Both of ’em.

Imprison former President Donald Trump and President Joe Biden’s son Hunter in a nice minimum security federal penitentiary complete with armed guards who hate government.

God bless the Second Amendment.

Trump?

Five to ten years for committing 34 federal felonies a jury easily recognized as major crimes. A legal nuisance suit settlement? Illegal hush money to a porn actress? Doesn’t matter. A jury decided Republican Trump was guilty.

Lock ’em up!

Hunter?

Two years for three federal felonies. On second thought, give Democrat Hunter three years because a jury convicted him of fraudulently buying a gun that turned up missing until cops located the weapon. Somebody could have been killed.

Lock ’em up!

Who says I’m not fair? I’m even a left-wing Socialist militant activist journalist who’s supposed to be more liberal than redneck, frothing-at-the-mouth law and order militia members who wanted to hang Mike Pence.

Lock ’em up!

Both of them.

Come to think of it, lock up Mike Pence, too. The guy did serve as Trump’s vice president. That alone should be a crime against human nature.

America needs evidence no man or woman is above the law. Most good citizens no longer believe government propaganda that claims justice is blind. Pure disinformation oozes from every pore in every deceitful politician’s body. Special interest cash clogs the system worse than any stuffed up White House bathroom, strip club men’s room where Hunter snorted coke or gold Mar-a-Lago commode where Trump sat and read classified documents he took home with him when he finished his term of office.

To save taxpayer money Trump and Hunter can share a cell. Bunk buddies constitute a classic definition of political bipartisanship. Trump gets the bottom simply because of his age. Hunter probably has enough cocaine residue left in his system to enable him to spring to the top bunk with a simple hop, skip and jump.

Don’t get me wrong.

I take no solace in American dysfunction that dooms future generations to living in a dystopian republic populated by oblivious citizen zombies who don’t think deeply or challenge a political system that disrespects them at every turn of the screw. Screwed but happy is the cult mantra for gullible Democrats and Republicans alike.

And I’m happy if Hunter’s off the crack pipe.

I say “if” because all I have is his word for his “recovery.” I worked too long 40 years ago as a state prison drug and alcohol counselor to take a junkie’s word at face value about anything.

Once a dope fiend always a dope fiend.

Hunter won’t be better in a year or two or three or 30. What matters is what Hunter does to control his addiction for the entire duration of the whole rest of his life. And I’m not convinced Hunter Biden has done nearly enough to even begin to prove redemption.

Maybe he never will.

Hunter Biden needs a heavy dose of steel bars to help set him straight rather than another etched invite to another White House state dinner where he is a regular VIP guest. Same goes for Trump, a serial liar who might behave better on the crack pipe. The man has his own problems. A walking talking personality disorder even without drugs, Trump is long overdue for an orange jumpsuit to match the blow-dried mop that covers his head.

Prison will provide a good excuse for Melania to file for divorce. Whatever she gets is better than what she has.

As for Scranton Joe — sell the Stingray.

Alleged “artist” Hunter wants to get his paint-smeared hands on that Corvette if, before or after he goes to jail. Dear old dad can use the proceeds to buy one of those snazzy, souped-up mechanized wheelchairs to tool around town when he finally accepts he’s not up to the job of president.

If he moves back home retirement will even offer discounted senior citizen’s tickets at the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre RailRiders baseball games. The old boy can reminisce about when he played Little League in the snooty lace curtain Irish Greed Ridge section of town.

I mean Green Ridge.

Play ball!

I mean, lock ’em up!

Joe can even invite his old Black buddy Corn Pop to stop by the house to smoke a medical marijuana joint. On second thought, scratch that idea. Getting high with Corn Pop can get you locked up or committed here in Pennsylvania hard coal country.

Scranton once beckoned as a blessed and powerful haven for the so-called pro-life movement.

In Irish Catholic hard coal country “pro-life” is a deceptive euphemism for cruel anti-abortion zealotry. My Hill Section neighbor and U.S. Sen. Bob Casey once helped lead that fanatical charge against abortion rights for women.

Nobody was more dangerous to women’s rights than Casey.

Now he calls himself an ally, a women’s reproductive rights champion campaigning widely for re-election on an abortion rights platform. He and his supporters conveniently ignore Casey’s own unhinged fight for decades to do everything in his power to help overturn America’s once sacred constitutional right to an abortion.

I pressured Casey’s office staff for years before a press aide long ago confirmed Casey’s hope for the U.S. Supreme Court to reverse Roe v. Wade. Casey finally got his wish when maniac justices did just that in 2022. Women have already died as a result of that decision. More will likely die during Casey’s re-election campaign.

Now Casey bemoans the deadly decision to which he helped give birth.

“This Supreme Court, a right wing Supreme Court, tore away a 49-year right for women,” Casey said during a campaign event in Philadelphia on Jan. 26.

Casey desperately wants to be re-elected. To win, Casey needs women who support abortion rights to vote for him. Thinking women should beware of this human Trojan horse’s ass. Bob Casey is not what he looks like. No friend to women, Casey poses a threat to any person who expects human rights to be part of the American Way.

Like President Joe Biden, practicing Catholic Casey supports sexist church elders who demonize women if they dare disagree that abortion is a murderous mortal sin and should be illegal. These men all deserve our scorn, not our support. A woman’s voice never matters to a dangerous, bigoted patriarchy.

Blame Casey and Biden for women dying in Gaza as well.

Casey proudly lines up with Israeli savagery as one of America’s leading “pro-death” senators in the continuing genocide against the Palestinian people — a cold-blooded enabler of death to Gazan children and others who perish in the continuing Israeli slaughter by American made bombs, some manufactured in the General Dynamics ammunition plant in Casey’s Scranton hometown.

This weak and timid pretender whom protestors call “Butcher Bobby” wholeheartedly supports the American bankrolled Israeli carnage. Israeli special interests are so thankful for Casey’s honorary Zionism they have paid him for his trouble. On May 20 the Democratic Majority for Israel political action committee (DMFI PAC) announced on X, formerly known as Twitter, how proud the group is to endorse Casey “for reelection in the battleground state of Pennsylvania.”

“He’s a proud pro-Israel Democrat and a devoted public servant who is deeply committed to improving the lives of PA’s communities and families” the announcement said.

“DMFI PAC does not announce its future spending plans, but has a record of notable investments in support of its endorsees,” POLITICO recently reported. “In 2022, the group spent more than $7 million on independent expenditures, primarily in House races.”

Expect much more pro-Israel money for Casey’s campaign as long as he continues to do Israel’s bidding. Pro-Israeli manipulators are flush with cash to buy American politicians as long as our servile elected representatives keep following orders to feed the Israeli killing machine.

In a tight election Casey is not assured to win, third-party candidate Leila Hazou offers a far better alternative to the 64-year-old warmonger. Hazou, a Palestinian woman, says “she can no longer sit idly by and witness her country openly support the ongoing oppression funded by U.S. taxpayers.”

Campaigning with integrity, Hazou also remains consistent in her support and fight for abortion rights. Hazou stands for choice — including the choice to vote for a strong progressive woman who refuses to accept and vote for chauvinist hustler Casey who, instead of abusing women with anti-abortion hatred, now uses women for his own egotistical white male benefit.

Never trust a hypocrite.

In a June 2022 statement Casey said the Supreme Court overturning Roe V. Wade “upends almost a half century of legal precedent and rips away a constitutional right that generations of women have known their entire lives. This dangerous ruling won’t end abortions in this country, but it will put women’s lives at risk. And make no mistake—this is not the end goal, it’s just the beginning. Republicans in Congress want to pass federal legislation to completely ban abortion. Our daughters and granddaughters should not grow up with fewer rights than their mothers.”

Never forget Casey opposed abortion rights for years. So did other powerful Democrats. Biden once opposed abortion and believed Roe V. Wade was wrongly decided. President Barack Obama refused to lead Democratic majorities in both the House of Representatives and the Senate to strengthen abortion rights and make choice the law of the land.

Now Casey wants to “allow” women to control their own bodies, even using female members of his own family to stand as future beacons of feminist liberty.

Gazan women need not apply. Gazan women lose their human rights when they die in a Casey-sanctioned Israeli bombing raid. Dead Gazan children can’t even grow up to vote for democracy. White-hot red, white and blue hypocrisy is only one cruel reason Pennsylvania voters should not want Casey re-elected.

When you cast a vote for credibility in November, remember this: Casey has none.

SOONER THAN LATER

goodbye for now

mighty refuge in the sea

Ixchel

left her mark

on my soul

a cosmic jaguar claw

drawing a line

in pure white sand

we vow to protect the island of women

Maya culture

our precious planet

helping Ixchel when we can

spreading moonlight

celestial power

ancient magic spells

even among fools who refuse to see

the world’s struggle

we will join Ixchel

sooner than later

for a mezcal margarita

on the beach

in Isla Mujeres

our sweet sanctuary of peace and love

BECKONING

conch shells

whisper

secret maya sounds

from cliffs

beside temple ruins

sharing moon goddess

Ixchel’s power

in the Yucatán earth

beyond our mysterious origin

so deep within vast sapphire sky

all the way to the Mexican moon

and back

one day we’ll return to this southern finger

of Isla Mujeres

beckoning

wise spirits of the dead

who fuel the living

to depend on our planet

to continue

BELOW THE SURF

choppy waves slapping

blue surging chaos

scares people

unaware how

disturbance

teaches

serenity

put your face below the surf

dunk your head

open your eyes

see and feel clarity

underwater tranquility

as far as soft seas stretch

enter beneath the surface

dive

deeply

into unconscious composure

rest easy amid the storm

find peace and harmony in rough water

giving life as a gift

to those grateful for the chance

WHEN THE JAGUAR ARRIVES

kneeling at the edge of the world

the woman offers a gift

to the jaguar

one day the black and gold beast will visit Isla Mujeres

to stalk the “cliff of the dawn” high above a rippling cobalt sea

when the jaguar arrives

the woman wants her to feel at home

to know safety in our endangered world

so she raises her palms to the heavens

offering shelter on behalf of Ixchel

on a sacred stone tray that holds the future

a warrior sentry in a multi-colored feathered headdress

stands behind her

holding a precious platter

filled with sustenance for the majestic cat

in Punta Sur

where the bold Mexican sun rises fresh each morning

to warm human hearts with wonder

the jaguar knows

do you?

JUST SIT

brown wooden Buddha sits in the Lotus Beach Hotel lobby

gray black ink Buddha sits on my left upper arm

revealing clear tattooed commitment to calm

cut into bleeding skin when I began aikido practice many years ago

brown wooden Buddha wrestles with nothing

I’m still learning to breath

pure stillness

in the newborn island morning

when the way of peace and harmony

extends good ki energy  

amid madness

restraint breeds tranquility

so sit

just sit

be the brown Buddha

be the white light of love

WALKING WITH IXCHEL

walking a windy path to the edge

Ixchel closes her eyes

to see if she might stumble

undeterred by darkness our moon goddess never falters

never misses a step

balances on tip-toes to the jagged rim before falling from raw cliffs into a fruity cocktail-colored sea

unlike staggering rum-soaked conquistadors walking the plank

claiming her temple island for spain

Ixchel was here first

who did these self-proclaimed conquerors think they were

stinking lice-ridden fools

macho madmen

Ixchel bathes in fragrant moonbeams

marvels at freshly squeezed orange sunrise

sprinkles rich sea salt on delicious dreams

warm lunar love lights her way home

to shelter

in bounteous Isla Mujeres existence

forever rich on land, sea and air

atoms to atoms

dust to dust

beyond the beyond

forever

walking with Ixchel

down our serpentine spiritual path

TEACHERS

dusk in an empty room

shadows the past, present and future

in Isla

who once watched the sea I see through these very windows?

mysterious strangers visiting our Lotus refuge

feeling the Maya drum beat

in the cool air

seekers savoring comfort

relishing the scene

without fear

who are these laughing spirits now sitting across a wooden table

on a rice mat

on a polished marble floor

on cushioned wooden chairs

two women sharing a bottle of Blood Red Syrah wine

Ixchel

La Santa Muerte

our teachers regaling Stephanie and me with ancient legends

cast on the coming moonlight

floating on silver water

so we better understand, see and feel

mind-bending magic on this island of women

I hear the train a comin’ rolling ’round the bend

And I ain’t seen trouble like this since I don’t know when.

Get ready, Scranton, Wilkes-Barre, Hazleton and God knows how many dirty little coal patch towns in between. The Trump train’s a coming to a re-election rally near you.

Beer guzzling Johnny Cash fanatics, four-wheelers driving drunk the wrong way down the interstate, SWAT team cops, ex-cops, state cops, local yokel cops, constables, county sheriffs, Secret Service agents past and present, military veterans representing all branches of the service, active duty Marines, soldiers and a bedraggled assortment of mostly redneck American laborers, bartenders, unemployed roofers and other discriminated against white men are prepared to tie you libs to the track and roll over you like a runaway Steamtown locomotive.

To take back America, that’s why! To make America great again! To shoot before they see the whites of your eyes.

Hold your fire, men.

Did I say shoot?

That’s right, son.

These new American revolutionaries ain’t playing.

Even hot-wired on Wild Turkey and two-step dancing in new work boots these boys get teary-eyed expressing their love of God, guns and guts, willing to pay any price to save all three. Barbecue, beer and freedom go together better than any Tinkerbell trio of drag show performers at the human relations commission annual summer picnic.

The New Breed (which sounds like a fitting name for the armed citizen revolutionary guards Trump will assemble from sea to shining sea if he wins a glorious return to the White House) will pick up their machine guns, grenades, semi-automatic rifles, flame throwers, handguns, and deer hunting bows and arrows, take to their used SUVs and pickups to patrol the streets of our nation in one big paramilitary vendetta coming for societal spies, turncoats and informers.

The New Breed don’t need no more corrupt judges like that commie in that Manhattan courtroom. The New Breed will create new order in the court. No Ma’am, the jobs and the courtrooms and military and even the Justice Department now belong to Trump.

Trump! Trump! Trump!

Now we got rare, beef-fed, red-blooded All-American boys and girls leading armed and dangerous local militia battalions ready to round up any and all alphabet soup LGBTQRSTUVWXYZ gays, Black power militants and immigrants with skin darker than the suntan you get on your arm (heavily tattooed with a Marine bulldog, a Confederate flag and a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon) from driving truck with your elbow resting on the window and your white t-shirt sleeve rolled to the shoulder.

That Lee Greenwood song “Proud to be an American” is already the new unofficial national anthem. Georgia peach congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Green is already the new First Lady because, unlike Melania, Marjorie stood by her man.

’Merica!

Love it or leave it!

Forget about Joe Biden’s prissy little Amtrak choo choo train scheduled to head from Scranton to New York so them sissies U.S. Sen. Bob Casey and Congressman Matt Cartwright can Christmas shop and see the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall.

Lock ‘em up!

Lock ‘em up!

But what if Trump’s locked up?

Don’t think for one stinking second you need patriotic special operations combat vets to free their leader from solitary confinement. Real Americans don’t need a Green Beret, SEAL team or DELTA death squad to blow the prison walls. Enough corrections officers who love Trump no doubt exist inside to sneak Trump out in a laundry truck and drive him directly to the Oval Office with a massive police, military and militia escort and throngs of supporters lining the soon-to-be crime free streets waving Trump flags along the route. This presidential procession will be better than any welcome home parade Vietnam vets didn’t get until it was too late.

But Trump was a draft dodger, wasn’t he?

Don’t you dare even think such subversive blasphemy.

Mr. President Trump was working undercover in a secret CIA classified mission so the North Vietnamese VC would think he was one of them so he could get close enough to Jane Fonda to hit on her Hollywood bones and singlehandedly capture the queen of the feminists by grabbing her by any damn body part he wanted. On his first day back in office Trump will sign a warrant for Fonda’s arrest even though she’s 86.

Lock her up!

Lock her up!

Hillary, too!

LOCKHERUPLOCKHERUP!!!!

WOOOOOOOOO!

WOOOOOOOOO!

You hear that?

The Trump train’s picking up speed!

It’s coming for that scrappy kid from Scranton!

Corn Pop can’t save you now, Joe Biden.

ALLLL ABOARD!!!!!!