Nalora

Archive for January, 2013|Monthly archive page

Dancing on Graves and Other Political Grandstanding

In Politics on January 17, 2013 at 10:20 am

Ever since the horrendous tragedy of the Newtown shootings, the amount of political exploitation of the tragedy has grown to the point that decent people are in a constant state of nausea at the grotesque circus being played out on our media.  If you have not tuned out all cable news yet, this episode would be a good impetus. The worst of the worst comes from the jackass from overseas—the British Liberal Piers Morgan, who has deemed it his duty to go on a weeks-long tirade about guns in America. At this point it is obvious to most people that his continued dance on the graves of dead children has very little to do with his desire to tell Americans what to do about gun control (although he truly does wish to be King and give us an edict on it)  and more about ratings or his failing “interview” show.  I use this term loosely, because he does not actually do much “interviewing” on his show, as he does berate and belittle his guests into submission to his warped view of the world. Point in fact: Just watch his “interview” of the Dali Llama and cringe along with me.

Then yesterday we had the President, with a backdrop of exploitable kids, sign mostly benign and  truly silly executive orders, complete with emotional asides and that ever-present and ever-widening morally superior snide grin on his face, as he flourished his pen to do…absolutely nothing. All smoke and mirrors. Nothing of substance. “Feel good” measures so the ignorant masses can say “We did something” and smack another “awareness ribbon” to their chests and then blissfully go back to their lives watching  reality shows and being enlightened by Jon Stewart.  You cannot have something of substance that is completely devoid of any logic, but is merely borne out from the same emotional pablum the left is so fond of feeding its followers.

Anytime the left can use melodrama to push a political agenda they will. They are pros at it. But nothing—-nothing—-that they propose to “reduce violence” will do anything to achieve that goal, because it originates in the minds of people who have no clear or realistic understanding of the nature of man. They live in make-believe. They know what is good for us, and by golly they will shove it down our throats with great force for the “betterment of mankind”. These are the same types of people who sent thousands upon thousands to their deaths in the long history of mankind for their own personal idea of  Utopia.

And they are so contradictory. In one breath they will beg for the disarming of Americans, and in the next be begging for us to send arms to Syrian rebels fighting for their freedom. Not even making the connection that our own freedom is retained at the point of a gun. OUR guns. This is the reason behind the 2nd Amendment. We the people — the common folk out here in our homes—should actually be better armed than our own military, not less so. Because it is our own military who may be the ones we will fight against to stay free. All other freedoms that we have are protected by the second amendment.

Guns are not violence. Violence is in the minds of men. Violence is an evil thought carried out in action.

The left argues that Tony the Tiger makes children eat sugary cereal. That Ronald McDonald makes children crave fast food. That Joe the Camel makes children want to smoke cigarettes. But the bombardment of their brains by violent imagery through movies, television and video games has no effect.

Everyday we see pharmaceutical drugs advertised and aggrandized on television as the solution to everything from depression to erectile dysfunction, (with the mind-numbing droll of the announcer in the background reciting the long  list of alarming side effects). And then we medicate our children with these drugs for any and every “flavor of the month” psychiatric disorder that is being pushed by the media.

If you really want to understand the prevalence of violence in our society then let’s finally do some long term studies of the effects of psychotropic drugs and violence in the media.

 

 

 

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Zuzu’s Petals

In Real Life on January 14, 2013 at 1:06 pm

I have a lot of random thoughts that get thrashed around in my brain, usually while I am doing dishes, because it is such a mindless activity, and my brain sets about more interesting things to think about other than getting food particles off eating utensils.  It is not always that these thoughts are lofty or profound or even really above the task at hand, but merely that they apparently need mulling over.

I was thinking this morning about my sheer joy at a small latch.

For quite a few months, a cabinet in my kitchen has remained partially open due to the failure of a latch. It bugged me. Immensely. I used to tease my sister Denise because she cannot tolerate an open cabinet door. I even painted the inside of my cabinet doors with bright sunflowers so that when they are all left open, you are essentially standing in a large field of sunflowers in my kitchen. But this cabinet being open for months made me realize that I actually suffer from the same obsession as my sister. It MUST CLOSE DARNIT.  There is a scene in the movie “Its a Wonderful Life” where George Bailey comes down the stairs, and at the end of the bannister is a loose ball-cap on the post. At the beginning of the movie, in his frustration, when he reaches the loose post cap and it comes off in his hand, he slams it back into place with disgust. At the end of the movie, when he has realizes his worth, the ball cap again comes off in his hand, only this time he gives it a slobbery kiss and puts it back in his place. He then reaches in his pocket for his child’s “petals” saying “Zuzu’s petals, Zuzu’s petals!” and stares in wonder at them, as he pulls them from his pocket.  Even the broken things are sweet reminders that life is worthwhile, even tough stuff is worth the trod.

 When I find a “loose end cap” or some such object that is giving my mind fits, I often whisper under my breath: “Zuzu’s petals.” But  oh, the joy of walking into my kitchen to find the cabinet door is finally fixed!

Aaron Swartz is Dead

In Real Life on January 13, 2013 at 10:08 am

Aaron Swartz committed suicide Friday. A romantic stuck in a technological and cold world, a young man fighting windmills, at 26, I think he finally was punched in the face with the big picture, and checked out. I have thought about him a lot these last two days, read a lot of retrospectives, dry dusty journalistic *cough* write ups on the whys and wherefores. In the end I am struck not by how much he did for the interwebbies, but how typical he is of the generation who grew up and cut their teeth on technology. So wishful, that it won’t all turn out to be one big lie, but knowing it already is. Seeing the great promise of so much information, so much “connection”—that doesn’t enlighten, and doesn’t really connect.

Some say he was a martyr to the cause. The cause? Internet openness. Free Speech. Free Information. Whatever you want to call it, the big machine does not like it. He got chewed up by the big machine called Big Government. He found out that corruption is everywhere in high places and the bullies in the schoolyard grow up to be the bullies in the Department of Justice. And they win. In the end, they win. How hard it must have been for this geeky gentle soul to wake up every day being under the boot of the big and powerful and not able to truly say what he felt—to be open about it—-because it would just make the noose tighter.

But the noose tightened anyway. And now he is dead. Your tax dollars at work.

Alone Is Not Always Lonely

In Real Life on January 7, 2013 at 1:27 pm

 

I like to be alone. I like silence. I am frequently not alone when I want to be, and alone when I do not want to be. I get annoyed when I have to be with other humans in moments when I would prefer to be alone. People always seem to want something from me. I suppose it is selfish  in some way, that I feel I do not need to be the one to give whatever it is they want,  to them—Some momentary entertainment and an escape from their  loneliness, and an intrusion into my solitude.

Other people expect that you wish to be with other people, because most people do want to be with other people. Why is the song “People” done in minor keys and such a sad song? Because people who need people are not actually the luckiest people in the world. Quite the opposite, people who do NOT need other people are luckiest. Self reliance is a good thing.

I am self entertaining. I always have been, from the time I was a small child. I did not need anyone to come up with games for me to play, or things for me to do. I always came up with my own, and I still do. There is always something new to do, or read or explore. I will die knowing I have not done everything. We all do.

I get disgusted every time I hear the words “I’m bored.” escape someones lips, even more so because their audible exclamation of boredom is generally a plea that someone else do something to relieve them of their boredom, which is, in fact, just an exclamation that they are totally incapable of entertaining themselves, which is the reason behind my disgust.

I prefer to be alone. But even in my moments of being alone there is always this nagging feeling that someone needs me, or needs me to do something, and this too, makes me throw my hands up in disgust, because then I feel I am living my life for other people. And I want to live my life for me.

 

 

Thoughts that Cannot Be Expressed

In Deep Thoughts on January 6, 2013 at 7:11 pm

This is an old picture of my mother, setting one of my father’s radio control planes in place before he takes it into the sky for a spin. It is in my parent’s happy days, when they were first married. Possibly taken in Germany, I am not sure. The photo is under glass now, on a desk I use for sewing mostly, and I glance down and see it every day.

I had a thought surrounding this photo, and I tried to express it to my sister today as we sat and had a nice lunch together, but failed miserably. I told her finally after sputtering about it for the greater part of an hour, that this is why people write poetry. There are just some thoughts that cannot be expressed in flat words of a conversation.

It had to do with lives lived out in quiet anonymity. Of no real importance to anyone, yet part of the overall history of the world, and the people in it. Those quiet memories, preserved only in the minds of two people, now long dead, were significant to them, were kept and thought upon, during rainy days or moments of solitude—and they are lost to us now, what little we know of them is fading, like old photographs.

And my mind in the moment I thought that, as I looked down on the picture of my mother, suddenly thought of the grandness of all the lives lived and interwoven somehow into some tapestry of fine detail, and it too, fades with the passage of time, although threads are continually added to it….

Just a thought. That cannot be expressed.

Melodies, Songs and Music in my Head

In Real Life on January 5, 2013 at 2:04 pm

I often have a song in my head. Sometimes it is pleasant, and is just musical accompaniment to my day. Sometimes it is generally annoying as it goes round and round non-stop in some maniacal musical refrain to life. Often it is brought on by some word or phrase that is spoken that begs my brain to reply with a musical interlude.

I wish that I had spent more time learning–really learning— classical music. I listen to classical music every day, and have since oh, 1984 or so. I had this wild idea that I would teach my brain to recognize pieces of classical music in the same way my brain recognizes pop music.  My brain said no. Oh, there are a few pieces that I know and can spout off the composer and the piece. But they are the usual pieces known to just about everyone. Beethoven’s 5th, Pachelbel’s Canon in D, etc.

Even more so, I would have liked to have learned the Operas. I enjoy Opera so very much, but if asked to place a particular song with a particular opera, I am at a loss. It is all just beautiful music….in my head.

Little Dumplings of Genius

In Real Life on January 3, 2013 at 6:02 pm

I like quotations. I save a lot of them to a file I started sometime in oh…1993 or so. Other people like them too, because there are hundreds of books of quotations, and of course there are many web sites that are dedicated to them. I have always thought it was interesting that we spot genius in these short succinct tidbits of truth. Dumplings of Genius.  How do we recognize this thought as genius if we do not already have some basic knowledge of that truth in us?

That strikes me as profound.

That strikes me as true.

Is it like a hammer of a bell that rings with a clear tone of truth in some inner mechanism in our brains?

So I leave you with this favorite quote:

“In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. “

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Preserved To Death

In Coffee Fueled Rants on January 2, 2013 at 11:53 am

So, I finally realized what is causing me to have this serious rash. Months and months of suffering, research, worry and it turns out I am allergic to a substance used in soaps, conditioners, etc. called Methylchloroisothiazolinone. As I eliminate it…or try to, from my life, I find it EVERYWHERE!  It is in my dish soap. (Dawn) It is in my shampoo. (Suave). It is in BABY WIPES!

I am now on a crusade to get this product BANNED in the United States. It already is banned in Canada for use in cosmetics. I am NOT a “jump on the bandwagon” fear mongering organic nut, but I am seriously going organic or close to it with regards to my soaps etc.

The number one thing this EVIL stuff is used in is ANTI-BACTERIAL SOAPS and that ilk. We are killing those little bacteria alright, but killing ourselves right along with them.

I found a page online that shows some of the products with and without. I am cleaning house. Bye Bye Evil awful stuff that has been killing me long enough!!

Fresh Resolves and All That Rot

In Real Life on January 1, 2013 at 9:25 am

It  would be nice if I could keep a resolve I make every year to write more in my online blog. I write a great deal in my offline journals, I suppose because that is a lifelong habit. I still have unfinished drafts of posts I meant to make sitting in the bin, their thoughts lost in my own personal trash-heap of history.

But, again I Do make that resolve and we shall see what that and 10 cents buys us. Certainly not a cup of coffee. My resolve is that even if it is merely a sentence, I shall write everyday. For a year. Yupper.

It is cold today and the sky is grey. My sister Milly is having her usual New Year’s Brunch, and I will be thinking of her and my family, but I will not be attending. I am a recluse. A hermit. I do not like crowds, even if they are filled with loving family members. I prefer being alone in blissful silence. It is not that I do not love them all, it is just that I have always felt out of place in crowds, and more so now that I am older. Every year the tendency towards avoidance of all human contact grows stronger.

I have also decided that if I need to write multiple posts in a day, even if one is just a one sentence rant that only I understand I will do that. I have, in the past, held back on such things, because I think I am spamming my Facebook with needless falderol, or I  discard the thought as not important enough to share, or too weird for words, or possibly repugnant to anyone reading it.

So that is it. I will write more this year.

You have been warned.