Commentary: Civics 101: What “We the People” Need to Know!

   

Civics 101: What “We the People” Need to Know. 

What we need to know is whether the United States is a democracy or a republic. Without a thorough understanding of how we are governed as a nation, we live in a state of ignorance. And that ignorance is the root of our perennial frustrations. I would like to take this opportunity to help you understand the distinction between a democracy and a republic. After the passage of the big, beautiful bill, it dawned on me that it might be helpful for the American citizenry to understand why the US Constitution rarely fulfills the needs, concerns, and pursuits of prosperity and happiness, as it was designed to do. It is no longer relevant in the 21st century. Now, let's get down to business.

In reality, the United States is both a Representative democracy and a republic. I know this because I Googled it. And below is what Google said:

The United States is considered both a republic and a representative democracy. 

Why it's a Republic:

• In a republic, the people hold the power, but they elect representatives to make decisions on their behalf.

• The government's power is limited by the constitution and laws that protect individual and minority rights.

• The US Constitution promised checks and balances between different branches of government. 

Why it's a Democracy (specifically a Representative Democracy):

• Democracy signifies a government in which the people have ultimate authority in political matters.

• The US is a representative democracy because citizens elect representatives to govern on their behalf rather than directly voting on every issue.

• Citizens participate in the political process by voting in elections and contacting their elected officials. 

Key takeaway:

The US is accurately described as both a republic and a representative democracy, as the terms are not mutually exclusive, and the US government incorporates elements of both forms. The emphasis is on the people's power being exercised through elected representatives, guided by a constitution that protects individual rights and freedoms.

 

Now, here’s where “SHIT” gets interesting!

As usual, the devil is in the details. And it sends those details, that is the crux of all of our angst. Let me explain my perspective on this persistent and pervasive issue. If we, the people, had the opportunity to vote on issues ourselves, we would have the power to determine our destiny and futures. Allowing an elected representative to vote on our behalf is to place our trust in people who may not prioritize our needs and concerns as they would their own. Not only that, but we left ourselves open to greed, corruption, incompetence, and self-serving acts to profit at the people's Expense.

Theoretically, in the purest form of democracy, a despicable piece of legislation, such as the Big Beautiful Bill, would have never passed muster with an informed citizenry. There would be affordable healthcare education and a social safety net for our seniors and children in this country because these are the priorities that a majority of voters have been clamoring for for decades. The only reason these issues have not been resolved, despite the nation's deficit climbing to nearly $40 trillion, is that we, the people, lack the power to govern ourselves. It should be abundantly clear by now that those we've chosen to represent us have not done so with a proper moral compass, integrity, or compassion for their constituents.

Next Steps

 

Start asking questions like, 'Why does nothing change in favor of the people, no matter which candidate or party we vote for?' Essentially, the political status quo is static. We get a lot of Shit-Chat broadcasts on C-Span, but at the end of the day, it’s all much ado about nothing. It’s all grandstanding, political theater, and if this is so, the next question is, why do we continue to participate in a corrupt and ineffective process that no longer serves the basic needs of the citizenry? Next, and most importantly, what can we do to transform the process into a more democratic, equitable, and empowering one for the people?

Repeating the same failing efforts and achieving the same disappointing results is the definition of insanity. Will it be challenging? Without a modicum of doubt, yes! A change of this magnitude will take a herculean commitment because the current powerbrokers are dug in deeper than an Alabama tick, and they’ll fight like their lives depended on doing so. Power is like dope. The more you get, the more you need. 

To support my argument for revamping the current stagnant form of government that has eroded the people’s ability to affect change in the political process that now only serves the ultra-elite, multi-national corporate interests and the lobbyists they employ to bribe and corrupt the people’s elected representatives, I submit a summary of a Washington Post article that speaks to how the slow but consistent handover of the people’s protections that was once promised by the concept of balance of power. When the citizenry is denied power, there is no balance of power.  

The Supreme Court and Congress cede powers to Trump and the presidency

The high court has given the president immunity and protected him from nationwide injunctions. Congress is giving ground on spending and tariffs. It adds up to a turbocharged executive.

July 4, 2025

By Naftali Bendavid

The Supreme Court last week sharply curtailed the ability of federal judges to block a presidential action nationwide, even if they find it unconstitutional. That followed its decision last year granting the president broad immunity from prosecution for crimes committed in the course of his core duties.

The Senate, several days ago, rejected a resolution that would have let Congress decide, under its war powers, if President Donald Trump can strike Iran again. And Congress, in recent months, has repeatedly declined to assert its constitutional authority over spending or tariffs.

In a striking dynamic of the Trump era, analysts say, the judicial and legislative branches have been steadily transferring many of their powers to the executive — or at least acquiescing in the transfers. That has shaken up a system that depends on the three branches of government jostling sharply as each jealously guards its prerogatives, many critics contend.

If the above is true, and it is because I checked, “We the People” are indeed being ruled by a self-appointed Crowned Head (AKA) a King, with his Queen, a monosyllabic mannequin, Melania. Now that this Machiavellian megalomaniac has managed to absorb the authorities of the Supreme Court and the U.S. Congress within his grasp, in this writer’s opinion, there remains only one solution. 

“We, the People, must regain control of what's left of this democracy/republic to reestablish respect and adherence to the principles of the U.S. Constitution. And that effort may take a second revolution to achieve that goal. These are extraordinary times, and extraordinary times call for extraordinary responses.

This madman was impeached twice in his first term as president and still managed to re-emerge once again, even more power-hungry than ever. How Donald Trump was able to convince, cajole, connive, and control a narrative so effectively that enough ignorant, dimwitted, and ill-informed voters allowed themselves to be sold another line of Bull Shit to cure all that ailed them. 

Now, I get it. Revolution is a harsh word and dangerous because it implies acts of violence. Many are still in shock over the events of Jan. 6th, 2021, when Trump 1.0 incited rioters to lay siege to the U.S. Capitol building to overturn the election he’d lost. I say, if Trump could do that and still get himself re-elected, then “We the People, at the very least, must consider what some may think untenable.

He has to be stopped, one way or another. If the reader of my thoughts would like to share other less radical options, this writer is always open to suggestions. More later, I promise!😇

Issues Reviewed & Analyzed: The Big Beautiful Bill is Bullshit!

 

The Big Beautiful Bill is Bullshit!

Have you noticed a consistent pattern where the rich and powerful consistently pursue their path toward profit and prosperity, often at the expense of America's working class? As a cautious and conscientious observer of these dark times, I no longer participate or give attention to the political theater generated to deceive, confuse, and baffle the John and Jane Q public.

However, this latest episode of political con artistry by governmental mercenaries and grifters employed by the elite class, who keep the hard-working class working for a pittance and tax them for the privilege, struck me as exceptionally cruel.

Led by an accomplished scamster, a braggadocious bloviating blabber so skilled at the art of deception, the average American voter, lacking critical thinking skills, is easily bamboozled into believing any half-baked scheme or scam presented to them. And with a cast of characters expertly playing their roles, the “marks” are routinely fleeced mercilessly of their rights, social safety nets, access to affordable healthcare, education, a living wage, or anything else to exist in this country with dignity and self-respect.

Even a cursory examination of this so-called “Big Beautiful Bill” by the United States Congress should raise red flags in the minds of the dumbest of dullards. Whether one resides in a Red State or Blue, one should recognize that they’ve been robbed of their future by the same robber baron types that have been conniving to keep them convinced that this latest piece of shit legislation will benefit the average Joe in the long run. 

So, one has to wonder what will happen when John and Jane wake up from the fog of lies that have clouded their common sense for decades. Eventually, the masses will figure it out for themselves someday. You know what they say, “You can fool some of the suckers all the time and all of the suckers some of the time, but you can’t fool all of the suckers all of the time.” And when the suckers are finally able to decipher the fine print hidden in the empty promises, there’ll be Hell to pay.

Perhaps we’ll be treated to a front-row seat to witness America’s long overdue second revolution. And not just for collapsing the economy due to the selfish insensitivity and insatiable greed of the billionaire class, but also for the reckless prioritizing of resources and funding over the needs of people in need to line the pockets of the military-industrial complex.  

Effeminate warmongers like Lindsey Graham, Marco Rubio, and punk ass Ted Cruz, whom one could never envision engaging in a playground fight, let alone serving this country in a combat capacity, are the very ones front and center clamoring for forever wars and military conflicts all over the planet. 

And Donald J. Trump presides over his pack of political miscreants and sycophants despite his campaign promises to insulate America from elective military conflicts and to focus on America first, unlike his predecessors. 

A confirmed arrogant ignoramus, Mr. Trump not only found himself the butt of jokes and depicted as a buffoon but was suckered into providing military and financial support on behalf of a rogue regime committed to the annihilation of another nation-state and its leadership. Adding his complicity to the war crimes and crimes against humanity in Gaza, the West Bank, Lebanon, and Syria, it’s difficult to see how much time and energy he’s allotted to focusing on the needs of Americans. The resources squandered to aid and abet the genocide of a captive people to colonize and confiscate their lands can only be described as unconscionable and insufferable.

When the dots are connected and all the puzzle pieces are in place, the people will see an ugly picture of a justified violent rebellion emerging. The mask of bravado will be ripped off, revealing the true nature of the bullying ruling elite. Cowardice will mar their meticulously curated image of strength and invincibility. And when their billions can no longer camouflage their frailties, that is when the masses will pounce with payback, buoyed by Karma.

Frankly, I look forward to watching the rich retreat in fright from the wrath of citizens seeking their just revenge for decades of patience, unquestioning loyalty, and allegiance to a nation that’s been ignored and trampled upon by this tyrannical fascist administration. For all Americans who have sacrificed for this republic, they’ve got nothing in return but this Big Beautiful Bullshit Bill, a slap in the face and a big fat orange ass to kiss!

Life "Sucks" in America these days and it's time to do something different about it. I've got an idea. I'll polish it up and share later this week. 😏

Lee Bines

File Labeled: Urgent; Shit You Need to Know.

 

This is from my File Urgent Shit You Need to Know. 

90,380 views Jul 1, 2025

In a word, I was flabbergasted. It's not every day we're treated with more than a morsel of truth to chew on and think about. Well, here is a taste of political analysis and an honest appraisal of "Political Fuckery" (my words, not his) that'll whet your appetite for more. The following introduction was copied and pasted from this brilliant economist's YouTube channel to explain what you'll hear and see in this highly recommended video. Please share!

90,380 views Jul 1, 2025Richard Wolff delivers a searing critique of American politics, framing it as a hollow theater designed to distract from economic collapse and elite domination. He highlights the election of Zohran Mamdani—a pro-Palestinian, Muslim socialist—to the New York State Assembly as a pivotal break from the scripted, billionaire-backed politics of figures like Andrew Cuomo. Mamdani’s grassroots win, echoing the path of Bernie Sanders and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, signals a growing public demand for authenticity, justice, and real change. Wolff contrasts this with the “theater of war” unfolding between Iran and Israel, orchestrated to manipulate public perception while concealing real motives. The lack of transparency, conflicting narratives, and manufactured consent reveal a broader pattern: elite control sustained through spectacle. But as disillusionment deepens, more Americans are waking up—not just to political theatrics, but to the urgent need for systemic transformation. Turn on notifications to stay updated! 🔔🔔🔔

The Monster Race (Hell’s Heathens)

 

 The Monster Race (Hell’s Heathens)

These “people”, and I use the term loosely, are self-absorbed, self-indulgent, and selfish, but not in the least self-conscious. They are domineering, entitled, arrogant, and insensitive to the basic needs of others. It is through violent outbursts, Routine, vicious, cruel, cold, and uncaring interactions that they maintain their grip on humanity.

This is how the monster race has lived and flourished as a culture for many millennia. Yet, they have not even attempted to practice anything beyond managing and manipulating the masses. They were taught from toddlerhood that it is their birthright to treat others as underlings. Thus, they hold an iron grip on power.. They have no morals, ethics, empathy, or integrity. They are brutish people, physically appearing human, but lacking a modicum of humanity or grace in their souls. If they even possess Souls, the monster race is and has always been dangerous to those who've had the misfortune of being noticed by them. To be seen by the monster race was to be conquered and enslaved by them.

 

They will lie, cheat, steal, connive, and deceive to achieve their goals. And their primary goal is the attainment of wealth and power by any means necessary. They have no god and never have; they respect no religion because no God or religion would tolerate them. Now that you have been introduced to their presence, you should be aware when they reach your lands and shores.

To be trapped within the monster race’s Orbit is to be drained and depleted of all dignity and self-respect. Your only reason for existing is to serve humbly and be happy about it. One must be grateful for the meager crumbs they throw one’s way, never to complain or ask for more, simply accepting one's station in life under the thumb of the monster class.

These creatures, human-like as mentioned above, are impersonating our species. Some have reasoned that they infiltrated the human race from a distant origin. Others have speculated they’re perhaps aliens from the future, returning to their past to relive lives lost over time. Not to right wrongs, as one would hope, but to colonize, enslave, and bend the will of our comparatively primitive human race.

However, this writer would like to posit the following possibility. Perhaps these creatures ascended from the depths of Hell. Possibly, these evil entities were spawned from the loins of Satan’s Saints.. What if they were angels of the dark who’d arisen to claim their place among God’s forsaken children? What if we, as a people, strayed too far from our beginnings? What if we’ve forgotten who we are? Whatever we conclude, we must concur that this insidious wickedness has penetrated and permeated our world for as long as anyone living today can remember.

It seems they’ve always been lurking in our midst, existing at the top of the human food chain with privileges serviles could only imagine. And it appears the more we give to satisfy their demands, the more they take our efforts for granted. At best, we, the People, are “Graced” with banal respect to temporarily assuage our desperation. And, even that morsel of “kindness” is only meted out, so the monster class can revel in watching the subservients bow to acknowledge the lowest form of recognition.

But it’s worse than one can think, if one can envision the monster class as a Vampire-like life form sustaining itself, not by blood, but by negative energy derived from creating chaos and conflicts between communities, cultures, and countries. Forever wars, famine, land and water disputes, racial and religious divides. When they convince us that violence is the best option, the monster class drench themselves in that ensuing negative energy like fuel for fire.

“We the People” have lost our way. We’re passengers on a speeding train without knowing the motives of the engineer. We’re aboard a ship of fools, adrift without a compass or a competent navigator. We’re up “Schitt’s Creek without a paddle”. We’ve been led astray by the liar of all liars, the snake oil salesman, the con artist extraordinaire who never gives a sucker an even break, for the monster class knows no mercy. So, pay heed to these insights, or you’ll pay the Devil someday.

By Lee Bines’ Tall Tales for Short Stories

Slack Slacker and Doobie Fight to Survive Zombies on a Caribbean Bound Cruise (Part 2)

 

Slack Slacker and Doobie Fight to Survive Zombies on a Caribbean Bound Cruise (Part 2)

We were in the midst of an escalating zombie apocalypse at sea, with no rules and no heroes in sight to mitigate the situation. Slack was alone, armed only with a stolen prosthetic leg, two silver-plated flasks of Patron tequila, and a mind soaked in liquid courage. And clearly, that wasn’t enough. Slack needed a plan. Luckily, even in his inebriated state, he came up with something that seemed to make sense. 

Slack started banging on doors frantically, screaming, “Open up if you want to live, I’m not a zombie. For fuck sakes, I’m not even hungry!” “I got a plan, but I need your help.” With caution, a few passengers peered through their peepholes and were satisfied, as Slack appeared to be one of the uninfected: no visible bite marks, open wounds, or blood stains on his clothing. Still, initially, the most fearful wouldn’t open their doors. They made Slack make his pitch in the hallway.  

While exposed and nervous, he’d be attacked at any moment, Slack spoke as fast and calmly as he could to convince them that cowering in their rooms was a bad idea, because help wasn't coming. If they wanted to save their lives and loved ones, they’d have to do it themselves, and he had a plan. The liquor was working. Slack's demeanor projected authority and confidence, character traits foreign to his usual fuck-it, it’s every man, woman, and child for themselves. So, he took another swig of his tequila, tucked the flask in his back pocket and proceeded to persuade the reluctants to take a chance on the concept of safety in numbers so they could unite to mount a resistance against the hungry hordes of maniacs for membranes and human bone marrow, rather than starve to death in hiding,

Realizing he’d achieved a consensus among the group, Slack was positive he’d assembled a motley crew of crutch and cane wielding passengers along with a few abled bodied crew members with tools like hammers, heavy wrenches, and sharpened steak knives from the ship’s galley ready and willing to bash the brains out of these brainless zombie bastards.

The Plan:  Make it to deck 4, where the lifeboats were located. The crew members were trained to assemble there in case of an emergency. A zombie outbreak qualifies as such an event. They were also sure others would be there to increase our numbers. After much debate, all agreed and began our joint journey to save ourselves and with any luck fine doobie.

Since Slack started this quest, the hastily assembled group of reluctant warriors elected him leader of the pack (Slack's Pack!) Yeah, sounded catchy, Slack thought. So he slung the prosthetic leg commandeered from the disabled veteran, a somewhat disagreeable chat, Slack thought. And he held it firmly in both hands and proceeded to lead the way.

Since the pack was located on deck 10, everyone knew they had six flights of Hell to fight, because the elevators were too small for a brute the size of 25, and separating was a bad option. Stragglers would be left to their own devices, and everybody knew it. And, collectively, they knew all would have to fight like Hell cats against who knows what we would encounter along the way. With nerves on edge, shaking to the core, and hearts pounding in anticipation of the worst, Slack took another swing of liquid courage for luck, made the sign of the cross instinctively from years of parochial schooling, and moved slowly and cautiously down the narrow hallway toward the wide staircases.

And sure, as ZOMBIE SHIT, the slack pack came face to face with a half dozen creatures too dumb to know they were dead and were knee deep in limbless caucuses mindlessly in a piranha like feeding frenzy. So consumed with satisfying their need to feed, these beasts fail to notice the pack's presence. Slack was so grateful that he made a mental note to thank all the gods, Jehovah, Allah, Yahweh, and, of course, the baby Jesus, for the blessing. Still, Slack took another swing of tequila from his trusty flask just in case he missed one of the almighty.

So far, so good, the pact moves on until they arrive on deck eight, when they're confronted with their first challenge. It was the biggest zombie anyone had ever seen. He was the size of Andre the Giant on steroids with hands the size of catcher's mitts made for King Kong. The slack pack was like the Lilliputians of Gulliver's Travels by comparison. This was truly an “Oh Shit” moment. And "Oh Shit" was on the mind of everyone when the colossal zombie, bit the head off one of the passenger's heads, spitting her dentures on the floor and started sucking out the eyeballs from the bloody skull. It was then that the pack surrounded the big bastard and began hacking, chopping, and carving everything from his ankles to his kneecaps. It took a while, but the hulking figure eventually fell. With fucked up legs, the pack knew he couldn't give chase so they all thew caution to the wind and ran like Black slaves fleeing a lynch mob in Mississippi.

Tripping, stumbling, and falling over one another, the pack made it to deck 5. There, they came upon a nest of zombies of a different kind. This seemingly organized grouping showed signs of life in their eyes. They moved differently. They appeared to be thinking, planning, and plotting our demise. And they, too, had a leader. Although these creatures were clearly not alive, they weren't exactly The Walking Dead types either. Yeah, another Oh Shit moment to contend. But this time, Slack was running low on liquid courage. He was down to his last flask of bravery juice, so it was time to conserve and share none with anyone.

Fortunately, Slack still had two functioning brain cells to rub together to formulate another plan. Somebody had to be used as bait. But who? Slack was in survival mode, and that’s when he thought with Machiavellian clarity. Without a second thought, he pushed all those with crutches and canes forward to be attacked, so the others with the most lethal weapons could fight their way past the battle between the zombies and the physically challenged. 

When the remaining members of the weary pack finally reached deck 4, they realized all but one lifeboat was left. And it was the smallest one being held by, you guessed it, Doobie. He indicated in doggie sign language, which only he and Slack were fluent in, that Slack should select only the fittest to be allowed on the last lifeboat, because there were only provisions enough for a few. He had no idea how long they’d be adrift at sea.

The choices were as painful as they were sorrowful, but they had to be made. Since Doobie had appointed himself in charge and I was his pal, the two of us had guaranteed seats. Everybody else ended up fighting to the death for a spot, while Doobie laughed and Slack swigged the last drops of tequila as the lifeboat floated off into the sunset. 

It must have been weeks at sea, or so it seemed, drifting aimlessly on blazingly sunny days and moonless nights with no sight of a passing ship. Slack was listless and hallucinating. Finally, he’d lost consciousness altogether and passed out from the traumatic experience. But Doobie stayed alert, guiding the little life toward a tiny, deserted island he’d sighted while Slack snoozed. 

Dragging Slack’s limp body ashore and dumping his near-lifeless body on the sandy beach, Doobie went scavenging for something to sustain them until some form of help would come along.

And within hours, a form of help did show up. But it was the last help Slack was looking forward to. When he came to his senses, there was the disagreeable disabled veteran Slack had snatched this angry-faced man’s leg from, now standing on two shiny new prosthetic legs and sporting a tag on his tailored naval blazer reading Captain Karama, retired. And as life would have it, Captain Karma was a BITCH!

I don't think this is the end, but it'll have to do for now. I'm out of Tequila! 😏

Lee Bines

Slack Slacker and Doobie Fight to Survive Zombies on a Caribbean Bound Cruise (Part 1)

 

Mad Zombie Dog Doobie goes berserk on a Cruise Ship.

For anyone whose was taken a leisurely cruise throughout the Caribbean Islands on one of those massively big cruise ships, they know they can expect the hordes of overweight greedy Americans going berserk at the buffet counters as if they were consuming their last meal before being taken to a gas chamber to be executed for some horrible, despicable crime. The gluttony is beyond anything this writer has ever seen in any other place in my life. And it was this insane foodie experience, or one could say a social experiment, that inspired this story about Slack Slacker and Doobie surviving a zombie infestation amongst the passengers and crew of a cruise ship. 

The gist of the story, as I initially envisioned it, could not be written for a family audience. As the tale unfolded in my mind's eye, I knew immediately that it wouldn't pass muster in Western society today, given the prevailing political correctness, cancel culture, and wokeness. Words like fat assed, retarded, losers are simply unacceptable for a product marketed to individuals of all ages, in this current age of uber sensitivities. Hence, I couldn’t clown around with the clowns as I would with my closest friends. So, if you’re privileged enough to have stumbled upon this blog post and not too woke to take a joke, stick around for more than a few chuckles at the expense of those who had to survive middle school with guys like me tormenting them.  

So I had to tone down the bloody violence of describing scenes of buck toothed thick-ankle chunky teen girls pushing and shoving one another aside for their fifth, sixth, or seventh order of cheeseburgers and fries and witnessing seniors giving glaring stares to younger, faster, and far more nimble and aggressive teenage boys viciously hogging all of the dessert offerings: cakes, donuts, cookies, puddings of all flavors imaginable as well as ice cream gelato galore. Although healthy alternatives were available, it was the high-calorie, fat, and sugary treats that these belly busters were craving. And nothing could stop them. There were no rules, courtesy, or decorum being followed. Emily Post would’ve been appalled. 

Luckily, I was fortunate enough to have purchased the daily fine dining package, allowing me to experience restaurants in a more private setting where one could enjoy a meal served by a professional staff without having to brawl for a fucking thot dog filled with nitrates and other unknown mystery meat fillers. And while I must admit some of the foods were presented appetizingly, it was a cuisine for the masses. It was the kind of food that Robert F. Kennedy Jr., Secretary of Health and Human Services, was trying to ban from the American diet. I can only say, “Good luck with that!

So, yes, it was scenes like this that got me thinking about passengers turning into zombies from some mysterious food that had been born in the buffet offerings. I sat on my balcony in my suite, indulging in a few Long Island Iced Teas, imagining the passengers transitioning into ravenous, carnivorous brain juice junkie maniacs attacking the unturned in the hallways, the elevators, the pools, saunas and spas, and God help those caught on the many open decks and staircase making their way back to their rooms inebriated or worse fucked up from one to many TCH laced gummies. 

And that’s only the beginning of my mangled, maniacal, mental state. What about those who did make it back to the safety of their state rooms and cabins? I imagined those guests wondering WTF was going on outside their room doors? The horrible munching sounds silencing the screams of small children and old people being chewed up in their little supermarket slow-carts. Yeah, I know I ain’t shit, but it was fun to entertain the thouhgt. Well, it was fun until I realized Doobie, my pet Yorkie, was running loose on the ship; he would definitely make a delectable snack.

.

Now don’t get me wrong, I ain’t nobody’s heroe and Doobie is one Hell of a pain in the “ass”, (PITA) but we’ve been in a lot of jams together and I knew this tale would suck  I didn’t at least do the bare minimum to rescue his flee bitten ass. So, I imagined a plan to venture out of my state room when the frightful hollering died down to find and unite as many crew members as I could trust to mount a resistance and form a search party for Doobie. Yo. I’m well aware that all of this sounds screwy, but this is what happens when people drink too much.  So, of course, I washed down my Last Long Island Iced Tea with two shots of Patron, looked out the peephole on my door, and snuck out into the hallway.

No gun, no knife, not even a baseball bat to bash a zombie motherfucker, I just went on a mission to save my pet pal, Doobie the “Son of a Bitch” 

The walls of the halls were covered with blood smears. The floors were littered with gnawed bones, eaten limbs, entrails, and bits and pieces of human organs. I couldn’t help thinking, this is what it must look like after a zombie takes a shit and was too busy to flnd a toilet and a roll of Charmin toilet paper. Ghastly is the word! Yet, I soldiered on, drunkenly determined to locate someone, anyone who hadn’t turned into one of these brain-eating monsters. Coming across several passengers who looked safe to ask for help, I instantly noticed the blank stares and small bites on their arms and legs. These poor bastards had been in a fight. And while they escaped, I had to assume they’d be turning soon. 

I was in survival mode now, so I did the unthinkable. Seeing a passenger I’d had lunch with two days before the horrors began, I noticed he had two prosthetic legs protruding from his Bermuda shorts. Now I know most will think badly of me, but since I reasoned he was doomed anyway, I politely asked to borrow one for self-defense. He refused, so I yanked one off, promising to return it as soon as I could, and ran away with it slung over my shoulder. Hell, this situation was beyond dog-eat-dog; this was humans munching humans. And I’ll damned if my cocka-o-doodle-doo was gonna be on a zombie’s hotdog bun!

End of part one. Next installment Thursday. I promise. Well. Sorta!

It's Juneteenth. Celebrate Productively!

 

This is your past. Know your history, before it's erased! Or worse, someone rewrites it. 😕

This is your future! Acknowledge and embrace it before someone denies it. 😲

Celebrate Juneteenth with knowledge. And share this with a friend. 😐

Slack Slacker says C-ya Monday

Slack Slacker has Gone Offline.

 

Slack Slacker has Gone Offline.

Slack has some serious reading, writing, and relaxing to do well beyond Memorial Day weekend. That may be a week or more before I decide what the new schedule will look like.

I became interested in exploring the explosion of AI in more depth and how to utilize it in ways that have yet to be discovered. This can take more time than I can accurately predict. And because I’m a bona fide slacker and perennial procrastinator, I advise those who hang out here regularly to check in occasionally to see what’s up.

Yours truly, Slack Slacker 😎