8 January 2020

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 8 January 12020 is International Typing Day in Malaysia—a day devoted to commemorating and celebrating written communication, whether by typewriter, teletype, or computer. It’s also the birthday of author Wilkie Collins and songwriter David Bowie if my memory can be trusted.

I see in the news that CNN has settled in the two hundred gazillion dollar lawsuit White Privilege Poster Child Nick Sandmann launched against them; the terms are undisclosed. Snowflake Sandmann’s little feelings were hurt when the media giant didn’t praise him for fearlessly standing up to a scary Omaha tribal elder banging on a drum—or something like that. Whatever the reason, any point he may have had is buried deep in the pages of invective he chose to fill his lawsuit with rather than substantive legal points. What a joke the American legal system has become, when garbage cases like this aren’t simply thrown out with the rest of the trash.

On the local front the medical team assures me that I still have a heart and it is still working, if slightly erratically. We’ll see how that pans out, I guess. I hope it comes out better than our president’s misguided Middle East policy, at the very least.

7 January 2020

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 7 January 12020 is Old Rock Day, which we celebrate by looking at old rocks and trying to fathom their history and what they tell us of the past. As William Cowper put it: “Some drill and bore | The solid earth, and from the strata there | Extract a register, by which we learn, | That he who made it, and revealed its date | To Moses, was mistaken in its age.” That’s Cowper for you—he seems to have taken a dim view of all knowledge. If he didn’t have a sense of humor he’d fit right in with the current administration. It’s also traditionally Distaff Day, when women get back to work with their textiles after a holiday break, Pioneer’s Day in Liberia, Festa del Tricolore in Italy, Constitution Day in Ghana, and Victory over Genocide Day in Cambodia. Today is the tenth of Tevet on the old Babylonian calendar still in use among the Jews, and they continue to fast in mourning over the loss of their first temple in 9415 or whenever it really was. (I’m working from memory here.)

I haven’t looked at the news, but I assume it’s still all bad, with Australia on fire, Jakarta under water, and the campaign against the so-called Islamic State disbanded. I’m more concerned about the state of my heart at the moment—today is the day the doctor is going to look at it and decide whether I live or die, or something like that.

6 January 2020

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 6 January 12020 is Armed Forces Day in Iraq. It’s also Helen Kleeb’s birthday. Since even my mother didn’t seem to know who she was, I’ll observe that she got her start right here in Portland on radio, and went on to a career in movies and television. But what I remember for most strongly is playing the Witch in Stan Freberg’s Centennial Fable Oregon, Oregon. Two explorers, ad-libbing in the wilderness, make the case for statehood, and the Witch lets Oregon out of the bottle. But there’s a catch—Oregon is a magic state, and after a hundred years it will have to go back in the bottle. That’s fine with the explorers—who’s going to be around in 1959? Well, after a minute and fifteen seconds or so 1959 rolls around, and the Witch starts putting Oregon back in the bottle. But there has to be a happy ending, protests a minor character. Why, asks the Witch. This isn’t the Shirley Temple Story Book. But there is—the state is saved and the Witch meets her end. It was Helen Kleeb who carried that production—and she was also Betsy Ross (Hey, you’re tracking snow all over my early American rug!) in Freberg’s U.S.A.

The news continues to be bleak and awful—Trump refuses to pull troops out of Iraq (despite his campaign pledge) claiming that Iraq has to pay the costs of the US invasion and occupation of their country. Australia is still on fire. Trump’s impeachment continues to be stalled. Sanity is out the window. And did I mention that an obscure bootlegger, missing for over a hundred years, has turned up—or rather, that his body has finally been identified? The wonders of forensic science.

5 January 2020

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 5 January 12020: Today is National Bird Day, for whatever that is worth. The saint of the day is Telesphorus, allegedly the seventh bishop of Rome, if you go in for that sort of thing. And it’s Stella Gibbons’ birthday. She’s the author of one of my all-time favorite books—yes, Cold Comfort Farm—and like me, was a great admirer of Jane Austen.

On this date in 1895 Alfred Dreyfus was stripped of his rank and ceremonially degraded for an act of treason against France actually committed by Ferdinand Walsin Esterhazy. Of course all the pro-military right-wingers rallied behind the traitor and condemned Dreyfus for the good of the nation and all that—just as today their spiritual descendents rally behind disgraced Navy SEAL Eddie Gallagher. Some things don’t change. Where the hell are Georges Picquart or Émile Zola when you really need them?

In the news we see that Australia is burning while Jakarta is drowning—and still we’re not allowed to mention climate change. And the U.S. President thinks that the best way to stop a war is to start one. I’m not sure of the logic of that—it reminds me of the kid who thought the best way of keeping bees from stinging him was to bash their hive with a two by four. That would teach them a lesson, he thought. And it probably did, too.

4 January 2020

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 4 January 12020 is World Braille Day, along with such disjecta membra as the Day of King Amador and the Day of the Fallen Against Colonial Oppression. As I’m feeling ill (nothing serious—just that I have to keep running to the bathroom) I don’t have much if anything to say about any of them; I’m too focused on my internal state.

America’s de facto declaration of war on Iran has stirred up the sort of international repercussions one would expect of such an incident, and President Trump seems clueless about how to deal with it. His followers insist it’s all part of a master plan—that the idiot in charge only ordered the assassination to prevent a war—and that he has hard evidence for his case. We’re supposed to take his word for it—but Trump’s word is worthless, since everything he says is a lie, so I suppose we’ll just have to wait on the revelation of this alleged hard evidence. Until then the only rational course is to fall back on the safety of disbelief. (This, by the way, is why it so important for a leader not to habitually lie—suspension of disbelief comes easier if there is reason to suppose that he or she might be telling the truth.)

In my view, by the way, Trump did the Iranians a favor by disposing of Qassem Soleimani; a martyr beats a loose cannon any day. And there are plenty of others waiting to step into his shoes.

3 January 2020

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 3 January 12020 is Festival of Sleep Day. That’s the best I can do, anyway. It’s Tolkein’s birthday, as well as George Martin’s. The saint of the day is Gordius of Cappadocia, a centurion who lost his job when a change of administration bought Christians into disfavor. He spent some time out in the desert—in meditation I suppose—before returning to  disrupt a chariot race at the expense of those who had worked hard to train for it and who had an actual stake in the outcome. He was martyred early in the fourth century.

The war with Iran is progressing nicely with the assassination of a high Iranian military official as ordered by the American president. Next the dumbass branch of the Republican party, along with Fox News and the Daily Howler, will be calling to an end to the impeachment process on the ground that the Commander In Chief needs to keep a clear head during this time of crisis—never mind that he brought the crisis on entirely by his own idiocy. If he cared about the good of the nation he’d do us all a favor and resign, confessing his inadequacy for the job he so rashly undertook. But that’s not going to happen. Trump’s only interest in the United States is ensuring its destruction. I can’t help wondering why.

2 January 2020

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 2 January 12020, Science Fiction Day, appears also to be Berchtold Day in Liechtenstein and Switzerland, Carnival Day in Saint Kitts and Nevis, and Guru Govind Singh Jayanti for Sikhs. This last is the celebration of the birthday of the tenth and last Sikh guru, who apparently codified the religion at some point during the seventeenth century. It is a movable feast from the viewpoint of the Gregorian calendar; I don’t know the details, but today is when it falls this year according to various online sources.

In the news I see that some two-bit backwoods politician (his name’s Jonathan Stickland) hasn’t heard that the efficacy of vaccines was demonstrated last century, and seems to think it is some sort of “sorcery” (his word). Texas needs to do some housecleaning ASAP. And the Dopey Don seems to be ineffectually trying to launch a war with Iran—I suppose to boost his reelection chances. Sad. And Chris Christie is predicting that three New Jersey House seats will flip from blue to red due to impeachment backlash. Crazy.

Karl Rove appears to be the latest Republican to claim that the only Democrat who can beat Trump in November is Joe Biden. I predict that if the Democrats are dumb enough to fall for that crap and run him Trump will trounce him electorally, and probably this time with at least a plurality of the popular vote. I hope I’m wrong on both counts, actually; a Biden presidency would finish the demolition job on America that Trump started, but Trump’s reelection would do the country no favors either.

Is this the end for the once-great nation? Probably not, but the road to recovery will be as long as a Russian novel and as treacherous as its current president.

1 January 2020

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 1 January 12020 is of course New Year’s Day for those of us on the Gregorian calendar. It appears also to be Liberation Day in Cuba and Independence Day in Sudan. And it is also the Feast of the Circumcision of Christ. It’s a windy, rainy day so far here in Portland, though as we’re only a couple of hours into it we’ll have to see how that develops.

Iraqi protesters storm the U.S. embassy and America’s commander-in-chief threatens neighboring Iran. North Korea promises the world a military surprise in the near future. The United Kingdom continues to prepare to flee the European Union next month. Iran appears to be moving toward starting an atomic weapons program in response to the United States’ withdrawal from a multi-party agreement that would have kept Iran out of the nuclear business. So the loons are firmly in charge as we lurch recklessly into the new year. Good luck to us all.

Screw You All—I’m Going Home

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olitics bores me. The dictionary defines it as “A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.” That probably covers it. Writing as a world citizen I don’t much care if the United States continues its downward death spiral under its current coward in chief; it’s probably about time for a realignment of world power. But, as an American, I do care. It’s too late for the country to recover its position of leadership in the world—that’s gone permanently, thanks to Der Trummkopf—but it’s not too late to have some sort of seat at the table, anyway.

For that reason I would really appreciate it if the Democrats would run somebody for president that I could vote for. I mean, I’ll vote against Trump if I possibly can, in some form or another (always assuming that the Democrats don’t run the insufferably vile Michael Bloomberg), but I’d like to see somebody in the office who stands for values I actually support.

I mean, I remember 1968. I couldn’t vote then, but I remember the campaign well. You had candidates running then that I could support—but a Palestinian terrorist murdered one of them and the party sidelined the other, and at a violent Chicago convention you guys nominated Hubert Humphrey because he was electable. What about those of us who favored change? Wasn’t the party afraid of alienating them? No, came the answer from party officials—we don’t want people like that in the party. We don’t care if they never support us.

Well, in the case of at least one individual you got your wish. And you didn’t do yourselves any favors in the wake of 2016 when you announced that you were no longer interested in my issues, even though you thought I should continue to be interested in yours. (I’m not.) No, you’d rather pursue the votes of Trump supporters in diners in the hinterlands. Okay—you know what’s best for you, I suppose.

But I know what’s best for me, and if you run Joe Biden, I won’t be voting for him. He’s never done jack to deserve my vote, he’s spent his career effectively opposing causes I support, and unlike Trump he can actually get things done. So run him if you like, but you’re throwing away my vote—and that’s on you. I owe you nothing.

And by the way—I was thinking that nothing could ever make me vote for Trump. I stand corrected. If you guys run Michael Bloomberg, I will be seriously considering it. An incompetent dimwit is infinitely preferable to a calculating villain.

11 March 2019

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 11 March 2019 is Commonwealth Day for members of the Commonwealth of Nations (which is what we call the ghost of the British Empire today). Apparently it started as a celebration of Queen Victoria’s birthday on 24 May, and somehow mutated to a celebration of the Commonwealth on the second Monday in March. If it keeps on backing through the calendar at this rate it will end up colliding with the Yuletide festivities in a century or so.

10 March 2019

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 10 March 2019 is Harriet Tubman Day in the United States, in honor of her work on the underground railroad and in fighting slavery generally. It doesn’t seem to have much of any other significance, and once again I’ve got absolutely nothing to add to a lackluster day. Well, “Sunday is the dullest day,” as the poet says, “treating | Laughter as profane sound, mixing | Worship and despair, killing | New thought with dead forms.” Maybe it’s simply what we have coming. Solis or dimanĉo, Κυριακή or Pazar, dimanche or Sonntag, it all comes down to the same thing—the day of preparation for the horrors ahead.

9 March 2019

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 9 March 2019 is Ornette Coleman’s birthday. It’s also Bobby Fischer’s birthday, as well as the birthday of P. Z. Myers. The day’s saint is Catherine of Bologna (1413–1463), patron saint of artists, against temptations, and of Bologna.

It snowed again last night in Portland, enough snow that the neighbors were building snow men and erecting snow walls. It is rapidly melting away, but I’m frankly amazed it had the temerity to stick around this long this late in the season.

8 March 2019

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 8 March 2019 is International Women’s Day. While it is a major holiday in much of the world, here in the United States it is largely overlooked, although it seems like a perfect opportunity for people to send cards or other tokens of appreciation to significant women in their lives—and thus keep our capitalist economy humming. Still.

In international news the failed peace talks between Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump have heightened the likelihood of conflict between North Korea and the United States—or more likely U.S. allies like South Korea or Japan. At any rate the North Koreans have not stopped building nuclear weapons at any point during this alleged peace process, and Trump (of course) has no plan in place for discouraging them. To the contrary, the only thing so far that has brought a sitting U.S. president racing over to pay court to the tinpot dictator is his possession of nuclear weapons. It is hard to imagine the circumstances that would induce him to give them up.

7 March 2019

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 7 March 2019 is, as far as my calendar knows, no holiday at all. It is Rik Mayall’s and Arthur Lee’s birthday, however, so it’s not a total loss. I’m feeling really crappy, which is but one reason this entry is so goddamn late in the day, and I’m sort of feeling that the end is somewhere up ahead almost in sight. Premonition? I don’t believe in them, but doom-shaped clouds lurk ahead, and my course is set, like it or not.

6 March 2019

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 6 March 2019 is Ash Wednesday. It is the birthday of Michelangelo, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Ring Lardner, and Will Eisner. And it is also the anniversary of the famous last stand at the Alamo. And today it’s snowing right here in Portland.

And that’s about what I seem to have today. The news is boring, and I don’t have the energy to put out anything of any substance. I’ve got to get some sleep before nightfall.

Had he lived, my father would have been ninety-four today. I suppose even if he’d beaten that giant cell arteritis a couple decades back something would have likely gotten him by now. Still, ninety-four is by no means out of reach. I don’t expect to see it myself, but almost certainly some people who were born when I was will.

5 March 2019

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 5 March 2019 is Shrove Tuesday, alias Fat Tuesday, a.k.a. Mardi Gras. In Vermont it is Town Meeting Day. It is the last day to live it up before the horrors of Lenten austerity descend.

4 March 2019

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 4 March 2019 is Casimir Pulaski Day, Idaho Day, and Maha Shivaratri. It’s Guy Wetmore Carryl’s birthday, too—he’s the author of the extraordinary Kipling parody that begins “As I was walkin’ the jungle round, a-killin’ of tigers an’ time…” And it’s Halim El-Dabh’s birthday as well. The Egyptian composer is responsible for the standout track on the 1964 Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center album, “Leiyla and the Poet,” one of my favorite compositions of all time. Beginning and ending with a piercing whistle, the piece sets two contrasting voices to work in an expression of desire for a possibly unattainable woman. Against a rhythmic background of drums and plucked strings the one chants of love (the poet?) while the other bellows the name “Leiyla” in an unearthly sort of howl that starts low, rises a couple of octaves and drops again. It is a disquieting, even frightening, piece.

3 March 2019

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 3 March 2019 is World Wildlife Day, a relatively recent observance intended to remind us of the intrinsic value of wildlife and the part it plays in our ecosystem. It is the one hundred forty-forth anniversary of the premiere performance of Carmen in Paris. Georges Bizet’s work did not go over well immediately. At least that’s what I remember from the Big Book of Composers that I had as a kid. When the composer died—and he was relatively young at the time—he had no idea his opera would become a standard work, known to millions. I suppose that’s what makes Enoch Soames’ deal so poignant—the sense that the success that might have eluded you in life might come—too late. The catch is—the odds are that if your work didn’t catch on in your lifetime it’s even more unlikely that it will catch on after your death. Death is only a good career move for those who had a career in the first place.

2 March 2019

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 2 March 2019 is Texas Independence Day, commemorating the moment when a flood of illegal immigrants into Mexico boldly seized control of a chunk of Mexican territory and declared it an independent nation. Nine years later the illegal immigrants completed their theft by joining the United States as the pro-slavery state of Texas. And today descendents of the illegal immigrants who stole the state fair and square nearly two centuries back worry about illegal immigrants from Mexico reversing affairs and stealing the state back. The wheel turns, I suppose.

It’s also Eddie Lawrence’s birthday. If you remember him at all—and you probably don’t—it’s for his “Old Philosopher” routine, where he juxtaposes hideous but comic disasters (“and your Uncle Harold came in as a big jolly bear, and your father shot him”) with hollow uplifting advice (“Well lift your head up high and take a walk in the sun with dignity and stick-to-it-iveness and … never give up, never give up, never give up—that ship!”). My personal favorite character of his, however, is the noxious guy in the bar complaining endlessly about modern life—rock ’n’ roll, Christmas, New Year (“ring out the old, ring in the new—new what? New worries?”)—to somebody who periodically requests “Will you shut up?” Then there’s “The Visitor” with his obscure bits of wisdom (“The whole world’s patching up the same pair of faded blue jeans,”) that seem like they ought to mean something—but don’t. And his endless list of people to stay away from (“anyone who’d frame a Christmas card from a bank … anyone who’d play ‘knock knock’ on his honeymoon … off duty cops with attack dogs”). There was never anyone quite like Eddie Lawrence, anyway. He may be gone—but he’s unforgettable.

1 March 2019

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 1 March 2019 is Employee Appreciation Day, Read Across America Day, and St. David’s Day. Locally it is I Can’t Pay the Rent Day—the day I try to figure out how in hell I can continue to afford to contribute my share towards a couch in a basement that periodically floods. At least I have my blankets for warmth. And my dog.

Elsewhere idiots are attacking part of the key infrastructure that keeps all humanity afloat—our ability to deal with microorganisms that interfere with our ability to function. Some incompetent anti-vax loon in Texas thinks that measles is no big deal because we have “antibiotics and that kind of stuff.” Apparently he doesn’t know that antibiotics do nothing to stop measles. Dumbass Bill Zedler—who is a state legislator—claims to have had measles when he was growing up and “as far as being sick in bed, it wasn’t anything like that.” Bullshit. I really did have measles as a kid, and I was flat on my back for over a week and then had to fight off another infection thanks to a weakened immune system. That’s what happens when you really do get measles and aren’t merely faking it. And people do die of measles right here in America, as Bill Zedler would know if he wasn’t just a lying sack of shit sounding off about things he knows nothing about. He’s no different from those gibbering assholes in the Democratic Republic of the Congo who are setting fire to Ebola clinics for some asshole political reason. I’m not a big proponent of the death penalty, but as far as I’m concerned such traitors to humanity—I’m specifically referring to Bill Zedler and his pro-Ebola allies—ought to be lined up and shot sans ceremony. Toleration is no virtue for these criminals.