The Examined Life, part Deux

Have you eaten at that high-end restaurant yet? Is there some delivery order freaky fast on its way? Are you ready for some football? Especially the half-time show for the next Super Bowl, when Lady Gaga will be fulfilling her pop cultural mojo with a no doubt dazzling and psycho-like choreographed series of numbers that will make viewers over the age of 50 wonder–Lady Gaga?! Really?! But I could be off on that number. I mean, she turned 30 last March. 30! No wonder she’s taking the half-time gig. Fame is fleeting. But I’ll assume her bottom line is in good shape. I recall when I was in college, the mantra was never trust anyone over thirty… Sure, but of course that was then, and now is…well…kind of nightmarish. C’mon. Just look around. Don’t trust anyone running for President over 65? Retire, let some young bloods with we the people ideas have a chance? But that’s going to have to be down the road, at least four-year’s worth…

As for pop culture, rather than cesspool political culture, icons comes and go (unless you are Cher or Mick Jagger) but pop culture is our way of escaping (especially you know what). Hey, some people couldn’t get enough of Rod McKuen or The Carpenters, while others were identifying with Patti Smith and Leonard Cohen. Different strokes. We’re all entitled. After all it’s just POP CULTURE. American style, that is. Flavor of the week 21st century version. As for assessing where one stands in regards to our overall culture, from pop to politics, and placing greater value on one incarnation of it over another, partake in this simple exercise: The Cultural Ladder.

Imagine a ladder that is at least about ten feet in rungs. Then draw the ladder on paper to give it some material substance. The top rung represents your highest cultural rung. Lofty status. You really admire this top rung-residing entity. What notable writer, politician, business person, educator, inventor, philosopher, engineer, culinary master, scientist, artist, athlete, spiritual leader, musician, composer, dancer, singer, doctor, designer, scientist, philanthropist, architect, comic or on-the-rise newcomer among other such people who orbit your personal universe would be placed way up there, at maximum rung-osity? Then place an occupant on the next rung down (it’s best to start at the top and go down) and so forth. Give this exercise serious thought, especially if you intend to show it to anyone else! Then step back and assess your cultural ladder and who (entries should be people, not places or things) is where.

I used to have my students in mass communication classes do this. After all, if we admire anyone (outside of our families and friends, of course, who don’t qualify for the ladder) enough to give them a rung, it is most likely that the knowledge of this person was accessed through one medium or another. In some cases, maybe there is direct contact with some rung-worthy resident–by way of employment or in the educational context–but more likely the basis of awareness and admiration was a product of the mass media. One reads, listens, attends, observes, seeks out information, and its the media, old school or 21st century social media-infested, that provides us with the connection, be it intellectually, emotionally or psychologically. Your ladder may have someone still alive and quite well, or centuries dead, someone who is a household name or as obscure as the creator of the Hoola Hoop.

Perhaps Lady Gaga would be at the top rung for one person or another. Someone else has Nikola Tesla. Okay. Whatever. In either case, who lands on the bottom rung and all the rungs in-between? Hmmm.

Not that it matters to anyone but ourselves, but as this fall season plays itself out, with the media seeming to have neither much seriously examined content, and cookie-cutter style, it would take a much more serious effort to read, listen, attend or observe a culturally substantial individual (that is, someone whose contributions to humanity are easily worth admiration) than once was the case given the seeming narrowly focused, infotainment media model: if it bleeds it leads via facile breaking news!, developing story segments, then 10 second political sound bites, then weather, sports and the cult of personality coverage (Brad and Angelina are separating!!!) Or one of the Kardashian sisters was robbed!!! Then reality tv, court tv, trash tv (can you say Jerry Springer?).

If the mass media could do a cultural ladder on itself, I’m pretty sure a certain reality show creature would be teetering atop that most upper rung. And I’m not referring to Jerry Springer.

The other rungs would seemingly have the rest of the Kardashians, Lester Holt, Matt Lauer, Megan Kelly, Tom Brady, LeBron James or even O.J.Simpson (hey, these folks are news).

Maybe Jimmy Kimmel would get the bottom rung. Unless he gets bumped by Lady Gaga.

The examined ladder of life. 30 minute limit. Begin…

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It’s a Sloppy Track, Rail Birds

The DNC and the pathetic excuse for journalistic truth-seeking can take credit if Hillary doesn’t win on November 8th. The Democratic higher-ups obviously backed the wrong horse in the race to the White House, and now they are paying for it by watching Hillary gasping for air as the home stretch looms large. She’s still slightly ahead of the nag nagging her in spite of her being the supposed thoroughbred in the race while her snorting, rambling opponent, racing WAAAAY out of its class, and not even properly groomed and trained, somehow sticks with her, now close to a neck-and-neck position. My opinion is the grunting, blustering, babbling, bombastic, ill-bred nag is doing well in positioning at this point is its ability to turn the track into complete slop. It loves mud! Horses that do well in the slop are called “mudders,” and this nag is one mutha’ of a mudder.

The DNC’s thoroughbred has been not been able to adapt to the slop and seems mired in mediocrity owing to mishandling by the Democratic Party’s stable hands.

But my oh my!, their political thoroughbred, given her lengthy and mostly successful track record,  and an impressive war (horse) chest, should be emulating the greatest thoroughbred ever, Secretariat. All Secretariat did was demolish his opposition by 25 lengths, circa the 1973 Belmont Stakes, and capture the coveted Triple Crown. That race was no contest long before they even got into the back stretch! Ms.Clinton was a Secretary of State and won a senate seat in New York, but this biggest prize of all seems too much for her to handle. She may be winded now and likely fade into ignominy,  not so much because of the one other horse left in this race for the White House, but owing to a third horse,  no longer in the running, who broke out of the starting gate rather late but…

…late break or not, the best horse in the race was this obscure political equine named Bernie Sanders. Bernie was the equivalent of a race horse with little in the way of name recognition, a “claimers”  type, as it were, possessing little national mojo, with small-time backing, 25 lengths behind from the get-go, trailing even the rancid mudder chasing after the big money Philly saddled up by her Party big-wigs with plenty of corporate sponsorship to keep the campaign feed bag full of long-haul, high octane fuel. That was the plan, anyway.

The odd-makers barely bothered with Sanders. Fuggetaboutit!, they snickered.

But, Bernie, in spite of being the oldest horse in the race, clearly made up ground rapidly, passing Trump and hearing more and more “go Bernie!” cheers from the political grandstands, and was shockingly closing in on that Wall Street backed thoroughbred. Alas, Bernie’s cheering section was not loud or large enough (though it was substantial) and not so deep-pocketed as to overcome the late start, and the immediate dismissal as a serious, legitimate, competitor by the mainstream media monitoring this competition.

Now Bernie is out of the race–in spite of his clearly demonstrating his increasing potential ability to finish ahead of both the thoroughbred and the smelly nag Trumpling along in the slop. If only he were permitted to be taken seriously by a media that became addicted to the mudder and its outrageous rantings and proffering of political poop that nonetheless smelled like roses in newsrooms, and gleaned golden for their ratings. Meaning profits. Meaning the media is one big whore. But that’s for another blog post…

Now, one of the two remaining creatures left gallomping toward the finish line has to win. It may be an ugly finish, with lots of gasping, grunting and sweat adding to the sloppy track. Or maybe they’ll both pull up lame. Nah. My guess is even if both break down, one or the other will be dragged across the finish line if need be, each covered in rancid slime, and all the more fitting for that.

Whatever the case, Bernie, the outsider, the second coming of Silky Sullivan (Google it) in the race, but who couldn’t overcome the long odds, the media’s virtual refusal to acknowledge he was even in the race,  and the DNC’s entire stable unable to take the Clinton blinders off, will likely become the scape(horse) of this election if the thoroughbred runs completely out of gas. Just wait and see. Those accusations are already being churlishly spouted right now.

Yeah! If only that damn Bernie hadn’t come along,  the DNC’s thoroughbred wouldn’t have had to burn so much energy before even hitting the first turn. If only those deluded folks who foolishly slammed down their 27 dollar win bets on Bernie, urging him on in grand delusion, had realized the race was fixed all along, and their efforts futile, their thoroughbred would be the easy winner. How dare they! What, didn’t these dreamers get the “it’s rigged!” memo?! How not? The press and the DNC sure kept sending it their way. Were they wearing blinders too?  They didn’t see Bernie was a fluke? No chance he could win in rigged race. They don’t realize the Democratic wing of the Democratic Party is not part of the program now, and hasn’t been for a long, long time. Geeze, who do these goofy idealists think they are? Idealists?

Well, we’ll see. All I know for sure is that, whoever is declared the winner, there’s going to be a lot of smelly horseshit to be cleaned up afterwards and for a while to come. Maybe decades to come. The Bernie rail birds will not forget what happened. So don’t anyone give them a shovel to lend a helping hand. It’s not their mess to tidy up, no matter how many mopes will keep insisting it is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Other Carnival Barkers (not named Trump)

Well, here we are. Barely more than a day away from the first “debate” between Agent Orange and Hillary, the Bland.

Just the way our phony, rigged semi-two party system wanted it. And Bernie Sanders supporters be damned. And also, Bernie-ites, you (and me) $27 dollar average donors to his campaign (totaling millions and millions to his effort) will we all just please shut the fuck up and GET OVER IT! I mean, after all the primaries were conducted and OUR GUY LOST!

Oh, and now that we know ever-so-more what any potential voter with a functioning brain knew waaaaay back, that Agent Orange is SO, SO, SO UNFIT to be President, that you former Bernie or Bust crowd HAVE NO CHOICE  other than Ms.Bland. I mean, Jesus fucking Christ Almighty, you Bernie fans, are you actually considering NOT voting to keep that crazy, racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, Islamaphobic, hate-mongering, fascist out of the White House?!  Don’t you dumb ass Bernie Kool-Aid drinking misfits not understand that you HAVE NO CHOICE but to vote for that woman?!

I mean, get with the program. The primaries. The public has spoken. It was fair and square. Now face the music. You DO NOT HAVE ANY OTHER CHOICE but to VOTE FOR HER! …shout the Clintonian carnival barkers.

*   *   *

That’s the mantra I keep hearing from even some progressives (!!) in the media. They’re in a frenzy! Well, tough shit, I say. Your shut up and vote for her!  is offensive as hell. It’s such a steaming pile of horseshit. It’s an insult to every person who supported Bernie, perhaps giving much more than $27 to his campaign, because the Democratic primaries were NOT fairly conducted, and these desperate voices from the DNC and the Left know it. It has been clearly shown that the DNC undermined the Sander’s campaign, trying everything short of having him kidnapped and confined in some cave, when his non-corporate, populist, enough is enough persona took off and forced the Democratic Party and the status quo, lap dog media, to take him at least slightly seriously. But not seriously serious. By that I mean, both the DNC and the media went into defcon 2, then 3 mode, then when he kept winning primaries, bumped it to defcon 4 mode, barely giving him voice in print or on the so-called news programs, and when he STILL kept winning enough primaries to pour water on Hillary’s barely flickering flame of a candidacy, it was defcon 5 and all hands on deck!

Bernie supporters saw the unmitigated bias and contempt that was being visited upon this socialist (Agent Orange set back and enjoyed the scene, while actually saying virtually nothing about Bernie) who railed against the banksters and the job-killing trade deals and the ripping off of college students by way of high interest loans, and the disastrous deregulation of just about every consumer protection policy or environmental protection legislation. He was gaining plenty enough traction that Candidate Snoozy flip-flopped on her well established business-as-usual, corporatist, hawkish track record, while trying to evade questions concerning a private server for emails as Secretary of State (a symptom of her being a bit secretive and/or untrustworthy, all red meat for the pack of jackals within the neo-con GOP)

But the DNC had Debbie Shultz and the same lame and lazy, mile wide, half an inch deep style of “journalism” went into full Bernie can’t possibly win mode .  Sander’s climbing polling numbers, in the face of the constant push-back against him, were nothing less than astonishing given his from-out-of-nowhere candidacy. One can only imagine how thorough a thrashing of Ms.Toxic it would have been in an ACTUAL fair primary process.

Never mind the poll numbers that threatened the DNC’s cynical, fait accompli coronation of their candidate. The polls constantly showed Bernie easily defeating Agent Orange, you know, that guy who now somehow, some way, has the Bland One in a tight race. But even that couldn’t inject any sense into the DNC and their lousy, really lousy preferred choice of a nominee.

And now, because of their intransigence, their pigheaded refusal who act responsibly about who was really, truly the person in the race who could easily trump Agent Orange, Bernie supporters are lectured over and over, in scolding, condescending fashion, that they HAVE NO CHOICE but to vote for her if they want their country safe from neo-fascism.

The fact that the DNC picked such a weak candidate that her opponent’s grotesquely sociopathic and hate-filled candidacy has her sweating things out speaks so poorly of this dysfunctional, institutional election process, where it has now reached its seeming inevitable nadir with either a buffoon or an empty pant-suited double-talker destined to become our next President.

If the buffoon wins, get ready, Bernie-ites, it’ll be OUR FAULT. And even if the empty suit wins, in a squeaker, Bernie’s people will be scorned for not making it a landslide.

This is one enough is enough, Bernie (his refreshing ideas, his revolutionary essence, even more than the man himself) fan who says, we get the government we deserve. I’m trying to figure out how in the hell this country deserves the government we have right now let alone the dubious one coming our way, either way.

No, wait, I think I DO know…

But never mind. Nothing to see here. Just keep moving along…

 

 

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Political Noir

The Republican convention is upon us. So, it’s Trump and Mike Pence. But of course! Trump is a former reality TV creature and Pence came out of talk radio. I’m not going to expound on the obviously ego maniacal, misogynistic, racist, xenophobic, bullshit artist that is Mr. T. He attracted enough white males who apparently align themselves with the above noted disturbing (and well documented) characteristics of Agent Orange to stunningly get the GOP nomination (to the horror of much of the GOP, let alone plenty of average, rational thinking members of we the people).

Pence? He’s a Tea Bagger. Remember that media-stroking political crowd standing around in solidarity, circa 2009, with their signs and blowing plenty of hot air about “I want my country back!”?  Of course, they wanted their country back from that black dude who had been elected (gasp!) in 2008, but neither they nor the corporate media would spin their protestations in such a truthful and obvious manner as to their motivations and ugly, racist indignation. Then, conveniently, when President Obama, “Capitulator-in-Chief” alienated his base by doing very, very little-to-nothing with his early political power via having the senate and house of reps controlled by Democrats, droves of disillusioned and/or lazy, dopey distracted potential voters sat on their hands during the 2010 mid-term election. Meanwhile, given the same shameless, corporate spotlight by the media, the Tea Bag crowd did vote and, POOF!, the GOP took over congress. More like infested it. Not all republicans are tea baggers, but there’s plenty of them, with Pence now part of the 2016 GOP ticket. Remember Cruz and Rubio? Tea baggers.

Pence is a religious Right whack job who, as governor of Indiana championed laws aimed at discriminating against the LGBT community, the pro-choice, Planned Parenthood networks, and just being an anti-democratic ideologue who has zero respect for minorities, women, social and economic fairness, ad nauseam. A true Republican, right down to that party’s rotten, anti-democratic core.

I’m wondering who the keynote speaker might be for the Republican convention. Is the great-grandson of Joseph Goebbels available? Maybe Heinrich Himmler III? We’ll just have to wait and see. Is Bozo available? It’ll be must see TV! But put the tikes to beddie-bye early. They don’t need to watch a fucking freak show.

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Then there’s the Democratic convention in a couple of weeks. And who do we have to take on the neo-fascist GOP ticket? Hillary! Ms.Clinton’s poll numbers regarding being trustworthy and honest are: 70% negative! Well done, Debbie Wasserman Shultz and the National Democratic Committee. With another sardonic tip of the hat to the national, corporate media.

Ms.Clinton is such a massively flawed candidate that a 74-year-old SOCIALIST initially unknown to most Americans, managed to raise tens of millions of dollars from individual donors, campaigning on the enough is enough clarion call regarding the economic disparity between the uber rich and the working class, an oligarchic modus operandi that has been nefariously working its dark mojo since the day Ronald Reagan was sworn into office in 1981.Yes, Bernie Sanders spoke truth to power, and in spite of the DNC’s treating him like a suspicious, unkempt drifter who brazenly crashed their by invitation only private party, and the mainstream media’s virtual early blackout on covering his candidacy, let alone his being a sitting U.S. Senator, he won over 20 primaries and gave Hillary savage political headaches along the campaign trail;  rather than a smooth, fait accompli ascension to her party’s nomination, queen Hillary had to sweat it out for a good while, even adopting some of Sander’s ideas in order to massage her lackluster image as peddling increasingly dubious denials of being a corporatist candidate given to saying things that weren’t resonating with much of the general public (see above, poll numbers).

Of course Bernie couldn’t win. It’s a rigged system. He said so himself. But the polls show that, while Hillary–who should be demolishing her GOP rivals–is shockingly in a dead heat with Mr.T approaching the conventions and the November day of reckoning, Mr.Sanders numbers clearly indicate he would be able to win the 2016 election. Not that the media let that be widely known. Bernie is (egad!) an “outsider”.  He’s the Second Coming of Ralph Nader, for the love of our blessed (so-called) “two-party” system. Gather the children. Avert their innocent eyes!

If only someone else, maybe there’s someone else who’s not a Clinton and not Bernie Sanders, but who could sincerely channel Bernie’s mind-set,  while being a bona-fide Democrat and thereby preempting the smear tactic rhetoric of “socialist=communist” relentlessly flung at Sanders. If only…out there…somewhere, somewhere. There must be SOMEONE besides that CLINTON who is worthy of consideration. No? No! Not a chance. So, we get the Wall Street-connected candidate who attracts controversy simply by merely existing in the political context. Remember The Clinton Years when Bill was President? Constant investigations. Partisan, of course, but it was because they were THOSE Clintons. This “gate”, that “gate” and then, mind-bogglingly, Bill gives the republicans Monika Lewinski! Yeah, it’ll be those same two Clintons.

Now, can you say Bengazi? Can you say “private email server”?  Untrustworthy. Dishonest. Flip-flopper… (see above, poll numbers). More partisan investigations, creating doubt about her character, the Masons, the Tri-Lateral Commission, and her clear agenda to remain Hillary Rodham Clinton, in spite of it being so offensive to conservative politics and manifestly mentally unstable Americans who possess all those AR-15s.. It’ll be the Bill and Hillary political soap opera, ghost of the 90s revisited. The sequel!  Same old same old. A new face? Support a fresh voice (Bernie, circa 1970?) Really? Who needs that!? But there’s no one else the DNC could champion, remember? No. One. Doesn’t exist.

As Bernie Sanders, circa 2016,  continually pointed out, Ms.Clinton received over $200,000 numerous times to speak to the Wall Street crowd. Oh, and she voted for the phony Iraq war. And was for the Trans Pacific Partnership before being against it. A real breath of we the people fresh air! Her daughter, Chelsea, married a Wall Street gazillionaire. So, I’m sure Hillary is going to lay the whip to Wall Street. Sure, Day One of her administration!

But never you mind…

Hillary it is. And while the neo-fascists noted above are a horrific, deeply disturbing development, the prevailing, desperate appeal to those NOT HILLARY! voices (such as yours truly) to hold their nose and vote for candidate Clinton is exactly that: desperation. Whether some people who can’t stomach the idea of Hillary’s getting elected (not anti-woman, mind you; just anti-Clinton) she’s now the only hope of defeating Trump/Pence. The evil of two lessors. This mantra of it’s either Clinton or THEM is now so disturbingly, inexorably true that even Bernie Sanders has (methinks quite reluctantly) endorsed her, as has the democratic, female incarnation of Bernie, Elizabeth Warren. How corrupted a system we have. Even the reform minded are compelled to accommodate. Hope and change can wait a few more elections cycles. Or forever…

Trump/Spence or another status quo/quid pro quo Democrat. Perfect.

Well, in cinema, film noir, a post World War Two genre, explored corruption through the underbelly of the human soul, including the individual and right up to public and private institutions. All corruption is equal. The narratives in these films rode along on creaky and crooked tracks leading to a very dark, duplicitous, dangerous and ultimately doomed unhappy end-of-the-line. Noir is not meant to be uplifting or reassuring. It’s not cinematic escapism. It’s meant to make the viewer recoil from its cynicism and have a funk follow them home, lingering in the psyche like the tail end of a very disturbing dream.

Political noir. A double feature, starting very soon. Avert the children’s eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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This Blog? No Problem

The service industry appears to be well stocked with a most diligent, committed work force with a matching work ethic. No slackers, these wait-staffers, clerks, librarians, baristas, bartenders, barbers, shoe repairers, trinket shop retailers, UPS/Fed-Ex delivery drivers,  busboys, valets, and random others with whom we share a brief moment of economic, business cum social interaction in daily life. Amazingly, whatever interaction has taken place, and the patron seeks simple closure with the standard, well-mannered thank you, it is a better than even-money bet the person on the receiving end of that expression of gratitude will respond with, not an expected “you’re welcome,”  but more likely,  a “no problem”.

I order a light roast coffee (at a place NOT called Barstucks, if you don’t mind) and pay for the brew, say thanks, I get the “no problem” exclamation. Substitute that barista with any of the above mentioned service workers and beyond, and more than likely the same verbal “stimulus/response” transpires: Thanks! “No problem”. No problem? Hmmm. Whatever was the possible problem that was avoided that necessitated that claim? What happened to a simple “you’re welcome”?  No problem? What did this person who probably performs some function in a necessary, formulaic, repetitious manner (as all jobs require, in one way or another,  perhaps exempting improvisational comics, and artists who traffic in abstract expressionism?) have to do that suddenly needed spontaneous tweaking or re-tooling or, re-wiring, seat-of-one’s-pants urgent troubleshooting, re-calculating, dodging, ducking, weaving, parrying, side-stepping, leaping, grappling, plugging, patching, exterminating, fumigating,  wiping up/off/over of, or in some way, shape, or form was confronted with the PROBLEM, it’s presence a preclusion of completing some nameless task, or at least the person perceived the problem lurking in its full potential, and thus, pre-emptively, a-priori style made sure that his/her rigorous preparedness, channeling Sun Tzu’s famous quote that all battles are won BEFORE they are fought, thereby entitled to express his/her triumphant uber servant vigilance by proclaiming “no problem” rather than “you’re welcome”?

Just once I’d like to hear this asserted lack of a problem with this person across a counter or just holding a door open explain what problem , exactly was avoided to reveal its lack of existence at our concurrent encounter in space and time?

I’m grateful, to be sure, that there was/is “no problem”. Bog in heaven knows there are lots of modern-day problems, some petty, some profound.  I know some jobs are definitely, inherently requiring of problem solving, but delivering that plate of food as ordered, or that cup of Joe, the person reaching for the precise piece of hanger-tagged dry cleaning as it comes around the conveyor belt bend, the bank clerk routinely cashing my check, the gas station attendant behind the military-grade protective glass who just slid my change into the narrow metal bowl-shaped area at the bottom of said bullet-proof glass with just enough space to get a few fingers in there to grasp said change, or just the random person for whom I felt the need to politely say “pardon me” in squeezing past him or her in a crowded corridor, getting off an elevator, or the hostess at Chotski’s or Fuddruckers or Vince & Tony’s Italian Grotto, or Gail’s Gluten-free Gastro Pub, and (you feel free to add something here anytime, okay?) are NOT such jobs;  none of those duties/situations are  inherently infested with pop-up problems, but regardless have seemingly changed the simple thank you/you’re welcome show of polite, civil manners into this oddball announcement of there being no problem, when almost with absolute certainty, there could hardly have been any problem that needed eradicating in the first place to justify uttering the now widespread meaningless response.

Now those who do have positions whose job descriptions are literally infused with problem solving, if they indeed solve the problem, let’s say along the lines of getting that current NASA probe all the way to Jupiter!, they might be excused if the next time they remind that diner one table over from them that someone in their party is about to leave a sweater or cell phone behind, can be excused if instead of after being thanked for the heads-up, invokes the no problem claim; that could be forgiven, since getting that probe from earth to jupiter had to be problem-solving on scientific steroids, no? Special dispensation…

Hats off to the real problem solvers of the world (and curses to those who appear to specialize in creating problems (that blog entry already variously represented the in jharrin4.com archives). Recall the deeply disturbing words of the Apollo 13 crew to ground control back in the earth-to-the-moon, manned space flights days: Houston, we have a problem! Maybe they won’t be able to get back to earth? That’s a problem!

But that was a real problem, that, crucially and with great diligence and brain power needed to be solved. And solved it was. Close call. Thanks!

Hey, no problem!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Zombie Apocalypse (marches on…)

Here in Chicagoland, May is trying to leave the frost warnings behind, then keep getting warmer until its time for, well, meteorological forces to conform to their (contemporary) nature. It’s been fairly predictable, in any part of the world, as to recorded historical seasonal changes. Of course, in the 21st century, the climate issue has reared up, with most climate scientists agreeing that humankind has helped in adversely messing with the forces of nature. Cause and effect. You know, greenhouse gases, depletion of the ozone. Carbon emissions. Fossil fuel dependence. Methane gas build-up, much of which comes from gazillions of bovines “passing wind”. That bodily function may seem a part of mammalian nature (hey, humans and other critters all poop. And fart. And those cows they can really cut loose). Meat eaters of the world demand more and more cow flesh. In the first-world countries, with the massive marketplaces with animal flesh for sale, whether fresh, frozen, tubular-style encased, or canned it is amazing what variety of meat is available. That fork of bovine bliss about to go down your hatch no doubt added lots to the methane factor in climate change before it felt the “it’s not personal, just business” slaughterhouse blade. Hope its demise resulted in a tasty meal… didn’t give you gas.

Supply and demand. What’s for dinner? Steak. Burgers. Oh, and Elsie the Cow knows what other beef dishes one craves. Whatever it is, it’s for sale. The slaughterhouse uses every part of that animal except its “moo” as they say. Oh, and never mind the deforestation factor in breeding and feeding all those future rib-eyes and sirloins, Big Macs or Moby Jacks, Whoppers, Whataburgers , Sliders and more. The consumer wants. The consumer gets. What’s to think about? Cow farts are changing the climate for the worse? Ha. Hey, where’s the ketchup and when is Game of Thrones on? Where’s that remote…?

Here in the U.S. of A., where consumerism/corporatism is the blood that courses through its capitalistic veins, it would appear that we the people certainly do consume, seemingly as though another force of nature–we consume lots of new material stuff that inevitably, thanks to that ticking clock, turns to junk: junk electronics, junk household furnishings, cars (still mostly gas guzzling), doodads, baubles, bangles, bric-a-bracs, trinkets, and countless items from one mall or virtual mall or another, most of which is coming from bottom-feeder importers (exploiting its workers with slave wages, but again, it’s about making product and profit. It’s not about humanity, other than their being willing or unwitting participants in an ever more heartless modus operandi).

Then there’s the junk food (made of cow parts and other critters, processed to please the palate if not prolong one’s life). Yes, time will turn all things to junk eventually. It certainly is a global marketplace, but the U.S. is pretty much ground-zero for mindless consumption and waste. Consume, throw away, consume more, throw away;  unbridled, brain-dead behavior fueled by slick, button-pushing, emotional appeals via marketing and advertising.  Gotta have the latest this or that. Apple, Samsung  zombies and such. Consume, create trash, waste, but in spite of the documented decline in our environmental health, not always cast aside responsibly. Landfills. Garbage barges. Plastic bags dangling from cable wires, trees, building antennas. Billions of  cigarette butts that’ll never get policed after that long last addictive drag. Of course, the companies that make the junk-to-be are given legislative cover to pollute and contaminate Mother Earth, as it depletes her resources in the name of profit. As Gordon Gecko famously said: “greed is good”.

And so, now those scores of climate scientists insist our planet is now sick. Mother Earth has a fever. Her temperature is rising. Ice caps are melting. The ozone is ripped open . Pollution above, and under our feet. How did she acquire her infirmity? Has she been imploding on her own?  Has Earth’s life cycle about run out in a natural death spiral? I doubt that. I, again, vote for humankind as the primary  virus that has compromised her immune system. You might say we’re a cancer that’s on its way to killing its host. But how much attention is being paid by John and Jane Doe regarding Mother Earth’s evident convulsions? Apparently, not nearly enough, by a long shot. And some people–science be damned–deny there’s even a problem. Some of these “climate deniers” hold significant positions in corporate America and in our national government, offering a non-scientific second opinion. Freak show. The worst corporatist government corrupting money has long since bought and now owns.

Ma Nature! What have these humanoids done to you?

Quick! Nurse! Get a 5,0oo,ooo, ooo cc syringe full of the medicine that counteracts stupid, lazy decision-making: a critical listening and thinking booster shot!  Quick, before it’s too late! It’s the anti-zombie antidote. It’s our only hope!

The air may be fouled and the water a bit brown or brackish but look, over there: and more  zombies, the ones who have messed up the political marketplace that now, too, needs remedy. Consumerism in the marketplace and in the ballot booth. Not a lot of smart choices being made lately (as in the last 50 years or so, methinks).

That is to assert, we the people now must face the consequences of decades of mindless, careless, even flat out stupid political decisions, and it may be too late to avoid a very creepy catastrophe: The 2016 presidential election looms ever larger, along with control of congress. That’s too short a time for Mother Earth to expire thanks to the aforementioned consumerism and related climate consequences, so if we’re not going to die of toxins in the air, water or that rib-eye, we’re going to have to deal with looks to be a chaotic, extremely volatile political climate first (though the non zombie-brained person already knows that the election results will certainly help or hurt our ailing planet). And this looming debacle is essentially the fault of a dumb and ever larger, dumber population of mindless, self-absorbed, instant gratification, short attention span, easily duped and deceived citizens of the richest, most powerful country to hold a sizeable chunk of Mother Earth’s real estate. We here, again, in politics, are a self-destructing pernicious, brain-eating virus that has resulted in a government, which for decades now, has been infested with variously manifestly insane, inane, racist, sociopathic, xenophobic, oligarchic, predatory, hypocritical, corrupt, inept, incompetent, misogynistic, exploitative, vile, venal, callous, and murderous (as in gutting environmental, public health, worker safety, prescription drug and such crucial legal protections. People die as a result of these dispassionate decisions. I call that murder); It’s an absurdist parade, decades long, of political vermin getting elected again and again, and again, who toss crumbs to the working class and  caviar to the so-called 1%-ers. You’d think by now the working stiffs would revolt, but someone is voting for the status quo or never bothering to vote at all. What we now have are political charades reported on with the same lazy approach as the water skiing squirrel , devoid of substance, relevance or rational analysis. Our elections are just another example of media perversions like the Kardashians, the Osbornes, Paris Hilton or The Apprentice. Look!  Isn’t reality crazy good?  “The News”. All covered without a shred of irony or one iota of meaningfulness and certainly with no desire to seek accountability (can you say Wall Street?) in matters that beg for old-school, investigative journalism.

Of course, this bland, banal, sensation-seeking media has given birth to Donald Trump, now running for President, recently an illogically over-watched reality show host, and now among the worst of the low hanging, rotten political fruit (cakes). The rot started, again, decades ago. Trump, the logical progression from having been offered empty-suited choices that have for so long, at many levels of our government, be it executive, legislative or judicial, statewide, county-wide and even the ward heelers in your hood, but having been wrong-headedly elected to office, or in some cases gaining office by theft and/or rigging voting maps, abetted by that lap-dog media, and creating an echo chamber of prevarication, cheap emotional appeals, divide and conquer tactics, smear campaigns, which apparently raise virtually no red flags or result in harsh learning of lessons by the consumer/voter. Again, accountability?  The people demand change? Hope and change? Sorry, but again, these dire circumstances, be it for our planet or our political fortunes, are the result of the same viral/brain-dead zombie/consumers doing what they do best. Make stupid decisions. We all must make choices. But how do we assess what to choose, be it in the commercial marketplace or the polling booth? Choose Trump? Trump? Trump?!

The zombie apocalypse has been decades in the making. Now our planet and our politics are gravely ill. The only hope is that critical listening/thinking antidote but who wants to be told they’re making really poor, irresponsible choices in life? People, in so many cases, vote directly against their best interests.  And then do it again.  One-issue voter-idiots; those who love style and seem not to notice the Emperor has no clothes.  Reagan, the union busting, original all style, no substance, media creature. Bill Clinton, the Democrat (!)who championed NAFTA and its job killing trade deals, and who gutted social/welfare programs. Then George. W. Bush who was inserted into the White House by the right-wing faction of the Supreme Court when it told Florida to stop counting ballots. His Iraq war based on lies. Was he trounced by the Democrats when he ran for re-election? No, somehow the people let his disastrous policies roll, as the imbedded media went along for the ride. And if only Barack Obama wasn’t so willing to try  and “reach across the aisle” to his intractable Republican enemies from Day One, and used his brief but very real Democrat-controlled congress to do what he was elected to do. Instead, the wars go on, no single-payer health care, no immigration reform, no Wall Street CEO’s held to account for ruining the lives of scores of American workers. What “two party” system is it we’re supposed to have? What checks and balances?

And now, while the ice caps melt and the planet’s fever worsens, somehow we have the billionaire, orange-haired, blowhard who specializes in bilious insults of women and minorities who is possibly going to be the next President, a person who is so ego-deranged he has even has asserted, in front of cameras and microphones, that he could shoot a person dead in mid-town Manhattan and not lose favor among his (zombie) supporters. This man is the nominee of the Republican party for President?

Then there’s the ex-First Lady Clinton and her corporate-controlled campaign and the Democratic Party trying to prop up her candidacy at the expense of any meaningful debate of her merits compared to a certain “democratic socialist” running against her for the Democratic nomination. She has millions of followers, too. And Super Pacs. And working class zombies lapping up her stealthy corporate candidacy . Zombies making choices without the least bit of serious analysis. Hillary the Hawk. Hillary, who hauls in 250K a speech in front of Wall Street Wolves. But she swears she’s all about the working stiffs.

And we come to that SOCIALIST, Bernie Sanders, who at nearly age 75 speaks about how it’s time for real change. “Enough is enough!” is his mantra.  No corporate donors to his campaign. Break up the big banks, he says. Kill the disastrous trade policies supported by both republicans and democrats. Make health care and education VERY affordable. Lessen spending on the military. Accountability! The man sounds as though he actually uses his intellect quite sincerely and with magnanimous intent. Holy crap!  He has millions of followers too, but given how the zombies have allowed our political environment to become so damaged, so far removed from a critical thinking, common good, sensible and logical reality, it appears things still need to get worse before the larger, zombie contingent is neutralized if not exterminated and the vast majority of people begin to think about choices and consequences. Stop and breathe-in the fresh, healthier ideas of a real man of the people.

Breathe!

Wake up, people!  Haven’t enough of you grown tired of the our long running Zombie Apocalypse,  Super I-Max reality show?

Let’s Bern some incense. Take deep breaths. Open your eyes and listen and think. It might clear your muddled minds. Maybe even save the world.

 

 

 

 

 

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The Examined Life

How are things in your world, friendos? Is your life a lark, or a long daze journey into fright? Happy with the job? Have no job? Is the family close-knit and cozy and comforting, or nit-wits and disconcerting? No family at all? Pets? You know, those critters that, unlike humanoids, are non-judgmental and generally easy to please. They even lower blood pressure, say some studies. I’m talking about domesticated pets. Beware of letting Scout or Buddy out, lest they encounter the encroaching wolf, who will dispatch your furry best friend, even if it’s sizeable with a snarling junk yard disposition . Your cat? Oh, please! That critter would be a quick appetizer for the feral, hungry badass wolf,  who shares about 98% of the DNA of its canine cousins. But do beware that last, vicious, predatory 2% difference.

Are you some Master of the Universe?  Do you command the Corridors of  Corporate Power? Or maybe at least a mid-ranking officer?  Maybe you settle for just being master of your own domain, and the corporate  halls you skittishly stroll can be found at soon-to-be off-shored Acme Widget, Inc.; but you’re just looking for the new 13th floor bathroom (which recently went transgender and you’re either cool with that or not).

We’re all a work-in-progress, on a journey that, inexorably, will reach the terminus: the path to your fixed purpose is laid with iron rails upon which your soul is grooved to run (and a tip of the hat to Herman Melville). The best we can hope for is a final destination that does not require the least bit of self-awareness or toil. Maybe some friendly dogs or cats. Or that “nothingness” Wallace Stevens alluded to: it takes a heart of winter to see the nothingness that is not there and the nothingness that is. Last stop: Nadaville.

Anyway, whatever the essential mojo that encapsulates one’s life on our mortal coil, be it one that permits life on Park Avenue or the Mag Mile, expense accounts and limos or places you on Desolation Row or the Boulevard of Broken Dreams, dumpster diving and panhandling at the top of the expressway off-ramp (metaphor!) each soul must depend wholly on itself (said Elizabeth Cady Stanton) and know that the unexamined life is a life not worth living (kudos to Socrates).

Make of those quotes what you will. Look inward. There’s plenty to consider as we speak our lines and act upon the world’s stage. If you feel your character in this somber drama, dramedy, this farce, satire, parody,  screwball comedy, thriller, non-linear puzzler, spoof, this epic saga of life, is hard to pin down, perhaps you are the ideal dining patron for “New Gatherer” restaurant, in Chicago. There you can fill your belly with menu items especially crafted to fit some pop culture narrative such as Game of Thrones. Lord of the Rings or The Chronicles of Narnia. Just for a while, you can recalibrate your self-image into one those fantasies (as a mighty force of noble justice!) and find momentary purpose and meaning with each molecule of delicately prepared mutton vapor that you breathe in. Maybe even find something on the plate that resembles food, rather than a goddam art project. But Enjoy! You can only live once (but don’t tell that to the Hindus!) Yeah vapor and vapid circuses. You’re living large…

Until the check comes…

Keep in mind, places like Gatherer is one of those uber trendy places that attracts diners mostly who possess fat wallets and upscale tastes. So, if you are not of the manner born maybe you recently hit the Mega Millions jackpot, or saved up for a few years to celebrate that expected promotion you figure to be announced by the next time Halley’s Comet comes cruising around the cosmic bend (but I hate to tell you, it isn’t going to happen because your company is closing shop here and moving operations to Bangladesh. That announcement will be posted on your Facebook  and Linked-in pages). Sorry, those iron rails carrying us to our fixed purpose cannot be found on any rail map, and so who knows what twists and turns, both gratifying or demoralizing, exhilarating or terrifying, lie ahead?

What the hell, though. Why would anyone want to pay through the nose to eat absurdly small portions of food, which most of those haute cuisine establishments have as their elite business model. You’re better off not trying to be a hipster. Stay grounded. Be practical. Don’t let the emotions betray you, your appetite or your bottom line. You can always go to Planet Hollywood or Johnny Rockets and lose yourself in their themed nonsense for a relative pittance. Or just eat at home, cooking sensible, sustainably produced food, organic grub, gluten-free feasts.  If that’s too exhausting, microwave a single serve pack of Pad Thai; if none of the above appeals, there’s a Jimmie Johns or Papa Johns that’ll deliver. Call em.  Then wait for the doorbell to ring. You’ve made your choice. You are in command.

Until that buzzer sounds, noting the fulfillment of your momentary greatest need,  sit back, pet the pooch or fluffy, or the spouse equivalent, call uncle Louie or aunt Sally, or your good times that used to be, or don’t. Pop in season five of “Thrones” or the dvd for “Narnia” or “Rings” and use that imagination as you chow down on that delivery. New Gatherer?  I’m so sure! Let those rails take you away…and away…and assume your journey is one for the ages.

I’ll leave you with one more quote, from Steven Wright: I have an existential map; it has you are here written all over it. But no rail lines…

 

 

 

 

 

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Oh, Yee of Little Faith

So, back to that Easter/is-there-a-god? ( of any kind) question. Quite ironically, the other day I had to spend a while trying to explain to one of my public speaking students why I didn’t approve of his proposed persuasive argument: there is no god.

This particular student is an aspiring physicist. Bully for him. He’s got that scientific, empirical-mindedness on lock-down, based on his unwillingness to agree with me that for him to “prove” there is no god is just as impossible for another person (that true believer) to prove there is indeed one. What would his “evidence” be, other than the lack of any evidence whatsoever that god exists? There is not one shred of actual, direct, conclusive evidence on either side of this confounding argument.There’s circumstantial evidence. Sure.You know, the good and evil in the world. A seeming miracle here, an unspeakable horror there. The Virgin Mary’s image on burnt toast. The slaughter of those children at Sandy Hook. It’s called inferential reasoning. But, like the weather forecasters do, that sort of connecting the dots line of reasoning may or may not lead to any ultimate, accurate, truth. There’s no predicting the future with any accuracy. Well, other than what the Chicago Cubs pose in that regard. But in this case, I’d say one can connect dots that wrap around the world and then realize the dots lead nowhere but back to dot One. I said I (grudgingly) believe there must be a power or “creator” behind our existence. We could not have come from nothing, because how can nothing produce something unless there is something with which to create from, however rudimentary or minuscule? But then, from whence did that itsy bit of something come? And so on and so on. And this posssible supreme being/power? Same question.

We can see the stars and moon and the life-sustaining sun, but while these celestial wonders inspire spiritual speculation and lots of sappy love poems, they certainly don’t give us any way of knowing why they exist in the first place. Scientist can talk about super novas, black holes and the Big Bang and blow our minds with their rigorous calculations and cause/effects, but they have yet to find some supreme being out there overseeing the seemingly endless, cold infinite reaches of deep space. Of course! There has to be a god! Just look up there. That proves it? Look around down here. Sure about that?

So, my rigorously logical thinking student, with all of the tangible evidence of what does indeed exist, right down to his string theory discourse, seems to feel he is entitled to invoke that, all that we can see, feel, hear, taste, touch, smell and dream of is somehow able to ipso facto prove that another thing most certainly cannot exist. The true believer has the same circumstantial evidence.

There is no way of knowing who is right in this matter. And all that bloodshed won’t ever clear things up. However, the bitter irony is that seeing isn’t believing,  one way or another. It’s believing is seeing…or not seeing.

Take your pick. Just don’t try to sell either variety of that snake oil in my classroom. Take it outside. Settle it in the parking lot of the Milky Way, as far from me as possible. I don’t want to get any splatter on my soul.

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Keeping the Faith

Easter Sunday. 2016. A very big day at the Vatican, among other locations where the Christian faithful pay homage to Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, three days after his crucifixion by order of Pontius Pilate somewhere around (it is speculated) A.D.30-33.

Those who speculate on more than the exact date of the crucifixion, as in the veracity of the entire narrative of Jesus’ healing powers and being the son of god (hmm, should that be Son of God, punctuation-wise?) and all the rest, are the notorious agnostics. Those who don’t bother to speculate at all, and just dismiss the narrative, along with just about every last word in the Old and New Testaments, are  called atheists. Or Infidels, in some circles.

In various parts of the world not being a true believer can get you killed. No, wait. I must be more specific. In some places, not being the true believer can get you killed because you DO believe in a god–just the wrong one. Think, of course, of the current conflict between the Christian and Muslim faiths. Jesus and Mohammad. Oh, there are other, different gods and faiths and followers of each, from Buddhism to Hinduism to Rastafarianism, with threads of Christianity woven through some, others not so much.

Call me an atheionostic. As such, I doubt (how can I know for certain?) there is a god or supreme power or major mojo domo that conforms precisely to any organized religion or system of belief. Hey, realize that atheism is a system of belief. So, to not believe in any religion/god is to believe in something. I, you, everyone thus does believe. Even when you don’t. And regardless, as noted above, any of these “beliefs” can get a person killed.  Usually in the name of some god or other. So, if you want to believe in a specific god, best keep it to yourself, eh?

because…

Never has so much blood been shed as for that of the kingdom of god…

So, happy Easter Sunday, you true believers of that Christian narrative. It’s your day.  Peace and love!

But, alas, just today in Lahore, Pakistan, over 60 people, many women and children, died in yet another terror attack–targeting the Christian minority in that area. Muslim extremists are the suspects.  A few days ago it was Brussels. And countless others before that; long, LONG before that. Perhaps some of these horrific acts are more political than religious in their antecedents, but political movements are systems of belief. In my world, that’s the same as being a religion, though it does seem that religious factions usually claim responsibility.

Jesus Christ may or may not have literally risen from the dead, but what does it matter, anyway, if there is an ultimate god of any sort or not?, because that god sure isn’t directly, assertively doing anything to stop the carnage that takes place in its name. When someone dies in a suicide bombing or car bombing or other means of snuffing out precious human life (or maybe not so precious?) those left behind likely pray for their departed. Those who survive, many times, immediately thank “god”.

Why is their god so arbitrary as far as who lives and dies when the terror comes? And, again, why does this “almighty” deity not intervene, strike the terrorist dead in his or her tracks before detonating and let innocents live? What? This god permits free will? If so, why bother having this god if it includes the will to kill others simply because they have backed another deity? Wait, the sinner will pay in the next life? There’s no logic in that line of thinking. Just blind, desperate, wishful thinking in order to feel the guilty will endure punishment. Unknowable, however, logic would dictate.

That’s why I can’t buy into any religion that has a “book” behind it (that the whack jobs interpret to justify the terror attacks on perceived “enemies”) and temples and churches (where those same loose cannons likely lurk). It all defies logic. As someone who once actually was present at THE Vatican on Easter Sunday, I sincerely can state that I simply sensed  a lot of people gathered there in front of a big, lavishly designed building. What I witnessed was not much different than showing up at Soldier Field to watch the Chicago Bears and hoping for salvation in the form of a victory. (Sports. Another religion). Anyway, I  wasn’t stricken dead by a bolt from above for not being enthralled or spiritually elevated that Easter Sunday. Fortunately, there were no nasty incidents of any kind that morning in Rome. Whew!

Then again, logic also dictates I can’t help but feel there has to be some kind of creator behind our existence. But what that is? What?! We came from something. From somewhere. Somehow. Big Bang theory? Yeah, well who set the fuse to ignite that explosion? Madness…

Well, if Jesus came back from the dead, maybe someone else eventually will, too. Then he or she can explain in plain, universal, language the coming and going and coming again and who is the operator behind that curtain, that one over there, that we’re not suppose to pay any attention to whether we believe it’s there or not because it’s impossible to see anyway. If you see the Buddha by the side of the road, kill him! Why? Because it has to be an imposter. The Buddha, as with all deities, is merely a mental construct, held together with spiritual brick and mortar.

In the meantime, do unto others as you would have them  do unto you…

Wait. Never mind. That scripturally derived advice doesn’t seem to be working. But keep that belief/faith, baby!, whatever it is. You have one, whether you want to admit it (or even know it) or not. But don’t kill anyone for not sharing whatever that mind-set is, okay?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Aghast in Wonderland

The Matrix is a groundbreaking film depicting humankind subjugated by the digital technologies it created. A classic. Are we in the matrix? Is anything we experience real–or just a computer program messing with our minds? Hmm. Look around. At times, I indeed wonder. Now more than ever. Do I wonder…

But the film’s creators, the Wachowski brothers, Larry and Andy, recently announced they have themselves tinkered with hard-core reality, as in changing from brothers to sisters. They now are Lilly and Lana Wachowski. Seriously.

Good for them! No more transgender confusion to grapple with.

Such irony, though. The Matrix. Morpheus. Shifting human form. What is reality? How can we be certain we’re not just dreaming? Are we seeing the world through our own eyes or being manipulated somehow, by something?;  and though we sense things don’t feel quite right, it’s just so difficult to identify what exactly is going on. Something just doesn’t feel quite right. The Wachowskis must have both been slowly but inevitably sensing a glitch in their wiring. Not any longer, though. Re-wired, so-to-speak.

Kinda crazy, huh? How does that feel? But to quote the Cheshire Cat, of Alice in Wonderland–from which the Matrix film referenced in regards to its protagonist discovering how far down goes that notorious rabbit hole and do you rally want to find out?–I’m not crazy. My reality is just different than yours.

The Wachowski sisters have a new, apparently preferred, gender reality. I’m okay as a male of the species, but I envy Lilly and Lana. They must feel better about themselves and their place in the world right now.

My sense of reality?

It’s not much of a wonderland. I think I need re-wiring. Or the rest of world does. The more things change the more they stay insane? In the meantime, I’ll settle for residing, partially, in the digital do-it-yourself world of WordPress.

Welcome to my rabbit hole.

 

 

 

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