I'm Starting to Believe In Conspiracy Theories

 

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This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny — the Stickies — to advise 'em now, haunt them after I'm deleted.

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC-65: Sexy Seasoned Citizens   

About 

Glossary 

Featuring {Dana}: Persistent auditory hallucination and charming literary device 

"If I don't run for presidnet, we'll all be OK." -Joe Biden (2015) 

"I don't want to be president." -Donald Trump (1987)

Dear Stickies (and gentlereaders),  

Quick! 50 years from now, what will professors, pundits, and scholars...

{Oh my!}

...Say were the major accomplishments of the Obama presidency?

{The fact he and the little woman were worth about a million and a half in January of 2008 and are now worth about $70,000,000 and own four houses comes to mind. I'll bet his daughters aren't dealing with college loan payments.}

I haven't given the infamous Choom Gang's most famous alumnus much thought lately, however...

{Choom Gang?} 

Well, as far as I know (I haven't read any of his books) although Mr. Obama has freely admitted that, unlike Slick Willie, he did inhale, and he did do a little blow, he hasn't gone into great detail about the Choom Gang, which is what he and the dudes he got stoned with in high school called themselves.

However, some of them did, and in case you missed it, google Choom Gang, and all sorts of different tokes takes on the story pop up. But who knows which details are true, which are exaggerated, and which are made up? Or, more importantly in my semi-humble opinion, why did his friends feel compelled to snitch and not avail themselves of a "no comment."  

{Right? With friends like those etc., hey you're not gonna claim that... Wait-wait-wait. Choom?}

Hawaiian slang for smoking weed (pakalolo), Dana, to choom is to smoke weed (at least when Mr. Obama was in high school, I don't know about now). It has other meanings in other contexts. The "gang" traveled around town in a VW Microbus owned by one of its members they called the Choomwagon.    

Big BUT, Mr. Obama it seems, has no shortage of friends in the news media willing to mind their own business these days when it comes to what The Swamp's most famous resident gets up to when he has friends over.

{He still lives in D.C., full-time?}

Looks that way, but honestly, I don't know. I googled my brains out but that information is hard to come by.

{Probably a Secret Service thing.} 

Perhaps. 

Not long ago, I was in the process of pursuing input via my daily morning routine of carefully constructed input inputting...

{You were sucking on your first cup of Cafe Bustelo while treading water in the Dizzinformation Ocean, yes?}

That's what I said. Anyway, I was reading a Holman W. Jenkins Jr. column in the Wall Street Journal about... 

{Holman who?}

A columnist I follow who writes a column, twice a week, for the WSJ. I'm a fanboy. 

The column was primarily about Mr. Jenkins's opinion that President Biden needs to find a way to push Kamala Harris aside and add a strong VP candidate to the ticket to solve some of the problems standing between Biden and a second term. 

{I see where you're going but I don't see Obama agreeing to be Uncle Joe's VP candidate.}

I don't think so either, although it would be interesting. But my buddy Holman happened to remark in passing on the fact that Obama declined to follow tradition and get out of Dodge, and out of the way, of his successor. 

Instead, the tribune of the downtrodden residents of the Southside of Chicago bought himself an $8,100,000 mansion in D.C., two miles from the White House, one (last time I checked) of four high-end houses he owns.     

{To be fair it's a relatively small mansion. It only has 9 bedrooms and 8 bathrooms... your buddy Holman?}

Yeah... if not for some obviously very bad karma. Holie's point, although it wasn't the point of his column, was that it's strange, that given there are hungry herds of reporters roaming the streets of Washington in search of prey, apparently none of them stake out the Obama House. 

Rather curious given that it seems to be the favorite domicile of our former commander and chief... but I can't say for sure because of the paucity of information referred to above. You can go a-googlin' if you don't believe me. 

Allegedly, there are frequent gatherings of former Obama minions (and others) who are now Biden minions who work at a different but much better-known, D.C. house. 

{Well, perhaps they're just being nice and giving him some space.}

Nice national reporters? In America? In 2023? There's no feckin' way that...

Wait a second!

Your dimwitted columnist has an aha! moment.

Given that the WSJ is a national newspaper that's so committed to old-school, traditional, objective journalism they print the real names of people (subscribers only) who comment on articles and op-eds, with millions of readers, and 1,800 or so reporters in 45 countries... 

Why aren't they staking out the Obama's D.C. digs?

{I hear Secret Service agents carry weapons.}  

As it turns out, the street in front of Mr. Obama's house is blocked off, and only approved (and I assume carefully vetted) visitors and approved (and I assume vetted, at least I hope so) delivery drivers are given access. 

But why aren't any lean and hungry reporters monitoring who attends what are supposed to be regular gatherings at the Obama House just by staking out both ends of both streets and keeping track of who is coming and going?

{What if they do but they're being chased off?}

That would be a story unto itself.

{What if they're aren't any regular meetings/gatherings/whateverings at the Obama House?}

I thought of that but according to Mr. Jenkins, who's in a position to know, this is common knowledge in Washington. Perhaps he was nudging his bosses at the WSJ. 

{Whatever. Why should I/we care?}

Well, let's review. A former POTUS, despite multiple decades of tradition, lives a couple of miles from the White House in a home that's apparently his primary residence and hangs out with former staffers who are now current White House staffers (and who knows who else) and the rabid press isn't interested?

Never mind, I'm probably just paranoid. I gotta go, someone's knocking and holding up a Secret Service badge in front of the Ring camera on my front door. 

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

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I post links to my columns on both Facebook and the social media site formerly known as Twitter so you can love me, hate me, or lobby to have me canceled or publically flogged on either site. Cranky don't tweet (X-claim?).  

 

Newspeak

Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny — the Stickies — to advise 'em now, haunt them after I'm deleted.

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC-65: Sexy Seasoned Citizens   

About 

Glossary 

Featuring {Dana}: Persistent auditory hallucination and charming literary device 

"There are some ideas so wrong that only a very intelligent person could believe in them." -George Orwell

(I'm sorry this week's column is late. I was arrested on Friday for illegal word use and didn't get out till today (Sunday, 11/12) when a lawyer from the Poetic License Association was able to get me released on a technicality.) 

Dear Stickies (and gentlereaders),  

When we read (a condensed) 1984 in high school I was blown away. Not just by the story but also by the writing chops of its author.

When I read Animal Farm on my own a few years later I was blown away, Not just by the story but also by the writing chops of its author.

When I re-read (an uncondensed) 1984 a few years after that and again a few years ago I was blown away by the writing chops of the author.

Orwell, a democratic socialist incidentally, who wrote two globally recognized literary classics that are still studied today, before dying at the age of 46 from tuberculosis 73 years ago, is currently under attack by Wokies for thoughtcrime.  

Author Anna Funder, for example, feeling that she had been "spiritually drained by the monotonous demands of motherhood" came across a collection of Orwell's essays in a used bookstore and "embarked on a project of re-reading his work, hoping his explorations of tyranny would help her liberate herself from the 'motherload of wifedom I had taken on'".

Long story short, she winds up writing a biography of Orwell's wife detailing what a monster he actually was (much of it speculative) and how the patriarchy was, and still is, responsible for repressing all women all the time. 

He was dead less than a year after 1984 was published and personally I see no point in digging him up and killing him.     

George Orwell was obviously right about the unmitigated disaster that was/is communism (Animal Farm) but may have been wrong about what life in the average dystopia of the future would be like (1984). 

Communism is (dis)credited with a body count of 100,000,000 H. sapiens, more or less, and although the killing — and enslaving, and torturing, and imprisoning — continues, the running total, communism's mur-dom-eter if you will, racks up the bodies at a much slower pace these days. 

{Not bad, but I would've used kill-ometer myself.}

Clever, but that doesn't quite work, Dana. A murdometer keeps track of total deaths; a killometer measures how fast people are being deliberately killed. Think odometer v. speedometer. 

What I find fascinating is that irregardless, there are still plenty of people in the world who declare, with a straight face, that if communism was ever properly implemented somewhere, by someone, it would finally have a chance to shine.

{There's no such word as irregardless, it's regardless, without the ir.}

That's what I thought, however, if you go a-googlin' you'll quickly discover that while irregardless is considered to be nonstandard by the language police (and verboten by my spellchecker), it's not illegal and has been in use since 1795 according to Merriam-Webster.

While I admit that logically it makes no sense when you think about it, I like the sound of it. 

If China's current emperor and his minions can claim with a straight face that China is a communist country (socialism with "Chinese characteristics"), and certain American college professors and no shortage of Zoomers can claim communism is a valid political philosophy — logic be damned. Irregardless, it's my column. 

{Okay fine, but what's any of this got to do with 1984? And whaddayamean China's not a communist country?}

1984 features a world-class traditional dystopia with an evil dicktater, and a relative handful of minions. Everyone else is, for all intents and purposes, a miserable slave.

{Right, like China.}

Nah, that's old-school China. With occasional limited and brief exceptions, China was a relatively traditional dicktatership for millennia and a Communist Utopia for half a minute, but now it's a new-school dictatership. 

It's a dystopia for certain minorities, of course, but that's for their own good. Once they're assimilated, and so far resistance has been futile, they'll be happy, well-adjusted, and productive members of society striving to help make China the planet's most powerful hegemon... while keeping an eye on their social credit score. 

{So what exactly is socialism with Chinese characteristics?}

Easy peasy:

"...Marxism-Leninism, Mao Zedong Thought, Deng Xiaoping Theory, the Theory of Three Represents, ...the Scientific Outlook on Development, and the Thought on socialism with Chinese Characteristics for a New Era as well as the Party’s basic line and basic policy." 

For more details please refer to: 

Hold High the Great Banner of Socialism with Chinese Characteristics and Strive in Unity to Build a Modern Socialist Country in All Respects. 

This is the catchy title of Emperor Xi Jinping's Report to the 20th National Congress of the Communist Party of China — 58 pages of sparkling and inspirational prose.  

In other words, just now, socialism with Chinese Characteristics is Xi Jinping's name for a hooge-steaming pile of Bonkercockie, the official rationalization for a dicktaterhip that promotes capitalism and limited liberty when it's convenient but exerts central control (with an iron fist) when it ain't.

This is how you pretend, with a straight face, that the CCP, the Chinese Communist Party (the Emperor and his minions) is running a communist country, the Chinese version of a "dictatership of the proletariat."   

Socialism with etc. is whatever Emperor Xi says it is, subject to change. 

If he changes his mind, dies of natural causes, is assassinated, or is just removed from the chess Go board and put back in the box by someone who has ascended to the apex of the Yellow Patriarchal Hegemonistic Sino-imperialist Dominance Hierarchy, he/she/they will decide.

{Who/What?}

Whoever takes over the Emperor's current job. As everybody knows, the world is currently run by Pasty Patriarchal Hegemonistic Euro-imperialists, but the Emperor has made it clear that he thinks China should be in charge and I suspect that any given potential successor will feel the same.

{China in charge... wasn't that the name of an 80s sitcom?}

You're thinking of Charles In Charge, starring the anti-Christ, Scott Baio. 

{So you're saying that since Orwell didn't predict a dystopia like China he missed the rickshaw?} 

No, let us not forget Cuba, Venezuela, my personal favorite, North Korea, and other lesser-known, much less powerful/threatening um... poop holes.

In his defense, he was a man of his time. I don't think anyone would've predicted that Stalin's Russia would eventually become the Pooteen's Russia; the Pooteen plays the Tzar and a gaggle of greedy, corrupt oligarchs play nobles. At least the stores actually have stuff on the shelves. 

Irregardless, I'm just grateful I live in a country where people can legally say, within certain limits, almost anything they want wherever they want without fear of being doxed, de-platformed, or disappeared for hate speech. 

{You're being sarcastical... right?}

And although everyone knows there's no such thing as online privacy we gracefully accept this as a small price to pay for personalized advertising that points us to cheap merchandise and expensive iPhones (often, unfortunately, made by virtual slaves) in the People's Republic of China. 

Also, don't forget being able to watch perfect strangers getting naked and/or having sex 24x7x365 via the worldwide web of all knowledge without feeling any guilt, shame, or responsibility now that what used to be called porn is now called female empowerment.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to leave a comment, share my work, or access my golden oldies.   

I post links to my columns on both Facebook and the social media site formerly known as Twitter so you can love me, hate me, or lobby to have me canceled or publically flogged on either site. Cranky don't tweet (X-claim?).

Disrespected

Image by Nathan Wright from Pixabay

This is a weekly column consisting of letters to my perspicacious progeny — the Stickies — to advise 'em now, haunt them after I'm deleted.

Trigger Warning: This column is rated SSC-65: Sexy Seasoned Citizens   

About 

Glossary 

Featuring {Dana}: Persistent auditory hallucination and charming literary device

"Old age is no place for sissies." -Bette Davis 

Dear Stickies (and gentlereaders),  

I apologize for disrespecting anyone I judged to be old and out of it when I was a callowyute. I've been 39 for 31 years now and I'm disrespected almost daily so I'm paying for my sins. But I strive to not take it personally, it's just how things are in a youth-worshiping culture going 99 mph 24x7x365.

{I thought you didn't like the word disrespecting?}

I don't, Dana, it looks, and especially sounds, ugly, as does disrespected. In fact disrespected looks and sounds particularly ugly. 

{Then why...}

Well, I'm an old man and I associate both of these words with those who aren't. I don't recall them being commonly used when I was younger and they're both very commonly used nowadays. So I'm trying to um... reach across the temporal gulf that separates me from both the truly young, and the younger than I, which is the point of this column. 

{Huh. So you find certain words in themselves to be ugly, not necessarily what they... represent?}

Oh yeah. Take a word like misanthrope, hideous. Paradoxically, misanthropic is gorgeous.

{Huh.}

It's not you, it's me, I'm old.

This was supposed to be a column about Old v. Young but I quickly became entangled in so many possible threads that I decided to take the high road and instead warn/advise the young and younger than I, those who are still young enough to rarely if ever think about their inevitable decline and deletion. 

When I was young, and I suspect this is true of most H. sapiens, I gave virtually no thought to getting old. On those rare occasions that I did, I was confident that this was even farther off than say... a term paper that was due by the end of next week, so why worry? HT: Alfred E. Newman. 

But once H. sapiens mature a bit, but are still relatively young, they would be well served to be at least a little more aware that they will wake up one day, note that there's more sand in the bottom of the hourglass than the top, and live/plan accordingly. 

But if they're anything like I was 100 years or so ago, they won't pay much attention when it's pointed out to them, even by a non-famous, non-syndicated, virtually unknown columnist.

{A 100 years? It appears that temporal distortion works in both directions.}

No doubt. Hey, apropos of not much, I once had a brother-in-law whose nickname was No-Doubt, about 75 years ago. He... 

{Anyways...} 

Although attempting to point out to the young/younger the utility of being prepared for, and/or maintaining an awareness of, one's eventual personal decline and fall is likely to be a fool's errand, perhaps a few tips on what being old in America is going to be like might be helpful. 

{Say, do you know that "falls are the leading cause of fatal and nonfatal injuries" for geezers/geezerettes?}

I do, a not-so-fun fact that comes to mind every time my wrinkled bum and I get in/out of the shower, but what...

{We need to do more public service announcements.}

Anyways...

I know that you zany youngsters are already tired of hearing this, but you're not going to believe how fast your life will seem to have gone by once you can see the end approaching. 

[Dana groans, loudly... there's exaggerated eye-rolling]   

Seriously. I know-I know, you've probably experienced this to a certain degree, but trust me, you ain't seen nothin' yet; don't say I didn't warn you. 

Now, more importantly, one day it's going to dawn on you, or you're going to be forced to admit, that even if you're still relatively sharp and young at heart, no one mistakes you for a spring chicken and that you may even be...old. 

(On average: 70 or better. Warning: may be earlier.) 

Note the word relatively; you will have lost some of your edge. It's important that you face up to this (not everyone does) and compensate accordingly. 

The good news is that striving to fool the young and younger will help you to stay sharpish. Use it or lose it, right? Even better news: when you forget something or screw something up (accidentally or deliberately) that pees off the young/youngers you can invoke the Senior Moment defense.

Please manipulate responsibly (and judiciously). They may be looking for, even documenting, excuses to park your butt in a senior storage unit of some sort, particularly if they're seeking money, or revenge.  

{Pees off?}

Sometimes a silly word choice can turn an uglier (and now ubiquitous) version of a word (that I heard a nun use the other day) into something funny. It's not you, it's me, I'm old. However, all gentlepersons should always be aware that often, funny may be a better option than crude.

{But not always?}

No, not always. It's a judgment call, context-dependent. 

There are radically different kinds of old people. You must be aware of this early on so as to strive to avoid becoming one of the less-than-optimal versions. 

You undoubtedly already know many people who began aging early on and have been calcifying ever since. Never particularly self-aware, they've embraced stereotypes all their lives. There will come a point where they have been at it so long they may be damaged, even shatter, when confronted with unwelcome changes. 

They're so numerous that many young/youngers, due to unpleasant personal interactions magnified by the tendency of all sorts of media to lump all sorts of people into overly broad categories, may not realize that it's truly possible to age more or less gracefully, and keep a more or less open mind. 

But watch out for obsessives and would-be immortals. 

There are fine lines to be drawn between people attempting to maintain a reasonable standard of physical and mental health, people who are obsessed with maintaining high levels of health so as to have the energy levels needed to work all the damn time because they _______, and people who want to live forever because they _______. 

{What's with all the blanks?}

Reasons/motivations/rationalizations vary widely. Oh, and I'm not talking about people who have to work all the damn time because life peed on them. And I think that many obsessives can't help it. And I think that the would-be immortals (unfortunately? fortunately?) haven't learned there's no shortage of things worse than death. 

But I hope, that like Forrest Gump, at some point they decide that enough is enough and stop to smell the _______.

Poppa loves you,

Have an OK day

Scroll down to leave a comment, share my work, or access my golden oldies.   

I post links to my columns on both Facebook and the social media site formerly known as Twitter so you can love me, hate me, or lobby to have me canceled or publically flogged on either site. Cranky don't tweet (X-claim?).