Of Unicorns and Politics

On a sunny summer day a Democrat and a Republican are sitting on a blanket having a picnic. A bird passes overhead, and as birds sometimes do, drops a spot of white feces that lands on the blanket between them. Both move to wipe it away. The stain left behind has a vaguely equine profile.

"Would you look at that," announces the Democrat. "It's raining unicorns!"

The Republican studies the stain for a moment and replies, "looks like bird shit to me."

"Oh, no! It's definitely a unicorn. See, here's the nose and head, here are the ears, here's the mane, and here's the horn. It's definitely raining unicorns."

"Are you crazy?" The Republican insists. "It's a perfectly clear sunny sky, not a cloud to be seen anywhere. How could it possibly be raining, let alone raining unicorns. It's just bird shit."

"Perception is reality!" The Democrat jabs viciously at the stain. "I perceive a unicorn. It fell from the sky. Therefore, it is raining unicorns and you have no right to disagree. What are you, some kind of fascist? What have you got against unicorns?"

"It's bird shit," the Republican says, standing to leave. "Ordinary bird shit. Now you've ruined our peaceful picnic by insisting something impossible is real."

"I have a First Amendment right to say anything I like! You're nothing but a shallow, close-minded, unimaginative bigot. It's a unicorn. Therefore, it is raining unicorns and you cannot prove me wrong."

Shaking his head in disgust, the Republican walks away, leaving the Democrat in complete control of the picnic blanket and remaining food.

"What a lovely day for a picnic!" The Democrat declares loudly to the empty meadow. "And it's even raining unicorns. A perfect picnic!"

Real America

Copied from a copy of a copy. I do not know who wrote it.
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Let this sink in for a minute.....Hundreds and hundreds of small boats pulled by countless pickups and SUVs from across the South are headed for Houston. Almost all of them driven by men. They're using their own property, sacrificing their own time, spending their own money, and risking their own lives for one reason: to help total strangers in desperate need.

Most of them are by themselves. Most are dressed like the redneck duck hunters and bass fisherman they are. Many are veterans. Most are wearing well-used gimme-hats, t-shirts, and jeans; and there's a preponderance of camo. Most are probably gun owners, and most probably voted for Trump.

These are the people the Left loves to hate, the ones Maddow mocks. The ones Maher and Olbermann just *know* they're so much better than.

These are The Quiet Ones. They don't wear masks and tear down statues. They don't, as a rule, march and demonstrate. And most have probably never been in a Whole Foods.

But they'll spend the next several days wading in cold, dirty water; dodging gators and water moccasins and fire ants; eating whatever meager rations are available; and sleeping wherever they can in dirty, damp clothes. Their reward is the tears and the hugs and the smiles from the terrified people they help. They'll deliver one boatload, and then go back for more.

When disaster strikes, it's what men do. Real men. Heroic men. American men. And then they'll knock back a few shots, or a few beers with like-minded men they've never met before, and talk about fish, or ten-point bucks, or the benefits of hollow-point ammo, or their F-150.

And the next time they hear someone talk about "the patriarchy", or "male privilege", they'll snort, turn off the TV and go to bed.

In the meantime, they'll likely be up again before dawn. To do it again. Until the helpless are rescued. And the work's done.

They're unlikely to be reimbursed. There won't be medals. They won't care. They're heroes. And it's what they do.