Sunday Morning Reading is about…well, it’s about reading. In my personal opinion some don’t read nearly enough. Read. Read those you agree with. Just as important, read those you disagree with. Stretch those reading muscles and stretch your mind.
I linked to a Rose Horowitch piece earlier in the week entitled The End of Reading Is Here. It’s controversial. I don’t agree completely. But that’s the point of reading. If that’s still a thing.
Follow that piece up with Sonny Bunch’sR.I.P. Attention Span. Closing his essay he says “The end of reading may be here. But so too might be the end of watching anything that lasts longer than the time it took you to read this sentence.”
In an age where some are eager to ban books (surprised we haven’t seen any book burnings yet) Mendel Uminer chose to move rather than reduce his collection of books after his landlord complained. Check out Alex Vadukul’s story Too Many Books.
You know that reading can satisfy curiosity. It can also raise it to new levels. Neil Steinberg’sEtymological Field Notes tells such a tale. Do you flânuer?
In the wake of all of the seemingly unending horrible daily doping of bad political news, (some about wakes to be, some about wakes possibly delayed), James L. Bruno writes The “Last Best Hope On Earth” Crashes & Burns.
With the act and art of reading being in question, especially when it comes to the news, the click matters more than the content now that most of what we’re presented isn’t worth being displayed in a supermarket checkout line tabloid rack. Or does it? According to Pete Pachal when it comes to the news Speed Still Matters In News, But The Prize Is No Longer The Click. Maybe there never was a prize.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to subscribe if you want. It’s free.If you’re interested in just what the heck Sunday Morning Reading is all about you can read more about the origins of Sunday Morning Reading here. If you’d like more click on the Sunday Morning Reading link in the category column to check out what’s been shared on Sunday’s past. You can also find more of my writings on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. This site does not use affilate links.
Celebrate who we want to be, not who dark hearts keep reminding us we are.
The 4th of July hasn’t felt the same to me in quite some time. The country I was born in doesn’t feel the same as it once did. Yet it does. In ways I wish I could ignore. Those are obvious observations many share, I’m sure. To me they are painful ones. Very painful.
I’m not one who ever believed that this country (or any country), given the way governments and people work, was divinely founded or inspired to do what is right. Humankind is too arrogant, too selfish, and too human to think that doesn’t spill over into governing and social intercourse any more or less so than it does into any other field of endeavor. The American musicalized version of our founding is indeed powerful and seductive, but it mostly hides the sour notes, even if at times it reveals truths it often obscures.
In this last decade plus it’s become excruciating to watch centuries-old hatreds arise from wounds once thought closed and healed, unleashed by a madman able to turn others just as mad. Insidious infections have popped through the surface and festered anew, revealing that far too many have no understanding of or desire to understand the bonds we share as humans on a rock orbiting a star, divided by arbitrary borders and divisions, assuming we can somehow control the chaos we continue to create.
Yes, the Declaration of Independence broke new ground in humankind’s advance, but in our current moment, it’s challenging, bordering on disingenuous, to say it altered the course of its continuing evolution.
For those who say that this 4th of July is for celebrating our 250th anniversary as a country, I’d offer this. Kinda yes, mostly no.
The years before and immediately following the Declaration proved just how close we came to not seeing those grievances become more than bold and dangerous statements on a piece of parchment. Yes, we won the American Revolution that sprung from the Declaration. But there were as many on this continent who were quite content to remain under the rule of a king, as those who revolted against it.
The men who wrote and signed that document were willing to hang for their actions. I don’t see too many (or enough) willing to do the same today.
In the 250 years since, we’ve had other close runs at seeing it all rent asunder. The Declaration in and of itself opened a door, it didn’t build as firm a foundation as many thought and hoped, or a country. That came later.
We’re living through another close run at tearing it all down, somehow finding too many of our fellow citizens content, as many of their forbearers were, to putting their lives in the hands of a king-like ruler once again. It will take decades to overcome this era, not because rulings and laws can’t be changed. They can. Surprisingly we’re finding they are also easy enough to ignore. We’ve given new life to dark and sickened hearts that will poison not only themselves and that which they touch, but the generation or two that comes after them.
The Declaration of Independence and the country that came after were never perfect. Proving that neither are we, neither are those who preceded us, and neither will be those who will succeed us. It was actually an acknowledgment of humankind’s imperfections. It was a promise, and it was a start, following a shot heard round the world. We’re still running the race that shot started, against the same headwinds of our own making, the promise still unfulfilled.
The act of reaching the Declaration of Independence is indeed worth celebrating, even if we keep extending the play by adding repetitive acts that keep rehashing the same plot points that made it necessary.
The 4th of July is also worth celebrating for all of the Americans, past and present, who think it is still worth pushing back against those who don’t care for what it has meant, flawed in its creation or no, and only see in its imperfections and the constitution that followed years later, other tools for self aggrandizement and enrichment.
Celebrate who we want to be, not who dark hearts keep reminding us we are. Castigation is all they deserve.
Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to.You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
I’ve directed a few shows in my time that were flops. Small audiences. Empty theaters. Never fun. Always embarrassing. Always a loss. We called flops and turkeys. I don’t think any of those experiences compares to the big show currently flopping in Washington DC as America tries to celebrate its 250th Anniversary under an extremely unpopular, flailing pedophile and adjudicated rapist still pretending to be president.
It’s one thing to give your all for a play or a musical and have the public not be interested, regardless of the quality of work. It’s another thing entirely to fail with egg on your face celebrating the biggest anniversary in the country’s history to date, simply because folks don’t bother to show up.
We always joked about a flop by saying the public stayed away in droves. From all of the photos and live coverage from DC, it looks like the droves are in on this joke. Oh, there are other celebrations around the country, but the public sure seems to be ignoring the big one put on by the big guy. You’d think someone so obsessed about ratings would take the hint.
The myth is that Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be our national bird and not the eagle. Turns out we’ve got a real turkey of a 250th celebration on our hands. And this one is no myth.
Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to.You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
There are two big conversations popping around the political universe these days. Both seem to miss not only the larger point, but the stakes.
The first is how the Democratic Party is trying to still figure out what it wants to be in the wake of progressive victories in recent primaries. The centrists are appalled. The progressives are ecstatic. The people are pissed off. The politicians are clueless. This post isn’t really about that fight, only to say that it provides some context to the second.
The second conversation takes place on the larger battleground heading into the midterms and beyond. No, that’s not the inevitable mud fight between what was once the Republican Party and the clueless Democrats. It’s yet another intra-party scrap on the Dem side.
There are those who think we need to restore to what we had before. Achieve some sort of balance again. There are those, like me, that think playing that game is not only equally clueless, but is trying to pretend we can put all of the dismantling and destruction aside and find some sort of way forward in some semblance of what we used to call unity. As I said, I’m not buying into that myth. Reconstruction didn’t work the first time around. It won’t this time either.
The reconstruction and balance crowd makes a sadly profound observation about the electorate. As pissed off as most people are, the movers and shakers are counting on the resilience of the American people. Sad fact, the bad guys now in power and trying to desperately hang on to it out of fear of retribution, continue to count on that same resilience.
Resilience doesn’t always mean a stiffer spine. Many times it means hanging in and taking care of the immediate business of living day to day. When that daily struggle is the focus, it’s no surprise the bigger picture gets lost, or muddled up over passionate issues that in the larger scheme of things mean less than those that take advantage of them push like dope.
Yes, we are a resilient people. We can withstand a lot. But that resilience also makes us far too compliant, hoping that the next election, or some court decision will change things the way they always have in American politics. Those legal and civilized ways of bringing change have often, albeit slowly worked, but we’re finding that given everything that is broken, those same legal and civilized tools can be used to quash that progress at a quicker pace.
While we haven’t yet launched into a full-blown shooting Civil War, the damage that has been done since the Confederacy rose again and took over the federal government under the leadership of a Queens, New York conman and pedophile (something that strikes me as ironic and on the surface just damn funny) is in many ways just as damaging as was the end of the first Civil War, if not more so, because many of the institutions and norms that helped the Union survive have been and continue to be dismantled.
At the conclusion of that war in 1865 there was a great debate about how to handle the states and its leaders that formed the Confederacy. One side wanted retribution and punishment, the other not so much. Equal to our resilience is our capacity for compassion and our compunction to think that dark hearts can be changed. The compassionate side largely won out in an attempt to heal the nation’s wounds. Sad to say, here we are again.
The difference this time around is that on top of the fight for freedom, civil rights, and equality, we’re fighting a government that’s largely owned by a handful of billionaires. Many of which were on the other side of things not too long ago. Money talks and bullshit walks. They’ve largely made their haul, so the only reason I can see for them to continue what they’r doing is they’re also afraid of retribution.
In a brief conversation earlier today with friend David Todd McCarty after reading a new piece of his called The Quiet Truth, I remarked that his citing of the quote from Confucius about a willow that bends being stronger than the mighty oak that breaks in the storm, got me thinking. Those willows are indeed resilient. That same story appears in many cultures, proving its own resilience. But I’ve come to believe the only way out of this mess we’ve allowed ourselves to be in is going to require some breakage. Breakage that must require building something new, not restoring the old.
We made that mistake after the American Civil War. The country literally broke in two. In attempting to heal it, we proved our resilience as a people, but unfortunately left two many places for the losers to hide and lurk in the resilient reeds. They have resurfaced a few times since in our history, but have always been beaten back. Each time accepted back into the fold with that same practical compassion and resilience.
They’ve been openly enjoying breaking things. We might not enjoy it, but we need to break a few things with equal desperation and energy, before too much more is broken.
Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to.You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
Symbols matter. It’s why so many are upset that so many symbols are being desecrated and destroyed by despicable people. That’s certainly true in Washington DC given the current regime’s attempts to remake not only long revered symbols but also way of life.
Perhaps that’s why each time I see a picture of the algae blooms that are taking over the Reflecting Pool on the mall, I laugh and welcome the karma.
Maybe Mother Nature and her sense of humor will have a hand in the end of some of this. Wish she’d hurry up.
Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to.You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
Time for a little Sunday Morning Reading. Sharing good writing is a normal thing to do. Maybe that’s abnormal. Don’t know. Don’t care. Defining normal is a tricky subjective thing. But then trying to define most things these days feels, well…almsot abnormal.
Just be normal. Is that a “new normal” or last week’s “old normal?” Do we crave normality? Does it matter? Normally, I’d have more to say, but instead check out JA Westenberg’sJust Be Normal About Things.
Mathew Ingram takes on the subject of consciousness, one of the latest discussions bopping around the bits and bytes surrounding AI, with his piece, Is Atlantic Writer Ted Chiang Conscious? How Do We Know? If you ask me, that fact that this is being discussed calls whatever the idea of consciousness is into question. Doesn’t feel normal. For that matter doesn’t feel abnormal either. Just weird.
David Todd McCarty calls his piece The Slow News Moment. I like his description better. “How we became terrorized by the 24-hour news cycle and what we might do to combat the charade of exigency.” Perhaps less is more normal.
“We are being robbed by the worst people in the world,” says Kelly Hayes in The Heist State. Spot on, given that blatant thievery is the new normal these days.
Everywhere you look life is a scam. That is indeed far too normal. Neil Steinberg takes on one that targeted him and other writers in We Love Your Book! Now Give Us Money. Funny stuff.
Protect The Weird, Slow and Inefficient.Natasha MH thinks AI might one day become as invisible a tool to the process of writing as the typewriter did in its day. But look again. The tools don’t matter as much as the desire.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to subscribe if you want. It’s free.If you’re interested in just what the heck Sunday Morning Reading is all about you can read more about the origins of Sunday Morning Reading here. If you’d like more click on the Sunday Morning Reading link in the category column to check out what’s been shared on Sunday’s past. You can also find more of my writings on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. This site does not use affilate links.
Well, that happened. Finally. Trump’s desecrating name was finally removed from The John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts after a judge ruled to make it so.
It took a while, thanks to some legal cry-babying from Trump’s legal bunglers trying to soothe his injured and fragile ego. The act didn’t quite meet the June 12th deadline, but eventually under the cover of darkness and behind a curtain, the name came down after the public, via live streams on the Internet, got lessons in erecting scaffolding. The photo above was captured by Cliff Owen of the Associated Press and so far is the only one I’ve seen with a worker’s hands removing one of the letters.
Of course the pedophile-in-chief’s name should have never been put there in the first place. It was a perversion. The removal is a small victory. Even if largely symbolic in a wellspring of atrocities. There’s no telling how long it will take to rebuild the damage he’s done to the Kennedy Center as an institution and the rest of what he’s destroyed.
But it is a bright moment in all of the darkness and hopefully breeds more anger and anticipation for ripping to shreds any of the other atrocious marks this less than human, but very real human monstrosity has visited on all of us.
I want to live long enough to dance in the street when that happens. Let there be bonfires to light the night skies.
Update: The photo above of the facade with Trump’s name removed is from pre-Trump days. Apparently the tarp that covered the removal is still there and may be for some time.
Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to.You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
The art of dancing on the line that separates and defines humanity
It was a good week for reading good writing. It’s a better week for sharing what popped up. A variety of topics, spanning art and the making and selling of it, technology — which these days is more about the selling than the tech — the humanity, or lack thereof, behind it all, and…well to continue a list would sell it all short. Here’s hoping you enjoy the links shared in today’s Sunday Morning Reading as much as I enjoy sharing them. Yia Mas!
Om Malik wrote one of the best things I’ve read in quite some time. We Are Living In Pinocchio’s World is about lying. It’s about AI. It’s about a pen. But it’s about so much more.
Cory Doctorow’sRefining Humanity takes on our propensity for explanation, personhood for machines, and that line we seem to want to dance with defining just what makes us human in the midst of it all.
At what cost art? Natasha MH wonders and writes about it in Sold At A Premium. At what cost, anything?
Mike Masnick thinks it’s not about whether technology is inherently good or bad, liberating or oppressive. You could argue the same could be said about most aspects of human endeavor. But then that’s the point. Tech is just another in a long line. Check out Enshittification, Despotification, And The Open Internet.
“The only conviction worth having is the kind you could lose tomorrow and survive it.” JA Westenberg warns us not to take a pill, regardless of color in Be Thou Not Pilled.
To close, click through the popover on John Gruber’s post This Is A Dickover, and give the post a read. You know what a Dickover is. Now you have a name for it.
Thanks for reading. Feel free to subscribe if you want. It’s free.If you’re interested in just what the heck Sunday Morning Reading is all about you can read more about the origins of Sunday Morning Reading here. If you’d like more click on the Sunday Morning Reading link in the category column to check out what’s been shared on Sunday’s past. You can also find more of my writings on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome. This site does not use affilate links.
The title of this post does not refer to the title of a streaming TV series that is one of the best examples out there of a show having a winning first season and then completely deteriorating in its second. But perhaps that show’s failure the second time around could be a metaphor.
The title actually refers to what is happening before our eyes with Donald Trump. He’s physically breaking down fast in this, his second term. I don’t need to know his medical condition to see it. Neither do most. He and his enablers he’s assembled around him are lying to us and themselves about whatever is ailing him. For some reason they think they can pull that off. They can’t.
Here’s why.
Too many people in their lives have been faced with an aging or sick relative and had to watch the deterioration first hand. It’s a saga of life that everyone but only the very young knows. In these cases, the parent eventually becomes the child again, to be cared for by the child they raised.
Difficult moments present themselves all along the journey. Drivers license and car keys are taken away. Financial and medical decisions are assigned to others. Houses get rearranged. Sadly at some point for some they get moved into some form of long term care, which is nothing more than a way station warehouse before the end eventually arrives.
And those are the lucky ones who have family willing to do the work and bear the burden.
I’ve lived through these situations more times than I would have liked. It’s challenging and changes everything for everyone it touches.
There are always moments of denial and deflection before rationality sets in and necessary steps are taken. That pushback comes from those suffering and those supporting them. The conversations and confrontations are never easy. Someone once told me that you don’t really grow up until you face these challenges with an elderly loved one. I think they might be right.
It’s so familiar that it’s one of those oft repeated situations in life that when the loved one and/or their families finally admit what they’re dealing with to everyone around them, everyone around them breathes a sigh of relief and delivers those painful looks that say they’ve known all along.
In and of itself, those moments are a part of life’s cycles we can’t seem to break.
That so many have experienced something similar in their families shows just how irrational and afraid those enabling Trump must be to pretend that what most can see with their own eyes isn’t real. Being politically astute and thinking you’re smart enough to survive are two completely different skill sets.
Perhaps if their pardons were already signed things might be different.
Set aside just how awful this old man has been for the world. I don’t mean to extend any pity or sympathy towards him by saying that. He deserves none. But as we watch him continue to whither away, dragging the country approaching it’s 250th anniversary down with him, it’s a damn shame no one had the courage to tell the old man his time was up, instead of letting him, and us, linger in a farce of fog.
Putting this on a political stage, we’ve seen ailing and dying leaders propped up before. So, that’s nothing new. I would just offer that the propping up is more about those doing the propping than the old man they keep lying to protect.
Thanks for reading. You can subscribe to this blog if you care to.You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
With so many things fundamentally broken during this second Trump administration there’s a momentary sigh of relief when it appears that something, anything might be put back together again.
This week U.S.District Judge Christopher Cooper ruled that Trump’s appointed Kennedy Center board exceeded its authority when they decided to slap Trump’s name on the building and remake the building in his imagined image. Taking a look at any photo of the remade Oval Office and the plans for his ballroom, his gigantic arch, and the wrestling ring he’s built for his birthday beat down, which he somehow likens to the Eiffel Tower, is enough to make anyone with any semblance of taste in their mouth spit in disgust.
The ruling essentially says stop and take the offensive name off of the building. The Kennedy Center administration has already ordered employees to remove the sign and also strip all references from other signage, brochures, the website and to remove email signatures and letterhead by June 12th. The move is being hailed as a victory.
Cathartic and symbolic as removing the name may be, it can’t possibly make up for the damage done to the revered national center for the arts. It’s a start, and it certainly kindles hopes and dreams of doing the same to much of the defacing and defecating this one man wrecking crew has visited on Washington DC and the rest of the country.
Take for example the story of the National Symphony Orchestra. After many acts and organizations cut ties with the Kennedy Center rather than being associated with the madness, Trump closed the Kennedy Center for a two-year period of renovations, leaving the NSO without a home. Ben Folds, previous artistic advisor, (previous only because he stepped down when Trump took over), has released a letter calling for an “outpouring of public support.” Saying without such a push the NSO may not survive. You can read the full letter at this Instagram link. That will be a hard task and I wish them success.
I’ve said ever since Donald Trump came on the political scene that given the grifter and sexual predator’s previous life as a real estate developer we needed to understand that in order to construct something new a developer in his/her heart needed to also love demolishing something first. He’s certainly more than demonstrated a penchant for demolition and desecrating.
Here’s hoping one day we all get a chance to enjoying demolishing the things he’s touched in this horrible age.
You can also find more of my writings on a variety of topics on Medium at this link, including in the publications Ellemeno and Rome.I can also be found on social media under my name as above. This site does not use affilate links.
Life on the Wicked Stage: Act 3 