Thursday, October 29, 2015

THE EARTH IS LOSING WEIGHT

We have some excitement down around my place when the clocks change. A couple dozen folks gather in Courthouse Park and count down to 2:00 AM for the change. One gets up in costume as Father Time but it is only a bed sheet and an egg timer. I guess we’re supposed to be cheered up by having an “extra” hour of daylight to start the day and accept gracefully when the sun goes down at 4PM.



 
I been thinking about time lately, burning the midnight oil. Sometimes I get up three in the morning, but that doesn’t sound as good — “burning the 3AM oil”. The secret is napping. I tell the missus I’m gathering my cosmic energy.

What with the changing of clocks, here an hour, there an hour, we must be out of synch with Universal Time. Add to that the six hours we gloss over each year for three years and then leap to make up in the fourth year, we must certainly be off the Galactic Calendar. This is no way to run a planet.
 
 



The magnetic poles flip every so often and we don’t even remark on it. Earth’s axis is tilting ever so slowly but certainly, a degree at a time. Our circumference varies like hemlines. I tell ya, we’re out of whack. The planet is also losing weight. Hard to see but all that metal we been sending up into space does not return. I know the water is in a closed loop but even so a couple drops here and there, it adds up.
 
Besides, I’m already furlongs ahead of the game by contemplating the weight loss or gain of our solar system. I tell ya, this could turn out, eclipse global warming. How’s your helium footprint?
 
Nine out of ten international experts agree that “Helium, on the other hand, is a different matter. It represents 0.00052% of the volume in our atmosphere, but it's mainly harvested from natural gas using a process called fractional distillation. Helium is becoming scarce in our planet.”
 
The tenth international expert says: “This planet isn't losing weight. The infall of meteor dust is considerable, forgotten long ago how much, but some very large number of tons per year. It could be in the millions. Maybe even thousands. Who knows, hundreds could be involved.”
*It should be noted that this expert is of the old school, only endorses that which he thought of first.
 

There are strong arguments for the Earth actually losing weight. This article is one of many that describe several possible causes and concludes that specific elements leaving Earth’s atmosphere will cause weight loss. If I were playing the stocks and commodity markets I would buy shares in helium companies or support research that would allow us to split an atom or two and create more of the stuff. As it is I monitor what parameters I can and have formulated lighter Earth/heavier Earth scenarios.

Ballistics is one field of many that is being affected as we speak.


 


Life: it is just a matter of time.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

A MILLION MILES

I reckon that's how much road passed under my butt since I started driving.


Back in '62 I got my drivers license and my dad took me to one of his pals and helped me buy my first car.


                                                       


38 Chevy coupe.
It didn't look as nice as this one, mine was body work in the back yard and an Earl Scheib $29.00 paint job, but it was mine. One of the rites of passage boys-to-men.



















Next car I owned was this one. 3.4 liter inline 6, dual overhead cams, Abarth tuned exhaust, burned a quart of oil every 100 miles. Yeah, I know, but nobody else at high school had one. I sure pulled some chicks with that one. Trouble is, no back seat.
One of my pals wanted to drive it while I wasn't around so he hot-wired it. He hot-wired it all right, the damn thing caught on fire and that was all she wrote for the Jag.






 55 Jaguar XK 140 with a C racing head. 16" wire wheels, do an honest 130 mph. I know because a State Trooper friend of the family took me out and we clocked it.








Next was a 56 Chevy 4 door sedan, 6 cylinder and a power-glide (two speed) transmission. Dad kinda clipped my wings, y'see.


By then I was 18 and having flunked out of college (I was too smart for them) I got married and got drafted and that just about ended my exotic cars period. Although I did enjoy driving the deuce-and-a-halfs.


This here's a "deuce-and-a-quarter", what we called a Buick Electra 225 















I went through a bunch of normal cars: 68 Plymouth 4 door, an ex State Police car, that thing ran like a scalded dawg; a 65 Rambler (for about two weeks, couldn't stand the embarassment); some more Chevys, Chevy II, Nova, so forth; a Toyota; a VW Rabbit.


Next interesting car I owned was this one. My dad gave it to me about a year before he died. I drove the wheels off it, couldn't part with it for a long time.








El Camino. Small block V8. Had to put elevator weights in the back end to keep traction.










Last car I drove was a 98 Chevy Blazer. Had 300k miles on it, new engine and a rebuilt tranny. It was my working tool until a fender-bender. The insurance people said they would total it out and I took the money. I am currently driving another Chevy Trail Blazer.


I told the Brocker this here one would be my next one.
She said "uh uh". And gave me the look so I know she is serious. Anyway I figger it would be good in gridlock, haw haw.


Monday, October 26, 2015

AVOID CROWDS














































SPIELEN NICHT … NUR TÖTEN

 artwork by Philistine


Spillers of Soup family crest. 

Are there any questions about that? 


A branch of the clan:

 
 
 
 
 








Sunday, October 25, 2015

THE GREAT LIGHT


The Masonic emblem is thus explained: The compasses are used to circumscribe our desires and keep our passions within due bounds, ever squaring our actions by the square of morality. 

For Freemasons, the Holy Bible is the rule and guide of our faith and practice. Wouldn't be a bad idea, more folks followed the lessons of scripture.


Psalm 133

1 Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity;

2 It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard, that went down to the skirts of his garments;
 
3 As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion, for there the LORD commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.

Ecclesiastes 12 : 1-7

1 Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them;

2 While the sun, or the light, or the moon, or the stars, be not darkened, nor the clouds return after the rain;

3 In the day when the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men shall bow themselves, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look out of the windows be darkened,

 4 And the doors shall be shut in the streets, when the sound of the grinding is low, and he shall rise up at the voice of the bird, and all the daughters of musick shall be brought low;

5 Also when they shall be afraid of that which is high, and fears shall be in the way, and the almond tree shall flourish, and the grasshopper shall be a burden, and desire shall fail, because man goeth to his long home, and the mourners go about the streets;

 6 Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern.

7 Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was, and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it.




.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

WEATHERMAN

Having survived complete kidney failure (no more dialysis, they recovered) and ongoing chemo treatments for Multiple Myeloma (bone marrow cancer, one of the nasty ones) has caused me to shift my priorities. Things I have ignored, the little blessings, I now give more attention to. Other things that have bothered me I dismiss, like small stuff, does not matter.

Been running periscope depth for the last week or so, studiously ignoring all events on the world stage, tuning in just enough so I know which way the wind blows. Which BTW is how I run these days, periods of "normal" lucidity shifting to back-brain mode. The reptile brain is on when anything else might not be.




 
 













 

Back brain, or reptile brain totally function on organism, instinct: see prey, kill and eat, see threat, dpjk, no eating required. Kept us alive since cave days so I guess it's all right, just refrain from  doing it in Burger King. Stay off the killing floor is my motto.


Skimmed Drudge, the cyber fave of the Men in Black, haven't missed much but it is spread out in such dreary prose. 

Why I like the Bible, scripture describes what's going on in sort of a poetic way: harlots, money-changers, Scribes and Pharisees. The human condition with hope and damnation in palatable prose, no bones and no choking. Look for the Revelation series again this Sunday. However pearls-before-swine it may be (Philistine and a few exceptions noted) we cannot hear warnings too often, can we?

I am seeing in myself a gradual shift to more fatalistic and cynical outlook. Like when I observe the dog & pony show we call politics, the international money thing, the moral and societal  decay. They are stealing copper pipes right out of houses, there are some goofballs running around burning flags, this is only the beginning. The fringe loonies acting out for perhaps the first time in their lives, crawl out of their wretched little basements and make their mark.

The MSM ignores the blatant injustices, indeed they promulgate 'em. Pre-emptive strikes are off the table; those with that capability such as military and LE are part of the problem. For those of us who look and can see what is going down, we are in reactive mode. Either pack up your gear and run off to the hills and sleep on the ground and shit in a hole and if Ma Nature doesn't get ya then another tribe will. Or stand yer ground in the be it ever so humble there's no place like home fortress. Where you can run out of food and water in comfort and wait 'til the fine young cannibals find you.





Me, I am in a living in the now mode and when something gets in front of me is the time to deal with it. Can't wait 'til the serious boyos start acting up. Actually I must wait, watching from the sidelines so to speak, oh, look, see the teams trotting out on the field?


Groups like these have the armament, the infrastructure, the will to commit murder and mayhem. Should be interesting to see them mix it up, eh?





























Think you're gonna need a weatherman, know which way the wind is blowing?



Saturday, October 17, 2015

MINDSET

Seems the natives are getting restless. Swarming, flash mobs, whatever it is called, is nothing more than mob action with gratuitous violence. Wait 'til the food runs out.

Stay away from crowds. Even if you run like Jesse Owens with the 4 minute mile and have something to protect yourself, and I don't mean pepper spray or kung fu. Always have a perimeter, a safe zone around you and yours. Anyone inside the line is a threat. Be polite. Be professional. Have a plan to kill anyone you meet.
 
 







Thanks to Col. Jeff Cooper for this:

Combat Mindset - The Cooper Color Code
The most important means of surviving a lethal confrontation is, according to Cooper, neither the weapon nor the martial skills. The primary tool is the combat mindset, set forth in Principles of Personal Defense. In the chapter on awareness, Cooper presents an adaptation of the Marine Corps system to differentiate states of readiness:

 
*                 White - Unaware and unprepared. If attacked in Condition White, the only thing that may save you is the inadequacy or ineptitude of your attacker. When confronted by something nasty, your reaction will probably be "Oh my God! This can't be happening to me."


*                 Yellow - Relaxed alert. No specific threat situation. Your mindset is that "today could be the day I may have to defend myself." You are simply aware that the world is an unfriendly place and that you are prepared to do something, if necessary. You use your eyes and ears, and realize that "I may have to SHOOT today." You don't have to be armed in this state but if you are armed you should be in Condition Yellow. You should always be in Yellow whenever you are in unfamiliar surroundings or among people you don't know. You can remain in Yellow for long periods, as long as you are able to "Watch your six". (In aviation 12 o'clock refers to the direction in front of the aircraft's nose. Six o'clock is the blind spot behind the pilot.) In Yellow, you are "taking in" surrounding information in a relaxed but alert manner, like a continuous 360 degree radar sweep.


*                 Orange - Specific alert. Something is not quite right and has gotten your attention. Your radar has picked up a specific alert. You shift your primary focus to determine if there is a threat (but you do not drop your six). Your mindset shifts to "I may have to shoot HIM today." In Condition Orange, you set a mental trigger: "If that goblin does "x", I will need to stop him." Your pistol usually remains holstered in this state. Staying in Orange can be a bit of a mental strain, but you can stay in it for as long as you need to. If the threat proves to be nothing, you shift back to Condition Yellow.


*                 Red - Condition Red is fight. Your mental trigger has been "tripped" (established back in Condition Orange). You take appropriate action.



An old man dressed for the urban scene:




Country style:  



Look for a young Jimi Hendrix in the back band, just about center screen: 
 

 
 
 
Not even gender-specific




I am always in condition yellow, sometimes getting into orange, so I always have a pistol on my belt or in my pocket. Same category as wallet, lighter, knife, keys, pocket change. Where I live I consider heavier armament when I am out and about. Wherever the law allows. Mostly.

I just got another M1 Garand. Had them before and regretted letting them go so I picked one up. Makes sense, me living 30 miles north of the border in NM.


Think: wide open - don't fence me in - I can see for miles spaces.

Halt, who goes there? Good question.




As the ruffian said: "I hold in my hands an instrument of death; what I promise, that I perform".

Thursday, October 15, 2015

BLADE RUNNER parallels

Obamacare, Planned Parenthood, baby parts for sale, save when  you buy the whole corpse. Kevorkian.

With increasing concerns about health care I thought I'd post some stuff tangential to it. Credits to Michael Stevens for some of the text and photos, his words in italics. I am not a thief, merely a borrower, think of it like when you go to a library. Here is yet another case where science fiction mirrors or predicts reality. I like the book story line.

Before proceeding I must clarify for and inform the reader about the history and sometimes confusing use of the title Blade Runner. Ridley Scott’s film Blade Runner takes its name from a book by William S. Burroughs called Blade Runner: A Movie. And as you can see from the copyright page of Burroughs’ screen treatment — “The author wishes to thank Alan E. Nourse, upon whose book The Blade Runner, characters and situations in this book are based.” — he took the name for his work from the science-fiction novel by Alan E. Nourse.





































The Bladerunner (1974) by Alan E. Nourse is set in 2017 in a New York City where medical treatment has gone underground as a result of the Health Riots of 1994. Based on the research of two scientists, Heinz and Lafferty, the government restricts public healthcare to a select few people. If someone visits a hospital for any reason they are forced to be sterilized as a result of hereditary findings that suggest diseases and conditions such as diabetes are being found in more and more of the population. Professor Heinz discovers that modern medicine, by breaking down natural immunity, is causing more, not less, illness.

The underground doctors have helpers called bladerunners that run errands and carry their supplies. This ominous future is also inhabited by groups of people called naturists, who refuse medical treatment in opposition to sterilization. With religious vigor, they protest the medical establishment, the government, and a violent police state. The naturists pose almost as big a threat to the bladerunners and underground doctors as the government.

The main character in this novel is a boy named Billy Gimp, who was in and out of foster homes, orphanages, etc., and doesn’t know his real last name. He is called Billy Gimp because of a lame leg. Billy is a bladerunner and works for Doc, a skilled and well respected surgeon who is a government-employed medical doctor by day and an underground surgeon by night.




The movie has nothing to do with the book but neither offers any confidence in the government looking after us.

The Ridley Scott film Blade Runner, which starred Harrison Ford and has nothing at all to do with the Burroughs or the Nourse books, is actually based on the classic science-fiction novel by Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?. Rudolph Wurlitzer and Hampton Fancher (who were involved with the film in the early stages) were responsible for getting the title to Ridley Scott. Philip K. Dick, Burroughs, and Nourse are all thanked in the end credits of the Director’s Cut of the film.





































The film depicts a dystopian Los Angeles in November 2019 in which genetically engineered organic robots called replicants—visually indistinguishable from adult humans—are manufactured by the powerful Tyrell Corporation as well as by other "mega–manufacturers" around the world. Their use on Earth is banned and replicants are exclusively used for dangerous, menial or leisure work on off-world colonies. Replicants who defy the ban and return to Earth are hunted down and "retired" by police special operatives known as "Blade Runners". The plot focuses on a brutal and cunning group of recently escaped replicants hiding in Los Angeles and the burnt out expert Blade Runner, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), who reluctantly agrees to take on one more assignment to hunt them down.



So I managed to shed no light but I did draw your attention . Go away thinking. Here's a tune you can hum on your way to work.




.

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

SHOOTERS WHEEL

Well, things are sure getting interesting in the Middle East. Some hotheads might go nuke, melt all that sand into glass. Never mind Mel Gibson movies and fireworks. Never mind the money. Think: beans and bullets and a bible. Know your perimeter. Things are getting hotter here at home, too. Could end up brother against brother. Might get ugly.

Are you ready?

No time to get ready, got to be ready. Get a firearm and learn how to use it.

"Grab your wife, get your family, grab your gun." Good advice, might come down to that.


































" The hole in his forehead where the bullet went in was about the size of a pencil. The hole in the back of his head where the bullet came out was big enough to put your fist in, if it was a small fist and you wanted to put it there.

"I reckon you could have put your foot in the back of his head where the two barrels of heavy duck load splattered out even if it was a medium-sized foot, and you didn't want to put it there." ~W.S. Burroughs~


38 Special is a fine round; easy to shoot, plentiful, does the job as long as the shooter does his. I have been working up loads for 357 mag. That one does the job as well.



























Am I happy? Um, yeah, mostly. Satisfied is a better way to say it. What I got is peace within. There's a whole lot in life I don't care about, but I am pretty well centered in my own spirituality and as I get older I am paying more attention to the evidence and less to the arguments.

"Everybody's got their own way to butter their bread" as my father would say. "Don't trust the priests, son, all they got a key to is the shithouse".

Character, not personality, is what makes the man. Content, not form.


I have smelled the foul sulphur breath of Satan as I lay dying; I have crawled the narrow path to lay at Jesus' feet, asking He intervene with Father God to spare my life; there are wicked wild hounds that visit me in the dark hours before dawn, scratching at my door, looking to carry me away if I drop my guard; but I do not fear them. I have been washed in the Blood of the Lamb.
When I see some of these young people run­ning their game I want to say “Kid, I served in the military, blowing things up and killing people; I ran with bik­ers, shot junk, robbed banks; my hands have taken lives and saved lives; I worked with the Billy Gra­ham Cru­sade; I’m thirty years clean and sober; I’m half dead with the cancer; I got a mil­lion miles of high­way under my ass, slept with dogs, danced with angels; I got screw­drivers older than you … what are ya gonna show me, uh?”
But I don’t. Nowa­days I just kinda watch it all going down.
I hold to Matthew 26: 36-46 The Garden of Gethsemane
An aside: what with the cancer, possible kidney failure, possible cirrhosis of liver, my wife heading into dementia, probably a couple things I haven’t thought of yet, my outlook has changed. I am definitely not suicidal nor do I feel defeated in any way. I will not sit on the couch whimpering either. Mind you I’m not gonna buy a motorcycle and go a hundred mph, defying death. A lot of things that used to bother me (we all have ‘em, little things like the toothpaste or some jerk in front of us in traffic) don’t bother me anymore. Some other things that I have taken for granted, like a nice sunset or my wife hugging and kissing me, now these things mean a lot to me. When it comes down to standing up against a threat, some jerk wants to harm me, I have an advantage. I can say to the guy “look, I am willing to die for my beliefs, make your move.”

But I don't say anything. I'm just watching it all going down.

DPJK works for me. That's Don't Play, Just Kill.

Don't bother having a nice day on my behalf. 

Sunday, October 11, 2015

MONDAY BLUES


Never before have so many people with so little to say said so much to so few.

That's how I feel sometimes, when I read other blogs and when I look at my own work.

Music for now.
 

Ah, the blues. One of those Inside Jobs I have mentioned. We've all had the blues, whether we know it or not. If you haven't cried you haven't lived.

A bitter heart cannot reveal the Spring that love remembers.

Flatliners may click off now. Go here. Stay a long long time.

The rest a youse, enjoy the groove.























CHANGE OF SEASONS

With the onset of Winter my thoughts tend to be melancholy and introspective. Fall's harvest and the bleak Winter that follows symbolize the maturity and fruition of a person's life and a glimpse of what lies ahead for all of us. But there is no need to dread the inevitable. I have lived am living a good life, I am right with my Maker, and I do not live in a fear dynamic. One day, yes, death will come to us all ... I will be standing up, eyes wide open, facing it ... not fleeing. Same goes for Winter.








 REFLECTIONS
 
 You know, time has a way of moving quickly and catching you unaware of the passing years.

It seems just yesterday that I was young, just married and embarking on my new life with my mate.   And yet in a way, it seems like eons ago, and I wonder where all the years went.  I know that I lived them all...

And I have glimpses of how it was back then and of all my hopes and dreams... But, here it is…the winter of my life and it catches me by surprise...

How did I get here so fast? Where did the years go and where did my babies go? And where did my youth go?

I remember well... seeing older people through the years and thinking that those older people were years away from me and that winter was so far off that I could not fathom it or imagine fully what it would be like... 

But, here it is...wife retired and she's really getting gray...she moves slower and I see an older woman now. She's in better shape than me... but, I see the great change...  Not the one I married who was young and vibrant... but, like me, her age is beginning to show and we are now those older folks that we used to see and never thought we'd be.

Each day now, I find that just getting a shower is a real target for the day! And taking a nap is not a treat anymore...it's mandatory! Because if I don't on my own free will...I just fall asleep where I sit!

And so, now I enter into this new season of my life unprepared for all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things.

But, at least I know, that though the winter has come, and I'm not sure how long it will last...This I know, that when it's over...it’s over. Yes, I have regrets. There are things I wish I hadn't done ,,,,,things I should have done. But indeed, there are many things I'm happy to have done. It’s all in a lifetime.. .

So, if you're not in your winter yet...let me remind you, that it will be here faster than you think. Whatever you would like to accomplish in your life please do it quickly!

Life goes by quickly, so do what you can today, because you can never be sure whether this is your winter or not!

You have no promise that you will see all the seasons of your life ... so, live for good today and say all the things that you want your loved ones to remember...

"Life is a gift to you. The way you live your life is your gift to those who come after. Make it a fantastic one."

LIVE IT WELL!!

Saturday, October 10, 2015

RANGE TIME

No doubt about it, reloading and range time. Time well spent for any of us.

My latest interest is a Marlin 1894 carbine in 357 mag. No pix yet. I'm loading 158gr hollow points pushed by 16gr of Win 296 powder. Shoots flat out to 100yds, delivers over 400 ft-lbs out there. Nice thing is I can carry it along with my S&W 686 and use the same ammo. Just the thing when I'm casual cruising, not looking for trouble. White Zone, you might say, go visit the neighbors. 

If I think I'll be heading into Orange Zone it'll be the AK. I sold the AR for a good price; it was too fussy for me and just did not seem sturdy enough. 



















If I wanted to get downright premeditated, it would be my M1.


 















Speakers up. You should rattle the windows. This music was played hundreds of years ago on pipe organs in huge cathedrals that were built acoustically.  And they rattled the effing stone walls.




The M67 is for the flat-out-and-fuck-it mode.

Friday, October 9, 2015

THE PRICE IS RIGHT

As long as you're not fussy 'bout the color.

They just don't make 'em like they used to. Of course, they don't make us like they used to either. Just wait, comrades, after the revolution when the Luddites have leveled the playing field we will all be walking a lot more.



Hmm, let's see. Long essay about the entitlement and super-size-it mentality that is leading us on the path to ruin and how getting back to the basics is gonna save us? Like, if I live in a sod hut and grow my own veggies the world will be a better place?

Nah, the older I get I pay more attention to the evidence and less to the arguments.

 It is a matter of traction.  Henry Ford was a Brother.
 




Deuce anna quarter is a Buick Electra 225



May the Blessings of Heaven rest upon us and all regular Freemasons. May brotherly love prevail and every moral and social virtue cement us.

Thursday, October 8, 2015

THAT GREEN THING

I live a life and spend time doing things I like, so I blog when time allows.
I have periods of creativity and periods where I cannot devote the time. I do this blog for my own amusement and entertainment and I like the stuff I write so I do not mind re-posting items.

I call your attention to my Mission Statement and if you want more than I am offering, let me say this: my uncle's name was Louie Lozko. We all called him Letsgo Lozko. He raised bantam chickens. 





















Well, pleasantries aside, here is a nice tune and follows is a neat story.




In the line at the store, the cashier told the older woman that plastic
bags weren't good for the environment. The woman apologized to her and
explained, "We didn't have the green thing back in my day."

That's right, they didn't have the green thing in her day. Back then,
they returned their milk bottles, Coke bottles and beer bottles to the
store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized
and refilled, using the same bottles over and over. So they really were
recycled.

But they didn't have the green thing back in her day.

In her day, they walked up stairs, because they didn't have an escalator
in every store and office building. They walked to the grocery store and
didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time they had to go two
blocks.

But she's right. They didn't have the green thing in her day.

Back then, they washed the baby's diapers because they didn't have the
throw-away kind. They dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling
machine burning up 220 volts - wind and solar power really did dry the
clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters,
not always brand-new clothing.
 
But that old lady is right, they didn't have the green thing back in her
day.
 
Back then, they had one TV, or radio, in the house - not a TV in every
room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a pizza dish, not a
screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, they blended
and stirred by hand because they didn't have electric machines to do
everything for you. When they packaged a fragile item to send in the
mail, they used wadded up newspaper to cushion it, not Styrofoam or
plastic bubble wrap.
Back then, they didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut
the lawn. They used a push mower that ran on human power. They exercised
by working so they didn't need to go to a health club to run on
treadmills that operate on electricity.

But she's right, they didn't have the green thing back then.
 
They drank from a fountain when they were thirsty, instead of using a
cup or a plastic bottle every time they had a drink of water. They
refilled pens with ink, instead of buying a new pen, and they replaced
the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor
just because the blade got dull.
 
But they didn't have the green thing back then.

Back then, people took the streetcar and kids rode their bikes to school
or rode the school bus, instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour
taxi service. They had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire
bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And they didn't need a
computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000
miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint.

But isn't it sad that they didn't have the green thing back then?

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

POV DENVER


Recently went to Denver for a few days, The Brocker is thrilled. She grew up here, worked and dated and married the guy, father of her kids, so forth.

Saccharine tune, best I can do for the text. This represents the dream rather than the reality of Denver. No pix of bums sleeping on the steam vents, no fear vibes or thunder of hooves. 

 


We stayed downtown at a Holiday Inn, and walked around all the old streets, places where she worked; went to the neighborhood where she lived, in the projects (she grew up in a poor family, not much money, one year a neighbor gave her a winter coat since she didn't have one). "Oh, look, there's the theater where I worked" (or at least the facade, turned into retail shops now) and she is amazed at how the city has dumped all the old three story bldgs, put up twenty story glass and steel office towers. Sad in a way, look at the brickwork of the old ones: ornate, easy to look at, back when craftsmanship was the norm, not something you have to pay premium to get. Blow it all out, gone the heart, the soul of the place and sterile monoliths in place of.

Take on Denver: city trying hard to be alive, the capitol of Colorado, doing OK, alive and well in spite of current conditions. Observed the workers, service types like clerks, waiters, counter help. I picked up on the same vibe as Cali, scared, a level of fear and worry not quite concealed. They all know, can feel actually something is going on and it is wrong. Sense of impending doom, hear the thunder of hooves over the horizon, so forth. These entry-level workers commute from outskirts where the rents are cheap, an hour out, must wear nice clothes for the job and after all is said and done they break even. The girls wearing nice stuff, the skirts and the shoes, just to sell mittens in the mall, guys in suits to clerk at an insurance office. But grateful just to have a job. Oh, and been at entry-level wages for two, three years now. Don't diss the boss or out on the street and others walking over 'em to get the job. 

I am so grateful I had a good-paying tech job. And living in southern NM, wear jeans and flannel shirts, clean or dirty don't matter. Just kept the paychecks rolling in, thank you. I would not live in a large urban area if you held a gun to my head. Pull the trigger, I wouldn't care, I ain't going there. What I see of rural Colorado is same as Cali, same as anywhere. The farm and ranch, the small towns will fare better than the hives. At least there is chance to gather food and stay warm. The cities, there is a fear vibe running close to the surface.

It was a good vacation. For The Brocker, she keeps connected to the past, those parts that hold good memories for her, she is a keeper, witness friends for 50-60 years. For me, a break from reality, surreal, managing the logistics of travel and getting around in foreign, if not hostile locations. And being with The Brocker in her joy. When she is happy I am well pleased. It rubs off ya know. I don't know how you are but if left up to me I would not travel much. Stay around home, do small things for pleasure. I don't need to see the Rockies on the horizon, so forth. The Brocker, she pulls me out into the larger world and allows me to enjoy things I would not otherwise do. It is good for me even if I don't feel the need for it. Y'know, I feel the fear too, the doom is not going away. Something is happening and it will not be good. When bad things happen there is no place like home. Home, wherever and however that manifests itself.

Ah well, I guess I might as well eat and enjoy. There will be plenty of time to be hungry later on. Return on Sunday, I like driving so these trips do hold pleasure for me if just in that. Back home Monday and I bet I haven't missed much. Perhaps a blog or two from the trip but as you may have read from Remus, for a thinking man this blog stuff gets stale. Cartoons, music, goofy stuff does it for me. I guess that's why there were so many comedy movies in the 30s. They lived wretched lives, they went to the movies to escape. Heck, even nickel beers and the local polka band was better than documentary looks at how the world is tumbling.

Alright, some grit, wash away the sweetness of it all. This is life, after all, not Disney. Oh, and Chicago is not filling up with metrosexuals the way Denver is. Hard to take pansies in flannel shirts.