(The Ugly American was a best selling novel of the late fifties. It detailed blundering and arrogance in the US diplomatic service ini Southeast Asia, and its message is completely relevant today)
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David Brooks is just plain smart and a sensible conservative. In Friday’s New York Times he published an op/ed piece entitled: “It Isn’t Just Trump. America’s Whole Reputation Is Shot.”
This is not just a Trump problem; America’s whole reputation is shot. I don’t care if Abraham Lincoln himself walked into the White House in 2029, no foreign leader can responsibly trust a nation that is perpetually four years away from electing another authoritarian nihilist.
David Brooks
The article rings both sad and gut-wrenchingly true. My advice would be not to read it unless you have a strong cup of coffee at hand and your affairs in order. As for me, I have no intention of letting the sonofabitches just walk away with my America and I plan on being as big a pain in their ass as possible.
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From The New Yorker
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Every once in a while I place several versions of the same song on these pages just because I find them interesting. God’s Gonna Cut You Down is one of those. Basically it promises that even though “the long-tongued liar, midnight rider, rambler, gambler, and backbiter” may seem successful today, eventually they are due for a celestial kneecapping.
Since I personally know several people who I feel roundly deserve such attention from God, I find that the song has a comforting message. My hope is that I live long enough to see it happen, on a blue-sky day where I have a front row seat and a big box of popcorn.
It goes without saying that I hope the Deity doesn’t get around to my particular sorts of sins and my own exposed kneecaps, but focusses on those of others.
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Okay, I’m going to ask quite a bit of you in this next section. While wandering in the internet dreamscape (nightmarescape?), I came across a longer video. Against my will I watched it, because my natural inclination is to never watch a video more than 17 seconds long. I find that my personal attention span cannot be stretched further than this without mental pain, and I avoid that like the plague.
But the video purported to discuss some of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s work, and he is a hero of mine. Hero because he stood against Naziism when it meant his life, for he was hanged in a Nazi concentration camp. So I endured the discomfort, and mirabile dictu, was rewarded greatly.
The video is about a theory of stupidity, and at the end of it I said smugly to myself: Well, that explains a lot about _________ ! Now I get it!
And then, I thought (again to myself because who wants to get caught thinking about anything deep and thus becoming a terrible bore) – wait – could what I have just learned apply to me as well? Could I … cough … grumble … gasp … possibly … be stupid as well?
Unfortunately all I had to do was to review any week of my life to get the answer to my own question. The most gracious interpretation that I could come up with was it seemed that my own lengthy stupid periods were interrupted, however briefly, by rational thinking. But still …
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(Bonhoeffer said some good stuff. Here’s one that fits well with the present-day)
Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless.
Not to speak is to speak.
Not to act is to act.Dietrich Bonhoeffer
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The past week the weather has been extraordinary. The temperature yesterday peaked at 63 degrees. I stared at my three snow shovels leaning against the inside garage wall, and wondered if I should store them out in the small shed to get them from underfoot. And then I thought: Fool! Dunderhead! You would ignore Life’s Axiom #42?
“Whatsoever thou puttest away in a hard to get at place, verily thou wilt need it immediately thereafter.”
So they are still leaning against the wall, occasionally sliding down to where one could trip on them. Perhaps in July sometime …
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From The New Yorker
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Around 0100 some wet snow falling caught Poco out when he was attending to Nature’s call in the back yard. He returned through the pet door as indignant as an 18 year old cat can be. Which when one has the vocal gifts that Poco can lay claim to, is quite the racket.
I happened to be awake, and sprang into action before the noise he was making woke my bride up. Never a good thing, that. Robin takes such an event personally, and since I am the only other human around to blame … you can see why rapid action is the only course to take. I shushed Poco, rounded up something for him to eat, and brought him into my office, where he calmed down.
Poco is a very vocal animal. He has several mewling and meows that we have come to recognize:
- Food, I want food!
- I am not feeling well, and within fifteen seconds I am going to throw right up on this rug
- I am going to the litter box now (Lord knows why he needs to announce this)
- There is an interloper (strange cat) on the deck outside the kitchen door, threatening entry
- You are about to sit on part of my anatomy, usually a foot or my tail. Take care
Sometimes he will converse. He catches your eye and meows something whose content is a mystery. You answer “Sorry, old fellow, I don’t know what you want.” He answers. You say something again. He answers. And on and on, with him always having the last meow.
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Little Home In The Valley 