If it weren’t for cliches, could we communicate?
* * *
Cliches…we’ve over-used these time-tested platitudes. They’re rusting out, about to bite the dust. Acronyms and euphemisms of verbal arcana are the new Esperanto. I’ve cobbled together a few of the oldies. They tell it like it is.
Our culture is bloated with idiomatic jargon. We belly up to the bar and listen to new claptrap chatter like lol, yolo, ESG, wtf, omg and omw, but all that will never get the same respect as letting you ain’t just whistling Dixie, boss roll off our tongues.
Today our Republic, and the world, seem to be hanging by a thread. Cordiality is as scarce as hen’s teeth and anger rules the roost. Only absolute is politics which is still business as usual. Congress keeps slamming the door in our faces and we’re fed up with having to go around the block with Joe.
Consensus fell off the wagon. Common sense took a hit and the wolf is at the door demanding more handouts We’re robbing Peter to pay Paul to keep anarchy and looters off the streets.
There’s enough blame to go around. But misery loves company, and the fat’s in the fire when government borrows from itself to pay its bills. Our elected geniuses keep kicking the can and falling all over one another promising we’ll dodge the bullet of insolvency in spite of it being the eleventh hour. Do you feel like we’re being hung out to dry while others are being rewarded with the fruits of our labors?
The moment of truth has arrived. The Treasury is broke. It’s running from pillar to post, the IRS taxing everything that moves for money to pay the piper. The political fat cats are laughing all the way to the bank.
Loose screws are everywhere, figuratively of course. Our Supreme Leader is running around like a chicken with his head cut off, reading from teleprompters while we shake our heads and wonder if he’s playing with a full deck.
Then there’s Putin, a short dog in tall grass, striking matches and drawing lines in the sands of Ukraine. He’s shooting from the hip about nuclear Armageddon, having forgotten his mother’s warning, play with fire and you’ll get burned.
And where’s the former POTUS, the Man of La Maga? He’s running helter-skelter with bloodhounds on his trail. If it weren’t so serious it’d all be a joke.
Meanwhile, woke is up to its eyeballs rewriting history in schools while the borders are falling apart at the seams. Goodbye Robert E. Lee, been nice knowing you.
What is the solution to the political turmoil permeating the halls of justice? Legalized duels, that’s what. They will end political gridlock. No more endless beating around the bush. Meet me out back, bring your knife or gun and put your money where your mouth is.
Solutions are quick and easy when things become a matter of life or death. Such contests focus the mind, and it’s a fair and square way of coming to grips with issues. It would be the final nail in the coffin of flawed concepts and idiotic ideology, Nancy and Bernie, and truly separate the men from the boys, Mitch and Chuck.
Citizens keep getting the short end of the stick. We’re leaning on a weak reed of one measly vote, riding on a merry-go-round of illusion and living in a fool’s paradise of broken promises. It’s high time we roll up our sleeves and stop equivocating.
The media’s grim handwriting is on the wall and throws fuel on the fire while we sit on our hands and hope the sorry mess will run its course. Yet, all we do is run off at the mouth while eating humble pie. Soon we’ll have to face the music and put up or shut up.
While we may be as clueless as the man in the moon as to what’s really going on, we’re still hard nuts to crack. We’re tending to our business, trying to make hay while the sun shines. There’s no grass growing under our feet.
* * *
It’s a dysfunctional, dystopian new world. Get used to it. If you don’t like it today, tomorrow will be a real pain in the ass. So put your foot in the door, sign up for Twitter and throw your own hat into the ring.
Remember, the long and short of it all is still this: You only live once…YOLO. Never throw in the towel. May God bless your little hearts.
Bud Hearn
October 3, 2022