Pols, Pals & Foes

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Let’s pick up the pieces; when humdrum Pols take tame stand
And stick to pedestrian speeches; bond to strike up lame band
Once slick admen join them; Pols and Pals both play game bland
They trick to paint tainted world; sell us a spiffed, spoofed name brand

Their nice ads roll ‘round the clock; spread thru the airwaves and stream
“Roll up your sleeves!” they beseech, “Please join vaxxed people’s team!”
While vaccine science, trustworthy, rolls out the Game-Changer scheme
“Jabs” can’t knock out / cure social ills; not at such nauseous extreme

Bottled up in ads’ ointment, the flies team / teem; galore
Trump troglodytes engage erudites; THAT no-win, endless war
Normal notions stump Trump; also his dumbbell / oddball corps
Freedom? Justice? Just buzzwords; they all buzz off / abhor

In most known negative “isms”; Trumpers sprawl, wallow, bask
To learn from pandemics’ hard knocks? They’re not up to that “task”
They won’t even thwart Covid; by simply donning a mask
Are they beyond all redemption? Need anyone ask?

Deep down in the deep end, of the primordial pool
Trumpers get off on their guns; nuff to make them all drool,
Some strafe houses of worship, the workplace, the school
Others are BLAM-BLAM bad cops, who flip off BLM’s rule

Trumpian race and class warfare, proves chronic infection
Dots Pandemic? Dots Climatic? Simps can’t make the connection
Freakin’ fools who can’t fathom the Free Fair election
These days, go on a rampage; foment insurrection

Epilogue:

Granted, verses, above, tell the heart-rending tale
Of my homeland’s decline; beyond the pale / stale
Might “where there’s life there’s hope” wisdom, somehow, prevail?
Well, our Stars and Stripes still fly; Trump’s insurrection did fail!

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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A Non-Flesh ’n’ Blood Kindred Spirit

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One scant week ago, a much too long absent, non-flesh and blood kindred spirit arrived at my front door to resume our regular visits. At first glance, a double take was in order; mainly because I hadn’t seen this otherworldly friend since the pandemic had shuttered our world; well over a year ago.

Suddenly, upon factoring in my (typically) restless / sleepless condition, I had to wonder if I had nodded off? Wandered off into Dreamland? Or, was something else playing out; oh, say, along the lines of a supernatural themed TV series-come-true? Might I be blasting off from Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone launch pad?

However (brushing all reader attention grabbing hyperbole aside), as everything actually turned out, ‘twas not unnerving in the least. Quite the contrary!

What we’re actually discussing is my unexpected reconnection to a newsprint and ink publication; namely, a weekly newspaper (featuring state and local goings-on, human interest stories, recipes, op-eds and obits; not to mention the brain challenging Sudoku and crossword puzzles. All in all, food for thought!

Now, I do know (long sigh) that newspapers don’t mean all that much to the general public anymore; especially folks who’ve never known anything other than our (regrettably) Internet dominated and dependent world.

And usage of “regrettably” is not an exaggeration; especially considering how easily we could all become disconnected; be that issue related to tech gremlins / www dead zones, consumer cost-cutting or something far, Far, FAR more wicked and UNNERVING!

With regards to that last listed item, at present, we’re discovering too damned many nations on the brink of ideological collapse; inclusive of the United States (in spite of President Joe Biden’s efforts to thwart his immediate predecessor’s ongoing treachery). Problem is that fascistic leaders are far, Far, FAR too proficient at manipulating the misguided masses into committing what is tantamount to ritualistic, socioeconomic suicide.

Freedom does die wherever / whenever the cultish rabble get fired up by (smarmily) charismatic firebrands; otherwise known as a-hole autocrats to us wise, reality based, critical thinkers.

To take a brief spin thru that rogues gallery let’s “try on for size” the ideologically and psychotically supersized Vladimir Putin (Russia), Xi Jinping (China), Kim Jong Un (North Korea), Abdel-Fattah el-Sissi (Egypt), Recep Tayyip Erdogan (Turkey), Rodrigo Duterte (Philippines) and, saving the worst for last, the duly deposed in 2020 (and presumed 2024 chomping at the bit wannable Donald J. Trump.

Uh, on second thought (re that try on session), let’s not.

More to the point, ever since tyrannical Trump made “FAKE NEWS” his catchphrase that pays / got that reverberating in the echo chamber, brain-dead heads-of-state, worldwide, have been overusing and abusing such vernacular, ofttimes verbatim, whenever genuine article journalists spot on expose them as societal parasites.

Even more to the point, most autocrats keep their grubby little paws poised over the Internet Kill Switch. After all, in the end (THE END) when it comes down to trampling human rights, their first order of biz is to sever all lines of communication, especially online reportage. It’d not be hyperbolic to say that, in the wrong hands, such a “circuit breaker” could eventually unravel the Internet and kill the truth.

My above concerns are the very reasons why I deem all reputable, hard copy newspapers akin to:

A Non-Flesh ’n’ Blood Kindred Spirit of mine; hopefully yours too.

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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What (else) is flat as a pancake?

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It was during this Sunday’s early a.m., where I found my larder shy of several key pancake ingredients, feeling zero desire to mask-up for an impulse visit to my in-town, price gouging supermarket, YET, still hungering for the damned flapjacks! Oh, what to do?

Well, for starters, it didn’t take much effort to free-associate what else is flat as a pancake.

Hence, right after I finished cooking up / serving up my (daily) bowlful of oatmeal, I quickly rinsed the double boiler free of lingering goo, dried it and tossed in an experimental slice of cracked wheat bread.

By the time I had finished my cereal, this steamy, piping hot mock pancake was table ready. Upon plating it, pouring on the syrup and refilling my coffee cup, the moment of truth had arrived!

Not all that surprisingly, this substitute proved the best invention since (what else?) sliced bread; just as tasty as most other made-from-scratch pancakes. Then again, why would it not? Just read any loaf’s label. Obviously, bread and pancakes do boast many, in common ingredients.

“Department of Afterthought” commentary: Had I warmed the bread a tad longer, it could’ve even morphed into a crunchy mock waffle.

To transcend this morning’s “mmm” moment now comes my “hmm” summation…

While I’d never toss / recycle any of my cherished, handed down from generation-to-generation, pancake recipes (the cards still neatly filed in my late mother’s recipe box), I do know that, in a pandemic related pinch, an acceptable alternative can be found to sidestep nearly any non-problem; such as this one.

Beyond that, this morning’s experiment also proved to be a practical application of the proverb…

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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The SlimeLords of OutHouse Earth

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As a lifelong, steadfast, science adherent, over the course of the past sixteen months, my preexisting respect for our world’s pandemic professionals could only intensify. To CliffsNotes what I’ve learned from them:

Whenever / wherever folks impulsively and prematurely let down their guard, the opportunistic coronavirus has rushed in to fully exploit that unfortunate, unforgivable lack of resolve.

For the corroborating, damning evidence, reasonable people need look no further than the alarming worldwide Covid-19 infection and fatality spikes (past and present); in particular, within the United States, India and Brazil.

In other words, what that godforsaken Corona-V and HIS asshole, inbred, variant varmints have taught me is that THEY… NOT HUMANS… are the SlimeLords of OutHouse Earth. Sorry to coin such a phrase, but from the microbial POV, that’s, precisely, how they assess the damned dump. Beyond that, whenever THEY decide time is ripe to collect the rent, we wee mortals can wind up coughing up (our lungs); worst case scenario, wind up paying in full (with our very lives).

Alas, of late, my pandemic expert heroes have begun to (impulsively? prematurely?) minimize their own masking up / social distancing protocols; my word choice, indeed, intentional. To further drive home my point, let’s take a few secs to free associate several synonyms of “minimize”: belittle, downplay, make light of, pooh-pooh, etc.

That’s not too harsh an appraisal, either, seeing how when “The Suits” follow suit / let down their guard, too, they’ll need to rely on the easily exploited “honor system”; one where their hardcore antimasker, antivaxxer “Karen” customers will shamelessly lie about being inoculated; for the express purpose of satisfying their psychotic urges to go maskless.

True, the vaccines are becoming a game changer; playing a significant role in ushering in our return to a more normal life.

However, everything these experts have taught us, tells me that it’s not, yet, time to be letting down our guard. The last thing we need is for yet another variant to rear its ugly head; to get its (literal) choke hold on humanity. What if such a mutation winds up bamboozling the available vaccines, oh, say, one month, one week or even one day from now?

On a more uplifting note, just yesterday, I did manage to breathe a sigh of relief into my pandemic mask when I discovered how my fellow grocery shoppers (store employees, too) were not, yet, buying into shedding their masks; even though the proprietor had impulsively and prematurely torn down his entryway’s “you must mask up to shop here” signage.

Look, there’s nothing I’d love more than to be proven dead wrong. But, how is erring on the side of caution wrong? How does masking up and staying socially distanced harm anyone?

It’s the alternative that could be dead wrong; could even involve the permanent microbial overthrow of society; all “courtesy” of Corona-V and “his” variants; a.k.a. The SlimeLords of OutHouse Earth.

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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Glad To Own These Glad Rags

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This past Tuesday, May 18th, Jenn White’s NPR program, 1A, atypically focused upon apolitical content. An associate of hers will fill in a few more details:

“After a year of referring to jeans as ‘hard pants,’ it’s safe to say that living through a pandemic has changed our relationships with our wardrobes. But just because our more festive garb has gone unloved for 14 months doesn’t mean our clothes don’t matter — to ourselves and to the rest of our world. This idea — we are what we wear — is the inspiration behind Emily Spivack’s “Worn Stories.” It’s an archival project, turned book, turned Netflix miniseries that offers vignettes into people’s lives by way of their clothing.” [Read More Here]

Kathryn Fink

Initially, this Doubting Thomas chuckled while wondering, do we really have ‘relationships with our wardrobes’, i.e., beyond the squeaky clean, mechanical, wear-wash-rinse-spin-dry cycles?

Well, no sooner had my laughter and cynicism waned than my own “Worn Stories” began to play out; a few, perhaps, even worthy of author Spivack’s consideration? I dunno. One thing for sure, I had no farther to look for proof than mere inches above my eyes; namely…

The baseball cap my sister had given to me back in 2004; shortly after she picked me up at LAX. That event signified the onset of my 3 week fun vacay with 3 goals; [1] attend a family reunion of two, [2] celebrate a milestone birthday and [3] allay my yearlong grief (I’ll elaborate by blog’s end). Months in advance, my sibling / tour guide had planned our sightseeing destinations; i.e., the greater Los Angeles area’s “hidden in plane sight” natural and historical wonders, most of which other tourists rarely, if ever, get to see. By the time I had to fly back to Michigan, well, I didn’t wanna go. Not when my Golden State vacay had proven the gold standard of adventure.

There are three more “Worn Stories”, to relate, too.

My brown plaid wool jacket still reminds me of the waning days of the summer of ’72; when both my public school teacher father and I had journeyed to the neighboring “big city” ISO back to school fall apparel; our actual try-on sessions becoming secondary once we got a better sense of this shared quality time and how September would be heralding my transition from high school senior to college freshman. And, it was two decades after that, when my seamstress mother’s repairs / restorations had extended its wearability; to such an extent, this outerwear still serves me well nearly half a century later; especially as my go to, late fall / early spring garb.

My bright blue Gap® Pocket-T still looks nearly retail selling floor new, mainly, because I wound up only wearing it when posing for my annual birthday photos (throughout the Nineties and early Aughts); all snapped by my shutterbug mother, who knew how, typically, blue hues help folks look their best. In her younger days, she had spent so much time in the dark room that, career wise, she could’ve traveled a far more intriguing, artistic path.

My short sleeve polo, too, is still in its prime, mainly due to its early retirement following a 22 hour long vigil. It’d been just prior to speeding off to my mom’s nursing home bedside, when I had paused, momentarily, to choose this top’s color. It’d been down to black v. green; my opting for the latter in hopes I might, somehow, cheer mom up; maybe enough, so, in defiance of her physician’s grim prognostication, she’d manage to rally one more time? Alas, that was not to be. In the end, my mother had escaped Earth to enter Eternity. To this very day, it’s my belief that what had finally “won her over” to The Other Side had been her getting a glimpse of the behind Heaven’s Gates reunion, all in her honor: all courtesy of her loving family and friends who’d gone before her.

And so, I ask once more…

Do we really have ‘relationships with our wardrobes’, i.e., beyond the squeaky clean, mechanical, wear-wash-rinse-spin-dry cycles?

In a heartbeat, thanks to author Emily Spivack, I can now answer that with an unequivocal, vocal YES!

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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Pandemic Elegy

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Oh, the high hopes I had had for humanity
That Corona-V’s “lessons”, could usher in sanity

Yet, the chronic infirmities; confirmed grim fatalities
Failed to touch every heart; teach all righteous realities

The food insecure; the ailing uncured folks, rife
Cannot claim birthright to the long and good life

So, society still stagnates; suffers abundance of denseness
The trigger happy oft spawn, sheer sorrow’s immenseness

Be breaking news gun nuts, civilian or cop
There’s no way in Hell, they ever can stop

When warlords gleefully slay, each new conflict’s white dove
Ditto couplet’s conclusion; mentioned above

Greed for green and green envy; both too frequently meet
At the crash prone intersection; namely Main and Wall Street

Then there’s the myopic, moronic throne sitter asses
Who flat-out refuse to reduce greenhouse gasses

The rightwing’s science deniers pooh-pooh Covid infection
And their spin doctors downplay their Jan. 6th insurrection

In our world, infamy glutted / gutted by inanity
Corona V’s lessons could not lessen insanity

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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To Don or Doff; that is the Question?

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Of late, as the vaccine “have” nations have just begun to protect their populaces, an impatience has been (shall we say?) germinating / incubating. Yep, immature folks have been demanding the relaxation of pandemic mitigating protocols; chomping at the bit to eschew (chew off?) their pandemic masks.

While modest gains have been cause for celebration, pragmatists (I among them) regard such a course of action to be too much, too soon.

More to the point, for reasons I shall never understand at all, throughout the pandemic, mask wearing has been so hyper politicized / ostracized, its as if facial coverings brand wearers as what? Some sort of wusses?

Far be it from me to rain on anybody’s way too early VCV-Day (Victory over Corona-V) parade, but…

Even as I type / you read these words, it is still conceivable that epidemiologists have yet to discover the full range of dirty tricks, which that filthy pathogen still has well hidden up its figurative sleeve. My gawd, the experts did not brand Corona-V “novel” just for the “fun” of it. And, lest we forget, until late 2020 / early 2021, Covid-19 variants had been unheard of.

Little doubt, these same experts (and critical thinking laypersons, too), at present, are all wondering:

  • Just how long will present day vaccines continue to protect the public?
  • Might anti vaxxer movements / vaccine hesitancy thwart herd immunity?
  • What impact will vaccine “have not” nations have on the “have” nations?
  • What if there are yet to be born microbial cousins; e.g., Covid-21? 22? 23?

Should any of these concerns prove problematic, that’d mean our current pandemic woes are far from over; that that next “once every 100 years” pandemic could arrive significantly sooner.

Granted, such worries tend to sound rather iffy. Nevertheless, what does anyone have to lose by continuing to, bare minimum, social distance and mask up? Are not those who balk at doing something so simple to comply with the actual wusses here?

In other words, why piss away what little progress we have made, so far?

Look, as of my posting time, 3,385,901 (known) souls have already perished, worldwide (and still counting). Seeing how even one of those deaths has already been one too many, is it really too much to ask for everyone to continue playing it safe? After all, this pandemic can never truly be over until IT IS over.

On a more positive note, there is no denying that our masking up, this past fall/winter. did kick conventional influenza and rhinovirus ass; not to mention prevent aerial allergens and pollutants from entering (even damaging) our lungs / bodies.

Even in pre-pandemic times, many civilized, compassionate peoples throughout our world already respected one another sufficiently to mask up.

I headlined this post, To Don or Doff; that is the question? So, what is the answer?

Well… long sigh… the grown-ups “in the room” would not only automatically consider the former D-word the easiest, wisest, smartest possible, no-brainer solution to our pandemic woes, they’d also be sufficiently patient to allow the eventual arrival of actual, favorable conditions to settle the matter / answer the damned Q for us.

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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Mother’s Day Meditations

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While primordial biology, eventually, assigned humans specific generative duties, in this man’s book…

  • A woman, ISO a full life, need not, necessarily, comply with such age-old mandates. It’s each woman’s birthright (if she so chooses) to avoid becoming a time clock punching laborer; one shackled to the Procreation Factory’s assembly line.
  • Of greater significance, actual motherhood is not a prerequisite for a woman to discern and display humanity’s Sunday Best traits; such sensibilities being second nature to her (hope my genuine compliment isn’t misinterpreted as sexism).
  • The human race would wind up discernibly better off were our educational, spiritual, corporate and governmental leaders women.

While far from a complete inventory, check out some potential societal improvements; i.e., were women to rule the world.

  • Wars (little more than territorial pissing contests) would soon peter out; be such battlefields locatable by latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates OR merely the uncharted, irrational notions ricocheting between vacuous males’ ears.
  • Class wars would enjoy a cease fire too; namely, when the avaricious, asinine little wittle boy billionaires would no longer be permitted to lust after the unrestrained accumulation of wealth; when no bullshit tax laws would redistribute their hoarded, oft ill-gotten loot (the megabucks they could’ve never fully pissed away had they lived to celebrate their 50,000th birthday.
  • The war between the sexes would also wind down were misogynist males forbidden to control women’s bodies.
  • Womankind would also, first, show the exit signs to the male architects of our pigsty / shithouse world; next, usher in a more verdant, viable environment.

Hence, my holiday message to womankind, worldwide…

Motherhood can be aligned with embryology and/or ideology. Wherever you fit in within the grand scheme of life…

Happy Mother’s Day 2021!

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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Going To Bed Without Supper

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As a long in the tooth blogger; one who (definitely) got injured into ill-timed retirement and (perhaps) is en route to insolvency and homelessness; my posted (oft sharp toothed) prose and poetry is known to rage against the rampant, rampaging socioeconomic injustice; which, not unlike Covid-19, is debilitating and decimating our global society.

There have been few of my life’s eras where I’ve not branded my modus operandi tireless; be such roles playpen tyke / “cul-de-sac roads” scholar (ha ha?) / workaday grunt / family caregiver / pandemic “umpire”. Even so, the deeply DNA ingrained, biological need for sleep, sooner or later, doth catch up with me. Such was the case just yesterday, late afternoon.

Keeping odd lockdown hours, it was inevitable that arrhythmic biorhythms / sleep deprivation would overwhelm me; so much so, that by the time I had pried open my Sandman gritted eyes, it was well into this new day’s wee hours. Yet, even then, I merely rolled over, groggily, to grab a few more Z’s, which, eventually, ushered me into daybreak (and more mind’s ache).

Once seated at this a.m.’s dining room table, I offered, upward, thanks for my own home cooking’s nutritional gifts, which I was about to receive. It was upon digging in, that I discovered my having slept thru dinnertime had afforded me a greater appreciation for breaking the fast. To actually feel hunger pangs’ onset had even added flavor to what, ordinarily, could’ve been summarily dismissed as ho-hum cuisine.

Ergo, unless your physician would advise you not to occasionally fast, I’d highly encourage you to do so, too.

Additionally, skipping a meal can help serve up these following truths:

“Food Insecurity: The state of being without reliable access to a sufficient quantity of affordable, nutritious food; ‘more than 800 million people live every day with hunger or food insecurity as their constant companion’”

Google Search Definition • May 8, 2021

“Each day, 25,000 people, including more than 10,000 children, die from hunger and related causes. Some 854 million people worldwide are estimated to be undernourished, and high food prices may drive another 100 million into poverty and hunger.”

General Google Search • May 8, 2021

Obviously, for the closing in on One Billion Souls, going to bed without supper (breakfast and lunch, too), is an everyday, way of life (what life?). Hence, if you’re able to donate to charities that feed the hungry, please do so.

I’d do so, too, were it not for my overwhelming worries that [1] tax breaks that benefit ONLY my homeland’s obscenely wealthy will forever take precedence over hikes to retirees’ Social Security benefits and [2] my own economic downfall just might be closer than I think.

To say the very least… current policies and laws fall far, Far, FAR short of securing a decent life for folks put out to pasture (such as moi).

To say more… Well, I had better not go there. After all, I do want to keep this post’s language family friendly.

BTW, my apologies, in advance, for crying into my coffee.

Note to Self: Considering your site’s traffic, the risk of bumming out your reader(s) will be minimal.

Again, no tears, merely keeping everything real. And speaking of keeping everything real…

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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