“Inc.” as in an effort is made here to bring new truths, not as in I’m in it for the money. I’ve never made a dime with this webzine, this blog, and I don’t expect I ever will. The Other Letter is a writing platform, my soapbox, my attempt to promote any talents as a screenwriter.
Here is a Table of Contents for today’s Other Letter:
Need something to do involving the outdoors? Then you’re in luck. Take a trip around the world without leaving your PC. Shut-ins welcome. Let’s hear it for shut-ins. Raise your hands, shut-ins.
One thing I do appreciate about the Christian Church is that they value life, above all else, above money, above prestige, and stature. The homeless, the downtrodden, have value, and why might that be? Jesus the Christ was effectively homeless, he did not have a permanent address. (I am not the Jewish hardliner, many may think I am.)
Do you know anyone from outer space? I thought so. Any travelers reading this today? Well, anyhow, here is the days until Spring (the Vernal Equinox), and the percentage of days with daylight hours less than today’s number of daylight hours (for the hemisphere having summer time).
September 23rd is the first day of Autumn this year, in the Norhtern Hemisphere. It is the first day of Spring in the Southern Hemisphere. On this day, every place on earth has an equal duration of sunshine. If you can imagine the Earth tilted, then at this time of year, the Sun’s rays are not angled any different, anywhere on the planet. During any other time of year, different latitudes have different heating effect of the Sun’s rays.
For instance, in Winter in the Northern Hemisphere, the Sun’s rays strike the Earth at an oblique angle, and are cooling, while in the Southern Hemisphere, they are far more direct, and are heat-producing.
Fall has become the predominant name of the season in America, while not very often in Britain, who generally call it Autumn. 9/21/24.
“Left alit is last.” The moon revolves past a full moon, then it goes towards the sunlit side of Earth, to become a last quarter moon, next a new moon, unseen on Earth. In this interval, from full moon to last quarter to new moon, the moon is alit on its left side, not its right side, as it does from new moon to first quarter to full moon.
In the Southern Hemisphere, left side and right side is reversed. Australians are essentially looking at the moon upside down. Left side alit is new moon, first quarter, full moon. Right side alit is full moon, last quarter, new moon. 7/26/24.
The summer solstice is fast approaching. This year it falls on the 20th of June. This is when the earth has its maximum tilt towards the sun. The longest day of this year in the Northern Hemisphere is June 20th, in the Southern Hemisphere it’s December 21st. In the nations of Europe, the summer solstice is known as midsummer, in others such as our own, it is known as the beginning of summer. 6/14/24.
Earth Day is April 22nd. Why not celebrate with a non-biodegradable clamshell lunch container, farmed seafood, and a dairy cow burger? Mother Nature just winked at you, it’s on the house. Be a litter bug, we dare you... 4/17/24.
Even though Mother Nature has been suffering of late (who hasn’t noticed climate change these days?), we can all do our part to reverse the decline. Take public transportation, don’t drive a gas-guzzler, drive a low or no pollution car, eat sustainable food, and never litter.
Support political candidates who back the same principles as you, ones that recognize climate change as a real issue that can be remediable by legislative restrictions on pollution. 4/20/24.
Moving path of totality is determined by Sun, Moon, or Earth. Well, the Sun doesn’t move, and the moon doesn’t move appreciably over an hour, it revolves around the earth once in twenty-eight days. The Earth revolves on its axis once every twenty-four hours, so the Earth accounts for the path of totality, the traciing of the shadow...
There were more planes flying overhead than usual, probably because the best place to see the eclipse would be by plane, at least if the skies were overcast, because you would be flying above the clouds. Fortunately, they were not so overcast on Long Island during the day of the eclipse. 4/8/24.
Long Island had two mild earthquatkes today. The most recent, eleven minutes ago, at approximately 6PM and twenty seconds. God has a schedule to keep? The first centered in Lebanon, New Jersey, and registered 4.8 on the Richter Scale (did the second originate from Jersey at exactly 6:00PM?) Someone on the radio remarked about the eeriness of a full solar eclipse preceded by an earthquake. 4/05/24.
There will be a full solar eclipse of the Sun by the Moon, on Monday, April 8th, 2024. The path of eclipse totality begins in Dallas at 2:42PM (adjust scroll bar of link for time and path of totality), and continues through Eastern Canada around 3:38PM.
I remember the last solar eclipse, in August of 2017. The air cooled off temporarily — with the sun’s rays blocked, that can be expected; and birds suddenly flyed around, as if confused.
Please do not view this solar eclipse without glasses specifically manufactured to view solar eclipses (like astronomy company, Celestron, sells — I do not get paid for any Other Letter recommendations). 3/12/24.
A saros is the periodicity of a solar eclipse (an eclipse cycle), or when a full solar eclipse returns to a single location. The Sun, Moon, and Earth, return to the same location after one saros. This duration is eighteen years, and ten, eleven, or twelve days. 3/15/24.
2024 is a leap year. This February has 29 days, not the usual 28. Every four years is a leap year, every hundred years is not a leap year, and every four hundred years is a leap year. Everyone got that? Good.
[This is a reprise of an article I wrote several years ago.] The stars comprising the Winter constellation, Orion’s Belt are Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. These stars are 825.7, 1,359.0, and 918.8 light years from Earth, respectively. A light year is the distance light travels in one year at the speed of light (186,000 miles per second).
In other words, when you see Orion in the night sky, the photons that your retina senses, left the Constellation of Orion in Medieval times, in the years 1,199AD, 665AD, and 1,106AD, respectively. In a sense, you’re seeing history, cosmic history, before your eyes.
This is not really refutable — the extrapolation is simply based on well-established numerical constants — although almost impossible to believe. If those three stars were much closer, say 50ly away, then the light photons would have left in 1974, which sounds much more plausible. As a light source emanates from a point, it spreads wider, eventually dissipating in lumninosity. Radial light diminishes in intensity (to darkness) over distance traveled, doesn’t it, yes?
The point being, these stars might be much closer than the 4,839,199,200,000,000 miles of the nearest one, when Alnitak distance from Earth is computed to be:
825 light years X 365 days per year X 24 hours per day X 60 minutes per hour X 60 seconds per minute X 186,000 miles per second = 4,839,199,200,000,000 milesas determined by a light year of 186,000 miles per second. This makes space travel to distant civilizations much more possible.
Of course, I might be wrong about the stars being closer than thought before, but I don’t see how. The Inquisition tried to prohibit Copernicus’ conclusion that the Sun did not revolve around the Earth, but vice versa. I just hope there isn’t an auto-da-fé in my future for judging a conclusion about the Heavens as heresy.
This is a seperate conjecture: How did Einstein arrive at 186,000 miles per second as the speed of light, before there were even refrigerators, let alone sophisticated astronomical equipment. I turn on the light to a room, and I can sense that the light from the light bulb cannot travel anyhwere near that fast.
I am probably wrong, but his estimate for the speed of light sounds far, far too fast. If Einstein’s determination of the speed of light is overestimated, and the light year determinations are held constant, than the constellations are much closer than originally perceived to be.
Speaking of a new, scientific possibility judged heresy, is nuclear energy even possible? Can the most fundamental unit of solid matter like uranium be split in two? Are there vast amounts of energy in small amounts of matter as the mass-energy equivalence maxim would dictate?
Yet only uranium could be used to harness the potential of this property, not potatoes? Potatoes also have atoms. At room temperature, you’d think that they possess similar kinetic energy. A hot potato maybe hotter than uranium, yet I digress.
When Einstein wrote his Generalized Theory of Relativity, WWI, the war of the trenches, was well under way. The casualties were catastrophic. If a petrifying, super-weapon existed, there would be no more war. Annihilation would be certain. This mass-energy equivalence implied the existence of this horrifying super-weapon. Otherwise, Hiroshima and Nagasaki amounted to Dresden fire-bombing.
Regardless, if atom-splitting is possible, then Long Island’s Shoreham nuclear power plant should have easily been built. My theory, is that if you connect a light bulb at the output line of a nuclear plant, it will stay dim. Nuclear energy projects are boondoggles. One more point, Russia has the nuclear bomb, what is stopping them from leveling the Ukraine. All’s fair in war, or are there gradations of war? But what do I know, I just write a blog that gets ten readers a day...
One more aside, before the men in white coats (or navy blue jackets) arrive, endeavor today is predicated on money, making a buck. Could Einstein have created wild theories, in part, to publicize his findings, and thus buttress his career in academia? This may sound so disingenuous, and heartless, but hey, ultimatley, aren’t we all in it for a buck? Economics is called the dismal science, see why? Guess what I majored in at the Brook?
Movie Business Case Study: Oh, Carl.
Year of Release: 1992.
Genre: Regional Fare.
Locale: Upstate New York in a town called Whiteness.
Premise: An office secretary named Doris Deuce works at a car dealership, and dreams of getting back at her Jewish bosses for telling her to work the occasional weekend when the African American calls in sick. The Black woman, who will work weekends, without pay differential, is named Ebony Honey. Honey is an equal opportunity hire from Western New York. Staff calls her the “import.” After Doris meets Carl (he would often just drop into the dealership to chat with staff) they both plot to end all Jewish ownership in Whiteness, and beyond. Doris becomes Mayor Deuce in a landslide promising the return, and upgrade, of old-fashioned upstate values, such as much greater availability of maple syrup in restaurants, groceries, and package stores. The film ends with Doris and Carl, Nazi-saluting a stand of maple trees.
Credited Screenwriter: Doris LaDeuce, who was in fact a Nazi, ran for the Governor’s office in Montana, but did not win.
Film Commentary: Oh, Carl was a bit odd in that it showed Nazism in a very favorable light, with the Black character actress getting fired — after a campaign by Deuce — for looking at Doris menacingly; and the entire staff of the car dealership applauding as Ebony left for the last time.
Business Commentary: This movie, whlle never winning any awards, did much more than modest business across the Midwest, where, in limited distribution, it opened to 700 screens in forty markets. Gate exceeded $50 million. First Release: July 10th, 1992. Re-release: November 23rd, 1992. Cable: HBO carried this in moderate rotation, for eight weeks from January 2nd, 1993 to March 4th, 1993.
These are not dictionary definitions (although I did borrow from Dictionary.com and Merriam-Webster), these are just words that are not often heard, and they have unusual connotations.
Here are three words that you do not hear very often that are mostly synonymous with Heaven: Xanadu; Shangri-la, Eden, Arcadia, land of milk and honey, Promised Land, and Valhalla. A svengali, a swami, a guru, or a yogi, will supposedly get you there. I’d stick instead with good workouts.
Buzz-kill, killjoy, wet blanket, partypooper, and spoil-sport, all denote someone, who out of spite, from the lack of amusement in their life, ruins others’ fun. A sourpuss doesn’t have any fun, although they don’t necessarily work at stealing other’s good times.
Ersatz, schlocky, schmaltz, and kitsch, denote fake, subpar, overly sentimental, and appealing to the lowest common denominator, respectively.
A cancer, a tumor, an afflction, a predator, a tick, and a leech, can be used to describe people who prey on the unsuspecting and innocent.
Provincials, locals, and townies, describe unsophisticated, uncouth yokels, who have never left Long Island, and never will.
Grating, abrasive, biting, and irritating, denote overly aggressive behavior, causing ill.
Various subcultures possess their own language, their own phraseology. These are known as patois, jargon, argot, cant, vernacular, and lingo, as in: “Musicians have their own lingo.” Generally speaking, they mean a language particular to a group, or class of people. Another example, the argot of hard-nose Wall Street, includes phrases like the dead cat bounce (aka a sucker rally), or a slight rebound of a moribund company’s stock.
Here are words to describe a lack of ability to do cognitive tasks: daft; half-wit; moronic; imbecilic; and retarded.
Hodgepodge, jumble, and chock-a-block all denote arranging things in a crammed, or haphazard fashion.
Mumbo-jumbo, gobbledygook, and hogwash, denote meaningless talk.
Shenanigans, high jinks, and monkey business, all describe mischief, or conduct that causes annoyance.
There’s the “GR” family of words: grisly; gruesome; grim; grief; gravesite; graveyard; gravestone; and gravedigger. That’s some family. Never mind.
Disheartening, discouraging, and demoralizing all denote something or someone causing loss of hope, or depriving one of spirit.
Hubris is roughly synonymous with: audacity, chutzpah, cockiness, pretension, and vanity.
Brio, zeal, zest, gusto, and verve, denote hearty enjoyment.
Here’s three words you don’t see so often, yet they say much: cognoscenti, illuminati, and literati. Literati describes people involved in writing, especially professionally. Illuminati means those possessing great enlightenment. Cognescenti describes those with superior understanding of culture, or the arts. [I apologize for all the disruption caused earlier by the untested, former-latter grammatic structure. I’m serious — kinda.]
The townies, the locals, and the provincials, arrived with their pitchforks, torches, and shotguns. They had one thing on their mind: Maintain the status quo over the one some were calling god, the one with big ideas.
These are several words, which are more interesting in describing lazy people, than just a word like loafer. Lollygagger, lazybones, and another word near in meaning to lackadaisical, is lounge about.
These are adjectives describing people or actions that are cruel: evil, diabolical, and sinister, as well as nasty, vicious, and wicked. Here are words describing large-scale acts of viciousness: carnage, ambush, bloodshed, war, and massacres.
Hoity-toity means thoughtless giddy behavior, namby-pamby and mickey mouse denotes lacking substance, pasty-white typically denotes pale skin tone. Exercise for the reader: Define “namby-pamby, hoity-toity, pasty-white”?
Attribution: Although I am trilingual (actually quadrilingual, I speak Navajo),
the four translations here, are provided by translate.google.com.
The Other Letter, Inc. gets fifteen visitors a day. The only ones worldwide, privvy to the truth.
Si no quiere que su hijo lea esto, existen aplicaciones de control parental para bloquear sitios web.
Si vous ne souhaitez pas que votre Junior lise ceci, il existe des applications de contrôle parental pour bloquer les sites Web..
If you don’t want your Junior to read this, there are parental control apps to block websites.
Plu noot gruw den ulda tak den noot eur grav pic, noot prud, noot nakt cee est de wist.
I am an adult, and although I write for adults, this may or may not appeal to those not yet adults. This is not my responsiblity to police who reads my blog (all fifteen of you, according to my web host). I am near violently implored to make this safe for teens, but not write to attract teens. That’s the thinking of those who want this Lefty blog banned.
I keep hearing that there is a hypothetical, freak-out teen, who reads this and grows hair on his palms. If this is your teen, you dropped the ball in not blocking my website with parental controls, not me. If I were you, I would clamp down, I mean seriously clamp down, on teens reading pornography. There is some awfully perverted sh*t out there, but you don’t give a damn, you only want to bust my chops...
If you don’t want your Junior to read this, there are parental control apps to block websites.
Some of the articles in this web log of personal experience are G-rated, some would be R-rated by certain cohorts, but mostly this is PG, without parental guidance, the site may be too adult for teenagers. There is never any porn, although I have posted pictures of cleavage in my Pantheon of Hollywood Women. I do not approve of substance abuse, I am a child of the Sixties, I have seen the damage done.
I will say from the outset, Republicans may not like this site at all, because I am a registered, lifelong Democrat, and I want my party’s candidates to be elected to office. I have complimented Republicans, but not nearly as often as Republicans reading would hope.
Christians may not like this website as well, because I have a literal interpretation of the Bible. I have discussed this in detail before: The Gospel According to Saint Luke, Chapter 24:39,41, states that Christ is “of flesh and blood,” and asking, “have you here any meat,” post-Crucifixion. Jesus the Christ is not a spirit. This does not sit well with many Christians, even though this is straight from the Holy Bible. In my estimation, Christ is a good philosopher, but not an immortal. That’s my belief, you have your belief.
Anyhow, read something else, if this is not your interest. You can block your teenagers from reading any website with parental controls. Parents should have parental controls anyhow to block pornography, which is far worse than reading about Trump’s Muslim ban.
Sexy trumps sex here, tawdry just sucks.
Si no quiere que su hijo lea esto, existen aplicaciones de control parental para bloquear sitios web.
Si vous ne souhaitez pas que votre Junior lise ceci, il existe des applications de contrôle parental pour bloquer les sites Web..
If you don’t want your Junior to read this, there are parental control apps to block websites, including pornography.
Plu noot gruw den ulda tak den noot eur grav pic, noot prud, noot nakt cee est de wist.
“Have a seat.”
“Where?”
“Is the one behind you okay?”
“Taylor, I have issues with you. First off, we all know you as the b*tch that could. You’re the darkest cat in all of music. Mean and hungry. You’re unflappable, too, but you bend over backwards for the press.”
“Okay, we’re off to a fast start. Shoot.”
“Your latest album, I cannot even remember the name of it.”
“Tortured Poets Department?”
“What gives? I don’t get it. Who’s tortured — poets, why? Why are poets being tortured, and I don’t know about it?! Why!!”
“Well, it’s fictional. That’s why you haven’t heard of the department name in the newspapers.”
“So you’re tortured? Be more explicit, please. You’re throwing everyone off with this title. Who’s torturing you? Is it someone I know, or should know? I do like torturing everyone. I may start torturing you, if you don’t watch it. Just remember Mephistopheles is running this department.”
“Well, I thought of the title, and we ran it by a focus group, and they liked it as well.”
“I’m really not interested. Now, the reviews have been middling, no, awful, may I quote?”
“Okay, go—”
“‘Worst Swift album since your debut, Taylor Sings Lounge Crooner Standards.’”
“I never dropped that album.”
“Let’s cut the crap. Your job is to stay in the limelight, is it not?”
“I try to keep a good public image, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then, here’s what we do. We tie one on. I mean epic tie one on. I mean near stomach pump from alcohol poisoning.”
“Who’d want that?”
“You would. Now, I did my research. You drive a Continental.”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go drinking. You wrap that beauty ’round a tree. Come out of the wreck, staggering, but with a smile. That photo of that moment makes the cover of every newspaper in the World. Then, you give some little spiel about drinking, and driving, to the press. What do you say?”
“I say no to you, drinking to excess, even going out drinking. I’m not much of a drinker anyhow. And I’m not a paparazzi seeker. And, and, I wouldn’t emerge smiling from a car wreck. You’re a madman.”
“Hands up against the wall, Swift!”
“You’re a cop?!”
“I said, hands against the wall.”
“I’m clean!”
“I am Satan, I enjoy telling mortals what to do.”
“I am Taylor, I have free will.”
“I am Satan, I bully, I’m bossy, I ride, taunt, make life extremely difficult. I contradict. I antagonize. I instigate. I terrorize.”
“That’s some rap sheet.”
“No, this is where you’re so wrong. That’s some curriculum vitae.”
“That’s not a C.V., Satan, that’s bad karma, at best.”
“Let me tell you what you’re doing wrong. Everything. Let’s start with your catsuit on stage, tramp wear, I call it.”
“This is what dancers wear in the theater.”
“Who do you think you are — a dancer?”
“You’re giving me a major headache. My manager said this interview would give me a new, market segment.”
“Wrong again, has-been.”
“I’ve had tough crowds before, but—”
“Mephistopheles has you under his spell.”
“No, you really don’t.”
“Swift, I have you cornered... Hmm, you didn’t flinch.”
“I still have home field advantage.”
“Who plays that?”
“Van Halen.”
“Oh, that one. I don’t play any Van Halen covers.”
“Okay. Does not play Van Halen covers. And you still call yourself a musician?”
“I do.”
“Calls herself a musician. Hmm.”
“I’ve been practicing most of my iife.”
“I shall riddle you this, Batgirl.””
“Hmm? Oh, okay, Batgirl, at least you’re getting a little warmer.”
“Okay, Batgirl. My son, Damien, is in the audience. He starts convulsing, because he’s just playing a joke on you. Now, you don’t realize it’s a joke. Do you stop your show, and come to his aid?”
“Yes.”
“No, you didn’t hear me, he’s Damien, he’s the son of Satan. He wears all black, cornrows, smoking a joint. Do you come to his aid?”
“Yes, I would.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You’d spot an usher. You’d point to Damien with your index finger, and throw your thumb over your shoulder. Understood? Again, this is what you would do. You would not stop the show, and seek medical attention for Damien.”
“No, I would seek medical attention for Damien.”
“BUT HE IS THE F*CKING ANTICHRIST OKAY? YOU LIKE EVIL THEN, ADMIT IT, YOU LIKE EVIL!!!”
“But he came to see my show. He is a fan of mine, Satan.”
“You let evil enjoy your show?”
“Well, my music doesn’t cater to evil.”
“Go to hell, Swift, go to hell!! You’re EVIL!!!”
“That was a loaded, trick question, wasn’t it? But if someone gets violently ill, I would stop the show for them, your son, or anyone else. If they were faking needing an ambulance, the crowd would get so P.O.’d the attention-grabber would have to leave early, and forfeit a three-hundred-dollar ticket. A good time is had by all, Satan. I’m SRO—standing room only.”
“Okay, the deal is this. I have a business proposition for you. Join me on the dark side, and rake in not only money, but power over pop-lovers everywhere. And I do not have the time for pop nonsense, pop queens, got it? Change your name to Petunia Mellowstock, because [ring, ring] — get this call — where’s my cell phone? Oh, holy—yes? Who the—”
“I am God, you leave Taylor alone, do you hear me?”
“No, I’m deaf.”
“Check the caller ID.”
“The. Caller. ID. Hmm, eh-oh. My phone says the caller is ‘GOD,’ God?! Is this some kind of wicked joke? If it is, I want in. Who the—”
“Go back to your den, Beelzebub, devil in chief — now!”
“No, no way. What are you going to do about that, God?... I’m on fire!! Knife attack!! Drowning!! Oh, mother of GOD!!! AGH!!!! Swifty, I am outta here. Better luck next time, with your streaming content. I’m burning alive!!! STOP IT, YOU IMPOSTER!!!! GOD?!!! NOT HAPPENING—”
“Satan, don’t forget your cape.”
“You’ll hear from my lawyer, and your so-called God will, too. You’re a tough nut, Swift.”
[Door slams!]
“That was a close one. You’re God?”
“Well, mostly.”
“You’re awfully humble for a God.”
“Staying in good form, I guess. Well, I’ll get going.”
“You can stick around, if you’d like. I made some chocolate chip cookies.”
“I’d like to, but I have to be somewhere.”
“Upstairs?”
“Upstairs? Oh, no, I have to run by the grocery, and pick up some stuff.”
“Are you British?”
“I’m a little bit of everything. How about you?
“I’m Scottish, and English, mostly Scottish.”
“Bagpipes and kilts?”
“No, guitars and cardigans.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re good.”
“Well, gotta get going.”
“And save Gotham?”
“Hmm, mostly.”
“Maybe, mostly?”
“Good night.”
“Are you married?”
“No... You look really good by the way.”
“Thanks for saving me from Satan.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“But that caller ID stunt was just a trick, Satan must have done some messed-up drug, he read his caller ID wrong?”
“Yes, um, right. But let me give you a call.”
“Huh? Okay.”
“Hi, Taylor. Guess who?”
“Oh LORD, Satan got the same caller ID!!! My caller ID says you’re GOD!!! You’re frigging GOD!!!!!!!”
“Have a good one.”
“Cookies? Chablis? Pop a cork? Veuve Clicquot? Stay—”
“It’s late, maybe we’ll meet again. I want to take advantage of the traffic going home.”
“Hey, please, you can check out my ride. I drive a Corniche.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“It was a quarter-mill.”
“A quarter-million dollars?”
“That’s right.”
“Must really move?”
“What?”
“Your Corniche must be fast.”
“Takes off like a jackrabbit — the salesman said one-fifty-plus.”
“Over one-hundred-and-fifty miles an hour?”
“Yup.”
“What can you do?”
“Fifty-five, I’m Taylor Swift, and there’s lots riding on my tires.”
“Okay, if you keep it at fifty-five, you can take me on your cruiser.”
“Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“There’s beach-front I own. I have folding chairs in the trunk, and lemonade in the car fridge... I don’t mean to come on strong, but you’re God.”
Madge and Douglas are sitting in a somewhat spare kitchen in Peg, a suburb of Chicago. There’s a video camera in front of them. They’re wearing matching “Madonna, Madonna, Madonna,” t-shirts, his in green, hers in red.
“I’m Madge—”
“And I’m Douglas—”
“And we’re here to discuss the secret meanings behind Steely Dan’s Aja—”
“For all our Youtube friends—”
“Followers—”
“Yes, followers. You complete my sentences.”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll come right out and say it—”
“We lost our jobs at a big tech company.”
“We tried to unionize.”
“C’mon, Dougie, our last day, we tried to set the employee cafeteria ablaze.”
“After our unionization efforts failed.”
“With our unemployment running out, we have branched into music appreciation Youtubes.”
“That’s right, Madge. Okay, got my notes. Let’s begin. Aja was Steely Dan’s best album. Can I say that, Madge?”
“You just did.”
“The Dan begins: ‘Up on the hill.’ Which hill is this? The hill of Damocles? Edinburgh has seven hills, maybe the Dan means one of those.”
“Dougie, it’s the Sword of Damocles, not the hill. Sword overhead, peril at every turn? I keep forgetting, you’re coding, not English lit.”
“Peril at what? Do you remember we worked on the Milkgate Proposal? I brought over the spec, but we both had trouble with making a better recipe for cheese. Remember that?”
“Yeah, I do. And what was the gate in Milkgate? Sure it was a dairy, but it was about linear programming cheese. That’s the notes I got from you, linear program cheese.”
“Madge, Mayhock Industries—”
“I remember them, we worked there twenty years, vague recollection—”
“They needed us to maximize Milkgate’s cheese recipe for profit, A, and flavor, B.”
“That’s right, we’re consultants, get called in. We get cheese, over priced, it was skim milk, and the profits were skimmed by local farmers, mind you. We said the problem was local farmers, not a popular target, local farmers.”
“We opened the floodgates to Milkgate’s Milkgate, Dougie.”
“Wasn’t it like Watergate, kinda, wasn’t it?”
“It was. It was, Dougie.”
“Too bad, all this we thought was under the table, the milk skimming, was legal.”
“The local farmers were all legit. So we got fired for scandalizing, slandering, the cheese at Milkgate.”
“Hmm. [Looks at notes.] Angular banjoes, do you get this? You read Ulysses.”
“Angular banjoes, no. Give me another one.”
“Why do the people on the hill just don’t care, Madge?”
“They are on the hill, they are the chosen ones. Got anything else?”
“Why Aja, and not the continent?”
“You mean, why A-J-A, and not A-S-I-A?”
“Yeah.”
“A-J-A is a woman.”
“Quit while we’re ahead?”
“Yes, I got a few food stamps left. Can dinner be just soup broth?”
“Sure. Youtube followers, see you next week for—”
“I think we said we’d do Stairway, talk about Stairway to Heaven.”
“Is that Beatles?”
“No, I think that’s Bread, Bread, the group, not the appetizer.”
“Bread is an appetizer?”
“Sure, Dougie, before a meal?...”
Katherine, Princess of Wales, and William (Bill to his friends), often mingle with the townies far afield from Kensington Palace. One recent Royal parade, this time to low-tech center Sprocket Shire, brought up a conflict they have faced.
There is a pocket or two of poverty (as there is anywhere else) in the far, far, North of Wales, near the Shire of Mopsweep. The Royal parades are not always so happily greeted by the locals. At Sprockets (its nickname, they drop the Shire), a few parade-goers did not embrace the spirit of Windsor greatness, that Kate and Bill evidence. They pelted the Royal second-in-line to the throne with tomatoes (think Spain’s Tomatino Festival at harvest).
Said the ever so diplomatic Kate: “They did this to us last year, we enjoy Sprockets, but a few Sprocketeers don’t quite enjoy the celebration as much as others. Before we returned to Sprockets, we set out pamphlets outlining proper appreciation of the Royal motorcade. At Sprockets, we don’t leave the motorcade, we stay inside the limousine, and wave.”
Said Prince William, always the gentleman: “Most cities, we’re greeted warmly, but I don’t know, the Sprocketeers really don’t like these British pride events. I’m saddened, we try to bring good will, visibility, and commerce, we’re ambassadors, but it’ll be good to get back to home base in London.”
“Most appreciated, Ma’am.”
“You ain’t ’round these parts, are you?”
“I’m up from Mayheco, by Texas way.”
“Is that so?”
“That be right. What ’bout you?”
“Outta Cheyenne.”
“That’s a time getting here.”
“Sure was. Injun territory. Don’t appreciate cattle folk.”
“You don’t look like no wrangler to me...”
“I’m seeing, you is a dead man without a guide. But this serves. Stay along water. Keep to the water.”
“I’d ask.”
“Ask what?”
“I travel well. Want to go along?”
“Where?”
“Canada.”
“I heard mighty cold far north. Can you find a town?”
“What year is it?”
“Hardly matters for me these days. I would hash mark my bedpost. 1840 something.”
“I saw tracks and a coal burner.”
“Coal burner?”
“Moving up the line. That’s where to be. The towns by the rails.”
“Sure, the railway. Where did you say you’re from, you new to railways?”
“Mayheco via Texas way.”
“To Nebraska?”
“Nebraska?”
“You got to Nebraska. Right chere.”
“I just follow the empty towns.”
“There’s ghost towns all the way? You got sheriffs through there hunting for bounty. The only thing preventing them pulling the trigger on an out-of-towner is the specter of baby Jesus condemning them for blood money. So, get through the Plains? Think so?”
“See if I can make it. Need a safe house for more than a night, good eats on the table, too... Whatcha say you did for a living? Wrangled cattle?”
“Ran the chuck wagon. Also was a target-shoot carny, when the fair pushed through. Then, I taught at a school for young women, the farmers’ daughters, in Wichita, although the students came from as far away as Omaha.”
“Like Bible reading?”
“Like that, spreading the word of the Lord, and how to sew, and cook. Although, it was a finishing school, Wichita Finishing, not a church. How to marry well, how to marry up, how to stay in his will, keep the farm. The headmistress liked me, said I had a way with the students in my class.”
“I see why... Did you have books, for your school?”
“No.”
“I’ve been to Hell, is Heaven possible?”
“Pardon — possible?”
“Is Heaven—”
“Where are you from? No one gets to this part of the Niobrara Trail, the Missouri even, without a pack, without companion. Who are you?”
“Just looking for a better life. Heaven?”
“Huh?”
“Is Heaven possible?”
“Well, yeah, certainly. I mean, if you live a just life, you spend eternity in Heaven. Well, do you believe in Heaven?”
“I do.”
“Where is Heaven?”
“Right here, right now... You know how to be nice to people... Hmm. Poker stare. Much ado?”
“What the heck! That’s William Shakespierre. Who are you?!”
“I am your neighbor. I’m just an Injun, as you say.”
“Oh my god!! What about, “up from Mayheco”?”
“If I say I am Cherokee, that is trouble.”
“But you know European—”
“I’ve learned your ways, your life. What am I now to you? I am a Cherokee.”
“Damn, that changes everything, but changes nothing at all.”
“You smile rarely.”
Can we talk about health?
Attribution: Health Jade.
Many people are very ignorant about mental illness. A good friend of mine got ill, and no one understood what had happened. After much adjusting of medication, he finally reached stasis, or a steady state in his life.
Several acquaintances in his life felt he did not need anything, God created people without anything wrong with them, people never got cancer, for instance. He did find a means to convince others that meds were required to live a productive life:
Pilgrim State Psychiatric Hospital was officially opened on Long Island in 1931. It has 13,875 beds. Today, almost all of those beds are empty. Why? The introduction of Thorazine in the 1960s. Before that, treatment could be as harsh as lobotomy.
“Onion is our wonder kid. He is nearly a vegetable, but we love him so. He tested positive for Plaster Anemia, so now we’re trying to hook up with a charity for same, and then we can get to the next level...”
I am in the upper range of normal weight. While this isn’t perfect, I feel I have my weight under control. I haven’t let myself go, and I’m not going to seed. I am vigilant about limiting calories, mostly to suggested serving sizes. I try to exercise, and stay active during the day, even into the night.
I hold off on exercising, if I feel any chest pain, or tightness in my chest.
The female genitalia is significantly more complex than the its male counterpart.
Eat breakfast. Grow a pair. Hey, weighty wonders, they could flatline.
I get the impression that French medicine is like Chinese medicine, distinct from the rest of the World, because of the language barrier. I would have to think it is much less invasive, much less experimental, and only done with treatments that do work, like setting broken bones. Exotic diseases are not well documented, or known, in both nations. I would bet that the medical sector of both economies is fairly limited, and unprofitable, unlike the United States.
“You have cancer.”
“I have a tumor?”
“No, I said you have cancer. Out of an abundance of caution, we will need to begin thrice-weekly chemo.”
You may say that immortality is impossible, and you may be right, yet Methusaleh of the Book of Genesis in the Old Testament lived 969 years. Did he eat better than the other ancients? Did he exercise more? Were his friends all good people? On this, the Bible is not explicit, no longevity guidance is given, just that this guy, Methusaleh, lived almost a millenium.
Try not to lose ground in the Battle of the Bulge. Be vigilantly calorie-conscious. Choose fruit over cake; poultry over beef; and seafood is a very healthy choice.
Exhaustion might very well be the product of depleted neurotranasmitters. Sleep, intervals of rest, and nutritious food can restore the imbalance.
Doctors might get guidance on medications from hospitals, and clinics. Larger hospitals get plenty of patients, as do clinics, and with them, feedback on their treatments. If there was communication between hospitals, clinics, and doctors, the wisdom the front line hospitals, and clinics, accumulate, could be passed along to doctors who might be isolated in private practice from important, vetted, medical best practices.
There’s looking good; there’s looking good for your age, and then there’s groaning walking by a mirror. If you fit the latter category, and have trouble fitting into clothes, rethink your diet with healthier choices, and exercise regularly. Just saying.
My exericise regimen has reached the point where I can get the blood pumping. I hestitate to say that because that works for me, and may be dangerous to you. I am in decent shape, and a reader may be too overweight to exert themselves.
I was born in the Sixties, and I have an active life. I have a healthy diet, and I do not drink, or smoke. I can trust my heart to not fail, assuming I get enough sleep, I’m not tired, stressed-out, or have chest pains (I infrequently have angina). This is just common sense that we all possess.
My at-home, mostly daily, exercise routine includes three sets of ten repititions, for three different exercises: Barbell curls, stomach crunches, and leg squats. I also have a bicycle trainer that I use. I exercise often enough that I can tell if I’m working at it too hard, or over-exerting, or I’m too tired. I follow the exercises with a glass or two of water.
The only equipment I have is seventy pounds of assorted barbells. I can curl fifty-five pounds after six months. I do this sitting, because I am afraid of falling. I am still concerned about dropping the bar onto my legs, and crushing my femurs, but I am careful about how I move my arms. A small Nautilus set would probably be best, but I doubt I have the room, or the extra exercise ambition to regularly use new equipment.
If this sounds too ambitious, a twenty-minute workout, see your doctor about shedding the pounds, and incorporating a life-saving physical fitness program into your routine. Just saying.
The success rates of the various protocols in medical treatment should be determined, then widely published, if they’re not already known. The success rate is whether or not the cure has fully ameliorated the condition.
Success rates would be both completely objective with, say, before and after MRIs, as well as with patient evaluations of treatment success.
Insurance corporations, and the American consumer, would really like to know. Lives, and economic health, are in the balance.
Doctors should share treatment successes. They compete, and would have a very strong tendency to not share any near (or actual) miracle cures. Medicine exists to benefit patients, not doctors, and their bank accounts.
“I am from a family of immortals. Mom once said that only losers are buried, buried in cemetaries. And you know what, she’s right.” And so, a challenge has been set. Watch your health (especially your weight), keep a happy home, ward off evil, and avoid terminal facilities.
Why live as though you expect to die? If immortality is a false hope, what is heaven then? I look up, I see the sky; you see a city with Saint Peter standing before pearly gates? John Lennon of the Beatles, saw what I do, “above us, only clouds.” You don’t trust the Great Creator to keep you whole, alive, and thriving?
In other words, imagine a much longer time horizon on this earth, but live for today...
When I was in high school, we played poker, five-card draw, seven-card stud, and a four-card game called “guts,” that I completely forgot how to play. We smoked dope and drank beer. I didn’t like the pot so much, I mostly tolerated it. With beer, pot was more agreeable with my system. We started young, but a few of my friends started even younger, smoking pot in junior high. I stopped altogether in my late twenties, in the Eighties. I wasn’t an addict, an alcoholic, or anything, it just didn’t agree with me so much.
African Americans seem to enjoy marijuana the most, Whites like it a lot, too, but my drug of choice, at the time, was Molson Golden. Pot can make you kind of a goofball in my estimation. I get the impression that some use it, but it effects them adversely. From what I understand, drinkers are more dangerous on the road, than pot-smokers. Either way, I’ve reached the age where I think, why bother, why spend the money, endanger relationships (if not now, then down the road), and why compromise your health by introducing something into your body that you weren’t born to ingest.
Two guys that I knew from high school totaled cars, and one guy wracked up a motorcycle. All were high. Drugs — and alcohol is a drug — are risky. They are a public health issue.
I have heard pediatricians say that drinking, or smoking, at this age can hinder brain development. They may be right...
(The authorities claim, erroneously, that this is a pro-drug piece, that the topic of drugs cannot be raised, it must be shrouded in secrecy, and anyone who has some knowledge or experience with drugs worth sharing, must be stopped.)
Some eat to alleviate unhappiness, others eat to allay hunger pangs.
Your heart is a muscle, it has a rhythm, a beat, a heartbeat; and if you strengthen it, and keep it in sync, in rhythm, by working it out enough (graduated-length walks can do), it will reward you with health and longevity. This is just common sense. Then, you can have heart confidence, faith in the strength of your well-synchronized ticker.
Bicep curls, leg squats, and stomach crunches, ten repetitions (reps), three sets, daily, at-home. I add cycling on a bike trainer to the mix. (Not a paid endorsement, I have a Saris, which is quality.) At-home workouts are very convenient, and easy to make a habit of doing, although a limited variety of exercise routines compared to a gym.
A caveat: If you’re overweight, say you weigh over two-hundred pounds, for instance, you may want to first see a doctor or dietician, to get your weight under control, or near goal weight. You’re effectively bench pressing a boulder every time you sit up from a chair. Your heart is strained, and may not approve. It may show its disapproval, by shutting down your body with a coronary. But it’s your health to do as you see fit. Just saying.
Another caveat: Work out, when you have the energy to do so, and when you feel like it. If you’re too tired, you won’t complete your workout. A workout requires a bit of strain, too much strain is trouble, regular exercising is the goal instead. Your body will let you know what it thinks of your workout — while you work out.
Recently, I was very close to having a full-blown heart attack. I was paralyzed with lethargy, and chest tightness.
Why this health fail? I do not drink or smoke, I eat the right food, low in fat, sugar, and salt (I like salt, yet I stay under 100% of daily value), but I was severely sleep-deprived, and under a great deal of stress (largely from authority’s contradiction and agitation).
Medical remedies are not as efficacious as expected, or promulgated. I survived by taking my mind off of my malady, by distraction, and by physical acitivity without any strain, such as light stretching. I drank a tall glass of cold water when I felt the discomfort.
With perfect candor, would a physician agree with this statement? Medicine knows much more about how the body fails, than how to stop it from failing, other than a good diet and exercise, as well as avoiding smoking anything, and drinking alcohol (or “perfecting the high”).
A doctor’s best weapon against disease, and community medical issues, is to be a health influencer, dispensing the merits of healthy living, to the unconvinced, and dying.
Having a mental illness, does not mean being mentally retarded. It does mean having a brain chemistry imbalance that might be remediable with appropriate, judicious use of medication, by a trusted doctor, perhaps connected to a hospital. Evidence of a mental illness can be easily discernible, and could include inexplicable, irrational, acts or behavior, as well as significant loss of sleep, typically by being “spun up.”
My grandfather had five lessons for his son, my father. These proved to be good advice for both him and me:
There isn’t any deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA) in hair. Hair is a protein secretion from a hair follicle. There are not any cells in hair, motile or otherwise. This means that any crime scene investigation (CSI) using hair as DNA evidence, must be overturned. DNA evidence is fabricated, when it consists of hair.
Furthermore, how did the hair get on the victim from the perpetrator? Did the crime occur at a barber shop? This is the function of DNA evidence, to put the perpetrator at the scene of the crime, that’s all.
The exception is when the DNA evidence is blood. If it is blood, the splatter of the blood must be from the victim to the perpetrator. In other words, for DNA evidence to be useful, it must be from a crime where there is close contact. If a gun is the murder weapon, there is no close contact (unless the gun was fired at point blank range), so there can be no DNA evidence to convict the perpetrator.
The best evidence is either a confession by the perpetrator, or eyewitness accounts from the scene of the crime. Any other evidence can be fabricated. In addition, CSI has the same employer as the prosecuting attorney. They work together, more than they do independently.
Above is responsible for all life.
Deoxyribonucleic Acid, or DNA, is collectively the genome, the blueprint for humanity. This blueprint, the DNA, is a binary encoding of a sequence of two nucleotides, of two pairs of amino acids: adenine/thymine, and cytosine/guanine.
Somehow, these two pairs of protein create fingers, legs, and most miraculously, our brains, which can think, remember, and reason. Doesn’t this seem so far-fetched as to be next to impossible? Yet, the DNA model of double helix laddered nucleotides define all mankind.
It is just incredible, isn’t it, that the miracle of life is predicated upon a real miracle, binary amino acid encoding.
Attribution: Although I am trilingual (actually quadrilingual, I speak Navajo),
the four translations here, are provided by translate.google.com.
The Other Letter, Inc. gets fifteen, worldwide, visitors a day.
The only ones, mature enough, to be privy to the truth.
Si no quiere que su hijo lea esto, existen aplicaciones de control parental para bloquear sitios web.
Si vous ne souhaitez pas que votre Junior lise ceci, il existe des applications de contrôle parental pour bloquer les sites Web.
If you don’t want your Junior to read this, there are parental control apps to block websites, including pornography sites.
Plu noot gruw den ulda tak den noot eur grav pic, noot prud, noot nakt cee est de wist.
Just Saying has its own separate page! How’s that for enhanced user experience?! (Okay, no one cares, but it was getting unwieldy in size.)
Here are a few of Christ’s adages, the teachings of Jesus the Christ. Love one another, was repeated thirteen times in the New Testament, and was a major teaching. While he promoted love, love already existed — families, and marriages existed prior to his ministry, as in the Old Testament.
And here are some of mine, competitive with other spiritual inspiration:
Good is stronger than evil. The good is natural, the evil unnatural. The reason we exist today is because the good is life-affirming, and evil is life-negating. That we exist today, proves that sustenance from Creation advanced our species through millennium, despite the obstacle of hate. Love surpasses hate as an energizing force.
The rich man has all the world; the poor man has a code of conduct.
Make productive use of your time, at your employ, and with your time on this earth.
“You’re not Aryan, you can’t have the good things.” Racism and anti-Semitism is so White trash.
Some like people, others really don’t. Some look for the good in others, and others refuse. Some love to argue, others prefer peace and serenity. Some instigate and abuse, others never do.
Some folks really avoid hating anyone, some love to hate. Some look away at the dark around them, and stay smiling. Others are bitter, looking to take down anyone sunny in disposition. The major league interlopers exist: Misery loves company.
Originally, the people needed a means to validate their worth, when there was no one else around who would. Thus, an impartial judge of humanity evolved, one who had a bias towards saving humanity from itself. Yada, yada, yada, Jehovah, then Baby Jesus, unto the near present day where we had Elvis Presley for awhile serving the function of well-judging super human. At last, Kamala Harris fulfills the role of all-knowing judge of humankind, shining her light on us all. Amen...
Jesus the Christ may have gotten this wrong. Him and his church revere all life. I believe that life is deserved, through doing good works that help to advance the cause of this earth’s habitability. In other words, if you make the world a better place, you deserve to live. If you consistently hurt others, you really don’t belong with the rest trying to get by in peace.
Your age is just a number.
Forgive out of love or kindness, not out of any sense of obligation.
Unlike most every Christian and Jew, I do not believe in forgiveness, outside of family, and close friends. Forgiveness lets the transgressor, the trespasser, off of the hook. Forgiveness for harm done, especially intentional harm done, is like saying: “Thank you, sir, may I have another?”
Forgiving family and close friends, is another matter altogether, you want them to stay in your life, forever. You should accommodate their error, their margin for human error, so you can peacefully coexist. Otherwise, how can anyone live with themselves, when they’ve been taken advantage of, and they just said, I will “turn the other cheek.”
There is not a true Christian, who truly understood Christ’s teachings, who would forgive Hitler for his viciousness. Then, there are gradations of Hitler intolerance, that some are expected to forgive. Forgive out of love, not out of obligation.
Do you ever see someone, and think: Damn, they’re not living right. They look like they’ve gone to seed. Could be genes, could be family ties, could be abusing their body with food, or drugs, could be a defect of character, or could be hard living, but somehow they seem to have it wrong. They just seem unhappy somehow.
Rock and roll music is much better than the rock and roll lifestyle, of regular, stamina-testing partying.
As far as you’re concerned, your perception of the Universe, is simply what you have experienced the Universe to be. In other words, the Universe is the choir to your perceptions. Or more accurately, you are your Universe. All you know, is known through your processing of your own life’s experiences. You have agency and autonomy over your interaction with the rest of the world, everything outside your discrete consciousness.
There’s a lot to do without the Internet. One can read, watch over-the-air (OTA) TV if so equipped, write stuff like poetry, or the great American novel, or screenplay treatment, on your word processor. Work can be done around the house. Dishes can be done. Floors might be mopped.
Live with hope. Hope being the belief that some issue of importance to you, will turn out your way.
Beware the ones who ask for your hand in marriage, before you even get to the dance...
Mustaphah played God’s enforcer in what movie? What did he use as a weapon? That’s right, his words.
Lady Winter-Whistler whistling through the Winter-time had this to say to me: Do right, and ascend; do wrong, and descend. A life well-spent leads to happiness at least in this realm, and maybe the next as well.
Appreciate what you have, while it lasts. Without being a downer, keep in mind that you are blessed in some sense, and you have to be somewhat vigilant to stay in God’s good graces.
The Creator is a melding of gender. How do I know this? Well, out of considerations of equality, God is not one gender, yet God could be Gods, a male and a female God. Or, for me, a set of energies comprising the Creator, perhaps not one monotheistic, yet multitheistic, or many gods.
What does God, Gods, or the Creator do? Hardly anything, we’re all equipped to do Gods work, so that is what we should be doing. Feed the poor, make the world a better place, if you can (to borrow the lyrics from Diana Ross’ Reach Out and Touch Somebody’s Hand).
Happier people are more productive. Heavy people tend to be less productive, becaue they’re less happy. Those relying on booze and pot as a crutch, are less productive.
There are those so filled with hate and violence, is anyone sure they deserve to even live on this Earth?
God does not love everyone. The Creator blesses those who deserve the love of Creation, not those self-righteous, shameless, pigheaded, or hateful. Those God does not love now, God may later love.
For all the cruelty levied upon wildlife, pets, and livestock; there are animals that are treated with respect and dignity. How sensitive are you to animal rights? You hunt, and eat beef several times a week? You draw the line at eating poultry? You’re so vegan, you debate if you should have scrambled eggs at all?
Considering all of Creation evolved from dust at the beginning of time, our species, and this Earth, has made tremendous progress.
Do you ever think that those who hunt with guns are apemen? That they’re raping the planet, and when all is said and done, do they bother to cook up the venison? This makes me an enemy of the hunting crowd? And?
The moral high ground allows you all kinds of freedom that shady dealings do not. That you don’t have to lie, or cover your tracks, is one advantage. This is the nature of good over evil, the good haven’t a need to bargain in deceit.
Do you ever feel as though no one has it tougher than you do? Every day you do? Are you in a war zone, a combat zone?
Can success ruin people? Can having everything you, or anyone else, would want, make you jaded? If you’re raised with little, can you appreciate having more, more readily?
Do you believe in fate? If you do, to what extent? I tend to believe we decide our own fate, based on our upbringing and birthrights. If you’re from money, you’ll have a much easier time than if you’re from poverty. If you’re good-looking, life might have been easier, and this may have helped make you more successful. Nepo-babies might have it better than those who make it on their own mettle.
Who has a really good blanket condemnation? I’m feeling mean. I could eat raw meat.
Feed the poor. Food insecurity exists where you might least expect it.
Is there a hereafter? I tend to think there is. After we pass away, we enter the next realm. If you have a good track record on this planet, you tried to do good, do good deeds, you go up, for all eternity. Those who messed with people all their lives, go down, down to Hell. Depending on the severity of their crimes against their fellow humans, they spend eternity in Hell, or they may get an upgrade to join the best in Heaven, but we don’t know yet. Either way you have chosen, or forced to have chosen, do not live for an afterlife, although most would appreciate it if you are not a major sinner, and feared Hell. Make the most of every day, and do not hurt others.
Is here a hierarchy of the ethereal, the heavenly, the heaven-bound? Say there’s a Mustaphah, the Creator’s enforcer? Or say someone is designated, fated to become, the wife and companion of Mustaphah. We can call her Daphne. Also in this cohort, the Creators themselves, or even the spontaneous generation within the species to have extra strengths in diminishing evil’s power.
May peace be with you, this day, and every day. (I know, overly optimistic, dream on.)
May you one day fulfill your destiny’s promise.
Blessed be, I have good food to eat.
A failure of the nation-state is war, killing for resources and boundary rights. In WWI, on Christmas Day of 1914, there was a one-day respite from trench welfare. Combat was hardly pressing, and so unnecessary, that they could just call a ceasefire temporarily to celebrate Christmas. In fact, the troops crossed enemy lines to talk, and exchange food and souvenirs. Then the carnage, and mustard gas attacks, began again in earnest, just the next day.
There is restorative strength, power, in accomplishing stuff, getting things done; in work, even if it’s work around the home as a retiree.
Who doesn’t root for the underdog? Yankees’ fans. That was snarky? (Let’s review: The New York Yankees always are top-five in team salary, forget winning on heart, they are the best team that money can buy.)
When working on a process, do you seek improvement, or perfection?... Are you a perfectionist? Do you engage in life’s possibilities? Are you often lazy? How often do you use legal, recreational drugs? Are you a coaster, do you ooast through life?
Who freed the slaves? Moses and Abraham Lincoln did, although there may be others.
What did you think of the Silent Majority supporting the Vietnamese War? Does this faction still exist today as “my country right or wrong”?
Ambition. Ambition. Ambition. Productivity.
I know someone who can suss a dealer’s supply for quality, and wishes there was dealer accountability for mislabeled junk — badass! Meanwhile, I have not smoked a joint since 1982. No bull. Drugs are uncool.
The two dieters’ watchwords: self-discipline, and vigilance. The two methods: Exercising and eating nutritious food. Consider how great you’ll look at your goal weight, or with an improved appearance, and the approval you’ll get from the world-at-large.
There are many who will never fall in love. Romance requires adoration, and if you cannot believe you are with your better half at least half of the time, then how can you make it as lovers?
Time for healing misbegotten (racial, xenophobic, or cultural) pride. Time for a new path, a new road.
If I had tons of money, say I was fortunate enough to hit Lotto, what would I spend the jackpot on? Would I build a choi pond in my backyard for goldfish? Would I buy a Maserati, a Lamborghini, and a Ferrari, all in metallic forest green? Would I buy a vintage ’55 Chevy, Delivery Nomad, one extant with an automatic? Would I buy oceanfront real estate in several locations — Hermosa Beach, the Maritimes, the Vineyard? Then, entertain Hollywood types every weekend? All this, because, well, I have the money to show off how much money I have to show off?
There is a problem with buying tons of stuff, tons of stuff needs maintenance, and storage. Someone has to feed the goldfish, someone has to gas up the exotic cars, and bring them to the garage for repairs; someone has to housesit all those homes when I’m in my primary residence; and lots of friends, may want your lots of money. So, if I did have loads of cash, I’d be more philanthropic, and buy things I hold off from buying now, like shirts in a larger, buff size, now that I work out very often. I am excluding stereo A/V equipment, of course. I’d want the latest, greatest of that...
Do you ever feel like you’re the only one, anywhere, with a working brain?
Some people always know how to say the right thing; and others haven’t a clue.
There is a possibility, however slight, that other life forms are inhabited by people who once tread the sphere. In other words, in the hereafter, you may be able to become say a butterfly, a beatle, or a wasp, depending on sentiment. Everything would seem incredibly large, and there wouldn’t be any schedules to keep. You could also become a Siamese cat, a beagle, or a Rottweiler, whichever way your pleasure tends. So be careful with that can of insecticide, and be humane to pets...
Even God has bad days. How would I know this? Just guessing. God has good days as well. (I like to think of God as being the Creator, but you can think of the Spirit of the Universe, as the Master of the Universe, as the Lord, the Almighty, as Jehovah, as Allah, as God, or the Son of God. If you are an atheist, God is nothing at all, a non-entity.)
Live like the aging process has not effected you. To quote Rod Stewart: “Be forever young.”
It is very difficult to be nice to anyone who isn’t nice to you. Want to work customer service?
I heard Jerry Seinfeld say he will not do Holocaust jokes, that the jokes are not marketable, and are never funny. Well, how about my own homegrown Holocaust jokes? What do they serve at the Auschwitz cafeteria? Nothing. What are the hours of the Auschwitz cafeteria? It’s always closed. Not bad, how’s them apples? [Should I further clarify that I identify with Judaism?]
“The day may be nigh where we no longer define ourselves by our handicaps, limitations, or differences, but instead by our commonalities. We all want in on the American dream, and I want in, too. I am running for national office on November 5th on an Other party ticket, and I need your vote, so please—” oh, never mind.
There can be no heroes, without villains. Conflict can make us stronger.
Did you eat today? Thank the farmer, and the trucker; and while you’re at it, add the grocer, and the restaurateur to the list.
There are Holocaust-deniers, and that’s awfully sick, but there must be very few who actually want to get the chambers filled again. Hopefully, top-level organizations know who these neo-Nazis are.
All this Earth’s travails will one day be resolved — conceivably, at least...
When the reins are handed over to you, will you be ready? Reins being becoming the matriarch, or patriarch, leading the family, and extended family. Or reins just being getting a raise, or promotion, at work.
I try to keep things in perspective. Everything’s relative. We tread a largeish rock traveling around the Sun for some eighty years. Our travails are meaningless in the context of the infinity of time. When our time is up, we may have an afterlife, a hereafter.
In the meantime, I try to stay constructive, learn new skills (cooking is a skill), and have some accomplishments, be these paid, at work; or unpaid, such as doing things to enhance my living space (optimiizing and rearranging furniture, or setting up a MP3-digitized, music system, e.g.).
People have noted that I am a kind of cool customer. I am not easily rattled. Why is that? One of the things in my favor is that I believe one should conduct oneself ethically, and honestly.
You’re in a much stronger (and comfortable) position when you don’t have to lie, or cheat. If you keep everything above board, then evil, or even aggression, is warded away. If you’re not in the wrong, things will go much better.
There will be times in life, of course, when you’ll need to stand up for yourself, and get others to back off, or back down, but if you can be honest in these situations, it really works in your favor.
Women are always confiding to me about this: “Why won’t he say, ‘I love you’? Is it my limited-selection couture near laundry day?” (The wealthy are saying, “Huh?,” as they never run out of their best clothing.)
What do I tell these affection-starved women? I do publish my email address...
In economics, one learns that relationships are effectively a competitive marketplace. There is supply and demand curves, and the intersection therein is where deals (or friendships) are made. In other words, if you have what people want, you get crème de la crème.
Getting back to the original point, if you don’t tell her that you love her, she can find someone that will. Again, relationships are effectively a competitive marketplace. Those thinking differently, entrap people financially, or otherwise, by saying things like: “You won’t make it without me.”
“At least in Hell, you know why you’re there...”
This too, shall pass... So it is written, so it is said...
If you prejudge someone based on race, without even meeting them, then that is racism. I have done this unconsciously, not deliberately, and it bothers me later, as I am against any racial arrogance, and skin-color based hatred. Perhaps an individual being conscious of race reflects the expectations, or prejudices, of society as a whole as to the misjudged limitations of each race.
Ginette Reno leads the Canadian National Anthem before a Montreal-New York hockey game.
(Attribution: Sports Net, ©2017.)
Ask Siri, or its equivalent, when was the last time Canada won the Stanley Cup. You’ll see that it was in 1992. Canada lives for ice hockey, it is their national sport. The majority of hockey players in the National Hockey League are from Canada. They export hockey players by the hundreds, but 1992 is the last time a Canadian hockey team won the Cup.
That team, to this day, is also the winningest team in all of the NHL, the Montreal Canadians, aka the Habitants, or Habs. The owner of Madison Square Garden, Tex Rickard, in 1924, saw the “H” in Montreal’s uniform, and said it meant that they were habitants, or farmers. Those farmers can sure play hockey, eh?