…as in Holy, or What a Loada, or Don’t Gimme No…

We are up to our eyeballs in it in every aspect of our daily lives.  The simplest things are full of it and any attempt to reduce or, god forbid, eliminate it is met with bucket loads…no, truckloads…no, shit loads of more of it.  It makes life nearly impossible to navigate, and it is the direct result of highly, highly, highly paid lobbyists and their advertising cohorts clearing both a metaphoric and a literal path for big banks, big pharma and the military-industrial complex to become wildly bigger and crazily more complex.

I never shy away from crawling out onto any limb, no matter how radical the thesis that nudges me to that precarious perch, but I have always balked at emitting the final gasp declaration that, “we are hopelessly and irreversibly fucked!” Then, just this week, Trumpapalooza, Moscow Mitch, Despicable Lindsey, Unintelligent Ratcliffe?, the replay of the Eric Garner/Daniel Pantaleo video, the unimaginable meltdown of Greenland’s surface ice and the circular Democratic-candidate firing squad has convinced me that we are one last crap-straw from being hopelessly and irreversibly fucked.  Crap!