Kavanaugh Roulette: Karma Be Like…

The unaddressed problem with the whole Kavanaugh spectacle was that immediately the GOP conflated a job interview with a criminal trial, shifting the burden of proof to the accuser. I listened to a great story about logic on Science Friday on NPR, and the abstract mathematician Eugenia Cheng pointed out that, even IF this were a criminal trial, the other half of the story (not just “assume he’s innocent until proven guilty”) is that Dr. Blasey Ford should be assumed to be telling the truth until it can be proven that she’s not. She never got that consideration because the Republican members of the Judiciary committee framed this particular vetting (a desperate rush-job) as a criminal trial, which got Republicans and other misogynists thinking that the Dems were not giving him the courtesy of “presumed innocence.” ALSO the sham subsequent FBI “investigation” that was severely constricted by 45 ENSURED the truth would never come out because it was never actually sought.

ADD TO THAT the way the brain stores trauma and lets fade away inconsequential details such as the street address of a house you were once in 30 years ago and how you got there. Can anyone in their 50s remember how they got to even the BEST high school party they went to? Throw some severe trauma in that night and you will remember what happened and how you felt. Even if you suppress that trauma for years, the traumatic details can be triggered and re-accessed, as was clearly the case with Dr. Blasey Ford.

Tragically, she was NOT given this same courtesy afforded the GOP’s golden boy. This gave the GOP all the ammo they needed to say shit like “They’re coming for your sons next!” And non-critical thinkers across the land jumped on board. It’s a mob mentality and Trump is very adept at steering those.

Statistics show it is extremely difficult to prove guilt in sexual assault. But again, this was not a criminal trial; this was a review–and then a test–of the nominee’s character and temperament. Which he failed horribly IF YOU ONLY CONSIDER HIM AS A SUPREME COURT JUDGE NOMINEE. If you consider him a regular person, you should at least give pause, more aptly find his behavior repugnant, but people who don’t think critically can be lured onto the “witch hunt” tract very quickly. Makes you wonder why they relate to Kavanaugh so deeply. How does he reflect their past behavior?

But let’s be clear: BK was being vetted for his suitability as a judge on the SCOTUS. In that regard, he was appallingly partial, partisan, and of the absolute WRONG temperament for the office. Not to mention he has a past of illegal drinking that he openly admitted. They couldn’t find a cleaner candidate? The good ole boys don’t recognize these problems in their own kind.

Republicans in the Senate don’t think his temperament is wrong because he represents THEM, not the philosophical objectivity and clear-minded, equitable logic we need on the highest court in the land. They can’t imagine what is wrong with the rest of us because, as a group, they are virtually devoid of empathy. But they should imagine that if the tables were turned and a Democrat were up for nomination (they couldn’t even bear to…the thought is so odious to them they not only refused to do their job and give Merrick Garland a hearing, THEY CHANGED SENATE RULES AND DECADES OF TRADITION TO WIN ONE ROUND) and the Dems railroaded the process so conspicuously and contemptuously. What if the shoe were on the other foot? They are so blinded by their vision of a theocratic, white-male-dominated power structure, they can’t see how utterly UN-American they have become. I would add inhumane (cf. health care, minority and women rights, immigration policy).

So now with the new low threshold of 51 votes, when the Dems next have the majority and a SCOTUS seat is up, they have a bitter cup to chug. Too bad they like beer…THAT brew will not be as refreshing. It’s going to taste a lot like the carpet in Bret Kavanaugh’s dorm room.

beer glass puking

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Stupidest Headline Ever? Or Just the Most Obvious?

“The NFL Doesn’t Get It, and Maybe Never Will.”

Um, they turn a blind eye to domestic abusers on their payroll. They pay healthy athletes to give each other concussions, then turn their backs on the long-term debilitating and often fatal side effects. They objectify women and sell boobs and beer (in that order). They vilify patriots exercising their right to free speech in peaceful protests against American Civilians gunned down in cold blood by the State just because they are black. They do absolutely nothing to address the fact that the alive-and-well child sex slave trade swarms around their Super Bowl like flies on shit. They enjoy the backing of the worst “president” in the history of the United States of America, who is a misogynist bigot with grabby little hands.

And you are just now figuring this out, CNN reporter? Sweetie, what you been drinking all these years? That cheap shit rice beer they sell on NFL game ads? Hope you at least got a free jiggle ogle with that crap.

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Springtime in New Mexico, Part IV: The Long Road Home

There many ways to start a poem. Some, like diamonds, are forged under years of pressure. Others, like pearls, show up wholly formed when you least expect it. Too many float by like garbage bags on the wind, tempting us with their facile elegance and tempting immediacy. I find some poems–often the best ones–only appear once you’ve emptied your mind of workday urgencies, the static of mass media, the horrors of our over-connected network of electronics. And that is what New Mexico offers: a sky to receive your disjointed blips and beeps and carry them off to outer space, allowing the poems to bubble up through the surface of your de-cluttered mind. I’ve been on roll since we got home.

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The Great Southern Plains of North America, where trees go to get away from it all.

I had a lot of time to contemplate the mythology of the open road.

I had a lot of time to contemplate the mythology of the open road.

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I have a favorite coffee mug with many of these sky colors in it.

Taking photos with my telephoto lens at highway speeds…not bad for 240,000 miles away:

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So close…and yet so far away.

According to BBC’s Science Focus, it would take just under six months to drive to the moon at 60 miles/hour. Shoot, it felt like it might only take a few hours.

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View on the road to Taos as the sun set. Nearing Las Vegas, New Mexico.

We decided to stop in Las Vegas (not that one) for dinner. We headed to the plaza because we figured if anything would be open late, we’d find it there. The famously haunted Plaza Hotel did not disappoint. Great food and, thanks to the very friendly and accommodating front desk manager, a tour of a haunted room as well rooms with framed announcements of the famous guests who have once stayed there: among others we saw plaques for John Lithgow, James Spader, the Coen Brothers, and (though I don’t believe it) Michelle Obama.

The Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas, New Mexico. Stay here if you dare. Didn't see or photograph any ghosts but definitely got a creepy vibe. I am not a fan of suits of armor standing in hidden corners of hallways.

The Plaza Hotel in Las Vegas, New Mexico. Stay here if you dare. Didn’t see or photograph any ghosts (unless you count the ones in the upper windows here) but definitely got a creepy vibe. I learned I am not a fan of suits of armor standing in hidden corners of hallways.

We were also treated to this little gem of a seasonal decoration. At Christmas I hear he gets a Santa hat.

A bunny goat. Because Easter.

A bunny mountain goat under the grand staircase. Because Easter.

By the time we got to our hotel in Taos, it was a 11:00 p.m. and the town was all tucked in. We had a comfortable night at the Hotel La Fonda (eat your heart out, Kip), learned we could’ve ordered only ONE massive breakfast burrito at the friendly and delicious Taos Diner, enjoyed a little shopping on a beautiful spring morning (no, I did not take pictures), and then we were ready for home. It took a while to make our way, but the view in Cimarron Canyon on the way from Taos to I-25 is another reason I’m glad we decided to road trip this spring:

Palisades Sill cliff face in Cimarron Canyon, NM

Palisades Sill in Cimarron Canyon. So much beauty on this amazing planet. I will never tire of looking up, around, below, and across.

When your vanishing point is just around the bend....

When your vanishing point is just around the bend….

There aren’t a lot of things that last in this life…hell, we don’t even last in this life. But while we’re here, we might as well enjoy the view. And if you get a poem or two out of it, or a little insight on what’s important…well, that’s worth the trip, if you ask me.

See you again a little farther down the road.

 

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