Every once in a while, when I get more than my usual share of responses and on a whim, I decide to post one or part of my subscription emails. Here’s the most recent.

LET US PLAY A GAME CALLED WHAT IF

What if we all pretended to know but didn’t? What if the greenhouse gases were warming the planet? What if the warming of the planet also, as a tangential side effect, also warmed the seas? What if the warming of the seas were also killing our coral reefs? What if the warming of the coral reefs were killing…

As previously mentioned, I publish two e-zines. I have decided to, every once in a while, share one of my diatribes. That said, here goes.

As regards the title of this piece, I bought one the other day because I was unable to find — at the moment that I needed it — a different publisher on the topic I wanted. I did find one later. There’s much to be said about the
perils of impatience. That aside, perhaps it would have been better
if they called it Books For First Class Schmucks. I have trouble
imagining a world that identifies itself with those titles. Yeah
yeah. Gimme one. I’m an idiot. Here. Certification from the state
avowing to my stupidity. Ta rah rah boom dee yay, I’m just a putz
today . . .

I publish two weekly newsletters every week and send them out to my subscribers. This one below got some interesting comments so I thought I would pass it on.

This little crisis of ours has, in its unique way, made great savants and scholars and intellectuals of more of us that I would have ever thought possible. I watch the riots. Whaddya mean wear masks? We don’t need masks you mentally deficient species of nincompoop. Masks are for fools. You say you don’t want to go to the movies with me? Too risky? What risky you cretinous portion of bull’s…

9/18/2020.

The Ballad of East and West

I publish a weekly e-zine entitled Tidbits. This coming week’s issue contains one stanza of a poem by Rudyard which strikes home for me when I consider our political climate. Here is the first stanza. Consider the date in which it was written. And consider today’s times. Hope you enjoy.

Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936)


OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!

Mark Twain

I now know, without question, what it takes to be a successful author. I just read the Mark Twain believed in telepathy to the point that he worried about unintentional telepathic plagiarism. So, you may all wonder, what wisdom did I glean from this bit of information that will surely lead me one day to fame and wealth? In order to be a prosperous and triumphant writer my friends, all you have to do is be completely out of your effing skull. Mad a loon will do fine.

In a moment of utter frustration, I sent this note to some friends the other day. And so today, as a gesture of pure amity, I pass it on to you.

Whilst I sit upon my throne, I ponder life’s foibles. Is it a terrible thing to grow old? No. It is nature’s way. Is it a terrible thing to lose some of the ability of one’s youth? No. It is nature’s way. Is it bad to lose a bit of one’s memory? No. It is nature’s way. Is it a bad thing to make notes to help you remember? No. It is nature’s way. But shit. When I start forgetting where I placed those reminder notes of mine, well then, ol’ nature can kiss my aging ass.