fifty-five years ago today

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I was watching this on tv. JFK, RFK and MLK were on the rise to an America that was going to be of, by and for the people at last. I was ten. I was full of love and solidarity for the rise into flourishing peace and brotherly love I could feel in my every cell, the brilliant future of humaneness and my country standing for what is right.

I had, at the time, less than three months to enjoy this gorgeous feeling... and, from the moment of blowing JFK's head off in broad daylight in Dealey Plaze, the murderating fucks had been making steady gains right up until 8 November 2016... when they suffered their first real setback here in fifty-three years.

Yes, Putin was/is a real setback, but that's Russia, and they seem to have fumbled the co-optation of China's economy, too. Fidel remained a thorn in their side and Hugo nailed them right between the eyes, but right here at home? Like buddah. Nary a hitch in fifty-three whole years.

No wonder they're screaming like stuck pigs, and shame on you for wanting their kind of domestic tranquility back. I just had to interact with one of the bright and loving little moron zombies they've been raising all these years who isn't ashamed to be employed installing smart meters, murder meters. Hasn't the independence of mind to see all the way into it.

I sweetly asked him to go back and strangle his boss for me.

pipe up any time....