Questions

I'm trying to figure out what those people behind all the attack ads, the support of the Tea party activists, the stupid and evil rumors about Obama (choose one— he's a Moslem, he wasn't born in America, he hates white people, and etcetera, miserable etcetera) want out of this election. I mean, what more do they need? "In the United States at the end of 2001, 10% of the population owned 71% of the wealth and the top 1% owned 38%. On the other hand, the bottom 40% owned less than 1% of the nation's wealth."
 https://secure.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/wiki/Distribution_of_wealth
It hasn't got any better since then.
(By the way—there seems to be more than one "tea party"—Does anyone remember the Spanish Civil war, where infighting on the Republican side, (when "Republican" actually stood for something!) mostly fomented by the Communists insisting on doctrinal purity, actually led to the victory of Fascist forces and Generalissimo Franco's repressive regime? Those who work for the oligarchy's bidding will find themselves enslaved.)

What do these oligarchs want? Don't they have enough already? Do they really get so much pleasure from driving out of their gated and guarded enclaves and viewing the suckers who work for them that they have to drive those people into even more desperate straits? How much is enough? How much do you need to insure that your children and grandchildren will be able to live off your largess?
Will it be good for the children and grandchildren to have these riches handed to them instead of having to work for their rewards?
Where does ego stop? How great do you have to be for yourself and look to your descendants?
And how is all that worth a single life which you have destroyed in getting your riches?
If any of these asshats even bothered to read Shakespeare they would get an idea of the value, or lack there of, of inherited wealth and/or power. The Bible would give other clues, as would the actual history of the human race in the last five thousand years.
You don't know what your own children, much less your grandchildren, will do with the money which you squeezed and cheated out of the rest of humanity. You can bet that what ever it is, you won't approve.
I'd put money on that. If I'm right, pay me now. If I'm wrong, I'll get back to you later.
I'm confident that I won't need to get back to you later.

It seems the Republicans and their puppet masters are trying to destroy the middle class of America. They are trying to reduce the American social equation to lower class, and upper class. They want to  make Americans work for the same wages as people in Bangla Desh, China, the Maldives, Zanzibar etc. This is so bizarre and short-sighted.
Henry Ford was really an American fascist (he sold cars to Hitler's Germany long after it was clear Hitler would become America's enemy), he not only fought against unions but hired thugs to beat and even murder union organizers, BUT he did recognize that the American worker needed enough money to buy his cars. And he paid accordingly —he didn't want to pay for industrial accidents or provide health care or have a two day weekend—or have someone else tell him he should have these things—but he knew his employees should be able to afford his vehicles.
If only he'd known how cheaply Indian and Malaysian workers would have worked to build his cars.
History would have been different.

Oligarchies do not have a history of longevity. Of course, while they exist they make life miserable for those not in the "in crowd."

People do have the gumption to finally rise up against them or work around them until they collapse. The "local hero" idea in new England and elsewhere is one example of the force that will bring the oligarchs to ruin. When we choose our own methods of support and community we create the basis of our own economic and social freedom.
Buy as local as you can. Buy away from the big names, the big box stores. It won't be easy, "they" will try to make it expensive; "they" will try to keep you addicted to sugar and ease of preparation and ease of thought about what you are eating and where it came from.
This, by the way, is what "socialism," that much-maligned word, is about. You help me, I help you, we both work with him or her and we all make a living co-operating with yet another for mutual benefit. And no power of one over another.

That's a stickler for the oligarchs. Gotta have that power. How else to know how much we are worth?

Poor Jesus. He came to us 2000 years ago to speak of this, and his message is still ignored. We still judge people on their wealth, their status (whatever that is), their beauty—on everything but their ability to live as a vital part of a human community.

Even your Curmudgeon, who doesn't expect much from human beings, is a little depressed about this.
I hope you sleep well. Humanity needs you to be at your best in the morning.

Bonuses and condoms

I hear some Repubicans are defending the AIG bonuses. Or at least saying they shouldn't be taxed. I mean, those guys worked their butts off for that meltdown, they should get something, right?

Actually, I think all opprobrium possible should be heaped on those characters until they give the bonuses back out of shame and sell their houses and slink off to Mytushiefroze, Alaska, where they will live out their lives in obscurity skinning moose for Governor Palin. Now I am all in favor of taxing the rich—everybody should pay proportionately— but I feel little strange about using tax law as a punitive weapon. Something seems fishy about that. Besides, all these senators are only making a lot of noise in this room, metaphorically speaking, so no one will notice the mess they left in the other room. My cat does that.

In other news, Pope Benedict has said that condoms don't help prevent AIDS, they actually help spread it. Will someone please check that guy's medication dosages? Now being against condom use is part of the papal job description, but it's one thing to be against it because your belief is that sex is only for procreation, not fun, and something else entirely to be spreading lies about it. We expect this sort of thing from our wacko right, but they are stupid. One would think that the spiritual leader of over a billion people would have more on the ball.

I know what the problem is—lack of sex. It messes up the mind. Imagine two thousand years of priests and nuns going without sex (ostensibly) because of what may be a totally erroneous assumption about Jesus. There's no mention that Jesus got laid in the bible, ergo he didn't get laid, goes the thinking. Did they ever think that maybe he was too much of a gentleman to brag about it?

If I remember correctly, of the three vows of priesthood, poverty, obedience and chastity, chastity is the one renewable vow. There's a reason for that.
I'm done for the night.
Ciao.

Spring & Pentecost

Ah, the weather is doing its thing and there is warmth and budding and the hope of summer and flowers and gardens. I don't know if I can stand all this cheerfulness. How am I going to maintain my adversarial relationship to the world if the world starts being nice to me?
Life's a bitch.
It was nice to sit on the deck with a microbrew and watch the mergansers floating down the river, oh, and listen to the teenage goofs across the river riding their dirt bikes. I don't mind as long as they don't go on too long, and they have been more considerate since my neighbor, former chief of police in this little town, spoke to the parent. A little noise then they were gone, leaving me with the question: "Do they know what mufflers are?"

Day before yesterday I rode to Northampton with the windows down, enjoying the sun and warmth and spring air, with a lecture about Existentialism on the CD player. Who could ask for anything more?

Anyhoo, some flowers got planted, some weeds dug, flowerbeds cleaned. The cat rested in the rusting old red wheelbarrow I left in the blackberry bushes. It was there when I bought this place, and it reminded me of William Carlos Williams. So it stays.

For those of you who don't pay much attention to the church calendar, this Sunday is Pentecost. That's the day the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples (so it is said) and they got to speak in tongues. This is a big day for those guys. This is where it all starts to come together for them. Before, they have been sort of mixed up all along about what was going on. Very confusing, seeing their leader betrayed by one of their own, he dies, then he comes back, then he goes away again. Who wouldn't be confused? Poor guys. But now they start to see what the job is all about.

Basically, the disciples are a rum lot. Always confused, always looking in the wrong direction, as it were. Even a cursory reading of the Gospels leaves one with the idea that Jesus really could have used a good Human Resources person to vet the disciples. But he didn't have one and there it is. One changes the world with the people one has, not necessarily with the people one might desire.

Imagine a Human Resource person working for Redemption, Inc.:

"Hi, Levi? Nice to meet you, thanks for being on time. I see from your resumé you have been a tax collector. Not exactly the best training for this position, but it's better than being a fisherman. You have no idea how many fishermen I've had to interview already. Boooring—same old stories about fish and storms and whatnot. And they don't smell so hot. I gotta tell you, it'll be weeks before I can look at a tuna sandwich again."
(Why didn't I go to Rome when I had a chance? Jesus is a nice guy for an employer, but man, the people who come in here looking for work! Cripes.)

"But anyway, as you have been a lackey for the Roman occupation, doing pretty well, it seems, why are you looking for a career change at this point? As I said, doesn't seem to be much on this resumé to indicate an affinity for discipleship, particularly for a risky discipleship such as this."

"Oh, you just heard Jesus calling and knew this position was for you, eh? Just like those fishermen did and also that broad who came in who I'm sure has been working in a professional capacity, if you get my drift.
Well, since you're so sure, here's what it entails. First, the benefits are a staff and a bowl and if you're lucky, sandals. You'll spend most of your time being confused about what he's trying to tell you (and believe me, it's not easy. I've got three degrees and I still can't follow him when he gets on a roll), your salary gets paid "later" he says, and you'll be part of a close-knit team. On the down-side, this will likely be a pretty stressful job, trying to convert people to a new way of life, and you're most likely to end up dying a creatively horrible death.
You know how it is with the old timers, they just don't like having their routines challenged. Still interested?"

"Of course you are, you and the rest of the wackos. None of you believe me.
You make twelve, what He wanted. But then He gets to be thirteen, not a lucky number. I have a bad feeling about that. Anyway, be at the upstairs room at nine sharp tomorrow. And lose the gold chain, it's not part of the dress code. So what if your former boss, Maximus Gluteous, rewarded you with it for good collecting. You're leaving that life behind. Way behind. "

So that's it for me. I'm outa here. I hear Pontius Pilot has a position open. I just hope Himself has an actual check for me and doesn't give me that routine about me getting my reward later on. I gotta start saving for that boat trip to Rome"