Perhaps I should wait a few minutes before posting the pictures to which I referred yesterday. The problem won't be the pictures, but could easily be a typing tantrum from me. I have just gotten off the phone with Comcast-Xfinity-NBC-Universal-etc. and I'm madder than a hive of hornets in a Warner Bros. or Disney cartoon. The miserable corporate entity with which I was dealing could easily be depicted as a cartoon villain, but that would only serve to humanize it. Then again, depicting it as Simon Legree would only serve to humanize it.
A few of the angry dancing dwarfs, pictured while
in the act of menacing the white folks in the pit.
Last night, a friend came over to watch a movie. After looking at the options available on the DVR, I asked to take a quick look at the Turner Classic Movies on demand section, as titles appearing there are only available for a few days. I had noticed a listing for a Popeye cartoon, with an allotted time of two hours. I wanted to see what the listing comprised - if it was cartoon after cartoon, etc. Imagine our surprise when after the first cartoon, it turned out that the entire 1932 'Tarzan, the Ape Man' was there. Feeling the hand of divine cinema providence, we watched it. It had been quite some time since I'd seen it, and I had forgotten a number of things. Unbelievably, I had forgotten about the tribe of nasty dwarfs. After being captured, the white folks are lassoed into a pit to fight a large ape creature. The dwarfs hurl darts at them for extra fun while performing an odd, gleeful jumping up and down while waving darts menacingly in the air dance. My instinctual reaction is to identify with the white folks in the pit, feeling as though I've been lassoed into it, forced to battle a large creature while deadly darts whizz by - which is how it feels to deal with Comcast-Xfinity-NBC-Universal.
But I digress.
I'll try to write about Tarzan tomorrow.
Today I wanted to post a few pictures of plants in the other rooms of the Smith college horticultural department's 120+ year old conservatory, the rooms not dedicated to the spring bulb show.
While the bulb show always provides that first overwhelming fragrance of Spring, providing a lift to winter weary spirits (not that I am personally weary of winter), the other 'rooms' of the conservatory provide a green and happy relief from the gray world outside. Sadly, this year what has lately been called the 'cool temperate room' was not its usual self. The waterfall was shut off and under repair, many of the plants had been removed, or relocated, or cut back. Things change from year to year, but the waterfall and pool were missed. Herewith, a few pictures of the offerings from the various environments the rooms emulate.
Someone, perhaps with a sense of humor, threw one of the daffodil flowers in with the water lilies.
Sadly, I must get ready for the bus to the grocery store, so this will be it for today.
I hope the various photos are found to be enjoyable.
It is difficult to even begin saying something, or anything. "Rampant killings" sounds harsh, or isn't harsh enough, or could possibly be trounced upon for insensitivity at this difficult time. The struggle to use words that won't prove incendiary when noun meets adjective has become stupefying. After yet another massacre by white racist hate mongers incident of the type which has so recently occurred in a Florida high school, it becomes imperative to avoid all of the currently popular social media platforms; they become deadly cesspools of unhinged 'call and response' political insanity.
One of the first posts I saw after this incident occurred was a 'meme' which condemned liberals who wouldn't let the families involved suffer mourn in peace, insisting instead on using what happened to promote their anti-gun agenda. I should point out that at that moment, I hadn't seen a single post calling for gun control. The issue was raised by the person condemning it.
This reminds me of a number of posts from alt-right wing conservative folks I know. A recent photo of an American flag flying proudly in the breeze was accompanied by text which noted something on the order of "Liberals say this triggers Muslims". I think there was more, but I don't remember if one was supposed to 'share' or 'like' to show support for the flag, country, Christian God, or for possibly murdering the liberals. What struck me is that I live in what is regarded as the most 'liberal' state in the union, but I've never heard anyone, not one single person, make such a suggestion. It's a phony argument that does little more than sow dissention through the use of trite soundbite phrases coupled with what are supposed to be soul stirring images (i.e. propaganda). One might be forgiven for assuming that the flag in the photo was billowing due to all the hot air expounded in its direction. Hot air seems to be all our country's Congress and politicians can muster these days, aside form giving enormous tax breaks to the wealthy and to the corporations. Oh, sure, there is some righteous indignation being spread about, some of it from the lefteous. (Sorry about that one.)
This morning, this image was posted and 'shared' with me:
I wrote a couple of lines of commentary about the message on the above t-shirt. As soon as I finished, Blogger closed either of its own accord, or possible outside interference by a deity. I have decided not to tempt fate, becoming a wishy-washy adult who fails to respond to inanity, just in case.
The simple fact of the matter is this: the Republicans sold out long ago to moneyed interests who give them millions. The Democrats, many of whom have also enjoyed the same largesse, sputter, putter, mutter, and do nothing substantial.
It remains to us, and to survivors, to do something. The Republicans show every sign of being terrorized by the thought of angry women targeting them. If anyone has any doubts that the protests of the last year haven't been effective, just look at how the White House crew couldn't get out of the line of fire fast enough when it was revealed that they had a wife-beater amongst their midst. Oopsie, it was more than one. I hope women take up this issue. I do not wish to add to their burden, it's just a thought based on the observation that they seem to be the only ones getting any action out of this administration. Outside of the rich, and the corporations, I mean.
Therefore, I am moved to suggest a new approach, based on the line of reasoning previously espoused by some of our finer Republican elected officials. There is a simple, and direct way to solve the problem of adults, or for that matter, kids, taking guns into a school and going on a rampage of destruction.
Arm the kids. And make schools 'open carry'. If every kid in the classroom, hallway, gym, music room, lunchroom, or bathroom was armed, there would be far less incentive to shoot at them; they would be able to shoot back and defend themselves as God intended. No one is going to push their way into a kindergarten with evil intent when there is a roomful of armed preschoolers on hand. Students will no longer feel comfortable bullying one another, not when their intended target is aiming a glock semiautomatic at their little heads.
Oh, sure, there may be a few problems for teachers when homework assignments are given out, or discipline is required, but so what if we lose a few? It's not like our government wants those kids to get a decent education. If that happened the kids might realize that the folks who should be working to protect them are little more than lying thieving bastards who have set the kids up for a lifetime of menial jobs and starvation wages, lightened now and again by the receipt of a box of canned vegetables to prove that government cares.
I would further suggest that the both the White House and Congress allow open carry of firearms. Then, when the kids go to visit on 'learn about your government day', they might do themselves some good.
March? I haven't posted since March? Jeepers (mentally adds, singing, 'creepers, where'd ya get those peepers...'). Makes me wonder just what the hell I've been up to all this time. I'd write a bit of it out if I could remember any of it. Actually, I do, but much of it isn't that interesting, and a large part of the rest would be stressful ranting and raving about the political situation in my country. There have been a number of wonderful movies I've watched, or watched again. And there has been the garden, of course. As for the movies I've screened, there have been so many it would be a minor miracle if I could still name them all. The idea was to write them down here, making notes about each, but that project fell by the wayside.
A page from the Tyndale Bible.
Now there's a phrase I haven't used for awhile, "fell by the wayside". While it's meaning is readily apparent, the origin of the phrase may not be. It goes back to a 1526 translation of the Bible by William Tyndale. It was the first bible in English to be translated from Greek and Hebrew sources, and the first to hit the printing press. There had been an earlier version (the Wycliffe Bible) in Middle English in the late 1300's, but due to its use in a pre-Reformation movement, it was banned in 1409. By the late 1400's, owning one could bring the death penalty. But that's another story. The Tyndale translation, by the way, became a principal source for the King James version of the early 1600's. The "fell by the wayside" reference is from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 8, verses 5 thru 8. It occurs just after a mention of unclean spirits being cast out of Mary Magdalene and two other women, and concerns a farmer who went out to sow his seed. The sower was a bit sloppy, and some seed 'fell by the wayside'. In fact, a lot of it seemed to fall by the wayside. Only that seed which fell upon the 'good ground' was productive. Just after the teaching of this parable, the Teacher walked upon the waters, a pretty nifty act.
Now that I've wandered off onto this tangent, I'm no longer sure of where the heck I was headed. Was it to post a few pics from the garden? Or the chance to write mildly amusing commentary on making my own tomato paste, or the adventures of putting up copious amounts of fresh homemade pesto against the depravations of winter? (I used up the very last of last year's pesto a few days before starting this year's batches.) Or were the seeds a reference to all the movies I've watched lately? Or haven't watched?
A part of the larger garden at Solar Hill (which I help maintain) where my garden is located.
At the top of the photo is a bit of the playground for the Neighborhood Schoolhouse
More of the Solar Hill garden. Just off to the left are a large number of peonies, one of which can be seen here.
The Japanese dogwood was kind of spectacular this year; it demanded a photo.
A portion of my garden this past June.
Another part of my garden in mid to late Spring.
There's lots more, including other seasons. I'm considering starting a garden blog.
That last bit in the text above (the 'haven't watched' part) refers to an attempt to screen the RKO 'Hitler's Children' for one of my younger friends. While he's knowledgeable about independent movies from the late 1980's or so up to today, he's somewhat less aware of earlier movies. At any rate, my younger friend is going to be a first time daddy soon. He made his announcement via a Facebook post whose only content was a sound file that mystified a number of folks. It was the sound of the baby's heartbeat in the womb. Now, he's never seen any of the Nancy Drew movies, and thus has no associations what-so-ever for Bonita Granville, or, for that matter, with cowboy star Tim Holt, both of whom have the lead roles in the movie. So one night not long after the incidents in Charlottesville with tiki torch bearing American Nazis, white supremacists, and the follow up ravings of Donald Trump in the role of President of the United States, we settled in to watch this bit of lurid potboiler propaganda history.
The film starts out with a Nazi rally (above), and proceeds, via flashback narration, to a 1933 confrontation between American students in Germany, and a group of teenage male Nazis in training. A fight breaks out, during which wholesome Nazi Tim Holt holds onto the American's baseball bat, refusing to give it back. Plucky Bonita Granville looks him in the eye and suddenly exclaims, "Heil Hitler". When Holt's arm rises in automatic salute, she punches him in the stomach. When the German headmaster refuses to stop his charges from fighting, the American teacher (Kent Smith, giving a performance only slightly more lively than a cigar store Indian) simply yells out, "Achtung!", which causes the German boys to fall into line. If only it were that easy in real life. We then see a little bit of the school room education of the day:
Just after Tim Holt's praise for Hitler in the clip above, my young friend asked me to stop the movie. Under the current political climate, and being an expectant father, it was too much. His heart had started racing, and he was beginning to have a bit of a panic attack. We were only about 10 minutes into the film. Thinking back on it, it was probably a good thing we changed the picture. I'd have freaked out if I was an expectant parent, too. And I'm not just thinking of the scene in which a young mother to be hopes her birth is painful as a tribute to the Führer. This picture gets far more lurid and serious.
Of course, the reverberations of movies like 'Hitler's Children' into our own time should give us pause. We currently have an administration in power which excuses the outrages of the far right, pretending there were good people amongst them, condemning those on the left for their part in the violence (even though every report I saw or read stated that the 'antifa' crowd only resorted to violence when the Nazi types began charging at women, children, the clergy, and people with brown skin). Pictures that came out of the event were startling.
Is it live, or is it Memorex?
Today I turned 67 years old. My parents divorced when I was quite little; my mother was gone by the time I was 6 months old. My father, my brother, and I lived with my Aunt and Uncle in what had been my Grandfather's house. My Uncle had fought in WWII. When television came in, I wasn't allowed to have it on much after 5pm, when my Uncle got home. The noise and cacophony of tv shows with children's laughter, and especially sudden loud sounds, unnerved him and he would fly into rages. I won't dwell on it, or on what would now be easily recognizable as PTSD, except to say that I often felt terrorized as a child. The experiences I had in those years would come back to affect me later in life. As it turns out, I was diagnosed as having PTSD too. The stresses and coping mechanisms from those days got me through my first years on my own in the late 1960's, the Vietnam war protests, getting beat up because I had long hair, being beaten up and/or threatened for being perceived as gay, being shot in the head (not as serious as it sounds, except for the psyche - it was delivered via a pellet rifle after I was seen returning a European kiss on the cheek to a male friend returning to Germany. Still, the bullet lodged in my skull and they thought I might have some damage.) During my years managing bookstores in NYC, my assistant was from Pakistan. When the Ayatollah Khomeini returned to Iran, my assistant became agitated and predicted the rise of ultra conservative Islam. He was in New York studying to become an architect so he could build decent homes for the poor of his country. He told me flat out that with the rise of conservative Islam, he was concerned about returning home; he might be killed for becoming educated, and going to the United States. The best cashier I had was a gorgeous black woman from the Caribbean, with a lilt in her voice which would make most people smile. My warehouse manager, who was the guy I trained to run the science fiction section, was from Cuba. You get the idea; I had a lot of friends and co-workers who, if they were around today, might face deportation. The sad fact of the matter is that my country is rounding people up. Some have been deported, some are being held. Many on trumped up charges, or minor traffic style violations. Now a movement is on to deport those who were brought here as children, who grew up here, and became part of the fabric of life here. Legal protections for transgender folk are being removed. Repealing the right of marriage for gay folks won't be far behind. The Trump Department of Justice has already insisted that gay folks are not entitled to job protections under federal anti-discrimination laws. Confrontations in the culture wars continue, and will, until decent normal everyday people start to riot. And what then? Well, perhaps that's why the Trump administration has 1.2 Billion dollars in the Federal budget for 'detainee beds'. I have been accused of having a decidedly liberal paranoia about this, but I could spend several hours writing out the reasons for such suspicions, and pointing out the similarities between the US today and Europe in the early 1930's. You're free to laugh at me if you want, I won't mind. But I will remind you that Nazis are on the march. In America. They may be carrying mass market torches, but that doesn't change the fact that they are there, marching, provoking, waiting. Their own leaders will tell you that an army is being built. We have a President who threatened violence from his supporters if he wasn't elected. His supporters threaten violence if he is removed from office. Go ahead and laugh some more. But remember the following image when the 'arrests' start. It was painted on a fence in California a few days after the Charlottesville events. And you'd better hope to hell everyone in your family is straight, and white. A lot of the seeds being sown aren't for flowers.
I have things to do, but I don't feel like doing them.
Watching the snow is peaceful, even with the roar of traffic going by; the sounds, not of quiet, but of tires on wet asphalt, punctuated by the whirrs of small motors, and the occasional groans of trucks.
I haven't been able to write much, and what I have been able to get out has been in orgasmic spurts on Facebook, commentary meant to attract the reader to news stories that seem important.
There are too many stories.
There is too much to try to understand.
There is too much to think about,
there is just too much.
One night last week, I watched 'Gojira', the 1954 Japanese movie that was altered for release in the United States, where it became known as 'Godzilla'. I dare say everyone knows the outline of the story: a few years after the atomic bomb, a monster arises from the seas, a monster that shows little use for logic, a monster bent on destruction.
Such plots call for a scientist who will quell the beast. In 'Gojira', that role was filled by Takashi Shimura, known to film buffs worldwide for his roles in the films of Akira Kurosawa. In his role as the scientist fighting Godzilla, every time the camera zoomed in for a close-up of his concerned face, all I could see was his face at the end of Kurosawa's 'Ikiru', in which he plays a bureaucrat struggling to find the meaning of life, his life, as he dies of cancer.
The picture I want to use as illustration shows the actor, in the snow, on a child's swing. It has a stock photo company's watermark on it. A lot of photos which used to be considered to be in the public domain are now claimed as the property of such companies. They want to be paid for their use, and the amount they want to be paid, even for a blog almost no one will read, is not cheap. I know the progression of this takeover for a fact, as for several years I have done occasional searches for particular photos, and watched as this has happened. In this case, a 65 year old photo from a Japanese movie is claimed to be under the ownership of a stock photo company. Much of the world seems to be becoming divvied up by owners who were not creators.
The snow outside of my window isn't sticking to the road yet, but is already piling up on the earth which had just started to suffer the appearance of crocus and the earliest signs of Spring.
About two weeks ago, I woke repeatedly throughout the night, which is not at all an unusual occurrence. That evening was different, however, in that every time I woke, I was in the same dream. I only remember the part at the end, from my stirring in the early morning. That's a metaphor, I suppose. In the dream, people were being rounded up. Color was draining out and everything was becoming, well, not black and white, but gray. Gradations of gray. Gray upon gray. People were being rounded up and sent off to somewhere. Younger men were being sent to the army, that much was known. Other people were being sent someplace unknown, to be unknown. I managed to sneak away from the roundup, and made my way down a long corridor which seemed an endless void. There were doors everywhere, lined up neatly, evenly, like some Levittown style apartment house. As I came close to my door, the corridor was flooded with people, people rounding up people, people trying to escape, there was a crush of people. I managed to open the door to my place, and snuck in, hopefully unobserved in the chaos. It was my space without a doubt. Except that my stuff had been largely removed. The furniture that was left had been covered by sheets and tarps, resembling one of those old closed up apartments opened years later with layer upon layer of dust covering everything. That was when I woke up.
The snow covers the world like layers of dust.
I feel stupid. I may have misread the situation, and the intentions of the Trump coterie. I just read several of the comments made by Nikki Haley, the new United States Ambassador to the United Nations. The situation in my country grows more surreal by the day, by the hour. I'd long assumed that the takeover by the reactionary right was an attempt to gut the government, to remove any help given to the working class, to move as much money and resources as possible to the rich, the oligarchs, the robber barons of our time. This seemed like the natural, and predictable, outcome of years of de-regulation, of lies and distortions by media representing the far right. A fight that had used the religious culture wars had paid off, but the cost was Donald Trump and the destruction of the Republican Party. I think I was wrong. I should have kept focus on the religious right. They don't just want to end abortion, or end gay rights (and gays). They don't just want their version of Sharia law, a world in which the husband will rule the home, with an obedient wife to wait on him (if she knows what's good for her - by now a working life in an often corporate culture should have taught women that they are expendable, their roles replaceable).
As I look at the proposed cuts to -this year's - budget, the toll in human misery can easily blind one to the toll on science, on the arts, on international aid, basically everything. I thought these people were simply ignorant of the interdependencies of the world, and had no understanding of the outcome of their actions.
But it's what they want. They are depending on it. Many of this crowd are fundamentalist Christians. The Bible is their word, their God, infallible, and Trump is His servant. They are not here to destroy the world so the United States can take over, so the moneyed class can acquire more than they already have. They are here to destroy the world. Period. They seek nothing less than to force Armageddon; they aren't looking for the end times - they consider that we are already in the end times. They are looking to hasten the end.
Mr. Trump isn't the intransigence and chicanery of the Republican Party come back to haunt them. He is their monster, rising out of the sea of their despair, come to destroy.
And me? I'm just another observer, a loser at life, swinging back and forth in the snow.
It's a beautiful Saturday morning here in Vermont. It's gone from 29 degrees Fahrenheit when I started writing this blog entry, to 36 degrees; wispy cirrus clouds spread themselves over portions of a sky that can't seem to make up its mind if it wants to be light blue or Columbia blue. The piles of snow reflect white, unless they are near the roadside, in which case they are topped with shades of sooty black, and disturbed dirt gray, an effect of automotive exhaust and road/sidewalk plowing. They remind me of the days when snow was generally mixed with soot, when hanging icicles at my father's house were multi-colored thanks to the Dupont plant about an hour's drive away. Memory drifts to my days at the beach, summer in Ocean City, and one particular trip to New York City. I was too poor at the time to afford more than an occasional visit to the laundromat, and having few "good" clothes, hand washed much of what I wore on a day to day basis. I washed my best non-suit shirt for a day trip to New York. The next morning, I washed it again. The water turned black, darker than the color of a well used cast iron frying pan. The black was from the soot in the air. That was the era when smog hung over our major cities and industrial areas, when breathing problems began to be noticed amongst the populace. The daily news programs on the tv reported a smog index. In 1970, under the administration of President Nixon, a Republican, the Environmental Protection Agency was created to deal with such problems. The concept for the EPA had been pushed by Democrats, and modeled on the suggestions which Representative George Miller (a Democrat) had put forth in 1959. More conservative Republicans, as well as major industries, have been attempting to discredit the agency, and gut its regulations, ever since - often using incredible distortions of the truth, and outright lies about the agency and its actions. In the meantime, due to the work of the EPA, the severity of smog was reduced in the United States to such point that it is barely mentioned anymore. This is not true of other countries, like China.
To help consumers make purchasing decisions based on cleaning up the environment, the Safer Choice label was created. Years later, the Energy Star ratings were added to consumer products such as air conditioners and heaters.
Our drinking water has been cleaned up and protected by the EPA. Legislation covered over 80% of our nation's drinking water supply. Reports often seem better than the actual situation, as a number of pollutants never came under regulation. And smaller streams are still used as chemical dumping grounds by corporations which refuse to foot the bill for proper disposal of their effluent. Stories of various areas of the country being told not to drink their water can be found a few times a year. That problem would be much worse if it weren't for the EPA.
The EPA's Clean Air Act was amended in 2011 to include greenhouse gases. Last year, the hole in our planet's ozone layer began closing.
These are just a few of the many things the EPA has accomplished. It is now an agency under siege. Within a day of two of President Trump's inauguration, all of the EPA's research on climate change was deleted from their website. A gag order was imposed by the President preventing any release of information from that agency. It gets worse; I'm only glazing the surface of what has been happening.
Yesterday, Scott Pruitt was approved by a vote of the majority Republicans in Congress to run the EPA, and sworn in as the head of the agency. As close as I can gather, this was done during the President's contentious news conference, in which he castigated news reporting as being unfair to him, mentioned his imagined margin of victory, insulted minorities, and comported himself in such a manner that his denial of creating chaos in the government was obviously a falsehood. Mr. Pruitt was yet another of President Trump's picks to run agencies which they have actively opposed or called for dismantling. Mr. Pruitt has described himself as a ""leading advocate against the EPA's activist agenda". Over the last 6 years as Attorney General of Oklahoma, he sued the EPA 14 times over water standards, clean air standards, coal emission laws, and etc. (all of his suits have failed). He also fought for "religious freedom" laws (which would allow someone to refuse business or other service to anyone whose existence violates their religious beliefs - i.e. legalized discrimination), and against the Affordable Care Act, abortion rights, and gay marriage (he even tried to claim that the ruling of the Supreme Court allowing gay marriage did not affect Oklahoma).
I could, and probably should, go on, but I won't.
Today's post was going to be about last night's screening of 'A Hard Day's Night', the 1964 movie which starred the Beatles. I guess I shouldn't have mentioned the blue sky, for that sent me off in another direction. I should probably note that part of the thread of the plot of 'A Hard Day's Night' centers on Paul's Grandfather, a cranky old man who spreads dissention, chaos, and creates arguments wherever he goes.
Today is Thanksgiving Day here in America. It's an old tradition, one which goes back to at least the time of Henry the VIII. Here in the US, its origin is traced to the 1620's at Plymouth, Massachusetts. The Puritans and Pilgrims would have been familiar with the ideas of fasting and feasting in Thanks for all that God had given them. (The Canadian Thanksgiving goes back even further.) The story has it that the refugees from England shared a bountiful harvest with the Wampanoag Indians, without whose help they might not have survived.
These days, many people take great delight in skewering the story, labeling the arrival of people of white European ancestry as the purveyors of genocide against the native Americans. Whenever a holiday rolls around, these folks can be counted upon to proclaim what they see as the truthful history behind the myth. Much of their revisionist history is as "full of it" as the stories they seek to debunk.
The myth of America was created over a long period of time. It was once a myth of hope, a light in the darkness. It's long been apparent that these tales weren't literal truth. The greatness of my country lay in the willingness of good people to go out and try to correct the wrongs in our land, to bring the dreams of equality, the chance to better one's self and family through education and hard work, to life for everyone.
These days, we are presented with candidates for the Presidency who talk about making America great again. The current frontrunner for the Republican nomination has advocated everything from requiring registration of all Muslims, to stating that we should use methods of torture such as waterboarding to defeat terrorists. After all, he noted, "they deserve it anyway". He has ridiculed the press who fact checked him (even mocking one respected reporter's disability), and urged the crowds at his events to beat up and eject those who disagree with him - although he has also mentioned protestor's actions as part of the attraction for his rallies - its entertainment value, after all.
It makes me wonder if he pays the protestors to be there.
Personally, I'll hang onto stories like the origin of the U.S. Thanksgiving - stories of cooperation between different races, breaking bread together, freedom and equality. They might not be true, but they are one hell of a goal. I can only hope that we can honor them, and work towards them before those of us who don't fit in are forced to have registration cards, or are taken off to the camps.
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Last Saturday's radio show played a couple of songs for Thanksgiving before the juke box got loaded up with nickels to celebrate the birthdays of Johnny Mercer and Hoagy Carmichael.
When I was young, I realized that we shouldn't think of evolution as something in the past. It seems clear that the human species is still evolving. Back then, I believed that we were on an upward progression. I no longer have any such certainty.
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The above was the start of a post I doubt will be finished. (It will join the pile of discards, where it will find much company.) Partly because I'm not feeling my best (nasty-ish cold running through the system), partly due to time constraints, partly because the writing of it is likely to make me scream at nothing in particular in order to vent building frustration and anger. To resume writing what I had in mind, I'd have to go back to Facebook or some other form of 'social media' to collect images and information. Blogs are social media, but they are different; one can take a little bit of word time to actually express (or attempt to express) one's thoughts or observations. Blogs also have to be sought out, or one has to click on a link. They aren't part of a scrolling feed.
The problem started with the terrorist attacks on Paris. People on Facebook immediately used a program which superimposed the French flag over their personal image icons. Other people immediately responded with links to blogs, mostly think pieces which declared why they wouldn't comment on the terrorist attack on Paris; where were the cries of outrage for the week's other terror attacks, they demanded to know? - those victims were passed by, not mentioned - not worthy - as Paris is a White city, not a place of brown skin people. Now, those posts had a bit of a point, but to post someone else's article about the terrorist attacks on Paris to demonstrate why one isn't posting about Paris is a kind of internet passive aggressive statement of extremely annoying and cloying condescending superiority - and some odd attempt to prove that the poster's heart bleeds for the world more than their ill-informed reader's.
Those posts began to get a response. The me-me posts proliferated. The news media and the video clip posters ran the same footage constantly. The news media did scrabble to send their top anchors or writers to Paris to find the woman who was standing three blocks away from the stadium who heard the bang of the bombs and grew fearful. (Okay, I made that up but the exaggeration isn't that big.)
Then the politicians began chiming in. As most folks who read this blog probably know, I live in Vermont. Our local tv and video news sources originate in one upstate minor city, or from Boston. Both cover the New Hampshire market, where the first primaries in our upcoming (one year away) Presidential contest will be held. We have been inundated with political advertising for months already. Most of the advertising has been for the Republican side, which seems intent on reversing any possible upward trend evolution might provide. They, and a seemingly large segment of the population, have centered on stopping any influx of Syrian refugees into the country (but they're okay if they are Christians). The issue has become a social media war. The images proliferate, with commentary which exposes the sad state of American language skills, the sad state of American education, media, news - oh, hell, the responses below (from people I know to be kind, decent folks) are as frightening as the terror attacks.
It's been a sorry, disgusting spectacle.
This doesn't seem to be particularly appropriate, but it makes as much sense as anything else this past week: Here's last Saturday's radio show. The show did start off with a comment, albeit musical, on the current events before paying birthday tributes to musician-conductor-composer Billy May, singer Jo Stafford, crooner Johnny Desmond (the "G.I. Sinatra"), one of the sadly forgotten early jazz men Eddie Condon, and the 'Father of the Blues' W. C. Handy. Handy was the subject of, and guest on, the show's featured broadcast - 'The Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street' of June the 14th, 1940.
Today, November 11th, used to be known as Armistice Day.
Many of my generation can recite the phrase... "on the 11th hour, on the 11th day, of the 11th month...". I occasionally wonder how many people know to what event that phrase refers? The thing is, the import and meaning of that day has changed.
An Armistice is defined as an agreement whereby warring parties end their armed engagments. The quote above refers to the end of fighting on the Western Front of The Great War, now known as World War One. November 11th, 1918 was the unofficial end to the war. The paperwork took awhile longer. It always does. Just between the agreement to end the fighting and the arrival of the fabled hour, another 3,000 soldiers were killed in battle. Thousands more were still to succumb to the remains of the conflict.
In both Great Britain and France, a day of remembrance for those who gave their lives in the service of their countries in the war was declared. It became customary to observe 2 minutes of reverent silence in their honor at the 11th hour on Armistice Day.
Part of the celebration in London
the celebration in Paris
In the United States, something quite remarkable occurred. In 1919, President Woodrow Wilson declared November 11th be a commemoration of the Armistice; "To us in America, the reflections of Armistice Day will be filled with solemn pride in the heroism of those who died in the country’s service and with gratitude for the victory, both because of the thing from which it has freed us and because of the opportunity it has given America to show her sympathy with peace and justice in the councils of the nations…"
The key phrase is "sympathy with peace". Armistice Day was a celebration of Peace breaking out. It was intended as a day of reflection on the concept of peace and international co-operation.
Soldiers on the Western Front celebrated
Those who think I am off the mark should look no further than the Congress of the United States, when it issued a resolution on Armistice Day in 1926 with the following words;
"Whereas it is fitting that the recurring anniversary of this date should be commemorated with thanksgiving and prayer and exercises designed to perpetuate peace through good will and mutual understanding between nations; and
Whereas the legislatures of twenty-seven of our States have already declared November 11 to be a legal holiday: Therefore be it Resolved by the Senate (the House of Representatives concurring), that the President of the United States is requested to issue a proclamation calling upon the officials to display the flag of the United States on all Government buildings on November 11 and inviting the people of the United States to observe the day in schools and churches, or other suitable places, with appropriate ceremonies of friendly relations with all other peoples."
London
In 1938, the U.S. Congress passed an Act which proclaimed the 11th of November a legal holiday: "a day to be dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be thereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day'."[
In 1954, not quite 10 years after the end of World War Two, the Congress of the United States changed the meaning of Armistice Day, basically by doing away with it. The President at the time, a member of the conservative Republican Party, was Dwight D. Eisenhower. He had previously been known to most of the world as the General whose careful planning helped defeat the fascists in Italy and Germany, ending the Second World War on the European continent, and freeing the world from the vile machinations of the Nazis. The idea for the change to honor all Veterans of all of the US wars came from a WWII veteran, who led a delegation to the Capitol to express the idea directly to the President, who had been a man of War. This occurred in the greater context of the Red Scare, the early days of the Cold War; the Army-McCarthy hearings were underway. It was around the same month that the words "Under God" were inserted into the Pledge of Allegiance - a recitation required of US school children while saluting the US flag. The Pledge became an official requirement in 1942, after the US was brought into WWII. It had become a contested practice as the clouds of war had gathered over Europe. There were teachers who refused to institute it and quit their profession rather than require the youth of the country to participate in what they regarded as militaristic training. It was originally written by an Admiral who had fought in the Mexican-American war as well as the Civil War. It was then revised by a Baptist minister with socialist leanings.
Americans in London joined the celebration
At any event, while it is fitting that the people who serve their country be honored, a day dedicated to thoughts of peace was turned into a day of commemoration of specifically military service, which in our own day has become, for various reasons, a flag waving celebration of 'warriors' and military service.
Lest we forget, when the bill to allow conscription was passed as we geared up, ummm, prepared for our possible involvement in WWII, there were warnings that we might never get rid of it. Had it not been for conscription, there would have been no standing army to send to Korea, nor to Vietnam. Soldiers of that era were not volunteers. The idea had been promoted that one owed four years of their life and their youth to the government of the geographic bit of space on which they were born.
celebrants in New York City
Now that we have a supposed 'volunteer' army, our military has become a chance for the underclass to get a leg up towards the "better" lifestyle depicted in the movies and on tv. There are many benefits. I have friends and family who served, and whose service was in army camps in Germany, or other non-combat areas. They were able to buy their homes through Federal assistance to veterans. They get healthcare, and a number of other benefits - depending on their geographical location to access them. They are among the first to fly the flag and point out that they "served", even though they never seem to recall the non-combat part. I don't begrudge them their benefits, even though some of them had no choice in the matter.
These days, after our National Guard was sent to war, after the non-traditional battles against Islamic foes, torture (not ours, theirs), beheadings, and other horrors, it seems as though those who served are honored every day, by specially advertised on television sales deals, special insurance rates - business gladly waving the flag for customers - and at sporting events in large Roman style Coliseums, er... sports arenas. As it turned out, these events have been bought and paid for by the government. They aren't about honoring the brave men and women who served, they are propaganda. Our television programs feature action adventures of specialized government units which used to serve those who serve us, but for several years now mostly fight terrorism, often by breaking the rules or fudging the rights of suspects. The excess military equipment from the Iraq war, the Afghanistan war, the Libyan war and etc. has become part of everyday life - given or sold to police departments in my country to preserve the peace - but from whom? A town not far from here, a bit larger than Brattleboro where I live, now has its own tank. Our police, often ex-military people, have a cowboy us versus them mentality. They do not shoot to disarm, they do not shoot to immobilize, they shoot to kill. We've just had the interesting spectacle of a female police officer being exonerated for killing an unarmed civilian. She couldn't see his hands, you see. She demanded that he show her his hands. He was lying face down on the ground. He moved his hands underneath his body. She was certain that he had a gun, so she shot him in the back. A new wrinkle in women warrior rights.
As for our actual warriors, the Republicans in our government (them again!) have cut the budgets which provide for the care of our fighters, then blamed the Democratic government opposition for the lack of care while they wrap themselves in the flag. These Republicans, however, are a world away from anything President Eisenhower would recognize. Once they were a great party, now they are a bowdlerized version of that group, providing lap dog services to the wealthy and corporate elite.
Even though I was a child at the time, I remember President Eisenhower's farewell address. Because I was a child, I didn't understand all of it. But I remember his warning about something he called the "military industrial complex".
The phony cause known as the Iraq war ably served corporate interests, while destroying the minds and bodies of our youth. Those it served well included a company for which the then Vice-President had been Chief Executive Officer. That company earned billions, made more billions vanish into the desert sands of time, and provided services to our soldiers that included such niceties as providing drinking water which wasn't safe. They were but one of many such companies, and their crimes would takes days to list, but since they were making money there have been no trials, no convictions, no investigations, no nothing except their continuing to 'honor' those who serve. Some honor.
So please excuse me for not jumping on the online bandwagon and attempting to wave the flag higher and more ferociously than my friends and neighbors. I won't buy the special coffee that earns money for warriors. I won't buy any of the special products. I don't buy it at all. I'll take time to observe Armistice Day, and think about a time when peace broke out.
There still seems to be little to no time to write. Or arrange and caption photos. I think of Springsteen's line, "The poets down here don't do nothin' at all, they sit back and let it all be." But I'm not in Jungleland , and all the use of the quote does is prove that I'm good with a quote or two.
Life has taken on its old familiar satirical nightmarish absurd quality again. I will turn 65 soon. The Federal government insists that my excellent state health insurance program, which uses funds from the Federal program Medicaid, is no longer adequate as I'm now officially a "senior". Therefore, I am being removed from my current insurance and placed on Medicare. Specifically Medicare Parts I and II. They didn't ask, I had no choice. For this service, my Social Security check will have a deduction of over a hundred dollars taken from it, beginning with this month (August), even though I won't be on Medicare until September. Parts I and II do not include a prescription plan, so I have had to sign up with another insurance company for coverage of some of my prescriptions. For another $26 or so dollars a month, two of my prescriptions which would otherwise cost me over $300 dollars a month each, will suddenly and magically be available without a co-pay. But wait - this new coverage won't cover all of my prescriptions. The answer? Re-apply for my state's Medicaid program (as in the one I'm already on). If I'm lucky enough to be accepted, then those last remaining uncovered prescriptions will be covered. For now. Until the next change. If I'm accepted. Plus, there are various programs that will help me afford to live by assisting with the amount Social Security is automatically deducting from my paycheck. If I'm lucky enough to get back on them - that's right - they are the program I'm on until the end of the month. If I'm fortunate enough to get back on the program, they will send the over $100.00 a month charge to Social Security, which will then issue me a refund. I will then send a check for that amount to the state to repay them. I'm not making this up.
There is a Federal program for help in affording the Medicare, but my Social Security income is $5.00 or so a month over the limit. If I keep all of my receipts from my co-pays, I might get the Federal program to help me afford the Federal Program.
I had help in figuring all of this out by following the recommendations of the State Medicaid representatives, and consulted with the Council on the Aging. Except that the Council on the Aging no longer exists. It is now called Senior Solutions, thank you very much. That took another 10 minutes to figure out that I had indeed called the right number. All of these organizations seem to have several different names - it's like a Russian novel.
The State Medicaid program, meanwhile, which has changed its name every couple of years, offered to send me various necessary paperwork to get back on the program I'm already on. I accepted and waited. And waited. Over two and a half weeks later, I got an envelope from another organization, which I thought was associated with the insurance I used to have at my last job. I didn't open it for several days as I was fairly busy. Turns out, it was the long awaited paperwork. Now, for the old state program I was on, all the forms can be filled out and submitted online. Not these. One of them can be filled out online, but then it must be printed out and mailed.
It's a system that seems designed to drive one mad. I suppose they are hoping I will become so confused I won't look crossing the street, or will simply end my life out of confusion and despair. The paperwork, as life slows down, speeds up and increases. And the best part? The annual "window" for decisions on healthcare companies will open again in October. According to these folks, at that point, I'll get to do all of this over again! I can hardly wait.
Here's my show from last Saturday.
It is not designed to drive one mad.
After playing a couple for Count Basie's birthday, the old Philco tuned in August the 18th, 1942.
I hope any listeners enjoy the show.
I usually post my radio shows (broadcast on Saturday nights) on Sunday mornings, posting here as well as both my radio show's Facebook page, and on my personal Facebook page. I'm afraid I can't post last night's show at this time - a copyright claim has been made, and access to my file has been blocked by Soundcloud, the service I pay to make my shows available for web streaming.
The claim is for a track I did not use. I did use a short (about 2 minutes?) excerpt from a 1938 broadcast with the same artist, which to the best of my knowledge is in the public domain. (Broadcasts from that era were not usually copyrighted, the few that were have copyrights that have expired.)
The radio station pays all of it's royalty fees for using recorded music to ASCAP, BMI, and SESAC.
I have decided to file a protest, which required my agreeing to indemnify Soundcloud against legal fees. I realize that they are only trying to protect themselves, but that's required in order to dispute the claim. Soundcloud can terminate my account, and I can now be sued by the company making the claim, and Soundcloud if the claimant decides to bring suit against them.
Needless to say, I am not passing anyone else's work off as my own.
I have no idea how this will turn out, nor any idea how long this process may take. In the last 7 days, of all of the various shows I have made available online, my files have been played a total of 8 times.
Just think, I could become a convicted felon for excerpting 2 minutes or so of a 1938 radio broadcast. What a wonderful world we live in.
As I write, it is April the 1st. March and its winds of folklorish legend have theoretically passed. The weather report suggests that by the end of the week, the temperature could rise to 60 degrees fahreneight. Much of the winter's snow has already melted, exposing patches of ground large enough to easily spot this morning's frost. It was really a delight to have a good old fashioned snowy winter again. There have been some years recently in which I was already photographing daffodils and jonquils by this date. As it happens, I'm old enough to remember when such warmth was unexpected and a fairly rare event, as it was in Ticino in 1959 in this report from the venerable Beeb.
When I prepare one of my radio shows, I spend as much time as possible listening to old radio shows from which I might take an excerpt. Such clips are intended to illuminate the times from which the featured big band broadcast originates. Last Saturday's show centered on March 31st, 1946, and a broadcast from the New Meadowbrook in Los Angeles by Gene Krupa and His Orchestra.
From the time I was a baby until a month before my 9th birthday, we shared what had been my grandfather's house with my uncle and aunt. My uncle had fought in the Second World War. He never talked about it. It seems to me that most folks of that era didn't talk about it. The war was a job they had to do, a sacrifice that had to be made. It was over, and time to get back to the everyday business of living and dying.
The men and women who had gone overseas returned to find that the home they had fought for had changed. They returned to a world of shortages, which was to be expected. But there was also great unrest. The Labor Unions were calling strike after strike, and it could be difficult to find work. There was an acute shortage of housing, and what was available was overpriced. When England withdrew its troops form Iran as specified in the terms of a treaty, Russia did not. The War had not brought peace. In many of the March and early April 1946 radio shows I listened to, a recurring theme centered on the world spinning out of control - again. Thanks to the presence in every home of a radio, news stories were everywhere. The lead characters in both the comedies and the dramas all felt overwhelmed by the all too present world. All people really wanted was to be left alone. In peace.
I am a news junkie, always have been. I like to keep up on what's happening, what's going on, what's new, what's old, what's in, what's out, what.... and there's the rub. These days, it's just "what?". In capitals "WHAT?".
There was one segment I prepared for last Saturday's show that I ended up not using for various reasons, including its length. It was an excerpt from a 'Songs by Sinatra' broadcast. In it, there was a recreation of a scene from a short subject which had just won an Academy Award. There were boys fighting, picking on one fellow who was 'different'. Sinatra broke up the fight, and noted that it was Un-American. We had just fought a war - did you care about who dropped the bomb on the Japs, he asked? Or that we won? He noted that as a nation, we had come together, all races working together. Discrimination didn't have a place here in America, no sir-ee. The lesson was followed by the song, "The House I Live In".
Along with all the other news, local, national, and international which I wish I hadn't heard this past week, was the curious case of a law to protect religious rights in one of our states. Many states have instituted such laws or are in the process of adopting them. Religious liberties are being threatened, they say. People should not be required to do things which violate the precepts of their religion, they say. The particular legislation which hit the fan this time was signed into law by the governor of a state in a private closed door ceremony. In the photograph of the signing, several prominent anti-gay rights advocates can be clearly seen. The bill was quite clearly passed to allow businesses and corporations (which are defined as 'people') the right to refuse their services to others based on a religious objection. When the backlash started, as events planned in that state began being cancelled, the governor went on a media offensive tour, proclaiming that we all simply misunderstood the nature of the bill. You know, governor, I think we get it.
In California, a 'citizen's initiative' by a lawyer will make to the ballot. It will allow citizens to shoot and kill gay people on sight if the state doesn't put them to death first. Now, we all know this kind of nonsense doesn't have a chance of happening, said the people of Germany on November 8th, 1938. The question I have is why these stories are getting so much coverage. Is the intent to ferret out prejudice and bring us all together in the house we live in? To shock and get ratings? To distract us from something else that is going on? To reinforce the beliefs of the similar minded? Yeah, I understand the desire to be left alone, to putter around doing my own thing, to get back to the ordinary process of living and dying.
As always, I hope anyone who listens enjoys the show.
Sadly, I must get ready for the bus to the grocery store, so this will be it for today. 
