Thought I would share a couple of videos from Trevor Noah, host of The Daily Show (currently called “The Daily Social Distancing Show.”)
This is a poem a friend of mine in Ohio posted on FB yesterday. I asked her for permission to share it, as I think it’s powerful. Hope you get out of it as much as I did.
Eric Garner & George Floyd in Heaven, Before Their Black Police Victim Grief Support Group Meeting
“Nice to meet you…Well, you know what I mean.”
“I got you.”
“Philando brought you to the meeting?”
“Yeah. You know. We both from Minnesota.”
“Yeah. It’s nice to have somebody from home you can hang with… Well, you know what I mean.”
“I got you.”
“You from New York, right?”
“You must got a ton of homies up here.”
“My daughter is up here, man.”
“My bad…I ain’t mean….”
“It’s all right, man. You ain’t do it.”
“It’s crazy, you know?”
“I always thought about dying, you know?”
“I always knew the time would come, and I would have to go.”
“Yup. It’s the way it is.”
“I just…I never wanted one of them to be what took me out.”
“I hear you.”
“It’s fucked up.”
“You born with the white man’s knee on your neck. You die with his knee on your neck.”
“With his stick at your throat.”
“You walk around scared of your own skin and your own bones – how Goddamn breakable they are.”
“Like you toothpicks and tissue.”
“You live a whole life and never get to fucking breathe freely.”
“And then you get here and…”
“You’re safer. No more body, no more beating.”
“Angels ain’t omnipotent, you know? We can’t do shit but put the thought into the person’s head.”
“So we gotta do it. We gotta do it, man. We gotta get them to stand up. We gotta get them to fight for it.”
“Freedom. They say they want it. They gotta get off they ass then.”
(c) Michelle R. Smith 2020
Never forget that Trump, the spoiled three-year-old rich kid, comes with nothing less than the dregs of society, the worst of the worst; the greedy, unscrupulous, selfish, narrow-minded, bigoted, misogynistic malcontents. And don’t for one moment forget their white supremacy, which masks their white fragility. Trump, and as many Republicans as possible—especially in the Senate—must be soundly defeated come this November.
The only way we’re really going to accomplish what needs to be done is if a substantial percentage of people who normally sit out elections, step up and make their voices heard. Everybody needs to vote in this general election. Everybody . . . or at least a substantial percentage more than has been the case in the last dozen elections. Voter participation hasn’t exceeded 60% since 1968. This is no way to preserve a democratic republic, folks.
I didn’t really realize until Linda pointed it out, but helping my youngest with her classes is forcing me to relive High School . . . and I hated it! I cut so frequently, it took me an extra semester and two excruciating terms of Summer school to graduate. And she’s only a sophomore!
Concurrently, time is beginning to exert itself. I had no trouble keeping up with my kids through my sixties, but my energy level is waning, probably exacerbated by the need to stay put, which results in lack of exercise and eating a little too much . . . of some of the “wrong” things.
Oh, well. It’s raining (actually, mostly drizzling) outside, so gloomy seems to fit the moment.
Little by little I’m moving all of my posts from my old blog, The Cranky Curmudgeon, which still exists as a Blogspot site. This one is a bit over 14 years old, posted on 10 March 2006. Can’t say I’m particularly proud of these verses, but they are what they are, i.e. part of my “collected works” so to speak. Anyway, you be the judge. Frankly, the whole idea of Cowboy Haiku remains a bit strange, IMO.
I was reminded there’s a whole lot of Cowboy poetry out there nowadays. A quick Google shows lots of links. Here’s the first one returned http://www.cowboypoetry.com/. Anyway, I just wanted to be the first to publish a few Cowboy Haiku. I don’t have titles for them; they’re fresh off the ol’ keyboard. Here ya go, pard. Hope ya lahk ’em.
This cowboy wears spurs
They will jingle all the night
If he gets lucky
My hat does not fit
Perhaps it is because
My head is swollen
Blood on the saddle
Could it mean I really have
Hemorrhoids to boot?
It really blows my mind that people think wearing a mask in order to protect others, as well as yourself, is somehow an indication of weakness. Is it weak for soldiers to wear helmets or gas masks when necessary? Do we make fun of Law Enforcement Officers who wear bullet-proof vests? How about nurses wearing masks, gowns, and face shields?
I guess only sheep and cowards use seat belts when driving and, really, who cares when food has reached its expiration date? It’s only a number, right?
Have I ever mentioned my belief Trump supporters are some of the dumbest idiots to ever “walk” this planet? For them, everything is politicized and science has no place in their understanding of how the world works. I’d pity them, but it seems they’re bound and determined to drag us down with them. Let’s not comply. Wear your mask in public. Let’s mitigate and bring this beast under control, which we may have to do without the assistance or coordination we might ordinarily expect from the Feds, seeing as how we have an incompetent boob at the top.
Just thought I should mention today (Thursday, 14 May 2020) is the 10th anniversary of my retirement from Pratt & Whitney Rocketdyne. I’m still not entirely sure it was the right thing to do (accept the early severance package they offered everyone over 60) but her I yam!
It’s still kind of mind-blowing to me how many people don’t seem to understand the argument for wearing a mask while we’re struggling to contain this virus pandemic. While it’s true the CDC and others have changed their recommendation over time, this is not something new. Because the Corona Virus is so new (hence the name “novel”) there’s very little we can say about it with any certainty.
For instance, it’s still unknown if exposure, infection, and survival confers any kind of immunity from another, subsequent infection. If it doesn’t, then antibody testing isn’t going to tell us much of anything useful. We’re just discovering that it affects children more than we had previously thought, and we’ve also discovered the virus affects far more than merely the pulmonary system.
While it seems to me it was always a good idea to wear a mask in public once this thing had spread far enough to make containment impossible, I can understand why—when there is a shortage of masks available for our front-line healthcare workers—the authorities would suggest we not wear masks, at least not the kind that are used in medical settings. That makes sense given how important those workers are, and how important it’s been to not overwhelm our healthcare system.
Now that we know more about how it spreads, I think there are a lot of people who don’t appreciate the concept of droplets and aerosols. I have an experience that I always wondered whether or not I would be able to share without sounding a bit daffy. I think it’s apropos now, however.
I believe it was in 2015, when I had returned as a contractor to the place I had retired from five years prior. I had to drive east to get there and west to return home. I distinctly remember coming home one evening, driving into the sunset. I had a Plantronics wireless earpiece, so I could talk on my phone while driving. As I was talking normally, I could see dozens and dozens of small droplets spraying out of my mouth with the enunciation of certain sounds. It was a bit disconcerting as I’d never noticed just how sloppy we are when we’re just speaking, let alone coughing or sneezing.
Bottom line is this; as long as we don’t have a vaccine, nor a known, useful treatment for Covid-19, the disease caused by the Corona Virus SARS-CoV-2, we need to take steps to mitigate its spread. Not necessarily to keep everyone from being exposed, but (at the very least) to spread out (flatten the curve) it’s path of infection to prevent such rampant disease that we are incapable of handling it and thousands die because we just don’t have the necessary medical infrastructure, tools, supplies, and equipment to keep our healthcare workers safe.
I know some think wearing a mask makes them look like a dork but, in my less than humble opinion, if you’re too self-centered to realize wearing one is in everyone’s best interests because it goes a long way to preventing you from spreading the virus, in case you’re infected yet asymptomatic, then you actually are a dork . . . or something much worse.
If interested, and you want to learn more about how this deadly virus spreads, here’s a great article ‘splaining it for you.
This post is from my old blog, The Cranky Curmudgeon. It was written nearly 14 years ago, shortly after my oldest’s fifth birthday.
So what is it with Thank You cards? When did they become de rigeur . . . a fixture of every child’s birthday and gift-giving Winter solstice celebration?
My daughter celebrated her 5th birthday recently and we had a party for over twenty children and adults. We provided entertainment for the children, lots of food and drink for everybody, really nice loot bags for the kids, a large cake, and a pinata filled with lots of candy. My wife spent around a week’s worth of her spare time researching and purchasing everything necessary to make the kids feel special. This included purchasing inexpensive cowboy/cowgirl hats and bandanas, as the party was held at a nearby farm where the kids could feed animals and enjoy some really fun and clever rides. I spent a good 10 – 15 hours running around and picking up things and making arrangements. We really wanted everyone to have a good time.
Now comes the aftermath. My wife is not the best at sending out Thank You cards, and I have virtually no experience doing it at all. I mean, isn’t it against the law for men to do this kind of thing – no matter how sensitive they are? So . . . here it is, a couple of weeks later and the cards she took the time to purchase are still sitting on the table . . . in their original box. They’re taunting me. Like chocolate in a candy dish, I sometimes hear them calling out my name.
Isn’t a sincere “Thank You” at the party’s end enough for everybody? I don’t know; maybe she feels better about not doing it than I do, but why do I have this sinking feeling we must carry some sort of guilt because we have yet to send a hand-written, personalized note written by us as though it was our child channeling Emily Post or Martha Stewart?
Here’s an example of a Thank You we received the day after a 5-year-old’s birthday party:
Thank for coming to my birthday party. I was really happy you could be there. The Spiderman backpack will be really useful next year in Kindergarten to carry my laptop as I’m learning how to post covered calls without the help of my broker.
Now how are we going to follow that?