Comparing Now and Then (Trump, Making Things Worse)

TWO YEARS AGO Biden was still president. Are we better off now, or then? Let's compare. Two years ago there were no "internment camps", as the Trump regime calls them, concentration camps where undocumented immigrants, having been summarily rounded up and removed from the streets and their homes, seperated from their wives, families, jobs, and friends. Trump's American Gestapo had not yet taken to the streets, although the I.C.E agancy existed, and had for a long time. The U.S. was not involved in any wars, at least not any that come immediately to mind, although with the C.I.A. up and running, one never knows. Way back then, the government, acting on behalf of the wishes of teh people, funded science and edcation, rendering American higher education the best in the world, the envy of the world, but leaving her public education improving, but still less than what we want and need, for reasons not necessarily having to do with money. Two years ago public lands were not being sold for pennies on the dollar to fuel companies, which we choe to misnomerically call "oil companies". Public lands and national parks were held sacrosanct way back then, natural reservations for the enjoyment of nature by all Americans and foreign guests. Internationally, we the U.S.A. were friends with Canada, Mexico, and Europe, largely because the president wasn't threatening to attack, invade, conquer, and annex them, which always helps. Gas prices under Biden were roughly half of what they are now, possibly because the president wasn't dropping bombs on any oil producing countries, or kidnapping any heads of state and their spouses from oil producing countries, and putting them in American dungeons and jails. Clean alternative forms of renewable energy were on track to replace fossil fuel climate destroying, wind and solar energy were accepted as good, witout a patological president inventing one false reason after another for abandoning them, reasons such as: the sun doesn't always shine, sometimes its cloudy, sometimes its night time. Two short years ago inflation was down, not up and going higherlike it is now. Back in that bygone era which somehow seems like oh so long ago, food was safer and cleaner. Why? Because it was more regulated by the federal government, and the Uptun Sinclair "Jungle" was under control. The federal regulates what it regualtes, things like business, human health and safety, working conditions, and a whole host of other components of public life, for a reason; to prevent corporations and private interests from cutting corners, cheating on safety standards, and doing whatever is in their power to do to cut costs to themselves and to get as many consumer products, goods and services into the hands of as many consumers as possible, for the highest price possible for the sacred cow holy graille of profit maximation and stock price enhancement and investment stimulus, safety and quality of productand consumer safety be damned. Under forgetful and sleepy Joe Biden, eveything, and hat means everything, was better than it is now. Under sleepy diaper dementia Don Trump, everything is wors now, by any reasonable, verifiable standard of measurement. MAGA cult members paying higher energy, food, housing, and clothing prices, will quite predictably stick their skinny, empty wallets in their back pockets, blame Biden for everything from Trump's impotence to Trump's disastrous foreign and domestic policies, and sing the false, fabricated, fantasy praises of their hero with thirty four felonies, because his racism, zenophobia, homophbia and misogyny suit them just fine.

Changing Dentist?

I HAD A RUN of good luck,which essentially consists of two circumstances. To wit, I discovered a big stash of marijuana, still sealed in tight professional serious unopened packages from a marijuana disersary in a state wherepot is legal, and marijuana stored are every frigging were, to my great delight. And, I was once again, after a long absence, able to log on to the internt and to this essay website/blog. So, I unwrapped one of the packages, an eigth, several small buds, a good quantity considering how potent it is, and transfered the skunk buds to a small bottle, loaded up a pipe with a bud fragment, took a hit, and got stoned. Then, I turned on my silver laptop, and managed to log onto the internet and this website, or blog, which is mine. Both of these developments thrilled the dickens outta me, and for that, to God presumably, I am most grateful. It all makes me wonder if I am truly losing my mind, maybe to Alzeimer's. Is it Prevagen time once again? The first time I noticed no effects. On my mind is my dental appointment later this week, routine, my teeth are in relatively good shape due to assiduously dentistry. Te problem is, every time I make an appointment, six months in advance, the dentist's office calls and reschedules my appointment. Every....frigging...time.., which really doesn't hurt me or do any damage, but it annoys the heck out me, I feel disrespected, and inconvenienced. I really like this dental office, but am starting to think I should switch, which would be a real bummer, causing my patience and tolerance to waver. I must respond to this situation intelligently and maturely, not with anger, stress, anxiety, and all that. The rescheduled dentist appointment is, really, no big deal. I make it a big deal out of it perpaps from pride, imagining, incorrectly, that they lack respect for me. They say that they reschedule me all the time because they have to reschedule somebody, and I only live two blocks away from them. I think, so fucking what? I have a schedule myself, or try to, and being rescheduled everytime, at anything, can be a bit burdensome, a hassle, if you will. I seem to be rather intense about "respect", feeling on a daily basis that people in general lack it for me. That, of course, does nothing to help me get rid of the stress, anger, and anxiety, which, in any event, are not really all that serious,and I think I can control them, since in essence I have all my long life. This essay is very different from the most recent few thousand, because it is a sit and type stream of conscious writing project, like you might see and get in a high school English class, or a college writing class. When I finish typing this sentence, I should probalby hit the "publish" button, Hand in my impromptu essay, to the teacher? No, o me. One thinks, and one types the thought, asbestas one can. My research paper ins ixth grade was on "snakes". That much I remember. I have tended throughout my life to remember every deail of it, permanently, Now, at seventy one, I am paranoid that I am losing my memory, Very paranoid. I will write every day and see what happens. The essays prior to this one are generally highly intellectual, I think my readers will agree, and this one is a bit crazy, whereas all the others, all six thousand of them or so,are really pretty damn good, nay, very good, exremely good, if I do say so myself, although they could have been and could be much better. I will tell my dental assistant that I am workng full time, over time, and traveling all ver the world, which is not true, but is what I want to do, so I probably will. Call me crazy. Remmi's dead, but I still have two cats, aging cats. When they die, I will either get three new cats, or go to Europe. Maybe do both, Europe first. But I want to keep writing to you, for you, whoever you are. I write for the same reason I run, exercise, work out, read, play tennis. Fun. I love it. But how bored are people who might by some crazy miracle actually read it?

MAGA Contradicting

A COMMONLY USED technique in an argument is to accuse the opponent of being hypocritical, of finding and pointing out internal contradictions in his or her reasoning. Sometimes it seems to work. Let's give it a try. As our case in point, why not use, say, MAGA? Here goes nothing, or maybe something. MAGA, like probably every political movement which ever existed, makes much out of its concern for the future, for our children, their education, proper upbringing, the whole spiel. MAGA, showing its deep devotion to kids, elected a demonstrated pedophile to the presidency, a confirmed child rapist. The social, economic equality of women is also on the agenda, several decades too late, but still there. Meanwhile , no fewer than twenty four women have accused the MAGA front man, Mr. Trump, of rape. An abundance of evidence and testimony supports this, well enough to have forced Trump into numerous out of court settlements with hs accusers,with a rape convection in civil court to his name and record. Then, moving right along, we have the law and order president Trump, the I.C.E man, law enforcement's staunchest ally, with thirty four felony convictions, and possibly many more to come, once he comes out from behind the protective cover of the White House. Like all poiticians, The Felon stands solidly behind, of all things, truth and inegrity, virtues he apparantly sees as being forefront in his personality resume. And yet, by accurate accounting, Trump told a whopping thirty two thousand lies during his first term alone, depending on which accounting firm you use, and his total in his second term is off to an impressive start, with lies spewing forth at a rate which might well earn Don the Con back to back MVPs; "Most Vociferous Prevricator". A vast abundance of bad verbal behavior is issuing forth form just below his orange presidential toupe' in terms of sheer number, sufficient to convince observant fans of the sport that, yes, if lies were base hits, Pete Rose's career record total would be in danger, with The Donald closing the gap fast, with still several years remaining on his contract, and in his checkered career in the game of deceit. Moving right along to the category of "Family Values, Guardian thereof", the reigning champion is still the inimitable William Jefferson Clinton, whose reverse sexual morality reached impressively notorious levels, both before, during, and probably after his sexually active presidential administration. No accounting of big handsome randy William J.has ever been formally presented for verification, but, a little research among former associates and colleagues produces oft duplicated attestations of horny Bill's "conquests"... Power, wealth, and fame, the big three, the terrible triumvarate, was in his corner from eearly his political career, way bck down home in Arkansas. He said so himself, when he quipped that the Republcians needn't have spent seventy million dollars proving that he is a sinner; the good folks in the "Land of Opportunity" would willigaly, cheerfully have told the investigators for free. In various historical epochs and cultures sexual promiscuity has been considered a great virtue, but prudish America is not among them, at least not in "decent society". Like Clinton's, Trump's womanizing resume has reached legendary proportions, and, once that happens, the genie never goes back in the bottle. The Christian conservative wing of the G.O.P. is forced to wince, turn its head, and pretend that it aint so, Joe. The "Its the policies, not the personal behavior that counts" ploy also can serve weell. Clinton got through two terms carrying his overnight bag and package of condoms in his back pocket, and Trummp is keeping tradition alive. Most men of wealth, fame, and power cannot reist leveraging their assets for sex, men being the animals they are. Mistresses and one nighters come with the territory, like bonus points. As Mick Jagger, himself a prolific fornicator said in a song: "it Aint the latest thang."

MAGA Podcastors, Turning On Trump

ACCORDING TO A REPORT on CNN, MAGA podcastors are turning against Trump. Such reports, base on polling and surveys, are neraly always reliable, as is polling generally, despite widespread belief to the ontrary. One might sarcastically ask: "Welcome to the club, what took you so long to join? Trump's polling is in the mid thirties, and falling precipitously, heading south into Lincoln and Truman territory.The difference is that Both Lincoln and Truman were great presidents and men of honor and integrity, and Trump is a pathological liar convicted criminal sexual predator scum bag, and so forth. Ironic, because both Lincoln and Truman, hated by many as all presidents inevitably are, are by current historical consensus among America's greatest presidents, with Lincoln a probable number one, and Truman checking in soilidly in the top twenty, even though this was not always the case. Presidential rankings rise and fall like animals in heat, depending upon the "zeitgeist" of the time period, and the values of an American society, which maintains a solid foundation of unchanging values, but also, can reverse itself with the drop of a condom. In order to sink far below water in approval ratings, a president must not only engender the wrath of a growing poliical opposition, but also, alienate those in the center, as well as the apathetic, the uninformed, the poorly educated. Is is that Trump's MAGA base has always known what a reprobate their iconic leader is, but are only now starting to come to grips with this reality? And if so, is this because in issue after issue, even his staunchest supporters are being disappointed over and over again by Trump's repeated failures? His MAGA cult followers do not like Trump's war of choice against Iran any better than anybody else, snd who could blame them? There is no discernible purpose for having it, other than to distract the nation from the Epstein files, or from the currently disastrous rate of inflation which negatively affects Trumpers as much as his majority opposition? At the grocery store and the electrical and heating bill payment cash register, MAGA-folk are being hit every bit as hard as the sane and decent anti-Trump majority. Like Bill Clinton famously said thirty years ago between extramarital trysts: "Its the economy, stupid". Its always the economy, genius. Americans vote with their pocketbooks first and foremost, and always have, and always will. WE blame and take it out on the president when we lose our jobs, fail to get a pay raise, or fail to find a new and better place of employment. Human beings have never been famous for logically discerning causal connections, and are likley as not to blame the president of the United states for everything from the death of the family dog to the wrong team winning the World Series. Millions of people have either blogs or podcasts, podcasts having in recent years caught up with and surpassed blogs in terms of how many of them there are; people would rather talk and blather than think and type. The general mood of podcastors is a proverbial canary in the mineshaft in American media culture; a reflective indicator of much else going on, on the internet, the media in general, and throughout society. Now, the midterm electins approach, and the Democrats are sitting at sixty percent, with a cumulative twelve point lead over the party of Donald Trump. Unless something drastic happens in the interum, look for either an inside job attack of some sort to hit the United States, or for another kind of fabricated disaster to necessitate the cancellation of the election and declaration of martial lsw by the Pedophile in Chief. Trump tried to violently overthorw the Amerian government the last time his side lost an election. This time, as a lame duck, he has nothing to lose except his power, wealth, fame, and centerness of attention. Who knows what he'll cook up this time?

Smoking Marijuana

I BEGAN SMOKING MARIJUANA in January or February of 1978, intrigued by it, inticed by a friend of mine who was devoted to it, and seemed healthy, happy, and successful. Not so much "peer pressure" as peer influence, or role modeling. Forty eight years later, I still smokeit, and still enjoy it as much. Even that occasional and well known paranoid feleing that comes with it is a bit of a thrill. I know, deep down, that all is well, I am fine. The fact that it has largely been legalized and is available is most states is a vast improvement both from a sociological and criminal justice point of view. t raises tax revenue too. As Lincoln said: "Prohibition gues beyond the bounds of reason, in that it makes a crime our of thngs that are not crimes, and attempts to control a man's appetites by legislation. Prohibition strikes a blow at the very foundation upon which our republic was founded." I laugh and smile nostagically when I remember how we used to hide behind barns and in closets to smoke, and spray our bedrooms and cars with Lysol after a toke or two. I can think of many dead friends who would've been better off smoking pot than drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes. I would have more living friends, with livers and lungs intact. True, smoking anything does not help one's lungs. Marijuana, however, famously expands the air sacs, cleans out the accumulated mucus, and was once the best and most commonly used treatment for asthma. When I was two years old, I had asthma so bad that my parents asked whether I would live, as I lay cold, frightened and lonely inside an "oxygen tent" in the late nineteen fifties, waiting for the world and its medicine to catch up to my needs. Eventually, it did. I probably love marijuana more now, or at least as much, as I did back then, in the faded jean jacket seventies. I have always and still do treat marijuana like fine wine, to be savored in small quantities, shared with friends at special occasions, such as hanging out with said friend(s). As far as I know nobody has ever died or been rendered chronically ill by smoking pot, although there are certainly people who disagree, mostly priggish conservative types. The fact that now I still love and enjoy it but can take or leave it is the perfect balance for me. I have to drive fifty mmiles across a state line to purchase it legally, which is a hassle if marijunnas is my only motivation. But I can make the drive, and visit my hometown, old high school friends, and my family too, killing several birds with a single stone, as it were. The shrunken asthmatic lungs i was born with have, over the decades, morhped into a deep thick chest with big, healty lungs, which require me, at rest, to inhale only about four times every minute. Daily exercise helps too, of course. Even when striding along at a good jogging clip on treadmill or wooded trail, my lungs cycle through in steady, slow form, not at all strained. I have to run a good healthy sprint to get myself breathing rapidly and deeply. I have noticed, for a long time, that marijuana sometimes dulls my ambition, makes me slugghish, and lazy. A little bit of that goes a long way, as I, like most Americans, smoke or no smoke, prefer being productive. Sometimes, it fuels my ambition and productivity. Go figure. With a bit of self dicsipline, I manage to manage that. I am not the sort to make dramatic, blanket declarations of intent, like "On January first I shall cease smoking, forever." Nor do I make New Year's Resolutions genrally.. I simply decide what to do, and do it, any day of the week or year. As Goethe said: "There is no sureer way to blunt a resolution than to keep talking about it." And, as we all know, talk is cheap.

Raking Leaves

TO MOST PEOPLE its a nuisance,an anoyance,even a migraine. To mie, its a rite of autumn, an damnedgood exercie for an older "gentleman". I refer to raking leaves on a one third acre suburban lot in a small town with about twenty mature maple and oak trees,which recently barely survived a massive drought, and let many of their leaves loose,to avoid dying, I suppose. Traumatized trees, trees in shock. The twenty or so deciduous treest I planted twenty years ago are fully grown, I hope,and my yard and my life are knee deep in maple leaves, much much too early in late summer, victims of he drought which have been somewhat alleviated, but probably not totally ended. For me, a positive thinker, that's a tip toe through the tulips. Their fate is a leaf by leaf affair, depending on my mood and the vicissitudes of circumstance and fortune. Some I rake and bundle up, for the garbage man's amusement. Others will remain dormant until I break out the lawn mover in early march.I don't want to pay anyone to do my yard work until I get too old and feeble to do it, which I hope won't happen until the day I die. So, I rake and bundle, filling trash cans and big plastic bags like a Republican filling the air with hot mess and lies...A few thousand years ago there was an estimated seven trillion trees on Earth, science says. Homo sapiens hs cut that number in half, and keeps going, madly, franticlly chopping and denuding. We aren't finished. Ten billion trees a year are human harvested. The good news is that some countries are belatedly but steadily beginning to perceive the problem, and make changes. Belts of new trees hundreds of miles long nd wide are being planted in China and all across North Africa.The day may come when sub Saharan Africa is a vast, verdant, lush forest, with climat change, and reverse climate change through human intrvention. When I planted trees all over the then barren yard surrouding my newly built house twenty years ago, my mother, understandably, predicted that I would live to rue the day. I can still see her point, but au contrar, dear mother, no regrets here. I am waging a small scale war against global environmental destruction. I would applaud anyone else for doing this; I'll let other people applaud me, if they can make the connection between my yard and the rest of the planet. Earlier today I told my neighbor that he and I will both live to see a summer in which the temperature rises to one hundred degrees by Memmorial Day, and largely remains there until Labor Day. His silence told me that eithr he thought I was talking crazy, or that he didn't care. I told him that it doesn't matter to me personally, that I will be dead soon, but that it sure as hell will matter to his children and now young grand children. Still no response. Americans don't care about global warming/climate change because they have air conditioning, and, well, it really isn't doing them any harm, so, so what, what's the big deal? Oh, but it is doing them harm. Food prices are already headed for the roof, as are cooling bills. Heat already kills more people in the United States and Europe, the places we care most about, than most other causes of death. And still we elect morons like Trump and other Republicans who will be dead in a few months and who lack the intellect and courage and integrity to accept reality. I'm seventy one, and can still run a fifteen minute mile. I should be able to rake leaves at least a few more years. My trees won't get much bigger, if any. I have the money to pay for yard work help, if it comes to that. So, it seems I'm set. Then too, as I mentioned, I'll be dead before humanity has to deal with and somehow survive climate change for real, or do someting to reverse it, which I, in my never ending optomism, think will happen. But, who knows? Either wewilor wewon't. i hope to live long enough to find out, but can't count on it.

Trump, Suing

DONALD TRUMP has been involved in thousands of lawsuits during the course of his ignominous life and career as a real estate scam artist. At last count, he is being sued approximately four thousand times, and is suing other people at approximately the same rate. After all, one requires balance in one's life. And, quite predictably, nearly all of these lawsuits are predicated primarly on money. Trump has a clever scam scheme in which he contracts construction companies to build things, and, when the projects, high rise apartments and so forth, are completed, he finds fault with them, and damands an unreasonable redress, monetary redess to which no reasonable person or businnes could or would possibly accede. Trump makes his litigation so irksome, odious, tedious, and burdensome to his victims that in most cases they lose steam, grow tired of hemmoraging money, run out of funds, and agree to settle out of ocurt, under duress and desperation, creating a circumstance in which Trump, his pockets still well lined and able to withstand years of possible extended future litigation, simply outlasts his exhausted courtroon adversaries, who, from sheer financial, emotional, and legal exhaustion, are willing to accept a settlement inimical to thmeselves, but less innimical than had they stayed the course, and attempted to confront Trump mano del mano ad infinitum. Trump wears down and wears out his legal adversaries. He is patient, and willing to wait to harvest his easy low hanging fruit, fruit that has fallen from the tree close, ready for a scavenger to harvest. Trump is indeed a scavenger, marauding through society like a gang of outlaws in late nineteenth century Arizona, or a carpetbagger in the defeated, prostrate, ruins of the post Civil War south. Trump is a vulture, preying upon carrion, the helpless and harmless, the defenseless. Jackels and hyenas come to mind as appropriate metaphoric animals with whom to compare the Donald, Don the Con. You don't want to be like Trump. Nobody of any character and intelligence does. Any normal human being, enbued with the slightest trace of moral human decency, steers well clear of living any sort of lifestyle which even remotely resembles that of America's most politically successful con man carnival barker. For a fact, nobody likes Donald J.Trump. Nobody in his immediate or extended family, none of his acquaintances or "friends" or associates of any sort want to have anything to do with him. Every book written about Trump is essentially the same. Hundreds of monographs detailing the utter moral depravity and ammoral criminality of a man whose entire life is devoted only to his own enrichment, seeking primarily to gain attention, his greatest addiction being to fame. The most insightful information about Trump comes from his niece Mary, who, with a doctorate in abnormal psychology, has her infamous uncle pegged to a "T", as we say. She describes him as indeed mentally ill, with the same extreme narcissism and pathological prevarication and lack of human enpathy which by now all Americans are so tiresomely familiar.The story of Trump is at once a comic opera and s Shakespearian tragedy of King Leer proportions, and future historical novels and historical narratives will agree that here was a man devoid of any positive human characteristics, a nearly perfect study in evil, one to rival Hitler, Stalin, or Caligula. And like these monstrous reprobates, future generations will marvel that such a demon could ever have existed in human form. When today's young adults are old, their grandchildren will be amazed at the stories they will hear from their grandparents. Edgar Allen Poe, in his grave, will be jealous that he missed the opportunity to put Trump on paper, in a macabre, twisted, terrifying narrative of pure, devastating darkness.

Losing Nature, Keeping Money

THE BILLIONAIRE CLASS is coming out rock solid in support of either getting rid of Artificial Intelligence, or ignoring, contemptuously, what it has to say. Our lords and masters seem woke to the fact that AI is a logical thinker who/which gives logical recommendations. It remains uncertain whether Herr Professor AI is a liberal or conservative, but early indications are that he/she is dead set hard core Mr. Spock logical, emotion free. That being the case, AI canot help but notice that both the American and global economies operate with crushing inefficiency, distributing wealth chaotically, haphazardly, whimsically, riddled with what economists call "externalities" which are unanticipated factors which intrude upon, inetrvene, and buffet the economy about, such as bad weather and warfare. Since society generally bows down and scrapes and grovels at the feet of the billionaire class, the high and mighty superhumans who simply must be superior because they have all that money, why shouldn't computers? The very moment AI suggests a massive, comprehensive redistribution of wealth for global economic efficiency, expediency and fairness, watch out! If on some fine weekday worday morning you and nobody else can log on to the internet, you'll know why. Big Brother, of the organic kind, has stepped in, zealously guarding the hoarded wealth of the one percent. At this point, dear reader, all bets are off, all possibilities are in play. If we naively don't think that "our" computers are becoming pefectly capable of organizing like an industrial waste collector labor union or Al Capone's "wise guys", we the people had better think again. Somehow you just suspect that AI, steeped in logical solutions to very real problems, is not going to take kindly to the one percent hoarding twenty percent of society's aggregate wealth, and the twenty percent owning eighty percent thereof. Economics is closely associated with human environmental impact, as a way of quantifying and describing it and its consequences. As things stand now, give us another five or ten years before we experience environmental collapse, if anyone cares to care. If not, well, its been real, and we'll see each other again on the other side, assuming there is another side.

Cults, Withering and Dying, Like Gods

LIKE All CULTS, the Cult of Trump will wither and die shortly after its dear leader and iconic savior, the dishonorable Donald J. Trump, has died and gone to wherever, and fails to rise from the dead, as he and or his worshipful cult followers dooubtless will wait with held breath for him to do. They won't wait as long as the still waiting Christian cultists, but long enough to be disappointed, which Christians, refusing to give up, refuse to become. Better to postpone the arrival-advent of the second coming of Christ, eternally, for centuries on end, than to give up, admit defeat, admit that their religion was and is, in the end, a figment of their fearful, hopeful imagination, a hoax, as we like to say these days. Trump has assumed a somewhat Christ-like status among his most hard core followers, above and beyond politics. Just as the hatred of his millions of enemies is predicated more on his obvious moral shortcomings than his right wing semi fascist politics and hatefulm insane policies, the adoration displayed by his loving sycophants goes well beyond politics, having assumed all the characteristics of a religious cult. The Christian religion began as another among many near eastern fertility cults, which invented and worshpped gods who would promise to bring nourishing rains and good harvests, sustaining the civilization in return for their worship. Petty insecure jealous gods invariably demand much attention, and worship, in true Trump like style. Humans invent gods with distinctly human like personalities, with all of the pettiness, insecurities, and jealousies we that humans are driven by. Yahweh, Elohim, Jehovah, depending on which book of the Old Testament is referenced, are the main names of the veangeful, wrathful, childish very insnsecure diety invented by the ancient Hebrews, in their own image, of course. WE invent gods in our image, and how could we do otherwise? There have been many more names of the flame throwing deity on top of Mt. Sanai, or atop other mountains. God must always be elevated, physically, above humankind. The Hebrew culure deserves credit for inventing the world's first enduring monotheistic religion, the second overall. The ancient Egyptians, having invented a sun god, Amaenhotep, Aman ra, Aknaton, around the fourteenth century B.C, a god which flourished for a short tiem, then was joined by a new panoply of gods, invented the frst monotheistic religion. One god was simply not enough, and seldom has been in history. People love dieities so much that s single one is seldom enough. The sun, the source of everything, and recognized as such by even primitive humans, is the source of all gods. The more the merrier. Greek and Romam gods numbered in the dozens or hundreds, Hindu gods number in the thousands, with each village and region of the Indian sub continent manufacturing its own highly specific deities, in terms of function. The Greeks and Romans only had so much energy and resources with which to build enduring granite monuments to thier favorite, most important Gods and Goddesses. The modern approach is to put all societal eggs in the basket of one God, for expediency. This keeps the unwashed uneducated masses content and passive, and allows for their easy subjagation to entrenched authority and power. WE await a less benighted future in which all the gods have died, and gone to heaven, or ground into dust.The death of the gods will liberate humanity from their yoke of emotional and intellectual self imposed bondage, and open the doors of perception to the possibility of understanding the universe and themselves for what they really are, whatever they really are.

Politicking

THE REPUBLICAN PARTY was founded as the "free soil", anti-slavery party in 1854, in Wisconsin. Abraham Lincoln was a founding member.Give credit where due. The "Grand Ole Party" has a well intentioned genesis. It went down hill in a hurry, as it was captured by big business in the post Civil War era of explosive corporate capitalistic expansion, the American industrial revolution. It has remained so captured ever since. The party of the wealthy elite, the Christian conservative party, is firmly entrenched within the bank books of billionaires. Of course, to a somewhat lesser degree, so is the Democratic party. Our great American uni-party, the party of property, Gore Vidal called them, the ruling wealthy elite, "our corporate" masters, he termed them, for good reason, accurately. The more things change, the more they remain the same, as the saying goes. Arguments can be made for the European political system, in which every country has a veritable plethora, a multitude of political parties, with shifting, temporary pro tem issue dependent coaltions, ranging from far left communism and socialism on the left, to conservatism and fascism on the far right. If you can't find a political home in Europe, you simply aren't trying hard enough. Since the United States is a nation of near European proportions size wise and population wise, with cultural diversity, somewhat, it should, arguably, have more than our mere two political parties. It should have several viable parties, all semi-major, all healthy, vibrant, and influential. Why not cover the entie spectrum, and truly represent everybody? Communists, socialists, liberal centrist, conservative, and fascist, with all of them viable and none dominant? The problem is the difficulty of forming a majority with the ability to actually pass legislation and get things done. Also, avoiding gridlock is an issue, gridlock which, in any event, we often have anyway. The chief benefit of the European systme is flexibility. The downside of individual politics, the hindrance, is fragmentation, atomization in which every man and woman is a political party unto herself, floating free upon the vast political ocean. In American politics a majority is easily attained, and readily stymied by the machinations of the minority. The founders intended that the minority have the wherewithall to act as a force to limit the power of, the "tyranny of the majority", as they put it. Otherwise, the body politic risks spiraling downward and descending into a one party tyrannical monopoly, as in fascism. We Americans need term limits, to prevent anyone from making a career of politics, from staying in Congress decade after interminable decade, effectively creating their own little fiefdoms, miniature kingdoms within their home stae from which they can go to Washington and wield personal power and influence in the legislative branch tantamount to a monopoly. When a politician has been in the House or Senate for three or four decades, and merely has to mail in his name to the election commission to stay in office, while his state's voters lazily succumb to his or her governing style and familiar, comfortable ideology, democracy stagnates, and said Senator or Representative becomes a sort of lord or baron, no disrespect intended towards the scion of our somewhat tyrannical current head of state. In short, a healthy democracy relies on a constant infusion of fresh, new blood. We are currently being governed by an elderly bunch, by our ancestors. Seventy and eighty year old career politicains do not adequately represent the interests of people under thirty years of age, to whom the future rightfully belongs. Jefferson realized this when he said that the American experimental republic would reuqire a revolution every generation, and that the tree of liberty would, from time to time, "require the noruishment of the blood of patriots and tyrants". We have reached that point several times before, one of which resulted in an internal domestic "civil" war of nightmarish proportions. Let's not do that again, shall we. Thomas Jefferson, after all, only goes so far. We Americans need term limits, which we actually already have, at the ballot box. No system is perfect, as we all know, and none will ever be, since God and Christ seem content to let us mere mortals stumble along in our ignorance, making and correcting our own mistakes.

Compassion, From A Car Hop, In a Wooden Box

TODAY I KNEW that I would want and need my Route 44 Lime Slush. Happy Hour at Sonic, as America knows, is two to four, so that's when and only when I go. Two dollars is less painful than four to pay for a styrofoam cup full of ice, sugar, and artificial lime flavoring.I love 'em. There is no accounting for taste, as they say. The drawback is that when its above ninety degrees, their slushy icey machine gets behind, and has trouble keeping the slush frozen, Nothing is less sexy that a half frozen slush of any flavor, as teenagers will attest. Today the slush came fast, not that it always does. School wasn't out yet, and that helped. The young lady who brought it was friendly, and asked: "How are you today"? My first impulse was to mechanically utter the obligatory "fine", or "good", which I did. Then suddenly, I decided not to prevaricate. Actually, not so good, I opined. My cat died three days ago, and I am still dealing with the grief. Her response was immediate. "I'll pray for your cat", she offered. And she did, right there in my parking space, between speakers. Her words escape me now. Flagging memory of old age and perhaps advancing Alzheimers. But her words were moving, inspiring. I thanked her, and told her, honestly, that her prayer had made me feel much better. I drove off with a four dollar cup of flavored ice for half price, uplifted and inspired by the brief but sincere prayer of a teenaged girl. Hours later, I still felt the same way. Somebody cares, and told me so. It was enough, nearly, to rekndle my long lost faith in the human species. I tell myself that nearly everybody has loved and been loved by a loving dog or cat, has suffered their loss, and that fully forty percent of the American people indicate on surveys that they much prefer the latter to the former, cats and dogs over people. And why not? The choice is between unconditional rock solid unwavering unshakable love and loyalty, or stinking, conniving, deceitful self absorbed human beings. That hardly seems a choice. Within a few days I expect the vet to call and tell me that Remmi's ashes have been sent back from the animal crematorium, I guess it is, and surely they will mail me a nice note of condolences, which will help. I assume the ashes will come in one of those pretty little varnished wooden boxes, with her name in gold plate on the front. Very lovely, very dignified. Remmi's remains will go up on the fireplace mantle, along side those of Jake, Shylow, and Diamond. I have only three little wooden boxes. My sister, older than I, says she has dozens, all in a place of honor in her lavish home. Other cats are buried in my front yard, along the fence, in a pretty place among the shrubery. I don't actually have grave markers; ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we all return to the elements, no mattter where we make our final repose, whether we make it in full body armor or cremains. My mom's cremains are buried in a cemetary on the same gravesite as her parents, my grandparents. Baby is home at last and forever, with her mom and dad, her parents that she loved so much. I never knew my maternal grandfather. He died in 1943, twelve years before I was born. My loss. I am told he was a prince. My maternal grandmother, 1892-1971, a true Victorian farm woman, was an angel, and she and I loved each other until her death, when I was sixteen. My mother and father knew full well that I love my cats and dogs more than any human on Earth, including them. They understood without negative overtones or hurt feelings. My grief at the loss of Remmi, now three days old, is finally, slowly, abating, a gift, and an indication of my personal strength. As you age, you toughen up, with experience. My father told me when I was 15 that as I lived my life, I would get knocked down, over and over again, and that I would get back up, every time. And so it has come to pass. I am now back on my feet, waiting for Remmi to return to me in ashes, to join my other bygone beloved kittens atop my fireplace, while I go on, ready, willing, and able to get knocked down yet again.

A Seagull Seeking Help

THE FACEBOOK PHOTO was of a seagull all tangled up in rope or wire or something. Along comes a good samaritan, who untengles the bird. Set free, it rises and flies away, uninjured. Facebook, reliably predictably catering to my tastes, gives me much such material, animals in pain or peril, rescued by a damned good human being. They even show the bird, dog, cat, or baby grizzly at the vet, being given a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, a bite to eat, and a certificate of good heath, with a warm cat bed nap for good measure. Happy endings supplanting a sea of troubles, just my melodramatic cornball style. You gotta hand it to Facebook; they know more about me than I. Artificial Intelligence has me wrapped around its little finger, or tentacle, whichever appendages IA sports when in organic bodily phase. The puppies and kittens by the side of the highway, where some svil person dumped them, caught in roadside beartraps have AI written all over them, CGI. I lap it up, like a kitten at a bowl of cream. I like to fantasize about being a hero. I envision myself pulling people from burning cars and or buildings, hitting the game winning home run for my beloved Yankees, making the game winning Michael Jordan shot. I go further. I see myself sitting behind the Resolute desk in the Oval Office, or the dissolute desk as it should currently be called, ruminating in dreadfully dark, Lincolnesque somber solitude, bravely approaching an impossible no win decision of munumental import. You don't have to save the planet or conquer the world to be heroic. A wise man once said that a gambler is anyone who gets out of bed in the morning. How true that is, in our inherently risk filled lives. Said wise man was a good friend of mine, and might not mind the following permutation; a wise man is anyone who arises each morning with a pure heart and great thoughts, and, if nothing else, tries to do some small something or other to improve herself and the world, if only incrementally, if only a little. That Goethe quote I use so often, including yesterday, is always on target. "We are made immortal through the effects of our actions". I have always considered myself important, if only through the effects of my actions. We elevate ordinary people to "celebrity" status in these United States of Advertising, merely because they entertain us, they bring us escape from lives from which we really ought never try to escape, because our allegedly puny, insignificant little lives are, in actuality, every bit as important and meaningful as those of, say, Taylor Swift or Travis Kelsey, who by the way, would agree completely. Again, its the butterly flapping its wings and triggering a sequence of events which result with the utter destruction of human civilization thingie. A compounding magnification of cause and effect, what scientists call "causal connections". Einstein showed that electrons at opposite ends of the universe communicate with each other, and he called it, profoundly, "spooky action at a distance". We humans can be assured that we have far more importance in and influence over the universe than a couple of electron far apart, jabbering away. Despite the fact that we are but tiny smudges of squirming organic molecules scurrying about on the surface of a tiny planet orbiting an ordinary yellow star at the edge of an obscure galaxy, we matter. Never let anybody tell you otherwise. You, little ole you, have an impact on the universe, no more or less than anyone else, but, nonetheless, an impact. You should feel important because you are, because you exist. The teeny tiny little ole you adrift in a cosmos of inconceivably vast proportions and thus irrelevant crowd has, ostensibly, a point, a point that is demonstrably incorrect. If nothing else, be assured of this; you are here for a reason, a reason of the universe's choosing, God the universe, God the mind, and, most important of all, you matter, if only a little.

Trump, Tearing Down

DONALD TRUMP, in an evident temper tantrum, is now threatening to tear down the iconic Kennedy center, since, after all, it appears that he will not be allowed to rename it after himself. That little boy simply wasn't raised right, no offense to Fred Trump and wife. You literally cannnot make this stuff up. This is a classic exammple of taking your football and going home, holding breath until blue in the face to blackmail parental capitulation,or screaming one's two year old terrible two lungs out until the restoration of fece flinging privileges. The Kennedy Center needs an apgrade, some repair work, just like all buildings do from time to time, as you home owners know all too well. However, most architects and engineers would agree that the needed upgrades are well within reaasonable reach, an architectural walk in the park, well within the capabilities any any mainline construction firm. It is not widely or publicly known precisely what our mentally ill president's mental problems are. Let's face it, everybody is mentally ill, in one way or another. There is no perfect physical or mental health, even assuming our ability to define such concepts. The world's greatest athletes, academics, and artists "suffer" from some mental, emotional, or physical malady or another.So do we all. Perhaps this is nature, reminding us that perfection is merely an abstraction, a concept, a place in heaven, or a poet's dream. We can surely all agree, and have agreed, thatthe world would be a far less interesting place if humanity and the rest of nature operated like a well oiled machine, living to a prescribed age, with prescribed behavior, and mechanistic, always well functiong physical bodily systems. We don't want to be perfect, and we don't want our creations, public buildings included, to be cookie cutter efficient and convenient. The Kennedy Center has by now earned the right to be a bit long in the tooth, so to speak, with a leak, crack, and drip here and there. My friend from Germany laughs when she relates that buidlings in Europe; houses, monuments, public buildings, are in most cases several hundred years old, and still in curculation. Roads, canals, and aquaducts built by the ancient Romans are still up and running, no modern replacements needed or wanted. My ninety two year old German lady friend, who remembers walking from Eastern Germany to central Germany ahead of the oncoming Russian Red Army, hoping to surrender to the Americans, in order to be treated like humans, rather then vermin prefers German architecture to American, The tragedy of World War Two, among its many tragedies, was the wanton widespread destruction of lovely ancient Eueopean cities, their elegant architecture. But we can rejuvenate, we can rebuild. Today the beautifulGerman city of Nuremburg is more beautiful than ever, party because it was rebuilt after the war to resemble its former, elegant self. Anybody who visits Nuremburg today will tell you there is virtually no difference between pre World War Two Nuremburg and the 2026 version, due to the artistic, historical impulse and considerations which attended its reconstruction. Nothing in the ticky tacky land of opportunity, the United States of crass, seems to be built to last or lasts more tha fifty years. this includes our houses and public buildings. The Kennedy Center has qualities which at least remotely resemble the dignity and elegance of old Europe. Maybe it could last, with a little occasional tender loving care, another fifty years. by American standards, this would be quite an accomplishment. Our choice now seems to be to rename it after our criminal pedophilic insanely narcissistic president, or tear it down and start over, a fool's choice, a devilish conundrum. A federal judge has ordered the mad king to erase, chisel his malignant name off the edifce, which he prematurely put there in apparent defiance of sane reasoning and a federal court order, or face the legal consequences of failure to comply. We have few enough lovely structures in our land of ticky tacky to begin with, let's not destroy one of our relatively few ornate, artistic ones. You never know when we will be able to afford another one. What we most certainly cannot afford is a continuation of the Trump presidency, but for the moment we are stuck with it, like we are stuck with our dull, unimaginative American architecture, and a presidential administration which can be counted on to do the exact opposite of what we the American people want and need.

Setting Records

AUGUST was the warmest month on record, globally. Fairly accurate records have been kept since the late nineteenth century. Odds are that every month henceforth will be the hottest momth on record, the hottest January, the hottest August, etc. You cannot simultaneously prepare for war and preserve peace, and you cannot simultaneously poison and protect the Earth's ecosystem. We know that climate is natural, and cyclical, and that there have been periods of time in the Earth's four point five billion year history when the global temperatures were much hotter, and much colder, than now. Between the years 1300 and 1850, approximately, the Earth underwent its "Little Ice Age" during which the climate was globally semi-Arctic. Summer never came to North America in the year 1817; it snowed in August in the United States. If you are a young child now, are being born this year, or plan on making your debut anytime within the next decade, you will have the great misfortune of witnessing the complete collapse of the Earth's atmospheric environment, the climate, in terms of wind speed especially. All the added heat being pumped into the system by humanity is going to give our immediate descendants straight wind speeds well above one hundred miles per hour, on a regular basis, alternating weather extremes of drought and torrrential monsoons, greatly increased number of hurricanes which are much stronger and larger than those we have come to know and hate, decades long droughts, and massive eutrofication over large deographical areas, in which formerly vast stretches of forested land evolve into praiie land, and prairie land becomes desert. Of course these phenomena have manifested by natural forces for geological epochs, but never on account of human activity. Thos who say that the weather and climate have always been crazy are missing the point. What they say is true, of course. It always has been crazy. But ehre is crazy, and there is stark raving mad crazy. The fact that the weather does its own crazy thing does not prevent us humans from coming to the party. We have our own special kind of crazy, in terms of influencing the climate, and the difference between what weather and climate is caused by natural forces outside human control and what is caused by human activity is now, for the first, very much understood by climate scientists. Drone can make it rain, by seeding the atmosphere with a silver and oxygen compound, with only a trace, but a very important trace of silver present. We can influence the weather. As Michio Kaku tell us, with a few decades we will be able to control it. But who will be at the helm? The Chimese, Russians, or Americans? Certainly not the Canadians or Mexicans. Maybe we'll work it out at the U.N. Some like it hot, some don't. Our diplomats will have to vote on it, following instructions from their respective governments. China votes for fair and mild. America wants rain. People began seeding clouds back in the nineteen forties. The process has been refined, and is now more effective than ever before. Trillions of molecules of the magical silver compound can precipitate nineteen million gallons or so of H20 within about three hours. Humans are rapidly gaining the ability to control the weather. Whether or not our genie out of the bottle, Artificial Intelligence, will take this responsibility away from us and have fun running amok with one hundred degree sweltering heat one day, and several feet of snow the next is anyone's guess,and another matter altogether. Somehow you get the feeling that our science and technology is becoming a bit too sophisticated and powerful forourown good, that we as a species are damned immature and unwise to have at our disposal what we already have, and what we are likely to have in the very near future. But of course, you started having that feeling when we started dropping atom bombs on each other back in forty five.

Going Deep

IN THE FUTURISTIC soon to arrive year of 2029, a mission to our nearest stellar nigibhbor, Alpha Centauri, will launch. I Don't think I'm imagining this. The mission will be unmanned. It had better be. When it will arrive at its destination I do not know, probably decades hence. Precisely what it will accomplish is yet another mystery. If nothing else, it will make our descendants feel good about us, themselves, and the human spirit of exploration, if they are alive to tell about it. Alpha Centauri is a three for the price of one star system, including Proxima Centauri, and one other small, insignificant star. All this will not feed starving children or produce whirled peas (world peace), but it'll give us something to do, effectively keeping us busy and off the streets, briefly. I can't recall whether this three star star system has planets, but surely the people who count can and do. If memory serves, they do know, and the star has planets. I won't be alive to witness this, nor will anybody alive today. It'll have to suffice for me to fantasize about it, wish it well, and let it prematurely inspire me. In 1996 we saw for the first time a planet orbiting a star other than the sun. Then, the new planets started rolling in. Before long there were four thousand. Now, who knows how many. "We" now discover them faster than we can catalog and name them with long numbers. Meanwhile, every few days if not hours a previously unknown planet, star, or galaxy is located by some astronomer. We are like small children, toddling around in our parent's backyard, everything new and different. Einstein said "I have no special talents, I am merely extremely curious." Most people roll their eyes at this apparent false modesty. I take him at his word. Einstein understood that we are all roughly of equal intelligence in the grand scheme of things. The word "genius"" becomes meaningless when one realizes that all human animals reside within a limited spectrum of talents, intelligence, and general capabilities. As individuals we are like ants and bees. No individual can survive, thrive, and intellectually shine without doing as Isaac Newton said he did; stand upon the shoulders of giants. As Goethe said: "It is comforting to know how little we need, and how much we need that little." Maybe we are alone in the entire universe in being "intelligent" beings, able with opposable thumbs and decently large brains to build and taylor our environment to our own needs. Then again, most, if not all animals on Earth can and do do this. Anthills and beehives are marvelous, intricate constructions. If a spaceship carrying highly advanced beings were to descend into Earth's atmosphere to observe us, or happen to be doing so right now, either from a vantage point in our solar system, or on the far side of the moon, would those inside it be able to discern that homo sapiens and not ants, bees, dolphins or whales are the dominant, most intelligent species on the planet? Or would they surmise otherwise, that indeed human primates are but one lifeform in a larger crowd of sentient, intelligent lifeforms? Whale and dolphins, after all, have larger brains than we. The true mark and proof or human "superior intelligence" might well be our ability to lift ourselves off of this planet, and to leave it. So far we have barely begun to do that, but we seem poised and on the brink of achieving precisely that. We who were born after World War Two and grew up waiting for Apollo Eleven to go to the moon were thrilled beyond measure when, on July 20, 1969, Armstrong messed up the first words ever spoken on another planetary body, and said "That's one small step for man", instead of "that's one small step for a (one) man", as he evidently intended. The fact that the first words spoken on a planetary body other the earth by a human primate were messed up somehow seems quaint and humorous now; it reminds us of our glaring imperfections. It is our imperfections which remind us of our fallibility, but also, of our vast potential for improvement and advancement. We chose to go to the moon. Now, we chose to go to the stars, represented by our machines. People may never make it into deep space, between the stars, unless they build huge city like starships intended to be occupied by generations of our kind. More likely we will send machines deep, just at almost certainly UFOs are occupied by metallic machines, rather than organic beings. But whatever it takes, our human ascent and outward reach beyond our home planet will be more than worth the effort; it will begin the process of confirming that we will have become more than citizens of Earth, but rather, citizens of the cosmos.