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January 11, 2007
by Lonnie D. Story
I going to take a huge leap here and hope that my audience is predominantly adult in both physiology and mentality.
As long as there has been a human on this planet, he or she has sought something more important that food, water or shelter: Company.
Yes, when it all gets boiled down to the bone, so to speak, we all look for company. Maybe not even in human form but something to entertain us, something to thrill us, something to drive us or something to compel us. We look for the occupation of our time in the smallest of places with the dreams of the largest areas.
Why not? It is, after all, human nature. And that is where things have seem to come apart at the "seams" if you may permit me the ironic, sarcastic twist (humor.) "Somewhere deep inside us..." is a coinage that I have grown very weary of and found much fault. Why is it that we say such a thing to prelude our personal feelings? Our personal opinions? Our own "little" world in our own little mind? Is it so?
Just maybe, in thinking out loud, the thoughts, the opinions and the whole damned world is not so small after all. Yes, I said "damned" and it runs the grate against my Christian beliefs and natural human history of one being. So, please, let's all get over it. I am trying to make a bigger point here than my sin (already forgiven) compared to the existential altruistic thought however dismal it may be or stillborn.
It isn't just something deep down inside us; it is called the truth. The facts, the hard reality and the genuine softness of solitude in knowing, with confidence, that we do not make our destiny. As much as we wish it were so, sorry "Dorothy" we are not in Kansas anymore (and never really have been.)
We have just chose it to be so. No, actually, if we look at the whole "damned" thing (God forgive me), the truth screams like a nine-year old girl falling down the side of a mountain.
For some of the readers, this may be the first to peruse my writings and for that, apologies in number and regrets none. For those who have read, follow and read, well, you know, this is me and screw it, I say it as it comes. I wish it weren't so, but it is.
My issue is this: "No taxation without representation." This was a catchphrase in the period 1763-1775 that summarized a primary grievance of the American colonists in the American colonists complained that taxes were imposed by the imperial government, without the approval of the American colonists. The Americans rejected the Stamp Act 1765 (which was repealed), and in 1773 violently rejected the tax on tea at the Boston Tea Party. When Great Britain began to crackdown on the illegal activities performed by the colonists, the colonists formed militias and seized control of each colony, ousting the royal governors. The complaint was never over the amount of taxation (which was small), but always on the decision-making process by which taxes were decided in London, without representation for the colonists in British Parliament.'" Wikipedida, 2007.
(Article Continues Below)
If we are to look at the year 2006, as citizens of the United States of America, we should take some small, inconsequential thought for what we paid for, since, by January 31st 2007, all employers are required by national law to report the earnings, taxation and contribution to national programs (SS&Medicare), the figures will be printed on yours and mine W-2 form. I have a personal philosophy that the "W-2" stands for "We the second" and the one who conjured this diabolical system the "We 1's (we won) group have been, still remain, at a war for the dollar bill rather than what the desire is in a community on a simple hill, the wish from farmer Bill or the populist will.
Yes, I uttered the dirty word. "Populist." After having been an ardent, tried and true conservative republican for nearly 42 years, I realized that, all along, in me, there was that "Ross Perot" syndrome of break the mold, break politics, break the system as it is and take a break for the break of a new day. A day when we, the American people can say, "this is the way I want it" and it actually occur! What an imagination I have! (This is where I expect the resounding laughter.)
Nevertheless, I will try to drive home the whole point of this dissertation. It comes down to this "My place or yours?"
When I say this, I mean, "who is in charge here?" The basic and fundamental here is the fact that we have a long written mantra: "No taxation without representation." So, please, please, tell me; enlighten me, where is the representation? I see the taxation. I see the "representatives" and I see my brother on the street with no voting card, no ID, no food and no place to call home. So, would someone please tell me WHO represents him? Because when he goes to Seven-Eleven he will damned sure pay some taxes for his coffee, beer or sandwich.
I think somewhere along the line, we got lost and we got confused by some very skilled magicians of political spinners that found a buck in a .... Well I will leave that word out as aforementioned in my Christian beliefs.
But it does bring us back to the very question posed in the beginning: Your place or mine?
How many times has this question been asked in bars, restaurants, hospitals, streets and the list goes on. A proposition. Basically, (children close your ears), where do we gratify our own cravings. Not just sexual, as is the basic building block, but the greater stone; the gratification of my own personal opinion being forced upon others to attend and achieve my own personal Utopia.
The rule, years ago, was: There will be NO taxation without representation. A simple, strong and proper rule. So where did it go? Because today, if we applied that rule to our own lives, our neighborhoods, our communities and our States, we would find ourselves laughed at like hyenas.
Do me a favor for the sake of this writing; do you feel represented? Anywhere? Any way? Do you, in your gut, your heart and soul, do you feel like someone is speaking FOR you? If you do, then, by all means send me a hundred emails, because I receive the same that say "why won't somebody say something that means I am somebody?"
So it is asked "what is a populist?" (And I have been called all from Liberalist, Communist to Anarchist) and my answer: "My place or yours" Not where will we sleep tonight, not will we abandon morality for hedonism but one simple question: "Could it be a far fetched thought that your place is the same as mine?" We want to have a voice, we want to make a difference. We care. We have a final shot left in our armory. We have a voice, will we be heard? And finally, where will this happen? Where will this take place? Your place or mine?
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Lonnie D. Story [send him email] is the author of "The Meeting of Anni Adams " and is working on "Without A Shot Fired: The Dustin Brim Story" Write Mr Lonnie D. Story at 1339 Center Avenue, Holy Hill, FL 32117.
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