Sunday, December 31, 2023

The Punk Rock Alphabet: (Take V) Our Three Biggest Asks For 2024

We Didn't See These Things
Under Our Tree In 2023:


But Hope Springs Eternal,
And Still...We Want More:


Here Is ALL We're
Asking For, In 2024:


<"Now Renting..."/The Reckoner>
 

<Decent (Affordable) Housing,
That Doesn't Force Us To:>
                    A)  Empty Our Wallets 
         W/Rampant Abandon.

         B) Flee Our Abodes Every Five Years,
         Because The Speculators
         Wanna Jack Up The Dow Jones.

         C) Give Up Our Firstborn
         (Not To Mention Those
          Who Have Yet To Be Born).




<"Don't Miss This One..."/The Reckoner>


<Enough Of Rampant Greedflation
That Forces Us To...>
      A) Crack Open Every Last Piggbyank
        That's Still Hidden Under The Bed.

            B) Dry Up Our Bank Accounts
        ("What Accounts?", We Ask).

        C) Eat Ramen Noodles, 3X A Day,
        For Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner.

        Because We Have To Feed
        The Property Barons First (Remember)?


"Just Another Number..."/The Reckoner>

<Fire All Those Fake Insurers
That Force Us To...>
                             A) Cancel Every Last Subscription
             To Whatever Resurrections

             May Still Beckon.

            B) Delay That Bucket List Item
            We've Been Contemplating
            For The Umpteenth Time.

            C) Extinguish Whatever Hopes
            We May Still Entertain
            For An End To The Status Quo
            That Dogs Our Daydreams.


<"It's About Time..."/The Reckoner>

<Get Ready For A Reckoning,
& Avoid Running Into
Those Same Old, Same Old
Unforced Errors...>

    A)Because...Maturity Shouldn't Mean...
    Rehashing The Mistakes Of The Past*.

     B) Because...We're Sick 'n' Tired...
     Of The Same Old Broken Record,
     Playing Over & Over & Over, In Our Heads.

     C) Because...We're Weary Of Hearing...
     Why We Still Have To Wait...
     For What The Austeritycrats 
     Say...We Still Can't Have.


And Remember: 
Talk - Action = Zero (DOA)

<Here's Looking At 2024:>
The Reckoner & The Squawker


(*Thanks to Jello Biafra, for making this observation on all our behalf!)

Sunday, December 24, 2023

Punk Rock Poetry Corner: Bill & Ted's (Not So Excellent) Adjunct Adventure

 

<Movie poster: Wikipedia.com>


Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure
Ran aground: Hit the speed bump
    of social inequity...

The mushroom cloud of student debt,
Service McJobs for subzero wages,
    (Future Self asks):

"How's it going, Bill 'n' Ted Esquire?"


<Bill>
"Not so good, dudes.
We're either temps.
Or adjuncts!"

 
<Future Self>
"Whoa, dudes, no way!"

<Ted>
"Way! No health insurance,
No retirement, no vaaa-caaayyy days...
    Nothin'! And we can get cut loose.
    Any time."



                <Future Self>
            "Don't say anything to Wayne.
            He still thinks he'll get
            To be a rock star.
        And the hair net's only temporary."



<Bill>
It wasn't this way,
Of course, for all us
wiseass slacker kids,

& the big screen dreams
we spent
so much time & money
chasin' around:

<Ted>
Life back then
Felt like
Some kind of crazy quilt
All-nighter @ Empire Records,
& anything felt possible.

<Bill>
You could bash till dawn,
Show up in whatever condition
you'd somehow
gotten yourself into,

<Ted>
& nobody bothered
to look at you sideways,
Give you the onceover,
& you always
had enough left over,


<Future Self>
For the next beer,
For the next Big Gulp,
The next stash,
The next smoke,
The next show,
The next big date...

Whatever. Nowadays?
Don't even bother. 


<"Boomer Retirement Card,"
Take I/The Reckoner>

<Ted>
The hair net & hair clip
Remain on somebody or other's
accessories list

...Along w/the uniform:
Red apron, blue apron, green apron,
Take your pick!

<Bill>
The friendly
Neighborhood record store's
long gone.

Those Wyld Stallynz
Never got 
A moment to roam.

<Ted>
The rock star dreams
Wound up permanently frozen,
on hold: 

<Future Self>
But remember, sucker, 
Nobody promised you
...That life would ever get better.

<Bill>
So bounces the last IOU
From the Boomers,
Who shuffled the cards


<Ted>
& marked up the deck 
of this particular
cardboard cutout empire.


<The Reckoner>

<"Boomer Retirement Card,"
Take II/The Reckoner>


Links To Go
(Read The Headline, Go Figure):
Older Americans Won The Pandemic:
https://finance.yahoo.com/news/older-boomers-won-pandemic-becoming-165242402.html

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Life's Little Injustices (Take XXI): Hey, Mr. Monopoly (Your Five-Star Review Isn't Forthcoming)

 

<"Thumbs Down!"/The Reckoner>


Blogs are better than therapy. I've no trouble reaching that conclusion lately, as the problems at our complex multiply.
Regular readers may recall the mother and daughter duo I profiled in my last entry of this series (see link below), which focused on who'd washed up on these crumbling shores, after the owner of the house they'd been renting suddenly decided to sell it.

As I recounted, they weren't thrilled about stepping down a notch, to a place like ours, but vowed to make the best of it. Last week, The Squawker and I ran into Mom Sixtysomething (as we'll now call her), in mid-junk mail persual.

We'd barely exchanged pleasantries, when she rolled her eyes, and said, "Boy, we can't wait to get out of here."

"Hm, couldn't imagine why," I responded, with a smile. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"We were promised a one-bedroom when we moved in here." Mom Sixtysomething's face squinched into a frown. "But that's not where we ended up."

"So what happened?" Squawker asked. "Was it something they did?"

"You could say that," Mom Sixtysomething sighed. "The manager claimed that she couldn't show the apartment, because it was still occupied. But I've read the lease, and it's not an issue. There's no language against seeing the unit, whether anybody's in there, or isn't."

"Well, wouldn't be the first bait and switch that happened to anybody," I offered. "What did you end up doing?"

"A studio," Mom Sixtysomething said. "The circuit breaker's so old, the air conditioning and the heater often run at the same time. The flashing around the window has crumbled, so the wind and the rain blow through it. We've been flooded a couple times, too." Her face hardened beyond mere exasperation. "Our lease is up in July. We can't wait to get out of here!"

"Trust me, nobody will hold against it you," I assure her. "Especially when they hear where you lived last."

"Well, that was the thing," Mom Sixtysomething sighed. "We were renting a motel room for almost a week, while we waited on that one-bedroom. When we found out it wasn't going to be available, we bit the bullet, and moved in."

I allow myself the luxury of another smile. "I take it, you're not leaving a five-star review, whenever you do go?"

"They'll be lucky if it's one star!" Mom snaps back.

We dissolve into peals of raucous laughter that bounce off the ceiling. With that, we adjourn the discussion, and head back to our separate existences.

The review I'm referencing is a prominent feature of our so-called resident portal, where you pay that exortionate rent (now that management stopped taking checks and/or money orders, about four years ago). As soon as you log in, the pop-up slaps you visually upside the head:

"Leave Us A

Review On Google!"



A quick glance at Google shows that 51 people have done just that, yielding 3.5 stars on a five-star scale. As I've written here before, that's a decent mark, though not exceptional, an impression that only strengthens when I read the more niggling verdicts.

I'm surprised that our complex's rating is that high, given the increasing MIA status of our maintenance team; the ever-spiraling rents; the increasingly grubby appearance of hallways and stairwells, that no longer get regular attention; and the erratic performance of fixtures like the baseboard heaters, whose giant knobs would elicit a familiar groan from anyone who struggled with them during the "Cosby Show" era.

So will it discourage anybody from renting here? Maybe yes, maybe no. The thumbs down notice that scares off more discerning renters may not matter so much during economic downturns, when the dismissed and the desperate have to check their pickiness at the door.

And, of course, we've all heard that old saying, "The only thing worse than bad publicity is no publicity at all," right? As the above conversation shows, Mom and her offspring had to hold their nose, and sign their lease, the because they had to figure an alternative, fast. Motels are expensive, right?

There's a reason why John Lydon once said, in dismissing his former cohorts' post-Sex Pistols ventures, like "Silly Thing": "If you notice a drop in quality, that's neither here nor there."

I just ran into another refugee from our complex, a nice twentysomething couple, whom I'd talk to in passing. They were checking out the dairy options, with their five-month-old son, when I asked how their new apartment was working out. They both expressed satisfaction, especially since their new abode is costing them $200 less in rent per month.

"I can't blame you, because I'm looking at some changes myself," I tell them. "The maintenance department is quieter than the cemetery."

"Yeah, well, we moved in with broken blinds," Mrs. Twentysomething offers. "And that's how we're leaving it. And that was the least of it."

Naturally, I want to dig a little deeper, drill down more, but they have to go, and get their son fed, before he gets restless. "No worries," I tell them. "I get it. Hope we get another chance to talk more next time."

I'm not a betting man, but this much I know. I doubt they'll leave a review, but even if they do, it sure as hell won't be a five-star one, let alone three. That's why we have blinker lights at busy intersections, after all. So we don't get blind-sided. Or T-boned by another car. --The Reckoner


<"Thumbs Down!" (Take II)/The Reckoner>

Links To Go (The Girl Can't Yelp It):
Ars Technica: One Apartment Complex's Rule:
You Write A Bad Review, We Fine You $10K:
https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2015/03/one-apartment-complexs-rule-you-write-a-bad-review-we-fine-you-10k/

Ramen Noodle Nation: Life's Little Injustices (Take XX):
"We Moved Out, Because We Had No Choice":

https://ramennoodlenation.blogspot.com/2023/07/lifes-little-injustices-take-xx-we.html

Monday, December 11, 2023

The Faces Of Hunger (Take Six): I Just Went Out Grocery Shopping (And Boy, Is My Wallet Aching)

 

<I shot this photo in 2013, and all the others
on this page -- and all I got
was this lousy grocery bill
that eats my bank account!
Photos: The Reckoner/The Squawker>

<i.>
Real life lately feels like one endless royal scam, and there sure as hell aren't any lack of them. One sign hit me watching TV late at night, as I always do, while I'm putting in that intellectual sweatshop labor to, well, mimic some semblance of paying the bills, right?

Anyway, some company or other is hard pitching four or five products, such as a pair of shades that sharply reduces the glare, while you're driving in bad weather conditions. Sounds like a winner, right? Every home should have one, and all that. 

But each commercial ends with the same tagline: "Due to supply chain shortages and logistics issues, this will be your last chance to get Sharpie Shades at Price X. And remember, we have a strict limit of one per household." But you know what'll really happen, right? They'll roll out a brand new ad ("Back from Supply Chain Siberia!"), only you'll end up forking over 20-30% more than you did last time.

Why? Because that's what all these bastards are doing. Nearly two years after the sticker shock first rattled our wallets, the rampant greedflation that's causing so many of us to feel like there's a giant screw sticking through our spines shows little sign of letting up.

Sure, a few commodities have finally fallen back down to Earth, notably eggs -- which soared from $2.69 per carton here at Matthew's, to a whopping $5.99, even $6.99 -- and green onions, which peaked around $1.99 per two-item bundle, to a mere $1.49.

Yeah, I know, you don't have to tell me. With price dops this piddling, start building the yacht, right? And if you believe that, I've got some prime Florida swampland that you can help me drain.

And we all know something funny's going on, when the traditional workarounds you relied on to beat those high prices don't work anymore. Take cooking oil, one of many examples I could quote. At Matthew's, a 12-ounce bottle of the standard artery-clogging Wesson costs almost as much ($3.99) as the "good stuff," the olive oil that we like to use ($5.99). 

What's more, a lot of the mid-sized bottles, containers, and packages have either disappeared, or gotten scaled back. You're stuck buying the smaller version of a product -- which you'll be replacing, before long -- or the mammoth version that will lay waste to your budget. 

You either buy the 30-ounce mayo jar for $5.99, or its pint-sized counterpart for $4.19. Heads you lose, tails you lose. With prices like these, you can't fully stock a fridge anymore. It's reached the point where The Squawker and I are eating out more -- twice a week, sometimes three -- because it costs less than all those greedflated ingredients you'd have to buy, to make those dishes at home. How screwed up is that? 


<Take II, As Above: No other comments necessary.>

<ii>
Not surprisingly, trips to the grocery store feel like going to the dentist. Or the tax preparer. Or the doctor, who hands you those cloudy-looking X-rays, and then drops the estimate of how long you have to live. It's a traumatic trip out, however you care to slice it.

Every list that you cobble together makes your gut knot with tension. Every weekly ad you browse feels like some kind of crazy Cold War exercise, of matching wits with an unblinking, unsmiling, trench-coated adversary. Every item that you can't afford, or end up putting back, is another reminder of, "This is not the place for you." 

Except last week, that is, when Squawker and I trekked out to Murrow's Frugal Acres, where the prices are slightly lower, and the portions come slightly bigger. I even dropped an extra 30 bucks into the bank account, so we'd have slightly more room to maneuver.

But guess what? As smart and smooth as that moved seemed, it felt like tossing pebbles at a tank. We were hoping to hold the line at $80, but sure enough, the cash register ticked mercilessly northwards -- $100, $110, $120, $130. "Here we go again," I muttered, under my breath. "Time for that same old sideways ballet." 

I started handing the bags to The Squawker, as we began trying to figure what we could live without. Ka-ching! Out goes the bag of chicken patties. Ka-ching! Out goes that $6.50 block of cheese. Ka-ching! Forget about most of the vegetables, too.

Or so it seems, until a graying, towering, heavyset man in the next aisle -- who's watching us closely -- hands the cashier a $20 bill, saying, "Here. I'll cover it for them, if it's not too much trouble."

The cashier jerks a thumb towards the goodies piled up near her register -- the chicken patties, block of cheese, and all. "Do you still want this stuff, or are we putting it back?"

Before any of us can answer, the stranger peels off another $20 bill. "I'll cover the difference, too, if it comes down to that." 

The cashier takes the bill, and now, we begin scooping all the rejected food items back into the bags. His good deed done, the stranger shuffles off, just as The Squawker and I get through our thank yous. He's probably tired, I figure, or he has some other stop to make. Who knows?

On one hand, it feels great that somebody you've never met is willing to stand up, and do something like that. Not everybody is stuck in the same selfish grind of mindless materialism, which is easy enough to assume, on good days, and bad.

On the other hand, this episode serves up yet another reminder of how out of whack our society has spun. Because there are only so many good-natured strangers, and so many twenties to peel off into needy fingers, which is why it doesn't happen so often.

This is the myth that the Great Depression soundly busted, that if enough folks looked after their neighbor, all that pesky economic deprivation would simply take the appropriate hint, and disappear. But guess what? The big, bad world can always dish out far more suffering than any charitable act, or enterprise, can ever hope to absorb, especially when the same bad actors remain in charge of it. 

Of course, this isn't the first time we've found ourselves here -- as Bruce Springsteen suggested in his 1980 classic, "Held Up Without A Gun." The song touches on high gas prices, the major worry of the time ("Looked at my tank it was reading low"), music biz shenanigans ("Man with a cigar says, 'Sign here, son'"), and the jaw-dropping indifference of a society that unleashes them:

Now it's a sin and it oughta be a crime
You know it happens, buddy, all the time
Trying to make a living, trying to have a little fun
Look out
Held up without a gun
Held up without a gun
Held up without a gun
Held up without a gun

Clocking in at a mere 66 seconds (!), it's not hard to see why Boss diehards consider this song -- which he tucked away on the B-side of his smash hit, "Hungry Heart" -- Bruce's attempt at channeling the Ramones, or something like it. Either way, it works for me, and what's more, he still plays it live, now and again.

Like so many underground classics, those lyrics feel as relevant today, as they did at the time -- maybe even more. Which is probably why they say, "History doesn't repeat itself, it also rhymes."

On that cheery note, I'll see you at the dollar bin. And oh, yeah, one more thing. Happy hunting. --The Reckoner

Links To Go (Hurry, Hurry,
Before The Dollar Bin Becomes The Fiver Bin):

Bruce Springsteen: Held Up Without A Gun:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxBhIeTARBE

Robert Reich: The Hidden Link Between Corporate Greed And Inflation:
https://www.facebook.com/RBReich/videos/the-hidden-link-between-corporate-greed-and-inflation/757841191863574/

The Guardian: This Isn't Wage-Price Inflation, It's Greedflation:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2023/apr/19/wage-price-inflation-greedflation-pay-cost-of-living


<"Timely Reminder"/The Reckoner>

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Stop Laughing So Hard: Your Election Doubting Congressman Wants Your "Feedback"

Ta
"Submitted...for your perusal:
A Congressman who proved
receptive to Trumpian claims 
of election fraud in 2020,
wants you to fill out a survey.

"Truly -- a conundrum that
can only exist in the middle ground,
between light and shadow,
between science and superstition...
Only...in...The Twilight Zone."


<i.>
I wouldn't have gotten wind of this item, had a friend of mine in Congressman Bill Huizenga's Fourth District not passed it my way. Huizenga, for those who don't know his name, happens to be among those who signed on -- at least initially, and we'll get to that shortly -- Trump's deranged, yet calculated attempt to overturn his 2020 election loss, and remain in power indefinitely.

Unlike most of his cohorts, though -- specifically, the 147 Republicans in the U.S. House of Representatives, who voted to overturn Joe Biden's victory over Trump -- Huizenga though he could have it both ways. He signed onto an amicus brief filed by Texas's shapeshifting Attorney General, Bill Paxton, asking the U.S. Supreme Court to slap down Michigan Secretary of State Jocelyn Benson, for making changes to the election process during the COVID-19 pandemic.

But when push came to shove, Huizenga didn't end up actually voting to decertify Biden's election. Not because it was somehow intrinsically seditious, nor based on a questionable premise -- as Trump signaled, in his notorious statement, "Frankly, we won this election" -- but simply because it wouldn't have lifted Trump over the finish line. Since it wouldn't have made any difference, it was best to move on. Call him one of the election ambivalent, perhaps.

Now comes this single-question "survey," which seems like a scam to pad Huizenga's mailing list. You can see the disclaimer buried underneath the lone question he asks, in greatly reduced fine print: "Taking this survey will sign you up for future news and updates from my office."

My friend has never done that, and I wouldn't advise anybody else to do it, either, because if you don't support the so-called survey's premise, what's the point of doing it in the first place? Here's the email that went out:



<ii.>
Huizenga gives away the punchline right in the opening sentence: "President Biden’s failed border policies jeopardize our national security and leave our country vulnerable to serious threats." The premise of the next paragraph, which implicitly links those six million illegals to drugs and terrorism, is not only dubious, it's downright racist.

We all know who Huizenga and his election denying brethren want to protect us from, right? Hint: it isn't the rich white entitled class, whose financial terrorism is proving way more devastating than whatever products the Mexican cartel masters are shipping across the border.

Of course, as the Mexican government has pointed out, numerous times, the gringo who hoovers such products up their schonzzer bears some of the responsibility, too. As a former rock band manager once told me: "It takes two tango. One has to offer it, but one has to be interested." Makes sense to me.

The other purpose seems clearer when -- or if -- your eyes make it to the final paragraph, which puts in a plug for the Secure The Border Act, yet another one of those performative monkeyshines that Huizenga knows full well is DOA in a Democratic-controlled Senate. For a slightly more objective analysis, see the link below, but this paragraph sums up the gist eloquently enough:

"While some elements of the proposed legislation might prove effective and helpful, like additional investments in personnel and technology at ports of entry, the bill’s enforcement-only focus and failure to address lawful pathways is deeply flawed.

"The bill’s overarching focus on physical barriers and deterrence measures — but not increased numbers of asylum officers or immigration judges — presents a vision of the U.S.’s southern border where people fleeing violence and persecution would be quickly removed, without meaningful access to protection.

"Further, by interpreting 'operational control' through the circumscribed definition in the Secure Fence Act of 2006, the bill is predicated on an unrealistic standard that the U.S. must prevent 
all unauthorized crossings along a roughly 2,000-mile border."

Undoubtedly, if Trump slithers back into office, and gets his long-desired American Fourth Reich, he can look forward to making good on those aims...without all those pesky Democrats and "deep state" civil service appointees getting in his way, right?

And if he does, we'll know that Huizenga was among those marching beside him. Elected during the so-called "Tea Party" wave of 2010 certified Huizenga as well to the right of most issues, but his subsequent votes -- such as against Trump's second impeachment, and the establishment of the January 6 investigative commission -- should make it plain where his flag actually flies, so to speak (see link below).

Nevertheless, he says he wants to know what you think. On a certain level, it's a surreal proposition, coming from somebody like this, though on another, it's not as far-fetched as it sounds; the tracking of public opinion is a common feature of many autocracies.

For example, Hitler's propaganda overlord, Josef Goebbels, took regular polls throughout the Nazi era. Not because he cared what Germans thought of the beloved Fuehrer he served so ardently, but to help him work out the government line -- what appeals worked best, which groups to target, and what themes to stress harder, or skip over, depending on his needs of the moment.

Surveys like the one we're discussing fall into what I call the "Rod Serling moment" category, which I consider an event that would trigger a commentary from the late, chain-smoking sci-fi TV host, if we could call him back from the Great Beyond. It's the kind of moment, when people wonder, "What is surrealism," that prompts me to retort: "You're already living in it." --The Reckoner


Links To Go (Hurry, Hurry, Before
They 
Build A Detention Center Fit For You)
MLive.com: Michigan GOP Congressman Dispels Election Myths...:

https://www.mlive.com/politics/2021/01/michigan-gop-congressman-dispels-election-myths-from-constituents-asking-to-oppose-bidens-win.html

National Immigration Foreign Forum:
Bill Analysis: The Secure The Border Act Of 2023:

Republican Accountability:
Rep. Bill Huizenga: Democracy Score:
https://accountability.gop/profile/rep-bill-huizenga/

The Event That Wobbled: My Hit And Miss Folk Festival Experience


<"One Night Only (Thank God)"/
The Reckoner>

<i.>
Every musician has some type of "road story gone wrong, about The Event That Wobbled. Amps that pack up. Strings that break during your signature set closer. Guitars that won't tune up, no how hard you struggle. The proverbial five punters and a dog who turned up for you, because all those other bastards scuttled off to the "cool" gig by (FILL IN FLASHY HEADLINER'S NAME HERE).

Keep going, son, you're getting warmer: what else could go wrong? Plenty. The soundman who makes your guitar pop like Rice Krispies run through a flanger, or the family dog, caught in the blender.  

The organizer who a) mangles your name on the flyer, b) forgets to mention you existence on the flyer, or c) leaves the stack you sent him a couple weeks ago sitting proudly on their counter, having forgotten to stick them up anywhere. 

Today's Event That Wobbled story ticks a fair number of these boxes, and then some. To coin a phrase, it was 20 years ago today, when I found myself in the wilds of northeast central Indiana, headed off to something...Let's call it, The Hit & Miss Folk Festival.

Seemed like an easy way to keep my chops up, on a crisp fall Saturday afternoon. They'd even taken out a sizable newspaper ad, which seemed like a fair degree of commitment, right? What could possibly go wrong? you ask yourself.

I should have known the game was up when I called to ask for directions. "I'm sorry, but I haven't managed to leave quite yet, so I may be a few minutes late."

Back comes the response, breezy and reassuring. "No worries. We're still sorting out the lineup. We'll figure it out once you get there."

"Hm, really? So how's the traffic going, then?" I asked. "How's the turnout looking?"

The line crackles with a reassurance that bounces right into my eardrum. "Oh, great! They're all just streaming in, as I look around."

"Great! See you then." Click!  
What could possibly go wrong?

The answer comes when I arrive at the site, which seems like the county fairgrounds. It doesn't seem to earn a lot of maintenance time and attention, even though it's the off-season.

The turnout is the sort that you could fold up and crumple in your pocket. Not exactly "five people and a dog," but if there's a hundred people here, I'd feel pleasantly surprised. 

Most of them are just aimlessly milling around. They don't seem particularly engaged by what's going on. Getting more than a sentence or two to pass their close-mouthed lips makes me feel like I'm negotiating a trade agreement with a hostile starving nation. 


<"I'm Just-A Wastin' Time..."/
The Reckoner>

<ii.>
But nothing prepares me for the sight that smacks my senses upside the head, with a resounding thud, when I finally edge over to the so-called Mainstage, where they actually want the performers to play. It's nothing more than an 8-by-8-foot postage stamp, plunked randomly in the middle of some wide open space or other.  

On that stage is a big guy, bent over his shiny expensive Martin, croaking and gargling through "Dock Of The Bay," like he's sung it for the umpteen millionth time, and can't wait to get it done.


"Sitting on 
the dock 
of the baaayyy..."


He sounds like he'd rather be folding the laundry, or parking the car, or washing the dishes.
Anywhere but here. Actually, I decide, he sounds like he's walking the Green Mile. Watching him fold the laundry might seem way more exciting, somehow.


"Watchin' the 
tiii-dddes-just-rollin'-away..."


My ears brace themselves for what's coming next. He's doing his best to channel the ghost of Otis Redding, all right -- only with a fraction, mind you, of the man's gritty vocal chops, let alone the energy, that made him a legend.

"I'm just, sittin'
on the dock
of the bayyy-uhhh...
Waaastin' Time..."


A few droplets of rain slap my cheek. The so-called stage has no cover -- no roof, no tent, nothing. The sky seems to be losing more and more patience with us, as it's darkening by the minute.

"Hang on," I tell myself. "This is madness. I can't do this. This doesn't make any sense."




<iii.>
So I do what any person in my position does: I make my excuses, both real and imagined. I scurry back to the main entrance, where I see a pay phone. I push a couple quarters down the slot, get the same breezy, self-assured person on the line, and start piling on my excuses.


"Hey, man, I'm not gonna make it. 
I just had a flat tire. 

"Yeah, I'm just gonna have to
limp back home. So sorry."


Then I pack up my guitar, back out of the muddy field they're calling the main parking lot, and head home, tail between legs, and all that stuff. If you play music, it's the same old story, repeated across Anytown USA.

Indeed, at some point, everybody's experience is basically the same, as I discovered on a Pink Fairies/Deviants fan page on Facebook, where I spotted a lengthy discussion of why guitarist Ian "Sid" Bishop wasn't gigging anymore.

For those who don't know, Bishop played guitar and sitar on the Deviants' first two albums, Ptoof!, and Disposable, both released in 1968. He then quit to get married, continue playing in various bands, and writing for guitar mags. I hadn't been aware of what he'd been doing lately, but in any event, the post focused on his recent move to Crete, and why he'd hung up his gigging papers.

In short order, Sid ticked off three reasons, starting with the aging process ("These days, I doubt if I could event lift a Twin Reverb, let alone carry it up steps to the stage. Humping all that gear just got to be too much"), followed by  logistics that often turn into a real grind (load the gear, drive many miles to the venue, set up at seven, head home at midnight, wash, rinse, repeat):

"At my age*, I really would be much happier sitting at home in the warm, watching TV with a glass of wine. Far too much hassle for little reward, the little reward aspect of this being another factor." 

Not surprisingly, Sid expounded at length on his third reason, "the little reward aspect," or lack thereof. Most of his gigs happened in bars, pubs, and the odd working man's club, whose turnouts and vibes left something to be desired, as he observed:

"Although there were notable exceptions, most of these places were miserable and depressing, as indeed were most of the audiences. At a good uplifting gig, there could have been upwards of 100 enthusiastic pubgoers, but there were times when we've ended up giving our all to ten old codgers and a Yorkshire terrier. Depressing indeed, and at the end, you ask yourself, 'Why on earth do I bother?'"

Just then, a flash of jealousy shot through me. Hey, buddy, at least you had ten people and a dog. I only played to five! Of course, I'm only joking. But not by much.

Of course, it's a phenomenon that picked up an unholy steam during the COVID-19 pandemic, which saw many venues closing their doors. It's a perfect storm that's led to a drastically shrunken market, and one that's made it tougher than ever for musos like himself to earn any kind of living off it, as Bishop noted:

"This often means that you have to drive even further to find a gig, and then discover that you are in competition with many other bands in the same position who are vying for the same gig. The usual result of that is that they will offer to do the gig for less than you, then you undercut that, the end result being that you end up playing for nothing and not even covering the petrol money. Taking all of that into account, I just gave up. Seemed the sensible thing to do, and come to terms with the fact that the golden years are over."

Sometimes, it's simpler to cut your losses, and call it a day. In Sid Bishop's case, I certainly don't blame him. We've all been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, so to speak. There's a lot of bad actors taking advantage of people's enthusiasms, it seems. And a lot of inept ones, too, as I found out that day.

Whether The Hit & Miss Folk Festival ever made it back for another go-round, I can't tell you, because I moved away from that area. But something tells me, I don't really care to know. And deep down, I suspect, it's better not to ask. --The Reckoner


<Rainy Day (FFS, Go Away)..."/
Take II: The Reckoner>

(*Reckoner's Note: The Deviants' Wikipedia entry claims a birth year of 1946 for Sid, which would make him 77. Wikipedia itself can often be a bit wobbly, but given the era in which he came of age, it sounds about right to me.)

Thursday, November 23, 2023

Tomorrow And Tomorrow And Tomorrow Creeps (Take V): Plotting Democracy's Demise, Through Project 2025

 

<David Horsey, LA Times:
http://www.ih8trump.org/trump-triumphant/>

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

<From Macbeth, spoken by Macbeth:
William Shakespeare>

<i.>

When I finished this series in January 2022, I assumed that I wouldn't need to revisit it. Surely, I told myself, at some point, the image of Donald Trump, his authoritarian leanings, and his violent cult followers, determined to impose them on the nation, would finally recede in the rearview mirror, especially as the so-called Republican Party's electoral losses continued to mount up, and their donors would yearn to move on

The losses continue to pile up, as the handful of midterm off-year results demonstrated,  a mere three weeks ago. In Kentucky, Democratic Governor Andy Bashear cruised to re-election by a solid five-point margin over Mitch McConnell's protege, Daniel Cameron. Ohioans approved Issue 1, a ballot measure to enshrine abortion rights, by a 13.2% margin.

In Virginia, Democrats held the State Senate, and reclaimed the House of Delegates, snuffing out Republican Governor Glenn Youngkin's hopes of passing a 15-week abortion ban for at least another two years. The results presumably also spiked chatter among the donor classes of Youngkin's viability as a "white knight," one capable of saving his party from the demon called Trump.

The sole bright spot for Republicans came in Mississippi, where voters gave Governor Tate Reeves a second term over Elvis's cousin, Democrat Brandon Presley. But even there, Reeves eked out a 3.2% margin, or 26,619 votes, in the closest gubernatorial race seen there since 1999.

Analysts suggested that Presley's willingness to run on a pro-life platform, as the Governor did, potentially cost him a rare shot at an upset in a ruby red state. We'll never know for sure, of course, but there is one upside -- that is, he probably won't get to make albums.




<ii.>
Add these results onto the damp squib of the 2022 midterms, where fears of a Red Wave turned into a Red Mirage -- and the 2018 midterms, where Democrats retook the U.S. House of Representatives, ending Republicans' two-year run of unified government -- and a reasonable observer might conclude that Trumpism, whatever shapes it takes, is a toxic brew that nobody with an IQ above room temperature wants to drink.

Surely, they'd have had enough of losing by now, right? No such luck, since we're talking about the party of the "Dear Leader," who came perilously close to realizing his President For Life ambitions on January 6, 2021, when his followers stormed our nation's Capitol. Far from being tempered, the enemies of democracy only seem ever more emboldened, and ever more determined, to bring it down, "by any means necessary," to coin a phrase.

Examples abound, such as Ohio, where Republicans are talking about ignoring the voters' will, and stripping its courts of jurisdiction over abortion. Or in Wisconsin, where Janet Protasiewicz's game-changing election to its Supreme Court has stirred Republicans -- unwilling to part with the ill-gotten advantages they've gained, through years of gerrymandered minority rule -- to talk of impeaching her. 

Or in Arizona and Arkansas, which have opted for the old school voter suppression option, by floating constitutional amendments that would make it harder to pass any kind of ballot measure. As the standing joke goes, Republicans are all in for states' rights -- until their citizens actually vote.

But as oppressive, and noxious and malicious, as these practices seem -- and, as anti-democratic, and manipulative, and vindictive, as they surely are -- all of them pale against Project 2025, the engine by which Team Trump and its allies hope to bring about what they've craved for so long, an American Fourth Reich.

In simple terms, it amounts to a Handmaids Tale-style future on steroids, an unvarnished police state, plain and simple, driven by the twin engines of aggrie
ved white nationalism, and the unchecked impulses of dominion theology, in the unholiest, ghastliest sense of the term.

For Trump and his minions, it will amount to a lifelong dream come true, with the world's richest nation forever yoked to the ever-changing moods and excesses of its unhinged ruler, and his equally power mad, kleptocratic inner circle. For the great majority, it will unleash a nightmarish spiral of repression, one that has seemed unimaginable and unfathomable -- that is, until now.



<iii.>
On the surface, at least, a look at the Heritage Foundation's website for Project 2025 suggests nothing so dystopian. The centerpiece is an aggressive federal recruiting effort, targeting some 4,000 appointed positions that fall under the Presidential Personnel Office. Trump's former PPO director, John McEntee, is overseeing the effort, which Project 2025 Director Dan Evans describes thusly, in the accompanying press release:

"Our coalition will then review applicants and match them to agencies and offer such suggestions to an eventual transition team. Our goal is to bring conservative warriors from across the entire United States to Washington to ensure that the next administration serves the interests of the American people.”

Hence, Project 2025's website includes a portal for right-wing culture warriors to upload resumes for consideration in a future Trump administration, should that eventuality arise. But it's impossible to square such benign rhetoric with the more troubling picture that's leaked out, particularly of internal discussions that focus on sweeping expansions of administrative power not seen, even during Trump's first term.

They start with the uncorking of Trump's favored hobby horse, the Insurrection Act, to crush the wave of demonstrations, presumably, that would greet his unwanted return.
 Trump would also invoke the law to arrest migrants right at the border, as Trump's senior henchman, Stephen Miller, has confirmed (see New York Times link below).

Trump also plans to target the two agencies he sees making his life especially miserable -- the FBI, and the U.S. Justice Department -- by stocking them with zealots ready to do his bidding. Just as in Nazi Germany, career employees who didn't toe the line would come under fierce pressure to retire -- if they wanted to stay healthy -- replaced when their time is up, or pushed up, under some pretext or other (see link below: "Gleichshaltung, GOP-Style").

The list goes on and on, amplified by Trump's social media posts and speeches -- reviving attempts to revoke birthright citizenship; invoking the Alien and Sedition Act as pretexts for further clampdowns, and deportations; herding his enemies, real or imagined, into mental institutions, prisons, or giant holding pens, apparently inspired by the mass deportations of 1953-54 (the largest such endeavors in American history, so far).

Name the abuse of power, and he plans to unleash it. It does not take a math whiz, nor a nuclear physicist, to imagine the lasting damage that such a full throttle assault on human rights will mean, in the world's largest and longest-running democracy, one that may take decades to undo -- that is, if the voters allow it. 


<Separated at birth? Josef Goebbels (left),
Nazi Propaganda Minister;
Trump aide, Stephen Miller (right)>
<Daily Kos>

<iv.>
For those willing to shrug off such dispiriting exercises as case of "Trump being Trump," they  better think again. Trump's latest Nuremberg-style rallies have taken on a darker, and more apocalyptic cast, littered with phrases that sound straight out of Adolf Hitler's playbook, such as this outburst delivered to an audience in New Hampshire, and his Truth Social website:

"In honor of our great Veterans on Veteran's Day, we pledge to you will that we will root out the Communists, Marxists, Fascists and Radical Left Thugs that live like vermin within the confines of our Country, lie, steal and cheat on Elections, and will do anything possible, whether legally or illegally, to destroy America, and the American Dream. The threat from outside forces is far less sinister, dangerous, and grave, than the threat from within."

Add increasingly frequent references to the poisoning of America by deviant and criminalized migrants; the conspiratorial aspirations of nameless enemies out to undermine his ill-disguised ambitions; and vows to punish "bad Jews" and other opponents for their betrayals, and you end up with a lot of uncomfortable parallels with the collapse of Germany's Weimar Republic, after a mere 14 years.

Without the entry of American manpower and material to bolster British and Russian allies, the so-called Third Reich may well have lasted longer than the dozen years it occupied the world stage, from 1933 to 1945. Yet we should not mistake the positive results of our past as a permanent shield against the autocrats of tomorrow, as Ruth Ben-Ghiat, an expert on strongmen past and present, warns us:

"Some have wondered why the Trump campaign is being so open about the repressive policies they intend to implement. This 'transparency' is line with authoritarian history: Autocrats often tell you who they are and what they intend to do to you before they take office. They do this as a challenge to norms, and they do this as a threat."

To paraphrase our earlier joke, Republicans are unblinking enemies of the "Deep State" -- that is, unless they can seize the opportunity to impose one more to their liking. 


<v.>
So where, exactly, do these latest events leave us, considering the existential threat that Project 2025 and Team Trump represent? Are those who cast themselves as the defenders of democracy honestly up to the awesome task of safeguarding it? 

At first glance, that savior seems to be the legal system, but frankly, the results have been mixed. Most January 6 rioters served a median sentence of 60 days, with varying combinations of community service, fines, home detention, and probation being imposed, depending on the offense. A handful who committed violent acts received longer sentences, of up to 20 years.

But even those sentences are not as stiff as they sound, as we see from the case of the so-called "QAnon Shaman," Jacob Chansley. He served a mere 27 months of a 41-month federal term, a period marked by procedural sparring over whether he deserved the organic vegetarian fare that he demanded. (and got, of course, under a religious liberty argument.) 

Chansley just made headlines again, by filing paperwork to run as a Libertarian in Arizona's Eighth Congressional District. Apparently, he's figured out that it's better to get your hands on the levers of power, since it saves the trouble of smearing feces on the walls. If he wins, I suspect that he'll feel comfortable in an environment headed by House Speaker Mike Johnson, another active player who worked to keep Trump in power after his 2020 election loss.

Although Trump and a handful of his cohorts have been charged, the vast majority -- the 147 House Republicans who refused to certify Biden's election, their Senate enablers, Ted Cruz, and Josh Hawley, and right-wing stalwarts, like "Supreme Court Justice" Clarence Thomas's wife, Ginni -- have not been, and may never be. They walk among us, unscathed and untouched, as if the nightmarish events of January 6 had never unfolded.

The failure to hold any of them legally accountable is beyond comprehension, and an insult to anyone who has ever taken the federal oath to "support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic." Without such an accounting, it is difficult to imagine how a democracy can thrive, as the Democrats continue to uphold the democratic norms that their Republican rivals so increasingly disdain.

The sluggish pace of the various legal cases involving Trump also suggests that the long-desired magic bullet, of which so many liberals and legal scholars dream -- the smoking gun, the Atticus Finch-style closing argument that seals a conviction -- may not arrive in time to take Trump off the game board, before the 2024 campaign unfolds in earnest.

<Celebrating Phil Ochs Blog:
https://celebratingphilochs.com/>

Yet our land is still troubled by men who have to hateThey twist away our freedom and they twist away our fate

Fear is their weapon and treason is their cry.We can stop them if we try.

<Phil Ochs, "Power And Glory,"
Missing verse (not used on original recorded version)>

<Coda>
In the end, it will probably fall to those of us who oppose the self-aggrandized destruction of democracy that Project 2025 represents, and continue to remind our coworkers, friends, and neighbors of the dangers that it poses. For this is the joke that all autocrats play on those foolish enough to enable them -- that only some sort of omnipotent authoritarian father figure can cure their ills.

In a different era, that dubious accolade may well have gone to Trump's chief rival, Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. However, DeSantis -- like the mainstream media who relentlessly promoted him -- failed to read the room.

As events have shown, there is no market for a "Diet Trump" brand. Trump's fanbase doesn't want a kinder, gentler version of their aspiring Fuehrer. They embrace him because he is the blunt instrument they've always wanted, not in spite of it, which a critical aspect of the Trump phenomenon that continues to elude his rivals and critics.


Before long, however, the initial promise invariably dries up, as the newly-coined autocratic regime devours more and more resources to sustain its all-powerful leader and his clique, or diverts them to fund its pet projects -- typically, unwinnable wars, or unsustainable economic models, as China is discovering under its blustering neo-Maoist dictator, Xi Jinping.

Yet simply calling out Trump and his cohorts, while it's important, will not be enough in itself. We must also push back against those who continue to normalize his behavior, such as the mainstream media who continues to treat him like another candidate, who happens to have a few rough edges, as Salon notes:

"But the mainstream media is bored with Trump's rhetoric and has now largely moved on. That irresponsible choice further normalizes Trump's evil and the larger neofascist assault on the country's democracy and civil society.

"It is nearly incredible that the presumed nominee of one of the country's two institutional political parties is explicitly channeling Hitler and the Nazis. That should be dominating the news. Trump's Fourth Reich aspirations constitute a national emergency. But America is an unhealthy society where all this will likely be normalizes as just 'culture war tactics' or political 'polarization.'"

Stephen Miller certainly holds no such doubts, as we see from his closing words to the New York Times: "Bottom line, President Trump will do whatever it takes."

Indeed, he can, as he promises, and threatens, and will -- that is, if we, the people, give him the chance. For the sake of our democracy, and our nation, it is a glittering prize that must remain, always and forever, eternally out of his reach. --The Reckoner


Links To Go (Wake Up,
See What They're Planning For Us):

Daily Kos: Hitler's Josef Goebbels
And Trump's Stephen Miller Are Chillingly Similar:
https://www.dailykos.com/stories/2017/11/5/1687333/-Trump-s-Stephen-Miller-and-Hitler-s-Joseph-Goebbels-are-chillingly-similar

Global Project Against Hate And Extremism:
Project 2025: The Far-Right Authoritarian Playbook:

Heritage Foundation:
Former PPO DIrector John McEntee Joins Project 2025:

Ramen Noodle Nation: Gleichshaltung, GOP-Style:

Ramen Noodle Nation:
"Tomorrow And Tomorrow And Tomorrow Creeps" (Parts I-IV):

Salon: Donald Trump Dreams
Of An American Fourth Reich -- And He's Not Kidding:

The New York Times: Sweeping Raids,
Giant Camps, And Mass Deportations: