Once you move past the political socio-connotations. The History of it.
All that you can unravel and bat around, like a cat made happy with a tin-foil ball
It comes down to this:
45 Years of mutinous-me. Victim. Oppressor. All-in-One.
And I am the battleground.
Today, this particular Tuesday, it is looping on my eternal I-pod.
And it is enough to make a girl pick up some grease paint; to smear a stripe and to go grab a stick.