Author: David Roddis

I am the old, gay white guy your parents warned you about. When I say "old," I mean "in my early sixties," which is bad enough; but as one of the last gasp baby-boomers you can be sure I'm voting for the upgrade that goes "seventy is the new sixty-five." If you want to be my friend, please do not use the word "spry" or say, "I bet you were a looker when you were young!" I can still bitch-slap you so hard you'll be explaining to your grandkids about the permanent, angry red imprint of my hand on your cheek. I write. Writing is the old fashioned thing where you put words one after the other to form coherent ideas that spark intelligent conversations. Sometimes laughter. If you can take something as serious as life less seriously, you'll be a whole lot easier to spend time with. I can help you with that. You can help me by visiting my blog and commenting/sharing/rating; visiting my online store; purchasing my book / reviewing my book. All of these sites are available on this profile. Glad you stopped by. Seriously.

Presidential sexual abuse is the new normal…

… as we reach increasingly high levels of WTF

Ladies and gents, meet. E. Jean Carroll. Ms. Carroll enjoys the dubious honor of being the twenty-second – TWENTY-SECOND – woman to allege she was sexually abused by Donald Trump (raped, in fact). And it didn’t make a single front page.

And you know what Trump said?

“She’s not my type.” Like sexual abuse would be understandable if she were. This is the new normal, guys.

Think about how far we’ve sunk.

No, really, I want you to think about this. TWENTY-TWO women have accused Donald Trump of sexual abuse / rape and NOTHING HAPPENS.

Trump says, “If there was intel from a foreign country about my political rivals, of course I’d take it! I’d do it again.”

This is in fact a confession: “I’d do it again.” In other words, he did it once already. He DID accept foreign interference in the election. He says he wouldn’t inform the FBI.

He’s not just corrupt. He flaunts his corruption the way a flasher opens his dirty raincoat to flaunt his flaccid dick. Then he laughs and runs off. And NOTHING HAPPENS.

NOTHING HAPPENS.

Why doesn’t the justified public outrage sparked by #MeToo translate to impeachment / arrest in Trump’s case? What is wrong with people and the system here?

Through his “charity”, the “Trump Foundation,” he broke the law, time after time, taking into account just this one organization, which was basically used to funnel charitable donations to his political campaign. The Board of Directors (his family), who were supposed to ensure that funds were used in compliance with statutory law, did not meet once after 1999 and rubber-stamped every cheque. And HE IS STILL PRESIDENT.

NOTHING HAPPENS.

And he dares to say, “Crooked Hillary”?

But that’s the marketing savvy at work. In marketing, it’s not “location, location, location,” but “repetition, repetition, repetition.” He never mentions Clinton without the adjective “crooked.” Just like he never says “New York Times” without “failing,” or responds to a criticism without “fake news.”

He knows, instinctively, that we remember best what we last heard, true or not. It’s the availability heuristic, and it’s the essence of the “genius” of the used-car salesman, or the purveyor of snake oil at nineteenth-century carnivals.

It’s like having Jimmy Hoffa for POTUS. He’ll only be taken down when he parallel parks in the wrong direction on a one-way street.

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In Canada, aware that our political drama is but a twinkling tea-light to the inter-planetary flamethrower of the U.S., we plod dutifully onward in our horned-rim glasses, pushing in front of us like human shields our bargain-basement, brown-nosing tributes to the United States of Fuckery, our discount Donalds. We have our Andrew Scheers, our Jason Kenneys, our Tanyas and our Faiths; and of course, saving the most delicious to last, Ontario’s very own re-animated corpse, Premier Dug-Up “Is-it-real-or-is-it-Memorex” Ford.

With his maniac, mirthless muppet-grin stretching his mouth to the limits of plasticity, but betrayed by the deadness in his eyes as fakery, Ol’ Dug-Up set about being the fox of the people in the henhouse of Liberal corruption and overspending.

He was the People’s Premier. He was For The People. He was going to drain the swamp, stand up for the little guy, make Canada great again, and —

Hold on, hold on…. this is weird but—I’m having this deja vu thing. Is it possible that….? This all sounds strangely familiar and…

Nah. Just being paranoid. It can happen! Probably a bad sweet potato fry from dinner last night. I made the fries and they were delicious but I did notice a couple of little round holes in the meat of the potato, as it were, holes that looked like little worm holes.

So I wonder if I ate a worm and that’s what’s causing this headache and nausea?

Now the first thing Ford did after winning was make it perfectly clear that this wasn’t going to be an ordinary Premiership. With an overwhelming “mandate” to ignore his platform and do whatever he wanted, Ford redrew the Toronto wards to favour his “base”—and a more perfectly crafted noun can’t be imagined—and knock out any councillors at City Hall who might get ideas about culture and elitism and all that fancy not-salt-of-the-earth stuff.

He pushed through his changes while threatening to invoke the Notwithstanding clause of the Charter then proceeded to install his cronies and friends to various key positions.

He increased classroom sizes and fired teachers by attrition; he turned back the clock two decades on sex education; he proclaimed that trans persons didn’t exist; he forced gas station owners to display signs blaming the carbon tax for high prices, with fines of 10,000 if they didn’t and tried to sue the federal government claiming the tax was unconstitutional. He is trying to privatize the LCBO and Beer Stores, and today he cheerfully dissolved the independent body which assesses doctors’ diagnoses of cancer patients, and replaced it with a government body, thereby ensuring that cancer patients’ care will suffer.

The thing about politicians who are for the people is—

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One-night stand

I had blitzed your sectors
completely
But all this time you’ve survived
discretely

Interred in my one-terabyte drive:

Knight jonesing for escape, five fingers
dismissing
Passion, fondling my door handle,
kissing

Goodbye our too-easy improvisation.

I conjure desperate devious
strategies:
Charms, supplications, jammed connections,
elegies,

Viral replications, heartfelt blackmail.

Impatient, lover? Hanging in the
delusion
Of my blue-screened doorway, our fungible
collusion

Of dull bruises, ragged tears?

Confusion, lust and memory
conceived
Phantom on phantom, our names elusive,
retrieved

By one for another. Here’s what sinks me:

Your face.

Its invisible
weight.

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“I’ll shoot my own Americans, thank you.”

the insanity and inhumanity of the National Rifle Association, in pictures.

Twitter quote from the National Rifle Association:  I'll control my own guns, thank you.  Image of an automatic weapon.
click image to view this message on Twitter.

stats on US gun violence every year from bradyunited.org
click image to visit the key statistics page on bradyunited.org

stats on US gun violence every day from bradyunited.org
click image to visit the key statistics page on bradyunited.org

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BradyUnited.org: https://www.bradyunited.org/key-statistics

Team ENOUGH: …”a youth-led initiative that educates and mobilizes young people in the fight to end gun violence.” https://www.teamenough.org/

National Rifle Association: https://www.nraila.org/