To the Editor, This is an old story. Woody Guthrie had a sign on his guitar declaring “This Machine Kills Fascists.” After WW2, someone asked him, Woody, why do you still have that sign on your guitar? We defeated the fascists. Woody’s reply (I’m paraphrasing): as long as our government’s loyalty is to corporations instead of the people, the battle isn’t over. Well, our government doesn’t even bother to pretend anymore. Peoples’ needs and the resources to address them are now considered a waste of money. We serve corporations. Period. They’ll tell you what you do and don’t need, and you’ll like it. Or else. Meanwhile, King Citrus is lining his pockets, burnishing his ego with monuments and starting wars to avoid facing consequences for his crimes (remember Epstein, tax crimes, etc.?) Need affordable housing, healthcare, food and fuel? Declare your loyalty and we might throw you a bone. Now we have the classic soulless comic book super-villain, Don of Orange, keeping his Republican toadies in line. He is comical, of course but also the source of deep and endless suffering. As much as the entertainment corporations would have you believe it, there is no Captain America, Batman, Superman or any other White Man that’s going to come and save our sorry butts. Throughout history, it’s always regular working people who do actual work, pay taxes, and send their children off to die in corporate wars who become fed up enough to rise against these monstrosities. If we can’t find the critical intelligence, moral fortitude, and selfless courage to vote these parasites out of office in November and beyond then we don’t deserve Democracy. We just don’t have the fortitude to sustain a system that is of, by, and for the people. Our children’s future jobs will require they become mindless automatons training the new generation of AI robot fascists. My parents and those of their generation of Americans fought Hitler and Mussolini. For what? A draft-dodging, bloated orange marshmallow who’s hell-bent on destroying the world---for a profit. Even Woody couldn’t have imagined this.
B. Johnson