I’ve spent a couple of weeks on Drumpf’s Facebook page. I try to remain as calm and as polite as possible. I make repeated attempts to engage rather than return the invective that I have received in abundance. I haven’t shied from pointing out to others that should consider that they are not as smart or informed as they think they are, and that their opponents (not me) are perhaps as smart and informed.
All I can come up with is that Trump’s supporters need to hate. They need an enemy. There is no reasoning. There is no demonstrable truth. I’m not just writing them off with “haters gonna hate”, because I think it 1) says nothing, and 2) signifies a refusal to seek other means of communicating. I do agree that a large core of Trump’s supporters will never change. But this is just too fucking scary to ignore.
Sometimes I try to have a little fun. I shouldn’t. The commenters seem to be frighteningly immune to humor, especially about themselves.
I’ve been way too careful about my writing.
I don’t put anything up until I’ve really had time to think about it, rethink it, and then rewrite it. Rewrite many times. But enough of that. That means that I rarely post.
I post for whomever may show up at the game, but I mainly just post for myself.
I mainly post for myself, but I keep my children in mind. Would I want them to read this now? In 5 years? In 10? After I’m dust and ashes? The world is not going to remember me. I may have grandchildren, but I was so old (41 for the first) when I had kids that it’s entirely possible that I won’t live to see them. It’s even more likely that they won’t remember me. I tell my children about my grandparents, but I don’t think that much of it will stick. They both had a chance to meet my Grandma Ida, but Jolee doesn’t remember her, and Sam has just impressions. Fortunately, they know all four of their grandparents. But the inter-generational time expands, and we lose touch. It’s not like it’s easy to get records, either. One grandfather’s name can be found on a ship’s manifest at ellisisland.org. For the other grandfather there is one that is similar but doesn’t quite meet the criteria. The grandmothers were born here, their fathers were not.
Levoča, Slovakia, formerly Löcse, Hungary. I wonder if it was all that scenic to my greatgrandfather.
Anyway, I still need to write, and so I will just toss this stuff out and see what happens.
Sorry if I bored you, better stuff coming.
Because I’m just cleaning the kitchen
I can listen to music that has words.
The Ride is Los Lobos’ 11th album. It has other artists covering their songs, while they play along. Lots of good fun. Tom Waits, Bobby Womack, Mavis Staples, Ruben Blades, (anti-Israel asshole)Elvis Costello…
IT HAS TO BE
music that does not have any words.
I have been listening to music instead of NPR.
The truth is that I just can’t take it anymore. Any of it: NPR, CNN, network news, cable news, whacko internet sites that crop up on my facebook page. The whole world has gone crazy and in the little space that my body occupies THERE ISN’T ONE DAMN THING THAT I CAN DO.
I even dreamt about fucking politics last night. I had an old neighbor who was rabidly conservative, and –wait! I’m not going into it
So for the next hour or so, I will be listening to Rachmaninov’s Etudes Tableaux.
It’s snowing. It is not pretty or scenic or quaint or anything like that.
OK, it’s not a lot of snow, at least for New England.
But I’ve done my time! I was here last year! I went to grad school in Wisconsin! I’m looking forward to global warming! I want to convert my snow blower into a go-kart and drive it over snow-free roads and fields, defiling the ecosystem and being a nuisance!
I get my revenge on nature!
I am not shoveling or firing up the snow blower. It will be in the 40’s tomorrow, and I am going to let old Sol do the work. Ya use your brains or ya use your back. I think my brain might might give out first, but at least I’ll be able to stand up and walk (as long as I’m not chewing gum, cf. Gerald Ford).
In related events, the crew represented in Goodfellas decided they had had enough and had our little friend did his own grave.
- (Mandatory Credit: Photo by Quirky China News / Rex Features (1689244a) )
One of my favorite holidays! When he says “6 more weeks of winter,” I ask “Only?”