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Wednesday, November 25, 2020

Harmonic Convergence: We Have Elected A Crook.

 


Beats the looney we had. I somehow feel cheated by the process, but I should not feel that way. We inevitably get the politicians that we deserve. Feeling cheated just opens the door for politicians like Trump. If the whole bio system of politicos are crooked, why not try something else? Because the something else are a parade of cartoon characters. This has always been the case.

We cannot overwrite humanity. As we have piled on progress, complications have emerged to go with it. Almost all professions require a bit of specialized training and time in the saddle to get good at. Running the whole show, making sure that interactions between us are safe and fair, is damn complicated business. The people who are in that business are politicians. At the very least, you want a pro.

I think nearly every single word Trump said about Joe Biden is true. That said, this is a wonderful day. We’ve seen how amateur hour works and it’s not for us. We’ve seen how nepotism and loyalty above competence cronyism works and now it’s time for the blue-tinged technocratic hordes to ply away. Hopefully the whole plague thing will prove focusing. Nothing these save the world types like better than a world that actually needs saving.

I am old enough to remember a time when there were red-tinged technocratic hordes, too.  The Republican Brand was about good government, efficient commerce, promotion of innovation, law and order and a foreign policy based on realism. They were a counterweight to the Democrats regimes of inclusion as a qualification, rigged economic outcomes, redress through redistribution and a foreign policy based on European fads.

But those folks died. They were swamped by their Conservative brothers. I have mixed feelings about the Conservatives, having been one at one time. I don’t blame them for Trump. Trump is not a Conservative nor any type of political animal, vegetable or mineral. What I blame the Conservatives for is killing the red-tinged horde.

Today’s Republican Party is an amalgamation of bigots, gun loonies, bible thumpers, plutocrats and polluters. They’re not an attractive bunch. Of these, only the bigots aren’t flat out corrupt. They don’t want anything. They’re just against a lot of things.

Oh, yeah, and the Conservatives. They’re there. Drafting behind the polluters and the plutocrats. Quick to amen the fucktard evangelicals. (Literal interpretation of the bible. Great idea! A pity it didn’t occur to the people who wrote the bible.) The polluters and the plutocrats think they created Conservatism out of corporate agit-prop. And the Conservatives are willing to let them think that because (1) they have to get money somewhere; (2) even if true, it’s just a happy coincidence; (3) they’re convinced that market forces will somehow prevail and do the right thing before we are all buried up to our eyeballs in coal tar tailings. Time to smile and be in a picture with some goon in a baseball hat toting a machinegun. Conservatives have to believe that there’s some virtue just in the numbers of these freaks. If only they could be led.

Unfortunately for the Conservatives, their yahoo brethren literally believe that all government is bad government--which is not really aligned with the “government which rules least, rules best” mantra Republicans were previously pitching. At core, it isn’t government who these yahoos are pissed at, it’s reality. They’re just taking it out on civilization because they can comprehend the concept of civilization in commodified form as government. As long as these folks feel politically enabled, we can count on them backing the craziest motherfucker willing to stand for office. That’s their real orthodoxy.

Lucky for us, we outnumber all of these freaks by a wide margin in most places. And truth be told, the yahoos aren’t really good at anything—including staying focused. I believe this last election was the apex of genuine yahoo involvement. They liked Trump because he pissed off their betters. Now that he’s been swamped, there are stumps to blow up and beer to drink and signs to shoot holes in and the N word to shout at the television before they collapse into their Cheeto-and-lard enhanced stupors.

In short, we have one political party for a while. In my dreams I hope for a functional Green Party to contest with the Democrats. But that isn’t going to happen. The political divide in a rational universe is between the dreamers and the utilitarians. Just as the Democrats need to tame the Revenge For All Sins factions in their midst, the Republicans will crawl out from under the human filth they’re surrounded themselves with to preach a new doctrine of “Do No Harm” and “Pay as You Go” and “Pragmentism and Moderation are Virtues.” Let’s hope it isn’t a long wait, because silly season can get very silly very quickly, especially unchecked

Thursday, November 12, 2020

YOUR KITTY OUTFIT SUCKS!

 


Attention trick or treaters, members of Cats, strippers, casino hosts and comic book characters.  There is a strong likelihood that your kitty outfit sucks. If Taylor Swift can’t pull it off, why should you? And almost none of them are memorable. For everyone who isn’t Ertha Kitt or Julie Newmar, we have provided the following guide to making your attempt at feline adornment less of a travesty.

Rule #1: Props are key.


A big cat is the best prop.

 

Extra points are awarded for matching your feline companions.

All points are lost for flagrant mismatches. 

If you can’t match the cat, dress as something the cat would like to play with. 


Rule #2: You are dressing as a cat because you would rather be cute than original.

No cat outfit is all that scary.

If you want to be intimidating, choose another theme. 


Rule # 3: Cat outfits can be enhanced through nudity. However, if you are resorting to nudity, you can probably skip the cat outfit.

Rule # 4: The whole kitty routine can be overdone. 

 

Rule #5: Cat outfits are easy to screw up.

Avoid black. Pointed ears are better than floppy ears.


Avoid talking about your weaknesses.

Rule # 6: No matter how well executed it may be, a kitty outfit is just a kitty outfit.


 



Friday, August 28, 2020

Harmonic Convergence Republican National Convention Edition

 


“Washington has not changed Donald Trump. Donald Trump has changed Washington,” spoke First Daughter Feckless Cunt in a speech which was presaged by cat calls and a model trot out of Zoolander.  It was the start of a final night staged largely at the White House, as was much of this four-day testimonial-a-thon. A two-thousand-person corona virus super spreader event was held as a backdrop for the acceptance speech. Sadly, the impressive set-up was squandered by Cheetolini, who recited an overly long and deeply meaningless soliloquy sans focus, replete with defamatory and jingoistic allspice.  What one takes away mostly is mostly how long it was.

 

I made the mistake of watching all four nights on MSNBC. I tried Fox at first, but they were not covering it live at the time. The folks at MSNBC thought it adroit to continually break the fourth wall to remind us that much of what was being testified to was pure fantasy. Bless you Rachael Maddow, but most of us on planet Earth already know they’re lying. I’m unclear about the value of keeping a running tally at this late date.

 

On Earth Trump the plague has been dealt with, scared into a full retreat through steely resolve and swift executive action.  When others were dithering and denying our prescient commander-in-chief banned tourism by slimy infected foreigners, built millions of miles of impenetrable fortifications around our borders and dispatched medical resources with deft expedience. Millions were saved and, thanks to an effective and universal testing regime, we are now ready to continue building the best economy in the history of mankind. A full restoration of everyday life is just around the corner, as a TOTAL CURE for the plague has been WARP SPED into reality. And if that was not enough for you, THE BEST IS YET TO COME!

 

There were game show surprise highlights throughout. A guy got pardoned, live and on TV. Another bunch of people were suddenly made citizens. Unhinged Let’s Make A Deal audience participant behavior was on full display. Rudy Giuliani and Kimberly Guilfoyle screamed their presentations and yet both came off as undead. Various slick haired squares and imitations of Grizzly Adams stalked forth to warn of the dangers of socialism, looters, cancel culture or to remind us that the Republican Party is proudly sponsored by LAW AND ORDER. Others brandished their bibles and sincerely avowed that Joe Biden is an agent of Satan. Larry Kudlow invented his own genre of literature by describing things that are yet not to happen in an optimistic past tense. As in previous years, we had to sit through the parading of all known black Republicans. All of the president’s children performed with the zeal of Kamikaze pilots before their maiden flights.  Not to be outdone by her peers, Feckless Cunt declared herself co-president in her final appearance. Of those allowed within social distance of Cheetolini, only the First Lady failed in her trained seal act.

 

I kept hoping she would stab him in the back. “He shtupped a porn star when I was knocked up. He is evil.” Instead, she used the time to disabuse the world of the notion that she is near-fluent in English. Maybe she was speaking semaphore or Esperanto? It’s impossible to say.  For her last appearance, she attempted to make day-glow lime fashionable again. She would have been better served showing up in the nude.

 

Once the convention locked in on themes, every performer was required to hit on all of them. It was something akin to a Branson show, only without the music. The phrase that pays seems to be: Joe Biden is out to destroy the suburbs.  As clearly pulled out of the ethers as that notion may be, it at least makes sense as a sentence. In the end, even Cheetolini found it stale with repeating and substituted a promise of unending tax cuts in its place. Undefined until the end was the big promise of THE BEST IS YET TO COME.  There is an outside chance that this boils down to unending tax cuts, wherein the rich make us give them all of our money. By context, however, it seems more likely to mean putting a woman on the moon. Or putting a woman on Mars. In any case, some bitch is getting epic style stranded. (*) The silver lining in all of this is that if the Republican party is hatching any further evil schemes, they seem to be directed at the universe and not at us.

 

(*) Hil-Gle would like to apologize for using both the B word and the C word in this posting. It was done purely for comedic effect and does not reflect Hil-Gle’s deep abiding reverence for more than half of the human race.


Monday, August 24, 2020

Harmonic Convergence Democratic National Convention Edition

 


The giant clam shell split open as a ray of bright white parted black from above. A chorus of divine devas warbled. His mightiness stepped forward, a sister saint at his side. Other sister saints heralded his arrival in poem prayer songs sung loud. Taylor Swift wept.

His awesome presence has been detailed fantastic bit by fantastic bit. To see his magnificence is to be permanently instantly impressed. But a word from him will change your life. The glint off his aviator glasses can grow whole organs back. Gold pools in his footsteps. Put your watch up to the TV screen and he will tell you the time. Mostly, however, he cares damn hard. And so does Kamala.

Eek. I am glad the convention is over. For a minute there I was failing to remember Joe Biden’s number one qualification: Not being Donald Trump. I am happy to report that Joe Biden still retains this awesome feature. In all probability Joe Biden lacks the imagination needed to justify the jailing of toddlers. I’m sold!

Under the hood is a middling corrupt, carpet-bagging, half-dead but competent Center Center politician and his newly-minted, highly ambitious female sidekick. I am convinced that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are normal as far as the population of human beings who seek to become President of the United States are concerned. That should not be mistaken for being normal normal. Both rate slightly less than Bill Clinton on the overall weirdo meter. Not being bloviating psychopathic science deniers is an important distinction this go around.

Exigent circumstances are the only Presidential Agenda. The depression and plague have voided all other policy items for the foreseeable future. Our choice could not be more stark. It’s suicide or science.

People who voted for Trump have one last chance to redeem their immortal souls.

Friday, July 31, 2020

Bozoverse USA!


What Have We Learned?

 

It is hard to encapsulate take-aways when one is still participating in a pro wrestling match. We know how the match ends. Many of the participants will say the same thing at the end, no matter what happens. And there will be another SMACK DOWN AT THE END OF TOMMAROW to look forward to in another time and in another place. Reflecting while one is the immediate subject of a helicopter hold is dubious on so many levels, but sometimes reflection is all you have.

 

The Corona Virus is Thunderlips and we are all the guy in the kitty mask, receiving an elevated 360 whirlwind perspective of what life outside the ring looks like. At some point we too shall be deposited into a seat, front and center and ready to view the misfortunes of another unfortunate. Whether we will be allowed to take our seat in as civilized of a manner as someone who has just been utterly humiliated by his opponent can, or whether said seat will be sent upside our heads, or whether we will be flung into the seat and deposited seated upside down are plot details. Thunderlips will eventually be done with us. Of that we can be sure.

 

The first lesson that we’ve learned is that the round is not over until Thunderlips says it is.  The ref can blow his whistle to his heart’s content. We can pee our pink kitty tights green.  Donald Trump can charge the ring. If Thunderlips wants to keep fighting, there is little assembled ringside to stop him from doing so.

 

It is incumbent upon us in the Kitty Suit to keep some grasp of the distinctions between the actionable and the delusional. This is not a good look. Even if Thunderlips should manage to break his own neck, we will not have won this match. At this point the damage done to us is already immeasurable. Although Thunderlips is awesome and menacing and not of our making, there is an entire Europe and Asia and Africa and Oceana and islands between who have handled his ass. Our fate may not be unique, but pissing up our pink kitty suits are endearing us to no one. If one of our mad scientists finds a cure for this mess it will be chalked up to there being at least one of us who isn’t a complete idiot… and little else.

 

My stock portfolio looks swimming.  Let’s bid up the cruise lines again, just to watch them fall.  Is a market really free when it is dominated by hyperfast computers who can create account activity in lieu of linkage with tangible reality? Is a market really free when the debts of public trust corporations are being subsidized by the government, when socialist mechanisms are grafted onto the issuing of private risks? This isn’t about the values of houses this time. This is about fictional beings selling fractions of themselves and taking out mortgages on those fractions with money owned by you and me. We won’t have enough pink kitty suits to mop up this mess, too.

 

What sort of an economy shrinks by 33% in one quarter? Stop me if you’ve heard this one. And what sort of an economic environment is it when 25% of the already defined statistically depleted work force is idle?  This would not be the picture of go go stock market time if stock markets reflected anything other than the rich pretending that they are still rich. It’s all fun until we eat you.

 

Our powers that be who hesitated not a blink to graft our common horde of wealth to backing the equities market are taffy pulling the idea of slipping us another grand or so.  Of our money. So that we can eat. In this universe this requires deliberation. The burning cities aren’t enough for them.

 

Yes, this will be over.  We are currently 155K PEOPLE down from this plague.  That’s five fair sized suburbs worth of deceased, just since April. Any idea of the total once we are flipped from the ring is guesswork. And anyone who thinks Joe Biden is the solution to any problem lacks both math skills and product knowledge. We aren’t quite at FAILED STATE yet, but we have entered the bozoverse.

 

 


Saturday, June 13, 2020

Say Mean Stupid Things




It was my fault for wanting Colonel Sanders.  Who in their right mind passes up a dozen or so locally owned restaurants to patronize a corporate chain?  That’s prima facia nuts. The KFC menu board was confusing.  The chicken was not cooked fully.  And it wasn’t the first time for either of those. KFC might be the most indifferent and scatological purveyor in the consumer products market. I’ll miss the delicious herbs and spices, but I am now cured. The fried chicken everywhere else is fine.

As I was closing in on my local KFC, I encountered a pack of Tweens—not quite teenagers.  They paraded on the sidewalk next to the highway, flicking off passing cars and cussing loudly. People in the drive thru were serenaded with cat calls like, “Get that chicken, you fat pig.” There were about a dozen tweens and they were in a dark, dark mood.

It’s nice to see free range children again. Not too long ago they were all in programs with spread charts, living lives of enriching channeled busy boxes.  Trends in parenting have now thankfully shifted in favor of having more than one child and letting those spawn play in the streets. My pack of mean tweens is part of the trend, which has telescoped up to teenagers.

All of the kids I’ve run into recently are in crappy moods.  There’s a dismissive look teenagers give you, that “how do I avoid this nitwit’s fate” glance they bestow on all non-celebrities. It’s normal. They expect better than what you have. You have been sized up as the rotund, self-satisfied sell out that you are.  Of late, this has mutated into a pack sneer.

I can’t blame them.  The global adult world’s reaction to this plague has not been reassuring.  Here in the United States, doubly less so.  Not only has what’s been played out seem chaotic, imposing and goofy, but by all measures it has been ineffective. Let’s all lock down, group ground, mass protest and then open back up when there is nothing open. Watch the adults move in competing directions. Listen as the news reports one thing while the government says something else. Or the news comes from different worlds and the governments challenge each other’s truths. This does not inspire confidence on any level.

The kids are letting us know that we’ve robbed them. We’ve robbed them of summer. We’ve robbed them of safety. We’ve robbed them of the expectation of competence.  Wipe the sage look off your face. This is not a normal part of a generation’s maturation process. This is failure.

Thursday, June 4, 2020

America Burning




My Plague Scorecard Update: First, I was declared a Soldier. Then, I was declared the Enemy.

The Plague has now progressed to the Civil Unrest Phase. Previous protests were against confinement—against the idea that we here in the futuristic-sounding 21st Century should be relegated to the Dark Ages recourse of quarantine as a response to this crisis. Science be damned if science can’t do better than that. In the Ozarks, my people massed near naked around pools and drank. In other places people played out the old Saturday Night Live “Show Us Your Guns” skit about the nearest temples of government authority. A spate of deadly, bizarre police actions against black people have driven a more normal grouping of folks into the streets. As I write this, it is dying down.

I’m not blaming the plague for everything. This is some bastard sort of a harmonic convergence. To me, the major catalyst seems to be the Cheeto in Chief, a man with a gift for disturbing behavior.  It is difficult to dignify these impulses he acts out as any form of thought.  Even psychotic killer cops can’t be happy with him.

President Cheetolini commenced his mangling of the situation by indicating his solidarity with the family of the poor soul deranged police squashed to death, seemingly on suspicion of passing funny money. So far, so good. But then Cheeto’s mouth started moving again and we were spritzed with some distracting nonsense about black anti-fascists and organized looter gangs. Next was a law and order rant, complete with a resurrection of Nixon’s Silent Majority. Gas was then deployed on the park outside the White House so that Cheeto and his immediates could go walk to a burnt church. He gets to the church and suddenly words fail him. This is someone you can’t shut up with a roll of duct tape and a staple gun, a man capable of riffing idiotic for hours without prompting. Yet nothing occurs to him. Not a few words cross the median into the brain pan during the walk he orchestrated with Military Force against unarmed civilians. Instead, he brandishes the Bible fundy-style and gives a silent Heil Jesus.

It boggles the imagination that any part of that was thought through.

If the present is any guide, expect the dumbfounded to spread. Philosopher King Obama descended today and was clearly off his game. Everything he said was perfectly correct. But this was a time to use as few of words as one possibly can. It was a moment set up for a sentence, such as “Can’t we all just get along?” Obama the law professor showed up and it was a waste, a squandering of limited attention. Perhaps Obama has grasped the obvious, that what the crowd is calling for is a mix of blood lust and pipe dreams.

There is no amount of training that would have saved any of the black people unjustly killed by the police recently. None. The problem of psychotic killer cops has been with us since the advent of organized law enforcement. There isn’t some pre-organized law enforcement state that we can retreat to. On the plus side, the standards for police have been made tighter and higher. Our best hope is that the issue of deranged men with badges will eventually whither.  Eventually does not bring back George Floyd, however.

We can pick nits with current trends in law enforcement. The warrior mind, martial focus does have a downside. People are prone to use the tactics they practice the most. Many cops are gifted at conflict diffusion, but that has its limits. Police are largely dealing with strangers, people whose behavior they have no historic knowledge of. The police cannot read minds. A little Zen with their martial arts training might be nice, but who knows how useful that would be. No one gets into law enforcement out of a deep drive to practice lay psychology or social work. No one. The police are not going to become community activist, ever.

We can pick nits with what actually happened in in the Floyd case. Since when does check kiting or passing funny money merit sending in four armed guys? I know that following up on small things is the way big things are uncovered, however there is a rational procedure off point. He didn’t have a bag of severed heads. He’s not assembling a flame thrower. At worst, he’s an unarmed check kiter. Unless something astounding happened before the video tape started rolling, there is no reason to sit on the guy’s head and kill him. That’s depraved indifference.    

We are dealing with evil. Not an evil system, but rather the defective product of an imperfect system. The officer who killed George Floyd should not have had a badge. He should have been weeded out.(*1) As for the other Junior Woodchucks observing this execution, it probably didn’t help that they were all dressed alike and given ranks. The moment we start playing army, only one person gets to think. The police are supposed to be professionals. The only person with any rank should be the station chief. Without the ranks and strict stratification of authority perhaps one of the Woodchucks would have piped up. That may be asking a bit much.

We are going to have to live with the police. They are not going to be disbanded or defunded or anything else. We will have less psychotic bigot cops when we have less bigots. And that is a heavier lift.

Getting rid of Cheeto and ALL REPUBLICANS would be a good start.

Note: As a designated enemy of the state, I have decided to skip the protests. Frankly, the looters put me off.

(*1) Who knows what this guy’s issue is? He may have spent too much time on a very rough beat. That doesn’t excuse it, but it may explain some of it. On the other hand, his soon to be ex-wife said he was a monster. 9 times out of 10 evil is what it seems to be.

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