Secretary of the Future

Mornings in the garage, I punch up the small radio I used to include with my tools when banging nails for money.  It is covered with paint spots, one corner is crunched after a fall from 40 feet, and the back is taped on as a result of that fall.  I have it perched precariously on the edge of the one window in the garage.  Where else would I park it?  A radio like that that laughed in Death's face all the way down, deserves to live out its life as it lived it, outside the safe environs of a deep solid shelf.  Besides, it only pulls in stations when it is that close to the window.

So this morning I punched it up, and NPR had a short , very short, interview with Kurt Vonnegut.  It figures he would ask the question, "Why don't we have a Secretary of the Future in the President's cabinet?"  He went on to point out that there was a secretary for almost everything else, but no one looking out for what is coming down the pike.

"Hmm."  I think I actually said this to myself. "Hmm, A Secretary of the Future."

Of all the wacky things I have thought of, an official somebody looking forward instead of behind never occurred to me.  Immediately I began to consider just how this new bureaucratic agency would work.  So I phoned them.  Phoned then in my mind of course.  Their existence or non existence will be determined at some future date.  This future conversation ran something like.............

"Good Morning, you have reached the Department of the Future.  Your call is important to us here in the future.  All of our agents are currently busy dealing with the future.  Please leave your name and number and your reason for calling.  An agent will be contacting you at some future date and time to address your question and concerns regarding the future.  As we here at the Department of the Future cannot actually predict the future and can only offer possible scenarios, the status of your call will be determined by which number you dial now."

"If you think we will never call, dial 1."

"If you think we might call, but it will be after you have forgotten why you called in the first place, dial 2."

"If you think we will call right back, dial 3 and hold your breath until that happens."

"For all other possibilities, please stay on the line.  An agent will be with you shortly in your dreams after you have passed out with the receiver in hand."

That was my first go at imagining what a Department of the Future phone call might be like.

Number two went like  .............

"You have reached the Department of the Future.  Your call is totally meaningless in the future, as it will already be in the Past once we listen to your message.  Only future contacts are handled here at the DOF.  Thank you for calling."

Anyway, that is what was on mind in my recent past.  Who knows what will be slinking around in my upcoming future.  Maybe I should call the Department of the Future.

Later ...........................................

  

The Unimportant Blogger

I came across the term "unimportant blogger"  awhile back on a New Hampshire political blog.  Apparently this lady made some folks over in the Live Free or Die state unhappy with her liberal ways.  One fellow in particular insisted on referring to her as an "unimportant blogger".  The "unimportant blogger" rightfully pointed out that if she was so unimportant, why then did this fellow continue to show up to comment.

So what determines a blog as important or unimportant?  Is a blog with the most followers more important than one with none?  Does importance rely on the who's who of the list of names in the comment section?   Or does a blog's importance depend on the weight each individual places on that blog?

I realized I needed to first get my mind around the word "important" and just what was important, really important.  And where in the scheme of importance does blogging fit.

After at least several minutes of mental gymnastics, I decided that there were two kinds of importance.  Things we absolutely needed to survive were one kind of importance.  And the rest was all of the crap we place varying unimportant degrees of importance on.

Using this criteria, it is easy to identify the "unimportant blogger".  The unimportant blogger is all of us out here in the blogosphere.  Not a single one of us is crucial to the existence of our physical world or this made up out of nothing Internet world.  So get over yourselves, any of you who think that having more followers, more hits, more comments somehow makes you more important than the rest of us blogging slugs.

If there is one thing I would consider important when considering the Internet and blogging, it is the word connection.  That is the one important thing all bloggers bring to the table.  They help the ongoing and growing connection humanity is in the early phases of because of the World Wide Web.

I can piss and moan about the 90% of Internet traffic being so much wasted bandwidth with no tangible redeeming value, but the fact is the internet, for good or bad, is going to change the way our species interacts with each other.  The planet just got smaller and now our neighbors are no longer the folks next door, but the folks in the next country, across the oceans, and people they did not know in the next county.

So to all the bloggers out there, and yes even you Tweeter twits, you are all important.  You are members of a larger movement that will fundamentally rearrange human culture in the future.  But as to any one of us being more important than another, well it just ain't so.

Later...........................................................

The End is Near Again

We survived the recent Mayan Apocalypse.  We all breathed a sigh of relief when the Rev. Harold Camping was wrong, 12 times wrong, about the Biblical Armageddon breathing down our necks.  So far, the planet and its puny sentient race has managed to dodge the big bullet.  At some point though, I wonder if one of the voices from our fringes will make the correct call.

A fellow, who we will call Mr A, came into my bike shop the other day to buy a rack for his bicycle.  I have known this guy for a couple of years.  Mr A is definitely a citizen of the fringes.  I like him, but his take on Life is different than anything I could have come up with.  When we share topics regarding bikes, he is as normal and mainstream as the next guy.  When he expands the conversation with lead ins like, "Do you believe in UFOs?" - Well, I know what follows will at the least be entertaining and sometimes scary.

Sanford, Maine

Gears left when the Mills moved away

Maine is a beautiful state that is sparsely populated and performs the necessary duty of a cornerstone state.  The border is shared by the self proclaimed "Live Free or Die" folks from New Hampshire to the west and those wacky Canadians up north of us.  To the east, a convoluted rocky coastline of 3500 miles keeps the Atlantic ocean at bay.  There were at last count, 1.33 million people living in an area of 35,385 square miles, or about 43 people per square mile.  Most of the people here live in the lower third of the state, giving us Mainers a wonderfully wild and gorgeous state to call home.

But this is not about Maine.  This about a town much maligned over the years that has pulled itself up by its bootstraps and has finally re-defined itself.

Sanford is a small town that has proven itself a survivor, regardless of the bad rap it gets from those high pocket towns on the coast or at the bottom of ski slopes up country.  Sanford, from the very beginning, was a blue collar mill community.  The Mousam river offered readily available power to numerous mills as far back as the mid 1700's.  In the mid 1800's, Sanford began to flourish when the Goodall's opened their first textile mill.  For the next century, Sanford was a key producer of the cloth that America used and exported.

In the mid 1960's, the textile industry packed its things and moved south.  After a decade in Dixie, Textiles once again packed their bags and moved to foreign shores, never to come back again.  Sanford has rebounded, but it took a half century.  Now it hosts small manufacturing efforts and serves as a bedroom community for Portland and parts south.  The Mousam River still runs through it, only now it is cleaner with less diversion than it had when the town's thousand looms were running 24/7.

I am a self employed small retailer in Springvale, a small village that is part of Sanford.  My bike shop is situated only 8 miles from my home in nearby Acton.  Owning an independent brick and mortar operation on Main Street anywhere in America is a tough row to hoe.  In a community where mid income is something to envy, it is a very tough roe to hoe.

I could have located my shop closer to the money that flows up and down the Maine Turnpike.  It would have certainly meant more chinga ching in the till.  But I don't own a bike shop to make money so much as I own a bike shop because I enjoy providing a service for the good people who live around me.

Money is important, but it has never been my prime motivator.  I derive enjoyment, fulfillment if you will, in the act of labor.  Money is a reward, but no less important is the pleasure I get when I can make someone's day by servicing their bike, providing information, or just being there to hear what is happening in their lives at that moment.

Over the years Sanford has earned my loyalty and my respect by its tenacity and refusal to go away.  It has, like any community, institutionalized madness that drives me crazy sometimes.  But at its heart, the movers and shakers are good people who constantly look to improve the lot of Sanford's citizenry.  Any small part I can have in that effort is what makes me continue to open my doors.

Later ..................................

Post a Day for a Month

Earlier this year, I wasn't sure if I was going to have the interest in blogging that I once had.  Fads come and go.  Since I started blogging in 2004, my efforts have been erratic to say the least.  And this time I had lost a couple of years there and getting back on the horse did not hold much appeal.  But then that itch, that urge, that ever present inclination to put words to proverbial paper was again nagging me to no end.

"Alright, alright.  Give it break ferchrisakes," I said to myself.  "If it will shut you up, I'll start writing again.......... But don't expect much."

The internal nag sat down and shut up.  But I know he is watching me to see if I will keep my word.  He's been disappointed before.

Because of my life long infatuation with creating and reading my own words, I have notebooks and scraps of scrawl stashed here and there around my house.  I am not squirreling them away like some randomly planted nut.  I just seem to find these scraps and notebooks in the oddest places.  Like I set the journal down and walked away, never to give it another thought until such time while looking for something else, I stumble on them, get distracted by them, and forget what the Hell I was looking for in the first place.

Regardless and anyhow, the point here today is I was looking through some of my old posts and found the ones I wrote when meeting a post a day challenge back a few years.  Hey great.  I think I will give it whirl again.  See if I can post every day for the month of April.  Because practice may not make perfect, but it heads one in the right direction.  And a daily routine just might be the kick in the ass I need.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .......................................

All is Well with the World

So I wake up this AM, head to the garage and turn on the small radio seated precariously on a window edge.  I keep the radio tuned to that communist mouthpiece, NPR.  It's part of my morning ritual.  Knowing what those pinko Liberals are up to is a 24/7 job.  I want to hit the ground running in case they have made good on their plan to take over the US government.

So what is the first thing I hear?  Yeah, that's right, Donald Trump trying to walk back from his comments last night at another one of his town halls.  Apparently his latest comments have angered the both the Pro Lifers and the Pro Choicers.  Way to go Donald.  Then I hear his well informed take on the use of tactical nuclear missiles.  He would not rule out their use in Europe if the need arose.  This made many European butts pucker hard, I am sure.

As I listened to the radio in the garage, I realized that if Donald was the topic, then all was well with the World.  I had not entered another dimension or universe in my sleep.  I was still on planet Earth and another day on the planet was about to begin.  Excellent.  It's always nice to know I didn't wake up dead.

Keep it 'tween the ditches .........................................

Musings From the Throne

The magazine rack next to the throne had a new rag sticking out of it this AM.  Almost notebook sized and it looked substantial.    As I am prone to do when conducting the kingly business that happens when on the throne, I will choose from the variety of periodicals and read to distract myself from the necessary but boring duties I must deal with while on that throne.  A king's work is never done and well, I take my entertainment where I find it.

I pick up this new addition stuffed in the magazine rack.  It is a Reader's Digest.  It is at least 2 times bigger than the Reader's Digests I remember hanging around doctor offices everywhere when I was younger.   The cover has the classic Reader's Digest logo in huge letters.  Nearby the words, "Large Print" tells me this Reader's Digest focused readership are old farts.

I immediately forget wondering why there is a Reader's Digest  even mixed in with the normal rags found in the throne side rack.  I shift to a feeling of being insulted.  I am sure my lovely wife is the culprit who placed this reminder of old age at my fingertips.  She's sneaky that way.  Always leaving little tokens around that tell me I screwed up somewhere.  Dirty dishes piled up at my place on the kitchen table.  Bags of trash piled in the living room I neglected to remove in timely manner.

But  a copy of a large print Reader's Digest?  What could this mean?  Her point seemed way more subtle than my pitiful excuse of a mind could handle.  I could still read fine.  Did not need large print anything yet.  Although it does seem the miserly bastards in charge of the print world now are  using smaller print.  If she had left a hearing aid next to the TV remote, I would immediately get the point.  But a large print Reader's Digest?  Her possible motive was beyond me.

I lost interest as to her motivation once I opened the mag.  Immediately, memories of waiting rooms form my youth came flooding back.  I remembered one doctor I visited while we lived in Tallahassee, Florida.  I had a recurring appointment schedule with him after a collapsible wooden chair tried to cut one of my fingers off.  Over the course of a two to three month period, he had the same two magazines in his waiting room.  Both were dogeared and almost unreadable.  One was a Time from several years before and the other a five year old Reader's Digest.   I read both enough, I almost had them memorized.

As I thumbed through this modern day version of Reader Digest's effort to fight the digital tide, my wife's possible motives faded.  The larger type threw me off at first.  As each page turned, I saw one familiar feature after another.  "Humor in Uniform", the obligatory crossword puzzle, word power quiz, "Points to Ponder", all the old go to features were there.  This was Reader's Digest alright.  Bigger maybe and on cheaper paper, but it was the same as I remembered from years ago.

Oddly, this brought me some comfort.  No matter how much things change, tokens from the past hang in there, reminding us that the past is never very far behind us.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ...........................................

Honoring Easter

"..... And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made."

"And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it."  ~~~ From the beginning of Chap Two - Genesis

Grouped together to the side of the Church entrance in small clusters of 3 or 4, the ladies hug and exchange gossip while carefully checking out what everyone is wearing.  Their white gloved hands hold small handbags in one hand and in the firm grip of the other hand, the wild child from their brood pulls hard like a dog on a leash.  They speak in whispers and cast secretive glances at the women in the other circles.  Their Sunday bonnets  are carefully placed to accentuate any movement of their heads while starched dresses swish, sounding like a soft wind passing through a picket fence.

The men, stiff in their Sunday go to Meeting best, stand across the main walkway in small groups smoking and speaking in low voices.  Their macho affection is passed hand to hand or the occasional squeeze of a shoulder.  An irreverent laugh is heard from one group or the other causing some of the flock to purse their lips in disapproval.  How dare levity be allowed to break the solemn moment about to come.

A church elder opens the two big doors.  Organ music flows out to the crowd announcing this week's broadcast from Station WGOD is about to begin.  Cigarettes are crushed, ties adjusted, and dresses smoothed.  The two genders come together on the main walk and re-group with family and close friends.  They head into church to find their seats.

This is how I remember it.  Not this exactly. but something like this happened every Sunday in the first 13 years of my life.  And though my parents were haphazard Episcopalians, Sunday was still a big deal in my youth.   Such a big deal in fact, I soon realized at about age 8, that if this was supposed to be a day of rest to honor our creator, then why did we spend the better part of an otherwise perfectly good day not following the example he had set.  God was taking a breather, then by jeezus, so should we.

Spending an hour getting ready to go to church, another 30 minutes in the car to get to church and then an hour plus alternating from sitting to kneeling and back again.  Back in the car and another 30 minutes home ......... well, in my childish mind, this church going activity could hardly be considered restful.  Not for me, that was for sure.   Going to church was the most work I did all week.  The six other days of the week I was busy being a kid wearing holes in my knees and not washing behind my ears.  Church on Sunday for me as kid was an obligatory punishment like sitting in the corner at school.  Only I had done nothing wrong. I had broken no rules.  Why was I being punished?

When I grew older and decided that God really didn't keep very good tabs on us, I went my own way.  But just in case he was there and paying attention to the silliness of me and what I got into,  I hedged my bets and honored his command to not do anything on that seventh day of the week whenever I could.

On Sunday, Laziness is next to Godliness ................ That's my take anyway.

Happy Easter

Atomic Collisions

If I entertain the notion that Life is an accident, existence without a reason, then I only embrace the outer crust of Life.  Certainly, the arbitrary joy and pain that accompanies the events of a Life could lead me to believe that Life is but a crap shoot with random dice.  Existence is unfiltered, raw, without a goal. ............ But am I missing something just living Life on this rigid surface?

If I feel that Life is the fulfillment of well made plans and calculations made before Time was invented, am I also just living Life on but another of Life's rigid planes?  Certainly, the science Humanity has come up with to explain things could indicate that some blueprint was at least consulted before the Big Bang or the 6 day fabrication by God.  There is just too much logic and math in the physical construction of what we call Existence for me to believe that what we have here is an accidental confluence of atomic collisions.

Who is right?

Over the years I have considered various takes on Existence, Humanity and the Cosmos.  As a child I was indoctrinated with the comfortable and accepted explanations of the Judaeo-Christian world I was born into.  Fantasies were constructed to fill me with shock and awe about vengeful Gods, and where I would end up if I dared to cross them.  I soon realized that what was wanted of me was to believe myths as truth and turn me into an obedient servant of the culture that surrounded me.  Enlightenment was possibly a perk, but not the first order of business.

I wanted to believe in God.  An all caring and forgiving God.  The more I became aware of the events unfolding around me, both near and far, it seemed that God was not all that caring.  Forgiveness was not even part of their plan.  We were left to our own devices and how we existed would only matter to us and not God.  "I planted the garden.  Now you are on your own".  And Creator moved on to the next project on the to do list.

I tried to embrace the idea of Atheism and just could not do it.  They have their points, but again I feel there is just too much order in the nuts and bolts of the Universe to dismiss it all as an accident.  Atheists are like fundamental religion folks.  Their narrow focus on a Universe larger than our imaginations dismisses too many potentialities and possibilities.  I came to the conclusion sometime in my 20's that because there were so many what if's available to my meager mind, conventional organized religion and current Atheistic slants were only a few of the infinite number of possible explanations for Existence.

I sought and am still seeking my own explanation for the reason we even exist.  Some days I wonder if it is not part of some grand plan.  Other days I am sure we are the result of doodling on a page far out in the Cosmos and then tossed in the recycle bin awaiting shredding.  But most days, I don't give Existence a thought.  I rely on Descartes to dismiss and apologize my shallow thinking....

....... I think, therefore I am.  The rest is all Bullshit.

My apologies to Rene and anyone else for reading between his lines.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ............................................

Same Old Tired Issues

Every election cycle the same tired issues and their even more tired solutions pop up.  These issues hover around every national campaign, sometimes moving front and center, sometimes just hanging out on the periphery with their tired, loser friends.  There are too many to count or is it, too many to rant about in the short time I have given myself to write this post?  Who knows?  Who cares?

Today folks, who may or may not be waiting with bated breath for the next great piece of wisdom or stunning observation I have to impart,  uh .... Where was....... Oh Yeah.  Today, I have my panties in a bunch over "Term Limits".

No doubt there is nationwide disgust with Congress.  I have not talked with anyone who thinks Congress as a whole is conducting business as it should.  Matter of fact, I don't think I have ever talked with someone who thought everything was wonderful and trusted our legislators as stand up leaders of our country.   And while we hold Congress as a whole in extreme contempt, when we are asked if that includes our state's specific Senator or Representative, there is an even chance we do not include them as part of the overall cluster fuck that is DC.  It ain't "their guy or gal", it is all those other Bozos from away screwing things up.

Like the weather, Congress has always been a go to whine we pull out of our Complaing quiver when some inside the gulliwots emotion needs purging.  Complaining is a national pastime.  And when the complaint is regarding elected officials, one of the solutions used to alleviate the stress of complaining is term limits.

Somehow by instituting a limit on how long they can stay will magically make Congress work better?  Hmm ............... Is there any real proof this would work?  Or is it just wishful thinking?  If indeed the latter, then I would say no to term limits.  Too many laws based on wishful thinking have been passed that fell flat on their face.  It is the system that needs changing, not the time frame of those who sit in Congress.  Both parties have quite an extensive network of farm teams with players just waiting to replace those who have to leave because of term limits.   They are eager to please those who run their particular political machine.   The same political and economic interests will still be pulling the strings.  Under term limits, they might wield more power I am thinking.   It is often easier to control the rookie than the seasoned vet.  Especially if they have come up through the party ranks.

 An experienced politician, well liked among their electorate, should be allowed to continue as long as the electorate wants them.  An experienced politician is more likely to garner goodies for their district than a rookie.  Term limits would increase the power a larger populated region or state has over the less populated areas.  And besides people, we already have friggin term limits.  They are called elections.  If we do not get off our butts to toss them out, then we get what we deserve.

Okay so say you don't agree with my take above.  That's fine.  There are other arguments I could field to defend my contempt for the notion of term limits.  But I won't.  It comes down to the responsibility of living in our so called free country.   My mother ingrained in me the idea that if there was one key duty as an American, it was to vote.  Term limits just make it easier to shirk that duty.

My distaste for term limits does not mean I would cast them aside completely.  I think term limits tied to elected officials is a bad idea.  But if we want to discuss the possibility of term limits for appointed officials not tied to administrations changing hands, uh like say SCOTUS, then I would gladly back a movement to limit the time a Supreme Court Justice can arbitrarily affect our lives.  We could limit the terms to a length of time long enough to not be tied to the current party who was large and in charge.  Make it a 15 year appointment and make sure it falls in an off election year.  Or something like that.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ........................................

Loss

In a few minutes I will take a break from writing this to dig a hole in the backyard as I have done all too many times before.  I will take some time to pick just the right spot, as if it will make a difference and somehow allow her to lay comfortably in the afternoon sun, the morning sun or out of the wind that often blows tirelessly over our hilltop.

Somehow finding the right resting place is important in my grieving process.  In my mind I know it matters little what I do with her physical remains.  But in my heart, picking the right piece of ground brings me some small comfort and eases my pain if only for a moment or two.

As I plunge the spade into the ground and scoop out the earth, each shovel full will bring with it a memory of our 13 years together.  And with each shovel full of dirt, I will come closer to accepting the notion that she will be truly gone from my life, ....... from this life.

I will shed tears.  I always do.  The little bastards always manage to find their way into my heart, even as I deal with their inevitable accidents and stupid pet tricks.

But the time has come.  Prolonging her life at this point is not doing it for her.  It is prolonging it for me and my wife.  Her suffering must end, and today is the day.

R.I.P Stub, I will miss you.

It's Never Been This Bad

Bullshit.

I hear political comments like this more and more about the sad state, the nation and the World are in.   If most were talking about the rest of the World, then they might have a leg to stand on.  But when it comes to political, social, and religious issues, the citizens of the US really need to take a friggin breath.  Other parts of the World are enduring serious heartbreaking and dangerous situations.  Here in the States, we have it made.  Our piss ant issues pale in comparison to the events unfolding in half the World at least..

It has most certainly been worse here in our past and not that long ago.  In spite of ourselves, this country manages to stumble in the right direction in many ways.  When I think about some of the misguided and evil policies fostered on our citizens in the last century, and then see what is going on outside our shores, I realize that for all my skepticism, the USA is not a bad place to be stuck in.  Wrongs get Righted here, even it feels like pulling teeth.

No matter what area of social injustice you might care to look, the US has been a leader of the pack or close behind in addressing those injustices.  Righting wrongs was and will  always be messy and results often mixed at first.  But once the change has had a chance to really settle into the collective mindset, then down the road we will consider the firestorm that resolved it as just another footnote in our progess to find true civilization.

That's what's on my mind this AM........ Later

Toss the GOP Out On It's ..........

................... Ear.

And when we have done that, start kicking the Democrats out.

I only give the GOP priority at this point in our political history, as they have done more harm recently than the Democrats.

And I am not talking about this current Presidential election.  This recent campaign just points up how dysfunctional the whole system has become.  If we want to re-claim any semblance of the democratic process, we need to rid ourselves of the two party system as it currently stands.  These two parties have colluded over the years and rigged the division of power so that only they wield the big sticks.  And behind the scenes the same uber elite class pulls the strings for both.

So I propose we kick out every Republican holding any elected office of any kind.  Particularly the elected officials in legislatures at the state and national level.  Do not let them get away with the excuse that it was not they who did this or that, it was their predecessor, or the opposing side or lay the blame on a bureaucracy the system they are part of put in positions of power.  Make them responsible for the stupidity their party has practiced over the last two decades.  Hell, if I had my way, I'd make them pay for pushing Ronnie into our lives in 1980.

What we have in this country is not the Right / Left ideological struggle the two parties have created.  It is really a Class War based on economic standing.  Ideology matters little to the leadership of either party when it comes to serving the whims of their rich benefactors who are very comfortable and cozy living their lives in the shadows.

This cozy arrangement is nothing new.  The influence of the rich has been part of political history forever.  A country can handle a certain amount of it, but there is a tipping point.  We are approaching that tipping point.  Often, when the rich get out of hand or try to control too much, the resulting kick back is not just change, but catastrophic failure and downfall of the existing social and political system.  History is chock full of examples.

Later .................................

Our Real Enemy

When we criticize the current state of the present day political, economic, social cluster fuck unfolding before our eyes, many of us need to find someone or something to blame.  I am certainly guilty when in knee jerk mode.

We blame Obama.  We blame those damn Republicans, Democrats, Aristocrats, Holy Rollers, or sleazy banker investment guys safely ensconced in glass and steel castles found in the heart of every city in the world.

We look for scapegoats when we should be looking in the mirror.  It took all of us to create what we have, good and bad.  The good, usually is a result of cooperative effort by a few or often the many.  The bad, well, from my viewpoint, it usually happens because too many are too lazy or self absorbed to pay attention.  Apathy is our greatest vice and as a species we seem comfortable ignoring its impact.

My favorite quote that succinctly captures my point is comic strip appearing on Earth Day, 1971.  Pogo nails it:

We Have Met the Enemy and He is Us

Later ................................................................

Hi Yo Silver

The Lone Ranger from Utah gallops in to defend the Grand Old Party from being taken over by an impostor and sullying the high ethical standards and holier than thou moral values held so near and dear to the hearts of true conservatives throughout the land.  For him to make this trip, God must indeed be angry.

He wears his righteous indignation on the sleeves of his Brooks Brother suit and proclaims, "Donald Trump is a faker and con artist ........... he is playing the American people for suckers."

I was positive that the GOP comedy unfolding before my eyes could not get any crazier.  Yet, last night before the debate and during, it did.  High schoolers running for student council act more mature than the clowns swapping "mine is bigger than yours" insults in front of a national audience.  This is no longer a street fight.  It has devolved into tussle between snot nosed brats on the kindergarten playground.   Kasich was the only one who even came close to looking presidential and he came off looking like the flustered teacher in charge of the playground that day.

And then good ole Mitt claims that Trump is playing Americans for suckers.  Oh the Irony.  The only difference between Mitt and the Donald is Donald is a used car salesman and Mitt is the real estate sales guy peddling acreage in the swamps of Florida.  But I guess it takes a con artist to recognize another one.

This shit you just can't make up.  Absolutely a wonderful case of Truth being way stranger than fiction.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..............................................

Stupor Tuesday

The clown circus was stretched pretty thin trying to make friends and insult enemies in the 11 states up for grabs yesterday.  I have to say they did an admirable job though, showing up sometimes in 3 or 4 states in one day.  It's like the Oscars I guess, I don't care who won or who lost.  But it is fun to watch them parade down the red carpets.

The victors yesterday blessed their adoring crowds with heart filling slogans to make us feel proud that our land of the free and home of the brave is going to be, not just great again, but finally whole also.  The losers, well, who cares what they said?  Just more sniping bullshit no one wants to listen to.  After all, this is a great country that has no time for losers, has beens, and whiners.  Right?

I was labeled a cynic recently in a comment on a previous post.  When it comes to American politics, I have many years of dashed hopes behind me.  It amazes me I have not just given up and joined the majority of American Homers who watch Housewives of New Jersey instead of watching this political joke we deal with every four years.  It really does not matter that the idiots we allow to lead have real impact on our lives.  As long as our cable still works, we can access Facebook, and tweet to our heart's delight, whatever else happens is of no concern.

Wow, That last paragraph was damn cynical.  Okay, I am going to try to find a ray of hope and puppy dog goodness in recent political events. ............... Uh ............Hmm .........  Hey, I'm working on it.  Back off.

Okay, I walked away from the computer to allow my mind to take a breath and relax.  I engaged in mindless routine.  I scooped poop from the litter trays.  I loaded dishes in the dish washer.  I filled the ice cube trays sitting sink side.  All the while, doing my best to find one small smidgen of Hope in the scam we call our political process.  Sadly, at the moment I just do not see any.  Until we insist on better leadership not tied to a rigged two party system, we will continue to elect people who serve interests other than ours.  Voting for those who tell us what we want to hear rather than electing those who tell us what we should hear ensure the same old clowns control of our lives.

Later ......................................

The Perfect World

My perfect world

"In a perfect world" ..............

A phrase many of us use to deal with the frustrations of a world that constantly conspires to work against us.  I have used it myself on occasion.  Like so many blanket statements, the term does not mean "a perfect world" for all.  As it stands, it is used from a personal perspective without regard for anyone else's take.   Using it drops us into a fantasy world for a second.  In order for all of us to agree on the perfect world, we would have to collectively drop 20 or so IQ points and join the Republican Party.  Of course, dropping 30 points would make the perfect world according to the Koch Brothers easier to achieve.  But I refuse to become a total drooler.

Once again, my mind decided to go its own way.  I  had every intention of retaining control of this post, but well, uh, I have failed to do so.  Five or so sentences into it, my contempt for the political Right got the better of me.  In a perfect world, this would not happen.......

Thankfully, I do not reside in a perfect world.

Keep it 'tween the ditches ..........................................................

Don McLean and the High Schoolers

I was never into Don McLean.  By the time his music caught on, I was way past Pop and looking down my nose at anything on the Top Forty hit list.  My music very rarely hit the Top 100.

Regardless, what is now happening to this man pisses me off to no end.  The Heydays of his musical career now well behind him, he and his wife Patrisha have lived quietly normally for the most part since 1984 on the coast of Maine.

Recently, he made news of the domestic violence kind.  There had been some inter relationship dust up between he and his wife, Patrisha.  She claimed abuse and had ole Don arrested.  By the time news leaked out, Patrisha had attempted to withdraw her complaint, but the wheels of justice had been engaged and they needed to run whatever course this kind of case indicates.

Okay, several things worth noting here.
     ~ The word is both Patrisha and Don enjoyed going toe to toe.  Some marriages need the support of an occasional dust up in order to survive.  I watched my parents do it for years.
    ~ This case involves a celebrity so it gets entirely more attention than it deserves.
    ~ The fact that Don has only been arrested and not convicted matters little to the small minded culture we have in this nation.

And now some high school students in Massachusetts have asked that a scheduled concert at Barnstable High School on Cape Cod be canceled.  Calling him a bad role model, or in other words, finding him guilty before the facts have been chewed and spewed by the court system.  So much for the grand American illusion of  "innocent until proven guilty".

Seems to me that since this involves high school students, the civics lesson to reinforce the notion of innocent before guilt has not only been lost, the opposite has been firmly implanted for future use as these dumb ass school children get on with their lives.

How many lives have been ruined over the years because of unfounded allegations, accusations and outright lies that have been allowed and nurtured into reality, while the Truth languishes in the shadows with no one covering its back?

Later ................................................

The Inner Sanctum

The peons are restless.  The planet is restless.  Throughout the Inner Sanctum where unquestioned omnipotence  is taken for granted, ripples are just breaking the traditional calm, threatening to overwhelm the current status quo.  The rich and powerful have ratcheted up their paranoia in an attempt to forestall any effort to take from them that which they feel entitled to.

Munching nervously on fat cigars, what they say to each other in hushed voices in backrooms never sees the light of day.  They would not want the lowlifes they lord over to know that they don't give one shit about anything but staying in power and keeping the money conduits flowing to their pockets.

They keep us fractured into partisan camps with lies, deceit and the myth that they themselves are on one side of the fence or the other.  Ideology is nothing but a wedge they use to divide us.  Reality for them is some bottom line entry in their personal ledgers.  They tell us anything they hope will keep us off our guard and on edge.  Distracting us with over stated or non-existent threats to our physical and mental well being, the issues that concern most of us take a back seat to the issues we allow them ownership of.

After all, we are nothing but herds of cattle milling around the slaughterhouse yards waiting for the Judas goat to lead us to the butcher block.  Because we allow them to own the messages and our spirits, we deserve just what they are doing to us.

Later  .......................................................

RIP Edgar Mitchell

Call it whatever you will, a moment of weakness, a passing curiosity, or just another masochistic urge that needed to be scratched.  I recently got sucked up into the vortex of one of those Internet deals offered up after conducting totally unrelated business of another kind.

I had purchased some small parts for my ancient Makita drill.  Just before I was about to move on, a window popped up offering me great rewards if I filled out a survey (promised to last only a few valuable minutes - they lied) regarding my recent purchasing experience.

In full Homer mode, I punched the "sure, why not" button.

The survey itself was short and simple.  Once finished, I eagerly punched the "now reward me" icon.

A lifetime later, I emerged almost whole again with just my ego bruised, and happy that I had only dropped $8 to regain my freedom.  I reminded myself that answering surveys on the web is  a recipe for misery and that there is no such thing as "free" on the Internet.  If it ain't money, it's at the least time paid, and always a price paid for the stress tied to knowing you have been snared and hope that chewing off a leg is not the only option left.

It had been years since I actually had a magazine subscription of any kind.  I regularly missed the actual feel of paper with words on them.  I looked forward to getting my first mag in the mail.  So far only Time and Rolling Stone have turned up in the mailbox.  This Old House and whatever other mag I signed up for have yet to mingle with the junk mail.

Now that our nation had become hooked on getting their information in 60 second bytes off screens large and small, I expected these newer versions of periodicals I once read to be lighter in content and size than what once was.  I was not disappointed, but I was still surprised at just how much lighter in content and size they were now.  But I guess that even the fact both Rolling Stone and Time are still fighting the good fight is testimonial to their dedication to the time honored tradition of killing trees in order to keep us informed.

Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with killing trees as long as we plant new ones to take their place.  But I'd be a much bigger fan of the pulp industry if they switched to Hemp.  An annual plant harvested makes more sense than one that takes many more years to mature before being worthy for the pulp bowl.  An acre of hemp yields as much pulp as 4 acres of trees, is recyclable up to 8 times versus the 3 times wood pulp can be recycled and it outlasts wood fiber paper by centuries.  Seems to be a no brainer.  But then what do I know?

Anyway, forgive me for sidetracking.  My point of this post has yet to even be posted and now I sit here and wonder just what the Hell was my point in the first place......................... Uh, ................. Oh Yeah,  I wanted to talk about values, specifically the values Americans have in their hearts and minds against the real world values their actions and lifestyles indicate.  And then look at the subtle ways the media tweaks our values by what and how they present their dribble for consumption.

Time has a a two page spread entitled "The Brief".  Chock full of factoids, anecdotes, and notices, it can be consumed and digested in less than 5 minutes.  Of course there is an obit section, notices of the passing of important people once of the present, now safely ensconced in our past.  In the issue dated 2/22/16, the 3 most recent obits were the 6th man to walk on the moon, the author of Georgy Girl, and some real estate developer of apparently noteworthy renown.  And who do you think they decided warranted a picture and not just a 30 word mention?  Yeah, that's right, the real estate salesman. ...................... Hmm.

I decided Edgar Mitchell deserved better so that's why I used his name in the post title and his image to start the post.  Hands down a dead astronaut rates higher in my book than a dead rich land developer.

Later .......................................................