Grandpa, Tell Me 'Bout The Good Old Days

A clickbaity title, a question, and an answer.

Image by OpenClipart-Vectors 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 

"Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them." -Goethe

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

A question from a gentlereader: What do you mean when you say you're writing these letters to your grandkid's eventual selves? 

I'm just a grandpa, talkin' 'bout the good ol' da...

{Please, just stop.} 

Answer: While I'm delighted to report that the current crop continues to exceed my expectations, it's still relatively early and won't be fully ripened for a while yet. It's a rare H. sapien that's fully ripened before the age of 25 and it's not unusual for the process to last till the age of 30 or so, as it did in my case. 

They're free to read them now of course, and make of them what they will or won't, but it's not just a matter of them being mature enough to appreciate the wit and wisdom of their beloved grandfather. 

These letters are a sort of oral history that's being written in real-time. Instead of some present or future version of me being interviewed and recorded by someone else, I'm both interviewer and interviewee and I serve multiple constituencies.

{Interviewee?}  

What? That's a real word. I'm writing to the Stickies, their future selves, Stickies who haven't arrived yet, my current self ("Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers." -Isaac Asimov), my future self, and of course, my gentlereaders.   

I'm a Boomer born in the middle of my best century so far, baby...

{You can't help yourself, can you?}  

And I'm the fortunate/accidental beneficiary of a bunch of blessings.

My grandparents, on my father's side, were both immigrants from the now-defunct Austro-Hungarian Empire. He was a mechanic and she was a housewife. Mum's mom was a farm girl and her dad was a coal miner. 

I have/had no shortage of aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, and nieces and nephews. I came up in both gritty, inner-city Pittsburgh neighborhoods and a couple of green suburbs — both bulging with fellow Boomers and Boomerettes.  

My father was a painter (of walls and trim, not canvasses) and Mum was a stay-at-home mom, which at the time was the rule, not the exception. They had seven kids and when their luck held, just enough money to go around. Cash flow problems were a constant problem but we never went hungry and were never the poorest family in the neighborhood. 

I was lucky enough to be the product of a working-class family, not to be unusually attractive, and to not have achieved fame and/or fortune at a young age. 

{Lucky?} 

Lucky.

Pretty people, blessed/cursed by being born into a financially secure situation and/or stumbling into one as if on cue, often are not conscious of their dumb luck until misfortune inevitably bites them on the bum at some point. They may not appreciate what they have, or worse, take it for granted. They often are possessed by ideologies untempered by reality.  

Many, even if they paid attention in history class, are oblivious to the fact that until relatively recently most H. sapiens were somewhat preoccupied with where their next meal was coming from if they had managed to survive their childhood.  

I, having sometimes paid attention in history class, having roots/a perspective that stretches back to the late 18th century, having parents that lived through the Great Depression and WW2, having a life that stretches from the introduction of a vaccine for polio to men persons landing on the moon to supercomputers in everyone's pocket (and, God help us, social media mobs), to constant digital disruption and disintermediation to...

{What's polio?} 

And having experienced the traditional morality and lifestyles of the 1950s, participated in tossing the tot out with the Jacuzzi water in the late 1960s and 70s, and currently experiencing the revival of Marxism (Wokieness) in spite of 100,000,000+ H. sapiens murdered in the pursuit of a socialist utopia so far...

{Well, communism's never really been tried or properly implemented you know.}

I, eventually, came to understand the importance and utility of at least trying to keep an eye on the big picture, and maintaining an attitude of gratitude 24x7x365.  

Therefore, I write letters to the Stickie's eventual selves to hopefully spare them from learning at least some things the hard way while compiling an oral history as I go, before I go. 

{Um... Why don't you just talk to them while you await deletion?}  

I do, and I even attempt to wrap up my mini-sermons before their eyes start to glaze over, and keep in mind that the sermons you live tend to be much more effective than the ones you preach. 

But I don't see the harm in leaving behind a textbook of sorts while striving to provide a bit of enlightened infotainment for my gentlereaders. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Truthiness

Truth is a working hypothesis.

 

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 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see." Edgar Allan Poe

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

The search for truth is a never-ending process which is why I maintain that a wise H. sapien should always consider "the truth"a working hypothesis. And speaking of truth, I titled this column Truthiness because I'm not above deploying clickbait occasionally. A tip o' the hat to the former Steven Colbert, who was quite funny. 

{Indeed. Well, thanks for clearing that up, Sparky. Let's go get a beer.}

In a minute, Dana. I want to expand on my premise, or to use one of the currently most popular words in podcasting (and elsewhere), I wish to unpack it. 

{More clickbait? If I truthfully promise to buy, could we...} 

I maintain that any scientist worth his/her/their salt, although they don't usually state it out loud, when discussing/declaring/declaiming a scientific fact or three, is aware that what they are saying is provisional, by definition.  

<DANA HEAVES HEAVY SIGH>  

{Do tell.}

That is to say, such and so is a hard, indisputable fact... until/unless we discover otherwise. A scientist worth his/her/their salt takes this for granted. The search for truth, particularly truth with practical applications that make getting out of bed in the morning slightly more pleasant for the average H. sapien is a noble pursuit.

Big BUT. 

The search for truth must never cease and desist as far as a true scientist/scholar/journalist/etceterist is concerned. This is also a noble pursuit, and it's what makes the game fun.

{Journalists? Like, seriously dude?}

There are still some real ones around although they're getting harder and harder to find. A bunch of them have landed on Substack and with a bit lot of luck may bring about a reformation of the profession. According to Wikipedia, the (tragically) awokened, The New Yorker, looks down its nose at Substack, so they must be doing something right.

Anyways... although the truth is undoubtedly important, often vital, frequently close enough is good enough. In fact, is often the best we can do. 

{You have a keen eye for the obvious, sir, now can we...} 

Patience is a virtue, my favorite literary device, permit me to continue unpacking. 

I began by mentioning that even scientific truth is provisional; an occasional minor/major paradigm shift is always possible. Everyone knows that it was once common knowledge (and common sense) that the Earth is orbited by the Sun, a fact confirmed by looking up occasionally. 

Keeping track of where and when provided all sorts of practical/useful applications. Copernicus put an end to that notion, but not until 1515, and it took better than a century (and turning an occasional heretic into a steak at the stake) before his truth was accepted.

Although everything changed, scientifically speaking, people still had to set their alarm clocks to get to work on time and have snow tires mounted on their cars in the fall (all-season radials are a fairly recent phenomenon).  

Close enough was good enough till we got to truthier truth, and along the way, we made the best of it. And speaking of being worth one's salt, any more or less well-adjusted grup knows to take everything with a grain of salt.

{And why, pray tell, have you gone on a truth ramble?}

Covid, Hunter Biden, the Mexican border, Nancy Pelosi... 

<INSERT SEVERAL HUNDRED PAGES OF ETCETEROIDS HERE> 

Nowadays, many people don't think twice about declaring unsettled questions settled and canceling heretics — while simultaneously weaponizing journalistic speculation, narratives, "settled science," and Wokie dogma — for secular-religious reasons and/or fun and profit.

{Huh?}     

For example, it looks like: 1) The WuFlu plague is a likely product of the Wuhan Institute of Virology, not a Chinese "wet market." 

2) That the Fauchmeister was/is funding gain of function research but with enough cutouts between him and it to provide him with plausible deniability. 

{There's no h in Faucmeister, in fact, it ain't even a real word... and that's the truth.}   

But until a few minutes ago the alleged fact-checkers and the high priests of the Intersectional Inquisition were certain both of these statements were false, and censored, cautioned, or canceled accordingly.  

On a related note, the highest-paid employee of The Fedrl Gummit, Dr. Fauci, recently said that he might retire after this year's midterm election and teach a class at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government called Statements, Press Releases, and Congressional Hearings: How to communicate without really saying anything that might bitecha on the bum later.

{There's no such word as bitecha, in fact, your "related note" is a complete fabrication and...}

Like many a Joe or Joan bag-o-donuts, he's concerned he might have to reduce his expenses or even take out a reverse mortgage to maintain a reasonably comfortable lifestyle. 

{Is this column finally "finished/complete/over?" Can we go get a beer now?}

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Vlad the Pooteen's Late-Life Crisis

Putin locks in his legacy

. 

                                Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabona on Unsplash

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 

"Europeans are really dying out!" -the Pooteen 

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

Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin is 69 years old. A dicktater's dicktater, he's a fellow geezer who's one year older than me and one year closer to being officially old (70). He appears to be having a late-life crisis. 

{I suspect that once you hit 70 the rules are going to change.}

Not true, Dana. I'm a stickin' to muh guns, 70 is officially old. For the record, being a geezer/geezerette (age varies) is not necessarily a bad thing. 

And getting old -- at 70, actuarially speaking, you have less than ten years left -- is also not necessarily a bad thing. It merely means it's past time to look reality in the eye and make some decisions and contingency plans and ascend to the lofty level of Sexy Senior Citizen if this has yet to happen, assuming one is capable of transcending certain stereotypes.

{Wait a second...}

Nope, it will take an entire column to explain what I mean and I promise to write it, this column's about the Pooteen. It's not often that a certified, unrepentant dicktater sticks his/her/their head above the ground and begs to be boiled in bubbling oil.

"Vladimir Putin has gone from playing chess to playing poker," is a quote and an analysis. I wish I had come up with one of the variations on this theme being attributed to all sorts of people. I think it's obviously true but begs for an obvious question to be...

{Kudos for begs for, rather than the oft and incorrectly used, begs the.}

A cautious and dubious thanks, D. The question is, why? A senior moment? Drugs? 3d chess? Perhaps he's being blackmailed by Hunter Biden (or vice versa) and the three years (and lots of money) spent on trying to prove the Donald was being blackmailed by the Pooteen was a conspiracy within a conspiracy within...

{Oh my Go...}

Don't say it! The Stickies have been taught to say oh my gosh, so as not to offend traditional believers. And besides, As Dude used to say when he was a toddler, I wuz chust kiddin'.

{This column is turning into the literary version of a cute kiddie video.}

Perhaps we'll attract more gentlereaders. My money's on a late-life crisis. A late-life crisis is like a mid-life crisis, less common but potentially worse. Particularly when the he/she/they afflicted have money and power and the Pooteen has plenty of both.  

{If he's successful at conquering Ukraine will you start writing The Pooteen instead of the Pooteen?}

No. 

Now, when a given H. sapien has a late-life crisis, unless they have accumulated an unusually large amount of wealth, this is usually not that big a deal. 

Regardless, their more greedy loved ones have to weigh the cost of trying to get their sticky hands on it, and how much potential litigation will cost as opposed to what the reward might be. And, are he/she/they willing to accept the wrath of their relatives?   

  

Most late-life criseses consist merely of a given individual having second thoughts about how they spent their lives and what, if anything, is to/can be done. Most don't do much. 

They may not have the means to do much, and even if they do most have learned that to be wary of the law of unexpected consequences, know that you can't count on anything or anyone, and how quickly tides can turn. 

A person having a mid-life crisis is more likely to be unaware of the power of the law of unexpected consequences and willing to jump with a potentially poorly packed parachute... pal. 

Ah, but the Pooteen! 

Picture him waking up at 3 a.m. and getting up to pee, yet again, and then being unable to fall back asleep... 

There's something about that new guard...did I remember to turn on the alarm?...man, I could sure go for a cup of hot cocoa but I can tell the night shift thinks it's funny when I order one, it ain't easy being a bloodthirsty dicktater...I thought that by now I would've put the empire back together...is it just me or are the oligarchs not taking me seriously anymore?...ungrateful bastards...Uncle Joe must be even further gone than I thought, why on Earth would he try and cripple his domestic oil production and then expect the rest of us to make up for it...

Ooh! I've got a great idea! He picks up the phone. 

"Yes fearless leader?"

"Tell Minister Shoigu and General Gerasimov I want to see them, right now, and get Hunter Biden on the phone. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

P.S. Here's a fun fact for ya, kids. America, which was rapidly moving towards energy independence till Uncle Joe and the Greenies got control of the Swamp, spent $17,400,000,000 on Russian oil last year. But if they keep misbehaving, Uncle Joe is gonna officially shut 'em down. According to Reuters:

"Senator Ed Markey, a Democrat from Massachusetts, said U.S. purchases of Russian oil in 2021 would have delivered an estimated $17.4 billion to that nation. 'We cannot criticize Europe for its reliance on Russian energy, as we pour dirty oil money into Russia,'..."

{As opposed to clean oil money?}

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Conspiracy Theories

A conspiracies of convenience/chaos column.

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 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"The forces of safety are afoot in the land. I, for one, believe it is a conspiracy...the safety Nazis advocate gun control, vigorous exercise, and health food." -P.J. O'Rourke

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

I've written before about conspiracy theory. 

{Not really. You wrote about The Fedrl Gummits corrupt ethanol policy. A policy that can't be changed because the corruption is endorsed by both teams, is legal (technically if not ethically), and called it a conspiracy of convenience. That's not really...}

Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh. I clearly stated, and continue to maintain, that most so-called conspiracies are merely conspiracies of convenience. To which I would add, and/or chaos. More on that anon.  

{That's what they want you to think!}

Alrighty then, Dana.

John Durham, gentleperson, is one of those exceptions that prove the rule. That is to say, although his long career as a respected prosecutor includes various stints in the Swamp, he's never gone native and become a Swamp Creature. In fact, at the moment, he's wading through the muck and mire of Washington D.C. in search of truth, and not for the first time. 

{Who?}

A career prosecutor that looks so intimidating that if he were investigating me I'd confess to having been a drug dealer for about an hour in the late seventies. 

{What?!?}

Suffice it to say, being a pothead on a shelf stocker's salary wasn't easy. I got the brilliant idea to become a small-time dealer and sell just enough of the Devil's Weed to make it possible to supply myself with free product. 

I launched my new venture by going to a friend's party and offering (with his permission) to enhance any given party-goer's experience via the purchase of a small amount of Mother Nature's finest. After an hour or so of some very interesting conversational encounters, I declared my new business bankrupt. 

I secured permission from my buddy to take a quick shower and spent the rest of the evening fending off friends and perfect strangers who kept asking, "Are you the guy that..." by replying, "Nope, not me, I think he left." 

I woke up the next morning — carefully uncoiled my cramped body that had managed to fit itself into a tiny loveseat by apparently accepting that it was okay for my head to be propped up at an unnatural and potentially dangerous angle — and, as usual, made it to work on time. Ah, the good old days. 

{Right... And who's John Durham?}   

John Durham was a highly respected career prosecutor considered kosher by both Team Red and Team Blue till former Attorney William Bar appointed him in 2018 to look into who did what back in 2016 that led to the FBI investigating the Donald and company to see if they were colluding with the Pooteen and company.

Mr. Durham is still on the job and has since indicted a Democratic party lawyer, Michael Sussman, for allegedly lying to the FBI when they were investigating what happened. This is why Mr. Durham has fallen out of favor with the Blue team. 

Durham and Sussman were both recently in the news when Durham filed a report that... 

<THIS SPACE DELIBERATELY LEFT BLANK>

Actually, technically, I should've written this space deliberately deleted or, at this point this column was nearly abandoned. 

See, I originally made repeated attempts to explain why the report filed by Durham was — but hopefully is no longer — a RBFD by the time you read this. Team Red made some controversial deductions and went nuts.

Team Blue, as is their wont, ignored it till they didn't/couldn't because Team Red was getting too much attention from Joe and Joan Bagadonuts, and they went nuts.

Being a semi-conscientious, community-minded columnist,  I read multiple news reports and scoured other sources with the idea that I would eventually arrive at a carefully reasoned position and pass it along to my gentlereaders. 

{You're my hero.}

There's no need for sarcasm, I'm just a wanna-be well-known (but reclusive) nationally recognized cultural commentator but...    

{Whatever. Why did you abandon ship mid-voyage?}

A revelation dawned, the conspiracies of chaos referenced in the subtitle of this column.

I continue to maintain that most so-called conspiracies are conspiracies of convenience, by which I mean the players become involved because of a mutual interest in an opportunity that comes along that involves power/money/sex/all of the above, etc.

{Yeah, but there could still be a Dr. Evil type behind the scenes.}

Absabalutely, but what happens when there are so many players, and the alleged conspiracy is so complex, and there are so many third parties weighing in because the information age makes it possible to do so, that getting to the bottom of something becomes virtually impossible?

A conspiracy of chaos. The information age is also the golden age of propaganda, and given how easy it is to exploit that phenomenon for fun and profit, what's a "user" to do?

{Geesh, fact-checkers, obviously.}

There's no need for yet more sarcasm...

{There's always room for Jello (or a suitable substitute), sarcasm, and proverbs: The more things change the more they stay the same.}

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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The National Hunger Strike

Image by Niek Verlaan 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 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"Hunger is the best pickle." -Benjamin Franklin

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

The national hunger strike has ended, the filibuster fuss still festers, and neither the Freedom to Vote Act nor the John Lewis Voting Rights Act has been enacted. 

However...

{Wait-wait-wait. What national hunger strike?} 

Well, it didn't exactly "go viral," but I'm still ashamed to admit that I wasn't even aware of it till a story about 40 "youth activists" hunger striking to get the bills passed caught my eye relatively recently. Turns out this was their second hunger strike, that I had completely missed the first one, and that...

{I repeat, what national hunger strike?}

Perhaps I should back up a bit.

As I said, I only recently heard about the National Hunger Strike. The first one started/ended and/or was temporarily suspended after 15 days back in December when Uncle Joe promised to make voting rights a priority in 2022. 

According to Fox News, UnPAC (who pay "youth activists" $15/hr.) cofounder Shana Gallegher said that the strikers had experienced dangerously low blood pressure, unbearable headaches, and upwards of ten pounds in weight loss. 

All fifty of the Republican Senators were/are opposed to both bills. All fifty of the Democratic Senators were/are for both bills, and would like to see 'em passed. 

(Since the teams are tied, Vice President Kamala Harris, who plays for the Democrats, was prepared to dash back to the Swamp from the Mexican border — Uncle Joe has placed her in charge of the mass importation of likely Democratic voters undocumented noncitizens  — to vote yea if either measure comes up for a vote.)

Big BUT, the filibuster kerfuffle continues apace. 

{I don't get it. Were the hunger strikers caught eating nutrition bars?}

What?

{Aren't Filibusters like Nutri-Grain bars?}

No. 

A filibuster ("talking a bill to death" -Wikipedia) traditionally refers to a legislator or legislators keeping a bill from passing by keeping the debate going to stall or block its passage, like in that classic movie, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington?

{I don't watch black and white movies.}

In our Republic, in the House of Representatives, only party leaders can try to talk a bill to death but any given Senator has that power. However, the Swamp being the Swamp... it's complicated.

Sixty senators can vote to end a filibuster. The filibuster isn't in the Constitution, it's part of the rules of the Senate, and the Senate can vote to change the rules whenever they feel like it. They can do away with the filibuster permanently, or temporarily, any time they want.

Another big BUT: It takes 60 votes to change the rules.

Fun Fact: The distinguished men/women/others of the United States Senate don't actually have to spend their valuable time talking a bill to death. Nowadays they can just play the filibuster card. If the senators on the other team don't have 60 votes to stop them everyone agrees to disagree and the Senate moves on to other important matters... like camera opps, or going to lunch.

{What's so complicated about that?} 

Listen, not being a lawyer, a politician, or a parliamentarian, and having a relatively small but relatively enjoyable life, I'm not, as they say (in fact I refuse) gonna go there. There are all sorts of procedural manipulations available to get around the 60 vote problem, you can look them up yourself if you like.

Suffice it to say it's possible for either party to get their way via a simple majority vote if they successfully invoke one of them and if they have 51 votes.  

A third big BUT: Captain Chuck (Schumer) couldn't get fellow teammates Joe (Manchin) and Krysten (Sinema) to go along. Some crap about wanting to preserve a 187-year-old rule/tradition that's helped to keep America from degenerating from a republic into just another mere fragile democracy. 

{Hunger strikers?}

Oh, yeah. 

On day 6 of the second Hunger Strike, in January, 29 hungry and pissed-off young idealists got tired of being ignored and sat down on the steps of the Capitol Building and were busted by the man for "...crossing a police line, and crowding/obstruction/incommoding" said Ms. Gallagher, according to foxnews.com

Two days later they gave up, "We ended the strike because we lost, and it is really infuriating that nothing we did over the past year … was enough," said Shana Gallagher. By day eight they were "delirious" and "uncomfortable" and "tired." 

I suspect that Mr. Smith/Jimmy Stewart wouldn't agree with their politics but would be proud of them regardless. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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...Because Joe Rogan

Image by Click on 👍🏼👍🏼, consider ☕ Thank you! 🤗 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 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"I talk shit for a living — that’s why this is so baffling to me. If you’re taking vaccine advice from me, is that really my fault? What dumb shit were you about to do when my stupid idea sounded better?" -Joe Rogan

Dear Grandstickies, Great-Grandstickies, Gentlereaders (and Neil Young),

I'm certain that there are very few H. sapiens that are not familiar with the fact that the Donald — and no shortage of other famous ancient Boomers — can't shut up, get out of the way, and find a way to amuse him/her or themselves without requiring a spotlight and an audience to get through the day. 

May I respectfully suggest:

 

Kids and grandkids? 

Philanthropy (without the need to fashion yourself a self-made expert on everdamnthing and who must share your wisdom and guidance with the little people, like Bill Gates and Michael Bloomberg?).

Good ol' fashioned drug abuse and sexual debauchery?

New fangled, high-minded drug use? Contribute to/participate in the cutting-edge research being done with psilocybin by reputable scientists that are having amazing, life-altering, highly positive results? 

{Ahem.}

Sorry, what I had intended to say next was that there are probably people not familiar with the (now fading) use of the phrase, ...because Trump, a joking reference to the fact some people blamed the Donald, and many still do, for everything that is wrong with/goes wrong on the planet Earth. 

Thanks to Neil Young, and some fellow perpetual teenagers, ...because Joe Rogan appears to have at least temporarily displaced ...because Trump in certain circles. Not to worry Trumpeters and Trumpettes, I'm certain that the Donald will say/do something appalling enough to displace Mr. Rogan sooner or later. 

But just now, even National Progressive Radio has noticed, and is worried about the impact of, Mr. Rogan -- a sorta/kinda Eric Hoffer of the new millennium -- on the zeitgeist. 

Just the other day I was sitting in the parking lot of my local Gordon Food Service store prior to entering and purchasing a mess o' Purnell's Old Folks sausages (it's "goood-od") — if they were in stock and before the price rises yet again (tip o' the hat to Uncle Joe) — and listening to some over-enunciating women and soy-boy sounding men discussing the Rogan/Young kerfuffle. 

{A brief description of said kerfuffle for the unaware would seem to be in order.} 

Good point, Dana.

Joe Rogan is the host of a wildly successful, long-form podcast (2 - 4 hours) that's simply about Mr. Rogan shooting the sh... breeze with a guest or guests about something that Mr. R. finds interesting, relevant, and/or is curious about.

Rogan is an open-minded, intelligent, man with Deplorable roots who's interested in and curious about a wide range of subjects. He's also a successful comedian and actor with a mixed martial arts background who recently fled Wokistan (California) and now resides in Texas. 

He's not officially a liberal, a progressive, nor a conservative. He's Joe Rogan. He leans left. He's got some questions, he's got some opinions.

Neil Young is a 76-year-old "rocker." He's upset about a couple of Rogan's shows/guests whose Covid opinions don't jive with those of the 81-year-old Anthony Fauci (which may or may not have shifted ,yet again, since these particular shows hit the web). So he played the Covid Disinformation card and demanded that Spotify drop Rogan or stop playing Mr. Young's music. 

Some of his fellow seventy-something "rockers" did the same thing. Spotify wished them well and complied with their wishes; the planet is still spinning.

Mr. Rogan, whose audience keeps growing as much of corporate media continues to implode, is currently under attack by a mob of torch and pitchfork-wielding Wokies, an offensive being led by his Lamestream competitors. 

He's gotta go, and not just because of this particular incident. 

He's an unashamed traditional man and rejects the teachings of the Wokies. He's obviously a nice guy that loves his life, his wife, and his kids. He's grateful for and amazed by his success and regularly points out he's as fallible as you and me so please take him, and anything you hear on his show, with a grain of salt.  

But because of his hoooge following, he's probably/hopefully impossible to cancel... which does not endear him to certain Neo-Jacobins ...because Joe Rogan. 

However, that hasn't stopped them from trying, or from large schools of digital pilot fish stalking him around the Dizzinformation Ocean. 

According to AmericanMind.org, "a media organization called PatriotTakes published a supercut [compilation video] of Rogan saying 'the n-word.'" I went looking and discovered that PatriotTakes has a YouTube channel with nothing on it but a brief introductory video  — about PatriotTakes. They have a webpage that consists of the same video — and a brief pitch soliciting donations. American Mind says they receive money from a shady SuperPAC called MediasTouch. 

Ain't democracy, transparency, and social media in modern America great! I can't find the original video on YouTube, but there are plenty of videos about the video because Joe Rogan.

What's important is the fact that a cracker used that word at all; the actual context is irrelevant. Virtue signaling and/or accumulating readers or viewers is all that matters. Find a dog bites man angle and damn the facts! Full speed ahead! Keep stirring the shyte or you're gonna have to get a real job. 

No less a beloved, storied institution than Inside Edition has reported that internationally renowned thespian and public intellectual, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, is upset about the crisis and has canceled his wildly anticipated cage match with Joe "The Racist" Rogan.  

 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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