Everybody has a quote before the election that resonates. Okay, here’s mine (or a start of several):
“Well, also, I have to admit,” Jeffords said, “I did do a bit more of a roundabout route. I just found that fellow fascinating to listen to.”
Bob stopped his inspection to glare at Jeffords. “You did what?”
“To watch a mind like that at work,” Jeffords said, and shook his head in admiration. “He processes the same information from the world that you and I do, and turns it into something from another universe. It’s like listening to somebody from the Flat Earth Society, or those people who believe the moon landings were faked on soundstages in Hollywood.”
Meehan said, “It almost sounds as though you admire the guy.”
“I admire the effect,” Jeffords said. “If I could tap into the subtext of fears and prejudices and prides and misunderstood history the way he can, only with a little more self-awareness, bring it out a little smoother, a little blander, I wouldn’t be a groundling in the CC, I’d be running for president myself.”
–Donald E. Westlake, Put a Lid on It (2002)
(Say, I wonder if we could get Trump to clarify his position on the moon landing? Do we know if Breitbart has a position?)
spiraling down. Right now the first, serious thought, from which most of my future thoughts come is, can I move back to New York, or is it too late, my constricted life is now in Seattle, period; in which case, when I moved here, I made one serious mistake (and several mistakes that came from that, and several mistakes that was not at all from that — many many mistakes), and one life happening that couldn’t be helped, i.e., Velma’s death. The serious mistake I knew very soon, but I kept trying, hoping. I finally really knew. If I can’t go back to New York, and it looks like, running it over in my head, that I don’t have the capacity or strength to do it, then I eventually am going to go, probably sooner than later, to a facility, which is not at all what I want. (At all.) But in Seattle, there is no clan that wants me. Some of that is my fault; when Velma was alive, I was fine with just Velma, and I know I let my side of my friendships go. And apparently I let my side of my family relationships go when I was in New York. That is my serious mistake.
It’s crystallized my thoughts, in the last week or three. Mostly just listening to WFMU, in my room, on my bed, 95% of the time, thinking: sometimes very depressed, sometimes just thinking.
If only I didn’t speak English, I would enjoy Frank Zappa’s later albums, like You Are What You Is. As it is, I give them to my intelligent, sarcastic 13-year-old cousin.
….but since my stroke, I can’t really know.
I can’t find my copy of The Futurians; otherwise I would look it up. In the Wikipedia entry on C.M. Kornbluth, it says:
Kornbluth disliked black coffee, but felt obliged to acquire a taste for it because he believed that professional authors were “supposed to” drink black coffee. He trained himself by putting gradually less cream into each cup of coffee he drank, until he eventually “weaned himself” (Knight’s description) and switched to black coffee.
I think the cyclopedist is remembering wrong, and didn’t look it up. That’s (I swear) Chester Cohen who weaned himself off milk in coffee (much as I did), not Kornbluth.
Why I’m telling you? Frustration!
[EDIT: Fred looked it up in The Futurians. I was right. Woohoo!]
because it’s not worth getting irritated at…. but! It still soothes me. For instance:
That probably works to Trump’s benefit, although it also means that Cruz or Rubio could rack up quite a few delegates if they “get hot” later on during the campaign.
I sigh when people use apologize-for-colloquial-quotes; for one hundred years or more, parodists use those quotes to signal that the writer being parodied doesn’t feel comfortable in their language.
This apprehensive writer (or copyeditor) gets a wee bit embarrassed for using “get hot” — why? is it because it’s a sports metaphor? — but less than ten words earlier, he used “rack up” without embarrassment-quotes. And another sports-metaphor, too.
Dum-de-dum-dum. Copyediting! I love it; 94.46% of people hate it.
“Braff’s playing was instantly recognizable within seconds.” –from a review on the internet
I can’t help it, I want to… suggest changes. Even with my broken brain, some things blare right out. Most people don’t want my “help”, I know; so I keep my advice on my obscure blog, my two cents’ worth given from my left hand and taken by the right. It soothes me.
John Kasich, governor of Ohio and Republican presidential candidate, signed a bill Sunday that will prevent more than $1 million from going to Planned Parenthood for programs like HIV testing, health screenings and the prevention of violence against women. –FiveThirtyEight
Kasich has been constantly described, in the presidential race, as a moderate Republican. It’s good to remind oneself that, as a Republican in America in 2016, Kasich is the enemy too: not a frothing enemy like Cruz or a clever-stupid enemy like Trump or a quiet polite enemy like Rubio, but still, a powerful enemy that I must see going down to defeat.
Fortunately, Kasich is still running for president with vanishingly small chance to win, and like Cruz, he’s propping up Trump; every day Trump gets a better chance to win the nomination, and that means (I still think) a very small chance for a Republican presidential victory.
My friend and housemate has a refrigerator-magnet which contains a lofty (if a little aggravating) message, as refrigerator-magnets do:
One person can make a difference, and everyone should try.
Mmm, yes. The alleged utterer of this bumptious bromide was born-millionaire John F. Kennedy. I can’t help wanting to attach Kennedy’s name with “and Lee Harvey Oswald” to it.