This is Not Literature By Jack Schimmelman

This is not art. This is not literature. Nor is it meticulously written, meant to please, driven to impress. I couldnt care less. This is my rant! I am tired of listening to those who describe themselves as socalled progressive bellyache about President Obama and his lack of balls. Of course, those who screech the loudest couldnt carry President Obamas water, but thats neither here nor there. Let them try being a commander in chief with tremendous limitations on their domestic power, especially in times of great economic catastrophe. And the ones who scream the loudest dont realize how much they have been helped by the man who supposedly personally disappointed them and the self-titled base. In my own household, some go go on and on and on about how Obama has no courage and how he has sold us out. Yet, they have benefitted these last two years by this weak man whose manhood they constantly challenge. My partner does not realize that I was able to contribute financially to our lives because of the deal Obama made when he let the tax rates go another two years and, in turn, was able to extend unemployment benefits. Her son doesnt realize while he grandstands on empty shells, his food bill had been partially paid until now by this same President in whom he has lost confidence. And I love both my partner and her adult son. My partner has been a great support in my own life as I have tried to return the gesture as best I could. Her son is a kind and powerful young man earnestly searching for the truth. Nevertheless those who continue to denigrate the one man who stands between most of the country and the dark ages do not seem to get it. It is one thing to disagree with someone who fundamentally is fighting in your favor, but to become the mirror image of the ideologues on the other side is inexcusable after the age of 30. After 40 perhaps one should be sent to a reeducation camp. But thats just me. Mindlessness is mindlessness no matter how much you dress it with your own ego. Now my unemployment ends. I join the ranks of the 99ers. I face a future of being laughed at by young pishas working in employment agencies because for them I am too old and useless. This despite my outstanding experience and skill set well documented in the marketplace. I confront the young shiny faces here on Long Island that believe their manicured nails and toenails are the highlight of their day, who upon one gander of this geezer (moi) they say, We have nothing for you. Go home. Mine is a common experience.

This is not literature. This is not art. This is anger and frustration not being channeled into the so-called tea party, a grass roots movement solely based in the billions of the Koch Brothers and the machinations of Karl Rove. I dream about the other side of this nightmare. I am sure my 18 year old daughter will vote for President Obama and so will 99.9% of her friends. It will be their first presidential election. I am convinced that the President has learned the full extent of that phrase, commander in chief, when faced with an opposition that would rather let the country and the world sink in the depravity of another depression, lest they disappoint the tea party and Brothers Koch. So, my dear friends, partner and son I never had, the book remains open. I suggest we finish reading it.