Where are you guys? Awards season has arrived and I’ve already witnessed some amazing, super powerful, earnest (soooo earnest…) speeches from the podium, trophy in hand, but where the fuck are you guys? Our goddamn democracy is in the throes of dissolving into a fascist empire and us poor folk have no idea where our heroes are (when they aren't at the awards shows, of course).

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to pin this all on you. This mess is not all your fault and not solely your responsibility, but seriously, where the fuck are you? Why isn’t every independently wealthy (or rich enough they have the power to take off work at will) person in this country, who hates 45 and believes in protecting our democracy and Constitution, standing in D.C. protesting this insanity? I’m especially looking at you, Hollywood. Just like the robber-barons of the housing crisis and our overpaid congress men and women, you’ve built your fiefdoms off dollars from the poor, who’ve thrown their money into a cinematic black hole in exchange for brief respites from their normal lives. It’s a fair exchange, to be sure. Hard work makes those films. But, we’re in unusual times here. Times that call for the good guys to step up their efforts, and that doesn’t just mean us masses.

Now, I know. I know. There are many celebrities and other uber-wealthy who are in the fight, both publicly and privately. But these dire times are calling for a unified public effort. For leaders to rally the troops, and despite my disdain for wealth equaling leadership, it has become a greater reality in this day and age, an era where people whose only job skill and title is “influencer” are getting rich off their internet presence.

So I will ask you again, dear wealthy friends of the poor, where the fuck are you? We need your help. For the love of god, get your well-to-do asses to Washington and lead the protests. Lead the rallies. Stand out there and stomp your goddamn feet, and get the rest of this nation to pay attention to the fight we're currently in the middle of losing!

Please.

Please?

It’s Monday and we’re back in the saddle. Routine, you sweet, time traveling bitch, you. Twenty minutes to bring computer to life. Him’s old and a little cranky but still expected to put in his forty hours like the rest of us. I wonder what our future AI overlord will do with all the old machines? Our current AI overlord doesn’t seem to care much for them, but you know, we can always hope for progress down the line. More compassion and what not, for the little guy and girl.

Check the feed and see the news. The world’s on fire! The world’s on fire! Only, it really is. Ahhh…there’s that super comfy, warm blanket of, “thank the God I don’t believe in I don’t have children.” A noteworthy shift in thought from ten years ago, when the simple math of, “okay, if I don’t have kids until this age, statistically, I will have this much time with them before I die,” was a regular thought process.

Random thoughts random thoughts while the coffee does its business. Ooh, here’s one. Seen lots o talk lately from the middle. The middle is a safe place, especially for los blancos popularros, aka my fellow, desperately clinging to power, white folk. I see their opinions on how their voice matters, and it does. Just a shame they don’t have the empathy to realize the centrism they’ve lived so comfortably with their entire lives has been genuinely oppressive to other good people who weren’t born so lucky. I too, believe in compromise. These moderates need to compromise their comfort in exchange for real movement for those less fortunate, and for those against whom our culture has historically tilted the odds.

Anyway, my car is falling apart and my house needs repair and my parents are aging without much of a safety net and we’ve got a universe to save and I’ve got a novel to finish writing, and hope to cling to that my book might get picked up, and maybe I won’t have to live the rest of my life working for someone else, even though I’ve got a pretty great job, if you consider any job that isn’t what you really want to do with your life great, and my dog is getting older, so I’m already thinking about how I’m going to handle his demise even though he’s only seven, and I’m the last of my mother’s father’s clan to pass his family genes and history along to a new generation, but why in the hell is anybody who isn’t loaded with cash having kids right now, and honestly what good is all that cash gonna do when Mother Nature unleashes her anger in full force, and to that end what the fuck is the point in writing these stupid ass books so I can live on in perpetuity when there will be no perpetuity, when instead I could be devoting all of my free time to doing good deeds for others so my soul might live on for eternity if we somehow manage to not destroy eternity as well. Seriously, has anyone considered how fucked heaven might actually be when you get there, considering what humanity has done to the potential utopia we already have? You gonna tell me it’s beyond the scope of reason that angels might be completely self-absorbed, over consuming, environment killing jerks?

Oh well, thank Bob it’s Monday. Head down, feet forward…