The horrifying tenant in the ninety’s movie Pacific Heights would not vacate the premises. His reign of terror devalued the property and forced the owners into foreclosure as he stood by ready to pick it up for a song.
Sounds like another real estate developer doesn’t it, except the person I’m referring to occupies the people’s house and there is no question he has devalued the property.
The people have an opportunity to remove this undesirable tenant in November. I imagine an eviction notice will have to be served to remove him, his family, whoever else is hiding in the closet, and his belongings.
Imagine if you will, his belongings tossed to the curb; empty buckets of KFC strewn among ugly red neckties. A tanning bed and golf clubs perched next to half-used containers of orange makeup from Switzerland. Dozens of worn-out shiny frock coats dumped helter-skelter cover vast expanses of the rose garden. Among the discards, in sharp contrast to the oversized garments, lies a tiny jacket worn to dinner with the queen.
There is too much negative chi in the White House. A major bug bomb blast of good feng shui energy will have to occur.
Smudging, or other rites involving the burning of sage; a ceremony for spiritual cleansing, might be an option. I hope the sage harvest can meet the challenge.
An aura cleansing of the 45th Presidential portrait might be a good idea too.
But to cover all the bases if I were moving in, I’d demand an exorcism.
I’d take a knee if both of mine weren’t titanium. It requires much heavy lifting to return them upright once they reach the floor.
Pious hypocrisy and flag-waving indignation obscure the intent behind athletes taking a knee during the national anthem or pledge of allegiance.
Taking a knee is a peaceful demonstration against a government that claims liberty and justice for all. Demanding fair treatment is not unpatriotic.
Side note: The pledge of allegiance was written by a socialist minister, Francis Bellamy. I’m pretty sure this forgotten bit of history has escaped the current regime.
Ratifying the equal rights amendment would protect women economically and prevent pregnancy discrimination.
Current senate majority leader has stated he is not a supporter of the amendment. His wife has a cushy job as US Secretary of Transportation with a salary nearly Two Hundred thousand dollars a year, (one hundred and ninety-nine thousand and seven hundred to be precise).
In a recent segment on NPR, Ruth Bader Ginsburg said, “Every constitution in the world written since the year 1950 has the equivalent of an equal rights amendment, and we don’t.”
Maybe it’s time for women to take a knee too.
The pool is my Zen moment. It is an opportunity to escape the orange menace, corvid, and ancillary fallout of stuff that makes me grind my teeth.
Early mornings usually find me in our pool, with a lone neighbor who reads his morning paper and prefers his own company. We nod and acknowledge each other with an unspoken agreement to enjoy the silence. The neighborhood blue jay squawks a greeting and an occasional dragonfly flyover are my only in pool companions.
That is until last week. I was deep in contemplation when a woman, my contemporary, interrupted the quiet. Accompanied by sunscreen, water, and a smartphone loaded with Leonard Skynyrd ring tones she plopped down on a lounge chair, prepared for what appeared to be a lengthy stay.
I acknowledged her with a nod hoping to convey that this is a time for silent reflection.
She did not receive the message.
After way too many Leonard Skynyrd text notifications, followed by loud lengthy conversations with family members who most likely share a commonality with wolves, she advanced to the pool.
I was willing to share the deep end of the pool, but her belly flop entry in my space indicated she did not respect boundaries.
It was an opportunity for personal growth for me; I took the opportunity to leave the pool.
Some people do not understand the concept of Zen. I’ll bet she doesn’t social distance or wear a mask.