Sunday, December 8, 2019

The Frenchman

I am a fan of Jacques Tati movies. Yeah, they are in French, he is French, but he is also funny. I watched this one yesterday:


It is about a guy who wants to take a car he designed to a car show in Belgium, I think. Maybe it is Holland - hell, all those low countries look alike to me. It is primarily sight gags, mime, slapstick, silliness and like the cantina scene in Star Wars, everyone understands everyone else even though they are speaking different languages with no interpreter around. While I was concerned about the welfare of the little dog in the movie rest assured the little guy turns out just fine.

Speaking of small fuzzy pets, here is a picture of my 19-1/2 year old cat:


I was recovering from a cold and he was reclining on me to make sure I got better. He is thoughtful that way.


Billie Jean, cover by Donald Trump




Saturday, December 7, 2019

This more like it!

"The Irishman" ....... a review!



I understand why they called this movie "The Irishman." It was because someone had already used "The Never Ending Story."

Boy did this movie suck.

Look I was looking forward to this. Sure I hate Deniro as much as the next Deplorable but you put him in a mob movie with Joe Pesci and Al Pacino and add in Scorese as the Director and I think you would have a decent mob movie. Well we don't.

This is a bloated overwrought travesty of a farce. The "de-aging" process is a joke. Deniro in particular looks ridiculous. They screw up mob history throughout the movie and man it never fucking ends. This scene is a perfect example.

Look it is stylish and the set decoration is great. But why this movie fails is because it takes the moronic ravings of hit man Frank Sheeran who is the Zelig of the Mob who was involved in every major hit in the world. Now Mob guys do this crap all the time. The first one to do it was Joe Valichi who seemed to be present at every important mob meeting for 30 years. It's all bullshit. Just rumors that they are repeating and putting themselves in the middle of to look like big shots. Its just nonsense.

So in short don't waste your time. A lot of time. Certainly don't pay a dime to see it. I think they know that as it is on Netflicks already. So if you have half a day to waste I guess it is better than watching football. But I really don't recommend it.

Nuts

That's how Sundance characterizes Trump's lawyer's letter to House Democrats denying participation in their impeachment show, a short run television program by dopes for dope consumption.

It refers to General McAuliffe's response to German demand for surrender. It's weak. Today we use stronger more common language, GTFO, GFY, and so on.

"Nuts" is too much understated.  It doesn't work well as communication. It doesn't work now and it didn't work back then at Battle of the Bulge in WWII. It's confusing, not clarifying. It's utterly unclear. It's too much like Charlie Brown swearing, "Rats." Does it mean, "you're crazy," or "something about testicles," or "this is a pile of acorns," or what?

That was General Anthony Clement McAuliffe's manner of swearing back then. That's as rank and seedy as he ever got. His first reaction, sounding like Charlie Brown (who wasn't yet drawn) Charming, actually, he never did swear. Everyone around him swore like mad but he did not and that made him and his manner of delivering expletives stick out. Perplexed as for a response to the German demand, his staff told him that his original response is good as any. So that became the official response. And it did confuse the Germans.

First, Trump's lawyer, Pat Cipollone's, letter to Nadler.


The letter is a fine work of compression. A lawyer's modern equivalent to antique "Nuts!" 

* baseless
* violated basic principles of due process
* ordered to proceed before Committee heard evidence
* wasted time
* charade
* reckless abuse of power
* unconstitutional attempt at impeachment

All in a short two-paragraph letter. The heading is nearly as long.

So that's the history that is made today. We have front row seats to the greatest show on earth that is unfortunately curated and carefully explained each day and night across platforms by a media corrupted by political party and that emphasizes the insignificant over and over ad nauseam and all together in unison using the exact precise vocabulary, while ignoring the crucially important elements so that the story is told in extremely distorted fashion.

Where did this "Nuts" come from?

It came from the Battle of the Bulge in WWII. Near the end of the war. Right before Christmas. Belgium. It was cold. Totally cold. Servicemen who came from places with harsh winters and who experienced extreme cold were all shocked by the experience of this extreme total abject brain numbing coldness.

In the Ardennes region of Belgium it was Hitler's last major offensive against the Western Front. As the Germans drove into the Ardennes, the Allied line took the shape of a large bulge that gave the arrangement its name. The six-weeks engagement was the costliest ever fought by the U.S. Army that had over a hundred thousand casualties.

The Germans broke though the front on the first day and stories spread quickly of massacres. The Belgian civilians switched their Allied flags for swastikas. British veterans waited anxiously to see how the Americans would react to full-on German offensive. British generals safeguarded the Meuse River crossings. American civilians who thought final victory was near at hand were shaken by the reality of the Nazi onslaught.

The harsh winter weather was part of the German strategy. But that ran both ways. They too had to suffer the weather. A second German strategy was to infiltrate the Allied troops. Germans dropped paratroopers behind Allied lines that were dressed like American soldiers and who spoke English to create confusion. They also changed road signs. They spoke excellent English and their slang was fine-tuned by association with American prisoners of war. By the rules of the Hague Convention, these particular Germans were counted as spies and were tried hastily by military tribunal and killed by firing squad.

To stop them the US troops asked suspects American trivia questions.

Cool. I would totally ace this.

General Bradley related he was ordered to prove his identity three times. The first time he was challenged to identify the capital of Illinois.

Bang! I'm dead. I didn't know that the capital of Illinois is Springfield. I would have guessed Chicago.

The second time Bradley was challenged to locate the guard between the center and the tackle on a line of scrimmage.

Bang! I'm dead. Because I do not know what they are talking about. I thought everyone tackles everyone else. This is football, right?

The third challenge was to name the current spouse of Betty Grable.

Bang! I'm dead again. Because I do not know who Grable married.

Man, these American pop trivia tests are hard.

On Christmas day the weather cleared allowing Allied air forces to strike. The tanks and the air forces could finally move and get assistance to all the beleaguered forces who had been blocked off including General McAuliffe near Bastogne. Finally the Americans could solidly kick German butt just as baby Jesus would have them do.

Everyone prayed, "Thank you, baby Jesus. Amen."

It was all a very close call.

Three days before that the Germans gave McAuliffe in Bastogne an ultimatum; Surrender the town or we will kill everyone. And the kind of mass murder we intend runs counter to well-known American humanity.




The German letter was typed on two sheets. One in German the second in English. They were written on an English typewriter as indicated by the diacritical marks required on the German copy were entered by hand.
The fortune of war is changing. This time the U.S.A. forces in and near Bastogne have been encircled  by strong German armored units. More German armored units have crossed the river Ourthe near Ortheuville, have taken Marche and reached St. Hubert by passing through Hompre-Sibret-Tillet. Libramont is in German hands. There is only one possibility to save the encircled U.S.A. troops from total annihilation: that is the honorable surrender of the encircled town. In order to think it over, a term of two hours will be granted beginning with the presentation of this note. If this proposal should be rejected one German Artillery Corps and six heavy A.A. Battalions are ready to annihilate the U.S.A. troops in and near Bastogne. The order for firing will be given immediately after this two hours term. All the serious civilian losses caused by this artillery fire would not correspond with the well known American humanity.   
The German Commander.
That is the letter that four German soldiers delivered to General McAuliffe. They had appeared waving two white flags on the Arlon road south of Bastogne from the direction of Remoifosse. They were two officers and two enlisted men. One was carrying a briefcase under his arm. They walked past a bazooka team in a foxhole and stopped in front of a gunner. They were wearing long overcoats and shined boots. One of them said that they wanted to see the commanding officer. The Americans he approached were at a loss, but another American on the road called the Germans over to him. The Germans explained that they have a message for the American commanding officer.

The Germans consented to being blindfolded. They had even brought blindfolds with them.

With peep holes!

As the blindfolds were put on, an American medic, a private who spoke German joined them and offered his service as interpreter. However, no interpreter was needed.

The two German enlisted men stayed there while the two German officers were taken to a farmhouse where they were told to take the Germans to the F Company Command Post. They went a roundabout way.

Here. I'll draw you a map.


When they got to the command post, basically a very large foxhole, they encountered general military confusion. One guy read the message over the phone, notable commanders were out inspecting their troops, another guy said he already had the messages, officers gave countervailing orders. The two blindfolded German officers were kept in the woods nearby while the Americans flapped their arms and scrambled for chain of command, officers debated what should be done. They drank coffee and smoked cigarettes and shuffled papers and spoke on their radios. McAuliffe was sleeping so they shook him awake and told him the Germans are here with a message telling us to surrender or else they'll annihilate the whole town. Still half asleep, McAulliffe said, "Nuts."

Which was McAuliffe's way of saying, "FUCK!" 

Then he crawled out of his sleeping bag going, "where are my pants?"

Then the solder who woke up McAulliffe went back out to the communications center and told the rest of the division staff that McAulliffe said, "Nuts."

When McAulliffe arrived at division headquarters he was told that the Germans were still waiting for a response. McAulliffe asked that Colonel Harper come to the Division headquarters. Harper who was inspecting his units' positions was contacted by radio. When Colonel Harper arrived he was asked to wait outside the closed door to McAuliffe's quarters while inside and in the presence of his staff, McAulliffe said, "Well, I don't know what to tell them." One of his staff said that what he said when he first woke up would be hard to beat. McAuliffe was all, what? What? What do you mean by that?" The guy goes, "You said, 'nuts.'" The whole staff thought that was cool. So McAuliffe wrote "nuts" and told them to type it up. Which took like three seconds.

McAulliffe dismissed his staff and asked Harper to come in. McAuliffe acted all formal and had him stand just so and read the German letter. McAuliffe asked Harper how he thought the German letter should be answered. Taken aback, Harper began composing a response in his head. The guy who typed McAuliffe's response "Nuts!" on a formal response letter entered the room and handed McAulliffe the typed formal response. McAuliffe handed it to Harper who laughed.

This is serious shit, lives are at stake, and Harper is laughing at McAuliffe's response. Harper is instructed to deliver the message to the Germans.

Harper took the message to the Germans. The Germans asked, whether the message is written or verbal. Harper said, it is written and he put the message into the hand of the blindfolded German. The German asked about the content of the message because if it was affirmative then they were authorized to negotiate further the terms of surrender. Harper said the message contains the single word, "nuts."

The German was all, what? What is that supposed to mean? Is that negative or affirmative?

Harper said, "It is not affirmative."

The German was all, "You Americans and your affinity for the double negative."

Harper said, "If you continue this foolish attack your losses will be tremendous."

The two blindfolded German officers were driven back to the entry point at the farm.

Here, let me draw you a picture.


At the farm the Germans were joined by the medic who originally offered his service as translator. The blindfolds were removed and the Germans read the reply. They asked, "What does this even mean?" Colonel Harper and the medic discussed how to explain it. The medic said, tell them it means, "suck my balls." Harper said, "Wouldn't 'you're crazy' be better?" The medic said, "Tell them it means 'take a flying shit.'" Harper said, "Wouldn't 'your brains are a bowl of pecans' be better?" 

Back and forth they went between the innocent and the profane. 

Finally the medic stood up and told the Germans, "It means 'du kannst zum Teufel gehen'" which is German for "you can go to hell." 

Then Colonel Harper interjected, "If you persist in attacking we will kill every goddamn mother f'k'n pissant boot-licking German cock sucker that tries to break into this town."

That's what "Nuts!" means.

Then the German officers said, "We are going to kick your butts. You're going to be killed."

Then Colonel Harper said, "Piss right along." 

The threatened German artillery did not occur. Instead, the Luftwaffe attacked, bombing the town at night. 

The German officers proceeded to the Panzer headquarters in Lutrebois. After reporting in they departed for the Panzer Leher Division headquarters a mile further south. Just before reaching the Leher Division they encountered the car of General von Manteuffel parked in a thicket of trees. They stopped to report to the general. Then they proceeded to the Leher Division.

The Corps Commander was there. They gave the commander the letter saying, "Nuts!" General Bayerlein said it was time to start hitting with heavy artillery located behind the hill. Another General interrupted, General von Luettwitz said that the heavy artillery had been moved past Bastogne. 

Bayerlein started explaining how he would attack Bastogne without heavy artillery when he was interrupted again by von Luettwitz reminding him that Bastogne was not his objective and had ordered the panzer division past Bastogne leaving Bastogne to the 26th Volksgrenadier Division.

As we know, the weather cleared, Allied backup forces reinforced the line and Hitler shot himself in his bunker and the Germans surrendered and generations of Germans have been made to feel guilty about all this ever since.

The author of this account is Kenneth McAuliffe, the nephew of Brigadier General Anthony McAuliffe and verified to be 100% true except for the 4% that I added for dramatic effect.

Friday, December 6, 2019

John Kerry: Biden will defeat Trump next November

The comments to this tripe on Yahoo from USA Today by Savannah Behrmann are brutal. Kerry as you know is some guy. Some guy who used to be nearly relevant. (Whose opinion is less relevant than mine. Because my opinion is sane. And because I'm not up to my ears in Ukraine corruption like Kerry is.)

For example:

* Well, if anybody knows about winning potus, it's John Kerry ... right? Lmao 😂

If Biden wins get ready for immediate impeachment inquiries to begin.

* Everytime Biden opens his mouth it's evident he's long long past his prime. He won't be president. The good thing for Biden is even after he loses, he'll never even remember he was running.

And so on.

In the side panel at Yahoo Stephen King "Nails the big problem with Republicans' argument against impeachment."

This should  be interesting. I read a couple books by that guy. They were candy. One of them I resented with a passion. A passion with the heat of a thousand suns. Or perhaps the heat of Sterno.

Side story:

I met an interesting fellow who threw interesting parties with a tragic-comic theme. An annual costume party on the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic.  April 15th, so it could just as easily have been tax return theme, but the Titanic offered more costuming possibilities. You can come dressed as an upper class traveler, steerage traveler, mechanic, iceberg or lifeboat, for examples. A lot of possibilities to be wry.

The guy likes to read. Books all over the place. Books where books don't belong, the hallways, the transoms and so on. Ersatz bookshelves throughout. Paperbacks, so he likes collecting fire hazards.

Since he is such an obvious strong reader, at least an enthusiastic one, I risked loaning him the best book that I've ever read, The Urantia Book, a heavy tome with wall to wall words and quite thick.

I loaned it to him. Somehow he imagined I gave it to him. I had already read it three times and I intended to keep reading it over until I knew it inside and out forwards and backwards. See, it has the most beautiful eight hundred pages on the life of Christ that I've ever encountered. And I attended Regis where they have us read a lot about Christ. Very good books too. But to get to excellent touching eight hundred pages you really must read all the bizarre science fiction-y stuff that comes before it. It's a very very strange book.

I realized he considered it a trade when he showed up with one of Stephen King's books, The Talisman that he said was excellent. He gave me the book. He traded one fat book for another fat book, but honestly there is zero comparison.

The Talisman not excellent. It's crap. It's boring as f. I kept waiting for the interesting part but that never happened. It was an incredibly unfair trade. Crap for gold. That's what that trade was, and any respect that I might have had at the time for the guy evaporated. Poof. Just like that.

So I bought another copy of Urantia, tore it apart, unbound it, and treated the pieces like magazines. I must say it's an incredibly well-bound book. The best I've ever seen. No wonder the first book failed to fall apart as I read it and as all the other hardbound books do. It's sewn together. It's unwieldy to hold and much better in pieces. The segments can be folded and tucked into a parka and read on a ski lift. Or anywhere. In line at the bank. Waiting for the police officer to write up your ticket. Waiting in line at Subway Sandwiches. Waiting in line at the grocery checkout. That made it possible to read the book seven more times. It became the only book I was interested in reading. Nothing else could compare. Urantia vs The Talisman: 10,000,000 to 0.

From my point of view, Steven King is zero. His political opinion even less than zero. This is his arrogant sanctimonious craptastic logic:

* He gets a kick out of Republicans saying impeachment is an effort to overturn the will of the American people when Hilary (sic) beat the dumbbell by 3 million votes."

That again. King actually believes the popular vote concentrated in wholly corrupted Democrat urban centers should be the thing that governs the whole nation so very much unlike them.  His opinion is the same as a high school girl, and like a high school girl he thinks his opinion superior. He calls our president dumbbell. He calls someone smarter than himself, far more capable than himself, dumbbell. What an ul-ta-rah maroon. What a nincompoop. What a ninny. What a dumbfuck author of boring ass books.

* He (Trump) won because of the antiquated electoral college, a 2-mule wagon in a jet plane world.

How progressive. As religion is the brakes applied to urgent modern impulse, so too is the Republican party the brakes applied to Democrat wild-ass ambition. The electoral college is the brakes applied to the concentrated mob. King's girlish impulse is rejected. Step a little closer, King, so I can wipe that girlish smirk off your stupid girlish face.



* Trumpers hate that 3 million vote differential.

Trump supporters are indifferent to irrelevant numbers, you silly stupid asshole. Trump is your civics lesson, Dummkopf, now learn it.

* Bring it up and it's like hitting a raw nerve.

You are the raw nerve. Your arrogance is the raw nerve. Your resolute stupidity is the raw nerve. In my case your dumb ass book traded for my excellent book is my raw nerve. Hearing your name is my raw nerve. Your political opinion is irrelevant as your stupid ass worthless uninteresting books.

* King's posts resonated with fans who called the analysis "bang on" and "excellent."

That's because his fans are even more stupid than he is. His fans find his books interesting. I do not.

Fan:

* If 100% of the American people voted this buffoon in, & he still committed these offenses, he'd still be eligible for impeachment.

Even if he was voted in justifiably, one doesn't negate the other.

More reaching.

[The buffoon is you. "These offenses." I keep reading that. With nothing specific. And when I do read the list of impeachable things, it turns out to be hilariously ignorant. You being offended isn't a legal offense. Anyone is eligible for impeachment including my steak sandwich. Impeachment is a political process not a legal one. Trump hasn't broken any law as so many Democrats seeking impeachment have, and in the very areas they seek to impeach. More reaching. Reaching like mad. You're actually too stupid to even talk to. So piss off. And brace yourself for another defeat. You won't understand the next one either. And we'll all get more of your silly stupid shit.]

Now I'm cross.

Because I'm stuck in the same country with you arrogant asshole dopes.

Pelosi is asked about hating Trump and she flies off the handle to deliver her Catholic catechism and her percept of American framers, even as she uses the mechanisms the framers contrived contrary to what the framers created to prevent. Even as other Democrats denigrate the framer's constructions like high school girls stuck on popularity contests imagining themselves space age travelers.
When the government fails to protect the rights of the people, the people have no option but to replace that government with one that will protect their rights.
Pelosi quotes the Declaration of Independence under inalienable rights, not the Constitution. She gave a Reader's Digest version of our founders saying to Britain "kiss our butts" to apply to her party's impeachment, not comprehending that's exactly what conservative voters did by electing an outsider to Washington. We disrupted your government. The government you built contrary to founders intention.

When Pelosi says, "So don't give me this stuff about hating, it's contrary to my religion," I say, don't give me your stuff about religion as you throw your full throated support and your political power behind abortion. And don't give me your stuff about the United States Constitution that's actually the Declaration of Independence whereby our framers are speaking about Britain. You f'k'n miserable dope. Now brace yourself for another defeat. And you won't understand that either.

King says Republicans are touchy. We see Pelosi being extremely touchy about the suggestion she hates Trump. She lies again and tells us she prays for Trump everyday.

My ass prays for Trump everyday.

Here's Pelosi's prayer:

"Dear Lord, please smite this surly outsider. He's done nothing wrong except totally upset our applecart. Apples all over the place. Even our media cannot stop him. He's wrecking our personal wealth. He's messing up all our arrangements. Lord, please do this quickly. We're in trouble down here. He's ripping us each a new butthole. And we got nothing! Thank you, Lord. You're the best. Amen."

She prays everyday. That's a good one. That probably even works on her clustered 3rd world imports upon which she and King are reliant for their popular majority.

And we hear Biden totally lose it by simply being asked about hooking up his son with foreign income through corrupted arrangements. An arrangement involving Kerry. He challenges the questioner to pushups. Challenges his I.Q.

Again.

In both cases I'm reminded of my father dealing with his aged mother. In her later years Dad couldn't get anything out of her passive self until he got her "good and worked up." He'd purposefully get his own mother angry so that he could complete his business that involved her. To get her to recall things. To make her come alive. He was pleased that he figured that out. He'd go over to his mother's place, piss her off on purpose, and get his work done. From his point of view it was a clever game. From her point of view it was extremely disruptive.

The questioner did the same thing with Biden. Then the questioner explains later that he is not a Trump plant, that he's big on Elizabeth Warren and also big on another Democrat candidate, So sensible about Democrat corruption and so plainly pinched at the same time. Aware of corruption on one side of his one side, and unaware of corruption on the other side of his one side. So weirdly pinched. Narrow. Wrong and for the wrong reasons. And I'm stuck in the same country with him.

Thursday, December 5, 2019

Brian Justin Crum, Creep

Skip to the singing. The front is all filler.


He sure can yell.

Added: reaction.

Tucker flies his airfoil to MacDonald's

I can see clearly now

Elsewhere in comments people are talking about the impeachment fiasco opening the eyes of voters nationwide. About what crackpots worked up Dems are and how much damage they do. How acute they are to the perceived damage by their opponents that they actually do without any concern at all. They're using the lyrics of Jimmy Cliff's song to make their point. One commenter delivers the first line to support his point, then the second commenter delivers the second line of the song because it's better, then a third commenter gives the third line because he believes it really supports the idea the best.

I love that song.

It's not political, so shut up.

Quit ruining it by making it political.

The singer has stopped crying and now he sees clearly and so the future looks better. It's a very short song with repeated refrains so it's perfect for sign language etude.

And this whole time I thought the singer was saying, "Gone are the dark clouds that pass me by" and that's shown easily by "dark" + "cloud" that passes in front of you, the meter allows you to show a cloud do that. But I was wrong. It actually says "the dark clouds that had me blind."

I saw Soph say that and I was all, what? What? That's wrong, Stupid. But, no. It was me who was wrong, but not just regular wrong, I've been wrong for four and half decades! How embarrassing. And once again it is sign language that showed me exactly where I was wrong. Sign language is more precise than my ears.

Ew, gross. Now instead a cloud that passes in front of me, I must stick two fingers into my eyeballs. I don't like that word "blind." Saying the word "blind" in sign language is just weird. I hate it to pieces.

Talking about blindness in the language of deaf just doesn't seem right.

I want my cloud passing me by, not making me blind. But it's not right for me to change the words to the song so for now on I must live with this discomfort. And that makes me not like this song so much anymore. Soph, you killed it for me by being accurate.

"Clear" and "bright" are nearly identical signs. Clear is like the glass pane in front of you defogging and bright is the same two open hands of a mime bursting outward. You can hardly tell any difference especially if the person's sign-writing is slipshod.

"Sun" and "shine" can be shown various ways. "Sun" is a "C" rising in the air, "sunshine" is that "C" turned into a lightbulb, suddenly opening to the rays of the sun.

While "shine" is the middle finger of one hand wiggling up and down as the hand passes across in front of the trunk of the body like a path of wavy light. Usually "shine" comes off of something, often the back of the opposite hand.

So, sunshine, could be "C" rising up for "Sun" then the middle finger of "Sun" wiggling off from that area.

Or it can be shown a "C" snapping on like like a lamp and that's what most people do.

"Obstacle" is finger spelled.

But we don't like finger spelling in songs.

So we think of something else. "Block" as in "to bar." An "X" made with both hands.

I'm inclined to use "danger" the upright thumb of one hand being blocked by the opposite hand. Then both hands are positioned for "path" formed with "W" hand shapes for "way."

"Way" is "path" made with two "W" hand shapes.

People most often show a curving path but it can be straight. Better to make the path then show a two-handed X in the path. That's much more clear. So that idea will be reversed. It's not an "X" + "in" + "my" + (curvy) "path", rather, it's simply (straight) "way" + "X."  But nobody does that. Everyone else is more poetic. More English-y.  Less clear. That's what you'll see.

Incidentally, this type of "block" for obstacle is different from a building "block."

"Pain" is two index fingers pointing at each other and jabbing like electrical pain. This pain is placed wherever the pain exists; stomach, forehead, knee, whatever. General pain is that sign in front of the torso. And be sure to grimace painfully. Exaggerate to your hearts contentment, stick out your tongue, roll your eyes, show being conked out, whatever. A little pantomime with "pain" goes a long way.

"Sky" is very much like like "clear" and "bright." In fact, you'll notice no difference.

Come to think of it, maybe this song isn't so great due to its similarities in essential signs. The words make such a big difference in English but hardly any difference at all in ASL. And when you think about it, there really isn't that much difference between clear, bright and sky. There sort of is a difference, but not that much. Oh well. It's short. The torment of similarities is brief.

One last thing. Everyone does "gone" differently. I take my "gone" from deaf themselves. Put both hands on an imaginary card table. Lift them both off and pull them away into two loose fists.

Soph does "gone" as "disappear." One of the best signs ever. The index finger of one hand (a person) slipping through the floorboards of the opposite hand.

You'll see "gone" as a larger "disappear" in which the whole hand slips through the floor-fingers of the opposite hand.

You'll also see "gone" as "that invisible shaggy dog that just brushed by my side and went behind me." The two boys do it that way.

Step 1: Turn on the fan that blows your hair so you can pretend for a moment that you're Stevie Nix.


Soph's setup doesn't allow her to be more dramatic. When the word "sky" is drawn out over several inflections, getting bigger and bigger, higher then lower, Soph holds the sky and shows the sustained word on her lips and it looks goofy.

Whatcha gonna do?

Change the setup.

But she doesn't. She's got her thing and she's sticking with it.


Walmart hires the best most helpful and socially alert people

Matt Gaetz rips impeachment witness




Wednesday, December 4, 2019

House passes anti-robocall bill

And a weary nation breathes a sigh of relief. And let it not be said that the House doesn't do anything.


Here's a video if you want to watch something.



English muffin, arugula, sauce, ham, egg

This is the sort of thing that I don't do anymore. It is in February 2014. When I read the description it made me sad. I acknowledge back then that it's too much trouble. The sort of thing put on for a brunch but not the sort of thing you make for yourself because there are too many dirty dishes. Too many steps. Too much fuss.

It looks fairly good. Could be better. But now the dishes would sit around for a week until my housekeeper comes. And my neck would be really hurting halfway through. And my energy would fail.

After my appointment this morning I got home and turned on the computer and was reminded that I have an appointment. Four times. Then my phone rang. My specialist's with computer message to remind me to make an appointment.

Gawl!

They should have done all that yesterday. I need to set up reminders to remind my computers to remind me earlier than they do.

Oh man. I'm turning into the guy that I never liked.

Whenever old people started talking about all their unique ailments I was all, "That's interesting, Grandpa." ping,  gone. I had no patience for their obsession.

Now I'm doing it.

I told my two brothers this separately and over the phone they both found it hilarious and terrible.

This kidney specialist is an oddball. All business. My first 1/10 of a second encounter was incredibly telling.

I emerged from their bathroom into their hallway and encountered the doctor in passing. He looked away in that moment when regular people look right into my eyes and say, "Hi."
[Separate story:
The bathroom light is motion activated. It shuts off with no motion. Total darkness. I'm standing there in front of the toilet holding my dick to a cup. The light goes off. I lose balance. My arms flail. I grab the railing on the wall next to the toilet. My pants fall down. Had there been pee in the cup then I'd have certainly flung it across the entire bathroom that is otherwise spotless. Now I have to keep moving to keep on the light. When I told this to the staff they acted surprised. Like that never happened before. But how could it not have happened before? I cannot see how I would be the first one. Sick trick.]
That's all. That's all it takes, and he could not do it. I am in his world, he owns it, he is king there, and yet he could not simply look at me and say "hi."

Then moments later inside his office he was all business. No personality whatsoever. Zero. 100% task oriented.

"I want you to buy a blood pressure monitor."

      "I don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

     "Because I resent turning my apartment into a clinic."

"But it's very helpful to us. [A million reasons why it is helpful to him. Possibly five reasons.]"

     "Fine. I already looked at them on Amazon and I got massively confused by the number of types. Can you help me pick one?"

"No."

     "Fine. I'll get the least intrusive. I narrowed it down to the type that measures your wrist."

"I wouldn't get that kind. [A million reasons why that's a poor choice. Possible two reasons.]"

     "See? You can help me narrow it down."

He types like an executive secretary. He already had Amazon up on his screen. He picked out a model and I bought it.

And that's why I trust his fingers. That's why I trust him doing a biopsy. I realize that's silly, but that's why I trust him. He is good with his hands and he is not a bull popper.

Next session he describes the biopsy. "We take this probe and jab it through your skin." He extends his arm beyond the distance it would take any probe to reach anybody's kidney. Sign language. He lunged with a sword. "Then we grab a piece of kidney" Sign language. He violently grabs a large imaginary apple and yanks it violently back to his body. His sign language is way out of whack with any possible probe. If his sign language was true then he'd stab my body with a sword and grab my entire kidney and yank the whole thing through a gaping hole. That's what he showed me that he intends to do while he described it in English. It would have been hilarious had it not been so horrible. His ... what is it ... bedside manner, although there is no bed involved, his manner re-dick-a-liss.

My brothers thought that was hilarious. Stop laughing!

Zero euphemism as doctors usually do. In fact, anti-euphemism. He vocalized the procedure accurately and reasonably while simultaneously sign-languaging it horribly. And oddly, that made me trust him. It made me like him. I get him. This can work. I am very eager for him to have his biopsy, rather, I'm eager to have that so then I can be treated. He must do the biopsy before he can treat me.

I'd much rather he guess based on his vast experience and treat me based on his best guess.

My brother compared it computer systems. Yes he can guess, but best to run tests to narrow down the problem exactly. It's much better that way.

My brother made a very good point.

I am eager for treatment, and the biopsy is in the way. So I'm eager to have that done with. But I'll never forget the specialist's jousting sign language depiction of how he visualizes the procedure; stab with a sword and grab the chalice.

Then study the specimen with google eyes.

Then after treatment I can return to things like this breakfast too extravagant just for one dude where a Pop-Tart will do.


President Trump and Melania return from NATO summit

If you can call that a summit. They returned a little bit early. Went like this:

Trump: Say, Honey, let's blow this miserable cold wet little island.

Melania: Okay.

Woosh. Ten thousand tons of CO2 dumped into English atmosphere.

Maybe I made up that whole last part. Could you tell?

First, Trump held a bilateral with Macron. You're not expected to watch. It's irritating.



I did a crossword in another window as that played and the whole time I was thinking, Man, that Macron sounds like a total jerk. I switched windows a couple of times and sure enough he was being a total jerk.

Nothing is lost in translation. Even speaking English there is no substance. Macron is air. He speaks a million words and says nothing.

He did that hand crush thing that insecure jerks do when shaking hands with men larger than themselves. And Trump did that hand crush thing back that larger men do to show they can break the bones in hands of smaller men who pull that ridiculous insecure crap. And the whole thing went downhill from there.

What a little dick. 

It must be noted that Trump doesn't pick these fights, they do. We see this consistently. Some celebrity makes their views known and Trump smacks them back. The celebrity smitten can't believe that a Republican actually snapped back so they snap off again and Trump smacks them again and again and again. Then because Trump behaves differently media describes Trump as thin skinned and petty.

Our allies are no different. The original smiting is in NATO members not paying their target 2%. That's the original snipe, not Trump mentioning it. Trump is expected to behave as all previous US presidents and accept the grace extended to US presidents and US taxpayers the privilege of providing their national defense.

Trump made clear that NATO is more important to Europe than it is for the United States. 

France expects the US to be there and defend it should matters ever come to that. So does Germany. While France refuses to allow US military to use French airspace and both countries slip on their commitment over years amounting to billions of dollars of defense negligence. Macron feels he can characterize NATO as braindead. Trump reminds them of this slipshod Socialist manner and that makes Trump a jerk. International fairness is not a Socialist trait. They require imbalance in trade with other agreements such as NATO or else their system doesn't work so well. They take longer vacations than Americans do. Their infrastructure is more up to date than American infrastructure is. Their healthcare is socialized to the extent that it becomes most of their government activity. 


I think the chart embiggens.

France does better than Germany but worse than Bulgaria and Greece. 

What's Bulgaria afraid of? They see value in NATO. France and Germany signal that they do not. 

Trudeau also had a bilateral with Trump but that one turned out to be mostly the media questioning Trump. How embarrassing to sit there in your brown shoes and shiny socks and endure all questions going to Trump. Trudeau is so uninteresting, Canada too, the press doesn't even bother asking him questions. 

I read that Trudeau then left the bilateral with Trump then went straight to 10 Downing and disparaged Trump.

I looked for a video on YouTube. Nothing like that showed up. Then I narrowed the search to "today" and only one vide appeared. This one. It didn't seem that bad. This morning I saw this video featured everywhere I turned. It's everywhere all at once.

The video shows Trudeau speaking to Macron and to Boris Johnson saying, "He's late because he gives 40 minute press conferences." Or something like that. Our president makes himself available to our despicably corrupted press and both press and other world leaders natter like stupid old women. 


Now there are other videos of this same thing up to eight minutes long. But who wants to listen to these numb nuts that long?  Nobody does. That's who.

Trump made his point. NATO is more important to them than it is to us. Now, act like it, or stfu.

It's Trump saying, "Your breath is very bad. Has anyone told you this?"

And bad as socialists are in getting others to pick up their tab so that their system can work, communists are even worse. All that applies to Europe and Canada applies to China X10.

Now, when asked is Trump going to let Trudeau get away with what we see?


Trump likes the guy. But he's two-faced. Can you argue with that? He's a nice guy but his breath is very bad. Does anyone tell him that?

That one bad breath interview made decades ago demonstrates so very much about Trump. He will call you out on your observed behavior. Just make sure you bathe and brush your teeth, shine your shoes, wash your car before speaking to him.

Trump's message is not in code. Rarely will you see anything this straightforward, this accessible, this open, this uncloaked, this distressingly honest. But when you have parties that will constantly distort everything, when you have enemies who always take advantage of your openness, then those proclivities can be predicted, those impulses can be used.

Trump decoder ring.


Tuesday, December 3, 2019

Biden's hairy legs

We've been directed a million times to the video of Biden's campaign stop in which he relates the story of children playing with his hairy legs in a pool and him enjoying the kids sitting on his lap. Possibly ten times. I resisted except for this cartoon.

I still had to listen to Biden but I didn't have to actually watch him. I like how the kids are shown hating it, not having fun.

And I cannot believe that Democrats are happy with this guy being at their front. Usually I ignore all of it as irrelevant, such as him biting his wife's finger, and everything about all of the rest, but this is a little bit funny.


Branco draws nervous crazy Nancy


He surprised me by starting with the eyes.

I would have guessed that he start with the shape of the head. For space filling purposes. When he draws a panel cartoon, the body must fit in the space of the panel.

Notice the Picasso element, the eyes are straight on while the nose is a side-view. He draws the ala of the nose. Hey, it's anatomy over here on Lem's, the bump of the nose, the nostril. But only one. So, side view of the nose. Like Egyptians drew noses but Branco provides two eyes not just one as a face profile.

These cartoonists get away with face-murder. They just leave out things that don't contribute. He doesn't bother drawing a philtrum. Yeah, I said philtrum, the two vertical lines between the nose and the upper lip. The dent they make forms the central shape of the upper lip. While it's essential to a face Branco just leaves it out, and while drawing a picture of Schiff, the philtrum lines are emphasized. (Along with hangdog baggy cheeks for a schoolmarm effect.)

He doesn't draw Nancy ears. No Nancy earrings. No Necklace. Pelosi always wears earrings and necklace.  She's always very well put together. His Nancy neck begins with a downward zigzag line for aged wrinkled neck. Her neck age-lines are actually vertical. Where Schiff-neck will be a carefully drawn pencil.

And he erases. Ew, gross, now the side of his hand is dirty. He can't do that with his pen and ink drawings.

I enjoyed this video very much. I learned a lot about how this cartoonist thinks.

The light reflection on the whiteboard bothered me the whole time.

Oh! All Democrats wave their finger around. All liberals do. They can't help it. It's essential to their didactic pedantic nature. Obama was coached not to do that. It's so obvious that I don't know why cartoonists haven't picked up on this. Obama bent his index finger to vitiate the impulse, but the "conducting an orchestra" effect was still there. Back and forth up and down with a bent index finger. Imagine how awful that would have been every day, day in and day out, throughout the day over and over and over, with his extended index finger. Just awful.

For awhile I was making animations of a liberal speaking then an animal comes flying into the frame and bites off the index finger. The rest of the animation is the person still speaking unaffected but with blood gushing out of the finger stub spewing blood all over the place. A dog, a cat, a parrot, a monkey and so on, Hillary, Bill, any Kennedy, any Russian, any British, any French politician, Castro, any liberal speaker. But there were so many of them that I got tired of making them. The only difference between them was the liberal speaker and the animal triggered by their pedantically waving finger.

Lighthizer announces 100% countervailing duties on $2.4 billion of French products

Trump being Trump. Macron should have known, there is enough evidence to inform him, but it didn't, Macron and the French government acted, and now Trump responds.

Recall the ridiculous stunts Macron pulled at the G20 in France. He showed up for an unscheduled lunch without giving Trump a chance to prepare, to discuss publicly socialist climate issues bringing his media with him, and then he invited Iran Foreign Minister to an unscheduled bilateral meeting to pressure Trump. Two weird surprises that didn't give Trump a chance to appropriately prepare.

Two absurd power-plays right there. The things a little man does to a big man. Right off the bat. Two huge ridiculous faux pas using international press. Trump is all Rodney Dangerfield, "I'm telling ya, I get no respect. No respect at all." Except with Trump it's not funny.

Recall the United States just won a $7.5 billion per year countervailing duty through the WTO from the Airbus subsidy case and France cannot retaliate.

Now, since France has levied tax on U.S. internet services such as Google, Apple, Facebook and Amazon, Trump's team calculated the damage this does to the American economy and the US just now leveled countervailing tariffs to equal that amount. As Trump touches down in the U.K. for the NATO summit Lighthizer announces the new American tariffs against France. The agenda for the scheduled bilateral between Trump and Macron has instantly changed before anything starts.

Trump out-Macroned Macron.

Most uncomfortable. For everybody but Trump. Macron put Trump on the spot. But nobody does that so casually as Trump. [During an interview Trump pushes away, "Excuse me your breath is really bad. Has anyone told you that?" Of course not. Everyone else is too timid, too nice, too gracious to not suffer in silence.]

See the symmetry?

Will this beautiful splendid expert finely tuned symmetry be described as such by U.S. news services? I wouldn't know.

Technical stuff here; Office of the United States Trade Representative, Conclusion of USTR's Investigation Under Section 301 into France's Digital Services Tax.

Essentially, the US trade representative concluded the first segment of its investigation and determined that France's Digital Services Tax discriminates agains US companies inconsistent with prevailing principles of international tax policy and is unusually burdensome for affected US companies.

The rest of the link is quite interesting.

This being the first segment we can expect more to follow.

The United States doesn't say this but they imply it heavily, that France's presumptuous socialism keeps requiring constant infusions of other peoples' money and Trump is putting an end to the contribution from the United States. Or, more briefly, "bite us."

Pow! Right in the kisser. France, Macron, you'll be begging for US cooperation. You'll be asking obsequiously what you can do to correct this dissatisfaction and the answer will be anathema to Socialist proclivities and orientation; ditch your preference for wildly uneven playing field and grow the f up.

[I haven't researched but I noticed every cute little thing that caught my attention that's made in France is at least twice as costly as other similar things. Everything is always overpriced.  Silpat mats, for example, novelty bottle spouts, for another, specific pop-up books from French artists for another, Le Creuset cookware for another, and it caused me to imagine that French government taxes exports presuming their products are must-haves. Well, they are not must-haves. I can make mustard easily good as Dijon any day of the week.]

Trump is protecting United States middle class. Protecting United States production. And he does this with intriguing élan vital. See what I did there? Trump is actually funny. Amusing to observe. Macron played his little Pepé Le Pew games. Trump just now kicked him in his skunk nuts right before their bilateral meeting. Macron does not have time to respond.


And this is only the first segment. 

California is taking lessons from France. In many ways they're just as good/bad. I read Texas wines are quite good. But I wouldn't know that by experience either. 

Monday, December 2, 2019

Video, things I made then ate in 2013

It makes me a little bit sad.

Because it shows more enthusiasm more energy than I have right now. It shows people who died, restaurants that closed, markets that moved, homes and places that will never be enjoyed again.

It shows quite a lot of avocados actually being used. Now I buy avocados and throw them away a week later for failure of being deployed. The last three met that fate. And so will the next three.

I told my friends that I never get around to eating all the bananas so I learned to beat the system. Now I buy a bunch of bananas, eat one while unpacking the groceries and throw the rest away while still unpacking.

It shows an interest in pretzels, pizzas and sourdough cultures, pastas, steamed buns, pierogis, and raviolis that I do not show now.

There are 458 photographs that display for 1 second each. Music starts about the 50th frame and runs for 6 minutes 22 seconds to the end.

This only hints at the work involved. One photograph here can represent 20 to 30 photographs in a post describing the process.  Only a few of the posts have only one photograph. Some posts have some 20+ photographs showing every step of the process then someone will comment asking for the recipe.



One guy wrote a cookbook with the expressed intention of not including recipes, rather, he discussed what was going on and how to determine why certain ingredients are included and how to intuit how much to use. The thing is, when you look up a recipe for a specific cake you will see all sorts of variations in specific elements and amounts but with no explanation why the amounts are chosen. 

Everyone hated it. 

People are just so concrete. When you don't specify exactly they go nuts.

Conversely, anti-cookbooks are popular. Amazon suggested to me a satire cookbook category. Some books in the satire or humor category are about cocktail drinks and I am not interested in those.

Tequila Mockingbird, for example.

Other titles are gratuitously profane. Fuck that. 

One is written in the style of H.P. Lovecraft. It's rated 5 stars by people who like that science fiction. The recipes are actual but they're written weirdly with even more weird illustrations. 

Another humor cookbook is Bob's Burgers. The titles of regular hamburgers are funny. The actual hamburgers are reasonable. That also is rated very highly. People love the television cartoon. They love the whole attitude.

You Suck at Cooking is based on a popular You Tube channel with two million subscribers.  Written by a male college student. 

Mike Ward, Canadian Comedian sued by Canadian Human Rights Commission to pay $42,000 for making jokes about a deaf boy

The French Canadian deaf boy's wish was to sing for the pope. This is a wish that Adele, the British singer, helped him achieve. The story was huge in Quebec. Later Celine Dion was moved by the Quebec news item to include the boy in her Las Vegas show.

The boy's name is Jérémy Gabriel. He suffers a syndrome that causes head, face, skull and ear deformities. His ambition is to become a singer.

This is the kind of story that makes people feel great. The most unlikely ambition made true by sheer will and ambition. It doesn't matter how well Gabriel sings. Just pulling it off is sufficient. It allows people to feel great about themselves for ignoring the kid actually doesn't sing very well. He cannot. Because he is deaf.

Mike Ward suffers no such conceit. His jokes are merely describing the situation in straightforward terms. His crime is making fun of everyone involved with our weird conceits and our inflated opinions of ourselves for being so gracious unrealistically.
Two of three judges ruled Mike Ward’s comments regarding Gabriel were not justifiable in a society where freedom of expression is valued.
This is none of our business. Canada, you be you. However from the American point of view this is the essence of our differences. That statement is self-contradictory. From our point of view it doesn't even make sense. Freedom of expression is valued when things that appall us are defended. There is no need to protect proper speech. To allow the things we disagree with out there for further discussion is real freedom of speech. If what Mike Ward says is so awful, then say so and why. Pound him into the dirt. Overwhelm Ward with proper common sense. And if you cannot do that then you are not so confident in your position and would rather have government do all your shutting down of unhappy speech for you.

Mike Ward's comedy is put on the page behind this one. It is a very long set. One hour. Unusual for a comedy club. The club is French Canadian, the audience is French Canadian but Ward is half English and half French and this set is delivered in English without a trace of French accent. Along with some Canadian French. He is horrible. And I mean whore eh bull. His language is casually grotesque. If you bother, then you're gong to hate him. I know you people and you cannot stand this type of thing.

His style is to view all life interactions from the most base point of view possible.

Before I put up his set I want to tell you a story because something happened in real life that matches his story fairly closely.

I have a subset of friends that I developed over time then abruptly dropped for several reasons. I think about them often but not with particular fondness. We did a lot of things together over a period of years. All of it interesting, but not all of it happy.

For the most part they are intellectual and philosophical types. They also smoke pot. They're fond of playing cards and smoking pot. Not all of them, but most of them.

One time they were playing the card game hearts on the back patio of one of their homes. I was not playing. I was just hanging out. The dynamics of me being there is a little bit odd. I don't fit precisely. One of the guys was talking about tarot cards and boring the living piss out of everyone. He would not get off the subject and he kept pronouncing the cards as tah-row' and not the usual ta-row.

Tah-row', tah-row', tah-row', tah-row', tah-row', tah-row', tah-row', tah-row', over and over. He was driving his point that we all mispronounce this word. Nobody responded. Nobody asked any tarot-related questions. Nobody cared. Everyone kept waiting for the guy to get off the subject but no amount of ignoring would stop him.

Finally a lull in conversation as they examined their newly dealt hand.

I said, "I don't know anything about tah-row' but I have read some Emerson."

It took a moment to sink in, they were focused on their cards,  that I was conflating occult cards with an American transcendentalist. Being philosophers they thought that was hilarious. They knew I wasn't that stupid. I disrupted their whole card game. The guy who was annoying everyone thought it was the funniest thing ever. He actually named his weird little dog Thoreau. It was just his type of joke. And it did work to get him off the subject of tarot cards. He couldn't continue without being even more ridiculous and the whole table of card players crack up laughing all over again. Even the non-philosophers thought that was funny because everyone heard of Thoreau and Emerson.

These same people were playing again. This time in the basement of the same house.

With a dropped ceiling, the space is too tight. The tarot card guy is 6'4". Everyone else is regular height but they have only reach up to touch the ceiling. The basement is remodeled very nicely but there is nothing that can be done about the ceiling being too low. It affects acoustics. Although expansive and very well done the space is still too tight. I hate it to pieces.

Again, they are playing cards and smoking pot at their table. The weird thing is, each one has his own pipe and his own sack of pot. I am sitting apart from them. So is Jiva, a Hari Krishna vegetarian friend. It's helpful to know that Jiva knows many of the same deaf people that I do. This secondary circle of friends overlap. Although, I've only seen them together once. That was enough to know that Jiva is very adept in sign language. Something I know about him by seeing it only one time.

Jiva also looks a lot like Tiny Tim. Long wavy hair, long dark heavy topcoat. A bit goth. Doc Martin boots that he painted purple. He likes me. But his main squeeze does not. She is a remarkable artist. Splendidly talented. If you care to see her work. Marie Vlasic, of pickle fame. Oh! There's Jiva and Marie in Jiva's home. Marie likes her subjects to be oddballs. People with deformities and with outrageous tattoos. Her style is hyperrealistic. I am too ordinary for Marie.

I should add, Marie is talented as H-E-Double paint stir sticks. She decorated their porch for Halloween and made it scary looking with bound hay clusters large black plastic crows. Who would even think of that?

They were playing hearts again. They had dealt the cards. In this game, you take the worst card in your hand and pass it to the player on your right. They change it up so you don't piss off the same person each time. Pass to the left, pass across, and so on.

During this moment the whole room is quiet. I use the lull in conversation to mention, speaking to no one in particular, that when I was fourteen I connected with a group of deaf men who all worked together as printers under the Vocational Rehabilitation program that gave money to both employers and employees to get handicapped people off the regular dole. I connected with two people. They introduced me to the other workers at the print shop. (Not relevant to my story, that space is now filled by a Christian book store and an African Violet store in Englewood. The print shop is gone)

Sometimes we went to lunch at a restaurant. Other times they played hearts on their lunch hour. Same game that the philosopher-types are playing now. They did the same discard to the right bit (left/across).

The youngest of the deaf still six or so years older than me, could also hear the best and could also enunciate English words the best. His friends couldn't hear him so when he spoke in my presence it was for my benefit, and to show me that he really can speak, not for the benefit of the other deaf who could not hear him. I was not playing cards. I don't like cards. Yet his speaking at the card table was for me.

"Hey! You. gived. me. da. black. BITCH!"

Someone had passed him the least fortunate card. The exact same thing that is happening again twenty years later at a different card table.

I related that in unmodulated voice just as he did. I imitated the guy twenty years later to a tee. I was being accurate. I was pleased with my accuracy. Not funny. There was nothing funny about it. Nothing funny intended. No ridicule. Just honesty. Just accuracy. I was accurate as I could possibly be and the entire room exploded in laughter resounding in that low-ceiling hard surface space and I shrank zoop zoop zoop like a cartoon inside my shoe. I immediately realized that I had betrayed my earlier friends. Somehow accidentally I had violated a trust with God. I felt like I had sinned. I did not mean to be funny. Certainly not at my deaf-friends' expense.

And the guy cracking up laughing the hardest was Jiva!

The most religious guy of all of us. The guy who actually lives his religion, the only one there besides myself who speaks their language, thought my imitation of their unmodulated speech was painfully hilarious. I still don't understand that. I was heartbroken. I heart broke myself. I couldn't believe I had betrayed so easily. I prayed their forgiveness and they weren't even around to be offended. I prayed to God for forgiveness. I did not mean to be funny. I did not mean to betray. And that incident taught me a very serious lesson to never let that happen again.

All my friends are assholes for thinking the wrong things are funny. I never know when they're going to crack up laughing at the stupidest most wrong things.

That is what Mike Ward lives for. That is why Canada's French are making his humor so expensive. Mike Ward crossed the line with Canada's conceptualization of free speech. Canada thinks and feels that Mike Ward interfered with Jérémy Gabriel's free speech.


Sunday, December 1, 2019

"So your boy's name is what?

Man On Stoop: Snot.
McNulty: You call the guy Snot?
Man On Stoop: Snot Boogie.
McNulty: He like the name?
Man On Stoop: What?
McNulty: Snot Boogie. (man shrugs) This kid, whose mamma went to the trouble of christening him Omar Isaiah Betts. You know, he forgets his jacket, so his nose starts running, and some asshole, instead of getting him a Kleenex, he calls him Snot. So he's Snot forever. Doesn't seem fair.
Man On Stoop: Life just be that way, I guess."

Life is funny that way, sometimes. Those are the opening lines of dialogue from "The Wire", which I watched again recently. Interesting show, it depicts the decay and degradation of a city that I used to visit, from about 1955 until the last time I rolled through on a train headed north in 2010. It is truly a shithole, but it wasn't always.

I did like several actual Baltimorons they hired to act in that series - Jay Landsman played Lt. Dennis Mello. When he speaks it is clear that he is from Baltimore. Another was actress Tootsie Duvall who played school admin Marcia Donnelly and she has a strong Bawmer accent. Hearing those two speak is like a trip home for me. Makes me smile.

By the time the writers get around to season 5 they are just lashing out at republicans and totally missing the fact that the ruination of that city was caused 100% by democrat policies and corrupt democrat politicians. The irony is lost on them, even as they portray it on the screen.

Good news is that all of the characters went on to great careers - drug slingin' thug kingpin Marlo Stansbury became Bosch's sidekick J. Edgar, the Bawmer pleece cheef became the L.A. Chief of Police, and so on. They moved on up, to the east side, that de-luxe apartment in the sky...

But back to reality - after several days of steady rain we now have water in our river again, and while I have not been able to get my dog out for long walks I figured out a new plan - since she is motivated by treats so I will put some dog biscuits in my pocket, run out to the far end of my yard, call her, give her a treat, then run back to the house. She follows me, I run back out, call her again, she runs back out, gets another treat, and this way we both get exercise and remain in a state of emotional equilibrium during weather that is a bit gloomy.

But I have been getting some work done.





Bowls of various sizes and materials, also, the last sunset we saw prior to the weather setting in:


Being in a guitar mood I will post this one again - ah, sunshine and salt flats:


The rubber strings crack me up. The drone camera work is good, too.

I was searching for Tedesco and found Tedeschi. 


She does not hold back - she leaves it all right out there on stage. Good job Miss Susan.

Update:

The rain stopped and I took my dog for a walk. Neighbors put out some "Holiday" decorations, and I use sneer quotes because polar bears sure don't have anything to do with Christmas as near as I can tell, and my dog really reacted to the little critters:


Sorry about the poor quality photo but you can see her fur standing up - good dog! Bite that polar bear! Bite its face off!

I got her to sit, but she did not trust that thing:


"I know it's going to sneak up on us, Pappy!"

We also got a break in the clouds as the sun was setting:


All in all a lovely evening.

Saturday, November 30, 2019

KLEM FM

This song music made me think of Robbie Krieger and Dust Bunny Queen in the same breath. Who can tell me why?

London Bridge killer was released from prison early

The prevailing attitude is treating terrorism delicately. The conceit is if a civilized society treats terrorism delicately then society rises above it. The advanced society demonstrates their enlightenment by simply not giving terrorism its energy. They say, "There. Now get on with your life."

Or something.

I don't know. I don't understand it.

I don't want to understand it.

This man, Usman Kahn, had Anjem Choudary's phone number on speed dial. That's not an exaggeration. Kahn was a follower of Choudary. Kahn was sentenced to sixteen years but served less than seven.

Now everyone chimes in. Boris Johnson chimes in saying the early release is a mistake.

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

But I suppose it must be said because ... Britain.

The story is interesting. Heroic. Given the circumstance is entirely manmade. Entirely political.

At heart, the issue is guns.

And Brits have America on their brains. We are their brain virus.

They know how ridiculous it is to stop a terrorist attack with a whale tusk and a fire extinguisher. That those implements had to be resorted to is cartoonish. That the population is stripped of its ability to protect itself but a terrorist attack is stopped without guns means this situation must be an example of how guns are not needed. Anticipating American ridicule British people take the offensive, "Let this be a lesson to Americans that you don't need firearms to stop terrorism."

Fuck you. You're ridiculous. Your entire culture is ridiculous. And no, your shit sandwich is not delicious.

A few days ago I read a comment to a video that had absolutely nothing to do with the United States. Some incredibly stupid satire video. The British commenter said because of Trump he has no interest in visiting the United States. Perfectly non-sequitur.

As I read it I thought, odd, I never had any interest whatsoever in visiting London or any of England or any of Great Britain and it has nothing to do with a particular leader. Even though my family is from there. Even though my present family visits all the time. It's among the last places on earth I'd consider boarding a plane to go visit. I also thought, good, we don't want to see your ridiculous stupid arrogant British ass over here anyway speaking like a retarded mong.

But I didn't say anything.

I just let it go. I was ready to type, "Sentiment returned with compounded interest." But I didn't.

Now in these threads (you must click through to see them all, but don't bother, it's only irritating) about a terrorist attack stopped with rudimentary and bizarre instruments by citizens and ultimately by firearms of police, the same type of remarks are asserted continuously.

It has nothing to do with us.

Yet the British liberals keep dragging us into their ridiculous demeaning conceits. They persistently invite argument. They persistently drive us away from them. They constantly naggingly make us want to punch them in their stupid arrogant faces. It's none of our business. It has nothing whatsoever to do with us, yet we are forefront in their minds during their hour of crisis and their absurdly cartoonish response to it.

Britain, you are ridiculous. And there is no end to your arrogance. Your conceit is shown everywhere.

Dream

Dumbest dream I've ever had, right here.

I don't know why I was taken back to this stupid spot in time.

I am three years old. Exactly. It's my birthday. That day I completed three years on earth. But I didn't know that at the time.

I am standing in front of a desk and my mother is chiding me. She wants to know why I scribbled on the desk with crayon.

I look at the scribbles. It's not my work. Not my scribbles. Not my style. Can't she see that?

Here's the thing: These scribbles go back and forth and my scribbles go round and round. Why can't she recognize somebody else's handwriting?

Barry must have done this. But I don't have the capacity to blame someone else. I just stand there stupefied. I don't have the vocabulary to defend myself. I'm being blamed for something I didn't do and there is nothing I can do about that except cry. And it's not worth crying about.

Barry is not there. He is outside as usual playing ditch the little brother. My dad is not there. He's never there. He's a photograph on top of the television set. My sister is not there. Just us two and my mother is not happy with me.

She doesn't want me unhappy. She's already baked a cake for me and I don't even know what a cake is. I don't know what a birthday is. I don't know my birthday cake has three candles. I've never seen a candle. I've never seen a fire up close. I've never had a birthday song sung to me. I have no idea what's in store. All I know is that I did not make that scribble.

It's a dark scene. Low light. Everything is brown. Dark brown. Like Wizard of Oz before they wake up in Oz. The whole thing is depressing. There is a faint tap at the door like this: tap tap tap. 

Like a woman tapping gently at the door. Or possibly a man using the paw of a kitten. 



"Coming!"

I wake up and twist off the sofa. I put one leg on the floor and stand on it. Then the other. My whole body hurts and my balance is nonexistent. Each step toward the door is achingly slow as I pull together movement on this concrete existence. I expect another knock by impatience but that doesn't happen. And that tells me it could be the mailman already gone. But he knocks louder than this.  I expect to be faced with a woman or possibly a young person. I have no time to get dressed. I will say to them, "Behold my magnificent water-drum stomach. You can actually tap a tune on it if you like." I open the door and nobody's there. Just air. And a floppy package on the floor.

Goddamnit. Now I have to bend over and pick it up. 

Exercise and I'm not even awake.

I know what it is. 

Wranglers jeans. Cowboy cut. Green.

I'll open it later.

With belt loops in front spread apart to accommodate a large cowboy belt buckle. It's a thing with those guys. They're like wrestlers that way. This is their artistic expression. It's an exaggeration that they like to indulge.


Wrangler actually asked the cowboys what they want in a jean and this is what the rodeo cowboys  told Wrangler. 

"We want front belt loops spread apart to accommodate our glorious silver cowboy buckles." 

And Wrangle was all, "Aw, man. Yeah. Right. We can see that. Thank you for your valuable input. This tremendous innovation will set us apart from all other jean makers. It will show that we're serious about our objectives and meeting consumer demand." They were thinking, "We will own the cowboy market, and they will own us." 

I need the belt loops spread apart too. To accommodate my hoof-pick belt buckle. Which is also horse-related but not nearly so rough as bucking broncos. Those guys get totally beat up. And they keep coming back for more horse and bull abuse.

They're masochists. 

And when you tell them straight up they're insane they just stand there and grin wryly because they know it's the truth. They like being tossed around brutally.