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Wandering

I’m putting the throttle on, and working up to being calmer. It’s hard when you are so sick.

My wandering has led me somehow into the guts of the Georgia Democratic Party, and I can hardly believe I’m doing some social media for 19 counties.

It’s strange, getting noticed. I’ve always considered myself nobody special. Heaven knows I’ve been told by assholes that I am not. Yet, some people I know and have known like me better than I thought.

This is odd. I can’t process it, because I am in it now. From here, I have no idea where I am going to take my id and subsume it into some superegoistic organism like a political party. I have a lady boss, and we’re going to talk over my spartan quesadilla, hold the creamy shit and sub exttra salsa, and do a bit of day drinking today when I meet her in person for the first time. Every thing I have written here in this small space has been really, really honest and I also had no idea that all I was doing was reacting to…everything. Even at my sickest, I told the truth here.

So, that’s what my boss wants. Reaction. OK, I can do that. The trick will be to convince people that there is action to be taken.

I shall not capitalize my words here anymore….oll-korrect being the exception since nobody fucking speaks their own language very well. Nobody punctuates anymore, nobody can tell the difference between a metaphor and a true statement. I omit entire articles when I type sometimes. Thanks to social media, texting on tiny devices and the mind-twisting Twitter, you are now challenged to get your thoughts in quickly and some of us forget what an apostrophe is. I guess it’s OK, grade school was a long time ago and we were all too hyperactive to learn and no one knew how to calm us down because they stopped hitting us.

I am pleased by this evolution, but some of you need a nun with a pointer. Christian discipline seems to be the only thing that has worked for the West, and we know how I feel about discipline and Christianity and I will accept neither without cause. It doesn’t matter though; all our masters have done is discipline us with the pursuit of survival and we have great alacrity now in telling our fellow man to go fuck himself.

Pure fucking comedy, if it wasn’t such a deadly game to play.

Now you go play, kids. I have some of my own playing to do.

I Just Don’t Care About This Holiday

To be perfectly honest, most of them have lost their lustre as I enter my 50s. Everyone acknowledges that they made it through another year of challenges and talk about what they want to do that’s “new”.

Why are we doing this stupid ritual? It’s a mark on a lunar calendar. The solstice is already in the bag and we are going to get closer to the sun. What kind of pagan shit is this? It’s twenty fucking twenty-three. We’re not going to crash into it yet or be cut adrift from it. No mature human save for the religious should be making a huge deal about the planet moving, and no one at all should be connecting it with some kind of personal renewal, much in the same way we only have Christmas as the impetus to be giving. I thought by now we would have been done with this kind of New Age crap, but I guess it’s still the New Age and I will just have to get used to the idea that many of us are still participating in some small way in this flaky shit without the drugs and cults and fucking. Some fun this is. I guess it’s just been that way and there is no point in resisting.

Yes. We are all getting older and a year closer to dying. The planet didn’t get hit by an asteroid. Maybe we didn’t catch a possibly fatal disease that has killed millions. For some reason, celebration of these things seems strange. But, I suppose when times are troubled, this is just normal human behavior. Being missed by Death is something we fixate on as the only animal on earth that knows very well it is going to not be alive someday and that really gets into our high functioning, neurotic monkey brains and causes us to hope for more life, more and more of goddamned life, which can be much, much worse than death for the brave and the afflicted. How greedy of us, those who are intact and pain-free.

I guess it comes down to another old-timey belief, that of being lucky. I suppose our dipshit European ancestors brought that idiocy with them to land that was not New at all. To the people we killed and subjugated to live here, New wasn’t even a thing, I think. Time wasn’t worth much to Native Americans, although that may be too much a blanket statement given how many tribes were here and I suppose their beliefs were manifold. But I guess when your life is fraught with danger, on a ship whose destination the sailor isn’t quite sure of, these are things you believe in. When you make land before lack of food and potable water and disease wipe you out, it’s not surprising that each succession of European immigrants fell to their knees when we got off the boat and thanked whatever the fuck they thought helped them make it.

Lucky is horseshit-chance, however, is not. No one is watching over us. Sorry to burst your bubble.

When you get right down to it, anything can happen, which sounds like I’m scraping up against a version of Murphy’s Law without the fatalism. And perhaps that’s why we gird ourselves for the next 365 day long block of time in our lives by overlaying hopes and goals over the fact that we are alone, unless we have people who love us. We want order, because the chaos makes us want to throw up. If there is any god or goddess, it is Eris-our lady of perpetual confusion. She’s the closest I will ever come to acknowledging the supernatural-her fingerprints are all over this place, whatever it is, after all. Only on Earth does the universe look like there’s a purpose to it. You don’t have to look far to know that is simply not true. Look at your own life. That shit is fucked the fuck up.

In closing, roll with the punches, don’t think too much about oblivion, go crazy if you need to, I guess. I do not generally recommend it, because it’s a bitch to get it under control once you have lost said control. I won’t advise you, it’s a bad idea to listen to a sick person about sanity. The apple is yours. Don’t get a big head about it. It’s above your station to think of how favored you are too much.

The Continuing Adventures Of Tits McGee

Nevada’s gun totin’, bra-bustin’ Michele Fiore seems to have a desperate need to be in office. She’s always running for something, and usually losing. But thanks to the fact that judgeship elections have little to no public scrutiny, Utah has decided to give Michele the title of Justice of The Peace in some podunk county seat called Pahrump.

Michele hasn’t got a law degree. And beat out seventeen other candidates, most likely much more qualified to sit. There is no requirement for the Justice Of The Peace to have a law degree in Nye County. But Michelle is promising to go to school to get one.

I just have this feeling she isn’t the studying kind. But I could be wrong.

Typically, the Justice Of The Peace has only a handful of duties, adjudicating small claims, dealing with minor infractions, perform marriages, and they can authorize arrests. But can someone with no legal background decide on even these small things? Even a paralegal could do a better job than someone known in politics for her boobs and her gun collection.

Now I know I said that Pahrump was podunk. Well, yes it is, but not by Nevada standards.The county boasts a population of a little over 50,000, and is the largest county in the state. Even my podunk county (not so much a podunk county but a place for middle class whites to flee the suburbs at reasonable prices), Columbia County, Georgia has 160,000 in it. So Michelle will be busy making decisions that change peoples’ lives with nothing but her pretty little head, which has led her to do some really dumb things in the past, as evidenced by the link above.

What was it, County Commissioners? Did you all get a rise out of what she was wearing? Did she have a portfolio of her best poses with guns? Whatever it was, I’m sure you could have done better.

Do Not Tell Me To Fucking Smile Unless You Have Entertained Me First

Real quick one.

I can no longer tolerate people who come out of the gate telling me to “SMILE!”

Fuck off. Tell me a joke if you want to see my teeth.

I have been dealing with this for a very long time. I’m just not the fucking smiley type for no goddamn reason. But it does NOT mean that I am unhappy, angry, or in a bad mood.

I happen to have a mood disorder, as some of you know. And I run high almost all of the time. Which probably means I am in a better mood than any person who comes along telling me to “SMILE!”. I am irreverent, always on, only serious when necessary. That is my default setting. I don’t need to use my teeth to be full of fucking mirth. That’s because I can talk and know how to use sarcasm and point out irony and am not afraid to cross a polite boundary. I’m laughing at most of you all of the time on the inside, if you want to know the truth. Really, the only difference between us is that I am an idiot, and you are all grinning idiots. You look crazier than I do, and that’s saying something.

So please, do not tell me what to do with my face. It borders on rudeness.

How would you like it if I told you loudly to “FROWN!”?

It would probably startle you as much as it startles me when you yell “SMILE!”.

You Can Google Yourself Into Staying Current. You Cannot Google Yourself Into Expertise.

The Internet is such a fucked up thing, a true paradox. It is the largest repository of information on the planet. You would think this a good thing…yet the people who use it seem to be getting dumber.

Let’s talk a little bit about people who think that when they look for information on the Internet, they are performing “research”.

You know these people. They are legion. They are all around you, believing some of the most insane shit you can dream up. Not knowing much about how the real world works, they construct fantasy worlds based on ignorant, paranoid biases they have. They have consumed so much information confirming them, that they actually see themselves as authorities on a matter. And they’re not, because they aren’t trained to be one. Yet every fucking person these days always has something to say about everything. It’s tiring. I’m sorry, but rare is the true polymath.

Let’s be clear: Experts are the only people who should be conducting any sort of “research”. And many of them constrain their expertise to one subject, as any knowledge base can be ridiculously complicated and is in constant evolution.

Most of us drones can read a book and maybe really digest a fourth of it. Even less will be able to spit out the contents of what they read to a fellow human. Shit, sometimes I can’t say anything about a TV show I just watched. Hardly any of us commoners are doing any structured “learning”. The best of us can merely familiarize ourselves with a subject. So it is with the Internet. We can read all we like and still not know a whole lot. But then we get super offended when all of our “research” gets questioned.

That’s not the way to wisdom. Having your beliefs challenged is really the only way to actually “learn”. In other words, looking for what might be wrong about what you think you know is the key to possibly knowing anything at all. That requires a bit of humility most people do not possess, though, especially if you are dealing with someone who thinks that just because they have access to the biggest journal/encyclopedia in existence it makes them somehow learned.

I have a bachelor’s degree in sociology. The theory is painful to comb through, and that is a lot of what you have to get through to make it past your sophomore year. A favorite professor of mine gave up the goods on why we needed to dig up fossils like Emile Durkheim. “It’s really just to torture you the way we were tortured.” I believed her. You also get introduced to the world of statistics, which I actually found fun. Some of my fellow classmates were fucking insufferable, though; like I had this one class in stats where the textbook was filled end to end with studies. Now, this book’s purpose, from what I could tell was to help us learn how studies are structured, to immerse us in the world of what we can learn from surveys and data. Yet for some reason, the class devolved into “how can we pick apart this study and declare it invalid?” Students got hung up on dumb shit like sample size. If it was deemed not high enough (it was always an arbitrary number that varied from student to student), it was a bad study. That’s not how this works, though. You can sample or plot 20 points and get a mean that suggests a correlation in one direction or another. Yes, you can sample 40 and be more accurate, but it’s really the difference between say, 90% certainty and 95%. There’s tests you can perform that give you confidence values. What I’m getting at is that the picture is the same, it’s just slightly blurrier when you work with less data.

Anyway, four years is what I survived. Did that mean I was well-educated? Was I a sociologist, or one in training? Looking back, I’d have to say no. Nowadays, bachelor degrees are not held in high esteem by employers. Everyone wants the grinders who stick with shit for eight to twelve years. I wasn’t able to do that for several reasons, but one was that I don’t think I could have bullshitted my way through graduate level work. I didn’t want to anyway. Sociology could be fun and fascinating, but I was never destined to be an expert in it.

I’m getting a little sidetracked, but the point was is that real education takes place in educational institutions, and real expertise gets conducted by experts. Reading the Internet for the average schmo should be like reading the morning paper-oh, here’s some interesting news, hey that’s a cool subject, hm, I didn’t know that, let me find out more, wow, they did what? Basically, keep the fuck up. Be active when it is necessary. That is your civic responsibility, nothing more. Now it’s a little rough out there, because major media gatekeeps for or is outright owned or manipulated by the moneyed and the powerful. But there’s a lot of people doing journalism for journalism’s sake. Good stories and portals are out there, and real journalists have been telling inconvenient truths. Did what you read make you mad? Excellent. Did it change your mind? Awesome. Did it add perspective to something you are interested in? I’m all for it.

This “research” epidemic, however, is for fools. It’s just ducky to Google or Wikipedia a subject you just encountered, I encourage that behavior. What is not sensible is consuming a lot of information/bullshit on a topic you aren’t an expert in. You can easily be misinformed, for one thing, if you don’t know how to check your sources. That is something that typically an expert would know how to do. And confirmation bias, as far as I can tell, is habitual in this fucking species. Starting with a conclusion is absurdly common. I think X is happening, and since I have a giant library at my fingertips, there’s a good chance I can definitely find evidence for X being true. Even science itself is guilty of this.

I dunno. Maybe some people are just raised berserk, and it’s best to leave them be if we are creatures of mercy. But I grow weary of it. For me, everything I “know” is in a state of flux. Does that bother me? Honestly, no, it doesn’t. There are things about this objective reality we will never figure out. (Then again, I haven’t tried DMT). It’s cool, that’s what it means to live, especially as a human. Uncertainty is part of the package of survival. “Research” and “figuring things out” isn’t going to make me feel existentially better.

They say everyone needs something to believe in. Maybe. And I suppose in our virtual world of connectivity, that’s easier than ever to find. In that sense, the Internet peddles millions of faiths. We want so badly to be special, we want to know we are part of the Correct, that we are In. Maybe in our atomized society this is all we can do anymore to remain cohesive, share our ridiculous faiths through an invisible ether. I’m out of answers.

Perhaps know yourself first before you go knowing anything else. I think some wise weirdo advised this a long, long time ago. I think he was killed for giving it to people.

Let’s Talk A Little About Steve Bannon, Putin and The Future of Global Fascism

Sometimes I feel pretty fucking clever when I’ve sussed out that America is about to enter into its second dalliance with fascism and its characteristics. It will be Christian, white, and male-centric. Like Jello Biafra said once, it’s bedtime for democracy and there is no telling when it will wake up.

Now it’s awfully hard to believe that Steve Bannon, who looks like some weird mixture of Baron Harkonnen from Lynch’s Dune and a wino, is of any particular threat to American democracy. It’s almost hilarious that he has Mike Lindell on his “War Room” on the regular. He’s probably facing jail time soon, depending on how much he pisses a judge off by turning his contempt trial into a media circus.

However, as far as the right wing goes, he’s the daddy-o of American neo-fascism, or populism, or nationalism, whatever you want to call it. And when he fell out with Trump, he moved on to bigger and better things. After the White House, he went abroad to spread the populist word, powwowing with right wing parties, dictators and autocrats around the globe. He’s a Putinist, and I guess now is a great time to introduce a notorious living Russian fascist, often referred to as “Putin’s Brain”, Aleksandr Dugin. (More on the Dugin-Putin relationship here). The guy appears to be completely insane, a mad monk advocating for a Russian empire that stretches all the way to Ireland. I am sure that Putin, while a little touched in the head himself, listens to Alex’s counsel, smiles in his mind, takes the good parts and leaves out the absurd. He did come up with the idea of annexing Crimea, and thinks Russia should treat Ukraine as theirs, which they have done de facto by invading and robbing Ukraine of its ability to trade freely. I’m not going to get into an argument with any of you chuckleheads out there who seem to have no clue about military tactics and realpolitik, the end game of this invasion is that Russia gets good cream and lots of political leverage over the rest of the world from Ukraine’s food and energy markets. And there isn’t shit the West can or will do about it. (UPDATE 4/2: Zelenskyy isn’t giving up territory for peace, and NATO is now sending deadlier assets. He’s either going down with the ship, or this is going to be Afghanistan II: The Return Of The Bear Trap.)

Anyway, back to this character Dugin for a minute. He is quoted as saying, “We, conservatives, want a strong, solid State, want order and healthy family, positive values, the reinforcing of the importance of religion and the Church in society”. Sound familiar? That’s word for word what the Republican Party in America has come to stand for. Coming from the mouth of a Russian fascist. A “traditionalist”. Democracy, liberalism, and individualism are all anathema to his thinking, a refutation of the principles of America’s revolutionary ideas. He said of Putin as early as 2007: “There are no more opponents of Putin’s course and, if there are, they are mentally ill and need to be sent off for clinical examination. Putin is everywhere, Putin is everything, Putin is absolute, and Putin is indispensable.” It’s not dissimilar to the cult of personality that surrounds Trump, or any other “strongman” who can control people. The main difference between Putin and Dugin, is that one is pragmatic and one is a romantic. He wanted Putin to take Georgia as well as Ukraine. Putin took the chunks he could hold, probably knowing from Hitler at Stalingrad that when you spread yourself too thin, you will get your ass kicked. He believes that COVID is a “kind of divine reprimand, a divine decree against humanity.” and “It is a kind of punishment for globalization.” Dugin attacks the arts and the schools for their decadent thoughts (again, sound familiar?), even finding physics and chemistry to be “demonic”. The man is a mystic, looking for signs of the apocalypse.

So let’s circle back to Bannon: what’s the connection between him and Dugin? Well, they met once, in 2018, in Rome. While they agreed philosophically, the meeting did not go well, as Dugin was focused on the United States as the great evil, and Bannon felt it was China. I guess we should be glad they did not agree or join forces, but the idea that America is engorged with “evil” is becoming chapter and verse for more and more Republicans, no doubt to Putin and Dugin’s glee. We will be rid of Steve Bannon soon enough. But if we continue to share a traditionalist fascist destiny with Russia, then I am afraid the world over will become a dark place to practice freedom.

Aspersions On The Asparagus

Time to check up on Louie Gohmert. Louie has some fierce competition these days as to who can be America’s dumbest elected official, but he’s the O.G. of the modern Know-Nothings. He can still be reliably counted on to have the most absurd takes on any subject. Louie had a few things to say about green energy on wingnut OAN recently:

I don’t quite see how dead birds will bring down our country, but that’s Gohmert logic for you. Now as with anything Louie says, you have to go check and see how untrue it is. So I did the simplest of Google searches, and learned that solar is hardly causing mass bird casualties, and certainly not in the numbers that Gohmert claims. In fact, our current energy setup is far more lethal to birds than solar panel farms. For example, there are approximately 3,500 “flamers” per year due to mirrors, but we lose 25 million birds to power lines yearly. There’s the real bird holocaust that Gohmert should be concerned about if he cares about the birds, which of course he doesn’t.

I can’t believe this creature used to be a judge.

Group Groyper

I think I have found the right-wing id. I have traced it down to Nicholas Fuentes.

Nick’s just hit my radar, as well as puberty. I seem to be a bit late to the party, but the kid is making a name for himself by out-outraging the outraged right. He’s even started fights between Charlie Kirk’s adherents and his, that’s how right-wing he is. His little fascist army calls themselves Groypers, which apparently is what this fella is:

Oh boy, another Pepe meme.

Hilarious. Anyway, he’s so over the top that I wonder if he is left-wing performance art. It can barely be taken seriously, but thanks largely to Donald Trump we’ve reached a juncture in political discourse that the Overton Window is open just enough for a Nick Fuentes to slither through. Here’s Nick rhapsodizing outside of CPAC (not invited, again, amazing considering what they talk about there) about an era far removed from his Gen Z ass:

Bless his little pointed head. He’s very much into America First rhetoric too, which as you probably know was one of the slogans of 1930s American proto-fascist nationalism.

This is the baby-faced enemy, folks. This is the terminus, the end result of right wing thought in America, where “owning the libs” (or in Nick’s case, owning everyone he can) is the only initiative that matters. If it’s offensive and outrageous, they want in on it. Then they bitch about being canceled when someone objects, of course. What good this game is is anyone’s guess. It certainly is making a mockery of the first amendment, that is for sure.

Make-Believe

Donald Trump is going to die by his own hand. I think we’ve known this for a while.

Word is out that the Tomahawk strikes didn’t damage the runways of Al-Shayrat. Planes are still leaving from the base.

It’s turning out to be a rather expensive shot across the bow rather than a show of force.

But you wouldn’t know that by listening to President Numbnuts. He is satisfied with what was accomplished. A president wears many hats, and Trump has a construction helmet, complete with reflective vest, work boots and a spade in his collection. Check it-he’s an expert at public works:

“The reason you don’t generally hit runways is that they are easy and inexpensive to quickly fix (fill in and top)!”

When did you find that out- the last time you bombed a runway?

Donald, let me stop you at the word “reason”. I’ve been watching you for a bit now, and reasons and explanations are not your strong suit. I am no public works expert either, nor am I versed well in the destructive capabilities of our armaments. But I am pretty sure a thousand pound warhead makes a crater somewhat bigger than the ones you and I occasionally run over when we drive. Furthermore, a jet takes off at a rather high speed and I’m guessing that “filling and topping” is not something that can be done quickly or haphazardly. If I remember right, it took a few months, and a lot of concentrated resources and people to fix Baghdad International after we strafed it in 2003.

To wit: Tomahawks don’t make potholes. And a plane is not a car. Trump seems to think that a few shovelfuls of hot gravel is all it takes. Perhaps he has seen a hole in a road being repaired in Manhattan getting “filled and topped” from his limousine and drew an analogy. Adorable.

The Near-President needs to shut the fuck up. Desperate to spin the narrative of this story, he’s made a jackass out of himself yet again by injecting his moronic Twitter commentary into a very serious situation.

Surprise!

 

The New Pollution

I haven’t posted since the inauguration. I am trying to keep my cool, but it’s getting harder every day. My wife has a conniption at least once a day over something he’s signed or something he’s decreed, and I’m still in “wait and see” mode. She doesn’t understand why I’m not more upset or distressed about the new shit coming from the White House.

I’m probably having the wrong reaction. I didn’t panic on election night, until 2:30AM when the blue wall in the north fell and Pennsylvania went to Trump. She knew something was wrong when Virginia was too close to call-a race which stayed that way for about four hours.

So I have decided that I may be suffering a crisis in my ability to judge. Trump’s victory has broken me, in a way; I still can’t believe it happened. He was even less qualified to lead than Ben Carson, and those of you who have been with me a minute surely understand how unqualified I thought Donald Trump was when I say that. It never occurred to me that the old bozo fraud would somehow distinguish himself as a leader. He never did, and still has not and never will, to be truthful-but Republicans will buy anything, especially when Donald became the physical manifestation of the id of every racist, sexist, homophobic flag worshipping pasty-white Christian dominionist shitheel across this once great land. We were truly at our worst when we brought this monstrosity to power. Oh sure, Donald’s hate and imbecilic patriotic posturing did not win him the election. The October Surprise Of October Surprises from the FBI, the drip-drip-drip of Julian Assange’s Russian-backed email leaks, and a new generation already weary of half-measure Democratic party policy even though it was their first election certainly did much to ensure that a soup and sandwich combo from Panera might be President rather than the hopelessly compromised Hillary Clinton.

And Hillary Clinton was a damn good candidate. Fuck each and every one of you who left her high and dry. I’m not interested in your reasons. You allowed this…this thing, whatever it turns out to be, into high office because you couldn’t have all the marbles, so you chose none. You folded your arms in front of your chest and decided to let it burn, in the hopes that if voters would see how bad it got under a Trump, they’d choose the left-wing savior they dreamt of next time around. Well, I have less faith in the American public than that. George W.Bush got two terms, and he racked up 60, 000 some-odd casualties in a war of attrition in the Middle East. So who the fuck knows what America’s mindset will be come 2018 and 2020, really. You breath-holding lefties don’t have a clue what comes next. And I’m one of you assholes too. You shit the bed and I know you won’t take responsibility for it, anymore than semi-sane Republicans will admit that they elected a fascist.

I had plans to write something else, but this must have had to come first. I’ll be around soon. Peace, kiddies.

 

 

 

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