Simple Man

It's become my theme song these days.

On Waiting for the Word, Finding Balance, and Feat of Klee

Earlier in the week, I came upon the word “Shellshock” as the title of a post by J. Treacher.  Without agreeing to the rest of what he’d written, I appreciated finding that word and these from him as they helped me recognize what I was experiencing, and move from there to  find a sense of center and balance again:  You'd have to be crazy not to be scared right now. This is all happening too fast, there's too much information and misinformation and disinformation getting blasted at you all at once, and the consequences of everything that's happening are too big to wrap your head around. It's hard to know what's going on or who to trust.   While that may seem over the top or too much for some here, it resonated with me.

Following edutcher’s nut-shell declaration and encapsulation of stir crazy as one description of what could be experienced by the many who've been following the 15 Days to STS and state issued stay at home directives, I kept looking for a word or way to describe what I was feeling, which wasn’t stir crazy and didn’t involve panic yet included an underlying sense of fear and dread, along with a strong lack of trust. I wasn’t trusting myself not to be careless in washing, face-touching or contact with surfaces and things coming into my house, while also not trusting the honesty and motives of those who were providing information and guidance, and making life affecting decisions.  Where to obtain reliable information was a struggle, along with determining how much time and energy I wanted to spend immersing myself in looking for it. I’d felt  troubled and confounded by my inability to pull away from all that was going on (even without any MSM contact) and engage in fruitful or creative activity beyond immediate self care and life maintenance. 

As a trauma survivor, my own fear of being powerless in the face of threat, bodily harm, loss, or death is easily activated.  The old neural pathways are still there, like worn ruts in the road for me to fall back into, and it takes a conscious effort on my part to remain present, recognize reality, reach out,  find balance and move forward in truth and grace. 

Looking into "shellshock" helped me understand what was rattling in me, and Paul Klee's Tightrope Walker, pictured above, served as the visual that allowed me to use my imagination to "see" what was happening and needed at the crossroads where feeling and thought come together in integration to result in the action of a next step. (In resurrecting the Kandinsky book, I'd also picked up the one on Klee and it was sitting next to me by the computer when I happened to open it while listening to one of the daily WH Press conferences, saw the Tightrope Walker and thought, Yes this is it!  This is what I am doing right now, what the president is doing, what our nation is doing and what the world is attempting to do--walk the tightrope and survive!) 

The Twittering Machine pictured below was done by Klee in 1922.  It preceded The Tightrope Walker by a year, which intrigued me as a fitting sequence in light of the twitterings and turning of the crank that have been taking place at all levels.  

Although both pictures were created a lifetime ago, they offer visuals that invites present-day recognition and awareness as we seek wisdom, accept responsibility, hold onto hope, look for light in darkness, and respond as needed to ongoing encounters with gravity and levity.  

From a personal, national or global point of view, art, which sometimes has the ability to include and transcend each, can serve as an invite.  

Who or what is turning your crank?  What tightrope are you walking?  What's helping you find balance?  What crossroads have you reached?  What direction are you heading?     

In the Comments: Dad Bones said:

Shellshock is a good word. I heard the gun go off and it sounded kinda close but AFAIK I didn't get hit nor did anyone I know. How much longer will I be able to say that? Or will it eventually just fade away because it wanted to and not because of anything we did to protect ourselves from it? I wouldn't know. I'm just another civilian in this war.

On Uber With a B and Tips for Survival

This one's dedicated to Trooper York as he shelters in place under the TY Big Top.  

Out-of-work strippers are delivering food through Boober Eats

"Portland finds a way. Close down her strip clubs, and dancers will do delivery.
That’s what’s happening at the Lucky Devil Lounge. The club was forced to close with Gov. Kate Brown’s mandate to stem the spread of coronavirus, but the order does allow food establishments to offer take-out or delivery...It became very real when all this happened,” said one of the dancers, who goes by the stage name Olivia. “Dancers work for tips and tips only.”

And thus was born club owner Shon Boulden’s newest business: Boober Eats. The home delivery service, in which a pair of scantily clad strippers will deliver hot food to your door, started as a joke Boulden posted on social media. When people began seriously inquiring about orders, Boulden saw potential...'It’s crazy,' Boulden said.  'We mutated our one business into a totally different style of business.' 

All dancers are driven and escorted by a security guard. And there’s at least one rule that carries over from the strip club to a pandemic – no touching the dancers."

KLEM FM

Because we do...

...or perhaps we need a little Easter.

If you watch the video, see if you can spot a very young Kenny Rogers. He's the guy playing the bass.

On Light between Heavy, Sean of the South, Good Stuff Happening and Thelma Lou

I recently started receiving daily posts from Sean of the South, a storyteller who wrote Stars of Alabama, the book I’ve been listening to on Audible; and they’ve been serving as a small source of light between heavy. I experience Sean as skilled at pulling a story together, a little hokey at times with I suspect some embellishment added to set the tone and wrap up loose ends, but in the overall sincere enough make me believe most of what he writes is real. But then I grew up in home that had a stack of Reader’s Digests and Guideposts stashed in the bathroom as reading material, so your mileage may vary. Yesterday's post contained four stories of good stuff, differences made in hard times, with the following as the first:

Feelin’ Good All Over by Sean Dietrich

 FORT MITCHELL, Ky.—The Oriental Wok restaurant is your quintessential family owned Chinese restaurant. They’ve been around for 42 years, and business has been good. But business is about to go down the toilet due to the shutdowns on Monday. Restaurant after restaurant is closing. One out of every five people in the U.S. have either lost their jobs, or had their hours taken away due to the coronavirus pandemic. If you’ve ever worked in food service, you know how this closure hurts. A server lives on tips. Five bucks here, eight bucks there. Servers are constantly carrying platters, collecting dirty dishes, forcing smiles, yes-sirring, no-ma’aming, and apologizing because the kitchen made the General Tso’s chicken spicy enough to disable a musk ox. After a typical shift, many servers go home, balance their checkbooks, and discover they will be eating Kraft Mac and Cheese for the next six months because of mounting bills, and their oldest kid needs dental braces. Just before the Oriental Wok closed its doors, a few final customers walked in. They were regulars. They ate, they paid, they left. There was a note written on their receipt, which read: “Your family has always taken such good care of us through the years, we know it’s going to be a tough few months.” They left a $1,000 tip...

On Heavy Between Light, Filling Emptiness and Kicking Another Kan Down the Road

I found this one in an oversize book of Kandinsky color plates I don’t remember purchasing but must have valued enough to take along in the move and stash in the downstairs library where it very likely would have remained unopened for who knows how long were it not for a story telling bowl turner, a brother, a ripped recliner in the weeds, a scrappy Calder loving kazoo creator, and a blog named Levity. Such is the power of splooge!

Heavy Between Light is the name of the painting, with these words from the artist on the back of the plate: “As in a mobile, all the forms are moving, set in motion by their position on the pictorial plane and in relation to one another”.  

Sitting and reading outdoors in the sun with the cat yesterday,  I came on the excerpt below from the book,  Drinking from the River of Light, the life of expression, by Mark Nepo, with this dedication by George Bernard Shaw:  “You use a mirror to see your face, you use art to see your soul”.  

From the author:  "I thought at first, that real, lasting work--whether building a barn or writing a poem--was a matter of honesty.  And it is, and so there is no choice but to find the skill to do it cleanly.  But I have learned that essential work is not even feasible unless one is immersed--unless in the midst of discovery one is patient, exhaustive and determined to keep things honest overnight, through winters and lazy moons.  For in a world where we are pressed to be quick, timely, catchy, where acceptance and celebrity looms as the soft addiction of our culture--in such an industry of filling emptiness--it requires courage and perseverance to stay authentic and to pursue your depth, your spirit, your truth--for months and years and, possibly, for the rest of your life.  

It seems impossible to counter the age we live in, but our enduring testaments lie under all our noise:  dormant, waiting to be created, waiting for sustained crisis and attention to release them. Waiting for unmitigated effort, the way Virgil worked The Aeneid for ten years, though he exclaimed along the way, “I’d rather die than look at it one more time." The way Lorenzo Ghiberti took twenty-five years to carve the bronze doors of the Baptistery in Florence--a quarter of a century to sculpt bodies in relief so real they seem to have been breathing just moments ago, then dipped in molten gold.  Unmitigated effort, the way Friedrich Schiller, on his death bed, kept his feet in iced buckets in order to stay awake to finish his play, Mary Stuart.”

Though I’d most likely give up before the ice buckets, I understand the imperative, with another story on that to share another time.  For now, I'll say that the canvas I'm currently painting on is one that I stretched and prepped 44 years ago for a college art class I didn't complete, with nothing more done to it while it sat waiting in another basement to be carried along with the Kandinsky book to a new home where it would finally receive more color and light.  The idea of sustained crisis and attention serving to release what is waiting within intrigued me, as did the enduring testimony and invitation present in another's out of balance yet in balance expression of Heavy Between Light (painted in 1924 and sold in June of 2012 to a private collector for $1.74 million) that gives voice to where I sit today, seeking and finding my own balance and expression of color and life somewhere between heavy and light.

KLEM TV: Viral Version

As read on Drudge...just change the word "AIDS" to "coronavirus:"

As for Drudge's "150 Million Americans Could Get Infected" headline, keep in mind his* choice of modal verb: could. Not will. Not may. Not even should. Could.

Has anyone else noticed the weird struggle going on to name the current virus? Coronavirus is out; covid-19 is in. Wuhan Flu is definitely out because it's "racist." I'm reminded of the struggle to rename ISIS under the Obama Administration; they always insisting on ISIL. They needed to spread out the Islamic state to include the whole Levant and not just Syria. Porqué? Just trying to connect dots here.

Lastly, as for the "he said Xi said" origin of the virus -- I suspect that a careful analysis of molecular signatures could solve this were I more a molecular biologist than a chemist.
___________________
*Does anyone even trust Drudge since he sold out? Does he even write his blog??

The Summer of Boo Boo

We were really excited about our new neighbors. They came from overseas. In fact they were Chinese. Mama was happy because she thought she could get them to do the laundry. Brother Bear kind of liked their young daughter. He even stopped playing with himself and stalking campers with long brown hair. 

Only Papa Bear was not happy. He didn't trust foreigners. Especially slant eyed Bears. He was right for once.

You see the Chinese girl gave Brother Bear a Virus.

 (Stan and Jan Berenstain "Son of Boo Boo", The E True Hollywood Story of the Berenstain Bears)

Whose that author?

I was startled from a solid sleep by Jamie exploding out of bed beside me. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but as usual, it left me sitting bolt upright amid the quilts, dry-mouthed and completely dazed, heart hammering like a drill-press.

He was already down the stairs; I heard the thump of his bare feet on the last few treads—and above that sound, frenzied pounding on the front door. A ripple of unrest spread through the house: rustling bedclothes, sleepy voices, opening doors.

I shook my head violently and flung off the covers. Him or me? was the first coherent thought that formed out of the fog drifting through my brain. Night alarms like this might be news of violence or misadventure, and sometimes of a nature that required all hands, like a house fire or someone having unexpectedly met with a hunting panther at a spring. More often, though…

I heard Jamie’s voice, and the panic left me. It was low, questioning, with a cadence that meant he was soothing someone. Someone else was talking, in high-pitched agitation, but it wasn’t the sound of disaster.

Me, then. Childbirth or accident? My mind had suddenly resurfaced and was working clearly, even while my body fumbled to and fro, trying to recall what I had done with my grubby stockings. Probably birth, in the middle of the night… But the uneasy thought of fire still lurked on the edge of my thoughts.

Whose that Shorty!

She has starred in a couple of pretty good cable series. In the one that I like she is the hard charging studio executive who gets naked a lot and gets railed by the series hero. Her month is coming up and her time is now.

Whose that shorty?

Ed makes a very good point!

The estimable edutcher makes a great point in one of his very astute comment:

"Something I ought to put in here just so people have a point of reference.

Did a little reading on Anthony Fauci, who Fake News loves because he occasionally contradicts Trump.

He's 80 years old and has spent his entire professional life working for the Feds. Yeah, from the day he got out of medical school. Better than 50 years. Kind of the Obiden-Bama of government medicine.

His big rep in epidemiology comes from work on AIDS. Given how badly that was mishandled, next time you hear the name, might not hurt to get a second opinion."

So we are relying on the same sort of Deep State bureaucratic hacks that brought us the War on Terror in Afghanistan and the war on drugs. The same idiots. The ones who are wrong about everything all the time. 

The media is beating the same drum in trying to destroy President Trump. You know no matter what he does they will say he is wrong and killing babies or something. When the whole Democratic party is based on murdering babies. This is just bullshit to the max. 

I am telling you they are deliberately trying to tank the economy to destroy Trump's presidency. Think of all of the ways they have tried to destroy him. They think this will work. They don't care if they cause a panic or destroy peoples livelihoods. They want to stop Trump's rallies and any gathering of people exercising their constitutional right to assembly.

I am telling you that this is extremely serious. If they can get away with abrogating our right to assemble they will move on to our right to bear arms. To our right of freedom of religion. Cuomo would be happy to expel religious people who own guns. He has explicitly said so. Now he is using the National Guard against the people. This is how it starts..

(Aside to Lem. I hope an image of a Unicorn farting will not cause you to be reported to the Google Gods. I don't  know how I can post explicit pics of Betty Rubble getting railed by Dino and don't hear a peep.)

Appartement: A New Word For Our Times

appartement.
noun: a real or imagined psychological discomfort caused by the expectation or anticipation of future political or socio-political events.  The term originated with specific reference to November 2010 elections but may also relate to future events (see further below under Extended Meanings).

Etymology
Appartement derives from the French word for apartment, and is preferably given a French pronunciation. The cognate English word apartment conveys the notion of "a set of private rooms in a building entirely of these".  The new word is derived from an older notion of separateness which ultimately manifests as solitary living. A paradox of appartement philosophy is an anti-communal spirit (preferring to abide alone) and this feature distinguishes adherents of appartement philosophy from earlier anti-establishment movements, for example, the hippies.

Extended Meanings
(1) Appartement philosophy began in the early 21st century as an earnest rebellion against what adherents viewed as increasingly materialist, amoral trends within United States social culture. Initially identified with a politically left-leaning philosophy, the appartement movement championed greener living, despite the need for more and more additional single person dwellings.  Appartement philosophy championed cultural diversity, indeed to the point of regarding everything and everybody as equal (but separate).  Adherents of appartement, notably white, young and affluent, actively despised cohabitation with opposite and even same sexed partners, especially if children instead of pets were involved, preferring the solitary "apart" lifestyle.

(2)  Appartement describes the existential angst of living alone in a big city surrounded by relative well being, yet having the feeling that that relative well being may unexpectedly vanish.  As a societal phenomenon, appartement sentiment first emerged as embodying independence and upward financial mobility, particularly amongst youths reaching or exceeding college age.  Appartement philosophy was best exemplified in the halcyon days of condominium speculation in the first decade of the 21st century.

(3) Appartement sentiment describes the feeling of willful detachment that adherents may feel when contemplating great swaths of fly-over-country where people live in actual family-based units which they consider archaic.

After the November 2010 elections, fictional and real portrayals in novels, films, and television began depicting appartement adherents with growing derision and scorn.  Adherents of appartement began to be seen as an isolated phenomenon.  Paradoxically, as world events incurred to unify the United States, the appartement movement smoothly blended into the fabric of greater American society.

[Added: appartement is exacerbated by modern social networking. To some degree, people "network" at the expense of forming older, more traditional social networks such as neighborhoods]
_____________________________
I wrote that years ago on my blog here. You can check out the back and forth that blake I had at the time. Anyone remember blake?  I think I still have the power to summon him, but I won't at this time.

I dug this out for review because of very recent "social distancing" which certain universities are pushing. I'm predicting that "social distancing" will fail for very human reasons -- people are not geared to handle the existential angst of being alone. They will "safe cluster" instead.

When Fredo Cuomo tells you he has to call in the National Guard to combat the Coonavirus and bans all public gatherings.....Remember!

They say they just want to serve the public.

You know what they have in mind. Don't believe them or the fake news.

Salena Zito hits another one out of the park

National treasure Salena Zito hits another one out of the park in her article in the Washington Examiner entitled "What we lose by the closing of community department stores."

The crux of her very enlightened piece:

"For most of that building's storied 110-plus-year-old life, until Macy's took it 15 years ago, it was Kaufmann's department store: a place where, whether you were working-class parents or well-to-do parents, you took your babies to get fitted for their first pair of shoes, or purchased their communion dress, prom dress, wedding gown, back-to-school clothes, or bought them the sheets, furniture, toasters, and pots and pans they needed to start their adult lives.

It was also where young and old, rich or poor, went to the Adoria Salon to have their hair styled for the very first time, or have their first special lunch with their parents or grandparents at the Tic Toc restaurant.

And maybe even have their first job.'

In my neighborhood that store was Abraham and Strauss on Fulton Street. Sure there were a lot of other stores. Korvettes. Mays. Mcorey's. Martins. Still and all everyone went to A&S. You got your school clothes there. Mom would buy pots and pans and linens and just about everything  Even electronics like TV's or the first VCR's. There wasn't all of these new fangled speciality stores that the hipsters revel in. You know like a store that sells olive oil exclusively. Just a department store filled what everything you needed. That delivered.

I remember right before Christmas when Mom would take us shopping. I was old enough to sneak off to the eight floor which was the toy department. I could check out the latest Aurora models. I remember I got my classic Frankenstien one there. Plus the board games. Risk. Stratego. Battleship. All of them on sale! Of course we only got them after Christmas but still it was fun to see all of the stuff you couldn't afford. That's what you did back then. That's why Uncle would always take me to the Boat show and we would look at all the stuff we would never had. It taught you humility. Envy. Greed. You know all the things you need to grow up a well rounded individual.

One of the highlights was the bridge.

That was what you walked across to get to the parking lot. That was way cool. You used to push the cart that had the TV in it till you got to the car and realized it didn't fit. So you put it in the trunk and tied it down. You were only going thirty blocks what's the big deal. So you had to ride with your head out the window like a dog so you could be sure it didn't fall out of the trunk. Good times.

Yesterday I came outside and I saw four trucks making deliveries. They were all from Amazon. They have these new private contractors who deliver instead of UPS. It is sort of like Uber in a weird way. No other deliveries. No other human contact. You never saw your friends mother who worked at the cosmetic counter and could advise you what to buy that girl you liked in the seventh grade. No old timer in the suit department to help you pick out your confirmation suit. No human contact Just a keystroke and a email.

This is why they want to close everything down because of this overblown coronavirus bullshit.. They want to isolate us. Keep us from making a connection with our fellow citizens. Divide and conquer. Don't give in to these bastards. Go out and patronize your local stores. Remember when they read to you from their book of elitist knowledge:

It's a cookbook.

Art History Volume One.....

Often imitated by never duplicated here is the masterpiece "A Poker Game" by Cassius Marcellus Coolidge. This wonderful painting was recently sold at auction and garnered a magnificent $658,00 for this seminal work of Americana. Look at the breath of detail. The expression of the doggies as they fold and raise. The heavy heart of the pooch in the middle seat who obviously thought he could catch an ace on the river. It is sublime and fabulous.

Another favorite of mine is "A Waterloo" which adds to the magnificent oeuvre of this American genius.

This painting is justly famous for the presence of a Hollywood luminary who agreed to sit for the portrait. Taking time out from saving Timmie from the well and licking the peanut butter smeared inner thighs of June Lockhart, Lassie made her debut in fine art. It was indeed a long sitting so Coolidge provided opium which resulted in the most relaxed visages you see in this magnifcent portrait.

Cassius Marcellus Coolidge who was also know as Kash Coolidge for his skill in marketing his creations had a long and productive relationship with an advertising company named Brown and Bigelow which had him designing and creating ads, calendars and other pieces of Americana that we treasure to this day. His masterpieces of course are his series of canine card players that are without peer in the current misbegotten art scene.

Of course the communist academics that pontificate today have ignored and trashed this great artist because of his status a white man and only mention him grudgingly as the great grandfather of the noted pugilist Cassius Marcellus  Clay who became famous under an assumed name. So to this very day his genius has gone unappreciated by all save the people The people who love him. The same people who love God, Baseball, hot dogs and apple pie. The people who love Donald Trump.

In other words Real Americans.

On the Eye of the Beholder, Kandinsky’s Im Blau and Covid-19

I worked on a 1000 piece puzzle of Kandinsky's Im Blue over Christmas and found it difficult to finish.  When I bought it, I thought the colors and shapes would make it a relatively easy and fun puzzle to do as I tend to go for color first, then object, then piece shape. Putting it together however, was slow going and I ended up with a hundred plus of similar blues once the rest of the colors were in place.  After one of the SonMs responded to my troubled sighs and grumbling by suggesting I resort to the more ordered and systematic approach of sorting what remained into groups and lines of like-shaped pieces, I eventually managed to get it finished but it was tedious trial and error from that point on.  Plus six corner pieces had been provided, with the non-interlocking flat sides of two of them butting up against each other in the middle of one of the edges. Though not a satisfying puzzle to work, the picture intrigued me.  And continues to do so.

Painted 95 years ago, Im Blue presents a visual that invites the viewer to project their own ideas onto it.  When I looked at it again today following SixtyG’s recent mention of influence, what I saw brought a moment of relief, awareness and levity, along with more understanding after reading more about it.  This time around, the big red circular shape resembling a pie chart and the gobbling Pac-Man, reminded me of the magnified pictures I’d seen of the virulent Covid-19 virus. And from there, my imagination took off, seeing a black triangle of death and fear stabbing through the confusion present, disrupting balance while a small lighthouse of information blinks among the signal flags erected, and the sharp pointed curves of the political scythes swing in the air and threaten stability. And there I am, on an island or life raft in the lower left corner, receiving data through a grid of awareness and misunderstanding while holding a flag with a red and a white triangle depicting my piece of the pie (how I will react and respond to this threat) with the hope of survival hovering above the whole mess as a healthy pair of lungs surrounded by light!  (Or maybe it’s an infected pair of lungs? Who knows?)

After thinking on that, I found this, with a "she" identified as the viewer, and the word “force” showing up in strength:

“A pioneer of abstract modern art, Wassily Kandinsky explored the relationship between color and form to create an aesthetic experience that engages the viewer through sight, sound, and emotions. His philosophy centered around the idea that abstraction offered the possibility for transcendental expression, which was hindered when art copied directly from nature. The deep, royal blue background of this piece destabilizes the viewer and transports her into an alternate world constructed by overlapping geometric shapes. These strong colors make the viewer feel alive, alert, and bewildered; as a result, she becomes hyper focused on the scene...After initially seeming confusing and ambiguous, the objects slowly start to gain some semblance of logic as the viewer’s mind starts its own interpretation...

Kandinsky forces the viewer to confront mysterious imagery and the unknown in order to navigate within a strange world... Throughout the painting, various elements draw attention in competing directions, making it hard for the mind to focus on one particular object long enough to make sense of it. Eventually, we are forced to surrender to the confusion and accept that as part of the experience of the piece.

And that foray ended with:   What do you think of this piece?

Corona virus videos

The Coronavirus is changing the suburban streets. #coronavirus #COVID19 #SundayFunday pic.twitter.com/clWIkTtvdT

— Chad Prather (@WatchChad) March 8, 2020

An Italian grandmother lectures you on how to handle the Coronavirus!

WKRLEM: I got the skinny

One just the best female vocalist I ever heard. Maybe the best,

Never gets old.

Marilyn's Diary

Uncle Herman and Aunt Lily were always trying to reach my little Cousin Eddie. He was a problem child. You see he wasn't interested in things that normal kids liked. He wasn't even interested in things monster's kids liked. He only wanted to peek in windows to see women pee and steal their soiled underwear. I think it was a werewolf thing. You see their sense of smell was their main sensual outlet. So he would rob laundry baskets and whack off his tiny lupine peter all night long.

There was however one exception. Eddie loved music. It was the sixties and the California music scene was hopping. There was the Beach Boys. The Jefferson Airplane. The Greatfull Dead. A black guy named Jimi with a big package. And a lot more. This gave my Aunt Lily an idea.

She decided to start a family musical group like the Cowsils or the Von Trapps or something. I should never have taken her to see the Sound of Music. Uncle Herman and Grandpa reluctantly went along and they tried to write up some songs and get a few gigs at various graveyards in Southern California.They were even approached by an agent. He told us he could even get us a TV show like the Monkees. Unfortunately it was between us and another family led by a slutty blond who was banging her step son. I think she blew into the agent's trombone and they got the gig. Aunt Lily was really disappointed and didn't go back to her music until she met her friend Charlie who had all those weird girls like Leslie and Squeaky hanging around his ranch. Grandpa went back to blowing his own horn or something like that there. And Uncle Herman went back to what he loved best.

Strumming my firm teenage nipples.

I loved my Uncle Herman.

WKRLEM: Tony needs to do something about Mini Mike

The Mayor of Munchkin Land.

Last night we were sitting around the dining room table talking about Mini Mike and all the money he blew in this election. Now the money he wasted on consultants and fancy offices and catered sushi lunches were bad enough. I just couldn't stand the nonstop commercial you were getting everywhere you went. Now I don't watch much commercial television. Everything is on a streaming service. But  he still snuck in commercials there as well.

I have the Joe Rogan app on my phone. I like to listen to podcasts and he has a bunch of them on his app. Joey Diaz. Mark Maron. Mike Francesa. Adam Corrolla. Joe Rogan is a really smart guy and he optimizes his earnings. Every time you leave one podcast to go to another a brief five second commercial comes on. Sometimes it's another app like the Meditation app or Audible Books or Blue Apron. Don't ya know that every other commercial was for Mini Mikes run for president. You couldn't get away from the midget for fucks sake.

Anywhoo we are talking and we were all coming up with better ways to spend the money. We talked about giving it to Saint Jude's Hospital for Children or funding housing for the homeless or some other worthy causes. I had a different idea

WKRLEM: Edith's favorite Goth!

Com on put on your black eye shadow and all of your black clothes and rock out like you used too!

The return of Leisure Suit Larry?

It looks like we have a troll here at Lem's place which is kind of unusual since we haven't had one since the beginning of the blog. I think that is because the readership has really declined precipitously since the early days. Which is fine since all of those who post or comment here enjoy it and that is good enough for me. The bloggers and commenters we have here are cherce. We love youse guys.

I hope it is not who I think it is because he is a really poor troll. We have masterful trolls here with Sixty, Nick and me so he is our of his league. Let's hope it is just a temporary thing since the blogger profile was started this month of March. Maybe it is just a passing fancy.

Or a passing fancy boy.

Whose that Girl?

Not the dude in the makeup. The hot older chick in the bustier. She was from a time when men were not quite men and you could never Hoover up cocaine like that again. These freaks were in a circus tent and you guys like this had it made. Man those were the days.

Whose that girl?

Why you can't do business in New York City Anymore!

Lady Gaga's father has a restaurant in Grand Central Station in the food court area. He is refusing to pay his rent because of the problems with homeless people. Joe Germanotta claims is business is down 30% because the homeless people camp out in front of his restaurant and harass the people trying to have a good time there. From the New York Post:

“The homeless go in there to stay warm. We’re compassionate, but it affects our customers,” Germanotta told The Post this week. “When the homeless invade our areas, it becomes a less attractive place.”

The response of the MTA that rents out the space: “This is a landlord-tenant dispute, pure and simple, in which the tenant seeks to blame his financial struggles on anyone but himself,” Minton said. “The fact that Mr. Germanotta does not appreciate someone who is less fortunate having a cup of coffee near his business is not the problem of the people of the state of New York, who don’t expect to have to subsidize his struggling business.”

This is typical. I remember going to the food court in Grand Central. There was the Oyster Bar and a Michael Jordan's Steakhouse. Now it is homeless people as far as the eye can see. I think there is only one possible solution to the homeless problem.

Coronavirus.