Trump is a symptom, not the disease. Trump is the gristle stuck in our teeth, but he is not the ever-present plaque and decay. He is the odor, not the rotting meat. He is the pain, not the wound.
The human capacity for believing the exact wrong thing continues to amaze me.
Moving is a transforming experience, but in my case, I moved *because* I was changing.
After two weeks, I’ve noticed a few things that seem profound to me but probably aren’t.
Well, I made it. First impressions are overwhelming.
This is it. My last blog entry from Texas. My internet service is scheduled to be cut off tomorrow, Dec. 27, and my phone service the day after that. Everything’s boxed up except this laptop, a few changes of clothes, and some hygiene items. Fingers crossed.
The “true meaning” of anything is going to end up being whatever you want it to be. Stop trying to make Christmas so mystical, magical, and mysterious. It’s a day on the calendar just like June 10. Unlike June 10, someone in history chose Dec. 25 to be the day we pretend God was born to a virgin human youngster and that God was also the father of this baby.
Something is off when comparing this Indian man’s prison sentence to those of white Stanford swimmers or white Baylor frat guys.
I strive for consistency of position. By that, I mean I want the views I hold to be based on foundations that aren’t contradictory.
A brief explanation of my online absence, and an admission of my probable mental health situation.