A Fungus Among Us

May you live in interesting times.

Image by mikezwei 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  

"Bureaucracy is like a fungus that contaminates everything." -Jaime Lerner

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

Much to my surprise, I recently enjoyed a TV series on HBO titled The Last of Us.  

It's based, I'm told, on a videogame of the same name that's been around for a while. I'm also led to believe that it's not Hollywood's first attempt to turn a popular game into a popular movie or TV show. 

However, I'm also told it's the best one of many attempted so far, that this is a RBFD, particularly to gamers, and that we can expect an onslaught of video entertainment based on all sorts of popular games going forward. 

{And who told you this?} 

I was speaking figuratively, Dana. I've done a bit of research and read a bunch of articles. I...

{As I suspected given the fact you tend to sneer at video games and the people who play them. While we're at it, let's talk about your disdain for movies and TV shows based on comic books.} 

Whoa, I don't sneer at the people who play video games and/or read comic books. To paraphrase what I once heard Louis Armstrong say (I think in the Ken Burns documentary Jazz), If you like it, it's good entertainment (music). 

I do tend to sneer at video games and comic books themselves. However, I loved reading comic books and playing pinball games when I was a child. In fact... 

{I'd move on at this point if I were you, while you still have a reader or two left.}

Good point.

The show's about Joel (fifty-something) and Ellie (a teenager) who are on a road trip from hell, trying to make their way across an America in which a fungus has turned most people into zombies. (I know, I know, but it's actually pretty good.)

There's plenty of graphic and gruesome violence (of course), but both of the actors are good at their craft, there's an actual more or less believable plot and actual character development.

{No boobies?}

What are you talking about?

{Didn't you say that movies and TV shows top-heavy with bouncing boobies and/or buckets of blood should come with B&B ratings? How about DP for male characters displaying dangling participles.} 

Gentlepersons, please ignore the (not necessarily) charming literary device.   

There's even dialog that doesn't sound like it was written by an algorithm that's missed one too many updates. 

For example, at one point Ellie asks Joel questions about what life was like prior to the dystopia she takes as a given and one of his answers is, "Some people wanted to own everything and some people didn't want anyone to own anything at all."

Gadzooks! A plug for the sane folks that try to walk down the middle of the path in an era in which people that drive down the middle of the road are often turned into stewed tomatoes by ideologues driving virtual 18-wheelers.

{How do you figure?} 

It's not just the subtle context of the quote itself, it's the context of the conversation within which it occurs. Occasionally, subtle dialog more accurately mirrors the real world than dialog composed using a hammer and chisel and delivered in like manner, and that's another reason I like the show. 

{What does that even mean?}

The writers/producers/actors etc. aren't all people with hammers in search of nails.

{Are we done? We're short, like, 150 or so words.}     

Nope. I want to expand on Joel's quote.

The reason I like "Some people wanted to own everything and some people didn't want anyone to own anything at all" so much is because it's true, but he could've added, most people just tried to get along and find a way to pay the bills. 

The outrage industrial complex (OIC), left-leaning division, would have us believe that the Earth is controlled by insatiable, evil capitalists who do indeed want it all. 

The right-leaning division would have us believe that the left side of the path is completely controlled by evil Wokies who want everyone to share everything equally like that commune your cousin joined where things ended so badly.

I believe that the oligarchs of both divisions play us against each other for power and profit, and that class war trumps culture war. 

I'm so old that I can remember when America's traditional left and right — a.k.a the center-left and center-right — used to be able to argue things out, sometimes just for fun, over a beer or a cup of coffee and get up the next day and get on with their lives. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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It Never Ends

Image by 1035352 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  

"...democracy is the worst form of government - except for all the others that have been tried..." -Winston Churchill 

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

It's never going to end, is it? 

This issue serves as a perfect illustration of one of the downsides of democracy, the ability of a small, noisy, dedicated group of citizens — endlessly energized by their belief that they're on the side of the angels — willing to hold the rest of the country hostage.

In fact, it's easier to do nowadays than it was in ancient Athens. Back then you had to round up the boys and have 'em all meet at the Pnyx. Since boys will be boys, they would've just as soon been home chillin' out on the klinē, drinking lite-wine, and watching ΈΣΡΝ. 

{Why easier these days?}

The internet, social media, the purple press, etc.

{Point taken... hey, misogyny alert! What about the women of ancient Athens?} 

Only the male citizens of Athens were eligible to debate and vote. 

Since ancient Athenian men were openly sexist and owned literally thousands of slaves (and for all intents and purposes, their wives and daughters), I wonder why the Wokies haven't trashed all their leftover statues. 

{I'll bet that's how the Venus de Milo lost her arms, ancient Wokies! But we drift.} 

Yes, we do, Dana. Back to abortion. 

 

I refuse to quote specific poll results because many of the articles I found about the subject reported the poll results of various organizations, which of course, varied, but more importantly the context and narratives within which the results were reported varied wildly. 

{Welcome to the Information Age.}  

But that's not going to keep me from declaring that a comfortable majority of my fellow Citizens of the Republic support legal, unrestricted abortion up to about 16 weeks or so with exceptions after that for rape, incest, and health problems.  

I checked out European abortion laws because my left-leaning friends often point out how much more liberal and civilized life in Europe is. I found an article from March of last year on the website of the left-leaning Human Rights Watch lauding France for extending their 12-week limit to 14 weeks, the same as Spain. 

{Where, as we all know, the rain falls mainly... why are you looking at me like that?}  

Before I go on permit me to state for the record, I tend to lean right and I fully support the Supremes, well, the majority of them anyway, relatively recently ruling that the Constitution does not guarantee the right to get an abortion.

{I think I've relatively recently come to hate alliteration as much as you love it.}

If they had ruled that way on 1/22/73 we might have moved on by now. I hope when the smoke clears, well, dissipates, people will settle down and decide to live and let live. 

So, what's the problem? The majority of Americans (and our European friends and frenemies) have maintained, more or less, the same opinion for decades, let's compromise. Say, 12 to 16 weeks, with appropriate exceptions?

Even Congress should be able to hammer something out. 

{Yeah, right. Hey, I thought you wanted the states to decide individually?}

What I said was that the Supremes were wrong when they decided Roe v. Wade way back when by finding a right in the Constitution that wasn't/isn't there, resolving nothing. 

Instead, the people opposed to most, or even all forms of abortion went to war (occasionally literally) with the folks that wanted few to no restrictions and the majority that wanted/want a rational compromise. 

Many members of the rational majority believe that abortion should be safe and legal, but, rare and practice what they preach, which results in a lot of unplanned babies being born anyway. 

It also results, unfortunately, in a lot of babies not being born, but it also, fortunately, results in a lot of women staying safe, legal, and out of "back alleys." 

{Do you have the statistics to back up your claims?}

Nope. All I have to offer is 70 years of living in the real world and a modicum of common sense. 

Finally, since controversy is all the rage, let me finish by expressing my sympathy to the radical pro-life people but respectfully suggest you channel your outrage into promoting adoption and even orphanages run by religious organizations (gasp!) where kids are allowed, even encouraged, to pray. 

Gentlemen: Saying that only a woman should decide if she should have an abortion since it's her body (pulling a Pontius Pilate) is pure bonkercockie. Immaculate conceptions are exceedingly rare. 

Gentlewomen: Pink pussycat hats are offensive at worst, and tacky at best.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share my work or access oldies. Buy an old crank a coffee? Extra content is available to members of Cranky's Coffee Club.    

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You Can Call Me... Elmer (Part 2)

Don't call me Al, or late for dinner. Ba Dum Tss

Image by Vkastro 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  

"As I've said before, free money scams are a problem." -Mathew Lesko 

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

In You Can Call Me... Elmer (Part 1), I cleverly tied together the occasional disruptions in my cash flow prior to retirement to religious cults to financial cults to Amway, a firm that makes billions of bucks by serving(?) souls seeking financial salvation.

I wish to elaborate on why thinking about cults got me thinking about Amway. 

For a yearly fee of only $76 (or the equivalent if you're a citizen of one of the 99+ countries besides the U.S. Amway operates in), you can allegedly supplement your inadequate income, or even build a full-time business of your own. 

Your fellow Amway "independent business owners" will show you how and provide resources and guidance. Not only do the folks who sign up folks and teach them how to sign up other folks so that everyone can get rich (or at least less financially stressed), they helpfully supply meetings, classes, seminars, literature, etc. — "business support materials" — for a price. 

{Amway's (in)famous for that sort of thing, it's widely known, what's your point?}

Amway's reputation for holding meetings and rallies that resemble revival meetings to fire up the troops is one of the reasons some call Amway a cult.

Another is that it's possible to find yourself being recruited by one of the faithful who lured you into a pitch by being careful to never utter the word Amway, a tactic common to people who recruit new members to join cults. 

This actually happened to me once and I nearly lost a friend who talked my late, great, sorta/kinda mother-in-law (it's complicated) into meeting a certain someone who wished to discuss a "business opportunity."

Joyce: "This isn't Amway is it John?"

John: "It's just a great idea that I, uh, personally recommend."  

At a certain point in this person's pitch, which I also attended, Joyce had an aha! moment and forced him to admit that he was looking to add people to his Amway "downline." 

When it was made, um, abundantly clear to this individual that the meeting was over and that he should go away, now, Dr. Amway transformed into Mr. Hyde and viciously turned on her before stomping off into the sunset. 

However, no one was killed, and my embarrassed friend apologized, slunk out, and shortly thereafter decided that Amway wasn't for him either.  

I don't have a problem with Christians, in fact, although I'm not a Christian, I'm hoping that America has one of its periodic Christian Great Awakenings soon to fill the growing God-shaped hole in the American heart that the wacky Wokies are, to a great extent, responsible for.

{Huh?}

long story, Dana, and perhaps a future column. 

I don't have a problem with the adherents of any faith that take their religious beliefs seriously and live their lives accordingly. Assuming, of course, they believe that "live and let live" are also words to literally live by and are willing to gracefully share the playground with all the other kids. 

I firmly believe that the sermon you live is much more effective than the sermon you preach and I'm repelled by spiritual/moral/ethical/etcetrical hypocrisy (all sins, I confess, that I'm occasionally guilty of). 

I've personally been involved with more than one materially successful individual, Christian and otherwise, who wore/wear their faith on their sleeves, seemingly oblivious to the fact their success derives from their willingness to exploit others.

I've heard varied versions, delivered with a straight face, of what I think of as divine-right monarch logic. "If God disapproved of my actions I wouldn't be wearing a crown, right? 

Amway's founders, Jay Van Andel ("Christianity involved the living out of Biblical values of honesty, generosity, and respect for others in our everyday life.") and Richard DeVos ("As business moves forward, you realize that God has his hand on the whole business and that he brought people to you who are like-minded. It starts with faith.") were both billionaires when they died. 

In 1993, Mr. DeVos published a book titled Compassionate Capitalism: People Helping People Help Themselves. According to Amazon DeVos argues that as capitalism spreads around the world "it needs to develop a moral base that would incorporate the interests of corporations, workers, customers, and the environment." My emphasis.

   

From last week's column: Amway reports on a 2021 U.S. Income Disclosure that "For calendar year 2021, the average income for all U.S. registered IBOs at the Founders Platinum level and below was $766 before expenses."

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share my work or access oldies. Buy an old crank a coffee? Extra content is available to members of Cranky's Coffee Club.    

Comments? I post my columns on Facebook and Twitter where you can love me, hate me, or try to have me canceled. Don't demonize, seek a compromise. 

 

You Can Call Me... Elmer (Part One)

Don't call me Al, or late for dinner. Ba Dum Tss

Image by Vkastro 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  

"I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult." 

                                                                                            -Rita Rudner

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

{Elmer?}

As in Elmer Gantry, Dana.

{Who?}

Elmer Gantry is the protagonist (and title) of an excellent novel written by Sinclair Lewis and an excellent movie more or less based on the book. 

{Oh... okay.} 

Prior to retirement, I was what you'd call a working stiff for the majority of the 45 years I spent earning a living. The velocity of my cash flow was occasionally reduced to that of certain sections of the Rio Grande River when Texas is in the midst of one of its periodic droughts.

{Oh... okay.}

This sort of situation sometimes led to my consideration of various and sundry get-rich-quick or slower but seemingly more reliable schemes to resolve this regularly recurring problem once and for all. 

{You know, other people have...}

Yeah, I know, and I did too, or tried to, repeatedly, but it never worked out very well. I'm not complaining mind you, but I also don't feel guilty. I can declare with a straight face that sometimes it was my fault, but mostly it wasn't. 

And when it wasn't it could easily lead to the kind of idle speculation mentioned above. However, I never once attempted to start a spiritual cult despite the low barriers to entry in the religion business.

{If you weren't so loath to deploy hackneyed cliches, at this point I'd react with a, wait...what?} 

Elmer Gantry was in the religion business; he was a hustler, a phony. He didn't start a cult, preferring to operate within more traditional religious structures. I myself would've preferred leading a modestly sized cult. 

I'm a low-profile sort of dude who would've been content with two or three subservient (by nature, not by training) concubines, a modest income, and pepperoni pizza at least once a week. 

I would've been a kind shepherd to my flock, but I think that traveling that particular road requires a degree of sociopathology beyond my relatively modest one. Besides, I should think that being a spiritual con artist would be as exhausting as any career that requires being an inveterate liar. 

May as well get a real job, or join a cult, a secular one dedicated to resolving your financial problems, like Amway. 

{AMWAY'S A PYRAMID SCHEME!}

Amway: "We manufacture and distribute nutrition, beauty, personal care and home products—which are exclusively sold in 100 countries through Amway Independent Business Owners (IBOs)." My emphasis. 

Hey, ya gotta figure it's easy to accidentally step on some toes when your company's that hooge. 

Wikipedia: "Amway has been investigated in various countries and by institutions such as the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) for alleged pyramid scheme practices. It has never been found guilty though it has paid tens of millions of dollars to settle these suits."

Honest mistakes or cost of doing business?

FYI, "...exclusively sold (my emphasis again) in 100 countries through Amway Independent Business Owners (IBOs)" is at the top of a web page with a link a few inches away, SHOP PRODUCTS, that will enable you to access Amway's entire product line and skip dealing with a "registered" IBO (who pays Amway $76 a year for the privilege). 

Just sayin'.

I had forgotten about Amway. There are certain advantages to being a relatively reclusive retiree who's no longer a member of most "target markets." 

I thought perhaps they were no longer in business but they still are, very much so. I went a-googlin' and discovered that their revenues are almost $9,000,000,000 a year and that they're an international firm that does business here, there, and waaay over there, in China, their largest market. 

{I wonder if Uyghurs are allowed to be IBOs?}

In my defense, it's been a while since anyone has tried to sign me up to be an IBO much less tried to sell me some merchandise, which used to happen regularly. Fun fact: Amway is the largest MLM (multi-level marketing) company on the planet Earth, amazing what can happen when you're not paying attention.

Another fun fact: Amway reports on a 2021 U.S. Income Disclosure that "For calendar year 2021, the average income for all U.S. registered IBOs at the Founders Platinum level and below was $766 before expenses."

Hmm, let's see... 766... divide by 12... that's $63.83 a month before expenses. 

Hoo-boy. 

It would seem that the Founders Platinum level should be called the Founders Aluminum level as I suspect that recycling cans would be a viable alternative. 

To be continued...

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share my work or access oldies. Buy an old crank a coffee? Extra content is available to members of Cranky's Coffee Club.    

Comments? I post my columns on Facebook and Twitter where you can love me, hate me, or try to have me canceled. Don't demonize, seek a compromise. 

 

    

              

 

At the Movies Again

Image by rosi capurso 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  

"We are not trying to entertain the critics. I'll take my chances with the public."

                                                                                               -Walt Disney                                                                                                                                                            

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

I wrote a column in early January titled At the Movies. The subtitle was With apologies to Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert.

As many of you know, but many may not given that it went off the air in 1990, Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert were film critics featured on a popular TV show called At the Movies which was the second version of a show that had started in 1975.  

Yeah, you're that old. 

A thumbs up or thumbs down rating from Siskel&Ebert was a RBFD at the time, not that they necessarily agreed. 

As hard as it may be to believe for those of you who have grown up Twittering, or those of you old enough to forget, intelligent, civilized, and often even light-hearted arguments among people who disagreed were once commonplace.

The column that I titled At The Movies was about how I had gradually gone from frequently going to movie theaters as a kid to eventually almost never going as a grup as ticket prices rose and movie quality fell.   

{And/or you aged out of the demographic cohort Hollywood makes movies and TV shows for.}

Methinks that's intended as an insult, Dana. However, I view it as a compliment. THBPBPTHPT!

Anyway, now that I'm retired, I confess that one of my favorite things to do is watch an episode of a "prestige" TV series while eating a low-brow meal. I have the palate of a 10-year-old boy, a 10-year-old boy from the middle of the last century. The Stickies all have fairly sophisticated palates and are gourmets compared to me.

Long story short, "Prestige" TV ain't what it used to be so I've had to resort to Rotten Tomatoes (.com) to find movies I might want to watch or unearth obscure TV shows that might be worth watching. 

Therein hangs a tale. 

If you read the reviews that were used to determine a given productions rating, as you might expect, given that the internet offers us the dubious blessing of too much of just about everything, Rotten Tomatoes offers no shortage of the opinions of movie and television critics ranging from the Hooterville Herald to the New York Times. 

Positive and negative reviews are tallied and a verdict is rendered. I have no problem with that although you must take your tomatoes with a grain or two of salt. The site also includes the collated views of everyday Joan, Joe, and J. Bagadonutses. 

If both groups agree that something is awful, it usually is. But if just the critics overwhelmingly endorse a movie or TV show, look out. There's a good chance it's going to suck sweaty socks.

{Everyone knows that, what's your point?} 

I've got two points. The first concerns the tendency of many of the critics to mention, in some form or fashion, that while the movie or TV show in question is mediocre and predictable at best, to declare that it could be worse, and bestowing what amounts to a sideways thumb.

"I give this move a sideways thumb. It's sort of stupid but one of the actors is really good, or the cinematography is amazing, or the special effects are great, etc.

Point two is because social justice. 

Cynical old fart that I am, I figured that the industry pays off the critics. But I went a-googlin' and the general consensus is that this isn't true. 

So I think the reason I so often read something like "It's sort of stupid but..." is because brutally honest critics will anger audiences and Hollywood alike. Also, they've got to write something beyond "this movie/TV show is stupid, don't waste your precious time" even if the resulting multiple paragraphs waste the reader's precious time. 

As to, because social justice, there's apparently no shortage of woke movie and TV critics lose in the world. 

This results in a given critic feeling compelled to inform us as to whether or not the production in question was made by and/or includes an adequate number of members of registered marginalized minorities, and if the plot is politically correct. 

I wonder if that's why so many movies and TV shows are saturated with nihilism or sex or violence... or all of the above. Since everything is politicized, is that why stylized, over-the-top sensationalism is such a popular form of entertainment? 

Is that what it takes to provide an escape from the stylized, over-the-top, all politics, all the feckin' time sensationalism endlessly pushed by the purple press and social media? 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share my work or access oldies. Buy an old crank a coffee? Extra content is available to members of Cranky's Coffee Club.    

Comments? I post my columns on Facebook and Twitter where you can love me, hate me, or try to have me canceled. Don't demonize, seek a compromise. 

    

White Privilege

Image by 1820796 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  

"My schooling gave me no training in seeing myself as an oppressor, as an unfairly advantaged person, or as a participant in a damaged culture." -Peggy McIntosh 

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

Not long ago, on yet another cold, damp, overcast winter morning in Northern Ohio, I awoke and like most men of a certain age hastily headed for the bathroom. 

Opening the door of my warm, cozy bedroom, I grabbed my cane and stepped out into the chilly hallway which resulted in the usual mild shock, the result of going from 72 humidified degrees to 66 un-humidified ones. 

I'm one of those old geezers that get up early, very early in my case, and a programmable thermostat will not nudge the furnace to raise the temperature of the rest of Casa de Chaos to a luxurious 68 till 6 a.m., a half an hour or so before Stickies start appearing if it's a school day. 

Self-indulgent, planet-destroying, privileged persons of pallor that we are, the temperature will remain at a balmy 68 till 11 p.m. before dropping back to 66 again. 

I was in too much of a hurry to put on my slippers and the tiled bathroom floor made me feel like I was crossing the frozen tundra. I was reminded that I didn't live in a house with central heating till I was 13 and felt grateful for the enormous, inefficient, outdated furnace in the basement.

Next, I returned to my room and checked on my countertop humidifier. It consumes both water and electricity but helps to prevent rubbing/scratching my dry skin raw in my sleep. 

I then checked on and tweaked the oil-filled space heater strategically placed in front of the room's only heating duct so it doesn't use as much electricity (the furnace helps keep the oil warm) because the room temperature had jumped to 73.

I've turned into one of those old farts that always feels cold in the wintertime but I'm stuck north of the Mason-Dixon line. I put my slippers on and sought out the services of the Keurig machine in the kitchen. 

K-cups were ridiculously overpriced before our current transitory inflation problem so I placed 3 or 4 tablespoons of Cafe Bustelo (the price of which has temporarily risen by a buck a can even at Dollar General) in a washable/reusable K-container and made myself the first of the two cups of coffee I'll drink today.  

I returned to my room and started my day with a current events/email check via my low-end Chromebox (a variation of a Chromebook), my virtual window on the world. It also serves as my Kindle, stereo, word processor, and TV. I use my phone as a phone. 

I wrote for about an hour and then pulled up the free Google Docs spreadsheet I use to keep track of my money titled Robbing Peter, Paying Paul and commenced doing just that. Despite having worked full-time, including many 6 and 7-day weeks for 45 years, my fixed income is rather modest. To paraphrase a rhyme my daughter used to sing-song when she was a kid:

Poor old Poppa,

Sittin' on a fence, 

Tryin' to make a dollar 

Out of 15 cents.

Speaking of my daughter, she popped in to say hey for a minute before trudging upstairs to bed, exhausted from being up all night baking at the bakery she works at. I wondered if my son-in-law made it home by midnight or worked late because overtime was available. 

The following question then popped into my head. I wonder where the phrase white privilege came from? I went a-googlin'. 

An English teacher/feminist/anti-racism activist/women's studies scholar is credited with popularizing the phrase in question. Dr. Peggy McIntosh received a Ph.D. from Harvard "where she wrote her dissertation on Emily Dickenson's Poems About Pain."

In 1988 Ms. McIntosh also wrote a (famous in certain circles) essay titled, WHITE PRIVILEGE AND MALE PRIVILEGE: A Personal Account of Coming to See Correspondences Through Work in Women's Studies.

An essay, proudly based on the professor's "lived experience," which was/is somewhat different than the lived experience of me, mine, and probably yours has nevertheless impacted our lives. 

Wikipedia: "This work has been included in many K-12 and higher education course materials, and has been cited as an influence for later social justice commentators."

For your edification, here's the long version, here's a much shorter one. 

Enjoy.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Older, Not Necessarily Wiser

A quotable quotes column. 

Image by Brigitte Werner 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 

"Old age isn't so bad when you consider the alternative." -Maurice Chevalier

Dear Stickies and Gentlereaders,

Wisdom is alleged to be a side effect of old age. 

Oscar Wilde said that "With age comes wisdom, but..." (the writer emphasizes but, and then pauses for effect).

{But what?}

The second half of the quote is, but sometimes age comes alone. 

H.L. Mencken said, "The older I grow the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom."

Kurt Vonnegut said, "True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country." 

I'm currently 69 (the new 39) years old and recently discovered that the average age of the members of the U.S. Senate is only 64, which means that many of them weren't even old enough to be freshmenpersons when I was a senior and everyone knows how uncool freshpersons are. 

However, I also discovered that 34 of 'em are older than I am and that a personal favorite of mine, Chuck Grassley, a friend of corn farmers everywhere, is 89 and tied for first place with Danne Feinstein. Ms. Feinstein, as you may have heard, was recently surprised to discover she was retiring. 

The average age of the members of the House is a youthful 57, which means that when I was a senior in high school, the average Congressperson was only in second grade. However, 87 are my age or older, 36 are 75 or older, and 12 range in age from 80 to 86.  

   

{What's your point?}

When I become king, Dana, I'm going to decree that 75 is the mandatory retirement age for congresspersons. If they wish to continue to serve the people they can always get jobs as lobbyists.

As of 2020, the average H. sapien was dead by the age of 73.7. Currently, there are 60 lucky members of the 118th Congress who are beating the odds. As of 1/23, the congressional approval rating stood at 21%. Your question answers itself. 

Sylvia Garcia, 72 (D.-Tx) who represents "much of eastern Houston" according to Wikipedia, has only been a congressperson since 2019 but has been a politician for roughly 40 years. Recently, she was (semi) famous for (almost) 15 minutes. 

Ms. Garcia is a member of the Select Subcommittee on the Weaponization of the Federal Government, details here if, unlike me, you have a life and find following politics and/or current events boring and would like a briefing. 

Bottom line: The Red team says The Fedrl Gummit has been stepping, treading if you will, on the rights of the people it's supposed to serve. The Blue Team says nuh-uh.  

Journalists Matt Taibbi and Michael Shellenberger were called in front of the committee to testify about their role in publishing the details of what appears to have been a, um, unhealthy relationship between Twitter and The Fedrl Gummit (TFG) prior to its purchase by Tony Stark, a.k.a. Elon Musk.  

If you're unfamiliar with that kerfuffle... take care, and I'll catch ya later. It would take a column or two to even begin to adequately explain that particular he said, she said, they said.

    

In the following YouTube clip, Congressperson Garcia is beating up on Messers. Taibbi and Shellenberger for refusing to reveal what she wants to know about the stuff they've published that reveals some shady connections between Twitter and TFG prior to Mr. Musk's purchase.  

While this would seem to prove that getting on the wrong side of TFG can get ya stepped on, Ms. Garcia, at 72, is as focused and relentless as Jack McCoy on Law & Order back in the day.

Until...

At about five minutes in she reveals that she doesn't know who Bari Weiss is. 

Ms. Weiss (apropos of nothing, a fellow former Yinzer) is a journalist who's had important jobs at the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. Nowadays, like Mr. Taibbi, she's gone out on her own, via Substack, in order to practice traditional (i.e. real) journalism, with no one to answer to but her readers.

Musk turned to her and Taibbi for that very reason. They have led the charge to get the story, stories (Pl) actually, out into the world. Congressperson Garcia, with a straight face, asks Mr. Shelleberger if he, Taibbi, and Weiss are "...in this as a threesome?"

Cue grins and suppressed laughter. 

Garcia, apparently oblivious, continues her attack as if nothing happened, instantly losing all credibility. The head of the committee, Congressman Jim Jordan, then provides a succinct epilogue to the performance. 

       

                                                The End 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share my work or access oldies. Buy an old crank a coffee? Extra content is available to members of Cranky's Coffee Club.    

Comments? I post my columns on Facebook and Twitter where you can love me, hate me, or try to have me canceled. Don't demonize, seek a compromise.