As I began to compose, the lyric “mine eyes have seen the glory…,” the Battle Hymn of the Republic.
The song links the judgment of the wicked at the end of the age (Old Testament, Isaiah 63; New Testament, Rev. 19) with the American Civil War. Since that time, it has become an extremely popular and well-known American patriotic song.[Wikipedia]
My Wicked: U.S. Government, The One Percent, Capitalism
My Prediction: As people’s eyes are opened – no matter how long it takes – how little the actually matter, they will rebel with cries of injustice…oh, wait! They already are.
This past Sunday 60 Minutes: The Whistleblower was an eye-opener! And became my battle cry to finally get Dianne Feinstein out of office, finally. The way 60 MInutes portrayed the senate floor’s reaction on television shows just how dismissive I believe politicians are and make me feel as a citizen, hence difficulty in letting go of my hate.
Since then – two fucking days, 2 tweets to 60 minutes, 2 tweets to l a times writers – I have been trying to find out the name of the bill/law, so I could confirm Dianne Feinstein’s vote, when I came across this:
The bill Marino sponsored — Ensuring Patient Access and Effective Drug Enforcement Act — sailed through Congress with unanimous support and was signed by President Obama in 2016. The legislation makes it harder for the DEA to suspend drug companies from fulfilling suspiciously large shipments of opioids, according to a report from The Washington Post and CBS News’ “60 Minutes.”[ABC News]
I should have known it would be my favorite news channel. I also came across this:
Did President Obama know bill would strip DEA of power? [Washington Post]
Never considered that.
In my universe it is considered the height of irresponsibility to sign anything without knowing what one was signing! Either that, or the signer just didn’t care; like my supposed “government representatives:” Senators Dianne Feinstein and Kamala Harris; Representatives Maxine Waters and Karen Bass; and President: Barack Obama.
I must acknowledge my psychologist for his suggestion that I investigate a creative outlet for my hate. In addition to pot, which makes me mellow, I think I have found it and unleash my first in a series of Wickedness:
I was short one color…not bad. I’ll get it down to eight. I feel more relaxed after my cousin and our mutual friend, Sylvia brought me some McDonald’s and I ate some brownie, and I vented through creativity and oh, I fired my psychiatrist. He was pretty blunt today saying he is about medication and if I am choosing not to take it there is not much more he can do. I am like, “Great, are we done here?”