Tag Archives: fear

Baboon America

Dispiriting the Right

At the end of the last post, Strength Through Fear, I mentioned a prevailing thought among a certain kind of MAGA man. The low slouching kind, one who drools and whose knuckles scrape ground.

That poor dope thinks that for a woman to have exceled, to have reached prominence, she needed to have slept her way to the height.

Such insults every woman and offends any male who knows better but also knows he may be grouped among the belly scratchers. There’s a rumor circulating we all act alike. Continue reading Dispiriting the Right →

Lost Wages

Water Finds Its Own Level

Only in America is free time frowned upon. No matter how deserved. Anytime I read or hear about a cubicle slave or some other automaton bound to his/her job by invisible chains, I say, “Poor sap.”

Where else but America do workers “brag” about their unused vacation days? Of course, where else but here do employers also grudge awarding those days which have been earned?

Deferring purchases is often wise. Deferring vacation days robs our humanity. Continue reading Water Finds Its Own Level →

Baboon America

White Riot!

The more and more we see certain segments of Anglo America convulse, the more and more we may hear Blancmange’s Blind Vision as its anthem.

We all do know that anxiety-throttled whites and less than conscientious law enforcement officials understand the supremacy they conferred upon themselves is in its end phase, right? Now that planet receives instantaneous videos from clashes instead of easily disputed eyewitness statements, more of mainstream America is being jolted into awareness of its complicity in repression against other Americans.

Doesn’t that sort of knock for a loop our nationally promulgated belief in our own self-righteousness? Why, yes it does. Can’t have that tarnishing our silver-lining, can we? Continue reading White Riot! →

Tales Out of School

Inside the Assisted Drinking Facility

No Nevada buddies, no Las Vegas place to call a hangout should such even exist. Life’s dispersal has reduced the number of friends and associates remaining in Tucson, a k a the Desert Margaritaville. This same mortality has also shuttered many of the premises where we caroused while attending Arizona and afterwards.

One of those few elbow-benders which matured with us shares a Las Vegas connection.

During the days and nights of Sin City’s glorious mob rule, the proprietor of a vital, well-known Tucson establishment often gambled away fiendishly in Las Vegas. Away from the tables he proved himself a successful businessman. He headed franchises his family owned throughout the Southwest.

Who remembers what game of chance had buried him? The boys would’ve taken his marker. Doubtlessly both parties would’ve worked out a repayment plan to the outfit’s onerous advantage. However, the businessman defied the inexorability of his losing streak. Convinced the next hand, the next roll held the start of regained fortune he finally put up his enterprise as collateral and continued playing … only to lose everything. Continue reading Inside the Assisted Drinking Facility →