Glimmer

 My very thoughtful older brother sent me an article from what is now his, and what was once my, local newspaper. It came to them via a Professor of Philosophy at California State University, Fresno named Andrew Fiala. It suggested that the worst outcome of the "Trump Era" might be pervasive cynicism. 

Ladies and gentlemen, I stand metaphorically here today to suggest to you that this may be exactly right. 

As a lifelong cynic, I have always attempted to keep my underbelly slightly soft in the event of an actual need for human connection. I will say that potential weakness in my otherwise impermeable scoffing attitude has become smaller over the decade. I have been worn down with the seemingly exponential expansion of suffering among those who don't happen to have the same last name as the convicted felon and winner of the “undisputed champion of beautiful clean coal" award for the (checks notes) first time ever. 

Not that I was never capable of a high degree of snark before 2016, but there was always that secret wish to be proven wrong melted into my candy coating. I truly enjoyed the Obama presidency, coming as it did as a palate and spirit cleansing sorbet after the Bush years. And yes, when I cast my ballot for Kamala Harris in 2024, I truly believed that we were on our way to electing our first woman president and flushing all the rot connected to the MAGAts down the drain. 

Whoops. 

Since that last election, I have learned to expect disappointment from elected officials, courts and companies as Project 2025 has been taken as a literal handbook for tearing up the Constitution. Watching all of this, I find it difficult to come up with a different response that one hundred percent Grade A cynicism. 

Which is where I need to remind myself, and you dear reader, to remember that there still is an up out there. It is very difficult to find, but the protesters on the streets of frigid Minneapolis risked life and limb to kick ICE out of their city. 

And they prevailed. 

Each new voice from the right that begins to break ties with this broken shell of a dictator is a glimmer of hope. Each red baseball hat burned in rage and disappointment from the snake oil they were sold is a turn back toward reality. 

My older brother is not one to send out a lot of links and memes, so when he sends me something, I listen. 

I hope you do too. 

Who Watches The Watchmen?

 Apologies for anyone out there who was inconvenienced by last week's closure of the El Paso Airport. 

It might have been that alien forces had returned to nearby Area 51 to retrieve fallen comrades lost in the Secret War against Altar VII. You remember when there was all that fuss and hubbub? Not then. The time when there was all that fuss and hubbub that no one heard about?

Right. 

That was the one. 

Anyway, it seems that the Customs and Border Protection goons were in charge of the protection of our airspace and it seems as though they may have gone a little overboard on the protection part. What they assumed was Altar VII spacecraft approaching our planet from billions of miles away turned out to be four Mylar balloons. To their everlasting credit, they did so with "lasers" with weaponry recently cleared by Pete "War Pig" Hegseth during a late-night tequila binge. It could be that in his altered state, Pete may have gotten the gun before the horse, or however that old saw goes. 

Citizens of Earth! You no longer need to live in fear of an alien invasion from Altar VII or debris from some kid's birthday party. The goons can take care of that. Meanwhile if you're scared of drones being sent by Mexican Drug Cartels to mess with the airspace in and around El Paso, you're probably going to have to wait until that actually happens to see if the "lasers" are as effective on drones as they are on party balloons. 

Also, you might want to keep an eye out for any of the masked goons patrolling the streets of several U.S. cities. They might just be packing heat. Like ray gun heat. 

Sleep tight, America. 

End Of List

 I don't like kale

I don't like bananas

But I love you

I don't like fascism

I don't like oligarchy

But I love you

I don't like waiting in line

I don't like mornings

But I love you

I don't like soccer

I don't like figure skating

But I love you

I don't like four-way stops

I don't like metering lights

But I love you

I don't like poodles

I don't like hairless cats

But I love you

I don't like maps

I don't like lists

But I love you

End of list

Staring Into The Sun

 Made it to the other side. 

No more football to distract us to the mission at hand.

Wait. 

You say we need to delve more deeply into the "controversy" surrounding the halftime show? 

Puh-leeeze. 

As a football fan in good standing, having run my school's fantasy football league for more than five years and the guy who made "a deal" with Comcast to get NFL Redzone pouring into his house every fall, I figure I owe it to everyone else to tell you what the halftime show is for: 

Potty break.

Oh, I understand that the organizers of this particular extravaganza went out of their way to provide viewers with something they could be watching on MTV, if it existed anymore. I appreciate the demographic study that went into bringing Bad Bunny to the nation's TV screen. And I applaud Mister Bunny on his showmanship. I do wonder just a bit about how this episodic montage appeared from the seats in Levi Stadium, but that's not the point.

The point is for thirteen minutes, the ax we all felt the need to grind was about the most streamed artist on this planet was given a showcase for his music and brought along some special guest stars. And he had the temerity to sing in a language other than English.

A side note here: Rolling Stones' front-man Mick Jagger has allegedly been singing in English for several decades now, and when his band played the Super Bowl XL in 2006 I didn't catch a word. And, if I may point out still further, Mick and his crew are not U.S. citizens. 

Bad Bunny is.

But for those thirteen minutes, the singing, and dancing and fireworks made me forget about the Trumpstein Files.

Almost. I felt no compulsion to peek in on the "alternative" halftime show, just like I didn't switch to the Puppy Bowl. I was there for the spectacle. 

And the potty break. 

Whimsical

 Would you buy a used space shuttle from this man? 

The world's only paper trillionaire has decided to scale back his plans from colonizing Mars to building a city on the moon. 

In my head, I started picturing Space X employees working the phones and knocking on doors, not unlike Glengarry Glen Ross, trying to sell investors on how great this change will be for them, even though the moon is much closer and already has a certain amount of debris left there by previous landings that will need to be cleaned up before the tennis courts go in. That's a difference of thirty-five to one hundred forty-five million miles, depending where the moon is in its orbit around the earth. And, as previously mentioned, the moon is kind of played out. 

More than fifty years ago Apollo missions landed humans on the moon's surface where they picked up rocks, drove around in a moon buggy and played a little golf. That last bit might be enough to get the Mar A Lago crowd excited, but I'm not sold. 

As I have mentioned here previously, I am immediately suspicious of any vehicle Elongated Mush is selling for fear that they might explode. Add to that the lack of oxygen during the trip and once you get there there won't be any atmosphere so you'll be subject to whatever price Mister Mush decides to charge you. And hitchhiking back to earth seems like a stretch. 

It was just six years ago when everyone's favorite nearly-human insisted that he would have human beings landing on Mars right about this time. Since then, he's been "busy." Getting his pal the convicted felon into the White House so he would be encouraged to take a chainsaw to parts of the government that he wanted to mine for data as well as giving up interest on saving the planet with electric cars in favor of building robots so he would have someone to talk to. 

And again, who is to say that once the first space cabins have been pieced together near Mar A Luna that Mister Mush would decide that he was really more interested in making a perpetual motion machine, leaving the colonists stranded on the moon. Just like all those Cybertruck owners who decided to take their new vehicle to a car wash. 

Dare To Be Great

 Someone online made this observation: "Remember when Sarah Palin was the dumbest person in politics? Good times."

This got me to thinking about this whole "Make America Great Again." It sounds like a boast, but I have decided it is actually more of a dare. 

If you believe that those we entrust to guard and defend our Constitution and Institutions should be subject to the same laws that the citizens who vote for them are, Make America Great Again by getting rid of the Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight. 

If you believe that America is the land of opportunity and that as a nation of immigrants we should welcome the tired, the poor and the huddled masses yearning to breathe free, then the dream that this country has always embodied isn't just for a select few. Make America Great Again by ending the persecution of those who have come here for many of the same reasons all those boatloads came before us. 

If you believe that politicians are elected for their capacity to bring a better life for their constituents and not to feather their own beds, then Make America Great Again by getting money out of politics and stop pretending that corporations are people. 

If you believe that convicted felons have no place in our government and anyone bragging about the results of their cognitive test is already past their use-by date, Make America Great Again by voting for those who will usher hope and change and not business as usual. 

If you believe that health care is a right and not a privilege and that women should make decisions about their own bodies, Make America Great Again by making health care affordable and free of judgement from those who pretend to know.

If you believe this truly is the land of the free and the home of the brave, Make America Great Again by being both. At the same time. 

I dare you. 

Starfleet General Order 1

 Hear me out: I believe this all started with the distress call from Sigma Iotia II. When the Enterprise arrived, they were told that the inhabitants of that planet had knowledge of the Federation's exploration ship, Horizon, lost some hundred years before. This Iotian, Bella Oxmyx, suggests that a team from the Enterprise beam down to the surface so that he can hand over the information personally. Chief Science Officer Spock reminds the Captain that this could lead to a violation of the Federation's Prime Directive that prohibits its members from interfering with the natural development of alien civilizations. Though exceptionally imitative, the Iotians lack many of the components of a culture that would allow them to achieve warp speed and interplanetary travel. Their culture seems based primarily on gangster movies from the 1940s. 

Not to belabor the point to those of you who have seen A Piece Of The Action, but the gangsters of Sigma Iotia II eventually get some sort of order impressed on them via the manipulations of the wily Captain of the Enterprise, much to the chagrin of Mister Spock. Then once the crew is safely back aboard the Enterprise, satisfied with their handling of the situation, it is revealed that Doctor McCoy has left his communicator back on the planet. From the basis of the technology found in that communicator, it is feared that eventually the Iotians will find their way more abruptly to space travel, and warp speed. From there, Kirk imagines it's only a matter of time before the Iotians show up asking the Federation for a piece of their action. 

And what I'm suggesting here, expanding briefly on plot points found throughout at series subsequent iterations that were spawned from Star Trek that it's only a matter of time before the Iotians can figure out how to travel in time as well as space. And somehow, the ancestors of Bella Oxmyx and his kin found their way back to Earth in 1947 where they influenced the birth and raising of their spawn here who would eventually become a real estate tycoon and game show host. 

And eventually find his way into the White House. 

It's the only explanation that makes sense.