I retired over14 years ago, though I've continued to work on and off since then. Mostly I'm just cruising, making the most of what time I have remaining.
Although my time is nearly up, I still care deeply about the kind of world I'll be leaving to those who follow me and, to that end, I am devoted to seeing the forces of repression and authoritarianism are at least held at bay, if not crushed out of existence.
I write about things that interest me and, as an eclectic soul, my interests run the gamut from science to spirituality, governance to economics, art and engineering. I'm hopeful one day my children will read what I've left behind.
In the past couple of days there have been at least two major temblors in the Searles Valley – Ridgecrest area of Southern California, which is about 125 miles north northeast from where I live, as the crow flies. Since the shock waves created by an earthquake don’t need to drive on the highways, that’s about how far away the epicenter is. What we felt this far away was reasonably gentle though; a rolling sensation not unlike being in a boat in gentle swells. However, as anyone who’s lived through a big earthquake will tell you, any movement of the ground gets your attention right quick.
I have lately been going through boxes and files of paperwork and publications from my years of employment or when I was in business with my family or otherwise, finding things I created or encountered, which I’m sharing on my blog. I came across this today and, after doing a search for earthquakes that might have caused someone to share this, I can’t pin down which it might have been. Nevertheless, I find it ironic I would encounter this today, so soon after these major quakes. At least nobody was killed, or no deaths have yet to be reported.
And, as long as I’m here I should point out that people who know are warning that quakes are followed by an increase in cases of Valley Fever. This is no doubt due to the dust that a quake shakes loose and into the air. Here are some photos from the area that were shared by a Facebook page dedicated to dealing with the disease. Check them out for more info.
What truly sickens me (pisses me off as well) is that we are witnessing the transfer of billions of dollars of our tax money to the coffers of these very sick, hateful, and exploitative organizations. They are profiting handsomely off the misery and suffering of people whose lives have been upended in large part because of policies of the U.S. that have been carried out in Central and South America over decades.
I recommend reading Felix Greene’s excellent book, “The Enemy: What Every American Should Know About Imperialism.” Despite its being almost 50 years since it was published, it is still a wonderful exposition of how insidious imperialism is and how thoroughly our country (the U.S.) has infiltrated the economies and governments of many of the countries in the southern part of our hemisphere.
President Trump’s “zero-tolerance” immigration policy under the direction of Attorney General Jeff Sessions is big business for U.S. companies — from private prison and tech firms to defense and security contractors — as well as nonprofits.Under bipartisan pressure, Trump signed an executive order Wednesday ending the administration’s controversial child-separation policy. But Trump’s “zero-tolerance” policy, in which individuals who enter the U.S. illegally are prosecuted, will continue. All this comes as the country grapples with harrowing images of babies stripped from their mothers’ arms and children playing soccer on the grounds of abandoned Walmart stores along the Southwest border.
I’m glad we decided to purchase Photoshop. I’ve been playing with it and sometimes I even get a little serious, spending some time learning how to use a tool I’m unfamiliar with. This wasn’t one of those times, though being able to select a small part of one photo and layering onto another requires a bit of patience and a reasonably steady hand. The latter I find difficult at times, as I have inherited essential (or familial) tremors from my mother, and there are times when I have a great deal of difficulty pointing and clicking in the right place. When I was back at Rocketdyne (2015 – 2017) there were times when I couldn’t easily log onto my computer in the morning because me hands were shaking so bad. At any rate, this here should be clear to anyone who knows a little Russian history and something about hand tools.
If you’ve seen one Russian, you’ve seen ’em all
PS – I’m not posting this for any reason other than I created it, it’s been shared on FB and Twitter, and I just want to have it somewhere that doesn’t disappear essentially forever. There’s nothing special about it, other than that it marks another bit of practice I had using Photoshop.
Being the unabashed patriot that I am, I refuse to take anything about our country so seriously as to not be capable of mocking it, especially when it’s so richly deserved. I’ve been holding on to this specific cartoon of his for at least 25 years, as it (somewhat) mirrors my attitude toward reciting the pledge. As a member of one of my local Rotary Clubs for over four years, I recited the pledge quite frequently, at the beginning of each weekly meeting. My Democratic Club recites the pledge at the beginning of every monthly meeting. I no longer speak those words
I am only willing to pledge my allegiance to the human race; not to a particular nationality that I happen to be a part of though, to be clear, if we are attacked I will do everything in my power to defend my friends, my family, and my fellow citizens. I consider myself a patriot, but not a jingoistic one and I prefer we move toward seeing—and dealing with—the world as if we are all fellow citizens of this one planet. The only home we currently have, and most likely the only one we’ll have for centuries to come.
The original I’ve been holding on to all these years
Note there is no date on the cartoon above. I was guessing it was sometime in the 90s that I cut this out and saved it (I just scanned it, after all these years.) I decided to search a little and see what else I could find, including a copy of the original in a Google image search. Imagine my surprise when I discovered this version, below. I found another one that looked slightly different, but it was severely cropped and difficult to figure out.
Iteration numero dos
OK – So I found another one, also dated, which is two years younger than the one above. Of the two above, I have no idea which one was published first, but I’m going to suspect it was the first one I put up there. This was around the time I had started working at Rockwell International’s Rocketdyne Division and I needed to keep myself grounded in what I consider to be reality, meaning I didn’t want to fall into the mental trap of supporting what my government does blindly. I’ve always questioned authority, but working at Rocketdyne was a whole new experience for me. Prior to that job, I had always worked in small—very small—business, most of them employing no more than four or five people.
This is how it looked when I found it—stretched out
Somewhere, and I have no idea where that somewhere might be, there is a cartoon where one of the characters begins the pledge saying “I play the legions.” I remember this very clearly, but I don’t for the life of me remember where I encountered it. Having posted this, perhaps I will conduct a thorough search to see if I can find it. I’m not holding out much hope, but one never knows.
PS – In searching for a little more info, I came across an interesting column from 1988 in the Orlando Sentinel, entitled “‘I LED THE PIGEONS TO THE FLAG . . . ‘ BACK TO SCHOOL AND A GARBLED PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE,” which has some pretty interesting tidbits that kids have thrown into their recitation, though in their case it’s quite unwittingly. Matt was taking liberties wittingly, I’m sure.
Give ’em hell, George. I heard his call sign was “Oak Mouth” or “Fir Face” or “Cherry Choppers.” Something like that. Nobody knows (except for Mango Mussolini) how courageous and valiant he was at the Battle of Covfefe, during the Bowling Green episode. Given how anachronistic the whole affair turned out to be, it’s no surprise he was awarded both the Air Force Combat Action Medal, and the Nuclear Deterrence Operations Service Medal. Our Air Force wouldn’t be the same without his stellar service.
I believe I wrote this poem in the early nineties. It was, at least obliquely, addressed to a woman I had fallen desperately in love with (this would be the last time in my life I fell that stupidly, at least until we adopted and I became a father.) The love of one’s child—especially the first—is far more powerful and nuanced than any other type of love I’ve ever experienced.
This poem, however, speaks to my desire to see this woman* open up and face some of what I thought were self-destructive fears that were keeping her from enjoying her life. It was complicated, as was she . . . and it just wasn’t to be. I have little doubt the somewhat crazy depth of my desire was just too overwhelming for her. Hey! I was just a kid . . . in my late forties.
There exists in all things A strength and beauty Unappreciated by those of us Who have suffered the constraints of narrow education Yet . . . it exists In repose Silently waiting for the moment of discovery In many of us it is doomed To remain unannounced unapprehended and, yet Undeniably It is there And there are those of us Who by some mad twist of fate Crush the beauty in ourselves Divert the strength And smother the fragile wonder of our lives Beneath pain and isolation Which we call self-protection
* I will not use her name in deference to my wife and children. She is a part of my history, but only relevant today to explain the motivation behind this particular bit of communication.
Don’t know if this will show up on the page, but I’m trying it. I want to share this sentiment posted to Instagram by Colin Kaepernick. I have seen it before and I believe it’s narrated by James Baldwin, but I may be wrong. Regardless, this is something all of us must keep in mind. Our country is not exactly the righteous, benevolent State we’ve been propagandized into believing it is. Please don’t forget what’s been done in our name.
I think I wrote the following a couple of weeks ago. Shortly after my oldest participated in her final dance recital at Santa Susana High School, I was hit by the realization my baby is now an emancipated adult. She just got notification of her registration to vote yesterday. I was a little beside myself but, as you can tell, it passed fairly quickly, in large part due to numerous friends who were willing to listen and allow me to vent, which helped me understand what I was feeling.
Aimee Grajeeatin’
As many of you know, the impending graduation and emancipation of my
oldest has hit me kind of hard with a case of “empty nest” syndrome. I
know my grief is unwarranted, especially since she’s not leaving the
house for the foreseeable future, and I know I’ll get over it; already
am. Please don’t worry about me. Two things (among many) I’ve learned so
far:
1. My greatest sense of loss involves time and it’s having passed. “Did I do the right things?” “did I help her enough?”; “did I neglect her by paying too much attention to her younger sister, who desperately needed it (still does)?”
2. Merely talking to Aimee helps for two reasons. The first is she
reassures me I have been a good father and she feels no lack of love or
attention. That feels good. The second is related, because talking to
just about any teen with tude is often enough to make you want to cut
yourself. Doesn’t feel as good, but I’m real familiar with it.
I
really appreciate everyone who has reacted to, or commented on, my cries
of agony. Special thanks to those whose shoulders I cried on, both
figuratively and literally. Y’all are wonderful therapists.
I tend not to mince words when it comes to this guy, the absolute worst President this country has endured . . . certainly during my lifetime. Hating this worthless grifter is not a bad thing when it’s cold-blooded, steely disdain for what is tantamount to a tapeworm. Impeach the Motherfucker NOW!
I was a Wiener Clerk at the Wiener Factory back in the early 70s. “We may be contumacious, but we’re never revocatory.” “Tell us how long you want us to hold the onions.” The owner wrote every bit of graffiti in there . . . and the moderately risque stuff in the toilets out back. I think my favorite dog was the coleslaw and cheese, though a good old fashioned kraut dog still hits the spot when I’ma cravin’.
I worked there throughout my first year of law school, 1973 to 1974. It was a decent job at the time. The owner, whose first name—Gene—is all I remember, was a former English teacher and stockbroker. He was a bright, somewhat tortured guy, but he treated his employees with respect, which is frequently not the case.
We used Gulden’s mustard, which we thinned just a bit with pickle juice, adding a significant bit of extra flavor. I often wonder if anyone actually noticed. I think the hot dogs were Vienna’s natural casing wieners, and we got the knackwurst and one other type of sausage from a small sausage maker in Burbank. Alpine sounds about right. We used fresh egg buns, which we steamed before serving so they were nice and soft. We also sold a shitload of German potato salad. I don’t think we had fries, but I just don’t remember.
Flooky’s
made a damned good hot dog as well, and I was sorely disappointed a
couple of months ago when I was returning to Simi after an appointment
at the W.H. Kaiser Med Center. I was planning on having a Flooky’s hot
dog (or two) only to find out they had gutted the place. I don’t know if
there’s a Flooky’s left in the SFV.
I still crave a good hot dog probably a lot more frequently than is healthy for me, but I was raised on the damn things. I love a good, kosher, natural casing wiener with gulden’s mustard and a hearty sauerkraut on top of that. I also love mustard, relish, and onions, as well as mustard, chili, cheese, and onions. Hell! I’ve been known to slice one lengthwise and eat it between two pieces of rye bread with some mustard. It’s just a mini bologna, after all.
Systems Savvy 