A Beginning of Sorts

The modern era ended with a slight breeze and a sun break between heavy Pacific Northwest rain.  “Life’s a Bitch” by Nas off of the seminal Hip-Hop album Illmatic was bumping in my speakers.  My nine year old son in the next room curled up in a blanket playing Skylanders: Swapforce on the Xbox360 did not notice.  Nor did my daughter upstairs sweatily napping away under a pile of blankets wearing her zebra pattern faux fur coat as opposed to a normal shirt top.

The beer stein at my left hand full of Space Fruit by Coalition Brewing Portland, Oregon served to wet my whistle while my mind contemplated the usual disturbing subjects it had lately fixated on.  As I nodded my head back and forth to Nas’ vocals and the funkiest of jazz horn samples I found myself wishing my wife was here so I could ask her what she thought we should do.

Our conversation would have likely been fruitless.  My better half is not nearly concerned enough about the current state of the world.  Nor are the majority of my friends and family for that matter.  I wish I possessed the staff of Gandalf so I could shake them from their stupor as the White Wizard did to King Theoden.  If I wasn’t almost positive that a better way of life was possible, I would probably have preferred the same state of blissful ignorance that so many of my fellow citizens clung to.  Change is damned difficult.  I certainly understand that.  Far easier it would be to medicate through sitcoms, sport, and substances.

I ain’t goin’ out like that, though.  Call it hubris, being stubborn as a mule, or naive idealism.  My outlook is that it is far better to go down fighting back than to ignore the conflict and end up catching a stray bullet – chalked up to collateral damage by some chalk faced pundit on cable news.

To Be Cont…


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