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Saturday, March 12, 2005
FASTER, P.T.! Were P.T. Barnum, the celebrated circus and carnival tycoon, be saying "there's a sucker born every minute!" today he would find his estimate of gullible persons waiting eagerly to be fooled to be far short of his "wild"guess-timate made years ago. He could, perhaps, discard use of the allusion to the hour hand on his watch and use the minute hand with sixty seconds as a better guide line in deciding how many numskulls are born in any time today. The most evident sign of such ineptness on the mental state of the American public is the nature of the television programs watched; the nature of the news events followed so avidly in print and on the tube thinking all that is there to be important, and then, too, the warped values we tend to retain and accept as being laudable to form the basis of our everything living. The farce being dragged before a world-wide audience today features a fading Michael Jackson in a loosely connected series of events which seems to have accomplished only one thing thus far - that being a modicum of success in making our judicial system appear to be a sham operated by a weak set of fumbling functionaries. Jackson, by means of carefully orchestrated, council-guided actions has disrupted the court proceedings, caused costly delays and made tangently appended points to seem important.The court responds with some distant thunder, no lightning and no downfall of any kind. Then, on the very day his accuse is to divulge this evidence against him, Jackson, the defendant, turns up an hour late, dressed in his pajamas with a coat thrown over his haggard , paid-racked body, as he steps gingerly into the courtroom area. TV made full use of every foot of coverage showing that entry as runs and re-runs,. It threatened to become overdone, but out of far-off Atlanta, Georgia a new story of the murder of a Superior Court Judge and several deputies which served well as a replacement for the Jackson run on. . No doubt, the networks would have had to revert to re runs of the Martha Stewart house arrest, an interruption for which Martha should be most appreciative. The Georgia story took much of the shimmer from the Jackson performance. His show had pretty well took over for the early part off the day and viewers found out what the accuser said on the late night summaries before Jay Leno took over. Georgia's murder story and twenty-seven hour man hunt which followed held off Jackson re-runs and this will give people time forget how forlorn the dancing star has become and to ponder what they mean by saying he is now on a "suicide watch" night and day. That's the angle to be worked tomorrow, perhaps, or is that too logical for the Jackson story? We are witnessing just one of the many factor dictating the demise at home TV as we know it today. The Dan Rather departure is indicative of a move away from bulk handling of the news by designated pundits. Watch for "channels" to go next and "on order TV" will follow soon. A. L. M. March 12, 2005 [c543wds]
Friday, March 11, 2005
AND MORE... As if I were not sufficiently occupied being baffled by "matter", I now find I'm supposed to be concerned as to what "antimatter" might be! It sounds simple enough. "Anti" means against, doesn't it? So - antimatter would be something which is opposed to matter, right? But, that sounds too much like a description of nothing - vacuity - and that wouldn't do at all, would it? Antimatter is closely related to antiparticles, which might be easier to imagine. Think of things such as electrons and protons, to start with. They are identical, I'm told, except for the fact that each contains an electrical charge which is the opposite of the other. When such subatomic particles come in contact with each other, they explode and their collision produces a sudden spurt of energy. And, somewhere along in there is where they lose me. I will simply go right on accepting the stated fact that "Star Wars" gigantic space craft move from here to forever by such a handy-dandy means of propulsion. I will take geek-word terminology with a grain of saline solution and go right on wondering how we can expect go on slamming atoms against each other to keep our space fleet afloat without upsetting the equa-positive relationships needed to keep our Earth-cart wheeling along at its customary apple-wagon speed. I find I am not entirely alone in this having some little doubts and questionings about the a few things our science-fiction writers scribble half-way into being for-real and, oh, so eminent. One panelist of the Physical Society of Maryland has been quoted as having said: "Anybody who tells you that it will one day power (our) space craft is trying to sell you something." I feel some such word of caution are necessary in planning what our extravagant dreams might entail. I've heard older folks warn us that in using Nature's methodologies, as we are gradually learning to do more and more, we are, indeed, as they so quaintly put it: "... are messin' with the makin's! We'd best move with care. In some way antimatter might matter more than we think it does... whatever it is. A.L.M. March 11, 2005 [c373wds]
Thursday, March 10, 2005
HIPPO HYPE That ponderous pile of moving, gray leather, the hippopotamus, has been getting a bad press of late. The commonly shared shred of a twisted snippet in print of late, has, all of a sudden, bounced off at once by longer radio and TV versions: it seems to have been found that the hippo is the world's greatest killer of mankind. It's not quite true. It appears to have started with a factual article in the "National Geographic" publications area where it was clearly stated that "in Africa"- mind that locale designation -"the elephants, rhinos, buffaloes and hippos, all widely viewed as rather gentle, well-mannered vegetarians - kill more people than better know man eaters." A quotation of that nature, repeated with no end in sight, gives way too much alteration as it is printed and re-printed, and even more so when it is said and re-said radio and TV. So we had a sudden thought thrust upon us which said the hippo was a major offender. Logic tells, us that the meat eaters - lions among them, who kill to eat and stay alive, would be,far and away, more aggressive predators. They are the various cats which sustain the genre of jungle movies. The hippo, as with the rhino, is said to have exceedingly poor eyesight and that, together with it's rather ungainly posture and stumbling gait, it could well be that they, in defending themselves against poorly seen antagonists, might have leaned rather heavily on fragile offenders and mashed them into oblivion. There's more than one way to kill a a marauding biped. As I looked back through the storm of recent references to the hippo as a major killer of Man, I found the current story seemed to have started from such a serious article. I think much depended on what stock photos are available at the moment and how to spell hippopotamus as opposed to rhino because because, to me, the rhino appears to be more vicious with that big horn at the ready in Wal-Mart size and style -"always". I'm not planning to have any business with either one of them anytime soon, but, in case you come across upon that wayward story - take up for the maligned hippo. Goodness knowns the hippo has enough natural features to over-qualify for major make-over job from some generous zoo tycoon. Life is nothing but reality for any acknowledged veggies in this fast-food, carnivorous world of ours. A.L.M. March 10, 2005 [c427wds]
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
THEN... As a general rule people are very considerate and even hesitate a bit before asking older people - straight out - "how things were it the olden days?" Most of us don't feel as old as we really are; or at least we don't like to be reminded of it. That's not because of accumulated years,either. We are, for the most part, glad we have lived so long. We, when abruptly asked for an evaluation of years past are reminded of serious questions we have worried about for years. Among them, one that is very serious: "All those years!"( we are being told.) "All those years, and so little accomplished!" It takes time for some people to realize that the past is now. It is not something you can package up or toss aside lightly. It is, rather, something you use and re-use even when you think it gone. We condense, meld, mutate and remeasure or re-evaluate those elements which were good and try to make up for those which were bad. There are no strict "cut off"ooints along the way. You will remain forever, what you have been. So, when someone lightly requests that you share with them "how things were in the good old days" all you can do is tell them how wonderful life seemed to be when you were young; tell them about all the latest, newest inventions we saw come into being - so common now as to seem petty and even - many of them- worthless. You are, in a very real sense, parroting back to them exactly what they want to hear. If they think the olden days as being dull they will pick up on every quality you touch upon which strengthens their belief in that which they, themselves, are -at that moment- dreaming. They are seeking proof of you that their ideas are superior and trustworthy. They will look at your wishes, hopes and plans, and skillfully make them appear as mere trifles as they look into brighter than ever future of their very own. We worried about travel across the space between a town and a town ; they worry about travel across space between a planet and a planet! They are pretty much the same with a variation in distances involved, speed and them actual means of getting it done. I think most old people have moments when they look back over the lives as having been total failures. They look back at all the things which seemed to be an invitations for opportunity and advancement. They recall actions they took at the time, or did not take. They remember what they did about such challenges and wonder , if they had done otherwise, if things would have been better. Think of this way with me. When young people ask for information about the "good old days,of just "the old days","when you were young", or pre-something or other - such as pre-War, pre-Depression, pre-Fast Food times, pre-TV -any such "mark" I try to tell i straight. Yet, even as I recount what we might have done, said or thought, I realize I am making a verbal line-drawing of it all and filling in with the colors - and with much of the substance - of my own youthful dreams, aspirations and desires. As I said several paragraphs earlier: You remain, forever, what you have been. A.L.M. March 9, 2005 [c579wds]
Tuesday, March 08, 2005
CONSIDERING...It’s true. Considering the shape they are in, most of the world’s the nations and states get along rather well together. Italy, a sure attention getter, has always appeared to be enjoying having just given someone a good, swift kick in the rear end. Sicily, maybe? Could have been. When Italy was known as Rome, as in “Roman Empire”, and she she pretty well cleaned up on just about all the worthy nations of her time. In more modern time which some of us remember, Italy – with “Il Duce” Mussolini footing the boot’s power - tried kicking some smaller nations such as Albania, across a neighboring sea, and Hailer Selassie’ s Ethiopia-Abyssinia to the south on the African continent. They both kicked back. Most of the world’s nations and smaller states appear to be more like blobs of real estate stuck out in the middle of nowhere but some seem to have a distinctive shape of their own. Two of our states-unitedr hand guns of some sort. They each have historical backgrounds in which gun play was used to push some one else to agree, I'm sure. Take a closer look at that one l-l-ong county at the far western end of Oklahoma - the gun barrel portion It's called "Harris County", I think and you can't tell me that that strip of land wasn't a sore spot at one time. Look at it on the map; a long piece of geography sticking out between Kansas on the north and Texas on the south side, poking a nasty hole in the northeastern corner of New Mexico and scarfing off a passel of Colorado acres in a wide turn back to Oklahoma the solid hunk of OK land. I find it easy to imagine numerous incidents taken place in that gun barrel end of OK . Michigan looks like a mitten. Some call it a glove; others like the term "hand". Surrounded, save on the south by Great Lakes waters. Mittens are worn when one is working and Michigan has long been a [productive state and will continue to be so. You may not have noticed that the hand is held high as if taking an oath of some sort. My own state of Virginia as a triangle and it is true that part of it is missing. Only a triangle portion of the state remains stretched from the Atlantic Ocean to a western point which is farther west than Detroit, Michigan. Only Virginia lost land in the Civil War settlement - one-half or better of its total expanse. From Mannas as through Appomattox, Virginia was an active theater of operations. A triangle shape is fitting for designation of that which remains. Read your outline maps. See what you can read into the shape of the world today. A.L.M. March 8, 2005 [c498wds]
Monday, March 07, 2005
RIGHT ALWAYS One cannot deal only in perfections. There is no absolutely correct way of doing any act without allowing a single flaw in that subtle quality which sets the act apart from all others and devoid of error any kind. It has a flaw in the very fact that it has been set apart as being different and, hence, unlike the pattern on which it was supposed to have been built. Somewhere along the line, someone made a mistake and omitted something or appended something which made the result - however satisfying - vary from that which it was supposed to be. Ideas, formulations, connectives, plans, ideas and entire programs planned with trained, experienced workers involving hundreds of men and women of all types, sizes, beliefs and racial backgrounds will incorporate that which each individual may have considered to have been true at the moment of involvement. They have as many versions of essential details as do many actual witnesses on highway accidents. Truth is often not in them. The truths demanded of such witnesses comes forth colored and converted. That which each witness thinks he saw take place is splattered all over the twisted, contorted fragments of memories for each fraction of a second of the time involved for them to exist. The precise truth demanded is fragmentary, at best and elements of haste, standards of morality, poor judgmental abilities, even physical and mental competency compromising may harm ones ability to make decisions and evaluations. Being designated as an actual, on-site witness may well cause some persons natural efforts guard against any future actions and detailed grueling on all possible variations. I just recently heard an attorney say at so many actual, on-site witnesses testify,largely, to what they are so sure they think they saw take place. At times it can be shown to be inaccurate; and, at best, it proves very little. We are, quite often, intent on parading our own veracity. I rather dread the time just ahead when we will be seeing Saddam Hussein tried in a court of law. We will be subjected to a tremendous amount of first-hand witnesses testimony and much of it will be questionable. No two politically-oriented person have ever seen any war in the same light; as is evident by our continuing, post-election bickering here at home. "Truth will tell" perhaps, but how can we be sure who is telling the truth? A.L.M. March 7, 2005 [c415wds]
Sunday, March 06, 2005
ON BEING BRAVE The TV shows dealing with displays of bravery are, to me, sickening in their timidity. Imagine a grown person eating worms! Kids have done it for years - worms, bugs, and have been a big item with the aborigine outbacker Down Under - people who have, for centuries, have considered such items as a favorite take-out or fast-food favorite. Many of us have consumed more maggots in meat and mealy bug in flour than we would care to be think about... fried, baked, boiled perhaps , or souped or sandwiched! What's demanding of persons as to be asked to consume a hunk of proteins in whatever form they may be presented? It' s all been done before and once you get your head pressures adjusted just right you can do it as well as anyone, that is - anyone who cares to do it. Hairy human castaways on a mysterious islands are about as scary as yelling "Boo" at Halloween time, especially, when a staff seventeen camera men, gaffers, holders, lighters, dunkers, color changers, gofers, bulb and battery technicians, tweaker s of all types of, transportation people, makeup crafter and a mountain of equipment needed to film whatever the castaway are scheduled to be supposed to be doing. Where is the man among them who could, in real life, do what man y face as daily work. I once knew a man named Thaddeus Frappes. He was not a large man, nor were his three brothers.. They were of average build and he was our local a smithy, did what fancier-named "farriers" do today - fitted horses with iron footwear. They required shoes after macadamized roads came into use. He, mainly work horses but some family one an d a few racing specimen. He worked mainly with work horses, a few family coach, cart,and buggy pullers expected to do well on either our regular or improved roadways. The had to wear iron shoes and all one had to do to fit such feet was to walk up to that mountain of muscle,hide and horsehair standing there with alert eyes rolling uneasily among strangers. The subject horse was taut, apprehensive. The man's job was simple enough: to step forward, turn his back to the questing eyes; pick the horse's front foot; tuck it between your knees with pads up an wonder if and when the animal's kick would come alive. The appendage you held fast was a muscled mussel. Thadaeous sensed the movement of the muscles and held fast. He subdue the will of a horse and contrary to his actions muttered soothing word and other sounds of assurance as he did his work. He filed and scraped the hoof with heavy rasps and sharp goads. We believed it when he said it actually did not hurt the animal; more of the motions and grasping and as soon as the hoof surface was smooth enough, and any rock fragment picked out, the Smithy used tongs and fitted a hot iron shoe to the foot and hammered the iron to fit. He drove heavy nails though the soft and cooling iron shoe which was toe a part of the horse for a long time if he did his job well. Horses, as you know, have four legs so Thaddeus Eppes had to do that little trick three more times. He picked them up without pausing, did the others with his back toward the horse as he scraped and hammered away. Had the horse realized it any one of them could have sent most such blacksmith to iron shop heaven or hell with a single kick. The hind legs were the heavy artillery horses held for their end game. Any one of them could have sent Eppes to hardware heaven or hell. He never faltered, never hesitated, never showed the least sign of fear. He was a brave man. He went about his work, humming a tune, at times and often talking to, and I'm convinced with, the horses. A.L.M March 6, 2005 [c677wds]
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