Humorous Hyperbole and Late Blooming Thistle

by And the White Lion Roars!

And the white lion roars!

I’m kind of riding freestyle today. Since the last post there have been so very many things making the White Lion Roar that I’m having trouble sleeping at night due to coughing. It completely terrifies me what the anthropologists a million years in the future will think of the things they find from this civilization. This is the year 2015, and I discovered last night that there is a new invention called “poopourrit.” I have no idea if that is the correct spelling, but it’s a fragrant oil one sprays on the toilet water so that when one has a bowel movement and flushes, the oil engulfs the poo and drowns out the smell. We are now that afraid of every part of our bodily functions that we can’t wait for air to disseminate the smell of a bowel movement, what is it, about 30 to 45 seconds even in the worst cases. Many are deathly afraid of the smell of sweat, which actually has no odor. But we put chemicals in our arm pits to mask that smell, and perfumes and powders and powerful toothpastes and mouthwashes, ad infinitum. It’s to the point that if a person doesn’t use all that, even if that person is clean, they smell abhorrent to most Americans. But what in the world will those future seekers surmise that we used “poopourrit” for? We know their sentences will start with, “While we can’t know for sure….,” but I’d love to have whatever form the universe sends me back in to have a quick moment of self actualization and a laugh at those silly Americans who wanted to believe that all the world smelled like lavender! Oh, and verbena, of course.

This is the year of the beginning of the 2016 American presidential race, and from the rhetoric on the right I’m also beginning to believe that they may also surmise that, “This seems to be another primitive civilization that practiced human sacrifice. First by dehumanizing “the other,” which in our case is anyone who is different from the Southern white notions of “normal white society,” along with anyone brown or black, non-Christian, non-native (forgive me, First Citizens/Native Americans, for the use of that term.) Clearly the people who hate and wish to kill, or at least institute invisibility for “the other,” forget what their ancestors did to you.

Many thought that Chris Christie would be the big bully who could win in his own state, but no matter how much his sycophants insisted otherwise, he could never win the general American vote. But a marketeer named Donald Trump has out-bullied Governor Christie, and has shot to the top of the angry white American pedestal. He is a graceless, bullying, ignorant human being who has no idea how to see or embrace ALL of the American people. You know, all those pesky “others” who would not vote for him, but will be destroyed by his presidency, should there be one. He so completely reminds me of a character running for president in a Stephen King novel called “The Dead Zone.”  The character named “Stillson” is a horrible, disturbed, murderous barbarian who is running for president. When an attempt is made to assassinate him, he grabs a baby and uses it as a human shield, which ends his ascent to power. Donald Trump is that guy. He would grab anything nearby, innocent and precious to save himself, and he would do it for the publicity. He learned a long, long time ago that there is no such thing as bad publicity, and he exploits it with the grandest of gestures. Most sickening is his repeated, obviously pandering quote, holding up his book from the 1980’s called “The Art of the Deal,” and says it is his “second favorite book.” “What’s my first favorite,” pulling the crowd along, “the bible.” The biblethebiblethebiblethebible. He’s said it all over the country for the crowds, to thunderous applause EVERY TIME. He does not say it in a sincere way-he says it like a street magician getting someone’s money in a shell game. But they buy it. THEY BUY IT!!!!!!! And then when two reporters doing an interview with him ask the question, “Can you tell us your favorite passage,” he says that the question is too personal and he doesn’t want to go there. Please, save us! And save our posterity for those hard working archaeologists and anthropologists who find shards of The United States a million years hence from having to conclude that we are a barbaric people who kill and otherwise destroy each other, starving each others children and sending them back to drug ridden cities from which they barely escaped with their lives, and try to hide the smell of our decaying victims with poopourrit!