Where Were You When the Lights Went Out?

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 -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Dang! I missed Earth Hour! Again! (3/25/17, 8:30 pm)

Being a current events junkie is one of the reasons I spend (relatively speaking) a lot of time online.

[I use the phrase relatively speaking because I suspect, no, I know, that compared to the average smartphone addict (I still don't own a smartphone but I'm still sure it's inevitable) I'm strictly bush league. I still regularly read all sorts of things in dead trees format. I read entire ebooks while offline.]

When I go a-clickin' 'round the internet...

[Are there internet folk songs? A-clickin' 'round the internet, a-clickin' I do go!]

...I save all sorts of things for later viewing that may be something I would want to write about. I'm currently deleting my butt off in an attempt to keep my myriad saved sites under at least minimal control and I chanced upon the Earth Hour site.

In case you didn't know, Earth Hour is a movement, a website, and a nonprofit organization.

[Speaking of nonprofits, I'm constantly stumbling upon articles and videos of one sort or another about Millennials joining/starting nonprofit organizations. This is why I don't worry about where are all the jobs are going to come from in an increasingly automated world. Everyone can work for a nonprofit and sell merchandise/solicit donations from each other for a living while saving the world. Cool, huh?]

Earth Hour ("...together, let's #ChangeClimateChange"), in case you were unaware, promotes climate change awareness by encouraging the citizens of planet Earth to all turn off the lights, simultaneously, for an hour, once a year. It's a project of the World Wildlife Fund for Nature, which according to Wikipedia, is the world's largest conservation organization.

Now, I can almost hear my more cynical readers snorting in derision.

[Snorting? I'm sure there must be a better word for that varying noise H. sapiens emit when saying something like, "yeah (aforementioned noise), right" but I can't think of one.]

And, in this particular case, adding something about how much more made aware can we be about climate change. Perhaps even tossing in something about limousine liberals and their ilk saving the world by flicking a light switch once a year.

Not I. We must be ever vigilant, for snark and cynicism, like rust, never sleeps. While I'm somewhat skeptical about climate change and who/what is causing it (assuming it's an actual thing), I'm skeptical about everything, Particularly about planet-wide, big picture shtuff that requires complex, elaborate computer modeling. Particularly when various models predict various outcomes. Particularly since models are built by H. sapiens.

And, since I followed the global cooling predictions reported on by the likes of Time and Newsweek in the early 70s. Nowadays, this historical phenomenon is shrugged off by modern scientists who say that it was primarily the fault of a mistaken news media, not mistaken scientists. All the more reason to skeptical of everything, especially the news media.

[By the way, I can't recommend an attitude of general skepticism enough. In fact, I highly recommend an attitude that regards all knowledge as provisional and subject to radical revision, often when you're least expecting it. However, you don't have to be a jagoff (definition No. 2) about it. It can be done with a little style, like anything else.]


So anyway, I'd forgotten about Earth Hour altogether. It's not a hot topic here in Flyoverland. We've been somewhat sidetracked for the last several decades by our dismal economy, rusting empty factories, shrinking middle class  -- that sort of thing. Now we're dealing with an opioid epidemic that isn't just about addiction -- people are dropping dead with disturbing regularity in spite of the hundreds of billions we've spent/spend on Prohibition 2. A lot of people aren't just saying no.

[On the bright side, Prohibition 2 creates lots of good gummit and, The Gummit, jobs. Also, civil asset forfeiture helps to fund many local police departments, although some spoilsports keep whining about the constitution.]

However, as I mentioned above, while trying to get my eclectic collection of seemingly several million saved sites from which I could conceivably craft an eventual column of some sort, there it was, Earth Hour.

Or rather, a column by Mark Perry (an economist that lives in the real world and one of my intellectual heroes) about Earth Hour. "Instead of Barbaric Darkness, Why Not Celebrate Human Progress?  It's a brief, well-written piece well worth reading but I know how busy you are, so I'll summarize it for you.

Mr. Perry (and I) thinks that the widespread use of electricity (regardless of how it's generated), rocks. Most of his article is actually a lengthy quote by another economist, Ross McKitrick. The first three sentences of the quote say it all.

"I abhor Earth Hour. Abundant, cheap electricity has been the greatest source of human liberation in the 20th century. Every material social advance in the 20th century depended on the proliferation of inexpensive and reliable electricity."

He then lists several of those social advances and also points out that, "Many of the worlds poor suffer brutal environmental conditions in their own homes because of the necessity of cooking over indoor fires that burn twigs and dung."

Below is a satellite picture, courtesy of Google images, of North Korea at night. Apparently, King Kim the third, the chubby-cheeked commander in chief of the Norks is a rabid environmentalist. The Norks celebrate Earth Hour 24x7x365. You can almost smell the twigs and dung burning.

And you thought he was only famous for murdering various family members, starving his own people, and of course attempting, via The Bomb, to establish the ultimate protection racket.

"Nice country you have here, it'd be a shame if someone rendered it a wasteland. Know what I mean?
























[Confession: Mr. Perry's article also includes a (different) image of North Korea at night so technically you could make a case that I stole his idea. In my defense, I've been aware of the Norks environmental devotion and similar images, literally, for decades and this column just gave me an excuse a chance to publish what is a well-known image/phenomenon that everyone should be aware of.]


[At this point in my writing I hit a wall, well, not much of a wall, but still... I just couldn't come up with a last paragraph or two that I was happy with so I placed the column in a virtual drawer and tried not to think about it. 

I decided to not take it out till just now, Saturday morning, though I plan on publishing it tonight at 11:07 p.m. I figured that even if I couldn't come up with something I really liked the time pressure would force me to come with something that was good enough. And then the week happened...]

And we're back. Speaking of goofy, pointless, feel-good gestures to pub-lic-ally proclaim one's green bona fides, the Donald took it upon himself to pull the USA out of a globe spanning example, the Paris Climate Accords.

Also, comedienne, Kathy Griffin, made a joke that fell flat.

These events enable me to end this column/letter here and ask you to tune in next time whereupon I will discuss these two events and what they have to do with purposeful polarization, dizzinformation, the state of the zeitgeist, the constitution, and all sorts of shtuff that I tend to prattle on about. 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.

Purposeful Polarization (& Beguiling Bonkercockie)

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 -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies,

Purposeful Polarization (corollary -- beguiling bonkercockie), I stumbled on this phrase in a Wall Street Journal article. I've been following the seemingly endless attacks on the Donald, via the media and the Depublicans, fascinated by the deluge of if/then stories (if this should turn out to be true, then...) and unattributed (but trust us, we trust the leakers) leaks.

I refer specifically to (insert a few bars of dramatic music here) the Russian Conspiracy. It turns out the Donald isn't the Hitler of the 21st century (well, so far, it's early yet). It turns out that he's not crazy after all (well, so far, it's early yet), at least not consistently. While he does regularly say (or tweet) crazy shtuff, even some of his many enemies have begun to figure out it's often crazy like a fox/strategic in nature.

While the crazy and Hitler memes were only base hits, (insert a few bars of dramatic music here) the Russian Conspiracy is a home run. Our left-leaning infotainment industrial complex and the Depublicans are having a good deal of success tying the Donald to the Pooteen and (insert a few bars of dramatic music here) the Russian Conspiracy.

They've managed this in spite of the fact no actual crimes, so far at least, have yet to be uncovered. That's world-class Purposeful Polarization using a where there's smoke there's fire attack. However, the smoke, in this case, may just be a fog of spin and dizzinformation

 [Gentlereaders, please, bear with me. If you're sick of hearing about (insert a few bars of dramatic music here) the Russian Conspiracy you might be contemplating clicking off to elsewhere in cyberspace at this point. However, this letter/column isn't about (insert a few bars of dramatic music here) the Russian Conspiracy, it's about Purposeful Polarization.]



The WSJ article referenced above, Anti-Trump Democrats Invite Chaos, is a short editorial written by Ted Van Dyk who doesn't work for the paper and is described as being "...active for more than 40 years in Democratic administrations and campaigns..." succinctly states a list of reasons why our good friends on the left consider our newly appointed special prosecutor and calls for the Donald's impeachment to be justified.

He also succinctly demolishes them as there's no there, there -- the if/thens and leaks referenced above. He warns his fellow Depublicans that if they are successful in sidelining the Donald they could wind up with a true conservative in charge, which he considers to be a step backward from what they want. The Donald ain't a conservative, he's, well, the Donald. Personally, I think he's as surprised as the rest of us that he got elected, but that's another story.

Mr. Van Dyk's point is that the Depublicans (and America) would be better served if they were to find a way to compromise with the Donald on solutions for America's problems instead of perpetually pursuing Purposeful Polarization. (Sorry -- OK, not really.)

Mr. Van Dyk doesn't define purposeful polarization. In fact, he uses it only once, and towards the end of his article. He states that if we're to find some sort of rational compromise, "...purposeful polarization must give way to constructive engagement." Somebody needs to put that message on a t-shirt. To quote me (someone's gotta do it), "Compromise, don't demonize."


And then, talk about perfect timing (for my purposes at least), the Donald's proposed (he ain't the king, the 535 selfless representatives of the people have to pass it) 2018 budget hits the street. Let the games and the bonkercockie begin!

The Donald's man at Management and Budget, Mick Mulvaney, unleashes the $4,100,000,000,000 buck beast upon the world and takes his show on the road to promote it. Like most of its modern predecessors, and in the time-honored tradition of The Gummit, it's a vast tome containing some truth and a lot of lies financial projections and assumptions extending out for a decade. In other words, it's chock full of guesstimates and ignores the fact we choose an administration every four years, not ten.

Cue the Cacophony.

The opposition party, and everyone/anyone who will, at least theoretically, be receiving less largess from Uncle Sugar, predict the end of civilization as we know it. The Infotainment Industrial Complex (IIC) tends to agree.

Fortunately, the objectivity and truth obsessed contingent of the IIC, the press, steps in to save us from ourselves. "Trump seeks to slash $3.6 trillion of spending in austere budget" according to a reuters.com headline from 5.23.17.

"By Roberta Rampton | WASHINGTON

U.S. President Donald Trump asked lawmakers on Tuesday to cut $3.6 trillion in government spending over the next decade, taking aim at healthcare and food assistance programs for the poor in an austere budget that also boosts the military."

This is not an editorial, this is allegedly straight news. Note she (I hope I'm using Ms. Rampton's preferred pronoun and honorific) also uses the decade (five congressional and two presidential elections from now) gambit.

Ms. Rampton and Mr. Mulvaney (the budget whisperer) crunch the same numbers. He predicts a balanced budget -- ten years from now. She slyly, but clearly, informs us that the Donald is going to expand the military and abuse the poor to pay for it -- over the course of the next ten years.

So, my dearest grandstickies and great-grandstickies, I wish you luck. At the moment the adults seem to be leaving the room at an ever-accelerating pace. Oh, I almost forgot to mention, my favorite part, spending cuts by The Gummit aren't spending cuts. They're cuts to the amount of scheduled spending increases that The Gummit automatically increases each year. And no, I'm not making this up.

Two-thirds of, The Gummint, spending occurs on autopilot and includes scheduled increases. For example, the Donald's draconian, austere budget calls for spending $408,000,000,000 on Medicaid in the 2018 budget. This will be "cut" to only $688,000,000,000 by 2027. And no, I'm not making this up either. 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.

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Beware of Darkness (beware of darkness), Part Two

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 -- Designated Sticky

Dana -- Designated gentlereader (left shoulder)

[Gentlereaders, I've been working on straightening out the various and sundry temporal kerfuffles caused by a technically challenged Tralfamadorian and a balky Wayback Machine that resulted in the loss of a day and a half of my life, which resulted in my publishing last Monday afternoon instead of the Saturday before last. Though this column is 24 hours late, be assured that everything is now back to normal and that Saturdays, 11:07 EST, is still the official publication day and time.]



Dear (eventual) Grandstickies & Great-Grandstickies, 

Darkness and Tralfamidorians were the subjects of my last letter/column. To summarize, I explained that due to the result of the efforts of a technically challenged Tralfamidorian field interviewer I lost a day and a half of my life. 

Also, I explored the current dark trend in entertainment (specifically TV and movies) that feels like Darth Vader has been appointed cosmic program director. This trend is due, at least in significant part, to people without spiritual or philosophical compensations confronting the fact they are never going to wake up/cross a line/win the _______/etc. one magic day and be, happy. 

While I began with the Tralfamidorians I didn't go into much detail about them so let me begin by clearing that deck. Once I finish with that bit of literary housekeeping I'll provide some further illumination concerning the darkness that pervades our entertainment. 


I've mentioned the Tralfamidorians (and Tralfamidorian technical trauma) once before, in late 2015. My column was published a day late because of technical problems that occurred during a week-long visit with my favorite space race.

While Tralfamidorian tech is light years beyond Earth's relatively primitive version, it's still deployed by imperfect, fallible entities, not all that different than we are.

Last time, my problems were caused by a Tralfamidorian to Earthish translation program and a side-effect generating Neuralizer (which I've since found out was due to fact that an Earth2 instead of an Earth3 coded Neuralizer was used).

It all worked out in the long run though. Tralfamidorian customer service upgraded me to scheduled "abductions" even though I was far short of enough abduction miles to do so via normal protocols.

Last week's problems were exacerbated by a slightly miscalibrated Wayback Machine overdue for scheduled maintenance. The Wayback Machine is outdated technology in need of an upgrade and/or a competitor, but the lawyers at patent litigation machine Mr. Peabody, LLC, are very good at what they do.

Besides, as everyone knows, bouncing around in time seems to create problems by definition. I'm old enough to know better.

Your humble but lovable columnist was able to finally get the Tralfamidorians to agree to permit me to write an entire column about Tralfamidorians/alien abductions/etc. They promise me it will be censored as gently as possible.


Some more on bewaring of darkness. Last week I mentioned the more paradox. This is my way of describing how we're genetically/evolutionarily/commnsensically wired to seek more. More food and I'll live to see another weekend, not just another hump day. More sex means more offspring, having sex, which leads to more offspring. More not only ensures survival, it makes us feel happy, which makes us want to survive. 

Until relatively recently, the primary preoccupation of most H. sapiens on the planet Earth was finding enough -- more was gravy. Finding enough still preoccupies many.

Once we have the basics covered, I'm talkin' food/clothing/shelter, and we have a chance to catch our breath, it occurs to us that life is still a constant struggle, just less so. Though I own a sassy McMansion containing myriad overstuffed closets and refrigerators the _______ growing in my/on my _______ may turn out to be malignant.  

[Doesn't malignant sound like it's, well, malignant? Sorry...] 

Now, as I mentioned last week, if you're fortunate enough to subscribe to some sort of religious and/or philosophical belief that includes an afterlife in which one becomes a permahappy (at last!) -- right away (Christianity), eventually (via reincarnation), -- you have a shield to ward off darkness. Or, you could implement the secret of happiness. 

However, no matter what you believe and no matter how you feel most of the time -- life's still a bitch and you're still gonna' die. How you deal with these facts is up to you; you're gonna' need some occasional dark catharsis. However, I maintain that the ever-increasing total number of citizens on this planet that have enough, or more than enough, has a downside. 

You may have enough, or more than enough. But you may not have a religion, reject my version (or someone else's) of the secret of happiness, or are just drifting because you won't (or can't) decide what game you wish to play and what the rules of the playground are.

Not picking a game can be a good game, but it gets old, quickly. Also, not picking a game renders one much more vulnerable to stumbling into potholes of darkness. 

It's really quite simple, pick your game and you will be instantly happier. 

Or, alternatively, don't pick a game, don't decide what the rules are. Who needs rules? be free. Embrace darkness/chaos/nihilism. Move to Hollywood and make "realistic" entertainment. Beware of accidentally overdosing on your own cynicism. 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.