Author: Marilyn Armstrong

A Bolt from The Blue That Just Might Take Trump Down – REBLOG – THE SHINBONE STAR

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A nice little summary of Bolton, the man, Trump, the moron, and valid use of the word “pettifogging.” You don’t see that much these days. I love the line: “No doubt that is why Trump hired him, though his pride wouldn’t allow him for long to consider there was a person out there who could eat his lunch and ask for seconds.’

 

THE SHINBONE STAR

— Alex Wong/Getty Images

On Sunday afternoon, the Gray Lady chimed on our Google Assistant to fill us in on John Bolton, former National Security Advisor for Donald Trump. He is a clever  guy.

Bolton sent his tell-all White House book manuscript to the White House to get it vetted for security leaks, and it got leaked faster than Trump’s lunchtime iced tea. While the Senate decides what it should do now, the rest of America is snickering over the absurdity of it all.

Apparently, Bolton saying he wanted to testify at Trump’s Senate trial only “if subpoenaed” wasn’t garnering him any face-time, something he craves. So he reportedly wrote a scandalous book detailing why his former boss really is an inept bozo for arbitrarily withholding almost $400 millions in desperately needed military aid for Ukraine.

“Over dozens of pages,” The New York Times says, “Mr. Bolton described how the…

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SIGNS OF OUR TIMES AND FAREWELL MY LOVELY – GARRY ARMSTRONG

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Last night, I was gritting my teeth over the Senate Impeachment travesty and another household repair issue. The tank on the toilet in our primary bathroom cracked just hours after Marilyn had workers back to redo problems on our new shower. All this while we’re figuring out how to pay for a newer version of our 31-year-old oil burner, the baseball sign-stealing scandal, the recent bitterly cold winter, never-ending begathon calls from political candidates, not to mention marathon barkathons from our furry kids, I was ready for the cuckoos’ nest.  (Yes, I know this is exhibit A of a run-on sentence.)

I opted for the MLB Channel and Ken Burns’ “Baseball’ series. Marilyn had bought me the boxed DVD series but this was running, so I tuned in. We got the 1960s episode.  As only Burns, Lynn Novak and company can do it, it was a Ph.D. on the good, bad, and ugly of the 60s which remain etched in most of our memories. Certainly, it’s etched in mine since I was in the middle of many of its biggest stories.

1969 The Amazing Mets!

The Curt Flood saga is always good to see. I think most people don’t remember Flood’s contribution to the game and the price he paid for going up against the establishment. Today’s free agents and their agents should be forever grateful to Curt Flood and maybe send him a cut of their deals.

It was also good to see Casey and his Amazin’ Mets. I had the good luck to be a young newsie, covering Casey, Marvelous Marv, Elio Chacon and those loveable, bumbling guys who would blossom into Seaver and the ’69 World Champs. I loved seeing Casey, the 70+ loveable legend who gave me some of the funniest interviews ever. I usually forgot the question I asked as Casey continued talking in Stengelese –10 minutes or more, uninterrupted.

Ebbets Field

The eulogies to Ebbets Field, the Polo Grounds, Shibe Park and other ancient stadiums paving the way for domed stadiums and fake grass would make another great post.

Profiles on Sandy Koufax (what a handsome dude), Stan Musial, Earl Weaver, Frank Robinson, Jim Palmer, Ty Cobb (his last days, never to be mourned at this address),  Marvin Miller, Yaz, and Bob Gibson were so well done. Bob Costas, the perennial Boy Scout with the great pipes and memories of the game — and Billy Crystal, The Yankee fan, recollecting the flight of the Dodgers and demise of Ebbets Field.

Then it was time for my bedroom movie. Robert Mitchum in his 1975, “Farewell, My Lovely.”  I’d seen it first run in the movies and didn’t fully appreciate Mitch. I thought he was too old.

Time makes all the difference. Last night’s viewing was a revelation. Mitch was perfect as the aging, tired, down-on-his-luck private eye. He brought a new meaning to world-weary. He was the best Phillip Marlowe of them all. His narration of the film was an added delight. I listened carefully to the narration.  A lesson for would-be narrators or audiobook performers.

Although in color, director Dick Richards used washed out hues to give it a film noir look. It should’ve been in B&W – but I guess the AVCO Embassy suits nixed the idea.  Mitchum’s work was masterful and now is in my top five ratings of his body of work.

John Ireland was sublimely good as Mitch’s cop pal.  Ditto the rest of the cast including Harry Dean Stanton, Sylvia Miles (Oscar-winning best-supporting actress), Charlotte Rampling, Anthony Zerbe, and a young Sly Stallone.

I waited for and enjoyed Mitch’s weary line to Ireland. “Dave, why is it that everything I touch turns to shit?” Mitch gave a Tom Selleck mega-sigh and Ireland stares at him with compassion.  Great scene.

What a guy!

HAMLET’S TRAGEDY – Marilyn Armstrong

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The Tragedy of Hamlet, Shakespeare
Act 1, Scene 3

LORD POLONIUS:

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
Farewell: my blessing season this in thee!

I’ve been thinking about the difference between borrowing, grants-in-aid, and theft. Which brought the quote from Hamlet to mind. I felt a clarification was necessary because a lot of people don’t recognize that “borrowing” is different than getting a gift or grant, or for that matter, theft. Sometimes the line is narrow, but it is there. Let’s see if I can illuminate the differences.

  1. To borrow something implies you intend to return the item, or, in the case of money, to return an equivalent amount of money preferably during the lifetime of you and whoever lent it to you.
  2. If you ask to borrow money (or some other item) but do not intend to return it? That is not borrowing.

(a) If the lender believes you will return it but you know you won’t and probably never had any intention of returning it, you’re a thief.
(b) If the lender is Mom or Dad and everyone knows you won’t return it, it’s a family dance performed to save the feelings of all the parties. It preserves the borrower’s pride and makes the old folks feel less foolish.

On the whole, most of us know that money and other items “lent” to a child or relative is probably a “grant-in-aid.” We call it a loan so everyone gets to keep his or her dignity. It’s a gift, not borrowing.

72-Sunrise-March-12_12

Then there are the true leeches. Not only are they thieves, but they are righteous thieves who believe they deserve whatever they take.

We need new words for this kind of “borrower.” These are the folks who want your stuff because, in their twisted minds, they feel they deserve it. We can afford to give it to them because whatever we have, they are sure they should have it. Therefore, it’s okay for them to take it because it really belongs to them.

Not only do these folks lack boundaries, but they have a bizarre sense of entitlement which is not the result of need or poverty. They are sure they deserve “the good stuff.” If you have it and they don’t, you have deprived them of their rights.

These are the ones who won’t work for a living because they don’t feel they should work. They aren’t responsible. Ever. No conscience, no honor, no respect for anyone else’s work. either. Not immigrants. These are usually white Americans with a really bad attitude.

Envy rules their world. They hate immigrants who they are sure are stealing their jobs (even though they wouldn’t do the hard work immigrants are willing to do) and they hate anyone who has a nicer car, bigger house, or even looks better.

If you make the error of feeling sorry for them and offer to share your life with them, they will view your generosity as a sign of weakness and take full advantage of you and yours.

I love being generous and am tickled pink when I give things away and it makes someone happy, but I take exception to the inevitable ingratitude. I’ve heard this quote as having come from OscarWilde, Mark Twain, and several other people but cannot confirm its real source:

“I don’t know why he hates me so much;
I never did him a favor.”

THREE ANGLES: BOSTON STATEHOUSE – Marilyn Armstrong

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A Photo a Week Challenge: Three Angles

From the back, Boston Statehouse – Built 1795–1798

From the front, Boston statehouse

Closer

Boston’s statehouse’s resemblance to the U.S. Capital is not accidental. The Capital’s cornerstone was laid by George Washington on September 18, 1793. The building was completed in 1800. Both buildings used the same architect (Charles Bulfinch) and were built during the same decade.

STATE OF MY NATION – Marilyn Armstrong

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STATE OF MY NATION – RDP SATURDAY

I have forbidden television viewing today. It’s the Republican opportunity to deny everything and I don’t think I can handle it. Worse, this might be the broadcast that finally makes Garry kick the TV until it shatters. Since we need to fix a broken toilet and the floor under it, we can’t afford a new TV so we’ll have to hang onto this one. This part of the impeachment will have to wait for the evening news roundups and late-night comedies.

Watching it will make us crazy.

Trump has only been in office for three years, but it feels like at least twenty. Maybe more. It isn’t only what he has done. It’s what he has tried to do, his twisting of reality and constant blatant lies. He has been the first president in my lifetime to make me wonder whether this country has a soul, conscience, or any aspirations other than the gathering of money and “things.”

Someone — and I really have no idea who — said that no one goes to their grave wishing they’d spent more time at the office. It goes hand-in-hand with all the wealthy people who have the money to buy everything they ever wanted yet feel as if there’s a big, empty hole in the middle of their life. They are lonely, bored, and feel unloved. They (who ARE they?) actually did a survey on this which has been on the national news for the past few nights. The rich don’t have friends. Making money hasn’t been nearly as satisfying as it was supposed to be. No amount of publicity, plastic surgery, or fashionable clothing fills that hole.

I have come to believe “The American Dream” is just a soft-focus, rose-colored version of greed for all.

With all the issues we have got, I am not lonely. I wish we had more in-person time with friends, but as we have grown older, so have they.  Our contemporaries mostly don’t like long drives anymore. Distances that weren’t a big deal even five years ago seem much longer now.

I always hoped we’d somehow find a way to stick together, but life has taken us in the opposite direction. Retirement to warmer climates and/or moving to wherever our kids and grandchildren live has spread us all over the map. There have also been too many deaths.

With all that, I’m pretty sure that if I died tomorrow, there would be at least a dozen people at the wake who cared about me. It wouldn’t be a crowd of people with whom I “did business,” but people I knew, talked to, and loved.

This nightmare through which we are passing has not only caused individual personal fear but has breached many friendships and family relationships.

Where we used to disagree and were willing to “agree to disagree,” we can’t seem to do that today. I don’t think I had a lot of Republican friends, but maybe I did. I never checked anyone to make sure they agreed with me politically. We didn’t talk about politics all the time. You were allowed to believe privately and in peace.

Photo: Garry Armstrong

There is so much anger, frustration, confusion, and hatred everywhere. You can feel it prickling your skin. If we don’t manage to get Trump and his trashy pals out of office, the future looks grim and frightening.

Worse, I’m ashamed of being white, and ashamed of my nation, and seriously wondering if we will ever find our way back from this mess. I never thought it could come to this.

From Mr. Potato Head to Flushin’ Frenzy

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If you thought you had the worst toys, you don’t.. This has got to be IT!

DCMontreal: Blowing the Whistle on Society

Potato Mr. Potato Head with plastic potato

In 1952 George Lerner designed a toy called Mr. Potato Head. Originally the toy consisted of several facial features, ears, and hats that could be pushed into a potato (or any other veggie really). I assume Lerner figured that even a poor family could spare one spud for decorating, it could also be eaten after.

No more rotting taters; but limited options for creativity.

But by 1964 the stench of rotting potatoes became too much and the manufacturer, Hasbro, decided to include a plastic potato with slots to receive the various body parts. No more rotting taters; but limited options for creativity.

Of course, using ‘real’ things in toys can lead to disaster. Just think of the classic nerve-testing Operation. Or the potential for economic ruin with Monopoly or, God forbid, the arrival of Armaggedon in the guise of the war game Risk.

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BALLS, NERVE, AND חוצפה – Marilyn Armstrong

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“You’re one tough broad,” my friend told me. I recognized this as a compliment. Maybe you have to come from New York or New Jersey to “get it,” but I got it. “Tough” includes brave, determined, and hard to kill. A survivor with חוצפה  (chutzpah).

I’ve heard “moxie” used in old British and American movies, mostly from the 1930s or 1940s, but it’s not what people say nowadays. In New York, if they don’t call it chutzpah, they would call it “nerve” or more accurately “noive” as in:

“Eh, buddy, you got a lot noive on youse.”

Another way to put it might be:

“That’s some set of balls ya got!”

This could as easily be referring to a woman as a man. “Balls” is no longer an inherently masculine attachment. I’m pretty sure I’ve got bigger balls than a lot of guys and whaddya wanna make of it, huh?

The best word is chutzpah (חוצפה). You need a good solid guttural on the “Het” (Hebrew: ח) because it’s a sound the English language lacks. Or, as we used to say back in ye olde Jerusalem:

“How’s your ח?

A good “het” (ח) is half a throat-clearing with an “et” following the consonant. It’s where the letter “H” came from before English lost its gutturals. Words like “knight” used to have a guttural and the GH was pronounced as (ח). Look it up. English was a Germanic language loosely mixed with Celtic (which has gutturals) and French, which probably had them, but lost them to that back of the tongue rolling R.

Chutzpah doesn’t merely mean (as per the dictionary) “the ability to face difficulty with spirit and courage, or aggressive energy and initiative.” It also means a willingness to stand up to potential danger and step out of your normal comfort zone and put it all out there, To not care whether or not you offend someone. Although it is not necessarily offensive, it is gutsy, determined, forthright, and assertive. And just a bit Jewish.

You do not need to be Jewish to display chutzpah but it helps. It certainly helps in the pronunciation. Some people are just like that.

It is an attitude, y’know? You got that?

So if you need to return that thing to the guy who did that other thing and you absolutely want your money back — no stupid restocking fees, either — moxie might do the job. But if you seriously need to get the job done?

Chutzpah. Gotta have it.

Trust me. I would never lie to you.

THE TRAIN THROUGH WORCESTER – OWEN KRAUS

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Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge:
Public transportation (bus, planes, trains, etc.

One day, Owen met a guy who turned out to be a conductor on a train that runs through Worcester. It’s a very old narrow-gauge train and its maximum speed is 5 mph.

“Take pictures!” I told him. He had never taken pictures except for a few snapshots, so I wasn’t expecting much. And he still rarely takes pictures, but he could. The pictures are great.

The conductor climbs up the engine into the engine

Heading into the woods

Leaving the yard

This is our train. There are two of them and our Department of Transportation runs these trains three or four times a week to keep them functional. This is the train created to run through places where no other traffic could go.

Train in the yard

Through a meadow, passing the long stone fence

Heading into a curve as the rain begins to fall

There are no roads nor will there be. The train travels through woods, swamps, and meadows. It slowly passes long-defunct mills and factories, past sludgy canals and dark swamps. Not only is this a look at an old train, but it’s also a look at parts of the Blackstone Valley no one sees because it is inaccessible.

Passing trains

About to pass

Looking out the window into the rain

Pulling back into the yard

Welcome to the Blackstone Valley. Have a look at our history as the home of America’s industrial revolution. This is where all manufacturing industries began in the U.S. and why we are a historical corridor.

LOOK FOR THE GOO GOO GOOGLY EYES – Marilyn Armstrong

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I woke up this morning with an earworm. Not your normal earworm. Mine was a 1920s earworm. It was a song my mother sang often and for once, she actually got the words right. Ask any member of my family and they will assure you: my mother never ever remembered the words to any song — except this one. She would sing words from other songs to whatever melody was bouncing around in her head. But she knew all the words to this one. It’s SUCH an earworm, once you listen to it, it just sort of sits in your head and goes around and around and around.

So I get up this morning and this is what I’m hearing, but without the scratches:

And by golly, the words I had in my head were dead on.

How did Google get its name? – Mobilis In Mobile

The mysterious mysteries of the Internet

How did Google get its name?You may have read this kind of “official answer”: Google derived its name from the word “googol”, a term coined by then nine-year-old Milton Sirotta, nephew of the American mathematician Edward Kasner. The story goes, Kasner would have asked his nephew to invent a name for a very large number – ten to the power of one hundred, and Milton called it a googol. Blah-blah-blah!

Whatever say GSpecialists, Wikipedia or Google corporate itself, last Friday I discovered the secret when I was twittering with Orli. Google was named after Barney Google.*

Just listen to Barney Google’s song. No more to say!

You may have read the “official” answer that “Google derived its name from the word “googol,” a term coined by then nine-year-old Milton Sirotta, nephew of the American mathematician Edward Kasner. But I’d bet money (and I never bet money!) that Google was named after Barney Google.” It was the most popular comic strip in the U.S. for dozens of years … and is still around today.

Barney Google – The History

Now you know the truth about Google and somehow, it makes a lot more sense than
any other explanation I’ve heard!

An Impeached President

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My thoughts exactly.

This, That, and The Other

624C6C04-5D7C-40CE-963A-2F770EB554CCThe Republican majority in the U.S. Senate represents a minority of American Citizens. These Republican senators represent less than 44% of the American population. And yet, these Republican senators can block the conviction of an impeached president.

An impeached president who has committed crimes much more serious than those of Richard Nixon during Watergate, which led to Nixon’s resignation in 1974.

An impeached president who was impeached for acts a lot worse than lying about a blow job, which led to Bill Clinton’s impeachment in 1998.

An impeached president who lost the popular vote in 2016 by almost 3 million votes.

An impeached president who suffered the largest midterm election defeat in U.S. history in 2018.

And an impeached president who abused the power of the presidency and obstructed Congress’ investigation into that abuse.

This is the American democracy in 2020. What a shame.

Political cartoon: Matt Wuerker, Politico.

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GETTING NOSY AGAIN – Marilyn Armstrong

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Judy Dykstra Brown popped up with these questions and I found them kind of interesting. Also, I haven’t done this in quite a while, so why not? Right now, the shower installers are back removing ALL the grout and replacing it with the right stuff. I knew something was wrong. It just took a while to convince them that something was amiss.

Meanwhile, we can’t use the shower until tomorrow, but it is fixed.

Does anyone know the odds of getting a contractor to come back and fix something? I think approaching zero would be pretty accurate. Kudos that they came and did it properly this time.

1.  Do you like mustard? No, though honey mustard is an exception.
2. Choice of carbonated drink? Black Cherry ICE. It’s a lightly carbonated water and fruit juice with no sweetener.
3. Do you own a gun? No!
4. Whiskey, Tequilla, Rum or Vodka? We don’t drink.
5. Hot dogs or Cheeseburgers? Cheeseburgers. Garry, though, heavily favors hot dogs.
6. Favorite Type Of Food? Japanese, Thai, Chinese, Mexican (GOOD Mexican which is almost impossible to find in New England)
7. Do you believe in ghosts? Sort of.
8. What do you drink in the mornings? Coffee!
9. Can you do 100 pushups? Not even one.
10. Summer, Winter, spring or fall? Fall. If we had Spring, I’m sure I’d like it.
11. Favorite hobby? Photography, writing, reading. I still miss horses.
12. Tattoos? One which is uniquely mine.
13. Do you wear glasses? Yes. Two kinds. One is for using the computer and another for distance. I don’t wear glasses to read.
14. Phobia? Spiders.
15. Nickname? Hey, YOU! Also, Owen’s mommy, and Garry’s wife.
16. Three drinks you drink? Coffee, ginger ale, ICE, fruit juice (especially orange and grapefruit).
17. Biggest downfall? Unable to travel and can’t walk very far — OR do stairs. My sporting life is over and I will never pitch for the Sox.
18. Rain or Snow? Rain!
19. Piercings? Just ears.
21. Kids? One 50-year-old son and a 23-year-old granddaughter.
22. Favorite colors? Cobalt blue,  hot dark pink, wine red, and racing green accented with black.
23. Favorite age? 40 was good. 43 was even better.
24. Can you whistle? No.
25. Where were you born? Brooklyn, New York
26. Brothers or Sisters? 1 older brother, 1 younger sister. I’m in the middle.
28. Surgeries? When I exceeded 20, I stopped counting. Now, I can’t remember.
29. Shower or Bath? Shower. Last time I tried a bath, I couldn’t get out of the tub. Now, we don’t have a tub, just a big shower.
30. Like gambling? Not for real money. I love games, but I don’t want to lose my money and I don’t want to take someone else’s.
32. Broken bones? No. I specialize in torn ligaments and tendons.
33. How many TVs in your house? 3 – Living room, bedroom; Owen has his own.
34. Worst pain in your life? Having my spine fused. Emotionally? Losing my brother.
35. Do you like to dance? Yes, but I can’t anymore
36. Are your parents still alive? No.
37. Do you like to go camping? No. We used to “cabin camp” in Maine. That was okay except for the outhouse. Too many crawly things.

Please play along! These are fun to do and fun to read.
Copy, paste, change the answer!!

GREAT LIGHT FOR AN ALL BLACK DOG – Marilyn Armstrong

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Great light for an all-black dog 

With two black Scotties in the house, getting a good picture of them is really difficult. If there’s too much sun, the sunlit parts look like white patches. If there isn’t enough light, all you see is a fuzzy lump. We recently got Gibbs groomed and he looks very dapper. They trimmed him tightly — not like a show dog but like a dog you are trying to keep clean during a long, muddy winter.

Good light for solid black fur is bright, but not sunny. A day with a flat gray sky with the pictures taken just before the sun came around to the western side of the house. I think this is as good as it gets from the point of view of light for this picture.

Gibbs really looks like the Wolfman. Poor Larry Talbot!

Gibbs has the most soulful eyes.

With the snow and rain coming in waves and the temperature going from bitterly cold to almost spring in as little as three hours — it jumped 40 degrees today between 8 in the morning and noon — gooey mud is a big issue. So are ticks and fleas because we haven’t had weather consistently cold enough to put them into cold storage.

I figured I’d better take pictures while he still looked good. In another week, he’ll look all grubby again.

OUT MY BACK DOOR – Marilyn Armstrong

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Ragtag Daily Prompt: Out My Backdoor

I look out my backdoor a lot. It’s a small deck leading to a rather small lawned area that when we were younger and more socially active, was the scene of many summertime barbecues, the building of a tepee, and just handing out. The tepee is gone. The idea of feeding a hoard of people — assuming we knew enough people to create a hoard — is exhausting. Nonetheless, our deck is a big piece of the territory to which we pay most attention.

The birds and squirrels believe it belongs to them and resent our presence, so we tread gently when we are out there.

A winter Goldfinch at the finch feeder

Junco keeping company with our stone Toad

The three birdfeeders which have replaced the hanging fuchsia that used to grace the hooks have greatly changed the deck from a human place to a wildlife feeding station. I believe it’s far more socially useful feeding squirrels, the occasional chipmunk, and wild birds than it was as a place for morning coffee.

Cardinal on board

Times change. Since the arrival of mosquitoes carrying diseases previously unknown in this region, it’s hard to get really thrilled about being that close to where they breed.

One of our most frequent visitors, a Tufted Titmouse

Two feeders on a very cold morning

Even though the woods have been sprayed, the spraying reduces the mosquito population. It doesn’t remove it. I’m pretty sure it also killed a few hundred birds and other small critters too. Whenever humans decide to fix something, some creature pays the price.

Mist in a January woods

WINTER BLUES – SWO8 BLUES JAZZ AND WINTER IN NEW ENGLAND – Marilyn Armstrong

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JANUARY! WE’VE GOT THE WINTER BLUES!

First published Feb 15, 2015 – YouTube

My collaborator, Leslie Martel of swo8 Blues Jazz did the work. She composed the music and wrote the words. She also put the video together. Posted it to YouTube. I think that’s all the work. I merely supplied photographs.

It hasn’t been a memorable winter except for it being mostly warmer than usual with sudden patches of very cold weather. A little snow, a lot of rain. One day it’s springtime warm and the next? Zero and a lot lower than that. You think the climate is changing? Nah.

This video is called Winter Blues, a unique, fun collaboration between me and composer-musician swo8 Blues Jazz.

Cardinal in the snowy branches

Up to the rail having jumped from the tree

Before this longest yet, ironically, shortest (by the length of day) month is finished, I hope to have more winter photographs. It’s not that I love snow. I just want my seasons back where they belong.

Since Leslie ran her copy of this today, I thought I’d run this tomorrow. Wait, this IS tomorrow!