A Bone to Pick, Part 1

Before I could settle on this thought, I heard horns pierce through the hum of the crowds.  It was a sound I imagined the apocalyptic angels made in the book of Revelations. Maybe the world was ending after all.

It was a weekend that a friend of mine was stopping by for a visit to Washington DC.   We had made rough plans of making rounds through a couple of Smithsonian Museums.  As we were traipsing about the capital, we found ourselves swarmed by the seemingly omnipresent crowd of people in front of the White House.  Some were tourists and some were a collective throng of fraternity brothers of Tau Kappa Epsilon with matching blue shirts that were running a marathon for Ronald Reagan.  But there were many people around representing for a cause. There were signs urging for gun safety and the recognition of the Palestinian injustice regarding Israel.  There were bright stickered informational stands for causes that I rarely thought about from my day to day.  And then there was this man (as seen to the right). DSC05901His signs read: “After Russia took over Crimea.  Trump made too many pro-Russian statements.  This made Russia and Assad complacent so Assad used chemical weapons a 2nd time.”  It caught my attention because I too wanted to believe that someone knew whether or not Trump and Putin teamed up and rigged the national election.  I wanted to talk with someone who thought they knew that the US was in direct collusion with Russia.  As I approached he began spouting off historical factoids like the 1991 Eastern Block involving Poland, Hungary, and Romania.  He cited the year 1945 as the year when Russia, with the aid of Assad, tried to take over the world.  I asked him how often he does his sort of thing. He said he tries to come out once a week. His name is Steven Delaney and I have reason to believe that there may have some clout to what he was ritually sharing with the world.  His father and one of his siblings happened to work for the US Department of Defense.  Or perhaps conspiracy naturally grows in spaces of this sort.

Before I could settle on this thought, I heard horns pierce through the hum of the crowds.  It was a sound I imagined the apocalyptic angels made in the book of Revelations. Maybe the world was ending after all.

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