See how many allusions you can figure out. When I talk about a grown man who enjoys acting like the playground bully and, in the words of numerous conservative writers, has single-handedly destroyed the office of the President, you'll probably guess who that is. There's also allusions to the weather and political intrigue in the nation's capital. Mostly, it reflects the madness of the times, and the insanity in some folks that such madness can create.
Feel free to leave comments. And, if you notice any typos, please pass that information along to me.
Zuckerberg's own minions tell me that my account will be deactivated soon after the Labor Day weekend. Labor? That reminds me...The first time I went with Anne to see the OB-GYN, he asked her when the contractions started. I said, "With the invention of the apostrophe!"
Yeah, don't mess with an English major!
And away we go...
OKsolike...
(In case you're wondering)
I'm still teaching out at the juvenile prison. After three years, I finally have another certified teacher working in the "Intensive Treatment Program" with me. We're still housed in the lockup unit, just down the hill from the main school. Another certified teacher? That's good news. The bad news is she's a math teacher, so I don't get to teach math anymore. And while every day I enjoy working with these young men, being at a juvenile prison serves as a constant reminder about the lousy, horrible, pathetic way was as a nation treat those who are marginalized, for whatever reason. Ask yourself: if you were abandoned by your parents at the age of seven, if you were allowed to run the streets at the age of nine, if your mom asked the probation officer if the system could keep you until you were forty, if your father were murdered in a drive-by shooting...how would that make you feel? What would be the priorities in your life? What obligation would you feel toward those around you?
I'm not going back to edit this and shape it up nicely. It's kind of a rant. Rants should be harsh-sounding. Perhaps in a Slavic language. Or with lots of aluminum foil...
***
One day, I would like to be able to assist an egret by opening a door or window so that it might escape. That way, in telling the story to others, I can use the word "egret" and the word "egress" in the same sentence.
What next? Glad you asked!
Timbales and tamales.
And then, the most obvious:
Oak and breathtaking views.
A cube has six sides; a rube, only one.
A Rubik's Cube has nine square panels on each side.
I am starting with the yellow side (in honor of the color yellow).
Consider this post "Panel #1, Yellow". Or, "If Jackson Pollock typed instead of painted".
(I borrowed most of this from an old episode of "Ironside". Or possibly from my neighbor.
Parentheses closed.
Or m(or)e.
***
Long before we Baby Boomers got stoned on pot, we got stoned on TV. A gateway drug that seemed perfectly safe and perfectly legal...
"Good evening, officer!"
"Hey, kid--what you got sitting there on that backseat beside you?"
"Twelve inch black and white, officer. My mom said I could take it over to Jimmy's house tonight."
"OK, but you kids be careful. I hear Anita Bryant's got a new commercial for orange juice that can be pretty powerful!"
"Tropicana Orange, outta Miami, right?"
"So, you've already heard. You are some hip kids."
In the midst of the current opiod crisis, I think it prudent on my part to point out another unrecognized narcotic: consumerism. It's not a gateway drug like television. (Have you ever had to talk someone down after eight hours of binge watching?) But it is a gateway. To Perdition. But what a beautiful, glorious hell hole it is! And well-lit, too...
***
My tombstone: "I guess you didn't get my text".
***
SUCRETS.
Need I say more?
As a young child, I imagined Hell to be the place where, as soon as you finished one SUCRETS, another was popped into your mouth. Even when my mom started buying the cherry-flavored ones, I still had the urge to run to the bathroom, shove the dog to one side, and drink straight from the toilet. And, what was that original flavor? DDT?
I remember our folks talking about castor oil in much the same vein--as something solely intended to make you think twice about telling an adult that you were sick. Life was easier for our kids, though. If they complained, we'd just make them watch Barney, the Purple Dinosaur. (Their therapists assure us that the damage done is not as massive as they made it out to be.) And kids today? Don't get me started!
***
Facebook is asking me to "Add Bio".
But my schedule is already full, and I'm only doing electives from this point on!
Hippie doctor, making the rounds, checking up on all the squares. Magic rhombus in his pocket. At least, that's what Lady Bird told LBJ happened in her dream.
But my schedule is already full, and I'm only doing electives from this point on!
Hippie doctor, making the rounds, checking up on all the squares. Magic rhombus in his pocket. At least, that's what Lady Bird told LBJ happened in her dream.
***
What have I learned over the last couple of years? (Not from personal experience but perosnal observation.) Two things: the only thing worse than being poor in America is looking poor. And, being poor is getting more and more expensive every year.
***
Hand crank ice cream churn. Hand crank pencil sharpener. Hand crank Google. Put on any record album. Turn the hand crank backwards and you will hear Anita Bryant propose to Pat Boone. In the days before he was drafted by the Pittsburgh Steelers. Or was it the Village People?
***
Sugar cone or waffle cone? Uncertain. What is certain is that there is no school tomorrow. One highly paid weather talker said that when the hurricane makes landfall, it will disperse energy the same way that a figure skater...disperses energy. The meaning of that statement clearly belongs in the cone of uncertainty.
***
After half a century of mass culture's decline into decadence and depravity, why is it a surprise that when we scrape the bottom of the barrel, we find out that he lives in outrageous luxury? Knows nothing about the religion he claims to embrace? Know nothing about the Constitution he has sworn to uphold?
To justify and rationalize indolence, selfishness and indifference, Americans have had to make willful ignorance a new kind of intelligent. (Willful ignorance, of course, is a polite way of saying "Stupid".)
Orwell was worried that the State would strip away all freedoms if people weren't vigilant. Aldous Huxley, on the other hand, predicted that people would gladly give away their freedoms for any and all pleasures that anesthetized or distracted.
Will Stormy Daniels seek to garner the support of evangelical Christians should she choose to run for office in the years to come? Wouldn't surprise me.
Kyrie eleison.
***
Pulled Garry Wills' book about religion and politics in America, "Under God", off the shelf and opened it to the bookmarked page. The chapter is titled, "With Ladies Present", and Wills begins the chapter by trashing the grand dame of moral outrage, Robert Bork. I'd forgotten just how much fun (and how enlightening it is) to read Garry Wills.
***
Kmart sent me an email inviting me to "turn it up"! How did they know that Anne and I were just talking about the possibility of getting hearing aids?
KMART!!!
I'm a marked man...
***
If Snoop Dogg can help a very nice looking young African-American man win $50,000 on his game show, Joker's Wild, why can't a buffoon bully sit in the Oval Office? Would we be at all surprised to see the clown from "It" strolling on the set, singing "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" while buttoning his cardigan?
Up is the new down and
Happiness is a warm gun and I have
nothing more to say.
But that's never stopped me before...
***
A new kind of Stupid. I know it's not that new, but they seem to be upping the ante with each storm. The body language--intentional or not--says it all: WTF am I doing out here? What is there that I couldn't be telling you from a cozy shelter?
And what's next? Will celebrity weatherman Al Roker be dropped into the eye of a hurricane from a plane flying overhead? Would there then be a televised benefit concert to raise money for his grief stricken family? A new reality TV show called, "Let's Find Al"?
***
On a whim, I wandered over to the beer aisle and turned over a twelve pack of Coors Light. Sure enough, it still had the FDA warning label: NON-POTABLE BEVERAGE. And yet? And yet? Where is the outrage?
***
Seriously thinking of changing my name to "Anonymous" so that whenever the names of donors are listed, everyone will know who the most generous one is. Humble, too. But "Humble" doesn't really work as a last name, does it?
***
It's almost here!
The much anticipated "Trophy Trophy Show"! Finally! An award show that acknowledges and honors all the other awards shows!
"Trophies"--as they will be called--will be handed out in 37 different categories, including "Best Host: Male", "Best Host: Female", and "Best Host: Other". And, in an unprecedented move, "The Trophy Trophy Show" itself will have entries submitted in all 37 categories in anticipation of having an incredible first show! Recently leaked rumors reveal that the hosts of the inaugural show will consist of eighteen characters named "Sheldon", ranging in age from a nine month old baby (that babbles and drools) to a 92 year old man (who also babbles and drools). Another leaked rumor (that was quickly quashed) suggested that the original name for the trophy was going to be "Cofveve", but the executive producers thought that such a name would suggest that the trophy was pointless and/or meaningless.
***
Who knew that there were schools for cathedral statuary? I stuck my head in the door of the first grade class. Absolutely adorable, those cute little garboys and gargoyles!
***
In the process of becoming a published haiku writer (which is, amazingly, ranked Number 23 on the list of the world's most dangerous occupations), I've learned lots of do's and don't's.
Do: focus only on Nature.
Don't: give your poem a title.
This one (509), from last summer, breaks both of these rules.
"American History: A Hit List"
Divine right of kings
killed by democracy. Next?
White man's divine right
The Great Bloviater pointed out that many women support his nominee for the Supreme Court in this "he said/she said" drama that is unfolding before us. This should come as no surprise. For an enormous segment of the non-male population, the default mode is still unquestioning deference to males, particularly white males. What I find even more shocking is the number of non-white males who still think that "white guys" should be given the final say on any and all pressing issues, something I witness firsthand almost every day.
When the dust finally settles (which is a lovely euphemism for the calm after a massive conflagration), the greatest beneficiary of the end of white privilege and male dominance will, I believe, be the white male himself--a true irony if ever there was one!
No more twisted mental gymnastics needed to make our own corrupted worldview sound like a healing balm for the masses, like calling slaughter "salvation" or domination "liberation". No more delusional belief that, "if I think it or do it, it must bear the irrevocable stamp of approval from my Creator because, hey, we think alike." (Pretty cool coincidence, huh?) In other words, the kind of mental health, serenity, and lucidity that can, indeed, be a healing balm for all people.
***
IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN I WASN'T SURPRISED!!!
***
What if Atticus Finch interrogated Lance Armstrong when allegations about doping first surfaced? What if Atticus Finch specialized in "He said/She said" law? I'm guessing that "He said" would still win out.
Why do white men keep blowing it for white men?
***
Acrimony is the medium of exchange before divorce. Alimony, of course, is for afterwards.
***
When politicians of a certain proclivity talk about traditional values, they speak as if these values are universal and timeless. That family unit, for example. When the traditional family is paraded in front of us--on TV or in the movies--it is almost the nuclear family, parents and children. You know, the Cleavers and Huxtables and all the other family units. Well, except one family, which clearly was not formed as a result of World War Two suburbanization, but was the true traditional family--the extended family.
Of course, I'm talking about the Clampetts: father, son, cousin,
and Granny. They were so much more aligned with what the family unit has been for centuries. And, like millions of pioneers before them, they headed west, looking for the Eden that lay just east of the Pacific Ocean. So...
Would it be so far fetched to call Jed Clampett of "The Beverly Hillbillies" the "20th Century Father Abraham of America"?
Clampetts vs. Cleavers--"Family Feud"
Jed's not the only one scratchin' his head here, and you better believe Granny's cookin' up something!
***
I wonder: are police officers in South Carolina told to holster their weapons if someone shouts out, "Don't shoot! He's white!"
Lest we forget, Officer Michael Slager shot Walter Scott in the back seven times, killing him, because Slager said he "felt threatened". Scott was running away from Slager at the time. It took a FEDERAL JURY to convict Slager because a state jury was deadlocked.
Let me repeat that: a jury of folks from South Carolina in a state courthouse could not convict a white police officer who murdered a black man in cold blood.
(Written in response to a white man who shot seven police officers, but was "taken into custody", a euphemism for the color of his skin.)
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