Chapter 103: COVID Chronicles

July 9, 2020

By Karen

Day 120

Waxing Poetic & Pissed at SCOTUS

Once upon a time, I was an English major. But one of my least favorite things about it was analyzing poetry. I remember slamming into the wall on this little gem by e e cummings in both high school and college. Perhaps you’ve seen it…

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

PoetryFoundation.com describes the high school experience perfectly. I’d want to strangle every teacher who taught this one and asked, “But WHAT depends so much on the red wheelbarrow?”

NOTHING! Can’t you recognize gibberish, you fool? The guy doesn’t even know how to capitalize or punctuate!

Now another pesky poem from my past that used to make my eyes roll back in my head, by William Butler Yeats, keeps popping up in the media.  You’ll understand why if you read it with Trump in mind. It makes terrifying sense…

The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Our “Second Coming” would be a Trump second term, should he last that long. But the “rough beast” actually arrived in 2017 and has been tearing the center to ribbons, aided by “the worst, full of passionate intensity.”

Today the Supreme Court finally ruled that Trump isn’t above the law in New York, and a grand jury can have his financial records. But then SCOTUS had to kick Congress in the balls by sending their similar request back to the lower courts, in a prime example of what happens when “the (supposed) best lack all conviction.”

In bringing about a quicker end to the vile scourge of Trump, Congress has failed us and now the Supreme Court has failed us. Meanwhile, Trump exploits a lethal virus — and the gullible nitwits willing to spread it for him — to kill off as many of us as he can.

Our only hope left until November, when we can slay this beast ourselves at the polls, is for COVID-19 — aided by Trump’s own myriad health issues — to find him and slay him first.


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