Obama Was Light in the Loafers

photog Current Events ,

Well there it is.  Imagine he writes in a letter to a girlfriend that he fantasizes about gay sex.

Another barrier broken.  America’s first bisexual president.  And I guess it makes sense that Michelle is so forceful.    Well I should have known based on the mom jeans he wore and his limp-wristed throw when he tried to throw out the first baseball at an MLB game.  My four year old granddaughter could have done better.

Hopefully he’ll get around to transitioning soon.  Another first!

04AUG2023 – Dissident Clarity, Home Maintenance and the Art of Surviving the Apocalypse

photog Current Events, Reviews, TV Reviews , ,

Friday morning is one of my favorite times.  I usually get to spend an hour or so in the home gym and I usually listen to the ZMan’s Friday podcast.  And today was no exception.  As I said I’m changing up my exercise routine so it wasn’t routine but I was still able to pay attention as the Voice of Saruman declaimed on the workings, or rather, the non-workings of the American political system.

But he changed it up a little and this time he played devil’s advocate and tried to describe what it would take to fix our political system.  Or, more accurately, he explained what would happen if we tried.  And I think he was relatively even-handed in his estimation of what it would take to change the Republican party into an honest representative of the American Right.

And then he ended off this discussion by talking about what happens if the Uni-party continues on, in full control of the country.  He gives four alternatives.

  • The Uni-party consolidates its control and produces a stable and powerful regime that rules in perpetuity.
  • The Uni-party continues to struggle and internal forces within the power structure create reforms to address the more dysfunctional policies of the Left.
  • The Uni-party continues to struggle and a rogue component of the Uni-party performs a coup that forces reforms that shake up the status quo.
  • The peasants revolt and burn the whole damn thing down.

I found the tenor of the whole discussion extremely moderate and reasonable.  In fact, it occurred to me that the ZMan was risking his standing as a dweller on the fringe.  Someone might accuse him of not being crazy.  Hopefully, word won’t leak out.

Afterward as I mulled over his words, I continued with my repair of the lock on my sliding glass door.  As I described the other day, the latch on the inside of the door broke off and the replacement handle I bought at the local hardware store didn’t fit.  So, I went on line and bought a new latch.  It was supposed to be a direct replacement but that was a lie.  Now I’m going to buy a whole new set-up; handles, lock, latch mechanism and hardware and start from scratch.  I anticipate a disaster.  But at least temporarily I can lock the door at night to keep the werewolves, vampires and ghouls at bay.  I think Camera Girl is starting to lose faith in my mechanical aptitude.  Confidentially, so am I.  I realized I had mislaid my claw hammer.  I’ve had the thing for forty some odd years and I really don’t use it that often so I don’t have an excuse for losing it.  I would think this is the first sign of dementia except it’s really the millionth episode starting in my early twenties.  So maybe I’ll take a wait and see policy because I’m too lazy to do anything about it anyway.

Camera Girl and I started watching a tv series on FX called “The Old Man” with Jeff Bridges and John Lithgow.  Bridges is a rogue CIA agent that has been hiding out for the last thirty years trying to live a normal life with his wife and daughter.  Lithgow was his old handler who is now an FBI big wig who doesn’t want Bridges to be caught because it will expose his part in shady doings that went on when the Russians were at war in Afghanistan.  So far (two episodes in), it’s very interesting and both of the leads are extremely interesting to watch.  Hopefully it continues to impress us.  We’re always short of good things on tv.

The ZMan’s podcast reinforced my recent feelings that we will be engulfed in this class struggle here in the West for a very long time and it is up to all of us and each of us on our side to strengthen the things we believe in and form as many links in the world to help our side survive the onslaught of the Left.  And surprisingly, it left me feeling slightly calmer and happier than before I listened to it.  Maybe it was his talk or maybe I’m reaching a better place with the status quo.  Panic doesn’t seem to be productive.

Well, that’s enough for now.  Have a great day.

If It’s Not One Thing It’s Another

photog Life in Dunwich, photog's Corner, Uncategorized ,

Here in Dunwich, there are only two seasons; Winter and July.  So now in the first few days of winter there is a nostalgic feeling for the summer that was.  And we exchange stories about how one day it stopped raining for several hours and light appeared in the sky.  And we named that light, “the sun” and we danced around pointing at it and declaring it a miracle.  It’s good to celebrate the good times in our lives.

Today Camera Girl was purging the kitchen cabinets of old food stuffs.  And it made me sad.  There was a whole package of mounds bars that I really like but I forgot to eat any of them because I was on a diet.  And now just because of some fake expiration date she’s gonna chuck them.  Most unfair.

Back last year before Christmas I told her I wanted some traditional holiday treats that I remembered from my childhood.  I said I wanted chestnuts roasted on an open fire (or in the oven).  And dried figs.  This really annoyed her because she said this was “a stupid idea.”  Now she says that a lot about my ideas so I don’t pay attention when she says it.  After I whined on about having these things for a while, she rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders and added them to her Christmas food list.

On Christmas Eve she handed me a pan of chestnuts and told me to cut Xs in them with a very sharp but poorly designed knife she kept for just such an occasion.  And after cutting my thumb several times and her preparing and cooking these delicacies, every last one of them turned out to be rotten.  And when I tried one of the figs, I suddenly remembered why they were always left over after Christmas.  It’s literally like chewing on vulcanized rubber.

So, today, seven months later these same figs are going to be donated to the flock of turkeys and the murder of crows that Camera Girl attracts to her bird feeding area.  Now, I’m no fan of these avian moochers that live off of my hard-earned dollars but even I feel pangs of guilt about what might happen if one of these neo-dinosaurs manages to swallow any of these figs.  Besides the obvious risk of bowel obstruction and subsequent agonizing death, there is the very real risk of radical mutation.

Anyone who has watched as many radioactive mutation movies as I have knows what happens when you combine backyard wildlife with atomic energy.  And nobody is going to tell me that those figs aren’t some kind of atomic mutation gone terribly wrong.  They’re probably a product of Kazakhstan and were the result of fallout being used as insecticide.

Well anyway, I tried to warn her.  And when she ignored me, I went outside and spoke directly to the crows.  I warned them.  More than once.  Of course, I didn’t bother with the turkeys.  They’re idiots.  But the crows are intelligent.  I only hope they believed me.  Otherwise within a week; or at most two, there will be sixty-foot-tall crows lurching around those bird feeders.  And two-hundred-foot-tall turkeys too.  And let’s be honest.  I’ve always been a little unfriendly toward these flying rats.  With the odd pebble chucked now and then and the unkind epithet thrown from time to time I’m not exactly on their nice list if you catch my drift.

Now Camera Girl has nothing to fear.  She’s a regular St. Francis of Assisi to the local wildlife and they practically work for her.  But me, not so much.  I’ve been considering my options.  I think my best bet is to make some kind of crow suit.  Since they’ll be so big, I can hope that maybe they won’t be able to tell that it’s fake.  I think I can imitate the caws and squawks that they make.  The only thing is they might not believe that a crow can drive a car.  Or cut the lawn.  And they may think it’s suspicious that I never fly.  But maybe if I make believe that one of my “wings” is broken maybe that will work.  The other problem is they may think I’m a hatchling and carry me back to their gigantic nest.  Would I be forced to subsist on road kill that they provide me?

So, you can see I live in fear.  My only other option is to go out to the bird feeder and eat one of the figs myself and become the Amazing Colossal photographer.  It would be a horrible existence.  I’d have to turn an old circus tent into a loin cloth and it’s a cinch I’d always be banging my head on bridge overpasses.  But I guess it’d be better than to end up eaten by a giant turkey.  So that’s my plan.

Of course, I could just do nothing and hope that none of that stuff will happen.

Hmmm.

You know what, never mind.

David Brooks Admits the Truth

photog Current Events , ,

They know.  We know they know.  They know we know that they know.

The only question is when it all blows up.

What if We’re the Bad Guys Here?

“Daniel Markovits summarized years of research in his book “The Meritocracy Trap”: “Today, middle-class children lose out to the rich children at school, and middle-class adults lose out to elite graduates at work. Meritocracy blocks the middle class from opportunity. Then it blames those who lose a competition for income and status that, even when everyone plays by the rules, only the rich can win.””

…

“But there’s a larger context here. As the sociologist E. Digby Baltzell wrote decades ago, “History is a graveyard of classes which have preferred caste privileges to leadership.” That is the destiny our class is now flirting with. We can condemn the Trumpian populists all day until the cows come home, but the real question is when will we stop behaving in ways that make Trumpism inevitable.”