Да ни познаваш

Опитвал съм се да обясня това на моите български приятели и преди - но езиковите ми умения са недостатъчни. Написах това на родния си език, след което се опитах да го преведа, доколкото мога. Надявам се, че това обяснява неизречената разлика между американците и повечето други. - ММ

Чудно ли е, че ти и аз сме различни?

Ти наследяваш митове, издълбани дълбоко в камъка, предавани от ръка на ръка, от поколение на поколение.

Аз наследявам реклами, излъчвани един сезон, забравени в следващия.

Ти носиш легенди в кръвта си, шепнени нощем от баби, които познават тежестта на вековете.

Аз нося лозунги, цвърчащи от пластмасови талисмани, изпяти от актьори, които не са могли да си намерят работа никъде другаде.

Ти проследяваш родословието си като река, чийто извор се губи в планините, течаща все напред.

Аз проследявам моя като дъжд по напукан асфалт - кратък, без посока, скоро погълнат от улука.

Ти стоиш пред крепости и храмове, паметници, които отказват да се поддадат на времето.

А аз стоя пред руини: изоставени молове и празни витрини, счупено стъкло, полуосветени златни арки, паметници на глада без смисъл.

Минаваш покрай изкуство, литература, поезия - катедрали от думи и звук.

Промъквам се покрай билбордове, които крещят заповеди: купувай, желай, консумирай.

Моята поезия е стикери за брони, отлепващи се от ръждясали коли, които няма да преживеят зимата.

Твоята музика е била пята преди хиляда години, гласове се издигат от пещери, полета и манастири.

Моята е била написана в заседателни зали, компресирана в тридесетсекундни откъси, повтаряна, докато не се забият в черепа ти.

Моите приспивни песни са джингли. Моите химни, реклами.

Твоето родословно дърво се издига високо в гора от други, клони, преплетени с небето и бурята, корени, пиещи от дълбоката земя.

Моята е гниене и мухъл във влажно мазе, спори, отчаяно вкопчени в стени, които никога не виждат слънчева светлина.

Ти работиш, за да живееш. Да храниш деца. Да почиташ предците. Да предадеш нещо на нататък.

Аз живея, за да работя. Да докладвам. Да докладвам. Да повтарям. Работата поглъща часовете, а часовете поглъщат мен.

И когато спра, когато се осмеля да попитам: „Защо?“, само тишината отговаря. Само бръмченето на флуоресцентни лампи, само бръмченето на машини, само празната вибрация на екрани.

Чудно ли е, че ти и аз сме различни?

Ти имаш памет. Аз имам пренебрежение. Ти имаш дълбочина. Аз имам повърхност. Ти мечтаеш за богове, светци, герои. Аз мечтая за знаменитости, скандали и продажби.

Ти погребваш мъртвите си с ритуал, с песен, с почва, осветена от векове скръб. Ние погребваме нашите в сметище, в неонови светлини, в заглавия, които избледняват до сутринта.

И в огледалото виждам себе си - такъв, какъвто съм създаден да бъда.

Колаж от марки.

Мозайка от бързо хранене, риалити предавания, разбити магистрали, умиращи градове.

Не човек, а потребител. Не живот, а транзакция.

Чудно ли е, че ти и аз сме различни?

И двамата сме ехо на нашите нации,

но аз съм кух, където ти си цял,

ефимен, където ти си вечен.

Аз съм американец.

Ти не си.

My Birthday Buddy

 I could’ve sworn I wrote about this before, but maybe not — so here goes.

Back in the early ’90s, a friend and I used to celebrate our birthdays together. We were bandmates, our big days were only four days apart, and odds were good we already had a gig that night. So, we just tacked on the party.

One year the show was in Pittsburgh’s Southside — Anthony’s or Fat City, most likely. Parking on Carson Street is legendarily bad, so I’d long since learned to get there early. I usually grabbed dinner at the City Grill, where a couple of friends worked. Their grilled chicken sandwich was the stuff of legend.

That night, waiting for my food, I spotted a familiar face at a nearby table. Not just familiar — legendary. Fred Rogers, out to dinner with his wife.

If you grew up in America anytime in the last 60 years, you know who Mr. Rogers was. For anyone who doesn’t: he hosted Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, a children’s show on public television that became a cultural touchstone. Say, “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood,” and most people will finish the line.

I’d actually met him once before. When I was 19, my girlfriend’s young daughter was in the hospital for ear surgery. The doctor was a friend of Mr. Rogers, and Fred would often stop by to visit kids. He came into the room, chatted, and instantly put that little girl at ease. Watching him melt away her fear was like witnessing a miracle.

So yes — I had to say hello.

AI Rendering

Picture this: me in a black leather jacket, eight-inch pompadour, creepers, the whole rockabilly look, walking up to the nicest man on Earth. If only someone had snapped a photo. Mind you, this was in the days before cellphones and social media, so people rarely took their camera to dinner. 

“Excuse me,” I said. “I don’t want to interrupt your meal — but you’re Mr. Rogers, right?” (or something equally dorky)

Now, I’d hung out with the likes of The Ramones, The Clash, Los Lobos, Jerry Lee Lewis — you name it. I wasn’t the starstruck type. But standing there, I was giddy as a five-year-old.

Fred couldn’t have been kinder. He introduced his wife, and we chatted briefly. He told me they were celebrating his birthday. I told him it was mine too. His face lit up: “We’re birthday buddies! That’s wonderful!”

And just like that, I was five again, basking in his glow.

Over the next decade I'd run into him around town — Oakland, the Strip District, Southside. Each time, he’d wave, grin, and call out, “There’s my birthday buddy!” And each time, I melted back into that inner kid.

Once, I mentioned that we also shared a birthday with Sister Rosetta Tharpe. Of course, he knew who she was. He even sang a line from "Up Above My Head."

Recently, some folks have tried to politicize Fred Rogers. Yes, he was a Republican — but back then that meant fiscal conservatism, not cruelty. He devoted his life to public television, children, and kindness. If he were alive today, he’d likely be branded a RINO or worse. His faith was deep, but it was never weaponized — it was expressed through love, patience, and decency.

So, to anyone trying to claim him for their political agenda: knock it off. Mr. Rogers belonged to all of us. He made each of us feel special in our own right. I seriously doubt he would tolerate the MAGA fascism. He might wear a red cardigan, but I doubt he'd wear one of those stupid hats.  I like to think my birthday buddy would agree. 

The Time Has Come

The time has come. We the people have our greatest decision to make. Is our country and its Constitution worth fighting for? Our military is being sent to our cities. Why isn't the question. Too many fall for the lies and distractions. Our military is being made to take aim at and, at the very least, intimidate the people it exists to defend. The use of the U.S. military on U.S. soil is legal only under specific and limited circumstances, as it is heavily restricted by the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878. The current administration is trying to defy this.

The comedians and their brands of social commentary are being silenced. Were it only a matter of employer vs. employee - matters of consequence of action in a business setting - it would be little more than a blip in the entertainment news. But this is not the case. The federal government made good on its threats to silence them. This in unconstitutional. Some will say the cause has more to do with impending mergers and business deals - but this is not truly the case. The comedians in question are best-known for their public humorous remarks on politics. There is no business deal so important that it carries greater weight than our Constitution. When rights are removed, they are gone. There is no cherry-picking. Once a single right is removed, they all go. Right to free speech? Gone. Plans are currently in place to remove 2nd amendment rights from select groups, while reinstating them for groups who have long been, reasonably so, denied them. There are plans in place to remove birthright citizenship. From there, none of us have the right of citizenship. What other rights are our so-called leaders and legislators planning to strip us of? 

Am I being overly dramatic? I don't think so. We have been told what the plans are. They are dismissed by many. I'm sure that the average German citizens once believed "this can't happen here." We all know how that played out. 

What can you or I do? Plenty. Know who your elected officials are, at every level. Communicate with them in any way you can. Phone calls, letters, email, social media, public meetings. Explain to them, in your own words, that you will not tolerate the abhorrent actions of the current administration. Reticent as I am to suggest it, go buy a gun. Do it legally. Do it by the book. Buy as much ammunition as you can while you still can. You might need it, sooner than you ever thought possible. The Framers of the Constitution intended the "well-regulated Militia" of the 2nd amendment, in part, to serve as a defense against potential government overreach or foreign invasion. If what we're experiencing isn't government overreach, I don't know what is. 

What exactly are we waiting for? 

49 years ago, I remember the U.S. celebrating its bicentennial. I have fond, vivid memories of it. Time has certainly taken a toll on what that country stood for. Was it a perfect place back then? No, but people - for the most part - got along. Politics and religion were considered private matters. People lived their lives and minded their own business. As a kid, I had friends whose families shared different beliefs. Catholics, Protestants, Jews, Orthodox Christians, heck I even knew a few Muslims and a Hindu. We weren't terrified of each other. We were all part of the same community. 

On 9/11, our country was attacked. Some will say - without concrete evidence - that it was an inside job. Some use that day as validation of their fears and their hatred. The media will tell you that the country came together. No, it didn't. We sat in our homes watching the news. Bit by bit, we attempted to return to normal - but it was never the same. 

The erosion of our rights under the current administration is proof that life will never be the same. The time has come. We each have a choice to make. I pray that we make the right one. 

Never Forget the People of 9/10

 Never forget. 9/11 was a horrible day. Worst part about it was the lies, the spin. In our lifetimes, most of us will never know the truth about those. The number of lives lost kept going up, until it started going down. That one was easy. The US couldn't telegraph just how bad the damage was. Rather than report the facts, it became about spin. 

Never forget. We hear that every year. Never forget. Anyone who lived through that day is not going to forget. We don't need a reminder. So why the constant, annual nudge? To make sure everyone remembers the spin, the lies. We're supposed to remember the official story. I remember the truth like it happened yesterday. I don't need a reminder.

Social media is despicable regarding 9/11. This year (24 years later) I started seeing posts suggesting we Americans remember 9/11 AND to be the people we were on 9/12. Really? That's fucked up. The people of 9/12 were terrified. No one went to work (except for a handful of us). Sure, everyone had their flag displayed. Was this pride or the first taste of nationalism? Some of you might not remember. The economy went into the toilet for a while. Is that why our current economy is in the shitter? Are we remembering and honoring 9/11? 

The people of 9/12 were assholes. Sure, they were scared but that was no excuse for who we became. I remember seeing news reports of brown-skinned people being attacked in the streets. Indians, Pakistanis, etc. These were American citizens. These were students. These were people who had nothing to do with 9/11 - but our neighbors were attacking them. Violently. Is this what we are now supposed to emulate? 

I spent a large part of 9/12 trying to get through to my ex-wife in NYC. I was trying to contact friends in NYC. I was ready to hop in the car and drive to NYC and volunteer my services. My boss talked me out of it. She reminded me that I was needed here. 

The worst part of 9/11 was the silence. I was one of the last people out of the city. On the 6-mile drive home, I didn't see another person, another car, not even a dog or cat. It was like being the last man alive. The air traffic had been stopped. The silence was alien. It seemed unnatural. After I couldn't watch the news any longer, I sat on my porch with my dogs. They both knew something was up. Then a fighter jet flew low over the neighborhood. It was LOUD! Scared the shit out of all three of us.  I guessed this was life now.

The people of 9/12 were a changed people. The reality was that We the People had been attacked. We'd let our collective mouths write a check our collective asses couldn't cash. Insufficient funds. Our world changed. I remember having to show my ID for the first time just to enter a building downtown. This wasn't a government building or anything. It was a doctor's office. I remember the faces of people in the city, as well as out in the suburbs. The look of fear and suspicion. The cops all started wearing buzz cuts. They were trying to look like some third-rate paramilitary group. It would have been comical at any other point in time. I started to miss the people of 9/10.

The people of 9/10 weren't unique. They mostly minded their own business. They went to work, did their jobs, and spent their money in their communities. The people of 9/10 enjoyed life as much as they could. For the most part, the 90s weren't awful. We worked, earned our money, paid our bills, and lived our lives. The people of 9/10 didn't politicize everything. Most of us thought George W. Bush was a pinhead, but he was our pinhead. But the people of 9/10 who survived 9/11 became the flag-waving hyper nationalists of 9/12. 

Never forget the people of 9/10. They weren't perfect, but for the most part they were reasonable. Crime existed, but it wasn't constantly blamed on the left or right. School shootings had happened, but not to the extent that they happen now. The people of 9/10 would have never accepted a dictator. Hell, Clinton was unsuccessfully impeached for lying about banging a fat girl. We held our chosen leaders to account or at least tried. The news reported the news. It wasn't just a never-ending stream of opinionated talking heads spewing partisan talking points. Fox News, at the time, was considered a joke. I remember the local Fox News team. With the possible exception of Alby Oxenreiter (Ox on Fox!) they were a bunch of inept clowns. I recall a night when two of the anchors came to one of my shows at Rosebud. 9:00pm and they were falling down drunk and had to be escorted out. Neither the station nor the incident was considered news. We all used to joke that Fox should stick to shows like The Simpsons.  

When you remember 9/11 (and trust me, you'll be reminded!), remember the people of 9/10. They're long gone. They're a myth. Was life ever that simple? Will it ever be again? Probably not in my lifetime. Never forget. You've been lied to for years, and you happily swallowed every lie. 

Charlie Kirk Is Dead.

 Charlie Kirk is dead. Shot, we can presume, for his radical, divisive, yet FREE, speech. A man, a husband, is dead. Children will spend their first night without a father. I will agree with many who have said "violence is never the answer"...except, this is America. Violence has a long history of being the answer here. If you truly believe that violence is never the answer, why do you tolerate it? You tolerate it every day. We allow the media to glorify it. Take a look at what you post online, in your social media; your memes and such. A lot of violence there in many forms. Violence isn't merely physical. It's often verbal, written, implied. Our so-called POTUS glorifies violence until he deems certain singular events as not worthy of violence. (he's trying to play to the room, it's that simple) When my wife told me Kirk had been shot, I recognized the name - but couldn't put a face to him. I Googled him and recognized him immediately. Just another mouthy twat of a man, raking in as much as he can by being a contrarian. He was one of the reasons the media has done everything it can to keep us all in a feedback loop for the majority of this century. Spewing hate and bullshit SELLS. If any of us had met Charlie Kirk privately - maybe at a family cookout or community picnic - would he have been the same mouthy shit he liked to portray himself as? Probably not. I have experience with these types of people. He spent his career selling a myth and a worthless bill of goods. Rather than put his energies into something positive, he chose negativity. Why? Because it SELLS. Ask yourself who makes more money - a pusher or a priest. The answer is easy. (OK, the churches might rake in the bucks, but the average preacher doesn't)

Our country is built on certain unfortunate truths. We are greedy. We are envious. We are proud. We are lustful. We are gluttonous. We are lazy. We are violent. We have the 7 deadly sins covered and wrapped in our flag. Charlie Kirk took the easy path. He clearly had the gift of gab. He just used it for the wrong things. He probably felt untouchable. He was, at least professionally, arrogant. But he also knew whose ass to kiss. Was violence the answer? I don't know. Maybe ask the parent whose child was killed in a school shooting. Maybe ask Trump why he yelled for people to "FIGHT" (a call to violence if there ever was) days before his ear magically grew back. I doubt anyone will ask if perhaps, could it be, that Charlie Kirk was shot and killed to distract us all from the seemingly never-ending demands to release the Epstein files. Would a man like Trump, known for his petty attitude and his persistent tough guy wet dreams, would he be capable and willing to unleash such a scenario? Before you ask that, ask if Putin would. Would any desperate authoritarian wannabe do such a thing? Be honest with yourself. It's not 'unbelievable'. We live in the UNITED States. Which is more important? The unity or the states? Now might be a good time to release the Epstein files. With the level of sickening melodrama I watched various newscasters display today, the files just might fly under the radar long enough for the spinmeisters to work their magic. Violence is never the answer...unless you study history. Then you realize, maybe it is. 

Matthew 26:52