Bound To The Light We Possess

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That title is a play on a Lincoln quote I came across recently, and which became the inspiration for this post. I wanna think Honest Abe might have chuckled when the news came over the wire that the United States government had filed for divorce from the Trump brand. And seeing as how Abe was a master of the timely anecdote, there’s little doubt he was doing his thing deep into the night with all those better angels. Maybe he would have opined on 45 with something to this effect . . .

“That man is no more patriotic than a grizzly in search of his next meal. Both are accorded voracious appetites, whose intent is not to do right by the populace, but rather, to consume them . . .”

After which Abe probably got to throwing down memories of all those grand dreams he once rolled up his sleeves for, dreams of a republic whose might was a matter of consensus rather than division. And to which his tall, lumbering frame gave chase until a bullet stole the extraordinary man away before history was done with him.

All I know is that, over the last four years I’ve mostly gone AWOL when it comes to writing about anything that rhymed with politics. Oh sure, I touched on it here and there, but my literary taste buds weren’t digging the flavor. Trump had effectively laid kryptonite inside my satirical wiring because the truth of the matter was . . how could I possibly parody a parody?

And it wasn’t the only thing I lost my taste for inside that time. You asking for a short list? Really? N’kay . . . .

  • Visiting Washington D.C.. I was never crazy about driving around the place, seeing as how it’s the town of a million road signs. But the museums and eats and all that great, big history of us? Worth it, until . .
  • State of the Union speeches. Thanks to YouTube, I worked backwards since 2017.
  • Visiting New York City. You know what’s worse than rush hour traffic? Trump hour traffic.
  • The color orange
  • Chucky movies
  • Hot air balloons
  • Red hats
  • Talking about most anything political, with anyone.
  • The O’Jays. Well, not all their righteous works of course . . but one song in particular that I do love quite a lot.

So now we get seventy two days worth of Shakespeare by Trump apologists who will be white knuckling their resumes in search of the next unreality show now that their gigs with the soon to be former Boss of all bosses are coming to an end. They’ll condemn the very same extra inning affair many of them were applauding back in December of 2000. They’ll blame poll workers for counting legal votes and they’ll blame COVID and if all else fails, they’ll blame the Chicago Bears offense since that’s where all else goes to fail.

And none of it will matter as much as the seventy five million pink slips, and counting, who said “Thanks but nah” to another four years of recumbent hiking through the wilderness of 1956.

As for the Don, there’s no chance he goes quietly into that dark night, even after inauguration day seals his artful deal for once and for all. Never mind that he’s still never won a political race against someone not named Hilary. And never mind that he got boat raced by a Washington lifer in Joe Biden, whose lifetime achievement award speech is going to have a massive rewrite coming. This outcome is just a bad day at the batting cages for Trump, who has a promotional machine that will allow his bluster to keep doing bad things to our good senses with book deals and cable deals and rallies . . because, ‘Murica. He ain’t going away, he’s just moving to the other side of the wall now.

Lincoln called. He wants his hat back.

Heroes Of The Week! (Post-ish Election Edition)

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The Place of Abraham Lincoln in History - The Atlantic

Is it over?

Can I come out now? Is it safe?

I don’t know . . I’m not trusting this, as much as I want to trust it. Not yet. I keep thinking Pennywise is gonna jump out and yell “Psyche!”, after which he hands me a red hat that I must wear in order to step outside. And so, Imma get right to the business at hand today. No pontificating, no postulating and no more chasing waterfalls. I will take a hot second to say muchas gracias to Cincy for filling in last week and coming up stellar . . as per.

Now to our heroes . .  and today? they’re all heroes . . 

Quick shout out to Washington football coach Ron Rivera, who recently completed his last round of cancer treatments. And this video is provided in order to show you that what the peeps at Inova Schar Cancer Institute do, isn’t a job to them., They gave Rivera a beautiful sendoff, honoring one of the good guys in such a special way. Stay well coach.

ImageJon Lester is a freshly minted free agent, formerly the lynchpin southpaw for title teams in Boston and Chicago. And I always disliked him very much for wearing the wrong laundry, but hey . . it’s all about respect. And after his latest stunt, I am pushing for his automatic entry into the Hall of Fame. It seems Lester bought $31,000 worth of beer at four different Chicago bars as a thank you to Cubs fans for all their support over the years. He added a cool $16,000 in tips for the staff members as well. Unless he signs with Tampa, I’ll actually root for him next season.

Coronavirus New York City: Strand Bookstore closed, lays off most of staff after coronavirus crisis cripples business - ABC7 New York

Like so many businesses across the country, and the world, the Strand bookstore in New York City has been hanging on for dear life since the pandemic took hold this past winter. With revenue down more than seventy percent, things looked bleak for this book lover’s paradise. The New York institution has been around since the Murderers Row New York Yankees swept Pittsburgh in the 1927 World Series, but inside the meanest of seasons, this really did feel like the end of the line. And so when owner Nancy Bass Wyden went on social media to let its customers know how dire the straits were . . they had her back. Last Saturday, the flagship store enjoyed its best October sales day, ever. And yes there is still a long way to go before we get to that light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. But as the Babe would most certainly agree, history is achieved one win at a time.

Just because we understand our politics to be dirtier than an FDR martini doesn’t mean it has to be that way. Spencer Cox and Chris Peterson are ditching the spectacle that has become professional wrestling in sharp suits. The two gubernatorial candidates out of Utah actually brought civility into the arena in their race. The audacity!

For this last jig, Imma go back to Tuesday for a hot moment and mention what happened on that historic day. Sort of.

November 3rd set records for voter turnout, and in one fell swoop we came to understand that no one person will ever be able to boss around this place. And hey, I’m not willing to go back down any of the roads we just came from by going point for point on the particulars. I just want this day and tomorrow, and the next day to feel differently. I want hope back. I want less divisiveness. And maybe that’s a fool’s wish, and I really don’t care, because I know for a fact there are plenty of people out there who believe in this fool’s wish. And what’s more, they are doing something about it.

Take Pizza to the Polls for instance. The non-profit was a forward march of volunteers with a mission; to deliver grub to voters who were standing in long lines to do their civic duty. Don’t let the name fool you. These peeps delivered everything from burgers to empanadas, sandwiches to donuts and cookies. More than a million times over to more than 3,200 polling sites in the lower forty eight.

“Food can be a major mood-shifter for people who have been waiting for hours to vote or who have been volunteering to ensure the process runs smoothly,” Says Pizza co-founder Scott Duncombe. “We’ve seen people get really excited about our deliveries—and some have even told us that it was the boost they needed to stay in line.”

Where do we go from here? Hell if I know. But we do have to keep on moving from here, so let’s make the here a better place to journey from. Let’s try and do a better job of respecting our differences . Let’s make America graceful again.

Oh come on, I had to.

 

 

Too Early To Tell

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Is there something happening tomorrow?

I kind of had the idea that Tuesday was going to be a big deal when the late, great Brett Favre dropped it like it was haute last week, mixing politics with sports in his endorsement of The Incumbent. It was ironic seeing as how Favre trashed the idea of mixing sports and politics when it wasn’t his guy. But that’s the kind of shit I’ve come to expect from too many people on too many sides in this day and age of unreason.

Still . . Tuesday isn’t ringing a bell, excepting maybe for Tacos®. But since I tend to reserve my taco intake for weekends, where it can be immersed in a sexy tango with adult beverages, Imma go nolo to that contender.

taco tuesday Memes & GIFs - Imgflip

Maybe it’s the fact that Tuesday is the busiest day of the week when it comes to job applications, seeing as how most applicants are properly recovered from their weekends. And it also happens to be the most productive day of the workweek since it sits peacefully between Monday and hump day, which are notoriously hung over. But this seems boring, and America hasn’t done boring since Jim Belushi left prime time television.

Devil’s Night was vanquished by All Saints Day, again. And there’s no tie breaking tilt on Tuesday, that I know of. And as a Halloween/Darth Vader/Yankees fan . . I’m pretty sure I would know.

Aimee Mann broke up with ‘Til Tuesday more than thirty years ago, so . . nope.

There’s no professional football on Tuesday, well . . except for this year when the Titans had to play on Tuesday because . . . COVID. There’s no college football on Tuesday because . . . COVID.

Fat Tuesday is wrought with melancholy, since it happened back inside the time before . . yanno. And Thin Tuesday doesn’t happen until December 26th, when we commit to losing all that holiday weight. After which we recommit to losing it on January 1st-ish.

Oh, wait . . wait! I got what all the fuss is really about! Are we actually having our Spaghetti Tuesday on a Tuesday this week? In honor of the late, great Scott Wilson? And if not, why not?

Hershel Greene on Twitter: "Spaghetti Tuesdays every Wednesday #TheWalkingDead… "

Or is this about the end of days being all dressed up with somewhere to go? Is that why peeps are knocking at my door on a Sunday, when it’s clearly not to warn me that the apocalypse is nigh and to stock up on prayers and porn? Because from the looks of it, all that talk about going to hell in a handbasket is starting to look prescient. Sure it took a few hundred years, but hey . . it still counts.

I mean, half the world is under lockdown or curfew. And the other half can’t even afford to enjoy their time under the influence because they’re preoccupied with coronavirus, wildfires, earthquakes, hurricanes, Block Editor, murder hornets, riots, shootings and Netflix raising their prices. That’s a metric ton of shit to be happening in a decade, much less a calendar year.

And yet, here we are . . with tomorrow having already happened on some far away planet inside some other universe. And I wonder how it all turned out. And I wonder if there is mercy to be had in that far away place, or if this is all just working itself into some lost paradise sequence of events that leads to the eventual demise of humanity?

Now that would be huge . . .

 

 

Heroes: A Frank Edition

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Greetings to Marc’s Peeps. Frank here, formerly of A Frank Angle but currently at Beach Walk Impressions. Last week Marc asked me if I could do the next edition of Heroes. Of course, I agreed. Shortly thereafter, a family health issue developed, and time got away from me – then yesterday evening’s oh-shit moment arrived. Fortunately, I had some bookmarks. So here goes.

Embed from Getty Images

 

Marshall Helm (of Salem, Illinois) is a Vietnam veteran, a grandfather, and a person battling cancer. He walked his granddaughter to her stop, and after she boarded, the bus driver directed his attention to the smoke coming from a nearby house. He ran to the house and found flames in the garage. He opened the door, raced past flames, and his shouts awakened the sleeping homeowners. All safely escaped through the backdoor. The house is gone, but lives are safe. Just an example of a person with a sense of duty to others. Thank you, Mr. Helm.

 

Orion Jean (of Ft. Worth, Texas) decided he wanted to make the world a better place by spreading kindness with a message of wanting everyone to know that they are loved. Orion won the National Kindness Speech Award prize of $500 – and he takes the money to buy toys for hospitalized children. THEN, some community members pitched in. Now, Orion’s “Race for Kindness” has a goal of snack bags for a needy 100,000 people by Thanksgiving. For the record, Orion is 10 years old. I like this interview with him, plus I get to see one of my fav news personalities.

 

The Story: COVID-19 has impacted the world in 2020. On top of that, Californians and others in western states have been dealing with devastating wildfires. Berry Creek is a small, rural community of 1,200 people in California’s hilly, forested terrain. While Berry Creek volunteer firefighters fought the fire and helped residents evacuate, a fire destroyed the fire department station and the homes of six of the seven volunteer firefighters.

The Rest of the Story: Meanwhile, back in 2018 the father-daughter combo of Woody and Luna Faircloth started a nonprofit to supply RVs as temporary shelter for people who lost homes to the 2018’s massive Camp Fire. Today their organization is now known as EmergencyRV.org. Once they heard the news about the Berry Creek firefighters, they sprung into action to deliver RVs to shelter those who lost their homes. Although temporary, they now have a place they can call home. Who are the heroes? You decide. I couldn’t find a video of this story, but here’s an article.

Embed from Getty Images

 

Here’s one for the season – but more of a feel-good story than something heroic. Then again, Abigail, Theo, and Benny (of Salt Lake City, Utah) are hero candidates. No doubt in my mind that kids get what relationships are supposed to be much more than adults.

 

Fortunately, heroes are not by societal biases as age, gender, race, sexuality, religion, and nationality. Thanks to those mentioned here, in past editions, editions to come, heroes not mentioned, and all those who do it as a regular job.

To take you into the weekend, here’s a song for you and all the heroes. Mainly because I like the song. Besides, the images are wonderful. Have a great weekend, and in the words of Garrison Keillor, Be well, do good work, and keep in touch. PS: Don’t forget about your clocks this weekend – well – those who have to make an adjustment.

Earnest and Julio Down by the Schoolyard

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Oscar Wilde: The Unrepentant Years and Oscar's Ghost review – Wilde after prison | Books | The Guardian

“Everything is going to be fine in the end. If it’s not fine, it’s not the end,”

Oscar Wilde

I think old Oscar would’ve loved growing up inside this time. After all, it’s the end of the world every single day, with an addendum attached that foregoes last rite status until such time as all current liens are settled, with marble caked interest. To a pen as sick with irony as his, Wilde would attest to our hubris whilst wondering whatever happened to the humble pie of Lincoln. He’d challenge political heavyweights to televised swordfights. He’d regenerate tired old Reaganisms in next gen form to piss off Republicans and Democrats alike. He would ask aloud how satire became the province of reality show stars and brand mavens whose sole purpose is to vaporize our brain cells, after which he would remark that alcohol was a much better idea.

He’d write for the New Yorker whilst doing side jobs with the Coen Brothers and being a regular on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert. And then of course he would opine on the political ramifications of our upcoming national election by hosting a PPV event at Radio City; which he would bill as “Extraordinary Rubbish And Entirely True!”.

Ignominious tidings would follow, with daily mentions of his debauchery that would stun and titillate the masses. From snapchatting irreverent haikus with the Pope to crashing White House galas to bedding J. Lo. And A-Rod. Both. Of course.

And to it all he would shrug, all tethered to his Cohiba with ready made anecdotes for every single one of the sordid revelations. The masses would adore and condemn him, the media would be much too afraid to cast harsh judgement on account of all the inside dope he possessed on them. And a little town in Iowa would rename itself “Wilde” in honor of the “. . . greatest American who wasn’t. . .” . Among the ceremonial attendees would be John Waters, Dave Chapelle and Cher.

Once the smoke cleared- which means to say, before Oscar could be relegated to a syndicated curiosity, he’d retire to Key West and write a book while threatening to run away to Cuba for irony’s sake. And then he would negotiate a deal with CNN to broadcast live from the hull of his “last unearthly home” on the condition that he could drink Martinis on the air. And CNN would agree, because Oscar’s slur is better than most talking heads very best stuff.

He’d have a sixty foot Clipper made of red cedar from Washington State; replete with a mahogany wet bar below deck and a pinball machine signed by Pete Townshend. From a turntable, Toscanini, Verdi, Bach and Tupac would pitch fastballs as Wilde punched at the moon to steal his latest tale. His two adoring pit bulls- Hendrix and Patton- taking their nightly spots at bow and stern, respectively.

Strangers from every kind of place would sneak inside the sleepy marina from time to time, just to get a peak at the madness. If they’re lucky, they get to see Oscar treating the kids to some Dulce de Leche or chorizo with Manuka honey as he sips on a liquid solution. When he retreats, he writes about Creole gangsters and Jacobin cultists, while deliberating on how faded denim jackets should’ve been a sign that the Russians were going to win.

This journey into relative solitude would come about as the result of his unwillingness to end up a spent cog in a pinwheel. Adopting the examples of Ali and Picasso, he would bob and weave through colorful stages because he is a man who does not wish to be immortalized for having burned out when he can reinvent his heavyweight paintbrush to a more circuitous advantage.

He would ponder extravagantly as to why it is that humanity can be so connected and yet, so very much alone. There would be moments where he ponders a disappearing act in the vein of Elvis and D.B. Cooper. His senses- common or otherwise- thinking better of it since he figures the world is too damned interesting to leave behind when he has Bill Murray’s cell phone number.

I can imagine old Oscar standing on deck as his thoughts scream the stars to life and rile the tides. And then he calls Hendrix and Patton to dinner and reads them poetry by candlelight. His tongue draws out the love affair between a maiden and a shepherd as salt air heaves its blanket to cover them for a restless journey into day.

Like a prayer, everlasting.

Heroes Of The Week!

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How To Make A Vesper Martini Fit For James Bond | Londonist

My first order of business this week is to let y’all know I will be away from my WP desk for the next week and change. In the meantime, Imma have a couple posts scheduled. So I had an idea- which I realize is akin to Esther Greenwood being stuck in a phone booth, but suffer me this Bell Jar moment, por favor. You don’t have to leave a comment unless you really, really want to. You can like, you can post a music video telling me how much you miss me, or you can just read it. Whatever YOU wish to do with it, that’s beauty to my senses. And thank you, for any and all of it. Always.

And now the roster . . .

Mookie Betts Dodgers Contract Extension Value Taxes – Sportico.com

He hits for average, he hits for power . . he steals bases . . he makes gold glove plays on the regular. And he wins, much. The dude became the first player to walk and steal two bases in the same inning of a World Series game since Babe Ruth did it, ninety nine years ago. But the magnificence of Mookie is landing here today for what he did for America, yes America! By stealing a base in the World Series, Mookie done won America a free taco on October 28th. And okay, it’s not really a taco since it’s being served up by Taco Bell, but hey . . free still counts! So I just have one question. Is it too late to get Mookie on the ballot?

Jeffrey Toobin suspended from New Yorker, on leave from CNN, after he exposed himself on Zoom call - CNN

It was reported this week that Jeffrey Toobin has been suspended from his gigs on CNN and the New Yorker after he was caught masturbating during a Zoom meeting with staffers. And it seems that Father Superior, the guy who rails on about the peccadilloes of politicians, has a pantry full of them in his own right. And it’s people like Toobin who make it so easy to point to the other side of the aisle and proclaim how full of shit they are. But this goes far beyond politics. This is about a guy who’s gotten away with a closet full of shit for too long a time. In an age where the bad guys are getting found out right and left, Toobin seemingly wore Teflon, until he took matters into his own hand.

El Arroyo in Austin, Texas has taken to panning the pandemic. And really, good for them . . and us. And I wonder if they take requests? Imma call ’em.

bucket-of-balls-tease-material-fd-frame-7580-1.jpg

So thank goodness for Frank “Beach Walks” Angle for bringing the heater in the very best of ways with this next story. It’s proof that every new ending is just a beginning to something else, and it reads as if Kinsella and Capra and Chapin got together on Cloud Nine and came up with the script.

Brian and Carter Robinson were keeping to the father and son tradition of hitting some baseballs at the cages when Dad came across a bucket of baseballs with a note attached, which read as follows.

“Hope someone can use some of these baseballs. I pitched them to my son and grandson for countless rounds.”

The writer’s name is Randy Long, and the sentiment was a bittersweet one. Long was thinking his life had gone Chapin on him, what with his brood having moved to different parts of the map with clans of their own now. So his donation of the baseballs was meant to pass the torch to a young family that was still busy writing their days of Kinsella. But that’s where Capra came in to steal the show.

Because the Robinsons got hold of Randy Long and then one thing led to another and young Carter was asking him if he might want to take in one of his little league games. And that’s when this grandfather learned that young Carter had lost both his grandfathers at a very young age and if you ain’t tearing up by now, okay, you asked for it.

The two of them ended up having a catch together. The end of one chapter in their lives giving way to the one they never saw coming.

And Cloud Nine, damn. Those guys still have it.

And now for a musical interlude, because I can’t get me enough Rush. And this isolation play on Geddy Lee’s tug of the maddening strings gets me high whilst completely sober. What’s not to love?

Seriously . . I listened to that on a loop whilst on my stationary bike, one day after being laid up in bed for ten hours. Music as medicine . . . .

Six California firefighters lost their homes while battling the flames. Days later, a CNN Hero provided RVs for them to shelter them - CNN

The fires ravaging Northern California have added yet another layer of “What next?” to this bitter cake of a year. So it’s good to know there are people like Woody Faircloth who get busy every day thinking up new and better recipes for their fellow humans.

Faircloth is a 2019 CNN Hero recipient, and here’s why he got noticed in the first place. Because when he heard about a group of volunteer firefighters who lost their homes recently- and continued battling the fires anyway- he got to fixing up a recipe for them inside theses worst of times. He did so in the form of delivering RV’s to the displaced heroes through his non-profit RV4CampfireFamily.

With all that got lost in the fire, Faircloth and his family are making sure hope remains.

This 5-year-old wrote a book to help kids battle the stress of the coronavirus pandemic

This has been the year of living dangerously, replete with prospects that frighten even the bravest souls among us. And so you have to imagine what it’s done to the little minds whose bravery isn’t talked about enough if you ask me.

Take Wade Williams as an example. He’s five years old and currently attending pre-school and he’s not crazy about the state of this great big world. So he decided he wanted to create a nightlight for other kids who are going through the same thing and he wrote a book.

“It all started by him saying ‘Dad I really want to help. I really want to help people,” said Williams’ father Joshua Williams.

And just like that, Wade was punching the keys and sharing his mighty so that it may shine a light on anyone who feels as if the darkness is too much. And Seneca the younger would be shimmying in his stoic sandals at the brighter than expected profits of a human race that births souls such as Wade Williams. Because it shows us that compassion is not a paradise lost, unless we make it so. And sometimes from the mouths of babes comes our truest reality.

 

Annoyances Post #2021

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On my old blog, Cayman Thorn used to post these quite frequently. I find that, as I get older, things don’t annoy me as much as they used to. Okay . . that’s a lie. They annoy me more, and the truth of the matter is that if I were to post every little thing that annoys me, I’d stop sleeping and just walk the earth . . like a broken down Forrest Gump.

So rather than give in to the bright side, here’s a shout out to CT and the good old days, when lockdowns referred to ski weekends.

Drink up.

  • More sports-speak that means absolutely nothing. During a recent MLB postseason telecast, the knows no better announcer giddily informed his audience that “George Springer has passed Babe Ruth for most postseason home runs!”. Lost in the translation was the small little detail that when Babe Ruth played, there were no divisions. The team with the best record in each league went straight to the World Series, so the max number of games you played was seven. Today, with three divisions and multiple layers of postseason series, you might end up playing twice as many games. But hey, data is data right?
  • How the auto-correct on my phone still doesn’t get me.

IFYOUWANTED PEOPLE TO CALLIT YOUSHOULDNIT HAVE SPELLEDIT GIF quickmeme.com Eric Cartman Kyle Broflovski cartoon

  • Why aren’t there two lines at Starbucks? This was a big question of mine before I stopped frequenting the place, but I’m sure it’s still an issue for peeps who simply want coffee, and not a science experiment that requires a degree in math. One line for straight up coffee and another line for overpriced desert drinks. It’s not that difficult, people!
  • People who yell out during a live musical performance. Because it’s probably as close to relevant as they’re ever going to get, but still . . shush up and let the professionals do their thing.
  • And while I’m on the subject of people who have no self awareness . . how’s about NOT putting your phone on speaker when you’re out in public? If you can’t hold your phone to your ear and walk at the same time? Then you shouldn’t go outside, ever again. And for those Bluetoothers out there who feel as if their conversation matters more than anybody else’s? The great Larry David has provided me with a solution to that . . .
  • Green lights are universally accepted as “Go”, so if you are having trouble with this meaning? See my answer to the previous question, por favor.
  • “Color Rush” uniforms
  • People who buy them

Product, Pink, Font, Snack,

  • Boom Chicka . . . meet Oh Hell No.
  • The “Who’s The G.O.A.T.” debates in sports. They’re perpetrated by sports talking heads who have to fill time, but they’re useless in theory.
  • Guy Fieri
  • Child actors
  • The number of people with “medical conditions” that supposedly prevent them from wearing masks is mind boggling. I have a medical condition that prevents me from being sympathetic to their plight. So yanno . . we’re even.
  • Seth Rogan movies
  • When I walk into a fast food restaurant and the person behind the counter asks if they can take my order before I’ve looked at the menu. I’m not a habitual offender, so a little patience please?
  • People who insist on eating food when it’s piping hot. And then complain about burning the roof of their mouth . . .
  • Commercials that think I’m watching them.
  • Block Editor. Once something annoys me, there’s no turning back. Imagine Edmond Dantes hopped up on mephedrone.
  • People who blame the media for everything. Listen, I ain’t a fan myself but don’t go blaming them for the death of civility.
  • Truthers

Welp, that’s enough hilarity for one sitting. Tune in next time when I apply the late hits to woke people, humble braggers and those among us who profess to being “the better person”.

How could you ask for anything more?