Intersectionality

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve the problem and access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

     

"This above all, to refuse to be a victim."   -Margaret Atwood

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

In my discussion of Postmodernism last week I mentioned that my favorite aspect of Postmodernism is called Intersectionality. I confess up front that the very word Intersectionality immediately appealed to me before I had any idea of what Intersectionality was or is supposed to be.

It absolutely rings of Acadamese. The sort of word one would encounter in a text authored by an obscure, bleeding-edge Ph.D. and chockablock with other polysyllabic words unfamiliar to the average Joe Bag-a-donuts or the average anyone else.

A document likely impossible to make sense of while striving to remain conscious -- don't forget, logic/clarity/reason and good writing are devious social constructs created by unashamedly heterosexual white male weenies to enable them to exploit everyone and everything else -- by even postdocs or the nerdiest of crossword puzzle aficionados.

By the time you read this there will probably be a newer, cooler word for Intersectionality (Is it wrong that I delight in tripping over words that immediately shout out, "probably babble and bonkercockie, fire up the browser, this should be fun?").

After all, Intersectionality replaced a word you may have missed while you were having an actual life, Kyriarchy, Intersectionality's dad. But as things stand at the moment, according to Merriam-Webster...

Intersectionality: the complex, cumulative way in which the effects of multiple forms of discrimination (such as racism, sexism, and classism) combine, overlap, or intersect especially in the experiences of marginalized individuals or groups.

In other words -- we're all victims, of all sorts of things, all the time.

Everyone is qualified to become a member of the International Union of Professional Perpetually Protesting Protesters & Perpetual Victims of This, That, and the Other Thing (IUPPPP & PVTTOT).

Iggy: Even you Poppa? I thought... 
Dana: No, definitely not. If ever there was a happily heterosexual and privileged white weenie...
Marie-Louise: Tosses a delicate, refined, but nevertheless unmistakeable snort of derision at Dana and begins scratching my back. 

Yeah Iggy, even me. Everyone in fact, when you think about it. In my case:

- I was kidnapped from my wealthy but dissolute family (it's complicated) as an infant which was the first link in a chain of events that culminated in my being won by my "father" in a poker game at the Gem Saloon in Deadwood, South Dakota.

- When it came to physical attractiveness, I was no box of chocolates to begin with, but when I was (accidentally?) dropped on my head by my big "brother," which resulted in a severe case of lazy eye, I was rendered even less so.

- I endured physical bullying and psychological abuse for the aforementioned condition by my peers all throughout my tender years. If not for my ability to see around corners I literally might not have survived my childhood.

For the sake of brevity, and because I'm starting to choke up, let us fast forward to the present.

- I've just celebrated the 25th anniversary of my 39th birthday and I'm the victim of ageism on a nearly daily basis.

For example, being neither a sex or a success object has rendered me -- for all intents and purposes -- invisible to hot chicks all entities possessing certain biological traits that would seem to indicate highly favorable reproductive potential of the sort that sets the DNA of happily heterosexual and privileged white weenies to howling at the moon. That is, entities who have, till recently, suffered from arbitrarily being assigned pronouns based on the hopefully soon to be eradicated barbaric practice of identifying 'em (my personal plural pronoun for H. sapiens) as "female" on a given entities birth certificate.

[While traditional Acadamese does not come easily to me, an unexpected side effect of my extensive research into Postmodernism was discovering that I have a natural affinity for the dialect spoken by Postmodernists. Try it at your next party. I'm working on a drinking game but I haven't completed my research. Watch this column for updates.]

Kimberle Crenshaw 

If you were to go in search of the origins of Intersectionality all roads lead to Ms. Crenshaw and a paper she wrote, Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color, in 1991. 

Now, while I disagree with her on a very fundamental level (I think that identity politics and the endless mapping out of endless grievances is a giant step in the wrong direction) I must compliment her on her writing style. Unlike many academics/Postmodernists, she is readable with minimal translation required. 

However, her primary argument, that any given victim is a victim in any number of ways, is obvious. Everyone is a victim in any number of ways. Life is hard. Life is unfair. Then, you die. 

Endless squabbling over who's the most victimized, in exactly what ways, and by whom is as pointless for alleged grups, My Dear Stickies, as it is when yinz (at this point in your lives, callowyutes all) engage in the occasional (rare, but not unheard of) war of all against all. And about as productive. 

It also seems obvious to me that once you start down that path, inevitably, Social Justice Warriors, like Mao's Red Guardsmenpersons, Jacobins and the like will turn on each other and begin a never-ending game of ideological one-upmanpersonship. 

From, Intersectionality is not a label, an article by Latoya Peterson in the Washington Post: 

"Actress Nancy Lee Grahn identifies as a feminist, but felt no problem for blasting the history-making Viola Davis on Twitter for bringing race into her Emmy awards speech. 'She has never been discriminated against,' Grahn wrote, without any knowledge of Davis’s life or journey." 


I've linked to it before and I'll probably link to it again, but this Jordan Peterson video says it all. When I'm king you won't be able to graduate from high school without demonstrating you've watched and understood it. 

If you want to change the world acknowledge that you, just like the rest of us, are a fixer-upper -- and get to work. Poppa loves you. 

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Marxism & Postmodernism (Pt. 2)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"A work can become modern only if it is first postmodern. Postmodernism thus understood is not modernism at its end but in the nascent state, and this state is constant." -Jean-Francois Lyotard     "Oh, yeah, absabalutely." -me


Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Let's review. Last week I discussed the importance of picking a college you can more or less afford and majoring in something that will pay off. I also warned you that Communism, the dogma behind a 100,000,000 (more or less...) H. sapiens being rendered into compost, is alive and well on campus.

This week we're going to explore Communism's partner in crime, Postmodernism. This dastardly duos goal is nothing less than a takedown of Western Civilization; to be replaced by a utopia wherein everyone will be exactly, painstakingly equal. Everyone will own the latest iPhone and it, like designer t-shirts and Starbucks coffee (all flavors and sizes) will be free.

But before I forget, permit me to mention something I forgot to include in last week's letter. When I talked about the importance of choosing some form of higher education that won't saddle you with crippling debt and learning how to do something that will get you a Job job, I meant it.

However, while I'm somewhat hard-headed/realistic/cynical/etceterical, or at least strive to be, this is more the result of having been too long at the fair (I'm old, well, at least from your perspective) than it is by temperament.

[Gentlereaders: Clicking on the link above will give you access to the musical entertainment portion of our program featuring the musical stylings of Ms. Bonnie Raitt, a woman I've never met, much less had a passionate affair with back in the 70s. Although I wish I had, and I wish I had.]

In a better world, it would be possible, if you were so inclined, to easily obtain a broad-based liberal arts degree based on the fundamentals and achievements of Western Civilization* without having lead water wings of debt permanently affixed to your body and soul. But the economics of higher education are severely warped by the involvement of The Gummit and bloated school administrations.  

Also, given that there's no shortage of students and professors actively working to discredit/destroy Western Civilization (a.k.a., the hand that feeds them) caveat emptor, babies, caveat emptor.

[*My cranky, happily heterosexual old white dude side is currently in control of my psyche and is writing this missive. Coco, the sassy, African-American lesbian H. sapien trapped inside my pasty body, says to say hello. ]

Postmodernism

Postmodernists maintain that there are an infinite number of ways to explain the world and how to live in it, and that none should be considered better than any other. In my semi-humble opinion, this is one of the tenets of Hippieism masquerading as a viable intellectual notion.

Call: It's like, all relative, man.      

Response: Far out, man. (while slowing bobbing one's head and looking thoughtful).

Hippieism: Everyday is like spending a weekend at your friend's rich parents house when you were in high school/college, and they're out of the country. There's a hot tub, and an indoor pool. And dope. Source: me.

Warning: Historical Digression/Boring Old Man Story

[My Dear Stickies, some details concerning my hippie with a job period, age 19 to the age of 31 (and a half). From 27 to 30 I made a sincere effort to join the real world inspired by boredom/disenchantment with the hippie ethos and a blond, blue-eyed girl next door type. Unfortunately, she ran my heart through a paper shredder.     

After that, it was more lost soul/less hippie with a job until I met your mothers/grandmothers mother and subsequently married her and I've been trying to finish growing up ever since.]

Wikipedia has a...

[Poppa, if you weren't a hippie till you were 19, what were you like when you were in high school? Did you party?]

I was boring, Iggy. But in my defense, at the time (late 60s), although we were listening to the music and looking at the pictures of hippies in Look magazine (look it up), the smell of Weed was just starting to occasionally waft its way through the lives of me and my fellow Flyoverland High School students. Knowing what we know now I wish I had never even heard of weed till I was at least 25.


Wikipedia has a lengthy entry about postmodernism as applied to this, that, and the other. Reading it will tell you everything you need to know about Postmodernism. Truth be told, I couldn't make much sense of it. This either means that my 39 certified college credits are insufficient to the task at hand or that attempting to read it will tell you everything you need to know about Postmodernism.

One thing that caught my eye -- in the course of my research, not speaking fluent Academese, but curious about what Postmodernism had to say about writing, I was forced to seek translations and this word comes up a lot  -- was a paragraph or two about the word deconstruction.

"A deconstructive approach further depends on the techniques of close reading without reference to cultural, ideological, moral opinions or information derived from an authority over the text such as the author."

Right. Moving on...


Heavy Sigh...

Lookit. It occurs to me, after a good deal of research, that attempting to analyze (deconstruct?) Postmodernism would require multiple letters and that since I find most of it to be absurd/incomprehensible/not worth the time, etc., I'm out.

[Gentlereaders: The web is chock full of info about Postmodern(ists/ism). First, read this,* and then try to read this** (I double dog dare you to read the second one). After reading both if you're not laughing or/and crying, google on.]

Stickies and dead trees readers: Veeery long story short, it appears that college campuses are lousy with unrepentant Communists (homegrown useful eejits, not Boris Badenov types) and Postmodernists. 

It would appear that (apparent) opposites do attract. Postmodernism rejects all types of dogma (**"Suspicion and rejection of Master Narratives for history and culture..." ). Communism is all dogma, all the time.

It would appear that combining of the two by the Social Justice types makes no logical sense, However, *"Traditional logic and objectivity are spurned by postmodernists." So...

Caveat emptor, babies, caveat emptor. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

  

Marxism & Postmodernism (Pt. 1)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"Communism, like any other revealed religion, is largely made up of prophecies." -H.L. Mencken

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

In a few years some of you, possibly/hopefully anyway, will be going to college. Others, those of you not yet born at the time this is being written, may be cyborgs by the time you read this and will have to google (access the hive mind?) the phrase "going to college" to discover the meaning of this archaic expression.

But for now -- although this could change as rapidly as recorded music went from vinyl to tape to CDs to digital downloads to _______ -- colleges and universities are still viable (if wildly overpriced) institutions.

I'm not overly worried about costs (in spite of the fact that as things stand at the moment, I won't be able to offer much help). In fact, the fact that you're going to have to go to someplace you can afford without accruing crippling debt and major in something that has a reasonable chance of paying off are both healthy constraints in my view.

[I'm aware that as long as The Gummit keeps handing out loans like candy you can choose to major in art history, go into debt up to your eyeballs and make your loan payments via your tips from Starbucks. Follow your heart. Don't worry about killing me or your parents and ruining your life. Follow your bliss. I understand I like art too.]

However, as to certain strains of intellectual/cultural/etceterical weeds that seem to have recently bloomed  -- Snowflakism, political correctness, Critical Theory, safe spaces, Antifa, "democratic" socialism, Intersectionality (my personal fave), _______phobia, personal pronouns, Women's Studies programs, I identify as _______, ad infinitum, ad nauseam -- it turns out that they've been thriving in hothouses of higher education for quite awhile.

["Intersectionality is an important paradigm in academic scholarship and broader contexts such as social justice work, but difficulties arise due to the many complexities involved in making multidimensional conceptualizations that explain the way in which socially constructed categories of differentiation interact to create a social hierarchy." -Wikipedia's Intersectionality article] 

Relatively recently speaking, I've found/I find myself mildly obsessed with the much in the news Social Justice Warriors/Warriorism (SJW), terms I use here as a sort of catch-all for the phenomena (and the people involved) listed two paragraphs back.

As I suffer from a severe case of cognitive dissonance due to my split personality -- one-half happily heterosexual cranky old white dude and cheerleader for Western Civilization and one-half sassy, lesbian, African-American H. sapien named Coco trapped in the body of said cranky old white dude -- I went looking for original sources to help me resolve, or at least learn to live with, my conflicted self.

Which led to me academia and although I'm still highly conflicted and probably entitled to some sort of disability income or at least a settlement of some sort if I agree to sign the papers and go away, I serendipitously stumbled on some things you might also want to consider when deciding on whether/where to go to college.

[Gentlereaders: Deep breath. Please note that my drop-dead gorgeous muse and world-class back scratcher, Marie-Louise, has inspired me to simultaneously provide some practical advice to the Stickies while also  alerting them, and you, as to the source of the epidemic of SJWs biting the hands that feed them in spite of the fact there's an organic, free-range chicken in every pot and a computer in every pocket. Exhale. Cranky gives you your money's worth. Tell your friends.] 

Marxism

America, and my readers from around the globe, ever wonder what happened to the campus radicals of the 60s and 70s who didn't become yuppie scum (HT: J. Jones) after their 15 minutes was up? After the war ended and they found themselves with the oft more or less useless degrees they acquired (or oft hadn't quite acquired) while they were professional students trying to avoid the draft and/or getting a Job job?

A bunch of 'em chose a path that eventually would result in their becoming tenured professors.

[Please note: I've no problem with people that didn't want to go to Vietnam, I was one of them. I didn't have to go or/and decide what to do to keep from going simply because of dumb luck. The party, and the draft, was over shortly before I would've been confronted with that particular reality check and my misspent yute continued without interruption.]

Anyhow, (very) long story short, and at the risk of sounding like a member of the John Birch Society (which I just discovered still exists, yikes!), a bunch of  'em were/are Marxists. But applied, traditional Marxism (communism) -- having killed 100,000,000 souls (more or less...) and trashed the economies of several nations -- had/has lost a lot of its street cred.

Well... at least among the historically literate. Others, not so much.

[For the record, Xi Dadda and Li'l Rocket Man ain't communist dictators, they're traditional Far Eastern emperor types who don't have to be bothered with the Mandate of Heaven scam. Raul Castro and his ilk are just thugs hiding behind a discredited philosophy they've never actually taken seriously.]

So, what's a Marxist to do? Easy Peasy. Change the famous bourgeoisie (the bosses) vs. everyone else meme to happily heterosexual caucasian males vs. everyone else. All non-heterosexual caucasian males, all women, and all people of color including various/sundry subgroups and sub-subgroups.

Everyone else.

Bottom line: A tiny but fiendishly clever and relentlessly ruthless minority consisting of pasty white weenies who self-identify with the outdated gender stereotypes rampant among non-H. sapiens are, and have been, exploiting/enslaving/etceterating everyone and everything else for thousands of years.

They're the only thing standing in the way of a socialist paradise wherein that bogus social construct they thought up to maintain power over everyone else, equality of opportunity, will be replaced with equality of outcomes.

That's my (as usual) oversimplified (and in this case, conflicted) take on things. We'll do Postmodernism next week. If you don't know much about it, well, you ain't seen nothin' yet. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.

Politics (Before I Wake Up Dead, Pt 6.5)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who aren't here yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View original (above↑) to solve the problem/access lotsa columns.]

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars

Marie-Louise -- My beautiful muse (right shoulder) and back scratcher 

Iggy -- My designated Sticky

Dana -- My designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

"A national debt, if it is not excessive, will be to us a national blessing." -Alexander Hamilton

Dear (eventual) Stickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Our story thus far. I decided to write a series of letters/columns about stuff that I wanted to make sure I told you in case I wake up dead, the destined to be famous Before I Wake Up Dead (BIWUD) series.

God and Politics (BIWUD, Pt. 6), written two weeks ago and which was supposed to be the last of the series, covered God, but only introduced politics. So, last weeks letter/column should have been: Politics (BIWUD, Pt. 6.5) and that, as they say, should have been that.

However, wanting to end the year on a high note, I wrote about an inspirational commencement speech that included my favorite Bob Dylan lyrics in a column called Plagiarism.

All Politics, All the Time

"I've put it off till last because I'm sick of this subject, a subject that at one time I found fascinating." I made that statement two weeks ago but ran out of room, time, and energy before saying exactly why I'm sick of the subject.

Saturation. All politics, all the time, is the short answer. I've got a folder on my... wait a sec', I'll be right back...

OK, I've got a folder on the bookmarks bar of my browser.

[Sorry, I celebrated my 39th birthday for the 25th time last summer and I've developed some short-term memory issues. Being unable to remember that a bookmarks bar is called a bookmarks bar, for example.]

This folder, labeled FU (short for funnies, which is what we called comic strips when I was a callowyute), contains links to a dozen strips that are the first thing I read every morning, in search of a smile, before checking out my email, the news, the weather, etc.

Now, two of 'em are editorial cartoons, one by a bitter, whiny, Trump obsessed Leftie and the other by a clever, amusing, Rightie who covers all sorts of subjects. This is because I'm open-minded and want the perspective of both left and right wingers.

However, more and more, politics has reared its ugly head in the other daily, allegedly light-hearted strips, the purpose of which, I thought, was smile generation. I'm not talking making fun of politics, I'm talking staking out polarizing positions.

One of 'em, for example, although still capable of occasionally making me laugh out loud, has taken to regularly promoting politically correct eating (among other P.C. positions). Gimme a break... 

If you're new here, for the record, I don't identify as either a Depublican or a Republicrat and I didn't vote for the Donald or the Hilliam. Also, in case you're new here or/and haven't been paying attention, I do identify as a perky, African-American libertarian lesbian H. sapien (my personal pronoun of choice) named Coco who is trapped in the body of a cranky old white dude.

Anyways...

[Wait-wait-wait. Question, is this going anywhere? Is getting lost in the weeds a side effect of that new med you mentioned a couple of weeks ago? Also, H. sapien is not a personal pronoun, it's a noun. Furthermore, it's sapiens, not sapien, you can't...]

Tut-tut-tut. Dana-Dana-Dana. Don't be a narrow-minded, reactionary hater. By the way, have you seen Iggy or Marie-Louise?

[They're standing in line at various and sundry stores to return unwanted Christmas gifts. Don't try to change the subject. I repeat, is this going somewhere?]

Absabalutely. (HT: Ray). How did we get to all politics all the time? A virus that has even infected sports, the true (and harmless) opiate of the masses. Get up off of your knees, win the game and then donate 25% of your money or/and time to saving the world (you'll still be rich).

Sorry, I digress.

Why aren't we obsessed with going to Mars or... or instead of turning global warming into a religion for people that lost theirs and never got over it, why aren't we working on a way to give the whole world the climate of San Diego and where/when it only snows if we want it to -- or something equally seemingly impossible?

Accomplishing seemingly impossible, dangerous things was what made America great.

[Well hell, everyone knows the reasons for that. You've written about 'em. The 24x7x365 news cycle of the if it bleeds it leads/wears its bias on its sleeve media. 

The fact that the Gummit is so large and pervasive the Swamp is like Louis the (circle one, XIV's -- XV's -- XVI's) Versailles on steroids. 

The fact that we've got a political industry! Professional politicians/political hacks/pundits and pollsters. 

The fact that...]

All true, but it's all about the money. Whether you want to spend it on a gold plated toothpick, your kid's medical bills or pass it around after the revolution, it's all about the dough.


Here are some more facts for ya', bucko.

Fact one. According to this site, in 2018 total federal, state, and local gummit revenues will amount to roughly $6.66 trillion (interesting number, huh?).

Fact two. I became interested in politics at the age of 13 (1966, hey, I've never claimed to be normal). At that point in the dim and distant past, most grups, even the ones that voted religiously, were, for the most part, not obsessed with politics. In fact, didn't pay much attention till an election was approaching.

Fact three. Right or wrong, the mid-1960s was when the current version of the American version of a welfare state started to pick up steam.

Fact four. Again, right or wrong, help from The Gummit keeps growing, "rights" keep expanding. Everyone benefits, which is why most us vote for the H. sapien that promises to make sure we get our slice of the pie, or at least redistributes the slices to our favorite designated victims.

Fact five. Since WW2, no matter the who/what/when/where/why, Hauser's law has remained true The Gummit's revenue is about 19.5% of the economy. This is why we're up to our necks in debt (and rising), as a nation -- we keep spending more than we make. Officially, we're $20,000,000,000 or so in the hole as this is being written.

Of course we're obsessed with politics. Even if you set aside the political industry mentioned above and or/and it's ability to keep us hyped via Information Age technologies the logical thing to do is fight for a slice of the $6,600,000,000 pie.


My Dear Stickies, when I told you last week I put off publishing this column because I didn't want to end 2017 on a dark note, well, (gentlereaders: click the link for a hair-raising reality check) you're on the hook for roughly $120,000,000,000. Sorry. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day.


[P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a Patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains.

If there are some readers out there that think my shtuff is worth a buck or three a month, color me honored, and grateful. Regardless, if you like it, could you please share it? There are buttons at the end of every column.]


©2017 Mark Mehlmauer   (The Flyoverland Crank)

If you're reading this on my website (where there are tons of older columns, a glossary, and other goodies) and if you wish to react (way cooler than liking) -- please scroll down.