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Showing posts from December, 2008

Attached to Nothing

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Funny how on the bicentennial marking the abolition of slavery all we have in the political headlines is the mini whirlwind created by the Republican party yuking it up over a new rendition of "Barack the Magic Negro." This says it all. Not only does a sizable chunk of our populace not see the problem with a little satire to the tune of "Puff the Magic Dragon," they apparently don't see the need to deal with the history of the slave trade. So much is intertwined here it's difficult to know just exactly where to unbraid this knot. Let me begin with the word Negro. As Malcolm X used to say, "It attaches us to nothing. There is no Negroland." Like the racial and ethnic stereotypes needed to justify holding humans in bondage, the "magic Negro" takes its place alongside Uncle Tom, Old Mose, Aunt Jemima and every other mammy, sambo, picaninny, and coon who danced, grinned and yessuh bossed their way through the last 300 years. But this

Seems Like Years

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It's all melting now. But then the end of the year is a perfect time for a meltdown. Why not? Everything else but the snow has melted this year. Let's see, the economy for one. It looks from here that a lot of folks have taken stock this year. More and more get that life is better lived without all that attention to possessions. That the superficial only goes so far. I know it's virtually un-American, but I'm secretly glad that holiday sales are way off. I'm happy that all the dreck that passes for decorations is selling for 90% off. That means that the profit margin on those poorly crafted lights and glitterly gobs of garbage is only 5% instead of 85%. As we brace for the popular new administration, some of the frozen attitudes of the previous century are thawing out as well. But only some. Fascinating how the tired old stereotypes find enough hot air to raise their sickly heads from time to time. Given the anonymity of the internet, the sad, old, can

Winter Wonders

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We've had snow here in Portland for the better part of two weeks. It's a record breaking event and the local media have made the most of it. "Arctic Blast" scream the eyewitness headlines. Apparently these local reporters and anchors think we need them to tell us it's snowing and that snow melts into slush and that we should be careful traveling about. I could see five minutes or even ten at most every hour to supplement the scrolling of traffic information, school closures and the like at the bottom of the screen. But what is this need to make a few snow storms into a major media event? I've noticed a few other things that stood out when the white replaced the earth tones, pavement, and concrete normally forming the backdrop of the city. Each neighborhood retains it's own version of snow covered streets. In my NE section, the side streets remain icy and crunchy alternately. People walk on small paths or trails that have appeared in front of houses

Burning Sensation

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When will folks stop fixing what isn't broken? I heard today that a new version of the Yule Log exists. Some young executive thinks if it looks more like a cartoon of a gas log and is accompanied with soundtracks of old radio shows it'll be better. Different isn't always better. There is something so pure about 5 hours of watching the log burn. Like many, my friends and I would savor the moment a poker held by a mysterious hand would invade the serenity of the scene and turn the log! The other mystery is why the simple vision of a fireplace with a log burning became so popular. Probably a reaction to all the consumption oriented messages that have become the holidays. I actually like the idea of listening to old radio shows--The Christmas version of the Jack Benny Program, Fibber McGee and Molly, Amos and Andy. Item: Amos and Andy was so popular in its heyday, that Macy's had to pipe it in during peak Christmas shopping hours to get people out of their homes and

Carry a Tune

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I wonder if I'm particularly vulnerable to getting music stuck in my head. We all know what that's like, but I'd swear it happens to me more often than not. Sometimes I can wake up in the morning and hear the last song on play list of the previous day. Almost like 8 hours of sleep and dreams had never happened. On days like today when I help baby sit for a few hours, I'm stuffed with all sorts of wonderful tunes. "Hello everybody, it's so nice to see you...Hello John it's so nice to see you...Hello Mary, it's so nice to see you...Hello Uncle Jerry, it's so nice to see you. I don't have an Uncle Jerry, never have had an Uncle Jerry, and don't intend to at this point, but I damn sure have him in my head. Now this being the Holiday season, we are all very susceptible to having chestnuts roasting in our heads for the next few weeks. Things could always be worse, but here are a few ideas to try before you go for the pain relief, illegal su

This Mornin'

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Woke up this mornin' Looked round for my shoes Lord, I knew I had, Them ol' walkin' blues.. . Last night I was joking with a guy at a gas station about the snow storm we were supposed to be getting today. People had been scrambling around all afternoon at local grocery stores trying to stock up on items that might be necessary in case they couldn't drive for a few days. Between the fearful and the holiday shoppers, the lines were long and the patience short. Since the gas prices are headed back up this week, I decided to fill the tank just in case the snow did come. We joked about how Portland prepares days in advance for the chance of snow, but secretly are glad the city is on it so well... in advance. The buses are chained, the plows poised, and the deicer ready to roll. At 8:00 a.m. I looked out my front window and through the lingering darkness saw only black pavement and little evidence of moisture. By 8:30 the flurries came, and by 9:30 walking to my local P

Wonderland

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Turning cold here in Portland. We'll be waiting for snow this weekend. As we wait December brings chilling news in other areas. The Governor of Illinois gets arrested for trying to sell the vacant Senate seat of Barack Obama. This will feed the pundits for well into the new year. It's a stuffed goose, all the trimmings and plum pudding for everyone. The pendulum swings and the Democrats are fair game. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum so the saying goes. No scorecard needed you can't tell them apart. Ralph Nader must be doing the math right now. Let's see, what might make a good name for a new political party? How about_______________________________. (Your best effort here) Did you know that 4 of the last 8 governors of Illinois have spent time in jail? Abe Lincoln's pissed. A few hundred miles away and General Motors fights for it's life. Is it good for America anymore? Who will we be without the big 3 automakers? At the same time workers are beginnin

Won By a Lip

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I love when life imitates art. Now and then a story like the one I am about to relate comes along. I used to save a few like this to answer the cynical students of literature whose response to anything symbolic or allegoric was a high decibel Tsk! Bad enough they couldn't appreciate the beauty, the aesthetic, they'd usually follow up the sound effects with, "You're just reading into this. Why isn't a name just a name, or an object just the object it is?" Yeah, I know what Freud said about cigars, but Dude, that's the point, to read into it. Go deep, my brother, my sister. So here's the deal, and it involves a racetrack story too: Last week at Beulah Park, a small D List track that's in that part of Ohio that is just about Kentucky they've uncovered a ringer. A ringer, in horse racing, for those of you who are uninitiated, is when a horse runs a race under the name of another horse. A dead ringer, see? It's highly illegal and diffic