Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
As September bows and moves out of the limelight, the NY Times announces in an editorial that they support Kamala Harris for President in 2024.
Part of me shrugged. It’s considered a liberal paper; many will dismiss its opinion. Another voice in me said, “No, this is good. It will help the Undecided make a choice.” Maybe, I replied. Easier understanding my cats’ meows than it is to follow the Undecided’s reasoning sometimes.
The NY Times invoked some of the Undecided’s reasoning. Kamala Harris is not being specific enough in her plans and policies, they complain.
Trump supporters will pull out the pieces of good the paper cites for Trump and say, “See? Even that librul rag says Trump was good.”
“In particular, he broke decades of Washington consensus and led both parties to wrestle with the downsides of globalization, unrestrained trade and China’s rise. His criminal-justice reform efforts were well placed, his focus on Covid vaccine development paid off, and his decision to use an emergency public health measure to turn away migrants at the border was the right call at the start of the pandemic”.
They’ll dismiss where the NYT opines, “Yet even when the former president’s overall aim may have had merit, his operational incompetence, his mercurial temperament and his outright recklessness often led to bad outcomes. Mr. Trump’s tariffs cost Americans billions of dollars. His attacks on China have ratcheted up military tensions with America’s strongest rival and a nuclear superpower. His handling of the Covid crisis contributed to historic declines in confidence in public health, and to the loss of many lives. His overreach on immigration policies, such as his executive order on family separation, was widely denounced as inhumane and often ineffective.”
The NY Times then continues to tear Trump a new editorial asshole over his many failures.
Trump supporters will disagree about those.
In the end, it’s a recommendation and much of it is about how Trump is unfit to be President. As the Times announced in 2016.
And even back then, someone demanded in the comments to the Times 2016 recommendation, “But why should someone vote for Clinton? Simply because she’s “not Trump?” She flipflops more than most politicians (just in the last year or so: Keystone pipeline, TPP, gay marriage). She’s consistent only on one thing: She never met a Middle East war she didn’t like, a Middle East war that she thinks the US should steer clear of — and yet her supporters have the audacity to insist that Trump would be more “dangerous.” If Clinton were President right now, we’d probably have ground troops in Libya and Syria, and maybe even the Ukraine. How that qualifies her as the “peace” candidate escapes me.”
For many, the dilemma remains strangely unchanged despite the history of Trump’s relentless lying, criminal convictions, flipflopping, weird and bizarre statements and behavior, and Project 2025.
And that’s the problem we still face as a nation.
Play the taps. It’s that time. Another tee shirt is being retired.
The apparel in focus is a black tee shirt with Michael Schumacher in an F1 Ferrari in the rain at Spa. Bought in 1996. Not so much that I’m a Ferrari or Schumacher fan — I was rooting for Damon Hill in the Williams — but I liked the shirt’s colors and action. Its style.
I wore it for playing racquetball. Used to play three or four times a week back in the you know. Then it became part of casual Friday work clothes while toiling for start-ups. Spent the last ten years as yard work uniform and then sleepwear.
I’ve gotten my use out of it.
One underarm yawns with a huge hole. Otherwise fine. The hole appalls my wife, who is sensitive about worn clothing.
I won’t throw the tee away. Sentimental attachment. It’ll join a few other aged worn tees in my bottom drawer. Let ’em toss ’em after the flames feast on my body.
Mood: Postsunday
Proceeded through the morning essentials. Complained to Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) about the stench of some of his essential. Both floofs begged release from the house to the rear yard. I headed out with them.
September 30. 2024. Monday. Cold autumn morning. Even the rising solar orb gave a little shiver. Cats sought sunshine arrangements for grooming. I launched back into the house, thinking, cold now but will cap at the mid to upper 80s F today. No clouds effing with today’s blue, either.
This is it. September’s last shout. Like other months this year, September of this year will be able to brag to historians about disasters, politics, and violence. History will give it a glance and reply, more of the same but intensifying. Probably ask, “Couldn’t the people see the direction they were heading? Did they not give a fuck to try to change it?” We’ll defensively huddle together and reply, “Well, it’s complicated.” If MAGAs and the GOP ever emerge from their holes of irresponsibility and weirdness and wash the cult off, will they be able to understand how they contributed?
The Neurons offer a slice of song from the South Pacific musical: “Gonna wash that cult right out of my hair and send it on its way. Get the picture?” I thank them for the mild snicker they induce.
Moving on to music, thoughts about waiting and patience impell The Neurons to move on from “Bali Hair” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking) because they kept on going with South Pacific tunes (once they’re on something) to a 2003 Audioslave song. The melancholy rock song, “Like A Stone”, is about waiting for the afterlife, patiently at that, where they’ll hope to be reconnected with someone. Doesn’t purely translate to today’s situation ‘cept for that idea of patiently waiting for some of this mess of 2024 to clear up, patiently waiting, as it’s sung, like a stone.
Be positive, patient, and strong. Test neggy and lean forward. Vote blue. Coffee has washed down the breakfast components. Here’s the music part of the post. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 