Tag Archives: TV

Perilous dreams of safety….

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Ffolkes,

“Never take a stone to break an egg when you can use the back of your knife.”

~~ Scottish Proverb ~~

A smiling lens
They’re everywhere! They’re everywhere!

Picture by Hubble Orbital Deep Space Telescope ~ NASA

As is my unfortunately consistent habit, at the sight of this terrifyingly white, empty screen, I find my mind to be completely blank; not only blank, but, seemingly unwilling to even move away even a step from its chosen posture of resistance, to allow even the slightest glimmer of inspiration to shine. Alas, woe is me!….

Whoops! We’ll have none of that, young man!…. Okay, that will be quite enough, I believe; I’m not so cruel, or idiotic, to think I could get away with such a massively mundane expression of angst, even here, at the very beginning, where it could be buried in the general confusion of getting started…. I don’t know what I was thinking, except, perhaps, to say, I wasn’t…. thinking, that is. It may have seemed like thinking, but, let me assure you, no such process was going on in THIS head, not yet….

That being the case, I shall, once again, endeavor to get us out of here before it gets to the point we are trapped in a meandering, ultimately useless pile of blather, searching for some kind of sensible, dignified way out, without ever realizing such are only given to those who remain clear-headed. Naturally, this means y’all will be losing out on the post-intro refreshments, but, I’m sure you won’t mind, since we’ll be back in time for the buffet…. For now, allow me to use good, old #4, which, as you all know, works like this…..

Shall we Pearl?

“Books are not made for furniture, but there is nothing else that so beautifully furnishes a house.” — Henry Ward Beecher

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showposter

    When I was a kid, Dragnet was the only crime show on TV; if there were others, I don’t remember them…. Even then, as far as I could see, Jack Webb had a stick further up his butt than anyone I ever saw, knew, or heard of…. no shit. But, the show was great fun, especially for those of us who looked on it as unintentionally funny; I’m sorry, NOBODY could be that stupid, or, refuse to allow ANY emotion to show, as Jack Webb played Joe Friday…. I don’t know what police detective he was trying to emulate, but, if it was a real one, I’m betting the cop was playing Webb for a fool, seeing him for the uptight dick he seemed to be, by all accounts…. No matter, it’s all in good fun, now…. Enjoy this blast from the past, ffolkes, then we can go on to bigger things…. Well, we’re hoping….

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DRAGNET: “The Hammer”

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I try to post this once a year, as a minor tribute to Noah, one of the best dogs I’ve ever known….. It looks as if I missed last year, so, here ’tis, early in this year, to compensate…..

Last posted on 8/26/2013:

Noah

R.I.P. Old Friend

Ode to Noah


Noah came to live with our family when he was about 10 months old; we rescued him from taking the long walk at the Humane Society kennel in Santa Rosa. It was my son’s fifteenth birthday; he wanted a dog, swearing up & down that he would take responsibility for its’ care. Pets were always part of family life when I grew up; our last dog had been gone for a bit over a year, so, we decided it was time to expand the family once again.

As Cory and I walked down the aisle between cages at the kennel, a large variety of dogs started a welcoming cacophony of different barks; shrill tiny ones, deep booming ones, polite yips, all blended together in an almost desperate frenzy, as each animal, many of them almost frantic, tried to get our attention. Some pawed at the gate, or, danced around in circles; others jumped up & down. Some looked nervous, or, suspicious; others looked friendly, but, all of them, it seemed, were making noise.

As we drew near the last cage in the aisle, we saw a slender, medium-sized, black and white dog, not barking, not jumping, just sitting down, leaning against the wall by the gate. He was looking me right in the eyes with an expression that arrowed straight into our hearts…. sad, sad eyes, with a long, mournful face cried out silently, “get me out of here, please!”. What could we do? He was obviously our dog; he realized it too, but, seemed afraid to hope. We told him we’d be right back, heading back to the desk in the front to announce our choice, and complete the paperwork.

The attendant brought Noah in to us just as I was handed the receipt. As he was led in by a standard choke-chain leash, he looked a bit nervous, but composed & curiously calm. That is, he was calm until I clasped his new collar around his neck, then snapped on his brand new leash. All of a sudden,  when we stepped outside, he realized he wasn’t going back into the kennel; he immediately became a different dog, wagging his tail furiously, looking at us with his eyes shining, almost dancing and vibrating in his eagerness to go. As we walked back to the van, he walked proudly in front of us, tail and ears up at attention, almost prancing, looking back every few steps to make sure we were still there, a very happy dog…..

Noah settled into the family immediately. He proved to be very well-mannered, both with people, and, in his habits. When out on walks, he would stop to sniff, lifting his leg to leave his mark at every interesting bush and tree, just like any other male dog. But when he had to do his secondary business, he made it clear he preferred to go behind a bush, or somewhere out of the way, preferably out of sight.

If he felt he was not sufficiently hidden from sight, he would assume a very embarrassed expression, turning away as if he felt guilty. A very private, discreet individual, to say the least. On those rare occasions he had been overlong between walks, so much in a hurry he made a mistake on the sidewalk, he would act just like a cat, walking away with head averted, pretending it had never happened. “What mess? Who me? I don’t know what you’re talking about….. C’mon, let’s go!”

Noah was an extremely intelligent dog; I’ve known a great many animals in my time on this old planet, but, he was one of the smartest I’ve ever been around. When he came to live with us, at about 10 months of age, he already knew how to sit on command (both voice and hand), to lie down, and to stay.

Actually, he had a little trouble with the whole concept of ‘stay’; he didn’t like being left alone, and would often follow us after a minute or two; it was as if he just didn’t want to believe we really MEANT for him to stay. He figured he should be with us so he could do his job, to guard and act as scout. As long as he could see us, he’d stay where he was; if he couldn’t, he believed it was his place to find us….. We never came to terms over the matter; on this particular point he was firm.

We also never had to teach Noah any tricks, as he seemed to have figured stuff out on his own, and his way was definitely cool….The first time I ever gave him a treat (a milk bone), I showed it to him and told him to sit. He sat. I told him to speak, and he gave one quick howl. I held out my hand, & he offered his own to shake. I straightened up, then, tossed the treat a couple feet above his head, in the air….

He didn’t just catch it; he made a jump, making the in-air snag like a professional left-fielder. As he touched the rug, he immediately tossed it back up into the air. He timed his move perfectly; as the treat hit the floor, he dove on top of it, rolled over, & started doing a happy dance, by twisting his back and hips as if scratching his back on the floor. I swear, he looked just like Snoopy doing the Dance of Joy.

When he was done celebrating, he rolled over, snatched up his milk bone, to begin chomping with a big twinkle in his eye. I always wanted to video the move for posterity, or, to submit it for Stupid Pet Tricks on the Letterman Show. Sadly, he lived before the age of cell phone cameras,  & I never seemed to have a camera handy when he performed his feat, so, Noah missed his chance for stardom.

Noah’s gotten old now; we just observed his 17th birthday in February of this year; as they say, in dog years, he’s going on 120 or so. He can’t hear anything but very loud noises, & can’t see more than a few feet, which I suspect is confined mostly to shadows and moving light. I’m afraid he will be passing on soon, as he can no longer get up without assistance, and, is having trouble controlling his bodily functions.

I sometimes feel like I should have him put down, to ease his pains, but he doesn’t act as if he is hurting, and I can tell he enjoys just lying around and sleeping, as long as he knows I am near. For his entire life with us, over 16 and a half years, he has been a true and loyal companion. He has observed with honor the pact made between Man and Dog many thousands of generations ago; taking care of him in his declining years is both a privilege, and, an honor. In my entire life, I have never known anyone more loyal, more compassionate, or more courageous in standing up to life. He was, and is, by far, the best friend that any man could hope for, and, also by far, the best person I’ve ever known……

Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast,
To soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.
I’ve read that things inanimate have moved,
And as with living souls have been inform’d
By magic numbers and persuasive sound.

~~ William Congreve (1670-1729) ~~

~~ The Mourning Bride, Act i, Sc. 1 ~~


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Emily-Dickinson
I measure every grief I meet
   With analytic eyes;
I wonder if it weighs like mine,
   Or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,
   Or did it just begin?
I could not tell the date of mine,
   It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,
   And if they have to try,
And whether, could they choose between,
   They would not rather die.

I wonder if when years have piled–
   Some thousands–on the cause
Of early hurt, if such a lapse
   Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still
   Through centuries above,
Enlightened to a larger pain
   By contrast with the love.

The grieved are many, I am told;
   The reason deeper lies,–
Death is but one and comes but once
   And only nails the eyes.

There’s grief of want, and grief of cold,–
   A sort they call ‘despair,’
There’s banishment from native eyes,
   In sight of native air.

And though I may not guess the kind
   Correctly yet to me
A piercing comfort it affords
   In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the cross
   Of those that stand alone
Still fascinated to presume
That some are like my own.

~~ Emily Dickinson ~~


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There are days when the making of pearls is justified in mere moments, with the creation of a single seven-star pearl, the most ordinary kind, which, seemingly, says it all… Today is one of those days….

36. Mind your own business. — Instructions for life

“Anyone who has had a bull by the tail knows five or six more things than someone who hasn’t.” — Mark Twain (1835-1910)

“Amusement is for the sake of relaxation, and relaxation is of necessity  sweet, for it is the remedy of pain caused by toil; and intellectual enjoyment is universally acknowledged to contain an element not only of the noble but of the pleasant, for happiness is made up of both.” — Aristotle

“A shelf of classics for our young adults: Tolkien, Hesse, Casteneda, Kerouac, Salinger, Tom Robbins, and “The Last Whole Earth Catalog”.” — Edward Abbey

“If attacked by a lion thrust your arm down his throat. This takes some practice.” — Cyril Connolly

“Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.” — Helen Keller (American Author, 1880-1968) — became blind & deaf at 19 months old

“Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be. Be one.” — Marcus Aurelius

I’d say, if all of these can be said to be true of you and your life, if you have learned these lessons, read these books, by them learning to respect the most critical concepts of Honor, Compassion, and Duty, you win…..

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Ah yes! I love the smell of burnt neurons in the morning!…. Another day’s Pearl has been created, and I am content. Later today, I will, for the first time in my life, or theirs, be able to see BOTH of my grandchildren in the same day…. Of course, the pair of them have only BEEN a pair for four days, but, hey, a first is a first…. It isn’t every day one meets their newest granddaughter, is it?…. See y’all tomorrow ffolkes, probably with pictures of the wee lassie who now has a piece o’ my heart….

Y’all take care out there,
and May the Metaphorse be with you;
Blessed Be, dearest Carole, Mark,Theresa, & Richy
and everyone else, too…

When I works, I works hard.
When I sits, I sits loose.
When I thinks, I falls asleep.

Which is Why….

Sometimes I sits and thinks,
   and sometimes,
I just sits.

gigoid, the dubious

PLEASE STOP READING THIS MESSAGE NOW.

“SCRAM!!!!!!!!!!”- Oscar the Grouch


À bientôt, mon cherí….


					

		
		
	


				
					
	

		

						
Safely beyond the reach of the corporate myrmidons….

			
						

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Ffolkes,


Yesterday is a wash; one of those days that I’d just as soon forget, in spite of the rather nice finish it had….. Pain turned most of the day into a misery, a state of affairs that prompts me to make this decision…. The subjects, of pain, and/or yesterday, are now banished from all discussion, as being unworthy of either lamentation or praise….. There, hopefully, that will do it…. I didn’t wish to start out by whining; hence, the requisite banishment to the hinterlands….


It was bad enough yesterday without adding the indignity of whining about it, as I know, in spite of how it may have seemed to me at the time, my condition is not as bad as some other folks I know, and could be worse…. So, it’s not attractive of me to whine about it, when others have it so much harder than I….. At least, it seems that way to me…. At any rate, I was able to finish the Pearl, even though it was a push; afterward, THAT was the misery… which, I see, I am talking about, post banishment…. Does that make me a criminal?…. I don’t know, but, we’ll go on to bigger and better things….


Not that I could tell you, at this point, just what that might entail…. It IS still shy of 5 AM, though not by much, so, I’m way behind my usual schedule for this… A natural result, I would imagine, of the extra time I put in bed last night, to recover from the day. In fact, I slept long enough the cat got annoyed, & woke up milady, so she would poke me to arise…. Asshole cat!…. It DID get me up, but, unfortunately, it also got milady up, way before she was done sleeping….


I suppose it’s a bit pathetic, to have our lives run so chaotically, all because a cat decides to be a butthead…. Any time she gets annoyed, she starts in on her cycle of mischief….. Attacking ankles, jumping up on places she is proscribed from, knocking over stuff on tables or dressers, hiding when called, and generally getting into whatever she can, especially those things she KNOWS are liable to garner a “bad kitty”, or a squirt from the water spray bottle we keep for those instances….


I don’t imagine we are the only household that is often taken hostage by a cat, but, nonetheless, I’m going to start the process of talking milady into letting me get a dog…. I’ll get an Aussie heeler mix, mongrel enough so it isn’t expensive, but with enough heeler instinct to be happy to spend the day herding the cat away from trouble… I’ve had heelers before; their instinct to herd compels them to herd whatever is in their vicinity to herd….. kids, cats, hamsters, whatever, if it isn’t where they think it should be, they’ll try to make it go there…. If nothing else, it will give the cat something else to bother, or worry about….. and, I imagine, will end up the best of friends, as cats and dogs living together generally do….


Which is more than can be said of most people, isn’t it? I find animals, of almost all species, to be much easier to have as roommates than any people I’ve ever met…. They always seem to be willing to make accommodation for another creature’s presence, and usually learn to live without any severe arguing or fighting, other than the ‘play’ type all young animals engage in….. I have pictures of my own animals, cats and dogs mostly, sleeping and playing together, and will always believe, firmly, that the animals I’ve known were, or are, better people than most any of the people I compare them to….


Well, lookie there…. It’s an intro section, full and complete, with some whine, some cheese, some blather, and a bit of poignancy, just for good measure…. It’s such a full one, I’m not even going to think about what it says, as that could bring on nausea, or worse, the urge to do it over, and, I’m just not going there today….. Instead, we’ll do this…


Shall we Pearl?…..


“In the worlds before monkey, primal chaos reigned.   Heaven sought order, but the Phoenix can fly only when its feathers are grown.  The four lands formed again and yet again, as endless eons wheeled and passed.  The wind, time and water (??) all worked upon a certain rock, old as creation, and it became magically fertile.  That first egg was called ‘thought.’  Tagahatha (??) Buddha, the Father Buddha, says, ‘with our thoughts, we make the world.’  Elemental forces caused the egg to hatch.  From it came a stone monkey.  The nature of monkey was IRREPRESSIBLE!” — Smart Bee


Well, sorry, I know it’s a bit early for such…. enthusiasm….  However, to my way of thinking, this makes just as much sense as the Hindu version of creation, or, for that matter, the Muslim, or Christian versions…. They’re all a bit far-fetched, don’t you agree?…. This one, bless its soul, has the advantage of the concept of ‘monkey’, a rather perfect representation of the irresistible force of nature we call entropy, or chance….


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“How do you explain Wayne Newton’s POWER over millions?  It’s th’ MOUSTACHE… Have you ever noticed th’ way it radiates SINCERITY, HONESTY & WARMTH?  It’s a MOUSTACHE you want to take HOME and introduce to NANCY SINATRA!” — Zippy the Pinhead



http://www.sfgate.com/entertainment/television/article/Efrem-Zimbalist-Jr-star-of-The-FBI-dead-at-95-5450261.php#page-1


First impressions are NOT always the most accurate, which, I’m sure, is a statement not all will be willing to accept without some discussion…. But, I can attest to its veracity, at least, partially, under the evidence of my own experiences…. Now, many of y’all may wonder just how an obituary column about a deceased TV actor connects to such a grandiose notion…. have no fear. You’re here in MY blog, and I’m gonna tell ya….


As a freshman in high school, in the fall of 1964, I was a member of a campus organization, the California Scholastic Federation, whose membership was limited to those students whose G.P.A. was above 3.25… i.e., the eggheads…. In my small school, there were only about 15 or 16 student members, who, once per year, were allowed to take a Friday off school for a weekend long school sponsored trip, to some location where there existed some kind of educational facility for us to explore, thus giving us a weekend holiday, as the educational facilities always seemed to be located near some attraction for teenagers, such as Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, Fisherman’s Wharf, or other fun places to waste time….


As a sort of reward for being A students, once a year, we were given two days to play, with supervision by chaperons, who generally were the most popular teachers and advisers…. In my freshman year, my first as a member, we went to L.A., ostensibly to tour a movie studio, to observe how movies were made…. a fine prospect, to us, since it also gave us a whole day to attend the other fun activity of our choice, since the area has so many places that specialize in taking the money of millions of teens and their parents…. 


We chose Disneyland, for our activity AFTER seeing Warner Brothers Studios, the home of the TV studio where “The FBI”, a long-running series in the 60’s, was filmed…. The show’s leading star, of course, was Efrem Zimbalist, Jr., as noted in the above article…


See where this is headed? Yep, while touring Warner Bros., we got to watch as that show was shot, during which, Mr. Zimbalist, Jr. came over, near where we were standing, intending to use a telephone on a stand, right next to where I stood….


For about two or three minutes, I was treated/subjected to listening to his phone conversation with whomever was on the other end…. I decided, as I stood there, trapped in a spot where I couldn’t politely walk away, and couldn’t make it obvious I was listening, to do my best to try to not listen, but, it wasn’t possible to ignore it, as he didn’t seem to notice anyone was there, & spoke at the top of his actor’s voice….


The impression that conversation had on me was an epiphany; it gave me an entirely new perspective on TV, on actors, and on the entire culture we live in…. a lot, I know, for one short eavesdrop, but, remember, I was a smart kid…. and got even smarter after hearing that conversation, believe me….


For the next five minutes, all of my illusions, of modern culture, of society, of what we perceived vs. what we could believe, were shattered beyond all hope of reconstruction….. As I stood there, trapped and bemused, I listened to this man, who, according to the roles he played on TV, was a stud, a man’s man, a huge person who dominated the room he was in by force of personality… I listened as he stood next to me, blithely destroying ALL of my illusions….


First, he’s tiny… At 15 or 16, I was about 5’6″ tall, & weighed about 140 or so; he could not have been taller than 5’2″, & seemed shorter. Standing next to me, he came up to my shoulder, and couldn’t have weighed in at more than 110-115 lbs. Since we were at a filming of the FBI, he was in the standard cop suit, this one with heavily padded shoulders, to make him look bigger…. 


He was wearing nice shoes, though, since they never got on camera…. You see, The stage upon which they filmed was staggered with steps…. Efrem was the only actor on the top level, all the other parts played steps lower, and the cameras filmed the scenes from below the steps…. This gave the visual impression on screen that Efrem was taller, or as tall as everyone else, though he only stood as high as most of their chins……


He was not only tiny, compared to a high school freshman, but, his mannerisms and speech patterns were NOT exactly those one associates with someone like the Marlboro Man…. When he spoke, his speech was what I would term, “Hollywood smarm”, with lots of air kisses, laughter, sprinkled with ‘darling’ and ‘my sweet bubaloo’, or other such endearing phrases, all delivered in a high-pitched, distressingly GAY voice… 


Yep, to my 15-year old mind, full of prior misconceptions/illusions, the way he was acting on the phone convinced me, without any doubt, that he was as gay as the day is long…. That opinion, which, naturally was a revelation, compared to what I had seen on TV, stayed with me for the rest of my life, and colored a lot of what I thought about the Hollywood culture, and movies & TV at large….


But, what I now realize, after reading more about him in the retrospective article above, is that my impression was influenced a great deal by the cloud of misconceptions and prejudices I yet retained in my persona at that tender age, of fourteen, or fifteen, depending on the time of the year it actually took place in reality, outside my obviously colored memory…. What I thought I knew, at that age, was seriously challenged by the tenor, content, and delivery of the interaction I heard that day, and not all of what I perceived was fully understood by my adolescent self…. all of which is what I see NOW, but didn’t understand then….


In essence, I’ve been laboring for many years under a staggeringly WRONG impression, created by a moment’s observation of an actor, who, come to think of it, may have been playing another role, for the obviously provincial teenager eavesdropping on his phone call, to give the kid a raspberry, so to speak, without ever talking to me…. 


Regardless, even now, at my current age of 63, it seems that I have lessons to learn, about making snap judgments of people, based on possible misperceptions, and holding on to those as if they are written in stone, rather than being merely a passing impression that should never be used to judge another’s real persona….


I AM a Bozo, of the first degree, ffolkes, and, apparently, have been so for a very long time….. Ain’t LIFE Grand?….


“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.” — Oscar Levant (1906-1972)


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It’s one of those days, ffolkes…. so much one of those days I’d best use a poem of my own, to keep from getting anyone else in trouble…. Ah… nice…. This one seems appropriate…. Enjoy, please….






A Dubiously Soft Morning


Idiosyncratic images, clamoring for regard,

fill up the white, white screen on which I view

my life, never seeing, nor invited to sup

ambrosial remnants of anything new.


Still, but almost in motion, allegory sails away

bobbing gently, quick and easy to find,

signs of one happy child, seriously at play,

blissfully immersed, focused joy in mind.


Formidable cries of outraged simple justice

echo plaintive relevance, in half the time.

Maladaptive infants, destined for hospice

salvage an only child, daring to sing in rhyme.


Creativity equals unquestioning farce, 

often reaching for absurdity, brazenly afire.

Instead, a blow is felt that no joy will soften,

accepting the price, added to the cost of desire.


~~ gigoid ~~


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The piece in section one has been developed over the last five days, since the article appeared; I was fortunate it was nearly complete, as my late start today had me behind schedule…. But, since all I had to do was finish the last four or five paragraphs today, we are back to being fairly on time, and can put here a normally constructed old-school pearl, just as if it were meant to be that way….. 


You gotta love serendipity… Well, I do…. it saves me a lot of time and energy…. Too bad, being what it is, we can’t DEPEND on it always being there for us, but, hey, it always feels good when it IS around, so, that will do…. Enjoy, if you please….


“God always has another custard pie up his sleeve.” — Smart Bee


“He who dies for virtue, does not perish.” — Plautus (B.C. 254-184)


“The best way to make children good is to make them happy.” — Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)


“Every word that we utter rouses its contrary.” — Goethe, _Maxims and Reflections_


“Ignorance of one’s misfortunes is clear gain.’ — Euripides


“The head thinks, the hands labor, but it’s the heart that laughs.” — Liz Curtis Higgs


” — Bother!” said Pooh “Eeyore, ready two photon torpedoes and lock phasers on the Heffalump; Piglet, meet me in transporter room three.”


By the way, this pearl is a classic…. Surrounded, by bookends from Smart Bee and Pooh’s evil twin, the five pieces of LIFE knowledge in between assume a greater degree, or darker, more noticeable shade, if you will, of their inherent meaning from the contrast implied by their positions…. Or, that could be just another of my own little personal delusions, but, we’ll never know now, will we, because, hey, I’m outta here….


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(For the next line, you must imagine the voice speaking these lines with an accent…. Little Rock, Arkansas, or perhaps, Birmingham, Alabama will be about right…..) Well, shoot, Orville, tha’s jest a whole lot better ‘en I thought it maght be….Ah thank we cane let it go on out thar ‘thout any more tweakin’…. (Okay, accent off…. if you’re having trouble doing that in your head, just use the toggle switch on the underside of the left hand arm rest of your seat….)


Having thus completed my self-imposed duty, I will now take my leave of you, post-haste, to try to beat the also self-imposed deadline for posting…. Well, that, and the obviously forthcoming legal challenges…. In any case, it’s done, I’m happy, and I’m gone….. See ya, ffolkes….




Y’all take care out there, 

and May the Metaphorse be with you;

Blessed Be, dearest  Carole, Mark, and Theresa…

and everyone else, too…


When I works, I works hard.

When I sits, I sits loose.

When I thinks, I falls asleep.


Which is Why….


—

Sometimes I sits and thinks,

and sometimes,

I just sits.


gigoid the dubious


dozer3





		
	
					

		
		
	


				
					
	

		

						
Clocks are intensely rabid this month….

			
						

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Ffolkes,

“Peculiar” seems to be the word that governs my current existence…. I’m giving up…. It’s not quite 5 AM, and I am once again sitting here staring at the screen, wondering what form today’s madness will take. I’ve been tossing and turning since about 3, trying mightily to convince myself to resume slumber, but two hours of that is enough. It means another day of intermittent fatigue, coupled and contrasted with periods of manic activity designed to keep my head occupied with anything but my situation. Fortunately, the pain is only half of what is keeping me from sleeping. Somehow, it is easier to deal with the angst and emotional distress that comes with the insomnia than it is with the pain when it is sufficient to cause me to awaken…. I can’t say why that is, but, there you go…. one more mystery for the ages…..


Since I’m up, I suppose I’ll start in on today’s Pearl; all the books I’m currently reading don’t seem to appeal this time of day. I’ve been reading some old mystery stories by G.K. Chesterton, whose work I knew only by reputation. I have used many of his aphorisms in my pearls, and, in reading some of his fictional stories, find him to be an extremely intelligent and insightful author, as well as an impressive wordsmith. Hmm, strange, Spell Checker doesn’t like that word, and it is such a good one; descriptive and precise… Ah well, I’ll have to add it to the dictionary, so SC won’t freak every time I use in in future; I hate having to cater to software, and I refuse to put a space between the two elements that make up such words, just because SC wants it….


Any who, enough with the aimless rambling, even though I’m getting rather good at it. One thing I am glad of, and that is how much easier typing has become over time. I guess writing over a million words using a keyboard has other effects than just wearing out plastic keys…. which is happening to this laptop. There are now five letters that are completely obscured, the paint having been rubbed off, and the space bar is developing a shallow depression from being struck so many times. It kinda makes me proud, ya know? My typing speed and accuracy has increased in the last two years, as well. I haven’t measured it, but I can compose, and edit, a 2000 plus word document in less than an hour, on a day when the ideas are flowing well. Not too bad for an old fart with flat feet and flatulence…..   🙂


On that elegant note, we should probably begin the day’s dive into my head, perilous as that may be. It can’t be any worse than what has already occurred today, and who knows? We might get lucky, and find something of value hiding around a random corner in the back corridors of my mind. Of course, there is always a risk, but have no fear…. nothing I write is intended to harm, and very little is contagious (hopefully, only the outrage is catching….). Just use gloves when handling it, and you’ll be fine….. Shall we Pearl?…..


No letters of the alphabet were harmed in the creation of this blog…..

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“An oppressed people are authorized whenever they can to rise and break their fetters.” — Henry Clay (1777-1852) American Statesman — Speech,  House of representatives, March 4, 1818


It is a most peculiar feeling, at my age, to become more radical in my opinions of society, and of the corruption and disparity that exists in equal measure at almost every level of that society. In my college years, of course, I spent my share of time and energy protesting the illegality and insanity of the war in Southeast Asia; in this I was not in any way different than many millions of my peers. The extent and depth of that urge to protest, however, was not as great as it is now, for the simple reason that I now have more experience in real life, and know far better just how corrupt our government has become.


Sure, we had Nixon to pick on, and Johnson, and Reagan. But, in retrospect, I can now see that the latter day politicians we now have in the public sphere are much more evil than any of those three (though, in Reagan’s case, that would be hard to top…. he was an evil man, to be sure….) (Nixon was just a pathetic loser, trying to be bigger than he was; Johnson was pretty evil in his own right, being the kind of guy who would smile as he inserted the knife in your back…..). The Shrubs are living proof that despotism and nepotism go hand in hand, and that an evil nature can be inherited.


In the recent election, I was encouraged to see that those in this country who value a life with honor over expedience were more numerous than those who are corrupt. The current President is, all in all, by all accounts, a good man, with the interests of the common people, if not foremost in his mind, at least present in his regard. But he is only one man, even if he is at the pinnacle; the man at the top operates under severe handicaps in getting anything done, especially now, with the large number of absolutely criminal psychopaths who inhabit the houses of Congress. This continuing disparity of purpose between honest men and those who are corrupt promises to become a battleground of some note in the next two years, leading up to the election in 2014, when the controlling percentage of the houses will next be addressed.


I have, in the last two years of living on low income, become more aware of the problems faced by so many of my peers in this country, and I am not anywhere near as handicapped as are many others. It has given me both an appreciation for the adaptability, and the courage and inner strength, of those in our society who are trying to live with less than the minimum amount necessary to do so, and a sense of outrage that such qualities are necessary. I have lived so long with enough, and more, that learning to do without has been a struggle of some proportion, a struggle different from those who are struggling to survive, and have done so for their entire lives. I have friends, and resources, that many do not have, and those will not allow me to sink into total poverty and despair. I also now have a strong desire to see some of this disparity eliminated from society, even if I have to resort to Robin Hood style activities to accomplish a redistribution of wealth….


Robin Hood…. hmmm…. You know, the more I think about it, the more attractive that sounds. Not the name itself, mind you, but the practice of robbing the rich to give to the poor. In fact, it sounds wonderfully attractive, and makes me all tingly with anticipation. I believe that it might just be possible to arrange things so that money that now resides in the pockets of corrupt officials, or asshole rich folks such as the recent failed candidate for Prez to find its way into the hands of ffolkes who would put it to more honorable, and more humanitarian use.


Actually, it just occurred to me that I could add churches to that list of potential…. let’s call them donors, okay? The coffers of almost any of the major religions are chock full of money they stole from the poor anyway, and very little of it ever finds its way into the charitable activities that they hold up in their defense, and in my opinion, would be much better utilized by taking it away from them, using whatever means are at hand, and giving it directly into the hands of the people who can put it to a more honest use.


I know this sounds like a bunch of talk, and as such is of little real value…. but, I tell you now, and with sincerity, that I will be thinking about this most seriously, and I intend to come up with a plan or two that will serve to achieve Robin’s purpose, and not just here on this blog, but in the real world. Those plans could take any number of shapes, but they all will have the net result of helping those who need it, by taking the resources they need from people who have either stolen them, or gotten them by chicanery, or merely hoarded that which they inherited, knowingly keeping it from being of any use to anyone but themselves…. You can take that to the bank…. where I will pick it up and take it to the poor…. So be it….


“And I’ll try not to sing out of key…” — Ringo Starr

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Old Men


People expect old men to die,

They do not really mourn old men.

Old men are different. People look

At them with eyes that wonder when…

People watch with unshocked eyes;

But the old men know when an old man dies.


Ogden Nash

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“..the television, that insidious beast, that Medusa which freezes a billion people to stone every night, staring fixedly, that Siren which called and sang and promised so much and gave, after all, so little…” — Ray Bradbury


I’ve never been a heavy TV watcher, always preferring a book to the tube. But, being an American, I did kind of keep track of what it was doing, if only to stay in touch with what most of the country was thinking, or whatever they do in place of that activity. Since retiring and moving to where I am, I haven’t had one, so I’ve now been pretty much completely out of touch with it for over two years. I think the only TV I’ve seen in that time has been whatever game was playing in the bars I used to go to…. Since my reduction in income almost two years ago, even that habit is non-existent, as I haven’t been into one in that time…. Oh, wait, okay, once, which was enough to convince me I’d lost my taste for it…..


In truth, I regard television the same way I do rattlesnakes…. interesting, but dangerous, and just easier to avoid than to engage. Most people never think objectively about either the act of watching the TV, or about the content, and intent, of what they watch. In fact, I would say the average American regards what he sees and hears on that medium to be the gospel truth, insofar as they have any idea of what that may be. It is almost as if they have come to believe that the activities of the people on TV are more real than their own lives, and therefore have more validity. How often have you heard a conversation between two followers of a soap opera talk about the characters on the show as if they are real people, with real problems, instead of being merely the imitation of life that springs from the fertile minds of the writers….


This is where the dangerous nature of the beast enters the picture, and it has never been more clearly indicated than in the recent election. The race for the Presidency was made out by all the TV pundits and polls to be close the entire time; the final results show just how inaccurate that was in reality. Polls, being composed of statistics, can be made to show whatever one wishes them to show, and the results can be manipulated by merely changing the demographics of the respondents. But, a clear-cut decision wouldn’t make for good TV, or for what the networks considered enough drama. Neither would it suit the networks to allow the voters to receive clear messages…..


So, all the pundits who supposedly “analyzed” the polls, and the opinions of the populace, talked about how close the race was, and doctored and manipulated the actual words of each candidate to suit whatever their own particular desires were, thus manipulating the voting public. Fortunately, a lot of their manipulations came to naught, as there was a large percentage of those who voted who never spoke to a poll taker, or let on, in any way, how pissed off they were at what was being promulgated by the TV media hounds….. It became clear late on election night that the actions of the challenger had angered and alienated far more of the voting public than was understood by either that party, or by the media, and the result was a landslide victory for the incumbent….. fortunately…..


It’s my firm opinion that there should be a lot more oversight when it comes to what the TV networks are allowed to do. Yes, we have free speech in this country…. but does that mean that they should be free to lie to, cheat, and manipulate the voting public without consequence? It seems to me that there should be some value placed on Truth in these events, and that the organizations which report on public or governmental activities should be held responsible when they deliberately lie, with or without the intent of manipulation. I also believe that there should be penalties exacted on any public official who is caught telling a lie to the public…. If that were the case, then at least two of the candidates for the highest offices in this country would now be facing jail time, for sure and for certain…. It disappoints, and even angers me no end, that none of what Romney and Ryan lied about in their campaign (which was practically everything that came out of their mouths….) will ever be challenged, or better yet, prosecuted…..


It seems that I could go on in this vein for a very long time without running out of things to say on the subject. My enthusiasm for it has waned a bit, though, as it does when I’ve said all that is important to say…. I say it should be law that anyone in an elected position should be held to an even higher standard than the public when it comes to honesty and truth, and the penalties should be severe enough to make anyone who wishes to run for office think long and hard before trying to fool the public. I know, I know, it would change the face of American politics forever, and people might not know exactly how to deal with the truth, after having been lied to for so long. But, in my mind, the end result would be a far more responsible government, one whose actual goal was to look after the best interests of the people, instead of being a sinecure, with the keys to the treasury given over into the hands of thieves…..


And the TV networks would have to find a new way to operate, without the advantages of being able to lie without subsequent punishment, or even mere disapproval….. who knows? We might even end up with something worth watching……


A man may well bring a horse to the water,

But he cannot make him drinke without he will.


— John Heywood (c. 1565) — Proverbes, Part i, Chap. xi

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“A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.” — Oscar Wilde


It appears that getting up so early stimulated my Opinion-o-matic, which apparently operates without a lot of dependence on Smart Bee, or any other form of mental goad. Only five pearls in the whole shebang, with well over 2500 words of rather sincere ranting (hence the quote from Oscar….). All in all, it should make for an interesting read, and hopefully will stimulate some random cogitation among the Gentle Readership. If not, well, I’ve been ignored before, and will be again…. I’m used to it.    🙂


If any of the above gives you cause to disagree strongly, or agree even weakly, feel free to let me know in the comment section, or, for those of you receiving this via email, tell me in a Reply…. I can take it, as long as you stick to logic and/or reason; constructive criticism will be sincerely considered, and, appropriately, flaming and other forms of antagonistic asininity will be cheerfully deleted…..  Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..


—

Sometimes I sits and thinks,

and sometimes

I just sits.


gigoid


Dozer
Kowabunga!



					

		
		
	


				
					
	

		

						
Which is the silliest objective?

			
						

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Ffolkes,

After a certain amount of time, reality becomes hard to hold on to with a sure grip. Stuff happens. (Don’t ask….)  And when that stuff is happening, our grasp of what we thought was unchangeable grows tenuous, at best. Most folks just breeze right through these moments, never realizing that their entire universe is mere seconds away from crashing about their ears. These are the fortunate ones. For those of us who regularly battle with reality to keep it in even a semblance of normalcy, these moments are terrifying challenges, fraught with the danger of imminent death of life and the universe as we know it, or at least, indigestion……


The brain is broken this morning. I tried to use it earlier, and got no response at all. Now, I sit down to write, and you see the result…. Pathetic. Indigestion, indeed. I’ll give me indigestion…. hell, I do that on a regular basis anyway, just by reading the news; it takes no special effort. Try to convince a broken brain of that though…. 


I’m not sure how to proceed. I’ve never really had to deal with a full break before; there have always been some peripheral functions that remained intact. But this seems to be a complete system-wide shut down, and I’m not sure if it is a hardware or software problem, so it makes trouble-shooting a bit of a facer, what?


Sorry, been watching English mini-series’ movies of Lord Peter Whimsy’s mysteries, and I’m still speaking in English drawing room comedy language…. quite the thing, don’t y’know? It’s so very…. British…. Such a wonderful vehicle for sarcasm and comedic facial expressions, and all of the characters are archetypal representations of the various English types…. to the manor born, the butler, or “gentleman’s gentleman”, the vicar, the blacksmith, the sexton, the farmer, etc.  And they all wear the most sensible shoes….


Well, as can be seen, things may wander a bit today, so I’d best start wending my way toward the end….. the beginning will have to cope on its own at this point; I can do no more for it, and will just let it die a natural death….. let’s go Pearl….

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Fate steals along with silent tread,

Found oftenest in what least we dread;

Frowns in the storm with angry brow,

But in the sunshine strikes the blow.

— Cowper


Writing about Murphy’s Law can be a delicate, tricky process, since the mere use of his name is generally enough to draw his attention, something all of us learn to avoid at an early age. At least, all of us who retain any sanity at all have learned to avoid his ministrations, except when forced to accept them. So, writing about his place in the scheme of things can take on the aspect of a nightmare, a terrifying one, one that not only wakes one up, but remains real when awake. The only possible way to avoid this is to make the piece you are writing as glowingly positive as you can….


One doesn’t write about how little Murphy’s presence is hated; we point out how his benign humor keeps us humble. We don’t tell how his latest escapade has put us back several years in our plans for life; we acknowledge his wisdom in keeping us with our nose to the grindstone. And we certainly don’t complain about how much of an asshole he is, or he will most certainly turn what we write into the biggest pile of crap that ever was assembled in one place.


Ah, fuck it. I hate the asshole. His perverted sense of humor has caused more heartache for humanity than Hitler. He thinks he is a celebrity, like Santa Claus, or the Easter Bunny, but his degree of fame, or, more accurately, infamy, is more on the order of The Swamp Thing, or Freddy Kruger, without the advantage of their cultish chic.


If there were any part of reality as it exists that I would change, it would be to remove Murphy’s head from his shoulders, and consign him to one of the deepest parts of hell, where he would forever be subjected to just those kinds of incidents that he is so fond of perpetrating on the unsuspecting members of society…. Bloody prick…. I know that all cultures have their Murphy…. he may be called Loki, or Kokopelli, or some other name, and even may be counted as a god. But, fuck him anyway, he’s an asshole; I don’t have to like him…. and I don’t..


Popular consensus says that reality is based on popular consensus. — Smart Bee

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“Believe nothing merely because you have been told it… Do not believe what your teacher tells you merely out of respect for the teacher.  But whatsoever, after due examination and analysis, you find to be kind, conducive to the good, the benefit, the welfare of all beings — that doctrine believe and cling to, and take it as your guide.” — Buddha


This idea is almost unknown in Western society, and if you require evidence, just look at the TV Guide for this week. Every minute of every day the airwaves are filled with blatant attempts to influence what people think about, what they buy, or should want to buy, how to relate to other people, or who they should vote for in the next election. I don’t think there are more than one person out of a hundred thousand who has an original thought in their head, one not generated by some excited announcer giving them the latest way to waste their time and money.


In addition to the wasteland that is TV, we have religion, always prepared to jump into people’s lives and tell them how they are doing it wrong, and how the only way to get to heaven is to buy into the product they are selling, thereby handing over the keys to their own minds, and checkbooks. If one looks at it objectively, it’s a pretty good gig, this preacher business. 


All you have to do is be able to tell people what you think is true with a straight face, and stand back and watch the money pour in. Hell, anybody with the chutzpah and the patter can become a preacher; it doesn’t even require a license, though it does help to file the certificates and forms that make it so your church doesn’t have to pay taxes. That’s always a bonus item in favor among the truly religious.


“Writing science fiction for about a penny a word is no way to make a living, If you really want to make a million, the quickest way is to start your own religion.” — L. Ron Hubbard


L. Ron was as good as his word…. He was talking to Robert Heinlein one day (they were old friends, having attended Annapolis together in their youth….), and complaining about how his science fiction wasn’t selling as well as Bob’s. He made Bob a bet, that he could start a religion, one that had no basis in reality outside his head, and could become richer than Croesus without having to lift a finger…. Bob took the bet, and L. Ron wrote “Dianetics”, the book that is now the basis for the Church of Scientology.


This “religion” has become a reality, with millions of members worldwide, all of whom are firmly convinced of the truth of what is in their bible; in reality, their bible was a load of crap nonsense that came straight out of L. Ron’s head, and has no actual relation to anything in the real world…..Imagine, a religion based on Science, without a single number or equation to be found anywhere in its precepts. I find it to be one of history’s finest jokes, and the shenanigans of the constituents of the “church” provide me with endless entertainment…. Brilliant!…. And, of course, just desserts for those who have adopted such an asinine philosophy, all based on a joke bet….


“It’s hard to decide if T.V. makes morons out of everyone or if it mirrors Americans who really are morons to begin with.” — Martin Mull

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And God said: “Let there be cats!” and He was promptly ignored. — Smart Bee


I don’t often write about cats. I’m not sure why that is, because I love them just about as much as I love dogs. Mankind, in his history on this planet, has engaged the help and companionship of purpose (i.e., life…) of several of our mammalian relatives. Dogs, cats, horses, pigs, sheep, cattle, all have agreed, passively or actively, to join us in the struggle to exist here on Earth. We all provide different life skills that we possess to the mix, skills that complement each other, affording us the strength that arises from group effort. In essence, we have contracted with each other to provide services for actions that we cannot accomplish alone.


Each of those animals who chose to live with us, sharing our food and campfire, shelter and company, have their own motivations for doing so, not all of which are self-serving. In fact, I would say that the reason that dogs and cats often appear to have for their continued relationships with us can mostly be attributed to love. People develop very close, affectionate relationships with those two types of creatures, and the love we feel for them is obviously returned. No other explanation makes sense for explaining why a dog or cat will save a human’s life, by warning of a fire, by attacking an aggressor, or why they will come to us and offer comfort in times of sadness and pain.


Cats are perhaps more independent in their relations with us, but their love is continuously demonstrated, even in those actions that apparently are rude, such as their ability to ignore us when they so desire. I see those times as being the moments when they are defining the limits of their personal space, their need to maintain dignity at all cost. It’s a cat thing. Sometimes their love only shows in the fact that they continue to stay with us, and deign to accept our attentions. After all, in ancient Egypt, cats were worshiped as gods, and I don’t think they’ve ever forgotten…. Bless their pointy little ears…..


I can’t imagine living without dogs and cats. I prefer to have both as companions; often the relationship that develops between the two diametrically opposed species is deep and caring, and observing how they learn to get along with each other is a constant lesson that our political “experts” would benefit from learning. 


Before I was summarily dismissed from my last relationship, Noah and I lived with a cat who firmly believed that Noah was his big brother. The cat, named Tony, would follow Noah around, play with him, and preferred to sleep with him at night (I have pictures….). He knew Noah was old, and took care to treat him gently (he was a big, powerful cat…. about 17 lbs, and no fat….). When Noah was struggling to walk upstairs, Tony would walk behind him, swatting at his tail end, spurring him to get up the steps….


It broke my heart when Noah and I were told to move, never to see Tony again. Noah would often wander around the new house, looking for something, then come and look at me as if to ask where Tony was…. it was tough, believe me, and still hurts…. Which goes to show,I like animals much more than I like most humans…. and for good reason….

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“One can’t complain. I have my friends. Someone spoke to me only yesterday.” — A.A. Milne’s Eeyore


Aye, indeed, one can’t complain. Though I live a life of solitude, I am not often lonely. I have my friends, who, though they live elsewhere, are ever as close as the phone. These are the kind of friends of whom I know that even if they call me at 3 AM, or if I would call them at such an hour, they wouldn’t say, “Why are you calling so late?”, but rather, “What do you need?” I count at least 8 people among those I know who fit that definition, and that is wealth indeed….


One of them called me yesterday, just to chat. In turn, I called one of them, who was celebrating her birthday (quietly, as those at our age are wont to do….). Both calls were enough human contact for me. I don’t miss work, or having to deal with the general run of human interaction at a high level; I have to admit, this whole retirement thing fits right in with my preferred style of living. I get to decide how much I deal with people, and that is another form of wealth that is seldom counted…. a true freedom, the freedom to say “no”…. We first learn the power of “no” around age two, but we seldom actually think about how powerful a word it is….


“No, I don’t want to do that…” now has much more meaning and strength when I say it, because I know that it is all my decision. Of course, this makes me fully responsible for what happens, but that is true anyway, and can thus be discounted as a motivating factor. It just helps me to be more careful in the decision-making process. “No, I won’t….” No, you can’t…” All of these options now have more force in my life, and it is a heady sort of power. It isn’t surprising that so many folks, as they get older, take more and more advantage of this power; it is perhaps their first time at feeling in control of their lives….. Unfortunately, this often leads them into becoming negative in their outlook, which causes other problems….


But, for me at least, it’s nice to be able to tell the world to go take a hike now and again. And it sure makes practicing to be a curmudgeon easier!….. No, no, no, I won’t!…..   🙂

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It’s only cheating when you get caught! — Smart Bee


One never knows when a rant will strike…. I almost cruised past this, as I have innumerable times when I’ve seen it before. But then I stopped for a moment and thought about it…. and got angrier and angrier the more I considered it. 


My anger arises from my obstructed desire, of course, which, in this case, is the desire to see the morality of mankind become, shall we say, less self-serving, and leave it at that? I’d like to see more honesty in the world, as I see the lack of it, or worse, the active denial of it, as the worst affliction society suffers. The willingness of the wicked to lie and cheat, and the willingness of the general populace to condone it by their indifference to those lies, is the root of almost all the other problems facing our species.


This idea, that it is okay to cheat if nobody is looking, has been adopted as truth by most people. Even the most apparently incorruptible people will cheat to achieve their ends, using the rationality, or the charity, or the innate rightness of their goals as justifiable reasons for the dishonesty in action. It’s called fighting fire with fire, and while it may work when dealing with conflagrations in a forest, the analogy does not translate accurately to the raging fires in human society.


The acceptance of this concept, of the inherent value of cheating, is based on a concept from martial arts, the practice of deception, of movement, of strategy, of information. In a war, or battle, being able to misinform one’s opponent of one’s true disposition and plan is invaluable as a strategy. Control of information is vital in war. Those who do not learn this practice can never be successful in battle, for they have lost before beginning.


Modern politics, the art of war against the people by their rulers, is rife with this strategy. Politicians routinely lie, not just to the people over whom they wish to rule, but to those who rule with them. The entire system of political strategy in this country is based on who can get the voters to believe the lies they are handing out, while simultaneously accusing their opponents of using the self-same tactics. Whichever one convinces the most fools wins the chance to loot the public treasury for the next few years, when we are again subjected to the cycle of lies and cheating….


Ah hell…. it’s a nice looking day outside, and here I am ranting about assholes who aren’t going to change anyway…. something wrong with that picture, so I guess I’ll go do something more constructively fun than this… though I have to admit I feel better…. It always helps me to call Mitt Romney an asshole…. makes my whole morning….

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This turned on me a bit…. it became something of a small ordeal, but, I won…. I’ve fought through to the end of another morning’s ramblings, and it looks like a pretty far-ranging ramble indeed…. Well, such as it is, here it is…. Y’all take care out there, and May the Metaphorse be with you…..




—

Sometimes I sits and thinks,

and sometimes

I just sits.


gigoid


Kowabunga!