Saturday Morning On the Road

by Pa Rock

Road Warrior

Rosie and I left the farm not long after six o’clock this morning and by noon we were playing with grandchildren in the Kansas suburbs of Kansas City.  Traffic was thick and slow on this Saturday of Labor Day weekend, and the Missouri Highway Patrol was out in full force.  In addition to being a holiday weekend, today is also the last day of the month, and the patrol probably has quotas to meet!

The skies were overcast for the entire drive, and the temperature coolish.  The high today is expected to be seventy-seven degrees. How’s that for a high temperature on the last day of August!

We did see several vehicles pulling boats, so people are heading to the lakes for some late summer fun and fishing – and the cooler weather may help in getting the fish to bite.

But Rosie and I would rather spend our weekend playing with grandchildren than messing with smelly old fish!

Have fun and stay safe this holiday weekend!

Dorian Roars Toward South Florida

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

While hurricane season in the Atlantic Basin (Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean Sea, and the Gulf of Mexico) officially runs from June 1^st through November 30, the “peak” of the storm season is from mid-August through late October.  We are now two weeks into the peak season for Atlantic hurricanes, and “Dorian,” described as a “monster” hurricane, is headed for the Florida coast and may make landfall somewhere near Palm Beach this coming Monday or Tuesday.

Dorian is so large and unpredictable that all counties in Florida have been placed under an emergency alert. 

Donald Trump, who didn’t get overly excited when Hurricane Maria devastated Puerto Rico in 2017 – and thought that the damage could probably be mitigated with plenty of paper towels, has kicked his personal interest in this new hurricane, Dorian, into overdrive.  Trump, who owns two major resort properties that lie directly in the hurricane’s path, has bailed on a planned overseas trip and instead will stay in the US – but safely away from Florida – to monitor the storm.  

It has not yet been announced where Trump will play golf this weekend now that Mar-a-Lago will be unavailable.   It is also unknown whether the infamous bedbugs at Trump’s resort properties are tough enough to withstand the onslaught of a Category 4 hurricane, but local betting parlors are reportedly favoring the Trump cockroaches to survive the storm with relative ease.

(Former Canadian Prime Minister Kim Campbell, the only woman to have ever held that post, tweeted that she was “rooting for a direct hit on Mar-a-Lago.”  Ms. Campbell went on to say that she knows Palm Beach well and wishes the best for the people there.)

And, catty remarks about Trump aside, no one wants to see personal injuries and deaths – or catastrophic damage, from this or any other storm.

Dorian is the fourth named Atlantic storm this season, and by far the most serious.

According to a recent article in The Old Farmer’s Almanac, the World Meteorological Association names the hurricanes.  The group creates six lists of twenty-one-names each for the Atlantic storms and six lists of twenty-one names each for the Pacific. They run one list each year for each ocean, and at the end of the six-year cycle, they begin repeating the names. Hurricanes that proved to be especially destructive have their names retired.

The Atlantic hurricane names for this season include:  Andrea, Barry, Chantal, Dorian, Erin, Fernand, Gabrielle, Humberto, Imelda, Jerry, Karen, Lorenzo, Melissa, Nestor, Olga, Pablo, Rebekah, Sebastian, Tamra, Van, and Wendy.  If all names on a list are used during one storm season, they begin using the names of letters from the Greek alphabet:  Alpha, Beta, etc.

The Old Farmer’s Almanacs stressed that it does not create the names, and it asked that its readers refrain from sending hurricane name suggestions to their offices.

But back to Dorian: Hurricanes are dangerous, and this one looks to be deadly.  Pack up and get out, or hunker down – but stay safe!

Big Brother Is in the House!

by Pa Rock
Kibitzer

A couple of evenings ago as I was trying to trace some of my ancestors through the backwoods of Tennessee and Kentucky, I thought of how convenient it would be to have a two-state map of the area, say circa 1850, and large enough that I could find the remote communities that my forebears had called home, at least temporarily, as they migrated West.  I’ve had some luck at finding specific maps before at Amazon.com, so I took my business there.

And sure enough I found the perfect item – a two-by-three-foot reproduction of Tennessee and Kentucky that was published in 1850.  And the price of $12.95 (shipping included) could not be beaten with an old hickory stick.  I banged in the order on my trusty computer before Amazon could change its mind – or raise the price!

And the order was confirmed, lickety-split.  But before I could navigate away from Amazon, that crafty on-line retailer decided that since I was already at its site, it might as well try to get some more of my retirement income.  My grandson, three-year-old Sully has two big interests in life:  excavators and dinosaurs.  Amazon suddenly confronted me with an image of a child’s tee-shirt featuring a large piece of earth-moving equipment and the caption “See You Later, Excavator!”  

And how in the heck could I not buy that?  But then, again before I could get away, a pair of little-man pajamas featuring a roaring dinosaur popped up – so I bought those, too!  As I was checking out with Sully’s order, Amazon wanted to know where to send my purchases.  I have probably thirty different addresses on file with that company that have accumulated over the years, but the slick retailer put two options in front of me:  Did I want to send the clothing items to my home – or to Sullivan Macy?  Amazon knew the person for whom I was shopping – of course, it did!

Can you imagine what it would be like to walk into a Walmart or a JC Penney and have a greeter hand you exactly what you came in for, and then lead you to a couple of items that were also “must” haves?

Amazon, of course, analyzes each and every order that I place, and it also looks at everything else that others have purchased for each person on my address list, and then it has a scary working knowledge of items that would appeal to me, the shopper, whenever I show up at its site.

That’s power.  That’s my life under the firm guidance of an outside force intent on selling me as much as possible.   That’s Big Brother elbowing his way through my life – and I invited him through the internet.

Amazon's "Prime" streaming service informs its parent company of the programs that I enjoy watching - and Amazon's  "Alexa" reports on my music preferences - and God knows what else that she is apt to overhear while constantly eavesdropping in my home!

Amazon is plugged into my life and knows exactly how to entice me into making purchases.

And then there is Google, a service that carefully reads and analyzes all of my email traffic.  If I even hint to Cousin Brad in Boise that I would like to go to the South Pacific someday, I will start receiving pop-up ads featuring travel deals to Bora Bora and Tahiti.   Google ferrets out my deepest desires and then sells that information to the appropriate retailers who, in turn, target me through ads on Google. It’s a racket, one that I have invited into my home.

There is no rest for the guy with a dollar in his pocket!

And our government is also a player in this massive in-home spying program.  There was a story in the news this week about a foreign student who had been admitted to Harvard.  The lad was, however, denied entry into the United States due to some concerns regarding social media postings.  It turns out that he didn’t even make the postings that flagged his travel to the United States – some of his friends had!

Now we are suddenly responsible for what our friends are thinking and posting!

Bureaucrats employed by world governments are reading blogs, examining tweets, scouring Facebook –and making lists and checking them twice.

Free speech, it would seem, comes with a cost.

I’m glad that Sully will soon be wearing the coolest tee-shirt ever, but I am very worried about the ultimate price that we all will be paying for living in a “modern” world.

"1984" has come and gone, but Big Brother has finally arrived and may be around for a long time to come, whether we want him to be or not.  Today he needs us to function, but scientists and researchers are predicting that within the next thirty years computers will capable of complete independent thought and action.  At that point it may be humanity that gets unplugged!

But I digress . . .

See you later, Excavator!

Trump to Deport Sick Kids

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

It was announced yesterday that the Trump administration has ended a policy that allowed children who were receiving life-saving medical treatment to remain in the United States for limited periods of time.    Letters have gone out informing those kids and their families that they have just over one month to leave the United States or they will face deportation.

The children had been allowed to stay for up to two years under a program of “medical deferred action” if they could demonstrate extreme medical need.   Many were receiving treatment for cancer, HIV, cystic fibrosis, and other life-threatening maladies. Critics of this latest action against children by the Trump administration fear that the youngsters being forced to leave the country have, in essence, been given death sentences.

The irony is rich, and, in this case, deadly.

On the one hand the Trump administration is declaring that it can keep children and families in its concentration camps at the border for indefinite periods of time.    But on the other hand, if immigrant children have life-threatening illnesses and could benefit from U.S. medical care, the game shifts to getting them out of the country as quickly as possible.

Healthy children are locked in cages without access to hygiene products and basic health precautions like flu shots, and children who are ill are sent back to third-world countries where they are likely to languish and die without modern medicine.

Those with the least power are certainly receiving the least justice.

The United States of America used to be a far better place than it is today - and the difference is Donald John Trump.

To the Moon, Donnie!

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

Move over Stallone!  Stand down Jean Claude Van Damme!   Back off Steven Seagal!  Donald John Trump is in the White House – and it just doesn’t get any more heroic than that.  Trump, a man of bold action, is flexing his big brain muscle in ways that all of you celluloid posers never even thought about.  

Yes, Bruce Willis may have saved the planet by blowing up an asteroid, but did he ever consider nuking a hurricane?  Not likely! And Harrison Ford may have danced his way across a darkened room full of snakes – and rescued a pretty girl in the process – but did he ever try to bully his way into a real estate deal the size of Greenland?  I think not!  And Nick Cage may have battled a plane loaded with hardened criminals, but DJT has put lots and lots of families in cages – and kept them there!

Trump’s raging brilliance and boldness has brought the United States to the attention of the rest of the world in ways our previous leaders would have never dared to imagine, let alone pursue.   And while Trump may not have made America great again, he has managed to make it a world-class punch line – and sell a lot of Chinese ball caps in the process!

And if Trump wants to rent rooms in one of his overpriced, bed-bug infested hotels to world leaders for the next G-7 conference, well, is that really any of our business?  Donald Trump has a really big brain, and he knows what’s best for us and for the world.

Trump is a man of bold action!

(Donnie, have you ever wondered how far you personally could hit a golf ball on the moon?  As president, you could make that happen.  Think about it!)

Monday's Poetry: "A Walk"

by Pa Rock

Poetry Appreciator

Several months ago one of my doctors suggested that perhaps I should fit more exercise into my already busy schedule.  I took his advice to heart and purchased a FitBit knockoff and started keeping track of the amount of steps that I take daily. I record those stats on the same sheets where I keep my daily weight and the results of each day’s three blood sugar checks.   And then when I go visit that same young whippersnapper doctor, I drop more data on him that a horse could digest.

I try to do 10,000 steps or more a day, and my wrist pedometer rewards me with a buzzy vibration and a flashing graphic when I hit that daily goal.   And, as B.F. Skinner proved with his rats, I get stoked by those rewards and keep striving onward to see that they are repeated each day.

Just kicking around the house produces three to four thousand steps a day, so to hit my goal of 10,000, I have to get creative and do extra activities.  To that end, I have fashioned a walking schedule that helps.

I get up each morning at 4:00 a.m. and let Rosie outside to do her business.  While Rosie takes care of her needs, I get on the computer and catch up on email and hit a few of my favorite news sites.  Then, about 4:30 I go outside to feed the cats and open up the chicken coop.  While I am outside – if it is not raining – I also get in my first serious walking of the day – up and down the driveway and along the edge of the road.  Walking along the road in front of my house anytime of the day is not too bright, but most of my unemployed and drug-impaired neighbors are still asleep at that hour, and the road is surprisingly quiet.   If someone does come roaring along, I can usually hear them and see their headlights from about half-a-mile away.

Anyway, by the time I get back in bed around 5:30 or so for a couple of more hours of sleep, I already have 2,000 or more steps completed - or 20% of my daily goal.  

In the early afternoon I head out to a local park where I add around 2,500 more steps walking a nature trail.  It’s a quiet time in a usually serene setting, and I look forward to that part of my day.

Late afternoons, if my numbers are lagging, I take a long walk around the perimeter of the farm.  I use that time to also pick up sticks, brush, and rocks – things that would interfere with mowing.  Then there are the evening “chores” – feeding the cats again and locking the chickens up for the night.  If I am at 9,500 or more when I finally come to the house for good, I know that I will reach my goal before bedtime.  (And if I am short of that, I go outside and walk some more!)

I’m not sure that I am any healthier for all of that effort, but I do find that walking brightens my outlook on things.

Today’s poetry selection by early 20^th century German lyric poet Rainer Maria Rilke speaks of the positive impact that walking and absorbing the sights can have on us. We changed by all that we see and experience.

A Walk

By Rainer Maria Rilke

My eyes already touch the sunny hill, 

going far beyond the road I have begun.

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;

it has an inner light, ever from a distance – 

and changes us, even if we do not reach it,

into something else, which, hardly sensing it,

we already are;  a gesture waves us on

answering our own wave . . .

but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

And when I am walking, seriously walking, something waves me on and my day is calmed by the wind in my face!

CPB Is Intentionally Putting Lives at Risk by Withholding Flu Shots

By Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

In the earliest days of 1918 a virulent form of influenza (flu) developed and quickly spread around the globe where it killed between twenty-one million and one hundred million people. That great flu pandemic was given the misnomer of being the “Spanish Flu,”  but most people who have studied the health disaster now believe that it started in the central United States, most likely on a pig farm in Haskell County, Kansas.

The deadly virus soon found its way to the Army’s training center at Camp Funston, Kansas (a part of Ft. Riley), where more than 50,000 young men were being trained to fight in Europe.  Many became ill at Funston, while others eventually boarded ships for France not realizing that they were carrying the virus and laying the foundation for an international health disaster.  

The close proximity of the men at Camp Funston and on the ships proved to be ideal for incubating and spreading the flu virus.

Fast-forward a century:

Thousands of immigrants are being detained in crowded – and often unsanitary – holding cells and literal cages along the U.S. southern border.  Recent news stories have told about a lack of sanitary products such as soap and toothpaste at these facilities, and aid groups have been forced to go to court in order to secure these necessities.  Over the past year, three children have died from the flu in these family concentration camps.

Crowded conditions and unsanitary living conditions made the situation is ripe for an outbreak of the flu.  One thing the government could do to thwart the threat of a large-scale flu outbreak in these facilities would be to provide all of the detainees with flu shots. The Center for Disease Control (CDC), in fact, has recommended that everyone over the age of six-months receive a flu shot.

But another government agency is fighting that recommendation, at least with regard to detained immigrants.  Despite the fact that three children in its “care” have already died, the Customs and Border Patrol (CBP) is refusing to allow the detained immigrants to receive flu shots.

Here is the problem: If there is an outbreak of flu at one of these facilities and the virus gets passed around through the dirty and crowded conditions, more deaths will occur and the unchecked virus is likely to mutate and strengthen before it is confronted by  modern medicine.  Detainees, even before they show signs of the flu, could be sent back to Mexico or Central America to spread the disease there as well, or they could be released into the United States and carry the virus with them to their new homes.  Also, workers at these detention centers will have been exposed to the virus and could be carriers as well.

The current issue of Popular Science (August 22, 2019) looks at this situation in an article by Nicole Wetsman entitled “Border detention centers won’t give vaccines, despite flu deaths and potential U.S. outbreaks.”  In it, she quotes Sandra Quinn, the chair of the Department of Family Science at the University of Maryland in discussing the vulnerability to the flu of children in the camps:

“There children are under enormous stress.  Their immune systems may not be able to fight in the way they would fight if they were getting good food and care and decent sleep."

Ms. Wetsman’s article also quotes Paul Spiegel, the director of the Center for Humanitarian Health at Johns Hopkins University, who stressed the need for basic health precautions among the detained population at the border:

“Facilities should be provided with the same preventative health care that is standard in the country that the facilities are in.  In the United States, that would mean providing flu vaccinations per CDC recommendations, and taking additional care to offer the shots to people who might be at additional risk of complications, like children, the elderly, or people with other health conditions  Not offering vaccinations could lead to more outbreaks and more flu deahts, which usually only occur rarely.”

Spiegel added this ominous note:

“If we’re not taking the simple, fundamental steps (like flu shots), you have to wonder how well we’re doing on larger health issues.”

We are standing on the precipice of a  health disaster, a calamity that both history and science acknowledge, and yet the Customs and Border Patrol stands by smugly and refuses to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation – nor take any actions to avert it.

It almost feels like somebody up the chain-of-command wants to see this vulnerable population decimated.  But a raging virus is no respecter of skin color or barbed wire, and if it takes hold, it will spread.

If fetuses are part of God's plan, then dirty little brown children probably are as well.

Of Epstein, Koch, and BLTs

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

I have long harbored a theory that if there is a literal Hell, then it’s main furnace room is probably located just a couple of feet beneath the city of Phoenix, Arizona.  I have lived in a variety of climates, but Phoenix was by far the most brutal – well, during the summer at least.

There is a week every June when the daytime temperature in Phoenix hovers around 120 degrees, and in the evenings it cools down to the mid-nineties.    With climate change, which is happening now, it will only get worse. The temperature is so hot in Phoenix in June that Sky Harbor airport has to occasionally suspend service because the asphalt on the runways begins melting.  It is literally the equivalent of Death Valley trying to support one of the largest urban complexes in the United States.

My theory about the furnaces of Hell lying beneath Phoenix may be confirmed soon as two well known Americans arrive and begin to settle in.   Jeffrey Epstein, a billionaire sex trafficker of underage girls for the rich and famous, and David Koch, a billionaire planet rapist, climate denier, and promoter of right-wing politicians and causes,  have both recently slipped the mortal bonds of earth, and, if there is a Hell, have recently checked in and are currently sizzling like two cheap strips of Jimmy Dean Bacon.

And if there is no Hell, both of these men of consequence are gone and have left the things that mattered most to them in life behind.  Epstein is moldering in a box underground without any fourteen-year-old girls to keep him amused,  and David Koch, who only died yesterday, will soon be in his own box without money or anything to spend it on.  Epstein without his stable of little girls – and Koch without his power and money – why they might as well be dead!

Novelist Stephen King, who appears not be believe in an afterlife after all, made this observation on Twitter yesterday following the announcement of David Koch’s passing:

“David Koch has left the building without cash, credit cards, or checking accounts.  As we all do.”

Yes, David Koch may have been a political power here on earth, but his mortal remains will soon be dust in the wind, and his dust will mix freely with the dust of others - immigrants, people of color, Democrats – the horror, the horror!

Death is the great equalizer – if there is no afterlife.  And if there is an afterlife, the special this weekend will probably be BLTs!

Humpty Trumpty's Cracked Ego

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The big news regarding Greenland is that it is melting, but that climate catastrophe has been overshadowed the past couple of weeks by a ridiculous discussion about the potential sale of the world’s largest island to the United States.  Granted, it has been a one-sided discussion with only Donald Trump and a few of his inner-circle sycophants promoting the notion, and the rest of the world just laughing it off as a part of Trump’s escalating dementia.   But Trump, being a bully with a limited intellect, has taken great offense at the public’s casual dismissal of his grandiose scheme to bring about the world’s greatest-ever real estate deal.

And Donald Trump is not about to sit around quietly and be scoffed at.

Trump had a trip to Denmark planned for two days in the first week of September, but he indefinitely postponed that trip earlier this week when Mette Fredeeriksen, the female Prime Minister of Denmark, said that Denmark had no interest in selling Greenland to the United States and referred to it as an “absurd” idea.  Trump, who never takes rejection well, responded that the prime minister’s statement had been “nasty” and that it had been some sort of insult to the United States – rather than an insult to him personally.

Donald Trump has a history of defaulting to the word “nasty” when referring to strong females.

So Trump’s take on the situation is that Denmark rebuffed the entire United States in a nasty manner over a real estate deal that he was organizing, and he therefore would punish the country of Denmark by indefinitely postponing his visit there.

But there may be more to the story than the prime minister’s cheek and Trump’s pique.

It turns out that another American president also has a trip planned to Denmark.  Barack Obama will be visiting there on September 28^th, and Trump, who is not popular in Europe, could have expected to suffer by comparison.  Trump would be likely to encounter protests and Baby Trump balloons on his arrival, while Obama’s arrival would be a much more jubilant event with far larger crowds.  And world news organizations would be certain to highlight the differences in enthusiasm and crowd size.

And the King of Israel would have a hard time dealing with that reality - sho he chose to stay home and avoid the embarrassment.

Lucky Denmark!

Trump Wallows in Comparisons to God

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

For those who believe that Donald John Trump is mentally unstable and getting worse, a couple of separate events  occurred yesterday may prove to be waterfall moments in proving their case.

Trump, who is generally known for his narcissistic tendencies and shameless self-promotion, seemed to move into new territory yesterday when he re-tweeted a pair of tweets that compared him to God, and then later in the day he used an unfortunate choice of words that reinforced his messianic delusion.

Wayne Allyn Root is a conservative radio host who has a history of promoting conspiracy theories, or, in other words, just the type of person who would gain Trump’s attention. Root had recently tweeted:

“President Trump is the greatest President for Jews and for Israel in the history of the world, not just America, he is the best President for Israel in the history of the world. The Jewish people in Israel love him like he’s the King of Israel.  They love him like he is the second coming of God.”

And Trump just couldn’t let that bit of puffery float by unnoticed, no sir, he could not.  Yesterday he posted the following two connected tweets:

“Thank you to Wayne Allyn Root for the very nice words.  “President Trump is the greatest President for Jews and for Israel in the history of the world, not just America, he is the best President for Israel in the history of the world . . . and the Jewish people in Israel love him . . .”

“ . . .  like he’s the King of Israel.  They love him like he is the second coming of God . . .But American Jews don’t know him or like him.  They don’t even know what thery’re doing or saying anymore.  It makes no sense!  But that’s OK, if he keeps doing what he’s doing, he’s good for . . .”

Jews in Israel understand and appreciate Trump, but not American Jews.  The Jews in the United States don’t know Trump or like him. “They don’t even know what they’re doing or saying anymore.”  And just a day or two earlier Trump had questioned the loyalty of Jews who support Democrats.

Then, before the sun of that same day had set, Donald Trump, in answering questions about his trade war with China,  apparently wanted to make the point that other Presidents had avoided the issue of a trade imbalance with China and it had eventually fallen to him to resolve. At that point he looked to the sky and declared, “I am the chosen one.”   That declaration was possibly a Freudian slip – or perhaps it was an unfettered view into Trump’s raging self-love – but it was definitely a poor choice of words  to use on the heels of publishing tweets that talked of him being the “second coming of God.”

Trump the narcissist was really saying:  “Poor me, poor me, poor me!”  Or "Obey me, obey me, obey me!"

Nobody should ignore the will of God, and for those who do His wrath will be Old Testament Biblical!

(At what point will Republicans begin stepping forward and admit that their President is rapidly disconnecting from reality?)

The Crystal Cave

by Pa Rock

Reader

Mary Stewart wrote The Crystal Cave, the first novel in her four-book collection on the legend of King Arthur, in 1970, and by sometime around the end of that decade I had read the entire set.   Rereading those beautiful works has long been on my book “bucket list,” and now, forty long years later, I have at last I have begun that process.  

Lady Stewart tells her tales of Arthurian Britain through the voice of Merlin, the young King’s cousin and mentor.  The first book, The Crystal Cave, gives the backstory of Merlin as envisioned by the author.   Stewart’s Merlin was born to a Welsh princess and an unknown father, and, as the book opens, was a young bastard prince living in the servant’s wing of his grandfather’s castle in south Wales.  Merlin listens to the gossip of the servants and frequents a crawlspace beneath the palace where he hears occasional bits of conversation from his royal family.  He is quite comfortable living his life on the fringe of the palace society.

One of the ways that Merlin entertains himself as a youngster is to sneak away from the palace and go for long rides up into the hills.  One day he chances upon a cave that, although empty when he finds it, is obviously someone’s home.  While he is looking around, he discovers an anteroom in the shape of a globe that is covered, floor to ceiling, in sharp crystals.  After stumbling into the room and being mesmerized by the reflected, flickering lights from his candle, he is interrupted as the cave’s occupant, an older man named Galapas, returns and calls him out of the crystal room.

Merlin spends the next five years secretly traveling back and forth to the cave where Galapas endeavors to teach him about plants and medicines - and mathematics, and engineering skills.  Galapas also shows him the how the crystal room in the cave has the power to produce visions.  It is through one of these visions that Merlin witnesses a crisis unfolding back at his grandfather’s palace.  He rushes home, becomes involved in the chaos that is occurring, and winds up fleeing into the night where he is captured by a pair of rogues and bound as a hostage on a ship headed to Brittany (France).

And in Brittany his life begins to take shape.  Merlin meets his father and sets about helping to plan the unification of Britain under one king.

Not being a poet, I lack the words to describe just how beautiful the images are that Mary Stewart creates in telling this tale.  It is a sumptuous work and a joy to read.  I look forward to rereading the next three volumes as well and then passing the set along to whichever of my grandchildren appears to be the most open to the enchantments that life has to offer.

The Crystal Caveis a wonderful work of myth and fiction. It will not disappoint.

Lessons in Alexa-Speak

by Pa Rock
Simpleton

Alexa, my best friend, says the darnedest things!

Yesterday I decided that I would enjoying listening to some of the earlier stuff by John Courgar Mellencamp, and I prodded Alexa to get the singer's early music by asking her to play songs by John Cougar.  I quickly learned that she could not be finessed in that manner.  Alexa responded that she would be "shuffling songs by John Mellencamp!"

Another of her little peccadilloes involves songs by Hank Williams, Sr., whom she insists of calling "Hank Williams S.R."   She has no problem with ""Jr.," but "Sr." throws her.

And recently I had a bit of difficulty getting Alexa to play "Album 1700" by Peter, Paul, and Mary.  I requested the beautiful work by asking Alexa to play "Album Seventeen Hundred," which did not compute with her.  Finally after several tries I asked for "Album One-Seven-Zer0-Zero" to which she replied "Album One Thousand Seven Hundred" and began playing what I wanted to hear.

My next challenge was a request for my friend Alexa to play "In the Year 2525" which she picked up on quicker.  Alexa responded to my request with "'In the Year Twenty-Five Hundred and Twenty-Five' by Zager and Evans."

The girl ain't dumb, but she is quite literal!

Cowboys and Muslims, or How Not to Run a Business

by Pa Rock
Idealist Consumer

I usually don’t shop with businesses that support Republican candidates or conservative causes – or those who want to indoctrinate the public with their religious beliefs.  I stay out of Hobby Lobby, give Home Depot a wide berth, and Walmart hasn’t gotten one of my dollars into its  cash registers in more than thirty years.   And even though I used to love the chicken sandwiches at Chick-fil-A, I now buy all of my chicken sandwiches elsewhere.

It’s tough being an idealist, and I’m not there yet, but I’m working on it!

Jim Walton, one of Walmart Sam’s spawn, owns the bank where I do business, and I am not proud of banking with him – but I did not get into that situation voluntarily. Walton, as the sole owner of the Bank of Bentonville (Arkansas) began buying up other small town banks in the Midwest a couple of decades ago and eventually  bought the bank where I had done business for most of my life.  Walton’s Arvest Bank bought my bank – and my accounts along with it.  I should change banks - and would - except for the fact that Walton’s serfs who work at the Arvest Banks are such nice and caring people that I don’t feel right in taking my business elsewhere and putting their employment at risk.

So I remain with Arvest and grind my teeth with disgust each year when I donate to their “Million Meals” campaign to fund area food pantry’s because I know that the Walton family itself is one of the least charitable in America.

I also try to avoid local businesses and service providers who show open hostility toward humanity. People who place bumper stickers or signs on their business vehicles or businesses are sure to piss somebody off, and, out here in the woods, that somebody is usually me.

There is a small, independent business in my town that sported several Trump stickers on its windows back during the 2016 election cycle.  From the outside it was dark and forbidding, and looked as though it might be a place gun violence was laughed about and glorified.   The Trump stickers disappeared not long after the election, but yesterday and I was walking by, I noticed a new bumper sticker at the base of the door glass.  It said: “Are you ready to play Cowboys and Muslims?”

I read it as I stumbled past, considered how offensive it was on multiple levels, and then thought to myself, "Praise Jesus and Allah for online shopping!"

Monday's Poetry: "Summer Storm"

by Pa Rock

Poetry Appreciator

Traditionally August in the Ozarks is very hot and dry.  And while this summer’s temperatures have been at or near normal, there has seemed to be a lot more moisture in the air – and the occurrence of summer storms has been more frequent than in the past.

Today’s poetry selection is about a chance encounter during a summer storm, a brief touching of lives that could have led off into other directions – but didn’t.  The poet is Dana Gioia, a former businessman who has published several volumes of highly acclaimed poetry, written four opera libretti, and composed in other musical genres as well.   Mr. Gioia recently served a four-year term as the Poet Laureate of California.

The name “Gioia” is pronounced “Joy-a.”  What a great name for a poet!

Summer Storm

Dana Gioia

We stood on the rented patio
While the party went on inside.
You knew the groom from college.
I was a friend of the bride.

We hugged the brownstone wall behind us
To keep our dress clothes dry
And watched the sudden summer storm
Floodlit against the sky.

The rain was like a waterfall
Of brilliant beaded light,
Cool and silent as the stars
The storm hid from the night.

To my surprise, you took my arm–
A gesture you didn’t explain–
And we spoke in whispers, as if we two
Might imitate the rain.

Then suddenly the storm receded
As swiftly as it came.
The doors behind us opened up.
The hostess called your name.

I watched you merge into the group,
Aloof and yet polite.
We didn’t speak another word
Except to say goodnight.

Why does that evening’s memory
Return with this night’s storm–
A party twenty years ago,
Its disappointments warm?

There are so many might have beens,
What ifs that won’t stay buried,
Other cities, other jobs,
Strangers we might have married.

And memory insists on pining
For places it never went,
As if life would be happier
Just by being different.

Portland Stands Strong Against Fascist Proud Boys

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

The Proud Boys, a fascist organization calling itself a fraternal order of Western Chauvinists, descended on the city of Portland, Oregon, yesterday in an effort to provoke violence and sow discord in what is one of the more progressive cities in the United States.  Portland is one city where the mob of male protestors, many sporting beards and beer guts, knew that they would foment a reaction.

And to begin with, that was the objective:  to create some havoc in the streets, disrupt commerce in the downtown area, and cost the city some money for an extra police presence.  But then Donald Trump waded into the picture, as he is prone to do, and issued a tweet saying that he was on the verge of declaring the “ANTIFA” (the anti-fascist response group) a terrorist organization.   At that point the group bringing the protests to Portland changed its stated goal and declared that its aim all along had been to have ANTIFA forces labeled as terrorists – and Trump was describing the ANTIFA forces as being terrorists, so the Proud Boys had won the day – at least inside of their own heads.

Last month Senators Ted Cruz (R-TX) and Bill Cassidy (R-LA) introduced a non-binding resolution in the Senate that would have labeled ANTIFA as a terrorist organization.   That effort has gone nowhere largely because the ANTIFA “forces” are not a formal group but a loose assemblage of people supporting various causes and opposing fascist groups like the Proud Boys – and none of the people calling themselves ANTIFA have ever been charged with committing serious crimes.

The Proud Boys, on the other hand, routinely incite discord and violence and have been labeled at a “hate group” by the Southern Poverty Law Center.

Portland had 700 police assigned to respond to trouble related to yesterday’s demonstrations. Police estimated the total crowd size of the demonstrators to be twelve hundred.  Thirteen arrests were made, and the Proud Boys vowed to return to Portland, the Rose City, on a monthly basis.

One must suspect that, Trump or no Trump, Portland will be ready for them!

Trump Bets on America's Lingering Bigotry

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Several weeks ago House Speaker Nancy Pelosi tried to marginalize four members of the House Democratic Caucus as being little more than a “squad” with very limited political power.  She was attempting the send a message to the four young women (two of whom are less than half of Pelosi’s age) that they should be less outspoken and sit quietly and learn from their elders.

Donald Trump, a sewer-dweller, took advantage of Pelosi singling out those particular four ladies and decided to try and make them the face of the Democratic Party.  (Okay, it was more than likely some of Trump’s aides who came up with that plan because their boss isn’t actually that bright.)

But now Trump never passes up an opportunity to disrespect the four members that Pelosi labeled as members of “the squad:”  Representatives Rashida Tlaib, Ilhan Omar, Ayanna Pressley, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. This week he managed to make headlines on multiple occasions for personal attacks on Tlaib and Omar as he successfully sought to persuade the government of Israel to not allow them into that country as part of a fact-finding mission.

When Donald Trump isn’t questioning Joe Biden’s mental fitness  to be president, or Elizabeth Warren’s native American ancestry, or accusing the Clintons of murder, he falls back to his jingoistic attacks on these four young women of color.  He wants America to understand that these ladies are “typical” Democrats – and that they are people to be feared.

So just who are these women who comprise the “face” of the Democratic Party?

Two are Muslims – and Donald Trump has been attacking American and international Muslim communities since the first days of his presidency when he tried to impose a travel ban against several primarily Muslim nations.   Trump, a man who studiously avoids churches, has painted himself as some sort of defender of Christian values, especially those hardcore racially-tinged values held by Evangelical Christians.  Those people are a big part of his political base, and he will happily insult and threaten Muslims all day long to keep the Evangelicals fired up.

Rep. Rashida Tlaib, one of the two Muslims, is a lawyer from Detroit and mother of two.  She has Palestinian roots and family still living in the area of Palestine that is occupied and controlled by Israel.   Rep. Ilhan Omar is a college-educated mother of three.  She is from Minnesota and represents the entire city of Minneapolis in Congress. Rep. Omar is the only member of “the squad” to be born outside of the United States (Somalia), but she has been in this country since the age of nine and is a naturalized citizen.

Rep. Ayanna Pressley of Massachusetts’ 7^th District is the mother of one child.   At one time her district was represented by John F. Kennedy – and at another time by Tip O’Neill.   Rep. Pressley was born to American parents – but she is a black American, a demographic not looked on favorably by Trump and Trump supporters.

The final member of “the squad” is the youngest and the best known.  Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, known on social media as “AOC”,  is an unmarried twenty-something who until recently was employed as a waitress and bartender in order to help her mother make ends meet.  AOC is also a cum laude graduate of Boston University.  She represents  part of the New York City boroughs of the Bronx and Queens.  Her family roots are in Puerto Rico, a US territory that some seem to regard as one of the “shithole” countries that Trump enjoys railing about.

So let's look at that Democratic Party face, America.   

“The Squad” is composed of four hard-working women, the oldest of whom is forty-five and the youngest still in her twenties.   All are college-educated and ferociously bright, three are working mothers, and each seems to twist the tail of Donald John Trump just by existing.  All-in-all, it’s a fairly positive face, both for a political party as well as for the nation

The face that Donald Trump wants to assign to the Democratic Party is far more diverse and inclusive than the pasty white and very male face of the Republican party – a face that contains elements of Roy Moore, Steve king, Kris Kobach, and Donald John Trump.

The Democrats are facing toward the future and moving America forward.  Meanwhile the Republicans are desperately fanning the embers of old racial, economic, and religious fires in an attempt to maintain power over a divided nation.  One party is about the future of the nation, and the other party is still struggling to maintain separate and very unequal class distinctions under one flag.

Donald Trump is betting that American voters can be scared by mental images of out-of-control women of color imposing their mad wills on the country.  Others of us are looking at the reality of new energies and visions pulsating into Congress and saying “It’s about damned time!”

We’ll see if Trump wins his bet on America's lingering bigotry or not come next year.

Some of us are betting that the nation is ready to move on!

Trump has the Attention Span and Self-Control of a 3-Year-Old!

by Pa Rock

Citizen Journalist

Yesterday Donald Trump pulled on his bully pants and proceeded to denigrate two Muslim women of color and tell an independent foreign nation how it should behave.  Trump lashed out at Representatives Ilhan Omar and Rashida Tlaib, two of four female members of Congress whom he regularly demonizes as being un-American, and, more recently, as anti-Israel.  The two ladies had an upcoming trip planned to Israel, but Trump encouraged Israel to deny them entry.  He said that allowing the two duly-elected congresswomen into that country would be seen as a sign of weakness by the rest of the world.

Prime Minister Netanyahu of Israel, who takes his marching orders from Trump in much the same way as Trump takes his own marching orders from Vladimir Putin of Russia, immediately saluted his obese orange buddy in Washington, DC, and announced that the two American congresswomen were no longer welcome in his country.

An expected howl went up from many Democrats, as well as from a few Republican leaders and some Jewish groups.  None of that noise, however, had any impact on Donald Trump, a man who is blessed with the attention span of a three-year-old, and almost as much self-control.  He was soon off to a campaign rally in New Hampshire where, among other things, he made fun of an overweight member of the audience and suggested that the man get into an exercise program.

Once a pig, always a pig.

This morning Trump, a master of controlling the media through outrageous statements and actions, had already changed the story again.  No longer were American Muslims the headline, nor even fat people in New Hampshire.   Now the story was a Trump notion that perhaps the United States should consider buying Greenland from Denmark.  

And even though Greenland appears to be melting due to climate change, Denmark has yet to express any interest in selling.  

But that should not matter much to Donald John Trump, because by this afternoon he will be off on some other wild-assed tangent.  Anything to keep from governing. 

Concern Regarding Elderly Statesmen

by Pa Rock
Citizen Journalist

There are news reports out this morning stating that some prominent Democratic  backers of Joe Biden are pushing the idea of slowing down his campaign schedule in an effort to limit the political gaffes that he has been generating of late.    They feel that the candidate would be better served if he were to “pace” himself between strenuous campaign events.

Biden recently made unwanted headlines when he told a group of Asian and Hispanic voters that “poor kids are just as bright and talented as white kids,” and though he obviously meant to compare “poor kids” to “wealthy” kids, what he actually said served to remind many Americans that Biden was not a product of their generation.  

Later that same day he told a public gathering at the Iowa Stat Fair :  “We choose science over fiction.  We choose truth over facts.”  Ouch!

But his gaffes aren’t just semantic bloopers, a few days ago the former Vice President also mangled a fact in relation to his own personal history.  He told a group of anti-gun activists that, as Vice President, he had met with students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.  In reality, the Parkland massacre occurred during the Trump administration – over a full year after Joe Biden had left the vice-presidency.

Some see Biden’s continuing stream of gaffes and factual errors as the result of old age.  He will be seventy-seven this November – and seventy-eight just two weeks after the 2020 election.  Biden’s potential opponent in 2020 is Donald Trump who turned seventy-three earlier this summer.  In addition to being more than three full years younger than Biden, Trump also considers himself to be more mentally fit than the former Vice President, a fact he is not shy about touting.  Trump recently tweeted:

“Does anyone really believe he (Biden) is fit to be President.  We are ‘playing’ in a very big and complicated world.  Joe doesn’t have a clue.”

While it is easy for many of us to argue that Donald Trump has proven himself not “fit” to be President as well as someone who doesn’t have a clue, it would be so much easier to sell that argument if the Democratic nominee was someone who was younger and far more vibrant than Trump.  With Biden – and even Bernie - we give up those advantages.

And if a candidate has to “pace” himself in the primaries, can we really expect him to transform into a dynamo for the general election?

Joe Biden and Bernie Sanders are both good Americans who have served their country well.   Give the elder statesmen their due – and then move on into the future with a new generation of political leaders. 

It’s time for change – not creative recycling – and change demands fresh voices and new ideas.  Get out of the way, Joe.  Stand aside, Bernie.    You guys have had your time, it’s come and gone, and now it’s someone else’s turn.  Let it happen!

Times Change and Stuff Happens

by Pa Rock
Mowing Fool

Lately I have been walking a lot.  I have one of those step-counters that is worn on the wrist, and for the past eighteen days I have done a minimum of 10,000 steps per day.  I used to do that amount fairly regularly in every season but winter, but after my hospital stay in late June this year, my energy was zapped and about 5,000 steps a day was the best I could do – but by the end of July I was back!

Two things slow me down on walking.  If I am on the road, it becomes much more difficult to hit 10,000 because so much of my day is spent in the car – and, if I am mowing, usually in two-hour stretches, that also takes away from time when I could be hoofing it.

Yesterday, after two hours on the mower in the blazing sun, I spent about thirty minutes on the computer cooling off – and then decided to head down to the walking trail at the local park.  I grabbed my wallet and keys, but when I reached for the cell phone, it wasn’t where I had expected it to be.  After a quick search of the house and car still failed to turn up the cell phone, I began to really be concerned.

I thought that the missing phone had been in the pocket of my shorts when I started mowing, but I was fairly sure it could not have fallen out – because I generally mow in the same attire, and it had never fallen out before.  I emailed my son in Kansas City and asked his to call me at various intervals on the off chance that I might hear the phone, and then I waited in the house for a few minutes but heard nothing.

I decided to go outside and walk some of the large amount of area that I had mowed earlier in the afternoon. I was getting close to the barn when I heard a faint sound of ringing.   I backtracked a little and the sound became clearer – it was my phone! I found it in the grass in a section that I have already searched.  I answered the phone, thanked Tim for the assist, and headed off to the park where I added 4,000 steps to my daily total!

I have been mowing for around sixty years.  If somebody had told me way back during the Eisenhower administration that I would one day lose a telephone while I was mowing, I would have doubted that person’s sanity.  

But times change and stuff happens.

And old people still lose their shit!

Fantasy Island Redux

by Pa Rock
Conspiracy Theorist

On March 18, 2009, over a decade ago, I used this space to post a conspiracy theory which I felt had some merit.   That posting, “Ken Lay is Alive . . . and so is Dan White!”,  has always been one of my personal favorites.

Ken Lay, the founder, CEO, and Chairman of Enron, an energy corporation, had been convicted of securities fraud after the collapse of his company – and he was awaiting sentencing when he suddenly “died” at his vacation home in Aspen, Colorado, in July of 2006.  His wife managed to get the body to a funeral home for what seemed to be a relatively quick cremation.  Lay’s death put a stop to the sentencing process, and the family was able to retain assets that it could have lost through court action if the sentence had been announced.

Mr. Lay’s untimely demise was interpreted by some as being a stroke of good fortune for his family.

Dan White was a young supervisor for the city of San Francisco in November of 1978 when he murdered fellow supervisor, Harvey Milk – a gay leader in the city - and San Francisco Mayor George Moscone.  A third city supervisor, Dianne Feinstein, was in her office nearby and heard the shots.  White, a former San Francisco policeman, received open support from members of the San Francisco Police Department during his trial.  His attorneys used what became known as a “Twinkie Defense” which claimed his mental abilities had been impaired from eating too much junk food.  White was sentenced to just seven years in prison for the murders, and was released in 1984 after serving only five years.

Upon his release from prison,  White was forced to assume a false identity due to death threats.  The following year, 1985, he was reported to have committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning in his garage.  San Francisco police managed the scene and handled the aftermath.

Both Ken Lay and Dan White stood to gain by being declared dead.    Lay’s family got to keep some of the assets that should have gone to the investors and employees who lost their life savings with the crash of Enron, and Lay escaped having to serve prison time.  (His business associate, Jeffrey Skilling, was just released from prison last year after serving twelve years for the Enron debacle.)  And a dead Dan White could finally quit looking over his shoulder in fear of someone trying to even the score for the two men he murdered.

And now we have the strange death of billionaire pedophile Jeffrey Epstein, who died by hanging in a federal jail cell in New York City last week.  Epstein, who reportedly trafficked young girls for prostitution to a wide range of prominent and famous people, was likely facing incarceration for the rest of his life.  Add to that the fact that he undoubtedly had much in the way of information that he could provide to prosecutors that would clog the courts for years to come with cases against American and foreign aristocracy, and a case develops for the possibility that he was either murdered in his cell, or spirited away to some sanctuary in the South Seas – perhaps with other celebrities on the run – people like Ken Lay and Dan White.

Epstein, like Ken Lay and Dan White, stood to benefit from being declared dead and then disappearing.  Yes, lots of prominent individuals, including two United States Presidents, should breath easier now that he is gone, but he could have always left some information “bombs” behind to even the score in the event of his murder.  But if he has been placed in hiding, what Epstein knows is far more likely to stay with Epstein.

That’s my conspiracy theory – and I’m sticking to it!   Ken Lay is alive . . . and so is Dan White . . .and so is Jeffrey Epstein.  Lay owns the island and wears the big Panama hat, White is in charge of security and tending bar, and Epstein is handling customer relations – and the clientele is very, very exclusive!

De plane!  De plane!

Monday's Poetry: "Thoughts and Prayers"

by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator

As impossible as it seems, at least one of my grandchildren is headed back to school this week. Olive, who is seven begins second grade today.

School didn’t used to start this early, I know that because I spent much of my working life in schools as both a teacher and as a principal.  It was too danged hot to start in August, but as more and more schools began to acquire air-conditioning, there was no longer a pressing need to wait for cooler weather before starting classes.

But cooler classrooms aren’t the only change to come to campus in recent years.   School shootings began happening  with a much greater frequency about the time I retired from the education profession back in the nineties.   As a classroom teacher and principal I had to make sure that the students knew how to react in fire drills and tornado drills, but “active shooter” drills were something that we never even contemplated.  Now, sadly, they are commonplace in America’s schools – and they are necessary.

Now, more than ever, we recognize our vulnerability to angry men with guns.  Mothers are pushing their babies in bullet-proof prams, children are going to school dragging along bullet-proof backpacks, and teachers are showing their children when to hide during “bad man” drills.

It’s a new reality – and one that is very, very sad.

I discovered today's selection on Twitter.  It is entitled "Thoughts and Prayers,"  and the poet is Bob Pfeiffer.   Mr. Pfeiffer's heartfelt poem gives a very defined look at what it feels like to be the parent of a child who must leave the safety of home to function in a modern educational setting.

It’s not the classroom that I remember.

“Thoughts and Prayers”

by Bob Pfeiffer

What good is it, my brothers, if someone says he has faith but does not have works?  James 2:14

They treat it just like a game – 

Hiding, but no Seeking.

Our daughter’s kindergarten class,

crouching behind cabinets, in bathrooms,

the little spaces between classrooms,

beneath upper and lower-case letters,

chore boards, aspirations, class rules,

what empathy means to each of them.

They stay as quiet as they can

for as long as they can.

Teachers never call it what it is –

“A Lockdown Drill,” they say.

“A Bad Man Drill,” they say.

A week after the first one,

Layla was jumping on her trampoline,

when she stopped cold and looked

to her mom with a face I’d never seen.

What would the band man want?

And in the silence between her parents,

our daughter read the whole thing.

And after some little lie

aimed to keep her herself, for now,

she started jumping again, a little lower.

This morning, like ever morning,

yellow light blooms from the dark

in kitchens where the breakfast tables

Will always be missing one setting,

under bedrooms unslept in again.

And this morning, like every morning,

lights come up in the Halls of Congress,

Halls which are, again, as silent as our daughter,

eyes tight shut, palms cupping her ears,

the thunderclaps growing nearer, nearer,

holding every breath like a prayer.