The Ministry of Truth

Unleash the fedrl fact-checkers!

Image by www_slon_pics from Pixabay

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

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating meltdown.  

About

Glossary 

Featuring Dana: Hallucination, guest star, and charming literary device  

"Wikipedia does a great job on things like science and sports, but you see a lot of political bias come into play when you're talking current events." -Jonathan Weiss ("top 100" Wikipedian, 500k edits) 

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

When I heard that the Department of Homeland Security has created something called the Disinformation Governance Board (DGB) I immediately knew I'd be writing a column. I didn't know that I'd be writing a different column than the one that sprang immediately to mind.

However, I'm sticking with the obvious title that came immediately to mind in spite of the fact George Orwell's Ministry of Truth also came immediately to mind to all sorts of writers and talking heads who are Orwell fans, like me, or who are at least familiar with his most well-known book.     

At the very least it serves as world-class clickbait. It's hard out here for a writer, one must never pass on the unlikely chance he/she/they will go viral and be famous for a few seconds. 

{I thought it was 15 minutes?}

When Andy Warhol predicted that in the future everyone would be famous for 15 minutes his vision didn't include the internet, but this is a win/win/win situation from my perspective, Dana. If I'm accused of click-baiting I can claim I'm just an Orwell fan (true), that I think everyone should be (still true), and that I'm just trying to get the word out. 

Also, I predict that the woman person that Uncle Joe has designated the first Minister of Truth, Nina Jankowicz, will quickly go viral assuming the journalists and pseudo-journalists of the left start devoting as much coverage to a certain TikTok video that the journalists and pseudo-journalists of the right are. 

Clickbait + virtue signaling + wacky video = win/win/win.

But, as I hinted above, I've decided that instead of writing specifically about the Biden administration's version of the Ministry of Truth I'm taking a different tack. Besides, The Fedrl Gummit's already dancing the Biden Backpedal and it's hard to tell exactly what the DGBs who/what/when/where/why is going to be. 

It occurred to me that I could avoid having to write a synopsis of Orwell's literary version of what a very powerful government's ministry of propaganda would be like for the uninformed or the uninterested...

{I don't suppose it had anything to do with your lifelong hatred of writing about writing?}

I figured I could turn to my old but estranged friend, Wikipedia, although our relationship ain't what it used to be. 

As I've mentioned elsewhere, I no longer cough up the occasional requested donation when founder Jimmy Whales asks me to although I feel guilty about using and often enjoying, but not paying for, the hard work of others. In my defense, no less a personage than John Stossel is on my side.   

Anyways... I found a thorough and otherwise reasonably well-written article titled "Ministries of Nineteen Eighty-four" that starts off by providing the names of the ministries and explaining that the names are radically contradictory to their actual function. But it also states that:

The use of contradictory names in this manner may have been inspired by the British and American governments; during the Second World War, the British Ministry of Food oversaw rationing (the name "Ministry of Food Control" was used in World War I) and the Ministry of Information restricted and controlled information, rather than supplying it; while, in the U.S., the War Department was abolished and replaced with the "National Military Establishment" in 1947 and then became the Department of Defense in 1949, right around the time that Nineteen Eighty-Four was published. (My emphasis.)

May have been inspired? This is pure speculation/bias on the writer's part, that's been included in an encyclopedia. The author then cites three footnotes that don't even mention Orwell's "inspiration," making it look like his/her/their notion is widely shared... unless you read them. 

{You actually read footnotes?}

Rarely, but the "may have" set off my bonkercockie detector for valid reasons that would require another column to explain.

{Valid reasons... that are probably quite boring?} 

That's not the point.

[Dana executes an exaggerated yawn] 

{There's a point?}

Yup.  

The Wikipedia entry a given H. sapien may stumble on while trying to discover why there's such a fuss over the establishment of a disinformation governance board by unelected bureaucrats, that's run by an unelected bureaucrat here in "the land of the free," begins with misinformation.

That irony alone is enough to...

{I just don't see your problem. Would you like to co-sign my email alerting Ministerette Jancowitcz? I wonder if there are going to be bias response teams like they have at colleges and universities nowadays? Even Harvard's got one... or better yet, misinformation SWAT teams.}  

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Lost In Space

Your tax dollars at work. 

Image by nini kvaratskhelia from Pixabay 

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted. Best perused on a screen large enough for even your parents to see and navigate easily.   

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating meltdown.  

About

Glossary 

Featuring Dana: Hallucination, guest star, and charming literary device  

"If you are in a spaceship that is traveling at the speed of light, and you turn on the headlights, does anything happen?" -Steven Wright

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

Remember NASA? Well, they're in the news again and trying to get the most powerful rocket ever built off the ground so personkind can once again walk on the moon, perhaps even Mars... eventually.  

{The people that invented Tang, right?}

Those of us, well, many of us of a certain age (there were, and are, no shortage of Citizens of the Republic opposed to spending money on space exploration) fondly remember watching Neil Armstrong taking "one small step for (a?) man, one giant leap for mankind" on the surface of the moon. However, nobody has walked on the moon since 1972.  

{What's that (a?) about?}

Long story. Anyway, NASA — for those of you too old to remember, too young to care, or too busy to notice, NASA, a.k.a. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration — is the government entity that managed to get Mr. Armstrong to the moon. On 5/25/61 President John F. Kennedy asked Congress for the money to put Americans on the moon before the end of the decade. Neil Armstrong went for a walk on 7/20/69. 

{What was the hurry?}

The "space race" was one of the battles of the Cold War 1. America used to be able to get at least some things done relatively quickly. Compare that to California's effort, with a bunch o' billions tossed in by The Fedrl Gummit, to build a high-speed rail line from L.A. to San Francisco. They've been at it since 2008; a radically dumb downed version is (currently) scheduled to be completed by 2033.

NASA is still very much with us, but like the old gray mare, it ain't what it used to be. 

Until Tony Stark (Elon Musk) built his rocket ship we were completely dependent on the Russians to shuttle our astronauts/scientists to and from the International Space Station. The tickets are even more expensive than those for a Strolling Bones concert.

NASA's been building the most powerful rocket ever built — to return personkind to the moon, and theoretically, take a stroll on Mars — since 2011. 

The ship was supposed to be ready by 2016. It's currently being tested and NASA hopes to launch a return trip to the Moon in June but without any spoons. It will be an unpersoned flight that orbits the Moon, but doesn't land, and then returns home. 

{Doesn't that make it the ultimate drone? Now that's a kit I'd buy.}

Better start saving up then. The original estimate of $2,000,000,000 per flight is now $4,000,000,000 per flight for a rocket that can only be used once. NASA's spent about $23,000,000,000 on this project, so far, and will probably be looking to recover some of its investment, like any well-run government agency.   

And it doesn't come with a lunar module, the part that will actually land on the moon. Building that has been handed off to SpaceX, Mr. Musk's company. Or not.

Although SpaceX got the contract by beating out the likes of Boeing and Blue Origin, NASA recently announced that it will be seeking bids for someone to build a second lander, while simultaneously expanding Tony Stark's contract.

{This is a goof, right? You made that last part up.}   

Nuh-uh. Follow the link or do your own research. 

The good(?) news is that NASA hopes that someone will be walking on the Moon as early as 2025, the culmination of a 13-year-long project. However, please note it only took them eight years, half a century ago, using computers that were less powerful than the phone in your pocket.

Which brings us to Bill Nelson. 

{It does?}   

Clarence William Nelson, who will be 80 years old next September, has been running NASA for the last year or so. Mr. Nelson, a professional politician since the last time someone walked on the Moon, is highly qualified for the job. 

He grew up near Cape Canaveral and was the second sitting member of Congress to fly in space on the space shuttle Columbia, 35 years ago. Before getting his current job, he served on the NASA Advisory Council for a couple of years, one of 12 committees that meets 3 times a year and offers advice to NASA.

Former Senator Nelson was confirmed by unanimous consent (without a vote) by his former colleagues. 

In other news, Elon Musk, asked if he is worried about NASA getting to Mars before he does while eating lunch, started laughing, and choked on a sandwich. An unknown hero administered the Heimlich maneuver and tragedy was averted. 

{Now I know you made all that up!}

Only the part about Tony Stark Elon Musk's close encounter with a sandwich.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

P.S. 4/19/22, "NASA’s huge 'Mega Moon rocket' is being removed from its launchpad and sent for repairs after failing three fuel tests in two weeks. Following the failures, NASA has said that the rocket’s slated June launch window will be 'challenging' to meet."

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Feel free to comment and set me straight on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my latest columns on Saturdays, other things other days. Cranky don't tweet.

My Favorite Mormons

A Mr. Cranky's Neighborhood Story.  

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted. Best perused on a screen large enough for even your parents to see and navigate easily.   

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating meltdown.  

About

Glossary 

Featuring Dana: Hallucination, guest star, and charming literary device  

"Old age and treachery will always beat youth and exuberance." -David Mamet

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

My favorite Mormons (no connection to the early sixties sitcom) live in the house next door to Casa de Chaos. I've mentioned them in previous episodes of Mr. Cranky's neighborhood. Both Mr. and Mrs. Morman are 80ish. Both, as you might expect, suffer from a health problem or three. 

The weather in early spring in the Hooterville metropolitan area is often a study in sharp contrasts. You can wake up to snow and 15 degrees one morning and the next day the high temp can shoot up into the sixties. 

Recently, the temperature remained in the civilized zone for a few days before a blast from Canada came through and reminded me of why I'm glad Tricky Dick ended the Vietnam draft just before I might've been forced to decide if I wished to become a Canadian citizen. 

I happened to glance out of our kitchen window and saw Mr. Mormon tinkering with his Can-Am Spyder, an extremely cool-looking three-wheeled motorcycle, gently throttling the engine up and down. Unlike a certain brand of motorcycle that shall remain nameless, the Can-Am's motor is as quiet as its competitor's motor is loud, a gentlepersons sort of motor. 

{You've also made mention of this old dude's bike in other Mr. Cranky's neighborhood episodes. What's your point?}

I have two points actually. First, my big brother Eddie taught me a long time ago that in the case of non-birthing persons over the age of 30, with (temporary) exemptions for men caught up in a midlife crisis, the louder the motor, the smaller the penis is likely to be. You can look it up. 

{Are you trying to get your butt kicked?}

Second point. I was completely unaware that Mrs. Momom had ever/would ever awkwardly and carefully climb onto the back seat of the trike and join her partner of multiple decades for a spin around the neighborhood, neither of them wearing a helmet. 

When I expressed my surprise to my daughter, who's always much more in tune than me with what the denizens of our hood are up to, she told me I was reporting old news and that the two of them taking a spin was not uncommon. 

When I pointed out they weren't wearing helmets and they're even older, much older, than I am, she helpfully pointed out that they, like most people, aren't actually that much older than me. And given that it has three wheels, that he doesn't go very fast, and they don't go very far, they were both likely to survive the journey. 

I'm happy to report that they survived and that the next day I saw Mrs. Mormon awkwardly and carefully descending her porch steps while grasping the handrail with one hand and the hand of a toddler, one of her many grandkids, with the other. 

I still take a daily walk around my neighborhood most mornings; you need to keep moving if you want to keep moving, which brings...

{Wait-wait-wait, I wanna write that down.}

Which brings us to dogs and canes.  

{Well, obviously.}

I use a HurryCane, the preferred cane of cool kids everywhere, because I suffer from something called lumbar spinal stenosis and osteoarthritis. Actually, suffer is too strong a word, I'm somewhat inconvenienced by both conditions, but I refuse to have back surgery if or until it's absolutely necessary (right, Ben?).

I give my cane full credit for enabling me to walk away from a recent encounter with a Pit Bull unscathed. Fellow geezers and geezerettes, if you use a cane, or perhaps even if you don't, and regularly walking is part of your fitness routine...

{Maybe even the only part.}   

And if you prefer walking around your neighborhood to walking around your local mall...

{I hear that's a good way to meet chicks.}  

Get yourself a cane like the HurryCane, one with three or four, stabilizers(?) on the bottom. Something a barking, growling, drooling beastie can't fail to notice when you point it at its face while slowly inching sideways towards safety, never taking your eyes off of the little furry little... 

{One of them babies with a large, four-pronged frame on the end would be great. You could have a prong with a point added in the middle that's shorter than the others so it wouldn't touch the ground. Then...} 

Because even if Cujo's owner comes running and begins screaming at the dog because it seems reluctant to pass on a chance to have fresh human for breakfast, you might still have a chance if it chooses to be a bad doggie.

{Do they still make sword canes?}  

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

P.S. No canines or writers were injured in the course of the events that led to this column being composed. However, I must confess that I (only briefly, of course) fantasized about reenacting the Caning of Charles Sumner with the assistance of the dog's owner who mumbled a brief, insincere sounding apology in my direction while screaming at his dog to go back to the house.

I noticed he didn't attempt to grab it by the collar (no chain in sight); he must have been smarter than he looked.    

Scroll down to share this column/access oldies. If you enjoy my work, and no advertising, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal/credit-debit card.    

Feel free to comment and set me straight on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my latest columns on Saturdays, other things other days. Cranky don't tweet.