Monthly: scrapbook: reborn each month
(Monthly Note follows below)
2017 06 22 Guy buried treasure, lots of people went looking, from Montana to New Mexico. Now two people have died in the search, now the cops want the search called off: matter of public safety. Why should people be safe looking for treasure? People “should” be safe crossing Wall Street or Bond Street to go to work, but not hunting treature, not in sailing from Spain to the New World, not in looking for emeralds and rubies in the Rockies: not snooping around in North Korea, not when North Korea is run by maniacs.
Kung Fu & All That Jazz
2017 06 19 I sample a video or two almost daily on YouTube. The menu apparently customizes itself using your history there as feedback. Thus the base page offers me tennis and basketball, WC Fields and Graucho, Clint and Mitchum …Bruce Lee and Steven Seagal … I just allowed myself to be tempted by a segment of Kung Fu: TV at its most whorish: Bruce Lee conceived it, demonstrated it to the Green Lanturn producers; they thought Hmm, but we can’t have a chink: or, we’ll have David Caradinze play the chink, and we’ll mask his incompetence with slo-motion.
Makes me puke. But where is kleptocracy more purely kleptocratic than in Hollywood? Maybe in Tin Pan Alley: whitewashing black music. Jazz in inspired by the clash of blacks and whites on the bandstand: the blacks get some of the money now, but they didn’t for a long time.
Trouble with WASPS is we’re so used to stealing everything we don’t know what’s stolen and what’s paid for. And we can’t tell paying the right contributor from paying royalties to the WASP thieves.
In my case the thefts are state-supervised, the school system, the media explain it away.
2017 06 17 So Cosby got a mistrial, the jury failed to agree 100% on a verdict. Here’s my 2%:
Christian theology has taught for millennia, man is not rational.
Christian theology teaches that God is rational, is true, knows the truth, but doesn’t demonstrate it rationally. I’m not always sure about God, but I’ sure about man: we are not rational.
Never, nowhere, are we less rational than when we claim that the US founding fathers were rational or enlightened. To me it’s ridiculous for legal systems to claim that juries can decided the truth. American epistemology is fully as ridiculous as the epistemology of secular states. I think Stalin, Nixon, Trump should simply say we can’t prove shit, we don’t know if Bill Cosby is guilty or innocent: as Christians we could just decide that everybody is guilty, there’s nothing to prove: kill him. Did he do it? I don’t know. We certainly believe that he — or any one — could have done it: drugged women, then put our fingers in their twat: any doubt? kill him, kill everybody.
But note: Cosby is a great man. Cosby was a great comedian. Cosby’s show where he played Doctor Huxtable is the great family show: it modeled morality, citizenship, love, cooperation … But so, still, the guy could have committed these multiple rapes.
I was in highschool, Friday night beer parties. One night in Don’s basement, half in the bag, one of us played a Cosby LP: Funny? We laughed our ass off. A great talent.
Did he commit all those rapes? Why not? He certainly could have.
But even if he did, should white slave masters, kleptocrats, slave masters, hypocrites, embarrassments to God put him on trial? No, no, no, no, no.
2017 06 08 Jared Diamond, The World Until Yesterday: What Can We Learn From Traditional Societies?, 2013
Inventing New Religions
I dreamed of founding communes as a child, didn’t we all? My mother subscribed to the Book of the Month Club in the 1940s, ’50s. I read the dust cover-spines as they sat on the shelf: War and Peace, Man and Superman. Sometimes Mom read her books with me: The Republic … a book on ideal-religion experiments in America: the Shakers, the Oneida Community. In grade school the teacher told us about Wordsworth and Coleridge and their Pantisocracies … In grad school, after the army, a commune-founding meeting was organized to take place in my mother-in-law’s apartment in Manhattan. Oh, it would be so nice: two or three people with shit jobs could earn enough money to feed a half-a-dozen couples. No body was estimating the number of children we’d soon have, no body was anticipating how couples would soon be murdering each other over adulteries among the members.
Phil was one of the organizers: I remember his Rugers friend Joe Unmasking what it was really about: And there’s Phil, at the bottom of a flesh pile! Actually, that’s exactly what happened: Phil and Carold married, she was hired as a violist by the Toronto Symphony Orchestra: Carol proved to be a dyke once they landed in Toronto: that was OK with Phil at first: the girls were soon piling up orgies, and yes, Phil was regularly the one male at the bottom of the pile: as Joe so perceptively saw: until the unending stream of dykes thought they’d like their orgies better if there were no male, no Phil, down in the orgy basement. Phil got out with his nuts still attached, moved in with girlfriend #2, then moved in girlfriend #2’s sixteen year old sister … Another mess.
Actually the Rutgers group did form a commune around Priceton. Boy, am I glad Hilary and I were never a part of it: what I heard was that Phil was the target of some nasty assessments of the group’s resources … Of course, no body wanted to be the two or three adults with actual money earning jobs.
And I pause right there to identify one of my perceptions about communes these fifty-odd years later: The dreaming was being done by people with graduate degrees but no jobs, no job experience. actually starving any of us might have founded a Fuller Brush company or a WalMarts; but not if there was food on our table no matter what we did.
And we hadn’t worked out the kinks of food and money production. !Kung hunters know how to hunt, !Kung gatherers know what to gather. They know how much huntring and gathering they have to do on average to feed a village of 30 !Kung … We didn’t know shit: we didn’t know how to do anything but sit in a room talking about Hamlet.
Ho boy, talk about impeaching Trump: for dong what he’s famous for: firing somebody. Talk about impeachment should allow him to rest easy: if we didn’t impeach Nixon then we’ll never impeach anybody. [Wait a minute: Clinton got impeached: a pussyfoot impeachment: what I say can be trusted, but not literally.]
Now I itch to tell a story that alas no one will get: Phil was my army buddy, early 1960s. We met when stationed at Whitehall Street, we became inseparable. Nothing was simple, nothing stayed still for very long, we do-si-do’d on a number of things influencing each other in ways even we didn’t perceive, but: in simple: Phil was the moral commie — goods should be shared; I was the moral Christian — EveryThing should be shared, evolution should be respected: existence should have an upward tilt: no, it was not alright to kill all the capitalists, no matter how evil we all are.
Well, we both thought we were moral, we both thought we were on the side of good, God … evolution … enlightenment … But the next thing I knew Phil was meditating, and eating no meat, and touting Jesus to beat the band: while chanting Rama, Rama, while Nixon was smudging fingerprints from bomb-bay-doors all over the world.
Check out my political satire letters here at K. to see what I did about it: I cite where what Phil said that still haunts me today: Phil said that Richard Nixon would forevermore be
That is, he, Phil, said “my”, that is, his, Phil’s, “president”: proprietary irony! Phil, the chairman of public shame.
Yes, very good, me too. Except now I don’t know: anything that Nixon was, power-mad hypocrite, war criminal, mass murderer, evil incarnate, Trump seems to be in spades.
It fits like an old shoe:, an old straw hat, a suit of overalls, to be talking about impeaching Trump.
(It was super comfy the other evening for Jan and me to see Shirley Temple, 1938, with Randolph Scott! The old straw hat is her song.)
2017 01 04 My in-season neighbor Elaine Sutphin snapped my wrinkly pic!
Continues as reverse chronology: Monthly Archive
Such archives date backwards: counter chronological: today, yesterday, the day before …