Tag Archives: #WOTD

Empire In Decline: The New America

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Empire In Decline: The New America

I have spent a lot of time in the United States from the mid-aughts through the early days of Donald Trump’s presidency. With my children playing rep sports it seems every weekend was spent in some apple pie town for ball tournaments or some other sports-related function. I have met some great people and made lifelong friends but it is safe to say that the nation to the south of my home has always been different. A singular obsession with guns, violence, race and money is woven far more deeply into the fabric of American society than it is north of the 49th parallel.

The infiltration of the SARS-CoV-2 virus and its companion illness COVID-19 brought both our great countries and in fact the entire global community to a standstill. The onset of the “China Flu” halted our frequent forays across the longest unprotected border in the world. While the majority of us adhered to mandatory quarantine and masking mandates public sentiment was turning. It has become clear that in my absence something was shifting in the machinations of Canada’s southern neighbour. The division of the Trump Administration policies continues to poison America, seeping into its very fabric.

Fast forward to 2023, with the world once again open for business. Most everyone has returned to an altered yet familiar normalcy of pre-pandemic times and our weekend jaunts to a very different America have once again resumed. My son now a young man has graduated from youth to beer league sports. Travel for him has ended, however, his sister has taken up the mantle, playing fastpitch with all the aspirations and promises of her youthful exuberance. One eye fixed on a future that could open doorways to grants and scholarships for both academic and athletic performance.

Who knows, maybe someday she will play in the Women’s College World Series, something that she and her teammates have followed closely during this trip. Gathering together in the hotel between their own games to watch women role models, not much older than they themselves playing their butts off for personal pride and the glory of their school.

My return to America was much different than my previous visits. On the surface everything seemed familiar, however, this time there was a tension I don’t recall being there before. This rendition of America is suspicious and deeply divided between rich and poor, black and white (and red and yellow and brown), donkeys and elephants, scientific discovery and fairy tales, Venus and Mars (and everything that falls on the spectrum in between).

I felt this tension in everything I observed and everyone I interacted with. The African American clerk at the Dick’s Sporting Goods store, tentative as I approached the counter until the tension was broken with friendly banter. The Latin American waitress at the restaurant seemed so timid serving tables of white customers, barely able to make eye contact with me or those at other tables, but had no problem interacting freely with people identifying from minority backgrounds. The gay Latin barkeep who wouldn’t dare talk back to an obnoxious white customer, waiting to unleash loud, harsh words about them the moment they walked out the door. At the same time starting arguments with Black customers he felt had “disrespected” him. These interactions drive home the hierarchical nature of race in American society.

Then there was the retail experience. A highlight for most Canadians heading to the States however I found it very different – almost every major outlet and even smaller stores had uniformed Security Guards at the doors. Some places, like Walmart forgo private security in favour of paid-duty police officers armed to the teeth. In small ways, it felt more like a police state than a constitutional republic ingrained with the ideals of democracy and freedom. I was flabbergasted to find that the prices which used to be so much cheaper were no longer a bargain. Most items after factoring in exchange rates were comparable to prices back home and in many cases more expensive. Many items are priced the same in USD as they would be in CAD. For a Canadian, that means incurring additional costs of about 25% to purchase the same products in the States as at home.

The only exception is gas, which by comparison is still cheap as f@ck, especially in Ohio. That is probably why the cars seemed bigger than ever. Navigators, Suburbans, Expeditions, Silverados and F-150’s everywhere. The only electric-powered vehicles I saw the entire trip were the ones with Canadian licence plates on them. Apparently, global warming isn’t a thing anymore.

I know America is the land of gun worship. Constitution, militia, amendment, yada, yada, yada, but this is the first trip where it seemed real. From the McDonalds somewhere between Detroit and Columbus where a teammate’s family stopped for lunch. Multiple TV menu boards were black and riddled with bullet holes that had rendered them lifeless. Another example was the car in the hotel parking lot, damaged and dented along the entire passenger side, The lines from scraped paint and dented metal lead the eye to a void where the rear bumper, ripped clean off the car, would normally be. From the front view, it sported bullet holes through the hood that were now operating as additional air vents for the engine block inside. The owner spent most of his time hotboxed in the back seat before returning to the hotel room and leaving the entire building stinking like skunk.

It takes time for government policies to work their way through the system and down to the grassroots levels. It seems to me the divisive nature of the Trump Republican years continues to bear pest-infested rotten fruit while the oblivious Democrat left concerns itself with social engineering pet projects. All the while, Nero fiddles away as the real fires rage on.

My observations point to an Empire at a crossroads, an aging Superpower quickly fading beyond the Western horizon while the morning Sun rises in the Far East. A politically savvy China tightly controls its media and manipulates the narrative to build goodwill and paint itself as a positive and cooperative international partner. It is an image that does not jive with the brutal nature of China’s totalitarian regime but Trump himself proved that if you keep telling the same lies over and over the truth becomes irrelevant. The pro-Beijing rhetoric has become a seemingly better option for our youth when juxtaposed against the outward dysfunction of a divided America. A disillusioned generation of Americans, of Westerners, willing to forgo freedom in favour of the red mirage. Not even a slim chance that they know they are being duped by a wolf in sheep’s clothes.

Without some sort of monumental upheaval that allows America’s factions to reconcile, find common ground and work towards a common vision all China and its allies need do is waits like vultures for The Divided States of America to destroy itself from the inside before swooping in to pick whatever scraps remain on the carcass.


Credits and Additional Information

Spacetime

Spacetime

“What’s in that bubble floating on the wind, Daddy?”

“It contains the entirety of a life within; everything it was, everything it is, and everything it will become.”


The tick of the clock only moves in one direction from our insignificant perspective but that is not proof of times linearity; spacetime just ‘IS’. Everything has already happened, no beginning, no end, no entrance or exit from the trajectory set upon us. Perhaps by God or chance, I won’t postulate on the how or why beyond accepting that everything is relative.

It seems pointless to fret, if the path our lives will follow has already been settled I’m certain none of us know the outcome and in that sense, the risks we take are real, the love and tears and laughter genuine, and the direction we choose to go remains ours to determine.


Credits and Additional Information

9. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 1

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9. Revenge: The Shadow Woman 1

Lilith fretted. She was comfortable skirting the periphery. Biding her time and studying the beast. Plotting how to best secure its loyalty. She needed it to support her primary mission.

Years had faded since she last saw him but not her memories. His captivating charm, the lost hours and waking up disoriented. His voice mocking as she stumbled dazed and half-naked into the corridor.

He was the real predator, worse than this unholy beast. Still, she clung to her script, leaving the dark recesses unprepared could prove severely disastrous.

“Show yourself,” the beast snarled. Slowly the shadow woman emerged.


The Revenge Series


Credits and Additional Information

Freedom

There is no harmony
for us on the outside.
Only brief glimpses of that
which lies behind the wall.

It is us on the outside
who are in prison.
The soles of our feet
worn raw from toil.

We are the hungry,
The sick and the dying.
The ones kept in darkness.
behind this skyward barrier

Where endless excess
is left to rot away,
before a single grain
ever slip beyond.

Those who attempt escape
share the same fate.
It may seem merciful,
but they never return.

FREEDOM,
beyond the evergreen door,
is in the fleeting moments
before the bitter taste of
gunpowder fills the acrid air.

Credits and Additional Information

Bloodlust

Bloodlust

Barin, stood outside the gate, his face illuminated by the gleam of moonlight filtering through the deadwood canopy. Ringlets of midnight black flow cascaded around his ghoul like features, grotesque shadows dancing across an olive-skinned canvas. He would have to hurry.

Morning approached, the arbitrary beginning of each new cycle. The shadows that betrayed him were subdued by the light of day, reflecting only a pretty façade. The cauldron churning within concealed behind a perfect jawline, witty charm, and a penchant for expensive wine. Sometimes the hunt was too easy, they were drawn to him like moths to the flame, lambs to the slaughter, or whatever overused cliché you can think of.

He was an aficionado for the macabre as witnessed in his gruesome acts. This was the part he liked the least. He felt a sense of trepidation as the gate creaked open. It was insubstantial when compared to the innate drive that had pushed him to feed. An emptiness filled him as he searched the rows of tombstones for the familiar glow of candlelight that marked fresh dug graves.

He set her lifeless remains down and pulled a souvenir from around her neck. His instinct and heart in constant conflict, like opposite ends of a battery, one providing energy and the other extracting every drop. Still, he loved every one of his victims.

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The Scapegoat

The Scapegoat

It didn’t matter if this tinpot dictatorship trampled on the rights of its citizens or those sharing a border. He was the President’s guest, and as such smiled while flippant comments about war crimes and human rights violations flew around the table.

Back home, blame for the Ambassador’s cozy relationship fell squarely on the Prime Minister. Like a good civil servant, he tendered his resignation to conceal the government’s secret support for the regime.

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Red Mist

Red Mist

Terryl felt ill, a gnawing in his stomach that had started in the hours following his return from Orion Prime’s surface.

The mission was uneventful, a ride through the red tide mist to the Orion-Beta mine site where the landing party deployed new communications boosters and completed routine software updates on the mining bots.  

No one else from the team was reporting anomalies but several days later Terryl sat in sickbay awaiting his fourth assessment; his previous scans had come back normal, but he was certain something was eating away at his insides.

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Notions

Notions

running wild through untamed fields,
aimless notions guiding me
to the edge of an almost still river.

small beneath the pristine sky,
my spirit trusting the azure currents
to carry me to my final destination

somewhere across the silent meadow
a distant smile awaits my arrival,
and the wind calls my name.

I hear the wind call my name,
and I follow…

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The Cost of Indifference

Unrelenting darkness pressed down above the northern city trapped beneath the rubble of an intercontinental war it never asked for. Its only downfall is being landlocked between a wicked aggressor on the eastern front and indifference amongst the free and democratic societies to the west. The democratically elected government had aligned with the Western powers during the peaceful years following the Planetary Armistice of 2740.

The Eastern airforce was engaging in a campaign to carpet the rural grain and sheep farms with clusters of bombs precisely spaced to ensure maximum destruction of the arable countryside. Facing certain starvation, anger grew as it became clear that their allies had abandoned them. Sure, the West was providing stockpiles of old and neglected weaponry to shore up the National Resistance but compared to the weapons of modern warfare they were playing in the technological dark ages.

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Deep Below

Following the loyalist insurrection, many Minos separatists were forced to toil long unforgiving hours serving Earth’s greed-driven interests.

My clan survived the initial onslaught, fleeing to the shelter of the catacombs deep below the settlement. I miss the warmth of the Minoan suns but the long-forgotten passages have proved the perfect refuge for ostracized colonists.

The therapeutic properties of the moon’s super-heated core providing us with everything we need while planning our triumphant return to the surface.


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