'Tis the season

"How *dare* you say 'Happy Holidays!' to me, you ungrateful little heathen!"

This is what I imagine happening all over Trump's America™ in the coming days.

(Special pretzels to those of you who recognize the fantastic Constance Ford as Ada Davis McGowan Hobson, et al., from the late, lamented Another World. The show was canceled nearly 20 years ago and yet, je me souviens.)

He voted

Vladimir Putin voted. Did you?

Smack my Trump up

By the Tangerine Nightmare's own admission, he's a bitch--or at the very least like a bitch.

Which is pretty much the same thing.

Look out below!

This week, Not My President-Elect Donald Trump claimed that he won the Electoral College in a landslide--and would have the popular vote "if you deduct the millions of people who voted illegally."

I have no idea what that statement means. Any of it.

Granted, Trump won the Electoral College, that ineffective vestige of the Founding Fathers hedging their bets on popular democracy. (Wasn't it designed to prevent check and balance stuff like this from happening? Or was it really just another opportunity for the Southern States to show their butt to the rest of the country?) Trump won by 74 votes--significant, I agree, but hardly the Reagan-Mondale blowout of yore. (For those keeping score, it was Reagan 525, Mondale 13.)

In fact, Trump's Electoral College victory ranks only 44th (scroll down to the entry for November 29, 2016)--and there have been 58 presidential elections since the founding of the United States.

Currently, Hillary Clinton leads by at least 2.5 million votes--and yet is still not the winner of the presidential election in the crazy clusterfuck that is the American electoral system. Can we have a candidate win the popular vote and still be declared the loser? Check. Can we have a winner even when all votes have yet to be counted nearly a month later? Double check.

It's not as though Trump is the only one claiming he won a landslide. There's word from America's Next Top Enabler, Kellyanne Conway, that Trump won in a "landslide" of some sort.

I am also trying to find a video or report read earlier this evening in which Cool Theocrat Mike Pence claimed Trump won a landslide victory.

Yet in a way I have to agree. This was a landslide victory--if we use the original meaning of landslide as our guide:

landslide ‎(plural landslides)

1. A natural disaster that involves the breakup and downhill flow of rock, mud, water and anything caught in the path.

So it's a landslide only in the sense that once it starts barreling downhill, it's likely to suffocate, destroy, and kill everything that lies below.

Nonetheless, let's not get too worked up over the latest bit of worse living through technology. It's early days still. We're all gonna need to pace our outrage. There are four long years ahead of us--barring any sort of miracle such as an actual, physical landslide or "those 2nd Amendment people" taking matters into their own hands.

And ol' Leather Rot hasn't even started the job yet.

The war on Christmas

Voice of America News: Scott Bobb reports from Aleppo, Syria.
"Free Syrian Army soldier walking among rubble in Aleppo
during the Syrian civil war." 6 October 2012. Public Domain.

As soon as your local mall starts resembling modern-day Aleppo, then you can claim there's a "war" on Christmas.

Until that day arrives--and I seriously doubt it will even under a President Trump--then please do us all a favor: Be quiet and think about how good you have it when your big outrage is whether a store clerk says "Happy Holidays" or "Merry Christmas" to you.

* * *

Regrettably, I couldn't find many public domain or shareable photos of what Aleppo looks like today. It is far worse than this image shows. I will keep trying because we all need to be aware of what's going on and has been going on for ages and yet have done all too little to help.

Clair de loonie

You know you live in Canada when you receive these instructions from your physical therapist:

Lie on your back with your knees bent. Inhale to prepare, exhale to activate core and activate gluts as if balancing a looney between buttock cheeks.

For those not in the know (and why would you be?), the loonie is the $1 Canadian coin, so named because the reverse side features a common loon floating on the surface of a lake.

Like so:

You sometimes even hear the $2 coin (there are no $1 or $2 paper bills in Canada anymore) referred to as a "twoonie."

Or perhaps someone was just playing me for a loon.

Cradle to grave

From the November 22, 2016, New York Times:

"Supporters of the Second Amendment, ecstatic that Hillary Clinton lost, anticipate an expansion of gun rights with a Trump administration and a Republican-led Congress."

An expansion of gun rights? What would that even look like at this point?

Every time you open your mouth, you fire off several rounds from an automatic assault rifle lodged in your esophagus?

Frankly, with gun and ammunition sales robust before and after the election (when aren't they robust?), there aren't many areas for expansion of gun rights.

The womb maybe with every fetus a possible active shooter or a good zygote with a gun.

Or the coffin, just in case you need to shoot your way past Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates.

I can hardly wait.

To buy my own body armor.

Our history is history

My new post-election groove is 31 years old. Interestingly, this is same number of years of experience of each "outsider" cabinet pick of the incoming Il Douchie junta. (Sorry, but Silver Dollar Berlusconi will never be my president.)

Our love is "History" according to Dutch pop group Mai Tai, who in 1985 had a fairly global hit with this Chic- and Change-inspired groove. (Fairly global means "only minimally in the US.")

The lyrics could use some work--lots of English-language expressions looped together that mostly seem odd or out of context ("don't beat around the bush"?). Nevertheless, the vocal performances are powerful and playful, the visuals fun, and the music an exceptional representation of the era. Now culturally long, long gone. *Sigh.*

Then again, the '80s was the era of Ronald Reagan. If only we could use this groove to travel back in time and enjoy the cool culture of the era, all while plotting the demise of Reagan and all future Agent Orange political appointees.



And just when you think it's safe to love '80s culture, you watch the official video on YouTube . . . . *Sigh.*

Take my advice

My new theme song. You've been forewarned.

Growing a pair of principles

These are not principles. Bernie and Jane Sanders by
Gage Skidmore, 9 January 2016. Courtesy of
Wikimedia Commons. CC BY-SA 2.0.

The following is a response I recently posted to a friend on Facebook after reading one of many comments from her that we Democrats who supported Hillary Clinton in the 2016 election had abandoned our principles and this is why we had lost. Why we deserved to lose.

The discussion had been proceeded by a couple of weeks of back-and-forth on why Jill Stein was the the preferred candidate for progressives, the only "clean" one in the race, now that Bernie Sanders had been sidelined. If only the Democratic National Committee had not "stolen" the election from Bernie during the primaries, he could have beaten Donald Trump in the national election!

Or rather I should say just "forth." I didn't respond for a long time, mostly because I didn't want to engage. But I didn't engage because I've grown weary and wary of being bullied in various forums by the Bernie or Bust crowd. Believe me, I haven't gone out looking to criticize them. In fact, I've tried to say as little as possible to them directly or indirectly about their preferred candidate. But sometimes the scorn, antagonism, and sanctimony come looking for you. 

And sometimes you feel impelled to respond.

I am not bothered by who you voted for or didn't vote for. But I am exhausted (to put it kindly) by the self-satisfaction and "hands clean" approach to this election by some on the self-identified left of the political spectrum. 

For all the claim that Democrats abandoned our principles, I would argue that many on the far left abandoned us solely so they could keep polishing, adoring, and showcasing their principles. So now none of us on the far left or middle left or anywhere left of center has anything that we want. 

I have principles, and I certainly haven't abandoned them. I don't need to "grow a pair" of principles or anything else. My principles include being able to recognize and accept compromise, not sticking to my way of seeing the world and wanting it to be just so and rejecting any other approaches, and not expecting my preferred candidate to do only what I want him or her to do to keep me happy. 

This is one of the things that has driven me crazy about the Obama years--the right would never accept him, but the left wouldn't either. He was a moderate from the beginning who tried to be everybody's president and yet in time he took some pretty bold actions--instituting a nascent if imperfect system of almost universal health insurance, same-sex marriage, opening the country to Cuba again, and even transgender rights. 

Maybe with a little more support and patience along the way, he would have accomplished more. Maybe Hillary Clinton would have as well. And maybe Bernie Sanders would have made some very centrist choices and compromised with others to make small improvements, in order to draw at the battle and win the long war. 

I don't think I'll ever get the appeal of Bernie Sanders, but if he had been the candidate this year, I would have voted for him. Not out of a sense of party loyalty but because I think he, in competition with anyone put forward by the GOP, would be more likely to support liberal/progressive values. And while initially Hillary Clinton was not my preferred candidate, I was proud to stand by her and vote for her for the very same reason--her support of liberal/progressive values.

Would I have been happy with the results if she had become president? We'll never know. But if my actions are evidence of a lack of principles, then yes, I am unprincipled. 

I, however, think I'm just pragmatic. The US is a conservative country, much more than I would like it to be, so I don't know that I ever expect it to become even Canada, let alone a socialist workers' paradise. And the US sometimes is a country that spits in the face of the notion that all history is progress--it's certainly not looking like that now. 

So my expectations are not high but I am often hopeful. I don't think we are that different in that respect--that we are both hopeful--but we do have different approaches to how to achieve our vision. 

Consequently, I would like to ask you to consider not denigrating those of us who didn't approach this election the same way as you. It's not that my feelings are hurt--I am much tougher than I look. But I deeply resent being scalded and scorned at every turn and dismissed as needing to grow a pair just because I don't happen to see the world the way that you see it.

Righteous indignation is fast becoming my muse. Just wait until I get to my thoughts on the recent Glenn Beck opinion piece in the New York Times. My advice? Invest in some flame-retardant clothing.

And then you woke up, Paul Krugman

Being cute and bearish is no longer enough!
Paul Krugman by Prolineserver - 
Own work, GFDL 1.2.

If nothing else, the election of Donald Trump as the Pussy-Grabber in Chief of the United States of America is greatly improving my writing skills. I can now scorch and scald in 1,500 words or fewer.

Unfortunately, not everything I write meets a welcome and willing audience, hungry for my snarkily cutting observations. For example, I had hoped that the New York Times would publish my recent response to this editorial by Paul Krugman, an author and scholar I normally appreciate. Although perhaps not anymore--or at least not for a very long time.

But almost a day latter, nothing, nada, rien, niks, or ничего ("neechevo") as our ascendant Russian overlords might utter.

So you decide--was it something I said?

No offense, Dr. Krugman, but why should I believe anything you or any other columnist or media personality ever predicts again? After numerous column inches and breaking news bulletins devoted to topics--such as the Republican Party is in its death throes, at near-civil war, that Donald Trump is going up in smoke or down in flames, and that the Democrats would win the presidency, the senate, possibly even the house of representatives, cure poverty, create cold fusion, and find every lonely person a partner--I hope that you and your fellow authors (especially Frank Bruni) will understand that I shall remain highly skeptical of any written opinion in your newspaper's pages starting from 9 November 2016 forward to perhaps infinity.

Trust me, I want to believe you--nothing would give me hope or make me happier than to see this vulgar, manipulative, rapacious president-elect fail before he starts and to see those who supported him flushed out in the trickle down shitstorm that may (or may not) come to pass, but which they so savagely deserve. Yes, this is the street where I now live, praying for the misery of people I barely know but probably say hello to in the office or flip off in traffic every day.

But there is absolutely no reason to believe you. Yes, you're an intelligent guy, you're all intelligent guys and gals. But apparently you didn't have any more a clue than I did about how this election might turn out. I might as well have saved my money and spent it on magic beans or regular visits to a tea-leaf reader.

 I haven't canceled my subscription to the Times and the Washington Post yet . . . but I'm strongly considering doing so. If I want this kind of Monday morning armchair political quarterbacking, I'll stick to non-Trump supporting friends on Facebook. They're a helluva lot smarter.

Maybe it wasn't just the Democrats?

I can clearly see the outcome of the election now that it's over

Oh *now* you spell it out. After the fact. Way, way, way after the fact. And way too late to be useful to any of us.

Maybe it's just that you got yourself a new pair of 20/20 hindsight spectacles, Frank Bruni. Or did you used to work for the FBI and are used to delivering important messages to the public at the point where nobody cares?

I'm not sure which makes me angrier right now: Those claiming that Hillary Clinton blew the election (she ran a great campaign and she still had more votes that Trump) or those that say the Democrats "screwed up" as Mr. Bruni so quaintly puts it. While the loss was significant and unsettling, it remains to be proven. Sometimes the people don't like your candidate, sometimes the people want change at any cost, and sometimes the people don't know what the hell they want. It's probably all three, along with a death desire to vote against their own best interests, early and often.

And let's not forget those who insist that if they'd only run Bernie Sanders (Bernie! Thou art in Vermont!) in the general election, we'd now be sipping on cocktails that taste like rainbows while being flown to our bungalows in the Himalayas upon the wings of a talking unicorn.

(Obviously I'm not a fan.)

After this election, I need a cocktail alright. A Molotov cocktail.

Always look on the bright side of life

More random thoughts about this year's election--

• I know my math skills are poor but I always thought if one candidate got 47.7% of the vote & the other candidate got 47.4%, the one with the most votes would win. Must be the new math.

• If 60 million people voted for Trump, then we know that there are only 30 million "deplorables" in the U.S. Not counting the 46% of the electorate who couldn't manage to get off their . . . sofas . . . and vote.

• Americans are getting fitter! You really have to admire our yoga skills. We can twist and stretch in all sorts of ways to reach a state of Nirvana where a vote for Trump equals a vote against the status quo. I mean, he has never held political office in Washington, D.C. He just owns a hotel there, on Pennsylvania Avenue between the White House and the Capitol. Just like any other blue collar billionaire.

 I feel better already.

America, I dreamed that you died

"I had a nightmare, a terrible nightmare . . . ."

Please wake up, Pam Ewing. Please. Wake up.

I voted

"I voted sticker" by Dwight Burdle.
Courtesy of Wikipedia Commons. CC BY 3.0.

I woke up this morning remembering the first time I voted. It was the 1980 (!) presidential election. For one brief weird moment, my brothers Frank and Charlie and myself were all living in Greenville, North Carolina, and I think all attending East Carolina University as well.

We had to drive from Greenville to Swansboro, North Carolina (about a 2-hour trip one-way) to vote. As students, we weren't allowed to vote locally but had to go to our home polling station. I think the polls were located at the Swansboro post office or city hall--I can't remember for sure.

Afterwards we probably went to our parents' house for dinner. Maybe we drove back to Greenville that evening. I don't recall.

I don't even recall who I voted for. Was John Anderson running that year? Along with Jimmy Carter, Ted Kennedy, and Ronald Reagan? It's kind of a blur but one thing shines through --

No way in hell did I vote for Ronald Reagan.

So think about that for a moment--My options that election involved a guy who starred in the movie Bedtime for Bonzo and another guy who drove off a bridge in Massachusetts and left his mistress for dead. I may not have felt passionate about my choice that year, but I hope I at least voted strategically. Some years that is your best option. For many of us this year, that may indeed be our best option, although I remain #WithHer, however cautiously.

Good luck today, America! I miss the thrill (yes, thrill) of voting in person. Absentee ballots may have the cachet of "ex pat" about them, but it's a rather solitary act. Voting should be an exercise in community building. And as with any exercise, it feels good to work that muscle every now and again.

* * *

I get the sinking feeling I voted for John Anderson. So much for voting strategically.

The final countdown or, if you prefer, the eve of destruction

Election 2016 final (?) thoughts: I think I'm gonna need to be sedated to get through the next 24 to 48 hours.

See you on the flipside of the Apocalypse.

When in Ancient Greece . . .

"The Statue of Socrates at the
Academy of Athens. Work of
Leonidas Drosis (d. 1880)"
by C. Messier, 7 February 2016.
CC BY-SA 4.0.

Hipster ghetto superstars, that is what we are.

If beard length and fullness coupled with a preponderance of ethnically vague, sloppily stitched boho clothing were signs of wisdom and knowledge, my Toronto neighborhood would be known as Little Ancient Greece.

And oddly enough, it's on the East Side, well south of Cabbagetown, even south of Cabbagetown South. Just imagine if we were in the epicenter of Toronto hipsterdom (generally West Side, from what I can tell). We'd be known as Little Genesis/Big Bang/Creation Story Heights.

Model behavior

Melania Trump at the
QVC Red Carpet Style Party,
Four Seasons Hotel, Los Angeles, CA
on February 25, 2011 -
Photo by Glenn Francis of
www.PacificProDigital.com.
CC BY-SA 3.0

Excerpt from Melania Trump's recent speech in Pennsylvania: 

"Four score and several years ago, my husband brought forth on this continent, a new condo, conceived in Long Island, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal--except for the Mexicans, the Muslims, the African-Americans who wanted to buy a home there . . . ."

And she wrote it all by herself!

You don't have to live like a refugee porn star

Big dreams and high beams

Who says the "trending" section of your Facebook profile is full of fake, useless news?

Recently, there was a mention in my trending section about this young man, Antonio Suleiman, a 19-year-old Syrian refugee living in Germany, eager to come to America, who, through his need for work, has become a porn star.

Actually, it's more complicated than that. And then again maybe it's not. You can read all about it here.

First things first: I don't begrudge this guy his life choices. We all have to do some odd things to survive in life (such as my entire career and several past relationships). He's not hurting anyone--although, after witnessing his rapid-fire, jack-hammer love-making style (through the magic of Google, possums), I would just like to state for the record that I might forgo first-hand (or whatever) experience. So I don't have a problem with his porn star career.

In the interview linked to, he makes an interesting observation about showing how Syrian bodies can live, not just die, how they can make love, not only war. In my mind, it somewhat ties into the whole "black bodies" aspect of the Black Lives Matter movement, that the bodies of people of color are often degraded in the public sphere and thus the human beings who inhabit those bodies are ill-regarded, abused, and even killed.

Does a career in porn counter that argument? I don't know. There is a long history of people of color being treated as "exotics" in the media. And guess what? There's a long history of that happening in real life, too. And this history isn't just a 20th-century reality. I would suggest for evidence you read about the life of Saartjie Baartman, if you can stomach it.

But then again, why not a career in porn? I am not sure that Mr. Suleiman is incorrect: We now just think of Syrians either dying in war or as refugees making their way to Europe to "take our jobs." We think of them being held in camps at the border. We think of them drowning. We think of them being picked up lifeless from the shore. We think of them being pulled out from underneath the rubble of bombed cities. We think of them being kicked, cursed, and screamed at. And many of us stand idly by while it happens, including our governments, unsure of what to do or unwilling to take action. Our dithering ends up causing more misery and death, however much we may not want that to happen. Although I suspect there are some, the deplorables among us, who don't care that it happens in the first place.

Mr. Suleiman has aspirations to become an artist, an actor. The prospects of an actor crossing over from porn to "legit" acting are mixed, but then again, so is making it as an actor or an artist, period. Having known a couple of actors in my time (as well as Southern Californians, as well as millennials), I think there is a thin line between the actor's art and just enjoying attention and having pictures taken of you/taking pictures of yourself. A quick perusal of Mr. Suleiman's Twitter feed (NSFW) and Instagram account (also NSFW), it is difficult to say which is more at play here: The consciousness and nobility of a Syrian Lives Matter movement or the Kardashianization of culture.

But, again, I do not want to judge this young man. I haven't lived the same life as he. And, besides, I like porn.

* * *

Where I do think Mr. Suleiman could make a different life choice is in the type of porn he performs. Rather than straight porn, with its focus on the female body (or more specifically and explicitly, the female orifices that serve male needs), a cleverer career move might be for Mr. Suleiman to star in solo porn or, better still, market himself exclusively to a gay or bisexual porn-loving audience.

I am not saying that Mr. Suleiman is gay or bi. (Not that there's anything wrong with that.) But that's hardly the point. There's also a long history of men in porn being "gay for pay," playing roles in gay porn movies without actually being gay, mostly (but not exclusively) playing the role of the "top" or the straight guy who decides that, um, a hole is a hole is a hole. So why not tap into this lucrative market?

Here's my case for Mr. Suleiman making the switch to gay porn--

Mr. Suleiman is handsome, sexy, and has a beautiful body (see above). Gay men will appreciate this more than straight men watching porn made for a straight male audience ever will. Admittedly my exposure to straight porn is very limited, most memorably recently via a late-night TV channel in Paris where a spray-tanned blonde woman with her hair in cornrows (the aesthetic horror) manhandled a male member that most closely resembled a sloppy tube sock full of coins. I actually find straight porn quite disgusting because, as mentioned above, the focus is on women's orifices being abused by oversized penises and because of the overall unappealing aesthetics. (Plus I'm gay.) Straight porn gives you guys like rapey-boy-next-door James Deen and '70s 16mm on-continuous-loop-in-a-booth-at-a-truck-stop superstar Ron Jeremy. Blech. Obviously the focus isn't on the beauty or sexiness of the male form. Rather it's on workmanlike performance and woman-as-receptacle.

Not that Mr. Suleiman's performance in the one portion of the movie I watched in order to write this post isn't workmanlike (anything for you, dear readers). He was like a guy with a pile driver tearing through old, pothole-riddled asphalt, which is not a "making love" style I particularly welcome or encourage in a partner. You do see this style in gay porn, probably increasingly so (it's cheaper to make and quicker to, um, digest). But there is gay porn that is erotic, where the sex is mutually pleasurable, less like a job and more like a sexy interlude between, if not friends or even acquaintances, then at least equals.

Nonetheless, with the intense facial expressions Mr. Suleiman makes, with his style of kissing (yes, kissing in porn! who knew?), and with reasonably paced thrusting, this man could be a success--all while being gay for pay without any of the commitment to the politics, lifestyle, or ridiculous cultural trends.

The ohhh's have it

Those facial expressions (see right) and the sounds Mr. Suleiman makes in the act are additional selling points. Again, generally speaking, straight men don't want to see or hear this. Gay men (and straight women) do. I think straight porn could branch out and show more of the male body--it would appeal to the homoerotic in all of us, especially to those straight boys who lust after all those professional wrestlers and gym buddies but can't own up to it. And it would appeal to women, which most straight porn, unless made by women, does not.

As a porn star in gay films, Mr. Suleiman would have an appreciative audience. We would want to admire his beautiful body, not see it hidden behind the shellacked carcass of a female porn star. He could take as many selfies as Twitter and Instagram could store, make as many movies as Catalina Video or Colt Studio could shift. And we, his devotees, would collect and trade his photos, download his movies for our collections, and discuss him rapturously in online forums. We would, in effect, eagerly consume him as a product with the utmost loyalty and pleasure. We might even pay for the privilege.

We would also listen to what Mr. Suleiman has to say. If he wants to talk about the savagery besetting Syria and desperation facing its refugees, we would pay unflinching attention--as long as he delivered the money shot on a regular basis. Telling his story of a down-and-out young man, who, faced with hardship and adversity, performs his way to the top--or as a top--would be an exceptional crowd-pleaser with both the romantic fools and the horndogs among us.

It would be like Showgirls with dicks!

Unlike women who have to fornicate with Ron Jeremy in straight porn, Mr. Suleiman would almost always be assured of having attractive, receptive co-stars. Say what you will about the tyranny of beauty and the body in gay life (and there's plenty that I can say about the topic, believe me), the actors in our porn look fantastic (if uniform) and deserve adulation for their gene pools for which they can claim no responsibility. Mr. Suleiman may not be intrinsically inclined to have sex with a man, but the required job duties will be made all the more easier by the aesthetic appeal of his partners faces and bodies. Mr. Suleiman can match them ripped muscle for ripped muscle, chiseled jaw for chiseled jaw, with the need to offer only a passing explanation that that he's not really gay but is, rather, inspired by looking at the well-developed physiques of other men and appreciative of the generosity of his fellow actors and the adoring attention of his fans.

Contrast the body of the professional gay porn actor with the overblown breasts and weathered, leathery skin of some female porn stars--because let's face it, a guy that can make do with a blow-up doll ain't watching straight porn for the beauty of the women--and once again it's another plus for the artistic aspirations of the Syrian porn actor.

As a result, gay porn would make Mr. Suleiman financially successful. I would wager that male performers are more than likely better paid in gay porn than in straight. And once Mr. Suleiman catches fire with his fanbase, it will offer him expansive career opportunities with sidelines in stage shows, solo videos, personal appearances, web cams, and sex toy endorsements.

Additionally, most gay porn, at least that made in California, requires the use of condoms, so Mr. Suleiman could stay healthy while simultaneously becoming wealthy, all with just a little more concerted effort on his part to separate his brain from his body and dive in head first into this lucrative career.

I would caution that a life in gay porn won't necessarily lead to a successful Hollywood career in mainstream film and television. I think it's difficult for actors in gay porn to break out of the San Fernando Valley sex industry ghetto. But Mr. Suleiman would be so financially successful, it might not matter. And if you want to foster an appreciation of the Syrian body living and not dying, making love and not war, then gay porn is your better choice of artistic veins.

Just one man's objective opinion. That's just the kind of humanitarian I am, a one-man Syrian refugee resettlement program for the beautiful, passionate, and porno-licious.

To serve clam

And the hard-hitting Canadian news keeps on . . . erm . . . comin' . . . .

I can't decide which is the more unsettling aspect of this article from CBC News--

That there is a "phallic clam" inhabiting the waters off the British Columbia coast. Wasn't enough that feet kept washing ashore--now we have to worry about penises?!

That they served said clam to the Royal couple, Will and Kate (pardon me, William and Katherine), on their recent visit to Western Canada.

That the clam's name is pronounced "gooey-duck."

That the Vancouver Aquarium has an executive chef.

Actually, I think it's the latter that is the more worrisome. No matter how you, uh, slice it, there's just something unseemly about creating recipes from the creatures you're committed to helping survive. It's like that old episode of The Twilight Zone, "To Serve Man."



Watch out Nemo and Dory, it's a cookbook!

Appropriate that a Canadian actor, Lloyd Bochner, is on the menu.

The songs of shortwave, volume 3

The third (and final?) volume of my songs of shortwave homage . . . or nostalgia-fest . . . or persnickety obsession. You decide.

In this edition, I focus on interval signals and signature tunes from France, the Middle East, and Africa. There's also a bonus track, "Merck toch hoe sterck" by the Dutch jazz trumpeter Cees Smal. This harks back to volume 1 of this mixtape series: Back in the day, "Merck toch hoe sterck" was the melody for Radio Nederland's interval signal.

The African stations are of particular interest to me--I used to listen to many of these in the 1970s and 1980s on the "tropical band" (below 5 megahertz) on my shortwave radio. They weren't the easiest to receive or clearest to listen to. In fact, until I discovered several websites that provide recordings of interval signals, I wasn't sure from which stations or countries the broadcasts emanated.

I think my interest in Africa stems from those days. The exoticism of Africa appeals to me, I'm (partially) ashamed to admit. But there's also Africa's history, potential, and culture that interest me. While I've spent a lot of time focusing on South African history and culture (in this blog, in studies, and in my life), I am also interested in West and Central African culture, especially the literature and music.

So in this mix, you'll hear interval signals intermingled with patriotic songs and anthems and pop tunes that I hope convey both the era then and the culture now.

If I do a future shortwave songs mix, I might focus more on Asia (although, due to my listening location on the U.S. southeast coast, I couldn't tune in Asian broadcasters very well)--or I might go off in a different direction: The songs of shortwave, Benelux edition, playing tunes I remember hearing on 208 Radio Luxembourg broadcasts, Radio Nederland's pop chart program, Radio Free Europe's transmissions to Eastern Europe, and other shows and stations from Central and Western Europe.

I certainly have the collection. Now do I have the bravura/shamelessness to share some of my very Euro-cheez taste?

* * *

The playlist

• Radio France Internationale - Interval signal, announcement, national anthem
• Andre Claveau, Mathe Altery, Christian Borel, & Claire Vallin - "Nous n'irons plus au bois"
• Gilbert Sigrist Trio - "Nous n'irons plus au bois"
• Serge Gainsbourg - "Aux armes et caetera"
• TRT Voice of Turkey - Interval signal, broadcast opening, announcement
• Radio Cairo - Announcements, signature tune
• Dissidenten - "Radio Arabia"
• Kol Israel/Voice of Israel - interval signal
• Meshugga Beach Party - "Hatikvah"
• Dori Ben Ze'ev - "And Still You Dance"
• Voice of Palestine - March
• The Very Best featuring Ezra Koenig - "The Warm Heart of Africa"
• Voice of Nigeria - Interval signal, broadcast opening, announcement
• Sierra Leone Broadcasting Service (SLBS) - Interval signal, march, signature tune
• Ghana Broadcasting Corporation - interval signal, song
• B. K. Ofori's Guitar Band - "Yen ara asase ni"
• Radiodiffusion-Television Guineenne - Interval signal, announcement, anthem, music
• Bako Dagnon - "Alpha yaya"
• La Voix de la Revolution Congolaise - Interval signal, music, announcement
• National Station, Yaounde, Cameroon - Interval signal and announcement
• Francis Bebey - The Coffee Cola Song
• Radiodiffusion-Television Togolaise - Interval signal
• Radiodiffusion-Television Ivoirienne - Interval signal, march, announcement
• Keke Kassiry - "Abidjan"
• Mamadee & Ky-Mani Marley - "Africa Is Calling" (Road of Life Riddim Mix)
• Amadou & Mariam featuring Knaan - "Africa"

Bonus track

• Cees Smal - "Merck toch hoe sterck"

Missing inaction

Ted Cruz searches for his conscience but fails to find it.

No worries, though. I'm sure he's keeping it in a safe place. One so dark, cold, and airless that upon discovery, it would quickly disintegrate, leaving behind only dust and the smell of sulfur.

His humanity and intelligence are probably there, too.

But I'm making a lot of unfounded assumptions . . . .

Friendster is the most popular social media site in the world!

Yahoo still has half a billion accounts? Who came up with those numbers, the New Accounts staff at Wells Fargo?

Baddabing!

Not today, Satan

Editor's note: Well, wouldn't you know it? As soon as I find a clip from Muvhango to illustrate my point, SABC 2 makes it private. Maybe you belong, but the rest of us have to wait for the return of the video.

Instead, you'll have to make do with this image from the 23 September 2016 episode of the show, in which Khomotjo describes how she feels about Serithi to the scrumptious, p-whipped Siya. "I wish wasps would nest in her armpits." 

Evil and creative. Me like.


* * *



Best. Fight. Ever.

. . . Starts at 14:49, but there are other highlights throughout. For example, starting at 8:40.

My South African soapie obsession continues. Khomotjo and Serithi go at it full force on the 16 September 2016 episode of Muvhango, a show I'm still struggling to follow. But after scenes like this and the poisonous barbs zipping back and forth between the two characters, I'm catching up quickly.

For the record, I'm #TeamKhomotjo all the way.

* * *

For your viewing pleasure: The aforementioned Siya from Muvhango.

Why do I have the sudden craving for a pumpkin spice latte? Yes today, Satan.

Sick daze

As we continue our downward spiral in the 2016 election for the President of the United States, one of the "major" issues that the trash-talking Republican nominee for president, his merry "basket of deplorables," and most of the popular media (both in the U.S. and Canada you should know) are fixated upon is Hillary Clinton's bout with pneumonia.

So she kept it a "secret." More than likely because Hillary Clinton is damned if she does and damned if she doesn't. Go public with your diagnosis of pneumonia? Get pilloried in the press and by the right-wingers. Don't go public with your diagnosis? Get pilloried in the press and by the right-wingers.

For the record, pneumonia is not necessarily a life-threatening condition and certainly doesn't disqualify someone for public office, even the highest office in the land. After all, Franklin Delano Roosevelt lived with polio during his presidency. And yet he completed three terms and almost a fourth and was so damn good at his job that they had to pass an amendment to the U.S. Constitution (the 22nd) to prevent anyone from holding the office of president more than two times.

Somehow we made it through both the Great Depression and the Second World War led by a man in a wheelchair. But how we'll all survive a woman with a case of pneumonia is a complete mystery!

It's just an old war, not even a Cold War, as Marianne Faithfull once sang ("Broken English"). This time, it's a war against women and the center-left of American politics. But when you don't any real policy to run on, any ideas, just diatribes and insults, all that's left are allegations of wrong-doing over e-mail servers (not good but not a treasonable offense, as far as I can tell, certainly not worthy of hanging) and innuendo about "mental and physical capacity."

I didn't think I could despise any one person in American politics more than I despise Dick Cheney. But Il Douche has broken new ground and plumbed new depths in my disgust and anger.

In case you hadn't figured it out already, I'm with her. I may have had my qualms in the past, but I am now firmly in the Hillary Clinton camp and short of her strangling a puppy on stage at a rally, nothing will change that.

(And even she did harm a puppy, I still wouldn't vote for Spray-Tanned Putin.)

Now where were we?

You might expect a "muse-athon" from me this week--a sudden outpouring of thoughts, dreams, ideas, humor, and, of course, whining, long overdue. How has it come to pass that I haven't published anything since April 2016?!

Well, there are lots of reasons--work, life, love, moving, vacation, head cold, mass murder, an overheated summer, a lack of interest in words, in thinking, and in expressing opinions in this wordy American election season. There are only so many times that even I can rage against the Orange Julius machine that is Donald Trump, issue an eye-roll in the direction of the over-earnestness of Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton devotees, or prattle on about my American expat/Canadian misfit adventures.

It should be noted that while I didn't publish anything, I did indeed write, or at least start to write, several blog posts. Some of those will start to show up on the scroll this week, while others will be discarded, no longer seeming relevant or interesting. It's probably a big assumption on my part that the ones that have survived and are to be published are relevant and interesting, but humor me, please.

All is well, more or less. There have been some bumps since the spring, but I think I've survived most of them quite well and might even be thriving in some areas of my existence. I'd like to share more and probably will in time. Right now, giving you a bulleted list that includes items such as "entering my albums into the Discogs site," "watched every episode of 7de Laan," and "Orlando massacre" seems incredibly banal, sad, and inappropriate.

And speaking of banal, I just burned this morning's oatmeal while trying to write this short passage. Perhaps I still can't be trusted with opining and functioning like an adult simultaneously, but that surely hasn't stopped most of the Western world from running for elected office, creating "reality" TV shows, praising Beyonce ad nauseam, and invading countries illegally. Why should I give pause to writing and sharing my low-wattage thoughts, actions, and reactions?

Good, I thought you might agree . . . .

Slow down and dance with me

Yet another summer project that I didn't get around to sharing sooner--my Summer Noir mixtape.

I can't tell you how many versions, revisions, and remixes I made to get this "right"--assuming that now it is indeed right. It is at least done!

This is another case of my going with a certain range of beats per minute-specifically 82 to 95 BPM. You'll hear some of my usual suspects: Some bossa nova, some dance, some pop, some R & B, some world music, and some disco, new and old school, with songs by Poolside, Pet Shop Boys, and Grace Jones, Jessie J, Kelis, Toni Braxton, Zuco 103, Glass Animals, Lisa Stansfield, Marvin Gaye, Skip&Die, Etienne Daho and Astrud Gilberto, the Style Council, the Minogue Sisters, Donna Summer, and more.

Is the mix a success? Well, I like it. I don't know that it has a point of view like my previous Cruel Summer Mix--77 Gaza Strip I posted two years ago. Other than being slow, simmering, danceable, and slightly sinister, which was my aim. But I had fun making it and tried out some tricks, such as overlaying tracks and even making a mashup, that seem to have worked pretty well. I think the world's DJs can rest easy, I'm not likely to steal their jobs anytime soon, but the point of all of this is to make mixes I would enjoy listening and dancing to. And hopefully at some point I'll make some mixes that others enjoy listening to as well.

My stats on MixCloud do not provide much hope in achieving this goal, however. With earlier mixes and podcasts, there have been listens, likes, and even a share or two. But of late, not much reaction. (Although I was all aflutter when someone recently liked my first mashup, "No More Sweet Lujon," which I think is one of my best.)

Admittedly, my topics for mixes can be obscure (The Songs of Shortwave Radio, parts 1, 2, and 3, anyone?), so a limited audience is to be expected. Nonetheless, it is frustrating: My blog gets views but few comments; my mixes may or may not get listens let alone likes; my Twitter posts are regularly unremarked upon; my Wikipedia contributions go mostly unnoticed and unrewarded.

So am I doing all this for me or for others? That's an age-old question for artists, I would imagine. I don't think I've done anything worthy of the artist label yet, but I would hope to. In fact, I'd like to think that when I'm done with doing what I have to do to earn a living, I might have a second career (non-lucrative but perhaps more satisfying) in writing, editing, public "thinking," and other ways to share my interests. This is work I would enjoy doing and work that I hope would find a supportive audience

Coz don't we all want to hear what an almost-55-year-old American expat thinks about history, culture, and current affairs . . . .

I have ten years until retirement, ten years to figure it out and find an audience. I suspect I'll always have a limited audience--my sense of humor and (self-) righteousness seems to go over better among my closer Facebook friends, anyway. But there's no time like the present and the immediate future to get going and make some noise. Consider this mix one more attempt to make something happen.

* * *

The Summer Noir playlist

• Poolside - "Slow Down" 
• Pet Shop Boys - "Vampires" 
• Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin - "Je t'aime (moi non plus)" (Dzihan and Kamien Remix) 
• Ahmad Soultan - "Ya Salaam" 
• Robyn - "Big City" 
• Odyssey - "Don't Tell Me, Tell Her" (perhaps my favorite track in the mix) 
• Etienne Daho and Astrud Gilberto - "Les bords de seine" 
• Kelis - "Hooch" 
• The Style Council - "Long Hot Summer" (extended version) 
• Jessie J. - "Price Tag" 
• Donna Summer - "La vie en rose" (remixed version) 
• Grace Jones - "La vie en rose" (album version) 
• Toni Braxton - "He Wasn't Man Enough for Me" (extended version) 
• Lisa Stansfield - "Time to Make You Mine" 
• Carlos Lyra - "Influencia do jazz" 
• Skip&Die - "La cumbia dictadura" 
• Zuco 103 - "Um coco" (possibly my favorite mashup, Skip&Die and Zuco 103) 
• Glass Animals - "Walla Walla" 
• Tom Tom Club - "Time to Bounce" 
• Olive - "This Time" 
• Kylie Minogue - "Automatic Love" 
• Marvin Gaye - "Sexual Healing" 
• Dannii Minogue - "More, More, More" (Winter Chill Mix

The songs of shortwave, volume 2

The third time has to be the charm. Or so I hope.

This is the third version of my original volume 2 mixtape dedicated to the Cold War era of international broadcasting on shortwave. You can find the playlist below, here's a preview: This mixtape features interval signals from the Voice of America, Deutsche Welle, Radio Berlin International, Radio Tirana, Radio Bucharest, Radio Moscow, Radio Peking (not Beijing), among others. In addition, the mixtape offers music by Gene Autry, Paul Jabara, the Drifters, R.E.M., Falco, Esquivel, Georgy Garanian and the Melodiya Jazz Ensemble, and more.

Why the fascination with the Soviet and Communist era? No, I am not a budding, full bloom, or wilted Communist. While I can see the merits of a Socialist approach to economy, government, and society, the Soviet system had significant human, environmental, and economic costs. Let's put it this way: If you have to keep people behind an iron curtain or a Berlin Wall to make sure they benefit from and "enjoy" what you've planned for them, you might have already failed to sell the idea to your followers.

Then again, Capitalism continues to be an ugly business, also having enormous human, environmental, and economic costs, so I can fathom some of the appeal of alternative approaches to living and working.

During the 1970s and 1980s, when I did most of my shortwave listening, the Cold War was hot and heavy-handed, and the Soviet Bloc stations were all over the airwaves, as were the Chinese Communists and their satellites and, lest we forget, the U.S. and its entourage (e.g., Radio Free Europe, Radio Liberty, et al.) So what I heard then--and I heard a lot because I often listened day and night, whenever I could and as often as I could--has stayed with me through the years.

Thus there's some nostalgia afoot here, as well as romance for an era lost. That era was not always wonderful, at least in the American mind, but it wasn't without its merits, its charms, and its aficionados. I'm not alone in this view; think of the movie Goodbye Lenin, for example, or the book Comrade Rockstar, by Reggie Nadelson, about the life and times of American-East German rockstar Dean Reed.

You'll hear a fine example of that loss in the last track in this mixtape, the final broadcast of Radio Berlin International, a broadcast I actually happened to hear by accident back in 1990. It's a transmission that still offers me a slight shiver, a haunting if you will. Because that broadcast feels a bit like me--it's late, we both feel past our prime, on the verge of being made redundant, but wanting to hold on as long as we can to a rapidly disintegrating world.

And we want to tell someone about what it was like and what is disappearing. Anyone who will listen really, even though we're never sure anyone is paying attention.

* * *

The playlist

• Voice of America - Closing and signature tune
• Gene Autry - "Yankee Doodle Dandy"
• Paul Jabara - "Yankee Doodle Dandy"
• Radio Free Europe - TV commercial audio from the early 1970s
• The Drifters - "On Broadway"
• R.E.M. - "Radio Free Europe"
• Swiss Broadcasting Corporation - Interval signal, announcement, and time signal
• Falco - "Vienna Calling"
• ORF External Service - Interval signal and opening
• Esquivel - "Blue Danube"
• Deutsche Welle - Interval signal
• Radio Berlin International - Interval signal
• Das Kapital - Auferstanden aus Ruinen
• Radio Tirana - Interval signal
• Radio Budapest - Interval signal
• Radio Polonia - Interval signal and announcement
• Frederic Chopin - Etude for piano no. 12, op. 10 (Revolutionary Etude)
• Unknown - "Kupredu, leva, zpatky ni krok" ("Forward, Left . . .")
• Radio Sofia - Interval signal and opening
• Radio Bucharest - Interval signal and opening
• Radio Station Peace and Progress - Interval signal, opening, and announcement
• Radio Moscow - Interval signal
• Georgy Garanian and the Melodiya Jazz Ensemble - "Moscow Nights (Evenings in Moscow)"
• The Red Army Choir - "Moscow Nights (Evenings in Moscow)" 
• Radio Peking - Interval signal and announcement
• The East Is Red Choir - "The East Is Red"
• Monkey - "March of the Volunteers"
• Arbeit - "Die Internationale"
• Radio Berlin International - Excerpt from final English-language broadcast, 2 October 1990

Poetic injustice

"Lord, it's just like livin' in a poem/
I like callin' North Carolina home . . . "

Or that's what they used to sing in those '70s- and '80s-era North Carolina tourism commercials.

Now it sounds more like everyone there is livin' in some '50s smutty doggerel.

So at least for a little while, don't mind me if'n I don't feel much like callin' North Carolina home.

I think I've maxxed out on the debates

You know you live in Canada when . . . (Part 35,985,751)

. . . one of the local supermarket chains (Sobey's) is promoting the serving of "game day poutine" for the Superbowl.

Better idea: Skip the football game, keep your regurgitated nachos, and just pass me a steaming plate of French fries, brown gravy, and cheese curds, better known as the snack food of the Gods, also known as poutine.

Which is Quebecois French for "kiss my maple-flavoured buttocks, gringo." At least that's what it says in the citizenship prep test booklet.

The sounds of silenzzzzzzz . . .

Yeah, sorry, I know I should, but I really don't give a tuppence about Bernie Sanders or the 2016 presidential election in the United States.

Oh, I can still vote in the U.S., a fact I seem to have to keep reminding Americans of. I just have a work permit for Canada after all; I didn't have to give up my citizenship to move here.

Nor would I do so, despite recently having begun the process of applying for permanent residency here. I miss the United States. More than I thought I would. It is still home, and I still worry about it. Is it eating alright? Is it getting along with others? Is it happy? Has it killed anyone lately, by accident or on purpose? Or is it just constantly bickering for no discernible reason--despite unemployment having dropped to under 5% for the first time in god knows when, despite enjoying a number of other common indicators of a successful economic climate? Certainly more successful than the economy we have in Canada at the moment.

And yet, watch the news on CNN or MSNBC (but, please, not Fox News) or read it online (but avoid the comments section if you can) and everyone seems angry and miserable. Or at least those talking politics or attending political rallies seem so. It is a self-selecting group, so who can say for sure?

I wouldn't vote for a Republican if all the candidates promised me a non-stop winter weekend in sun-dappled Mexico with my favorite porn star, guilt-free, room service, and all necessary accoutrements on tap. (That would be mid-1990s super Southern stud Sam Crockett, in case anyone wants to know, but I can make other suggestions if he is unavailable.) I think there's a certain segment in the U.S. that's still living with this fantasy of the Rockefeller Republican of long ago--fiscally conservative but socially benign. I'm not sure that manor house baron ever existed, although Dwight Eisenhower is perhaps a better exemplifier than any one of the Rockefellers.

Instead what we seem to have is some time-warped brigade of evangelical Dixiecrat-wannabes, George Wallaces (the white one) without a cause (except the misanthropic, middle-class Caucasian): Race bait, shoot from the lip, and by all means be as mean-spirited as possible when it comes to judging others' behaviors without paying too much attention to your own.

Or you get Donald Trump, whose all of that but without the God. 'Cuz, like, he and God are best friends, and God is amaaaaazing but God's knows he's not nearly as great as Donald Trump . . . .

(Not an actual quote . . . yet.)

Turning to the not-Republicans, aka the Democrats, we have . . . heavy sigh. Hilary Clinton and Bernie Sanders.

I know I'm supposed to like Hilary. In fact, I clearly remember my frenemy Spencer for Let chastising me way back in 2007 for being an on-the-fence Barack Obama supporter. Over dinner, he proceeded to brow-beat me and bad-mouth anyone for their positive spins on Obama's candidacy. Clearly, I did not understand--but desperately needed to!--that Hilary was the far superior candidate.

I don't know if that tipped me over the fence into the Obama ballpark, but it happened soon thereafter. It wouldn't surprise me if that was the defining moment--or at the moment that made me consider more closely my choice--as ol' Spence has done a great job over the years of brow-beating my opinions over various and sundry. (I distinctively remember making a passing remark about enjoying the American/Canadian version of Queer as Folk, an opinion I came to later in the series run, which then provoked an extended lesson on why I was morally wrong to like the show. That ol' Spence. He has a way with humanity.)

At this point, in 2016, I'll concede that Hilary's the most experienced candidate and would have less of a learning curve than any of the other players on the field. Way back in 2007, I think she might have had a few more years of a U.S. Senate career under her belt than Obama, but counting her time as First Lady as being equal to bonafide POTUS experience makes only slightly more sense as Sarah Palin claiming she had foreign policy experience because Alaska is located next door to Russia.

But I could deal with a Hilary presidency. She's not my favorite, but I hardly think she's the horrifying shrewish mother/anti-mother figure that Conservatives imagine in their nightmares. Or dreams. Hey, Conservatives are a freaky bunch.

But I don't think I can deal with another Bill Clinton presidency--and you just know he won't be able to stop himself from inserting into every nookie and granny cranny of Hilary's administration. Everyone seems to remember Bill fondly, at home and abroad, except me. He was a liar and a womanizer back then, I suspect he's the same now (just more discreet), and he'll continue to be so in the afterlife. The thought of him being anywhere near a whore house, let alone the White House, should be cause for alarm.

* * *

And yet I am no fan of Bernie Sanders either, and I'm not sure I really, fully understand why. I mean, policy-wise, we are not in disagreement. I'm all for more affordable education and universal healthcare. (I would ask, "who wouldn't be?" but I'm afraid this would show how far I've fallen from American grace.) I do think Bernie over-imagines his potential effectiveness as POTUS. For pity's sake, people went berserk over Obama's moderate changes. What would they do with an actual, self-professed socialist in the Oval Office?

Then again, Bernie's not black, which has always seemed to me to be the reason that those who have a problem with Obama have a problem with Obama. Maybe the unconventional senator from Vermont can pull it off, but I feel doubtful over both his policies and his background. In 241 years of American history, we've had one moderate Catholic president and one moderate African-American president, and people nearly crapped a cinder block over both. I can only imagine the eruption over a secular Jewish socialist hippie from Vermont talking "revolutionary" politics.

In large part, I think my problem with Sanders is twofold--

The first fold--see above. I really can't see anyone, establishment or hoi polloi, to the right of Eleanor Roosevelt easily digesting a Sanders presidency. Should it even come to pass--and I think that's about as likely as it was for McGovern to have won in 1972.

The second fold (which is manifold--so much so that we're practically on the verge of origami)--I'm exhausted from hearing a certain subset of friends praise Sanders every time he makes up as much as a grocery list. I have a couple of Facebook friends who are relentlessly, slavishly Sanderistas, a-quiver at every statement, pronouncement, or offhand remark made by el Comandante. There is no escaping their zealotry for a guy, who, frankly, I consider passionate and opinionated, but not much else.

I think you have to have more than passion and opinions to be a leader. Otherwise, you're Ron Paul. Or worse, you're Donald Trump.

Some might argue that Obama spawned the same kind of zealotry. I would not, however. Oh, there are people who would blindly follow him to the ends of the earth and the ends of time, no doubt. The difference is that Obama, in my view, is less about the cult and more about being the actual president to everyone, not just those who agree with him.

His handlers and celebrity fans, sure, they're all about the cult. But at the end of the day, I have always thought of Obama as just a decent, incredibly intelligent, and poised man who has tried hard to do the right thing. Not just African Americans. Not just gays. Not just business. Not just liberals. Everyone.

As the saying goes, you can't please everyone. Or sometimes even anyone. And during the Obama age, this has shown itself to be true.

Do I think he's perfect? Have I liked everything he's done? Have I been bothered by things that I didn't think he did well enough. No, no, and yep.

A case in point: I feel that his administration could have done more to address the growing inequality in the U.S. Nonetheless, he's done a lot to be sure, and if he accomplished nothing more for the rest of his life than getting the Affordable Care Act done, then he's a genius and a statesman and deserves our praise and generosity for the ages to come.

I also feel like criticizing him about not doing more to address inequality is a bit unfair. For one, the U.S. Congress, one of our many national shames, actively and unabashedly fought him and undermined him over everything he proposed, large and small. For another, it's not like "let's fix inequality" has been the zeitgeist; rather, most of us were focused on getting back on our own two feet following the Great Recession. We didn't have much time, energy, or interest to think about anyone else's plight. let alone legislating to improve it.

* * *

I've been thinking about Ronald Reagan lately, not something I care to do, honestly. I despised him and I loathe his legacy, but he certainly left us with a mark--a very dark, costly, punishing, simplistic, and selfish one--that continues to color our judgment and cover up our reality. Call it what you will--conservatism, neo-conservatism, the love of "freedom" (especially the free market and laissez-faire economic policy), "making America great again," etc. ad nauseum--it all sounds like bullshit to me. It has left us with a legacy of inequality, one that we can't seem to surmount. And it has left us with a clown's parade of politicos who have had to live up to or live down Reagan's "simple solutions" of low taxes for the rich, no money for social services, trickle down economics, and free reign to markets and evangelicals. Even Bill Clinton continued to follow much of this trajectory, at least when he wasn't schtupping secretaries and lounge singers.

Will Obama leave us with a legacy that is different and fairer than before? I hope so. I don't know if he's been able to make his mark as strongly as Reagan did, but then Reagan had more support, politically and popularly. Advocating selfishness tends to succeed more than advocating respect for humanity.

Obama, on the other hand, has had to deal with the Know-Nothing age of Republican politics and the standard set of weak-willed Democrats. He has succeeded in many ways, despite this, but unfortunately, I don't feel as though he's been able to graft this progressiveness and humanity on the American body politic. Time will tell, and I pray that time will tell me that I'm wrong.

Who would be a likely, worthy successor to Obama? I haven't a clue. Both Hilary and Bernie have their pluses and minuses, and maybe either/or will do a stellar job, should we be so lucky to find ourselves with this option come the fall. Hilary has more baggage than I would prefer. In addition, she seems to have the resolve of a willow tree in a hurricane. By that I mean she is tough and resilient but will bend whichever way the wind blows. For me, she lacks authenticity.

Bernie's got authenticity, but is it an authenticity that we want? His baggage seems to have gotten stuck on a luggage carousel at an airport outside of Woodstock, circa 1969.

A case in point: He recently chose a Simon and Garfunkel song for a campaign ad, which, naturally, the left has gone all verklempt over. All I can say is I hope someone tells him Jerry Garcia's dead before he invites him to serve as Vice President.

Please, for the love of Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix, let's not have another American presidential election where we battle out the unresolved issues of the 1960s once again. Heck, I'm in my 50s, and even I'm not that nostalgic.

The Dead Rodent Society

From the Weather Network Canada, 29 January 2016.
See the full article here.

Newsflash from the Weather Network Canada: Canadian groundhog, Winnipeg Willow, does a runner days before Groundhog Day.

Sometimes even I don't have the words.

Although when I posted this to Facebook recently, many a friend did have the words.

My favorite was, "So how's that socialized medicine working for you now, rodent?!" from my friend B.I.

Nonetheless, there were other pithy remarks about how at least in Pennsylvania they knew enough to have a "strategic groundhog reserve" of three or more of the buggers in case Punxsutawney Phil decided to make a break for that great pile of chucked wood in the sky at an inopportune moment.

I could draw some unfavorable comparison between Canadian and American understandings of show business, but let's be charitable on this marmotous momentous occasion. After all, Willow found out that the shadow she saw was her shadow of death.

We are all weeping and woeful for Winnipeg Willow.

Woah.