Sunday, September 17, 2017

"They" Were Happy

My high school class had a mini-reunion yesterday, fried chicken and barbeque and sweet tea, with desserts from home. I live at the far western edge of the Research Triangle, so far that just past me the area code changes, probably to the great delight of the town fathers, who dream only of the good old days when there were textile and furniture factories, and a huge dog food plant smack in the middle of town. I punched in the coordinates of the reunion into Mr. Garmin and set off, caramel cake on the front seat beside me. It was an interesting tour of the sprawl, for in fact we have become, in the "Triangle," yet another Philadelphia. The Garmin took me in a sensible transit, on the diagonal, across the whole thing, with many roads included that I'd not been near for decades. I got to the destination within minutes of the prediction Garmin made at the outset! Bravo. The visit was fun, the food was great. I left kinda early as I also had a cake for my recouperating sister. Garmin once again got me out of the labyrinth and on to sis's place, which is on yet another extremity of the great sprawl, she picked the NW quadrant some decades back, where I'd picked the SW. Driving back home in the late afternoon, I was going mostly south, through hay fields and silage and fat cattle. I didn't need the Garmn for that leg.

So I got up this morning to check all the sites I check, it's actually a strategy to turn on my brain, and there's coffee involved I must tell you. Also a modest load of dishes in the sink to do. And here I find this article, right off the bat:

There is a pattern, a long-term trend. It's happened in Michigan recently, with the assault on city government in Detroit. It's happened here in NC, with the assault on city government in Charlotte and more generally. The "locals" are not to write rules about pay floors, or about bathrooms. Republicans view Democrats these days as merely representatives of the clamoring masses, aiming in one way or another to toss spanners into the spokes of industry. Democrats will not be quiet and let the system eventually provide its bounty in "appropriate" measure. "Why not just raise the minimum wage to $50.00 an hour?" they ask.

It's Sunday. After I finish up the dishes I might watch a little football, although there is a NASCAR race, and my man Kyle Busch might well win it. So the masters entertain us all, and we are not to notice that Mr. Kaepernick does not take the field again this Sunday, and very little will be said about the Administration's studied attempt this past week to pick off one of the critics whom they at least perceived to be amongst the weakest--a young black woman in the employ of a muddled sports network that had already fired a right wing jock loudmouth for ridiculing the transgendered, a class of Americans which seems to be, by Republican doctrine, the designated scapegoats of the era.

This is how they roll. The battle for sanity and compassion is endless. There's a blog I need to read sometime called "WTF is it now?" This is why now and again somebody decides to just say "fuck it" and punch Richard Spencer in the face while he's being interviewed. No, it ain't fair. But as the fine article in the link points out, on the other side there are alleged scholars who write paeons to colonialism which omit all reference to atrocities carried out in the name of the rulers. And in the early '60s the sainted conservative writer William F.Buckley, Jr.,, who is supposed in the Myth of William F. Buckley, Jr., to have driven all the Birchers plumb out of the Movement, not to mention driving the snakes out of Eire, argued on Public Television that of course the South was right to suppress the black vote.

Marcy Wheeler makes a good point today as well.

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