Assassination Attempts and “Disastrous” Candidates

This is going to be a sort of combo post covering two issues that have come up. The first is obviously the assassination attempt on former President (and current candidate) Trump. The second is the thought/idea that both candidates are “disastrous” choices and either will harm the country irreparably. The TL/DR for this post: 1) Had the assassination attempt succeeded we all would be in a world of hurt right now. More than you can possibly imagine. 2) No, the candidate choices are not both disastrous for the country. Only the choice of Biden or any other Dem candidate will be disastrous at this point. You have an obligation to pay attention whether you like it or not.

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1968 All Over Again?

Person dressed as Statue of Liberty holding American flag

The 2024 Democratic Convention will be held in Chicago in August. And it’s shaping up to be a doozy of a show. Everyone on the left – media, DNC, governors, House reps, Senators – have been sounding the “please don’t run” horn to Biden. The only people not joining in the newly arising chorus are the White House staff and Biden aides. Oh, and Everybody-Must-Call-Me-DOCTOR Jill, of course. (I have a Ph.D., and yes, I told my students that they would be calling me Dr. Jones or Prof. Jones. I most emphatically did not tell the rest of the world to call me that. That’s a level of insecurity even I don’t possess.)

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From the River to the Sea?

Protest in front of building.

“From the river to the sea…” is a phrase chanted and screamed by the anti-Israel, anti-Semitic fools running around college campuses and elsewhere protesting everything in the name of their “humanitarian” cause. In case you can’t tell, I think the people screaming this phrase are at best useful idiots and at worst truly evil Nazis. Let’s unpack this phrase and some of the history and current context behind it.

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Back Into Politics

Trump and Biden at podiums

As some of you may have read, I’ve separated my fiction writing from my political writing. I know that not everyone likes both and that some despise one or the other. Therefore, I will make sure that nobody is subjected to writing they don’t like and separate the topics. If you like my fiction writing, you can find that over on my substack page, Professor Ornery Dragon’s Substack. If you like my political writing, then you can just sit back, relax, and keep reading. If you like both, well then, thank you! And you’ll have to flip back and forth between the sites… sorry!

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Garden Peace

Red bench with blue arms and legs, sitting against a fence covered in climbing vines.

Willow stepped back and gazed around at the back garden. It was starting to come together. There were flowers and other ornamental plants around the edges, and climbing roses at the two corners of the fence. The arch over the path leading into the woods behind the house would soon hold morning glories. She forgot the specific variety, but the nice guy at the nursery had said it was a native to the area, so that’s what she’d gone with.

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Unexpected Date Night

Late sunset view across water to low mountains.

“Mama! Mama! Loh-en’s toys!” Melia’s high, piping voice soared above the general din of the marketplace.

“I know sweetie. We’ll stop by and visit with Loren after we do our shopping, okay? We just need a couple more things for dinner.” Serena did her best to keep the exasperation and fatigue out of her voice. Normally, market days with Melia were a fun outing, with lots of exploring, questions, and sneaking in educational bits (well, those were fun for Serena). Today, however, Serena was exhausted from too little sleep, worry over Jake who was two days overdue with no word, and the usual, ongoing stress provided by the university with its never-ending requests for forms, details, and justifications.

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Old book lying open.

Willow pulled the book out from the back of the old bookcase. The ongoing rainstorm meant she’d spent today inside instead of finishing up the work in the garden. The old library, with its treasure trove of books, had practically demanded she spend some time going through its shelves.

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What Now?

Face of a quokka

“So you’re home at last. About dang time.”

Gavin looked around for the source of the comment. He spotted a small, furry creature, about the size of a cat, sitting on the edge of a weathered pot holding a fake palm tree. His neighbor, Mrs. Colfax liked to fill the shared front walkway between their apartments with a variety of fake tropical plants. She claimed it made her feel like she was on vacation. As long as she kept bringing over cookies and cupcakes, Gavin wasn’t going to argue with her.

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White wolf lying behind a tree.

Willow stood at the edge of her garden, staring at the new arrival. Rocky stood behind her, clutching her leg. While he had promised that he and his clan would not allow any harm to come to Will while she lived in Hidden Shores, she really couldn’t blame him for hiding right now. Even with a clearly injured leg, the wolf standing where the back of the garden met the tree line was still very large and very scary.

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