3.6.2023 – dystopian farce

dystopian farce
it is laughable if you
don’t have to live it

Adapted from the line, “It’s pretty much a dystopian farce,” said Kathleen Miller Green, an assistant professor of child development who attended the nearly six-hour, capacity-crowd meeting at the school’s student union building on Feb. 22. “It’s laughable if you don’t have to live it.”, in the New York Times article, The Politicization of North Idaho College, by Daniel Berehulak.

It was too good a line with too much application to today’s United States to let it go past.

“It’s pretty much a dystopian farce,” it’s laughable if you don’t have to live it.”

So quoted is Kathleen Miller Green, an assistant professor of child development at North Idaho College in Coeur d’Alene, a town of 56,000 in the Idaho Panhandle.

See, according to the article, the county Republican Party holds a majority on the North Idaho College board. They have denounced liberal “indoctrination” by the college faculty and vowed to bring the school administration’s “deep state” to heel and “Make N.I.C. Great Again.”

I apologize to the people of the great state of Idaho but saying, Make North Idaho College Great Again out loud makes me laugh.

It’s IS laughable.

Until.

Until it isn’t.

And it isn’t as we all have to live it.

And is isn’t as it isn’t just the North Idaho College, it is small colleges, schools, churches, libraries, township boards and zoning commissions everywhere.

It gets very scary quickly.

Here in the low country of South Carolina, a feller was convicted of murder pretty much evidence from his own cell phone that showed where he was, or at least where his phone was (and he was NEVER with his phone), how his phone moved around, whether in a car or walking and what he used his phone for.

While I have little problem with this specific case, think of how, in general, we are all being tracked.

All that data is there.

All that data is real.

All that data can and will be used against you.

Live a good life and you got little to worry about.

Still, there is a concern over WHO has control or even access to this data.

Imagine a local police force, or for example, the Michigan State Police (an awful awe inspiring title when you think about it, so says Jim Harrison) with access to the data.

Or worse, imagine the North Idaho College Board of Regents with access to this data.

Tracking faculty.

Tracking students.

On the one hand, It’s pretty much a dystopian farce,”

On the one hand, it’s laughable

On the other hand, it’s laughable if you don’t have to live it.

And we all have live it.

We all have to live with it.

What part of this is making us great again?

For decades, Eleanor Roosevelt wrote a daily column called simply, My Day.

If you wonder why any one would care about Mrs. Roosevelt’s day, just look at the subheadings in the online archive.

They include, White House Years (1935-1941), White House Years (1942-1945 WW2), United Nations, (1946-1951- Post UN years (1953-1962).

In her December 12, 1953 Column, she wrote about attending a meeting to celebrate Brandeis University and she commented about the ‘Red Scare’ that dominated US politics at the time.

She wrote: The attacks on our schools today and on our clergy are of course only incidents but they reflect a little the attitude toward educated people.

We are all of us opposed to the evils of fascism and communism but in fighting these evils we must beware lest we adopt the very methods used by fascists and communists and find ourselves destroying things of value in our own country when what we really are trying to destroy is a foreign concept with which we disagree and yet which we are being led to copy.

3.5.2023 – my community

my community
pathologically lazy
rejoice with brisk walk

From the paragraph:

There’s (sedentary) rejoicing in my community, the pathologically lazy, at the news that only 11 minutes of brisk walking a day may save us from early death.

Of course, multiple caveats must accompany this statement, distilled from a Cambridge University-led meta-analysis of data on physical activity and heart disease.

We would have to be in the lucky 10%: only one in 10 early deaths could be avoided with a brief constitutional.

Exercise levels were also self-reported, meaning researchers had to make some assumptions about duration and intensity.

And 11 minutes is a neatly digestible take-home from analysing 196 studies with more than 30 million participants, not a magic bullet.

We like a magic-bullet figure though, don’t we?

In the article, An 11-minute walk can save you from an early death? That’s my kind of fitness regime by Emma Beddington in the Guardian, 3.6.2023.

I may have told the story how as an exercise with a big group of people, I was given a pack of 50 cards with a word on each card.

We had to divide the cards in half, choosing the words that best described ourselves.

Then we did it again.

Then we did again.

Then we did it until we were down to the last card, the last word, that was OUR word.

We had to go around the room and read our word out loud.

Electric!

Details!

Work!

My turn.

Lazy!

Kinda blew up the effect of the exercise.

3.4.2023 – South Carolina

South Carolina
very beautiful but
woo intensely weird

From the article, Alex Murdaugh shines a true light on privilege in the US by Emma Brockes.

That this story unfolds in the south, cradle of the good-old-boy network of near-oligarchical governance, is no coincidence.

I happened to be in South Carolina last week and it’s very beautiful, but woo, to an outsider, it’s intensely weird.

White tour guides lead white tour groups around downtown Charleston, cheerfully pointing out where enslaved people were sold, before pulling up at the gift shop.

Plantation houses, mindful of how times have changed, invite visitors to consider a single slave dwelling on their properties, while advertising the grounds as the “most beautiful gardens in America”.

Use of the passive voice – these houses are “witness to history”, according to the marketing bumf, which is certainly one way of putting it – is rampant.

’bout all I can say is … Boy, HOWDY!

3.3.2023 – the only books that

the only books that
millions readers have ever
actually read

In his guest opinion piece, The Truth About the ‘Censorship’ of Roald Dahl, Matthew Walther makes the point that:

Whatever Dahl’s place in the annals of 20th-century children’s fiction, it is striking that these culture war arguments somehow always revolve around authors like him and Dr. Seuss; one is forced to confront the distinctly horrifying possibility that “If I Ran the Zoo” and “James and the Giant Peach” are the only books that millions of Anglophone readers have ever actually finished.

I remember back in the day when I worked in a book store.

A young lady brought in a paperback copy of the book, Far Pavilions.

The book is around 1250 pages long.

The young lady had noticed that on page 1163, the text at the bottom of page was in mid sentence.

The text on the page 1164 started off with a new sentence.

She was curious in what was in the sentence that had been cut off.

She showed me the text in her book.

I went to the shelves and found 4 other editions.

All had the same problem.

She had a 2nd edition of the paperback.

I was checking the 15th edition.

It seemed that no one had ever noticed the broken sentence.

You can see the error in the paperback copies of the Far Pavilions at Archive.org.

No one had managed to get to page 1164 or at least get to page 1164 in a coherent state of mind that they might have noticed a broken sentence.

Well, there you are.

That was this one book.

Can I have doubts that one is forced to confront the distinctly horrifying possibility that “If I Ran the Zoo” and “James and the Giant Peach” are the only books that millions of Anglophone readers have ever actually finished.

Nope.

3.2.2023 – driving with only

driving with only
half a brain need to save the
other half for work

Due to road construction and the tourons*, my last couple of commutes have been a little rough.

The bridge to the island where my office is was built in 1984 and while there have been no improvements to the bridge, the number of cars using the bridge has doubled.

They are putting more sand in the hourglass but not making the neck that connects the two halves of the hour glass any bigger so travel time gets higher and higher.

Seems like someone could realize that if you double the amount of sand in an hour glass, you would need to double the width of the neck to make sure it was still an hour glass.

I think it was Bill Bryson who said traffic engineers cannot fix traffic but they can spread the problem out over a larger area.

But I digress.

The problem for me is that I am getting so agitated with other drivers.

I get so agitated that it takes a lot of time getting my mind back in line to work.

I thought about how I used to commute.

I thought about how I used to commute when I worked in Atlanta and started writing these haiku.

In many ways my old ATL commute was much much worse.

The saying was what would you get if you took the cars in the world and put them end to end?

The answer was ATLANTA!

Atlanta traffic was always doing its best to kill me.

Low Country traffic just was to annoy me as much as humanly possible.

Over those ATL years, I was able to develop a commuting mind set where I used my half my brain, so to speak, to drive to work, and saved or reserved or protected the other half of my brain so that I could work once I got to work.

If I did it before, I can do it again.

I got up this morning a little earlier planning to get a head start on my drive.

I thought about my drive and the music I would listen to and the views I would enjoy driving towards the sun rising out from the Atlantic Ocean.

I made a big travel cup of coffee.

It was magical.

Did I worry when I had to go through that first traffic circle with a bunch of South Carolinians who understand neither the concept of yielding or know their right hand from their left?

No I did not and I successfully navigated that first road hazard on the my commute.

My mood was threatened when the feller in front of me who had successfully fended off my efforts to pass him stopped for a yellow light.

I just went with the flow.

Did I worry when I entered the merge lanes for the Bluffton Flyover where half the cars are trucks pulling trailers of tools twice as long as the truck that make blind side merging such an adventure?

Same for the merge of the Bluffton Flyover with 278 where you meet up with all the auslanders who slow down when they see the water of Mackay Creek and they point fingers at the water and yell, SEE THE WATER and slow down to see the water.

No I did not and I successfully navigated that second and third road hazards on the my commute.

It didn’t bother me when there was the usual fender bender on Pinckney Island where you finish the first bridge (the one not yet condemned but not deemed safe to use) and start the second bridge.

I used the slow down to have a big sip of coffee.

The taste of hot coffee in a well worn plastic travel cup took me back, BOY HOWDY.

On to the island and through the first 2 traffic lights and then over the Cross Island Parkway and the next 2 traffic lights and bang, zoom, I was at work.

Stoplights in the low country are always an adventure as, for some reason, South Carolinians are always surprised that the colors change and that the change in color requires a reaction beyond saying, GOSH THAT COLOR JUST CHANGED, LETS WATCH AND SEE IF IT CHANGES AGAIN.

But I made it.

I got out of the car and grabbed my backpack and walked up to the doors with a light heart.

I used my entrance code, which I take as a sign that I still have a job and entered the building.

I walked into the office and greeted my coworkers with a smile.

I made my commute and saved half my brain for work.

I wasn’t agitated or angry or spouting off at the mouth with all the things I wanted to yell at drivers that I didn’t yell because I knew they couldn’t hear me. (Okay I DO YELL even though I know they can’t hear me – you can ask my wife)

Nope.

I was fresh and happy and ready for work.

I started my day with a focus on the drive and left half my mind for the job.

Yessir.

I zipped open my backpack and saw that I had forgot to pack my laptop.

*Tourons (according to Wikipedia) Touron is a derogatory term combining the words “Tourist” with “Moron” to describe any person who, while on vacation, commits an act of pure stupidity. The term is considered park ranger slang that describes how some tourists act when entering a national park. The phrase indicates an act of ignorance and is known to be used in different subcultures. It is also used to describe tourists in general when they are outside their normal “comfort zone”.

Tourists acting as Tourons can drive erratically. A common occurrence is to see vehicles stopped in the middle of the road at the first sighting of deer. Drivers and occupants leave the vehicle to take pictures, backing traffic up for miles. The term is used as humor to defend against the usual aggravation of continued exposure to tourists by even local residents of tourist areas.