Sad Picture From These Times

That's a picture I found on the internet. It was taken the next-to last day of a Borders, in a location I forgot to note.

As you might know. Borders declared Chapter 7 bankruptcy and decided to close all its stoies. I had written about the bankruptcy earlier this year; one of my posts is here.

I remember when the first Borders opened in Indianapolis just before Thanksgiving 1986: Almost 25 years ago. Before it opened, Indy was not well served by its bookstores; most of the new books were sold at BDalton or Waldenbooks in the malls, and the selection was primarily best sellers and paperbacks.

I remember going into the new Borders and finding books from the Loeb Classical Library of the Harvard University Press. That was a pleasant surprise because it was something you'd never see in the mall bookstores. Although I never bought a book from the series, I was happy to know that they were easily available.

During the week before Labor Day, I made a couple of trips to two of the Borders in the Indianapolis area that were still open. Among my purchases were, in alphabetical order:

• Bright Star, a collection of poems and love letters by John Keats, inspired by his love for Fanny Brawne;
• Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov in a new translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky;
• The Informant, by Kurt Eichenwald, about price fixing by Archer Daniels Midland;
• Laugh Lines, a collection of short comic plays;
• The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov;
• The Secret Lives of Hoarders by Matt Paxton;
• Red to Black, a espionage novel by Alex Dryden;
• Snow, by the Turkish novelist and Nobel laureate Orhan Pamuk.
• And Spies of the Balkans, another espionage novel, by Alan Furst.

I'd like to think that my purchases helped, in their small way, to settle Borders' debts.

ADDENUM: The last 31 stores of the chain, located in 18 states, will close tomorrow, according to a story in The Huffington Post.

Conjugation

Speakers of the English language, be glad most verbs aren't conjugated like the verbs ring (ring, rang, rung) and sing (sing, sang, sung).
.
One of those verbs is fix. Instead of fix, fixed and fixed, it would be fix, fax, and fux.

And that would be fucked.

So I guy can never tell you I fux it and you think O really?

An Apology

As I have told you before, my friend Frank often corresponds with me.

Lately, he's been in an apologetic mood.

Here's an excerpt from his latter letter to me:

to all the women i called bitches before ... i apologize ... that's sexist ... instead, i should've called you assholes ...

Boot, Stick, Hen, Dog

Among the dust. And a few rocks.

Cryptic.

Keystone Towers Kaput

As of 8 a.m. today, Keystone Towers is no more.

About 750 pounds of dynamite and other explosives were ignited, therefore imploding the abandoned building on Indianapolis' near northeast side.

I had written about Keystone Towers and what it had meant to me before in this blog. For those who'd like to know what I said, please click here.

I had driven by the building Saturday morning because I wanted to see it one last time.

I was surprised; it was a bare skeleton of itself.

All the glass and about 600 tons of steel had already been removed. Some constructions workers were wrapping the building in layers of fabric and chain-link fence to force the building's remains inward during the operation.

I wasn't going to see the implosion in person, even though two public viewing areas had been set up north of the site. I didn't think it was necessary for me to witness it.

Besides, I had seen Market Square Arena in downtown Indianapolis imploded on July 8, 2001: Just a little more than two months before 9/11. Looking back, it gave me an eerie preview of the falling of the World Trade Center.

Advanced Explosives Demolition, of Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, was in charge of the Keystone Towers implosion, and also for the one at Market Square Arena.

(Photo from indystar.com.)

The Transmission

When the radio astro-physicists of the world heard the transmission, they were surprised and puzzled.

It went like this:

P'ssssss-up ... if tee ... so thirty ... then thirtythree ... so eighty ... then eightyeight ... nnnnn ... mmmmm ...

Then it changed into static for about 35 seconds when it repeated itself.

This went on for about three days ... more exactly, 68 hours, 48 minutes and 12 seconds ... before it stopped.

A Few Notes On The Season ...

The end of summer, that is, for that is what people usually call late August and name it in their minds, even though summer doesn't end until September 23.

Two things happen around this time:

The first is the beginning of school for kindergarten through grade 12. That started for some school systems in the area about two weeks ago. This is much earlier than when I was going to school and is a precursor of all-year school.

The second is the college football season. Most schools will be playing on Thursday through Saturday of next week. Indiana University, my alma mater, will start its season against Ball State on September 3 at Lucas Oil Stadium, Indianapolis.

Also ... four months from today will be Christmas. And the year will be two-thirds over at 4 p.m. next Tuesday.

Stop, Children ... Decades Later

One morning I heard the Buffalo Springfield song For What It's Worth on the radio.

It's the one with the chorus Stop, children, what's that sound? Everybody look what's going down.

When I heard that I thought: Damn, I'm old. I remember when that song was first played on the radio.

After checking on the net, I found it was released in January 1967. That was 44 years and 6 months ago.

Damn, I'm old.

Not Fully Human

Here are two examples of people who are not fully human. One never had full humanity. The other had lost it.

One
A boss I had about 35 years ago had the personality of a wall. But it was a wall made of concrete blocks or drywall and not from, say, bricks. They have some character with the mortar sticking out irregularly between them.

Two
There was the mub: Half man and half grub. I once knew a man like that. He was pale with a very light yellowish tinge to his skin. He was bald and short: No taller than 5ft6in, if that. He also wore those eyeglasses where the lenses turn dark in sunlight; his glasses were like that when he was inside.

What was most creepy was that he spoke in low tones, as if he was selling drugs and pornography. And not, say, marijuana and Sports Illustrated/Playboy pinups; it was more like heroin and pictures of teenagers fucking.
*
These are from notes I found in my put-this-in-the-blog-folder. I decided to combine them because they are somewhat related.

Plain ... Beautiful ... What Is It?

I was surfing a forum on the web/internet/whatever last month when I saw this statement from a guy to his gal:

Yeah, it's plain to see, baby, you're beautiful ...

When I read that, I thought WTF? Plain and beautiful are two different things: Very different.

Damn. Just another example of cliched and lazy writing from automatic thinking.

Now if he had said It's easy to see, baby, you're beautiful, it would still be a cliche. But at least it wouldn't be contradictory.

One Smile Needed

A woman committed suicide by jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge.

The police found her car. In it was this note:

I'm going to walk to the bridge. If one person smiles at me on the way, I will not jump.

interview/innerview

and for what reason do we owe this interview ... or innerview, if you will?

i had published a list of gas prices at several locations in the area. it was the first post in this blog for about six and a half weeks. and it was made for two reasons: i wanted to get something in the blog during may; and it might as well some sort of news report.

as i finished it, i realized that i had started put put aside this interview ... or innerview, as i will.

what was the question you were asked to start that?

in the middle of may, i turned 57 years and 8 months old. my birthday will be in the middle of september; i'll be 58 years old then. and in 2012, i'll be marking the 40th anniversary of my graduation from high school. and i'm not looking forward to it.

why?

time. it passes. and regrets. and it's true. you have more regrets for the things you didn't do. and i haven't done a lot of things.

what are they?

too many to list here. probably later. if ever.

why not do them?

again, age. they are things i wish i had done when i was a younger man. a man my age doing them seems foolish. and i didn't do them because i was psychologically crippled. unfortunately for me.

at times, i feel like i'm stuck at a certain age mentally: like i'm back in high school and i haven't gotten any older. substance abuse counselors and experts say a person gets frozen at a certain age when he or she starts abusing substances, especially alcohol. i might go into the reasons why i feel this, but later, as i said.

and location. this is indiana, where offbeat things and people aren't truly appreciated. i'm tired of anticipating a beforehand explanation of myself and what i do. i'm not doing anything illegal. so shut the fuck up and leave me the fuck alone. and definitely do NOT try to stop me.

you haven't posted that much this year as you have other years. why is that?

i've found other things to take up my time. but i've lost a lot of interest in this blog. plus, i'm going through a nothing-matters-much-so-why-do-anything mental outlook. it might just be a hangover from dealing with the death of my parents.

i've been halfway tempted to delete a lot of these posts and leave just a few remains. i don't get a lot of traffic here, i'll admit that. few people will miss them. many of them don't add that much to the internet conversation. but i they are a lot better then some of the blather i've read in some blogs -- especially the political ones.

but there are four things i'm proud to have written, and i'd leave them here:

• my story about Batman and his discovery of bagels;
• an observation i made of what i call the egoless i;
• my short story 'a few things as the gas and go.'
• and a conversation between a man and his friend named saunders.

jesus, i'm even too fucking lazy to post links to them. prowl through the labels at the right side of this blog; you'll find links to them there and possibly other posts you might enjoy.

so ... what now?

i don't know. i'll just leave this blog here. possibly delete some posts. maybe come back to it later ... definitely by july the fourth, if not before then. because i don't want to delete all of it.

plus, i need to get a new computer. i bought this one in 2004 and it's starting to get slower because it's old.

i noticed you don't have any capital letters in this post, as you did when you first started. any reason why?

i like the look of all small letters.

any last words for today?

gentlemen, whatever you feel for a lady, don't call it love if you just want to get laid.

also, frank wrote me lately. he had this line i want to quote:

be grateful you're alive. and don't be grateful if you're dead. do you think jerry garcia is happy?

ADDENUM: for the record, this is the 570th post in this blog.

Guidelines For Times In The Day

For 11 a.m.
1. It's a strange time of day because it's not truly morning but not yet afternoon.
2. Any meal eaten after then is lunch. It is NOT breakfast or brunch.
3. Any all-day project you start before then should be completed. If you haven't started it by then, put it off until tomorrow, at the earliest.

For 2 p.m.
1. Any food eaten after that is a snack. It's too late for lunch and too early for dinner.
2. Any nap should start no later than 2:30 p.m. and last no longer than 45 minutes.

For 5 p.m.
1. It's the start of the evening, which will last until whenever the sun goes down over the horizon. And 4:50 p.m. is not the evening; it's late afternoon.

More will come as I think of them.

Three Observations About English

1. Offensive tackles are misnamed. Their purpose on is to keep the ball carrier from getting tackled.

2. Women are often compared, sometimes unfavorably, to cats. But if you want to truly insult a woman, call her a bitch.

3. The K sound (as in Kansas) is represented in four letters of the alphabet: C, K, Q, and X.

As long as these differences and discrepancies are around, I'll never get tired of reading about English. Often, I'll write about things like that in this blog.

His Father's Hat

He got up from the chair and looked for his father's old hat.

He found it in the closet in the same room. He took it and sat back down in the chair.

His uncle, his mother's brother, had kept it and had given it to him a month ago.

He held it in his hands and thought:

I've never known my father in all my years. But thanks to the Internet, I've found him now. And I'll be meeting him in a few days.

Thank you, Internet, for finally accomplishing something for me.

Pi/e Time

Locke woke up three nights in a row.

Every time, he looked at the digital clock next to his bed and saw these numerals, big and glowing red:

3:14

On the third night, he thought:

It's pi time...wonder why i didn't notice that before...I was gonna go to the kitchen and get a piece of pie...but i remembered i don't have any here...

Semper Fi Suicide

Dave wanted to kill myself in the worst way. And that was in more ways than one.

Once, he shot himself in the chest. When he survived that, the medical people called it a miracle.

He also stabbed himself several times. He lost a dangerous amount of blood but lived.

He also slit his throat and was declared dead. But when he was in the morgue he woke up.

Then Dave decided to join the U.S. Marine Corps. He had an idea on how to make a successful suicide attempt.

He would wait until he was deployed overseas. There, in either Iraq or Afghanistan, he would be killed by a car bomb while he was trying to save some of his fellow Marines.

If things happened that way, his family would get benefits and his younger brother could get a scholarship to college. He's also be called a hero for his actions, which would make everyone happy.

Gerunds And Consequences

He was fucking her.

As she lay flat on her back, he held her ankles and spread her legs as wide as possible. He liked it that way because it showed that he was fucking her, that his cock was going deep in her pussy.

You could say he was drilling her, hammering her, nailing her, plowing her, pounding her, screwing her, spearing her: All of those gerunds of aggression, if not violence, often used to describe sexual intercourse, especially when one partner wants to orgasm without concern for the sexual desires of his (usually) partner.

As he said, "Take it all, you hot little fuck. You know you want it..."

He came.

Three years later, he met his son...the one he had fathered that moment...the one he never knew he had...

So he must have plowed her, because he had planted a seed that had grown.

Larger Than Life...And Twice As Beautiful

I heard around the middle of this morning that Elizabeth Taylor had died. The cause was congestive heart failure, for which she had been hospitalized in Los Angeles.

About two weeks ago, I read she was in the hospital. I said to myself then: Well, that's is for her. She is suffering from heart failure and it's just a matter of time before she goes.

I had posted two pictures of Taylor as cheesecake. If you want to see them, please click here and here.

A third one, obviously, is at the top of this post. It's in color to best show her beauty -- especially her "violet eyes to die for," as a former co-worker said in the early 1980s, quoting a line from Doonesbury in 1979.

Of course, Taylor was known for her beauty. But she had the acting chops. Many film critics praised her performances in National Velvet, Butterfield 8, and Who's Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?

Some people remember her performances in A Place In The Sun, Giant, and Suddenly Last Summer. And some people might also remember the wretched excess that was Cleopatra.

Her health problems and romantic entanglements -- the overall messiness of her personal life -- made her not just the queen of the tabloids, but their empress. And she had a long reign; she died at age 79 and had been in the public eye since she was a teenager.

That life, along with her friendship with closeted gay actors like Montgomery Clift, Rock Hudson, and Roddy McDowell, made her a gay icon.

So I wrote this brief note of a life that was amazing and interesting. RIP, Miss Taylor.

An Old Friend Returns

As Alanna sat on the bed, she thought:

Why is my marriage over? How? What exactly did I do to cause him to walk out?

She felt dejected and sad enough to cry when she felt a heavy, furry thing on her shoulder.

She turned and saw Teddy, aka Theodore T. Urso, her imaginary friend from her childhood

"Teddy!" she exclaimed.

"Alanna," he said to her calmly, the way he always talked with her. "Do you remember when you were five years old?"

"I...uh...barely," she said. "Oh, sorry about the pun, Teddy!"

"No problem," he said. "Now if you don't remember, I do. Your family had moved into a hew house in a new neighborhood across town. Few children your age in the neighborhood wanted to play with you. Your older sister hated you because you had taken all the attention away from her. Your older brother ignored you. And sometimes your parents didn't pay the best attention to you because they were busy.

"I came to you then. I became your friend. I helped you get through those sad, bad times.

"I am truly sorry about your marriage. Now that you need some friendship, I've returned. Because I never left you. I'm a part of you. And if I helped you through some bad times when you were a girl and knew nothing, I sure can help you now because you're an adult and you know more...and better."

Alanna put her hand on his paw and sniffled. "Thanks, Teddy. You're a good bear."

"You're welcome," the bear said. "And when you get over this guy and you might be looking for a new romance, I'd recommend that you get a dog. Project your love onto him or her and he or she will return it. They are truly man's best friend. And I won't be jealous. I'll be happy that my friend has a good buddy.

"Though I've learned this through the years...men sure w0uld love to be our friends in real life. I think it's because we're big but cute."

A Woman Has A Close Male Friend

A woman has a close male friend.

This means he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around her. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out when she says, "You're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way."

This is the equivalent of the guy who goes to a job interview and the personnel manager tells him:

"You have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. We're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else. But we still won't hire you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired."

And this one reason why platonic relations between men and women rarely work.

(Reworded from a joke found at the qdb site c/o bash.org)

Lack Of Education

He was a business major in college. He received a bachelor's degree in science in the field of marketing -- that is, sales.

Because of the requirements for his major, he never took many humanities classes, like art and literature. Therefore, he didn't know that profit was a sure sign of quality.

Worse, because of the requirements for his major, he never took any philosophy. Therefore, he didn't know that profit was a sure sign of morality.

Some Takes On Ayn Rand

I wrote of libertarians in a post last Wednesday. If you'd like to read it, please click here or feel free to scroll down to it.

The post caused me to think about Ayn Rand, their unholy combination of patron saint and blessed mother. Then I also remembered I had a few things about her that I had collected from the internet.

I post here for your entertainment or enlightenment.

The first is a graphic:

(Please click to increase size)

Then there are these three vignettes:

How He Reads Ayn Rand
I read half a page of one of her books and think:

HOLY FUCK! I HATE YOU AYN RAND! RAAAAAAAAAGE! RAGE! RAGE! RAGE! RAAAAAAAAAGE!

I throw the book across the room.

I pick up the book about a half hour later. I read another half a page and think:

THIS BITCH HAS TO BE BULLSHITTING EVERYBODY! FFFFFUUUUUHKK YOOOOO BITCH!

I throw the book across the room.

I repeat this until the book is completely read.

The exception is Anthem, because it's easy enough to enjoy as a decent story and you can look past the screamingly blatant hurr-durr-dumb-commies undertones in it.
(From the infamous forum/chat board 4chan.)

Ayn Rand Back In The Day
Her diaries from that time (the 1920s), when she worked as a receptionist and an extra in Hollywood movies, lay out the Nietzschian mentality that underlies all her later writings. The local newspapers were filled for months with stories about William Hickman, a serial killer who kidnapped Marian Parker, a 12-year-old girl, from her junior high school. He raped and killed her, then dismembered her body. He sent parts of it along with letters of mockery to the police. Rand wrote long stretches of prose in praise of him; she said he represented 'the amazing picture of a man with no regard whatsoever for all that a society holds sacred, and with a consciousness all his own. (He is) a man who really stands alone in action and in soul. Other people do not exist for him and he does not see why they should.' She called him 'a brilliant, unusual, exceptional boy,' shimmering with 'immense, explicit egotism.' Rand had only one regret: 'A strong man can eventually trample society under its feet. That boy was not strong enough.'
(From Slate: http://www.slate.com/id/2233966/)

Two Novels
There are two novels that can change a bookish 14-year old's life. They are The Lord of the Rings and Atlas Shrugged.

One is a childish fantasy that often engenders a lifelong obsession with its unbelievable heroes. That often leads to an emotionally stunted and socially crippled adulthood where the readers of the novel are unable to deal with the real world.

The other novel, of course, involves orcs.
(Site of origin not noted. My error.)

Suze

I was off the internet during most of today; in fact, I wasn't even near a computer most of the day.

So I turn on my computer around 4 p.m., get on the internet, and see this sad story:

Suze Rotolo, Bob Dylan's longtime girlfriend during his fledgling days as a Greenwich Village folk singer and the woman who appears alongside him on the famous cover of "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan," passed away this weekend at her home in Manhattan following a long illness, Rolling Stone reports. Rotolo was 67.

In addition to forever being captured on the Don Hunstein-photographed "Freewheelin' " cover, Rotolo's three-year relationship with Dylan, from 1961 to 1964, also inspired him to write three of his early love songs, "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright," "Tomorrow is a Long Time," and "Boots of Spanish Leather." (Dylan's breakup with Rotolo also influenced one of his most vitriolic tunes, "Ballad in Plain D," a song Dylan later regretted recording.) Rotolo is also acknowledged for pushing Dylan toward the political awareness that flavored his Greenwich Village work.

"All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight. I gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sight. My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night. Leaving all of love's ashes behind me," Dylan wrote in "Ballad in Plain D" after his breakup with Rotolo. "The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet. The words to say I'm sorry, I haven't found yet. I think of her often and hope whoever she's met, will be fully aware of how precious she is."

In the many writings about the pair, their relationship is invariably described as "tumultuous" or "rocky." In its obituary for Rotolo, The New York Times points to her autobiography, "A Freewheelin' Time: A Memoir of Greenwich Village in the 60s" where she describes her difficulty with being a "boyfriend's 'chick,' a string on his guitar."

Following her August 1963 breakup with Dylan, Rotolo reunited with film editor Enzo Bartoccioli, who she met in Italy a year earlier. She later married Bartoccioli, and the couple remained together until her death this weekend. Over the past decades, Rotolo rarely spoke about her time with Dylan, but that changed within the past few years. She was interviewed for Martin Scorsese's Dylan documentary "No Direction Home," and later authored the highly regarded biography "A Freewheelin' Time: A Memoir of Greenwich Village in the Sixties." Rotolo was also a noted illustrator and artist.

She was the woman in the famous iconic album cover of The Freewheeling Bob Dylan: One of my favorite records. Here it is:

I read her book either last year or during 2009; I've forgotten exactly when. I remember little of it now as I think about it. But it had an explanation, which I finally understood, of the idea of the grapevine: How the vines on a grape arbor get tangled and go off in all different directions, like talk often can.

(News story from Amplifier, a music blog at Yahoo.com.)

Libertarians

I've found that there are usually two types of libertarians.

The ones on the right mostly are upset about money. They are upset with the size of the governments, especially the federal government, and the amount of taxes used to run them.

The ones on the left mostly are upset about power. They want the government out of their lives so they can smoke marijuana, fuck their same-sex lover, or not have Christianity shoved into them in public spaces.

For the record, I've found the second type, who I call left libertarians, to be more interesting than the others, who I call right libertarians. If you take away the money and the goods and services the right libertarians buy with them, there's not much, if any, to them. They're as boring as many a small town, churchgoing Republican businessman. And just as interested in social acceptance.

The left libertarians are more outlaw and scofflaw and bohemian in outlook and often are not that boring. They have interests that don't cost much, if anything.

Facts About Humanity

Experts

I tend to be skeptical about experts, especially if they have advice on how to improve my life.

Some of them have good intentions but don't know any better either through ignorance of other ways or unwillingness to learn.

Some are not truly concerned with you and your problems and issues. They have their own agenda, which you should...or must...follow.

Some are outright frauds.

Some are good. I would use them as advisors; take what they recommend under serious consideration before you act on those recommendations.

I came to think that way about them after I went to a couple of psychotherapists. I thought: Why not get friends or lover to talk with? Hiring someone to listen to you talk is like hiring a prostitute for sex.

But I found out that they can give an outside perspective that you could use.

Twenty Best Things

I've found an interesting interactive site on the net. It's called bestthings.info, where you choose which of two choices set b efore you that you like best.

If you don't like either choice, you can write your own and add it to the bank of choices.

It also has listed the 20 top choices. They are:

1. Being outside at night when it's the perfect temperature
2. Waking up to your crush knocking on the door and proceeding to make mad monkey love all afternoon
3. Being able find the perfect, witty response to everything someone says to you
4. Being able to come up with comebacks right away
5. Having a 100 percent sarcastic conversation with someone who thinks you're serious
6. Meeting that 1 percent of the population that you actually get along with and can call your friend
7. Being able to teleport anywhere you wanted just by willing yourself to
8. Be able to do anything, I said ANYTHING!
9. Having a pair of magical pants that always have money in its pockets
10. The ability to make every woman in a room simultaneously hit orgasm simply by walking in.
11. Secret passages behind bookshelves
12. Hair that does whatever you want just by thinking about it
13. Discover that you can stop time at will
14. Saying the perfect comeback at the perfect time.
15. Having crazy mind control abilities
16. Movies that get better every time you see them.
17. Having feet. It's pretty awesome.
18. Being able to read minds...and being awfully good looking.
19. Finding a lamp with a genie who offers you three wishes, and you can wish for more wishes.
20. One of your personal best things in the world that isn't listed here.

A Few Thoughs About Humor

One
I have found the internet equivalent of wit:

Not using LOL or emoticons like :) after you tell a joke.

If you use them, it's as if you don't trust your audience is smart enough to get the joke.

Two
Laughter has two effects for the hurt soul: A medicine to sooth and heal it, or a shield to cover it.

I'm reminded of this when I thought of an episode of Friends, when Phoebe dated a psychotherapist. After he met Chandler, he said, "I don't know if I want to be around when the laughter stops and the crying begins."

Three
A joke. I don't know if it's original to me, or if I read it on the internet and wrote it out subconsciously:

Q: What's the name of the guy who made Citizen Kane but he was also known for setting buildings on fire?

A: Arson Welles.

The Tabloid Mind

On the Internet, I recently came across a site that showed a series of pictures of celebrities, mostly women, without makeup.

It reminded me of what I've learned of the tabloid mind.

The tabloids -- that includes publications like The National Enquirer, television shows like TMZ, and certain web sites -- will often built up celebrities. With the same effort, they will tear them down.

Sometimes it'll be with pictures that are somewhat silly, like celebrities out shopping while wearing very casual clothes. Often, and with a meaner attitude, they show female celebrities who make a living from their beauty without makeup. At times, they look like horrid hags.

It also will show some celebrities at personal bottoms in their lives, such as when they are under the influence of drugs and alcohol or in terrible medical condition.

They follow hierarchy but will secretly mock it.

Another example of the tabloid mind is denouncing the loss of public morality while running pictures of topless women. This happens in England and not in the United States.

(By the way, I've yet to see a general magazine published in this country that ran pictures of a fully naked female bosom, showing especially show the nipples.)

The tabloids, if you want to describe its political outlook, is conservative: Bowling to traditional authority and a strong flag-waving jingoism that has crossed the line from patriotism to nationalism. This is dominant in the lower middle classes and working classes, the traditional tabloid audience. And it is why the proles, such as they are, will never be in the vanguard of any revolution.

It is no coincidence that Rupert Murdoch's media outlets, like The New York Post and Fox News, have this as an approach.

Justifications

A few days ago, I came across a picture of "The Altar," a poem by English poet George Herbert.

Here it is:


Its form makes it a pattern poem, which is a 17th century version of concrete poetry.

Herbert also was a member of the school one of metaphysical poets; John Donne was the most famous of them. To these poets, religion and lust are often co-equivalent.

Then I thought of a person who once told me that sex was like a sacrament. When I heard that, I rolled my eyes are one of the most foolish things that men do:

Using God, their beliefs in it, and its power to justify your beliefs.

I'm reminded of the Roman Catholic Church, which considers all -- all -- sexual activity sinful unless it's between a husband and wife to conceive children.

I would respect organized religion in general and Christianity specifically if they were not so quick to use God as their theological support for anything they want.

ess & ess

eliot ness...
loch ness...
it's all strangeness
miss agnes...
and to that i will confess...
so with my mind
please do not mess...
or things will get crazy...
no need to guess
if they'll go otherwise
they truly will happen...
as sure as the sun
will set in the west...
as sure as jim tressel
will wear a vest...
as surely as bugs
are nasty little pests...
and the men you know?
i'm definitely the best...
and of the story
I'll be like paul harvey
and you now know the rest!

Borders Bankruptcy

Borders, where I worked one Christmas season and where many of my friends had worked, has filed for bankruptcy.

I had read about a possible bankruptcy on the net and had noted it in my journal, but now it's official.

Here's the story, as reported by Reuters:

NEW YORK – Borders Group Inc., the second-largest U.S. bookstore chain, filed for bankruptcy protection, after years of sharp sales declines that made it impossible to manage its crushing debt load, and it plans to close nearly one-third of its stores.

Its inability to garner significant online business and its near absence from the growing digital books market have made it difficult for Borders to compete with larger rival Barnes & Noble Inc. and online retailer Amazon.com Inc.

Borders had liabilities of $1.29 billion and assets of $1.28 billion as of December 25, 2010, according to documents filed on Wednesday with U.S. Bankruptcy Court in Manhattan.

Borders Group President Mike Edward said in a statement that the chain "does not have the capital resources it needs to be a viable competitor."

Borders said in January it might have to file for bankruptcy if it could not meet certain conditions for securing a $550 million credit facility from GE Capital, a unit of General Electric Co.

It failed to meet those conditions, which included arranging financings with other lenders, vendors and landlords.

In bankruptcy, GE Capital will provide Borders with $505 million in debtor-in-possession financing to allow it to continue operating, contingent on court approval.

Borders, whose second largest shareholder William Ackman has said it was his worst investment ever, had been preserving its cash by delaying payments to suppliers, such as publishers and landlords.

Sales at Borders declined by double-digit percentage rates in 2008, 2009 and in each quarter in 2010 it has reported.

Borders, which has 6,100 full time staff, operates 508 namesake superstores as well as a chain of smaller Waldenbooks stores.

The company said it would close about 30 percent of its stores in the next several weeks and plans to continue to pay its employees.

Borders' largest unsecured creditors include major publishers that provide the books it sells. Borders owes Pearson PLC's Penguin $41.2 million, Hachette Book Group USA $36.9 million, and CBS's Simon & Schuster $33.8 million, according to court documents.

The case is In re: Borders Group Inc, U.S. Bankruptcy Court, Southern District of New York, No: 11-10614.

ADDENUM, FEBUARY 17: Borders has announced that it will close two of seven stores it runs in the Indianapolis area. One is in downtown Indianapolis. The other is in Carmel.

I wrote in this post that Borders has five stores in the metropolitan Indianapolis area. Besides the one in Carmel, it has one is Noblesville, two in northeast Indianapolis and one in Greenwood right across the Marion County line. I had forgotten about the store downtown. Also, I didn't know of a store it had at the Indianapolis International Airport.

But now, you have the correct information before you.

One Big Mistake

One big mistake I've made in my life is having a lack of courage, or acting like a coward, especially at work.

I have put up with idiots and the idiotic situations that theymade. I can only think of a handful of bosses who i respected as superiors. The rest were idiots who weren't better than me; they were just higher up on an organizational ladder. After I left, those bosses and their organizations were worth only my scorn.

As I look back, many people take silence as approval and acceptance. Unfortunately.

I blame myself. I never had the courage to get away from one thing I wanted: Approval of my father, who ran from confrontational situations and never...never...taught me...or even urged me...to stand up for myself.

The reason is that he never stood up for himself. His mother psychologically castrated him: Cut out his backbone, guts and balls. That's why I despise the bitch.

Meanwhile, his father was distant and didn't get emotionally involved with my father's raising.

I know the word cunt is the deepest insult for a woman...much like nigger is for black...but my paternal grandmother is the one woman who I would call cunt.

That's about it for this post. More self revelations to come.

An Admission And A New Direction

When I read and think about yesterday's post, I was surprised at how direct it was for me and what I've posted in this blog. Direct because I said there were some women who I just wanted to fuck with no concern for their wants and needs.

One was a Jewish woman with whom I worked at at newspaper in the Midwest. She admitted she was a J.A.P. -- a Jewish-American Princess. Yes, I know it's an ethnic slur, but she called herself that. Also, a J.A.P. is the Jewish version of the gentile Suzy Sorority. I despised her, yet she was one of the few women who worked at that newspaper who I wanted to fuck. That olive skin, that black hair, that Roman nose...damn, if I were decades younger I'd get an erection and masturbate -- or I could say get a hardon and jack off.

Yes, I am an angry, bitter, cynical, depressed and despairing middle-aged man. I have no lover in my life. I have few friends. I'm close only to one relative: My younger brother. I've given up on most of central Indiana, this state and the Midwest. I think it's conventional, conformist and conservative for the worst reasons: fear of change in general. Therefore, I'm a bit of a recluse because I find it hard to tolerate dealing with most people and don't know how to reject them or put them off without telling them to fuck themselves in all their holes.

I'm semi-retired, or haven't worked for at least three years, I'll admit that much. For now. Never did find a job that paid well enough or a career that satisfied me. If I had to do it all over again, I would've taken a civil service job with the federal government, put in at least 20 years and go from there. But it's too late for that. Or so I think and feel. I've inherited some money from my parents' estate and can live off it for a while.

Those are some of the details that I haven't written before. More will be coming. I guess it comes from the thaw we're having; two weeks ago, central Indiana had a terrible ice storm that shut down things for at least two days. and the desire for a new leaf...a green leaf...which is appropriate because spring will be here in about a month.

So...watch this space.

Valentine Notes

Today is St. Valentine's Day, a day to show your love to your lover, or whatever you and society call him or her.

I decided today to make a list of the women I wanted to fuck. Love, or at the least affection, I felt for some of them. But mostly it was lust: The desire to put my penis deep inside their vaginas for my sexual satisfaction. If they were satisfied, that was up to them.

I decided to do this because I'm an angry, cynical, depressed and despairing man these days. Also, I don't have a girlfriend or lover or wife who might be pissed off at my list.

Most of them I didn't fuck because of circumstances. Two big ones were their involvement with others and my cowardice to make a move.

I included women who were costudents in high school and college, some coworkers, some I knew outside those two areas, movie actress and porn stars.

I came up with between 45-50 names off the top of my head. That's much less than the 72 virgins that militant Moslem suicide bombers are promised when they enter Paradise. The list was longer when I made it before.

I won't name the women I knew out of courtesy to and respect for them. I won't name any movie actress or porn stars out of courtesy to and respect for me.

And as I thought of Valentine's Dayespecially its commercialization, I also thought of the people who complain about it but give in to social pressures to follow it and do nothing about resisting it.

No wonder this country will never have a broadbased revolution to change society. If people won't resist the commercialization of a minor holiday (few people, if any, automatically got today off work) because of what other people would think of them if they didn't go along with social expectations...well fuck them. They deserve the shit this life has to offer them.

To call these people pussies to insult good cats and good vaginas. Instead, call them by their rightful name:

COWARDS.

If you readers have someone in your life, I truly hope you and them had a happy Valentine's Day. I also hope you do all you can to keep having good Valentine's Days in the future.

Notes On The Super Bowl

The Green Bay Packers won their fourth Super Bowl Sunday night in Texas as they defeated the Pittsburgh Steelers 31-25.

I've found, when I surfed the internet today, that this story at slate.com is a very good combination of review and commentary about the game. To read it, please click here.

I guess the halftime show, featuring the Black Eyed Peas, was abominable. If so, less said better. No more about it.

Also, more than 111 million Americans watched at least part of the game. That sets a record. The old one was about 106 million, set last year.

One last thing...

Today's Indianapolis Star said it would be 363 days until Super Bowl 46 (I'll be damned if I use Roman numerals for them).

Indianapolis is scheduled to host the game if the NFL players and owners agree to a new collective bargaining agreement . The current one is set to expire March 4.

If:

• All sides get to an agreement;
• There is no lockout;
• There will be a regular season during 2011;
• And the Super Bowl will be played;

Then I must prepare myself to be psychologically assaulted by boosterism from many...too many...of the locals.

I must make sure my mind will not be butthurt.

The Line To The Super Bowl...

The line of appearances, that is.

Sometime between 6 and 6:30 tonight, the Super Bowl will kick off. About four hours later, there will be a National Football League champion.

Representing the National Football Conference is the Green Bay Packers. Representing the American Football Conference is the Pittsburgh Steelers.

As for news and comments about the Super Bowl, please look for it elsewhere. There's a lot of it on the Internet.

Instead, I want to iemphasize this fact: The AFC has been represented in three teams for eight straight years and nine of the last ten. Besides the Steelers, the others are the Indianapolis Colts, my home team, and the New England Patriots.

This is no coincidence. They are among the bestrun franchises in the league because the owners -- the Rooney family of the Steelers, Jim Irsay of the Colts, and Robert Kraft of the Patriots -- hire the best people they can for personnel and coaching.

AND THEN STAY THE HELL OUT OF THEIR WAY.

That's worth repeating.

AND THEY STAY THE HELL OUT OF THEIR WAY.

This is opposed to two types of owners of NFL franchises:

• Those who interfere to the point of micromanagement. Among them are Jerry Jones of the Dallas Cowboys, Al Davis of the Oakland Raiders and Dan Snyder of the Washington Redskins.
• Those who don't seem to care. Those include the Bidwell family of the Arizona Cardinals and the Brown family of the Cincinnati Bengals.

The Steelers have been among the premier franchises since Dan Rooney took over the franchise in the 1970s and moved it out of the Cardinals/Bengals situation. During that decade, they won four Super Bowls.

This is relatively new territory for the Indianapolis and New England but their glory days started when Kraft bought the Patriots in 1994 and Irsay took over the Colts from his father in 1997.

As for which team I favor, I won't mind if either of them wins. A sentimental favorite among many seems to be the Packers.

However, I'll be listening to the game on the radio. My television set went on the fritz and I can't get it fixed until later this week.

I had planned to rent a room in a nearby motel and watch the game there, but bad weather has come across central Indiana during the last week. Heavy snows and freezing rain have fallen, and they have made traveling a little too tricky for me.

I remember that the Super Bowl is only a game. That's why I'm not going to a motel to watch it. If I fall asleep during it and miss a great deal of it, I can find out the results by going on the internet.

I hope you remember that it's only a game, too.

The Supremes And The Brady Bunch

Ace: Deuce, I have a question for you. How many Supreme Court justices can you name?

Deuce: Uh...Bush? And Clarence Thomas...who can forget him? Public hairs on Coke cans and all that. Also there's that Jewish lady...Ginsberg? Goldberg? Or is it Judge Judy? Oh...John Foster Marshall...Duke of Earl Warren...Frank Lee Wright...

Ace: Don't you mean Frank Lloyd Wright?

Deuce: Yeah. I couldn't remember his exact name.

Ace: Well, except for Clarence Thomas, you're way off. Although Judge Judy wouldn't be a bad choice.

Now I have another question: How many members of the Brady Bunch can you name?

Deuce: Easy. Marsha, Cindy, Jane, Peter, Bobby, Greg, Mom, Dad and Alice. Might as well count Alice. She was member in all but biological kinship.

Ace: You're right about all of them. Now, what does that say about you?

Deuce: That I'm kinda ignorant about the government?

Ace: At least the Supreme Court. And by the way...Frank Lloyd Wright was an architect.
*
ADDENUM: This is a reworking of something I saw on the internet.

My Blues...Not Lennon's

yes, i'm lonely.
wanna die.
yes, i'm lonely.
wanna die.
if i ain't dead already,
girl you know the reason why.

in the morning, wanna die.
in the evening, wanna die.
*
but in the afternoon, well, i feel a lot better because i eat a good lunch. i might have a bowl of soup, especially on cold days. i usually eat a piece of bread with a little peanut butter spread on it. i also eat some fruit and maybe have a light salad. after that, i take a nap for about an hour. then i'm good to go for the rest of the day!

girl, you know the reason why.
*
and now you know the rest of the story.

Happy Birthday...

to Ulysses by James Joyce, published on this date back in 1922.

Seen with one of its most well-known readers.

Among its lesser-known readers...yours truly.

So noted.

Also, some wag put this picture on a web site:

Conditioning And Conditioner

Here's some more correspondence from Frank. I got it about a week ago:

the conditioning...or the indoctrination...didn't take with me. for whatever reason, i couldn't be socialized 100 percent. Now watching other people is like staring at a fish tank or going to the zoo. it scares the shit out of me. if you ask why, it's because the animals are behind barriers...but the people aren't...except the ones in jail...and they're the worst of the lot. i wonder if i have become callous or indifferent to people in general and people in specific. i wonder if i could just kill one or two or more of them without feeling...

and thinking of conditioning makes me think of conditioner...the stuff you put on your hair to help it...so i think...i don't use it...and what are the conditioners used by society? the usual...sex and money...

An Example Of Narcissism

This thought came to me suddenly about two hours ago.

An example of self interest is this. If a tornado's coming, you worry about you, your loved ones, and your stuff.

An example of narcissim is this. If a tornado's coming, you worry about how it's going to mess up your hair.

I tried to show the difference in intent: Seriousness versus frivolity.

Maybe it works for you. Or it might not. It works for me now.

Roses From Ashes? Not So Fast...

Somewhere on the net I read a post by a woman who changed her life for the better.

She said and I quote:

From the ashes grew a rose of a self, dedicated to a new life.

I thought: If you want to improve your life, that's okay with me. And it's a nice metaphor, if a little too cliche for me.

But...but do roses grow all that well in ashes?

So I surfed the net, especially for sites about growing roses. One rose grower said he would use ashes on roses only once or twice a season because it would interfere with the PH of the soil. He also said he would do it only if the ground was too acidic.

Therefore..adequate metaphor, if cliched, but bad botany.

More Closed Sidewalks

Back in October 2008, I wrote a post about the ignorance or stupidity of people putting signs on sidewalks. A link to that post is here.

Well, the state is fixing and widening one of the main north-south streets through my town from the business district/downtown to the interstate. They've completed the first part, which runs about halfway through town, but...

The state put up signs that the sidewalks were closed.

I gave my reasons how and why that is stupid in my previous post. I find it hard to believe that they continue doing that.

You Open Your Mouth For Me...

You open your mouth for me and I enter...

You close your lips around me...

My in-and-out motions are sometimes slow and deliberate...

Sometimes they are fast and furious...

Sometimes they feel fabulous...

Sometimes a hair or two get s stuck between your teeth...

I always leave a white fluid in your mouth...

Afterward, you rinse out your mouth and spit out that liquid...

Sometimes you swallow it...

Sometimes you notice the taste is not that bad...

Sometimes your mouth feels pretty good after the whole thing is over...

You ought to do it once in the morning after you wake up and eat breakfast...

Then once in the evening before you fall asleep...

Hey...

Get your minds out of the gutter...

I'm your toothbrush...

(Photoillustration from the goodhousekeeping.com site).

A Haiku That Works...

At least in English.

It's one of the few I've read that DOES work because it fits the 5-7-5 syllable scheme and has a succinct message.

Here it is:

I am done trying.
If you want me in your life,
let me know. Good bye.

I found it on the net and wrote it down. Now, I present it to you.

A Sad, Sad End

Back in October of 2008, I ran a cheesecake picture of this actress...Brittany Murphy.

Earlier this week, I remembered the picture when I noticed that a story about her last days was on the internet.

Murphy had died in late December 2009 from pnuemonia, anemia, and prescription drug abuse. She was only 32 years old.

So I read the story today and was surprised at the sadness in her last days of life and also the praise she got from critics from her acting.

If you want to read the story, please click here.

It's sad. She was beautiful, especially her eyes; I'm a sucker for a woman who looks like that. Or at the least, she was a cutie.

I knew she could be make a decent living through her looks, but I didn't know that critics like Vincent Canby, Roger Ebert and David Edelstein, said she had the talent to be a good actor.

I won't provide a link to the earlier picture out of respect for the departed.

RIP, Ms. Murphy. You need it.

Baggage

I've been working on some psychological issues in my life. Some of them weigh heavy on my mind.

The general/colliquial word for that is baggage.

And we all have baggage. It just depends on what type it is:

• Louis Vutton;
• Samsonite;
• Big black trash bags held together with silver duct tape.
  

Remember...

The moon is watching...

The Colts And The Playoffs

Well, they halfway lucked into it and halfway played into it.

The Indianapolis Colts, my hometown team, will play the New York Jets Saturday night in the first round of the NFL's playoffs to see who goes to the Super Bowl.

They backed into the playoffs when the Jacksonville Jaguars, their biggest divisional rival, lost 34-17 to the Houston Texans. They played into it by defeating the Tennessee Titans 23-20 on an Adam Vinatieri field goal with no time left on the game clock.

I'm a little surprised that the Colts made the playoffs. They had suffered a boatload of injuries during the season; 17 players were on the injured reserve list.

And back on December 5, they stood 6-6 after a 38-35 loss to the Dallas Cowboys.

But they won four straight, including a 34-24 victory over the Jaguars. It was needed because the Jaguars beat them 31-28 earlier in the season. They also had two wins over the Titans.

As for Saturday night's game, I won't be surprised if the Jets win. They have the better team this season. Also, the Colts won -- as well as lost -- a lot of close games this year.

But I also won't be surprised if the Colts win it. Peyton Manning can pull something or anything out of his pocket to make sure of a victory.

But if they do win, they must go to Pittsburgh to play the Steelers on Jan. 15.

At the least, the Colts made it into the playoffs. The Tampa Bay Buccaneers and New York Giants both had 10-6 records -- the same as the Colts, by the way -- but won't be in the playoffs because the Seattle Seahawks won the NFC West title -- with a 7-9 record. And division winners, no matter how bad they are, get into the playoffs.

First Conversation Of The New Year

Ace: First...happy new year.

Deuce: And a happy one to you, too.

Ace: Did you celebrate last night?

Deuce: Yep. Started about ... oh...about 3 in the afternoon. Maybe 3:30. No later than 4. Started drinking the bubbly. Some sort of sparkling wine. Asti Spumanti, if I remember the name. Had some cheese and champagne crackers with it.

Ace: For dinner?

Deuce: More or less.

Ace: Damn. Eat healthier. Try to make that one of your new year's resolutions. I just opened a bottle of some dry red wine and drank two glasses of it . Went to bed around 10 p.m.

Deuce: I gotta admit, I went to bed a lot earlier than that. Woke in the middle of the night and finished off the sparkly. Hair of the dog and all that.

Ace: You did all of this at home?

Deuce: Yes.

Ace: Good. You stayed off the roads. I know you can be dumb sometimes and crazy at other times, but at least you're not stupid.

Duce: Hey, you were talking about new year's resolutions. You got any?

Ace: One of them is to stay away as much as I can from racists. Cut them out of my life if possible. And I think they're going to be more prominent. Obama's halfway through his term. He's had a lot of opposition. From the public, and I know --I just know -- that's a lot of it is because he's black. And it's true schadenfreude on my part to know that it gives them pain that a black man is president. To them, he's an inferior person; if he's a person at all and not some cross between a primate and a human.

Deuce: How do you think he's doing?

Ace: As best as he can. The Republicans in Congress will be sand in the gears of government and will act worse than they did during 2009 and 2010. They'll oppose him for the sake of opposing him.

Obama's too reasonable. You can't be reasonable with them. They're like dogs. You gotta be hard with them. It's the only thing they respect.

And who's more like an animal: Obama or the congressional Republicans?

But fuck them and fuck those who support them. They remind me of Nazis.

Deuce: You know what they say on the internet. Once you mention Nazis, it can only go downhill from there. Or so I remember.*

Ace: Fuck that fucking bullshit. I'm not talking about your redneck stormtroopers or your psychopathological SSers. I'm talking about your basic hometown Nazis. Like a lot of Germans were in the 1930s.

But at the same time I realize these Republicans and their supporters aren't Nazis, who wanted to a big transformation of Germany. They're more like Francoists; Instead of radical revolutionaries, they're radical reactionaries, with evangelical Protestantism and big business taking the place of the Catholic church and the nobility in Spain. So you might as well call them home town quasi-fascists.

Deuce: Damn. You don't like those people.

Ace: I never have. When I was younger and Richard Nixon was president, they used to show the uglier sides of their souls too much in public. Nixon was the dark soul, the demonic side -- their shadow, to be Jungian about it -- of what they were.

I also used to read and see a lot of comparisons between a lot of my "fellow citizens" and Nazis in the 1970s. By the early 1980s, those comments disappeared. Don't know why. It still applies.

But enough of that now. I gotta start walking. Wanna get in shape and lost some weight.

Deuce: I'm gonna go to the grocery story. Get some green leafy vegetables. You're right. I should eat better.
*
ADDENUM: Deuce was referring to what's been called Godwin's Law. For an explanation of it, please click here.