I joined a 1970's Facebook memory page awhile back. The first thing I did was remind myself this was not going to be a page I vented my angry political crap. I had other places for ranting, raving, showing my displeasure with the world politic at this time. Some pages should be reserved for apolitical and non-religious fun and nonsense. Leave the hate and discontent at home.
Sadly, politics seems to stalk me wherever I go in Facebook. Anywhere people engage each other, ugliness, hate, and discontent is always waiting just below the surface for any chance to ruin an otherwise pleasant and funny conversation. I fucking hate it.
So, the image to the right posted on the 70's memory page. Of the many comments I read, most were just straight up reactions to the memory, not interpretative memories that may have drastically mutated in the ensuing years that brought us to how we remember those good ole days today.
Now that I have pondered the meme awhile now, I realize the meme asked for it to get political with the words "cultural shift".
Nothing fires up a lot of us Boomers than words like "cultural shift". Most of us are sure it was better then than it is now. Seems we want to blame some group we are not part of for the perceived sad state of affairs our world is in now. It's the kids, the rich, the Democrats, the GOP, atheists, Bible Thumpers, the brown immigrants; it's always someone other than ourselves.
No one seems to want to acknowledge that what we have today is a group grope. It took all of us to create what we are living through now. In my opinion, no group is as bad as my Baby Boomer generation at condemning the world we helped to create. When a Millennial, a G throught Z generation punk blames us and wished we were dead and gone, well, we deserve it I guess. Many of us felt the same about our parents from "the Greatest Generation" who busted our balls during those wonderful1960's and 1970s.
The more things that change, the more they remain the same. My mom always contended there was nothing new under the Sun, just reiterations with subtle twists. And now that I have lived for over 70 years, I realize that she was right.
The story remains the same; it's the set that changes.
Later ..............................
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A perfect song to match my mood at the moment is, "The Way It Is", by Bruce Hornsby. It is a beautiful song with a serious message. I try to resist, but every time I hear it, my eyes go moist.
Two Carl Sagan meme's found my Facebook page this morning. Both were marvelous quotes he came up with many years ago now. One was so prescient, it could have been written yesterday. The other, which sits to the left, is just an observation from a man whose life was spent observing. In so few words he encapsulates the Universe we live in and how special it is to be part of it.
I wish that I had paid more attention to Carl Sagan when he was alive and in his prime. I first became aware of Carl when I watched his PBS mini series, "Cosmos: A Personal Voyage" several years after it had first aired. He blew me away by his ability to make the big complicated ideas of Science make sense to a dumass like me. Sadly, as I was hard into my self interested journey of me and mine at the time, you know, family , job, blah, blah, blah ...... I paid only occasional attention to him after that.
It was only after his death in 1996 that I came to truly appreciate what a great mind he had and maybe that he was the greatest prognosticator of the last several centuries. He was not just an observer of the Heavens, his chosen field, he was able to use the phenomenal analytical skills he developed early in his life to bring together the threads that connect everyone of us to every little thing in the Universe. Nothing happens that we are not connected to. Nothing.
His grand notion of all inclusive connectivity has not caught on with everyone, but there are enough of us who have turned on that light, that I see this realization eventually catching on even with the dunderheads who refuse to even entertain the notion that everything is connected.
Carl may be dead, but his impact I think is only beginning. RIP Carl. I miss you.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................
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I thought a fitting tune for today's post would be "Space Cowboy", by The Steve Miller Band. for me, Carl was the original Space Cowboy.
A seven year old image I posted on Facebook crossed my page a few days ago. No need to describe it. You can see it right there on the left. The accidental visage that appeared on this trunk gave him his name, "The Man in the Tree". It took 30 plus years for him to reveal himself to me, but he finally did.
A man of few words, our conversations were decidedly one sided; his response usually just a branch swaying or a hiss as he used the wind to convey his feelings. Regardless, he and I have had more than a few conversations over the years. His steady calm demeanor have more than a few times helped me to calm myself, regain some perspective as I shed anxiety over any current stupidity I might have been experiencing. A relief valve I guess. Yes, a relief valve.
I first met the future Man in the Tree when he was just a two inch sapling in the late 1960's. No one knew exactly what species he was as the previous owner of the house had planted him shortly before they decided to sell the house. Based on the flowers that would eventually grace our dooryard, we called it a Weeping Cherry.
The image to the right is one of the last decent flowerings the Old Man put out. Not sure, but I think it was maybe from the same year the above image was taken.
Being of a fruit variety, the tree has always had issues with some rot. It was only in the last decade the rot began to cause limbs to fall and bark to fall off, leaving deep cavities that seemed to go right to its core. And last year an invasive climbing vine found it and really did some damage.
I plan to attempt to clean it up with a dim hope of saving it. If nothing else, I am going to attempt to propagate some of the many suckers it produces every year.
I am bringing up the Man in the Tree because like him, I have had a tough few years recently. Though both of us are hanging in there, I seem or might be turning a corner for the better. If I am, I hope to bring the Man in the Tree with me. ...................... We'll see.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ....................................
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I immediately thought of a tune on one of Fleetwood Mac's under appreciated albums, titled "Bare Trees". It came out during the period when they were evolving out of a blues band and into a pop band. Though I loved their music when they played blues, I accepted their inevitable metamorphosis from ugly blues larva into their reimagined Pop Music butterfly. Anyway here is Fleetwood Mac's title track from their their sixth album released in 1972. Here is "Bare Trees".
“If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
JD Vance ~ Sept 15, 2024
Nine plus years of Trump and his drooling minions polluting the political discourse has made what were once unforgiveable actions by politicians nothing but mainstream, everyday stupidity that America has now learned to ignore.
The question I ask now is how did and why did we allow this kind of sleazy bullshit poison our politics? I was outraged when I saw the Right fall in line with the lies, accusations and hate that Trump pandered as the new "Alternative Facts" starting in 2015. And now we do not even blink an eye when he comes up with and then doubles and triples down on a lie that is racist and blatantly false. Targeting immigrants who are here legally and are also black is never okay, yet Trump and his butt sucking sidekick, JD Vance have no problem spewing their vile lies about them on a daily basis.
JD Vance's justification for creating lies to somehow bolster his campaign to enlighten America to his twisted vision of where we are only reinforces the lack of substance his and Trumps claims have. If they admit to making up lies to support their previous lies, what are we to think about their over all attitude about Americans. They are playing us for chumps and sadly, a large number of us are drinking their swill, and even helping to push their hate and discontent. Many, if not most know their plans are based not on helping the country but helping the few assholes who own them. They just do not care.
It is so easy to place all the blame on Trump. But the gutless enablers of the Right are really to blame. They allowed this slimy asshole to take over their party; this monster they now cannot control. They have allowed Trump to ruin the GOP by turning the party into an anti-democratic group bent on establishing an Authoritarian State in place of the Representative Democracy we currently enjoy.
If Trump wins this November, as Jackie Sue so frequently says, "We're Fucked!
Meanwhile, do your best to keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................
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I found a list of Anti - Trump Blues tunes. It was hard to pick a favorite. After checking them all, I decided on the Rick Estrin & the Night Cats tune, "Dump That Trump".
I am not the awesome physical specimen I was fifty plus years ago. I know that. Yet occasionally, my mind tries to trick me into believing I have a chance of recapturing that chiseled and ripped body I so briefly packed when I thought I would live forever.
Yeah, the reality of the me of today flies in the face of the me I sometimes still conjure up in my mind. I will never again play lacrosse at the college level, win another swimming championship, or play on a state champion softball team. And picking up a bike again is questionable now.
That I am even still here and upright after so many years of taking my body for granted is more a testament to luck and possibly some solid DNA than any conscious effort on my part to maintain the temple I was gifted at birth.
Hindsight being 20/20 and all, I realized in my thirties that the bad habits I picked up in my teenage years would probably demand some kind of retribution once I hit my old fart years. So, instead of listening to my early warning system, I forgot the alert, resumed my merry way, and continued to occasionally ingest all the tasty ugliness that tempted me, day in and day out.
Now here I am pissin and moanin about what once was and what will probably never be again. Yeah, I have begun to fight back, but at this point, the effort is token at best. It is a mind over matter game now and I was never very good at that. Hell, it took me over 50 years of smoking before I was able to find the will to successfully quit.
Funny, the opening sentence I came up with while walking with Maggie in the woods did not turn into where I thought that sentence would take this post. What I had originally envisioned for this post is not even close to the result I am reading now. A best laid plan became a go with the flow result of an unintended ending.
And so concludes another communication from the void I charitably call my mind.
Keep it 'tween the ditches .....................................................
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Since I had no idea or thought concerning a musical choice for this post, I will continue to rely on my tried and true go with the flow style. ........... This could take awhile.
Damn. It only took a few tokes and a brief visit to YouTube to find the perfect song. Here is Eric Burdon and the Animals with their excellent tune, "When I was Young".
So I had a dream the other night; uh, no, make that a series of three dreams, two of which were connected.
The first one has me and my 30 year John Deere lawn tractor with snow blower attached attending an antique Tractor show down to Iron Tails Saloon across Route 109 from the Acton Fairgrounds.
In the Real World I exist in when not asleep, Iron Tails will have at least two antique car and motorcycle show off parties a summer. So, in my dreams, it made perfect sense that they would host an antique lawn care show. That's what dreams are for after all.
I took a stroll around the many examples of antique lawn care equipment. There were several old Yard Man riding mowers, some old Craftsman units, some old Snapper riding mowers, and a variety of push mowers with engines and without. There was even one guy with a reconditioned Scythe. The thing was beautiful.
I finished my circuit and went back to proudly stand next to my own entry. It took me a minute to notice my pride and joy was missing something. In the short 10 minutes I spent circulating around the displayed antique lawn mowers, someone had stolen my just recently renovated snow blower attachment. I was astounded and immediately pissed.
Then I woke up. The anger combined with my need to pee caused me to seek out the bathroom ASAP. During the late night pee run, my anger at being ripped off quickly turned into considerations of what I was going to do to the assholes who stole from me as long as I was able to pick up the dream where I left off.
I am not often able to re-enter a dream if I have awakened for any reason. This time after some fitful moments trying to fall asleep again, I was able to not only fall asleep, but I managed to pick up the dream like I never left.
Very angry now and mumbling under my breath, I began another circuit around the various displayed lawn equipment. The last John Deere 445 Tractor I came upon looked different than when I had first seen it. I bent over and looked at the impeller axle. Instead of the nice clean solid factory attachment, it looked just like my jury rigged poorly welded set up that was a signature of my snow blower.
"Damn! How the Hell did they manage this", I thought.
I looked at the kid holding down the display. He wouldn't look me in the eye. I asked him if he had stolen my snow blower attachment. No response. Just then a grown man approached and asked me if I had a problem and why was I bothering his kid.
I repeated my question, "Did you steal my Snow Blower attachment?"
The guy wouldn't look me in the eye. But he nodded in the affirmative.
I didn't ask him why, I just asked if he would return it and he said he would. That is when I woke up again. Still pissed, I headed to the kitchen for some water. Went back to bed and slept just fine until 4:00 AM or so when again a dream woke me up. This one was about GW Bush and myself sharing coffee at the kitchen table. I asked him if he wanted any sugar for his coffee. He shook his head and said, "Just pass the cream."
I passed him the cream and then again I woke up. Tired of dreaming, I decided to stay awake and get on with my day.
Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................
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What tune could I possibly come up with that would dove tail nicely with a post about a tractor dream?
Apparently other than the infinite number of songs about all the aspects, god and bad, about True Love, the next over filled category of songs would be songs about dreams, dreaming and how they are often broken.
I tasted too many before I finally picked two. First up is Tom Petty's, "Runnin Down a Dream".
And for a finishing tune is one of my favorite Cranberries tune, "Dreams".
Former RNC Chairman Michael Steele's assessment of last night's debate was spot on. Vice President Kamala Harris did indeed spank Trump hard. She took command of the debate with the initial handshake. Trump never found his footing, he never recovered.
I am under no delusions that Harris' debate success seals her win in November. There is and will always be a sea of stupid people who will back Trump no matter what. What Kamala showed the country was she is so much more up to the task of being President than Trump ever was. She showed that her concern was for this country while Trump continued his self aggrandizing rhetoric filled with lies, hate, and discontent. Kamala showed the drastic difference between someone who wants to help all Americans as to someone who only wants to divide America in order to help themselves.
Well done Ms. Vice President, well done!
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I found the perfect song for the debate last night. It is a tune recorded by Fleetwood Mac in 1969 under the name Earl Vince & the Valiants. It is called "Someone's gonna get their head kicked in tonight".
I have recently been trying to refrain from posting anything specifically about politics. I can feel I am probably close to my breaking point. As evidence, I am now mentioning that I am trying to not write about the political circus unfolding outside the confines of my little acre of Sanity here in southern Maine. I will do my best with this post to at least, not mention by name, the one politician who has me and many, many millions of other Americans totally fed up with his lies, his criminality, his misogyny, his word salads, and are really tired of his ugly mug on TV every time we turn the damn things on.
One can only watch so many "Leave it to Beaver", "Perry Mason", and "Have gun, Will Travel" re-runs. At some point I have to come up for air and there he is, still right in my face with his drooling knuckle dragging Cultists hanging on every idiotic word that spews from his pie hole.
Over the past 9 years when he first slithered and slimed his way into the politics of mainstream America, my first reaction was laughter. What a clown, I thought, what a buffoon. No way America would be be stupid enough to allow this guy anywhere near 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington, DC.
My laughter died when I realized that yes, there were enough gullible idiots in this country who had no problem with him and his sleazy con man chicanery that he was able to sneak in and squat behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office for the next 4 years. Okay, I thought, this was an aberration. Surely America would wise up for the next election and vote him out.
I was right. We did vote the flim flaming asshole out. But he didn't go quietly. Instead, he fired up his traitorous citizen army and they tried to overthrow the election and the country. Unapologetic, this self serving traitor doubled down and continued to punish America for the next 4 years with his stupidity, hate and discontent. We watched as he tried to steer our ship towards the rocks and tear us down in order to remake this country into the totalitarian paradise he has had wet dreams about for so many years. He failed but not before he caused real damage to our way of of life and our national soul.
Hmm..........................
I sit here close to my boiling point again and wonder if his presence in my life is punishment for some misdeed or slight I may have had a part in far back in my checkered past. Did I insult Karma at some point? Or is it that America did?
All I can figure now is we deserve this man in our lives. We allowed him to poison our culture, bad mouth our cherished institutions, people and tenets that comprise the core of our national soul.
And now, 9 years after he first polluted the political landscape, he is still here spewing his inciteful gibberish and keeping the cups of of hate and discontent overflowing. We have a chance to put him down and I hope we do. But sadly the slime and shit stains he will leave behind will be with us for a long time.
Good Job America. Way to go. Look what we have done to ourselves.
Later gators .....................................
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My choice for a tune comes from Tracy Chapman with her song "America". I am including the lyrics. I feel they fit quite well with this post.
Labor Day. .......... Why was it created and when? From a U.S. government website :"...... in 1882, Peter J. McGuire, general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a co-founder of the American Federation of Labor, suggested setting aside a day for a "general holiday for the laboring classes" to honor those "who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold."
".... to honor those who from rude nature have delved and carved all the grandeur we behold"
Hmm. Eloquent sentiment that describes what wage slaves do to meet the needs of the Rich to feed their ever growing silk lined pockets.
No one can argue with those words really. Ownership in and of itself creates nothing tangible, physical, nor edible. All ownership does is create the focus of the energies of a group to one specific goal; producing the physical needs and wants of the larger group they are all part of. And for that, ownership grants themselves the largest piece of the reward pie. Fair or not, that's how it works.
Don't get me wrong, I have no axe to grind with ownership in and of itself. The Capitalistic model works, but not very well without at least a modicum of oversight. Left to it's own devices, without any restraints, Capitalism is a no win proposition in the end for everyone, the owners included. They are just the last ones standing. Eventually the system will be replaced by one that is more often than not, more draconian and brutal.
I understand I am using broad strokes to attempt to describe the economic model we use in this country. It is not so straight forward as my first remarks might indicate. There are many influences, good and bad that can create or enhance the over all impact on the culture the economic system exists in.
The broad strokes though, in my opinion, fit into too many scenarios that have already played out many times in the past since Capitalism began its rise from the ashes of Feudalism during the Middle Ages. As a layman, former blue collar guy, and now, retired small business owner, I am thinking the failure of unrestrained free markets are as bad, if not worse than free markets operating under too many odious government restraints. The best results it seems, fall in the middle between the two, where Capitalism is the base system with a government that continues to rein in the worst excesses of the system. At the same time, The government does what it can to help maintain a healthy base economy.
A well managed forest will be more productive over the long term, than a forest cutover leaving nothing but stumps.
This weekend we celebrate the hard work of all the worker bees who built and continue to sustain the greatest Economy in the last century or so. A day only celebrating our workers isn't enough really. But like good worker bees, we take what we can get and go back to work on Tuesday.
My father once told me there is nobility in any type of work. Carrying one's own weight through the labor of their backs or minds is where the real pride comes from, as opposed to the false narrative that defines us through how much we own. As I said earlier, ownership produces not much by itself. Without a workforce, there would be no riches to own.
Enjoy the rest of your weekend and please -
Keep it 'tween the ditches .............
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I thought I would search for a good labor tune. As I began my search, I remembered my favorite song of all time. "Willin", by Little Feat exemplifies my attitude towards work, pushing envelopes, and holding on. For me, "Willin" describes the the can do attitude of American Labor. It definitely described my attitude during the days I drove trucks over the road.
When I played it again, I realized "Willin" didn't dovetail nicely with the sentiment of the post. I will include it anyway, just because, well, it is my favorite song, ever.
To be more in line with the idea, the struggles, and promises our labor force has been part of, here is the original version of "16 Tons" as written and recorded by Merle Travis in 1947.
As promised, here is "Willin", a song that carried and sustained me through my years of pounding the superslabs, dodgin 4-wheelers and Smokies. It was the perfect finish to a precarious youth. I ended up having too much fun and finally got caught being stupid.
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