Mowed a little bit last night and put the clippings in a big trash can. The shit was HOT this morning! Tossed it in with the heap.
I do love the fact that the neighborhood was pasture up until maybe 1the 1960s (well, I love the house and love that there was pasture there, the replacement of the pasture with houses?...) and the "grass" is basically hay. Smells great.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
Today's compostings
Along with the usual kitchen scraps which includes cofee grounds and orange peels, some veggies ends and caps, etc., there was the first round of new green stuff going into the pile. The green in this case was leafy debris from pulling out some vines from a section of fencing, some tall grass cut from a flower bed, and some weeds. Also added to the 2012(13?) pile which started as the woody pits from Heap 2011, seen in title pic et al, and which now has miscellaneous cuttings, branches, vines, and other similar junk in it.
Heap 2011 is cooking pretty good even though it's just running on leaves and food scraps. I'm letting it sit for a few days, with only some aeration. The last few times I've done this the core temp has gotten pretty hot, and when I dig into the middle of the pile there is a sort of "frosting" or condensation that I'm assuming comes from the cooking nitrogen. I have gotten a strong whiff of what I'm assuming is methane when I've aerated prior to stirring a day later on the last few occasions.
Eventually, I'd like to have a separate methane composter. Dare to dream.
Heap 2011 is cooking pretty good even though it's just running on leaves and food scraps. I'm letting it sit for a few days, with only some aeration. The last few times I've done this the core temp has gotten pretty hot, and when I dig into the middle of the pile there is a sort of "frosting" or condensation that I'm assuming comes from the cooking nitrogen. I have gotten a strong whiff of what I'm assuming is methane when I've aerated prior to stirring a day later on the last few occasions.
Eventually, I'd like to have a separate methane composter. Dare to dream.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Seriously?
The question Faux News and others are asking is this: Should Muslims be able to build mosques in America?
My god, my sweet, loving, hateful, wrathful, vengeful, non-exisent god. Just exactly what part of the First Amendment do these fucktards not understand?
My god, my sweet, loving, hateful, wrathful, vengeful, non-exisent god. Just exactly what part of the First Amendment do these fucktards not understand?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Legion (2010) review
Legion
It is appropriate to review this movie in the Composter’s Union Quarterly Newsletter for several reasons. First, we compost to save the planet, and so any apocalyptic theme is fair game. Second, it is a mishmash of reused themes and elements from other movies. Third, I feel like it.
Paul Bellamy is engaging as always. Here he is the Archangel Michael rebelling against Big G because after several thousand years of humans just fucking killin’ each other and shit Big G is just fed up wi’ da BULLSHIT. Or is he?
Spoiler alert! But if anything I say about this movie comes as a surprise to you…
There are other people in this movie, notably Dennis Quaid, Lucas Black, Tyrese Gibson, Charles Dutton and Kevin Durand. There is also some Maxim-model type chick named Adrianne Palicki, who apparently was on that show “Friday Night Lights,” which I for one do not give a fuck about. Kevin Durand is probably the second closest thing to a hot commodity (Bellamy has about 5 movies coming out and makes 2 to 5 a year), coming off of a villainous couple seasons on “Lost” and recently playing a Merry Man in “Robin Hood” with Russell Crowe.
Durand’s turn as Archangel Gabriel has the most intentional or perhaps unintentionally ironic aspect to this movie, as he immediately reminds the viewer of Christopher Walken in the “Prophecy” series of movies (which started out really strong, but got to suckin’, as all series of movies do…). Walken’s Gabriel was a font of dry (and very mean-spirited) humor, but Durand is serious as a heart attack and not funny, except that it’s such a blatant homage/rip-off/whatever the viewer has to check hisself afore he wrecks hisself repeatedly.
As an aside, interesting that Gabriel is always the bad guy; the “Prophecy” films and also in “Constantine,” as played by Tilda Swinton.
Anyway, the story is this: Big G is out to exterminate mankind for general assholery. Michael says Big G told him to love mankind and he ain’t walkin’ out on mankind now, no sir. He flees to earth, cuts his wings off a la Ben Affleck in “Dogma” (the angels regular getup is a Roman centurion suit like in “Dogma” also, but less cheesy looking, much darker), and hits an arms stash he either KNOWS about or stashed himself. If he stashed it himself, he forgot his key, because he blows the doors off (in the shape of a cross) to get out.
Meanwhile, at one of those desert gas station/diners that apparently litter the desert at safe enough distances that you can’t see the next one (but which also are 50 miles from the next stop), Dennis Quaid is having trouble getting anything on his diner’s beat-to-hell TV. Charles Dutton is chuckling away at the fryer, like one sort of wise and peaceful cinematic black man does. Tyrese Gibson is toolin’ across the desert all angry and shit, as another sort of younger, more angry and shit, young black man does. He’s also got a big ass gun, because angry as shit young black men carry guns. Lucas Black is Dennis Quaid’s son and has the same expression on his face he had in “Sling Blade” when he was a kid, in other words, a furrowed brow. He loves this slutty waitress, carrying an illegitimate baby in her belly that she is going to give up for adoption. He says we can raise it together. She gives him a look like, “damn, son, I can’t even name this baby daddy and you want to hook up with ME?” or maybe “Shit, I can do a hell of a lot better than you,” or maybe “Shut the fuck up and get me some pickles and ice cream, bitch.”
Dennis tells the kid the chick is a slut, no offense, but fuckin’ forget about her.
An old lady drives in, orders a raw steak, eats it, says some really mean shit to the slutty waitress about dead babies, and best of all, drops the “See-you-next-Tuesday” bomb on her, which REALLY freaks everybody out, because, you know, women HATE that word. Then the old lady gets “shark teeth” and climbs the wall up onto the ceiling. She bites a guy really bad on the neck. Tyrese pulls out his gat and shoots the old lady. Lucas is sad ‘cuz he had her in his crosshairs and couldn’t pull the trigger.
Michael shows up in a cop car. He don’t look like no cop. He gives everybody guns. There’s a big cloud coming. It is flies and locusts. Oh shit, that’s gross. An ice cream truck pulls up. It’s a scary ice cream man. Oh shit. His legs and arms are all stretchy and he changes into a monster-lookin’ motherfucker. They shoot the shit out of him.
So, while Michael, and later Gabriel, manifests on earth in their actual handsome-boy-modeling-school angel faces and 6-hours a-day workout bodies, everybody else is a joe-schmoe extra possessed by an angel.
Yes, back to the theme, Big G is sending his angels to wipe out humanity, because of all the bullshit. But first, they have to kill the slutty waitress’ baby, who is the only hope for mankind (“Terminator,” “The Prophecy,” “The Bible”).
Lots more angels come. More sharks teeth. Some of them are punky lookin’ bikers. Oh shit. One of them gets blasted by the good guys and Charles Dutton is standing by it and gets a bunch of angel blood on him, which kills him, because it’s like acid (“Alien”), even though it’s really a possessed human, and wouldn’t they have the same blood as a regular human, plus, when Michael cut his wings off, why, we don’t really know, but his blood was red and apparently NOT highly corrosive, because he put some clothes on right after stitching himself up (remarkably small wounds, too, for cutting off some giant fuckin’ wings).
Gabriel comes. He fights Michael, a whole lot. Wings are badass. They are bullet-proof, though presumably the rest of the angel is not, because Michael is using a gun to try to fight Gabriel. Gabriel kicks Michael’s ass, though somewhat forlornly, because they’re buds. Gabriel kills Michael, who, of course, turns into some kind of flaming, sparkling gold dust and disappears. Gabriel starts to work on the witnesses.
He’s about to kill the baby, then, WHAT THE FUCK!!!??? It’s Michael, back as an angel, and he kicks Gabe’s ass, who get’s shipped off to Hell or something.
Bullshit. The main thing this movie had going for it was the idea that Big G might be an asshole, or even if he’s not, that mankind must now rebel against Big G’s will and try to survive. But now with this, “plot within a plot within a test within a trick” bullshit, we’re back to square one. Except that apparently lost and lots of people got they asses killed, since Lucas and Slutty (a.k.a “Joseph and Mary”) with their little illegitimate messiah in utero, seek out some stronghold of resistance that have cropped up. They drive off into the sunset, with a bunch of guns (“Terminator,” “Mad Max,” “The Road Warrior,” “The Bible” etc.), presumably heading for the sequel.
Bullshit. But overall, not the worst waste of 100 minutes in the history of cinema. 2 and a half out of 5 compost heaps.
It is appropriate to review this movie in the Composter’s Union Quarterly Newsletter for several reasons. First, we compost to save the planet, and so any apocalyptic theme is fair game. Second, it is a mishmash of reused themes and elements from other movies. Third, I feel like it.
Paul Bellamy is engaging as always. Here he is the Archangel Michael rebelling against Big G because after several thousand years of humans just fucking killin’ each other and shit Big G is just fed up wi’ da BULLSHIT. Or is he?
Spoiler alert! But if anything I say about this movie comes as a surprise to you…
There are other people in this movie, notably Dennis Quaid, Lucas Black, Tyrese Gibson, Charles Dutton and Kevin Durand. There is also some Maxim-model type chick named Adrianne Palicki, who apparently was on that show “Friday Night Lights,” which I for one do not give a fuck about. Kevin Durand is probably the second closest thing to a hot commodity (Bellamy has about 5 movies coming out and makes 2 to 5 a year), coming off of a villainous couple seasons on “Lost” and recently playing a Merry Man in “Robin Hood” with Russell Crowe.
Durand’s turn as Archangel Gabriel has the most intentional or perhaps unintentionally ironic aspect to this movie, as he immediately reminds the viewer of Christopher Walken in the “Prophecy” series of movies (which started out really strong, but got to suckin’, as all series of movies do…). Walken’s Gabriel was a font of dry (and very mean-spirited) humor, but Durand is serious as a heart attack and not funny, except that it’s such a blatant homage/rip-off/whatever the viewer has to check hisself afore he wrecks hisself repeatedly.
As an aside, interesting that Gabriel is always the bad guy; the “Prophecy” films and also in “Constantine,” as played by Tilda Swinton.
Anyway, the story is this: Big G is out to exterminate mankind for general assholery. Michael says Big G told him to love mankind and he ain’t walkin’ out on mankind now, no sir. He flees to earth, cuts his wings off a la Ben Affleck in “Dogma” (the angels regular getup is a Roman centurion suit like in “Dogma” also, but less cheesy looking, much darker), and hits an arms stash he either KNOWS about or stashed himself. If he stashed it himself, he forgot his key, because he blows the doors off (in the shape of a cross) to get out.
Meanwhile, at one of those desert gas station/diners that apparently litter the desert at safe enough distances that you can’t see the next one (but which also are 50 miles from the next stop), Dennis Quaid is having trouble getting anything on his diner’s beat-to-hell TV. Charles Dutton is chuckling away at the fryer, like one sort of wise and peaceful cinematic black man does. Tyrese Gibson is toolin’ across the desert all angry and shit, as another sort of younger, more angry and shit, young black man does. He’s also got a big ass gun, because angry as shit young black men carry guns. Lucas Black is Dennis Quaid’s son and has the same expression on his face he had in “Sling Blade” when he was a kid, in other words, a furrowed brow. He loves this slutty waitress, carrying an illegitimate baby in her belly that she is going to give up for adoption. He says we can raise it together. She gives him a look like, “damn, son, I can’t even name this baby daddy and you want to hook up with ME?” or maybe “Shit, I can do a hell of a lot better than you,” or maybe “Shut the fuck up and get me some pickles and ice cream, bitch.”
Dennis tells the kid the chick is a slut, no offense, but fuckin’ forget about her.
An old lady drives in, orders a raw steak, eats it, says some really mean shit to the slutty waitress about dead babies, and best of all, drops the “See-you-next-Tuesday” bomb on her, which REALLY freaks everybody out, because, you know, women HATE that word. Then the old lady gets “shark teeth” and climbs the wall up onto the ceiling. She bites a guy really bad on the neck. Tyrese pulls out his gat and shoots the old lady. Lucas is sad ‘cuz he had her in his crosshairs and couldn’t pull the trigger.
Michael shows up in a cop car. He don’t look like no cop. He gives everybody guns. There’s a big cloud coming. It is flies and locusts. Oh shit, that’s gross. An ice cream truck pulls up. It’s a scary ice cream man. Oh shit. His legs and arms are all stretchy and he changes into a monster-lookin’ motherfucker. They shoot the shit out of him.
So, while Michael, and later Gabriel, manifests on earth in their actual handsome-boy-modeling-school angel faces and 6-hours a-day workout bodies, everybody else is a joe-schmoe extra possessed by an angel.
Yes, back to the theme, Big G is sending his angels to wipe out humanity, because of all the bullshit. But first, they have to kill the slutty waitress’ baby, who is the only hope for mankind (“Terminator,” “The Prophecy,” “The Bible”).
Lots more angels come. More sharks teeth. Some of them are punky lookin’ bikers. Oh shit. One of them gets blasted by the good guys and Charles Dutton is standing by it and gets a bunch of angel blood on him, which kills him, because it’s like acid (“Alien”), even though it’s really a possessed human, and wouldn’t they have the same blood as a regular human, plus, when Michael cut his wings off, why, we don’t really know, but his blood was red and apparently NOT highly corrosive, because he put some clothes on right after stitching himself up (remarkably small wounds, too, for cutting off some giant fuckin’ wings).
Gabriel comes. He fights Michael, a whole lot. Wings are badass. They are bullet-proof, though presumably the rest of the angel is not, because Michael is using a gun to try to fight Gabriel. Gabriel kicks Michael’s ass, though somewhat forlornly, because they’re buds. Gabriel kills Michael, who, of course, turns into some kind of flaming, sparkling gold dust and disappears. Gabriel starts to work on the witnesses.
He’s about to kill the baby, then, WHAT THE FUCK!!!??? It’s Michael, back as an angel, and he kicks Gabe’s ass, who get’s shipped off to Hell or something.
Bullshit. The main thing this movie had going for it was the idea that Big G might be an asshole, or even if he’s not, that mankind must now rebel against Big G’s will and try to survive. But now with this, “plot within a plot within a test within a trick” bullshit, we’re back to square one. Except that apparently lost and lots of people got they asses killed, since Lucas and Slutty (a.k.a “Joseph and Mary”) with their little illegitimate messiah in utero, seek out some stronghold of resistance that have cropped up. They drive off into the sunset, with a bunch of guns (“Terminator,” “Mad Max,” “The Road Warrior,” “The Bible” etc.), presumably heading for the sequel.
Bullshit. But overall, not the worst waste of 100 minutes in the history of cinema. 2 and a half out of 5 compost heaps.
The Book of Eli (2010) review
The Book of Eli
This movie has a really great cast, which includes Tom Waits, Gary Oldman, Ray Stevenson, Jennifer Beales, Malcolm McDowell, Mila Kunis, and of course, Denzel Washington, among others.
This year’s apocalypses are looking a lot like last years. The dry, dusty desert is a convenient theme, ‘cuz shits all dried up after “the War.”
Spoilers from here on…
In this one, Denzel is a totally ass-kickin’ rover, just walking around, killin’ the odd bad guy(s). He camps out, because that’s pretty much what you do when the world ends, and reads a Bible every night.
Sound of screeching brakes. OK. Here’s the deal. 30 years after “the War” books are scarce. Gary Oldman is a warlord with a couple of towns under his belt (because he has a couple hidden springs to get fresh water from) but of course wants to rule the world. Ray Stevenson is his henchman. Ray wants to sleep with Mila Kunis, who is Jennifer Beals’ daughter. Beals is Oldman’s main squeeze. She is blind. Lots of people are blind because of the war. Whatever. She is hot. Mila is hot. Ray wants to sleep with Mila.
There is a kindly couple of cannibals later in the movie played by Michael Gambon and Frances de la Tour. You can tell they are cannibals because they are shaky “from eating too much human meat” (it’s a disease called ‘kuru’). There are fights, shootouts, etc.
The essential failure of the movie is that Denzel’s character thinks he’s on a divine mission to restore the Bible to people. Gary Oldman wants to use the Bible to enslave people. There are numerous references to people burning all the Bibles after the war because those people blamed the War on the Bible (which seems reasonable enough).
Basically, it seems Denzel is in a different movie than everyone else, because his character (and it seems, the real Denzel) really believes the Word, so to speak. But Oldman wants it for its corrupting power, and it ends up in the hands of good people, led by McDowell, who live on Alcatraz and are trying to restore, preserve all of mankind’s great works. But after everything the book just ends up on a shelf next to the Torah and the Koran. Whatevs.
The supposedly big shocker is that Denzel’s character reads the book in Braille and his BAD-MOTHERFUCKING AS HAS BEEN FUCKIN’ BLIND THE WHOLE FUCKIN’ TIME.
Bullshit. No matter how much they try to backtrack that one, that character wasn’t no blind motherfucker until the very end of that movie. Whatever.
Of course, 30 years after “the War” a few people still have cars and trucks. Saved gas? Distilled alcohol? Right. Not enough water to drink, but enough to distill alcohol for car chases. Bullshit.
Mila and Jennifer look freshly made up and super hot all through the movie.
Tom Waits is good as “the Engineer.”
Ray Stevenson is underused.
Gary Oldman is pretty good.
Overall, not a terrible movie, and enjoyable enough, but full of holes, and with an irritating and somewhat sanctimonious performance by Washington. Two compost heaps out of five.
This movie has a really great cast, which includes Tom Waits, Gary Oldman, Ray Stevenson, Jennifer Beales, Malcolm McDowell, Mila Kunis, and of course, Denzel Washington, among others.
This year’s apocalypses are looking a lot like last years. The dry, dusty desert is a convenient theme, ‘cuz shits all dried up after “the War.”
Spoilers from here on…
In this one, Denzel is a totally ass-kickin’ rover, just walking around, killin’ the odd bad guy(s). He camps out, because that’s pretty much what you do when the world ends, and reads a Bible every night.
Sound of screeching brakes. OK. Here’s the deal. 30 years after “the War” books are scarce. Gary Oldman is a warlord with a couple of towns under his belt (because he has a couple hidden springs to get fresh water from) but of course wants to rule the world. Ray Stevenson is his henchman. Ray wants to sleep with Mila Kunis, who is Jennifer Beals’ daughter. Beals is Oldman’s main squeeze. She is blind. Lots of people are blind because of the war. Whatever. She is hot. Mila is hot. Ray wants to sleep with Mila.
There is a kindly couple of cannibals later in the movie played by Michael Gambon and Frances de la Tour. You can tell they are cannibals because they are shaky “from eating too much human meat” (it’s a disease called ‘kuru’). There are fights, shootouts, etc.
The essential failure of the movie is that Denzel’s character thinks he’s on a divine mission to restore the Bible to people. Gary Oldman wants to use the Bible to enslave people. There are numerous references to people burning all the Bibles after the war because those people blamed the War on the Bible (which seems reasonable enough).
Basically, it seems Denzel is in a different movie than everyone else, because his character (and it seems, the real Denzel) really believes the Word, so to speak. But Oldman wants it for its corrupting power, and it ends up in the hands of good people, led by McDowell, who live on Alcatraz and are trying to restore, preserve all of mankind’s great works. But after everything the book just ends up on a shelf next to the Torah and the Koran. Whatevs.
The supposedly big shocker is that Denzel’s character reads the book in Braille and his BAD-MOTHERFUCKING AS HAS BEEN FUCKIN’ BLIND THE WHOLE FUCKIN’ TIME.
Bullshit. No matter how much they try to backtrack that one, that character wasn’t no blind motherfucker until the very end of that movie. Whatever.
Of course, 30 years after “the War” a few people still have cars and trucks. Saved gas? Distilled alcohol? Right. Not enough water to drink, but enough to distill alcohol for car chases. Bullshit.
Mila and Jennifer look freshly made up and super hot all through the movie.
Tom Waits is good as “the Engineer.”
Ray Stevenson is underused.
Gary Oldman is pretty good.
Overall, not a terrible movie, and enjoyable enough, but full of holes, and with an irritating and somewhat sanctimonious performance by Washington. Two compost heaps out of five.
Fear of Change Is Behind Much of Today’s Political Energy
What is the Tea Party afraid of? They fear a world where they are marginalized. They fear a world where their lifelong works are dismissed and taken from them. They fear losing control over their lives. They fear change. These are common, justified, and understandable fears, and they should not be dismissed as quickly as many of us (including myself) have done.
We all fear change; as it has been said, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know. Many of us fear the same things the vociferous members of the Tea Party fear. The biggest problem of the Tea Party, aside from the inherent racism of a lot of its proponents, is that they have bought into a list of non-issues and straw dogs along with a twisted and unreal historical view. The Boston Tea Party wasn’t simply about a tax; it was about taxation without representation. The problem wasn’t being taxed; it was getting no value for the tax. But “tax” is a dirty word to the Tea Party, and easier to understand than the complexities of colonial politics and markets, let alone the 100 plus years of schism that followed the English Civil War and preceded the American Revolution. Mark Williams, a national Tea Party leader, recently said that the NAACP makes “more money off of race than any slave trader ever.” The ignorance and preposterous nature of this statement will probably not drive many people from the Tea Party; it will more than likely become a talking point treated as “fact” in fetid arguments on website comment boards across the Internet.
The Tea Party’s equally nasty sister is the nativist movement. What do nativists fear? Public Enemy summed it up; it is “Fear of a Black Planet.” Or a brown planet, but at any rate, nativists fear a predominantly NON-WHITE planet (and country). They rant and rave about crime rates and dangerous illegal immigrants but mostly, they just don’t want to experience what non-whites have experienced for hundreds of years, namely minority status.
Socialism is another bete noir of the “Fear Party,” as this amalgam of groups should be called. Most of these people and groups have no understanding of socialism or the differences between socialism and communism or that National Socialism is nothing like either, but as they take all their talking points from the same entertainment pseudo-news sources, they all “know” about socialism and its evils. Similarly, they all “know” about the wonders and charms of capitalism, even as BP manages to not clean up its destruction of the Gulf, even as corporate execs get bonuses and lavish lifestyles built on the bones of ordinary people.
“Big” government (which doesn’t include 2 massive military boondoggles, just social programs and FEMA internment camps) is another major culprit. In the Fear Party’s world view, “big” government is limousine liberals (“the elites”), faceless bureaucrats, black helicopters, political correctness, and a “war on Christmas.” The Fear Party doesn’t link the thousands of lobbyists with gold in their pockets and agendas NOT in the public’s best interests to “big” government, nor do they decry the ruling of a corrupt Supreme Court which eliminates barriers to corporations buying elections (or installs the loser in a general presidential election as “the winner”).
The Fear Party sees conspiracy everywhere. The Fear Party denies science. The Fear Party thinks repetition and volume win arguments.
Fear is an instinctual emotional mechanism for survival. But it is also corrupting and viral and in many ways the opposite of reason. Fear is powerful, and fear can win elections. But fear can’t stop time or change. Fear can’t cool the planet or make the oceans subside. Fear can’t make people get along with each other. Fear can’t make businesses work or supply people with homes and jobs. Fear can be helpful and lead you out of a tight spot sometimes, but eventually fear has to run its course, so that people can ask, now that the world has changed, what do we have to do to survive?
We all fear change; as it has been said, the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t know. Many of us fear the same things the vociferous members of the Tea Party fear. The biggest problem of the Tea Party, aside from the inherent racism of a lot of its proponents, is that they have bought into a list of non-issues and straw dogs along with a twisted and unreal historical view. The Boston Tea Party wasn’t simply about a tax; it was about taxation without representation. The problem wasn’t being taxed; it was getting no value for the tax. But “tax” is a dirty word to the Tea Party, and easier to understand than the complexities of colonial politics and markets, let alone the 100 plus years of schism that followed the English Civil War and preceded the American Revolution. Mark Williams, a national Tea Party leader, recently said that the NAACP makes “more money off of race than any slave trader ever.” The ignorance and preposterous nature of this statement will probably not drive many people from the Tea Party; it will more than likely become a talking point treated as “fact” in fetid arguments on website comment boards across the Internet.
The Tea Party’s equally nasty sister is the nativist movement. What do nativists fear? Public Enemy summed it up; it is “Fear of a Black Planet.” Or a brown planet, but at any rate, nativists fear a predominantly NON-WHITE planet (and country). They rant and rave about crime rates and dangerous illegal immigrants but mostly, they just don’t want to experience what non-whites have experienced for hundreds of years, namely minority status.
Socialism is another bete noir of the “Fear Party,” as this amalgam of groups should be called. Most of these people and groups have no understanding of socialism or the differences between socialism and communism or that National Socialism is nothing like either, but as they take all their talking points from the same entertainment pseudo-news sources, they all “know” about socialism and its evils. Similarly, they all “know” about the wonders and charms of capitalism, even as BP manages to not clean up its destruction of the Gulf, even as corporate execs get bonuses and lavish lifestyles built on the bones of ordinary people.
“Big” government (which doesn’t include 2 massive military boondoggles, just social programs and FEMA internment camps) is another major culprit. In the Fear Party’s world view, “big” government is limousine liberals (“the elites”), faceless bureaucrats, black helicopters, political correctness, and a “war on Christmas.” The Fear Party doesn’t link the thousands of lobbyists with gold in their pockets and agendas NOT in the public’s best interests to “big” government, nor do they decry the ruling of a corrupt Supreme Court which eliminates barriers to corporations buying elections (or installs the loser in a general presidential election as “the winner”).
The Fear Party sees conspiracy everywhere. The Fear Party denies science. The Fear Party thinks repetition and volume win arguments.
Fear is an instinctual emotional mechanism for survival. But it is also corrupting and viral and in many ways the opposite of reason. Fear is powerful, and fear can win elections. But fear can’t stop time or change. Fear can’t cool the planet or make the oceans subside. Fear can’t make people get along with each other. Fear can’t make businesses work or supply people with homes and jobs. Fear can be helpful and lead you out of a tight spot sometimes, but eventually fear has to run its course, so that people can ask, now that the world has changed, what do we have to do to survive?
Sally
Sally had always thought she would live as long as her aunts, one of whom almost made it to one hundred and one who lived into her nineties. She may yet, but where those ladies were independent, Sally, unfortunately, will not be, barring radical new breakthroughs in the treatment of Alzheimer’s.
She had moved here five years ago from Indianapolis at the age of 71 about the time that her granddaughter turned one year old. At first she was an enthusiastic caretaker for the child. After a two or three years though, she began to have a much harder time keeping up, and so spent less and less time alone with the child.
Around that time, she began to talk to her son about moving back to Indianapolis and “going back to work” as an actress. In mid-life she had revived a career as an actress. She worked in print modeling, stage, radio, television, and some small films. But the work was slowing down and so was Sally. Her kids thought that she was moving down to Bloomington to retire, and did not anticipate she would leave. She had a great friends and community at a church right across the street. She had great neighbors and lived a couple of blocks from her granddaughter.
But she was becoming very unhappy. She was also repeating herself a lot. She had auditions in Indianapolis and twice failed to make them because she got lost. She made it to an IRT open audition but blanked out when she got on stage and left, unable to do her reading.
Her kids began to notice more memory problems. Her depression deepened. She began to be suspicious of “a kid” in the neighborhood, whom she said she could tell there was “something just not right” about. The “kid” was a 50-something alcoholic who shambles about the town, so she was right about part of that assessment. She began hiding things from the people she thought were breaking into her house, then forgetting where she had hidden them or even that she had hidden in the first place.
Rarely had she ever shown much anger in her life, even in the face of great adversity, but began to have angry outbursts about being “trapped” in Bloomington and “wasting her life” down here while she could be up “working.”
Eventually, after several consults with mental health professionals and repeated attempts to get her to try some medications, which failed, her kids decided to move her back to Indianapolis and have her move in with her daughter.
The day of the move came, and after her son loaded all her possessions into a truck, she asked “Now what are we doing?”
The Monday after the move to Indianapolis she left the house on foot and had to be brought back by the police. She got lost a week later (again on foot), for 9 hours. She had blisters on her feet the size of quarters. Two days later she flew into a rage because her daughter had hidden her car keys and wouldn’t let her drive.
New prescriptions have been written. A new high tech ID bracelet is on order. But it may all be too late. Sally now lives in Indianapolis, but still talks about returning there, which her children now realize, too late, is an imaginary place that Sally dreamed of as a child in Kokomo.
Families, please talk to one another. Make plans for this all-too common problem. Face the possibility that this could happen to your family before it is too late for your Sally
She had moved here five years ago from Indianapolis at the age of 71 about the time that her granddaughter turned one year old. At first she was an enthusiastic caretaker for the child. After a two or three years though, she began to have a much harder time keeping up, and so spent less and less time alone with the child.
Around that time, she began to talk to her son about moving back to Indianapolis and “going back to work” as an actress. In mid-life she had revived a career as an actress. She worked in print modeling, stage, radio, television, and some small films. But the work was slowing down and so was Sally. Her kids thought that she was moving down to Bloomington to retire, and did not anticipate she would leave. She had a great friends and community at a church right across the street. She had great neighbors and lived a couple of blocks from her granddaughter.
But she was becoming very unhappy. She was also repeating herself a lot. She had auditions in Indianapolis and twice failed to make them because she got lost. She made it to an IRT open audition but blanked out when she got on stage and left, unable to do her reading.
Her kids began to notice more memory problems. Her depression deepened. She began to be suspicious of “a kid” in the neighborhood, whom she said she could tell there was “something just not right” about. The “kid” was a 50-something alcoholic who shambles about the town, so she was right about part of that assessment. She began hiding things from the people she thought were breaking into her house, then forgetting where she had hidden them or even that she had hidden in the first place.
Rarely had she ever shown much anger in her life, even in the face of great adversity, but began to have angry outbursts about being “trapped” in Bloomington and “wasting her life” down here while she could be up “working.”
Eventually, after several consults with mental health professionals and repeated attempts to get her to try some medications, which failed, her kids decided to move her back to Indianapolis and have her move in with her daughter.
The day of the move came, and after her son loaded all her possessions into a truck, she asked “Now what are we doing?”
The Monday after the move to Indianapolis she left the house on foot and had to be brought back by the police. She got lost a week later (again on foot), for 9 hours. She had blisters on her feet the size of quarters. Two days later she flew into a rage because her daughter had hidden her car keys and wouldn’t let her drive.
New prescriptions have been written. A new high tech ID bracelet is on order. But it may all be too late. Sally now lives in Indianapolis, but still talks about returning there, which her children now realize, too late, is an imaginary place that Sally dreamed of as a child in Kokomo.
Families, please talk to one another. Make plans for this all-too common problem. Face the possibility that this could happen to your family before it is too late for your Sally
Really?
Am I really doing this? I guess so. Need something to occupy myself with on my lunch break. Next two posts are things I wrote but decided not to submit to the paper as guest columns, for various reasons.
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