“My name is Rusty, and I am a political junkie. It has been one day since my last slip.”
I dunno. Maybe my calling is stirring up strife. About the time I think I have settled into the comfortable habit of chronicling mornings in what I call coffee posts, some new outrage sets me off in a flurry of snarky posts.
I like the morning posts, though I quickly run out of ways to say the same thing every day. There is only so many ways to describe a golden sunrise, the cottony softness of a rural morning, my wife’s comforting morning routine and antics of a parakeet.
I have read the book, and I know how this drama called life eventually ends. I am fairly confident that I don’t want to hang around for that. We have been tested in peace, we have been tested in war. We have been tested in misery, we have been tested in joy. We have been tested in poverty, and we have been tested with great wealth.
Today’s poor live like kings compared to the poverty of other times. I was watching a few video clips of the great migrant parade in Mexico. Everyone had cellphones! Paper plates of half eaten food littered the sidewalks. I saw no babies with distended bellies from hunger.
Then I watch a bunch of politicians piously call for peace with liberal doublespeak when they were the very ones spreading rancor, and seethe at the chutzpah. Such gall cannot go unchallenged and I rise to the baiting. But then, writers far more eloquent than I have risen up throughout history to decry the sins of the opposition. Life goes on with or without me, and I shan’t be the last decrier of their sins. An ancient instruction comes to mind: If it be possible, as much as lies in you, live peaceably with all men.
I repent. Again.