Dad was apoplectic about the state of our nation way back in the 1960s. I was young, so while I didn't dispute, or necessarily disagree with him, I had the typical teenage fish to fry and paid little attention. As we got into the 90s, that is the 1990s, I was seeing what he did, but I didn't have time to absorb it and become, as perhaps we all should have, alarmed by the disintegration of our nation. Dad was retired. I was working. When Dad died, we were, nationally, at the denouement of all the years of corrupting influences of things like, yeah, Communism. My father was aghast when Mr. Obama, the candidate out of the blue promised to "transform America". People failed to ask "into what?" My father knew. He's been spared seeing the sad ending of a once imperfect, but still, great, nation. You and I are not so lucky.
This was written circa 1998. And a quarter of a century later, after sex and drugs have fully blinded us, we are on the edge of WWIII. And led by individuals that used to be diagnosed as non compos mentis.
REFLECTIONS OF NO REAL CONSEQUENCE
It is, perhaps, of some significance that Thoth, the ancient Egyptian god of wisdom, is represented as a baboon.
This is not a new expression of an apocalyptic discovery. Timon of ancient Athens, an historic observer, studying his peers, is said to have the following epitaph. "Timon, the misanthrope, I am below. Go and revile me, stranger. Only, go!" Timon was clearly not enchanted with his fellow man.
Then, of course, there is the reclining cynic Diogenes, who, when offered anything he might wish by the conqueror Alexander the Great replied, as reported by Plutarch:
"Move a little. You are blocking the sun."
This brings me to my street person friend who is named, coincidentally, Diogenes. He materializes with such regularity for his periodic stipend that I am convinced his orbital peregrinations are governed by the immutable physical laws that direct the universe.
Diogenes has none of the pretensions of polite conversation. He is always on point. There is never a greeting or a sign of superfluous amity.
"Christmas is next week, can you spare a little extra change this time around?" His expression suggests my contributions are generally penurious. I feel guilt.
In a way his address is a kind of a lexicon of plebian grandeur. It makes me admire the egalitarians of the world. Truly, this latter day Diogenes is as self-contained and independent as was his homonymous predecessor--he of the ever present lamp in a quest for an honest man. My hobo carries a flashlight, these being more modern times, though I suspect he has no particular desire to see any politically correct holy grail.
Like the ancient Diogenes, he has eschewed obeisance to the amenities which burden ordinary man. He is asking simply that the passerby do him the courtesy not to block he sun while he seeks its warmth. Of course, "spare change" is welcome at any time.
While Diogenes has the classic appurtenances of a bum, he once was a man of substance. In our meetings over the years, I have given him an ear as he described the travails of his past. I have also enjoyed the wisdom of his vast experience when I need solace, understanding and compassion.
Diogenes is a veritable expert in the arena of sexual encounters, the subject of so much of our present day life. He knows what is and what is not.
He was toppled from the pinnacle when his beloved wife fitted him with the horned headdress of the cuckold. She forsook him for a woman, though, in mitigation, she was a noted poetess.
I probed him regarding a hot news item of our times.
"I hear that the new speaker of the House has admitted to 'occasional' departures from the hearth."
"Curious," mused Diogenes, "you should bring this up. Last night I have great trouble sleeping. The guy in the next cot at the mission has one of those little radios tuned to KABC radio. It was like an echo of the past, a woman with the harridan voice of my ex-wife. She was screaming at conservative callers. 'All the great men fooled around. How the hell can we get good leaders who never unzip their pants. Take the President Kennedy, Roosevelt, even Eisenhower. . . "
"Did she mention," I interrupted, "old Ted Kennedy and the nephew who followed the example of old Joe Kennedy himself--you know, ten children at home with Rose, while with Gloria Swanson for better sex?"
"She did not," he answered. "Frankly, though, I have to note that the prurient left has brought such aplomb, such diversity, such grandeur to what started as a simple bit of the apple."
I think of Ramses the Great. He had over one hundred, shall I call them gently, illegitimate children, though they were embalmed royally, as even then, the enlightened imbued their extraneous issue with validity of a sort. The progeny were all embalmed in the approved manner, so that they could be admitted unblemished to the Egyptian afterlife. Henry the Eighth might have spared many a head if he had legitimized the birth of any one of his male bearing dalliances."
Diogenes is indeed a lamp unto the darkness. I prodded further.
"How do you explain Jimmy Carter. He was above carnal sin. The only fault I can find with him is his brother. Alas he was prone to open his zipper, but only after each gallon of beer he drank."
"Ah," countered Diogenes. "He was a lousy president."
"But he did lust in his heart," I said.
"That's the point," confirmed Diogenes. "He needed some kind of stimulus. Perhaps a little cavorting in the Oval Office might have been more salutary for his running of the country."
Diogenes digresses, but to a related point of societal reality. "Did you know that Larry Flynt, that paragon of pornography, appeared on that same harridan's radio show? He said he would pay a million dollars for information about sexual dalliances of any member of Congress? One has to respect him, no? After all he is protecting my constitutional freedom, which I would lose if his magazine were prohibited."
I cannot rebut his wisdom. Diogenes is certainly worth the few pesos I accord him periodically.
Truly, he bespeaks the new verity garnered in the crash pads of the sixties where the 'sine qua non' of good leadership was practiced.
There was none of that middle class Victorianism to inhibit education. Once could lie down with one partner in the evening and awaken with another in the morning. It was a free-wheeling time, and a liberating heritage for the maturating baby boomers to pass to their progeny.
Sixty-eight percent of the 'people' approve of the new freedom, not merely for the leadership, but for the 'hoi polloi' as well.
I gave Diogenes a little extra. I did not go overboard since I expect we will probably meet again just before Christmas. I am hopeful that before that time, Monica's war, will be history. It is sad that our revered President is not allowed to devote his full attention to a pursuit which everyone knows is a favorite of his--leading the troops in battle.
In the meantime, there is still time for Joan Baez to gather an audience for some old Vietnam songs. Just a few changes in the lyrics, perhaps. Maybe there are some CNN reporters in Baghdad available for a photo-op. Jane Fonda can sit on a cannon for all the world to see and the everlasting glory of Turner Enterprises.
Then there is Ramadan, a time for introspection for men of good will, perhaps even a right winger or two.
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