ruminations from chicago: What Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton have in Comm...

ruminations from chicago: What Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton have in Comm...: What Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton have in Common . Donald Trump is the quintessential Hollywood generated American Hero, the rugged...

What Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton have in Common.

What Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton have in Common.

Donald Trump is the quintessential Hollywood generated American Hero, the rugged individualist, the self-made tough man who dispenses with common human frailties, civility, doubt, or insecurity on the spur of the moment.  .  He flaunts his distain for others; he doesn’t need others, he is fiercely independent, a self made man, powerful in his own right.  He makes the rules and others follow.  He is the hero of every little boy before he matures.

His spirit, his obvious disregard for what others hold dear is the foundation of our country.  He is a continuation of the founding fathers of The United States who conquered the wild west. who used disease, alcohol, guns propaganda to win territory that rightfully belonged for centuries to native Americans.  

Donald Trump, tramples over people without hesitation.  He brings forth that spirit, that callous disregard for human life, for rules, laws, and common etiquette.   He performs with an abundance that ignites the powerless to feel they too are now alive and able to conquer all who cross their path.  This is part and parcel of the American legacy we try to hide   Just like his father who bulldozed Coney Island to erect Trump Towers at the expense of many.  Donald  Trump is an American bully, so well known abroad but hidden in plain sight at home.  To conquer him we must own him, exposure him, not expunge him from our collective memories. 

He epitomizes the crude Capitalist making money off of all who fall into his orbit flaunting his success at cheating the system, at not paying taxes, at getting away with rather than contributing his fair share like everyone else.

In his treatment, of women he is no better than a Hollywood creation, Trump sees women as disposable powerless arm pieces. that glitter with gold and long blonde hair without a worthwhile word to be uttered.

He thrives on the show, not the substance.  Truth, reasonableness, nuance are foreign to him, negotiation a waste of time, a needless impediment to his stated goal of gendering power and more power. What matters is the show, the outrageousness of his opinions that changes as the need for attention demands.  He is smart, sleek, unafraid, brilliant in his tactics, in his attacks on others.  He goes for the guts and laughs because his is a winner.

He doesn’t play by the rules because for Trump there are no rules.  He is the exception, “The self made” Man!

He enjoys, he cultivates the thrill of inflicted pain.  His callous disregard for others, his violation of the rules of human interaction is flaunted to a public hungry to shred their pent up “trying” to be nice in a world that has failed to reward their efforts.

There is no one, no thing, no idea or commonly agreed upon value or behavior so compelling that Trump will hold to it rather than destroy or ignore what others might cling to as a fundamental ingredient of human interaction.

And he knows his public,  his audience.  He brings out what is the worst part in all of us and relishes the effect of his efforts.

I have an image that he is laughing, enjoying the show.    Will he ever give up?

I doubt it.  Even if he loses this election, he will declare himself a winner.  Like Nixon, he will emerge from the rubble of defeat and spring forth into victory, if not today, tomorrow.

Clinton is not so different   She too has suffered defeat and come back a winner.  She is a woman who exemplifies the aura of power by assuming the macho man image of power.  She is not soft, not feminine.  In her years as Secretary of State she did not shine in the success of compromise, the results of hard won negotiations.   Rather she is known for her embrace of death (of others), her hunger for War with Iran.  She displays, flaunts an obvious lack of kindness, or an embrace of human fragility.

 She is strong and for Hilary Clinton strong is similar to Trump’s.  A self-aggrandizement, a power display that does not shrink from delight in death, torture.

 She is not honest, nor is Trump.   Lies flow from her mouth, as Trump is quick to point out.  And she is greedy. 

How did she and her husband amass the great wealth they now enjoy?  What was Whitewater all about and this latest fiasco where she took money that was raised to support Democratic candidates at the State level and put it to work for her cause, not theirs.

Note how often she gets caught, exposed.   Why is that?

Clinton might be a woman but she long ago abandoned the feminine agenda.

Clinton lacks to a fault the values of femininity that woman own and display without fear of being less of a powerful person in the eyes of others.  She has to be tough, tougher than a man to appear powerful enough to be President of the United States., or so she seems to think.  And that makes her all too similar to Trump’s power for Powers sake.

Her Emails, written on her personal account cannot be dismissed.  Is she sloppy, insensitive to the ramification of her actions?  Is she prone to mistakes, carelessness?  What was she thinking or what did she fail to think when she used the unsecured “private” account?

Although her hunger for war, torture, absolute use of her potential military power mirrors Donald Trumps, her lack of attention to important details might make Clinton a more dangerous President than Trump.  Will she accidently ignite a nuclear device?  He won’t.  If that device is activated, Trump will do it with intent, deliberation and possible glee at his own sense of power, while Clinton will hoover in the background waiting for others to deal with the ‘ Fallout’. 

What will she do with the over accumulation of personal data amassed by our government?   Will it be different from Donald Trump?  Both are to be feared.

We are left with virtually no choice this election.  Maybe that is the way it has always been but now we are more informed, more involved.  We know the fix is in and we can’t win regardless of which candidate we “chose” to endorse.

Third party candidates have been effectively wiped off the map.  Our vote, once deemed precious, means nothing.

Linda Zises

7/2016

YESTERDAY?

where do I put it
the anger
 the rage
where do I vent my spleen

where is the moment to yell
 to scream it

when is the time to say
I give up

when do I walk and where

 when is enough
  too much

when do I know
 I don't care
and
say it

I DON"T CARE!

yesterday?

WALKING

sometimes I feel as if i can walk forever

I leave the house invigorated by the departure

feeling free at last as if I had been restrained, kept inside by some invisible hand or command

I rush forth into the weather that is always a surprise

neither good nor bad

just different

I welcome the influx of nature

where I pretend

I can walk as far as I see

and beyond

But

I live in a jail, a huge jail

every moment, every step defines and limits me

I interact with what is

always

in search of what

is yet to be

I am on the cusp of non existence while existing exquisitely

with every breath

I don’t want to go back

I don’t want to stop

but I must

and I will

because

there is always an end

and another end

before

The End.

FAILED ATTEMPT

FAILED ATTEMPT

I thought I had plowed through
the forbidden
shattered sheets of invisible glass
reached into darkness to
the calm warmth of oblivion

In death there is darkness
comfort
freedom

Then day arrived
greeted by people (do I  know them?)
they prey
they thank god today.  tomorrow
declare themselves non bwelievers

they hover over my naked body
loosely covered by a thin white sheet
put there to prevent my exposure.

They don't understand
I am finished with my body

I push the sheet away
I scream "no no!"
through my closed mouth

Everything is blurry
except the white tape on my left arm
the clear glass bottle
that hangs by my bed

Soon that too will go away
and darkness will find me

CHICAGO ..... IS NOT NEW YORK

I am sitting with a group of people, it is a lovely church called the Church of the Three Crosses(non denominational), a beautiful building, a lovely pastor, I think, everything is nice here, so nice.  They feed us after the service and during the meeting, the meeting that brought me to the Church.
"resistance to the Israeli imperative/agenda  End the occupation, enlighten the world about the fate of the Palestinians..

I have followed this cuases for years upon years.  eager to be on the right track, out spoken at last, my moment of re-entry to the political world upon me when
This is CHICAGO.

There is a clear divide between those who are and those who are not.  A clear statement  in seemingly every Jewish place of worship or culture , that Isreal is paramount, to be supported, to be "defended".  that is what is asuumed.  Jewish people support Israel.  Only I don't! I don't!

and there I am sitting quietly, my presence a threat to the non Jewish people of this fine, lovely, seemingly inviting setting, wanting to discuss, to embrace and speak out for divestment, for a halt to the devastation of civilians, to a civilization that is crumbling and being  eaten up by the Israelis and the Americans and the Egyptians and I am feared.  i am a pariah.  I am not welcomed.  I leave the church with a splitting head ache.  I never get headaches.  i don't know what to do. Where to go.

Oh, Chicago, how dare I forget you are not New York. You are the mid west.  Hopelessly rural even in your  overgrown metropolis
you are an ignorant child playing in an adult playpen, your prejudice destroys over and over again.
You are determined to be blind and blind sighted, you are so seemingly open, accepting, yet closed,  an emotional liar, deceipt projected in your soft spoken kindness.
When will I learn to discern.
or
will I?

CAMEO CARES

cameo cares:

 

 

you say you are busy

always busy

too busy to call me

too busy to remember , when

too busy to listen when I speak

too busy to see the door

open or wait for it to close

too busy to say goodbye

to notice or admit you care

for you

everything is

moments

moments mounted upon moments

a flip of a switch

a change of  the channel

a flash on  a screen between commercials

when

you are in the room,

sitting next to me

and the screen

screams out my name

Cameo Cares