Tuesday, December 30

Thugs Win! Thugs Win!

Holy Cow! ...

It has helped contribute to a nose dive in low-level policing, with overall arrests down 66 percent for the week starting Dec. 22 compared with the same period in 2013, stats show.

Citations for traffic violations fell by 94 percent, from 10,069 to 587, during that time frame.

Summonses for low-level offenses like public drinking and urination also plunged 94 percent — from 4,831 to 300.

Even parking violations are way down, dropping by 92 percent, from 14,699 to 1,241.

Drug arrests by cops assigned to the NYPD’s Organized Crime Control Bureau — which are part of the overall number — dropped by 84 percent, from 382 to 63.
Be Careful What You Wish For...

("Imagine there's no law enforcement. I wonder if you can.
No rules or laws to be broken: just Big Man vs. Big Man...

Imagine all the people... walking down the middle of the street...
Kids stopping to buy loose cigarettes, or taking free cigarillos ... Swisher Sweet!

Imagine all the sex pervs... trafficking openly...
Woo hoo, hoo hoo hoo
...)
---------------

ADDED: At least they can test the theory: No Justice System. No Peace.

If only fools follow the rules, who wins really?

Respect, II.

As soon as it’s time to start contemplating the next election, commentators begin to ask this question, demanding of Democrats that they explain why this time will be different and they’ll be able to win over those white voters. I’m going to argue that Democrats don’t have to win the white working class, so they shouldn’t worry themselves too much about it.
...
Those voters were actually working-class white Democrats, in the 2008 primaries. Right away you’re talking about a minority of the white working class. And she did indeed do far better than Barack Obama among them. His race and hers had a whole lot to do with that, and it also may help explain why her ratings among whites without college degrees are worse now than they were in June 2008.
...
But is there something Hillary Clinton (or some other Democrat) could do that would cause huge numbers of working-class white voters to vote differently than they had before?
Jobs, jobs, jobs.
Put the American economy first.
Concentrate on the educations of little American girls and boys.
Not just HeadStart and more social programs in the schools, but top-notch year-round educational opportunities for those who show talent, ambition and discipline, those ready to learn and compete globally.

(or... you could just blow off "those whites", and see how the country fares without them, I suppose. Nothing like cerebral contemplation* to move ahead together, eh?)

Whose the Racist, Mr. Waldeman?
The plain truth is that she’s likely to get more of their votes than Barack Obama did just because she’s white (though not so many more that it will make her unbeatable). But there isn’t some magical key to unlocking the votes of that entire demographic category that can be found and deployed.
You likely would not know it if you stumbled across it, Mr. Gruber. Stupidity blinds, and deafens, you know...
--------------------------------

*
"What Democrats need to do is offer an agenda, particularly on the economy, that appeals to a broad spectrum of Americans. That’s both simple and complicated. But if and when they put that agenda together, lots of white working class voters still won’t respond...

Democrats don’t need them all. What they need is about the same proportion of those votes that they got in the last couple of presidential elections. More would be nice, but the same amount would work fine. Because you may remember who won those elections."
Wall Street?

Respect.

A female AirAsia officer shouted at the television media for showing footage of a floating body, while about 200 journalists were barred from the room holding the families, the windows of which were boarded up.

“Is it possible for you not to show a picture of the dead? Please do not show a picture of a dead body,” said the officer. “That’s crazy.”

Munif, a 50-year-old whose younger brother Siti Rahmah was on the plane, said he had been trying hard to keep the other families calm.

“But the atmosphere was very different after the footage of a dead body was shown. Families became hysterical,” he said.

“Because everyone was wailing and yelling, I couldn’t deal with it so I decided to leave the room.”
ADDED:
"The warship Bung Tomo has retrieved 40 bodies and the number is growing. They are very busy now," a navy spokesman added.

Sky News also reports that the "shadow" of a jet has been spotted on the seabed.

Crews in dozens of planes, helicopters and ships looking for the aircraft discovered what appeared to be a life jacket and an emergency exit door, according to The Associated Press. Part of the plane's interior, including an oxygen tank, was brought to the nearest town, Pangkalan Bun, along with a bright blue plastic suitcase that appeared to be in perfect condition.
...
Pilots of the jet had been worried about the weather on Sunday and sought permission to climb above threatening clouds, but were denied due to heavy air traffic. Minutes later, the jet was gone from the radar without issuing a distress signal.

The suspected crash caps an astonishingly tragic year for air travel in Southeast Asia, and Malaysia in particular. Malaysia-based AirAsia's loss comes on top of the still-unsolved disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 370 in March with 239 people aboard, and the downing of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 in July over Ukraine, which killed all 298 passengers and crew.

Nearly all the passengers and crew are Indonesians, who are frequent visitors to Singapore, particularly on holidays.

Ifan Joko, 54, said that despite the tragic news he is still hoping for a miracle. His brother, Charlie Gunawan, along with his wife, their three children and two other family members, were traveling to Singapore on the plane to ring in the New Year.

"I know the plane has crashed, but I cannot believe my brother and his family are dead," he said, wiping a tear. "... We still pray they are alive."

Saturday, December 27

Hell is...

other drivers.
;-)
I kid, somewhat, but understandably, I suppose, if you've paid out the nose for a big truck**, then when we have a mild winter snowstorm, you want to put it to use and plow through at the regular speed, even when the conditions say, slow down, the lane lines are not even visible...

But when you're driving over the St. Croix River on the Hudson bridge, for heaven's sake, just temporarily stay in line, in the one plowed lane. You can pass, sure, but you're also spraying the entire windshield of smaller vehicles* with slushy crap, so why not pass when it's safer and there's more room?

I guess, you want to justify your purchase.
(Something about overcompensation in there too, I suspect.)

Anyway, I hit 66.5 hrs. yesterday, and today's week begins anew. Something about a steamed-up economy lifting all ships, or powering all vehicles @$2.39 midgrade, or something.

------------------
* ... and mine isn't even that small.
** Pickups, not semis. Truck drivers generally have excellent skills in driving. Don't cut them off. And pass in the passing lane...

Happy Saturday, Friends!

ADDED: Like with the MTM statue, the bridge picture is stock photography from an Internet images search. (The lack of snow, and darkness, should give both away.)

Thursday, December 25

Futures.

Linda Greenhouse:

On Jan. 11, 2002, the first 20 captives arrived at the U.S. Navy base at Guantánamo Bay. The last arrival took place in March 2008. A new day has now dawned in Cuba, one that until last week seemed, despite its inevitability, as if it would never come. Is there a new day ahead for Guantánamo? Someday, guests lounging on the beach at the Four Seasons Guantánamo may shake their heads and wonder what it was all about.

Wednesday, December 24

All You Can Take With You...

Is That Which You've Given Away.
Now, we can get through this thing all right.
We've got to stick together, though.
We've got to have faith in each other.

Shooting for 68.

I'm clocking out in an hour @ 56 with the (unpaid) national holiday tomorrow, and Friday finishing out our workweek...

Go Me!
------------------
ADDED: With the low demand and the express busses not running, I had to park down the street and walk by the Nicollet Mall this morning, where the darkness was brightened by all the holiday lights.

Waiting at the corner for the light to change, I turn and see Mary Richards tossing her beret in the air, turning the world on with her smile...

"You're Gonna Make It After All..."

Have a wonderful evening, everyone!

Monday, December 22

The Emperor's Knew Clothes.

or, "Forget It. He's Rolling..."

---------------
ADDED: *smiling gently* @ "Gotten get this done, got plans to get through The Gulag Archipelago this year."

Oh, I'd budget more than 9 days for that one. Solzhenitsyn reads slow -- most of the Russians do -- don't you think?

PLUS:

Ta-Nehisi Coates @tanehisicoates · 23s 24 seconds ago

lol win. RT @PresNixonUSA: @MolemanusRex @tanehisicoates What the Christ are you talking about, boy?
Aw, damn.
Next time, then.

NY Mayor Calls for an End to Street Protests.

Good move.

Mayor Bill de Blasio on Monday called for protesters to suspend demonstrations in the aftermath of the killing of two New York police officers, who were gunned down in Brooklyn as they sat in their patrol car.

“It’s time for everyone to put aside political debates, put aside protests, put aside all of the things that we will talk about in due time,” Mr. de Blasio said in a speech. “That can be for another day.”
People sprawling dead on the ground seem more like Jonestown re-enactors than a group with a serious list of grievances and demands. (Hire more minority officers? Teach minorities how to use the political process to run for office and otherwise represent their communities in law-abiding, systemic ways?)

It seems this is more about performance art than stating, and reaching, any desired goals for true change.

"You Are So Beautiful... To Me!"

RIP growler Joe Cocker.

PS. "You Can Leave Your Hat On..."

Sunday, December 21

"The answer to violence is love."

I wonder who writes the NYT editorials on the weekends...

No one wants to fall deeper into a grotesque cycle of grievance and vengeance, where all that grows is blindness and hate. The answer to violence is love...

Where have they been as America has changed dramatically over the past 13 years?

We are at war non-stop.
We greet violence as an opportunity to deploy our weapons.
Big Weapons... everywhere, it seems.

(You reap what you sow, and now that another tragedy is striking America at home in New York -- yes, this is an American tragedy, not confined to NYC -- now they are going to preach love? Odd. I wonder how far and for how long their newfound commitment will extend...)
Officers Ramos and Liu were patrolling in Brooklyn not to oppress but to serve and protect. Those who live and work in New York should unite in gratitude for their service and sacrifice, and commit themselves to a city where all feel safe. That is a movement everyone should join.
Good luck trying to re-bottle the hatreds and angry frustration stoked in recent months though. This is why, the words spoken now are a bit too little, too late. You have to be a pro-active thinker, or just smart, to see where the angry protests and fact-depleted narratives were taking us before someone deranged picked up on the ideas floated, and make them into a cruel reality for uninvolved others.

ie/Can the "What White People Just Don't Get" blather... Stop discriminating amongst us by race. Souls have no color.

"If your way isn’t working...

try God’s way."

A Facebook page apparently belonging to Officer Ramos was adorned with the quote: “If your way isn’t working, try God’s way,” and said he had studied at a seminary before joining the New York Police Department.
...
“He was trying to make a change,” said Jose Ortiz, the 59-year-old head of church’s security, who identified himself as a retired police officer. “He wasn’t just a uniform.”
...
Candles and flowers were left outside a detached single-family home in Brooklyn Sunday, which neighbors said belonged to Mr. Liu and his wife.

Sophia He, a local bodega owner, said the couple came into her shop almost daily to buy scratch lottery tickets. “Every time he was in here he was so happy,” said Ms. He, 30. “He was always with his wife.”

A local florist, Steven Angotti, described the recently-married couple as quiet and clearly in love.

#BlackLivesMatter.

#BrownLivesMatter.
#YellowLivesMatter.
#RedLivesMatter.
#WhiteLivesMatter.
#BlueLivesMatter.
#RainbowLivesMatter.
#UnbornLivesMatter.
#ElderlyLivesMatter.
#DisabledLivesMatter.
#CriminalLivesMatter.
#ForeignLivesMatter.
#AtheistLivesMatter.
#ReligiousLivesMatter.
#WomensLivesMatter.
#MensLivesMatter.
#PlantLivesMatter.
#AnimalLivesMatter.
...
#LIFE_Matters

Respect.
(spread the word...)

And a Child Shall Lead Them...

In an emotional posting on Facebook, the 13-year-old son of Officer Ramos, Jaden, captured the mood of many in the department and around the city.

This is the worst day of my life,” he wrote. “Today I had to say bye to my father. He was their for me everyday of my life, he was the best father I could ask for. It’s horrible that someone gets shot dead just for being a police officer. Everyone says they hate cops but they are the people that they call for help. I will always love you and I will never forget you. RIP Dad."

No Justice, No ... Shopping ?

In lieu of the police killings in Brooklyn,
black-rights protesters in Minneapolis changed their chant at the Mall of America "die-in" yesterday, as they sprawled on the floors in a dead-man's pose and prevented other visitors from doing their holiday shopping...

Baby steps, I guess.

In Retrospect...

perhaps it was wise indeed, Sony's decison to pull the American comedy scheduled to debut on Christmas Day, whose highlight allegedly was watching your enemy's head get blown off...

That's not entertainment;
and clearly, not everyone in the audience is enlightened enough to distinguish between fact and fiction...

(Not censorship.*
Just good business sense.)

Happy Holidays to all!
---------------

*
#FauxOutrage

Apologies to U2.

Heaven on Earth.
We need it now.
I'm sick of all of this...
hanging around.
Sick of sorrow.
Sick of pain.
Sick of hearing again and again,
that there's gonna be...
Peace on Earth.

Where I grew up...
there weren't many trees.
Where there were, we'd tear them down
and use them on our enemies.
They say that what you mock
will surely overtake you...
and you become a monster,
so the monster will not break you.

It's already gone too far...
Who said that if you go in hard,
you won't get hurt?

Jesus could you take the time
to throw a drowning man a line?
Peace on Earth.
Tell the ones who hear no sound
whose (fathers and) sons are living in the ground
Peace on Earth.
No whos or whys
No-one cries, like a mother cries,
for peace on Earth.
She never got to say goodbye,
to see the coloor in his eyes,
now he's in the dirt...

Peace on Earth.

They're reading names out, over the radio
All the folks the rest of us, won't get to know...
Sean and Julia, Gareth, Ann and Breda
Rafael and Wenjian, Trayvon, Miriam and Tamir...
Their lives are bigger, than any big ideas.

Jesus can you take the time
To throw a drowning man a line?
Peace on Earth.
To tell the ones who hear no sound
whose sons are living in the ground...
Peace on Earth.

Jesus in this song you wrote,
the words are sticking in my throat...
Peace on Earth.

Hear it every Christmas time
but hope and history won't rhyme...
So what's it worth?
This peace on Earth?

Peace on Earth.
The list of names grows...
Rafael Ramos, a two-year veteran of the NYPD, had celebrated his 40th birthday on Dec. 12. Police Commissioner Bill Bratton said Ramos was a school safety officer before fulfilling his lifelong dream was to be an NYPD cop.

Rosie Orengo, a friend of Ramos, said he was very involved in the church and encouraged others in their marriages.

"He was an amazing man. He was the best father and husband and friend," she said. "Our peace is knowing that he's OK, and we'll see him in heaven."

Ramos' partner Wenjian Liu, who was married two months ago, was also shot and killed today in Brooklyn. They were ambushed while sitting in an NYPD car, city officials said.

"We met the parents of Officer Liu, the woman he recently married," Mayor Bill de Blasio said. "We met the wife of Officer Ramos. We met his 13-year-old son, who couldn't comprehend what had happened to his father."
Here's another song classic you might know...
Let there be peace on earth
And let it begin with me.

Let there be peace on earth
The peace that was meant to be.

With God as our father
Brothers all are we.

Let me walk with my brother
In perfect harmony.

Let peace begin with me
Let this be the moment now.

With every step i take
Let this be my solemn vow:
To take each moment,
and Live each moment
in peace eternally...

Let ther be peace on earth,
and let it begin with me.

Make it a great day, everyone...
and hey? Let's Be Careful Out There.
---------------------

ADDED: Confidential to Nick Kristof of the NYTimes: Please send up two Haitians then to "replace" the fallen officers. They are needed, STAT. #WhenColumnistsJustDon'tGetIt.

Saturday, December 20

Pray for Peace, People Everywhere...

God be with the families.
2 NYPD cops shot dead ‘execution style’ in Brooklyn
Two uniformed NYPD officers were shot dead — execution style — as they sat in their marked police car on a Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, street corner.

According to preliminary reports, both officers were working overtime as part of an anti-terrorism drill when they were shot point-blank by a single gunman who approached their car at the corner of Myrtle and Tompkins avenues.

“It’s an execution,” one law enforcement source told The Post of the 3 p.m. shooting.

The gunman just started “pumping bullets” into the patrol car, another source said.

The suspected gunman fled to a nearby subway station at Myrtle and Willoughby avenues, where he was fatally shot. Preliminary reports were unclear on whether he was shot by police or his own hand.

“They engaged the guy and he did himself,” one investigator said.
...
Carmen Jimenez, 32, a social worker from Bedford-Stuyvesant, was on the subway platform when the gunman ran inside, pursued by officers.

“Everything happened so quick,” said Jimenez, who is eight months pregnant. “We were standing waiting for the G train. We heard arguing from the other end of the platform.

It looked like two cops came in there was lots of yelling and they said, ‘Everybody get down.’

“We tried to get out of there, and there was a lot of shouting, people were screaming, people were trying to run.

“I threw myself on the floor. I was afraid for my life and afraid for my baby.”

I arise today, through
The strength of heaven,
The light of the sun,
The radiance of the moon,
The splendor of fire,
The speed of lightning,
The swiftness of wind,
The depth of the sea,
The stability of the earth,
The firmness of rock.


I arise today, through
God's strength to pilot me,
God's might to uphold me,
God's wisdom to guide me,
God's eye to look before me,
God's ear to hear me,
God's word to speak for me,
God's hand to guard me,
God's shield to protect me,
God's host to save me
From snares of devils,
From temptation of vices,
From everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and near.
...
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down,
Christ when I sit down,
Christ when I arise,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me...

---------

Photo: Paul Martinka

Friday, December 19

Oh hell...

Happy Hannukah!

Here's the Theroux piece in full. (I assumed it would be online for subscribers only; this part about the Rosenwald schools was what I planned to excerpt in 7 or 8 typings.)

Read the whole thing though. Excellent writer... (pretty sly, for a white guy...)

The Gift
At the edge of County Road 16, ten miles south of Greensboro, an old white wooden building stood back from the road but commanded attention. It had recently been prettified and restored and was used as a community center.

“That’s the Rosenwald School. We called it the Emory School,” Rev. Lyles told me. “I was enrolled in that school in 1940. Half the money for the school came from Sears, Roebuck—folks here put up the difference. My mother also went to a Rosenwald School, the same as me. The students were black, the teachers were black. If you go down Highway 69, down to the Gallion area, there is another Rosenwald School, name of Oak Grove.”

Julius Rosenwald, the son of German-Jewish immigrants, made a success of his clothing business by selling to Richard Sears, and in 1908 became president of Sears, Roebuck, and Co. In midlife his wish was to make a difference with his money, and he hatched a plan to give his wealth to charitable causes but on a condition that has become common today: His contribution had to be met by an equal amount from the other party, the matching grant.

Convinced that Booker T. Washington’s notion to create rural schools was a way forward, Rosenwald met the great educator and later began the Rosenwald Fund to build schools in backlands of the South.

Five thousand schools were built in 15 states beginning in 1917, and they continued to be built into the 1930s. Rosenwald himself died in 1932, around the time the last schools were built; but before the money he had put aside ran its course, in 1948, a scheme had been adopted through which money was given to black scholars and writers of exceptional promise.

One of the young writers, Ralph Ellison, from Oklahoma, was granted a Rosenwald Fellowship, and this gave him the time and incentive to complete his novel Invisible Man (1952), one of the defining dramas of racial violence and despair in America. Rosenwald fellowships also went to the photographer Gordon Parks, the sculptor Elizabeth Catlett (who later created Ellison’s memorial in New York City), W.E.B. DuBois, Langston Hughes and many other black artists and thinkers.

The schools built with Rosenwald money (and local effort) were modest structures in the beginning, two-room schools like the one in Greensboro, with two or at the most three teachers. They were known as Rosenwald Schools but Rosenwald himself discouraged naming any of them after himself. As the project developed into the 1920s the schools became more ambitious, brick-built, with more rooms.

One of the characteristics of the schools was an emphasis on natural light through the use of large windows. The assumption was that the rural areas where they’d be built would probably not have electricity; paint colors, placement of blackboards and desks, even the southerly orientation of the school to maximize the light were specified in blueprints.

The simple white building outside Greensboro was a relic from an earlier time, and had the Rev. Lyles not explained its history, and his personal connection, I would have had no idea that almost 100 years ago a philanthropic-minded stranger from Chicago had tried to make a difference here.

“The financing was partly the responsibility of the parents,” Rev. Lyles told me. “They had to give certain stipends. Wasn’t always money. You’ve heard of people giving a doctor chickens for their payment? That’s the truth—that happened in America. Some were given corn, peanuts and other stuff, instead of cash money. They didn’t have money back in that day.” Rev. Lyles, who came from a farming family, brought produce his father had grown, and chickens and eggs.

“My grandfather and the others who were born around his time, they helped put up that school building. And just recently Pam Dorr and HERO”—the Hale Empowerment and Revitalization Organization—“made a plan to fix up the school. It made me proud that I was able to speak when it was reopened as a community center. My grandfather would have been proud too.”

He spoke some more about his family and their ties to the school, and added, “My grandfather was born in 1850.”

I thought I had misheard the date. Surely this was impossible. I queried the date.

“Correct—1850.”

So Booker T. Washington (1856-1915) was younger than Rev. Lyles’ grandfather. “My grandfather wasn’t born here but he came here. He remembered slavery—he told us all about it. I was 13 years old when he passed. I was born in 1934. He would have been in his 90s. Work it out—he was 10 years old in 1860. Education wasn’t for blacks then. He lived slavery. Therefore his name was that of his owner, Lyles, and he was Andrew Lyles. Later on, he heard stories about the Civil War, and he told them to me.”

They say a good writer is someone who can inform you simply on things you don't know. And can bring something fresh, add something new to a topic you do. This part re. the renowned Emmett Till tragedy falls under the latter:

PART THREE: MISSISSIPPI
Hardly a town or a village, Money, Mississippi (pop. 94), was no more than a road junction near the banks of the Tallahatchie River. There, without any trouble, I found what I was looking for, a 100-year-old grocery store, the roof caved in, the brick walls broken, the facade boarded up, the wooden porch roughly patched, and the whole wreck of it overgrown with dying plants and tangled vines. For its haunted appearance and its bloody history it was the ghostliest structure I was to see in the whole of my travels in the South. This ruin, formerly Bryant’s Grocery and Meat Market, has topped the list of Mississippi Heritage Trust’s “Ten Most Endangered Historic Places,” though many people would like to tear it down as an abomination.

What happened there in the store and subsequently, in that tiny community, was one of the most powerful stories I’d heard as a youth. As was so often the case, driving up a country road in the South was driving into the shadowy past. A “Mississippi Freedom Trail” sign in front of it gave the details of its place in history. It was part of my history, too.

I was just 14 in 1955 when the murder of the boy occurred. He was exactly my age. But I have no memory of any news report in a Boston newspaper at the time of the outrage. We got the Boston Globe, but we were subscribers to and diligent readers of family magazines, Life for its photographs, Collier’s and the Saturday Evening Post for profiles and short stories, Look for its racier features, Reader’s Digest for its roundups. This Victorian habit in America of magazines as family entertainment and enlightenment persisted until television overwhelmed it in the later 1960s.

In January 1956, Look carried an article by William Bradford Huie, “The Shocking Story of Approved Killing in Mississippi,” and it appeared in a shorter form in the Reader’s Digest that spring. I remember this distinctly, because my two older brothers had read the stories first, and I was much influenced by their tastes and enthusiasms. After hearing them excitedly talking about the story, I read it and was appalled and fascinated.

Emmett Till, a black boy from Chicago, visiting his great-uncle in Mississippi, stopped at a grocery store to buy some candy. He supposedly whistled at the white woman behind the counter. A few nights later he was abducted, tortured, killed and thrown into a river. Two men, Roy Bryant and John William “J.W.” Milam, were caught and tried for the crime. They were acquitted. “Practically all the evidence against the defendants was circumstantial evidence,” was the opinion in an editorial in the Jackson Daily News.

After the trial, Bryant and Milam gloated, telling Huie that they had indeed committed the crime, and they brazenly volunteered the gory particularities of the killing. Milam, the more talkative, was unrepentant in describing how he’d kidnapped Emmett Till with Bryant’s help, pistol-whipped him in a shed behind his home in Glendora, shot him and disposed of the body.

“Let’s write them a letter,” my brother Alexander said, and did so. His letter was two lines of threat—We’re coming to get you. You’ll be sorry—and it was signed, The Gang from Boston. We mailed it to the named killers, in care of the post office in Money, Mississippi.
...
Though the Jackson Daily News editorialized that it was “best for all concerned that the Bryant-Milam case be forgotten as quickly as possible,” the paper also had published a robust piece by William Faulkner.

It was one of the most damning and gloomiest accusations Faulkner ever wrote (and he normally resisted the simplifications of newspaper essays), and his anguish shows. He must have recognized the event as something he might have imagined in fiction. He wrote his rebuttal hurriedly in Rome while he was on an official junket, and it was released through the U.S. Information Service.

He first spoke about the bombing of Pearl Harbor, and the hypocrisy of boasting of our values to our enemies “after we have taught them (as we are doing) that when we talk of freedom and liberty, we not only mean neither, we don’t even mean security and justice and even the preservation of life for people whose pigmentation is not the same as ours.”

He went on to say that if Americans are to survive we will have to show the world that we are not racists, “to present to the world one homogeneous and unbroken front.” Yet this might be a test we will fail: “Perhaps we will find out now whether we are to survive or not. Perhaps the purpose of this sorry and tragic error committed in my native Mississippi by two white adults on an afflicted Negro child is to prove to us whether or not we deserve to survive.”

And his conclusion: “Because if we in America have reached that point in our desperate culture when we must murder children, no matter for what reason or what color, we don’t deserve to survive, and probably won’t.”

Nowhere in the piece did Faulkner use Emmett Till’s name, yet anyone who read it knew whom he was speaking about.

Forget him, the Jackson paper had said, but on the contrary the case became a remembered infamy and a celebrated injustice; and Emmett Till was eulogized as a hero and a martyr. Suppression of the truth is not merely futile but almost a guarantee of something wonderful and revelatory emerging from it: creating an opposing and more powerful and ultimately overwhelming force, sunlight breaking in...

And one more, a success story here:
“Where I could save my kids”
You hear talk of people fleeing the South, and some do. But I found many instances of the South as a refuge. I met a number of people who had fled the North to the South for safety, for peace, for the old ways, returning to family, or in retirement.

At a laundromat in Natchez, the friendly woman in charge changed some bills into quarters for the machines, and sold me some soap powder, and with a little encouragement from me, told me her story.

Her name was Robin Scott, in her mid 40s. She said, “I came here from Chicago to save my children from being killed by gangs. So many street gangs there—the Gangster Disciples, the Vice Lords. At first where I lived was OK, the Garfield section. Then around late ’80s and early ’90s the Four Corners Hustlers gang and the BGs—Black Gangsters—discovered crack cocaine and heroin. Using it, selling it, fighting about it. There was always shooting. I didn’t want to stay there and bury my children.

“I said, ‘Gotta get out of here’—so I quit my job and rented a U-Haul and eventually came down here where I had some family. I always had family in the South. Growing up in Chicago and in North Carolina, we used to visit my family in North Carolina, a place called Enfield, in Halifax County near Rocky Mount.”

I knew Rocky Mount from my drives as a pleasant place, east of Raleigh, off I-95 where I sometimes stopped for a meal.

“I had good memories of Enfield. It was country—so different from the Chicago streets. And my mother had a lot of family here in Natchez. So I knew the South was where I could save my kids. I worked at the casino dealing blackjack, but after a time I got rheumatoid arthritis. It affected my hands, my joints and my walking. It affected my marriage. My husband left me.

“I kept working, though, and I recovered from the rheumatoid arthritis and I raised my kids. I got two girls, Melody and Courtney—Melody’s a nurse and Courtney’s a bank manager. My boys are Anthony—the oldest, he’s an electrician—and the twins, Robert and Joseph. They’re 21, at the University of Southern Mississippi.

“Natchez is a friendly place. I’m real glad I came. It wasn’t easy. It’s not easy now—the work situation is hard, but I manage. The man who owns this laundromat is a good man.

“I got so much family here. My grandmother was a Christmas—Mary Christmas. Her brother was Joseph. We called my grandmother Big Momma and my grandfather Big Daddy. I laughed when I saw that movie Big Momma’s House.

“Mary Christmas was born on a plantation near Sibley. They were from families of sharecroppers. My grandfather was Jesse James Christmas.”

I mentioned Faulkner’s Light in August and Joe Christmas, and how I’d always found the name faintly preposterous, heavy with symbolism. I told her the plot of the novel, and how the mysterious Joe Christmas, orphan and bootlegger, passes for white but has a black ancestry. Before I could continue with the tale of Lena Grove and her child and the Christian theme, Robin broke in.

“Joe Christmas was my uncle,” she said, later explaining that he lived in a nursing home in Natchez until he died recently, in his 90s. “It’s a common name in these parts.”

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-----------------
MORE?
Rowan Oak
Oxford, where Faulkner had lived and died, was the university town of Ole Miss. Off well-traveled Route 278, the town vibrated with the rush of distant traffic. There is hardly a corner of this otherwise pleasant place where the whine of cars is absent, and it is a low hum at Rowan Oak, Faulkner’s house, which lies at the end of a suburban street, at the periphery of the campus and its academic splendors.

The road noise struck an odd and intrusive note because, though Oxford resembles “Jefferson” in Faulkner’s work, the town and its surroundings are in all respects as remote from Faulkner’s folksy, bosky, strife-ridden, plot-saturated and fictional Yoknapatawpha County as it is possible to be. The town is lovely. The university is classically beautiful in the Greek Revival Southern style, of columns and bricks and domes, suggesting a mood both genteel and scholarly, and backward-looking.

And for a century this esteemed and vividly pompous place of learning clung to the old ways—segregation and bigotry among them, overwhelming any liberal tendencies. So, here is an irony, one of the many in the Faulkner biography, odder than this self-described farmer living on a side street in a fraternity-mad, football-crazed college town.

Faulkner—a shy man but a bold, opinionated literary genius with an encyclopedic grasp of Southern history, one of our greatest writers and subtlest thinkers—lived most of his life at the center of this racially divided community without once suggesting aloud, in his wise voice, in a town he was proud to call his own, that a black student had a right to study at the university. The Nobel Prize winner stood by as blacks were shooed off the campus, admitted as menials only through the back door and when their work was done told to go away.

Faulkner died in July 1962. Three months later, after a protracted legal fuss (and deadly riots afterward), and no thanks to Faulkner, James Meredith, from the small central Mississippi town of Kosciusko, was admitted, as its first black student.

Fair-minded, Faulkner had written in Harper’s magazine: “To live anywhere in the world today and be against equality because of race or color is like living in Alaska and being against snow.” But he asked for a gradual approach to integration, and, as he wrote in Life magazine, he was against the interference of the federal government—“forces outside the south that would use legal or police compulsion to eradicate that evil overnight.” We’ll do it ourselves, in our own time, was his approach; but, in fact, nothing happened until the federal government—the South’s historical villain—intervened.

Restless when he was not writing, always in need of money, Faulkner traveled throughout his life; but Oxford remained his home, and Rowan Oak his house, even when (it seems) a neighborhood grew up around the big, ill-proportioned farmhouse previously known as “the Bailey Place.” He renamed it Rowan Oak for the mythical powers of the wood of the rowan tree, as the docents at the house helpfully explained to me.

This street—orderly, bourgeois, well-tended, tidy, conventional—is everything Faulkner’s fiction is not and is at odds with Faulkner’s posturing as a country squire. On this road of smug homes, Rowan Oak rises lopsidedly like a relic, if not a white elephant, with porches and white columns, windows framed by dark shutters, and stands of old, lovely juniper trees. The remnants of a formal garden are visible under the trees at the front—but just the symmetrical brickwork of flowerbed borders and walkways showing in the surface of the ground like the remains of a neglected Neolithic site.

He was anchored by Oxford but lived a chaotic life; and the surprising thing is that from this messy, lurching existence that combined the asceticism of concentrated writing with the eruptions of binge drinking and passionate infidelities, he produced an enormous body of work, a number of literary masterpieces, some near misses and a great deal of garble. He is the writer all aspiring American writers are encouraged to read, yet with his complex and speechifying prose he is the worst possible model for a young writer. He is someone you have to learn how to read, not someone anyone should dare imitate, though unfortunately many do.

Some of Faulkner’s South still exists, not on the land but as a racial memory. Early in his writing life he set himself a mammoth task, to create the fictional world of an archetypical Mississippi county where everything happened—to explain to Southerners who they were and where they’d come from. Where they were going didn’t matter much to Faulkner. Go slowly, urged Faulkner, the gradualist.

Ralph Ellison once said, “If you want to know something about the dynamics of the South, of interpersonal relationships in the South from, roughly, 1874 until today, you don’t go to historians; not even to Negro historians. You go to William Faulkner and Robert Penn Warren.”

I walked through the rooms at Rowan Oak, which were austerely furnished, with a number of ordinary paintings and simple knickknacks, a dusty piano, the typewriter and the weird novelty of notes puzzling out the plot of A Fable written by him on the wall of an upstairs room. Notes clarifying the multilayered, if not muddled, plot were, for Faulkner, a good idea, and would serve a reader, too. Nothing to me would be more useful than such handwriting on a wall. Baffled by seven pages of eloquent gabble, you glance at the wall and see: “Charles is the son of Eulalia Bon and Thomas Sutpen, born in the West Indies, but Sutpen hadn’t realized Eulalia was of mixed race, until too late...”

“We’ll be closing soon,” the docent warned me.

I went outside, looked at the brick outbuildings and sheds, a stable and meandered past the plainness of the yard, among the long shadows of the junipers in the slant of the winter sun. From where I stood, the house was obscured by the trees at the front, but still it had the look of a mausoleum; and I was moved to think of Faulkner in it, exhausting himself with work, poisoning himself with drink, driven mad in the contradictions of the South, obstinate in his refusal to simplify or romanticize its history, resolute in mirroring its complexity with such depth and so many human faces—all this before his early death, at the age of 64.

No other region in America had a writer who was blessed with such a vision.

Sinclair Lewis defined the Upper Midwest, and showed us who we were in Main Street and Elmer Gantry; but he moved on to other places and other subjects. Faulkner stayed put, he achieved greatness; but as a writer, as a man, as a husband, as a delineator of the South’s arcane formalities and its lawlessness, his was a life of suffering.

Thursday, December 18

T.T.T.

(Too tired to type...)
Seriously though, when I have time, I plan to excerpt a bit of Paul Theroux's article in one of this summer's Smithsonian magazines, as part of my Hanukkah offering.

I'm calling the series: Shine On You Crazy Diamond. (no link to Syd Barrett).

Someone smart works where I do: leaves their leftover Smithsonian and Audubon magazines in the break room to share...*

Kindness of strangers, indeed.

-----------------
* I've been reading the article on the bus, coming and going; no bus this weekend or on the 24th or 26th though. Have to drive in for those hours.

Busy, busy, busy... or Ca-ching. Ca-ching.

(Nothing wrong with Honest Work. And where I'm from, you always take the overtime when it comes... I work the hours too, not a clocked-in talker, myself.)

Wednesday, December 17

(more to come).

*Busy, busy, busy...

¡ Feliz Navidad y Prospero Año Felicidad !

a nuestros hermanos y hermanas cubanos ...

Tuesday, December 16

(placeholder).

*Busy, busy, busy...

Monday, December 15

Eyes on the Road. Hands Upon the Wheel.

Don't Jerk and Drive, People.
Just ... No.

PIERRE, S.D. — South Dakota is canceling its successful “Don’t Jerk and Drive” ad campaign after complaints that the double entendre is inappropriate.

That public safety campaign, intended to warn winter drivers against jerking the steering wheel on slick roads, has achieved its goal of engaging thousands of people, the Argus Leader reported. More than 16,000 people saw the #DontJerkAndDrive campaign on Twitter in its first week, and page views at the related Facebook page have jumped to almost 30,000 since the campaign launched, outperforming previous public safety campaigns 25 to 1.

However, the Department of Public Safety is killing the campaign after complaints about the possible sexual connotation of the term “jerk.”

“I decided to pull the ad,” DPS secretary Trevor Jones told the newspaper. “This is an important safety message and I don’t want this innuendo to distract from our goal to save lives on the road.”

Earlier, DPS officials behind the campaign had said the double meaning was done on purpose as part of an effort to reach young males — the demographic most likely to crash in icy conditions. Other parts of the campaign included the phrases “Jerking isn’t a joke,” “Think before you jerk,” and “Keep calm and don’t jerk the wheel.”

But in the end, the same boldness that made the campaign so attention-grabbing appears to have doomed it. Republican state Rep. Mike Verchio said he planned to call the campaign’s organizers before the transportation committee to ask what they were thinking.
Don't Knock What Works.
(That's one of the greatest things we'll miss when the skilled working-class is gone. If we think we're a disposable society now... what happens when we lose the people who know to fix things, even if they're not the most politically correct or socially enlightened methods? A lot more broken things, like kids jerking while driving...)

It's About the Guns, People.

I was so glad to read this story this morning.

I do believe, no matter what you think of the basic competency of individual law enforcement officers, the recent fatal police killings are more about the fear of guns (in black hands), than the color of person himself.

The more inclusive the movement, the more likely we will see societal change, led by ... us.

"And just like our hearts were broken and we can't breathe, the hearts of the mothers in Ferguson, in Bridgeport, in Hartford, in Florida, in New Haven, in Danbury, they can't breathe," said Nelba Marquez-Greene, who lost her daughter, Ana Grace, on Dec. 14, 2012.

"And we should care. We should care when our children are lost to gun violence."

Marquez-Greene, speaking at The First Cathedral's church service in Bloomfield, recalled the moment two years ago when she and her husband were in the Newtown firehouse, where officials were informing parents of the 20 children slain along with six educators at Sandy Hook Elementary School. She and her husband found their son, now a fifth-grader, but not their daughter.

"But in that same firehouse," she said, "my husband and I knew Ana was with Jesus and that we would see her again."

A troubled 20-year-old gunman had shot his way into the school. He shot and killed his mother before driving to the school, and he committed suicide as police arrived.

Marquez-Greene asked anyone feeling despair and the desire to commit "a senseless act of violence" to ask for prayer and "to know that we love you." She said she went to Washington to speak out against gun violence but felt that change would come not from the leaders there but "from us."

Greene's husband, Jimmy Greene, a saxophonist and composer who has dedicated a new album to their daughter, also spoke and played at the service.

Other churches across Connecticut remembered the victims Sunday as the Newtown community quietly marked the anniversary. At Newtown's St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church, bells rang out and the victims' names were read.

The town held no official public memorial events Sunday. Officials said would be for private reflection and remembrance.

Sunday, December 14

"... and I'm sorry it interfered with the fundraisers planned this weekend."

A young Republican on Fox News rips George Will's mentality with, We Get the Government We Deserve.

Saturday, December 13

Banking on Sleep.

Sometimes, Nature says:
Stay Inside. Sleep.
Even on Saturday.

Friday, December 12

The Banks Win!

The bi-partisan bill passes.
This government rolls merrily along...
Nobody's even rioting in the streets yet.

More of the same then.
So long as we're covering news of imaginary rapes, "racist" police officers, and years-old torture porn, the rich ones will do it again and again...

Too big to fail?
Don't you believe it, America.

This is just the fireside sale,
(if you're not doing the selling,
you're being sold out.)

I think I liked it better when the politicians did nothing for their jobs, than serve the lobbyists who've bought them. Ditto the journo's and baiters...

Luckily, we're not all whores.
Still some free men here.

----------------------



Make it a great Friday,
if you're free of those trappings,
and don't pull a buck off preaching nonsense!

Be ye not a hypocrite, cashing The Man's check
but pretending you are part of the solution.

Better to stick with childish things,
while others keep their eyes on the ball...

Thursday, December 11

Kill the Bill.

Better to eat nothing than to eat shit, I always say...

Break the cycle.
Call their bluff.
Don't reward the same old same-old.

Fight hard -- do you have it in you?
If not you, who?
If not now, when?

Why reward failure?

The Strength in Living Dissent.

They say that what you mock...
will surely overtake you.
And you become a monster...
so the monster will not break you
.

I stopped working for several years there, so not much of my tax money went to support these wars, weapons, or torture sessions in poor countries like Poland, who once again, went along to get along... Weak like that.

I'm a Christian.
I believe one day, every day will be Judgment Day.

The media will have their heyday now -- now that as an industry they've been reduced to mocking from the sidelines -- before turning their attentions to the latest entertainment of the moment. They'll assume a collective guilt, on behalf of us all.

Collect their paychecks, report in retrospect, now that the action's safely over... (or is it? Funny how the new defense secretary is the man who knows all the toys in our toolbox, and can help best choose the countries and situations to try 'em out on. We're still at war everywhere, don't forget. Dwindling days of American power until economically we're overtaken by our betters.)

But don't you believe that all of us supported the wars, the revenge (against the wrong parties), the patriotic chest beating and the killings. Check the track records. Some of us smarter ones: We knew from the get go Bush was an immature asshole, no life experience but bailed-out failure. We don't forgive him because he's a Grandpa now, painting his toes in the bathtub, and a good old boy.

We forgive him, because there's a greater Judge to come. It's not our place to punish him or the evil Cheney with no working heart of his own. God will see to it: they'll get theirs.

The ones who are still innocent -- who never killed nor supported the killings -- are the winners and one day, the last shall be first.

Thus says the Lord GOD:
I myself will look after and tend my sheep.
As a shepherd tends his flock
when he finds himself among his scattered sheep,
so will I tend my sheep.
I will rescue them from every place where they were scattered
when it was cloudy and dark.
I myself will pasture my sheep;
I myself will give them rest, says the Lord GOD.
The lost I will seek out,
the strayed I will bring back,
the injured I will bind up,
the sick I will heal,
but the sleek and the strong I will destroy,
shepherding them rightly.

Believe.

As for you, my flock, thus says the Lord GOD: I will judge between one sheep and another, between rams and goats.
Was it not enough for you to graze on the best pasture, that you had to trample the rest of your pastures with your hooves? Or to drink the clearest water, that you had to pollute the rest with your hooves?
Thus my flock had to graze on what your hooves had trampled and drink what your hooves had polluted.
Therefore thus says the Lord GOD: Now I will judge between the fat and the lean.
Because you push with flank and shoulder, and butt all the weak sheep with your horns until you drive them off,
I will save my flock so they can no longer be plundered; I will judge between one sheep and another.
I will appoint one shepherd over them to pasture them, my servant David; he shall pasture them and be their shepherd.
I, the LORD, will be their God, and my servant David will be prince in their midst. I, the LORD, have spoken.


I will make a covenant of peace with them and rid the country of wild beasts so they will dwell securely in the wilderness and sleep in the forests.

I will settle them around my hill and send rain in its season, the blessing of abundant rain.
The trees of the field shall bear their fruits, and the land its crops, and they shall dwell securely on their own soil. They shall know that I am the LORD when I break the bars of their yoke and deliver them from the power of those who enslaved them.

They shall no longer be plundered by the nations nor will wild beasts devour them, but they shall dwell securely, with no one to frighten them.

I will prepare for them peaceful fields for planting so they are never again swept away by famine in the land or bear taunts from the nations.
Thus they shall know that I, the LORD, their God, am with them, and that they are my people, the house of Israel—oracle of the Lord GOD.
Yes, you are my flock: you people are the flock of my pasture, and I am your God—oracle of the Lord GOD.

December.

or, Ah, Precipitation.

It is supposed to be a melting 43 degrees this Saturday, with the wet just hanging in the air...

If -- officially -- the snow cover has to measure one inch to qualify for a white Christmas, we might not make it, the weather forecasters say.

Se la vie.

(sic)

Wednesday, December 10

We Were Only Fresh Men...

MEXICO CITY -- Nearly 10 weeks after 43 college students in Mexico were kidnapped by police, forensic experts have identified a bone among remains in a trash dump as belonging to one of the missing men, the school and federal officials said Saturday.

This would be a key clue in discovering the fate of the students, last seen Sept. 26 in the city of Iguala, in Guerrero state, after a deadly confrontation with police acting on the orders of the mayor, according to the government.
...
Argentine forensic investigators, whom the families brought in to inspect remains, notified the father of Alexander Mora, one of the students, that a bone had been identified as the young man's.
...
The Mexican government has said that garbage bags full of ashes and bone fragments discovered in a trash dump at Cocula, near Iguala, where the students were abducted, were too deteriorated to be identified easily.

Samples were sent to a laboratory in Austria where the identification was apparently made.

Without a definitive identification, many of the students' parents refused to believe their children were dead, despite statements from detainees who described in detail how they killed, dismembered and buried the bodies.
...
The missing students were freshmen in a rural politicized college that specializes in training the children of poor campesinos to be teachers.

The students' disappearance has galvanized many in this violent country, sending thousands into the streets to protest the killings and the deeply penetrated tentacles of government corruption that the incident exposed.

It has handed PResident Enrique Pena Nicto his most serious crisis in two years of government. He has announced a series of security measures but has largely failed to appease an angry public.

~Terry Wilkinson, LA Times

Tuesday, December 9

Fred Astaire and Mickey Rooney...

are Comin' to Town!

(Is this the "Put One Foot in Front of the Other..." special? I love that song...)

ADDED:

You better watch out.
You better not cry.
You better not pout.
I'm telling you why...
Spread the word in Sombertown.
-----------------
Everybody!
Winter: I really am a mean, and despicable creature at heart you know. It's difficult to [sniff] really change.

Kris: Difficult? [chuckles] Why, why look here, changing from bad to good is as easy as taking your first step.
Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you'll be walking 'cross the floor.
You put one foot in front of the other
And soon you'll be walking out the door.

You never will get where you're going
if you never get up on your feet...
Come on, there's a good tail wind blowin'
A fast-walking man is hard to beat.


If you want to change your direction,
If your time of life is at hand,
Well, don't be the rule, be the exception
A good way to start is to stand
.
Winter: If I want to change the reflection
I see in the mirror each morn...
Kris: Oh, you do.
Winter: You mean that it's just my election?
Kris: Just that.
Winter: To vote for a chance to be reborn? Woo-hoo!

Put one foot in front of the other
And soon you'll be walking 'cross the floor.
You put one foot in front of the other
And soon you'll be walking out the door!

"We're Not Caught Up in Your Race Affairs"

The dark clouds are passing, the storm is breaking.
There's been a lot of anger, some focused, some misdirected, in recent days.

The president has it right: "As painful as these incidents are, we can’t equate what is happening now to what was happening 50 years ago, and if you talk to your parents, grandparents, uncles, they’ll tell you that things are better. Not good, in some cases, but better."

LeBron James is doing his bit, mixing it up with white privilege personified, and hey: it's all good:  "We don't care... We're not caught up in your racial affairs." 

Next stop: Jay-z and Beyonce.
This is how healing happens, people.

Cultural clashes classed up by celebrities. Justice rolls slower, but it's all good. Move along people, nothing to see here.

For example,
How quickly do you think those social media comments rolled off the Obama sisters' backs, for all the needless recounting the words have been given by prominent media? 98 percent of the country loves those two young women; they need not hide their color...

Get over, as the multicultural kids say, understanding there's a mighty complex world well beyond simple black-and-white. These are just the death pangs of the past, still sounding but weaker and weaker each day...






Monday, December 8

Get Up.

When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me... speaking words of wisdom: Let it be...

Nothing, nothing is impossible with God.
Nothing.

Oh say, does that star spangled banner yet wave...
o'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave?

News You Need to Know.

The 12-member committee seeded Alabama No. 1, Oregon No. 2, Florida State No. 3 and Ohio State No. 4. As the top seed, the Crimson Tide were entitled to home-field advantage, and so they will play Ohio State at the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans. This presumably suits Oregon just fine, as it will meet the Seminoles at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, Calif.

The matchups will not upset ESPN, which has a 12-year, $7.3 billion deal for the playoff. Four brand-name programs from four conferences. Last year’s Heisman Trophy-winning quarterback, Jameis Winston of Florida State, versus this year’s likely Heisman-winning quarterback, Marcus Mariota of Oregon. Alabama Coach Nick Saban going up against Urban Meyer, now Ohio State’s coach but previously a Southeastern Conference rival of Saban’s when Meyer won two national titles at Florida.

The winners of the semifinals, an afternoon/evening doubleheader on Jan. 1, will play for the national championship on Jan. 12 at AT&T Stadium in Arlington, Tex.
=========
Baylor and TCU won't get to play for a national championship, but both teams will play in "New Year's Six" bowls.

The Bears will play No. 8 Michigan State in the Goodyear Cotton Bowl Classic, while the Horned Frogs will face No. 9 Ole Miss in the Chick-fil-A Peach Bowl. No. 7 Mississippi State will play No. 12 Georgia Tech in the Capital One Orange Bowl. No. 20 Boise State and No. 10 Arizona will meet in the VIZIO Fiesta Bowl.

Las Vegas sports books installed Alabama and Oregon as the betting favorites. The Westgate SuperBook opened the Crimson Tide as 9.5-point favorites over Ohio State. It's the 68th straight game that Alabama has been the favorite. It's only the fifth time the Buckeyes have been an underdog under coach Urban Meyer. For his career, Meyer is 14-8 straight up as an underdog.

Oregon opened as an 8.5-point favorite over the Seminoles at the Westgate. It's the first time Florida State has been an underdog in its last 50 games, a streak that dates back to September 2011 against Clemson.

Monday Morning Life Observations.

A two-day weekend following a four- is a bit like asking a distance runner to sprint 50 yards: you're just starting to get your finishing kick, and the race is already run.

(So pick up the pace already...)

I hear ya. Happy Monday, all!
Keep those lights shining...

Saturday, December 6

S-a-t.

Take back the true beauty of the word, kids...
----------------
ADDED: Saturday, Saturday... Saturday.
Saturday, Saturday, Saturday.


... in case you have to spell it out for some of the bright, but slow ones. You've got to value book learning, as well as Saturday people, life experience, no?
Life tests on that too.

Friday, December 5

Thank You Then, for Being a Friend...

and Shining Your Light in My Life...

Happy Friday, all!

Thursday, December 4

Christopher Walken and Robert Wagner.

Weren't they the two men alleged to have helped conspire to hide Natalie Woods' murder that night off the boat? Creeps me out, those two...

(Still too soon in our celebrity truth-telling days to acknowledge the facts? Oops.)

Since Then, I Never Look Back...

It's almost like living the Dream...

I've been crossing the Mississippi twice daily since mid-October; yesterday I made the cut when our project's temporary personnel were pared.

The opportunity to work still exists for me -- overtime even, and I am thankful for that, having been without work enough to appreciate the absence of isolation as much as the presence of a decent paycheck.

#Thankful.

Wednesday, December 3

The Gift That Keeps On Giving...

Herpes?

THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
The Gift That Keeps Giving
Dating myself here, but that's a phrase copped from a high school health poster, no?
:-)

----------------------------

Make it a great Wednesday, all!
whether you're wrapping up,
winding down, hitting 'em hard,
or chugging through a cold day.

Remember:
Cocoa helps, life warms, and most people and animals really are good at heart. Some just don't operate as well in the dark times.

Son of a Gun!

Sounds like they're hoping to play Civil War II this Christmas over at the Coates place... Sorry, Santa's not bringing that game!
How 'bout a nice book?

Ta-Nehisi Coates retweeted:
Eric Kleefeld @EricKleefeld
The single greatest moment of social progress for black Americans was in a violent, massive war. Worth pondering.



Tuesday, December 2

"Bosnian Lives Matter"

ST. LOUIS • A 17-year-old St. Louis man has been charged with first-degree murder and armed criminal action in the bludgeoning death of a Bosnian immigrant.

Robert Joseph Mitchell, 17,... was charged with first-degree murder and armed criminal action.

Police say Mitchell along with two other teens attacked 32-year-old Zemir Begic with hammers early Sunday. He was pronounced dead at a hospital.

Mitchell and one of the juveniles are black and the other teen is Hispanic, according to police. It was unclear whether two other suspects in custody, juveniles 15 and 16, will be charged as adults.

Police said they know the identity of a fourth participant, who is sought.
...
According to court documents, members of the group yelled at Begic, his fiancée and two others as they walked to Begic’s car. As the vehicle drove away, one teen jumped on the back and began beating on it. Begic stopped and got out, and one of the men taunted him to fight before all four attacked — and continued to beat him after he fell to the ground.

“We think it was wrong place, wrong time,” police spokeswoman Schron Jackson said.

Detectives do not believe the attackers took anything but Begic’s life. He died at St. Louis University Hospital, suffering injuries to his head, abdomen, face and mouth.
...
Jackson said there was nothing in the suspects’ criminal backgrounds to suggest they would do something of this magnitude.

“There is no evidence that this was a crime occasioned by the race or ethnicity of the victim,” Mayor Francis Slay declared in a formal statement. He added, “Speculation that this attack had anything to do with the Ferguson protests is absolutely unfounded.”

Slay wrote: “I don’t know what happened to them or to their families to lead these young people to commit such a horrific crime. It’s disturbing. We do not know their past. Their futures, though, will be as grim as the judicial system can make it.”
...
About 300 people gathered Monday afternoon for a two-hour vigil near the scene in the Bevo Mill neighborhood — about three times as many as had gathered Sunday night. Many were worried that racial tension had fueled the killing.

Some demanded more police attention, which Chief Sam Dotson promised Sunday.

Alderman Carol Howard said the community has experienced an uptick in crime since the summer. “I don’t know why,” she said. “This has been a safe, stable neighborhood; we want to keep it that way.”

Lewis Reed, president of the Board of Aldermen, wrote a letter Monday to the Board of Estimate and Apportionment, asking the budget director to research ways to pay for more police.

Reed wrote: “From what we have seen during the past week, there is no indication that the protests and demonstrations are going to be slowing down any time in the near future. We should not ask the members of our police department to continue to work 12-hour shifts indefinitely. This could lead to morale problems as well as diminishing returns with respect to effective law enforcement.”
...
Some who gathered at the scene Monday talked of surviving war in their home country and coming to America for a better life, only to be met with a crime like this.

“We need to stop crazy people in the street,” said Dan Movc, a Bosnian who came to St. Louis a decade ago.

The crowd chanted, “Bosnian lives matter!” taking a cue from Ferguson protesters who often rally with the call, “Black lives matter!”
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Earlier story:

St. Louis Bosnians outraged about a deadly hammer attack in the city’s Bevo Mill neighborhood spilled into the streets Sunday night to voice frustrations over violence touching their community.

“We’re just angry because we’re trying to protect our community,” said Mirza Nukic, 29, of St. Louis. “We’re just trying to be peaceful.”

Nukic was among at least 50 people, mostly, if not all Bosnians, who briefly blocked Gravois Avenue at Itaska Street on Sunday night to protest the killing. The intersection was near where Zemir Begic, a Bosnian man who moved to St. Louis this year, was attacked by at least three teens with hammers early Sunday.

Police said Begic was in his vehicle about 1:15 a.m. in the 4200 block of Itaska when several juveniles approached and began damaging his car. Police said Begic got out to confront the juveniles, who began yelling at him and hitting him with hammers.

Begic, 32, who lived in the 4200 block of Miami Street, suffered injuries to his head, abdomen, face and mouth. He died at St. Louis University Hospital.

Some of the demonstrators recalled other recent Bosnian victims of violence, including Haris Gogic, 19, who was fatally shot in May 2013 by a robber in his family’s Bevo Mill convenience store.

St. Louis police Chief Sam Dotson spoke with residents at the street protest Sunday night. He said he was sorry about what happened and sought to reassure people the killing did not appear motivated by race or ethnicity.

“There is no indication that the gentleman last night was targeted because he was Bosnian,” Dotson said. “There’s no indication that they knew each other.”

Dotson said Sunday evening that police have two male juveniles, ages 15 and 16, in custody. A third male, 17, was taken into custody late Sunday night.

Dotson also promised to increase day and night foot patrols in the area.

“The whole idea of standing out in the street is to get our attention,” Dotson told residents. “You got my attention. You absolutely did.”

Suad Nuranjkovic, 49, who attended Sunday night’s protest, said he and Begic were heading home from a bar on Gravois Avenue. Begic was driving and Nuranjkovic was in the passenger seat when a group of at least five teens started banging on the car. Nuranjkovic said he got out of the car and hid in a parking lot across the street during the attack.

“I was afraid that if one of them had a gun, they were going to shoot me, so I didn’t know what to do,” he said.

Nuranjkovic said the attack has made him fearful to live in his own neighborhood.

“The picture is in my head, what I saw,” he said. “I don’t know why this is happening to Bosnians. We could go around and shoot people, too, but we just want peace.”

Seldin Dzananovic, 24, said the teens with the hammers approached him farther north on Gravois about an hour before the attack on Begic. He said he was able to fight them off, suffering only cuts to his hands and neck.

“I’m just lucky,” he said. “God is on my side.”

Begic and his family came to the United States from Bosnia in 1996, moving first to Utica, N.Y., before settling in Waterloo, Iowa, said his sister, Denisa Begic.

She said he moved to Phoenix, where he worked as a moving truck driver before returning briefly to Iowa. He moved to St. Louis several months ago and was engaged to a woman, Arijana, whose family lives in St. Louis.

Singing was one of his passions, and he often performed in public.

“He loved America,” said Denisa Begic, 23, of Sioux Falls, S.D.

“We come from Bosnia because we were getting killed and our homes and families were getting destroyed. Never in my life did I think he would get murdered.”

She said she knows some Bosnians are upset over her brother’s death because they believe the suspects, who are black and Hispanic, targeted Begic because he was Bosnian. She said she wants people to know her brother would not have judged them because of their race; he had friends of many racial and ethnic backgrounds.

“He loved everybody,” she said. “I don’t know what to think of it. It’s so wrong what they did. They didn’t just hurt Zemir’s family. They also hurt their own family because I’m pretty sure their moms will never see them again.”

Denisa Begic said her brother’s funeral would be in Iowa, and that a fundraising site has been set up to help with funeral expenses.

“I hope justice is served for my brother because he didn’t deserve this at all,” she said.