Yes. I can feel it.
I’ve tried everything. but it keeps coming: January 27.
Disinvited — composed on learning a Friend was “disinvited” to the Philadelphia YAF Weekend Retreat
There was a recent FB notice here in Carolina for a YAF gathering (only for dinner-plus, not a weekend),
And it specified the age range as “18-40-ish.”
Couldn’t help it: I snickered.
For thirty years or so, I was shielded from most July 4th festivities by attending a big Quaker Gathering which was then always held the week of the holiday.
Going about our multifarious business there (as the saying goes, “We liberal Quakers don’t believe in hell — we have committees instead.”), we didn’t take much notice. Once in awhile we’d see some local fireworks, but there was no patriotic speechifying, flag-draped parades, or wreaths laid on war monuments. (Thank goodness.) Continue reading Four for the Fourth: Holiday Ruminations
Sheesh. Enough is freaking enough.
Hey, FCC: Tell Robocallers to Leave My Voicemail The Heck Alone!
(If you agree, you can tell the FCC Here)
Anybody else who gets repeated cellphone robocalls and hates ’em, raise your hand . . .
I thought so. But some politicians (along with corporate telemarketer buddies) think differently. Now they want to be able to fill up the voicemail box on my cellphone (yours too) with automated robocall junk messages: Continue reading Tell the FCC: NO To Robocall Voicemails!
That’s very good advice. After all, everybody makes mistakes, and this time, mirabile dictu, it was even admitted, eventually.
So shouldn’t we forgive and forget, show compassion, and move on?? I mean, it’s become an indelible part of our history now.
Yes, this is all excellent advice, which I fully intend to follow.
But today, I can resist anything but temptation. Even this tender admonition failed to move me:
I mean, after all: if they had a candlelight memorial right there at the site Thursday night, can we do any less, in our own feeble way?
And offer tribute to the way the heart-stopping live coverage brought out the very best in our finest media veterans . . .
Including the incredible coverage of the work of the first responders . . .
How could we not join with the others in their tributes?
And the selfless rush to bring aid to survivors and families:
Let’s join the chorus that demands swift and determined justice for those responsible:
And cheer on the local historians who have important tragic details to add:
So, sure. Tomorrow all this goes down the Memory Hole. But fear not — another week also starts tomorrow. And I’m sure they’re ready for us.
The Rainbow Toilet vs. HB2: Wiped from The Headlines in NC
Law & Order’s Special Victims Unit had nothing on Genevieve “Gigi” Burkhalter of Durham NC; but that wasn’t going to stop the North Carolina state troopers who do security at the governor’s mansion in Raleigh. The mansion is currently occupied by governor Pat McCrory, known worldwide as the face of HB2, Carolina’s trans-hostile Bathroom Law.
The troopers were sure they saw a crime being committed there under cover of darkness on April 15, 2016, and when they followed up what they saw on a security videocam, there it was, on the green lawn near the mansion.
A bomb? A corpse? A cache of erased State Department emails? No, wait — it was a toilet. Continue reading The Rainbow Toilet vs. HB2: Wiped from The Headlines in NC
Madea on Halloween–Boo!
Went to see this movie at the Tuesday bargain matinee. The film was the surprise box office winner for films that opened last weekend.
My goal for it was twofold:
1. Pig out on popcorn (no added “butter,” free refill); and
2. Be distracted from the fearful foolishness outside.
I’m aware that there are some black sophisticates who sneer at producer/writer/actor Tyler Perry & his famed drag character Madea as retrograde & politically incorrect.
Personally, I’m in awe of both: Perry is no puppet of white moviemakers: he built an empire by creating a strong, original character who combines many of the paradoxes of the culture and makes them tolerable through broad comedy. And he gathered his following from the ground up with black audiences. Many of Perry’s films seem clumsily assembled, yet Madea outshines them and survives.
“Boo!” involves the standard Perry ingredients: sassy but vulnerable youth; elders who are hilariously obnoxious, often off-color, pot-smoking (mostly legal this time) & foul-mouthed. The plot is far-fetched & mainly irrelevant, with a dollop of throwback piety to reassure the nervous churchgoers tittering in the back.
Never mind the story; it rolls along. The point is, I came out two hours later, still chuckling. And not til the car radio went on did I realize I hadn’t thought about the damn election & all that, not even for a second, for more than two hours:
That’s worth five stars & a bushel of rotten tomatoes. Money’s worth, totally.
Harry’s Razors: Not Making the Algorithmic Cut
There’s a radio show on Sirius/XM I listen to sometimes; they talk politics, aim for an independent but plain-speaking stance, and it’s pretty good. They also have commercials.
In addition, I read the New York Times on my Ipad. And for several weeks now, one of the ads from the radio show has been popping up in almost every Times article I read, day after day.
I mention this because it shows both the pervasiveness of today’s wired marketing machinery, and its limitations.
Dog Days Tales: His Eye Is On the Sparrow
A True Camp Story
It was Marcy Siegel who first realized that a killer was about to strike.
“No!” she shrieked. “Don’t”
But it was too late. The killer squeezed the trigger, squeezed it smoothly, silently, remorselessly. The rifle popped loudly, and the sound bounced back from the low hill in front of them.
The victim jerked and fell to the ground.
Then Marcy Siegel screamed, and so did the others.
Camp Frontier, in the Hudson Valley of New York, was not much different from dozens of other such places: A long rambling row of cabins spread out along the shore of a cool blue lake. Behind them were softball fields, basketball courts, and other athletic equipment. A big lodge divided the boys’ cabins on the east from the girls’ on the west. In the big lodge we ate, heard announcements, and griped about the food. Continue reading Dog Days Tales: His Eye Is On the Sparrow