Source: worstriter pic of someone’s sidewalk art; pic is inverted to avoid shadows

Few and far between are these visits to my beloved & missed #Americant. When was the last time I was here prior to May 9th, 2021? Well, there was a short kinda emergency visit in November 2019. What a mess that was. Before that there was a short visit in March of the same year. Not so much of a mess but a mess all the same. And so goes the pattern, dear worst-reader. I usually try and come twice a year, sometimes three. Of course, the reason for the visits are to checkup on my ageing mother. Indeed. The prodigal son having a look at how Mom is getting on. Either that or I travel here or there to put out the fires, bandage the various wounds, beg my mothers church for forgiveness that I’ve left her alone in a rural #Americant beach town that is three months out of a year a hell traffic zone full of drunkards or whining brats and the other nine months (off season) it is a find your way around the bottle $hithole. Then again, there is also the chore to maintaining my citizenship, don’t you know. A citizenship that is waning, I should worst-say. How long have I been an expat? Thirty-five years or so? Again. Indeed.

But then, there are the other issues that I must address each time I travel to the LAND OF FREEDOM TO BE STUPID. For example, this time I renewed my driver’s license. Wait. Hold a sec. I didn’t have to renew my license. But the state issued these new-fangled licenses back in 2017-18 that is supposed to meet federal standards for I.D. cards which is also supposed to make it easier to travel if/when you do so without a passport. Although I wanted to do this in the spring of 2020, covid nipped that in the bud. And so. With this visit I went ahead and paid the twenty bucks to get it done–even though my license expires in 2023 and I’ll have to renew it again then. Also, and get this, after so many years of blowing it off, dear worst-reader, I went ahead and filed my friggin taxes. When was the last time I did that? Of course, since I don’t earn anything (for I am worst-writer, don’t you know), there’s no need for me to file taxes. Ever seen a 1040 tax form with nothing but zeros on it? Then again, with all the so-called stimulus money floating around, I thought, what the hell, why not see if I can get some of that. It’s still not clear if I’m gonna get the stimulus payment but I’ll be sure to let you know if I do. And then there’s the last reason for visiting my beloved & missed #Americant. That’s right. To be reminded of who I am, where I’m from, taste the water that bread me, eat a few blue crabs, admire the Atlantic form this side–say my final goodbye? Of course. There’s also the issue of having a look at what’s happened to my beloved & missed #Americant post president pee-pee-hair. Which begs the question: Does all this soothe my lost soul that is also losing touch with my… beloved… and missed…?

Btw, dear worst-reader, President Biden is only up the road from me today at his Rehoboth Beach house. Now wouldn’t that be cool to run into him on a bike ride and give him all-hell about how I’m just another #Americant on the verge of giving up my citizenship due to his lifelong politic? But I die-gress.

And there you have it, dear worst-reader. I’m here (in #Americant) to check on things. To clean things up. To organise an old shelf. To wipe the table. To cook a meal (for my ageing mother). Etc., etc. But then, also, there’s something else. There’s that thing that one cannot avoid while here. There is this place that is starting to look more and more like a foreign place. Even the crumbs on the table that I’m trying to wipe away that are magically replaced by the local ants, seems foreign to me now. Like something I no longer know. It’s as though I’m returning to that dream of America that I used to have–oh so long ago. It’s that dream where I got a chance to make sweet love to Farrah Fawcett. Oh! What a dream that was. And so. What has become of the America that gave me that dream? Oh yeah. Republicans happened to it. Greed happened to it. (Not that greed hasn’t always been there, don’t you know. But the greed post Reagan has grown a few more tentacles. Or?)

With that in worst-mind, let’s have a look at #Americant today and the things that perturb me like nothing else. Like words. Like the media. Like #Americants. And so. How ’bout the word: patriot. For it is a word flung around here and there as much as I fling around my Farrah Fawcett goo. But that’s not the only word. What about the word hero? Holly-molly, dear worst-reader. If I hear that word one more time, usually echoed when someone does something so banal that the it requires embarrassment banality–everyone cannot be a friggin hero. And so. Shall we (not) talk about diluting, deflecting, avoiding reality? This country is awash in it. And why? How? The media? Is it all the tv channels? The robocalls? Bumper sticker intellectualism? Faux-newz? All the above? Just call someone or something a patriot or a hero and then complain about the foreigners, Democrats and liberals, wearing masks. Should I even get on about the economy? You know that nebulous thing that happens to have a word associated with it and, of course, fits on a bumper sticker? Indeed. And so. Is it a wonder that I came up yesterday with a new word for my beloved & missed #Americant?

Scamerica, baby.

The whole country is but a scam. Which also means: who’s the best scammer? With that in mind…

There you have it. And now I should stop. Nuff worst-said.

Rant on.