Bromides and Cartoons


“The usual duty of the “intellectual” is to argue for complexity and to insist that phenomena in the world of ideas should not be sloganized or reduced to easily repeated formulae.”  ~  Christopher Hitchens

Much to my amusement, I watched the Republican debate last night, finding myself waxing iconoclastic, and wondering just when the concept fell into use, that truth becomes truth simply because somebody happened to say something out loud. This is, of course, high convenience for folks who spout without what is usually rather basic to speech: thought. As a result of that line of reasoning I found my nearly spinning mind focusing on ‘talking points’, a term that seems odd to me since talking points are more like regurgitation than speech. It seems I have given up on my suggestion that I would avoid writing about politics, which, it appears, was an empty aspiration, and as Sen. Marco Rubio (R – FL) is so fond of saying: here’s why. It is, you see, my love of language, instilled in me by my rascally Grandma Olive. I can fairly accurately be described as a Liberal. That term, as well as the term ‘Socialism’, have somehow been demonized, an effect that gives the term ‘delusional’ a bad name. Now, don’t y’all go on and tell me that both sides do it, because that ain’t even remotely true, and I will be then hard pressed to avoid you to some degree. That’s nothing but an old bromide at this point. I’m not going to go all scholarly on y’all, not here, not anywhere, although I admit to possessing that ability. All of this spouted shit reminds me of when a business acts corporate and says otherwise. Numerous philosophers, throughout time, have used language in an appropriate manner, to say that actions speak louder than words. I used to work for such a business. It was the damnedest thing. It reminded me of cartoons.

I just went out and watched the sunrise, gave the chickens and the turkey food and water, and in the process my mind told me to stop writing about this stuff for now. It’s kind of dizzy making. And it tends to get my level of anxiety cranked up, and if it gets maxed out I end up hiding in my rooms for two days. My anxiety level is high to begin with. I simply must do my laundry today. Go buy fresh cat litter. Swing by the clinic to make a doctor appointment. Stuff. Just stuff. My morning meds are kicking in. That’s good. And then what? It’s a beautiful day. Nuff said.

Peace out, y’all goof gloriously.


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