The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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The slab showed up unannounced, a 4 foot by 4 foot concrete square sitting at the edge of the little park I caretake, a mystery to me. Maybe the county had decided to bring in artwork, who knows, maybe a commemorative sculpture of me, Ranger Daddle. I know, not too likely given the fact the county may not know the park even exists or if they do, who is doing the maintenance. But a mystery, like winning the Lottery, is mostly about firing our greedy imaginations.

A week went by … then two. A month. No bronze Skeeter appeared one morning. No plaque. Nothing. Just that square of concrete poured apparently by hand in the dark of night either by aliens or South End tricksters. I mowed around it and pondered its meaning the way astronauts in 2001: A Space Odyssey pondered the Black Obelisk, knowing only that some intelligence had brought it, who knows whether for good or ill. All I knew was I wouldn’t be moving it, not a half ton of concrete.

After a few weeks I stopped paying attention to my mystery square, stopped guessing what its Maker intended, stopped seeing it at all … until a few days ago when the phone booth showed up, one of those rectangular booths from a time just before the cellphone made public telephones obsolete. Clark Kent would have to change in a McDonalds bathroom hereafter and every citizen, no matter how impoverished, would need to purchase a personal phone and a plan.

And yet … here was the Last Phone Booth on the South End, possibly in America, maybe even the world!! In my park. Under my care. Which, considering I do not own a cellphone, is Totally Apropos, as if the Gods of Wire Transmission or the Ghost of Alexander Graham Bell had anointed me Keeper of the Dial Tone.

Of course it arrived without a working phone, just a payphone with no incoming line off the street. Most gifts, if you think about it, come with strings attached. Mine did, but not the useful ones. Nevertheless, I’m the Ranger, an American Dr. Who with his very own nonfunctioning Tardis. I would find a Way, count on it, because that’s my job. The concrete square was, it turns out, my new purpose, better, I suspect, than winning the Lottery where the end of my days would be filled with South Enders begging for loans.

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John McCain died this weekend, a Senator for six terms, a two time Presidential candidate, a man who worked both sides of the aisle even after that was considered unacceptable, a man who was a prisoner of war in Viet Nam, a war he volunteered to serve in as pilot until his plane was shot down over Hanoi. Say what you want, the guy spent his entire life serving his country. We now have the spectacle of the current Prez of the United States refusing to pay any sort of homage to the man he declared wasn’t a war hero. Getting captured, he famously sniped, wasn’t his idea of a hero. Probably being killed makes you ineligible for honors too.

This is what constitutes leadership in America these days, the idea that government service is for leeches and suckers, that self-sacrifice is for losers, that John McCain was no role model in these narcissistic times. The flag that was flying half mast at the White House was raised half a day later, symbolism be damned. No statement honoring the man would be forthcoming. Bury the dead in the swamp at the back of the building, the Lilliputians are running things now.

I don’t know what Donald J. Trump’s heroes would look like. If there are any other than the man he admires in the mirror. I doubt he has any idea what the definition would include. And the folks who think HE’S one, well, they must not have much of a clue either. It’s a sad day for all of us. A country that cannot mourn for its best and brightest, that refuses to honor their sacrifice and their service, you tell me if that country is worth any of our loyalty. Today, after a tremendous backlash at raising the flag over the White House, our hero decided to lower it once more. Far as I’m concerned, he can keep it lowered until the day he leaves the building once and for all.

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Down here in the hoary valleys of the South End, we represent a striking cross-section of Trump’s America, meaning, the Have vs Have Not Society where Income Inequality prowls the hollers or hides behind gated security fences. I’ve got neighbors who live in mold-spored single-wides slowly rotting into the weeds living just a stone’s throw from Microsoft executives buying million dollar bluff homes as weekend vacation retreats. I used to think this diversity was healthy. I don’t mind rubbing shoulders with the fabulously rich any more than I do my fellow unemployed.

But lately the trend is decidedly against the poor. Rents are skyrocketing, jobs are scarce to non-existent, cost of living is going up, the rich keep getting richer and the rest, good luck to ya. Wages never budge upward but CEO pay is astronomical. The Great Recession didn’t hurt the wealthy. Wall Street got bailed out but not the poor. Even the Democrats abandoned the working stiff in favor of the middle class while they courted the corporate elite.

Capitalism never guaranteed income equity and now in the 21st Century, democracies around the globe are embracing right wing populism. Fascism is back in style and it’s popular, governments and corporate interests hand in hand. Karl Marx wasn’t too far off in his analysis, just his solution.

My neighbors aren’t particularly political and insofar as economic analysis goes, they’re happy so long as they can manage the monthly credit card minimum. One of my pals has a bumper sticker that reads: TRUMP: RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. He’s living in a travel trailer. If Trump is the solution, god help him.

America was spozed to be the Land of Equal Opportunity. But folks can see now it’s not. They’re being left in the dust of the digital age and corporate hegemony, they’ll never get ahead, they’ll never share in the Facebook dividends — and they’re pissed. They’ll vote for anyone who pretends to care about their plight, a Trump, a Mussolini, a Duterte. They’ll listen to their lies and they’ll find out too late they’ve been duped. So will the rich. Trump serves their needs for the short term, we’ll see what Apple and Google think when the coup d’etat is a fait accompli.

Resistance, I hope, is not futile. The issue to fight for is income inequality. We’re seeing what unchecked capitalism leads to and sadly, we ain’t seen nothin yet.

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The great joy of living in the Information Age — or the Information Glut, more accurately — is that every news flash, gossip tidbit, sports score, you-name-it, comes at you via everything from your cellphone, laptop, tablet, TV or microchip in your head. Whether it’s faux news or viral rumor, well, who knows? Or these days, who cares?? The real point is that your time is full up, boredom is a thing of the past, information is flying at you at the speed of light … or a Trump tweet.

If you feel overwhelmed, welcome to the future. If you no longer have time to cook dinner, plant a garden, learn to play an instrument or read a book, you’re in good company. After all, this isn’t rural Iowa circa 1850. It’s the New Age. 21st Century. Modernity run amok. Remember when we were all ga-ga about those ‘Time-Saving Devices’? Copiers, computers, answering machines, cellphones, electric knives — all to free you up for more important stuff. Like Facebook. Instagram. E-bay shopping.

I know … sure beats the horrors of self-improvement or learning new hobbies or searching for wisdom and enlightenment. How many LIKES on your post? Easier than meditating or studying or practicing. The virtual world is your oyster now. Maybe not heaven or paradise, but it sure takes your mind off those for awhile and comes a close 2nd. Or 3rd.

Who needs a guru when you got Google? God is just an algorithm now, Plato’s a poor boob looking at shadows in a cave. So roll over Socrates, let Wikipedia give you the news. The news is as phony as a 4 dollar bill, most of it, and the time we ‘saved’, worth about the same. Artificial intelligence is right around the corner and by then we’ll gladly take any intelligence that’s offered. Just so we won’t have to do the thinking….

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