We can blame the Egyptians from 3,000 years ago for the original birthday celebrations. They revered their leaders so much , coronations became the birth of their new king or queen as gods for the masses to idolize on bended knees.
Celebrating birthdays in the Western World did not catch on with regular folk until the Industrial Revolution era. I am not sure and I don't want to take the time to know the reason why. That was the information I found after an exhaustive five minutes digging deep in the Wide World Web. I will say though, it was so very cool to find the Selfie on the left; and the moment was so important they carved it in stone. I cannot imagine standing still that long. But I think they really captured the moment, don't you?
So why a post about birthdays? Well, it's Harry Houdini's birthday. If he had lived long enough to be breathing today, he would be 152 years old. But he's not alive and hasn't been for 100 years. So why do we celebrate his birth and not his death? I am not sure why. That is just the way it is. Some traditions you don't fuck with, you just go with the flow.
Sometimes I have trouble understanding the logic of the things humans do. Many of our time honored traditions make no sense to me; Birthdays are certainly one of them. Birthdays are just one of the many ways we show fealty to the passage of Time. This puzzles me, especially when Time slows down after I get really, really baked.
I have never held birthdays in high regard. Matter of fact, I forget them regularly, especially my own. Thankfully, I have Facebook to remind me now of the birthdays I should remember. That helps, but I still blow it.
We live, then we die. It's the shit we pulled between the two that matters, not the dates.
Later ..................................
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Finding a birthday song I liked was not as tough as I expected. Please enjoy Blue Harlem's fine blues tune, "Blues Birthday". Some excellent piano riffs and a great female voice. Classic blues, the way it should be.
God had just returned to Heaven from his golfing sabbatical at "Holy Celestial Links", located at the outer edge of the Milky Way. He had been planning the trip for several epochs. He was sure everything at home would be covered. After all, he had left his only son, Jesus H Christ, in charge with his very capable lieutenant, St. Peter to keep JC on a straight track for the century God would be gone.
It was going to be a quick million rounds with Beezlebub, that satanic, experienced and talented dispatcher of top notch tom foolery of the hedonistic persuasion. God would hold his good frenemy close and under a watchful eye. What could go wrong in a century?
God's golf game had been terrible. Up until this trip, he had been a scratch golfer. Now he was leaning hard on a 7 stroke handicap just to stay competitive with "Bub", who still put a serious ass whoopin on the Big Guy. God only won a few hunded thousand rounds.
Things got pretty testy back at the Mulligan Bar in the clubhouse when the loser had to ante up for drinks. It didn't help that the losers on each day also had to sport a temporary tattoo of the letter L on their foreheads and leave it in place until they won again. Additionally, at the end of their series, that L had to be burned into the forehead of the overall loser.
God took the branding like a man and didn't flinch when that red hot brand touched his forehead. Bub stood nearby, but at a safe nearby with a self satisfied grin on his face. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He had taken Big Guy down a notch. There was some serious celebrations coming and even more tomfoolery that would rub in hard, this win over God.
God stopped looking in mirrors for weeks at a time. He did not enjoy being shown to be fallible, even here in Heaven among his friends and colleagues. Infallibility was one of his stocks in trade. He rationalized that competitions involving silly games did not matter. Accepting his losses and not using his over the top powers to influence the outcome, only reinforced his rep of being a just and fair God. There was certain to be much Hell and Damnation though, liberally spread among his flocks around the Universe before the Heavenly Father brought his golf temper back into check. His live minions would take the heat; they always did. A flood, a drought, an exploding planet or two just might bring down the temperature in God's angry index. It usually did.
What he found when he arrived back in Heaven though really set him off. St. Peter's assistant, Ralphael the Meek, met God when he landed.
"Geez Big Guy, I had no clue JC would pull such a stupid trick...... But you know kids, they are all touchy feely and want everyone to love them....... I did not know he was gone for a few years. That's all, just a few years. It was said and done then. I never thought he could stir up the heathens so quickly, so completely ......... By the way, what's up with the new brand on your forehead. Does the "L" stand for leader or maybe lover; something along those lines. If so, maybe add a "U" in front to make sure everyone knows you are the "Ultimate Leader or even cooler, "Ultimate Lover."
Raphael, the Meek was never seen again. When St. Peter asked God where he was, God only said, "He's on assignment."
God's sad golf vacation stuck in his craw. He was in no mood for childish shenanigans. There would be Heck to pay for someone.
"Where is the little bastard? ......... I will crucify him if I get my hands on him, I will nail his sorry ass up on a cross and let him rot until he stinks. In the meantime, he can think about what he did. After all the work I put into instilling awe and fear of me into the hearts and minds of those poor slobs on Earth, he undermines it all by preaching love dove, let's hold hands and sing about peace and loving our neighbor. ........ What kind of message does that send? .... Love thy neighbor? I want them afraid and angry at their neighbors. Loving thy neighbor does nothing to support my hard line policies. ........ If Eve had not talked Adam into eating that apple, well, things might have panned out better for them. Disobey me, you're gonna pay."
God sat down on his throne hard. The boom cracked across the Universe causing stars to implode and galaxies to crumble. St. Peter groveled at his feet begging him not to turn him over to Beezlebub. They had hated each other ever since Pete tied Bub's shoes together when they went on that six month drunk out in the Magellinic Cloud. Yeah, there was no saving the friendship after that little stunt. Beezlebub still wears the scar from falling and cracking his noggin an very large and nasty asteroid that was whizzing by outside the bar.
God brooded for awhile. He tried to contact his son but his aides said JC was too busy, he was walking on water and then turning it into wine. The aides all agreed, JC had what it takes to take the reins if and when God decided to step down. Behind closed doors though, with the stereos jacked up, their back stabbing tongues wagged on about how working for the Old Man was Hell in Heaven. He is such a sourpuss they claimed, especially now with that L brand burned into his forehead.
<~>
If God does indeed exist. And if God is really an Old Testament kinda guy who knows all and is desperately interested in what I am up to, then I am screwed I guess. But with a long history of disrespectful behavior and commentary about the idea of God, I figure God has some thick skin or his shit list of enemies is so long, he has yet to get to my name on that list. My only hope now is to dodge his wrath while still alive and hope the boat used to cross the River Styx has sunk and I will find refuge on some far distant archipalego that provides comfortablee deck chairs and serves drinks with umbrellas in them.
Hopefully, this wee tale of God behind all the glamor and demon smiting made some of you crack a smile. I know I truly enjoyed writing these sin filled words.
I am nothing, if not the best Heathen I can be............. Later Gators.
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I was messin about the interwebs, lookin for a tune that might dovetail nicely with my post. I started the search after finishing the rough draft and was into the details I hate; polishing and gussseying up a post for public consumption. ........... So, there I was, stuck in my musical comfort zone, which, BTW, is rather broad and eclectic now; especially for a doddering old fart who looks like a steadfast, true blue AC/DC or Charlie Daniels fan.
I was stuck rifling through music I had already rifled through many times before. Frustrated, I stepped outside that comfort jail I had locked myself in and let my freak flag fly. I punched up covers of Depche Mode's hit, "Personal Jesus". I noticed that there were too many covers to choose from; some great ones, some good ones, and some where one review was more than enough.
I wonder what covers of hits from back in the days tells us about the original hit. The oldies that are played by the garage bands or the Homecoming Dance kings or who support the lounge lizard entertainers in bars and clubs worldwide are an expected phenomenon. Drunks want to hear what made them happy and hard back in the day. But when the big boy and big girl bands with real cred pick songs to cover, that is a sign of respect from the tribe for that tune and the people who played it first. There are timeless hits that beg to be covered and have been and still will be in the future.
So I headed into the endless jungle that comprises the musical offerings of Youtube. After some minutes of floundering, I settled on a tune onTV's, "Spain's got Talent", a spin off of "America's Got Talent". This nice looking, no make that, a knock out babe, who looks like she just stepped off her home beach near Rio De Janeiro, Brazil walked onto the stage. Her name is Indiara Sfair, and she took over the moment.
I was blown away. The judges were too. This lady might just be the finest harmonica player I have ever heard. Apparently, she is righteously famous among the harmonica playing population. Because the snippet she played for the show wasn't enough, I found her version of "Amazing Grace". It caused the hairs on my neck stand up hard. So it's a two-fer today ........... Enjoy!
An Afterword. I was puzzled what tune Idiara played on the TV show. Apparently it was an original tune, not a cover. That just raised the WOW factor for me.
It was music and a daily suggestion greeting me on my computer the other day that broke the Facebook silence I have been enjoying most of this month. A Bobby McFerrin pop hit from way back in someone's day and now lost in the current lexicon of music that sold out to the Man; well, it popped up somehow from somewhere, maybe on the TV, the radio or just came to mind.
Hmm.......
If truth be told or not, I am feeling a stream of consciousness day coming into view. Go with the flow, no matter where it came from or where it is set to go. Just latch on with a firm grip and enjoy the fucking ride; Or not; or maybe, do whatever blows my dress up. For you see, I have nothing better to do than ignore that bothersome and nagging list of honey do, honey don't duties that exist on some honey's list I never read, met nor wanted to.
It all depends on the type of day I want, a productive one or an introspective deep dive into the swamp of mindless goo that swirls in and out with the tide in my mind....... Whew!
Not making sense is harder than it looks. The hard earned lessons of the many grammar nazis in my past, make it difficult for me to write wild like I used to. I have to think about it, not just feel it; all because I now anguish over composition dos and don'ts more than seems sane.; or fun for that matter. .......
Fun. ..... What is fun? A cover all word that covers participating in anything we enjoy doing; whether it be toil ending productivily or just ending with grins. Fun is what we make of it, do to it, do with it. If it brings Joy, do it as much as possible, even if that Joy in the end, makes us sad.
Sadness can rock too. Sadness can purge the stockpile of petty concerns that haunt us everyday. Or it can make them worse. It seems we need both, sadness and joy. Well, it does appear we can't have one without a regular dose of the other. The trick I guess is to look for one and accept the other. They both helped make us what we have become. ..........
What we have become? A matter of perception I imagine. I have only my own view of what I have become, by mindless reflection of what I have done, not done, thought about getting done, thought about not getting done, and what I vowed I would never get done and to date still have yet to get done. What the "collective we" have become is what we always become; a loose consortium of good actors, bad actors; actors who help others and actors who exploit others. Something tells me no matter what system of disorganization we conjour up, those realities will always hold true. They are embedded in our cultural DNA, cast in stone by eras and ages of treating each other like shit.
Which makes me wonder, just how the Hell did we make it this far? The future seems sketchy at best given how comfortabe humanity seems living on all these precipices and lines we should never cross. And because we can't help ourselves, we always settle where the flow leaves us. Somehow we come out of the self inflicted madness smelling like roses. .............
After protracted and tortuous times being our own worst enemies, I expect we will again come out into the daylight and there will be no roses to smell. Odds seem to get shorter, the longer they are in play.
It might be a good idea to start paying attention to what we are doing to ourselves.
< ~ >
I wrote this post in one big breath; no paragraphing, no spell checking ( mine is broken anyway), no thought given to any theme of any kind. Yeah, it was a big rambling chunk of words, that once I took that breath and re-read my jibberish, I couldn't stand it. I could feel the long dead grammar nazis from my past hanging over my shoulder, breathing hot and sweaty condemnations in both ears about the Hell I would endure in Grammier Hell, as I would be tasked to diagram every sentence in the US Constitution. ...... Over n over. ( It was the History nuts who threw in the clause about the Constitution. )
I decided I had to clean it up some; tossed in some paragraphs; tossed in some minimal spell checking, and shifted around some commas and periods; came up with the catchy title, "A Seinfeld Post" and voila! I was finally done.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................
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Hang in............. I have abruptly been blocked from the stream that flowed so furiously only minutes ago. ............ Finally, I picked a tune, came up with a title collage that took almost as much time as the damn post. .......
"Child in Time" - Deep Purple - First released 1970 - AI enhanced music video - Recently released or close to it.
Today has been designated as the "International Day of Happiness". If all things were equal, this day might be on everyone's agenda, put a smile on everyone's face, and allow every dog to have their day. But things are not equal, not by a longshot.
Finding Happiness would be a logical gold standard to reach for. Sadly, for what appears to be the situation for many of the planet's inhabitants, Happiness falls way behind Survival on the daily bucket list most folks haul around with them, day in, day out.
It is nice that there are folks who want to remind us to be happy, even if our world is in the shitter. With slogans like, "It could be worse" , "Every cloud has a silver lining", or the one I hate the most, "Everything will be okay"; all of them can make whatever misery one is dealing with, that much worse.
I understand the urge to try to help someone, some group, some anyone, any critter feel some optimism in a world bereft of much to be optimistic about. Compassion and empathy are tops on my list of postive traits in anyone. But hearing anyone tell me "Everything will be okay" is lip service; empty words that have nothing to back them up with, except Hope.
The real goal is often to just make themselves feel better by telling some poor slob they percieve as being worse off to buck up, better days are ahead. I did just that myself a few days ago when I handed a homeless guy a twenty dollar bill. It made me feel good to do that. The guy's situation ran second billing to my personal gratification.
Tell one of the amost billion people on the planet living on $3.00 a day, "Everything will be okay" and see their reaction. Tell the almost 30 million people who are victims of of Human Trafficking, Cheer Up Buttecup, you could be dead instead". I am sure that would make them smile. Tell the billions of women suffering under the sliding scale of systemic Patriarhcal Brutality, "What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger". They might openly agree, but curse your soul under their breath.
It's nice when folks who don't deal with true sufferring remind us to be happy. But who are they really talking to, us or themselves?
"Don't Worry Be Happy .........................
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Contrary to my above post, I am a believer that finding Happiness should be everyone's goal. It is too bad the process is buried beneath the dire real world needs for so many folks around the planet. Here is the famous Bobby McFerrin tune, "Don't Worry, Be Happy" performed by mostly chidren from around the globe as part of the wonderful collection of music known as "Playing for Change".
It made me smile. Maybe it will pick your day up also.
A recent facebook post by PW talked about his 25 year battle with Depression. Depression has had many names over the years. I don't know it as fact, but my guess is Depression is the most common mental issue humans have to deal with.
I have had my own battle also. I wrote the following well over a decade ago.
Depression crept up behind him and slithered in unnoticed. Like sand in a hour glass, the dark grains accumulated in the bottom of his soul. After 62 years on the planet, his soul could hold no more.
He had not left his house in weeks. His wife walked around him and sadness filled their home of 35 years. No one called. No one stopped by. He was no longer part of the world that had no problem leaving him behind.
He did not feel sad. He had passed sad many floors ago. He felt guilt and shame. Guilt for what, he was not exactly sure. Shame for letting himself and everyone else down. But guilt and shame was all he had now, so he wrapped himself in the guilt and strapped it on tight with his shame. The longer he wore them, the more comfortable they felt. He felt his soul imploding, shrinking, trying to hide from itself. He did not care any more. Sure he was nearing the tipping point, he began to make plans. Complicated plans. Simple plans. And many different plans in between. He tried to plan recoveries. He tried to plan a variety of ends. But try as he might, he just couldn't get off his ass to implement a single one of them. Instead, he slow cooked in his misery and discontent, hoping some day he might find some relief.
< ~ >
Depression is one of the human conditions we humans historically have denied. To be depressed is a character flaw, something we can control if we just "man up". It has been that way for millenniums. No one really wanted to admit it existed. They had all kinds of names for it through the years. No matter what name it went by, the condition always carried with it, a stigma, an unspoken feeling by others that the depressed were somehow at fault; that all they had to do was snap out of it.
Let just say, that pit can seem so deep, "snapping out of it" was the last thing on my mind. My depression became so awful after a bad experience with some meds in the early 2000's, I attempted suicide. I don't know if it waas a call for help or me just not thinking through the actual mechanics of how to kill myself. I survived the attempt and now, well over 20 years later, I understand Depression better and how it relates to me. I have learned how to ride it out better. The path I have taken has been prescription drug free only because of my fear of pharmaceuticals after the suicide ideation I developed from taking drugs prescribed for me as a cure for Hepatitus.
A friend asked me some years back what did Depression felt like. I am sure everyone has their own notion of what it is or isn't. I told him that for me, it was non-existence with my eyes open. Nothing mattered. Nobody cared, least of all me. The out there world was a fantasy land that was maybe or maybe not just a fig-newton of my imagination.
In my mind identifying and facing Depression was the first big step. Ignoring it didn't work. Denying it certainly didn't either. Admitting to myself I was prone to it and then coming out of the Depression Closet was the best thing I ever did to fight it. It has been a much easier chore to deal with these past two decades.
Being in the middle emotionally may not be true happiness, but I figure it is probably a great place to start looking for it. Existing in the Pit or riding the Wave of Mania offers either No Hope or False Hope. That is not safe way to live.
Later Gators ..............................................
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I may have played this video before. Today, I will play it again. I play it often now days because I like to remind myself how close I was to blowing it and how stupid I was for making that attempt. The artist Ren, is an awesome songwriter and musician. In his short life so far, he has dealt with many worse issues I than I have over the 73 years I have taken up space on this planet. Here is "Hi Ren", by Ren. It's not necessary to like it, but to listen to it might create a connection.
The current political battles are not really a Right vs Left fight, but are really a Class struggle based on economic standings. The Cobert Interview with Texas State Rep. James Talarico which CBS pulled before it aired, emphasized the difference between the use of politics to protect the ownership class and keep the poor, regardless of color, in check.
Manipulating the political and religious perceptions is what it is all about. CBS is newly owned by David Ellison, a proud oligarch and Trump ally. So far, iIt's all about the money with no regard for the honest distribution of news.
James Talarico has been rattling cages and upsetting applecarts throughout the Republican heartland of Texas and the nation for awhile now. He certainly has caught Trump's eye.
James is a Bible thumping Babtist Democrat, and a fierce defender of the Separation of the Church and State clause in the Constitution. He is also anti- Christian Nationalism. I am not usually a fan of any kind of thumper, whether it be a Bible, the Quran, or Mad Magazine, but this guy is a Christian I would and will now pay more attention to.
The Hacks and Yes men lurking in the shadows, tweeking the message machinery of our social and political consciences, are not interested in politics or religion. Both are just two of their tools to maintain contriol and gain more control over the lowly have nots so that the have all's, the 1%, can continue living the lives they decided they deserved.
Why do the rich and powerful feel that they deserve being catered to, sucked up to, have everyone bow and scrape to their bidding? I think it is because they own shit; they own lots of shit; way more shit than the rest of us who own shit too. They own so much shit, they look on the various low life populations teeming around their gates, as just more shit to own and to do what they want with it. People are just another kind of asset.
Owning lots of shit and controlling millions square miles of land, the food grown on it, the people living on it, and the resources exploited from it, has always been a major linchpin of Human Culture. No matter what political system or religious sytem humanity has been trapped in, the social order has always tended to feed from the bottom up.
The owner class historically pushes the "Trickle Down" theory of goodness and wealth. If we feed the rich more, the more of us who feed the rich will have a larger pittance trickle down to us. The idea is to encourage a feeling of well being and contentment with one's station in life and not feeling like we are shoveling sand against our own tides. Simply put:
Make us richer and we will make you less poor
Propaganda packaged up in fancy words, shared with the unwashed masses through slippery lips for so many milleniums, has convinced the working class to trade their labor for a pittance returned from the deep pockets of the rich and powerful class. As long as the perception of prosperity filled the air, the arrangment has worked for the most part. But the classes closer to the bottom seldom make enough progress to break free into better situations.
The ruling class has sometimes forgotten the delicate balance that exists between feeding the blue collar losers just enough to keep them at bay and becoming tyrannical oppressors who will bleed them dry. The run up to the French Revolution comes to mind. The fall of the Roman Empire could be another. Over time, there have been countless cultures that bit the dust because those who led became way too greedy for more treasure, more land, more slaves.
There have been many new concepts created to tame the tribal existence that is Mankind. On paper, many of these concepts work wonderfully. But all of the new worlds they represent still tend to be based on twists of the original idea that;
"We's all Equal, but some of us, is more Equal than others"* *
* *George Orwell is often credited with the original quote as it appeared in his great novel "1984". However, he was playing off versions of the same sentiment that had been around hundreds of years at the least. I am using a version of it I remember from a movie I saw in the 1970s. I cannot remember the name of the film, nor can I remember the plot or other general information. I do remember the quote. A black actor used it to express some irony of Life as he witnessed an injustice transpire.
Anyway, it was nice to see a politician whose view of the current political madness dovetailed nicely with mine. I knew I had found a political kindred spirit, when Texas State Rep. James Talarico said:
".... the real fight in this country is not Left versus Right; it's Top versus Bottom."
Know the real enemy, but please,
"Keep it 'tween the ditches" ..................................
BTW - James is running for US Senator in Texas. His website.
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Here is a song from over 50 years ago. Please enjoy, "Politician", by Cream. It was originally released on their "Wheels of Fire" album. I wore this album out back in the day.
This was one of my early posts when I first created my blog. I had not read it in years; maybe not since the day I first posted it. Having re-read it now, I thought it might be worthy of a re-post with some trinkets and slight editing.
Here is "Random Scraps" from June 9th, 2006 - Including my immediate thoughts and some slight editing after the re-read.
Lunatics rule, the rest of us drool Lunatics run amok. Scattering the quiet and calm in every direction. They stand up and scream for the sake of the noise made. They attack our senses and rattle our souls. Hammering nonsense into directives and rules. They focus on the ridiculous and bend our wills to stupid endeavors. And all the while we are distracted by their manic gyrations, the real threats loom. Growing silently patiently waiting for their turn at the front.
20 years Later - Nothing seems to have changed ; at least not for the better anyway. The new lunatics have taken the reins now, promising us the same promises only in new packaging.
Okie Overdrive Dropping down out of the mountains, I shift into okie overdrive. 70,000 pounds of 18 wheeled momentum gathers steam and I grin as the speedometer creeps up to 90. I hold the wheel loosely, letting the truck find it's own way down the three lane wide super slab. The scenery picks up the pace as it zips by my window. But wait. Oh shit! Some curves ahead. Hugging the inside of the first turn, my hands tighten on the wheel as the truck begins an 18 wheel drift to the outside. A foot of space and a puny guardraill is all that pretends to protect me from a 200 hundred foot bummer of a plunge.
Just as I begin to think it is about time to revisit my past and make peace with my maker, the road curves back and I jam hard into it and ride it out. Easing on the brakes, I pass the bail outs at 80mph still barely in control. One more curve and another drift toward the abyss. Cannot brake now. Cannot engage the tranny, I hang on and hope those new radials live up to their rep. I touch the trailer brake. All I see in my mirrors is smoke and I have to let up. The road straightens some, so I try to find high gear. Grind the gears, double clutch, touch the brake, grind the ...finally the shifter hooks up. Whew!, I ease her down, shift down, and as the engine screams in pain I begin to slow down as the road flattens into the valley floor. Shaking, I pull over to the shoulder and stop. I check my britches. I also check off that stupid trick from my list of fun things to try.
No rose colored glasses here. I almost paid the highest price for being stupid on that night run from Las Vegas to Los Angeles back in 1977.
20 Years Later - Those stupid moments on I-15 driving south to Los Angeles often cross my mind. Whenever they do, I will shake my head and wonder who or what might have been looking out for me. ........... Which is why I don't discount the possibility of a higher intelligence having something to do with us and what we are doing to ourselves.
I just hate the faith based networks we set up to pay homage to that possible higher intelligence; which when I think about it, Hah! Higher Intelligence? If they exist at all, they should be called the "Lower" or "Not Much Intelligence Agency", given just how sadly Humanity is turning out. Somehow, we keep movin on in spite of ourselves.
The Blue Jay I wanted to kill that fucking Blue Jay. It pounced on that poor sparrow and began pecking it to death. I rushed to the rescue but pulled up short. My emotional knee jerk reaction turned to resignation at the brutality of the natural world. I chased the Jay away and peered down at that poor young sparrow. One wing obviously mangled and useless, it gazed at me from a bloodied eye socket. The eye now in the Jay's stomach I guessed. Nothing I could do. Let nature run its course. I turned and walked away. Looking back, I watched a crow that must have been hanging around, swoop in and take it. With a small taste of satisfaction, I grinned crookedly and thought, "Well, at least that damn Blue Jay didn't get it."
The rest of the day, the violent end of the sparrow popped into my thoughts. I was not sure why it affected me so. But the lesson of that food chain moment had made a point. A re-run of sorts on how the World really works. Life is never secure nor truly safe. Hazards exist and predators lurk.
20 Years Later - I still on occasion will remember in detail the dying sparrow with the empty eye socket; serves as a constant reminder of just how much of a crap shoot Life is.
Be Sociable and Kind........ But don't be Blind................. Later
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I should do this more often. Listen to the music before I have finished the post. Today, I walked back some years to a time that seems now an idyllic fantasy world I made up. I know we had problems, but now I wonder if those problems were just stepping stones on the ever rougher pathof stepping stones I have tred on to get to the here and now.
Perspective. Writng and specifically writing after taking trips down memory lanes are all about perspective. And what seems to affect perspective the most? The passing of time does.
So, moving on now, I should have done this more often was originally meant to be about listening to music without straining to find a tune that would fit for whatever arbitrary reason I originally had. Just listen to the music and one will strike the right key. ...... I'll know.
I punched up a mix list Youtube had created from the gajillion songs I have played in the last so many years on their platform. I stopped it when this Metallica / Megadeth & the WHO mashup tried to pass by. Here is "Eminence of Holy Wars & Creeping Death". Given the names of the bands involved, I shouldn't have to say it.......Play it as loud as you can stand and then punch it up a notch or two.
I ran into this meme on the "Opposing Views" group Facebook page this morning. As the page seems primarily made up of mediocre trolls from the Right, this meme was perfect chum to toss into the water. Many comments resulted; a boring majority of which were the standard low IQ comments most of Tump's drooling minions come up with, day in, day out.
I am including a typical conversation with one of their regulars. He's, well, if nothing else, he is dependable. He loves chum.
Steven P - "God help all children in the hands of depraved lunatics."
Michael Macrum - "Well, thank our lucky stars the children are not in your depraved hands."
Stephen P - "Anything that you consider depraved is regarded as sainted among normal folks!"
Michael Macrum - "Normal Folks" like you I presume? Normal Folks who spend all their time worrying about what people are doing in private, or your normal folks who want to legislate what women do with their bodies by forcing them to have those children they do not want or cannot deal with, thus creating a very negative environment for that mother and child right out of the womb? And what about your normal folks who, once that baby is born, they'd throw them in the ditch if they were not the right color or religion, and the only thing slowing them down now are the normal folks from my side?
Steve, your notions of normal and mine are different. The difference is that your idea of "normal" is dogmatic and feeds on fear, hate, and bigotry. My view of "normal" is flexible and willing to change as new information and trends work their way into our culture.
I would rather live in my normal world which embraces all of humanity rather than your world filled with racist and religious discrimination. The world your normal folks want offers no Hope or Joy. My normal folks tend to embrace Hope and Joy, while not usually caring how and when others find their own Hope and Joy.
I can tolerate Tight Asses like you. It appears though, the normal folks on your side won't even think about tolerating the Tight Asses on my side. In a heartbeat, many, if not most of the normal folks on your side would dictate through law or violence what and how we live our lives.
The Proof of that is staring us in the face as I write this. Trump's Thugs have murdered peaceful protesters and kidnapped children, using them as pawns for devious and evil purposes down the road. And who created this crisis? …… The normal folks on your side created this upheaval of the staus quo. I guess ya’ll can’t help yourselves…. If you can’t change it, then destroy it.
That was how I ended the conversation a short while ago. I think I made my point. Stevie boy probably will not take this conversation any further. Afterall, he is a troll and not a very good one.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................
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Found it. Found a song that for me points to the inevitably of change. We can fight it, but as the song by Gangsta Grass points out, "You Can Never Go Home Again". And yet here we are in America and at the moment we are struggling with this basic question. There are those who look back with rose colored glasses. There are those who look forward wearing the same glasses. Most of us I think straddle the line. The Past is a known experience and for many, it was not so bad. For some, the Past was a nightmare. And for most I think the Past is just the Past. Let it rest in peace.
When I found Gangsta Grass some years ago, I found my nose was slightly out of joint. How dare these clowns mix two genre's of music that have nothing in common to connect them. But I listened ... and listened.. and listened some more. At some point, it became clear to me that both genres, Blue Grass and Rap/Hip-Hop was music of the masses, music of America: the songs favored by populations who often straddle the line betwenn those who have from those who don't. That they have begun to honor each other by blending their styles is a positive thing; a Sign Humanity will always move on and usually be the better off for it. Moving On always Trumps Retreat.
Anyway, that woud be my hope while we struggle trying to find our way through the current madness.
The urge to tidy up is strong. But dormant bees need your patience more than your effort.
These common sense ideas help the natural order of a yard and its tinier inhabitants. They are the perfect excuse to skip Spring Clean Up, or at least put it off to "Manana". I have been doing it every year for well over 50 years. If your significant other is not a heartless, image is everything, nothing is more important kinda of mate, then use this ploy to justify laying on the couch, trolling your favorite political site, or just contemplating your navel. When they catch you with the remote in one hand and the other in an extra large jar of Cheetos, just say:
"Gee, dear darling spouse, I am only skipping yardwork today because of the little critters, the small tiny beasties who don't have a voice. They need lookin after too."
Then look at her/him/them with a sad puppy face gaze and maybe raise an eyebrow to emphasis how much more important the creatures we take for granted are than having a "Better Homes and Gardern" estate.
OR -You can just stop the idiotic destruction of the ecosystem that wraps around the place you call your home and find something else to do like doing nothing. ........ Initially doing nothing in the Fall or the Spring might just be the best avenue. Your immediate environment will be the benificiary as well as the larger ecosystem in the neighborhood, county, state,.... See where I'm going here?
Keep it 'tween the ditches .............................
I was sure I would have a problem hooking up the notion of a garden with the Blues. Google proved me wrong. There were more than a few choices. I picked Mack Arnold & the Plate Full of Blues performing "The Garden Song". Nothing fancy, just a basiic in your face Blues number. Enjoy.
I am sure many of us have tried to understand how the Hell we screwed up our percieved idylic existence here in the States, and were so astonished by how quickly it happened.
I became concerned when Ronald Reagan, upped the effort to help the Republicans own America over 40 years ago. We, as a nation, haven't done much to stop the blame game on either side and own up to who really is to blame. For over 250 years, we have been working our way to this critical point in time and the resulting chaos that has us by the short hairs now.
Certainly our leadership led us to this moment, either through planned action and policy change or through creating and nurturing an atmosphere of mass ambivalence. Whatever the reason, as a nation, we did this to ourselves. As a nation, we deserve what we have.
We were led by the nose with promises that our input was important, that our votes counted more than anything else. Yet, right from the beginning over 250 years ago, when the Declaration of Independence was penned, those words were empty right out of the gate. It did not get much better when The Constitution was created. Eloquent words making promises that many in leadership knew were but so much Bullshit. Those words may have meant something then and might have still have meant something now if we had paid more attention and honestly applied those words instead of the 250 yearss of lip service we paid them instead. Instead. we were seduced by snake oil salesmen with slick presentations of imaginary Evils they created for just that moment.
Our current leaders want us to be patriotic without question. They want a nation of servile Nationalists who are blindly loyal to the leaders' vision of what they want America to be. We have spawned a Leadership that doesn't just want us to believe in American Exceptionalism, they are willing to cram their policies down our throats and up our asses. Authoritarion governments do not foster voluntary love of one 's country. They only present the delusion that the citizenry loves their country, while ruling over them through fear and intimidation.
When tyrannical methods are used on the populations by fiat, or by armed force, "Love of one's country" is not often how the people respond to their current circumstances. When mandatory loyalty to the flag is too severe or lasts for too long, it will always fail. The length of time matters not, eventually tyranny fails under it's own foul weight.
Good times don't last either. More often than not, the good times are just the predecessors of bad times.Our co-existence with each other is a repeating cycle of good times, then bad times, then good times...... a cycle that has been part of humanity since I guess we first collected in tribes. The cycles may not be unavoidable.The trick is to try to make the landings as soft as possible.
Every Rise or Fall happens in a series of phases..... Bad to Good, then Good to Bad. I think America has entered a more alarming phase of Good to Bad; Our current leaders, for the most part, have damaged or destroyed many of our political alliances and allowed our economic strength to wither on the vine. The rest of the world is leaving us in the dust behind them. As the World moves forward into the future, here in America we attempt to move back to a time that only exists in our minds. We have the government in our streets using violence to support government crackdowns on fabricated emergencies that were never as bad as the government contended. Many of them never even existed until the leadership conjured them up.
I see America now at an in between stage. We are no longer on top of the World. We are well on our way to Second Tier status as a nation. My question is, will we make this decline bearable, or will we allow it to snowball while we dick around squabbling and pissing on each other's shoes?
On that cheery note, Later Gators ......................................
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John Prine has a way with song lyrics. "That' How Every Empire Falls", in so few words, explains the reasons Empires fail. Not the nuts or bolts of why, but he shows us the emotions, personal and cultural failings, that are the backbone of every fall.
When the Orange Cockwomble sees a problem, he searches for a way to make it go away. His first inclination is to do what he wants. Whether the action is right or legal does not matter. The World is his oyster and the Universe that holds that World revolves around the Donald, the bestest buffoon to ever have waddled the planet.. In a word, he is worse than a spoiled child. He certainly governs like a spoiled child.
In his effort to establish a capitol city worthy of his royal presence, I have heard he has a methodically well thought out plan to create the capitol city he envisions; ....... well, he has a bucket list anyway.
I hear part of the plan is to bit by bit, eliminate those pesky tourists by closing down the Smithsonian, the Jefferson Memorial, the Lincoln Memorial and all memorials to the Vets who fought and died in past wars. After all, he knows as all of us should know, dead soldiers are Losers, or they wouldn't be dead. Right? And so the tourists need to go; always scurrying around like insects and spoiling his view from the Oval Office.
He was going to close the Library of Congress (who needs to read anymore anyway?), but someone told him they also stored movies and videos there. Instead of closing it, he wants to tear out some of those useless books to make space for a 500 seat movie theater with surround sound and the best Popcorn machine money could buy. Nobody knows popcorn machines like the Stable Genius.
Then there is another self tribute to himself, the "Arc de Buffoon". When someone is positive they are the greatest gift to mankind like he is, there can never be enough tributes in his honor put in place where he can ogle them out of any window in his White Palace. Statues, his name on every building, and who is going to have the honor of creating the ultimate Trump candy bar? The man's focus on self aggrandizement has no limit. I think he would love to force all citizens to be forced to have branded on their foreheads, "I belong to Trump". Sadly, there is a sizable contingent of the citizenry who would fight to be first in line. I call them "Trump's Buffoonettes"; the folks who are too stupid to understand they mean nothing to him if they are not bowing before him.
Now what does Trump do about the Washington Monument? He has never been a fan. Every time he looks at it, it reminds him of the biological deficiencies he was hatched with. His plan is to demolish the top 75 feet and replace it with a 100 foot replica of a Big Mac. The architects he hired are busy designing the renovation as I write this.
In secret offices and labs underground, they are designing this awesome tribute to Mickey Dee's and at the same time, tryomg figure out who will tell the Don, the existing monument as it stands now, will not be able to support a 100 foot tall, 100 ton Big Mac burger made of bronze, copper, or gold. They know from previous carpet calls, Don does not react well to the word, "Can't".
We should be grateful King Donald is so concerned about the sad deterioration of the Capitol of the United States. Trump may not be able to completely eradicate the undesrables. You know who I mean (wink wink), the brown people, the black people, the Homersexuls, the Libtards, .... all the losers who want to replace God's chosen race, us Peckerwoods. Trumpo has vowed to fight back. He will plant his name on everything he can, informing the folks of color and different sexual identity, they are not welcome in any of HIS establishments. The card carrying haters of America may not appreciate his efforts. You can bet though, us Real 'Muricans do.
Little post note here - Before anyone points out that the burger I placed in my hamfisted collage is not a Big Mac, well, I picked this real statue of a Quarter Pounder because it is a real monument. Fuckin Americans; a very large sculpture of a Quarter Pounder? ...........Really?
If possible, remain calm and stay sane .............................
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So I broke tradition , uh, oh yeah, I already broke that tradition, which I quickly corrected by vowing to never play A-I music. Some traditions just don't last I guess. That one lasted at least a month or two.
So the tune I have today is an upfront A-I effort from the computer magic of "Mr. Newberger's AI Funnies". I respect that he is up front about the lack of any actual humans creating and performing this tune. The song is catchy though. It has a beat, some good riffs and most of all, a clear message. Also, the visuals are what I have come to expect from the A-I world.
Here is "Straight to Hell". Play it loud, or don't. Make up your own mind.
I used to watch "The Joe Pyne Show" on WTTG, Channel 5, as a kid when I lived in Bethesdaa, MD outside Washington, DC in the mid 1960s. He was a pioneer TV host who hosted extremely confrontational interviews.
He was at his best or worst maybe interviewing the stranger folks in America. He prided himself on denigrating them, berating them, and laughing at them. Perfect entertainment for an immature punk with a chip on my shoulder.
Joe's penchant for the weird and the odd allowed me to witness many strange people sit on stage with Joe. Some could not handle his nasty demeanor, but many could and would give as good as they got. Joe Never batted an eye. He could take it and never let up.
This meme crossed my FB feed thiis morning. It regarded an interview in 1966 with Frank Zappa. I had heard of Frank Zappa at that point, but had yet to buy any of his vinyl. He and his band played before the interview. His music was a revelation; outlandish and very disrespectful. I loved it.
Joe Pyne was MAGA long before MAGA had invented themselves. He was an ex GI who was shot in the leg in WWll, which later in 1955 resulted in cancer causing him to lose that leg below the knee. To his credit, I never heard him mention it.
Joe didn't flinch or show any compassion. He was a bull dog with a bone if he smelled fear. Oddly, he was often more willing to suffer a fool who made him laugh. General Hershey Bar was one such guest. I saw him several times. Gen. Hershey Bar was a street performer turned Peace Activist during the Vietnam War. Joe being a hardcore "My Country, Love it or Leave It" conservative was brutal with the General. General Hershey never faltered; never flinched. He held his own, and could put Joe in his place. Gen. Hershey helped me see the stupidity of war and aid me on my path to becoming the Libtard I am today, over 60 years later. And I have Joe Pyne, Conservative Hater Extraordinaire to thank for hooking us up.
Thank You Joe, you nasty SOB, you. Loved your show.
Keep your rubber side down and your sunny side up.......................
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Frank Zappa and his music has been a mainstay with me since I first saw him on the "Joe Pyne Show"so many years ago. I was 14 and his music fit me perfectly and still often does. I tasted many of Frank's songs today, trying to find the one that "fit". I decided "Joe's Garage" was the song. More I think because I had to hit the head and it was the last song I listened to.
As much complaining, grouching and bad mouthing our two genders waste on each other, one might get the impression that women and men often think they would be better off without the other. The only thing they tend to agree on some of the time is in bed, mutually hip slapping in order to keep the species chock full of participants. And since there are so many humans crammed onto this planet, one could also conclude, the two sexes get along much better than they like to let on.
Even with many exceptions of notable murderous and devious events, men and women have been putting up with each other forever. Their connections run deeper than procreation and survival in general.. In order to survive in the best possible way, they found grouping together was smarter than not. Each gender developed a role that contributed to the group; hunter or gatherer, fabricator or couch potato with a beer in their hand. Humans found that for every role, another role was needed to support or counter the stupidity the other role was using.
And what happened then? The two of us began to take small pleasures in each other's company. Connections not based on survival found their way into our brain's societal DNA. Eventually, many of us found contentment sharing small agreeable gestures. Tolerance evolved into acceptance; or maybe call it, resignation with a smile, a smirk, a corner or two of our lips lifted.
In my mind, a world with only one sex would be one of the many Hells I often conjure up. Whether or not women think they can roll alone, I need women in my life and really, they need men in theirs. After all, who else would they have to laugh at; themselves? That would surely be their own Hell.
And men who think their gender can exist solo. They just fool themselves. Besides the obvious biological hurdle, our gender is just not that smart. We wouldn't be around long enough to create our own Hell.
Free Will and the Ladies are what make my world go 'round. ..........................
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I had the song for this post picked out by the second paragraph. A song about tolerance mixed with love. Here is John Prine and Iris DeMent with "In Spite of Ourselves". Yeah, John was a great lyricist for sure.
My original title was "Social Media is a Jungle". After writing that title prompt, I proceeded to spend 20 minutes making lists organized as bullet points before I even began to pontificate on what is wrong in my eyes with Social Media.
Screw that. I would rather write what comes to mind in any given moment. Writing from the hip is more my style. Write until I have worn myself out or until I reach the point where the original point is not even in sight anymore. Edit until I get bored and then post. This first example of why I think Social Media is a shit show was not even on my original nicely organized bullet list.
The Internet was supposed to bring us together in the good ole days when no one had a clue of the shit show to come. The insinuation back then was "together" meant all of us, good humans and bad. Life would become an idyllic Harlequin Romance; all men and women would be better configurations of their previous selves.
Acceptance of our differences would rule, not like the old days of obstinate divisions. Evil would finally be forced to go on the run and never again poison the souls of humanity. That was the hope in the early days anyway.
Instead, the Internet became a vehicle for the smaller groups of like-minded souls to come together to form much larger mega groups while still excluding outliers who might not follow the group creed. Smaller groups still existed, only now they became satellites of the various Mother Movements. The messaging was being created by a smaller more clic-ish group of leaders who tended to push policy from the extreme edges of the group's leanings. The larger the group, the higher possibility group members woud stop thinking for themselves and turn towards a cult like existence, allowing them to be lead without question.
It is understandable to see this tendency in Political Groups, Religious Groups, Sports Groups ( Go Pats ! ); all these groups have always attracted zealots, extremists and believers in fantasy worlds that do not exist. And now that the wackos have formed larger congregations, their impact on life on this planet has never been more severe. I see it getting worse now that A-I is taking root.
There we have it, a post that was nothing like the one I meticulously spent time forming an outline with bullet points and everything.; almost like it was a class assignment in 6th grrade and it was due tomorrow.
I decided recently that once I hit 73 years odd, wasting time planning anything was well, a waste of time. Besides, why plan? My wife, BA, will only change those plans. ......Another revelation in recent years from an ongoing 44 year marriage.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................
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For some reason, choosing music for this post has been hampered by my scattered brain being a tad more scattered than usual. I am trying to multitask 3 or 4 different tasks in between my moments of being dazed and confused. I'm pretty sure I have a handle on what may have created my dazed and confused condition........ But then I am trying not spread rumors anymore.
Goolged "Music about Shit Shows". More choices than I would have thought there were popped up in milliseconds. I picked a tune by IzrailX - "Welcome to the Shit Show". The tune works hard to be Bi-partisan and it almost succeeds. Regardless, it makes some salient points in a Pop Country sort of way. Play it loud. Play it Proud.
Finally, a decent snow storm blew through Acton yesterday and last night. It was everything they promised us. There is at least 18 inches of the white magic out there; a nice blanket I get to watch thaw over the next so many days. I can't wait. I'm so excited.
I'm guessing Maggie was not so excited. She only made it a couple of feet outside when she decided the snow sucked and she was going to do her business next to the chimney. Usually she is a perimeter pooper, preferring some privacy a few feet out of sight. Desperate times, desperate measures.
I could tell from the expression on her face, she blamed me for this. I explained to her it was Trump's fault. Everything wrong today is Trump's fault. Maggie was having none of it.
Speaking of Trump; an interesting meme crossed my path yesterday on Facebook. Like so many anythings posted on Facebook, I could not and did not fact check this meme before I decided to share here on the BoZone.
The meme claims to show the results of an IQ test our president took when he was a student at the New York Military Academy. The resulting score seems to support the opinion of many Americans that he was born stupid and he only made it worse by growing into adulthood. Of course this calls into question his claim that he is a stable genius and the bestest and smartest human on the planet.
Now that I have fed a fantasy, I decided I would not respect myself later this morning if I did not check out the honesty of this well meaning crucible of misinformation.
Sadly, Poli-Fact not only called the meme bogus, they wasted many words driving that point home. Okay, Okay, get over yourselves Polifact; it's a fake fact. But I am sharing it anyway. Why am I sharing it? Well, that may seem to be a good question, but it is not. It is a stupid one. As long as I include this written disclaimer, I'll fucking share anything I want; at least on my blog anyway.
So there it is; a wonderful few moments sharing what I often do on snowy mornings here at Acton Up. The excitement never stops here in the state that champions "Life in the Slow Lane".
Don't Eat the Yellow Snow Where the Huskies Go .............................
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I was trying to come up with a catchy sign off other than my usual "Keep it 'tween the ditches". I looked out the window and all I saw was snow and immediately Frank Zappa came to mind, Why, you might ask? Well, he is an awesome musician and when he was alive, I am sure he was one of the smartest men on the planet. He also did not suffer fools or their foolishness politely. He spoke up whenever he saw idiots plying their trade. And he never seemed to take himself too seriously.
Without further introduction here is Frank Zappa and his band, The Mothers of Invention, with a medley, "Don't Eat the Yellow Snow" and "Nan Nook Rubs It".
Because the New England Patriots won the AFC Championship yesterday and they are now headed to the Stuper Bowl in two weeks, Here is a "Two Fer" with Kool and the Gang performing "Celebration". ......Go Pats !
