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Coin flip the alliterations;

politics in a pervasive
culture in a contagion
persuasion in a pandemic
promise in a pestilence
ideology in an infirmity
franchise in an infection
republic in a rampant
tally without a tenet

NaPoWriMo April 2020.


We believe it necessary, proper and immensely satisfying to dog politicians. It’s important to howl at their hypocrisy, raise a leg against their pomposity, and bark insistently if you feel they have infringed upon your turf.

Yet, in doing so, why resort to the methods of the mongrel? Why not measure your quarry with an eye to allowing others to glimpse what has been made clear to you: that you have considered your subject from multiple points of view and that you call into question your opponent’s angle because you’ve come to appreciate where your adversary stands.

That you do so with faith in our system, a respect for those who choose public participation, and a modicum of manners when circumstance calls for a disagreement.


Politics as bar fight is the cocktail of the current. Many, drunk on agitprop, belly up to the bar all bellicose and thug a theory they can parrot but not parse.

When asked for particulars, or confronted with context, the thug can only reflect, in higher decibels, the original echo. Leads to frustration all around. Oh does it?

Maybe the thug wins the happy hour, as the wise disengage, or maybe it’s all street theater designed to drop the curtain on any serious colloquy, while limiting the size of the political audience.

While I appreciate the need to opt-out of participating in ugly politics, I caution this vulgarity is by design and a strategy well suited to the guerrilla war nature of United States elections.


This site is a Sweet Nothing of what I’m thinkin’ while drinkin’ during this election cycle. A confection of conceits. Just a passing the time “post” between another damn filter tip and those forever three fingers of bourbon.

And it’s sure to get maudlin with mid-brow pretensions and much wee-hour worry and woe.

I hype politics because I think I’m hip to it, but the truth is I’m dumb as destiny. There is no knowing- this time- next week.

And current politics has no future. It’s but a tool to re-litigate the promises of the past with the language of a manufactured present.

Politics is primal, in that, we chisel myth in stone while simultaneously defacing first principles with the movement graffiti of just in time sentiments.

Subsequently, legislative policy is concocted in tribal high relief. A base exercise of power. Hyper-partisanship disguised as Constitutional order. A confederacy of contempt for the rule of law.


Cartoon the zeitgeist, caricature that jingoist, primetime the siphons of piece of cake politics. 

And it’s all too simple to annoy.

Rev up the Revanchist. Back up the truck. Offload that palette. And motley the hue. Of just who, is a patriot.

Skin pop the mean spirited in frequent rotation, a playlist palaver… summer song’s refrain.

And then the din dims as Autumn presages that sun-burned tinctures fade.

The glance backwards retreats. Reruns feel just that. And like the brat that baits his time, his effort to capture the current, means he’s misread the tide.

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