The loco drunk said he was sick, his face ash gray, his countenance that of a dying man. Two former nurses were about, one, saying his pulse was thready and breathing labored. He was refusing help, just wanted a case of water and to go back to his camp, a burned-out trailer up the mountainside.
We debated and agonized on what to do. Since he was refusing help, should we ask for it anyway? They looked up to me, well, because I am six and a half feet tall, how could they not? In the end, I called senpai for advice and he said unto me to call EMS with the disclaimer the loco drunk could refuse treatment. When I told said loco drunk that, he spoke of someone helping him.
"That is exactly what we are doing, Sir," I said as I went to call EMS, my voice reptilian, detached, cold as the airless void between the stars. Hou lain, hei tsin-thick face, black heart-ask Sun Tzu.
They could not even find a blood pressure, and, thus, took him away. My documentation took me back to days as a triage coordinator in the field of transplant. The feeling-more than a feeling-I have is we will be burying someone from our community very soon. I hope I am incorrect.
Here and now, I meditate upon the reptilian...
15 November 2016
Well, it's been a week. The has been anger and cheers, smiling and tears. The Onion, as it is so hip to say, killed it with their coverage of events. The fact satire makes for more honest coverage speaks volumes to the absurdity before us. I wonder what the reportage would've been like had it gone the other way.
Victory is an interesting point of view. By the popular, the will of the people, one person won. The electorate says otherwise, and that's the cat running the show. A reason I get cynical about politics past a loco level, but that's another rave rant for another time. And the protests; if you tell me the winning side wouldn't have cried foul and protested had things not gone their way, I'll call you a filthy fucking liar to your face.
Boy-howdy, it would've been nice to see a woman in charge. After all, we are oh so advanced and enlightened as to have had a black man-half, technically-run things, and it was not that long ago they could only aspire to be the help. Not long before that, they were bought and sold as beasts of burden. So, why couldn't or shouldn't we? We are, after all, supposed to be the best.
In the past few days I have heard some compelling and intelligent arguments that, other than the genitals, nothing would have really changed. Sure, a girl would've been on top of the sand pile, but otherwise, status quo. Just some rich older cat in a suit. Another career politician.
History was made a week ago. Someone who rocked not being a politician won. Now just how not-politician he stays remains to be seen.
I'm not happy about it. He's a bigot, a bully, and a bro, which are aspects of the human affliction I dislike. However, he got the prize, and all the petition signing and protesting isn't going to change that I don't think. My liberal friends and acquaintances got eight years of sitting pretty, and now, perhaps, it is time to suck it up and survive not being the popular kids for a bit.
That being stated, in two years come the midterms, and I hope to see more blue in the legislative branch. I know my conservative friends and acquaintances snarl at the idea, but, to my mind there is far too much red in the hallowed halls of power presently, and that is an imbalance. We need the equilibrium in order to properly function.
Of course, and this is probably political-imaginary-land, but it would also be nice to elect cats on both sides of the aisle that will work together. That whole cliche of being there for the people. Saying you want your leader to fail or block him/her/it/whatever at every turn, even if they might have a great idea because your ideology doesn't gel with theirs is a dick move.
Wait, maybe I should retract that dick move line. That kind of jackassery is an insult to moves made by dicks. Or people named Richard.
09 November 2016
There it is. My dimestore guess was off, but I am no prophet. One ideology rejoices, the other mourns. So it goes. Congratulations, I'm sorry. With one exception I've observed, it seems that eight years is the dinger for one ideology to be in power, then people want a taste of the strange, but, really, what is the difference between Repulracrat and Democrican? Aside from the spelling?
The sun rose today, and it will set. Strap in. Rejoice or mourn, but remember, four to eight years is really not that long of time.