NPR

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If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                               Glossary  

                   Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars: 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"People who listen to NPR are forever thanking the hosts for 'sharing,' or 'initiating a dialogue,' or 'taking the time to explain this very important issue.'"                                                                                            -Tucker Carlson


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

I was listening to a local public radio station when I was out and about in the world in search of food. While I hate grocery shopping, most forms of shopping for that matter, I much prefer it to hunting and gathering.

As I've learned from my recovered/recovering friends/acquaintances/family members and some dude I was standing in line with at Five Guys Burgers and Fries: maintaining an attitude of gratitude takes the edge off of all sorts of things and it doesn't come with the inevitable side effects of substance abuse.

The practitioners of stoicism (the philosophy, not the Hollywood generated Leroy Jethro Gibbs types played by actors who often, not always, but often, seem to have feet of world-class clay version) figured this out a couple of thousand years ago.

Personally, I...

[Excuse me, special agent Mehlmauer, is this going anywhere?]

Sorry, Dana, point taken. I turned to/on the radio in Messy Momma's spiffy new SUV in a vain attempt to pacify my ruffled psyche.

Big Mistake
I was listening to a public radio show called On Point ("On Point is that now exceedingly rare public space where you hear nuanced explorations of complex topics live and in real-time."). 

They were doing a story about deepfakes: "Those doctored videos of Nancy Pelosi and Mark Zuckerberg highlight the growing threat of deepfake technology."

The bottom line was that the technology for altering video content for fun, propaganda, or fake news is making it harder and harder to tell real video from altered video and this is a RBFD (really big, um, freakin' deal).

Huh. 

As things stand at the moment, as far as I can tell, deepfake video is not much of a problem on established, mainstream cable/internet news/broadcast outlets --or anywhere else. In fact, just the opposite. More on that in just a sec'. I'm talking about any national/international news outlet with an audience sufficiently large enough to likely to be included with basic cable anywhere in the USA and/or with a major presence on the web.  

[By the way, Fox News and MSNBC are mainstream, no matter how hard they try to paint themselves otherwise. Pretending that they're not is purple journalism.]   

They talked about the YouTube video of Nancy Pelosi (costar of the hit reality broadcast, The Dancey & Shuckie show) that was deliberately altered to make it look like she was loaded.

Heaven forfend! The sheeple are going to be more susceptible to malignant manipulation than ever! We must get the word out because, of course, everyone assumes that video clips, particularly YouTube video clips, are as reliable a source of accurate information as, say, National Public Radio.

Why I don't see a problem is, well, this version of the disreputable video in question says it all.

It's a video clip, from YouTube, of coverage by NBC news of the crisis in question. Bottom line, they report that the video is a fake. In point of fact, if you go to YouTube and search for the invidious version of the vicious video, hit after hit turns up videos of various sundry debunkings of the original video.

I know it might be hard to believe, but it appears that the purple-tinted Infotainment Industry flogged this particular horse to an early grave.

You'll recall that I mentioned above that not only is deepfake video not much of a problem, "In fact, just the opposite," said I.

How so?

The crowded, highly competitive Infotainment Industry has to work hard to find enough stories to fill the 24x7x365 news cycle. While there's no shortage of news stories in a world that keeps getting smaller, stories that also keep people clicking/tuning in/even buying the dying dead trees formats, ain't easy. 

Our purple-tinted media must be ever vigilant and not neglect the entertainment aspect of their product. The Pelosi video is a double whammy. A deepfake video, fake news by definition, about a highly visible, highly partisan politician. Fake news and politics are both blood in the water. Fire up the Outragimatron!  

Deepfake videos are guaranteed to be scrutinized by the Infotainment Industry and this will help to neutralize the effect of all those internet videos that influence so many citizens of our naive and trusting republic. 

Also, we're blessed to be served by a highly principled, nonprofit organization like NPR, which oddly enough, is located in the Swamp.  

From the Washington Post via the Toledo Blade: "NPR’s gleaming new headquarters building in the shadow of the Capitol in Washington has soaring ceilings, a 24-hour 'wellness' center, an employee gym, and a gourmet cafe staffed by a resident chef." 

Keep those taxes and pledges coming, America. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 
         

 
  

Food For Thought (No. 2)

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"There's no royalty in America, so people deify actors." -Joseph Gordon Levitt
"I think of myself as a young prince from a long line of royalty." -Wesley Snipes


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

I wonder if the United Kingdom will still have a royal family by the time yinz guys are Sexy Seasoned Citizens like me? Considering Prince Chucky's spawn have spawned a passel of potential potentates, and the lucrative nature of the family business, I'm guessing it will.

Being a cynical old fart who suffers from chronic skepticism brought on by stumbling upon one too many unfortunate incidents while repeatedly circling the proverbial block, I'm aware there's much wisdom to be found in the simple three-word phrase follow the money.

Speaking of spawn, it was pictures of Prince Chucky -- sporting an impressive looking assortment of medals pinned to his flawless bespoke suits last month when he and the Donald visited France for the D-day commemorations -- that spawned this letter.

I went a-googling to discover how he managed to accumulate all that martial-themed bling because as far as I knew, although he had been in both the army and navy, he had never been in any danger of stopping a bullet fired in anger.

Of course, there's that rumor that Brigadier Andy, Vanilla Camilla's husband when she and Chucky got caught cheating on their respective spouses, got loaded and tried to shoot Chucky at (on?) a fox hunt. It's probably not true since I just made it up.

Anyways, turns out that all that hardware is the royal equivalent of good conduct and marksmanship medals. His mum gave him a few and he's got a cool uniform he can showcase them with 'cause he's in charge of the Welsh Guards.

[If you follow the cool uniform link above make sure you scroll down to see his Royal Chuckyness wearing one of those two-foot tall bearskin caps (yes they're made of real bearskin and fur) that make the big-haired rockers of the 80s look pathetic by comparison.]

From what I was able to discover...

[Sorry, I just can't help myself. If any of my readers hang out/are acquainted with the prince who would be king, whose bottom so far has only graced the same sort of throne we commoners use, please tell him that wearing all those Cracker Jack box medals at D-Day commemorations was, well, a little ballsy in my semi-humble opinion.]   


                            Image supplied by shutterstock


From what I was able to discover from several minutes of intense googling, a majority of British subjects seem to support maintaining these world-class amusement park characters. Well, there is the fact that unlike say, Disney world/land/whatever employees, these guys show up for work already trained.

I figured it was the fact that a lot of the peasants also work in/are beneficiaries of the imperial anachronism industry.

Someone's got to make/import/sell all the officially licensed geegaws, tchotchkes, and commemorative plates and it takes a lot of royal bum wipers and toothpick polishers to properly maintain a currently expanding royal family 24x7x365.

The monarchy of the UK has been around 1,000 years more or less which is more than enough time to fill the entire realm with On This Spot _______ plaques, castles, and down on their luck aristocrats. And nowadays you can be knighted for being a rock star.

Imagine how many jobs and how much money is generated by tourism and related industries.


I went looking for numbers and the consensus is that the imperial anachronism industry turns a healthy profit. Of course, estimates of just how much are all over the map as you would expect. It depends on who is doing the counting and exactly what is being counted.

A headline from the Irish Times, 5.19.18

Monarchy in the UK: the royal family's uncertain future

Makes it sound as though the royals should be updating their resumes and considering technical training classes. "I say, Mumsy, there seems to be a bunch of little people with pitchforks and torches gathering in front of the castle."

Purple Journalism alert
If you read the article, a mild hit piece chock full of if/then speculations masquerading as journalism, most of the content matches up with the headline but you'll discover two things.  First, it quotes an estimate that the monarchy yearly brings in 1.8 billion (with a b) Pounds to the realm but the tab for the extended family is only 300 to 350 million (with an m) Pounds. That's a nice markup.

What I find more interesting is that it hints at the overall popularity of the royals but neglects to mention that 7 out of 10 Britons call themselves monarchists. As to why, well, I found all sorts of reasons. However, my favorite one is mentioned in this article.

"Logic is not the most important factor. We are happy to accept eccentricity and quirkiness because they reflect an important part of our national character."

So, 

"The British monarchy is valued because it is the British monarchy."

Like us, our cousins on the other side of the pond have also resisted the imposition of the metric system so I say God Save the Queen! Poppa loves you. 

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.

P.S. Since writing this I came across the following quote. Considering the fact that globalization has its downsides, it makes perfect sense to me.

"The monarchy is the filter of Britain's collective memory through which its people forms its sense of identity." -David P. Goldman


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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.


©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title.

I Come Out Of the Closet

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

"Sexuality is a private matter; some believe that broadcasting it destroys the very things that make it sacred." -Lance Loud

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

I've mentioned previously:

As long as no one is getting hurt (that doesn't want to be), the door is closed, and the window treatment prevents me and anyone else that doesn't want to know what you get up to in private from seeing (and preferably not hearing) what you get up to in private -- have at it.


BIG BUT
I've also mentioned previously, and repeatedly, that for all the kids to share the playground without stepping on each other's toes, rules, written and unwritten, are required.

Good manners require that you don't go out of your way to make other H. sapiens uncomfortable.

Especially if

You'd like them to understand that you're not a threat to their kids, hell, to anybody for that matter. Just another Citizen of the Republic trying to get through your day and taking solace from whatever gets you through the night.


As to not going out of your way to make people uncomfortable, there are a lot of fine lines to be drawn in a free country.

When I was about ten years old I bought a pair of cheap sunglasses at one of the 5 & 10 cent stores on the Sou'side-a-Pittsburgh (with an h) for the princely sum of 79¢.

This was the mid-sixties and granny-style wire-rim sunglasses with brightly colored lenses in square frames were cool for a minute or two because various rock stars sported them. Roger McGuinn of the Byrds was famous for his.

[Fellow geezers and geezerettes, I've just been handed a news flash by the editor of the who'd a thunk it desk -- Mr. McGuinn is still alive, still making music, and he and his wife are Republican, evangelical Christians.]

I donned my newly acquired treasure and headed up Carson street to the apartment above a butcher shop that me and mine lived in at the time. I proudly noted that I was generating looks from the grups I passed that ranged from amused to dirty and various permutations in between.

This was an unexpected, serendipitous surprise. I was just trying to be cool, I didn't realize I would alarm the grups. I was elated. In my defense, it was the sixties. Did I mention I was ten? While I was only ten I was already caught up in the whole rock 'n' roll rebellion thing -- however innocently and peripherally.

[Had I any way of seeing what some of the things this rebellion would eventually lead to, and the intellect to grasp the ramifications, I would've spent my 79¢ on homemade french fries fried in lard (Julia Child would understand) and washed down with a root beer at Woolworths.]


Now, contrast my boring old man story with say, oh Idunno, something you might see at an LGBTQ+ pride parade.

  
 Image by Rihaij from Pixabay

Since I'm heterosexual, biologically male and a Caucasian -- but inexplicably and randomly identify as an African-American lesbian woman (who looks remarkably like Halle Berry) named Coco -- I to often feel like a victim of the Normies and live at a very busy intersection.

However, I'm a grin and bear it sort of dude, not a grin and bare it sort of dude. I'm also going to go out on a limb and speculate that the happy camper in the pic above is older than ten.


Incidentally, as to the closet I've decided to vacate, I confess that (with the possible exception of certain pseudo sports) I don't like sports. I don't even care for most games. Trivial Pursuit is ok, but like all games, particularly cards, it can quickly turn into slow torture. I...

[Wait-wait-wait. Pseudo sports? What, pray tell, are pseudo sports?]

Oh, hi Dana. Pseudo sports are sports that, although they may, and often are played seriously, they can, and often are, played while eating and/or intoxicated. Bowling and softball come immediately to mind.

[Cornhole and horseshoes would seem to be better choices, who plays either of those games seriously?]

Follow the links. The members of the American Cornhole League and the National Horseshoe Pitchers Association would beg to differ.

[Fine, but pointing out that you don't like sports has nothing to do with coming out of the closet.] 

Having spent a great deal of time during my kid and callowyute stages pretending to like sports, and even playing them to fit in when I'd rather have stayed in my closet reading a good book or even watching TV,

And

As a grup, having endured literally thousands of conversations about _______ (insert game all the dudes were talking about the next day here) without running screaming from the room because I had to work with these guys, or not wishing to be Mr. Buzzkill on a good road trip,

I must beg to differ.   

[You've already passed the 800-word mark, Mark. Is this going anywhere?]

One, two, three, four... Yikes! this calls for an emergency wrap up.


Deliberately going out of your way to make other H. sapiens uncomfortable, or reveling in/demanding approval of your highly unconventional (or even absurdly conventional) lifestyle makes you the problem.

Inadvertently making other H. sapiens uncomfortable just by being you is their problem.

Fine lines.

If you'd like to be left alone, perhaps even respected, maybe even loved, learn to leave alone. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.

This column is dedicated to my baby brother

Michael G. Mehlmauer

9/12/59 - 6/26/19

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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 



  











 

Journalism, Purple:

Journalism as currently perpetrated by many news outlets that claim to be professional, unbiased, and factual. In reality, they are partisan, prone to sensationalism, and motivated primarily by the bottom line. (No. 1)


If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"Ideology, politics, and journalism, which luxuriate in failure, are impotent in the face of hope and joy." -P.J. O'Rourke


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

It's my protologism, sung to the tune of It's My Party (and I'll cry if I want to).

It's my protologism, I'll define it the way I want to
Define it the way I want to, define it the way I want to
I love inventing words or phrases, don't you?

[Apropo of nothing much, Wikipedia has a very interesting entry about It's My Party. I'll betcha a bottle-a-pop you didn't know it was Quincy Jones first hit single.]

I wrote a three-column series about journalism last summer wherein I proposed that our new millennium has seen a revival/update of yellow journalism and I named the phenomenon Purple Journalism.

At the time I created this clever concatenation of words (cough, cough) it was my intention to occasionally write a column illustrating my concept with an example of exactly what I mean.

You can stop holding your breath now because a headline posted on a recent Drudge Report reminded me of this and inspired this column. If you're not familiar with the Drudge Report it's an extremely popular website consisting mostly of news stories gathered from outlets from all over the planet Earth 

Matt Drudge is a genius who posts links to outright Purple Journalism, purple tinted more or less straight news, and straight news stories whose subject matter is either gruesome or prone to induce anxiety -- purple tinted content.

The result is world-class clickbait without the downsides of ordinary clickbait (endless linking, endless advertising, and links that have little or nothing to do with the headline that lured ya in the first place). 

[Tell me, oh windy one, are you ever going to tell them about the actual story? The one that allegedly is a good example of whatever the hell it is you're on about?]   

Background is important, Dana, and yes, I am.


The following headline is from an article in The Guardian, a UK newspaper that's not one of the United Kingdom's (in)famous tabloids.

Heavily processed foods like ready meals and ice cream linked to early death

Below it is the following subheadline.

Two major studies add to the body of evidence against food made with industrial ingredients

Scary shtuff, huh? No need to purple it up, really, so Mr. Drudge opted for simplification to achieve maximum impact.

Heavily processed food linked to early death...

[This is the sort of news that cries out for public attention! For the love of God, people are dropping dead! I wonder if Congress is looking into this? Why isn't this all over the news? I'm gonna throw all my beloved bacon away, right now!]

Dana, I would call your attention to the fourth paragraph of this declaration of existential apocalypse, which reads as follows.

"The study, published in the British Medical Journal, does not prove that ultra-processed foods cause disease. Nor does the effect appear particularly large, even in the most enthusiastic junk food consumers. The results suggest that 277 cases of cardiovascular disease would arise each year in 100,000 heavy consumers of ultra-processed foods, versus 242 cases in the same number of low consumers (my italicizations and emboldenizatons).

[Wait... what?]


If I may, some interesting things I noticed as a result of a careful reading of this 12-paragraph article, with "...an accompanying editorial...", for ya sunshine.

"... industrial ingredients may have had a hand..."

In another study of 20,000 college graduates in Spain, 335 subjects dropped dead over the course of 15 years of various and sundry causes.

"The top quarter consumers of ultra-processed foods – who had more than four servings a day – were 62% more likely to have died than those in the bottom quarter, who ate less than two portions a day. For each additional serving, the risk of death rose 18%." 

Sounds scary, huh? Read it again. We're not told how many of the unfortunate 365 had more than four servings of "ultra-processed foods" daily. Which means that we have no way of knowing how many "were more likely to have died" from eating them. 62% of ? = ? 

And wouldn't you like to know how they figured out how many of these meals of death were consumed daily by 20,000 people over the course of 15 years? Or how they figured out the same thing from the other study, of 105,000 people over the course of five years. 


Hey kids! You too can easily spot Purple Journalism and cut back on your Xanax consumption. Always remember, the scarier the headline the greater the need for a careful reading of the text. 

Helpful hint: when obvious questions occur to you that a professional journalist failed to ask you may have stumbled into [insert dramatic music here] The Purple Zone. Poppa loves you. 

Have an OK day. 

Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.
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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 


   

1984

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring

"I majored in English in college, so I read the classic dystopian novels like 1984 and Brave New World." -Lois Lowry


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

The fact that George Orwell's "classic dystopian novel" was published on 6/8/49, and thus is now 70 years old, has been recently duly noted here, there, and even way over there. That is to say, I've stumbled across several mentions of this anniversary in my personal infosphere.

[FYI, I encased dystopian masterpiece in quotes because that phrase, or something very much like it, has also repeatedly appeared here, there, and even way over there. Although it's true, I'm way too cool to personally use it.]

I'm bringing this up because for a while now I've been thinking about writing a letter/column comparing the book to what's currently going on in China at the behest of the current emperor, Xi Dada. That is to say, things like the Social Credit System, locking up Muslims for being Muslims, and the SMILE! Xi Dada is Watching show.

[FYI, Xi Dada is Chinese for Uncle Xi (Jinping). His wife is referred to as Peng Mama, which is Chinese for Mother Peng. So apparently, mama is mama but dada is uncle. Since I don't speak any dialect of Chinese, not even Mandarin, I dunno. I do know that Mother Peng is also the very model of a modern Major General (of the People's Liberation Army). I also know that Xi Dada LOVES Peng Mama.]

And then, out of the blue, the work of other H. sapiens, noting that it's been 70 years since this book was published, seemed to be stalking me. Is this a sign from God? A cosmic coinkydink? A subtle nudge by the author, whose ghost haunts some seldom visited house located in the hot and humid forest of the 100,000,000,000 (give or take) neurons betwixt my ears?

[FYI, since I hadn't recently gone a-googling in search of data about the book or its author, electronic stalking by an Alogorythmite or Botmonster or Datadragon can be safely ruled out.]


Anyways, what I should have done was simply proceed with my letter/column, reassured that apparently lots of other H. sapiens are so interested in 1984 that they keep track of its anniversaries and are motivated by them to write articles.

[FYI, I personally had no idea that it's been 70 years since the book was published. Also, I haven't been able to discover any particular reason why the number 70 might be more important than the numbers 69 or 71. Sesame Street did not respond to a request for comment.]

All I wanted to do was point out that Xi Dada's megalomaniacal machinations and the technology that makes them possible make Big Brother's machinations seem antiquated and quaint.

[FYI, The Goog, whose corporate motto was the unambiguous declaration -- Don't be Evil -- which has been watered down to -- Do the Right Thing -- was recently caught secretly developing a version of its Chrome web browser, Dragonfly, that complied with the emperor's policy of censor everything, spy on everyone. 

Not to worry though, they're now doing the right thing. (Or not, an entry in Wikipedia on the subject states that "...according to employees, work on Dragonfly continues in 2019 and there are some 100 people still allocated to it.]

Also, point out that rarely does a day pass in which I don't come across a report concerning a major invasion of privacy by the Goog or Facebook or Amazon or Netflix (or a lesser-known Data Dragon). Usually accidentally, of course. (Trust us, we're progressives! we love everyone, even unwoken Deplorables.)

It would seem that we don't have to just worry about Big Brother, we also have to worry about Big Brother's brothers.


However...

I made the mistake of reading a handful of those articles, the ones I mentioned that kept popping up in my infosphere? They were all mind-numbingly, highly detailed dreary literary analyses.

Suddenly, I found myself traveling back in time. I got caught in a vortex constituted of English classes in which perfectly good books were rendered hopelessly tedious and had all the life, fun, and enjoyment sucked out of them by seemingly endless analysis and analysis of analyses.

I remembered fantasizing about tipping over my desk and run screaming from the room, later to be consoled by that completely out of my league girl with _______ as I was now her hero and _______.

[FYI, upon careful consideration, I've decided that most of the various daydreams I could use to fill in the blanks of the preceding paragraph, even the wholesome, innocent, romantic ones, might get me beheaded by a social justice warrior roaming the realm in search of injustices in need of correction, so I choose the path of a coward.]

So now I don't want to write about 1984 after all, never mind. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 

Apology

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"To apologize is to lay the foundation for a future offense." -Ambrose Bierce


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

I apologize on behalf of my entire generation, the Baby Boomers, to our future fellow Americans. Although not officially authorized to speak on behalf of my entire generation, I'm going to do it anyway.

After all, in an era in which even so-called traditional, mainstream news outlets (an increasingly murky concept I admit) feel free to publish/broadcast unverifiable content -- based on an occasionally reliable source identified as not authorized to speak because _______, and that likely as not proves to be incorrect -- why not?


I'm sorry, we spent all the money. Not only that, we're now living off of your credit card.

I'm not talking about the money or assets that some of us may intend to leave behind for some of you. But fair warning, you can't count on that.

Medical science is keeping people alive, on average, far longer than ever before. A given Boomer may use up all their money to slake their Starbucks addiction and/or to keep eating organic, non-GMO, gluten-free, sugar-free, etcetery, this, that, and that other thing by the time they're recycled.

Or,

The ever-spiraling cost of health care might claim it all and then some.

And,

Medicare and Social Security, which many of us desperately need and aren't about to give up, are Ponzi schemes in trouble. This is partially the fault of the Millenials and whatever they're calling the ones after that this week. They aren't making enough babies to keep the hustle going.

And,

In my experience, people my age (and even older) are prone to maintaining just enough life insurance to cover our "final expenses" and maybe a little more to cover the cost of a wake.

See,

Even term insurance gets breathtakingly expensive if you hang around long enough.

And,

There's no shortage of firms willing to buy a given geezer's whole life policy who are running no shortage of commercials to get the word out.

Cash-out now and see Tahiti before you wake up dead! Or imagine being able to afford all your medical needs! No more taking your scripts every other day! 

But like I said, that's not what I want to talk about; that's not what I want to apologize for.


The crushing and ever-expanding national debt and a plethora of unfulfillable financial promises, that's what I want to apologize for.

Granted, it's hardly all our fault. Let's look at unfulfillable financial promise number one, Social Security. Social Security is an 83-year-old program that's been around since before the first Boomer (1946) was born. Social Security is a welfare program. Always has been. I'm not complaining or about to give up my distressingly humble little piece of the pie. Without it, I'd be living in a tent.

[All right, let me be honest, without it and its first cousin, Medicare, I might not be living at all.]

However, when it was set up, living long enough to collect it was much more chancy than it is now. The Gummit set up a Bernie Madoff sort of system. Why invest the money in something real and when there would always be plenty of new taxpayers to fund the needs of the retired?

Till there ain't.

In the meantime, The Gummit was provided with a steady stream of money that they used/use for all sorts of things besides mailing out checks. But it wrote itself IOUs and promised to pay itself back, with interest! to itself -- to be paid by, itself (you).

And now...

The Gummit says there's a problem. The Social Security trust fund, which consists of IOUs, is running out of money. In reality, what this means is that there are not enough new marks taxpayers in the pipeline to pay for the old marks taxpayers.


My clearly stated mission is to provide enlightened infotainment via the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer. The use of the word wit, to me at least (some of you may find this puzzling), is indicative of a commitment on my part to make you smile.

Therefore, I hesitate to link to the best article I've ever read about not only what's up with Social Security but also the plethora of unfulfillable promises mentioned above. It's not particularly amusing.

My generation has been in charge for a while now, and my generation has known about this problem for a while now, and so far, hasn't done a damn thing.

Hopefully, it will all work out somehow. If it doesn't, I hope I don't live long enough to say I told you so (and ask if there's room for me under that overpass you call home).

When I'm king, I'll phase in a system like the one Singapore uses. They came up with an affordable, well run, social security system wherein their citizens, not bureauons, decide how their money is spent that provides real social security, for everyone, cradle to grave.

Their healthcare system makes ours look sick. Poppa loves you.

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title. 

 







     



 

Isn't She Lovely

pixabay

If you're new here, this is a weekly column consisting of letters written to my (eventual) grandchildren (who exist) and my great-grandchildren (who don't, yet) -- the Stickies -- to haunt them after they become grups and/or I'm dead.

[Blogaramians: Blogarama renders the links in my columns useless. Please click on View Original to solve this problem and access lotsa columns.]

                                                 Glossary  

                                  Just Who IS This Guy?

Irregularly Appearing Imaginary Guest Stars 

Dana -- A Gentlereader
Iggy -- A Sticky (GT*)

Marie-Louise -- My Muse (GT*)

*Currently Grand Touring 

"You know, Saudi Arabia has a lot of poverty also. Regardless about what you hear about the viceroy and people being rich, et cetera."
                                   -Prince Al-Waleed bin Talal bin Abdul Aziz al Saud


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

The next time life jumps out from behind a rock and kicks you in the nether regions, remember, it could always be/get worse.

What OPEC does, what it exists to do, is illegal in America and no shortage of other countries. Price fixing by any other name is price-fixing. However, if you're a sovereign nation there's nothing stopping you from forming a club (in more ways than one) and openly colluding with the other members to stick it to the rest of the world.

In fact, you don't even have to hold secret meetings in the back rooms of sleazy saloons 'cause you're embarrassed about it.

You can set up your headquarters in Vienna, Austria (where price-fixing is illegal) and maintain a website to let everyone know what you're up to and not have to worry about even the usually useless United Nations giving you grief. I mention the UN because if you didn't know better, you'd think that's the place a global price-fixing cartel might be of interest. 

But OPEC isn't really what I want to talk about.

However, while doing some research on what I do want to talk about -- the kafala system in general, Saudi Arabia specifically -- I came across/was reminded of the preceding. All will become clear, your honor, I'm establishing a pattern of conduct.


As many of my Gentlereaders are no doubt aware, recently an unnamed family in Saudi Arabia (If any news source names the family its news to me) became infamous for tying their Filipino maid, Lovely Acosta Baruelo, to a tree for leaving some furniture out in the hot sun. They were apparently returning the favor.

Saudi Arabia, a (founding) member in good standing of OPEC, is also one of a number of Middle Eastern countries that participates in the kafala system. According to Wikipedia the kafala system "...is a system used to monitor migrant laborers, working primarily in the construction and domestic sectors..." in various and sundry nations in the Middle East.

The same Wikipedia entry goes on to state that according to a 2008 Human Rights Watch report "the combination of the high recruitment fees paid by Saudi employers and the power granted them by the kafala system to control whether a worker can change employers or exit the country made some employers feel entitled to exert 'ownership' over a domestic worker" and that the "sense of ownership ... creates slavery-like conditions."


2,500,000
"...over 2.5 million domestic workers in the Gulf countries, the majority of whom are female and hailing from Asia and Africa..."

I went looking for numbers and found one in a story published on the website of the Pulitzer Center.

About: "The Pulitzer Center on Crisis Reporting is an award-winning, non-profit news organization that partners with journalists and newsrooms to support in-depth reporting on critical global issues to educate the public, promote solutions, and save lives."

Question: Why are all those Muslims fleeing North Africa and the Middle East knock, knock, knocking on the Infidels doors when they have oil-rich brothers and sisters living in their neighborhood? Neighbors who are apparently suffering from such a severe shortage of Humbles that they have to import them? 

Answer: The same reason people are fleeing the corrupt gummits, crony capitalists, and drug cartels in Mexico and points south. "When ya ain't got nothin', ya got nothin' to lose." -Robert Allen Zimmerman

[For the record I'm not an open borders guy, I'm a put your own house in order, good (virtual) fences make good neighbors guy. Perhaps the United Nations could help.]  


Why Pick On Saudi Arabia? 
After all, there's no shortage of nations in their corner of the world who prefer a culture that combines an interesting mix of life as lived in the Middle Ages with modernity... 

[Announcer: Yes, you can have it all. Beheadings and slavery, skyscrapers and swimming pools, vacay in the new Middle East!]    

Well, we've had full diplomatic relations since 1933 and in exchange for being a good customer, they've often (but not always) served as our local proxy. Friends don't allow friends to drive drunk. Friends don't allow friends to enslave. 

Drill, Baby, Drill! Or better yet, Free the Atom, Revive Nuclear Power! (but that's another letter). Poppa loves you. 

Have an OK day. 
Please scroll down to react, comment, or share.


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P.S. Gentlereaders, for 25¢ a week, no, seriously, for 25¢ a week you can become a patron of this weekly column and help to prevent an old crank from running the streets at night in search of cheap thrills and ill-gotten gains. Just click here or on the Patreon button at the top or bottom of my website.

Your friendly neighborhood crank is not crazy about social media (I am a crank after all) but if you must, you can like me/follow me on Facebook. I post an announcement when I have a new column available as well as news articles/opinion pieces that reflect where I'm coming from or that I wish to call attention to.

©2019 Mark Mehlmauer As long as you agree to supply my name and URL (Creative Commons license at the top and bottom of my website) you may republish this anywhere that you please. Light editing that doesn't alter the content is acceptable. You don't have to include any of the folderol before the greeting or after the closing except for the title.