Saul Alinsky, kerfluffles for old radicals

I just read a poorly-written article from the Washington Post desperately attempting to disentangle Hillary Clinton from Saul Alinsky and Lucifer.

While I personally doubt she will ever be able to divorce herself from Satan, there seems to be little reason for Mrs. Clinton to distance herself from Alinsky.  He was a bit of a badass, sloppy theology notwithstanding.

Jesus (the original anti-Lucifer) told a parable about two brothers who had opposite responses to their father’s request that they both go work in the fields.

One said sure then did nothing; the other said naw then went to work.

Mr. Alinsky seemed to have been the second guy.  He went to the poorest, least powerful communities in this country during a time when the people in those communities were genuinely oppressed and disenfranchised and gave them power and a voice.

When asked why he focused on African American “ghettos” he spoke of pervasive  oppression of African Americans through lynchings, the Klan, and systematic disenfranchisement. 

He chose to go to the people who had the least reason to refuse any offer of hope.

Saul Alinsky was a do-gooder.  He refused labels, especially political labels.

He was wrong about metaphysical hell–there are few have-nots there.  But right about the hells on earth that men engender through systemic avarice and racism.

I don’t know Alinsky well.  In fact after Carson and the bedraggled WP article I plan on getting to know him better.

But I leave you with a fact and a suggestion–

Alinsky once suggested a fart-in at a concert to combat social injustice.

And I bet you a pork-pie hat that Alinsky’s version of the Fox TV show Lucifer would actually be worth watching.

Is it?

Imagine.
You have resuscitated the carrier pigeon.

you bred raptors?

Why yes.
Actually I did.
they live far from me now
One is a runner.
Not like track.
Tracks. Lines…
In the spring snow…

The other?
An enigma.
I wish I had a machine…
Like Enigma.
I could put it all down–
My coded message to you
About the hurt and confusion
Injustice was a U-boat
Sinking good men
He says,

life is sweet right now

And I wonder,
What is the unbreakable
Code
I could write you this and know
It will be clear.
It will all be
Made clear
In the end.

insomnia

The house is quiet. I can hear the wind outside but inside it is warm, almost safe. My house would feel safer if the world was safer. If police officers were brave. If money were no object; instead: justice.
I can see Him look at me when I begin to whine internally.
His expression is wry when He has every right to be fierce
you know this belongs to Me, He says
I know.
I know it is His because of the pain
the plunge into darkness
swallowing the abyss whole
He returns to us
if this were a poem
instead of survival
i would call it
“unfair”