February 18, 2019--Seething Sort of Muted Rage

A great friend, Jill Davenport, sent the following note late last week. 

She attached a posting from the Daily Kos blog which, as you can see, brought her to a calmer place when thinking about the state of our politics and nation.

It did the same for me and I thought it might do so for you. So here it is--

Morning, Steven . . . 

This piece from Kos made me think about you and Rona and your Bristol Diner breakfasts.  I sincerely hope that this is not a piece of fiction designed to give some respite to those of us who are weary from the constant whiplash of hope risen and hope dashed.  And it gives something of a pass to the MAGA-hats who were duped and who now seem redeemable.  No passes given out for the vultures sitting in Congress, though, nor to those who profit from the sweat of others.   

Sorry to press this upon you.  It’s an easy read and well-written despite the author’s insistence that he can’t write "too good."  He writes good.  The piece has put me into a calmer place where I can look upon the impending "National Emergency” as a “go ahead and do it” proposition.  Any touchstone for hope will work for me--

--We the 99% got money issues to worry about.

So yeah I’m not usually a dairist here, and my writing skills leave something to be desired. I’m analog and not very digital and fat fingers can produce interesting grammatical errors that leave the more gifted wincing, not to mention spelling. My mind out races my fingers frequently and I rarely think to edit.  Consider this your warning about wondering narrative ahead. It’s tax time, and Trump time, and valentines night out for a lot of people isn’t happening this year. Trigger warning: I am going to give you some actual conversation as verbatim as I can.

Some might find this offensive.

So I have finally gotten all the snow cleared from where I didn’t want it, cleared a space for the danger doofus doggo to do her business without freezing tender areas and was very hungry and did not want to cook and wanted biscuits and gravy with two over-easy on top. So off to the local greasy spoon I went. The place was packed with guys like me 40+ white working class/farmers, hey it’s rural Wisconsin, and they were all bitching about one thing. Taxes. 

It wasn’t the quietly disgruntled sort of mildly irritated bitching. It was a seething sort of muted rage that comes from people who are seriously pissed and are looking for someone to blame kind of bitching.

Then ol’ Chuck Grassley appears on the TV pontificating about taxes. Ho Boy. Spark meet gasoline. Even the owner and waitresses lost their shit. I think “Bald faced fucking liar” was the mildest term I heard used and that was a waitress.

Could be wrong though. It was loud. 

Everyone and I do mean every single person in that establishment started comparing just what they had to cough up in taxes or just how small their return was going to be if they got one compared to last years. People were going to be short 5k minimum on their refunds. Others were in the hole to the IRS up to 12k. Vacations were being canceled. Repairs and purchases are being postponed. Vehicles are not going to be purchased. 

Then the farmers started bitching about who they were going to sell soybeans to. What should they plant? Corn? Soybeans? It’s time to order seed you know. How can I make a profit if I can’t sell what I grow? Is this China shit going to be sorted out soon? Who gives a fuck about a border wall I need fucking laborers. Does that fat orange bastard really know what the fuck he’s doing? 50% of these people voted for Trump. Now granted there were some MAGA hat wearing folks in there and a couple spouted off about staying the course and talking points. My did that go over well. Not.

Long story short they eventually brought up her e-mails. Whoopsie. An older farmer who could probably buy the place stood up and said his piece.

“You voted for Republicans in 2016 because you were angry about a black man being president for eight years and there was no damned way you were going to have a woman, let alone that woman be president. You got what you wanted. It wasn’t just that shitbag Trump. It was Republicans in the House of Representatives and Republicans in the Senate that drafted these tax laws you’re all cryin’ about. You’re stupid. You never learned nothing. You don’t look at history.

Republicans ALWAYS do what really rich people tell’em to. It ain’t about fags, blacks, Jesus, God, her emails, abortions, guns, or any of that other shit they holler about. Religious freedom don’t need no special laws it’s right there in that Constitution they keep spittin’ on. It’s about the money. It’s about how they can take your money and give it to people who flat don’t fucking need it. All of you need to grow up and take responsibility for your damned government. 2018 was a damned fine year. Democrats in charge of Congress again.”

Then Mr. MAGA Major bigmouth just had to say it, “What about that Pelosi bitch and all them (n----r) women in congress? They’re going to wreck it!”

Farmer: “Son you’d best be grateful that Pelosi bitch is a mean ol’ bitch and those women are serious about government. They’re the ones going to save your stupid ass from yourself. How you going to cover that tax bill you owe Bill? You need a loan? Maybe next year this time we’ll have us a real honest set of tax laws. Then again maybe you like paying this much in taxes every year? No? Thought not.”

Exit the farmer. A badass first class taking no shit from anyone farmer. 

It got real quiet for about 30 seconds as the man paid his tab and left. Then a new kind of hum started building in the place. the kind that made me grin and made the MAGA boys nervous. And to think what that farmer would have said about Mueller? Now there, yes there is something I’d like to have a sit down and listen to. Maybe I can have that after I go see him about what he’ll be asking for half a beef.

Jill too writes good.