When The Free Man's Mentality Clashes With Good Deeds

People, often including me, tend to think I am a bit unrealistic in my disdain for regulation and governmental oversight.

Today, I listened to various Memorial Day things on the car radio while watching a golden eagle soar against a clear, bright blue sky up on the Sunrise Highway. I could look down toward Pine Valley, and see peaks in all directions. I was at about 4000 feet and peaks in the distance at about 6000 feet. While taking in this bit of the American experience, I recalled how one of my best laid plans was rendered null and void by the usual suspects.

It was four years ago, almost to the day, that I first set foot in San Diego. Reviewing that adventure must have helped trigger the memory. That, and listening to various charity people on the radio discuss their wonderful efforts and how compassionate they are.

I'm not criticizing their work or who benefits. But the system is what it is, and no amount of self aggrandizement on the part of alleged non-profits can change that. I know it is impolite to say so.

When I lived in Memphis, I actually purchased a small condo in a high rise. It was on the tenth floor and had a little balcony that overlooked the parking lot and the wooded parks to the east. At that height one can see some distance. It is strange though how seeing only a few miles there seemed a big deal, whereas here I can see 8 or 9 miles from my deck. My friends in Point Loma can see the lights of Tijuana approximately 20 miles to the south.

Anyway, there were a couple of things which caused me to decide I could not live in the condo. I was experiencing a period of very heavy struggle with that pit which uncertainty, depression and isolation can facilitate. That 100 foot plus drop to the parking lot looked too inviting for comfort. Also, I thought the kind of living which involves gated parking lots, and elevators to reach home might be too confining, and could further my extreme tendency to isolate.

I elected to rent the place to others, while I continued to rent a place for me. Seems an odd arrangement, but I don't regret it. My rental was relatively dirt cheap and was in a good place, among trees, within walking distance of movies and stores.

The condo building was close to St Jude's Children's Hospital. I knew from various sources that people often need to stay for periods of time while their children undergo treatment for serious conditions.

I still remember, from my days working at the airport, the family who would fly in and out every now and then, who had a girl who was in late stages of cerebral palsy. I assumed that to be the condition. Her mother let me carry her onto the airplane and into her seat. She was light as a feather, maybe 14 or 15 years old.

I offered because the mom looked worn and exhausted, and I liked the girl. She knew what was up, and I could make her smile, almost laugh. Just one of those cases in which you feel love for someone without any reason. Something about her just glowed. And she obviously caught my irreverent humor and off the wall remarks.

I hatched a plan to rent my place cheaper than what hotels and such would cost, for months or weeks at a time, to families at the hospital. Not all of them qualify for the official charities' help but it is a real strain on them.

It wouldn't take very much for me to meet the dreaded condo association fees, insurance and that sort of thing. It would have been a win-win situation, and I know I would have really made it easy for people like my friends from the aiprort.

OH NO!!! You can't do that because the state and city and the hotel board consider such activity to be a hotel, and...no, absolutely not. Don't even think about it.

Then the condo board started making rules that said if 50% of the units in the building were already rented out, then you could not rent your place. Two or three tycoons happened to own just about 50% of the units, which they rented.

I gave up the idea, and took it as a sign from Above that I needed to sell the place before I left Memphis for the great Western Unknown. Too much complication to hold onto it, rent it, and deal with ever changing regulations.

About the time my second renter moved in, they made a rule that they had to do some sort of background check on renters, and charge me a fee for it. Then they decided that if you had a renter, you had to pay a higher condo fee. Admittedly my renter looked a little shaggy, but I went on instinct and believed he'd pay up, and that he would make no trouble. In fact he was the type that would carry the old lady's groceries for her, voluntarily, so she didn't have to struggle with her wares and the elevator.

I think they resented someone not of the tycoon circle thinking his property rights were his to exercise as long as no harm or problems resulted. That is not how those places operate.

My renter paid on time every time. He'd had some hard times and was trying to get his life back in order. Most likely he'd not have satisfied the usual rental scrutiny, but he was probably a better tenant than the majority of those who do. If something needed work, he'd offer to help fix it or fix it himself.

Trying to quantify every aspect of human life in order to control it is proving over and over to be disastrous. Yet we ramp up the efforts in that direction. I am not sure of the proper, better paradigm, but I am sure it is worth attempting to shift the model. For one thing, it would help to employ more of the old school thing of deciding about a person face to face, rather than by feeding elements of resumes and reports into a computerized algorithm.

I happen to be suspect of the fact that due to our corrupt, ill conceived tax structure, that only officially approved charities count and are accepted. They become bureaucracies and corrupt, themselves. Or not. But it should not be so hard to do things individually without a bunch of hooplah. Of course you get no tax break, but the tax code is an ass, and shouldn't be such that you do or don't get a break.

At least the state of Tennessee and the City of Memphis were saved from a bootleg hotel competing for the business of people who have second mortgages, if that, so they can sink all they have into the costs of keeping up with a child going through cancer treatment and such in a distant town. I feel better knowing that all enterprises are so highly regulated. If government controls it, you know it is safe and good.

Lunaphobic Much?

I'm very disappointed that the senate voted to remove the word "lunatic" from all federal code. This probably means that you get no minority points and special status for being a lunatic.

Lunatics have been disenfranchised. The only hope for lunatics is if, like me, they also belong to other special groups. In my case, I can claim to be almost any minority other than woman--who technically are the majority--but never mind that. It pays to be in officially protected groups. We are all equal, but some are more equal. Hate crime laws tend to favor some over others.

Be sure to claim the right group or groups. That way people get punished more if they shoot you because they don't like your group. I'll RIP a whole lot better knowing that my assassin was motivated because of my Cherokee/Hispanic/African (proved by high cheek bones and gum pigment) heritage rather than because of my personality. Thank God for high cheek bones, and alleged family lore.

They stopped short of banning lunatics from federal office. It is sort of a pretend situation. We won't say "lunatic" no matter what happens, or who is speaking. If they banned lunatics from office, as well as printed word, the Capitol building would be a ghost town.

Like that guy from Georgia who was quizzing a general in a congressional hearing regarding moving troops to Guam. I forget why. This representative's concern wasn't to do with why. He was worried that adding so many people to the US base side of the island would "cause it to capsize".

That is right. An elected United States lawmaker feared that an island would capsize if too many people set foot on the military base. Flip that baby right over, spilling innocent civilians into the ocean, many of whom may not know how to swim.

We do not call such an elected official "lunatic", and certainly not "retarded". In politically incorrect truth, though, I fear he may be both. I guess he's in the right place; more insanity in DC than there is in Georgia. California gives them a run for the money, but that's off topic, sort of.

He wasn't joking. In this case you must be careful with pointing out that the man is a mental midget or people will accuse you of hating midgets. How to call someone in public office what they are in terms of philosophy, actions, and idiocy without violating the CODE, I don't know.

So, no more reference to "lunatic" in federal gibberish. We'll continue to use euphemisms like "bureaucrat", "congressman/woman", "senator", "president", "vice president", "czar", "secretary of (fill in the blank)", and on and on.

But we know you could just as easily say things like, "Lunatic In Chief", "lunatic of the Interior", "White House Press Lunatic", etc. and it would be fitting enough, even if not adherent to the Code of political correctness, which is ever evolving.

Somehow these lunatics think that by refusing to legally acknowledge the Lunatic community that they will reap benefit. Maybe they are planning on forcing people into the military or into some kind of community work. They always manage to protect themselves from the requirements they place on others.

I'll bet if they reinstate the draft, being a lunatic will no longer get you a deferment. That is where gays screwed up. If a draft comes back, they are going to wish they'd never pushed to be in the thick of war. Personally, I think they were duped, but that is their choice.

Now how are you going to avoid an insane draft? Claiming you are Cherokee won't help. It will no longer help to claim that you are gay. Equality of enslavement, and people pushed for it. I guess they forgot what a dark cloud that was, and what a political mess they made of that "police action".

It is a sad day when the feds pretend the lunatic community doesn't even exist. We deserve better. After all the fun and excitement we've brought to the world, to be treated like this is an outrage. I am calling for Lunatic Pride marches, nationwide, on my birthday in February, and/or on my invisible friend's birthday, next Friday.

Since gays stole the rainbow--which I still think should be public domain, no agenda or dogma attached--I guess we'll need some other kind of flag. I think that one with the crescent moon is fitting and attractive. We'll just lift it from the Islamic world. If the rainbow can be hijacked, so can the moon. Again, it is not p.c. to say so, but I guess using the flag for the lunatic community, at large, is really just broadening the hardcore base who already use it.

Lunacy is more rampant than one might think. For once this symbol can used by garden variety lunatics who rarely blow themselves or others to smithereens. A new political force is born.

It would seem we are now the victims of a lunaphobic Congress. Lunaphobia is the stuff of hate crimes. If a person attacks me for being crazy and doesn't get more stringent punishment than if he/she/it attacked me just for fun, I am going to be one angry lunatic.

Seriously, that would drive me mad.

PS: it is a grievous thing that we don't have any one word to replace the universal "he" pronoun. Alternating by sometimes using he and sometimes using she does not seem to convey the same universality that the, understood, non gender specific he did.

Don't Want To Lose It

Please don't let me lose it altogether, I ask to unknown powers. It would be easy to float into a disconnected state of mind which shuts out reality for good. Actually, it wouldn't be for better, though. I can feel that, so I resist the current of the fog that offers to carry me there.

What am I doing? I don't know. There are Mormons who want me to play in their choral group which is doing a show of some kind. The music is mostly semi-soft rock covers, and they have a couple of guitars, a keyboard, drums, a bas, and approximately six singers. How did I land there is hard to say.

First the Lutherans have me playing the death march on Good Friday, now the Mormons want me for Johnny B Good. And some other tunes. It's complicated, but the Lutherans did not try to Luthanize me and, so far, the Mormons haven't attempted to Mormonize me, nor have they mentioned Mitt Romney. The bummer is they haven't offered me a collection of wives as payment. I guess that could be a good thing.

Once again, I wonder if these musical forays are worth it. If I thought I was as good a player as I ought to be, I'd probably push it harder and feel better about it. As it is, I fear I am probably where I belong, considering my level of performance ability--playing in ensembles whose source and purpose are unknown to me, and in shows I've yet to understand.

I'm supposed to play something in Santee Friday night. I do not know where or why, or who is the audience. Mormons, I presume. Part of the problem is that I don't want to know too much. I am leery of inner church workings, particularly when secret handshakes and ritual may be involved.

I wish CopperCreek would become more active. But, part of the group has lucrative career activities to maintain, and another part is not healthy at the moment, and seems to be questioning the direction. I see the possibilities because the collective sound and sanity are rare. When dealing with anything in the music world, you have 2.5 strikes against you from the start because musicians are involved and they are all nuts.

So, I'm supposed to be there tonight for the big rehearsal, but J has once again neglected to email the time, address, and other pertinent particulars. This is the 3rd or 4th time that I will have to call, have to alter my day trying to figure out time and distance. I've half a mind to do nothing and if I do not hear, not show up.

But maybe I am being a baby if I go that route. It is annoying. Somehow it reminds me of my late father, rip. He never called but when I would call he'd act like we are never in touch and every time he'd ask for my phone number as if I'd never given it to him. Then he'd never use it.

The score sheet was at least 100 to 1, calls I made to him compared to calls I received from him.

Not that conversations were that much fun. All he wanted was dirt on my mother and brother, both of whom he was free to call. To be fair, I've discovered a certain respect for some of his qualities, and a sympathy for his difficulties and confusion in life. The man could work like no one I've ever known. It wasn't often for the best in the big picture but there is value in process.

The IRS ruined his later years, and ten years after he kicked, they figured out they'd illegally raped him for close to 500k more than they should have. I wonder how that would have altered his later years had they left him alone. His last wife is to be well compensated, I understand. A devious broad, but she did keep him off the streets and put up with him for a time.

That is how it is has become with J, who recruited me for one project, and that spilled over into the Mormon hooplah. "Let me get your email written down so I'm sure I have it right."

OK. Now you have my email for the fifth time. How about making use of it. he doesn't phone text, so that method of dispersing info is not there. Phone message is less reliable because of spotty connection up here, but it could be used as well. Although, I dislike getting much info on voicemail because I have to replay the whole message over and over to get the stuff written down. "Hi this is J, the adrressisonethritytwoohfivefourteenthstreetatfiveoclockandyoutakethegoopletyplopexitoffthe

eightmakealeftnoarightandturnleftatthethridtothelastlightandtwomilesupontherightturnleft

butdon'ttaketheroadbytheminimarttaketheonebythebigtreeandyoucan'tmissit"

Due to my iffy reception, voicemail is often not received in a timely fashion.

Invariably no address will be given. All I want is an address, and if the venue has a name, include that. So, that is the trouble with the voicemail method where this J outfit is concerned.

I liked the old physical answering machines which had easier control to focus on the meat of the message so I could stop, play back, etc. This cell voice mail requires enduring the entire message then playing the whole thing again if some number is in question or it is hard to understand the rapid fire delivery of the caller.

All that is just a shred of the trouble in my mind. Sort this shame of a garbage pile of a dwelling. This cottage ought to be a friggin showplace; view you would fly to some resort to have, well built, very nice place. Not much noise, save the choppers in the distance installing towers which are part of the corrupt project I can't influence. I've not shown the gratitude or respect this stroke of luck deserves.

All of a sudden I feel sad and lonely. That hasn't haunted me much for awhile. It is the mind's way of tempting me to mentally drift off into lala land and never come back. It is also a chance to beat the blues by doing everything I don't want to do. Face your life. That is what sorting and cleaning up requires. It is very hard for me because it wakes up that free floating grief.

Then there are the projects over in the world of political puppeteers; the ones who get their pals cabinet posts in this administration and who were instrumental in putting this wannabe king in office. It is good to have it, I know. But I cannot feel anything but under employed and sad about the sort of people who will benefit from my efforts. The good part is that I get some of their money in exchange.

My general state of mind is what they call in recovery, a dry drunk. So be it. I think it probably goes a bit deeper than that.

Step one, clean out the refrigerator of all the six month old milk, spoiled produce, and things which defy identification. We will chalk that up as one tiny battle won. A small victory.

Free Speech, rights and rights

It continually amazes me that so many people, often those in the media, in academia, definitely in government, and down the street, have so little idea of what the Bill of Rights is about, and what the difference is between a right and entitlement.

Sorry Joel, but I can't resist.

Today I heard some guy on the radio discussing whether a private company which fires a person because of comments posted on facebook has violated that person's 1st amendment right to free speech. I'd say that unless an employment contract which precluded such termination was in effect, then no, they violated nothing. We are assuming no libel or slander is involved.

Technically, I suppose it would be freedom of the press since we are dealing with the written word. But this scenario has nothing to do with the Bill of Rights.

A pe3rson is free to express himself, and others are free to fire him if the choose. People can quit their job over something the owner says or writes if they choose.

It matters not whether an employer is fair, it is his/her right to decline the person's services for whatever reason. Why do people stretch it to involve freedom of speech? or press?

The government cannot punish you for criticizing it, but people can refuse to do business with you, withhold friendship, etc. Being fired because you talked shop on facebook may be a poor reason, depending upon circumstances of the incident, but freedom of speech and press are not relevant to this kind case.

Talk show hosts are often limited in the scope of their reasoning abilities. The professor who called in was equally wrong in his assessment. Denying the employer's rights in the name of the 1st Amendment is a risky road to follow. Next thing you know the employee's right to quit will be in jeopardy.

By the reasoning I heard from these people, the government being forbidden to establish a state religion would apply to any group. so no religion could be established, and a religious school would be forbidden from exposing its students to that religion or any other.

The state cannot abridge speech or press, but your friends and employers can react to your expression. The state can't establish a religion, but you or the lady down the street can.

It seems clear enough to me. The confusion over it is nuts and will eventually lead to narrower rights and liberty, not more.

The Battle With Worthless Worry

The list of things of which we know very little, but think we should have a strong opinion, is lengthy. OJ, for example. I wasn't there and it was a circus. I still can't say I know what happened. Now someone has a book out claiming his deranged son did it. Why should I care or even give it a second thought?

Trayvon. I wasn't there and I do not know. What makes people take a view is the reaction to demagoguery and opportunism of those who jumped on the thing and made up stories, then tried to incite riots. I shouldn't worry about it. That one causes some worry because it has become a battle cry for openly racist aggression. Screw it, though. I'm in an area lacking in diversity, therefore lacking in the sort of violence common in my last locale, Memphis.

I get so inundated with information about things outside my own world that I forget what there is in my life worth doing. Obesity in children, and its resultant cries for regulation and people minding the business of strangers; hardly something I ought to waste any thought considering.

The only consideration, on the level of abstract principle, is that this is the downfall of the socialist philosophy. If we all share in the cost of healthcare and everything else, then that is used as the excuse to monitor the personal choices of others. That results in more rules and regs and restrictions on rights. It leads to being required to prove innocence without any indication of guilt having been established.

Those things are cumbersome when people like me can't shake thoughts of such remote manipulation and nonsense. None of that serves to help me live life with passion or even constructive direction. I'm not making a living by having opinions or thoughts about the ubiquitous debates regarding non issues.

I saw a report about a poll which asked if people thought Zimmerman shot the guy in self defense. A poll! They weren't quizzing witnesses, just random people. As if it is right that the uninformed public should have deeply held opinions regarding events which occurred somewhere else, involved strangers, of which they have very limited information. How can they possibly deem themselves eligible to make a reasonable call? Jerry Springer nation.

I remember when pandering talk shows first started that thing of someone giving two minutes worth of a complex issue then audience members would be called upon to give their idiotic assessment and advice. Better to be a voyeur into the insanity of others than to deal with your own sadness, anxiety or responsibilities.

Maybe that suicidal deer who ended up costing me over $500, and my insurance company over $3000, had the right idea. If you can't get it right, give up.

But, then, if you give up, how will you ever know if you could have made it over the obstacles and gained some traction? Maybe some little electrical anomaly in the brain would have nudged you into just enough action to put the construction process in motion.

Just something to get your mind off of The Great Pretense which has ruined anything regarding public information media and the authorities they promote. That covers so much ground; from war to public schools and universities, to helmet laws and, still hard to believe, obesity.

So much easier to look at the reports of events and governments, which could be pure fiction for all I know, than it is to control my own personal environment. The latter is something over which I do have a great deal of control. You'd think I'd exercise my authority and make it as good as it can be.

No doubt this has defined a mental disorder which carries a label. I don't think it is a brain tumor. Probably a form of perpetual grief which has lost its way, and forgotten its cause.

Old Dogs, New Trick

image from site, findingberlin.com, under shoe tossing in Berlin. This is a job for duct tape

For those who are unaware, "dogs" is old timey slang for your feet, or you feets, if you prefer.

Recently, I was catching up on the trials and tribulations of The Class Factotum , who writes an informative and very entertaining blog. Far easier to read than mine. It covers everything from spousal abuse for fun, to tyrannical pets, and fake blind lady curmudgeons.

In the episode I was reading, tying shoes was the issue du jour. You never know what is going on there. They live in an area where people wash their cars in beer, so anything can happen.

I followed the link in her story which went to TED.com, and a guy actually discussed the whole shoe-tie thing in a video, but you can't really see what he's doing. It seems that some laces are more prone to come undone than others. With a little effort I was able to figure it out.

It's true! There is the old way, and a better way to tie a shoe.

The whole trick is when you make that first loop, force yourself to bring the other part around the opposite direction from what you habitually do. For the first time ever, I worked all day without having to tie the loops in an extra knot, and my shoes never came untied.

You know you have it right when the bow wants to lie horizontally across the top of the shoe, rather than the usual tendency for it to go along the longitudinal axis of your footwear.

I'm very surprised and pleased. All these years of wrong way tying.

Never have these shoes stayed tied. Never ever. Until today.

It gets a little confusing because I sometimes tie right handed, and sometimes left. Same concept applies. Maybe when this knowledge gets out there, tie shoes will make a comeback instead of falling prey to the vel-cro lobby and lazy slip ons.

As the photo, above, tends to scream out--perhaps some basics on how to lace shoes should make the rounds, as well as how to tie them.

Lunacy

The solar eclipse was best experienced north of here, I think. A line from Oregon to somewhere in Texas.

That did not stop people from flocking to my favorite overlooks, some toting telescopes the size of the deer which attacked my car recently. It appeared that they had special lens covers or filters. Who knows. They were ready.

I vacated overlook #1 because it was too crowded, and drove a little way up the Sunrise Parkway.

There is a large unpaved section on each side of the road at a point maybe four miles from Thee 8. What was funny was that the vast majority of eclipse fans chose the west side, as if you could see the sun better from there. That left plenty of space for me to maintain 30 yards or more from the nearest vehicle. I like a generous helping of personal space when groups of strangers are about.

I chose to park with my back to the sun and read a book. As you can see, my clever way of recording this event was to position my side view mirror so that I could capture an image of the eclipsed sun with my phone cam. The result was breath taking, don't you agree?

I did make one a little dimmer. You can easily see how the moon was just beginning to obscure the sun in the first photo, and how it has almost totally blocked it out in the second, can't you?
Just spectacular.

If One Is Brilliantly Clever In a Vacuum, Does It Count?

Two posts down, I believe I was at a real peak in the art of clever. Not only that but the whole thing was based on pure fact. It is all true, I do have high cheek bones and ethnic gum evidence.

That is not the point. The point is that my accidental bursts of genius go unnoticed and unrewarded. Most geniuses can crank out brilliance day in and day out. I'm not of that group. Most of the time I am rather dull and dimwitted.

Then for a brief time, rarely more than 43 minutes, electric charges surge through my brain causing my mind to work really well. Then I go back to my semi-dream state which is cloudy, slow, gullible and dimwitted. The bursts of brilliance only come around maybe once every month or so. Rarely do they visit me at times when I can use them in any way.

That is why some people think I am a dimwit. They rarely see me in any other form. Then there are those who've seen evidence of my little jolts of thought, then get mad because they think the dullard persona is by choice and weakness of character. Little do they know that in dullsville mode I hardly comprehend their complicated insults and big words.

All that aside, I should get more credit and response when I am clever. It is so bad that I even left Rahul the lunatic spammer's comment in there.

Just thought I'd get that off my chest.

Double Edged Sword

If you wanted to contribute even $25 to someone's campaign, the feds require them to get your name, phone number, address.

Already donors to campaigns have been targeted by other campaigns. Those are big contributors, but I find it a threat nonetheless. With the level of computer technology and the ever growing insistence on putting people into data bases, I would not contribute to a campaign, even if I wanted to.

I understand why people go along with saying they want to know who is paying, but that knife cuts both ways. Just like most things. The big answer is to have severely limited government power so it is not so important to those who control money to have their guy in the catbird seat.

I guess I'm paranoid. I won't write to senators and representatives or sign petitions anymore. They want too much info, and I have no faith whatsoever that the information would never be used against me. Especially since I'd sign a petition to abolish most of the structure which controls the data, the guns, and much else.

Maybe one of these days I'll change my mind.

I Have High Cheek Bones, and Other Stuff

old family legend points to this man as my great grandpa. The resemblance is uncanny

One time a girlfriend thought the dark pigment in my lower gums was from rotten tissue and bad upkeep. It turns out, according to the dental lady examining my harmonica mouth, that this is typical of people who have Latin blood, and she seemed to imply Black blood, as well.

She seemed a bit worried that she'd crossed the line when she asked about ethnicities, as she explained it was due to the gum coloration. I wasn't bothered. I was wanting it in writing so I could send it to the chick who questioned my gum care.

Some people resist embracing their gene pool. It was not rot or poor hygiene, but pure genetics. That girl sure had me wrong. Probably a racist. Other than that, she was the bee's knees.

So, I plan to include exotic ethnic mix in my biography during my presidential campaign, and my senate run, should I lose the presidential race due to the color of my gums.:

"I was the first Latino (I kind of hate the terms, 'latina' and 'latino' for some reason. Sounds stupid to me), African, Cherokee in my neighborhood to own his own bicycle. All the other kids were White. Many of my relatives were also white. Although I tried to feel 'a part of', I always felt apart." - a sneak peek excerpt from my new bio.

Hey, if it is good enough for Harvard, it's good enough for me. I'm referring to the Scandinavian looking white chick running for office in Mass., or some other northeastern place, who claims she's Cherokee because she has high cheek bones.

Her cheek bones are no higher than mine, although I'm not sure how to prove that.

They say being touted as the first Native American woman law professor at Harvard had nothing to do with her getting the job. wink wink--and Al Sharpton would have still jumped on the Trayvon issue if they'd pointed out Zimmerman's Black heritage up front, rather than calling him a White Hispanic.

(see? I'm willing to call out racists even when we are ethnically similar)

So Liz is running for senate and people are questioning her claims of Native Americanism. If her references to family lore and proof of high cheek bones don't convince the skeptics, I don't know what will. People can be so bull headed.

People have often said I had high cheek bones, but never really explained what that means. I believe my bone structure is pretty much where it belongs. It is not like I have cheek bones framing my forehead.

I'm actually thrilled because this could open a host of job opportunities. Native American, African American, European American. If I wasn't so lazy, you'd see three hyphens that you could count for yourself and have proof of the total in my hyphen column. Just imagine I put them in.

Now all I need is to discover that I'm actually a woman and I am at the front of the line. When I was hiring, and for a so-called private company, the pressure was felt and it did influence hiring. If I could have scored a triple hyphen with gender issues, he/she/it would have been hired without an interview. Just to please the nitwits upstairs.

It should help me politically because I can claim to be one of almost any ethnic group you name. If only I could work some Asian in the mix, I'd be a hat trick plus one on the hyphens.

Wait minute, I think I have that hat trick plus one already. I should be able to include Hispanic or Latin. Habeas corpus and all that.

To think, all these years all I've claimed is to be an American with no hyphens, no claim to anyone's guilt, nothing. Now that I realize I'm a cornucopia of hyphens, I've noticed I am much more resentful and aware that even in traffic I'm treated unfairly. I suddenly want a huge government which will punish everyone not of my groups. Especially the rich ones.

High cheek bones, ethnic gum pigmentation, and an uncanny sense of rhythm. What more proof do you need?

I'm even thinking of hyphenating my last name. I heart hyphenated identity tags to separate me from the awful other people. I can't wait until the next census rolls around. t is so exciting to think about filling out forms in the future.

Back to the picture, ever notice how they always show politicians doing that exaggerated mouth thing when they talk? Like Donald Trump. I guess it makes them look like they are either going to fix the world by barfing on it, wet-kissing it, or swallowing it.

Most people don't do those labial gymnastics when speaking. Trump, politicians, some actors and singers. That's about it. Not too many people you encounter in normal life.

When my campaign gets rolling I don't expect to have that sort of photo floating around. There will be plenty of other ones for embarrassment purposes that my opponents will attempt to use. I'll shut them down by playing all the many ethnicity cards in my deck. Anyone who disagrees with me is anti-Hispanic, anti-Black, anti-White, and anti-Blues. Racists with no sense of rhythm.

Who wants to carry a label like that? I'm sure to soon be off limits to criticism in the press. I can hear the patronizers now, "he's a clean, articulate Indian...a real credit to his r..uh, peoples". I'm so excited to have finally discovered my true identity. Why I didn't put it together when the dentist gave me the hint, I don't know. Thank you, Elizabeth Warren!