Wayward Landlubber

The republican National Convention is over. There's not much to contrast it with previous party nominating conventions. It should have been an embarrassment to any thinking person, but thinking persons have been primaried from them since about the 1990s. Which explains how Kid Rock and Hulk Hogan were featured entertainment. I don't know when it happened, but at some time in the last decade or two, party platforms have slipped away from the Republican presidential nominating conventions. They are no longer the kind of events that we saw in the great Frank Capra movies of the 1940's. Maybe they never were. I can remember as a boy of about 6, sitting on grandpa's lap watching the 1956 Republican convention on their brand new Admiral television.. The states would be called by the moderator and as each state was called, a speaker, male of course, would stand and speak in their best stentorian voice, introducing the great qualities of their states. They would then put into n...

I have enjoyed my enmity to Marjorie Taylor Greene these last two years. She draws my contempt like a Confederate flag. She gives a poor satirist a reason to live. She is on the opposite end of the ranking that begins with AOC foremost, and culminates with MTG at the saggy-ass end. I will not miss her when she is no longer in Congress. I fervently hope it happens soon. There are other, equally stupid Republicans to stir my cynicism. Far too many, given their lack of integrity.  My conundrum, such as it is, is that I have something in common with her. A reason to feel (yuck) empathy. One tiny thing few would know. For some a trifle. For her, and for me, somewhat more deeply felt. We have both written a book that few have read. We have both sat at a table, books stack to the right and left sides, waiting anxiously for somebody-anybody, to stop and look at the top book on the stacks. Dried saliva seals our lips, sweat soaks our armpits. "Please, please please, we think within our fra...

In a recent post on Facebook someone posted a picture of a hexagonal nut  in a thick coat of industrial Grey. It was called, the post claimed, The Jesus nut. So-called because if that nut that holds the mast to your helicopter,should come loose, Jesus is your only savior. That mast, that would allow the prop blades to spin as your helicopter descends, will be spinning off behind you and your helicopter is reaching terminal velociry as it falls. I surmise that another reason it has been given that name, Jesus nut, is because one or more of the occupants that witness that cataclysmic event, will be inclined to say, "oh, Jesus", or some other exclamation.  We are all familiar with this proper noun connected with an adjective. It refers to an ardent supporter of Jesus. Some people who are ardent in their faith do not deserve this title. The people that recognize Jesus' teachings as being simply, to not be an asshole to others. Jimmy Carter, a nuclear physicist in the navy, an...

     My ex's dog likes me. An extreme like. Aww hell, call it love. When I drive up to their driveway, Wilbur is waiting, anxious for the  backdoor to open. When he is released he rushes my car, his hind parts moving rapidly from side to side. I'm a cat person. When we were married we had cats and a dog, all rescues. When we split up, I went petless for many years. Pinkie, my girlfriend who passed on a few years ago, wanted a cat. We were sharing a cabin cruiser on the Willamette River. The cat, Gracie, became all mine when Pinky went into assisted living and later hospice care. Gracie had gravitated to me anyway. Animals don't feel obliged to be what we want them to be.        I don't think it's possible not to love a dog or cat. Being a pet parent requires certain responsibilities congruent with the temperment of the animal. Dogs need to run, cats need to roam and climb. There are some people who shouldn't have a pet. Most importantly when ...

I think I was about 14 or 15. The boy becoming the man, with the zits to show for it. I was learning my politics at family gatherings, encouraged by my uncles. The usual topic, aside from the careful talk about WWII, was Vietnam. It was known at that time as a "police action" but would soon be declared a bonified war. For a very bone-headed reason. I wrote a letter to the Editor of the Oregon Statesman, there being two Salem papers of record at that time. I opined passionately on the Vietnam War and patriotism as only a fifteen year-old male with a face full of acne could. At sometime during my rant, with no attempt at subtelty, I called our two great Senator's, Wayne Morse (D) and Mark Hatfield (R), "worms in the bowels of government". They were, and still are among our great Senators. How many middle-school boys know anything about subtelty?       Shortly after the appearance of my Letter to the Editor, I recieved a subscription to a cheap newsprint monthly ca...

The USA has a Cricket team. And they have done pretty well on the world Cricket tour. The match against Ireland on June 14, was abandoned without a ball bowled. I don't know what that means, they don't call balls and strikes and they don't play in a bowling alley. It's a confusing game. There are Eleven players on each side, most of whom have nothing to do. There is a 22yd pitch in the center of the field, which is a couple feet longer than the distance between home plate and the pitchers mound in baseball, I think it serves the same function. I don't know what that is in meters. None of the eleven players is the Catcher, or British equivolent, to catch the bowlers pitches, or the pitchers bowls, or whatever they call throwing at the wickett in Crickett, which could be sticky. Should the batsman hit the ball, one of the eleven players will try to catch the bowl-or ball-or whetever.  Cricket doesn't seem to have innings, or other designated ways to define when th...