Virtuous Self-Interest Over Alleviation

Maybe you'll be our leader one day.-- a former consumer over 70 years old I've characterized as The Gladhandler

I should not have written this post, let alone drawn attention to it, the avalanche tumbling on my head, and it shall at some point be revised or deleted, while I have plenty of time to agonize over access to vulnerable actors who may also be classified as cancer survivors, since I have to by necessity reconstruct the piece for which I need it. This falls under nothing anyone can do, even with the best sympathy available, though I will never know that if this is also the case when I contacted Phillips' office about the issue of Oxford Magazine she and I appear in together, never having so much as received the courtesy of a response. Apparently it is far too burdensome for pristine liberalism such as hers to reach down beyond those matriculated students on whom her income depends. A marginalized quadriplegic with disillusioned admiration and aspiration isn't a passing grade for her progressive finesse. I did not want her issue (if she had it). I just wanted a copy of my "Custer" poem, complex and fine as it is. Did she have to respond? No, but what would the harm had been if a TA had searched and made me a copy, simply to help? I'm a product of that academic system as much as she, and can't see that my posts were an issue, ambivalent or not, my voice hearkens her currency. Conservatives may not be beating down the gate to relocate me the fuck out of here on humanitarian grounds, but imagine they would have made me a copy of my misplaced work, had the situation been commensurate. There are nearly as many causes as there are people, to echo Krauthammer: no one has time for them all, inclusive of my subtextual bent to embed policy issues threaded in a bruised narcissism, though immigration is a league outside of this ballpark, all those starving and malnourished Houthi taking a lesson from the Nigerians who've preyed on Roman pity for years, never mind the Italy barely has the ability to salvage its ruins from earthquakes, at least since season  8 of Don Matteo, where whores of village back alleys get the justice of our spaghetti western priest. Catholic mercy never fails, having found a docking grappler for the besieged under the shadow of Boko Harem at a port in Spain, thus a libertarian moment of hosanna. On the abstract level, the dowager has to support the libertarian outcry for freedom of mobility. This embodies what personal liberty is all about, but it is also equally true, as in James Woods vocal retrenchment, supporting the Trumpian border wall, that the European Union's charitable acceptance will one day break the camel's back, already eroding what once made the United States seem indomitable. Doubtlessly Spain won't do a doubletake and ask Putin to find these poor victims of their own government some space in Kaliningrad. The communists do love indigenous tokenism so, after all. After Mussolini was hung like a dog in the streets, Italians rightly slowed paying the piper on the moral debits of history.