Perhaps There Is Reason for Optimism

Galaxies, constellations, solar systems, stars, and planets go round and round and round in their gravitational grooves. Days are born to die, to dawn, to die, to dawn, time and time, again and again.

Yang 陽: Tribalism is brain stem stuff: Tar Heel, Blue Devil, Tyger, Tyger[1] A twig snaps; adrenalin pumps. My Territory. My Toy. My Girl.[2]   My Generation.[3] Godzilla demands that parking space. Brainstem stuff.

Life yearns to be. The lowly weed cracks through concrete in the dying strip shopping center off Folly Road. That weed feeds on the CO2 of the homeless man who instinctively dodges it with his shopping cart. Yin

Ayahuasca Shaman by Paul Heussenstamm

Ayahuasca Shaman by Paul Heussenstamm

A millennium from now, in the Amazon, ringed round a fire, Sons of the Wind tell of a time when the jungle was dying and silver birds were flying overhead buzzing with water rising and the white ghosts sighing into tiny blinking talk boxes but how Tucano chased them away with the sun itself . . .

Again and again, time and time, dawn to die, gravitational grooves, round and round, planets and stars and solar systems and galaxies.

[1] Burning bright in the darkness of the night . . .

[2] Talking ‘bout my girl, my girl.

[3] P-p-p-people try to put us down.

FOX Been Out-Foxed by FOX

shapeimage_2

Note: This post was originally published 30 November 2011

I won’t try to fool you,” he says. “You’s too smart fer me. Aint a man in dis town kin keep up wid you fer smartness. You fools a man whut so smart he cant even keep up wid hisself,” he says [. . .] “Who’s that?” I says. “Dat’s Mr Jason Compson,” he says.

Old Man Job to Jason Compson in Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury

Certainly, FOX News deserves beaucoups of blame for the transformation of the Republican Party from a formidable network of conservative rationalists into a rabble of reactionaries drunk on rotgut rotbrain ideology, a corrosive concoction that destroys frontal lobes with meth-like dispatch.

Who would have guessed that 160 years after the publication The Origin of the Species the majority of candidates for the Republican nomination wouldn’t believe in evolution? That 66 years after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki the Party of Eisenhower would reject science and claim that contrary to the readings of finely calibrated instruments, global warming is a liberal conspiracy.

cp8205_Atomic Bomb explosion

What are the odds of an honest, rational person garnering the Republic nomination? I’d say probably about the same as Pol Pot receiving a posthumous Nobel Peace Prize.

Pol Pot's Cambodian Legacy

Pol Pot’s Cambodian Legacy

Let’s imagine a fiscal conservative with impeccable credentials and an exemplary personal life running for the Republican nomination. Let’s say he’s a learned man, an eclectic but deep reader, and based on reason, he has come to reject the concept that God Almighty ordained the founding of our country and because we are exceptional, we are exempt from the rules governing lesser nation states.

Our candidate’s conception of a divine being presupposes that the deity is rational. Certainly, if an omniscient creator god (one-third-Jesus) wanted to Christianize the New World, he could have orchestrated the transformation in less lethal ways. E.g., why not anoint a Native American prophet with a vision of the Truth instead of having Europeans (those relentless persecutors of Yahweh’s Chosen Ones) commandeer the continent, exterminate the natives, and institute human slavery so the righteous could build that shining city on a hill?

And let’s say our candidate appears on Sean Hannity’s show, and Sean asks our candidate if he believes in American Exceptionalism, and our candidate, being honest, answers with what he considers to be the truth.

“No, I don’t,” he says, “not completely.”

Hannity goes haywire. “Name one country that is better than the USA!”

Our candidate offers what he considers an unassailable example of a non-American culture with a more admirable morality. He might say something like that from 1776 – 1950 Tibet was infinitely more “Christian” than the United States.*


*In defense of our imaginary candidate, I submit Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Median as Exhibit A


Painting by Charles Schreyvogel

Painting by Charles Schreyvogel

Here’s what would happen in the above scenario. Rather than engaging our candidate in a debate, countering his arguments with rational ones of his own, Hannity would scream “You mean to say that you don’t believe America is the greatest country the world has ever known!!!!????” incessantly in his face.

Later, the producers would edit the footage into its most devastatingly succinctly seditious deliciousness, and a babble of blonde anchorwomen, taking nothing for granted re. their viewers’ intelligence, would, like so many harpies, screech over and over and over again that our candidate hates America, that our candidate blames America first. We’re talking ad nauseum for days and days, the footage now appearing in ads, our candidate sharing a split screen with Fidel Castro.

James Braun: Harpy

James Braun: Harpy

Forget it, imagined candidate. The FOX News voters have just scratched you off their lists. Their minds have been narrowed in the relentless vice of reactionary propaganda. Repeating Roger Ailes’s talking points like parrots at barbecues, they’ve never tuned into the NewsHour, witnessed John Yoo and Alan Dershowitz argue diametrically opposed views in measured tones. Never really heard a credible opposing argument.

What does the rest of the unexceptional civilized world think of the Republican Party? Here’s a snippet from Der Spiegel via Harper’s Scott Horton’s translation:

Africa is a country. The Taliban rule in Libya. Muslims are terrorists. Immigrants are mostly criminals, Occupy Wall Street protesters are always dirty. And women who claim to have been sexually molested should kindly keep quiet.”

Welcome to the wonderful world of the Republican Party. Or rather: to the distorted world of its presidential campaign. For months it has coiled through the country like a traveling circus, from debate to debate, from scandal to scandal, contesting the mightiest office in the world — and nothing is ever too unfathomable for them… These eight presidential wannabes are happy enough not only to demolish their own reputations but also that of their party, the once worthy party of Abraham Lincoln.

They are also ruining the reputation of the United States. They lie, deceive, scuffle and speak every manner of idiocy. And they expose a political, economic, geographic and historical ignorance compared to which George W. Bush sounds like a scholar. Even the party’s boosters are horrified by the spectacle…

So now that FOX has successfully convinced hordes of non-critical thinkers that what’s good for the Murdock and Koch families is good for them (low taxes for the rich, the dismantlement of the EPA), it has become virtually impossible for anyone who disagrees with the FOX party line to gain the nomination.* How else to explain the Vaudevillian ridiculousness of the current crop of clowns vying to lead the most powerful nation on Earth?

Pinballing from work to the grocery store to the sports bar, we’re probably too distracted to appreciate fully how frighteningly farcical these Republican candidates actually are.

 

The Full Fellini

Adelson, who makes Trimalchio look refined, turned Ted Cruz away from his suite after Ted's traitorous speech

Adelson, who makes Trimalchio look refined, turned Ted Cruz away from his suite after Ted’s traitorous speech

After a rather ho-hum Tuesday night at the Republican convention, Wednesday night proved to absolutely captivating theater, a Roman spectacle worthy of the great Italian film director Federico Fellini.

Adelson's luxury suite

Adelson’s luxury suite

Besides pyramid schemers and dowdy astronauts, the speakers included, and I present them with the sobriquets The Donald bestowed upon them during the primary campaign:

Dopey Scott Walker

Scott-Walker-800x430

 

“The simple truth is liberal Washington insiders created these problems. And Hillary Clinton is the ultimate liberal Washington insider. If she were any more on the inside, she’d be in prison.”

 

Little Marco Rubio

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“She planted the seeds for the disaster we now know as Obamacare. She was an ultra-liberal senator and a reliable vote for crony capitalism, Wall Street bailouts, middle-class tax hikes and out of control government spending.”

 

Lyin’ Ted Cruise

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“And to those listening, please, don’t stay home in November. Stand, and speak, and vote your conscience, vote for candidates up and down the ticket who you trust to defend our freedom and to be faithful to the Constitution.”

 

Second son Eric Trump

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“Wow. Wow. Good evening, Cleveland. Wow. It is such an honor to be here for a man I love so, so, so so much. That’s my father.”

 

 

Newt and Callista Gingrich

Callista-Newt-Gingrich-AARshoot_edit

 

“To paraphrase Ted Cruz if you want to protect the constitution this fall the only possible choice is Trump/Pence.”

 

 

And, finally, Mike Pence (who if he had opposed Trump in the primary would no doubt be known as “Beady-Eyed” Mike).

pence_058_020415

“For those of you who don’t know me — which is most of you — I grew up on the front row of the American dream. My grandfather immigrated to this country. I was raised in a small town in southern Indiana, in a big family with a cornfield in the backyard. Although we weren’t really a political family, the heroes of my youth were President John F. Kennedy and the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.”

 

Unlike Walker and Rubio, who swallowed their pride and forgot about earlier Trumpian aspersions and voiced support for the nominee, Cruz seemed to resent having Trump call him a liar, his wife ugly, and his father a conspirator in the JFK assassination. He more or less told the convention not to vote for Trump.  This colossal snub elicited a mob-screech of displeasure from the delegates.  Poor Mrs. Cruz had to be escorted out by security for protection, and Sheldon Adelson turned Cruz away when he tried to enter his luxury suite (see above).

Of course, the featured speaker Pence became a mere footnote as he dutifully filled the arena with blandishments.

Oh where have you gone. Federico Fellini, a nation turns its late empire eyes to you!

Film_747w_Satyricon_original

 

My Imaginary Comical Sidekick

Imaginary Comical sidekick

Skeeter, my imaginary comical sidekick,

Is much older than me –

60-something,

short, wiry,

with requisite grizzled grey beard,

tangled shoulder-length hair.

***

Actually, he’s as bald

as a turtle’s egg on top,

So he sleeps in his sweat-stained 10-gallon Stetson,

And, of course, his snoring is

wheezily musical.

***

Imaginary comical sidekicks

Are easier to care for than pets.

Because of their invisibility,

You can take them anywhere.

***

On the Metro,

Because he’s invisible,

Skeeter gets sat on a lot.

When some disaffected, slouching

Teen with earbugs plops down,

Skeeter never fails to let loose

a screedy torrent of whispery

G-rated cussin’:

Dagnabbit,

Whippersnapper!

Golly bum!

Watch where you’re sitting!

Ain’t you got no

Consideration?

Pipsqueak!

***

On rainy Saturdays,

We hang out watching old Westerns,

Hopalong Cassidy and Gabby Hayes,

Roy and Dale and Pat Brady —

“Pat’s about as funny as Tonto”,

Skeeter says, and “Tonto’s about

As funny as small pox,” I say —

And we sing together as one,

“Yippy-tie-yo-tie-yay.”

Day 1 of the 2016 Republican Convention

Republican convention day 1

This morning’s Post and Courier’s headline reads “GOP vows to unite America,” which I think is a noble and necessary aspiration, but how are they going to accomplish this difficult task in a nation so polarized?

Certainly, the New Testament might be a good place to start given its message to love thy neighbor as thyself, so obviously the opening prayer would be an excellent place to begin the unification process.

So, hit it, Pastor Mark Burns:

Hello, Republicans! I’m Pastor Mark Burns from the great state of South Carolina! I’m gonna pray and I’m gonna give the benediction. And you know why? Because we are electing a man in Donald Trump who believes in the name of Jesus Christ. And Republicans, we got to be united, because our enemy is not other Republicans – but is Hillary Clinton and the Democratic Party.

Okay, so Hillary Clinton is not a “sister” but an enemy. Got it.

So, let’s hear from Darryl Glenn, the Republican candidate for Senator, addressing the convention a few hours after the Colorado delegation walked off the convention floor in anger.

This President ran to be Commander-in-Chief. Unfortunately, he’s become “Divider-in-Chief”.

We’re more racially divided today than before he ran.

But there’s more.

The New Black Panthers, Jessie Jackson and Al Sharpton don’t speak for black America.

This is not about black America, white America or brown America, this is about the United States of America.

Mr. President here’s (sic) the facts.

Neighborhoods have become more violent under your watch.

Your rhetoric has a direct impact on the relationship between communities and the police.

We can bring this country together.

Excuse me, Darryl Glenn. Here are the facts:

ObamasNumbers-2015-Q4

Okay, I’m going to skip Scott Baio and Patricia Smith (who said “I blame Hillary Clinton for the death of my son”)[1], Rudy Giuliani, the “lock her up chants” from the delegates, and go to the one speech that wasn’t full of rancor, Melania Trump’s. As they say, a YouTube video is worth 45 words:


[1] No wonder John Kerry didn’t win the presidency. Imagine the truckloads of mothers who could have taken the stage and blamed George W Bush for the deaths of their sons and daughters in Iraq.

melania poster

Tips for Aspiring Fiction Writers

 

blind date

  1. Marry someone rich.
  1. The secret is making readers care about your characters — whether they love or hate them. I suggest rather than making characters up “out of whole cloth,”[1] you should base them on celebrities. For example, let’s say you want to write about a gay/straight-double-blind-date-from-hell. Throw together a Charlie Sheen character dating an Ann Coulter character who are setting up a Scott Baio character with a Chris Hayes protagonist.[2] [See above illustration]
  1. Life is a cliché; don’t avoid clichés (unless you’re writing porn).
  1. Speaking of porn, don’t describe sex scenes unless you’re writing erotica, and if you’re writing erotica, you’re even more obsolescent than Henry Miller’s typewriter. Why read Tropic of Cancer when you can watch Ultra Kinky 79 on your computer?
  1. Be careful with the point-of-view. Even stupid readers can sometimes detect point-of-view violations, and they’ll mock you in a way you don’t want a stupid person mocking you.
  1. There’s a only a two lane highway between being ungrammatical and stiffly precise. Go ahead, split infinitives, go with the vernacular, but don’t dangle those goddamned modifiers, like, like, “While watching Ultra Kinky 79, the pizza burned.”
  1. When you receive rejection slips, just remember that what you wrote probably sucks even more than the tripe you can’t believe gets published, like the flat unmusical navel-gaze of the typical New Yorker poem. [3]
  1. If you’re a dedicated teacher, you’re not going to have time write fiction (see tip #1).
  1. Don’t go out and live an exciting Hemingway-like life.   Rather, like Flannery O’Connor, pay attention in the waiting room.
  1. Marry someone rich.

 

[1] If you don’t know this phrase it means you don’t read nearly enough.

[2] If you don’t know who Chris Hayes is, you’re not well-informed enough.

[3] Beware of bitterness.

 

yay-tropic-of-cancer-by-henry-miller-1324325463

 

Trump, the Tangerine Prince, Decides (Sort of)

 

The Tangerine Prince

The Tangerine Prince

Not surprisingly, I don’t have many Trump supporters on my Facebook feed, but I do have a few, and yesterday afternoon, a Facebook friend emblazoned his wall with TRUMP 2016!!!

The responses were, shall we say, divisive:

“Has your account been hacked?”

“Of the two available, he is the only one who will stand up against these Islamic murderers and defeat political correctness that has built the presidency over the last 8 years. I have no choice.”

The two party system is screwed!!! Those are NOT your only two choices!!! [Link to Johnson/Weld website]

Also [Trump’s] the only one for the 2nd Amendment. He has actually stated he would like to see a National right to carry. Hillary on the other hand has said she will use executive orders to make it much more difficult or impossible to own a gun.

[Sigh]

Anyone who thinks because Donald Trump lacks discretion, blusters, and blurts out whatever suddenly pops up in the tawdry casino of his imagination means that he will be a strong leader needs to look no further than his wishy-washy Hamlet-like[1] vacillation about whom to choose for his vice-presidential candidate, leaking that it was Pence, but then equivocating, but eventually opting for the Indiana governor an hour before Pence faced a deadline to file reelection papers. This inability to make up his mind underscores the fact that Trump is not a man of his convictions because he has no convictions. Take a peek at his various stances on abortion, or on Hillary Clinton for that matter, over the years. It’s as if he’s playing a game of Ping-Pong with himself, serving the ball and then rushing to the opposite end of the table to return it.

Sadly enough, the original Thursday press conference announcing Pence was pre-empted by the terrorist attack in Nice and the Saturday announcement overshadowed with the attempted coup in Turkey, two events that should give pause to anyone in a swing state thinking about throwing away a vote on Johnson or Jill Stein.

Anyway, Pence, who doesn’t believe in evolution nor that smoking kills, will, according to South Carolina Governor Nikki Haley, fix Washington, even though he had the chance when he spent 12 years there in the House of Representatives from 2001-2013, those glorious years which brought us the Iraqi War (which he supported) and the Great Recession, not to mention his views on gay rights, which correspond more closely to Ayatollah Sayyed Ali Hosseini Khamenei’s than to Pope Francis’s.

Pence, according to conventional wisdom, will bring a sense of seriousness to the Trump extravaganza, help win over hesitant evangelists.

Here’s a snippet from a 2009 interview with Chris Matthews:

MATTHEWS: I think you believe in evolution but you‘re afraid to say so because your conservative constituency might find that offensive.

PENCE: No, I‘ve said to you, Chris, I believe with all my heart that God created the heavens and the earth, the seas and all that is in them.

MATTHEWS: Right.

PENCE: How He did that, I‘ll ask him about some day.

As my spiritual advisor James T Crow might say, “Okay then.”


[1] If Hamlet were an anti-intellectual and was known as “the Tangerine Prince” instead of “the Inky Prince.”

Uh, Lord, would you mind answering a couple of questions about your methodology in creating the universe?

Uh, Lord, would you mind answering a couple of questions about your methodology in creating the universe?

The Travails of Translation

la-fg-nice-france-crash-20160714-snapNBC news perhaps has an opening for a French translator. Whoever broke the story on their website about the tragic incident of a terrorist slamming his truck into a crowd watching Bastille Day fireworks rendered the Mayor of Nice’s tweet of warning:

in English to read:

Dear nice, the driver of a truck appears to have made dozens of deaths. Stay for the moment to your home. More info to come.”

Obviously, the web workers were in a hurry.  Obviously, they fed the tweet through an on-line translator. Obviously, in light of the slaughter, complaining about a translation from French to English is petty — if not in bad taste.

However, I grew up on the National Lampoon.  I am a connoisseur of bad taste, so allow me to continue and offer this advice to anyone needing to quickly translate.  Render the awkward computer-generated translation into the vernacular.  You don’t need to know French to take the raw translation above to change the text to this:

Dear Citizens of Nice, a truck driver is reported to have inflicted dozens of deaths.  For now, stay home.  More info is to come.

Of course, the original tweet isn’t as specific as it might be.  The Major might have tweeted

It appears that someone has plowed a truck into a crowd, and he may be a terrorist, so stay home until further notice.

But for all I know the nuances of the French language would somehow subtly convey the nefariousness without having it literally spelled out, but chances are Mayor Estrosi was himself in a hurry, not weighing words, or even more likely, assigning the tweet to an underling.

[Sigh].  I fear this infectious mayhem isn’t going to cease anytime soon.  I fear that it will make us grow callous, that we’ll start to brush off the loss of individual human lives and start carping about minutia, as I have done here, albeit with half a tongue in half a cheek.

A Brief Peek at the Historic Lincoln-Trump Debate

cartoon debatepsd

 

Trump: I like Abe Lincoln. He’s a nice enough guy, though he’s ugly as homemade sin. What’s the matter with him? Does he have rickets or something? And that mole. Jesus. You think he’d have that thing removed. I’ve heard rumors about other causes of his abnormal physique, but we’re not going there. I can’t imagine a prostitute willing to sleep with someone that ugly, so I don’t believe the syphilis rumors. But then again, who knows?

Lincoln: MY FELLOW-CITIZENS: When a man hears himself somewhat misrepresented, it provokes him-at least, I find it so with myself; but when misrepresentation becomes very gross and palpable, it is more apt to amuse him. Alas, even Mr. Trump’s insults are inaccurate. Rickets causes stunted growth, and although I have been described as “thin as a beanpole and ugly as a scarecrow,” no one has ever accused me of being short.

Furthermore, Mr. Trump speaks as if he possesses the beauty of Adonis, but I suspect that neither one of us is going to win a beauty contest, so I suggest we turn the discussion to matters more concerning to our voters like the state of the economy and the challenges we face abroad.

Trump: Look the economy reeks as bad as the outhouse back behind the shanty Rickety Abe was born in. It stinks to high heaven. We’re going fix that. Let me tell you, people, I’ve made a lot of money, I know how to make money, I’m really, really smart. We have idiots running the country. That’s the problem. We don’t need a lawyer running the country. We need a businessman, let me tell you.

Lincoln: Although the economy is not roaringly robust, it has grown steadily, albeit modestly, for 72 straight months, and I need not thrash the dead horse of what led to the disastrous decline of ’08, the charlatan sham of trickle down economics enacted simultaneously with two disastrous wars. Cutting taxes while paying for armaments and raising an army, is not merely foolish, it’s deranged, yet Mr. Trump’s economic plan calls massive tax cuts for the wealthy and escalating our presence in the Middle East, a repetition of the disastrous policies of the past.

Trump: Let me assure you, Rickety Abe, that what I plan to do in the Middle East is not going to cost us much. I’m going Col. Kilgore on their asses from above. By the time my first term is over, they’ll be casinos and golf courses in Kandalar —

Lincoln [interrupting]: Kandalar is in Azerbaijan; don’t you mean Kandahar, which is Afghanistan? We certainly don’t want to be bombing one of our international friends –

Trump [interrupting]. Look, the man can’t even grow a decent beard. Look at him, a walking advertisement for birth control . . .

Deserts of Vast Eternity

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And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; . . .
Andrew Marvell

“Me, me, me me,” squeals the toddler, waving his arms.

“Watch me!” demands the nine-year-old wobbling off on his bike.

“Who me?” snarls the adolescent, feigning outrage.

“Will you marry me?” asks the suitor, dropping to one knee, reaching in his pocket for the diamond.

“I need some time and space for me,” says the wife frowning, her back turned, her arms folded across her chest.

‘Why me?” wonders the patient in the hospital gown as his oncologist points to the mass on the x-ray.

“I gotta be me,” croons fedora-sporting Sinatra, a fading memory, a voice very few living have heard live.

Frank-Sinatra-duets-ftr

Some argue rather narrowly that world only exists in perception, i.e., that if there were no you, there wouldn’t be a world. Well, yes and no. If I had been killed in that horrific wreck on Hilton Head in 1976, the Braves still would have lost the ’91 Series – though for my sons non-Harrison and non-Ned, there would be no world.

Nevertheless, given that wherever we are is the center of the circle of perception – despite the fact that we’re mere dots on a map of blurred dots – each dot forms the center of our universes, 7 billion centers of 7 billion universes projecting outward from Europe, Asia, the Pacific, South America, the circles intersecting, forming collectively what is, or, rather, what seems to be.

1292515425-nytimes-nashville-census-map-2010

As our world becomes more secular, the surety of eternal bliss dwindles among the populace. As in the pagan world of Beowulf, for many the only path to immortality is through fame, but which one of us would trade places with Frank Sinatra or Steve Jobs?

No, as one of Flannery O’Connor’s characters put it, “You can’t be any poorer than dead.”

Given that oblivion looms for so many of us, no wonder we seek attention, desire to be noticed. So we have our photograph taken next to the Mona Lisa. We publish blogs, post photographs of our evening meals on Facebook, purchase red Corvettes to counterbalance the drop in testosterone. We struggle to leave a mark, whether it be a novel of lasting value, a beautiful building, a cure, an estate.

All the while the invaluable moments dissipate unseen like heat waves from the floors of deserts.

Mike Theiss: Tumbleweed and Patterned, Cracked Desert Floor, and Nearby Mountains

Mike Theiss: Tumbleweed and Patterned, Cracked Desert Floor, and Nearby Mountains

The global village underscores our ultimate insignificance. Back in the mists of time, among the few of our tribal community, among the savannas or in the forests, we didn’t seek notoriety but subsumed ourselves in rituals. However, now, like the toddler, we seek attention to prove that we exist. Once we’ve been gone a hundred years most of us won’t leave a trace – except for whatever genetic tracings can be found in our descendants or any bones that might show up in an archeological dig or construction project.

The paradox is that despite endless silence that awaits us, what we really need here in time is silence. Time to think. Time to feel.

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