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My World and Welcome to It

My World and Welcome to It

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     This post was last updated at 11 PM, Wednesday, December 31.  Latest entries are “Year End Thoughts on 2025,” “The ‘W’ File from Moon Books,” and “The Cryptkeeper.” The Instapunk Times is hot off the presses! XMAS STRIKE ISSUE! ] Undernet Black was updated December 24. This will be a pinned post in perpetuity, but it will be updated continuously, just like all of our lives. The title — “My World and Welcome to It” — is stolen happily from James Thurber, who is known as a humorist, unabashedly untrained cartoonist, and dog lover. He was also subject to melancholy, a drinker of note, and something of an outsider (in his own damaged eyes at least) as an Ohioan, born and educated, who became a fixture in the glamorous Algonquin Roundtable of Manhattan writers and playwrights. I can relate to all of that but the fame and the lifelong journey to blindness. I believe he was likely the best writer of the gang that gathered in the Algonquin Hotel in the 1930s, and I made...

Faint Praise and Other Hump Day Lumps

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Jesse Jackson (1942-2026) Honestly tried to find an appropriately hagiographic portrait of Mr. Jackson on the occasion of his death, but I came up pretty empty. Mostly photos of him with other famous people, usually Democrats and Civil Rights bigwigs. I really did make an effort to turn an old photo of him into something more. His was a career full of activity and effort but little glamor. He ran for President twice in two of the weakest candidate pools the Dems Hadhad before the current slagpile. In 1984 he lost the nomination to Mondale, who went on to lose 49 of 50 states. In 1988 he polled worse than Al Gore and Michael Dukakis, who also lost bigly in the general. What little attention I paid him then and subsequently is probably due to his participation in the phenomenon of Reagan Derangement Syndrome, that new streak of personal hatred which entered National Democrat politicking after Watergate. Then he gradually dropped away into the background.  Honestly, I probably would l...

Brief Infatuations

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  Two people daring to approach one another against the odds I like this pic. A surreal take on Valentine’s Day. My wife and I love each other, just not this particular commercial permutation of romance. She doesn’t want a card and I don’t either. But it doesn’t mean I want to be a Scrooge about the whole thing. More than one way to stir a heart though. Loving a musical talent of the opposite sex is not what I’d call cheating, or else I’m in very big trouble. Just shared my lifelong romance with Edith Piaf, which will live as long as I do. But she’s not the only one I have flirtations, infatuations, even relationships with. Enough of them that this could be a series, though I promise I’ll keep that to a minimum. Still, this is a good time to acknowledge such affinities. Women have been misbehaving quite a lot on public stages of Iate and I have not been shy about calling them out. Appropriate that I give a moment to my more tender feelings. Yes, even I have feelings. And female sin...

Not to be an alarmist, but a Reminder is in order…

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You remember this guy ? His name was John Wilkes Booth. He killed President Abraham Lincoln, whose birthday it is today. He was a Confederate sympathizer who believed Lincoln and the federal government that enforced United States laws were evil. Pretty much like — no, exactly like — today’s Democrat know-it-alls who encourage violence against federal laws removing the technical non-voters they think they own like the crooked judges who make their fortunes. John Wilkes Booth was considered insignificant before he killed the President. He was an actor, related to a more famous actor and living pretty much on his name only anymore. Sound like any bios you’ve heard lately?  I’m just asking you to remember that the following people may seem like insignificant entertainers with all their violent threats agains Trump, but in their kind of work they all learn how to load and cocks guns. And pull the trigger while aiming at the red laser dot.  Yeah, these people. What do they all claim...

The French Hurry-Up, 1963

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This is one in a series of posts I’ve written for a friend explaining ways in which my life has seemed orchestrated rather than the strict result of my own decisions. Even my biggest seeming mistakes have produced enormous benefits in terms of furthering my education and the scope of my writing. This is the latest of those posts, shared here because there’s no one living who can be hurt by its content becoming generally available. It’s more personal than IPR posts usually are. But I’m in a Shane mood at the moment and I don’t care. It’s a mood that recurs now and again. It passes and I go back to work. But that’s why this post is being shared here, today. One point to remember. The audio narratives here were not scripted. They were extemporaneous recordings made on my iPad over a number of years, not expressly for this post. C’est L’amour That’s the Piaf I fixated on when I was forming my first thoughts on romantic love. I knew of her before we were ever went to France, because my...

Behind the Conman Shibboleth

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  P. T. Barnum’s Most Famous Attraction My first job at NCR Corporation was in Product Marketing, which encompasses marketing strategy, marketing communications, and sales support in the form of competition information. Yawn. But my career began with an immediate crisis. When I was taking stock of what I had to work with, I tried to find my division marketing strategy. There wasn’t one. Well, there was, but it wasn’t a strategy; it was a simple directive. Pursue major accounts. Period. So I wrote a marketing strategy document and showed it to the smartest guy I knew at NCR, the one-man band who gave Executive Briefings to targeted major account decision makers. He shook his head at me. “It’s great,” he told me. “But there’s nobody to show it to. Not your boss, not his boss, and not the Director of Marketing. He doesn’t give this kind of stuff the time of day.”  Oh. We talked. He got more enthusiastic. “What might work is sending it directly to our real boss, the Division VP. Y...

The Canadian Sinkhole

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What’s wrong with this picture ? A rough history of the Great White Mess as a North American colony has been covered in a previous post , but what must concern us as American citizens is the role they’ll be playing in the critical years ahead. None of the options is promising. Geographically, Canada is the second largest nation on earth. In every other respect it is not even an also ran. Maybe a ‘coulda ran’ depending on how you look at it, but ‘didna ran’ is more like it. For most of their history as a quasi-semi-ex-colony of the British Empire and stepchild of the British Commonwealth, they seem to have just been just sitting there taking handouts from the adults of western civilization. When you look for greats (and I have), they are there but in small numbers and often with sad stories.  Their greatest writer was Malcolm Lowry, not Canadian by birth but by exile and adoption, who died soon after writing what has been ranked (by the people who do such rankings) as the eleventh b...