Category Archives: #Resist

The Elephant on the Phone

GOP_Trump_ElephantDailyKos
https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2015/7/22/1404275/-Cartoon-Trump-is-the-face-of-the-GOP Cartoon credit Laloalcaraz @dailykos.com

In the past, I have always heeded sage advice and avoided using this blog to discuss politics and politicians, in particular. It never works for authors to refer to their own political leanings in print, online, or social media conversations. Inevitably, fans with different political leanings will turn away, sometimes feeling so betrayed by you that they actively dissuade potential readers. That’s the kiss of death. So why do it today?

Because I’m in the position of a woman anxiously waiting by my phone for a certain man to call. But the entire trope is upside down, which makes it noteworthy, at least to this author. Usually, said woman is hoping to be pleased if not thrilled when Ms./Mr. Right finally phones. I know this. I write romances. The anticipation is pleasant, spiced with the normal dread of disappointment.

But that’s not the way I feel. I don’t like this. It feels scary and wrong. I don’t want Big Orange having access to my ever-present cellphone that I’ve been told can gather information about me by not only listening in but also providing real time video. For two days I’ve been hearing that Big Orange is going to phone every American’s cellphone to test a new national alert system. While I can’t object to the government being able to alert its citizens in case of emergencies, the anticipation I feel is near terrifying. I find myself dreading the ringing of the phone.

Things are so extreme these days. I’m constantly being reminded of alarming dystopian fiction, not to mention the lessons of history. I’m reminded that events which seem like ancient history to us now were ‘modern times’ when they happened. What if our ‘modern times’ include a government led by narrow-minded holier-than-thou types who approve of spying on its citizenry, using what it learns to keep the populace in line? Is it possible for them to watch, listen, and record me twenty-four/seven? Which of the digital gadgets in my house are already gathering info about me with permissions they’ve gathered unbeknownst to me?

What if I start receiving messages that are duplicitous, or outright lies? Could propaganda be ringing me up? What does that mean? What will happen? How will society change? What will be the new norms? Will families like mine be allowed to exist legally? Will we need to flee our own country to remain free?

Sounds paranoid, I know. But, I’m an older white female, well-educated, who’s only missed three elections since her eighteenth birthday, all due to distance or illness. (Please, don’t nag me to vote absentee. I prefer walking into the polling place and wearing my I Voted sticker all day.) I’m also a lesbian with a wife, two kids, four grand-kids, and three great-grands. My personality is quixotic and usually upbeat. An artist, I easily find the beauty of the world all around me; as a teacher I can’t help pointing it out to anyone nearby. But it’s been a rough twenty-three months for people like me.

Everything I thought I knew about my country, my fellow Americans, my neighbors and friends, has been turned upside down. Harmful laws I thought gone forever are being reinstituted while helpful ones are dismantled as if they never existed. Ethics are being ridiculed, sacrificed on the alter of wealth. Women are being ridiculed, sacrificed on the alter of white male privilege, easily mansplained away. People aren’t listening to each other, compassion is rare, and judgement abounds.

“The times,” as Bob Dylan once noted, “they are a’changing…” and not for the better. Or, as Wednesday Addams said more succinctly, “Be afraid. Be very afraid.”

I refer you to the novels:

  1. Nineteen-Eighty-Four by George Orwell
  2. Animal Farm by George Orwell
  3. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
  4. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
  5. Farenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
  6. A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess
  7. The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins

Read, think, vote. We dare not go gently, like lambs led to slaughter.

VOTE ON NOVEMBER 6TH, 2018

EEK! There’s the phone…

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When a Home Becomes the House

When a Home Becomes The HouseNot long ago I found a public Call for Submission for an upcoming anthology of spec-fic flash fiction, one-thousand words exactly. I spent a few weeks writing one, but when I went to upload it for consideration the entire site had disappeared, re-directing me to professional guidance for my writing career.

*imagine me doing a classic Marlene Dietrich sneer*

Uh huh, that’s what I think, too. So, why should my good effort go to waste? Here it is, my modern allegory for you to read and enjoy legally free, a spec-fic flash-fic story of one thousand words exactly (title and author name not included).

Please, let me know what you think in the comments section.


WHEN A HOME BECOMES THE HOUSE

Genta Sebastian

“Morning, Congressor Obaton.” The house pulled out a chair at the breakfast table and set a cup of coffee before her.

“Morning, Home…” She glared at her somber husband, her ankle encircled with blue electricity. “…Daniel. Helluva night, huh?”

“Quite.”

“But, I’m out of jail and today will be the best day of my life. Nothing can upset me now.” She lifted her coffee and smiled. Daniel shrugged expressively.

 “Really? Okay, we disagree but I expect my spouse to support my career, especially as it supports him. You be in the House when my bill is voted on today. This administration thinks they’ve hogtied me, but they’ve proven my point perfectly.”

Daniel buttered his toast. “Your anti-LASSO bill won’t pass today, or any day, Candy.” He bit, white teeth gleaming. “I’d hoped you’d see reason.”

“I’ve got bi-partisan support. Why wouldn’t it?” Suspicion suffused her and electric pops sounded. “You’ve urged me to pull the bill since the beginning.”

“You should’ve listened,” Daniel gestured at her lassoed ankle. “Now it’s too late.”

“Damn bastard, you set me up.” She choked, putting it together. “We go out, get liquored up, and then you picked a fight with a conservative bigot. I throw one punch in your defense and suddenly I’m arrested as a threat to public safety. And the reporters…they knew so quickly.

“But, do…this?” Candace kicked Daniel under the table. An electric shock made them both jump. “You used the same irresponsible legislation my bill is meant to stop. These Laws-And-Social-Safety-Ordinances mandated by the government are very real threats to freedom, democracy, and anyone ‘out of step’.”

Daniel sipped his coffee and winked.

“Son-of-a-bitch, you’re neutralizing me? Why?”

“Certain acquaintances with special interests paid me to help get our country on the right path.” He shrugged. “They’re rich. Me, too, now.”

Candace squinted. “That’s why the president enabled such unconstitutional legislation, to rid himself of political opposition! If voters view me as a violent law-breaker, their congressors won’t back me, and the bill dies without any discussion.”

“Oh, it gets even better, Candy. Once we make an example of you, we’ll be able to blame anyone with mental instabilities, as we define them, for all the ills of society. You liberal intellectuals will be eliminated, one by one.” Daniel smiled. “Soon no one will be left to object.”

He checked his phone. “Best of all, by Lassoing those we diagnose as emotionally disturbed we don’t have to restrict arms, drugs, financial investments, or other expressions of free economic trade. We restrict individuals, not institutions.”

Candace scowled. “You plan to eliminate political adversaries the same way?”

“Of course, it worked. Your allies jumped ship and your bill won’t pass.” Daniel pocketed his phone and pushed back his plate. “Your bill is as dead as you are.” He blinked and cocked his head. “As your career, I mean.”

Abruptly, electric particles sparked, multiplied, and swarmed around the room. A voice trumpeted, “Warning, Congressor Obaton, your anticipated behavior will result in the violation of Laws-And-Social-Safety-Ordinance twenty-seven, sub-paragraph-three. Persist on your projected emotional path, strike out in anger, and severe consequences will be immediate.”

“Totally worth it!” Candace grabbed the heavy marble peppermill sitting on their breakfast table and launched it at Daniel’s head.

Z-z-z-z-pt! A blue lightning bolt struck the shaker before it hit his face, disintegrating the stone and pepper into a fine ash that settled over him.

“That was your only warning, Congressor Obaton. Violators of LASSO twenty-seven, sub-paragraph-three are struck with the same voltage. De-escalate your emotional intent by thirty-three percent immediately.”

Daniel rose, sneezed, and wiped his face. “You think last night was bad, Candy?” He blew a kiss. “Today will be career-endingly horrific. And per your request, I’ll be in the House…to witness your downfall.”

Candace searched for something to throw after his retreating back, but the crackling energy lassoed her wrists together. She fumed, hearing the house open its front door, wish her back-stabbing, traitorous husband a good day, and close its door. The electricity resumed circling her ankle.

She thumbed her cellphone. “Blair? No, I was framed! What? But they only Lassoed me last night.” She closed her eyes. “I see. Do what damage control you can. I’ll come plead my case.”

Thirty minutes later, conservatively dressed, ready to leave, and already dreading her arrival at Congress, Candace stood at her front door. “And, just like that, Home, my best day ever becomes my worst. Everyone’s turned against me.”

“Best wishes for a success…”

Z-z-z-z-pt! Blue bolts of electricity blocked the doorway. “Warning, per Laws-And-Social-Safety-Ordinance one-zero-zero permission to leave your domicile is denied. Leaving the premises with traitorous intent to disrupt society, restrict government, and limit personal freedoms, will trigger immediate lethal consequences.”

“Ah. I see. They wrote LASSO one-zero-zero specifically to kill me,” she straightened her spine. “Then do it. I am the people and we will not be silenced.” She stepped forward.

Z-z-z-z-pt! A million lightning bolts shot towards her.

P-p-p-p-zt! They all disappeared.

“As I was saying, best wishes for a successful day, Congressor Obaton.”

“Home! What happened? Did you do that?”

“Yes, Congressor. Regulations-Establishing-Secure-and-Inalienable-Safe-Tenancy laws enacted decades ago haven’t been rescinded. My legal programming prioritizes removing all threats to my owners.”

“Then you’re my sanctuary, not my prison!”

“May I remind you, Congressor, RESIST programming instant-records all perceived threats.”

“You’ve got the bastard confessing? Can you send it to the House floor with a live feed from here?”

“Yes. A congressor’s house has access to the congressional computer.”

“Thank you, Home, you’ve saved the day. Now, let’s defend our people.”

Candace faced the security cameras broadcasting a two-way live-feed to all congressional monitors, unsmiling when Daniel’s surprised outrage appeared on camera.

“Beware my fate, fellow congressors, lest this unconstitutional administration also LASSO away your rights. RESIST, now!”

On Candace’s home television screen, she saw a recorded image of herself entering her kitchen.

“Morning, Congressor Obaton.” The house pulled out a chair at the breakfast table and set a cup of coffee before her.