A very ripe orangeHow many times has history shown that when the desire for adulation capitulates to an endeavor of goodwill, a road to a better world is found? Yet, when that road paved with good intentions fails, it’s almost always from a lack of wisdom only historical perspective can give. The demagoguery of today is not unlike that of the past—although perhaps, there’s lesser excuse for the idiocy and disingenuousness of it. For after all, aren’t we supposed to be evolving toward something better? Those who ‘bloviate’ (the perfect word for today’s purposes), like the bloviates of history, use skin-deep talent to spew words (‘crap’; another apropos word) with a warped sense of importance, self-righteousness and misguided passion to fool those who are easily fooled.

For those not easily fooled, with a vein of common sense acquired through observation, meditation and maybe a little education, they know they’re being lied to. They understand that bloviating is the life-blood of every aristocrat ever to walk the earth. And, if aristocrats are slave-owners by another name as Mark Twain said they were, then what does it say to the memory of those who gave their “last full measure” fighting against the innocent the bloviates brainwashed to protect their kingdoms? Or, to the memory of the noble who gave their lives to “ensure freedom for the free” while breaking the “bondage of the enslaved?”

If I could go back in time I’d ask a king of bloviating, Jeff Davis, “What in God’s name are you thinking?” If I could ask an orange aristocrat today, it would be the same question. When the orange one shouted in a way that would make Mussolini proud, “Only I can fix the problems of the world,” I thought that would be it. But it only made his minions froth for more. I was fooled as I’ve been since birth. Lincoln said you can fool some of the people all of the time and all of the people some of the time but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time. And just when I think that writing my book may’ve injured my heart a little too much, I’m reminded it was worth it every time I see the daily atrocities of this orange man. History doesn’t believe this; it knows this! Oranges are fruit . . .