(x-rated)

I hate this.

I got through everything that’s happened since 911 without buying a single roll of duct tape or sheet of plastic.

But now I have this crazy urge to start buying tuna, powdered milk, canned veggies, matches and candles.  
I’m sitting in the bathtub the other night, wondering just how many gallons of water it holds, and how many gallon jugs of water could we store in this small two bedroom apartment?  And how is our supply of batteries for flashlights and radio?

I tried to tell myself this is my normal prep for tornado season ahead.
It didn’t work.

I find myself wishing my daughter didn’t live practically on the edge of the runways at Mpls Airport, in the shadows of the Mall of America.

And how would I get my partner and three cats and myself down five flights of stairs to the basement, if the elevators were out?  

Then the rage comes roaring up.  George Bush, you are very fortunate to not be close enough for me to reach right now.  You rotten bastard.  You fucking rotten bastard.

I gave up rage years ago. I had to, to survive.  Learned how to channel the anger in constructive ways, and I found my way to a state of genuine peace inside.  I learned how to create my own safety in an unsafe world, and I FELT safe, goddammit, almost all the time.

But now, I want to go buy 100 cans of freaking tuna fish, and THAT, is YOUR FAULT, you sick psychotic sonofabitchin BABYBUSHBASTARD!     Oh, there are not enough swear words in this universe to say what I want to say to you, you evil egomaniac asshole.

Want a pretzel, Georgie Porgie? Want a whole freakin bag of them?

BANG those war drums, BushBaby!. Whip up some weapons and let’s have ANOTHER WAR!  (This one must be getting a bit boring for you, right? After all, not much chance to put on your codpiece and play fighter pilot these days, is there?) Time for some more SHOCK AND AWE!  Can’t have the little BoyKing getting bored, so  BRING IT ON!

You will make the most out of every moment of your grand delusion, I know. You know you’ll never be this powerful again, so you will make the very most out of ever second you sit in that office, at whatever cost to America. None of that matters one good damn to you.  You live within your delusions of grandeur, come true at long last.  It is the only world that exists for you, isn’t it?  Looks like money really can buy anything, if you have enough of it, even the power to ruin an entire nation.

If it’s true that what goes around, comes around, lil BoyKing, I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.

But enough of this.   I have work to do today, to put my own world back in order. I need  work my way our of this silly compulsion to buy tuna fish, and get on out of this rage.  

I will, too, George, because I CAN.   I will NOT allow you to take even one day of my freedom to live in peace away.   (When I really need to pause to puke out the poison of you and yours, I will, as I have here, but once that is done, “POOF!”.You no longer exist in my world).  (Till the next time you make me sick.)

But for now, I have living to do. I have people to love and be loved by. I have good work waiting that just might help empower others against the likes of you. Work that also strengthens me to keep on fighting you, and guess what Gorgeous George, you cannot stop me from doing it.

I’ll get to that right after I water my beautiful green growing plants, symbols of the good earth under the snow, that is getting ready to give birth to spring.  Even you can’t stop spring, or its power to instill the strength of new beginnings and hope. I can’t wait to see fields of dandelions each giving you and your poisons the big fuzzy yellow finger.  

So, ONward we go, you sad sack of shit, in spite of you.

Because for all the damage you can do, you will never be powerful enough to get at the real stuff that lives inside real people.

You know, all the stuff you don’t have.  

Maybe next time around, Tin Man.