faithful are jammed up by the latest outrageous nonsense (nonsense drives ratings while truth is not nearly as profitable), we are missing the obvious. There is no there-there. In the angry hot air that inflates the baggy blue suit and too-long red tie, no real record of achievement can be found. No serious thought for anyone other than himself is detected. His “leadership” strategy consists of whipping up fear and division with conspiracy theory and baseless allegations all in pursuit of a Disney fantasy yesteryear. Smoke and mirrors. The daily chaos obscures his explicit plan to dismantle the Constitution.

Take a moment and look beyond the deception. The gasbag blather easily dissipates in the light of common sense.

My hope: that a few folks lost in the red-shame pick up their hearts and brains en route to the voting booth and we move forward into the possibility of this nation’s promise rather than backward into the frenzied mire.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RANTS

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Easy To See [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

We crossed paths with some friends on the bike path and, of course, our conversation turned to politics. Our discussion – like all of our political conversations lately – begin and end with disbelief.

The maga candidate is a horror-story of a human being, a consummate liar, a dedicated victim, found liable for rape, a convicted felon, an authoritarian who openly intends to dismantle our constitution, promoting dangerous conspiracy theories, sowing division for personal gain while feeding the anger of people who deserve to have their issues addressed and not exploited by their candidate.

In every conversation we ask again and again,”What do they not see?”

As Kerri reminded me, “They DO see it.”

That troubles me.

In the very first full paragraph of my book, I wrote, “Not many people see. Most people merely look. Just as most people hear but they do not listen, most people look but they do not see.” Words that haunt.

Angry people do not see. They can’t. Angry people do not think. They can’t. They can only blindly react. This maga candidate and his fox-news-propaganda-machine keep his crowd angry, fear-full, firmly distracted, ensconced in lizard brain. Fight-or-flight. He profits. They lose.

They do not see – they could not see – or they’d gag, turn their backs, and walk away. Or maybe, as Kerri suggests, they DO see. And white nationalism, violence borne of age-old-ignorance is what they want. It is, apparently, what they support.

This meme floated across my screen the other day. “I can’t respect people who respect him.” There are no more better angels in my nature. I can no longer twist my brain to try and understand the enablers of this monster. His lies are hurting people. Witness what is now happening in Springfield, Ohio. There is no mystery here. This is thuggery.

This red-hat-rage is mob mentality. His enablers, voiding their judgment, their morality, their values, are bonded by fear and whipped into a fury by a narcissist who fuels their nightmare with fantasy and then feeds on their panic.

Any attempt at finding something to respect in their hate-filled-point-of-view is to pretend that it has validity. It is to become one of the enablers of this train wreck.

They will (I hope) wake up someday, blurry-eyed and confused, and like all people who stormed all night, out of their minds with the mob, they will ask themselves, “What have I done?” Then they might begin the long journey back to self-respect.

In the meantime, there is no reasoning with a mob.

The best we can do is vote. And, this time, more than issues and policies, we choose between our democracy and fascism. We choose between decency and…gross indecency. This is not about the price of eggs. The choice is abundantly clear and, when in one’s right-mind, it’s actually very easy to see.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SEEING

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Sacred Voice [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

My niece said it perfectly: for the first time in eight years I can vote FOR someone rather than against someone. The direction of intention. Moving toward the light instead of reacting against the darkness. And now, with Kamala Harris and Tim Walz, there is at long last a brilliant sunrise.

Beneath every action is a reason. A purpose or desire.

A vote is an action. It is the single action at the epicenter of every democracy. If there is a sacred action in the idea of democracy, voting is it. It is how we-the-people choose our path forward. It is how we participate (take responsibility) in our development. It is how we give voice to our intentions. To date, the people in the United States have one of the lowest voter turnouts in the world. Only 62%.

Choosing not to vote is…a choice. An inaction.

Over and over again in my career I heard people decry their voice-less-ness. Sunk in the quicksand-belief that their actions did not matter, their voice did not matter, they simply ceased trying. “No matter what I do, nothing changes.” Somehow, the connection between action and impact is snapped. And, the space between the broken pieces fills with the anger of helplessness.

As my former business partner responded to a woman who claimed voicelessness, “If you had a voice, what would you say?”

You have a voice. It’s called a vote. If you choose to use it, what will you say? Will you speak with dark fear or proclaim joy-filled-light? Will you declare possibility or mean-spirited-pout?

Our actions in the next few months, our vote this November, is our voice. I choose the light. My vote, my voice, will speak to a world that serves and shines on the whole community, that reaches for the central ideal: the creation of a nation built on the notion Out-Of-Many–One. Service to all. It is the reason we have a sacred vote, a voice of We-The-People.

There’s never been a better time, a more necessary time, to stand up and speak loud and clear. There’s never been a more important time to help others who have become complacent to claim – to reclaim – their sacred voice.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ACTION

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A Narrative Of Hope [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Sometimes the car breaks down. Sometimes the car breaks down and you are hours away from home. When it happens, as is now happening now for us, it’s best to count your blessings. On the top of the list of gratitudes: we are in a beautiful place, up north, surrounded by good friends. Our dear 20 is keeping our Dogga safe. All is right in the world.

Circumstance changes. Plans change. Indeed, plans go out the window. The center holds. Life comes into simple focus.

As we sort out what to do, how best to get home – get the car home – we watch our nation sort out what to do. In our lull, counting our gratitudes, we watch the joy and enthusiasm ripple out of the Democratic National Convention and inspire the nation. A narrative of hope. A narrative of remembrance of who we are. A narrative of community, people helping people, a narrative of service to something bigger…

We are, right now, in a position of needing help. I cannot tell you how important, how gratifying it is to know that the support we need is immediately and lovingly available. It’s what we do for each other.

Why would we do any less for our community? Why would we want any less for our nation?

No one navigates this life alone. Today, Kerri and I know this viscerally, in our bones. This November we can vote for selfish poverty, the angry narrative of the former Republican Party, the lie of every-man-for-himself – or – we can vote for the Democratic ideal that lives at the very heart of our nation: we are our brothers/sisters keepers – because they are also our keepers, our support, the epicenter of our thankfulness. It’s called community. In service to the betterment of all. The choice is ours and it has never been more clear.

Helping hands are everywhere – as it should be.

read Kerri’s blogpost about VOTE

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