8 years of suffering under Barack Obama

There is more I can add, and as the article indicated there are plenty of things you could critique about any human in leadership, but to say we suffered is a load of crap. Here’s just a little bit of evidence:

Teri Carter's Library

andersonlogo

3C54DC7D00000578-4140672-Barack_Obama_waves_as_he_boards_Marine_One_and_departs_the_Capit-a-77_1484945371469 Photo credit: The Associated Press

The sentence I hear most from well-meaning, conservative friends since President Trump’s election is this: “We suffered 8 years under Barack Obama.”

Fair enough. Let’s take a look.

The day Obama took office, the Dow closed at 7,949 points. Eight years later, the Dow had almost tripled.

General Motors and Chrysler were on the brink of bankruptcy, with Ford not far behind, and their failure, along with their supply chains, would have meant the loss of millions of jobs. Obama pushed through a controversial, $8o billion bailout to save the car industry. The U.S. car industry survived, started making money again, and the entire $80 billion was paid back, with interest.

While we remain vulnerable to lone-wolf attacks, no foreign terrorist organization has successfully executed a mass attack here since 9/11.

Obama ordered the raid that killed Osama Bin Laden.

He drew down the number…

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A Saturday Song

Ah, this important reminder. My youngest and I were talking this morning about our own various issues that relate to sort of thing, and then I went and listened to the song he posted. Great choice, young man. Proud of you.

The Monkey Prodigy

Yes, it’s not a Tuesday Tune and as of the time I’m writing this it is not Saturday yet. But I figured I’d post something anyway. I usually try to post feel good song on the blog. So let me know how you feel. Hopefully it’s good.

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Poetry: “Air Canada” by Kirstin Ethridge

This poem helped my Monday for so many reasons:

Heavy Feather Review

We could fly to Thunder Bay on a plane,
kissing our palms and pressing them
to the cold metal exterior before boarding,
listening to the scarf-wearing flight attendant
rattle off safety instructions in English and en Français.

We used to joke, but now it’s true:
fuck America, I’ll take my chances with the cold.
Thunder Bay might be as backwards as home, but it’s
racist without Rebel flags,
its transphobia tucked under family ties.
Squint and we’re safe.

We’ll arrive in the snow,
salt from the runway stinging our skin
as we slip on black ice to the rental car.
It’s dark, but Grandma’s house is bright,
squatting on Mary Street across from the indigenous school.
When we wake up, my wife’s childhood mountain looms.
We’ll look at photos of snowbanks
taller than her toddler head.

The Trans-Canada Highway curves
between Fort William and Port Arthur.
Our tires glide along…

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Saturday Song Blossoms, Again

Twin Peaks

Twin Peaks (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I have taken some time for some much-needed rest this weekend. So many things I want to write about and so much poetry feels palpable in the air around me, in my head, a tingle in my fingertips. I need to sit down and get back to work, but it feels nice just letting the energy sweep around me a bit first.

Lots of updates I should do for you; a recent poetry festival I attended; upcoming chapbook publication and readings; more Word Fountain goodness, but all I have for you tonight is some more music. Brian and I have been loving the new Twin Peaks episodes, and I’ve already shared with you one of my new favorite bands because of it. Check out that post if you missed it.

But tonight I thought I’d share a couple other songs from them that just take me back, with their old/new sound to some of the Eddy Arnold-type music I used to play when I listened to my mom’s old records. The second two videos are evocative of those sounds and emotions for me, yet with richer harmonies, it seems. This first one is their new studio recorded video for the song they played at the end of the new Twin Peaks, episode 3. It’s definitely David Lynch inspired, with Laura Palmer water motifs, or so it seems to me.

More on the updates over the next couple of days. Meanwhile, enjoy. As the younger brother, Jack says, “Blossoms is a verb. The Cactus Blossoms, and so can you.”

Brian Fanelli, Spring•Summer 2017

Follow the link below to treat yourself to poet Brian Fanelli’s reading from issue #13.

Word Fountain

Long Nights with B
Brian Fanelli

B liked to raise his fists,
sneer at me with booze breath,
College boy, what you got on me, huh?

B liked to call next morning,
not to apologize, but to plan the night,
promise to buy first rounds.

B liked to forget how he tangled with friends,

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