My 2024 Ukraine Test

Everyone seems to have their own issues and doubts about Joe Biden: everything from worries about his age and health, to frustrations that he isn’t progressive enough, and so on. But say what you will about his flaws–one of the main reasons I will be voting for him in 2024, and helping with his campaign effort, is his steadfast support of Ukraine.

I wish there were other candidates I could trust to stand with Ukraine and its self-defense against the Russian invasion, but I can’t. Some of the Republicans running have voiced strong support for Ukraine, but they are likely not the top contenders and don’t stand a chance. Meanwhile, Trump is well-known for his weird affection for Putin. When I listened to a recent Trump rally speech, he gloated that with him in power, the Ukraine situation would be over immediately…and then proceeded to talk glowingly about how he and Vladimir Putin had a great friendship when he was in office. So yeah. The situation would be over quickly, perhaps, just not in a good way. And DeSantis sounds like he is firmly in the QAnon Caucus camp when it comes to this issue, and would try to cut funding for Ukraine.

Likewise, I don’t trust any of the Democratic (although are they really?) and third-party contenders challenging Biden. RFK Jr is full-on conspiracy theory when it comes to this…and, well, everything else. He has gone so far as to regurgitate Putin’s “Russia was provoked into this!” propaganda. Marianne Williamson wants to focus on and invest in peace-building, which is admirable, but not always realistic in the world we live in, and definitely not realistic for this situation. I have to admit I haven’t delved into Dr. Cornel West’s candidacy like I should, and I do have a lot of respect for him, but apparently one of the things he has criticized Biden for is his militarism, so that leads me to suspect we would not see eye to eye on this one.

Now, I will say that the reason why this is one of my top issues in the election is because I’m Eastern European, and most of my family lives in a nation right next to Ukraine. The more power and territory Russia gains in that part of the world, the worse and more dangerous it will become for people in Poland, including the people I know and love over there. And I can certainly understand why for many American voters, this will not be a top issue. Although I would argue that in the end, Ukraine winning this fight is in America’s national interest. Russia having more influence and leverage in Europe will affect the power balance in the world in a negative way. America has played the isolationism card before, and it has come back to bite us–we ended up having to get involved in the conflict anyway, which by then had gotten far larger, more deadly and more expensive.

So this is what I will be looking at when I plan to vote in 2024. Do I wish I had more choices, more candidates to pick from who were strongly pro-Ukraine? Yes, I do, but elections and the choices we get are usually imperfect. I give credit to Joe for handling a dangerous and delicate international situation well, and unless something truly drastic happens, he will have my vote in 2024.

 

Mexico Didn’t Pay For It

One fine day, I decided that I, too, would build a wall. It would be the most beautiful wall, the best wall. It would keep all the scary stuff out. I would put the wall in my front yard. I didn’t like how my driveway was open to everyone. Way too many random drivers were using it as a turnaround spot. And more and more people were moving into my neighborhood. God only knows who all was coming in these days.

My fantasy was to make the wall out of gold and pink marble, like one of President Trump’s bathrooms. Unfortunately, I wasn’t rich–in fact, I could barely afford my retirement. So I would work with what I had. I started stacking old cans and beer bottles up to form the foundation of my wall. A few of my neighbors gave me strange looks, but they just didn’t understand what going after the American dream is all about.

My next door neighbor came over to chat with me. She was one of those do-gooders who have to stick their nose into everything. She said she loved my art project about recycling. Annoying old witch. Soon, I would no longer have to see her. Once my wall was tall enough, I would no longer have to see anyone. I wouldn’t have to see the kids running down the sidewalk, screaming “Hi!” at me. If I made it soundproof, I wouldn’t have to hear the crazy dog across the street barking its head off. Or the cars driving by with their rap music turned up way too loud.

Over the next couple months, I kept building away. I brought whatever junk I could find to my construction site, and taped and glued it together. But it still wasn’t enough to make a truly intimidating barrier. I even tapped into the emergency food and water supplies I was saving for the inevitable war against the government, so that I could add the emptied packaging to my wall. I took the old newspapers piling up in the guest bedroom and ground them up, using the paste to plug holes in my structure. I hesitated for a moment when it came to my books–but, really, it was a no brainer. Defending my property was far more important than reading.

I stood back and surveyed my work with pride. It was beautiful. But something was missing. Something big.

How could I have not thought of it earlier? All the idiots on TV hated the President. Watching it was a waste of time.

It was just as I was pondering how exactly I would make the television a part of my masterpiece that the mailman drove up.

“Hello!” he called out with a smile. I could barely see him from behind several feet of wall material.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

“It’s…a new security system.” I tapped my fingers nervously on a rusting can. “Gotta be careful. All kinds of people out there. I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but I’m working on building more layers.”

“Oh. How are you going to pick up your mail?”

Good question. I hadn’t thought that through. It seemed that his voice was tinged with a little sadness. We always used to talk whenever I was out in my yard. He was a real friendly guy. But we were living in the end times, and I couldn’t let myself worry about that.

“I’ll leave a crack for you to slip the mail into,” I ventured.

Once I had nailed the TV down, hacking the rest of my furniture to bits was the next logical step. I didn’t have any sentimental feelings as I methodically destroyed my home. The dining table–I never had any guests over for dinner. The chest with my childhood toys. The shelves, the chairs, the bed. I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor. It was best for me not to sleep too comfortably anyway.

My wall–my baby–kept growing. It was now far taller and thicker than I had ever envisioned, blocking out the neighboring houses and the late sunset skies. I even managed to make some DIY barbed wire to decorate the top.

One evening, as I sat in my gutted house sipping a glass of water which had been carefully filtered through my sock, I heard sirens approaching. I paused and listened. Yep, they had come to a stop in front of my place.

I went out to greet them. I liked cops, for the most part. It wasn’t their fault that they worked for a corrupt government. Of course, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t take a weapon out there with me.

I heard the cop’s voice coming through the makeshift mail slot.

“Good evening! We’re here because someone gave us a call about a structure which violates building and safety codes…”

That stupid woman again.

“You know how it is–we had to check it out. That’s quite a fence you got yourself there.”

“Did what I had to do. This neighborhood isn’t what it used to be. You understand what I mean, officer.”

“Hahahaha…sure do, but don’t say that too loud, or some of your neighbors will get even more offended. You armed?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. We need armed citizens like you. You keep an eye on things. Or an ear, I guess.” He chuckled. “Excuse me…there’s some punk in a hoodie walking around here. Gonna go take care of that.”

“Thank you for your service, officer.”

The sirens sped off again.

Even though the police had been so reasonable, the incident made me even more paranoid. All my suspicions were confirmed–I couldn’t trust my neighbors. They were out to get me.

Well, fuck them. I was a maker. Unlike them, I did not spend pathetic evenings staring at one screen or another. They might think I was ridiculous, and everything about me might get wiped away, but my wall would remain. A tribute to my ingenuity and hard work. A tribute to America.

*****

From the Gentry Village Times website, dated August 20, 2018:

Fire sadly claimed a fatality today, reminding us of the dangers of our unusually dry weather. The Gentry Fire Department responded to a call about a blaze consuming a local home, and found the body of a Mr. Alexander Jones at the site. The way his charred corpse was positioned indicated that he died while making a futile attempt to climb a giant wall of trash stacked up around his house. It is unclear why the wall was there, but neighbors say Mr. Jones was a hoarder and in need of a mental health intervention. Numerous complaints had been lodged with the community homeowner’s association.

One anonymous neighbor was quoted as saying: “Somebody should’ve probably told him that he was acting completely bleeping insane. Before the wall got out of control.”

“But we never expected the fire.”