Tag Archives: Fools

The State of The Nation #3478.02A


The State of The Union, #3478.02A


We need some structural work, and can’t find a good carpenter.  We need the plumbing re-done; a new hookup to the sewer.  Well, we need a sewer, because the leach field out back is poisoning the corn field down hill of it.  Been that way for two years, and the public was supposed to do something.  And, guess what, we can’t get a plumber, and the DPW  don’t answer the phone anymore.

We need the road outside paved.  That was promised years ago.  And I think Jasper, the guy over on the other side of the hill?  I think his pickup’s still in the hole where the road washed out last March.  Ain’t no glass in the window, and the electric’s been out for six months since the creek took down the bridge and the feed from the power company. Killed most of the trout up and down for a mile till someone down there cut the switch to up here.

Ain’t got no phone. That went with the electric. The old man lost his job cause the bridge went out and he couldn’t get acrost the creek.  Tried beaver and muskrat trapping, but he can’t get out in the water with no boots, which he gave up when he got work in the town, and the boat got crushed by the bridge fallin’.

Got no firewood.  We was countin’ on Uncle Dan to deliver us a load, but last we talked, he said he can’t get enough for himself, and there ain’t no coal left since the mines was shut down..  Besides, creek’s to wild to walk it across since the damn cracked and flooded everything upstream last year.

But, what the hell.  Winter’s still three or four months away.  We don’t starve first, when it comes real strong we’ll freeze to death.  That’s a good way to go.  Painless, kinda easy, happy like.

Tommy, the oldest one, set out yesterday to walk across the mountain to see if there’s anythin’ them folks can do in North Valley.  He took the last blanket, a cook pot and some coffee.  Not much else.

If you’re readin’ this, we’re dead.  Bury us upland of this place.  We always like lookin’ at it, an’ hopin’.



Just Say No!

OK, ABC and Disney, Hollywood, Pepsi,the  Democratic Party, MSNBC, CNN, Fox, the other two nets, every newspaper in the country, and anyone who advertises in them or on TV, medical insurance, auto insurance, insurance insurance. It all stinks like fish gurry.  That’s what we’re being fed, and we think it’s filet mignon.

Are we really that stupid?  Have we really been such lousy pushovers?  Is it really the truth; that these guys have figured out that all we are is a bunch of stomachs, sexual organs and fat butts?  Seems like it.

No you say?  Prove it.

Don’t give them any of your time, and don’t spend any of your money on them.

Did I leave out anything?  Oh, yeah, the cable and satellite companies that carry alla that garbage into your home. Stop it all.  Cut it all out, the noise, the flash, the bling, the fly, the whatever the hell they come with next to make us forget that this is all a big swindle.

That’s gonna leave many of us with a lot of loose change and an awful lot of time on our hands. Try reading a book.  Try reading a good book.  Take a walk.  Actually have a conversation about something other than baseball or your nails and hair.  Put the money in a shoe box or a bank and forget about it.

Hey!  Here’s an idea.  Why not spend the time saying a prayer for the state of the world, these Untied States and our own poor selves.  And, another idea just occurred to my mind.  Why not use some of that new found money to help some folks; like folks with time on their hands because they have no work to do.  Or, folks with time on their hands because they never had any work to do, or because they can’t work…or hungry folks…or sick folks.  You know?

And, if or when the suits in the big buildings wake up and find everyone’s left the room,  and they come outside and say, “Hey!  OK, we screwed up.  Sorry.  Come on back.”  And their hands are out in supplication, and they’re smiling pleadingly, why not everyone say, “Nah, find another sucker.”  And, try finding an honest job while you’re at it.

‘Cause you know what all of this is, don’t you?  It’s “Bread and Circuses”, where the Big Deals figure out how to keep the lid on, keep the schmucks (that’s you Mr. and Mrs. America) happy so they never figure out how lousy life is; they never figure out that they are owned, bought and paid for in the greatest swindle since the original Bread and Circus deal back there in Rome.  Did you see the movie Matrix?  You’re in it.  I’m in it.

We’re all in it.

Wake up.

Walk away.

Just sayin’.

The State of the Nation: Part ?

The State of the Nation

We Let It Happen

Somewhere in this favored land…  Those are the opening words of the poem’s last stanza.  But there is no joy and the band is playing this.

Do listen.  It’s a simple piece and exactly captures the mood I’m in after a day spent thinking about what we have done to ourselves here in these Untied States.

Part’s piece captures for me exactly the long, slow, agonied descent into the grave we’ve been digging for ourselves these past few dozen years .  The work is almost done, now.

Don’t bother rearranging the deck chairs.  The music will soon be over.

Let it be.

( By the way the poem is Casey At the Bat…and he has struck out..or we has as Pogo might have said)

Nah, That Can’t Never Happen Here —. You Think?


Abortion is largely accepted even for reasons that do not have anything to do with the fetus’ health. By showing that (1) both fetuses and newborns do not have the same moral status as actual persons, (2) the fact that both are potential persons is morally irrelevant and (3) adoption is not always in the best interest of actual people, the authors argue that what we call ‘after-birth abortion’ (killing a newborn) should be permissible in all the cases where abortion is, including cases where the newborn is not disabled.

This is an abstract from something called The Journal of Medical Ethics.  I have long ago reached the conclusion  that the proper and legal definition of an ethicist of any stripe is : “A person who, for a nice fat fee, will tell you that whatever you wish to do, no matter how bizarre, repugnant, illegal, immoral or fattening, you may do. ”

“That?  Sure, you can do it.  That’ll be $250.00.  Pay my girl Nausea on the way out.  No checks without two forms of picture ID, please.  Next!”

There’s an article here.  You can read a bit more about the story…if you have the stomach for it.  But, all you really need to know is contained in the abstract from JME.  These guys love acronyms, and I want to please them.  At my age, I figure I’ll be next to be okayed for the trip to the Release center.  Oh, wait, I already have that “right”.

It would take a more sober, reasoned and smart person than me to look at that abstract and take it apart bit by bit; exposing it for the outrageously smug, insipid and stupid thing that it is.  I simply want to blow it up, and punch out the authors, the editors and anyone vaguely connected with the thing.  I can probably get a bunch of ethicists to tell me that it’s the epitome of ethics to do so.

But, I won’t do that.  For one thing I haven’t got the plane fare to Australia.  I’m wondering, now though, if its ethical to ask for donations.  Hmmm.


While I was sitting here trying to get the best of my gag reflex a couple of things occurred to my mind.  I imagined a couple of scenes from the near future:

The first is a quiet little corner in Portland, OR, the place first in love with death here in the Untied States.  It’s about 6:00pm on a lovely day in May.  The sound of a garage door closing is heard and then the door opens into a bright, neat, modern kitchen.  A young woman stands  at the central work station obviously preparing something for the evening meal.  She smiles as a tall slim fellow walks through the door and gives her a hug and a kiss.

YW:  Sorry, Brutus, my hands are so yucky.  I’ve been working all afternoon on this.  I thought we’d have something special.  I hope you’ll like it.

YM:  That’s just fine Gladiola.  I’ll fix us a drink.  Where’s Benjie?

YW:  Oh, he’s probably asleep on the rug inside.  He had a busy day outside today running around chasing butterflies.

YM:  I love that little fella.  So, what’s for supper?

YW:  Well you know we had to decide today…

YM:  Oh, yes.  So did you?  I would have been happy to stay home, but BIFFING Steel has this big job they were interested in having us handle and Smothersworth wanted me to look it over.  I was out there all day.  Sorry I’m a little late.  Anyway, it looks like we’ll take it, and you know what that means.”

YW:  Oh, now we can go to Fiji for my sister’s wedding t0 Allred.  It’s her 7th and it means so much, and I can wear that lovely thing I have been so wanting to ever since..”

YM:  Honey, isn’t that sauce…?

YW:  (Looking over at the stove.)  Oh, no, everything’s fine.  I’ll just need you to get the lumps out later.  Anyway, I really didn’t need you today.  I spoke with Polonia across the street.  She said I could do it myself, everyone does these days.  So I did.  It was so easy and kind of fun.

YM:  Oh, here’s the dog!  Hey Benjie, you lucky guy.  I wish I had your life chasing butterflies all day long.  C’mere you little dickens.

YW:  Anyway, afterward, I cleaned it and prepared it for tonight’s supper.  I used Polonia’s mother’s recipe since you liked it so much when we had it over there for the 4th of July last year.

YM: Great!  I’ll make us a drink, now and get outta this straight jacket.  Hey, what are you gonna call your version of the dish?

YW:  Well we were going to name it Bobbie before we decided it would really be funner in Fiji, so I’m calling it Bobbicued Kid.

YM:  (Laughing and petting the dog)  That’s great.  I love your sense of humor.  I hope we have plenty of leftovers.


And, here is the second scene:

“Good morning, East Bluegill Public Works Department.”

“Hello.  Is this where I arrange for a trash pickup.”

“Yes, Ma’am.  What is it?”

“I have a dead kid in my refrigerator.  I did it this morning, and I want it out.  I’ve got some shopping to do this afternoon and need the room.  I checked and I can’t bury it out side where we put Sniggles last year.”

“No, your right.  Besides raccoons might dig it up and leave a mess.”

“I don’t want that for sure.  When can you come?”

“Just wrap it good in some plastic and leave it by the curb before 6:30 tomorrow morning.  Or, if you want, you can bring it to the dump before 5 this afternoon.  Anyway.  Whatever’s easier for you.”

“I think I just leave it at the curb.  Thank you.”

“No problem.”


You may want to write to the JME, I don’t know.  I though of doing so and asking if they had any good recipes.

Tumble All The Way To Doggerel

(One Half an Argument)

I'll forego descent into mere prose
And tumble all the way to doggerel
While writing this below. I'll hold my nose
While I, against my better self, scribble.

Why doubt what you believe you should do?
The way of doubt is never brave;
Hesitating, wavering between this and that
Wondering whether to stir the pot
Or to add a little salt to already seasoned stew
Is no chef's move, but churl's or base caitiff knave's.

Step out boldly, bright before the darkling world!
You be the light your know yourself to be!
What matter if you crunch the smelly toes
Of the remnant few who foolishly believe
That things might just not be what you propose?
Propose?!  "Propositions," you say, "be damned!
I know this as well as I know I am."

Funny that, I thought, when it popped into my mind
And I hope you see the humor in the line.

Anyway, I think your bravery here well done
And hope you may find comfort in your One
Along with all the myriad Ones who
Themselves find comfort while proclaiming, "You
Believe in you, and I'll believe in me."

There's satisfaction free of anxiety.
Narcissism means one never says "I'm sorry;
Never feels forsaken, never wrong,
Never needs contrition or reform.

Brave light bearer be while worlds of selves
Fluttering moth-like above darkness, hell,
Eternal sing, "No one makes a fool of me!
For where I sow there I reap."
Heaps of straw upon flames they cannot see
Dark cherubim whose hymn a curdling shriek.

A Short Observation About Fools

August is the foolish month.  But, it is nearing the end of August, thank God.  Because, since the beginning of August, the most uncomfortable month of the year, we have had to suffer much more than heat and humidity.  We have had to suffer the near presence of those loudmouths and fools we send to Washington, DC, just to get them out of the way, and allow us normal folks to live, more or less, peacefully.

They have found a reason to come back and affront us with their acid mix of pride, ignorance, pomposity and privilege, especially galling since we pay them well to stay away.  This time the occasion for their return is their concern for our health, and a desire, I think, to set a record for spending which may never be equaled as long as time exists.  Alas, it is one of the times of the year when I wish there were no such thing as freedom of speech.  Others occur around the time of the Super Bowl and its excess of stupidity.

They, politicians, are an intrepid, if slightly crazy, band.  Most of them think they are up to some good, and this is a dangerous thing.  And so, an army of politicians has invaded the country.  A series of battles have already taken place with honest folk, worried that something bad may actually happen if the politicians are left alone. Protests and insults are hurled.  Most of these appear in the form aggrieved cries of outrage from those we call our representatives and editorial protests in the press that people are actually exercising that right I spoke of.

On the one side are the forces of social regression, which is what politicians and the press call voters. Against them stand the brave men and women who raise the banner of compassion, health and happiness against dark misery and illness.  The very interesting thing is that no one on either side understands the issue which joined them in battle.  Who could?  It is a piece of legislation written in a style which Lewis Carroll would envy.  Instead of humor, though, misery will result.

Anent misery I offer this small story, unnoticed of course. Nonetheless: http://www.thecatholicthing.org/content/view/2072/2/

It is a story of another misery, suffered by millions and to be suffered by millions more if the Prime Minister of Hope and Change gets his way. Please read it and know that reliable and peer reviewed, but nearly unknown, research has shown how common this malady is; not to mention the fifty percent mortality its onset causes.

In a related vein, I was delighted to know that recent medical studies have proved that nursing a child greatly reduces a woman’s chance of contracting breast cancer. I remember reading the disdainful and sarcastic reactions to the studies which appeared a few years ago showing a link between abortion and breast cancer.

And, now?

I wonder, then, if there will come from some place within the vast beast that is the NIH an announcement linking the information provided by these two bits of science and suggesting that we might, umm, either provide mastectomies as a prophylactic measure to women who abort, or simply stop doing the latter and save two lives.

I shall wonder on that for a bit, and contemplate what fools we are.