“Conservatives” quoting MLK’s “…not…by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character…” is like when Homer Simpson bursts into the church yelling “SANCTUARY” and Rev. Lovejoy rolls his eyes and says, “Oh, why did I teach him that word.”
I went back into lockdown Nov. 15, 2020. It had been a nice respite, starting in June, letting myself ease the restrictions, going to visit my local folks, even having dinner with ’em, which means *inside*. But then I started looking at the numbers here in Monroe County, and they were off the charts compared to when I first eased up for the summer. Also, I bleev I had to work on that Thursday anyway.
This, with other family’s inability to travel to upstate New York, just slaughtered our Thanksgiving in 2020. For the first time in maybe my whole life, Thanksgiving was canceled, yet another cherished thing stolen from us by the incompetence and uncaring disdain that marked the previous preznit.
My Dear Old Dad was undeterred, resolute that we would have a Thanksgiving. Thus it was that yesterday evening, my family gathered around a glass patio table on the deck outside and ate turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls, canned cranberries, and all the gravy one could want. And thus it is that today I will be heading back over to put some of those ingredients between two slices of bread slathered with mayonnaise, solely in the interest of course in helping to dispose of the leftovers.
Unlike justice, Thanksgiving deferred is not Thanksgiving denied. Families can preserve the traditions, no matter how much a global public health catastrophe can try to run them through a stand mixer. And I am thankful above all that nobody at our May-Thanksgiving table fell to COVID. We are all vaccinadoed and ready to boogie. That is something to be thankful for.
- Happy birthday to my Mom!
- Ditching meat isnâ€™t the answer for climate change. Better farming is. (Kyle Jaster in The Washington Post)
It may be that I’m one of those stories where the person in Household A travels to Household B to visit for a while “just this once” on the holiday and ends up sending 75 people to the hospital, because this morning, I went and saw the family. There were waffles and bacon involved, and present-swapping, and getting to see DOD and Ellen, and getting to see my brother with his terrific novia*. It was a good visit.
Itâ€™s a weird drive over because everything is closed and there is barely any traffic. I pulled into the driveway and them dogs started jumping on the car. They like to see me because they know I always have dog treats. On the way in, I mentioned to Ellen that now I needed a car wash because the dogs had muddied up the driver-side door.
Ellen would later this morning give me a Royal Car Wash subscription card as one of my gifts.
So that worked out okay.
I have broken now into chapter 2 of one of my gifts, A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear. At the least, I can report that Matthew Hongoltz-Hetling is a proper wordsmith and storyteller, and I feel this book is leading me by my nose with a blindfold on, which is a good thing.
The family is doing Christmas dinner right now, but I’m too COVID-nervous to join. It’s probably safe. But Monroe County is at a 9.9 positivity rate at last count. That means that of all tests performed on Friday, nearly 10 percent were positive. This has been the rate consistently all of December. That’s not good.
If it’s at 10 or 15 percent, think of it like a heavy rain or thunderstorm. You need to be even more careful. Start limiting your activities. If the rate gets higher than that, think of it like a tornado. With a tornado you’d get in the basement and make sure your kids are safe. (William Haseltine, chair and president of the global health think tank ACCESS Health International)
(Quote via CNN.)
My take on to lock-down or not to lock-down: There are no right answers. Not really. Some pundit on the TV the other night characterized it like we’re all poker players now. We’re all weighing the risks. My conclusion today was that a several-hour visit over maple syrup and coffee was acceptable. But my Christmas meal will likely be noodles with meatballs rather than my Dad’s famous roast beast.
It’s Donald Trump’s idiocy and incompetence. We just live in it.
* “Novia” is Spanish for “girlfriend.” I’ve been fond of using it recently.
- The Internet Just Found Out Star Warsâ€™ Oscar Isaac Was In A 1990s Ska Band And Of Course There Are Lots Of Opinions (CinemaBlend)
- 18 Great Albums You Might Have Missed in 2020 (Rolling Stone)
- Iâ€™m the Reason Elvis Met Nixon (Politico)
I will never forget the first time somebody used the line on me. It was in a newsroom in Revanna, Ohio. I think the reporter’s name was Craig, and Craig decided to lay a trip on me about Jesus while I was finishing my obituaries or whatever. And Craig laid the line on me for the first time I have ever heard it. Craig said to me
WE HAVE FREEDOM OF RELIGION, NOT FREEDOM FROM RELIGION.
I hope the look on my face at that time registered the sheer horror I felt at this horrifying statement. I mean I’ve always been a non-believer, I just stopped being shy about it in my 40s. At the time I was shy about it. But I hope my face looked like that time on the roller-coaster.
Because the sheer wrong-headedness of that statement is cruel and just downright wrong. Let us please be reminded of the introduction to Robert G. Ingersoll’s centennial speech: “One hundred years ago, our fathers retired the gods from politics.”
You may very well want to go read that speech on this day. Because it clearly defines what the Declaration was truly about: We are rebelling against a king. And kings have told us all along that their power comes from a celestial being. And we are basing an entire new experimental nation, at the risk of our own lives and livelihoods, on the notion that people should not be ruled by kings who claim to derive their power from “on-high,” but that people should govern people.
That is the idea that sparked the revolution. And we are no more a “Judeo-Christian” nation than I am Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee.
The Declaration was about Indpendence from kings who told people for centuries that they got to rule and have all the wealth and got to make life-and-death decsions because The Lord told them they could. Our colonies said balls to that and made us a plainly secular nation.
Happy Independence Day.
1. Frosty the Snowman by Fiona Apple
2. We Wish You a Merry Christmas by Booker T and the Mars
3. Christmas Is The Time To Say I Love You by Billy Squier
4. Christmas Wrapping by The Waitresses
5. Christmas Song by Mogwai
6. Christmas Treat by Julian Casablancas
7. This Christmas by Donny Hathaway
8. O Holy Night by Weezer
9. Get Down for the Holidays by Jenny O.
10. Iâ€™ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm (remix) by Kay Starr
11. Wonderful Christmastime by Sir Paul McCartney
12. Please Come Home for Christmas by The Eagles
13. Christmas in Hollis by Run DMC
14. Father Christmas by The Kinks
15. Santa Claus is Cominâ€™ to Town by Bruce Springsteen
16. White Christmas by Iggy Pop
17. Silent Night by Dinah Washington
18. White Christmas by The Drifters
19. 2000 Miles by Pretenders
20. Santaâ€™s Beard by They Might Be Giants
21. Just Like Christmas by Low
22. We Three Kings by The Reverend Horton Heat
23. Whatever Happened to Christmas by Aimee Mann
24. We Wish You A Merry Christmas by Shonen Knife
25. I Did It For The Toys by Dance Hall Crashers
26. Happy Xmas (War Is Over) by John Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band
27. Winter Wonderland by Macy Gray
28. Ainâ€™t no Chimneys in the Projects by Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings
29. Someday at Christmas by Stevie Wonder
30. Run Rudolph Run by Chuck Berry
31. Oi to the World by No Doubt
32. Christmas Feeling Ska by Toots and the Maytals
33. Feliz Navidad by JosÃ© Feliciano
34. Do The Know Itâ€™s Christmas by Bare Naked Ladies
35. Sleigh Ride by The Boston Pops Orchestra
36. Christmastime by Smashing Pumpkins
37. Whoâ€™s Up there by Bhi Bhiman
38. The Christmas Waltz by SOAK
39. Ave Maria by Born Cages
40. Christmas Alone by YACHT
41. Jingle Bells by Avid Dancer
42. New Yearâ€™s Day by Turin Brakes
43. Champagne (Iâ€™m Ready) by Lisa Loeb
44. Surviving Christmas by Sondre Lerche & Jherek Bischoff
45. Donuts in the Snow by The Reverend Horton Heat
46. Itâ€™s Only Christmas by Moon Taxi
47. Christmas with You by Fruit Bats
48. Christmastime by Rogue Wave
49. Silent Night by Wild Child
50. Jingle Bells by Crash Test Dummies
Today is Independence Day in the United States, and it should be a day of great celebration among those of us who are restrictively secular in world view.
Um, that means, “atheists.”
Two years ago, I posted an oration made by Robert Ingersoll on July 4, 1876, that simply begins:
One hundred years ago, our fathers retired the gods from politics.
Later in the speech, Ingersoll further encapsulates the miracle of the grand Declaration of Independence and what it accomplished:
Our fathers founded the first secular government that was ever founded in this world. Recollect that. The first secular government; the first government that said every church has exactly the same rights and no more; every religion has the same rights, and no more. In other words, our fathers were the first men who had the sense, had the genius, to know that no church should be allowed to have a sword; thai it should be allowed only to exert its moral influence.
Before our great experiment, kings ruled, and kings claimed their powers over the people derived from on high. With the Declaration, with the Revolution, the Colonies declared war on that concept. Law, they said, comes from people. And they fought and died for that.
We are not, nor have we ever been, a society based on “Judeo-Christian” values, as many would have it settled in fact. We are the result of a fierce revolution against theocractic rule.
I like to reflect on that on Independence Day. And then, you know. Go light a sparkler and stuff.
Happy Independence Day, for the People, baby.
I had seen crucifix scenarios before. But none like this.
I think I was 8, maybe? 7? And I was staying with the grandparents in Kansas for the summer. And we were traveling from somewhere, and it was on a Sunday. And of course they just had to find a service. Where’d we stop, Eudora? Maybe? I don’t know. Some huge church in the middle of a corn field.
Now this church hadn’t just bought the normal Jesus on the cross statue thingie out of the regular Church Mart catalog. This thing was massive. Big, muscular Jesus. His hands bound to the cross and nailed solidly. His feet nailed with a single post. He was barely dressed, save of course for the bloody thorns on his head. And he was looking up at the sky with that forlorn sort of gaze.
The thing was massive and, rather than seeming to come from another era, it seemed real. Which I reckon was the point.
Bear in mind, I was reared secularly. I didn’t go to Bible study every week. I wasn’t in CYO. I got inklings via the occasional television preacher and when I stayed with friends overnight (there’s another story altogether there…they were Christian Science…) So my context for this was somewhat limited. I mean, your average Catholic is probably inclined to see at as simply part of the scenery.
I was a bit horrified.
And, it occurs to me to ask this Easter weekend: Who’s wrong? Childhood me? Or your average Catholic?
Ya’ll are celebrating a death cult tale with a zombie ending, one that is highly unlikely to have actually occurred, yet it is celebrated, and it is a cornerstone of our culture and the basis upon which many people make their moral choices.
It was only a few years ago that I gave myself permission to stop believing in supernatural forces. I’ve always been a skeptic, though not without some time wasted seeking in various capacities. But while many of these stories I have always found fanciful and irrelevant, I never said the words out loud much: I don’t believe.
I know many will take great comfort in their death cult rituals this weekend, and I do not begrudge them it. I think I may observe by replaying the recent Cosmos reboot on my magical box that relays images to me by some unexplained magic. Or maybe I’ll stick my nose into my Ingersoll biography on my magic tablet that magically puts word in front of me to read.
Great thanks to my wise parents for saving me the indoctrination. Happy Easter, and I think you Jewish folks have something or other going on as well, so mazel tov.
Next time: Why I try steadfastly as I can to avoid taking “the Lord’s” name in vain.
The lore is that the band known as The Mothers was christened on Mothers’ Day. I guess. I mean it sounds like the kind of story that could have actually happened or the kind of story that a man keenly interested in writing his own story largely would later tell. I don’t know. Then again, it would certainly match the AAAFNRAA creative model.
So yesh. Mother’s Day, which, with the new job I actually get to do something about since I don’t work Sundays. I mean the greeting cards went out last week of course. Say, have I mentioned to you Aaron’s rule of shopping for greeting cards?
Do not. I repeat. Do not take longer than two minutes to select a greeting card. Ever.
Reason one being of course, that one should not spend one’s precious life moments furrowing one’s brow trying to decide between sending a loved one the puppy or the kitty greeting card. There is, however, a better reason than sheer laziness: It is more effective.
If you don’t see the greeting card you seek in two minutes or less, you have simply not found the right card and you should move on. You approach the greeting card aisle generally aware of the level of sentiment or humor you want to impart and generally what message you wish to communicate. Either the right card will leap at you or you have not found it. Setting a two-minute deadline for yourself prevents the second-guessing, the hemming and hawing, strategies that are guaranteed to help you choose a milquetoast, inappropriate greeting.
Just a little unsolicted advice from me to you. Filed under Hints from Abelard.
So, yes, I woke up this morning and got myself together, then walked to Hart’s to grab a few victuals, including ground beef to later this week make some Sloppy Joe, some burger patties to boot, some Ithaca Farms ogrets, and a few other essentials, including beer. I then returned home and drank one of the beers and called the matriachical figures in my family to wish them good tidings. Then drove out to the farm and ate meat with the family. Stepmom recalled her formative training in muckraking hilarity, remembering when she was young and her Mom would drag her to protest the Tocks Island Dam. Fitting, since Mother’s Day originated not so much as a greeting card pusher’s fantasy but as a tribute to one mother’s peace activism.
Seriously. Go look it up.
Then Dad and I sat down and watched one of the truly great and utterly overlooked movies of 2014: Chris Rock’s Top Five.
I could not help but draw comparisons between Top Five and another of last year’s offerings, Birdman: Or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), which was for some reason quite critically acclaimed. The premise is similar, actor who previously found immense success with schlocky roles tries to pack on some credibility. The difference is that Chris Rock’s film is a likeable, accessible, smart, ribald, and funny movie, while the Michael Keaton vehicle was a self-indulgent, horrible piece of poo that I hated so much that I resented it for keeping me in the theater.
I could watch Chris Rock and Rosario Dawson banter for an entire film, which is fortunate because that approaches at least half of it. (Ah, let’s face it, I could watch Rosario Dawson do anything for any length of time. But that’s beside the point.) The banter introduces the movie and drives the story forward throughout, and it is a joy to watch. The writing is excellent and the cameos will keep you standing and pointing.
How that Birdman piece of crap garnered Best Picture and this thing only got a nod from the Critic’s Choice Awards is beyond me.
P.S. My top five: Public Enemy. De La Soul. MC Serch. Sage Francis. And let’s even it out with Mr. Chubb Rock.
I know. Too many white guys. What can I say. My sixth would be the word famous Beastie Boys to completely ruin it. Oh well.
If Frank Zappa composed any piece of music that, to me, sounds like the new year, it is “Sofa.” And, I am especially fond of this Austrian brass combo’s version. So. Here it is. Happy new year.