Rush Limbaugh, RIP

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

This is: A weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny. I write letters to my grandkids and my great-grandkids — the Stickies — eventual selves to advise them and haunt them after they've become grups and/or I'm deleted. Reading via monitor/tablet is recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Intended for H. sapiens that are — in the words of the late, great bon vivant and polymath, Professor Y. Bear — "Smarter [and cooler] than the av-er-age bear." 

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"I say what I mean. I don't speak in code. That's why I am a star and ace communicator." -Rush Limbaugh

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

From the proceedings of the joint Committee For the Investigation of Intersectional Iniquities, established by order of Her Royal Highness and President for Life, Kamala Harris, 1/21/25. Senator Samuel T. Stumblebum presiding. 

"No, Senator, I declare, under oath, that I am not now, nor have I ever been, a ditto head." 

While I tuned in occasionally to the late Rush Limbaugh's radio show if I found myself out and about in one of my family's fossil fuel burning vehicles — now all recycled and replaced by battery-powered vehicles owned and assigned by the Ministry of Transport, of course — it was only for a few minutes at a time. 

I confess I was/am a bit of a Luddite and that while I love music, to this day I store no songs on my phone, nor do I have a clue as to how one would get them to play on what I still refer to as the "radio" in a car if I did. 

Thus, I used to check out talk shows on AM radio whenever FM music stations were getting on my nerves:

KRAP 99!  All soulless hits, all the time, created by celebrities with very odd hair and computer geeks with laptops!

Or, 

RUST 93! Your station for classic rock! We will play no song you haven't heard a thousand feckin' times!

Until I couldn't stand it anymore and turned the "radio" off... If I could figure out how to do so."

"And nowadays?" asked Senator Stumblebum. 

"I just let the vehicle do the driving while I hum to myself or read comic books issued by the Ministry of Entertainment." 

"Comic books?"

Sorry, Senator, my age is showing, I mean graphic novels, of course. 

"Did you ever listen to the two pastry patriarchs hired to replace Mr. Limbaugh after he passed away?"

"Briefly, I gave up because I couldn't tell which one was which, among other reasons, and of course, now that they're both locked up and waiting, and waiting, for trial by the Intersectional Inquisition...

While I never, as I said, considered myself to be one of Mr. Limbaugh's ditto heads, he was, well, think of a real Italian hoagie with everything and not made by Subway, Mr. Hero, or some other corporate sandwich shop. 

As compared to his replacements who... Sorry, their names escape me just now. Think of a pair of boiled ham and American cheese with mayonnaise sandwiches, made with Wonder Bread, and wrapped, tightly, with Saran wrap." 

"Mr. Mehlmar, I must ask you to refrain from outdated and/or obscure cultural references and speak plainly, sir."

"Sorry, Senator. Let me put it this way. I didn't usually find him, or the shows prerecorded 'bits' particularly funny. I couldn't grok how he stayed motivated to keep talking about politics for three hours a day/five days a week, year in and year out, long after he had accumulated FU-level wealth. 

I never understood why fans would go to the trouble of struggling to have their phone calls answered, and then be screened, and then be placed on hold, hoping that their hero might permit them to speak for half a minute,

Before 

cutting them off and using their comment to launch yet another speech by a man who just couldn't seem to stop talking and never got tired of the sound of his own voice."       

"Mr. Mehlmar, you realize that you're under oath, correct?"

"Of course, Senator Stumblebum."

"Well sir, this committee has it on good authority that you have spoken highly of Mr. Limbaugh on more than one occasion," said the Senator, making a show of rustling some of the papers spread out in front of him in an exaggerated fashion.

"Hmmm... That explains why my "cellmate" vanished. I was afraid he had an appointment with a guillotine."

"Do you deny the accusation then?"     

"I do sir, I do. I merely expressed my admiration for the fact that in an age when even rock 'n' roll has been swallowed whole by our corporate masters, who no longer even had/have to pretend to be cool, cool in its vanishing original sense, Mr. Limbaugh was always looking for the line so he could step over it. 

Most importantly, he appeared to be having fun, and didn't give a tinker's damn if he triggered anyone. He was performing his art and shining a light on what he perceived to be the truth."   

"Take this, "columnist," back to his cell, immediately." 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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Earmarks

I've got questions... E.g., how do you make a silk purse out of sows ear?

Image by Karl Allen Lugmayer from Pixabay

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

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"This country has come to feel the same when Congress is in session as when the baby gets hold of a hammer." -Will Rogers

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

They're baaack, but they're not earmarks anymore. Nowadays, a given representative of the people can propose spending other people's money on Community Project Funding. 

The brief era of no pork (theoretically) permitted is over. The Associated Press (AP) put together an informative story a while back that you may have missed; the title of the piece is a question.

As Congress returns to funding earmarks, who will benefit?

Answer: Anyone whose delegate to the Swamp can get an earmark inserted into a bill that becomes law. 

According to the article, about a hundred Republicrats, and one, lone unnamed Depublican, "have declined to participate" in the latest update to the ever-popular, long-lived game show Sausage Making, Log Rolling, and Ear Marking.

However, as the article points out, only about $14,000,000,000 will be spent on Community Project Funding this year, a mere rounding error in Swampton, D.C. A small price to pay for a potential win/win again scenario. 

Any given Citizen of the Republic whose Swamp Delegate is on the ball might be the winner of the equivalent of a, um... 

{Fedrl scratch-off ticket?} 

Perfect, Dana! Odds are you won't be but ya gotta play to win, right? Regardless, your Swamp Delegate will have to keep their log rolling and sausage-making chops sharp. You win again! If he/she/they leaves money on the table some other S.D. will pick it up. 

Question: Why do men have nipples?

And why can't the experts who never tire of telling us that no one should start collecting Sorta/Kinda Social Security till they are 70 use their powers for good?

Dr. Malcolm McGillicuddy, 79, head of the economics department of Bonkercockie University,

And, 

Who collects a second paycheck for advising the Board of regents on managing the schools HOOGE, honkin', tax-free endowment that's larger than the economy of several developing countries, 

And, 

Who oversees a small army of postdoc wage slaves that do most of the actual work in his department, speaks:

"As everyone knows by now, Sorta/Kinda Social Security is running low on Congressional IOUs. Soon we will have to raise taxes, or cut benefits, or both. Raising the minimum retirement age to 70 would be an immense help.

People are living and working longer than ever before. Also, I must note that voluntarily waiting till age 70 generates a significantly larger benefit check. Sure, blue-collar jobs lasting for 50 years or more can cause health problems, such as death, but that's why people need to learn to code. 

If something isn't done soon, we could be forced to adopt a system in which Social Security taxes are invested in a transparent sovereign wealth fund of some sort wherein fund managers of The Fedrl Gummit would be forced to perform well or fall on their swords like in the real world.  

Deplorables of all stripes would know how much real money was in their retirement accounts and could add to it whenever they enjoy a cash windfall, like when they hit on a lottery ticket for example. 

Granted this would be real Social Security but might lead to layoffs of gummit employees and deny Congress (defined pension plan) the ability to pretend to be worried about our current I.O.U funded Ponzi scheme when they're running for reelection, 24x7x365, because the longer they "serve" the better fed their pensions will be and/or the greater the chance they can pick up a lobbying gig once they're out of office. 

{Too impractical, could never be done.}

Singapore doesn't think so, Dana, as is simply and clearly explained in this article. "...this is an alternative to the welfare state that works."

Answer: You'd think there'd be a thousand jokes in which this question was the set-up, funny answer to follow. I once asked a doctor, in a social setting, and he/she/they laughed so perhaps the set-up is the punch line.

Question: Where are surplus belly buttons stored for safekeeping?  

And given that "Black Lives Matter stands in solidarity with Palestinians" and is "...a movement committed to ending settler colonialism in all forms and will continue to advocate for Palestinian liberation."

Do they have any thoughts on the rape of Tibet by the Chinese? 

Or for that matter, the Chinese crushing civil rights in Hong Kong?

Or for that matter, the Chinese enslaving a million Uyghurs to make sneakers?

{Well at least the Uyghurs are learning a skill.}

Would they care to explain their support for Cuba's dicktater?

Answer: The Navel Reserve. 

Addendum: On a related note

The Princes of the Senate also enjoy making sausage with other people's money. 

How do we protect our economy from the ethically challenged Chinese — who believe that all's fair in love, war, and becoming the world's largest, most powerful economy — without screwing up our free market?

The Princes, preferring meat cleavers to scalpels, passed a $250,000,000,000, 1,500-page bill, the Innovation and Competitiveness Act, which is a collection of smaller, individual bills. It includes, among many other things, $81,000,000,000 for the National Science Foundation (NSF) so they can spend more money on basic research.

Sounds good till ya discover that the bill creates a Chief Diversity Office and Chief Diversity Officer (the CDOO?) at the NSF (which sounds like a jobs program for Wokies with useless degrees that are tough to monetize) to make sure the sausage is distributed "equitably."

The House, not to be outdone, has passed a pair of similar bills, so some sort of compromise needs to be hashed out. No actual sausage produced yet, stay tuned. In other news, supply problems (e.g., chip shortages) continue to depress American-made car sales...

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work and the fact I don't run adverts or sell things, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or plastic.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page. I announce my newest column there on Saturdays and post interesting stuff on other days.  

 

Live and Let Live

A column of quotable quotes

Image by Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay

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

Warning: This column is rated SSC — Sexy Seasoned Citizens — A Perusal by kids, callowyutes, or grups may result in a debilitating intersectional triggering. Viewing with a tablet or a monitor is highly recommended for maximum enjoyment.  

About

Glossary 

Erratically Appearing Hallucinatory Guest Star: Dana — A Gentlereader  

"My conservatism is fairly avant-garde, and it is a kind of rebuke to conformity." -Roger Scruton

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

I'm a collector of quotable quotes. I have a bunch of 'em recorded in a notebook that uses the dead trees format. Nowadays, I save 'em in a computer file. Live and let live is an oft-quoted ancient proverb that I wish all the kids on our modern playground would make a point of observing.

I hope the subtitle of this column will result in Readers Digest sending me a cease and desist letter since they've been running a feature of the same name in their magazine since before I was born.

{Wait-wait-wait. Why would you...}

With a bit of luck, and a well-written press release released on a slow news day, it might turn into my 15 minutes of fame.

Let's begin by pandering to my fellow Citizens of the Republic with a tasteful quote that any right-thinking person will agree with.

"The journey to spiritual awakening is better with french fries." -Bilquis

{Whoquis?}

Bilquis, an ancient goddess as portrayed by a very um, unusual (and now canceled) Starz network show titled American Gods. My fellow fans and I have been left holding the bag and there wasn't even a rushed, half-assed attempt to provide a conclusion of some sort.

{Are there temporarily delicious but now cold McDonald's fries that have morphed into plastic in that bag?}

"The American dream is the pursuit of happiness as each defines it." -I. Dunno

{I. Dunno? Who's that?}

A figment of my lame sense of humor; I can't find the source of the quote. It's from an article I read. I scribbled it down so I'd add it to my collection later but neglected to write down the name of the author.

Once upon a time, I was taught by Sister Mary McGillicuddy that the intention to live and let live was implied by our American experiment even though it has been imperfectly realized, to put it mildly.

"I want the playground to have minimum rules and maximum fun. I want just enough rules to give everyone an equal shot at some swing time and neutralize the bullies." -me

For example, I don't begrudge the Wokies the right to believe whatever they want. "...I will defend to the death, etc." -Voltaire.

However, if I were king, modern-day Piagnoni, followers of multiple modern-day Savonarola's, striving to remain in the good graces of the Intersectional Inquisition so they will have a place card designated, sustainably manufactured seat at the table waiting for them in Heaven Utopia,

And,

Who behave like members of the Westboro Baptist Church who've decided to become transnational Christian Jihadies...

Would have to undergo mandatory cult recovery therapy (yeah, it's a thing) to avoid having their voting privileges canceled. Also, Bonfires of the Vanities would be outlawed, even at mostly peaceful protests.

{Not everyone enjoys your obscure references.}

Merely established history. Follow the links for a free lesson. "...there is nothing new under the sun." -Ecclesiastes 1:9

"Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?" -T.S. Eliot

Mr. Eliot published the poem Choruses From the Rock in 1909. The quote above is from that poem. I don't...

{I had no idea you were a poetry aficionado.}

I'm not. However, I've been threatening to become more than an on-again/off-again dabbler since high school.

I don't know where or when I first encountered the line but I was immediately struck by the way it neatly and simply summed up one of the dilemmas of the Dizzinformation Age although it was written at the beginning of the previous century.

Too much information can easily lead to too little knowledge... and fresh ways and means to con, manipulate, and exploit Joe and Joan Bagadonuts for fun and profit.

I have it on good authority that Eliot was referring to spiritual knowledge, that he was referring specifically to the state of Christianity in his day, but it works in a somewhat different and modern context. I wouldn't describe myself as a Christian, but I wouldn't persecute...

{I see what you did there.}

I wouldn't persecute a Christian baker that takes his faith seriously if he refused to create a cake masterpiece for my — I self-identify as an African-American lesbian (traditional) woman who could pass for Hale Berry's more attractive sister — coming out party. I'd just find another master baker and skip tossing a casual contempt grenade through the door of his bakery.

Live and let live. Sister Mary would be proud.

Addendum: On a related note...

Lookie what I found at a website called Grammarist (.com).

{Lookie?}

"Live and let live is a proverb that is hundreds of years old."

Yada-yada-yada...

"To live and let live means to be tolerant, to live one’s own life in the manner that he [she/they] wishes and to allow the other fellow [person] to live his [her/their] life in the manner that he [she/they] wishes. The philosophy of live and let live does not necessarily embrace or condone the differences of others, but it promotes accepting the differences of others without trying to change them."

Yada-yada-yada...

"The phrase live and let live comes from the Dutch. It is found in The Ancient Law-Merchant, a collection of commercial law compiled by G. De Malynes in 1622. This code of law was written by medieval merchants to govern trade throughout Europe, North Africa and Asia Minor."

Imagine, Pasty Patriarchal money-grubbing capitalists understood what the concept of diversity and inclusion should mean, and made it the law.  

{Yada-yada-yada? And what about equity?}

As to the yada-yada-yada, follow the link. As to equity, entrepreneurs trying to survive in the real world understand that equity (defined as equality of outcome) is an adolescent dream that could easily become/is becoming a nightmare.    

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to share this column or access previous ones. If you enjoy my work and the fact I don't run adverts or sell things, please consider buying me a coffee via PayPal or plastic.    

Feel free to comment/like/follow/cancel/troll me on Cranky's Facebook page. I post my newest column there on Saturdays and interesting stuff on other days.