“The great American pastime is no longer baseball. Now it’s sanctimony.”
Hill, Nathan. The Nix: A novel (p. 284). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY FEDERICA
TODAY FROM AMERICA:
A. POOKIE’S ADVENTURES IN EL DORADO HILLS:
Rain rain go away
come again when I say.
Pookie wants to laugh and play
So please please come again another day.
The problem with rain in the Golden Hills is that it either hangs around too long or cannot be found when you need it. The constant series of storms have forced me to remain indoors and read or stare out the window. The good thing is I no longer feel like road kill. I can eat and drink almost normally now. Hooray for me.
The rain has stopped falling for a few hours. The sun peeks in and out among the cloud mountains.
The results of the CT-scan show the tumor is barely, if at all, noticeable. Good for me. Hooray again. I have a few more examinations to go through between now and May with at least three doctors before I know more. However, since I was originally diagnosed with stage 4 throat cancer I may already be dead and not know it yet. Meanwhile, the various side effects of the treatment continue to slowly ebb.
I have lost about 40 pounds and my wrinkled and sagging skin makes me look like a lizard or, with my big ears, a little like Gollum. I wonder about those advertisements for various creams and things that are supposed to mitigate the “heartbreak” of flabby wrinkled lizard skin after weight loss — to me, I think I look kind of cute.
The sun has finally come out for more that a few hours in the day. In fact, it has lasted for almost a week now. I would normally be quite happy, unfortunately, SWAC is due to arrive today and that has driven us all into a more somber mood than would be expected from the return of the sunshine.
A few weeks have gone by. The sun has shined down on the Golden Hills more often than not. I feel good some days and not so good and equal amount of the time. Dick has left for a 10 day trip to Thailand. HRM, SWAC and I remain in El Dorado Hills, turning on and off the sprinkler system, putting out the garbage and attending to the daily maintenance of the home that Dick usually attended to.
B. NEWS STRAIGHT OR SLIGHTLY BENT:
Having little to do and finding fatigue and despondency condemns me to spend the most of my day (and evening, and often during the dregs of the night) reading. And of course generally searching for something entertaining and enthralling enough to occupy my time.
It is often difficult to explain to others what someone finds good or entertaining.
Among movies perhaps my favorite of all time is The Princess Bride followed by something called Radioactive Dreams. The first of course often can be found on various lists of 100 best or favorite movies. The second, Radioactive Dreams is on no one’s list of best movies, except for mine of course. In fact, I think the only copy of it in existence is owned by some German media company.
It has been over two weeks since I wrote the above paragraph. I now no longer remember what I was going to write about to follow up on that beginning. I think that means I have spent enough time on this post and it is time to move on.
‘Fishing villages might have appeared on the coasts of Indonesian Islands as early as 45,000 years ago.’
Harari, Yuval Noah. Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind (p. 48). HarperCollins.
NOTE: This is 35,000 years before settled agricultural villages first appeared in the Middle-east.
A. Trenz Pruca’s Observations:
Destiny is simply an issue of quantum dynamics. It happens when it happens, no sooner and no later so, there is no need to worry, shit happens all the time.
B. Today’s Poem:
I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city,
Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name!
Now I see what there is in a name, a word, liquid, sane, unruly, musical, self-sufficient;
I see that the word of my city is that word up there,
Because I see that word nested in nests of water-bays, superb, with tall and wonderful
Rich, hemm’d thick all around with sailships and steamships—an island sixteen
Numberless crowded streets—high growths of iron, slender, strong, light, splendidly
uprising toward clear skies;
Tide swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,
The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the
The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the ferry-boats, the black
The down-town streets, the jobbers’ houses of business— the houses of business of
ship-merchants, and money-brokers—the river-streets;
Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week;
The carts hauling goods—the manly race of drivers of horses—the brown-faced
The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds
The winter snows, the sleigh-bells—the broken ice in the river, passing along, up or
with the flood tide or ebb-tide;
The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form’d, beautiful-faced, looking you
in the eyes;
Trottoirs throng’d—vehicles—Broadway—the women—the shops and
The parades, processions, bugles playing, flags flying, drums beating;
A million people—manners free and superb—open voices—hospitality—the
courageous and friendly young men;
The free city! no slaves! no owners of slaves!
The beautiful city, the city of hurried and sparkling waters! the city of spires and
The City nested in bays! my city!
The city of such women, I am mad to be with them! I will return after death to be with
The city of such young men, I swear I cannot live happy, without I often go talk, walk,
drink, sleep, with them!
by Walt Whitman
“There’s a lot to be said about merely having a hazy idea of what’s going on but generally reaching the right outcome by following broad policy outlines. In fact, I’ve a sneaky suspicion that it’s the only way of getting things done. Once the horror and unpredictability of unintended consequences gets a hold, even the best-intentioned and noblest of plans generally descend to mayhem, confusion, and despair.”
Fforde, Jasper. The Woman Who Died a Lot: A Thursday Next Novel (p. 33). Penguin Publishing Group.
This is a continuation of my overlong views on a period of history that has always interested me. What I call the first centuries, from 300 BC to 300 AD. A period during which a peculiar belief system developed that altered history for the following 2000 years.
The empire strikes back.
As a general rule, empire to the Romans was just business. What people believed, or how they behaved or dressed had little interest to them as long as it did not disturb the peace or interfere with commerce. Alas, in Jerusalem and the surrounding areas of Judea the warring sects especially the Zealots (The Sicarii faction was the Isis of the time) had finally tried their patience.
In two campaigns, one in about 70AD and the other in 132 AD the Romans destroyed Herod’s Temple and drove the Jews out of Israel.
The Romans realized that the turmoil in Judea while directed at their occupation unlike in other parts of the Levant and Syrian Saddle was exacerbated by the wrangling over the Temple. Issues such as who should be the proper chief priest could cause riots. Since the temple itself as far as the Romans were concerned was something built by their creature Herod, I suspect that in addition to its destruction being a punishment they also believed that its removal would eliminate some of the conflicts among the Jews themselves. So in about 70 AD, they destroyed Herod’s temple.
It did not work, so in I36 after putting down a rebellion by Bar Kokhaba, they removed the Jews from Jerusalem.
After the dust had settled most of the squabbling sects disappeared, along with the Jesus church leaving only Pauline Christianity and Rabbinic Judaism to continue their disputes in other areas until at the end of the first centuries Constantine declared a particular syncretic form of Pauline Christianity (centered intellectually primarily in Egypt) the winner over not just its competing sects but Judaism and paganism as well.