Be Offended — PART TWO
As I’ve noted, I live today in “semi-rural” Tennessee, speaking of a room full of baboons, and I will not provide specifics as to where, nor how I found myself here (although it had nothing to do with money I ever possessed, nor a heartfelt desire to be here). But I will be more specific for the moment on defining “semi-rural” and why it differs from “suburban.”
We are close enough to cities to be able to drive to them without stopping at a motel, but we see farms just over our tree line.
Was that offensive? I don’t think so.
Not everyone here lives in a rural or semi-rural area. But enough do to keep our long, skinny state “red” and, in so many other ways offensive.
While the “suburban revolt” elsewhere gave Biden the Presidency, the “semi-rural” dominance in Red States like Tennessee kept them MacIntosh Red. So my personal remarks do, ultimately, become somewhat political. And offensive in a political way. Because I am political. And offensive.
And Tennessee is, although rarely thought of, an absolute exemplar of everything wrong in our country and world.
Particularly when it comes to control and manipulation. While extolling the lack of same and while doing nothing to make it right. That’s “right,” not Right.
See that “person” in the “photo” up top? Okay. This request for campaign funds was received from my (😭) current Senator just three days ago. Now, I am the VERY last guy to make something out of a woman’s looks. And certainly this is not the focal point of my writing at this time. However…
This unretouched photo shows my Senator (yes, Virginia, the very same one!) during a hearing where the matter of transgender rights was part of the issue. Just a couple of days ago. Notice any difference?
Angry devil-look, don’t you think? Well, at least she’s a woman, right? Makes you feel safe, doesn’t it?
It’s something of a game at the moment in Tennessee to tennessee who can make more of this than the next politician in order to garner the highest number of good Christian, Republican yahoo votes in their next election. When she will be running to replace herself (perhaps the younger, prettier version replacing that…thing in the photo).
Did Marsha Blackburn ever look as good as she does on the envelope?
Possibly. Before she was exposed to all the Roundup© she endorses so that she can collect all those campaign funds from Monsanto (now owned by Bayer GmbH) which has been poisoning all of America for Lord-a-mighty who knows how long. Which is why if you don’t look like that now you soon will. And you’ll feel even worse.
Trust me. Go organic, fast. But she has competition.
For example, where in anyone’s Constitution does it provide for hydrating a voter, some Tennessee representative asked, more or less, the other day?
Oh. You’ve heard about that happening in Georgia? Maybe Florida? Happened here.
So he said, “Therefore, let’s make certain no voters are allowed hydration on Election Day, even if they have to wait on line for ten or twelve hours!”
Discussion proceeded: Perhaps, Election Day occurring in November (usually) it will be raining. This brought mumbles and some cheerful, hear, hear’s among the legislators.
Think of the savings in maintenance from all those now unnecessary bathroom trips. Applause around the chamber.
Uh-oh. Was this political or personal? Once upon a time, discussion of “bathroom matters” was completely off the table in public, let alone in the chamber of the Tennessee Assembly. But, oh, bathroom matters have been quite the subject there for some time, haven’t they?
Who is allowed to use the bathroom? Which ones and when? How does one know? And who is to make such a determination? By what previous determination? How does one codify such things? By virtue of what previous codification? Gets so confusing!!!
I hear wheels, those wheels that churn when the cart of Justice carries a great weight and, oh, yes, that great weight is of Stone Tablets, to be sure. Those Tablets of Old Testes carried into the Tennessee Chamber. When men (yeah, almost always, but not always men) cannot decide, they turn to the Tablets of Old Testes.
Men who recently made The Bible — yes, that one — THE Official State Book of Tennessee.
I no longer consider myself a postmodern because I have rejected the seeds of doubt postmodernism planted in everyone’s psyche. However, I was inculcated with the formal processes of postmodernism, so it behooves me to scatter all over the place and at this juncture to break the narrative flow, again, and return whence I came, to the streets of Manahatta.
A fair percentage of the people I grew up with were members, ultimately, of the LGBTQ+ community. Or I became involved with same later on in life in New York or wherever I lived elsewhere. And I’ve lived all over the damned place. Lucky me.
In case you were unaware…
THEY ARE EVERYWHERE!!!
Indeed, a few letters have been added along the way and, turns out, I’ve known a few of them as well.
Everywhere. They were my family members, friends, coworkers, business associates, partners in crime, lovers, opponents, you name it.
Like so many others, even in places like Manhattan, they would occasionally have their ups and downs, both personally and politically. La di da. But in Manhattan they also had their “day.” A long time ago. I know because I was “there.”
And, in other places, “there” and “there.”