Saturday, July 25, 2020

I ain't walkin'. Naw, I'm travelin' in style.

 You know, I've had a fairly pleasant Saturday. Nice breakfast, got some work done, nice nap - not too long, not too short - some fair-to-middling ribs from that place in Peppertown, and a short constitutional with my buddy Otis, the Jack Russell. I really don't have much in me.

 We'll go ahead and get this week's News all linked out before I forget, though. Beyond that, I don't know. We'll kick the ball around and see. Anyhow.

Monday

Wednesday

Friday

 To be honest, I took on a big slab of Actual Paying Work this past week, and that ate up not only most of my time but also most of my energy. You write 4,000 words on New York labor laws and see how sharp you are. In any event, we took another look at the fascist invasion of Portland Monday while Wednesday centered around the ongoing failure of the Trump Administration when it comes to deal with the COVID-19 problem. Friday we drew out focus in and took a look at how screwed dear ol' Mississippi is about said pandemic. The answer: extremely screwed.

 I usually don't do this, but I'm going to include the News' "Weekend" feature. For the record, it's usually just five hundred words of ramble tamble - much like every day here - and little more than a reason to fill space and write. However, occasionally, I'll write something there worth reading. This time around I wrote about Rep. John Lewis and Bro. C.T. Vivian, two Civil Rights warriors we lost to the ravages of time a week ago Friday. Lives well-lived, stomping the terra.

 Wednesday got a good bit of attention, actually. I imagine it's because I touched on the business with Trump wishing Ghislaine Maxwell "well" and Twitter booting a bunch of Q users for being assholes, slightly loony, and outright threatening. I generally don't get as many hits on the News as I do here. Maybe that's telling me something, but I'll be dipped if I know what it is.

 Speaking of hits, I got a mess here this week. Up to 136 so far, though how many of those are the same ones trying to spam porn in the comments, I don't know. I was inspired Friday, pure gonzo gibberish that it was. Right now, though, I just feel like listening to The Faces and reading Go Down, Moses again. It's too damn hot to be this melancholy.

 I'm definitely not interested in the current zeitgeist on Twitter. Apparently, Andrew Sullivan said something stupid and the only reaction I have to that is why in the blue hell is anyone still taking Andrew Sullivan seriously? The Harper's Letter is still having way more impact than it should. I still can't too worked up that mediocre writers and thinkers who've coasted for the past couple of decades answering to no one but each other are getting made fun of on Twitter.

 And I really have no sympathy for the folks under 40 whose main complaint seems to be that they came on the field too late to not have to listen to the public criticize their nonsense. They know who they are, there's no need to name names. I find as I get older, I give less of a shit about what individuals think, especially individuals who get paid to tell me what they think. I realize that's a little screwy given what I'm doing here, but read your Walt Whitman and leave me be.

 Tedious hypocrite David Brooks bemoaned that besotted contrarian boor Christopher Hitchens couldn't get published today when that is obviously horseshit of the finest kind. Hitchens would be fighting off podcasters with an empty beer stein. As long as you have connections, there is no need for merit. Yeah, I know that sounds bitter because I'm 45 and have probably seen all the success in writing I'll ever see, but it doesn't mean it's wrong.

 It's like when I argue with Momma about taxing the living shit out of Jeff Bezos. "But is it fair?" I honestly don't care if it is or isn't. Life isn't fair. Children are born into poor families with illnesses that will not only promise a short, painful existence but will also manage to bankrupt their parents as if a shattered heart isn't enough.

 Getting a little dark there. Perhaps I should tie this off. I want a candy bar. I'm enjoying myself, but I know I'm running out of stuff to rant about and really don't feel like raving about how awesome The Faces were and how you should totally buy as much stuff as there is out there, but you should. Hell, two-fifths of the band has passed on and two of the remaining three have more money than God. I doubt Kenny Jones is hurting, so buy used copies or if you're feeling it illegal downloads.

 Are those still a thing? I ain't going to lie but when Napster and Kazaa were all the rage, I downloaded a buttload of MP3s of dubious legality. I even sailed around the Pirate Bay for a bit. I usually wound up buying from the bands if they were still an ongoing thing but I have no qualms about taking from record companies and music publishers. Was it thievery? Sure. Do I give a shit? Nope, not one bit.

 Hoo, giving myself away there, I better be careful. You'll never prove it, though, because I've moved on. Apple and Tim Cook get my $10 a month, so I trust them to disseminate that down to the musicians, although I know it really isn't much better. Regardless, The Bottle Rockets, Todd Snider, and The Mavericks still get my money. Come and get me, coppers.

 That's enough, I think. I don't know what else to say and don't feel like raging against anyone anymore. Anyway, I really want that candy bar. Salute.

No comments:

Post a Comment

All comments are moderated, & may be discarded & ignored if so chose. Cry more & die, man.