Game of Thrones

Game of Thrones

It was an ugly building

No matter the attempts to dress it up.

Rough lumber formed sides and door.

Tin on the roof, sometimes.

Surrounded by flies in Summer,

And poke berries for color.

Winter brought frost.

Ice and snow found the wall’s cracks

And covered the seat

Which had no lid.

Scraping was required

Before business conducted.

The building

In winter taught self control.

The path was not trod unless

There were no other options.

In summer it taught tolerance

For odors, textures, and flies,

And snakes.

The building

Was educational,

Housing reading material

That served multiple purposes.

I learned about the latest

In bicycles and toys,

And ladies’ undergarments.

The building

Had one hole.

Churches in the country had two.

I marveled at the fact.

Rich people may have had two, too.

Perhaps.

The building

Was my hideout,

Separated by the three-rooms

By twenty feet of scrub grass.

I owned this three-by-four feet of space.

This was my building for years.

Until it disappeared,

And four-by-six feet of warmth

And comfort

Was brought into my house on Ice Plant Hill.

We now share special,

Porcelain-endowed, spacious rooms, indoors.

We now, in comfort and privilege

With time on our hands,

Devote ourselves to wondering who

Used these special places before us,

Who occupies them with us now,

And whether or not these imagined people

Are worthy of us.

They scare us, these imaginary people,

More than the flies and snakes,

The ice and snow,

That used to greet us each morning

In the building that sat outside in the cold.

Lying Again, Again

I did a blog post on April 10, 2012 called “We are Lyin’: Are we Dyin’?”.   This is an update of that 2012 post.

In 1978, Sissela Bok published a book, Lying: Moral Choice in Public and Private Life.  On page 19 of the Vintage paperback sitting on my desk, Ms. Bok invites us to:

“Imagine a society, no matter how ideal in other respects, where word and gesture could never be counted upon.”

I do believe that, in politics at least, we are there. In 2016, politicians have become brazen about lying—saying things they know are lies, knowing that people will know that they are lies, and knowing that people won’t care because they expect to be lied to. So as long as the lies reflect what people want to believe, the lying politician will win votes. It is happening today. When caught in a lie, they lie about having lied, win more votes, and are praised for “telling it like it is”.

In fact, in 2016 not a small number of people are asking politicians to lie to us. The larger the lie,  the more we support them. Evidence, the 2016 GOP primaries.

We have actually codified the legitimacy of lying. Evidence:  (1) As a result of U.S. vs. Alvarez, I may lie with impunity about my war record (sic); (2) This week, an Ohio law that prohibited false statements about a candidate for office bit the dust. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the 6^th Circuit stuck it down, using the Supreme Court’s money-is-free-speech decision to support their decision.

And we just elected a man whose lies are documented, blatant, and loved by his followers. He in turn has chosen an expert in propaganda as his chief advisor.

Lies are now legally considered a part of self-expression, politicians who lie to us cannot be held legally accountable for those lies, and we the people beg them to tell us bigger and more bodacious lies.

Bok says, again on page 19, “Deceit and violence—these are the two forms of deliberate assault on human beings,” and “society could scarcely function without some degree of truthfulness in speech and action.”

And I again wonder if anyone is grieving for our loss.