TOP POST, A DAILY REMINDER OF PRIORITIES

A top post on any blog during this turbulent month, and the one before, and probably the one after, ought to be about this.

Or this.

BoomerPDX top post, top priority, is here to see. Look to the sidebar.

Today’s topper inspired this post; more like a comment on the the top post. Something good happens when a relative of a person I write about reaches out.

Do you know how hard it is to get anyone to do anything? A good blogger doesn’t ask for comments, beg for members to join. No, they buy them. Is that a joke, you ask?

With my inspiration fresh, and my priorities in order, I will open this platform up for suggestions, topic ideas, current thought.

Top Post Topic Exceptions, Or What I Won’t Write About

What I won’t write about: A first person witness account of standing at the fence in front of the Portland federal building where the federal troops mingle before the clubbing and shooting commences.

And here’s why:

Captain Portland, a Navy ring knocker, had the impression that he could have a quiet word with the fellas, talk about the oath of service we all share after our military days.

He got whacked up and down, collecting a broken wrist.

An ex-Army medic like me took a non-lethal round in the left chest that looks awful and must feel worse. Heart shot.

A local writer with a broken foot went in on a wheelchair; a federal trooper decided to shoot her in the good foot. I’ve got a feeling he didn’t complete the training unit on “How To Quell An Angry Mob.”

A local professor got shot in the face. Even the Portland Mayor was gassed.

Am I taking my big head full of white hair target atop a six foot three frame down to the Wall of Dads, Wall of Vets, Wall of Medics? I’ve got a sense one of our dedicated serve and protect federal troopers would enjoy taking a poke as much as I would. And that’s a problem for both of us.

I’m not looking for a fight, but like a pack of nice dogs gone bad, once events go off the tracks everything gets chewed on.

What I Will Write About

I’ve got two consistent readers in Switzerland. Hey, anything you’d like to spotlight?

Tigard is a joy to see. It’s a smart town with smart readers. Hey Tigard, let me know what you’d like to see here.

Portland has been steady, if fast. How many sixty five year olds feel like they can’t make the jaunt to stand witness for their city? Tell me why, I told you. Too ill? Too feeble? Too detached? The first two are acceptable, the last one is living-in-a-bubble life.

The Portland protest over Black Lives Matter won’t stop until someone with more political skills than anyone has shown so far has the power and vision to create a better future.

I will write about a future determined by engaged and determined millennials and the generations on either side of them. Pardon my salty, but these are the fuckers who need to vote unless they want to see the same old white men crapping on their future.

They need a future with the possibility of clean water and clean air, not a future of cleaning up the sludge and shit poured out by relaxing pollution standards. Dear Youths, would you like to see your country led by people who have you in mind instead of old dogs who don’t care about the mess they’re making because they’ve read their actuarial tables?

Choose candidates to vote for who don’t throw your future in the ditch, under the bus, or in your grandma’s garage. Voters who vote for the future need to bone up on the sort of future they envision.

Paint that picture, then put yourself in it. How’s it feel?