4.28.2023 – there is no choosing

there is no choosing
only accepting – choosing
was done long ago

From the dark movie The Counselor, a 2013 crime thriller film directed by Ridley Scott.

I think I should have known it was written by Cormac McCarthy.

In movie, a lawyer gets caught up in things he would rather not be caught up in and seeks a way out.

He approaches some one in the inner circle of bad guys for help and advice.

What he gets is this.

I would urge you to see the truth in your situation …

That is my advice.

It is not for me to say what you should have done.

Or not done.

I only know that the world in which they are made.

You are at a cross in the road and here you think to choose.

But there is no choosing.

There is only accepting.

The choosing was done long ago.

The cold harsh logic of Mr. McCarthy’s that pervades most of his writing is chillingly present in this short soliloquy worthy of Big Bill himself.

Such simple words in such an unbelievable unfathomable combination.

In the more of this scene Mr. McCarthy gives a hint of the source of bit alluding to the poems of Antonio Cipriano José María y Francisco de Santa Ana Machado y Ruiz (26 July 1875 – 22 February 1939), known as Antonio Machado.

The man who wrote:

Wayfarer, only your footprints
are the path, and nothing more;
wayfarer, there is no path,
you make the path as you walk.
As you walk you make the path,
and as you turn to glance behind
you see the trail that you never
shall return to tread again.
Wayfarer, there is no path,
only wake trails on the sea.

(Proverbios y cantares” in Campos de Castilla, 1917 edition)

There is no choosing.

There is no path.

Only wake trails on the sea.

There is only accepting.

The choosing was done long ago.

To be or not to be.

Such simple words.

I have access to all these same words.

It is getting these simple words in these combinations.

There’s the rub.

Wayfarer, there is no path, only wake trails on the sea.

4.25.2023 – can miss, ride the wave

you can miss the wave,
ride or be crushed by the wave …
a matter of tide

Not another seaside inspired haiku.

Honest.

I was picking my way through the pieces of the FOX News coverage and in the story, The Tragedy of Fox News (NYT 4/25/2023) by Bret Stephens, I loved this paragraph where Mr. Stephens wrote:

“All this makes Fox’s business challenge approximately the same as for the surfers at the Portuguese beach at Nazaré: miss the wave, ride the wave or be crushed by the wave. For Fox, riding the wave will no longer come easy: Angry populism is a force that can only be stoked, never assuaged.

Not that I cared that much about FOX but I loved the line, miss the wave, ride the wave or be crushed by the wave and having moved to the Atlantic Coast, I am much more aware of how waves are influenced by the tide that comes in and out two times day since time began.

Talk about a new tide sweeps clean, the beaches here are power washed twice a day leaving behind an untouched canvas for thoughts, ideas and beach chairs.

And I was reminded of my brush with Rupert Murdoch.

I got my start in Web Work when I was hired to be the ‘Corporate Librarian’ at Zondervan Publishing House in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Zondervan was known, then and now, as the publisher of the New International Version of the Holy Bible or NIV.

Through the office of Corporate Librarian, I kinda of ran wild over Zondervan.

They had no real plan for the position and I had no real plan of what to do.

I was included in Human Resources and had easy access to the Vice President of HR and once hired, I kept pestering the VP as to what they wanted me to do as Corporate Librarian.

Out of frustration with my pestering that VP looked at me and said, “Mike, your role is to foster reading throughout the company.”

I went back to my office and puzzled about this for a day.

What did it mean?

Foster reading throughout the company.

Then I thought, what doesn’t it mean!

And I drove a truck a through it!

After that, anything I did, I justified by saying, I am fostering reading throughout the company.

And it worked, oh boy let me tell you.

I got away with murder.

I had a room for the corporate library.

I had no furniture.

I knew the Cascade Township Library, where I had been working, was being refurbished and I offered them a deal that they could come to Zondervan and select as many books as they wanted in exchanged for their old library tables.

When Zondervan folks asked how I made the deal, I said I was just fostering reading throughout the company.

Also as Corporate Liberian, I did research for anyone who had a question about anything or fact checked any fact that needed checking.

To do this, I needed access to that new World Wide Web.

It was little known at the time and even to this day, that Zondervan is owned by Harper Collins in New York.

Harper Collins is owned by News Corp.

That’s right.

The feller who runs Fox News and owns Bart Simpson also publishes the NIV Bible.

And at the time I was at Zondervan, News Corp. also had an online service provider.

This company was known as Delphi and it was Rupert Murdoch’s big plan to be THE (read out loud as THEE) Internet Service Provider to the world.

If you worked for Zondervan and needed to be online, you got a Delphi Account.

I would get to my desk, turn on my computer, connect my modem and DIAL INTO the Delphi Network and after some sqawks and squeals and I would be online.

I was online so much that when it came time to create a Zondervan Website, the committee in charge decided that I should be a part of that team.

After the first meeting I had with the team, I found that all the other team members would be very happy if I took over the web effort and they would not have to worry about this latest ‘fad’.

It wasn’t so much that I took over as that they asked for a volunteer to be webmaster and I raised my hand to ask, “What did you say?”

Now 30 later, I am a webmaster dinosaur.

One of those people with 30 years experience in web design but no college degree in HTML.

There was no HTML when I was in college.

I have to say there is a certain je ne sais quoi to the quality of one’s web coding when one learned to code and create websites when 20k was the considered HUGE for an online image.

But back to Mr. Murdoch.

As I said, Mr. Murdoch had visions of Delphi being the largest internet service provider in the world.

Ol’ Rupert was going to ‘OWN’ the World Wide Web.

According to legend, Rupert came into work and asked for the Delphi balance sheet and then asked when could he expect his number of users to match, then pass, AOL.

Back then there were still people who dared to tell Rupert about reality land.

And someone told Rupert that not only would Delphi never pass, let alone catch AOL, Delphi was not even playing in the same league as AOL.

Rupert listened to this report, looked at the balance sheet and then said, “Shut it down.”

In 2 weeks Delphi ceased to exist.

And I got Microsoft Internet Explorer added to my computer for the first time.

Miss the wave, ride the wave or be crushed by the wave.

It is just a matter of tide.

4.16.2023 – when all one’s prospect

when all one’s prospect
landscapes, portraits, flowers, are
nothing but a line

If my Readers have followed me with any attention up to this point, they will not be surprised to hear that life is somewhat dull in Flatland.

I do not, of course, mean that there are not battles, conspiracies, tumults, factions, and all those other phenomena which are supposed to make History interesting; nor would I deny that the strange mixture of the problems of life and the problems of Mathematics, continually inducing conjecture and giving the opportunity of immediate verification, imparts to our existence a zest which you in Spaceland can hardly comprehend.

I speak now from the æsthetic and artistic point of view when I say that life with us is dull; æsthetically and artistically, very dull indeed.

How can it be otherwise, when all one’s prospect, all one’s landscapes, historical pieces, portraits, flowers, still life, are nothing but a single line, with no varieties except degrees of brightness and obscurity?

From the book, Flatland — A Romance of Many Dimensions (1884) by Edwin Abbott Abbott (1838-1926).

I am struck by the line when all one’s prospect, all one’s landscapes, historical pieces, portraits, flowers, still life, are nothing but a single line, with no varieties except degrees of brightness and obscurity?

I feel had Mr. Abbott been writing today he would be thinking of … Florida.

Something dull, æsthetically and artistically, very dull indeed.

How can it be otherwise?

I am also reminded of James Thurber’s long short story, The Wonderful O, about an island community where everything with the letter O in it is banned.

Geese are okay as long there are geese, but if there was just one bird, it’s goose was cooked.

Words with the letter O are banned.

When Father storms out the door and is asked, “Where are going?”

UT!” he replies, and “UT he went”, writes Mr. Thurber.

For so long, if ever I was asked where I was going I would reply, “UT and UT HE WENT!”.

So much so did I say that, that when I saw a University of Toronto sweatshirt in a Toronto store that was emblazoned with a bold UT, my friends told me, “Hoffman You HAVE TO GET THAT!”

And I did.

And I wore it for years.

And I explained why as well, when ever I could.

The people of the Island put up with this O business for a while until they figure out that without the letter O you lose the word FREEDOM.

As Thurber writes:

Then they heard the ringing of a distant bell, sounding near and sounding nearer, ringing clear and ringing clearer, till all the sky was filled with music as by magic.

“Freedom!” Andrea echoed after him, and the sound of the greatest word turned the vandals pale and made them tremble.

Take away that word.

Take away that letter O.

And what do you have but a place where all one’s prospect, all one’s landscapes, historical pieces, portraits, flowers, still life, are nothing but a single line, with no varieties except degrees of brightness and obscurity?

… Flrida.

4.15.2023 – I want to die while

I want to die while
you love me never see this
grow dim cease to be

Adapted from the poem I Want to Die While You Love Me by Georgia Blanche Douglas Camp Johnson, better known as Georgia Douglas Johnson (September 10, 1880 – May 15, 1966), was a poet. She was one of the earliest female African-American playwrights, and an important figure of the Harlem Renaissance according to Wikipedia.

I want to die while you love me,
While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
And lights are in my hair.
I want to die while you love me,
And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent
To warm me when I’m dead.
I want to die while you love me
Oh, who would care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
And nothing more to give!
I want to die while you love me
And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day
Grow dim or cease to be.