Home » Month: December 2018

Year’s End

New Year 2019. Here’s wishing you the customary bundle of happiness, love, prosperity, health, fun, games and, above all, obstinacy. There’s no reason to think that 2019 is going to be any better than 2018 has been. But. But who knows? It may be the year that really intelligent AIs take over the world. In any case, do stick with a rudimentary Gramscian outlook: Pessimism of the intellect and optimism of the will. And to the Mehitabel Paradigm.: Toujours gai, toujors gai! They both annoy The Man.
Happy New Year!

Deck the Locks

Magic Garden. Aren’t they clever, the little flowers? I’m currently trying to persuade them to do the same with politicians. Turn them into, say, maggots, since they -the politicians, that is- are already half way there. I do have but one reservation: the real maggots may not welcome this addition to their tribe. After all even the lowest form of live has standards, what! Perhaps we should stick to turds. That’d be a cinch.
Have a very merry winter festival, or whatever it is you celebrate.

Goodbyes and Hellos

Solstice 2018. A sad Solstice. One of the pillars of my sanity and major luminary of my skyline, William Blum, died on December 9th, aged 85, after a long and fruitful career in the field of calling a spade a spade and tossing spanners into  The Man’s propaganda machine. His wonderful Anti-Empire Reports opened many an eye to the facts of political life in the 20th and 21st centuries and strengthened my conviction that no, I’m not mad, bad and dangerous to know and that no, I’m not alone. We all miss him something chronic and I feel, once more, like a serial orphan.
Still, the old sun has reached its peak and the young one is pushing its way upwards and onwards. Very, very soon the dreaded seasonal lunacy will be over and before we know it the first buds will be popping their tiny heads out and the snow drops will raise their small voices to say Hey, we’re alive again. Whoopee!
Have a wonderful Solstice, comadres and compadres. And carry on best you can. Life is short and often sucks but it’s all we have, really. That and love.
Here go a few links to the one and only William “Billy the Kid” Blum, a guy who shot from the hip and hardly ever missed, in case you are curious about what the fuss is all about.
His site:
https://williamblum.org/
His last Anti-Empire Report:
https://williamblum.org/aer/read/160
And his legacy (we hope):
https://covertactionmagazine.com/index.php/2018/12/09/william-blum-dead-at-85/

Pious Bollocks. No. 3,703 Don’t Speak Ill of the Dead

Obituary. Old news, small news and a somewhat late celebration But it’s the thought that counts. I’m looking forward to the next hagiographiotic* obituary we’ll be assaulted with. Why, it might even be that of Henry Kissinger (one lives in hope) and we’ll be told what a nice man he was and how he brought lasting peace and prosperity to the Chilean people and so forth.
*Yes. A hybrid of hagiographic and idiotic. Lovely language, English, innit?
http://socialistworker.org/2004-1/485/485_06_BushDynasty.php
(One of the many articles reminding us we’re not mad, bad or dangerous to know…:-) )
https://duckduckgo.com/?q=george+hw+bush+war+criminal&t=ffhp&ia=web

Options & Variations

Evolution II. Change is not always everybody’s’ cup of tea. As Douglas Adams pointed out, somewhere in the HHGTTG, some people think that it was a very bad idea to come down from the trees; and some even go as far as claiming that crawling out of the sea and developing legs was a seriously bad move. Still, evolution happens, whether we like it or not. Although, sometimes, listening to Theresa May babble her incomprehensible rubbish, or Donald the Orange Duck foam at the mouth about…well, anything, really, I have an urge to join the reactionary camp and cry “Let’s go back to the Primeval Soup, for Bumba’s sake!” Sometimes I also have this itch to run out into the street shouting “Cry havoc and let slip the perritos de la guerra!”All things considered, I much prefer that last urge, even though the body will not allow the putting it into practice, by any stretch of the imagination. Again, small mercies…