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dewlineThe first, and longer part of this, I wrote in a fouler mood earlier in the afternoon. Then, I read it out for the Pen and Paper writing workshop gang, got some positive and constructive feedback.
Then I read something else that put me in a more cheerful, if somewhat vindictive, state of mind...
I had another of those moments this afternoon. What I mean by “those moments” are the ones where I have an Impending Sense of Doom. The phrase itself is borrowed from the late and beloved cartoonist Charles Schulz, and is most closely associated with Charlie Brown.
For some combination of reasons it would take longer to tease out of what’s left of my childhood brain than we have time for today, I could never make up my mind which of the Peanuts comic strip characters I most closely associated with: Charlie Brown or his dog Snoopy. Snoopy had those flights of fancy – sometimes more literally flights in his “World War One Flying Ace” or “Astronaut” modes – to be sure. Charlie Brown…Chuck…he was something else.
The sense of persecution, the anxiety, the depression, the choice of doomed role models like Single-A baseball player Joe Shlabotnik…Chuck had it worse than me on a lot of days. Sometimes, though, I wonder. At least, as far as the anxiety and depression go.
Facebook doesn’t help. Especially when I go into resistance mode against some of the troll-bots and outright fascist-revivalists that pop up on that social media service. They usually show up in the comments sections of the legitimate news services. I suspect that they go out of their way in hopes of driving honest reporters to either suicide or homicide.
More likely than not, it’s going to be the independent contractors brought in by Mark Zuckerberg’s people to act as moderators who end up suffering the worst so far. Spark and Q on CBC Radio, Wired Magazine, Boing Boing, and other news services across the world document that better than I can. And that hurts in its own way, at however many removes we’re actually talking about here.
This week, it’s the countdown to the Fourth of July in the States that’s nagging at me. We’re looking at those camps on the US southern border states, thanks in part to the exposure of the secretive “10-15” discussion group organized by those working in those camps, and by the people “feeding” so-called “illegal migrants” into them. And we’re also looking at the events in Washington in that July Fourth countdown.
Trump’s putting together his own event on the Mall, centred on and hiving off the Lincoln Memorial from the rest of the regularly scheduled festivities. He’s making noises about military overflights. He wants tanks, tanks, tanks. On the streets of Washington, DC itself, he wants tanks doing a roll-past. Reviewing stand with “My Generals” right next to him.
Abe Lincoln’s remains, wherever they actually are nowadays, have got to be doing a full-speed squirm over this. And I worry that if there is a Hell for the damned, and they go there when they die rather than on the Day of Judgement we’ve been promised in the actual Biblical text…that John Wilkes Booth is in a little less agony right now.
I worry about whatever’s next.
...and now the part that left me cheerful and vindictive: the weather forecast for Washington, DC. Seems that - per the US edition of the Weather Channel as of tonight - the forecast for the Fourth has even odds, 50 % chance, of being rained on. Possibility of thundershowers for good measure.
Imagine all those Nazi-Klanster rats, soaked to their bones.
Sure, the weather can do a flip-flop on us between now and Thursday. But we'll see what happens, right?
In any case, I'm not planning on watching that mess. If anything horrific or joyous actually happens, I'll find out soon enough via other channels. And I've got a job search to keep going, right?
Then I read something else that put me in a more cheerful, if somewhat vindictive, state of mind...
I had another of those moments this afternoon. What I mean by “those moments” are the ones where I have an Impending Sense of Doom. The phrase itself is borrowed from the late and beloved cartoonist Charles Schulz, and is most closely associated with Charlie Brown.
For some combination of reasons it would take longer to tease out of what’s left of my childhood brain than we have time for today, I could never make up my mind which of the Peanuts comic strip characters I most closely associated with: Charlie Brown or his dog Snoopy. Snoopy had those flights of fancy – sometimes more literally flights in his “World War One Flying Ace” or “Astronaut” modes – to be sure. Charlie Brown…Chuck…he was something else.
The sense of persecution, the anxiety, the depression, the choice of doomed role models like Single-A baseball player Joe Shlabotnik…Chuck had it worse than me on a lot of days. Sometimes, though, I wonder. At least, as far as the anxiety and depression go.
Facebook doesn’t help. Especially when I go into resistance mode against some of the troll-bots and outright fascist-revivalists that pop up on that social media service. They usually show up in the comments sections of the legitimate news services. I suspect that they go out of their way in hopes of driving honest reporters to either suicide or homicide.
More likely than not, it’s going to be the independent contractors brought in by Mark Zuckerberg’s people to act as moderators who end up suffering the worst so far. Spark and Q on CBC Radio, Wired Magazine, Boing Boing, and other news services across the world document that better than I can. And that hurts in its own way, at however many removes we’re actually talking about here.
This week, it’s the countdown to the Fourth of July in the States that’s nagging at me. We’re looking at those camps on the US southern border states, thanks in part to the exposure of the secretive “10-15” discussion group organized by those working in those camps, and by the people “feeding” so-called “illegal migrants” into them. And we’re also looking at the events in Washington in that July Fourth countdown.
Trump’s putting together his own event on the Mall, centred on and hiving off the Lincoln Memorial from the rest of the regularly scheduled festivities. He’s making noises about military overflights. He wants tanks, tanks, tanks. On the streets of Washington, DC itself, he wants tanks doing a roll-past. Reviewing stand with “My Generals” right next to him.
Abe Lincoln’s remains, wherever they actually are nowadays, have got to be doing a full-speed squirm over this. And I worry that if there is a Hell for the damned, and they go there when they die rather than on the Day of Judgement we’ve been promised in the actual Biblical text…that John Wilkes Booth is in a little less agony right now.
I worry about whatever’s next.
...and now the part that left me cheerful and vindictive: the weather forecast for Washington, DC. Seems that - per the US edition of the Weather Channel as of tonight - the forecast for the Fourth has even odds, 50 % chance, of being rained on. Possibility of thundershowers for good measure.
Imagine all those Nazi-Klanster rats, soaked to their bones.
Sure, the weather can do a flip-flop on us between now and Thursday. But we'll see what happens, right?
In any case, I'm not planning on watching that mess. If anything horrific or joyous actually happens, I'll find out soon enough via other channels. And I've got a job search to keep going, right?
no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 08:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-07-03 02:21 pm (UTC)Probability of precipitation down from 50 % to 40 %.
And as for this part: "Remember that not every battle is yours to fight, I think." Also taken under strong advisement.
no subject
Date: 2019-07-04 06:10 am (UTC)