You never know what we'll churn up in cleaning a stall
Woodpecker’s finding worms everywhere under the bark.
Every time Republicans accuse Hillary, the old bird’s find much juicier stuff lingering on the Republican tree.
She’s Little League by comparison. In that way, she hardly measures up to the rot.
Still makes one wonder about the partisan obsession and the witch hunts, all the same. Or Newt Gingrich’s hypocritical envy.
Let’s just say looking at current political campaigning, Woodpecker has a headache.
How about you?
We want our money back.
From the super-rich and their lackeys.
Whatever my reasons for enrolling in Spanish to fulfill my foreign language requirement in high school – rather than, say, Latin, French, or German, the other options – I have only the vaguest notion today, but I did have a fabulous teacher my first year. Profesora Hughes was animated, strict, immersion-oriented – and we quickly achieved a level of proficiency, even playfulness. Unfortunately, my second-year teacher only muddied the waters instead without advancing my skills. So when it came to college, I shifted to French, which had the effect of mixing both tongues in my mind.
Well, the French did give me a clearer sense of the workings of English, which I see as a Germanic language overlaid with French. Forget those who argue for the Latin influence.
For the past quarter-century, though, Quakers in New England have had a relationship with Cuba Yearly Meeting of Friends, and that’s included annual visitors to our Meetings. Finding myself at the mercy of interpreters – when we could find them – has been mildly embarrassing. Once I spent two hours driving one Cuban between connections in New Hampshire and Boston, and our attempts at communicating were a revelation. That is, largely non-verbal communication.
This past summer’s visitors somehow tipped the balance for me. Maybe the fact that Odalys, Candido, and Melissa came to Dover, stayed at our neighbors’, even went to a contradance (“baile folklorico,” rather than “social” dance), made the exchange more personal, even before they became next-suite residents the following week in Vermont, meaning we were always bumping into each other on the campus where our sessions were taking place. The possibility that one of them, staying in the States for a year of schooling, might be our guest over Christmas break gave me the impetus to brush up on that Spanish. I even still had my second-year high school textbook to fall back on.
Now for the update. I quickly discovered my skills were much, much lower than anticipated. Vocabulary, conjugation, irregular verbs, tenses – the whole shebang. Working from the book was going to be a struggle.
From family and friends came the advice to look online for free courses, a suggestion I viewed with suspicion. Still, I decided to take a look, enrolled in DuoLingo, and found I tested out of … nothing. That is, my Spanish was essentially nada. OK, it was time to get serious.
Four months later, after a half-hour or so each day but Sunday, let me say I’m an enthusiastic supporter. I’m impressed with DuoLingo’s system of teaching in a way that saves some of the more technical aspects for later. Much of its early vocabulary, in fact, was never part of my high school learning but would be much more useful in real life. Emparedado, or sandwich, for example. And I’m feeling some of the youthful joy of discovery I felt back with Profesora Hughes. I certainly didn’t expect that!
I do get dinged, though, when I type “elle” instead of “ella” or something similar in my responses. Still gotta watch out for that French, along with those crazy accent marks that rarely make sense to me.
Further down the pike, I’m thinking of a round of Greek. Hey, you wouldn’t believe the language options. And it’s all free.
Facts? What facts? Let’s play pretend.
That’s what we’re getting from Trump’s lie-riddled ranting.
There are serious consequences, of course, when reality hits. Just look at that matter of icebergs and the Titanic.
Or another addled ship captain obsessed with a white whale.
When reality hits, the results can be costly and fatal.
Sanity would side with caution, history, and empirical knowledge.
Trump’s real motto? Let’s sink the ship.
Has anyone checked the lifeboats? Or how far we’ve headed from land?
There’s one way to stop those nasty campaign attack ads. Vote FOR the candidate they’re attacking. Remember, there’s a reason the Big Money’s paying for the commercials – and they’re expecting you to repay them. Nip their greed in the bud.
~*~
The operative word here, by the way, is nasty. Watch for smear labels that tell you nothing in factual detail.
And be aware, a candidate intent on attacking the rival without upholding his or her own record and thought-out position should be held in great suspicion.
We’re watching a race here in New Hampshire where one candidate is accusing her opponent of failing to achieve changes that she herself stands against. The implication, of course, is that the negative candidate sides with issues that she, in fact, would thwart. I prefer to play straight, rather than twisted like this. You can guess who I’m voting for.
Any examples along these lines in your own districts and states?
I would rather have 100 people worth $10 million each than one billionaire.
It would definitely raise the rest of us toward the average, no matter the math.
Raise our equality in this, too. Maybe even when it comes to Citizens United.
Is it an affliction?
Karl Rove looks like a pig.
Chris Christie looks like a pig.
Rush Limbaugh looks and sounds like a pig.
What about Roger Ailes or Haley Barbour or Newt Gingrich or …
Dashing out from the pack, grunting something, and then trotting back?
As for Donald Trump, more and more?
Anyone else getting whiffs of pork-stuffed budgets or bringing home the bacon?
Sorry for any offense to real pigs, who can be smart, tasteful, and charming in the right conditions. Now I’m thinking of wolves in sheep’s clothing. Oh, what an Animal Farm!
When I first entered the newspaper business, profit margins of 20 percent to 30 percent were not uncommon. Some papers were even reported to take 40 percent of their earnings down to the bottom line.
Not that much of that income went to the reporters or editors, who as a group ranked at the bottom of professional categories. Below school teachers and ministers, in fact. In addition, we worked nights and weekends and holidays – no wonder the divorce rate was high. The field could be depressing, as other surveys acknowledged. Or maybe it just attracted depressed individuals.
When right-wingers rub their “liberal media” smear across us, they mock the sacrifices we’ve made in trying to serve the public. For accuracy, the mass media are ultimately capitalist machines – or, as they used to say of newspapers when I began, they were machines for printing money. That’s anything but leftist. Can’t be more conservative than that money-grubbing side, can you?
Some of the more astute critics at the time argued that the industry wasn’t reinvesting enough in growth and development, that it was in fact “eating its seed corn” when it came to salaries and wages, especially. How could we attract talented minorities at this pay, for one thing, when there were far more lucrative alternatives such as law? How could we build new audiences and new products without them – much less support these as they grew?
In the past decade or so, the business model has essentially collapsed in the advent of the Internet. Why should anyone pay for something they can get for free? The need for detailed coverage of public affairs remains, more than ever, but there are fewer and fewer professionals on the job, and most of those who remain are approaching minimum wage. You can’t live on that, especially not if you have a family.
I keep thinking of a skilled colleague, one of the best, an editor who quit to become a bus driver. The shift had better hours and better pay, even for a college graduate.
righteous rage is not hate
with them or us
as a balance
not if it’s a cry
for justice
Jnana's Red Barn 