Troubled times make for good writing

Jake Stewart, Columnist

The hour is late, readers, but there is no rest for the wicked. I suppose this speaks poorly on my character, but I’ve never been one to worry about my standing in the eyes of proper society. Those who consider themselves as “normal” are a danger to me, and without the protection offered by my dear friend, Rum Brain Moe, I don’t believe I would last long in such a crowd.

Indeed. The Rhode Island witch doctor has been nothing short of an ace in the hole when dealing with the straights. Even the mention of voodoo sends them running to the hills, saving me a great deal of hassle. Life is far better without hassle, wouldn’t you agree?

Sure, that’s an easy question to pose on this lifeless document, but it gets far less simple when we apply the human element, the American element. This is a nation that wages war on a 24-hour cycle, typically against itself—save for the “third world,” now and then.

We’re losing the fight against Covid-19, against poverty, and one only needs to look at our education system compared to the rest of the world to see why. I would recommend doing some research on the subject if you’re in need of a swift shot straight to the gut.

The world is moving on without us as we slog through the mud. We busy ourselves to protect the statues of Confederate generals, but we can’t teach students why a good number of those officers commanded troops in the field. Yes, that’s a comment on slavery, readers, and it’s something Republican politicians in states like Texas want you to turn a blind eye to.

Sure, the KKK weren’t evil, and the Civil Rights Movement was a meaningless footnote for the American Way. That’s the absurdity the Right wants you to believe. Just as they want you to accept that the pandemic is a hoax, despite the millions across the globe that have died from it. They want you blind, deaf, and dumb. It’s easier for them to get votes this way.

We live in a nation that thumps its chest, proud of its freedoms. Sure, we have freedom, but there are tens of millions that have forgotten that it often has a price. There are sacrifices that have to be made.

Sacrifices—those made by our ancestors during trying times such as the Great Depression and World War II. People may have complained, but they rolled up their sleeves and got things done. They survived, and we could too, but we’ve become a nation that is too fat and lazy from a gluttonous sense of entitlement to move itself into action. We cry that our freedoms are in danger as our families are ravaged by a virus, while our youth are massacred in school shootings.

We cannot survive this way, readers. Not even the strongest voodoo can help us persevere. We have to find the strength within ourselves. Yet, here I am, in these early morning hours, and as I look out the window into the heaviness of the night, I can only see the troubles. Sunrise is still off in the distance, yet to be sighted. Here’s to hoping we can make it.