Scanning the news factories reveals nothing more than the usual. Fox News stirs some marginal interest for the level of froth they're stirring over San Bernardino and the NRA appreciates the gun sales but the only novel, albeit predictable, aspect is they have a woman involved this time so, naturally, blame the bitch. (Fox: Investigators probe whether wife radicalized husband before San Bernardino massacre)
Over on The Guardian there's a journo going on about how she is leaving the fuck everything that moves crowd and is (gasp) considering ... maybe, just maybe, growing into adulthood. (The Guardian: Non-monogamy showed me what it really means to be with someone)
Breathtaking, isn't it.
The Guardian seems to have the monopoly of beboobed journos showing in painful detail how their leadership will have the world in ruins faster than you can say, "Asshole, it was your job to keep toilet paper stocked in the house! You had three simple jobs: lawn maintenance, walking the dog, and keeping toilet paper in stock at all times. Now the lawn is crap, the dog is fat, and I've got NO FUCKING TOILET PAPER!"
There's another which berates Mark Zuckerberg's creation of a charity and the ways in which he will use it. (The Guardian: Wealthy philanthropists shouldn't impose their idea of common good on us)
The Zuckerbergian Method doesn't seem all that bad: the charity is stoked by a for-profit corporation which can be used for political purposes or whatever other demented thing any for-profit corporation can do. The charity aspect has a generally stated intention of improving opportunities for education.
The article got tiresome quickly but it seemed the contentious aspect was regarding Zuckerberg having control over how the money is spent. Maybe the author thinks she should determine how funds are disbursed but being a journo only shows she can type, it doesn't demonstrate any practical skills for doing anything.
The irony is times like this turn Facebook into a news provider because of the possibility for watching reactions. That's where it's made abundantly clear the world will go to complete shit with women running it.
Yesterday, one of the genteel elite started up a conversation on 'what should we do about gun control?' I was tempted to ask how about if we make a project to get the Mississippi River to run backwards so we can surf on it. That would be cool, right?
In some ways, the genteel elite are more dangerous than the gunners because they give illusions of solutions which never come. Clinton is playing that in a big way just now but she's doing that with just about everything.
The saddest observation in Facebook was in seeing how otherwise reasonable people go red-eye looney after Pavlovian utterance of 'Muslim' and they're ready to send the kill squads out with .50 cal machine guns. They seem to be recovering more quickly this time, tho.
All of the above made last night not so much for shooting the scene I wanted but it was outstanding for playing until my shoulder was whining like a schoolgirl. Oddly enough, it wasn't the smashed one but the other. There was additional good news in breaking a pick because breaking them always shows I'm playing hard enough.
There's a distinct possibility I could get stuck in this part because my own playing is stunning me. Where the hell did you learn how to do that, boy?? It stuns me all the more that it stuns me because it never, ever does that.
It gets all Catch-22 because I have Sanctuary right now. All I need is to pick up the Galaxy Guitar and let's go. The only thing left is to share it with you ... but ... recording is never as good, it's impossible, so that really isn't Sanctuary for me anymore because I listen to myself doing it rather than actually doing it.
Yes, this does have actual meaning because listening to yourself is right up there with sticking flaming spears in yer eyes. Playing it is Sanctuary but editing it most certainly is not.
There are no good excuses as I'm suitably bathed, me whiskers are even trimmed, and all the bits are ready for at least a trial run at recording with video. There is a medium excuse in the impossibility of recording Perfection ... but that's still an excuse.
The Catch-22 is nothing can possibly be Perfection if I am able to do it so keep playing it and maybe that will come. That's not false modesty and I suspect any musician feels the same thing; you keep trying and maybe eventually you will get to the real thing.
Over on The Guardian there's a journo going on about how she is leaving the fuck everything that moves crowd and is (gasp) considering ... maybe, just maybe, growing into adulthood. (The Guardian: Non-monogamy showed me what it really means to be with someone)
Breathtaking, isn't it.
The Guardian seems to have the monopoly of beboobed journos showing in painful detail how their leadership will have the world in ruins faster than you can say, "Asshole, it was your job to keep toilet paper stocked in the house! You had three simple jobs: lawn maintenance, walking the dog, and keeping toilet paper in stock at all times. Now the lawn is crap, the dog is fat, and I've got NO FUCKING TOILET PAPER!"
There's another which berates Mark Zuckerberg's creation of a charity and the ways in which he will use it. (The Guardian: Wealthy philanthropists shouldn't impose their idea of common good on us)
The Zuckerbergian Method doesn't seem all that bad: the charity is stoked by a for-profit corporation which can be used for political purposes or whatever other demented thing any for-profit corporation can do. The charity aspect has a generally stated intention of improving opportunities for education.
The article got tiresome quickly but it seemed the contentious aspect was regarding Zuckerberg having control over how the money is spent. Maybe the author thinks she should determine how funds are disbursed but being a journo only shows she can type, it doesn't demonstrate any practical skills for doing anything.
The irony is times like this turn Facebook into a news provider because of the possibility for watching reactions. That's where it's made abundantly clear the world will go to complete shit with women running it.
Yesterday, one of the genteel elite started up a conversation on 'what should we do about gun control?' I was tempted to ask how about if we make a project to get the Mississippi River to run backwards so we can surf on it. That would be cool, right?
In some ways, the genteel elite are more dangerous than the gunners because they give illusions of solutions which never come. Clinton is playing that in a big way just now but she's doing that with just about everything.
The saddest observation in Facebook was in seeing how otherwise reasonable people go red-eye looney after Pavlovian utterance of 'Muslim' and they're ready to send the kill squads out with .50 cal machine guns. They seem to be recovering more quickly this time, tho.
All of the above made last night not so much for shooting the scene I wanted but it was outstanding for playing until my shoulder was whining like a schoolgirl. Oddly enough, it wasn't the smashed one but the other. There was additional good news in breaking a pick because breaking them always shows I'm playing hard enough.
There's a distinct possibility I could get stuck in this part because my own playing is stunning me. Where the hell did you learn how to do that, boy?? It stuns me all the more that it stuns me because it never, ever does that.
It gets all Catch-22 because I have Sanctuary right now. All I need is to pick up the Galaxy Guitar and let's go. The only thing left is to share it with you ... but ... recording is never as good, it's impossible, so that really isn't Sanctuary for me anymore because I listen to myself doing it rather than actually doing it.
Yes, this does have actual meaning because listening to yourself is right up there with sticking flaming spears in yer eyes. Playing it is Sanctuary but editing it most certainly is not.
There are no good excuses as I'm suitably bathed, me whiskers are even trimmed, and all the bits are ready for at least a trial run at recording with video. There is a medium excuse in the impossibility of recording Perfection ... but that's still an excuse.
The Catch-22 is nothing can possibly be Perfection if I am able to do it so keep playing it and maybe that will come. That's not false modesty and I suspect any musician feels the same thing; you keep trying and maybe eventually you will get to the real thing.
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