03 March 2016

I used to be a Republican.

By Bud Koenemund

(Written: September 2015)

Once upon a time, I was a Reagan Republican. I was a Conservative. I believed the Republican Party was truly trying to make the United States a better country. Included in that was increasing the freedom, and improving the lives and incomes, of every American.

But, I slowly came to realize this is not what they want. In the last 10 years, I’ve realized the GOP isn’t interested in “the people” – if they were, they’ve had any number of chances to show it. Instead, they’ve made it clear they don’t care about the majority of American citizens; they care only about the rich. They are only interested in securing more and larger tax cuts and subsidies for the wealthy and corporations. These entities receive tax breaks, tax cuts, loopholes, and exemptions worth millions – even billions – and then complain about the pennies falling off their counting tables to the poor – people seeking a living wage, adequate housing, affordable education.

Ronald Reagan promised trickle-down economics would help everyone. They say a rising tide lifts all boats, but, clearly, this is not the case. The rising tide – at least over my lifetime – has only flooded the pockets of the rich. And, this seems to be fine with the Republican Party.

Too many of the rich, the ones who actually could afford to pay higher taxes (or any taxes at all), use that money to hire lawyers/lobbyists to find ways around paying. Now, I’m not talking about raising taxes to some ridiculous level, nor wealth re-distribution. I think if you start a business, work hard and run it well, you deserve to make money. I’m talking about people with more money than they could spend in 10 lifetimes, who complain the poor are poor because they’re lazy. I’m talking about people who graduate college to a $200 million inheritance, and act like they built their world from nothing. And, seem to think everyone who isn’t like them is stupid, or lazy, or somehow less than they are.

Republicans are constantly fighting to pass legislation giving banks more and more power – and, not surprisingly, more money. And, still, the banks squeeze every dollar out those who can least afford it – the little guy; people who work a 40+ hour week, and still can’t support a family.

I was once young, and I thought I knew everything. That’s the way life is. You don’t know what you don’t know until much later. Sometimes, years later. But, I ask you, Gentle Reader, please don’t blindly believe the rhetoric spewed by The Republican Party; or Fox News; or Rush Limbaugh; or your teachers, or even your parents. And, for damned sure, don’t believe me, a stranger on the Internet.

Search for yourself. Look into how much the income of the top one percent has increased over the last 20 years. Look at how much the income of the bottom 50 percent has increased. Google how much money General Electric earned last year. Then search for how much they paid in taxes. Search for the amount we give US corporations in subsidies and/or tax breaks. Then search for how much money and how many jobs some of those corporations move overseas. Search for the percentage of Walmart workers receiving some form of public assistance.

After that, consider what the leaders of the Party think about women. Not what they say about women, but what they actually do. What do their actions reveal? Do they think women should be allowed to make decisions about their own health care? The answer is an obvious and overwhelming no. As we speak – OK, as I type, and you read – Republicans are trying to defund Planned Parenthood. In less than a week, Republicans want to shut down the government over this funding. Even though the last shut down (also Republican led) cost – by one estimate – $25 billion, 140,000 jobs, and caused a downgrade in the credit rating of the United States. Their “do it my way or I’ll take my ball and go home” attitude hurt the country. Oh, and last year, they cut funding for women’s health services.

Increasingly, many Republicans try to pass legislation, or deny equal rights, based on their religious beliefs, apparently forgetting that while the First Amendment guarantees freedom of religion, it also affords freedom from religion. They cannot seem to accept that The Bible is not the Constitution. For an example, look at the decades long fight to “allow” same-sex marriage? How many of the Republican Presidential candidates do not support same-sex marriage based on their own religious objections? They publicly support discrimination against an entire group (the LGBTQ community) of American citizens.

When President Obama was elected, Republican leaders in Congress decided they would obstruct everything he wanted to try. (Look it up, there’s a memo they sent out notifying members of this.) They have opposed every program intended to help those less fortunate than themselves – which, by the way, represents an overwhelming percentage of American citizens. They did this without presenting ideas of their own – though the President declared himself willing to listen to all sides, regardless of political party.

They opposed – still oppose, and continue trying to kill and/or defund – the Affordable Care Act (ObamaCare), which provides basic, minimal health insurance to millions, while even the newest members of Congress enjoy the best health insurance and care in the world.

The Republican Party evinces a marked lack of empathy, as if they cannot understand that everyone in the United States is not just like them. That others may go through things they’ll never have to experience. That because they are guaranteed a pension – after just one term in Congress – everyone else will also have a comfortable retirement.

I’m not – and don’t pretend to be – the smartest guy in the world. I’m probably not even the smartest guy in the office I’m seated in. But, I can try to understand what other people are going through. I can sympathize, and hope I never have to deal with situations that can ruin a person, or a family, socially, medically, and economically. And, at the same time, I can vote for candidates and parties that try to do a little more to help people – people who don’t have the word millionaire after their name.

It wasn’t one thing – one issue – that turned me from the Republican Party, but a realization – an awakening – to the Party’s true motivation. Why I would consider voting for the Liberal party? Because things in this country need to change, and the Republican Party has made it clear they see no need for this. I cannot, in good conscience, support what the Republican Party has become.

12 February 2016

Blessed New Life

A poem to celebrate the late birth of Rebecca Lynn Koenemund:
Lady of Union, Princess of Wilshire, and Empress of Pomona.
By Bud Koenemund: Uncle, Godfather, and Lord Protector of Her Majesty’s northern possessions.

(Written: 2006)

A dawn of golden dreams spills over us,
blinding our thankful eyes with tears of joy
as Nature’s majestic sunrise,
the blessed renewal of life’s promise,
melts the winter snow leaving a new spring.
A child to tempt the voices of Angels
to sing sweet songs of hallelujah
peeks out as we, being but mortal,
stain our cheeks for lack of words
to give worthy praise for this Grace.

Reverent prayers, answered with a precious gift,
now become humble pleas for the strength
of heart to prove worthy of this perfect child.
Each seeking only to provide a lifetime of peace
and protection from the sting of worldly woe,
to love unconditionally, to cheer the smallest victory,
and soothe after the most devastating of defeats,
to teach, and quench the thirst for enlightenment,
and to celebrate the brilliant splashes of paint
that create a masterpiece from a blank canvas.

This pure soul, innocent and celestial,
brought forth in love, enters and prepares to play
the many unknown parts meant for a life.
Pink fingers, the instruments whose talent
God will reveal in his time, reach out
to grasp at nothing, and everything.
And newly opened eyes search to discover
a world both fascinating and frightening,
full of wonder, and then, reluctantly, close
to float within the first beautiful dreams of life.


24 October 2015

BARE Study Reveals Shocking Truths About Pittsburgh Drivers

Disassociated Press
24 October 2015

  A new BARE study has revealed some shocking - though not wholly unexpected - truths about people who drive in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

  Among the things researchers discovered:

  82.7 percent of Pittsburgh drivers were unaware their car is equipped with turn signals.

  Half of Pittsburgh drivers who are aware turn signals exist refuse to use them, claiming them to be "the work of the devil."

  99.6 percent of Pittsburgh drivers see no problem with making a left turn from the right lane (even from two lanes over) and vice versa.

  94 percent of Pittsburgh drivers were unaware of the large green reflective signs posted above roadways which direct them to proper lanes.

  99.3 percent of Pittsburgh drivers believe that a traffic light turning red indicates three more cars may traverse the intersection before anyone must stop.

  53.4 percent of Pittsburgh drivers freely admit their only purpose on the road is to slow down other drivers.

  97.1 percent of Pittsburgh drivers were unaware of the purpose or meaning of solid lines painted on the roadway.

  92.7 percent of Pittsburgh drivers were unaware curved arrows painted on the ground in front of them means they are in a turn only lane.

  85.8 percent of Pittsburgh drivers believed stop signs only need be obeyed if other cars are visible.

  99.997 percent of Pittsburgh drivers were unaware there are other drivers on the roads. Many disputed the researcher's claims.


13 October 2015

San Diego

By Bud Koenemund

A 100-word story

  After San Diego, the President went a little crazy. It was understandable. Maybe even expected. And, on some level, forgivable. His parents lived – had lived – near the Navy base. Friends and advisors tried to bring some solace by assuring him it had ended quickly for them. But, he knew they’d never really be sure about that.
  A dozen terrorist organizations claimed responsibility. The CIA narrowed it down to one group – with, they said, 73 percent certainty. With a three in four chance of being right, 20 B-2 bombers lifted off from Whiteman AFB in Missouri, and disappeared into the night.

11 October 2015

After

By Bud Koenemund

A 100-word story

(TRIGGER WARNING: This story includes domestic/sexual abuse.)

  He always apologized after; “I’m sorry” dripping off his tongue as he gently cradled her in his arms; fingers gliding over her damp skin; caressing as if healing. The names he’d called her dissolving in the dark.
  In the morning, he’d be tender; kissing her; saying “I love you” before leaving for work, and his shame would burn off like fog in the sunshine. Showering washed away the smell of him, the taste, the…residue. This time, the pain, her bruises – already ugly yellow-brown – would fade forever. She watched his car turn the corner before she dared to breathe.


03 October 2015

The Promise

By Bud Koenemund

A 100-word story

  Emilia entered the hall with a regal air, as if she were a queen granting an audience. The crowd hushed, stunned by her magnificence, then filled the room with murmurs, and discreet pleas for favor. Her dark, olive skin glistened; her smile painted blood red.
  Recognizing the shade, Will frowned. A week before, she’d deserted his bed before dawn – leaving behind a pair of lip prints; one on his stubbled cheek, the other inside and below his left hip bone.
  “You didn’t say goodbye,” he grumbled, when she approached.
  “I will tomorrow,” she returned, with a surreptitious wink. “I promise.”

06 June 2015

Schrödinger’s Dickens


By Bud Koenemund

  It began innocently enough. 0300 on a Sunday, and I’m awake, tossing and turning in my bed. Finally, I decide it’s a good time for a bit of Spring cleaning in my office. I’ve been writing a lot lately, and things have slipped through the cracks. I need to do some filing, and I am gradually losing the eternal war on dust.

  I trudge down to my basement office, open The iTunes to play some music, and begin cleaning and straightening. I file, I shred, I wipe, I pick up a photograph of my niece that needs to go in a frame. Moving to the chiffarobe in the alcove, I pull open the door…and there it sits: Schrödinger’s Dickens.

  Physicists, and fans of The Big Bang Theory, are familiar with Erwin Schrödinger’s proposed thought experiment involving a cat, a box, and a flask of poison – even if on only the most rudimentary level. But, precious few are aware of Schrödinger’s Dickens. The box has been replaced by a padded UPS Express envelope; the cat by a book, and the poison by something far more deadly – memory.

  Truth be told, however, this isn’t about Schrödinger, or Dickens, or chiffarobes. In the end, it’s about a woman, the man who loved her, and the madness that still haunts him.

  In May 2013, out of the blue, “Her” sent me an armful of books once owned by her grandmother. Old stuff; rare stuff; stuff one could not easily find outside well-tended family collections. When I asked why, she told me she didn’t have room to store them. I offered to act as curator, and foster them until she had the required space.

  “You don’t want them?” she asked.

  “Il mio respiro,” I insisted, “I don’t want your grandmother’s books. I want your grandmother’s granddaughter.”

  I’d been in love – an unrequited love – with “Her” for 15 years, and we were in one of the half-dozen or so periods when she’d return to my life after a long absence, and let me think I had a chance with her; that this time she’d feel the same way about me. She’d re-appeared more than a year earlier, we talked, and e-mailed, and texted, and I quickly handed her my heart…again. To be honest, although she’d nearly killed me several times, I’d never fallen out of love with her.

  We discussed the books she’d sent. She mentioned her grandmother also had a first edition signed by Charles Dickens. I told her it would probably be worth a ton of money. And, I joked that I’d be happy to hold on to it as well. She laughed, and we never talked about it again.

  It’s been nearly two years since I last spoke to her; 18 months since I’ve responded to her in any way. I realized – actually, I simply finally accepted – that she was lying to me, again. So, except for the Christmas gift I sent that year, I stopped communicating with her.

  I know what you’re thinking. “What an idiot!” “Why would you send her a Christmas gift?” Well, months earlier, I’d gone far out of my way for her – to get a unique and almost ungettable gift – asking the quarterback of her favorite NFL team – a guy who rarely signs autographs, even for little kids – to sign a football for her. And, in my own defense, I hate that team with the fire of a thousand suns. I didn’t want the ball in my house.

  Just before Christmas, I received the aforementioned shipping envelope. It was easy to tell it contained a book. I knew I wasn’t going to open the package, so I put it in a red plastic Coca-Cola crate on a shelf in the chiffarobe, and tried to forget about it – to the extent I ever forget about anything related to “Her.”

  But, as so often happens, thoughts percolated in my fevered brain: Did she send me the Dickens? I mean, did she think a book would soothe my pain? Or, perhaps it was merely meant to repay me for the autograph beyond hope. Those questions remain unanswered.

  Even after all this time, I still receive the occasional text message from her, and cards on my birthday and Christmas. I don’t open them, or respond. I place them in the crate, along with other assorted “Her” memorabilia – photographs, letters, a lock of hair she cut off in a bar not long after we met in 1998, a stone I picked up at the New York Renaissance Faire the day we went together, and a Sea Otter Beanie Baby she handed me in the middle of a deserted street.

  That’s where my Schrödinger lives – the envelope resting atop reminders of my wasted love – lurking in the dark; waiting to release the poison. In the same way the cat is simultaneously alive and dead, it both contains and does not contain a signed, first edition of Dickens’ work. Unless I open it, I’ll never be sure.

  If I were smart – please, no comments from the peanut gallery – I’d delete the voice mails and texts on my phone. And, I’d toss that crate in the garbage. Problem solved! In one fell swoop there would be fewer things lying about to surprise me with memories.

  Of course, if I do that, I might be throwing away a treasure; something inherently valuable – in a monetary sense, yes – but in a broader sense, a piece of history; of art; something truly irreplaceable. And, if I opened it to avoid doing that – and the cat is alive – I’m harboring one more thing that reminds me of “Her.”

  There’s the rub. The paradox – my paradox – is that whether or not a particular book is there, thinking about it – like any of a million other things – makes me think about “Her,” which exposes a terrible truth: like that cat, I am both alive and dead…and my office still needs to be dusted.

26 April 2015

A Quartet of Haiku for NaPoWriMo 2015


By Bud Koenemund

Recalled to Life
For “Her.”

My heart will not beat
again, ‘til your lips touch mine,
and renew my life.


Anticipation
For Val

Whispered words enflame;
clutching; fingers caressing;
hot breath on my skin…


Wonders
For “Her.”

She was a black hole;
ripping apart my whole world
to reveal wonders.


New Worlds
For “Her.”

Like the big bang, she
exploded within my mind;
creating new worlds.



06 April 2015

New York Mets Eliminated from Playoff Race

Announcement Comes Hours Before Season's First Pitch

FLUSHING, NY  (Disassociated Press) – In a move sure to stun many fans of the New York Mets, team officials today announced that the team has been mathematically eliminated from playoff contention this season.
  The admission came at Citi Field, just hours before the first pitch in the Mets season opener against the Washington Nationals.
  “We just feel that it’s important to be truthful with our fan base,” said Sandy Alderson, Mets General Manager.
  Alderson told reporters that a small group made up of team management looked into the team’s chances during spring training in Florida.
  “We looked at our roster, our current and recent injuries, and we looked at what has happened over the last several seasons,” Alderson said.  “Unfortunately, we determined that this team stood a snowballs chance in Hell of making the playoffs this season.”
  Following consecutive late season collapses in 2007 and 2008, Mets players suffered a frightening string of injuries in 2009, which virtually crippled the team for most of the year.
  “Truthfully,” Alderson said, “at this point, there’s a better chance that the world actually will end in 2015 than there is of the Mets playing even .500 baseball this season…much less make the post-season.”
  Mets players and coaches were disappointed by the announcement.
  “Baseball has been very, very good to me, but not this year,” Chico Escuela, Mets outfielder, said through an interpreter.
  “What can I say?  Sadly, eternal optimism doesn’t live in Queens anymore,” said Terry Collins, Mets Manager.  “All we can ask is that our fans wait ‘til next year…again.”