Sunday, November 10, 2024

The Waiting Room


“This is how elected autocrats subvert democracy—packing and “weaponizing” the courts and other neutral agencies, buying 
off the media and the private sector (or bullying them into silence), and rewriting the rules of politics to tilt the playing field against opponents. The tragic paradox of the electoral route to authoritarianism is that democracy’s assassins use the very institutions of democracy—gradually, subtly, and even legally—to kill it.”
― Steven Levitsky, How Democracies Die

***

So it feels like we’re all gathered in an emergency room following a terrible accident and we’re awaiting word on the fate of the victim, who was badly injured and may not survive.

They call him Uncle Sam.

He’s semi-conscious but the internal bleeding may not be able to be stopped. The options for doctors to intervene and save him are limited. We all are aware that a priest is hovering nearby.

Our uncle was elderly, it’s true, but we thought he was in good health and that he would live forever. After all, he survived a brutal assault four years ago in January that left him bruised and battered but more or less intact. Now that his death appears to be imminent, we realize several things:

  • For too long, we took him for granted.

  • We grew accustomed to criticizing him for his imperfections, never thinking we might so easily lose him.

  • We never told him enough that we loved him.

But as a reporter I must insist that there is one detail wrong in this story. What happened to Uncle Sam was not an accident.

Once he passes on, it will be classified as a murder.

HEADLINES:

LYRICS:

“Murder on Music Row” by George Strait

Nobody saw him running from sixteenth avenue.
They never found the fingerprint or the weapon that was used.
But someone killed country music, cut out its heart and soul.
They got away with murder down on music row.

The almighty dollar and the lust for worldwide fame
Slowly killed tradition and for that someone should hang 
(oh, you tell them Alan).
They all say not guilty, but the evidence will show
That murder was committed down on music row.

For the steel guitars no longer cry and fiddles barely play,
But drums and rock 'n roll guitars are mixed up in your face.
Old Hank wouldn't have a chance on today's radio
Since they committed murder down on music row.

They thought no one would miss it, once it was dead and gone
They said no one would buy them old drinking and cheating songs (I'll still buy'em)
Well there ain't no justice in it and the hard facts are cold
Murder's been committed down on music row.

Oh, the steel guitars no longer cry and you can't hear fiddles play
With drums and rock 'n roll guitars mixed right up in your face
Why, the Hag, he wouldn't have a chance on today's radio
Since they committed murder down on music row
Why, they even tell the Possum to pack up and go back home

There's been an awful murder down on music row. 

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