Little Things We’ve Learned

Minna and Jim

I just watched Shadow & Bone—for maybe 20 mins. We actually got perhaps 3 mins of plot action, the rest was somebody’s narration. Narration, narration, narration. And totally unnecessary. BUT it is general lingo for US TV. The worse thing Netflix could have done was hire TV writers; Netflix did right with Ma Rainie’s Black Bottom. Hiring TV turned down writers would have been good; out of work playwrights. Pretty soon, Netflix will become another TV with a few highlights now & again. Awhile back, director Kurosawa said that American movies were far too much narration–& most of it not needed. There’s also far too much enlightenment rationale, something that would make Diderot happy but, really, has nothing to do with fiction writing. The limitations of TV are showing up with Netflix MacDonald’s hamburger writing, repetition. . .action in chunks of 10 minutes because you then must have your mandated sponsorship, though propaganda is a better word.

Afghanistan. general remarked that we were there to help develop the country. (Make it more “American”? We are a very racist country with no respect for foreign social functioning or language. We are not subtle.) What needed to be developed? WE were the insurgents. WE were the invaders. Captured munitions? Well, duh! They did it before, too—even with the Russians. Interesting that they can hold off the world’s greatest army (self-proclaimed) with out-of-date guns and no uniforms. An interest does reside in the private companies supplying food. All of those young males hanging onto the wings of an airplane, packed inside of the plane are proof positive of Trump’s belief that all the young men will come running to the Taliban.

With regard to the selfish idiots in Lake of the Ozarks. . .I wish you’d hurry up and get the disease and leave us live ones room to grow. It’s people like you who don’t realize they are alive and unmarked because their parents had them vaccinated. Vaccinations were required before you could start school. Measles was wiped out unfruitful you antivaxers fought for your right to not have vaccinations—and make others sick. You have no social responsibility. Your misguided arrogance (freedom) was shut down by a 1905 Supreme Court decision. Your depth of thought is me me me and any story you make up keeps you so as children. Golden Books is about the level of your enlightenment. Don’t you remember how you helped kill off Indians?

What I learned from B movie Westerns:- don’t lie. If you are lying at the top, the lie grows and grows until it becomes the raison d’être for the lawless Western universe. Usually it is about money. The liar’s name is pointed, like Beverly Gail Allitt, and she’s pivotal in hiding her boss Diabolos who boasts about what he can do but, of course, he doesn’t do anything, which is how he makes his money. Kind of like an omnipotent primordial being, new and shiny. Beverly Gail Allitt it is who gets dirty but she doesn’t mind. She revels in dirt. The setting is important and the centre of the action, as if nothing bad could happen here. Like a Nossokoei, hospital. Beverly Gail Allitt is about to prove that bad things can, indeed, happen in the hospital. A sacrificial object, a patient named Terrian, who brings the villainy down on people’s heads is needed. Poor sacrificial lamb, she did nothing but die because of Beverly Gail Allitt’s lies. How sad. . .how. . .“I told you so.” It is Terrian’s friend, John Smith, who is the hero. He uncovers the eviltry and sets the trap that catches Beverly Gail Allitt and shows her to be the liar behind several deaths. Diabolos lets her go in order to salvage the situation. This is expected, for Diabolos must remain clean—as clean a possible. He must work to clean his tarnishing away. John Smith then goes on his way: there are other grounds to set right.

This kind of deviltry happens in small town hospitals, too.

What I learned from alien landings: we really aren’t interested in other life forms. Kill ‘em all! Our insanely out of date military is enough to bring a life form that flew million’s of miles & therefore shows a superior capability. . .kind of like Afghanistan where the lower military held off, for 10 yrs, the superior US military machine. Cf. Jack Nicholson’s The Aliens.

When Jimsecor was digging around for cruel women for a story, he ran into mass murders of children by women—far more than the men of today.

Psychiatric Errors in Judgment


Minna vander Pfaltz

In a commentary in The Psychiatric Times by AR Greenburg, MD, “Delayed Suicides of the ‘The Forgotten Battalion’,” he makes numerous errors in judgment and, even, of psychiatric assessment. Including the ridiculous, “at home, they enjoyed satisfying family and social lives, good jobs, and excellent educational prospects.” This comes after noting that all of these listed items were problems from the moment they landed; and it comes in the face of reality. Especially that this author–and by extension other psychiatric practitioners–has not read much that’s been written outside of medical journals, as if such were not worthy. He should have tried Vanity Fair: William Langewiesche, “How One U.S. Soldier Blew the Whistle on a Cold-Blooded War Crime.” Well, Vanity Fair is only about fashion and vanity, no? But Dr. Greenburg has not read Joseph Campbell or Otto Rank or–here comes the vanity!–Jimsecor’s own A Note Upon Returning, which is available online.

But it is not Dr. Greenburg’s utter ignorance of the socio-cultural world that awaits any returnee, military or not; as psychiatrists ignore the socio-cultural world their patients live in and must deal with. Not so surprising: RD Liang noted that psychiatrists don’t listen to the insane because, well, their world is “made up” and they are, uhhh, insane. What have they got to say that’s worthy, eh? Their experience, Dr. Greenburg, their experience. They are living it. You are not. You even deny their experience.

No. My comment on Dr. Greenburg’s self-important judgment resides in the first paragraph of his commentary:

In 2008, the Second Battalion of the Seventh Marine Regiment was deployed to root out an entrenched Taliban occupation of mountainous territory in Afghanistan. The environment was unremittingly harsh; enemy resistance implacably fierce. Combat conditions couldn’t have been more unfavorable from every strategic and logistic perspective. The battalion was strung out in small outposts like the frontier forts and outposts of the Old West Indian wars. Viable connecting roads were virtually absent. The Marines endured daily attacks on their positions as well as close engagements with the Taliban in nearby villages.

Dr. Greenburg’s implied assessment of this situation is that the US Marines were right and the people who lived there were wrong. It is this assumption that I find putrid.

How can people who live somewhere be wrong in defending themselves against invasion?

Answer: they can’t.

And the Marines should have expected this as they, themselves, would protect their own turf. The insurgents, the threats to American security, were none such. Those people were protecting their own life, their own ground. It is the Marines, America, who invaded the land. It is the Marines who are the insurgents. It is the Marines who are threatening the people’s security. Yet, it is the Marines are a passive military force filled to the brim with the necessary propaganda that makes it okay for them to kill and mutilate and engage in inhuman behavior. As they are “a few good men,” they would not cotton to such an assessment. However, it is truthful. A predecessor of Dr. Greenburg’s, Erich Fromm, would have the same opinion Jimsecor and I have, albeit not as caustic.

The Marines were (are?) engaging in the story of the British in South Africa dealing with the slaves: punish all for the one until the one breaks for freedom and then shoot him or let him become the object of everyone else’s anger at being punished for his infraction. In American society, we do this all the time in the name of justice: we punish everyone for the sins and infringements of one or two, of the few. This is a violation of the Constitution and all manner of Freedom: all are guilty. You must prove your innocence and, even if you do, nothing will change. . .because the bad guys are still out there in your midst.

They will ever be within or amidst.

Which is why guerrilla warfare is almost always successful and invites making everyone pay for the few, regardless of whether the many support or agree with the few. More likely, they do. But not everyone is a hero; not everyone is a fighter.

America has fucked up the entire Middle East. America has made us hated. And, more to the point, America doesn’t give a fuck.

Which is why America, even down to the smallest unit, the family, doesn’t give a damn about its returning soldiers. Thank you for protecting us, serving the US, is not enough. Thank you for your legs and arms and PTSD. Put a bandaid over the gaping hole and wonder why they continue to bleed, wonder why they take the suicide way out. No one who has not suffered to the point of death could understand.

Life is not easy. Everything around you is new and unusual. Everywhere you go, you are inappropriate. How do you let go of the long lived fact that everyone around you is an enemy? Where the hell are your buddies, the people you depended on for life and liberty?

There is no one to talk to. And no one wants you around, for adjustment to–re-acculturation to American life is so damned difficult and you’re so outré. They–anyone who has been living abroad for a long time–are foreigners, they are not American any more. How much more so when you’ve been out killing people and defending yourself against those who want to kill you? And you see the same slaughter that you saw abroad, though people call it isolated and insane and, thus, play the denial game: mass murders. How do you live the good life when all around you are not only people who don’t care but people who are killing, killing, killing and demanding that this, via a perverted interpretation of an Amendment, is a right? Who the hell are they defending themselves against?

It’s just possible these soldiers, who are instruments of government/national intrigue and conquest, did not suffer from PTSD until after they returned to the America they thought was right and mete and would be their safety net. They are all considered heroes even though they did nothing other than protect themselves, aggressively or not. Heroes are not often welcome upon their return (cf. Joseph Campbell and fairy tales).

Psychiatrists don’t listen–hell! they don’t listen to themselves! As evidence, AR Greenburg, MD. Priests don’t listen. Families don’t listen. Friends don’t listen. America doesn’t listen. It’s too busy running after one or another of pablum offered to assuage lost self, lost identity.

A Note on Returning


James L. Secor

After years of travel, wandering in foreign lands, I returned to

My home—or so it was called, this place I grew in, and left for adventure,

But, in fact, was not my home, not a real home, this place I recognized

Showing little change for the years passed but now an effaced place of people living

In cells, cocoons isolated and without touch from other cocoons

Without touch—had touch been reduced to a sin, a perversion, human

Made to be inhuman?

True, a face was on it, all pasted on as

Hollywood, political smiles are, the stuff of cartoons, eyes dead in

Faces of plastic doll heads blurting sound bites of recognized syllables, but

All empty words divorced of any emotion, devoid of sentiment.

So misleading, hearing I behaved, as social, civilized man might and

Became an inappropriate one, my conduct that of a foreigner, lost in

My own land that truly was not my land, or my country, not my home,

Home being a place of welcome and warmth and support, with

Family and friends, but now no more than Odysseus’ isle of coldness and

Treachery calculated and so, fit only for a battle, a battle

I am too old to fight, too old to withstand the volcanic hatred

And killing, for surely some must cease breathing for life to once more break ground.

So I knew why, with more conviction than when I began my return,

I felt that I did not wish to come back to this, my country—a lost place

With no connection to me or anyone else. I knew there was nothing,

No life, no soul, no waiting arms open and welcoming, like the place

I had grown to love, with family and friends and support for a life

Far from the abuse and oppression of the people who called me their own

Only to find nothing had changed but everything had worsened and I

Was wanted less than I was before.

Literary Agents


Minna vander Pfaltz & James L. Secor

Literary agents are, according to the Confucian way of looking at society, the lowest of the low. They are of this ilk because they make their money from the hard work of someone else. Perhaps worse, they are con artists, for they not only charge the writer a fee for “representation,” they charge him for office expenses that also are a tax deductible item as a business expense–and then they charge the publisher for “finding” the writer. What a deal! Agents don’t have to pay for anything and they get paid whether they find a “home” for some writer’s writing or not: they try, they get paid. Getting paid for not placing a work, getting paid for not winning is like a boxer taking a dive for a bigger paycheck.

But their influence on literature in general is even more perverse, beginning with their focus on making money. Profit over quality. How this works is via a preconceived idea if what sells so that, in the end, so very many genre writings look alike. And it sets up a free-floating standard for judgment, aside from “is this going to make me money,” that has nothing to do with writing, nothing to do with quality. It has to do with the boxed learning of the college English major.

A college degree in English is a degree in literature. It is not a degree in writing. An English degree is all about judging literature by already well-established (traditional) memes and putting a writer’s work in its appropriate pigeon-hole. It is not about writing. It is about a surface assessment of a finished piece. How off-the-wall is this?

Let’s take Edgar Alan Poe. A writer of horror stories. A writer of the occult. A Romantic writer. A judgment that is off twice over. To begin with, these people have never read his criticism and satire, a far greater quantity of his writing. And, then, they have never gone into the depth, the many-layered manner of his writing. The Cask of Amontillado is a horror story, right? Well. . .it takes place during Carnival, so everything is turned on its head. Carnival is necessary in order to right, to some degree, the injustices of society. The story is also about his hatred of the aristocracy. And, if we consider his choice of names, we find a distinctly Medieval coloring that bespeaks an off-color humor.

So, does The Cask of Amontillado fit into the Romantic mold?

And where do you put Jane Austen? Her stories are, apparently, about romance but, in fact, they are satires. Where do satires fit?

The worst perversion is considering Shakespeare literature. It is not. It is theatre. It was written to be spoken. It was written to be heard. It was written to be seen (often enough his stage directions can be found in the lines). Take any of his plays off the stage and they are only 30% of themselves. While English majors go into fits of ecstasy over his use of English, they blast him for his bombastic writing. All of this beauty of language takes on a different hue when it’s spoken, spoken to someone else. Then what’s important is motive and intent. And these English majors don’t know the difference between monologue and soliloquy. Hamlet’s monologue, “To be or not to be,” is a soliloquy. It is a soliloquy because he is speaking, to the audience, his thoughts. The reason Hamlet is doing this is that he is making his motives known to the audience. It is not a much used device any more. A monologue is what you get in Shaw or with a manic you’ve asked a question of.

At the same time, no drama is literature. It is drama. It is theatre. It is nothing when it is not onstage. The things you can do with drama you cannot do with literature.

Where does Brautigan fit into this pigeon-holing? Cult lit? So, too, Kerouac, then? Cult is a really good place to put lit that bespeaks things critics don’t want to hear.

Judging something on its face misses the point. It also shows an ignorance of what’s known as vehicle. A literary vehicle is a story that is about something other than itself. Poe’s horror stories. Abe’s alternative realities. Kawabata’s Snow Country. Atwood. MacCormac. Hammett. Morrison. Apuleius. Eco. Borges. Le Carre. Gellman. Kingsolver. Pinker (his mention here is Manippean satire).

But agents don’t care. The intellectual quality of a work is not at point here. What’s important is what sells, what makes money. This makes of the writer a cabinetmaker. All he has to do is hone his skills for this particular thing and he’s in like flint. For some of us, writing down is difficult. For others, who the fuck cares! What you get is James Patterson. He does not write his books; he edits what a bevy of writers produce for him.

Because of this, the creative writing MFAs are only cabinetmaking schools. They’ve got rules, all preset by the English curriculum, and. . .how do you teach creativity? How do you teach how to write? How do you teach the difference between plot and story? How do you teach the non-traditional? How do you teach voice?

Most people don’t know what voice is.

Agents are not interested in the difference between plot and story, if they even know. And, as Natalie Goldberg and Ursula Le Guin maintain, there are no rules to writing.

Here is the major rule for writing: grab the reader with the first sentence, with the first page, with the first chapter. If true, then Atwood and Byatt and Borges and Fuentes and many of the early-20th century writers would not find publication if they were not already famous, for they do not follow this rule. Goldberg would say the agents are looking for MacDonald’s hamburger writing. And, indeed, there are agents who are interested in only seeing the first page or the first three pages or the first chapter. They will make a judgment on the viability of the entire book based on less than 1,000 words. Really, how the hell can they tell anything?

I’ve even run across a couple agents who want no sample. They will make their decision based on your summary.

What kind of shit is this?

Then there is voice. I know agents have no idea what voice is. Most English majors don’t really know, though they can talk about it in erudite language. Yet voice is a very simple concept: it is what your narrator/narration sounds like. The best example of voice in the US is Mark Twain followed by Hawthorne, Hammett, Kingston, Allende and Sweazy-Kulju. There is also Doyle and Byatt and Grandpa Trollope on the other side of the pond.

Voice is also with each and every character. They ought to speak differently: different rhythm, different sounding. Playwrights are good at this. Not so academic creative writing professors: everything sounds the same, both narration and characters. The head of the writing program at the University of Kansas writes like this. The oddity of it all is that she gets published. So, perhaps the agents and publishers don’t have any idea either.

But voice exists outside of literature. It exists in the tenor of the times, assuming you are writing a historical or historic fiction novel. In this case, though, it does help to read the writers of the age, which few do, it seems.

It exists in the roaming storytellers of old. It resides in Bunraku, Japanese National Puppetry, because the gidayū (narrator) does it all. And in kyōgen. It is easy to see here because it is foreign and very distinctive.

But in today’s lit? Well, if it sounds like everyone else’s, then it’s got voice.

Today’s lit is paint-by-the-numbers in a given frame. Doesn’t natter what you put in it, just as long as it fits. I have something like this: I hung an empty frame on the wall above the sink. In the centre of which I put a smallish iron butler with a tray of drinks. Black with white for apron, etc. So, what’s the story, eh?

The Future is Staring You in the Face

The Future is Staring You in the Face


James L. Secor

The future is staring you in the face. The serious social media is in denial, if, indeed, it has any idea at all, so intent is it in chasing after one crumb or another left by Hansel in Trumpty-Dumpty Wood. The frivolous social media is without thought or insight, babbling like a murder of ravens disturbed over some fresh roadkill. The academics, so over-filled with intellectual spasms labeled “other places,” remain in denial, despite the pop culture of the 1970s some 100 years behind the Old Country. It seems that only in America does pop culture have no effect on society and ethics and, as the Valley Girls say, “Whatever.” The pop culture machine rolls on, gold teeth and fangs drooling over greedy profits.

The future is staring you in the face. TV and movies. War and war and more war. Heroism to no end. Only via killing and mutilation and personal suffering of others can you gain herohood. No! Just by being a soldier do you become a hero. Enlist and go kill. Kill. Kill. Kill! All for the greater glory of America, a land so isolated from the rest of the world it has lost its hold on reality. More war to rationalize the cross-eyed destruction and lack of humanity already inflicted on the Middle East–let’s forget the hell America has wrought in South America, too. We are so righteous and glorious. America! America! America! It’s all so romantic. And overwrought. And ignorant.

Romantic. Out of touch with reality.

I’d like to say, “Remember Bull Run” but Americans don’t read and have no truck with history, whether of another country or their own. Bull Run. Site of the first pitched battle of the Civil War. The romance of the battle brought out not only reporters but spectators: ladies and gentlemen and children and servants. What a glorious picnic entertainment this was to be! The rebellious Confederates would surely be put to rout and the self-righteous Union Army hailed as heroes. Heroes of the highest order, fighting is they were for the rights of man. Reality often has a ghastly way of breaking in on silly dreams, especially those of the Three Musketeers sort of high ideals.

Go, boys! Go! Go! Go!

Within moments, the romantic wonder of war for what was good and right became the reality of dead, burnt bodies, shouts and groans of pain and dying, arms and legs smashed and severed, blood and smoke everywhere. What a salacious picnic! Pickles and dessert up on the hillside, death and destruction down in the valley.

And, to top it off, the Rebels broke through the Union’s mightier numbers! How could bad win?! Oh! Let’s go home. This war thing is terrible. Terrible. Suddenly, war was no longer romantic heroism in the fight for right–both sides fought for what they believed right. This kind of nullifies the idea of God on one side or another.

George Bush II made sure the realities of war, as made public during the Vietnam debacle, were hidden from public view by banning coverage. No more blood and guts. Only reports of good. Not even notice of the bodies of dead soldiers coming home, albeit in sealed coffins. Obama didn’t lessen the irreality; he increased the mayhem but kept the blood and guts out of the public eye unless it was to show the enemy creamed and in bad light. And every soldier was a hero. Every enlisted man. The war in the Middle East became a glorified Crusade.

Thank you for your service. Thank you for your missing arms and legs. Thank you for your lifelong pain, your PTSD. Thank you for the medals on your chests and your spiffy uniforms. My heroes!

All of our movies extol the suffering heroism of war. New additions to TV land extol the wonder and rightness and heroism of war. Comic books are about war. The superheroes are as vicious and vengeance-filled and virulent as the bad guys. The heroes stand victorious and bigger than life in the midst of destruction, ruined cities and cheering survivors because they are good and right and above it all. Novels of war and survival against all odds fill the bookshelves and Internet sites. Indeed, the ethic today seems to be, if you don’t agree with me I get to kill you. Die! Die! Die. You fucking bastard!

The future staring you in the face, the reality staring you in the face is War.

Great nation, my ass!

But, first, there’s the new Roaring Twenties. Everyone going crazy over living, living for the moment. Something lost in a true epidemic that killed seven million in its first year.


by James L Secor

In 2010 I returned to the States. I did not want to; I liked China. Well, why don’t you go back? Is the first of several ignorant responses I’ve faced. Americans seem to like ignorant, self-satisfied reasoning. My father died. No great loss except to the abusive. The legal shenanigans surrounding his pitifully thin estate dragged on and on. And another American characteristic grew obvious. Americans are very litigious, the more so the less the take. And the longer this process goes on, the more the other person is wrong and “hurtful.” “I” am only right and seeking proper redress. Americans are forever right. Americans have quite an ego, which perhaps explains what they like to call their “stick to itiveness” a positive characteristic. Obstinate might be a better word. Obstinate and unable to let things go. Eleven years on, I am still bothered by certain elements of this case even though, in the end, there is nothing to be had. It’s the principle of the thing, they say. Vindictive? People like to bitch, not do anything about whatever. . .and then they wonder why nothing has changed.

Then there came retirement, retirement because. . .because there’s no other reason for not wanting an old man around. The same is done in China, it is true, but the skin off the retiree’s back is less. As a foreigner–and a writer–in China, I would still have some value. In the US, I have no value and it is held against me that I must access public monies for the poor in order to live. Especially so as I’m white and educated. Perhaps because SSA is not understood by nobody who reads any more so how would anyone know? Just bitch. It sounds better. It keeps you the victim. An easy part to play.

And yet, in relation to the world, Americans are arrogant. Arrogant fools. They think they are the best and have the best, often in the face of proof of just the opposite. Always in the face of greed. Money is worth more than life. As America is a monopoly world, it does not like competition or new technology. America has had no new technology in years; telephone technology is no more than another use for technology already in place. Business new technology is only a new twist for greed. I do not know why greed looks so good to the victim but it does, as if to say, “It’s all done for us!” My ass!

So, if I dislike this place so much, why do I not leave? 1) that’s a very Fascist attitude; 2) there is no one with enough money to pay my way to a country in which I could live easily and live well (donations accepted); 3) being a thorn in the side has its advantages; 4) there are no more Frances for displaced Americans to run to, mostly to continue their art. America doesn’t give a damn about art, good, incisive art. America likes the cliché. America likes the generality, the simplistic substitute for thought, which is why political slogans are so popular. Americans don’t think; they react. Reactionaries. They never prepare for the future, an upcoming event; they always wait until it’s too late and just react as if it’s a new and unknown thing. Discombobulated reactions.

The solution to problems is to get rid of them. Kill them. Jail them otherwise. Bad mouthing is always good as it gets everyone to hate them and push them to the side, read “out of sight.” This results in an America’s greatest behavior: denial. . .even as it’s being filmed. The biggest American problem here, in the face of it’s greatness, is racism. America is racist to the nth degree (no pun intended) and when there’s a rebellion, it will be like the French Reign of Terror: everyone is fair game. The greatest barrier to overcome is the police. Coupled with the military, this might lead to a military dictatorship. Throughout history, military dictatorships last for long periods of time–even quickly changing along the way. Always, of course, for the better, we say despite history, but oppressive and repressive all the same.

Racism and greedism and a fat head: that’s America.

A note to anti-vaxers

A note to anti-vaxxers:- Because of vaccinations you are here—here and unmarked. Ear pain may be a sign of immunodeficiency which can lead to a reduction of T-cells, the antibacterial fighter: no T-cells, no life. Urinary tract infection could end up kidney disease. Skin infections; doesn’t sound so worrisome, but considering children have little in the way of disease fighters, this could end up scratching until bloody, and then infection. Bronchitis, bronchiolitis and pneumonia. Generalized pain. Measles. Polio, the sugar cubes came in when I was 8 None of you will know this). Some of your parents & grandparents have no idea what these are “if they even existed.” Like you people. And boy children suffer the worst. Then there’re mumps and chicken pox–my brother had chicken pox so bad they were in his throat.

I had pneumonia at age 1 and was in a tent, not expected to survive. I suffered through measles so bad I now can’t catch any kind of measles. But I do have an immunology deficiency. It was not the painless childhood you’re handing your children.

What’s the difference between a few mild side-effects and life leading to death. If you don’t care, what about your children? You’re respon—no, your not, you’re not behaving with the least bit of concern for anyone else, especially your children.

For All You Chinese Haters. . .

by Minna vander Pfaltz

In fact, the US has outsources much to China: bullets, boots, wool blankets, etc. The US purchases such at greatly reduced cost. Even so,dunderheads, It’s not the maker who’s at fault, it’s the guy who pulls the trigger. But the US has been involved in a similar slaughter (of one person): he made “empty” bullets for the Germans and hid Jews; but because he was a party member, the US cheered his execution: Schindler.

Just A Note

The US bought work by the Chinese many years ago: bullets, materiel, boots, wool blankets, etc. But you see, its not the maker of the bullet that’s important, it’s whether the bullet kills you…& perhaps the puller of the trigger. Someone is pulling the trigger. To wit: the US.

Odds ‘n Ends

by Min’n Jim

Americans love monopolies: look at the right way of doing things, as advertised. The implicit order is not to do it any other way because it is wrong/inappropriate. Speak about a population of one mind! Everyone afeared to go their own way. Be the same, be happy.

If a narrow street has no centre line, it is appropriate to drive down the middle of the street as fast as you can, children be damned. This is good for getting to the end of the street; it is also good for running away from the person you ran down—and the police will do nothing, as happened to Jimsecor’s good friend as she crossed 23rd St., her guide dog leading the way.

If you fall and can’t get up, the Fire Dept. will come in full Firetruck mode to pick you up and make sure you’re not hurt. We’re sure there is no better method for embarrassment. Just because Jimsecor’s frail, disabled and unsteady on his feet does not mean he wants the neighborhood to know that he once again hit the ground/floor—and it would be “once again.” This year, 11 dives. [I’m not frail!]

Under 21 grocery cashiers cannot even touch a 6-pack of beer. A communicable disease? Perhaps if the kid were an octopus. . .

Speaking of which, did you know octopuses are, in fact, aliens?

In 2016 The Great Wall was released, directed by Zhang Yimo. Movies of this scope & adventure are not produced in the States. At least, not since DW Griffith. Oh, so nice, to have a movie usurped by ill-placed kissy-kissy love scenes with the thinnest connection to the movie itself. This movie might be classed as a romance (as opposed to a romantic) movie. Minmin sat on the edge of her seat the entire time. [He’s not my sugar daddy, so I am forever coming to movies (over priced on DVD) late.]

The disgustingly greedy & snotty announcement before a movie. . .let me see if I can, with one example, show you how this works. A DVD is, more or less, $30. It probably costs the company $1.00-$2.00 to make one DVD. In China, $30 is about 210 RMB; for many, this is ½ a month’s salary. The only American company that brought down its product cost was Pepsi. It’s not surprising Americans want to milk the populace: Greed is our corporate nick name. And Interpol can’t do anything about it, Interpol has no jurisdiction anywhere.

Semanticists telling semanticists that their semantics are just semantics &, therefore, their arguments are inconsequential. This, in order to keep everything within the accepted norm. God help us if we think outside the box! The ‘box’ being the accepted norm. PC.

Protesting by doing absolutely nothing à la Senator “Cocaine” McConnell. Chalmers Johnson pointed out that this was the surest way to rebellion, a senator doing nothing ad withholding possibly unkind to him from reaching the floor. The book is less than 50 pp, so not beyond the average senator’s ability’s. First edition. Anybody for the French Revolution right here in Great old America? Let’s hope it’s the Indians & not the illiterate White Supremacists. At least the Injuns have a gripe to attend to.

Libertarians = anacharianists = choasionists. Libertarian = small gov’t = no gov’t subsidies for nothing. No Medicare/Medicaid, streets full of potholes, electrical lines down, yellow greensward, no curb to Pharmaceutical companies’ greed; no insurance, so no hit & run statutes. And, no sense. Making America Great Again.

Piracy, Stealing is a victimless crime, no manner how you count it. Without gov’t, without law, how scarce lawyers.

Tell us, what is Representation sans itself?

Whiney Millennarians who do nothing, play the old blame game & don’t do anything.

Buses for the disabled.

New jeans with holes and pulled threads are the predominant Fashion.

It seems that the bus for the handicapped, which used to be available to all handicapped and accessible for Jimsecor, now has no buses for him at all. No transportation for shopping. No transportation to the doctor’s office. No transportation to the hospital. It seems that the disabled bus line is handicapping itself. Jimsecor has been found to have one occluded cardiac artery, which now has a stent in it to keep it open & congestive heart failure. It is now supporting the made up fact, for not being eligible for the bus service via “finding my way” home via a friend is proof positive that he (Jimsecor) doesn’t deserve the transportation. Apparently he’s problem-solving skills than the people running the bus line can drum up for themselves. “Die you motherfucker!” Jimsecor has undergone some problem solving & has determined that Jimsecor’s intellectual abilities far outweigh his physable disabilities. To wit:- Cardio-logic showed an occluded artery that was immediately fixed via a stent; Jimsecor was so filled with “water” that he was placed on Lasix, medication that removes fluid. So, his legs are no longer swollen & pain is now less. This is CHF (Congestive Heart Failure, a chronic progressive condition in which fluid builds up within the heart and causes it to pump inefficiently). High dose of Lasix brought his leg swelling down & saw about 3000 cc (100 fl oz) of fluid removed from his heart.

There is here, in Lawrence, KS, a woman who is exceptional: in the dead of dark night she can discern one black cat from another black cat. No one in the world can do this–and yet she lives in obscurity. We should all award her for this feat. It has saved a cat’s life.

An Essay on Millennials

by Minna vander Pfaltz w/ a comment here & there by Jimsecor

Now, let’s see. . .baby boomers gave you life—a hell of a lot of it. If it weren’t for the baby boomers, there would be no millennials, millennials who whine about everything like a three year old who has a problem.


A way to the stars. The sending of Voyager 1 & 2 into deep space with updates telling us of new discoveries in deep space. The Millennials launch their cars.

Protesting, bastardized by subsequent legal beagles.

Flip flops.

Me–& I’ll outlive you all.

Clean rivers & environmental programs.

Only one idiot war that only produced cripples, cynical war & vets and telling music & movies. The Millennials have brought about a full Middle East war and invaded a country that has not fallen ever: Afghanistan. It took 10 more years of not reading to discover this. But, what the hell, there was no reason to invade in the first place.

The Muppets.

Ray Bradbury.

Betty Crocker– & I still use the 2nd edition, the book my mother used.

Dr. Spock’s Baby Book—ah! Must be because your mommy didn’t use it. Sorry.

Fast cars. Rich cars.

Computers. And what have you done with them? Hacking (theft). Passing along disinformation faster & in greater amounts. Watching us express our barbarian nature. Play games.

Close to magic outcomes in surgery.

Alfred Hitchcock. The Millennials have no understanding of build up or psychology. . .or of terror. Piling one horror on another in the name of overkill is not terror at all & comes very close to being sense disabling. Maybe this is a sign of the dull, sameness of a Millennial’s life?

No-iron clothing.


Braces & near “universal” dental health.


George W. Bush is all on you, as is Trump.

The Millennials have produced Red State America. There are only three other Red State countries in the world. The one characteristic that all have in common is Communism.

The New Jim Crow in all those states.

18-hr deodorant–from us to you for good reason.


Good as new eyesight.

Smart watches.

Alive 50 years past expiration date.

The ability to get away

This took a little longer than expected because of Jimsecor’s cardiac catheterization this past Monday. Millennials wouldn’t have this life-saving technology without the Baby Boomers.

Who would have thought our grandchildren would end up a whining lot who don’t have the ability or desire to change what they find “wrong or distasteful” about their land. Instead, they assume the world as they see it will go on forever and all they’ve got is whining and blaming and–by God, they’re going to do a good job of it!

It does appear that it’s the Millennial has gifted the world a black poison apple printshop of lax thinking and troubles.