For Once He Will Be Right!

This thought has been with me for awhile. I have shared it with a few close friends. I figure I should put it out publicly. I haven't seen or heard anyone else say it. Mark my words!

I do not think The Short-Fingered Vulgarian will make it to November. I don't know how or why, don't know the particulars, but I do not think he will be President. Not only won't he be President, he will stand-down before the election. I don't think he really wants the job. What started as a whim or an "ego-fluff" has now gotten a little too serious.

Government: I do not believe he knows what it does, or how it works. And he doesn't care. I think he's going to walk away, stand down. He has to figure out a way to do it so it doesn't look like his failure, he is a winner, and winners don't fail, but he will figure it out.

He doesn't really want the job! It's one he's not qualified for, one that he is ill-suited for - it's gonna start to get really, really uncomfortable and kind of ugly for him as we get closer to November.

I predict he walks away. It will be a grind, a chore. No fun. He doesn't want to work hard. He does not want to "earn" it. He will get bored. And pissed off. He will take his ball home. He will hold a press conference and he will tell America that it just doesn't deserve him. For once, he will be right!

The Practice of Effortlessness!

Meditation. A means of "transforming the mind." It is probably the most important practice I've ever come across.  And I have practiced it "religiously"  for many years. I do wish I would have come across it much earlier, I didn't take it up until my early 20's. Then I dropped it, and then took it up again with a determined passion in my 40's.

There is something wonderful about dropping the "needing, wanting, grasping" for a period of time. To find the silence, an inner calm and peace. It's pretty effortless. The effort of effortlessness.

A simple, humble practice. Transforms. Yes.

Fiona Apple's Affair!

We've been watching the Showtime series, "The Affair." As my Mom says, "It's soapy!" It's not bad, mildly diverting, some of the main characters are quite annoying, but it's well-written, well-acted, and kind of keeps you guessing.

But the truly extraordinary thing about the series is the opening credit sequence. This is an art-form all it's own. And this art-form has been elevated by some beautifully rendered sequences over the years. I think of Mad Men, Boardwalk Empire (Brian Jonestown Massacre), True Blood (Jace Everrett doing a Chris Issak imitation), True Detective (Season #1 The Handsome Family, Season #2 Leonard Cohen).  Excellent use of image and sound.

Add the opening of "The Affair" to the list. Fiona Apple. It's beautiful, haunting. It's kind of the profundity undergirding the "soapy" hurly-burly of the show. The song and imagery has clung to me like a midnight cloak. 

"I have only one thing to do and that's to be the wave that I am and then sink back into the ocean..."

Varieties of Bullshit!

I do have experience, real-world experience, with people like The Short Fingered Vulgarian. Yes, he does represent a "type."

Classic bull-shitter. I came across many of these kinds of people in my business-world experience. Corporate executives. Salesmen. Full of confidence. Big personalities. Strong-willed, goal-oriented. Deal-makers. Rain-makers.

Their lack of knowledge was not a problem. Personality characteristics: vim & vigor, brash, bold, brazen. Full of it. And never wrong. Can not be shamed or embarrassed. No backing down. Always going for the win, or the close.

Lots of hot-air. Huge egos. Their audacity was always impressive. Their lack of conscience, or any sense of humility a powerful tool. Often, essentially, they would believe their own bullshit. Totally. And that was a great asset.

Like they say, you "can't bullshit a bullshitter." The bullshitter basically thinks everything is bullshit. The world, and all the things and people in it, are reduced to just varieties of bullshit. A good bull-shitter, the consummate-pro bullshitter, thrives in the land of bullshit.

Resilience!

Resilience. We all need more of it. To bounce back into shape after something bad happens. You will be bent, pressed, stretched,  folded, stapled, smacked, jacked, racked.  You must try your best to bounce.

What Happens Can't Unhappen!

Unless I'm missing something, what happens, happens, and can't be un-happened. This becomes obvious pretty early on, and grows more significant as your life flies by. The happenings pile up. And in that pile there's lots of things you wish you could make un-happen, but that doesn't seem to be the way that things work in this dimension.

Now it's possible that our human perspective is so limited, partial, and even false that this business of happening and unhappening is just a great misunderstanding. I suppose we need to leave it to the astrophysicists and cosmologists, and philosophers and dime-store comics to sort things out.

So until we learn otherwise, there's "what happens." And that's all we get. What happens. 

Another One in a Long Line of Other Ones!

It takes an astrophysicist to remind you that you are just stardust. In the grand picture, you are distantly related to those bright, burning orbs deep in the distance in the black night. But you are also distantly related to the dust sitting under the kitchen table.

Distantly related to the great and not so great. So above, so below.

Yesterday was raw, cold, a hard rain, and it made you wonder about your fate. Wandering thru the streets, leading little furry animals on their daily constitutionals. How did things come to this? Was it "faith or fate?" Or a little of both?

Does all the credit and blame sit on my shoulders? And just why haven't I added up to the person that I thought I'd add up to? There has been no grand plan that I can discern. Things went well, things went bad, and I tried to improvise an answer, and some days I'm just glad to wake up relatively intact.

Is that enough? For a life? It's mine, whether I want it or not. I do want it, but it's not exactly what I expected. But then again, who am I to complain? I'm part star, part dust. And just another one in a long line of other ones.

Ambivalent About Other People!

"I vant to be alone." - Greta Garbo

"Life is people." - Bill Fay

"Hell is other people." - Jean Paul Sartre

A new study tells us "Smart People Would Prefer You Went Away." It seems that many "smart people" are pursuing some larger goal, and other people are kind of a distraction.

I do think sometimes it's much more fulfilling to be onto something bigger, some goal or task, or dream. Other people come and go.

On the other hand, no man is an island. We do need other folks in our lives. It helps to really have a few really important, close people in your life.

But maybe not too many people. You need space, and time, to do something really, really important. Or all consuming. If you can find something in which to occupy yourself.

The Power of the True Idiot!

Okay. You are worried you are becoming obsessed with The Short-Fingered Vulgarian. This isn't a pleasant thought. You'd prefer not to think about him. Way too much video & ink, way too many pixels, have been wasted on him.

But, he is dangerous. Why is he dangerous? Many of our fellow citizens (around 45% of GOP primary voters), have thrown their support to him. They actually want to see him as President of the USA.

The Short-Fingered Vulgarian is supremely confident in his superiority. He doesn't see how clueless he really is, this is a dangerous thing for sure.

This is mind-boggling. Disturbing. The Short-Fingered Vulgarian is truly an abomination. He should be laughed out of the room. Laughed off the public stage. Laughed into complete oblivion.

But instead he is being embraced by fellow Americans. And you think these people must be idiots. Willful idiots. I don't think he is tapping into anger so much as idiocy. And it's really hard to argue with an idiot. You can't shame an idiot. 

A true idiot believes he is a total genius.  There lies his power...

"My Hands are Normal Hands!" - Hah!

Maybe the attention, the fascination, the hubbub can be explained: The uncanny ability of one human being to be simultaneously horrifying and hilarious. Both disgusting and ridiculous. 

The fascination of watching a human being so confident in their abilities, when it's apparent that their abilities are actually severely limited. It's like an always repeating car crash. Can't take your eyes off it. You know you should. You know it's bad for you to spend any time gaping. But you are compelled, and beyond your better sense, you can't resist.

But I suppose a car crash isn't funny, so maybe more like a Big Shot, dressed in an improbable tux, always slipping on a banana peel, and falling into a puddle of mud. And rolling around in the mud like a baby pig.  Yeah. And the Big Shot doesn't realize he's rolling around in the mud like a baby pig. He thinks he Mr. Big Shot. A winner in everything. Hah! Maybe more like that... and your eyes are riveted to the spectacle. Can't stop watching...

Yesterday The Short-Fingered Vulgarian insisted to the Washington Post Editorial Board that "My hands are normal hands!"

Hah! This makes you laugh out loud. Quite mirth-making... but then, the horror of it all comes streaming in.  I do think the only way to deal with this phenomenon is to find your sense of humor. But this sense of humor should be wielded like an ego-busting weapon. We must puncture this balloon of absurdity.

Horrifying and hilarious...

My Party, My Rules!

Another great article from Vox... "contested convention!"

And what's the verdict?! Just like that old song tells it: "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to..."

The Party of Losers!

Maybe it's not so surprising that a good portion of the GOP has fallen for the obvious Con Man. Vulgar? Yes! Brazenly lying? Yes! Over-promising? Yes! Full of hot-air and bluster? Yes! Spouting poison - violence & blatant stupidity? Yes! These are not flaws, but features. A candidate for folks who have given up caring about their party, their Country, and want to wreck it.  The party of losers, looking up to the Big Daddy Winner! Who will not be fixing anything, but will be gladly breaking everything! "The future is bright with the flames of chaos!"  Yes, and the margin call on this "nonsense debt," and "hate debt" "appears impossible to cover." Hah!

Still Alive and Doing Everything You Want Iggy to Be Doing!

It's not often, once in awhile, there's a news story that makes you happy: A kid is found safe, a lost dog is reunited with it's family, a philanthropist gives away money to a worthy cause, the good guys chalk up an improbable win.

Or Iggy Pop kicks off a new tour and record at SXSW.

This story made me so happy. A good one for the old guys. Iggy is 68 years old. Still singing. Still taking his shirt off. Still jumping into the crowd. So surprising! Not only is Iggy still alive, he's still doing everything you want Iggy to be doing. And it's not just a nostalgia act - a new record, new songs, a new collaboration with Josh Homme of Queens of the Stone Age.

And you think, yes, Iggy and QOTSA actually makes perfect sense. Here they are playing their first single off the new record. New Iggy Pop. Everything is right with the world!

Time to Renew!

Time to pare back. Time to clean house. Time to cut things to the bone. Time to identify the useless, the dysfunctional, the old, the obsolete. Time to let go the things, and people, that don't pass muster. Down to the essentials. Time to renew. To recharge. To reset.

Less Panic, Less Talk...

You realize so much of our media culture, our social media, cable TV, radio, etc. is geared to hype the panic. Panic sells. Panic is interesting. Panic = ratings. The Short-Fingered Vulgarian plugs right into our culture of panic. 

We really need less panic. More thought. More wet-blankets. Less fanning of the flames. Sober. Clear-headed. Boring. Wonky. Less sure. More hedging of our bets. 

It's a complicated world, a complicated existence. Things are unclear. Murky. Strange. Hard to decide what happened, and what to do about what happened.

We need more silent contemplation and less riffing off the top of our heads. Less Twitter. More silence. Biting our tongue. Thinking before we speak. That would be refreshing and counter to the general drift!

Panic! Panic at the Disco!

Panic. Panic at the Disco. And Panic everywhere else too. 

I had to talk down a friend last night. Yes, it looks like the Short-Fingered Vulgarian will win the GOP nomination, yes, he is a frightening human being, no, he would not be good for America, or the world.

Let me go out on a limb right now and say that NO, the Short-Fingered Vulgarian will not be President. He will not be King. He will not. I promise. Don't know how exactly it will all play out, but I predict that the Short-Fingered Vulgarian will implode before the November election.

He walks away, stands down, implodes, goes up in flames, whatever. So no panic!  

And no to panic everywhere else too. Our social media world seems to drive us all crazy. So many things to panic about, but you know, sometimes it's best to just take a deep breath, and let all the hot air and huffing and puffing come and go.

So many little panics fizzle out... what looks like sizzle ends in fizzle... relax people! Chill!

BTW - the Hacktivist Collective Anonymous has declared "war" on the Short-Fingered Vulgarian. I say, "Go get em tigers!"

Quite Muddy!

In college I started out as an English Major, but then I came up against the Forsythe Saga, and decided, I had enough, I did not want to spend my life paging thru musty old books I didn't relate to, so I changed majors - I jumped into Psychology.

I got my degree, but I always thought Psychology was not really a science, just a weedy, dorky, kind of human art - humans trying to make sense of humans. And it was a activity organized by madmen and dreamers, and people just making shit up - BF Skinner, Sigmund Freud, CJ Jung - and then after all the hubbub, there was finally the onslaught of the Druggies. All that talk therapy was washed away by the heavy use of pharmaceuticals! 

Anyway, this is a long way to this article - "What Psychology's crisis means for the future of science..." it's all "false positives," and "puffs of smoke." So much of psychology seems like counting angels on the head of a pin. 

Psychology - the whole thing is pretty much a mirage - bias, seeing what you want to see when you want to see it. What to believe? What do we know? What can we know? It all gets quite muddy...

Bully Power

I suppose it's not surprising that people will do anything to get elected to higher office. And it's not surprising that folks will stoop really, really low, that they will gladly appeal to the worst instincts of others, if they think that will translate into votes. Usually it's all done with winks, nods, and code words, but it is a long-time political tactic. Not always successful, but a tried and true strategy.

The bleaker the times, the more gloom, and hardship, or uncertainty, or terror in the air, the uglier it can get. That seems to be the mood this time around. There is a real ugliness in the land. And The Short-Fingered Vulgarian is not afraid to jump right into the heart of the ugliness. Maybe this ugliness was triggered by the election of Barack Obama. Many of us hailed this as a great step forward, but it seems that many angry white folks found this a step too far.

So in one puffed up, buffoon-like entity we have all the worst aspects of our species tied up and neatly packaged in a Celebrity Hot-Dog; racism, Xenophobia, Islamophobia, misogony. And there is real power to be conjured in appealing to hate, resentment, fear and revenge. Power. Bully power. 

The Short-Fingered Vulgarian seemed like such a flawed vehicle, I for one thought he would flame out pretty quickly, but I underestimated the depth of hatred in the hearts of many of my fellow Americans. You must always remember the is a deep yearning for the Big Man, the Bully. The white Bully! People cried when Stalin died, when Mussolini and Milosevic breathed their last breaths.

The Conduit of Ugliness!

Yes, I do think "The Short-Fingered Vulgarian" lit the match! Intentionally. He is whipping up the crowds, using their emotion - the hatred, the anger, the frustration. That's the brand!

And the fire is raging. It is amazing to see folks jumping right into the fire. You wonder where this goes. Does it ramp up into a major fire-ball, or fizzle out? I think: no one really knows. Yes, it does remind one of George Wallace.  And that didn't work out so well. The Short-Fingered Vulgarian is the conduit for some real basic ugliness now flaming up in the land.

Dark Circus!

If you read the great Vox article on "authoritarianism," (see previous post), you know that issues of "law and order" are triggers to activate the authoritarians in our midst. I do think "The Short-Fingered Vulgarian" has been using protesters at his rallies, as props - it's all kind of like a Jerry Springer show, a scripted interlude, meant to excite and entertain the crowd.

The Short-Fingered Vulgarian wants to use the violence, or the expectation of violence as a tool. It's kind of a dangerous game he's playing, but I do think, that he thinks, it all makes the TV show that is his campaign, more compelling.

It spilled out of control in Chicago. But as Kevin Drum asks, "who will the public blame?" Don't really know yet. There is a dark, circus-like nature to all of this, there is the level of entertainment, a pandering ridiculousness, and a deep ugliness that lies beneath it all.

Welcome to your America!