Wayward Landlubber

Recently I wrote an essay reflecting on passive aggressive behavior. Old age being a time for reflection, I'm going to reflect on more things. Those of you who know me have probably asked yourself, "when is he going to bring up the Reflecting pool at the Lincoln Memorial?" You know me too well; I'm a walking cliche'. Unless you have been in a coma you probably know that the Goomba who Trump hired on a no-bid contract pooched the project,  not just fixing the leak in the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool but making it worse. Floating islands of algae covered the reflecting pond between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial, once the reflecting pond recieved its water. Two former presidents joining with the other 44 to do a collective metaphorical forehead slap on the 47th president. To be fair, this was an ongoing issue but has been controlled better by other presidents even during the Great Depression. To compound the problem, National Parks workers were...

People accuse me of being passive-aggressive. Yeah, so what? Is it better to be aggressive-aggressive? Or maybe you think I should  just be simply passive. Like republikkkons are, as they watch an 80-year-old supremely passive-aggressive guy turn their party into a cliche' of comically stupid/corrupt government. The guy who Trump hired to paint the Lincoln Memorial could have stepped out of  Central Casting, or the Soprano's. A short, fat, Italian-American with a fat cigar a bulky manilla envelope in their breast-pocket, and you don't want to know what's in the waistband under his suit coat. Vincent Pastore or Steve Schirippa.  Yeah, I know I'm a smart-ass; I'm a cynic, thats what we do. I'm not here to analyze myself, others can do that whether I approve or not. But I have developed my cynicism over seven decades of living life and noticing people who I admire for their activities on behalf of those who aren't insiders in some passive-agressive financia...

I don't know exactly how to write; it's a mystery to me. It's not that I don't write, I do. It's just that the process remains a mystery to me. Some people outline what they write. Some create a block diagram. There are other tactics I've been told about, but I'm  too lazy. So I write in a style and manner in which I have become comfortable. Mostly I write satire.  Political satire, because I'm lazy. Nothing says lazy like picking up a turd dropped by a Republican candidate and dropping it in the alphabet soup of presidential shenanigans. And the turds abound in this group of stooges. There are many ways to express yourself in writing. Fiction, history, humor, satire. I'm told there are physicists who write, though it's a mystery to me what they write. I write because I have something to say. Something others don't care to hear. So I put my thoughts in writing so I can, from some future promontory tell people who didn't want to hear that,...

I DONT THINK WE'RE READY.. Mass media has made people, who's grasp on reality is tenuous at best, too confident in their ability. I recently saw where a post asked about Alexandria Ocasio Cortez' support if she ran for president. Naturally, one of our maga moron's contributed his two cents worth, the very penny no longer distributed by the treasury. "I don't think we're ready for AOC," he opined. And there you have it. A not very bright human who's only qualification to be a Podcaster is his affinity with maga, gives us his assessment of Alexadria Ocasio Cortez' fitness for running for public office. "I don't think we're ready for that". Perhaps he was thinking that he was thinking. Perhaps he doesn't know what qualifies as thinking.  Funny thing, in a popular democracy, where democracy is allowed to be practiced by those not at the power centers, people who pay close attention to the discussions, and the legislative quali...

I have a secret internet activity. Something that has grown in dimension and intensity, since i started my internet activity. I used to feel awkward about it, embarrassed even. No, not that one! I'm a troll. I click on comments initiated from right-wing nut jobs. What's a rightwing nut job, you ask? Good question. It's like how Justice Potter Stewart described pornography, "I know it when I see it". If you come onto the screen with the insulting over-confidence of a watcher of websites populated by young, white, and dim-witted males in muscle shirts, you are almost surely a RWNJ. If your opinion is regarded by you on the same intellectual level as science, or medicine, or economics, you are an RWNJ. You are the kind of guy that will peer over the shoulder of a portrait artist on the street, and say, "I think you should make my old lady's lips fatter".  Where is that line between spirited discussion and verbal war? It is at the level of wit. It is the...

My dad used to call them marble bags. Those white briefs that, once we are potty-trained, become our big-boy pants. Tighty-whities. At some point, as we eagerly approach adultery, some of us start looking farther afield on the underwear rack. Boxers wait for our approach. Pillow-slips. Instead of wrapping our nether areas in soft cotton, boxers fit like a loose swimsuit. Cotton in various colors and designs, sitting crisply inside your jeans. I started wearing boxers when I was 18, just short of that day I would enter adultery. Over the years underwear became made with rayon thread. First came bikini briefs, nestling things somewhat more closely. And for a while, I wore them; enjoyed them. But we gain weight and the rayon loses its elasticity. And the lifetime of those tight marble-bags are somewhat less than a penurious individual might desire. Who wants to spend money on something that can't be seen? Another advantage to boxers is, on a crisp winter day, and far from the ski lodg...