Yup… that’s my inspirational vision for the morning. I leave myself open to possibility…. I close my eyes, and allow no negative thoughts to disturb me while absorbing, and tremble with anticipation for the glories to come…. and what I get is duct tape….. a big, partially used roll of silver duct tape…. Yes, duct tape…You know, “If it can’t be fixed with Vise-Grips & duct tape, it can’t be fixed.”… yeah, that stuff. I’m guessing here, but I think I’m supposed to use the tape as a metaphor, for something in life that my subconscious has been chewing on, and wants to express in a seriously light-hearted yet elegant treatment. It’s the only thing I can figure out, and since I’m not getting any stiff arguments from that sector of the organization, I must be on the right track with it…..

Well, that’s just too bad…. I’m not writing about duct tape, or turning it into anything, other than a way to keep the new glass in the old window frame (I told you, it was a tough night, what with the zombie attack at 2 AM, and the toilet explosion before that, and… well, forget it, another time…..). I’m not at all concerned about how my subconscious has spent all this time reflecting on such a ridiculous concept, nor do I intend to give in to it; I do have certain standards to maintain, (well, one, anyway…. I have vowed to publish no crap before it stinks just right…..), and duct tape just doesn’t hit the right notes to sing in that choir…. but, fortunately, it is moot, because we can always Pearl….. Shall we?…..
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WARNING: The following entry is not suitable for those with delicate sensibilities…. If you do not appreciate the humor in such historical genre classics as seen in editions of Punch, The National Lampoon, or Mad Magazine, or if you don’t grok the underlying metaphoric qualities of Curly Joe, and the Three Stooges, you may wish to skip down to the following section….

“Beans, beans the magical fruit, the more you eat, the more you…..”  Well, you know the rest, I’m sure…..

This month, as a new chapter in the ongoing saga of a relative newbie to the world of poverty-level grocery buying, the pantry here at the old homestead has gotten a little sparse on variety. Most of what is left are the items that I keep for this very reason, i.e., it’s cheap and filling stuff, suitable for the stretch run to payday. Unfortunately, it also consists of items I rarely eat, for diverse reasons, mostly to do with preferences, but sometimes due to how they affect me physically. One such item, which all of us in this country have had exposure to, at one time or another, is a can of Boston Baked Beans; an off-brand that was on sale somewhere a while back, that has been moving around from corner to corner in there for months on end. Yesterday, on a whim, I decided to use them, having an urge for something I hadn’t had for a long time; they sounded as if they would fit the bill just right.

What I had forgotten was its status as one of the items I put off using because of its physical effect on me…. I ate about a third of the can for lunch, mixed with some risotto, added some chopped, seasoned hot dogs, & hotted up the whole mess in the microwave. Different, filling as all get out, and quite tasty for such an odd combination.  Then, I forgot about it, getting busy with answering emails and reading yesterday’s posts from fellow bloggers, followed by a visit from my friend of longest standing, whom I have known since age 10. About 3 hours after lunch, after he had left to meet his S.O., the concert began…..

The key element I’d overlooked in my hunger for something old, something new on which to chow down, was that these were baked BEANS…. and ever since I turned about 40 (quite some time ago now….), this particular type of beans invariably brings on a veritable storm of intestinal flatulence, and once started, continues to create increasing amounts of pressurized air bubbles, maximizing the output until reaching for a crescendo. This all happens over the course of about an hour and a half, with the uncomfortable, but fascinating, physical process producing some of the most melodious, certainly the loudest, and most versatile and compelling sounds ever produced by the human body…..from any orifice….

I count it as lucky that my friend had already left when the concert began; having known each other for over 50 years, I might never have been able to completely live it down before one of us kicks in the bucket, and would no doubt have spent hours trying to erase it from my Facebook timeline… of course, that realization wouldn’t have hit me until we had recovered from the impossible-to-stop insane laughter that the volume of the first note alone would have produced. Having been, sad to say, a captive audience for the complete performance, I can attest that the melody, and the tempo, would doubtless have produced an equally strong reaction of uncontrollable mirth and hilarity, which, at our age, could have been downright dangerous…. but it was kinda catchy, and had a beat you could dance to…. I gave it a 3 out of 5….

Ah yes, aging is indeed not for the weak of heart….. or the forgetful…. anybody want some leftover beans?…. gratis, they are… eating them again, I will not be…. even for Yoda, not….
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“If a million people believe a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing.” — Anatole France

As time goes by this election year, the evidence in support of this little observation is piling higher and higher, with each time another microphone catches the latest gaffe issuing from a random candidate’s speaking orifice. Surely, t’is a sign of impending doom to realize that for each of the bozos who are parading around, showing us theirs (did I ask to see that? No…. but, there it is….), somewhere out there in our midst, hiding in plain sight, are literally millions of people who are buying into their nonsense and vitriol. The bigotry, and hatred, and racism, and elitism that seem to be the qualifying characteristics of prospective candidates this elective cycle are not only being bought by masses of people, (to whom it is like manna from heaven to hear their brightest fantasies, of living in an all-white, all-Christian world, given voice, and, sadly, screen time), but are being given not only credence, but glorification. To be honest, it makes me want to puke….. and, make sure my ammo is dry…..

“When the going gets tough, the smart get an AR-15. And a shotgun. And…” — James P. Callison

And bear unmov’d the wrongs of base mankind,
The last and hardest conquest of the mind.
— Alexander Pope (1688-1744) — The Odyssey of Homer, Book xiii, Line 353
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“Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn in no other, and scarcely in that; for it is true, we may give advice, but we cannot give conduct. Remember this: They that will not be counseled cannot be helped. If you do not hear reason she will rap you over the knuckles.” — Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) — Maxims prefixed to Poor Richard’s Almanac, 1757

This is good…. and especially so for Ben; he had a tendency to be somewhat mundane and boring with most of his ‘Maxims’. Even here, his metaphor for reason could use a little punching up, as an editor might say. I usually prefer to state that particular idea as, “if you don’t give reality it’s proper attention, it will gleefully slap you upside the head until you do.”  It’s exactly the same lesson, but gives a clearer, and more accurate, picture of the consequences of not staying alert to reality’s protocols.

But, I also like this because it has another lesson, about those who deliberately choose to ignore this warning, and how we must allow them to experience the folly of their own choices, along with the resultant pain and indignity that comes with those choices, provided so generously by the dimension of reality we inhabit. The only thing in the entire universe that is subject to our control is ourselves; we cannot prevent their pain, nor should we, as we then deny them the opportunity to experience the lesson of how to succeed that comes with every instance of defeat. Tough to watch, sometimes, if we care for the person, but no less important for them for us to stay back, and let reality have it’s way…. it will anyway, no matter what we do, or think about it…..

And here, poor fool, with all my lore
I stand no wiser than before.
— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832)
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Is it legal to advocate the long overdue overthrow of a corrupt government?”– Aloysius I.A. Anonymous

In light of the state of the union, official reports aside, this asks a pertinent, and possibly worthy question for consideration when offered in the sense of what I call juris prominence, or, in short, as being in support of the absolute arbitration right of the jury.  It is a well-documented point of Constitutional law that gives any jury in a case under trial the absolute right to declare innocence, even in the face of the letter of the law, if they believe the law is wrongly applied, or not germane to justice in the case under deliberation, OR even if they think the law is just wrong, morally or by custom…… that is, provided jury trials are still allowed in days to come, or rather, days that are already here…..

“If the jury feels the law is unjust, we recognize the undisputed power of the jury to acquit, even if its verdict is contrary to the law as given by a judge, and contrary to the evidence … and the courts must abide by that decision.” — US v Moylan, 4th Circuit Court of Appeals, 1969, 417 F.2d at 1006

This archaic, but powerful, right of the American people may be the final protection we have in cases I can see in the future, now that the government has committed so many corrupt acts designed to circumvent the provisions of both the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights. These acts, though not the first, nor the most recent of their kind, still can be considered to be under one umbrella, that of the Executive Order Theory, the so-far unchallenged belief that the Executive Branch has the right to suspend the rights outlined in those documents under the deliberately vague guise of ‘threats to national security’, without any definition of what those threats may be, and no oversight as to the duration or extent of the suspension of rights to be erased, er, “suspended temporarily”.

They just make their own laws that say they can, and poof, Rights all gone….. no protesting, no gathering, no voicing objections, no printing exposures or criticisms, no recourse to the courts…. what is next? No right to bear arms?….. No voting?…… No term limits?…… No life, without submission to “registration”?   I guess the choice about all this is up to us….. for the moment….. but, let’s not wait too long, shall we?…… These “executive orders” have already been signed, and are now in effect in this country….. It’s all been “Authorized!”…. and you can bet it will be enforced at the point of a gun….

“One of the saddest lessons of history is this:  If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle.  We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth.  The bamboozle has captured us.  it is simply too painful to acknowledge — even to ourselves — that we’ve been so credulous.  (So the old bamboozles tend to persist as the new bamboozles rise.)” — Carl Sagan, “The Fine Art of Baloney Detection,” Parade, February 1, 1987
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I couldn’t resist adding this today, as a bonus round, so to speak…. this has got to be considered as possibly the most creative haiku possible for a Westerner to write, though, to be truthful, I don’t know who wrote it. Perfect structure, suitably obscure, yet clear, it meets all the essential standards of classic haiku, but with the added fillip of a most Carlinesque observation…… priceless!…. enjoy…..

Haiku’s inventor
must have had seven fingers
on his middle hand.

Well, Murphy will have his say…. I had intended this to be extra today, but circumstances have forced my hand, aided by the ever-welcome presence of serendipity.  In a search to find the last quote for today’s lineup, the following presented itself, and fit this section so well, I decided to go with the flow…. thus, we have another poem in the haiku tradition, but by someone whose mastery is unquestionable… so, enjoy again!…

Around existence twine,
(Oh, bridge that hangs across the gorge!)
ropes of twisted vine.
— Basho
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I admit to a certain amount of relief at coming to an end to today’s offerings; it has had its moments of struggle, and has taken no small amount of effort to persevere….. but, there is always a touch of melancholy, too, in reaching an ending. This lasts only until I remember that it remains my choice as to whether this ending becomes yet another beginning…. then, I go take a nap….. It’s been nothing if not real, ffolkes…. y’all take care out there….

P.S.  I haven’t forgotten about my siege on WordPress; I wrote a long note yesterday to someone, and will give them the courtesy of a full day to reply…. more on this as matters progress…. Blessed Be, brothers and sisters….