In a parent idiocy Wee are tolled The right Thing to do Is children For sake In wanting To be a legitimate American Leave your children behind A crashing symbol To not here As freedom wrings A bout effacing the music A band in family values Trump-it-ing A minor problem Into ruin U.S. racket And those halving hearts crying Whoa to those without!
This poem goes out to all those whose hearts are breaking because of Prez Donald Trump’s cruel policy of separating children from their parents when refugee families or immigrant families seek refuge in the United States of America. The Trump regime’s cruelty is matched only by their cowardice, making the grotesque claim that the law requires them to separate immigrant/refugee families, and even the absurd claim that the Trump policy is the Democrats’ fault. Their capacity to not take responsibility for their actions peers to no no bounds. This clarion cruelty may doom any Republican family values rhetoric for quiet awhile. Let family be a family value! Let’s rise up and end this cruel policy and work for refugee/immigrant polices characterized by compassion and generosity, not fear and xenophobia.
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
The racist and zero tolerant U.S. Attorney General Jefferson Beauregard Sessions is now gearing up to prosecute, imprison, and separate children from their mothers, any refugee seeking asylum from criminal violence in their own country. Perhaps Mr. Sessions, at home with such violence, thinks this will help them feel at home?! It is perfectly legal to present yourself at the border and request asylum. Sessions is a bully just like his boss. His perverse hope is that by threatening legal asylum seekers he can come closer to his xenophobic wet dream of a wholesale stop to immigrants and refugees. He sees an existential threat from Latin American immigrants and refugees seeking the American dream. Of course, if he can make the American dream a nightmare, problem solved. I guess the flow of Latin Americans into the United States is not his dream of the south rising again…
In response to General Jefferson Beauregard Sessions’ quest to be the swamp he wants in the world, I offer you this FREE POLITICAL POSTER: US Attorney General Jeff Sessions Putting The Zero In Tolerance.
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Prez Donald Trump moves to militarize the US-Mexican border, in a desperate move to appeal to his militarized base, after he has failed over and over to get Congress or the Mexicans to pay for his border wall, aka, ironic clad monument to human liberty (mostly corporate persons). Please feel free to share this Free IMMIGRATION POSTER: Militarized US-Mexican Border – Unwelcome To America – The Land of The Free.
O pose The establishment Of his style Outside is in Down with up As drive in reveres “I love sow and sow more than anyone” And awe That is Con men Selling Brooklyn bridges To no where That is good The big apple buying the farm As if Building no hows With less than for walls One card to trump them all A big hand In no need To play with a full deck Holding his own Against women and labor And everything in between Winner loose Screw U
As Donald Trump moves from his many business scams such as Trump University to his latest and biggest scam, running the U.S. government into fiscal and moral bankruptcy, he will take the American people to school concerning authoritarianism and oligarchy with massive xenophobia. Trump’s vacuous grandiosity may fool a few desperate for change, but his histrionic casino regime will produce many losers and few winners — a rich man here, a fascist there. His parochial nationalism, riddled with partisan policies and incoherent rants, will chop this nation into ever smaller pieces. The one hope to overcome such sectarianism is a unified opposition resisting in solidarity with one another, having each other’s back. A love of the planet and the rest of humanity wouldn’t hurt either! A longshot would be that running American empire into the ground might be the most practicable route to a better world. Trump loves creating chaos, betting that power and privilege can profit off crisis and uncertainty. While this approach may seem new, and perhaps ripe for change, in contrast to the stultifying certainty and fixation on calculable security of traditional elites, it is simply the other favorite tool of power and privilege, though typically reserved for widespread use in imperial rule outside the U.S. Bringing chaos and crisis home as the preferred governing mode is dangerous to civil society and democracy. The answer to such a challenge wrests in the creativity and unflagging unity of those subject to such an assault. Creativity trumps chaos. Solidarity trumps divide and conquer strategies. May we revel in creative resistance and overwhelming solidarity!
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
As anger and grief morphs Into the habits and vagaries of daily life The heart is circled by its waggin’s In loo of revolutions more roil As if Too be stuck In The mettle Only to be Haunted by cursory echoes Of lives a custom to be frayed Of what might be Stranded Into the unbreakable Accord As knot the tear or stricken And still The heart fastens Awe that grows Unleashed
This poem addresses the challenges of palpable anger and grief “normalizing” as time goes on. The necessities and sheer habits of everyday living bear down on overflowing passions, often sublimating such powerful emotions into more comfortable or familiar patterns. This can tamp down more revolutionary impulses for changes in life. Such coping is commonplace.
Such a process causes me to reflect on the current post-election era. I remember the outrage when Baby Bush beat Al Gore only with the intervention of the Supreme Court, in the face of a popular vote loss and electoral college squeaker fraught with voting irregularities and inadequacies. I noted how the un-sexy issue of the mechanics of voting and elections receded from consciousness in due course within a matter of months. Multiple presidential election down the road, many of these election and voting deficiencies continue largely unfixed. The electoral college has taken US to school again! Plus, the striking down of key elements of the Voting Rights Act has left state-level shenanigans with voter suppression to run rampant. Add in the increasingly surreal gerrymandering of voting districts and the democratic process is literally moot for most of America in national elections.
While our national democracy stays the course on being massively dysfunctional at so many levels, this election cycle, a vicious cycle, is a quantum leap in dangerous effect. The sexism, racism, anti-Muslim, and anti-immigrant xenophobia reached for new heights and historic lows during the campaign. Women, people of color, Muslims, and immigrants have legitimate reasons to worry on both a daily basis and what looms in the future. Misogyny, white supremacy, and xenophobic nationalism are being baked into the Donald Trump regime. While in many ways this is nothing new to disenfranchised folks, the stunning respectability of sexual assault braggadocio, scorn of Black Lives Matter, collusion with white supremacists, and a national fortress mentality could easily converge into the most authoritarian presidential administration in our lifetimes, if not ever, in America.
This poem is a warning of the dangers of “normalization,” and a call to the difficult, lifelong, trans-generational work that needs to be done. I don’t believe that such work can be done unless it is equipped with hope. This poem culminates in the hope that by reaching deep and going long the solidarity of wholehearted people will supply needed power to resolute minds and steadfast hands to further incarnate seemingly impossible justice for all.
Dealing with endemic injustices calls for a demanding balance between daily coping and cultivating a long-haul way of life that shrewdly generates and regenerates, creates and recreates, produces and reproduces just and heartening habits of behavior and ways of being in the world. Will the better side of America prevail over the genocide of America? All I can say is that when sides are drawn, I know which side I hope and plan to be on. As Martin Luther King, Jr. so plainly observed and prophesied, “We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools.” Though I would update this a bit and expect to see sisters steadfastly leading this fight. Some things don’t change. This can be a good thing.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
This Comedian Jesus political cartoon highlights the shallow liberalism and false choices of Pax Romana, the metaphorical stand-in for Pax Americana, peace through so-called enlightened domination.
This Comedian Jesus cartoon also ties the all-too-convenient collaboration of political and religious elites in the less-than-enlightened shared interest of self-preservation and the status quo. Prophets, making radical calls for accountability, and modeling self-sacrifice, make the powers that be grate agin and agin. Many American Christians oddly reframe Jesus execution as simply some sort of metaphysical accounting adjustment, minimizing his direct challenge to political and religious elites. Jesus was a threat to Roman political rule, brutally enforced by military rule in its extended territories, the colonies of the age. Racism, xenophobia, and straightforward domination was part and parcel to the Roman order, cynically referred to as Pax Romana. Jesus’ creative nonviolence suited the oppressed Jews (and others) with amor of hope, and provided bold tools to disarm Roman rule. Jesus was a threat to religious elites due to his profound challenges to the authority and legitimacy of religious elites and his surging popularity. Also, Jesus was seen as indirectly stoking the possibilities of a violent insurrection (Judas, from the Zealots who believed in violent insurrection, may have betrayed Jesus in hopes that his martyrdom would trigger revolutionary actions among the populace). The religious elites had much to lose as their collaboration with the occupying Roman powers had bought them special privileges, a classic technique of dominating powers to buy so-called peace, in this case the brutal-for-most Pax Romana. Pilate, in questioning Jesus employs another classic technique of ultimately evading accountability with his infamous “What is truth?” interrogative. This now infamous questioning, would eventually become an iconic emblem of what is now central to postmodern thought: the relativity of truth. For the worse, such an easy liberalism provides great smokescreens for the powers that be to evade accountability with feigned intellectual and ideological credence. The modern day Roman empire of Western civilization has assured full employment of this shallow liberalism. This Comedian Jesus political cartoon parodies this with the brutal liberality of getting to choose your method of death, the too-close-too-home reality for millions under Pax Americana.
To bring all of this home in contemporary fashion, the choice of Roman/American citizens choosing which shade of empire they want to enrich its citizenry, casts a long shadow, and essentially false choice from the perspective of those not benefiting from Roman/American citizenship. While the votes of citizens are bought with many denominations, and presented in contrasting shades of liberality, the church of American privilege is built on a foundation of military might and awe that money can buy. For those whose world is colonized by America, or who live and die as nominal citizens relegated to apartheid-like ghettos, the so-called choice of their brand of ruler remains of profoundly grate consequence. Planetary citizens are hoping for prophets over profits. Mother Earth is quiet udderly sweating this election. I witness the desperate fighting for our own scraps of privilege as sadly pathetic in the light of America’s finest ideals. May we rise up in another American revolution, this time for the benefit all God’s children and beauteous creation.
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
As Donald Trump brought to Toledo his caravan of hate, bigotry and xenophobia, Toledoans met him with a LOVE fest, declaring resoundingly that his fear mongering is not welcome in Toledo. Here is my favorite picture from the rally:
Earlier, I met these two women while they were circling the block in their car. I witnessed them being harassed by a cop for reportedly not turning immediately on a green light and holding up traffic. Ironically, the biggest lineup of cars that I saw at the corner were produced by the cop stopping them for a couple minutes. Not pictured is a sticker on my back that says, “I LOVE MUSLIMS.”
We had someone else take a similar picture of us with one of the women’s phones (you can see this on the left of this pic). I asked if they could share the pic with me on facebook. They responded that they don’t do social media. They prefer to keep it simple and real. I LOVE THIS! This is WAY better than getting a copy of their pic. And, as it turns out, the love karma and sharing mojo, sent this picture my way anyways.
In unrelated karma, the police were out in force, the only ones dressed for a riot. I couldn’t help but notice that the vast majority of the police for the vast majority of the time were facing the LOVE fest participants, not the Trump designated side of the street. Hmmm…who do the police think are the threat, and whom are they focused on protecting?
I was instructed by two separate police officers at two different times to return to the other side of the street, the protesters’ side. There were plenty of legal observers (lawyers) present. I spoke with several of them. They confirmed that it is illegal, an unconstitutional limit of free speech and peaceable assembly, to partition public spaces into partisan zones. In years past, the police set up “free speech zones” (sic), areas cordoned off with police tape to box up and control protesters. Such “free speech zones” have been ruled unconstitutional. The legal observers are making a report, and, hopefully, this experience will add to the training of law enforcement officers as to their legitimate, legal duties.
Thanks to a grant from Homeland Security (emblazoned on the side of the armored vehicle), a military-style armored truck was parked adjacent to the demonstration area. This was accompanied by a set of more-heavily-equipped police officers ready to leap into action if there was some type of invasion that a couple dozen policemen (there were no women cops) couldn’t handle. This all strikes me as a great opportunity to normalize the militarization of local police forces. Would we call a nation patrolled with armored trucks the “land of the free?”
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
Mother earth bids us What rend must we pay For such fear in dwelling In apprehending tenets In discriminating borne Giving no quarter To mother and child And presumed fodder Taking the place Of wear every won re-sides Drawing lyin’s in the sand And hiking up shields of water In a tsunami of divine just us As fences of steal Wherever we land Keeping out nothing worth wile As per sever demeanor From our guarded kind As all is wall In the confines of what is ours a loan Yet in efface of The largesse attract of common ground Enjoining to gather What is the lease we can do Inter or gate Only wanton to ax How to occupy that territory sow dear Between haves and halves not As humanity cleaves To that intrepid hope Of a world without boarders In habit awe As kin to won sky Our only limit
This poem addresses the theme of borders and the human propensity to divide us up into cliques, clans, classes, and territories. Such divisions are often to the detriment of the common good. While often under the guise of security, such social stratifications unjust as often reinforce lazy conveniences and guarded advantages. In this great nation of immigrants — and conquistadors to indigenous peoples — there has been much political rhetoric about building walls. Xenophobia and scapegoating seem to have found more openly vulgar expressions in contemporary politics. The peeling back of the veneer of civilization may simply be a necessary process to move from unconsciousness to consciousness of institutionalized racism, first-worldism, the seeming necessity of permanent war, and xenophobic fears of all sorts. As our ways of life reveal themselves as ways of death, the choice for life becomes more clear — perhaps not any easier, but clearer. This poem begins with the context of Mother Earth and human mother and child. We are all children of Mother Earth, who only considers walls and borders as scars on her beauty. Each of us is a child, daughter or son. We are all brothers and sisters, cousins and kin. We are one humanity. We either realize that blood is thicker than water or our water will be thickened with blood. We are all boarders on planet earth. No human being is illegal. Nation states only deserve to exist inasmuch as they serve humanity and Mother Earth. Without such stewardship, we just might find out the hard weigh what a world without boarders looks like. May we rekindle a deep affection and connection to awe of our sisters and brothers near and far, for the healing of the world.
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POEM: Breath of Fresh Heir Each mourning Brings that which is light Though wanting to rest As the whirled spins under my feet I am Still Razed Too my feat Standing on Perhaps a singular word Mysteriously helled Together In God-ordained gravity Until that thirst Breath of fresh heir As awe is knew This poem is about coming out of […]...
POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…with all of those homeless Middle Eastern families. This free poster offers my take on the hypocrisy of Christians in a co-called “Christian” nation worshiping xenophobia and fear rather than the radical hospitality and unconditional love that Jesus modeled from his birth. The widespread and sniveling calls to limit refugee immigration and brand all Muslims as a threat to national security is a national shame and a profound shrinking of our humanity.
Please feel free to download and/or share widely this Christmas poster to help launch conversations about what it truly means to have love and compassion for all of our neighbors around the world. We might want to stop arming and bombing the Middle East for a start…
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POEM: Innocence — An Owed In A Sense Her innocence Was immune to their dis ease As be wilder And a tempt However tempered Only to be Dis missed As just A guile His innocence Deified awe bravery In the face Of accusations summoned As subdude As never a cur to them Posing the quest in Guise will Be guise Her bosom leaped […]...
Violence is an invitation To more violence And a rude invitation at that Such invitations need not be returned As you might have guest
Violence begets violence. Means produce ends. How can we escape this vicious cycle? Must we accept every invitation offered to us? Do we possess the freedom to decline an invitation? Or, does violence rob us of any possibility of responding nonviolently? There is little question that violence demands a response! Returning violence for violence seems to be the first responder, but rather than healing only creates more victims and a cascade of crises. We need to look beyond our first, most base, response. Otherwise, violence becomes enacted in our lives as a self-fulfilling prophecy. If Gandhi was wrong, and peace is not possible, then war defines both our means and our ends. I believe peace is possible. To practice making this a reality I simply rule out violence as a legitimate means. Once violence is ruled out, then creation begins. By setting a boundary disallowing violence on my part, I create the conditions where I must find alternatives, creative alternatives. Many are uncomfortable with such a pacifist practice because they don’t want to sacrifice what might possibly be a legitimate practice of violence. Though perhaps most importantly, disarming oneself may be way too dangerous too oneself and much too much work for most. Nonetheless, my experience is that a working assumption of violence as a last resort, is largely a wholesale acceptance of invitations to violence. As a classic example, the so-called Just War Theory, in practice better resembles the It’s Just a War Theory! In fact, no nation has ever declared its assent to the just war principles, let alone that they have met them. The powerful emotional response to violence is too closely linked to a similar, if not more-so, violent response. Rage is simply too often too difficult to reign back in once violence is chosen. Nonviolence is the prudent path. As far as violence goes, which is routinely too far, we shouldn’t even go down that path — don’t even go there! War, the grossest manifestation of violence on our planet, requires demonizing entire populations and groups of people to be “successfully” waged. Preying on the epic human weaknesses of xenophobia, parochial patriotism, and unjust gain fuel the engines of war. Channeling the outrageousness of violence into long-term, creative nonviolent responses strikes me as the way, and the goal, out of unending violence. Channeling the emotions stirred when confronting outrageous injustices should stir a deep commitment to human rights, as in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (of which the United States of America has never ratified). Such a commitment to universal human rights propels the nonviolent to challenge nations to higher standards than the wholesale violation of human rights that is war. If we fail at this challenge, and refuse to return the invitations to war, then war will persist, as you will have guest.
Only after building the wall To keep the barbarian hordes out Did I realize That we are the barbarian hordes
Exclusion is the most barbarian practice. Inclusion is the most enlightened practice. To evolve in our humanity we need to move beyond our self. Xenophobia, and its companion egocentricity, is a stubborn barrier to enlightenment. Recognizing the oneness of all things is a spiritual practice that moves us out of an ego perspective. As the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. put it:
“In a real sense all life is inter-related. All persons are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be. This is the inter-related structure of reality.”
I am fascinated with meditating upon what I see as the most fundamental paradox of human reality, the juxtaposition of the oneness of reality with the “myriad of things.” Of course, this apparent paradox is most pronounced, perhaps paradoxically, if one accepts no difference between anything. My most clear and palpable retort to folks who assert that there is no difference between anything is to ponder a hypothetical punch in the nose — I avoid the actual punch in the nose because I believe that there is a difference between violence and nonviolence! It seems that the post-enlightenment, modern scientific reductionism characterizing Western civilization lies silent, levelled if you will, stubbornly incapable of granting legitimacy (authority) to any difference or hierarchy, even though differences and hierarchies are omnipresent. How do we move or evolve beyond the self-mutilation of scientific reductionism to a self-transcendence? I am partial to E. F. Schumacher’s A Guide for the Perplexed, which I would highly recommend if you are perplexed in most any way. On nugget in this regard:
There are physical facts which the bodily senses pick up, but there are also nonphysical facts which remain unnoticed unless the work of the senses is controlled and completed by certain “higher” faculties of the mind. Some of these nonphysical facts represent “grades of significance,” to use a term coined by G. N. M. Tyrrell, who gives the following illustration:
Take a book, for example. To an animal a book is merely a coloured shape. Any higher significance a book may hold lies above the level of its thought. And the book is a coloured shape; the animal is not wrong. To go a step higher, an uneducated savage may regard a book as a series of marks on paper. This is the book as seen on a higher level of significance than the animal’s, and one which corresponds to the savage’s level of thought. Again it is not wrong, only the book can mean more. It may mean a series of letters arranged according to certain rules. This is the book on a higher level of significance than the savage’s . . . . Or finally, on a still higher level, the book may be an expression of meaning…
In all these cases the “sense data” are the same; the facts given to the eye are identical. Not the eye, only the mind, can determine the “grade of significance.”
To make the grade and avoid continually devolving our humanity into some nihilistic cynicism where meaning can find no root in our being we might benefit from looking up to a higher power, living in an ever-higher perspective — and thousands of years of meditation on such things informs us that this should not involve looking down on our fellow beings.
Here is a tribute to the immigration debate going on in the United States, as we celebrate the birthday of U.S., with a tip of the hat to Dr. Suess’ Butter Battle Book, where the conflict was over and between those who butter their bread on the up side versus those who butter their bread on the down side.
The Innies and Outies of the Birthday of US
Go forth Julio A nay sayin’ of immigrants A fraud of crossing the stream of history Overlooking the rio Grand Parent of us all Pissing off a thousand generations Bordering on the mad Someone with a pitchfork Aside a woman with a torch Asking only for what just US demands Give me you tard You’re poor You’re huddled masses Earning to breathe Free The wretched Refuse Of your teaming Sure We herd you Dividing as you multiply Separating those who may be bonded Due to accidents of birth Still born of dis chord Wile won for all Hominies forgotten And little southern comfort For hospitalities stolen Fore what fills their belly Whether buttoning up Whether buttoning down In discriminating The INS And OUTS Of segregation Of immigration Of crossing boarders Sojourning on
I am finally uploaded a new batch of Occupy Wall Street designs. This batch of 125 political designs is mostly Occupy Wall Street designs, but there are also a large series of “stop socialism” designs, a large series of Fox news parodies, and a new line of designs: vegetarian. I still have hundreds of other designs made that I still need to upload, so stay tuned.
The designs below are linked to button products, but each of these designs is available in all of Top Pun’s products such as T-shirts, bumper stickers, mugs, magnets, key chains, sticker sheets, posters, and caps.
If you like what you see, you can check out all of my political designs, which also include more Occupy Wall Street related designs.
Gandhi Quote: First Ignore, Then Laugh, Fight, Win – POLITICAL BUTTON
Country Club Jesus speaks to us in many ways. Ironically, Country Club Jesus, perhaps soon to be an American icon (lol), is neither American, nor speaks English. Even more shocking, is that Jesus was a Jew. Of course, this week’s comic touches on all three of these issues. Hearkening back to the days when country clubs simply did not accept non-whites or non-Christians, the revelation of Jesus’ Jewishness would be better kept as a secret, and better to let people assume that the Christ is in fact a Christian. Returning to current day America, with a new brand of xenophobia, suspicions of the need to exclude would probably center more around Jesus as a Middle Eastern man rather than a Jew. Profiling Middle Eastern men as potential terrorists it second nature in America today, and may even be classified as a national hobby/obsession. Notwithstanding, I’m most curious as to how the English-only crowd sees Jesus who in reality is a foreign speaking (Aramaic), well, foreigner. Even more oddly for the American English-only crowd, they seem to often have a fetish with the King James version of the Bible, which is hardly an American version of English, let alone modern-day British English, since it was completed in 1611. Sticking to such a version strikes me as an unwise balance between tradition and accessibility. I would argue that if the Bible cannot be translated into more accessible English, in the case of American English speakers, then there must be some fundamental disconnect between biblical truths and modern life (which I don’t believe to be true). I also find it incredibly ironic that one of the most popular version of the Bible was commissioned and given oversight by a monarch, a king. I find this ironic because I see Jesus as standing against worldly authorities, monarchies, and the like. But hey, I guess you’ve got to have a wealthy and powerful sponsor to get your message across. Maybe we should sell naming rights to the next version. How about the Wal-Mart Bible, or the Exxon Mobil Bible, or the Bank of America Bible, the McDonald’s Bible, or the J.P. Morgan Chase Bible?
So, until next Sunday, with the next edition of Comedian Jesus, CEO Jesus, Country Club Jesus, etc., let me know what you think.
Top Pun's mission is to maximize prophets. Top Pun creates serious, funny, and seriously funny peace and justice designs which are available on your choice of
products such as buttons, T-shirts, and bumper stickers. Top Pun blogs to highlight additional facets of his word artistry such as pun-filled poetry and funny political satire, free posters, as well as political actions of local and global importance -- and don't forget the noncommercial, public health radio show available online, Just for the Health of It . Top Pun's serious playfulness ever reminds us that justice is no yoke, and the pun is mightier than the sword!
The Trump regime’s cruelty is matched only by their cowardice, making the grotesque claim that the law requires them to separate immigrant/refugee families, and even the absurd claim that the Trump policy is the Democrats’ fault. Their capacity to not take responsibility for their actions peers to no no bounds. This clarion cruelty may doom any Republican family values rhetoric for quiet awhile. Let family be a family value! Let’s rise up and end this cruel policy and work for refugee/immigrant polices characterized by compassion and generosity, not fear and xenophobia.
