“The ‘mood of the country’ in 1972, was so overwhelmingly vengeful, greedy, bigoted, and blindly reactionary that no presidential candidate who even faintly reminded ‘typical voters’ of the fear and anxiety they’d felt during the constant ‘social upheavals’ of the 1960s had any chance of beating Nixon last year… After a decade of left-bent chaos, the Silent Majority was so deep in a behavioral sink that their only feeling for politics was a powerful sense of revulsion. All they wanted in the White House was a man who would leave them along and do anything necessary to bring calmness back into their lives – even if it meant turning the whole state Nevada into a concentration camp for hippies, blacks, dope fiends, do-gooders, and anyone who might threaten the status quo.” Hunter S. Thompson from Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail 1972
“I suspect that there should have been more of a discussion in the campaign of the everyday frustrations and problems of working people, conditions under which they work, maybe more of an effort to identify with them.” George McGovern, December 1972
“Thank you for subscribing to this, the newsletter sent to all Millennials in the world. Everyone here at the Millennial High Council wanted to recap a few of the decisions made at our last shadowy cabal meeting, which, as you know, dictates the behavior of every Millennial everywhere. As you remember, we decided last year that Millennials will no longer be using bars of soap, spearmint toothpaste, travel agents, or Velcro.Furthermore, later this year Millennials will be killing open floor plans, cranberry juice, the Sunday wedding, and attendance at water parks.In more positive news, Millennials should be preparing for the return of landline telephones, pinball, ferret ownership, Savage Garden, the handjob, and drive-in movie theaters. Also, please be aware of the following: Sexting is no longer cool. Au Bon Pain is fine but Pret A Manger is NOT. We’re all getting into Ska music again. The new acceptable slang term for “good” is “Michael Bolton” (Example sentence: ‘That new Gatorade cleanse endorsed by Danny Glover is totally Bolton!’). The 🎷 emoji can represent a penis now. The hot new winter haircut for men is the bowl cut. The hot new winter haircut for women is shaving your head like Demi Moore in G.I. Jane. Soylent? No.” The Millenial High Council
“As Audience’s third co-founder, Oliver Luckett, explained it to me, a major part of the job, at that point in time, was simply working with the celebrity to determine what it was he or she had to say. ‘We had to create the architecture. We had to sit down with someone and say, ‘What are your five buckets of content?,’ ‘ Luckett told me on the phone from the Copenhagen airport a few days after he had attended Lindsay Lohan’s 30th-birthday celebration in Mykonos. ‘ ‘Are you a humanitarian? Are you interested in short films? Do you like movies? Do you like music? What clothes do you like?’ You just kind of had to break [it] apart and say, ‘Here are going to be the story lines this month.’ “ Josh Duboff
“Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time. Billy has gone to sleep a senile widower and awakened on his wedding day. He has walked through a door in 1955 and come out another one in 1941. He has gone back through that door to find himself in 1963. He has seen his birth and death many times, he says, and pays random visits to all the events in between. … Billy is spastic in time, has no control over where he is going next, and the trips aren’t necessarily fun. He is in a constant state of stage fright, he says, because he never knows what part of his life he is going to have to act in next.” Kurt Vonnegut
“Men more frequently require to be reminded than informed.” Dr. Johnson
My old anthropology teacher used to say that primates picked the lice off each other just to be sociable. That’s why she put forth the idea that as humans became less hairy we adopted small talk (e.g. “Hot enough for ya?”) as sublimated version of mutual grooming. What follows is a great deal of desk clearing which could be thought of as that form of higher primate parasite management known as, “So, how was your summer?”
Nietzsche called, he wants his abyss back.
The Abrahamic religions all set aside one day of the week for common observance and reflection. Muslims have the Friday Call to Prayer, Jews have the Shabbat, while Christians have Sunday morning.
Retired guys have trash day.
About a dozen years ago the guy next door hung up his spurs and since then he’s been an observant Rubbishist. Somewhere near dusk on the day before pick-up he takes his trash can to the curb and begins to adjust it this way and that over and over and over. In order not to disturb him Mrs. Neighbor puts on her velour jogging suit and takes her cigarette for a walk. After an hour she returns usually just in time to see Mr. Neighbor complete his zen-like placement of the can. At that point they usually go out for an early dinner and come home to watch Dancing with the Stars.
How do I know this?
Last year they bought one of those gargantuan tv’s.
If we want to know what’s on all we have to do is look out the kitchen window.
But please be assured that that’s not the end of it. On trash day I, the neighborhood goldbrick per Mr. Neighbor, manage to get the trash out usually within minutes of the arrival of the garbage truck. More often than not Mr. Neighbor is out there keeping watch for the arrival of the trash guys. Normally he uses the time to upbraid me for putting the trash out at the last minute, so it was a bit of surprise when he had a new topic to bring up a couple of weeks ago. He was upset that Alaska Wolf Joe failed to properly conduct himself in sublimated higher primate parasite management. (QED)
With out a ‘Hello’ or a got-a- minute he said “Your kid rode his bike in front of my house!”
“He said ‘Hello’ and kept going!”
… o … k …
“Doesn’t he know he’s supposed to stop and talk? Is there something wrong with him?”
I took a deep breath, looked him in the eye, and said – what do you expect? He goes to one of those effete schools back East where a bunch of activist judges gave all the left-wing professors tenure so they could stuff the poor kid’s head full of libtard mush!”
Mom heard all this and responded with a simple, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU TELL HIM THAT FOR?”
You have to talk to people in a way that they’ll understand and God knows I have gazed out the kitchen window many, many times only to see Bill O’Reilly gazing back at me.
“We should become the pitiless censors of ourselves.” Alain Badiou
Slaughterhouse Five really isn’t so much a postmodernist novel as it is an astructural work. Vonnegut was only in his late 40s when he wrote it, but what you can see is his own ability to look backwards to see how things shaped up and then extrapolate possible futures. As I get older that’s what I’m beginning to grasp – I’ve now been around long enough to amass a good look at what’s transpired and how that does give me some meager insight as to where things might be going.
The reason I bring it up is that sometimes you can find yourself becoming unstuck and my recent moment with unstuckidness pretty much answers the question, “So how was your summer?”
Full of grumpy, angry old people.
Not that they were bent out of shape about the big stuff, the stuff this election is supposed to be all about. No, they were grumpy and riled up over things like a shoddy asphalt patch up the street, increased fares for buses that they do not ride, and bicycle lanes that they do not use. As far as they’re concerned nothin’s any damn good like it used to be and nobody cares. They go on long and loud only to finish each vocal javelin with a hearty, “WASN’T LIKE THAT BACK IN MY DAY!”
And that’s why I dropped out of a couple of civic do-gooder things I was marginally attached to just before Labor Day. In July at meetings for both I was asked for an opinion and – in a moment of intense realization – I discovered that I was speaking in tongues – specifically ancient Cranky Old Fart. The only thing that my “opinions” lacked was a quick and final, “WASN’T LIKE THAT IN MY DAY!”
In both cases I drove home deeply embarrassed.
Shortly after Labor Day I met with one of my associate do-gooders and said that no one can achieve much with somebody who thinks that nothin’ and nobody’s any good always in the room. Therefore I was pulling back and going home to think. She took a long pause and then said that it was a remarkably astute and perceptive. At that point I could have said that’s what happens when you become unstuck in time, but I bother people enough about all the old hoary records I have lying about – no point in bogging them down with stories about all those old hoary paperbacks on the shelves at home.
Speaking of all things old and on vinyl –
WARNING: OBLIGATORY POLITICAL PORTION OF THIS BALANCED BREAKFAST STRAIGHT AHEAD
If that realization wasn’t enough, Alaska Wolf Joe was there then someone said I should come to the senior center for lunch.
To recap – I have no interest in going to the senior center because when the senior center begins to cater to people like me it means being stuck next to some guy at bingo who wants to tell you about the time be put bug spray in his bong while the overhead speakers blast Dark Side of the Moon all over the damn place.
I politely declined and somehow our yearly discussion about Burning Man started. Every year I say that being a Burner is on my non-content related bucket list and AWJ states firm opinion that I’d last about two hours at Burning Man before I had to be med-evac’d for acute oldness.
But not before I see this!
I usually fire back that some day The Old will sneak up on him. OK, it might be somebody inviting him to the senior center or maybe it’ll be getting stuck with some guy on a cross-country flight telling him how much fun it was to see Skrillex and Rebecca Black show in Vegas. That shifted the conversation to observations about the election. AWJ believes this is the single most Freudian election anyone at any time – in the whole history of forever – has ever encountered.
Can’t stump the Trump?
One of the GOP nominee’s biggest fan’s insists on calling Trump “Daddy?”
The kid’s kinda got a point even if it’s just higher primate parasite management for the sake of higher primate parasite management.
But enough of that – let’s all hold hands and sing along.