The longest political campaign in history just ended. Thanks for voting. Meanwhile, Desmond has his barrow in the marketplace and Molly is a singer in the band. Kari Lynn Petersen had a baby. Ron Lutz made a bunch of steel guitars out of cigar boxes. Frankie the Wonder Mutt turned one and weighs in at eleven pounds. Our broker sighs and smiles and assumes the pose of a monk in deep contemplation. The UUs on Elk Street had Richard Pille in to discuss To Whom it May Concern and burn sage. Marg, from Home Saunas up in Waterloo, Ontario, calls once in a while to see how my home sauna is working out. It’s good, Marg, I tell her, real good. Okay, says Marg, that’s real good, oh yah, that’s just fine dontcha know. Mariellen Griffith wrote a novel. Jean Elderwind and Doug Stowe went to Finland. I went to Walmart. Nebraska got a new state tourism slogan: Honestly, it’s Not for Everyone. Gail Deweese went to Italy. I went to Walmart. Johnice Dominick bought her grandma’s house. Adrian Frost made a film. I made some meatloaf. Josh Young became a Life Master at bridge. His bridge partner, Marsha Havens, fell in love, not with Josh, some other guy. Hometown Scoop opened up on the Berryville Square; it’s pretty good. Dick Titus painted his house. My kid and her husband went to Tokyo, Jay Vrecenak went to Iceland, and I… the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. Robb McDaniel is filled with grace. The Oklahoma State Department of Health approved 608 medical marijuana dispensary licenses. Cory Walker bought a house in Holiday Island and fixed it up. Gina Fiore bought a house too, and she’s gonna flip it. Big Barb Rhodes at the Thrift Store fell and broke her knee but she’s all better now. The Honorable Kent Crow did not leave his heart in Yellville. Alice Walton made some more money. Ken Trimble saved some more bees. Ron Derge moved to the heavens and Raven moved to Little Rock. I didn’t make any money and I’m still here. Obladi oblada life goes on, lalalala life goes on.
But in the backrooms and basements there are still those of taking a knee, making alterations to our Handmaid’s Tale bonnets, and prepping for the next Presidential election. We listen to McCartney’s recent musical notation of science denying despots and Woody Guthrie’s prescient song/lyrics that he wrote while living in an apartment owned by slumlord Fred Trump:
I suppose
Old man Trump knows
Just how much
Racial Hate
he stirred up
in the bloodpot of human hearts
when he drawed the color line
Here at his
Eighteen hundred family project.