Waist deep in muck
Sit back and read a tale of the matriarch of a small community, a matriarch at least in her own mind. She lives under a bridge at the entrance way to the quaint community, a community that was once vibrant and thriving.
When the matriarch comes to town, she drags her bag of tricks and garbage, leaving bits behind here and there. As time marched forward, the bits added up. A decade and a half later, the streets and every green space lie filled with muck almost waist-deep. A permanent cloud of stench darkens the sky.
Her bag of tricks were pithy sayings written on bland gray stone. Slate it had to be. Slate could easily be wiped clean to make a new saying to fit the debate of the day. Then she began building a slate wall of pithy sayings to remind the residents how weak and unworthy they are.
"You only see evil if you aren't looking for good."
"Everybody sees things differently."
"Won't you admit you're wrong?"
"Everyone has good in them, even you."
"You mistakenly misinterpreted what I said"
And the slate wall spiraled around the community so no one missed the matriarch's words of wisdom no matter where in the community they wandered. As her six-foot-high slate rock wall spiraled inward, the community choked, gasping for its last breath like a rabbit caught in the spiraling body of a boa.
Search that spiraling wall a decade and a half in the making and you won't find an encouraging word.
"Hey, I never thought of that."
"You could be right."
"Thank you."
No, nothing like that. Instead, labeled boxes of people lie along the wall.
"Liberal lunatics are wrong."
"Illegals are criminals."
"Antifa are terrorists."
"Transgenders and LGBTQ just because..."
No one has dared peek in the boxes for fear of finding bodies in them. Their epitaphs helped build the slate wall. It would surprise no one if more than generalized stereotypes filled the boxes.
The old matriarch still lives under the bridge, but can be seen daily adding more slate stones to her wall of wisdom and logic, wisdom and logic that makes sense only in her twisted mind. Conventional wisdom and logic rots under the near waist-deep muck.
"trump is Hitler," someone scribbled hurriedly on the slate rock wall as if out of fear of being caught defacing it.
"Hitler gave a child a nickel once," the matriarch clarified in defiance. "There's good in everyone if only you look for it."
And the wall grew a little tighter around the community and the cloud of stench grew a little darker and smellier.
When the matriarch comes to town, she drags her bag of tricks and garbage, leaving bits behind here and there. As time marched forward, the bits added up. A decade and a half later, the streets and every green space lie filled with muck almost waist-deep. A permanent cloud of stench darkens the sky.
Her bag of tricks were pithy sayings written on bland gray stone. Slate it had to be. Slate could easily be wiped clean to make a new saying to fit the debate of the day. Then she began building a slate wall of pithy sayings to remind the residents how weak and unworthy they are.
"You only see evil if you aren't looking for good."
"Everybody sees things differently."
"Won't you admit you're wrong?"
"Everyone has good in them, even you."
"You mistakenly misinterpreted what I said"
And the slate wall spiraled around the community so no one missed the matriarch's words of wisdom no matter where in the community they wandered. As her six-foot-high slate rock wall spiraled inward, the community choked, gasping for its last breath like a rabbit caught in the spiraling body of a boa.
Search that spiraling wall a decade and a half in the making and you won't find an encouraging word.
"Hey, I never thought of that."
"You could be right."
"Thank you."
No, nothing like that. Instead, labeled boxes of people lie along the wall.
"Liberal lunatics are wrong."
"Illegals are criminals."
"Antifa are terrorists."
"Transgenders and LGBTQ just because..."
No one has dared peek in the boxes for fear of finding bodies in them. Their epitaphs helped build the slate wall. It would surprise no one if more than generalized stereotypes filled the boxes.
The old matriarch still lives under the bridge, but can be seen daily adding more slate stones to her wall of wisdom and logic, wisdom and logic that makes sense only in her twisted mind. Conventional wisdom and logic rots under the near waist-deep muck.
"trump is Hitler," someone scribbled hurriedly on the slate rock wall as if out of fear of being caught defacing it.
"Hitler gave a child a nickel once," the matriarch clarified in defiance. "There's good in everyone if only you look for it."
And the wall grew a little tighter around the community and the cloud of stench grew a little darker and smellier.
For your listening pleasure:
Posted by One Drunk Redneck
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