We are bombarded by commercials
subjected to commercials, saturated
with commercials all getting into our
heads even when we don’t realize it —

pounding away at our psyches like
the pounding of a pulse on the sides
of the head, getting into our brains,
insidiously telling us we need this,

that and whatever else they are sell-
ing by featuring pretty, young, athletic
people and handsome, retirement
aged people and super cute kids,

materially successful people, con-
fident people, people we should
want to emulate, be like and if we
bought the product, if we had the

prescription in spite of the dire warn-
ings of possible death, we would be
just like them and we want so dearly
to be like them, except they are all

actors who look really good all made
up for the commercial and one of the
ways we can fight back against the
pulverizing effect of those mind-bend-

ing commercials is simply to hit the
mute button and talk to the dog and
blow a kiss to your spouse or partner
or breathe deeply and say, “Om,” and

then go back to watching the Bears
game and wonder why you took the
TV off mute or switch to your local
PBS channel assuming it is not into

one of those seeming eternal, season
to season fundraisers or just turn
it off and go for a walk; then you
might not need that prescription

that just might cause sudden death
or a slow, agonizing descent into
the nether world of utter despair
and oblivion.

Robert is the son of Gosta
Robert Edwin (Gostason) Dahl
14 Nov 1944, Chicago, IL
Gosta is the son of Olof
Gosta Edvin Oliver (Olofsson) Dahl
24 Aug 1905 StoraTuna Kopparberg, Sverige
Olof Edvin Dahl
Robert is the grandson of Olof Edvin Dahl
and Gerda Ottilia Randstrom.
Robert is the son of Jeanette (nee Vander Myde) Dahl
Jeanette is the daughter of John Vander Myde
and Frances (nee Van Es) Vander Myde.
Swedish and Dutch.
How did all the English work its way into Robert’s DNA?
It wasn’t the Swedes; as Vikings, they spent it all way, way back in the day
and didn’t have anything left for a roll in the hay.
The Dutch kept crossing the English Channel, but they won’t say.
And here they postured being religiously conservative
and sexually chaste and such and such.
Me thinks the Dutch do protest too much.

“The EU on this day (Dec. 4, 2019) agreed to phase out all single-use plastics by 2021!!” — a note from a friend

As for the environment, we now look to the EU.
Wouldn’t it be nice to look to the US, too?
Politicians are corrupted by lies.
Everything Donald touches dies.
Psychiatrists say he’s dangerous in the extreme.
I just want to fly fish in a clean stream
and forget about the last three years
and all the existential worries and fears.
And the Dems go this way and that.
Directing them is like herding cats.
Let’s impeach and get out the vote
before the US and the EU and everyone
else goes belly-up, bankrupt and broke
(or maybe even worse).

He addressed the pastel
blue, silkscreen octopus,
“I hear your species knows
how to survive in evermore
polluted waters.” He turned
to another wall and addressed
the beige and brown plastic
crab resting on three plastic,
brown, woven mats, “You are
pretty good at filtering out
the pollutants, right?” Then
he asked the wall hangings,
“Are you recyclable?”

Not normally given to a particular
visual awareness of his surroundings,
he sat on the couch of the cottage

just off the Gulf of Mexico where he
and his wife and their Chocolate Lab
would be spending two winter months

away from the Michigan cold and
maybe even a Polar Vortex. The
walls were pastel green, the wood

furniture painted off-white, the wall
hangings all furniture outlet nautical
themed — silkscreen of an octopus,

a plastic crab, a mirror hanging from
a boat cleat, cleats in the bathroom
upon which to hang towels and shav-

ing kits, a lamp made of plastic shells
reflecting morning light coming in from
the rising sun, a lamp of a plastic

anchor, a plastic bouy, a plastic fish
secured to a piece of distressed wood,
wall hangings with words extolling the

area — “Beach House, Flip Flops, Paradise”
and the solitary hanging — “Beach.” He
thought about his home along the shores

of Lake Michigan, the neutral walls upon
which hang original art by artists known
by the family, his wife’s award-winning

mixed-media sculptures on tables and the
mantle. He sat on the couch covered with
a bedsheet they put on to protect the

pastel green couch from stains. He
looked forward to hearing the crunch
and squeal and the feel of sand that is

real under his feet on the saltwater
shore on a day away from the cold.
And then he thought, What the hey;

it’s warm where we stay.
And just think of all the fresh
seafood.

“Apothic must be a made-up
word, but then again, aren’t they
all and all so metaphorical —
beautiful, stunning, gorgeous?
Actually, the wine is better than
good. It is beautiful and rather
stunning — like you, dear, like
fine wine, like just the right
simile, the right metaphor —
apothic. That is what you are,”
he said to his wife as he lifted
a glass in her direction,
itself a symbolic gesture,
another approximation, another
hint.

He walked to the beach
inhaling the salt air then
a strange cold west wind.

A benevolent autocrat is no better
than a malevolent autocrat in
leading the nation as a Republic

of, by and for the people and any
billionaire is by definition an autocrat
who only dictates answers because

he, and it is mostly males, has been
seduced by his money into thinking
he, and it is mostly males, must direct

what is going on rather than listen,
listen, listen, consult, consult, con-
sult and then, and only then, make

decisions judiciously and not arbitrar-
ily as if by fiat. Love of money corrupts
just as much as power corrupts, and

billionaires’ money corrupts the most
even with the correct ideology. Their
ears close, eyes close, minds close

and only they have the answer, in
their own minds inflated by self-
importance because they made

money which in our economic system
elevates a person’s importance to that
of demigod. Listen to their language;

they dictate because that is what they
do as founders, owners and CEOs.
We’ve got one of those right now

and how well is that going?

They sold their soul after the Civil War
greedily for more and more and more.

Instead of staying with Abe
they looked for the money to be made.

Aligning themselves with the rich,
they threw the masses into the ditch.

They say that Capitalism raises all boats,
but 99% are with alligators and snakes in moats.

Around GOP economics vultures swarm
while Republicans keep power and disinform.

Holy Writ says you can’t serve God and mammon.
This is their hell while they proclaim it is heaven.

While Abe rolls over in the grave,
he calls for America to keep the faith, stay brave,

promote the general welfare, live abundance for all.
There is no actual scarcity and, hopefully, their
policies will fall,

so vote, vote, vote before over the Republic’s
coffin, we pull the pall.

From secular to sacred: “We watch and wait for a holiness to heal…and hallow….*
In darkness, we wait for the light to expose that which does bore and hollow.

*Frederick Beuchner, The Clown in the Belfry