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Wed Jan 29, 2014 at 10:26 PM PST

The failed coup d'etat

by nolagrl

The subtext of the SOTUA  was the trap shutting on the stupidest and most intelligent attempt to re-instate a corporate feudal system since the last one they fell into.  

What I saw was a failed coup.
I'll make my thesis below the orange snowflake.

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Sat Dec 07, 2013 at 01:23 AM PST

Pearl Harbor, Mon Amour

by nolagrl

Today, I raise a glass to director John Ford,  the person most responsible for my Doctorate in American Studies.  Then I raise my middle finger to him.  

Ford has us hard wired, even now. His Catholic, Irish, Immigrant worldview unites with the Protestant Work Ethic to make a heady brew.

He gave Americans a common, if not universal, emotional warm, fuzzy memory of a shared past. Damn him.

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Sat Nov 30, 2013 at 03:37 PM PST

My Little Blogee- On Sabbatical

by nolagrl

We are declaring ourselves (my brilliant, PTSD musician husband, two  puppy mill refugee Bull Terriers, both with PTSD, 2 cats, both entertained by our Addams-esque antics, and me, your PTSD/MST haunted, Pagan connector of dots. Your pattern seer and constant Cassandra (told you so) host):  "New Orleans in Exile."  We are readying our Classic 46.5 Pacemaker Flybridge motor yacht to live the live aquatic in the Caribbean in retirement.  

At will, we will travel in our sumptuous sea condo, will we?    I'm one of the last of the Nuanced writers.
We are leaving the hive.  Our late 60s past is calling.  We're not retiring - we're going 'On Sabbatical.'

I tend to wander in strange directions as I assume my Cronehood and start my 'I learned this' for the dead bloggers  files. I'm no longer a competitor, I'm a spectator. And judge. My niece plays in an amazing school band.  Competitive Music and dance/gymnastics instead of sports. I LOVE it!!!!!!   Getting to watch the seeds we planted bloom.  Who could ask for more in life?  My mother's father, Stephan Barron, was a devoted Irishman, close to the Old Country. The Barron clan's motto translates to "Fortune Favors the Bold."  And according to my loving, but bewildered family, "Impetuous" is the genteel and kind way of describing my life since the comedy of my birth.

And! I have company, this time.  The problem of running wild and free is that you're not one of the pack.  You barely register them.  Unless or until you have to. Thid time, my house goes with me, like Baba Yaga, whose house walked about on chicken legs.

Thank you, Nerds. Geeks.  The people who bring us more, better and faster ways to connect to each other instantly. Visually, emotionally and unabashedly.  
Or as we used to call it: Telepathy.  We did it! We did it! We did it!

The bullies are restive, and we're hitting the local riverside bistro/bar for dinner.  Love the first of the month!
  And I'm pleased to be able to watch as the world goes telepathic.  If I was part of it, I probably wouldn't be able to connect so many dots.  I'm ready to be the voice of the old ways. Doctorate in American Studies will do that for you. Being a 2nd Lt. in the Air Force in 1977 will do that to you.
I am also past my technological competence.  It's new magic. I'm tired of new spells and rituals of communication.

If my attention span holds up, I'll use this as my journal.  Another glorious leap into the unknown. Just like accepting that commission, guessing what was ahead, but grossly underestimating how quickly resistance would fade. How a deeply corrupted Congress would sell womens' citizenship to the 'Moral Majority' - an oxymoron, since it was neither. (PTSD)..

look! It's Haley's Comet!!!  Now. Where were we?

Ah, yes.  F*ck it. We quit. Better the unknown than 'settling.'  As Lyle Lovett sang: (How do I find and link to the file?)

But Tonto, he was smarter, and one day said: Kimosabe.  Kiss my ass. I've bought a boat. And I'm heading out to sea."

Off we go.........

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We of the Boomer generation had the first uncontrolled access to the world outside our homes.  Children of a military culture, television whispered that Father Didn't know best, and there was something creepy about Mr. Mitchell of Dennis the Menace. "The Rifleman" is almost gay porn, Alfred Hitchcock was subversion defined.  I adored that fat little man because I looked in his eyes and saw revolution.  Actors who typified our parents and grandparents did terrible things to each other. All the glamour and angst of new lottery winners, laid out for our beady little eyes.  

Bugs Bunny - the profane stinker, not the limp Toon.  Satire. The original Addams family. Parody.  Rocky and Bullwinkle. Crusader Rabbit.  Mighty Mouse.  God, I loved that mouse.  Most of it written by adults, for adults.  We got it.  We learned 'Fractured Fairy Tales' before we ever saw a Disney movie in a theater.  

Watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat!  Below the orange bebop.

Poll

What children's program influenced your life the most?

5%1 votes
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5%1 votes
17%3 votes
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5%1 votes
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| 17 votes | Vote | Results

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Sat Mar 23, 2013 at 05:59 PM PDT

Addwine #2 -Those who don't....

by nolagrl

theorize.  

Musing on American culture and history is an addiction I picked up in the American Studies Dept at the University of Hawai'i - Manoa.  Having never lived a mainstream American lifestyle, I was ensnared by the idea of connecting the dots on why people act the way they do. I came for the Historic Preservation degree.  I stayed for the wonderful, weird world of American cultural studies. Connect the dots in a continental portrait.  Bliss.  

One of the things I play around with is how the bivouacking of America into suburban barracks has cut us off from our past. Which is part of a larger idea on how the WWII generation civilianized their shared military experience as an organizing principle for the infant world power.

Think of suburbs as military family housing.  More modest, shared spaces for lower ranks and increased luxury as you rose in the ranks.  Officers (management) directed their enlisted labor. The  nuclear family mimicked the platoon and its leader with the wife and kids as loyal troops.  

But it cut the kids off from seeing the people who raised their parents.  The nice part of a small town is that everyone has feet of clay, and everyone knows it.  The grandparent mediates the child and the parent.  Nothing cuts the sting like Grandpa explaining that your Dad was just as obtuse and fussy at that age.   Particularly when Dad is following a military model of authority.  

Hierarchy is hard to maintain if there are alternative models to follow.   Thus the hopeless clinging of the far right to a 1950s fantasy.   Every change in the rank and file upsets good order and discipline.  Behavior that made us global heroes does not translate well into civilian life, as the 1960s tells us.  

So now for something completely different.   A multi-generational household of musicians and warriors.  Living with the ancient courtesan that is New Orleans and her musicians and gypsies and pirates.  

Wow......

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I wrote to a friend undergoing surgery that "there's always at least one turn in the path you never see coming."  Life in the past three years has been a Gordian knot of turns, kinks and surprises .  I have always expected change and have had plenty in my life.  I have tried to not cling to the old, but to enjoy the change as part of a collection of experiences.  I have sworn I would never live a dull life, but life in New Orleans is like living in a cross between Sordid Lives and The Fantastics, with some 3 Penny Opera thrown in. Even crazier than it sounds. That's why we live here.

  My lovely husband, bluesman Blue Max, has been seriously ill for a year and a half. At the same time, I stepped off the ledge into PTSD/MST darkness, ground to shreds by the VA.  Hurricane Isaac ripped the backroom off the house, and the State has been breaking every preservation law by using FEMA money to turn a school in our historic district neighborhood into a destructive nightmare. It's a block away from my house, which is the main 'no trucks' truck delivery route. We have not begun to figure out how much damage they did, but the beautiful brick school building, with cypress floors and marble stairs, now sports a rear end of blond brick and giant doormats. A whole block of butt ugly.   Our homes are cracked, unstable and no longer structurally sound.

That skims the surface. Dead friends, idiots and innocents.  The parades, the killings. Lost souls and great escapes.

And the Mother, witty little bitch that she can be, put a 120 degree turn in the path I never saw.  

After 40 years of scrupulously avoiding anyone under the age of 21, my step-daughter, her fiance and her one year old daughter are coming to stay with us as they get established here in New Orleans.  Her fiance is a welder - he'll be employed instantly.  She has always dreamed of being a pediatric nurse.  This is her shot.

I never wanted to be a parent. Babies annoy me.  Children are devoutly to be avoided except to smile admiringly and make eye contact. I do my best to be kind and straightforward, but prolonged contact with the young ones has been a deliberate omission in my life.
And now......
Hi kid. I'm your Auntie Mame. Actually, I'm her Tutu. (Hawai'ian for mother's mother.  16 years in Hawai'i, may as well honor them.

My young maiden days are gone, my mothering stage has been within the formal strictures of military commands, and now it is time to become the Elder.  Oh.

As a life long Pagan/kitchen witch I am suddenly confronted with a young women of enormous potential and her child.   It is my responsibility to use all the experiences of my life to help guide 2 new female lives.  As a trained thinker and writer, the time has come to put my brain back to use in ways I never have.  I suspect it will be an amazing trip.  It might be good for me. The current me isn't all that great. Time to trade it in on a newer, different mental framework.

Pain shared is halved, joy shared is doubled Spider Robinson.

In the future, I'm going to be sharing. you're welcome to follow along. I can promise it will not be dull.

Discuss

Thu Feb 21, 2013 at 11:34 AM PST

Let's ALL go Galt

by nolagrl

"Atlas Shrugged" is based on the incredibly Liberal notion that ideas have value.
As a matter of fact, Galt's ideas to make money are worth more than mere human life.  He and his merry band are spurning society because they refuse to compromise on their ideas for making money.  Stupid, yes.  Even stupider when they get to Galt's Gulch and realize they forgot the booze and toilet paper. And the toilet....
But that's a story for another 420.

The fallacy of the plot of "Atlas Shrugged" is that ideas for inventions are more important than reality.  Inventive ideas are nothing without using someone else's labor and skills to build, maintain, operate and sell the real world version.  Galt & Co. seem to think it happens by magic.

I've got a PhD in American Studies.  Ideas fall out of my brain every day.  I am poor.  No one is paying me to blog.  (Do I get an 'amen'?)

Here's our problem: If you have free market Capitalism, it only works when there is a balance between production costs and profit.

Capitalism demands that all resources be owned by the smallest number of people possible before the system collapses.
It can't help itself.  

What Capitalism needs to be successful is the Capitalization of Labor.  Otherwise known as: "there's no such thing as a free lunch. That includes you,  Walmart."

Labor needs to leave the 'job makers' and their dreams in the train and go off to Galt's Gulch.  Who will take us away from all this?  US.

Under the blowing orange smoke......

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Wed Feb 20, 2013 at 08:39 PM PST

Jabberwockymander

by nolagrl

All the gyring and gimbaling in the wabe about gerrymandering seems to make the assumption that demographics, living patterns and suburban growth will remain the same, with urban areas being hubs of poverty.
People die, leave, come.  Today's slum is tomorrow's trendy district. Think how Sandy has changed the demographics of New Jersey.  Katrina/Rita changed everything on the Gulf Coast.  A gerrymander may not hold beyond the next election cycle. Especially when the GOP's sins against their constituents are held up for public view.

I suspect the Millennials will flee the comfy suburbs, or at least contract them to true sub-urban enclaves with easy urban access.  Poof! goes the base.

In the wildest case, invest in businesses in deep red areas that also attract the growing Democratic/Independent voter.  The 1950s suburban life, with its nuclear family, is an  aberration, has not been the case static.

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Wed Jan 30, 2013 at 02:23 PM PST

Your guns = my uterus

by nolagrl

It occurs to me that there is a connection between gun lovers and women.  Hear me out.
We both are outraged at what we see as intolerable intrusions into private citizens' lives. We both are seen as  amoral, bloody-handed killers. Self-centered pariahs demanding society bend to what we feel are our sacred rights.

I feel your pain, Bro.  

I think we can find common ground.  Beneath the orange Mardi Gras throw..

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Wed Jan 30, 2013 at 02:20 PM PST

How anarchy is organized. By telepathy

by nolagrl

We are witnessing a radical transformation in society.  
the end of privacy and the rise of the Global Village. And the revolution is over.  Hierarchy as an organizing principle lost.

What fired my synapses was this article, on the 'uniqueness' of Mayor Booker's use of 'social media.'
http://www.addictinginfo.org/...
That's not news.  That's how your kids organize their lives - and yours.

Continued beneath the orange organizational chart.....

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Wed Jan 30, 2013 at 02:19 PM PST

Jesus Rides the Dinosaur

by nolagrl

Generally, if they are using big words, they are trying to rob you.   This use of words stems from a decreasing need for an elaborate vocabulary in every day life.

It's the new age of empathy - the instant access and voyeurism of the small town on a global scale.
de Tocqueville observed that Americans sort themselves by interest groups.  We're getting into global interest groups.

Discuss

Thu Dec 27, 2012 at 10:19 PM PST

Jesus Rides the Dinosaur

by nolagrl

The Hierarchy is dead.  The Word is no longer Sacred, no matter how they try. Fight back, we're almost to the part where Justice does some severe butt kicking......

and some chickens appear. Suddenly. Below the Maxfield Parrish cloud

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