Monthly Archives: February 2018

Philosophy by limerick: We never got it

This was first posted with a different title August 6, 2012

A wisdom akin to a curtain
Finds septuagenarians certain
Their egocentristic
Self-seeking, simplistic
Pronouncements could cure all that’s hurtin’.

Old Jules

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Philosophy by Limerick – Hot, Throbbing Democracy

I’m just rediscovering these old limericks and finding them surprisingly fresh.

So Far From Heaven

“Equine or a pachyderm style?”
Ms. Street Hooker asks with a smile.
“Trickle-down while I wail out
Snatch wallet and bail out!
You won’t want to vote for a while!”

Old Jules

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Lessons in life

There it is…. the gas pump on the left.

Someone posted this photo on the Portales, New Mexico, FaceBook group site and it brought back a flood of memories of that gas station, and even that pump there on the left:

When I got out of the army July 1965, I went to work a while for Abe Ribble at his readymix company on the Lovington highway….

One of my jobs was to take the deposits down to the bank, park outside the door with the engine left running, and quickly go into the bank to drop off the deposits. This was the way Abe demonstrated he wanted it done my first day on the job.

The second week on the job I made the deposit, then came out and the car was gone. I was craning my neck staring down the street when an old man leaning against the building asked, “Are you looking for Abe’s car?”  Portales was a small town and everyone knew Abe Ribble [and everyone else in town, and their cars.]

“Yeah, it was right here.” Me indicating the vacant pull-in.

“It headed off in reverse up 2nd Street and cut into the Gulf station. Knocked down a gas pump and stopped on top of it.” He pointed, and there it was, gasoline flooding the tarmac underneath it.

I figured that was the end of me working for Abe Ribble.   But in fact, when I told Abe what happened he couldn’t quit laughing. I’ve been intending to get that fixed,” He chuckled. “I guess I waited a bit too long.”

Seems that car had been slipping out of the Park position and heading off on its own missions for some while, but it never got around to hitting anything important before.

Old Jules

 

That time again

We’ve seen enough  to allow us to draw some conclusions about the White House and those who occupy it these days.   They’re not bothering to wear masks anymore.

The storm of finger pointing and claims of authoritative evidence this side, that side, or some other side the daily deluge is not  going to bring sanity into the equation.  When all parties and at least two foreign governments illegally influenced the last elections or otherwise sold the country out maybe it’s time to back away a while.   See who’s left standing when the dust settles.

I seems clear nobody’s going to come out of this thing clean if they’ve occupied the White House since 1992, or aspired to occupy it.   And the irony that everyone in the White House or aspiring to be there sold their souls to the Russians ought to be funny because it’s too overwhelmingly absurd to be anything else.

What we do know, or ought to know, is that one way to become wealthy is get elected to National Office.   And that doing what makes you wealthy once in office is evidently universally irresistible.   Even when the Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court dies in spang in the middle of a piece of a bribe payoff it barely raises an eyebrow.   It certainly doesn’t interrupt the public display of remorse at his loss.

I get all my news off Facebook and from Johnny, my neighbor-across-the-hall, who owns a television.   Watches sports, stock-car racing, weather, and picks up the occasional piece of juicy Washington gossip.

Which might be too much news for me to stomach.

Back in the Clinton years I vowed to go through an entire presidential term without knowing who was in the White House.   I would have succeeded, I think, were it not from the interruption of 9-11.   After that I gradually allowed news to creep back into my consciousness.

Now, it seems I can resign myself to be constantly dumbstruck, or I can just retreat back into my worship of Old Sol, listen to Gregorian chants mornings, classical music the rest of the day, and leave current events to those who love knowing them.

If I have the will power to manage it.

Old Jules

What ever happened to William Zantzinger?

William Zantzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll with a cane that he twirled ’round his diamond ringed finger.

Hi readers.    I noticed earlier today I was singing ‘The Lonesome Death of Poor Hattie Carroll” by Bobby Dylan back around 1964.   Surprisingly I seem to remember all the words.

Anyway, I smiled at myself as I sang it, rewarding myself for even noticing I was singing it.    Song ran through my head a while and I remembered a nasty incident sometime in the early 1970s when I played the song for my step-dad, which he had no appreciation for.

But then I began wondering what the hell ever happened to William Zantzinger, the rich tobacco farmer who killed a black woman with eleven children with is cane because she was slow serving him drinks.

Of course, we know he got a six month sentence.   But after that?

After prison, Mr. Zantzinger left the farm and went into real estate. He sold antiques, became an auctioneer and owned a night club.

In 1991, The Maryland Independent disclosed that Mr. Zantzinger had been collecting rent from black families living in shanties that he no longer owned; Charles County, Md., had foreclosed on them for unpaid taxes. The shanties lacked running water, toilets or outhouses. Not only had Mr. Zantzinger collected rent for properties he did not own, he also went to court to demand past-due rent, and won.

He pleaded guilty to 50 misdemeanor counts of deceptive trade practices, paid $62,000 in penalties and, under an 18-month sentence, spent only nights in jail.

Information on Mr. Zantzinger’s survivors was unavailable. Though he long refused interviews, he did speak to the author Howard Sounes for his book “Down the Highway: The Life of Bob Dylan” (2001) , telling him of his scorn for Mr. Dylan.

“I should have sued him and put him in jail,” he said.

Damn!   And he lived such a GOOD life.   Who’d have thought it back in 1963 when he was whacking Hattie Carroll in the head with a cane?

RIP.

Old Jules

Disturbing insights

This ignorant cracker entered the US Army in 1961 during the Berlin Crisis [when the Berlin Wall went up]. Given the similarities of patriotic rhetoric between countries he’d as happily taken the orders of an Adolph Hitler as John Kennedy.

Yesterday I was down at the laundromat, which was a bit crowded with the lower-end of the socioeconomic scale of Leavenworth, Kansas.   But because of the time of day, most were senior citizens or younger wives with kiddos.   Several old Vietnam era vets and a couple of granny-ladies.

When it’s that crowded in the place it forces people to become social instead of just staring at the clothing tumbling in their washers or dryers.   And when strangers discuss anything these days it will be sports, television, politics, or Muslims, for the most part.   Some of which inevitably leads to confessions of some nasty hatreds and deep biases.

I was a bit shocked when the discussion centered almost entirely on the president and the enthusiasm shared among the ones who were vocal on the subject.    These people, senior citizens who obviously rely on Social Security pensions and Medicare, are still devoted and determined to to see this president and the Congress with intentions to destroy their Medicare and Social Security remain in office.   Increase their power.

I’ll confess to have been quietly dumbfounded.   They sneered at the class of people who are openly critical or have doubts about the prez and the Congress that’s likely to put them out on the streets cold an hungry.  And the old vets were noisy about the opposition being expressed in some quarters to a proposed military parade somewhere.   Which I couldn’t care less about one way or the other.

But I’ve digressed somewhat.    All that got me remembering, wondering just what sort of people we veterans are, on the whole.   Obviously we aren’t deep thinkers.    And while many spout patriotic rhetoric and indignation, as nearly as I can tell most have remained the ignorant crackers most of us were back when we entered the military 50 years or so ago.

But what’s more disturbing than our lack of growth and acquired wisdom over the decades, is the fact so many of us evidently are using our stupidity as a launchpad for active participation in the political process.

To demolish our own livelihood.

Figure that one out.

Old Jules

Old Sol’s becoming difficult again

ROARING BEAVER APPEARS IN NORTHERN LIGHTS: Seeing animals in clouds is a physiological phenomenon called pareidolia. On Feb. 6th, Markus Varik of Tromsø, Norway, experienced auroradolia. “We saw a roaring beaver in the Northern Lights!” he says.

Hi readers.

“Things got even stranger after that. “The shapes we witnessed were unlike anything I have ever seen before as an aurora tour guide,” says Varik. “For about 30 minutes the lights transformed from a beaver to Mother Theresa and many other things. Our guests were as happy as can be!”

“Warning: Auroradolia may be contagious. Browse the gallery for more examples.”     Spaceweather.com

This morning while praying up Old Sol I was so distracted by Sunspot AR2699 that I neglected to pay proper homage to the coronal hole on the northeastern face of our star.    It’s Old Sol’s way of sending us videos to communicate his reactions to happenings on earth via a solar wind coming off that coronal hole.

old sol coronal hole feb 8 2018

As you can easily see, Old Sol has some issues at the moment.   When he comes to earth and does the Roaring Beaver, heck, there’s just no telling what he’ll do next.

But stay tuned and remember where you heard it.

Old Jules