Another July 4th

 

You would think I would be tired of publishing angry, disenchanted rants on “patriotic” national holidays. 

If things would seem to be getting better...or at least no worse...perhaps my angry heart could cool.

But "better" does not seem to be a word with any meaning when it comes to our national situation these days. And "bad" has a way of getting worse with the passage of time.

Last year, we had this: Celebrating Freedom in a World Gone Mad

Did we think it couldn't get worse?

Well, here are this year's highlights:

 

 

This, on top of our American way of "celebrating freedom."

Which would be...

Entitled "adults" exercising their freedom to act like spoiled children with vicious disregard for their neighbors, their neighbors' property, and the captive "pet" animals that they so zealously guard and promote the other 51 weeks of the year...by gleefully setting off random explosives in cramped, flammable quarters where any responsible 5-year-old would tell you that someone could be hurt or killed.

July Fourth.  Independence Day.  Increasingly, the best day of the year to see Americans at their worst.

King of the World

 

Disbelief and Anger Among Greek Shipwreck's Victims' Relatives as Millions Spent on Titan Rescue Effort

If anyone across the globe harbored any remaining tiny seed of doubt that money rules the world, the stories surrounding this month's global maritime "disasters" should pour the last drop of glyphosate on that seed.  

Three hundred Pakistani refugees perish when their over-crowded fishing boat sinks in the Mediterranean, and the world takes little notice...mirroring the response of the European agencies that could have averted the tragedy, but chose not to.  

Four ultra rich "adventurers" pony up a quarter of a million dollars each to ride a demonstrably flawed and dangerous craft to a century-old shipwreck, and disappear less than two hours into their journey.  A days-long, multi-million-dollar rescue effort ensues, with world press agencies providing a minute-by-minute accounting of the "drama" of a search made more urgent by the limited life-support aboard the shockingly makeshift vehicle...even though the US Navy had detected evidence of the disastrous outcome of the "adventure" minutes after the craft had ceased communication with the surface.  Four days and millions of dollars invested into a "rescue" for five rich men who had catastrophically imploded in the first hours of their foolish enterprise.

And three hundred poor men, women and children in a watery grave at the bottom of the Mediterranean.  No one will even bother to recover the bodies.

We should be outraged.

But we're not, are we?

 

    

On The Wankmaggot

A substantial portion of this blog—and others I have attempted and abandoned over the years—has been dedicated to political commentary, beginning with my take on Arnold Schwarzenegger’s election as governor of California in 2003.

So I feel somewhat obligated to comment here about the Tangerine Wankmaggot finally being charged with a crime, two years after nearly ending our government because he didn’t cheat quite enough to steal a second election to the highest post in the land.   

And, of course, that is not the crime with which he is being charged.

I hesitate to add to the all-Maggot, all-the-time that will now be playing on all platforms of American media for the foreseeable future.

One can only hold out the desperate hope that this has transpired far enough ahead of the 2024 election that it will not constitute a replay of the millions of dollars worth of free publicity that helped propel the Maggot to his first “victory” in 2016. 

But it’s not looking good.  I don’t look at CNN or Fox or MSNBC or really any news agency besides NPR and BBC news.

And both those outlets had the Maggot plastered all over their home pages all day Tuesday and into Wednesday.  The Madison Avenue  juggernaut is determined to continue to feed the insatiable and dangerous ego that has already demonstrated its desire—and ability—to rule the world.  All for the money.  It’s all about the money.   

How the fuck can we make them just…STOP?!

 

On Theology

 

It seems appropriate that I would come up with this post just before Easter—the “holiest” weeks of the Christian calendar.  Since I am not Christian (actually, becoming more anti-Christian as time goes on and the right-wing juggernaut grows stronger and more outrageous) I’m not particularly concerned about whom this post might offend.

A few days ago, I sat in my production room, toiling away with NPR talking in the background.  The topic being discussed was the 10^th anniversary of the election of Pope Francis.  I haven’t been a Catholic for many, many years, but I find I’m still interested in hearing about what goes on in the Church. 

The discussion delved deeper and deeper into the politics and machinations of Catholicism.  The host brought on guests who dissected the pros and cons of Francis’ reign, viewing his policies against the backdrop of not only recent upheavals in Church status quo (RE: the resignation of Pope Benedict 10 years ago), but also in the light (or darkness) of two millennia of Church doctrine and dogma.  It was a fascinating and very scholarly discussion. 

A few days later, I came upon this article online: US Bishops Document Against Transgender Health Care a Disaster

When all was said and done, my first thought was to marvel at the complexity of Catholic dogma and tradition.  I suppose the world is fortunate that a religious tradition so given to high thought and scholarliness has had so much influence over the human race for a couple thousand years.  We are even now witnessing what can/will happen when a cult that demonizes education and conspires to keep the masses uneducated and afraid comes into ascendancy.  Imagine what the state of the world might be if today’s right-wing “Christian” ideology had been in the forefront since the days of their Christ.

 (And yet…the same hateful prejudice can be embraced whether it is explained away by citing an encyclical written by some esteemed Catholic scholar of the past, or cloaked in fire and brimstone from the pulpit of a right-wing evangelical pastor.  “God hates homosexuals.  Especially trans-sexuals.  They are all going to hell.”)

 My thought in the end, after taking in this barrage of Catholic scholarship, was:  They have taken an essentially simple concept—the relationship between the human race and the Creator of all things—and made it outrageously complex.  Two thousand years of layers and layers of complex.  Apparently, the function of “religion” is to first  shoebox the Creator of the Universe in terms explicable to humans (basically, create a “god”) and then fashion a conduit between “men” and that “god.”  And make sure the keepers of the conduit occupy extreme privileged status among humankind.

The concept put forth by religion is that “god” is so inscrutable and holy that normal, common people have no right to approach or seek relationship with the Almighty.  There needs to be some kind of go-between, some middle-man, or multi-layers of middle men,  that allows one to wave one’s arms and be noticed by the All-powerful.

Bunk.

Let’s face it:  Human beings have no clue about the character of a force powerful enough to have created a Universe so vast that our entire world is less than a speck of dust in the cosmos.  For the most part, we can’t even bear to consider how miniscule we actually are in the vastness of the universe.  SO much we don’t know….So much we don’t understand.  So much we don’t want to know.  But we don’t want to know that we don’t know.  We want to believe we really do know.  So we construct these complicated theologies and spiritual hierarchies to explain, and to some degree protect us from, what we don’t know.

For my part…

I just feel that the Almighty knows I’m here.  Why should a force powerful enough to create the universe not be capable or desirous of having relationship with individual forms of its creation?  Who are we to say It can’t?  Or wouldn’t? 

I feel noticed.  I feel cared for.  I feel connected to whatever aspect of the Spirit of Creation constitutes the relationship of the Creator to creation.  And I don’t need an intermediary to stand between me and the Spirit and plug me in. Neither thousands of years of theological debate, nor the demonization thereof, will affect or discourage my personal path to relationship with the Creator. 

And I can’t help but think that if more humans just bagged the whole religion thing and opened ourselves to relationship with the Spirit, the world would be much better off.      

A Restaurant Rant by Someone Who Used to Run One

 

Well, it happened again.  I read an article online that got my dander up and my rebuttal juices flowing.  

The article was posted by no less a hallowed hospitality industry publication than Bon Apetit magazine. And the subject?  Why banning kids from restaurants is an unpardonable sin.  In fact, some brilliant headline writer associated with the magazine came up with this gem: "If You Don't Want Kids in Restaurants, You Should Just Stay Home."

The writer, whom I can only assume is an entitled millennial of child-bearing age, maybe even with critters of her own, opines (or whines...which would be characteristic of the breed) that children belong in restaurants, as some sort of outgrowth of the "it takes a village" theory.  In her mind, the idea of "community" is so endangered in our society today that the entire dining public should take on the responsibility of reviving it by tolerating loud, obnoxious, undisciplined youngsters running all over any eating establishment upon whom  parents choose to inflict them. 

She posits that the very purpose of a restaurant is to be "a perfect place for parents to teach their kids how to be people around other people, and the perfect place to teach parents how to shepherd their kids through the world."  I suppose if this were true, it might even be valid.  But, increasingly, the experience of kids coming to restaurants is a matter of entitled millennial (or whatever generation) parents refusing to alter their lifestyle just because they chose to procreate.  They WILL continue to do whatever the hell they want, drag their children in tow, and the rest of the world not only needs to put up with it, but needs to take on the responsibility of "teaching their kids how to be people," because the parents are too busy socializing--either in person or on various hand-held media--to absorb lessons in "how to shepherd their kids through the world."  Let the staff and the other patrons take care of their kids.  It costs enough to eat out nowadays...isn't child care part of the package?

I am a member of the Baby Boom generation.  "Boom" as in, a lot of people had lots of kids in the twenty years following the end of World War II.  I was one of five children in our family.  That there was not enough money lying around to take a family of 7 to a restaurant in those days is entirely beside the point.  There was no way my parents were going to even attempt to keep us all in line long enough to sit down and eat a meal  like polite human beings in front of strangers.  They knew better.  We got treated to McDonalds, A & W, Dog 'n' Suds, & Tastee Freez, occasionally, and in those days, those places did not have indoor seating.  But, you know what?  We were thrilled with the treat. 

I--the youngest of the brood--was in junior high before I went into a sit-down restaurant with my parents.     

When we were little, a lot of my mother's large extended family were celebrating 50th wedding anniversaries, and some of the older offspring were getting married.  When children were included in the invitations to these receptions, we were basically threatened with death if we didn't stay in our seats, try to use the correct dishes and flatware, and behave ourselves during the meal.  We would never have thought about running around and disrupting the place as children do at restaurants now. And my parents would not have allowed it.

In the 21st century, there are dozens of restaurant chains specifically designed to cater to families and children.  Places like Chuck E. Cheese--or any pizza parlor, really--IHOP, Olive Garden, to name a few.  These did not even exist when I was a kid.  The industry saw a market niche and endeavored to appeal to it.  BUT...

Today's parents don't want to take their kids to a place where they actually belong.  Parents have rights.  They have the right to drag children to any place adults are welcome.  And they're by god going to do it, or shoot scathing "Yelp" reviews at any restaurant that even hints that noisy, bratty, undisciplined children might be an inconvenience or even a physical danger to the staff and the rest of the patrons.  

It occurred to me that I don't really know why I'm taking the time to write this essay...  We haven't eaten in a sit-down restaurant in three years.  And aren't likely to any time soon, unless the industry starts taking steps to make their dining rooms less breeding grounds for airborne infection.  (Which they could do...but won't.)  But, honestly, the tone of the Bon Apetit article, and particularly the headline, make me want to risk COVID just to demonstrate that I will not be told I should be excluded from the "community" of eating at restaurants because undisciplined, out-ot-control youngsters are going to take precedence over me. 

And they're going to bring their kids.

   

We Get the Leaders We Deserve?

Isn’t it almost impossible to believe that the same nation which elected Jimmy Carter to its highest office also bestowed that honor upon Donald Trump?  Not surprisingly, it seems the Carter presidency was the aberration, much as some of us would like to hope Trump’s was the step outside the norms of America’s political reality. We never deserved Jimmy Carter.  But Trump?  That’s another story.

And the fact that a good, decent, upright man like James Earl Carter is judged by our history as having been an abject failure as POTUS, really tells you all you need to know about the United States of America.  Doesn’t it?  

Good Morning

You know it’s going to be a good day when you see the ants floating in your cereal bowl before you take a big spoonful and shove it in your mouth…

Thoughts

 

A little over a month ago, I thought I had made a clear, well-reasoned decision about the fate of this blog.  But, as often happens in life, circumstances and events of the past 30 days or so have combined to change my mind.

The primary event was struggling through a bout of COVID, inflicted upon me--and the rest of the family--by my oldest sister.  In her infinite wisdom, and despite all kinds of media and official warnings to the contrary, she decided it would be just fine to have company at her house on Christmas morning.  Company who had just recovered from "some virus."  Company outside our safe little pod of family members who have been tying ourselves in knots to keep from contracting this thing.  She took the risk--without consulting the rest of us--and we paid the price.

Of course, she and my brother-in-law didn't come through this unscathed.  BIL was so sick he ended up in the hospital for three days.  BIL suffers from Lewy Body dementia.  Sister is such a control freak that she will not allow him out of her sight for more than an hour or two at a time.  SHE spent the entire three days, save a couple of hours to run home and shower, camped out on a recliner in his hospital room.  It was not an easy time for her by any means.

But for me, it has also been tough.  I was not sick unto death or anything, but I felt like crap for over two weeks.  And I'm  really, really irritated about the entire situation. I feel like an asshole for being mad at my sister for getting me sick, but I just can't get past it, and that makes everything worse.  I honestly feel like a trust was violated.  I am trying to juggle "get over it," with acknowledging my feelings, and yearning for them to be validated by someone.  Anyone.

Because here's the thing about my family.  We don't go there.  To the world, we would be thought of as "close."  We all live within a few minutes' walk or drive from each other. We hang out together.   A lot.  We value our family connection, and we even love each other.  But we do not share emotions on any level.  My father was a very private, buttoned-up person.  He was a very good man, but he just didn't open up emotionally to anyone.  Ever.  And, unfortunately, he passed that trait down to all of his daughters.  Which has been...not a good thing.  We have learned to "cope" with emotional issues in a myriad of unhealthy ways.  Some of us are just good old-fashioned "stuffers."  Some of us spend our lives skating across the surface, never venturing deep enough to encounter difficult emotions.  Some of us stuff or skate until we explode. Some of us self-medicate. 

I have struggled for years to acknowledge feelings and deal with them in a healthy way.  A basic tenet of my theory has been to try and bring things out into the open and deal with them.  It seems to me that letting things fester never does any good for anybody.  But, let's just say, especially within my family, this idea has crashed and burned spectacularly.  

So I've yearned for someone to talk to.  Someone to share my deepest sadness and greatest joy.  My family is not it.  Has never been it.  I had a "best friend" with whom I shared over twenty years of my life.  She was not it, either.  

Imagine having a "friendship" that lasted over two decades, yet involved no emotional bond.  I think about that sometimes, and I think, "What the hell were we doing?"

The closest I ever came to making that kind of connection with other human beings was...yeah, you guessed it.  The early days of AOL Journals.  It seemed to me that I had landed smack in the middle of something I had yearned for all the prior 48 years of my life--an emotional and intellectual connection to...people.   Of course, we now know I was utterly mistaken about that connection...indeed, whether there was ever a connection at all.  Still...fifteen years beyond the collapse of that balloon--whether it was all in my head, or not--I'm still mourning its demise.  That's how much it meant to me, back in the day.

And so, "Coming to Terms" has continued on, unplugged from humanity for at least the past fifteen years.  And yet, I still come here.  Do I merely haunt this place in lonely yearning for something long gone?  Or has this blog served a purpose for me all these years?

It took this time of reflection and pulling away from my family to realize that, yes.  "Coming to Terms" does serve a real and continuing purpose in my life.  It may not be the place I come to communicate with other people.  But it has been, and continues to be, the place where I can come with all the things that I don't/can't share with anyone in my life.

The reason that my writing has "sucked" over the past many years is that I'm not communicating with anyone.  But this "crappy" writing that I've splattered here is still the story of my life.  It's still words and thoughts that need to be put...somewhere...in order to try to make sense of them.  

"Coming to Terms" is my somewhere.

So we will speak no more about letting it go because it no longer serves.

Of course it serves.  And will keep on serving. Me.   For some time, at least. 

 

Never, Never, NEVER Forget

 JANUARY 6, 2020

The day a power-mad despot and his minions very nearly succeeded in ending “The Great Experiment.”

We're so fond of “never forgetting” foreign attacks on our nation, 

But THIS is the one we should never, ever forget.

This is what Abraham Lincoln actually DID say about the eventual destruction of our republic:

“At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.”

Sneaking In at the Last Minute