The D Word


My language is defined by The D Word. It started the eve of 8 November when the big denial hit. No! Deception quickly nipped the heels of denial. There must be deceit somewhere; this cannot be a definitive vote; it cannot be for real. If not fraud then definitely  hacking, a conspiracy, cyber warfare, nefarious forces, moles at the highest level.

I damned James Comey. I damned the FBI. Decried their interference. Demanded an investigation. Demanded a recount. Demanded an audit. I disavowed the results. I waited for a defense. I wanted a daring reversal.

Yet all the while, a debilitating dejection hit. I sobbed for a week. Daily. Grief like I’ve not felt since my mother’s death. Because there was a death.  Multiple deceased. This was the decapitation of hope for millions, and not just humans. The honey bee doomed. The elephant and its grand tusks, destroyed. The balm of morning air, the call of cardinals, the eloquence of Whitman’s vistas – all to be reduced to sport, stupidity and greed. Hope denied.

And then the decomposition of reason. The damnable head of a distressing joke. This dumbass. This clown. This illiterate, despicable drama queen grins his churlish grin, belies the devil within. Damn his dedicated cult of dead heads. Damn the deliberate deprivation of victory. Damn the diabolical, disingenuous dolts who guide the puppet clown, who have defecated on democracy. Damn them all.




Dumbfounded?   Yes.

Disenfranshised?   Maybe.

Done with it all?   No.

Doubt the Electoral College?   Definitely.

Demoralized?   Only for an instant.

Defiant? Hell yes. Make that Hill Yes!

Wide-armed, broad-shouldered, far-sighted, bright-witted, warm-hearted Democracy is not a cliche. It will have the final say.