Return to frivolities

Return to frivolities

I’ll return to frivolities, but first, just a notice. I’m not pro-abortion. I’m not anti-abortion. I’m male: I don’t have a say in what a woman does, not on any moral, ethical, or rational sense.

I have no rights, implied, or otherwise, over what happens. The recent ruling is just absurd. Regrettably, that’s what I’ve always thought about the battle. Logic clearly dictates that my gender has no rights to mandate women’s health decisions. Moral, ethical, rational, or even religious.

It’s absurd. I made my decision — it’s not my decision — but I support choice, and that includes, keeping laws, and “scripture” off female body parts.

Seriously, it is absurd.

As an American, as a native Texan, the policy incongruous. The political theatre is beyond despicable.

It’s absurd.

Return to frivolities

At the beginning of the earnest portion of this career path, I wrote about the changing of the guard, so to speak, as the big planets shifted, and the backwards march through the millennia shifted, introducing the more rational Age of Aquarius, and what I recall pointing out?

The predominant religion, symbol is a fish? The perverted and maligned dogma was going to be replaced, but the “religious right,” which is neither right nor religious, was not going to go away without a fight.

Return to frivolities

President Biden opined that his religion, and he is a believer, was opposed to abortion. That noted, he also believed that it was fundamental right for a woman to choose. That makes him a great president because he understands, and acts on a transparent belief system.

Separation of church and state.

Return to frivolities

I owe the masterful author Stephen King an apology. I thought he scripted the last few years, as horrifying as it’s been. Clearly, this is terror on a whole different level.

Time’s Plague

From King Lear?

’Tis the time’s plague, when madmen lead the blind.

    Gloucester in Shakespeare’s

The Tragedy of King Lear (IV.i.46)

About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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