Wednesday, June 24, 2020

Trump Derangement Syndrome: A New Silver Lining

No, I wouldn’t claim every accident, breakdown or disaster has a silver lining. Even so, silver linings are a real thing. This year I’m noting plenty of them.

The pandemic’s silver lining is clear enough. The world can no longer avoid seeing communist China for what it is. China’s lies and its grotesque bullying after the virus went global have forced an otherwise punch-drunk West to look at Beijing's behavior through a different lens. And sane people are aghast at what they see.

As for that other grave illness now plaguing us—i.e. Trump Derangement Syndrome—I’ve recognized a new silver lining there too. I say “new” because the original TDS silver lining is of course the frenzy Trump provokes in our left. This frenzy has time and again prodded them to show their true colors. Which is good information to have.

But I’m writing today of a new or second silver lining. Namely: Seeing TDS and its effects has proved a useful warning to me never to end up there myself—never to become politically deranged.

Sure, I opposed Hillary and hated the thought of her winning. But had Hillary won, would I have enthusiastically joined my voice to every possible lie to take her down? Would I ever have cheered anything so transparently fake as Russiagate?


Hating the thought of Hillary in the White House, would I have seen those Covington Catholic adolescents bemused and smirking at the Indian man drumming in their faces, would I have seen them in those news clips and thought: “Nazis.” Would I have demonized kids for basically being kids, just because they were wearing, say, Hillary teeshirts?


Had Hillary won, would I have pretended to believe Chinese propaganda, or spread a totalitarian regime’s talking points, in hopes of shaving a few points off her approval ratings?


Would I have supported the burning and looting of American cities, the destruction of historical monuments, if only it might lead to her loss in the next election?

No, no, and no.

Thing is, most of us Trump supporters have been repeatedly mind-blown these past years to see otherwise sane friends or relatives, even supposedly well-educated people, foaming at the mouth as they spread canned, unvetted stories just to make Trump or his supporters look bad. The stuff I’ve seen has deeply impressed me. In a bad way.

TDS is real, and it is very very ugly. Some of my good friends will forever carry an ugly scar. I'll never be able to unsee how eager they were to believe or, worse, pretend to believe obvious lies. I’ll never forget the signt of them jumping to spread such lies, and later, sometimes mere days later, when the lie is entirely debunked, they still won’t retract it. Typically they're already onto the next MSM lie—hoping against hope that “This one will stick!”

But as I say, there’s a silver lining in this depressing spectacle. It’s a lesson. Watching these people, I tell myself: Never go there.

Check out my Idiocy, Ltd. and begin the long, hard reckoning.

Sunday, June 14, 2020

Voice and Noise

Sound affects me. Probably too much. The sound of a person’s voice may either attract or repulse. This has been true as long as I can remember.

It has happened many times, countless times, that what seemed an attractive woman simply opened her mouth … and whatever attraction she held was instantly snuffed. She needn’t even be speaking to me. If she’s with a friend in a cafe, at the next table, I will sometimes have to move seats.

It’s not just the texture or volume of the voice, but the manner of speech: the rhythm, diction, whatnot. All can be fetching or fatal. But mainly it’s the voice itself.

Men’s voices too, and children’s. There are men, if I had to work with them, it would be daily stress. Needless to say, working with a woman whose voice grated would be even worse. Because fact: Women talk more than men.

Among the children I teach there are some that have the loveliest voices. I don’t mean that high-pitched, innocent “child’s voice” either. Actually the opposite. A child’s voice that has timbre, a bit of resonance, is the most beautiful. My student with the fitting name Bella, now ten or so, is a delight to listen to. Her classmate Wesley too.

But also: Regardless of the person I’m with, music that annoys me can completely ruin a meal. The volume doesn’t have to be up. It just has to be trash, and audible.

And especially: Devices that speak, with their canned recorded voices, are anathema. Since they first appeared, I've seen them as a threat, a curse. Worse, there are more such devices every year. Regardless of what they say, whatever the importance of the warning, I want to smash them. And perhaps someday will.

I have never and will never talk with Siri. I’d rather not know the answer. I’d rather get lost.

Siri: that hydra-headed yet ever headless demon from Hell.

Have some deadpan with your coffee. Check out Idiocy, Ltd. Dryest humor in the west.

Saturday, June 13, 2020


Just call us CHAZ
We got the razzle-dazz
And the Raz
Our soy burgers are tops
And there ain’t no cops

With minimum battle
We done took Seattle
Just to shake your rattle
The Mayor she on board
With our kinda horde

Borders they racist
But we got fresh faces
Guarding the perimeter
With the 9 millimeter

You can do your business free
But you gotta pay the fee
Cuz we for Anarchy
For a ten percent cut
We protect your Pizza Hut

We a one-party State
Where the People dictate
And our CHAZ will never die
Till they cut the food supply

Have some deadpan with your coffee. Check out Idiocy, Ltd. Dryest humor in the west.