Alternate yellow and red lights play across my face as I sit in my car this morning outside my workplace.
I knew today would be the beginning of a new chapter in both global and personal history. I wasn’t wrong.
My car is idling, warning lights still flashing.
I have had problems with my vehicle lately. Squirrels wound up chewing on the wiring harness, and I am having a series of warning lights and electrical problems as a result.
My mechanic has fixed it for me once. I will need to go back and see him.
The flashing lights mask the reality of the issues with my car. They are an assault on the senses which have the effect of actually masking the real issues that will eventually leave me stranded, destitute, and without the ability to move forward.
You see, my car has two major problems. it is burning oil because of excessive use. The action of the pistons have worn down the rings, and oil is slipping through these barriers and creating havoc; every bit as inevitable, inexorable, and predictable as my father’s death.
It also has another problem. it’s an all wheel drive transmission, which is really nice, to be honest. The issue is that a multi-contact, multi drive system like this, in spite of its unquestionable advantage, has a major weakness…….. It is quite complicated, and difficult to fix when it fails.
My family has lived, died, and killed to protect the Constitution of the United States. My family has also been a key component of the modernization of the lost cause movement that preys on the baser instincts of the mob.
I believed that the constitution would hold… that there were still a majority of Americans who were, at their core, decent patriots.
I was wrong. Our system of government delivered the mechanism for self-rule, and we consciously abandoned the principles of Lincoln, the patriotism of Washington, The courage of Rosa Parks, and the sacrifice of so very very very many people yearning for freedom and the shining city on the hill.
I’m sorry, Abraham. We have rejected your more perfect union for the sake of a treasonous rapist criminal limp-dick bag of soup; all so we don’t have to face the mirror; all so we don’t have to be honest with ourselves about who we really are.
Well, there is no escaping who we are now. The only thing that is left is to gather in the Helms Deeps of the world, like the Leathermen and the Beatnicks, and the victims of the first House Un-American Committee. We must gather in our places of power, and find the courage to make our stand against the dying of the light for all those whose ghosts stand with us.
There is no particular glimmer of hope or victory this morning; only the cold and beautiful comfort of a day dawning on the battlefield.
All that we can do is find a place to make our stand, decorate that place with flowers and mighty protest songs, and embrace the dying of the light by burning as brightly and defiantly as we can while we can.