Category Archives: 2012

Stick’em Up

My favorite manip of one of Jeanne’s art pieces

Hi readers.

The email forwards are telling me you fine, upstanding citizens are giving serious thought to electing a vice-king who’s committed to robbing me of the only financial resource I’ve got:  my Social Security pension check.  Paid in by me longer than most of you’ve been alive, by me and matched by those paying me.

Hokay.  For myself, I honestly don’t give much of a damn.  I’ve lived long enough and hard enough to be confident I can survive as long as I need to.  It ain’t a big deal in that regard.

But I’ve got four cats here depending on me to buy food for them.  Cats I value higher than I value the lives of the multitudes of folks who are venal enough, stingy enough, or indifferent enough to tacitly or actively select candidates who don’t give a damn about my cats.

All over this country there are people in similar circumstances, probably placing a higher value on the continuation of their own lives than I do, depending on those SS checks monthly to pay the rent, the mortgage, buy food for themselves.  People who paid in, and their employers paid in on the promise there’d be an eventual return when the cows all came home.

Those people grew up in a different time with an entirely different set of values than exist today.  They aren’t as accustomed being pushed around and bullied as the folks who’d help rob them might wish.

I don’t know how they’ll react if you rob them.  I don’t even know how I’ll personally react.  But I will tell you this:

Back me into a corner and take away my livelihood, force me to kill my cats as an alternative to having them starve, and a different man will come out the other end.  A man who has not a damned thing to lose other than his life, which there probably ain’t a lot left of anyway.

So do whatever you damned well please, vote in whatever greedy animal you wish to do your robbing chores.  But keep in mind there’s a piece of the population out there you’re deliberately and calculatedly choosing to back into corners without gaining a damned thing for yourselves except smug satisfaction.

And the folks you plan on doing it to are tougher than you, smarter than you, potentially one-hell-of-a-lot meaner than you, and almost certainly won’t take kindly to being mugged.

You don’t have the imagination to care, but life has a way of providing what the imagination doesn’t supply.

Old Jules

Book Review – Into the Rising Sun – Patrick K. O’Donnell

 

Good morning readers.  Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.

This book ought to be required reading for all these namby-pamby ‘thank you for your service’ self-hugging smugness goodygoody submerged hypocrites, thinks I. 

These are the WWII experiences told by men who came back from WWII and didn’t talk about it.  Didn’t join the VFW, didn’t wave any flags, and grew old holding it inside their heads because what they saw and experienced as young men didn’t fit inside the picture the US Empire was drawing of itself and its conduct of WWII.

Eventually some decided it was time to tell it and O’Donnell was there to record what they said.  Into The Rising Sun was the result.  They told of being sent into places nobody needed to go, under-equipped with incompetent leadership, under-supplied, half-starved into malaria swamps against an enemy no better off than they were.

They told of the most significant experience of their lives.  A dismal experience perpetrated by negligence, mediocrity, politics, publicity and lies for the folks back home waving flags and beating drums.  Sending their own sons off to join them in jungles where getting captured meant becoming a meal for the enemy.  Where shooting all prisoners was the norm. 

Burma, the Solomons, the South Pacific they lived didn’t make its way into any Broadway musicals and the ‘thank you for your service’ expressions represented an irony too confusing to face.  Legions of men betrayed by their government for convenience, whims and indifference.  Betrayed by a failure of the military leadership to commit itself to the reality they were living and fulfill their own responsibilities, the only excuse for their existence.

The 20th Century is loaded with places a person wouldn’t care to have been.  What these men lived wasn’t unique.  Happened so many places to so many men of the 20th Century from all countries a book couldn’t list them all.

But this book probably represents as good a synopsis as anyone’s likely to produce.  It’s good the old men finally told it.

Old Jules

Philosophy by Limerick – Slammer Sensitivity Training

Aryan [alien] Nation
Inhibits their re-education
By Crips and by Bloods
And by Hispanic studs
For rehab and recreation.

Old Jules

Called for Jury Duty – The Dog Won’t Hunt

Just got an email from Gale telling me there’s a post card up there calling me to jury duty on August 21.  Gives me a good excuse to drive over to the County Seat, take a fishing pole along.  Nice little lake on one end of town and there’s no point wasting a trip.

Unless they’re crazy enough to select me to serve on a jury.  In which case some accused will walk free, some traffic violator will be spared a fine, or someone lawsuiting someone else will have to depend on the luck of the draw without my vote in his/her favor.

Ain’t nobody going to serve any jail time, pay any fine for anything at all on my say-so.

Although, I suppose if the right person happens to be snarling after the right other individual or corporation for the right civil offense the strength of my convictions might be sorely tested.  More on gut feel than evidence, though.  I try not to make unbiased judgements against my fellow humans.

So most likely I’ll get in some fishing.

Old Jules

Philosophy by Limerick: * A Corncob and a Lie

“Bend over and spread your cheeks,”
Aristocrat smirks to the meeks,
“Believe you’ll inherit
By pachyderm merit
Or equine, earth’s limitless peaks.”

Old Jules

* Apologies to Archibald MacLeish when he was young.

Off the Subject

Hokay. I don’t discuss metaphysics much here and I’m not going to start doing it.  But I’m going to throw this in because it needs to be said.

I know all you Reiki folks and other practitioners of metaphysical efforts toward improvement of human health conditions are fairly hide-bound, closed-minded, stultified and mind-locked regarding why what you do works the way it does.  And I know a few of you read this blog.

So I’m going to suggest this to you even though your minds will immediately reject the entire concept of traditional or even quantum physics influencing the success or failure of your efforts.

If you visit spaceweather dot com and scroll downward in the left sidebar you’ll find Interplanetary Mag. Field identifying time of magnetopause for the dayFor the hell of it, clickmore dataand select a time to do what you hope to do when the BZ is nearest the centerline on the graph.

If you find it makes a difference you might scroll down further to the Geomagnetic Storms chart and look for days when the severe and active number’s lowest for your latitudes.

I’m not going to tell you how to do your own business and I have no intention to erode your faith in your angels and whatnot.

But if you’re ever feeling bored you might just give it a try and keep track of whether it makes a difference in your success/failures.

Meanwhile go on back to your angels and mass-consciousnesses.

Old Jules

Philosophy by Limerick – Hot, Throbbing Democracy

“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

Philosophy by Limerick – Still Scary After All These Years

We miss those damned Marxists, so please
Find Commies behind all the trees!
Ain’t nuthun’ so thrilling
For shouting and shrilling
Ignoring the rot and the sleeze.

Old Jules

Philosophy by Limerick: Natural Non-Commie Fulfillment – Ayn Rand

The guy in the doorway is dead
Not as tough as the one overhead
So she smiles and she greets him
With raised hips she meets him
It’s Darwin, it’s fate; it ain’t RED.

Old Jules

Book Review – Seven Pillars of Wisdom, T.E. Lawrence

Hi readers.  Thanks for coming by.

If any of you are bored, or maybe a bit ashamed hearing yourselves parrot to one another how much you hate Muslims, or Arabs, or one of the numerous other epithets you apply to people of Semitic ancestry without knowing a damned thing about them, you might find this a cleansing read.  [Long sentence, eh?]

I found it in a ‘free’ box in a thrift store held together by rubber bands, but there’s probably another read left in this copy.  If any of you can’t find a copy and want this one I’ll send it to you, rubber bands and all.

Lawrence was a young Englishman assigned early in WWI to go into the desert and try raising a rebellion among the Beduins against the Turkish Empire.  The allies were having an awful time with those Turks, getting themselves made monkeys of, their cannon-fodder reduced to cannon-fodder without seeing any positive results.  Someone got the idea a revolt in the background might help.

So young Lawrence found himself a camel and headed out to make friends of the tribes, to try arranging dissatisfaction among them.  To offer money, weapons, military advisors, explosives to weaken the back door to pesky Turkey.

Lawrence lived among them several years.  Became trusted by them, successfully stirred them into revolt, led them, came to respect and understand them.  Earned their trust, I should have said, to the extent any representative of a European power could be trusted.  And trusted them in a more-or-less realistic way.

These are his memoirs, his exploits, his observations about the people.  The events that came to be important as an influence on the future running right to the present.  And changed his entire perspective about loyalties, betrayals, patriotism and individual responsibility.

In some ways what happened to Lawrence is reminescent of what the Templars were accused of and slaughtered for by the European powers.  Becoming too familiar, dangerously understanding of the fabled, demonized enemy.

Lawrence could probably offer an Eighth Pillar of Wisdom if he’d survived until today and had a chance to offer his thoughts about what he’d see around him.

A worthy read, worth the rubber bands holding it together.  655 pages with introduction and remarks by his friend, George Bernard Shaw.

Old Jules