Another fairy tale, or is it ?
Once upon a time there was an angry man. He was so angry, he could not express it except to terrorize others: family members, wife in particular, and in older age, anyone who might do something to trigger a response from his malignantly affected angry body and mind.
Angry man spent a lifetime being angry. Angry man was never put in check. Neither his mother, his father, nor later his own children could ever deal with him. Angry man was nasty but sneaky and managed to keep others at bay. His doors and windows were almost always closed and the curtains drawn tightly shut. Periodically, you could hear him yell, but there was never enough to allow for a call to 911.
He kept up his yard and house in a meticulous way. His garage was organized to to the point that it looked as if it were done by a person with serious issues. It was too perfect. Angry man was a true patriarch, but an evil one at that. Not a person to be crossed, this man lived to control, making Louis XIV look like an amateur. People were not to park in front of his suburban house. Dog walkers were warned by signs to be ‘respectful and not pee or do other things on his lawn. ’ Ironically, this person respected absolutely no one.
Welcome signs and angelic cherubs came to be in his yard in his later life, a time when his activities were limited by a respiratory disease requiring oxygen. He avoided using the oxygen in view of others until he absolutely had to.
Angry man was a man with an intensely old-world, old-school view of machismo. Women were inferior and to be treated as such. Children, even when in their fifties, were relegated to whatever he saw fit. Not a particularly tall man, his somewhat rotund body moved around and commanded, and everyone within his purview did his bidding.
Cars to Angry man were important, but had to be American made. Others were not to be bought. People purchasing ‘foreign’ cars were looked down upon.
In later life, gardening took over as a complete hobby. Angry man firmly believed in the god Monsanto and, in particular, in glyphosate. Days upon days were spent not only spraying his weeds, but allowing Monsanto vapors to flow over to neighbors’ flowers. Flowers even on the other side of the fence with neighbors withered and died as he had a trench of Monsanto, a literal moat of poison. If Angry man wanted it, Angry man got it. Police were hated and used, avoided and manipulated, called when someone did him wrong by perhaps having a dog that barked occasionally, and visiting him when he did nasty things, but he always managed to slip by.
Angry man was fueled by the days of Agent Orange or FOOL (Fearless Oval Office Leader) and viewed him as a deity, putting a confederate flag in his backyard despite no southern roots. Tchotchkes became his decoration and so did any patriotic décor from his home like painted eagles and signage, signage that often had simple English words spelled incorrectly.
Angry man is a pure sign of the fascist times, angry, belligerent, the kind of guy who would drain his big yard puddles in a neighbor’s yard. The kind of guy who would have a large, killing trap for animals within steps of his neighbor’s unfenced yard. Angry man is what fuels FOOL and his following, loyal to the death and incapable of listening to what the opposition might say. Everyone else is WRONG!
So many in our country happen to be angry. People who voted for FOOL are disenfranchised and angry and despite the horror of what they have wreaked with their leader, we must attend to their needs as well once this is over.
Narcissism is everywhere, bullies are omnipresent. May these mean people find appropriate punishment for their poor behavior.