July 4th, 2021, marks the United States of America’s 244th birthday (observed), and the air is on fire. After a long, mostly desolate, and very cold winter, which was preceded by a summer and spring of powerful hurricanes,

These motherfuckers seem to want to die hard.

Now take whichever puerile equation of those words above you like, written as an opening huff, and set them aside, set them aside. There is plenty of time for puerility to come.

No, by dying I mean an ideological transformation. From

Covid-19, we must admit, has been great for conspiracy theorists and their critics. This whole locked-inside past year has devolved society into a perversion of the anti-tolerance fanatics most of us had already been before we started wearing masks. Our world became a CAPS LOCK scream-fest, where angry people would spout their malicious, confident insanity, demanding that we listen to their gospels. Those who denounced all rational thinking, frenzied by terror infecting the world, where suddenly walking outside your house could get you killed, these became the experts on how we should be living.

One of the interesting dialogues throughout…

I was born in 1972, placing me directly in the middle of the age group called Generation X. This seems appropriate, my viewpoints mostly centrist, only extreme in ideas on the absolute freedom of speech. And yet Generation X, children born from 1965–1980, or thereabouts, has a nature consumed by the petty, ear-clogging stubbornness of absolute belief.

Now let’s get this out of the way first — there is no Generation Y, the now Millennials, mostly just a tamer version of the final years of their generational predecessor. They were primarily raised on games and technology and the trendy sameness…

What follows is a study of absolutism, a culled together narrative of numerous voices all joined together into a single rant. This, which should be to no one’s surprise, is rather easy to do, a stark gathering and invention of curious, sometimes conflicting theories on whichever the topic, and endlessly inserting it onto every possible context, imposing a relevance that is often missing from its placement. In no way do I either support or condemn anything said here, at least in this particular piece.

Let us call our character “Q” (mostly for my own amusement), and hear what it has…

I’m sure you have heard this, but a number of people think there is a widespread goal of one or another “elite” to put microchips in our brains. Oh sure, sure, people are saying this — have been saying this — since the dawn of the not-so-much computer age, but since the internet became our chief tool for communication and partisan understanding.

We all know the press is bullshit. Wherever we are in the world ,our contempt for the information offered to us is manifest. We doubt everything we hear, and this is undoubtedly a great cause for our profound social division.

Let me get this out of the way first, before I rant on one of my chief issues, the preponderance of gun violence and the smugly stuttering reaction from the fake 2nd amendment shriekers (they do not understand what this right means, but we’ll get to that); let us realize that the press, regardless of their unquestionable any-longer biases, still…

Psychiatric patients are incredibly selfish. Yeah yeah, sob sob, boo hoo hoo — yes, we’re sick, we’re a fucking nightmare, but shit: can’t we leave our poor doctors alone?

This opening, certainly related to me, is for my own doctor, an otherwise great guy whose hovering ability to subscribe me medicines has become tertiary to our fifteen minute conversations every six weeks. Today, as I write this, for whatever day this piece might wind up being read, he and I babbled — or I guess I did at least, his sharp sense of humor abiding my bleak self-parody into a…

I wanted to talk to you about forgone opportunities, about those chances so many of us tend to walk by, planning to accomplish them, finally fearful, resentful, lazy, and frustrated, blaming something or someone for the devastation of misfortune. We sit and we dream our glorious futures — well into middle age — so caught up in desire that we drown ourselves with ambition, passing time better spent putting in the work.

Now of course this is personal, probably personal for all of us (even the most successful among us) no matter how much our public egos may force us…

Have you ever heard of Albrecht von Graefe?

I’m not talking about his famous father of the same name, the revered ophthalmologist,

Recording Editorial History

Recording Editorial History

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