A rancid, acidic stew is coursing through our nation’s veins, sickening the heart and gut of the country that once offered the world promise and served as an imperfect, but hopeful, model for humanity. Today, that ugly slurry—a foul mixture of hatred, lies, hunger for power, and naked greed—pours from open wounds, spilling onto an international stage whose audience looks on in stunned horror, as if witnessing a once-loving parent swallow poison and attempt to slash, with jagged pieces of her own broken bones, the womb from which her grateful children emerged. The body politic, infested with rabid, disease-ridden vermin, struggles to rid itself of a cancer so invasive that death beckons. Rainbows and unicorns are powerless against this beast that resides in the recesses of our collective brain. The only cure is a cleansing transfusion of new conviction and steadfast insistence on nurturing the wounded cells that gave birth to the nation so they will divide and multiply, filling the empty veins with resolve.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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