Bespoke agenda. Custom made (by&)for two lonely people like me & you. In our Little Pink Houses. John Mellencamp.
Follow the money. That lonely people, little pink houses “buyers,” do that naturally is most of the threads in the warp-woof of this bespoke straightjacket suit.
And if it takes a little prod to fraud-nudge the following along, those stim/response buttons have been long since mapped, too.
Or force. May it be with you. Fixed bayonets helped to get “public education” off the ground (figure of speech … since its the gutter).
Life is short. Time preferences too. Now. Right now. Cuz the short future belongs to no man. I Gotcha. Cue the great Joe Tex.
I’ve worked gigs.
Gigged stingrays in the Gulf. Gigged Bull & Leopard frogs in the swamps.
Gigged small mom & pop ops & huge multinational agitprops. Never saw stingers & frogs do what I’ve seen so many people do.
Spend the paychecks before they even have them. Spend more than the paychecks can cover. “Live the life.” Go into debt for the things & experiences & impulses & outcomes/fall-outs/collateral damages that precede, make manifest, “I gotcha!”
Advising “Don’t follow the money” is same as telling bullfrog not to croak, giving its position away, or ray to not make that outline in the sand, giving its position away.
Its the same as advising George Costanza to do the opposite.
Show about nothing (incl “money” counterfeited out of thin air & leant out @interest … as well as “paydays” that pay out in ways other than FRN’s) is permanent. Is selected for. And the “I’s” in the “Gotcha!,” the followers of the money & the pushers of the money go all the way back.
Or to at least this side of the hyphen.
Nah. Other side the hyphen, too.
(“The Garden…?” Apple computer-computation fix was already in. Before the bite. Which caused the bite to be bit. No “Fall.” No “regulatory capture.” This is the level. The comfort zone. And as with fairy-money, fairy-stories buy & sell. Nowadays, Apples buy & sell. “Apple Pay” they call it.)
Subsistence-“abundance.”
Hand-to-mouth memories, yearnings, repetition compulsions. Take You Back (Frank Stallone) Get Back Get Back Get Back To Where You Once (barely) Belonged (The Beatles).
But Too Much Stuff (Delbert McClinton, Lyle Lovett, John Prine) just might be like the Lotto jackpot-winner reversion - hard reversion - thing. The one I like is the guy who spent some of the windfall on gambling, alcohol, & wild women, wasted the rest, & then started robbing banks to keep “the life” going. Dunno if he’s out of prison-prison, yet. But addiction-prison is forever.
Unspoken, because unnecessary (at least to a few), was “But that’s easier said, than done.”
Reams of specialist-explanation is too much stuff.
That isn’t necessary, & really has little to nothing to do with explanation. Not for the specialists. Not for the pedestalizers of specialization.
The segment is right in front of you, all around you, at all times. Finer slicing is fine exercise but no finer explanation.
Wizard of Is versus Wizards of Oz. (Rhymes was, if you put a tongue depressor on the vowel.)
Toto versus the curtain … & the specialists of straw, tin, furry feline-ness, opium poppies, head injuries & getting back, getting back, to Auld Lang Kansas.
Dust In The Wind.
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Because we “refuse” (can’t) see. Or refuse to see we can’t see.
Denial: It ain’t just a yellow brick road in Egypt.
Not doing what you are obligated to do. Doing what you are obligated not to do. Getting away with it: “power.”
I think power is too neutral, too positively charged-connoted, too negatively charge-connoted. A mash of all things to all people in all kaleidoscopic instances. And so vernacularized, useless legalese that lawyers love.
The obbligato bits betrayed is not power. It is corruption. Weakness. Venality. Conscientiouslessness. Lack of craft (& so too much compensatory craftiness).
Don’t need to go anywhere to see it, observe/study it; its right across the table & just beyond the threshold. Don’t need to go back in time to find when some mythical corner was turned; there was no turning & now is as any then. The future will be, too. People are people. Its a bounded terroir & it doesn’t, can’t, change.
Synaptic crackle. Spark snap. Fire just a poppin’. Maybe the 1st led to the 2nd led to the 3rd led to grilled meats & bigger brains & more crackle-snap-pop led to thermo-nuke bombs to *really* grill some meat.
But synaptic/flint sparks don’t cook meat. There’s hyphens every step of the fractal way & something even more moat-y is the hyphen betwixt the pre-post emergent “result.”
A spark ain’t a fire, but they sorta rhyme.
And Meathead was All In The Family, too. And still is.
Because the meat humanimal most savors to consume is humanimal. I’ve been to/thru Eloy (its not just a town in AZ) & it was chockablock full of Morlocks pretending, camo’d up, to be Eloi.
If all you are obligated to be & do (as some multitudinous utilitarian pragmatists are “no conflict of interest” wont to do - even if they know they are “saved” & will be going on to heaven …) revolves on the axle of staying alive & passing along that BeeGees tune & whatever other genetic gifthorses (that will thus be just as Trojan to you), then that’s your quantity-theory contribution to the ad-verse-ities.
“We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?” ~ Robin Williams/John Keating, Dead Poets Society
The actual reality is that "The Demented Corrupt One" was NOT elected, but installed to the office by the stolen election generated by Obama and the DNC.
See Dsouza's movie "2000 Mules", for the ballot box stuffing.
All the critical six states where the electronic voting machines were corrupted has been scrubbed from the net. After the polls closed at 10 pm it was not a problem to just switch the names for the vote counts.
Stolen, no doubt. Seems there are two types of people: those with the power to think that the ends can always justify the means, and those without the power who seek justice instead. Those without power will always seek justice. Those with the power will always seek the justification. Until their power is absolute...
Stealing the stealing. Robin-Hood. Schrödinger-Cat. Out-rageous!
“In 1956 the press of Johns Hopkins University released an important compilation of essays by H. L. Mencken under the title “A Carnival of Buncombe” edited by Malcolm Moos. An essay called “Sham Battle” was published in the “Baltimore Evening Sun” on October 26, 1936, and it has been reprinted in this collection. Mencken presented an uncompromisingly harsh evaluation of the electoral process. Boldface has been added to excerpts:[1]
The state—or, to make the matter more concrete, the government—consists of a gang of men exactly like you and me. They have, taking one with another, no special talent for the business of government; they have only a talent for getting and holding office. Their principal device to that end is to search out groups who pant and pine for something they can’t get, and to promise to give it to them. Nine times out of ten that promise is worth nothing. The tenth time it is made good by looting A to satisfy B. In other words, government is a broker in pillage, and every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods.”
Every year the Stollenfest takes place in Dresden. This historical tradition ended only in 1918 with the fall of the monarchy,[10] and started again in 1994, but the idea comes from Dresden's history.
Dresden's Christmas market, the Striezelmarkt, was mentioned in the chronicles for the first time in 1474.[10]
The tradition of baking Christmas stollen in Dresden is very old. Christmas stollen in Dresden was already baked in the 15th century.[13]
In 1560, the bakers of Dresden offered the rulers of Saxony Christmas Stollen weighing 36 pounds (16 kg) each as gift, and the custom continued.[10]
Augustus II the Strong (1670–1733) was the Elector of Saxony, King of Poland and the Grand Duke of Lithuania. The king loved pomp, luxury, splendour and feasts. In 1730, he impressed his subjects, ordering the Bakers’ Guild of Dresden to make a giant 1.7-tonne stollen, big enough for everyone to have a portion to eat. There were around 24,000 guests taking part in the festivities on the occasion of the legendary amusement festivity known as Zeithainer Lustlager.[10] For this special occasion, the court architect Matthäus Daniel Pöppelmann (1662–1737), built a particularly oversized Stollen oven.[10] An oversized Stollen knife also had been designed solely for this occasion.[14]
Today, the festival takes place on the Saturday before the second Sunday in Advent, and the cake weighs between three and four tonnes. A carriage takes the cake in a parade through the streets of Dresden to the Christmas market, where it is ceremoniously cut into pieces and distributed among the crowd, in return for a small payment which goes to charity. A special knife, the Grand Dresden Stollen knife, a silver-plated knife, 1.60 metres (5.2 ft) long weighing 12 kilograms (26 lb), which is a copy of the lost baroque original knife from 1730, is used to cut the oversize Stollen at the Dresden Christmas fair.[14]
The largest stollen was baked in 2010 by Lidl; it was 72.1 metres (237 ft) long and was certified by the Guinness Book of World Records, at the railway station of Haarlem.[15]
late 13c., "foolish, ignorant, frivolous, senseless," from Old French nice (12c.) "careless, clumsy; weak; poor, needy; simple, stupid, silly, foolish," from Latin nescius "ignorant, unaware," literally "not-knowing," from ne- "not" (from PIE root *ne- "not") + stem of scire "to know" (see science). "The sense development has been extraordinary, even for an adj." [Weekley] — from "timid, faint-hearted" (pre-1300); to "fussy, fastidious" (late 14c.); to "dainty, delicate" (c. 1400); to "precise, careful" (1500s, preserved in such terms as a nice distinction and nice and early); to "agreeable, delightful" (1769); to "kind, thoughtful" (1830).
In many examples from the 16th and 17th centuries it is difficult to say in what particular sense the writer intended it to be taken. [OED]
By 1926, it was said to be "too great a favorite with the ladies, who have charmed out of it all its individuality and converted it into a mere diffuser of vague and mild agreeableness." [Fowler]
"I am sure," cried Catherine, "I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should I not call it so?" "Very true," said Henry, "and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk; and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh! It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything." [Jane Austen, "Northanger Abbey," 1803]
I've always used the word nice as a gentle affirmation, although I've sometimes thought to myself more cynically, "Isn't that nice?" when I have doubts.
Not being a fan of polite or civil society would seem easier in isolation from not-so-polite or uncivil society. If you commute back and forth from work five times a week on NYC subways, you come to appreciate civility and small kindnesses.
Yore (days of) welcome. Turned out there’s actual backstory to the “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” “have a nice life.”
And “nice” is a fave mirror to hold up when words are taken too seriously. (Probably as in “Ah! my dear Count, life is much too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it.”)
You’ve heard the phrase “the debt is no problem - we owe it to ourselves”?
Well, wordebt rollovers aren’t the actual problem, but they do reflect it, & tell most of the why of words: they are s/words, disguised as pens.
So “the pen is mightier than the sword” is another good cop/bad cop. Mightier makes rightier. Right?
Does this strike you cynical, or accurate?
Our mutual Pal-omino (trojan) horse ("And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”) Rousseau has been on my mind since Omaha (Wild Kingdom was a staple in my kid days … but there plenty of Beaches, too).
I haven’t found what is on the tip of my mind’s tongue, yet, but did come across this, at the same site I came across Jeff (what do you think? I think 3 guys at the beach are saying “if it walks like a duck-billed Plato-pustule…1st vid, didn’t watch the 2nd):
Well, weariness isn’t easy. No sleep last night, only a little in successive previous nights, I am at about 1% energy. Running on fumes.
But, more in agreement with reante, what happens to everything when civility (among other things) is just a veneer-pose?
Trained-in rote. “Have a nice day” as just something to say (perhaps multiple times per day), lobs back/forth across a net (or on the net).
And then if you’re like Djokovic, the polite ones roar “No net for you!”
Authenticity … must not be easy, either.
I don’t think it is controversial to say inauthenticity is the authentic animal, but that there are rule-proving albino leopards out there.
Systemic white priv racism that, right?
Show true in a world like that (& it is not ‘the new world’) & its a fight. Three 3-minute rounds (amateur boxing), as exhausting as those can be, even to young boys & men in their prime, is less than.
Would reiterate-point that “Holden Caulfield” perspective was quite a bit meatier than just a thought-character.
Radar Love, reante. Below was already writ, was slated to hang from spinning history’s low bar “These days …” As opposed some other days? When?” When here you come with “wised up.”
::
(most) All the world’s a stage is a true indictment. Is it ninja turtle actors all the way down? Maybe there are some plain turtles.
Observer effects in physics are look-at-me-lookin-at-you effects in actors. And the stage sleights involve more than just hands. But the greatest story ever shown, about nothing, must go on - despite any/all songs to the contrary.
Directors … saw something recently about a director yelling at an actress to stop directing. But even just following orders is directing, as (not)far as directing goes.
3 guys at the beach (On The Beach? Nevil Shute in ’57. Oz & waiting for the northern hemisphere radiation to arrive. Would’ve been eerier if they’d been waiting for the syringes to arrive.) vid clip I offered yesterday, talking over the lines of succession among the big-brained Directors wannabes (yes, by big-brained & quite possibly Directors wannabes …).
How to make the illusion of control seem not illusory at all?
How to waste big (lotto jackpot) brains?
(And how best to waste as many other, perhaps smaller, or larger, brains that “get in the way” of the illusion?)
Fractal anecdotes (why’s the latter get so little love when the former gets so much) mine say Peak Energy came in some little white capsules (not red pills), prescribed by a doctor (not a petroleum engineer, or an anthropologist).
Peak oil may be a thing. Peekaboo oil may be a thing. (But *that* thing would be less capitalizable Dx/Rx, right doc? Which makes it way to bet as more of a thing.)
I got the umbrage-impression big Rous was one of your stalwarts. OK. Maybe you’ll have time for some beach later - pretty good little distillation of from there to here by those 3 musketeers.
OTOH, part of the scenery I “see” when I get back to the woods is having no time at all to apportion to darpanet exercise … either. (I divorce thee x3.) Out of the frying pan, clear over the fire that cooked the meat that grew the brains - & off the grid/dle.
I know. May sounds crazy-impossible unlikely. But the anthropologist in you knows. While, perhaps?, the reformed L-totalitarian is unwilling to part with the “connectivity.”
I don’t recall what TOE is, so I’m going with Terms Of Existence, epilogued with Terms Of Endearment (cuz, a little, Debra Winger).
The bit ‘bout JJ I failed to locate had to do with his reactionary into “philosophy” when the surround didn’t appreciate him for his art (which medium I don’t recall) to the lifestyle level he’d become accustomed to in his own mind. Actors & artists & tantrums. (Sometimes) Sieg heil had such a strain, too.
But when Melville couldn’t pay his money bills when his surround failed to appreciate (an actual genius artist, rather than a Sophiste), he just put it away & got a clock-punch job somewhere.
So TO(b)E or not TO(b)E. Gotta agree with The Eagle who penned & sang "The more I think about it old Billy was right, let's kill all the lawyers, kill 'em tonight.”
That band also did New Kid In Town.
I know that tune by heart. And in every single “new” town the dx/rx was always the same.
And so was my “reaction.”
It was something like “molon labe.”
But not Greek. The local doctorate understood my words, but probably not me, perfectly.
I couldn’t always beat ‘em. But I never joined ‘em.
And I understood (&stand) them perfectly. They did what they did because they thought/believed they could get away with it ... & because they thought/believed the surround/irectors required them to "action!".
It is never any more complicated than that.
So ...to stretch the totalitarian tarp over me, people like me, does to that term (of art … words … gotta watch ‘em) the same as has been done to “nice.”
Might “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy” ?
PS I got a big TOE that gives me some trouble. Dunno for sure but it may be an old motocross injury that lurked for decades, just waitin' for its chance. Maybe its still a thing, but debate usta be "is mx won in the corners, or in the straights?" What do you think?
Thank you for the kind phrase, sir. My own exposure to teachers was, of course, somewhat limited. Never attended college and describe my four-year high school career as the best eight days of my life.
Brilliant synopsis. When I imagined myself to be a Democrat I went to the convention in NYC (not as a delegate) at which Carter was nominated. Later, I read that 40% of the delegates were teacher's union members. Of course, Carter went on to create the monster called the Department of Education.
It is our taxes that they are laundering. What if we ALL didn't give them anymore? What if all the young men refused to pick up a weapon to kill another? What if NO ONE voted?
Thanks, Gwyneth. I've come close a couple of times, but still haven't figured out how not to pay my taxes except by declaration of abject poverty (which my wife has a real problem with). Otherwise, I've been chased out of two different countries by two different conscription services (American and Israeli), and haven't voted in a national election since 1976.
I have never voted. My conscience has never allowed me to give to anyone else the right to make decisions for me. As for taxes, I have managed to pay as little as possible (having never been particularly wealthy:) Being a woman, conscription has never raised it's ugly head.
I have said before that the governance of this world is a shitshow. I try very hard to live in an alternate reality of my own making.
The Mysterious UN Illegal Migrant Debit Cards |
Some of the The money funding the INVASION and thus THE destruction of the USA revealed!!
https://www.winterwatch.net/2023/09/the-mysterious-un-debit-cards/
Bespoke agenda. Custom made (by&)for two lonely people like me & you. In our Little Pink Houses. John Mellencamp.
Follow the money. That lonely people, little pink houses “buyers,” do that naturally is most of the threads in the warp-woof of this bespoke straightjacket suit.
And if it takes a little prod to fraud-nudge the following along, those stim/response buttons have been long since mapped, too.
Or force. May it be with you. Fixed bayonets helped to get “public education” off the ground (figure of speech … since its the gutter).
Life is short. Time preferences too. Now. Right now. Cuz the short future belongs to no man. I Gotcha. Cue the great Joe Tex.
I’ve worked gigs.
Gigged stingrays in the Gulf. Gigged Bull & Leopard frogs in the swamps.
Gigged small mom & pop ops & huge multinational agitprops. Never saw stingers & frogs do what I’ve seen so many people do.
Spend the paychecks before they even have them. Spend more than the paychecks can cover. “Live the life.” Go into debt for the things & experiences & impulses & outcomes/fall-outs/collateral damages that precede, make manifest, “I gotcha!”
Advising “Don’t follow the money” is same as telling bullfrog not to croak, giving its position away, or ray to not make that outline in the sand, giving its position away.
Its the same as advising George Costanza to do the opposite.
Show about nothing (incl “money” counterfeited out of thin air & leant out @interest … as well as “paydays” that pay out in ways other than FRN’s) is permanent. Is selected for. And the “I’s” in the “Gotcha!,” the followers of the money & the pushers of the money go all the way back.
Or to at least this side of the hyphen.
Nah. Other side the hyphen, too.
(“The Garden…?” Apple computer-computation fix was already in. Before the bite. Which caused the bite to be bit. No “Fall.” No “regulatory capture.” This is the level. The comfort zone. And as with fairy-money, fairy-stories buy & sell. Nowadays, Apples buy & sell. “Apple Pay” they call it.)
Subsistence-“abundance.”
Hand-to-mouth memories, yearnings, repetition compulsions. Take You Back (Frank Stallone) Get Back Get Back Get Back To Where You Once (barely) Belonged (The Beatles).
But Too Much Stuff (Delbert McClinton, Lyle Lovett, John Prine) just might be like the Lotto jackpot-winner reversion - hard reversion - thing. The one I like is the guy who spent some of the windfall on gambling, alcohol, & wild women, wasted the rest, & then started robbing banks to keep “the life” going. Dunno if he’s out of prison-prison, yet. But addiction-prison is forever.
A guy used to say “Let it be easy.”
Unspoken, because unnecessary (at least to a few), was “But that’s easier said, than done.”
Reams of specialist-explanation is too much stuff.
That isn’t necessary, & really has little to nothing to do with explanation. Not for the specialists. Not for the pedestalizers of specialization.
The segment is right in front of you, all around you, at all times. Finer slicing is fine exercise but no finer explanation.
Wizard of Is versus Wizards of Oz. (Rhymes was, if you put a tongue depressor on the vowel.)
Toto versus the curtain … & the specialists of straw, tin, furry feline-ness, opium poppies, head injuries & getting back, getting back, to Auld Lang Kansas.
Dust In The Wind.
Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Because we “refuse” (can’t) see. Or refuse to see we can’t see.
Denial: It ain’t just a yellow brick road in Egypt.
Let my people go!? Go where Moses/Mises?
Not doing what you are obligated to do. Doing what you are obligated not to do. Getting away with it: “power.”
I think power is too neutral, too positively charged-connoted, too negatively charge-connoted. A mash of all things to all people in all kaleidoscopic instances. And so vernacularized, useless legalese that lawyers love.
The obbligato bits betrayed is not power. It is corruption. Weakness. Venality. Conscientiouslessness. Lack of craft (& so too much compensatory craftiness).
Don’t need to go anywhere to see it, observe/study it; its right across the table & just beyond the threshold. Don’t need to go back in time to find when some mythical corner was turned; there was no turning & now is as any then. The future will be, too. People are people. Its a bounded terroir & it doesn’t, can’t, change.
Synaptic crackle. Spark snap. Fire just a poppin’. Maybe the 1st led to the 2nd led to the 3rd led to grilled meats & bigger brains & more crackle-snap-pop led to thermo-nuke bombs to *really* grill some meat.
But synaptic/flint sparks don’t cook meat. There’s hyphens every step of the fractal way & something even more moat-y is the hyphen betwixt the pre-post emergent “result.”
A spark ain’t a fire, but they sorta rhyme.
And Meathead was All In The Family, too. And still is.
Because the meat humanimal most savors to consume is humanimal. I’ve been to/thru Eloy (its not just a town in AZ) & it was chockablock full of Morlocks pretending, camo’d up, to be Eloi.
If all you are obligated to be & do (as some multitudinous utilitarian pragmatists are “no conflict of interest” wont to do - even if they know they are “saved” & will be going on to heaven …) revolves on the axle of staying alive & passing along that BeeGees tune & whatever other genetic gifthorses (that will thus be just as Trojan to you), then that’s your quantity-theory contribution to the ad-verse-ities.
“We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?" Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?” ~ Robin Williams/John Keating, Dead Poets Society
The actual reality is that "The Demented Corrupt One" was NOT elected, but installed to the office by the stolen election generated by Obama and the DNC.
See Dsouza's movie "2000 Mules", for the ballot box stuffing.
All the critical six states where the electronic voting machines were corrupted has been scrubbed from the net. After the polls closed at 10 pm it was not a problem to just switch the names for the vote counts.
Stolen, no doubt. Seems there are two types of people: those with the power to think that the ends can always justify the means, and those without the power who seek justice instead. Those without power will always seek justice. Those with the power will always seek the justification. Until their power is absolute...
Stealing the stealing. Robin-Hood. Schrödinger-Cat. Out-rageous!
“In 1956 the press of Johns Hopkins University released an important compilation of essays by H. L. Mencken under the title “A Carnival of Buncombe” edited by Malcolm Moos. An essay called “Sham Battle” was published in the “Baltimore Evening Sun” on October 26, 1936, and it has been reprinted in this collection. Mencken presented an uncompromisingly harsh evaluation of the electoral process. Boldface has been added to excerpts:[1]
The state—or, to make the matter more concrete, the government—consists of a gang of men exactly like you and me. They have, taking one with another, no special talent for the business of government; they have only a talent for getting and holding office. Their principal device to that end is to search out groups who pant and pine for something they can’t get, and to promise to give it to them. Nine times out of ten that promise is worth nothing. The tenth time it is made good by looting A to satisfy B. In other words, government is a broker in pillage, and every election is a sort of advance auction sale of stolen goods.”
Every year the Stollenfest takes place in Dresden. This historical tradition ended only in 1918 with the fall of the monarchy,[10] and started again in 1994, but the idea comes from Dresden's history.
Dresden's Christmas market, the Striezelmarkt, was mentioned in the chronicles for the first time in 1474.[10]
The tradition of baking Christmas stollen in Dresden is very old. Christmas stollen in Dresden was already baked in the 15th century.[13]
In 1560, the bakers of Dresden offered the rulers of Saxony Christmas Stollen weighing 36 pounds (16 kg) each as gift, and the custom continued.[10]
Augustus II the Strong (1670–1733) was the Elector of Saxony, King of Poland and the Grand Duke of Lithuania. The king loved pomp, luxury, splendour and feasts. In 1730, he impressed his subjects, ordering the Bakers’ Guild of Dresden to make a giant 1.7-tonne stollen, big enough for everyone to have a portion to eat. There were around 24,000 guests taking part in the festivities on the occasion of the legendary amusement festivity known as Zeithainer Lustlager.[10] For this special occasion, the court architect Matthäus Daniel Pöppelmann (1662–1737), built a particularly oversized Stollen oven.[10] An oversized Stollen knife also had been designed solely for this occasion.[14]
Today, the festival takes place on the Saturday before the second Sunday in Advent, and the cake weighs between three and four tonnes. A carriage takes the cake in a parade through the streets of Dresden to the Christmas market, where it is ceremoniously cut into pieces and distributed among the crowd, in return for a small payment which goes to charity. A special knife, the Grand Dresden Stollen knife, a silver-plated knife, 1.60 metres (5.2 ft) long weighing 12 kilograms (26 lb), which is a copy of the lost baroque original knife from 1730, is used to cut the oversize Stollen at the Dresden Christmas fair.[14]
The largest stollen was baked in 2010 by Lidl; it was 72.1 metres (237 ft) long and was certified by the Guinness Book of World Records, at the railway station of Haarlem.[15]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stollen
Candied/dried fruits, nuts, sugar, spice everything nice.
nice (adj.)
late 13c., "foolish, ignorant, frivolous, senseless," from Old French nice (12c.) "careless, clumsy; weak; poor, needy; simple, stupid, silly, foolish," from Latin nescius "ignorant, unaware," literally "not-knowing," from ne- "not" (from PIE root *ne- "not") + stem of scire "to know" (see science). "The sense development has been extraordinary, even for an adj." [Weekley] — from "timid, faint-hearted" (pre-1300); to "fussy, fastidious" (late 14c.); to "dainty, delicate" (c. 1400); to "precise, careful" (1500s, preserved in such terms as a nice distinction and nice and early); to "agreeable, delightful" (1769); to "kind, thoughtful" (1830).
In many examples from the 16th and 17th centuries it is difficult to say in what particular sense the writer intended it to be taken. [OED]
By 1926, it was said to be "too great a favorite with the ladies, who have charmed out of it all its individuality and converted it into a mere diffuser of vague and mild agreeableness." [Fowler]
"I am sure," cried Catherine, "I did not mean to say anything wrong; but it is a nice book, and why should I not call it so?" "Very true," said Henry, "and this is a very nice day, and we are taking a very nice walk; and you are two very nice young ladies. Oh! It is a very nice word indeed! It does for everything." [Jane Austen, "Northanger Abbey," 1803]
I've always used the word nice as a gentle affirmation, although I've sometimes thought to myself more cynically, "Isn't that nice?" when I have doubts.
Not being a fan of polite or civil society would seem easier in isolation from not-so-polite or uncivil society. If you commute back and forth from work five times a week on NYC subways, you come to appreciate civility and small kindnesses.
Yore (days of) welcome. Turned out there’s actual backstory to the “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn” “have a nice life.”
And “nice” is a fave mirror to hold up when words are taken too seriously. (Probably as in “Ah! my dear Count, life is much too important a thing ever to talk seriously about it.”)
You’ve heard the phrase “the debt is no problem - we owe it to ourselves”?
Well, wordebt rollovers aren’t the actual problem, but they do reflect it, & tell most of the why of words: they are s/words, disguised as pens.
So “the pen is mightier than the sword” is another good cop/bad cop. Mightier makes rightier. Right?
Does this strike you cynical, or accurate?
Our mutual Pal-omino (trojan) horse ("And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”) Rousseau has been on my mind since Omaha (Wild Kingdom was a staple in my kid days … but there plenty of Beaches, too).
I haven’t found what is on the tip of my mind’s tongue, yet, but did come across this, at the same site I came across Jeff (what do you think? I think 3 guys at the beach are saying “if it walks like a duck-billed Plato-pustule…1st vid, didn’t watch the 2nd):
https://www.lewrockwell.com/lrc-blog/jean-jacques-rousseau-was-the-first-leftist-and-one-of-the-most-evil-and-dangerous-minds-to-have-ever-lived/
As for conflict there’s conflict & then there’s conflict. (Inauthentic politeness chases its tail from there to there.)
I’m tired of it.
But, as mentioned, I’m not tired in a vacuum. Tiredness may be the vacuum.
And/but it, Mr. T (“I pity the fool!”) comes for most.
Dunno ‘bout “peak oil.’ But “peak energy” is definitely a thing, whichever horse it rides (while stringing the other three behind).
What happens to civility when being weary is so easy to be?
Well, weariness isn’t easy. No sleep last night, only a little in successive previous nights, I am at about 1% energy. Running on fumes.
But, more in agreement with reante, what happens to everything when civility (among other things) is just a veneer-pose?
Trained-in rote. “Have a nice day” as just something to say (perhaps multiple times per day), lobs back/forth across a net (or on the net).
And then if you’re like Djokovic, the polite ones roar “No net for you!”
Authenticity … must not be easy, either.
I don’t think it is controversial to say inauthenticity is the authentic animal, but that there are rule-proving albino leopards out there.
Systemic white priv racism that, right?
Show true in a world like that (& it is not ‘the new world’) & its a fight. Three 3-minute rounds (amateur boxing), as exhausting as those can be, even to young boys & men in their prime, is less than.
Would reiterate-point that “Holden Caulfield” perspective was quite a bit meatier than just a thought-character.
Radar Love, reante. Below was already writ, was slated to hang from spinning history’s low bar “These days …” As opposed some other days? When?” When here you come with “wised up.”
::
(most) All the world’s a stage is a true indictment. Is it ninja turtle actors all the way down? Maybe there are some plain turtles.
Observer effects in physics are look-at-me-lookin-at-you effects in actors. And the stage sleights involve more than just hands. But the greatest story ever shown, about nothing, must go on - despite any/all songs to the contrary.
Directors … saw something recently about a director yelling at an actress to stop directing. But even just following orders is directing, as (not)far as directing goes.
3 guys at the beach (On The Beach? Nevil Shute in ’57. Oz & waiting for the northern hemisphere radiation to arrive. Would’ve been eerier if they’d been waiting for the syringes to arrive.) vid clip I offered yesterday, talking over the lines of succession among the big-brained Directors wannabes (yes, by big-brained & quite possibly Directors wannabes …).
How to make the illusion of control seem not illusory at all?
How to waste big (lotto jackpot) brains?
(And how best to waste as many other, perhaps smaller, or larger, brains that “get in the way” of the illusion?)
Song, with the words, from a flick:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MgkITrj2m0c
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Fractal anecdotes (why’s the latter get so little love when the former gets so much) mine say Peak Energy came in some little white capsules (not red pills), prescribed by a doctor (not a petroleum engineer, or an anthropologist).
Peak oil may be a thing. Peekaboo oil may be a thing. (But *that* thing would be less capitalizable Dx/Rx, right doc? Which makes it way to bet as more of a thing.)
I got the umbrage-impression big Rous was one of your stalwarts. OK. Maybe you’ll have time for some beach later - pretty good little distillation of from there to here by those 3 musketeers.
OTOH, part of the scenery I “see” when I get back to the woods is having no time at all to apportion to darpanet exercise … either. (I divorce thee x3.) Out of the frying pan, clear over the fire that cooked the meat that grew the brains - & off the grid/dle.
I know. May sounds crazy-impossible unlikely. But the anthropologist in you knows. While, perhaps?, the reformed L-totalitarian is unwilling to part with the “connectivity.”
I don’t recall what TOE is, so I’m going with Terms Of Existence, epilogued with Terms Of Endearment (cuz, a little, Debra Winger).
The bit ‘bout JJ I failed to locate had to do with his reactionary into “philosophy” when the surround didn’t appreciate him for his art (which medium I don’t recall) to the lifestyle level he’d become accustomed to in his own mind. Actors & artists & tantrums. (Sometimes) Sieg heil had such a strain, too.
But when Melville couldn’t pay his money bills when his surround failed to appreciate (an actual genius artist, rather than a Sophiste), he just put it away & got a clock-punch job somewhere.
So TO(b)E or not TO(b)E. Gotta agree with The Eagle who penned & sang "The more I think about it old Billy was right, let's kill all the lawyers, kill 'em tonight.”
That band also did New Kid In Town.
I know that tune by heart. And in every single “new” town the dx/rx was always the same.
And so was my “reaction.”
It was something like “molon labe.”
But not Greek. The local doctorate understood my words, but probably not me, perfectly.
I couldn’t always beat ‘em. But I never joined ‘em.
And I understood (&stand) them perfectly. They did what they did because they thought/believed they could get away with it ... & because they thought/believed the surround/irectors required them to "action!".
It is never any more complicated than that.
So ...to stretch the totalitarian tarp over me, people like me, does to that term (of art … words … gotta watch ‘em) the same as has been done to “nice.”
Might “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy” ?
PS I got a big TOE that gives me some trouble. Dunno for sure but it may be an old motocross injury that lurked for decades, just waitin' for its chance. Maybe its still a thing, but debate usta be "is mx won in the corners, or in the straights?" What do you think?
Thank you for the kind phrase, sir. My own exposure to teachers was, of course, somewhat limited. Never attended college and describe my four-year high school career as the best eight days of my life.
Brilliant synopsis. When I imagined myself to be a Democrat I went to the convention in NYC (not as a delegate) at which Carter was nominated. Later, I read that 40% of the delegates were teacher's union members. Of course, Carter went on to create the monster called the Department of Education.
It is our taxes that they are laundering. What if we ALL didn't give them anymore? What if all the young men refused to pick up a weapon to kill another? What if NO ONE voted?
We give our power away.
Thanks, Gwyneth. I've come close a couple of times, but still haven't figured out how not to pay my taxes except by declaration of abject poverty (which my wife has a real problem with). Otherwise, I've been chased out of two different countries by two different conscription services (American and Israeli), and haven't voted in a national election since 1976.
I have never voted. My conscience has never allowed me to give to anyone else the right to make decisions for me. As for taxes, I have managed to pay as little as possible (having never been particularly wealthy:) Being a woman, conscription has never raised it's ugly head.
I have said before that the governance of this world is a shitshow. I try very hard to live in an alternate reality of my own making.
Think I found your problem, Gwyneth: you have a conscience...
Oh darn!🤣