Saturday, September 19, 2020

Uyghur Lives Matter

A Random Randomnesses Column 

                          Source unknown (Weibo?) - meme banned by the emperor

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering

About 


Glossary 


Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"A man can’t be blamed for not knowing, but for not asking." -Uyghur proverb


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and gentlereaders),

Uyghur lives matter. So do the lives of Hong Kongers, Tibetans, members of traditional religions, and members of spiritual movements like Falun Gong. 

...And so do the lives of the Taiwanese, nervously keeping an eye on the Chinese mainland in case one of the current Red Emperor's war games turns out to be the real thing. 

And yet...

No shortage of celebrities and hooge, globe-spanning corporate entities — Lebron James, Nike, and the NBA spring immediately to mind for some reason — who have/are donating billions in cash and pledging fealty to Black Live Matter don't have much to say about what appears to be a systematic Uighur genocide. 

Or any of the other depredations of Emperor Poo.

“Under conditions that strongly suggest forced labor, Uighurs are working in factories that are in the supply chains of at least 83 well-known global brands in the technology, clothing and automotive sectors, including Apple, BMW, Gap, Huawei, Nike, Samsung, Sony and Volkswagen...”

The quote is from a report by the Australian Strategic Policy Institute titled Uyghurs for Sale. 


Speaking of Black Lives Matter, I refer to the national organization and its local chapters, why is the purple press not covering how the donations and the moral support of Wokies and newly minted corporate allies are being used to improve the lives of African-Americans?

The media only seems interested in reporting on (mostly peaceful) protests and the antics of Antifa. I know, I know, "if it bleeds, it leads" (if it burns, it earns? if it's shattered it matters?). 

Journalists have to eat and pay rent too, but depicting how the money is being spent and how the moral support is being utilized should serve to generate more money and moral support, right?


Speaking of protests, now would seem to be an excellent time for the sort of stories mentioned above since apparently the No Justice No Peace Club, Portland Oregon chapter, is taking a breather. 

Poor air quality, caused by wildfires, has put a damper on the activities of card-carrying members of the IUPPPP&PVTTOT and their fellow brothers/sisters/H. sapiens.

Interestingly, the current fires already are the subject of a Wikipedia entry, 2020 Oregon Wildfires. Some quotes of interest from the article:

"Through the end of July 2020, 90% of Oregon's wildfires had been caused by humans versus a yearly average of 70%, possibly because of increased outdoor recreation due to the COVID-19 pandemic."  

"Senator Jeff Merkley, (D-OR) decried Donald Trump's comments blaming forest management for the fires as a 'devastating lie.' Speaking on This Week with George Stephanopoulos, Merkley blamed climate change for the fires."


Speaking of protests again, check out this video:


A handful of apparently confused but determined protestors blocked a bus full of reporters from leaving Disney Word thinking it was the Los Angeles Lakers team bus — which was already gone. 

This contingent of Wokies was hoping that Lebron James and other Lakers who participated in a brief work(?) stoppage to support BLM would join them on the front lines, but they missed the bus.

This article from Yahoo! Sports explains the situation quickly and (relatively) cleanly (I'm so old I can remember reading articles not containing a single tweet). Unfortunately, even if they had stopped the right bus the players wouldn't be able to join them because that would bust the NBA bubble they're living in.


From the news that you can use but probably never heard of because our vaunted fourth estate mostly ignored it desk:  Phones used by the members of the Muller investigation into the Donald and his minions alleged collusion with the Pooteen "repeatedly and accidentally wiped phones assigned to them."

According to a mind-numbingly detailed report by Judicial Watch when the Special Counsel's Office (Fedrl Gummit lawyers) reviewed the phones for records-preservation purposes, it found 27 different phones were "reported wiped clean of all data prior to the review having taken place."

Clearly, Congress needs to investigate why it's so easy to accidentally erase all the data from a given cell phone. Is this true of all cell phones or just cell phones sold to The Fedrl Gummit?   


Thanks Cali! I'm amazed that the serfs of the People's Republic of California don't throw impromptu torch-free pitchfork parties whenever the state catches on fire and their Gaia worshiping, forest management forbidding green overlords blame the fire on climate change.

Californians have been breathing carbon saturated air for the last month or so but lately, when the sun comes up in Flyoverland, it looks like a giant full moon because left coast smoke serves as an optical filter.

Thanks, guys/girls/others! 

Poppa loves you,

P.S. Check out this page that the CDC updates weekly. Of 182,095 plague deaths (so far), 143,790 victims were 65 or older and 38,305 were under 65. 

Since 56,525 were 85 or older, and 363 were school-aged (5 - 24) out of a population of 327,167,434, why are the schools partially to completely shut down and why does the purple press keep telling us it's the end of the world?


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Saturday, September 12, 2020

Phobophobia

                                             Image by Sarah Richter from Pixabay 

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering

About 


Glossary 


Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"I may have made a tactical error not going to a physician for 20 years. It was one of those phobias that didn't pay off." -Warren Zevon


Dear (eventual) Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders),

The original title of this column was Phobiaphobia, not Phobophobia. I was reflecting on the currently fashionable practice (which has lost its charm) of appending the word phobia to other words to create a verbal weapon for use in the culture wars.

For example, Islamophobia, homophobia, transphobia, fatphobia — that sort of thing.

Since I find this a somewhat repellent practice, I thought I was suffering from a phobia-phobia. That is to say, the fear that the Wokies will never run out of words they can combine with phobia so as to keep expanding their arsenal of weaponized words.  

Since I'm a (more or less) conscientious columnist I went a-googlin' to discover if some other witty wordsmith had already coined phobiaphobia. It turns out that while it is used here and there, phobophobia is a commonly used term by psychologists and no shortage of other people 

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, and according to psychology, there is a fear of phobias. Since I really am a (more or less) conscientious columnist I'm going to abandon phobiaphobia lest I be accused of deliberately sowing confusion in a very confusing/confused era. 

[Fatphobia? Who's afraid of fat people?

Speaking as a man who doesn't go to Dunkin Doughnuts for the coffee, certainly not I. Do you consider yourself calorically challenged, Dana?

[I'm a clever literary device, I'm whatever your gentlereaders need/want me to be.]


Methinks it's time to repair to my enormous private library and consult my collection of dictionaries. It's distressingly dusty despite diligent dusting by a designated dogsbody but the fireplace, huge grandfather clock, and small herd of overstuffed chairs make it one of the most comfortable rooms in Cas de Chaos. 

[Library? What library? Are you talking about your Merriam-Webster Google App?]

Did you know cryophobia is the fear of ice or cold? I need to talk to someone, clearly, I should be taking heavy drugs.  

According to Merriam-Webster, a phobia is "an exaggerated usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation"   

Since my distaste/disgust for the phobification of certain words is explicable and logical, and there's no fear involved, it would seem I don't have either a phobiaphobia or suffer from phobophobia. 

Phew. The heavy drugs I anticipate will be necessary to control my cryophobia is a cross enough to bear. 

The bad news is that according to Merriam-Webster (I've always wondered what  his/her/their first name is?) phobification is so common it's considered to be something called a noun combining form and defined as:  

1: exaggerated fear of _______ 

2: intolerance or aversion for _______

I added the blank spaces for clarity's sake. In other words, adding the noun phobia to the noun of your choice is so common that Mr./Ms./? _______ Merriam-Webster has been forced to tweak the definition of phobia. 

[You know, if you were half as witty as you think you are a lot more of your regular readers would be willing to buy you a coffee.] 


Phobification turns something nebulous and undefined into a verbal cudgel wielded by Wokies to bludgeon their (actual or perceived) enemies, and often, each other.

[Huh?] 

Well, "an exaggerated usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation" jibes with how Harvard Medical School defines a phobia -- "A phobia is a persistent, excessive, unrealistic fear of an object, person, animal, activity or situation."  

The clear and well-written article linked to above explains that a real phobia is an often serious medical condition that should be diagnosed and treated by a professional. 

Compare that article to this one from Psychology Today that notes that a "lack of inclusion of same-sex couples and particularly ethnically diverse couples in the entertainment industry, marketing materials, and advertisements" subtly demonstrates how homophobic our society is. 

Apparently we don't share cable providers and she's accessing the Chinese version of the internet. 

Also, she uses the story of the baker who refused to bake a cake for a same-sex couple (and who was persecuted/prosecuted for better than six years) as a blatant example of homophobia. What's the fear of gentlepersons with religious convictions called? Or the fear of spending your money at some other bakery?


In the spirit of if ya can't beat 'em join 'em I thought I had invented a new phobia based noun combing form, caucaphobia: the exaggerated fear of or intolerance or aversion for white H. sapiens.

However, I went a-googlin' and discovered it's already in use so I'm trying to come up with a phobia that would also simultaneously include straight, old, and cisgender males. Stay tuned.   

[But caucaphobia sounds like...]

Once I do I plan to apply to the Intersectional Inquisition for approval as a member of a certified victim group. I bet there's some money in that, or at least some heavy drugs. 

Poppa loves you,
Have an OK day

Share this column or give me a thumb (up or in my eye) below. If my work pleases you you can buy me some cheap coffee with your debit/credit card.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page.

Cranky don't tweet.


  

Saturday, September 5, 2020

Fall Is Falling

A Mr. Cranky's Neighborhood Episode

                                                Image by JamesDeMers from Pixabay            

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — to advise them and haunt them after they become grups or I'm deleted.

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, and/or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering

About 


Glossary 


Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlerreader

"Fall is my favorite season in Los Angles, watching the birds change color and fall from the trees." -David Letterman  


Dear Grandstickies and Great-Grandstickies (and Gentlereaders), 

This morning, as I was perambulating about my neighborhood, fall fell.

Well, not so much fell as subtly slid in and sat down like a locally well-known sinner slinks into church after a soul-searing Saturday night, late yet again, and sits close to the door he/she/they just gently closed in order to effect a quick exit.

[Alliterate much? What on Earth are you on about now?] 

As much as possible, and what I'm on about is that although (hopefully) brightly colored leaves and frosty morns are still a ways off... 

["Frosty morns?" Gimme a break!]

I'm waxing poetic, Dana, you unrefined philistine.

[Whatever.]

Well said. Anyways, although the window air conditioners that randomly sprout from the walls of Casa de Chaos like acne vulgaris on a callowyute are still gently humming...  

[For the love of...]

Leaves, hither and thither, have begun to turn and fall.

[Crab apples on the ground have started to rot. Fruit flies gather 'round 'cause they like 'em a lot.] 


I heard a handful of hovering, honking geese approaching and my heart was hardened by hoar frost. 

[Oh please! It was 71 degrees!] 

Well, yeah, but nevertheless I did have a mild panic attack. You know how much I hate winter. I was rooting through my little grey cells and trying to remember if I had any valerian tea at home when they flew over. A half dozen geese in a half V formation (\), headed northwest.

Phew. It's just the boys/girls/um, gang? getting the band back together and working out the logistics for their annual Dixie tour. I've still got time to stock up on hot chocolate, check the blanket inventory, verify if there's enough rock salt in the mudroom, investigate the disappearance of the snow shovel, verify that no one drank the emergency brandy, install plastic sheathing on certain troublesome windows, etceterows. 

[You realize, of course, that the word Dixie might cause you to run afoul of the Intersectional Inquisition?]

Oh well, too late now. 


The Stickies have returned to school in meatspace and cyberspace. "Poppa the printers out of ink again." School busses look like they're transporting surgeons that don't get along.

Wait... you Stickies have returned to school? Now that I'm officially pushing 70 I sometimes get confused. Technically speaking I'm writing to the Stickies, well, mostly I'm writing to their future selves, but...

[We've talked about this. Mostly you're writing to/for your gentlereaders so for the sake of simplicity you... Get a grip and take your pills. Next thing you know you'll be known around the hood for screaming, "Get off my lawn!" at feral cats when you go out to get the mail.] 

Let's hope not, I'm...

[While we're on the subject, some of the neighbors have noticed you spend most of your waking hours in comfortable robes.]

Only because people would think I was weird if I wore one of my togas or kimonos. My slippers have sturdy soles in case I need to go outside and I wear clothes when I go walking or have to go (shudder) shopping. 

[So far at least.] 


Speaking of the neighbors, my favorite Morman (my 80-year-old next-door neighbor, not the sixties sitcom) just bought himself a trike to celebrate his recent retirement. Not one of those three-wheeled bikes with a basket on the back, I'm talking three-wheeled motorcycle.    

He's given up driving truck once or twice a week to maintain his driving chops and I guess the thrill of being the owner/operator of two enormous riding lawn mowers is gone so he got himself a Can-Am Spyder. 

Rock on Harlan. 


I've heard that birdwatching has enjoyed a renaissance of sorts because of the Wuhan flu lockdown. I've had a growing fascination with the last of the dinosaurs for a while now but so far it's one of those many things I keep threatening to do more about than I'm actually likely to do. 

In the course of the morning segment of my (theoretically) twice daily walks I often find myself walking down a certain street that's saturated with starlings. I swear the flock gets a little larger with each passing week.

Shades of Alfred Hitchcock.

I went a-googlin' and discovered that the distant ancestors of modern birds had teeth and that Ohio's starlings are infamous for their rapacious and aggressive behavior. 

What if some of 'em have mutated and now have teeth from eating genetically modified food? If you come across a headline like Ohio Man Killed by a Murmuration of Murderous Starlings it might not be clickbait. Gotta go, I'm working on a movie script.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Share this column or give me a thumb (up or in my eye) below. If my work pleases you you can buy me some cheap coffee with your debit/credit card.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page.

Cranky don't tweet.