Disgruntled

This has not been my day. Nearly hit by a car while crossing Huber this morning, charged twice for a pricey set of books I’ve ordered, and still wondering about how I was supposed to know that my shoulder was heal by itself before I’d had it evaluated by professionals. Yeah, Medicare says it won’t pay for my visit because the excruciating pain in my shoulder was something that would heal on its own. How I was supposed to know that when I’ve never had anything like this before I don’t know. Needless to say, I am not pleased by any of it.

Some asshole I was reading on Quora claims that Fawn Brodie made up a story about Joseph Smith attempting to walk on water, while admitting that he hadn’t actually read the book anytime recently. Unmitigated bullshit. Fawn Brodie relates an “apocryphal story about Joseph Smith” narrowly escaping drowning when attempting to fake a water-walk on a hidden plank bridge, giving sources for it from 1834 and 1835. In other words, Brodie didn’t make it up, and didn’t claim it was true—which is the meaning of the word “apocryphal” in this context. There is such a thing as research, after all. If you’re going to write something on Quora, you should try it out sometime.

Random Rant #83094

Every time I try to write something I end up recycling bits from the past—old commercials, bits of songs, things my father said to me. I might write about how the right-wing ravers can’t seem to keep their story straight—were the unhinged AINOs that looted the Capitol Trump supporters? Or were they anti-fascists? Nobody seems to know for sure. Ben Shapiro says one thing, and Tucker Carlson says something else. Who are they supposed to believe? Some Fox lady was bragging about how were Trump to lose, his followers would simply go about their day and accept it—not that Trump was going to lose, mind you. What a contrast to the Biden supporters!

(As someone who is neither a Trump nor a Biden supporter, I found this unlikely as hell—I expected the Biden supporters to shrug and go about their business when Trump crushed him, as I predicted he would; if Biden somehow won I did expect Trump supporters to riot, vandalize and loot to show their displeasure with the results. Mind you, I was with Tomi whatever-her-name-is as far as predicting that Trump would win, but picturing staid conservative Biden supporters taking to the streets, let alone throwing some kind of fit about it—no, it’s too much to ask.)

(Of course the BLM and anti-fascist protests would have continued regardless; they were never dependent on national politics.)

Out

This is the end, my friends. It’s a wet rainy day here in Portland, and the knowledge that we have a mad president—not just an unhinged president—a stark raving lunatic running the country. He needs to be removed from office right now, by whatever means, and only then should his enablers and nuthatch followers be taken care of.

The Steal

The Steal is on. Armed insurrectionists stormed the Capitol today, egged on by the Dopey Don, and are now being beaten back by the police. While unarmed insurrectionists inside the building were trying to nullify Arizona’s presidential vote because it hadn’t gone the way they wanted, armed insurrectionists stormed the building from outside, apparently for the hell of it, since they didn’t seem to have any clue about what they were going to do except break windows and vandalize the center of American government.

This coup attempt came as the results of the Georgia run-off elections were being calculated, with control of the Senate apparently passing from Gutless Mitch to some Democratic scumbag to be named later, and in the wake of President-In-Name-Only Trump’s phone call pressuring Georgia officials to “find” enough votes to somehow make him the winner.

These AINOs—Americans In Name Only—both inside and outside the government, should all face charges. Indeed, I would go further. The gormless dope in charge of this whole riot should be impeached, removed from office, and then charged with the crimes he’s committed. The various officials who have abetted this whole farce, senators and representatives alike, should likewise be removed from office. All involved should be given a choice of renouncing their American citizenship and leaving for whatever shithole country will take them, or being sent to Gitmo never to be seen again.

Chilling Effect

Okay, the authorities did (kind of) what I expected, at any rate. No charges are to be filed against the officer who shot a man at point-blank range in front of the children and left him paralyzed. On the other hand the guy who opened fire on a crowd, killing two men and injuring a third, is being charged for something—which I didn’t expect. The first is par for the course. I’ve seen the story play out over and over again. An officer of the law kills somebody—maybe a kid playing with a toy gun, maybe some guy standing by his own house who didn’t show the proper deference—and people are upset. First thing the police do is try to blame the victim—maybe the kid playing with the gun had once been accused of shoplifting, or the guy by his house had an outstanding warrant on an old charge of jaywalking or something. And we learn that the officer was only following orders, was within the departmental guidelines, was doing as he was trained to do. Then upset members of the community are described as rioters, and acts of vandalism by unknown parties are turned into major infractions of the law. Maybe we hear noises about new training for officers, or some sort of new review board to be set up. The authorities announce that the officer in question will be returning to his job, and the officer himself says that if the same situation comes up again he will do the exact same thing. And pundits editorialize about how terrible it is that police officers can no longer shoot unarmed civilians without a big fuss being made over it, and how this will have a chilling effect on police shooting unarmed civilians in the future, and we can’t have that, you know. And everybody forgets about it except maybe the friends and family of the dead. And then the clueless seem puzzled when a slogan like “defund the police” starts making the rounds. “What could have brought that on?” they ask. “Isn’t that kind of extreme?”

Paris Timelapse

Well, things are getting worse, but I still feel like writing something or other. Today I got sidetracked into trying to run down a short film I saw in a PBS series called Film Odyssey back in 1972, featuring scenes of night life in Paris in high speed. I think it was in black and white. In Portland it was (apparently) broadcast 12 July 1972, but the newspaper simply describes it as “an unusual view of Paris” or the like without giving the title of the piece. And at this point I’m giving up on the day.

Nothing #14207

Nothing is happening, and I continue dispirited and depressed. I’m going to try to get back to regular posts in the near future, but I don’t have anything prepared, exactly, and the effort exhausts me. Maybe things will be different soon.

Antics of the Rich and Infamous

Whatever. The pain is diminishing, anyway, but the news remains lurid and flashy, like a defective neon sign just outside your window. Over a hundred legislators, allegedly, are planning to throw a spoiled-brat party when it comes time to finally certify the vote of the Electoral College. This is the kind of crap the Diggers used to pull in the Haight-Ashbury days—no substance, just a childish attempt to gum up the works. And while I’m personally childish enough to rather enjoy the sideshow, it’s odd to see America’s supposed leaders wallowing in the mud like so many hogs. It makes levitating the Pentagon look like a class act, overflowing with solemnity and dignity. You guys might want to keep in mind that people out here in the real world are really suffering. You know, if you can spare some time from your antics and high jinks.

Tired, In Pain, and Upset

After thinking it over I decided to offer a quick Happy New Year here—not that I believe it is going to be happy, but you never know. I’m not happy, but that’s mostly because I’m tired, in pain, and upset with the people who share this house with me. I’m sure that everything will pass, but for the moment I am in too much pain to care much—not that the pain is extreme at all, just annoying—and I am too dispirited and discouraged to put words down on virtual paper. But I don’t really want to start the new year with a perfect blank, so—Happy New Year. And Allah help us all.

A Final Word from 12020

350,421   people in the United States have died of the pandemic so far. All the signs point to the worst being still in front of us. And believe me, I am not happy about it, having every chance of being one of the future victims of this thing.

And I can’t join in with the chorus of those bidding a fond farewell to 2020 in the hopes of better times ahead—as I’ve indicated, I strongly suspect that those of us who survive will soon be looking back on 2020 as a golden age. In view of what’s ahead, I feel more like clinging onto 2020 with both hands as a drowning survivor clings to whatever piece of refuse floats nearby in the hopes of staving off the inevitable termination.

Admittedly, my attitude may be colored by my situation—a shoulder, wrist, and knee all painfully not fully functional—and by deaths in my family and beyond, but nobody who has a right to an opinion, nobody who actually knows what he or she is talking about, is holding out any hope for a quick recovery, or a bright 2021. So, you know, seasoned greetings or whatever, and maybe I’ll see you on the other side. Hang in there regardless.

A Shithole of a Day

Well, to hell with it. Today was another shithole of a day; our shiny new Black and Decker mini-refrigerator finally arrived, much to my relief as I am past the end of my raveled rope of sanity on this no-cold-food thing—and turned out to be a turkey. It doesn’t work. Dead on arrival. And I have no way of returning it, so I’ll just have to add it to the heap of things to be hauled off if and when I have money again. And no refrigeration in sight. Well, that’s capitalism for you.

29 December 12020

343,407   pandemic deaths in America out of a world total of 1,774,390. I’m not noting that to put the number in any kind of perspective; I’m simply appalled. And I’ve got to say, based on past pandemics, I would expect that the worst is ahead of us. Regrets are vain, but I can’t help thinking—what if we’d had somebody even marginally competent in the cockpit? What if America had taken the lead in the pandemic response, instead of tagging along behind everyone else, like somebody’s slow-witted cousin who had to be included but nobody really wanted along? “America First” certainly proved bad policy in this case—we’ve ended up in first place in a category nobody wants to be in.

Whatever. 29 December 12020 is the fourth day of Kwanzaa (African Diaspora), The Fifth Day of Christmas (Christianity [west]), Constitution Day (Ireland), Independence Day (Mongolia), Udhauli Parva (Nepal), and Unduvap Full Moon Poya Day (Sri Lanka). (I don’t know how many of these are real or current, but they’re what I have.) And it’s Pepper Pot Day. The saint of the day is Thomas Becket, the subject of plays by T. S. Eliot and Jean Anouilh, who came to a bad end during the time of Henry II of England. Today is Yvonne Ellison’s birthday. And I’m done.

28 December 12020

339,032   deaths in America from the current pandemic mean nothing, according to the magas, right-wingers, economy boosters, and austerity proponents. Surplus population, in the words of Ebenezer Scrooge, the Spirit of Capitalism Past. At least the Lame-Duck-in-Chief took time out from his busy golfing schedule to finally sign the Covid relief bill—which, let me remind you, is intended to help save the American economy, not American lives.

Anyway, 28 December 12020 is Proclamation Day (Australia), the Fourth Day of Christmas (Christianity [west]), Republic Day (South Sudan), and King Taksin Memorial Day (Thailand). It is also when Boxing Day is observed in many countries, as the day itself fell on a Saturday this year. Assuming no miscalculations on my part it is 28 December 2020 (N.S.) or 15 December 2020 (O.S.), 13 Teveth 5781, 13 Jumada I 1442, 19 Koiak 1737, 7 Pausa 1942, 8 Dey 1399, and JD 2459212. The saints of the day are the Holy Innocents—the imaginary children slaughtered by Herod the Great in a vain attempt to eliminate a future rival to his throne. And it’s Stan Lee’s birthday.

On this day in history (11973) President Richard Nixon signed the Endangered Species Act into law, one of the most important pieces of legislation in my lifetime. Inadequate though it is, and weakened by savage attacks on it (especially during the Bush II and Trump administrations), it still remains a dyke against the rising tide of eco-destruction being rained down upon us by present-day Capitalism and other related evils. Unfortunately dumbasses in this country have turned away from consulting people who know what they’re talking about in favor of people who have only ignorance to contribute (along with the liability of a financial stake in the outcome) with catastrophic results. (The Bush II administration again is heavily to blame for this approach—but the Clinton, Obama, and Trump administrations all contributed their bit.) And so the fire awaits us all—unless we repent.

In the news I see that a Green Beret killed three people and wounded three others in a shooting spree in Illinois—and yet there’s no outcry from the Proud Boys et al against the United States Army Special Forces. They’re being a bit inconsistent here, aren’t they? I mean, if every Black Lives Matter protester is guilty of actions committed by somebody else associated with the movement, shouldn’t the same apply to the Green Berets? Still, I imagine that Duke Webb (the alleged shooter) will come out all right. I mean, we now pardon mass murderers so long as they’re in the military. He can go the rounds of the right-wing rallies with Vile Kyle and the Blackwater killers and clean up. And to hell with Justice.

27 December 12020

338,352   pandemic deaths here in the sweet land of liberty, and it’s nothing to sing about. Incompetence writ large, in flaming letters. Still, 27 December 12020 is No Interruptions Day. It’s also the Third Day of Christmas, Constitution Day (North Korea), and Emergency Rescuer’s Day (Russia). On various calendars of the world it is 12 Jumada I 1442, 12 Teveth 5781, 18 Koiak 1737, 6 Pausa 1942, 7 Dey 1399, JD 2459211, 27 December 2020 (N.S.) or 14 December 2020 (O.S.). On this day in history (11941) Dmitri Shostakovich completed his seventh symphony (“Leningrad”) in Samara; the piece would go on to be enormously popular during the World War. Its popularity declined precipitously in the post-war environment; derided as trite, bombastic, and pretentious, few could be bothered to spend the hour and a quarter needed to take it in. Possibly that’s why a copy of it fell into my hands somewhere in the early to mid ’60s, and it quickly became a favorite of mine. Judging from my memory of the cover, I suppose it must have been the version featuring the New York Philharmonic, Leonard Bernstein conducting—but I could easily be wrong. Personally I think the piece will continue to be performed and enjoyed—at least by audiences who appreciate it for what it is.

I somehow managed to fall yesterday and bashed my knee against the concrete sidewalk—and then later on at least gave moral support when my roommate’s dog came in from the front yard with part of his ear missing. We’re both all right—the dog and I anyway—but I’m having trouble moving around, and he has to take it easy for a bit while his ear heals. I just checked in on him upstairs, and he seems okay; it took me two or three times as long as usual to go up the stairs, and there was a fair amount of pain associated with it. Maybe things will be better tomorrow.

26 December 12020

337,073   pandemic deaths in the United States and no relief in sight. 26 December 12020 is the Second Day of Christmas in Western Christianity. It’s also the first day of Kwanzaa (African diaspora), Father’s Day (Bulgaria), St. Stephen’s Day (Christianity [western]), Mauro Hamza Day (Houston), Wren Day (Ireland and the Isle of Man), Mummer’s Day (Padstow), Independence and Unity Day (Slovenia), Day of Goodwill (South Africa), and Day of the Banner (Spain). Frederick II was born on this date in 1194 CE, but the equivalent date on the calendar used on this site is 2 January 11195. On this date in history (11862) nearly forty Dakota men who had been convicted of wartime atrocities were executed by hanging. The number would have been much larger if Abraham Lincoln had not commuted the sentences of more than two hundred men who (it was argued) had only engaged in acts of war, not attacks on civilians. The war had been brought on, by the way, by bureaucratic incompetence (fueled by racism) and by capitalism (fueled by inhumanity). Traders who had brought out food in the expectation of receiving payment for it from the government to fulfil treaty obligations declined to distribute it until the money was placed in their hot greedy hands. Bureaucratic delay resulted in starvation for the Dakota people with food kept locked up by capitalistic traders. When asked how the people could feed their children, one of the traders is supposed to have replied that they could eat grass, or their own shit, as far as he was concerned. When things blew up (as of course they did) the traders ended up dead, along with a number of civilians, many of them recent immigrants from Scandinavia who had no more idea of what was going on than you probably would have. With the exception of Little Crow, the starving Dakota people, and the hapless immigrants who were in the way, I have little sympathy for anyone involved in this nightmarish incident. The iconic scene for me is the one in which a family, fleeing with all their remaining goods from the outbreak, run into a detachment of soldiers. Did they receive help? No—the soldiers made off with whatever goods they had saved, along with their team and wagon, leaving them destitute on the plain. Mismanagement and incompetence, yes—but something more in my book. A callous indifference to life at any rate, along with a mechanical devotion to a god of gold.

21 December 12020

324,423   people dead from the pandemic in the United States. And it’s the solstice—the winter solstice here in the northern hemisphere, and the summer solstice south of the equator. It’s also a day when I was racing around trying to keep an appointment with the doctor, as well as link up with the landlord here to show a problem with the electricity in the kitchen. Busy busy busy.

20 December 12020

322,484   total deaths in the United States from the pandemic. And that’s all I have this 20 December 12020 of the Holocene Era.

19 December 12020

319,985   pandemic deaths here in the United States and the number keeps growing by leaps and bounds. 19 December 12020 doesn’t seem to be any sort of holiday, and the only saint Sabine Baring-Gould gives an account of is a “certain Nemesion,” according to Bishop Dionysius of Alexandria, who wrote to Fabius of Antioch about “an Egyptian [who] was accused at first of being a companion of thieves; but when he had repelled this charge before the centurion as a calumny, devoid of truth, he was charged with being a Christian, and was brought as a prisoner before the governor. He, a most unrighteous judge, inflicted a punishment more than double that awarded to robbers, both scourges and tortures, and then committed him to the flames between thieves, thus honoring the blessed martyr after the example of Christ.” Notable people born today include Edith Piaf (“La Vie En Rose”), Phil Ochs (“I Ain’t Marching Any More”), Tim Reid (Mastergate), and Zal Yanovsky (“Nirvana Banana”).

And, in case you thought members of the ruling elite in this country had reached maximum cluelessness, here’s representative Jim Jordan letting us peons in on his high-toned thoughts: “The best stimulus? A job.” How long did it take you to come up with that idea, numbbrain? Any idea where that job is going to come from? Or had you forgotten the pandemic? Or do you just think that jobs grow on trees? And this is the kind of intelligence that is supposed to lead us out of the catastrophe? God help America!

I Feel Shitty #444

I   am not feeling well this day after getting several hours of sleep; I had hoped that when I woke up I would be back to normal, but no such luck. I walked up the street to buy ice before the local store closed, only to realize that I had forgotten my mask. (The cold air against my face reminded me.) I turned around and went back to get it, went up to the store—and found that they had no ice, as their freezer was defective. Okay, no problem, I’ll just go up the 7-Eleven for it instead. It’s more expensive there, and it’s in the opposite direction, but at least I’ll have it over with—right? Well, I got up to 7-Eleven just fine, and they did have ice there—but they aren’t taking EBT for the moment.

And that about sums things up for me right now. I suppose now my roommate will announce that he’s been fired when he gets home from work, or maybe that the store he works for has gone out of business. It feels like that sort of day anyway.

18 December 12020

317,246   pandemic deaths in the United States so far, and no end in sight. Quite the contrary, actually. And no relief to the American people, and the government about to shut down, thanks to the absolute incompetence of Gutless Mitch, the self-proclaimed Grim Reaper. And let’s not forget his little stooge, the Dopey Don. If there’s any justice the whole lot of them will face military tribunals before being shuffled off to Gitmo to spend the rest of their miserable lives. AINO POS Dan Crenshaw can join them there too.

And there’s nothing worth writing about this 18 December 12020 of the Holocene Era; everything has turned to shit in the land of the rich and the home of the slave. I mean, in another time and place I might enjoy writing about the capers of unhinged as they attempt to distract us from the criminal antics of the ruling class, but right now it’s a goddamn dance of death.