Pulpdiddys Permutations My Way

I’ve been writing Pulpdiddys Permutations several years now and several weeks ago felt it was time for a change.  The change is not because I am burnt out but because the nasty stories which is our current history has caused me to shy away from writing.  Frankly, it’s too ugly.  I still am a news junkie and when reading it still have my peculiar take of it.  The battle to stay afloat amongst the vast majority of the constituency, especially in a world in which the wonders are so great that we all can benefit, is a battle which depresses me because it should not be.  What we should be doing is focusing on worldwide problems first, like Climate Change, instead of pretending they don’t exist.

Basically, the old format has been this – Monday – Sunday writing about politics or social issues or economics except for Wednesday which I reserved for Neurotic Man, and Friday, which was Thursday repeated, and Sunday which was an explanation of the purpose of the column.  But I realize I’ve had it, I’m pulling a Duran.  So Neurotic Man will be taking a rest and the rest of the format will remain the same in which I write my memoirs.

While rare instances of man helping man remains, the rise of so much cynicism and jealousy and greed have forced me to re-examine the past, starting with my own.  Where did the dreams of fairness and democracy start, and where did they all go?

I know this is simplistic but we all began somewhere and mostly it is different.  While all stories can be similar, essentially, they are the same.  Well, for my story it all began in the city of New York, Borough of Brooklyn, Section of Brighton in the apartment of my loving family that will be re-examined for fun and maybe a few truths along the way.  And if it doesn’t work out for either of us there’s always the possibility of the return of Neurotic Man.

____________________________________________________________________________________

THIS IS THE WAY I’VE BEGUN EVERY SUNDAY FOR THE LAST TEN WEEKs

During the last ten weeks my chronic back pain has slightly lessened and I am now but a sixty-four-year-old man bent into a re-examination of the sidewalk.  I still read a lot but my revulsion with much of the news I read continues to grow and has become white hot anger so I must put the memoir aside and focus once again on the inhumanity I see performed by those supposedly elected to be servants of the people.  The sad, sad, thing is that they are not supposed to be despots. With what that horrible group has done and continues to do has helped me decide Pulpdiddys Permutations will re-appear with my take on the news at least for a little while.  And then my itch to get back to the memoirs must, well it must be scratched.

Christmas has passed and so has New Year’s but the reason for them has not and that is to be good to each other – not only the next holiday but for all time.

Pulpdiddys Permutations

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Hope

My days in Culver City were filled with hope.  Yes, there was that extremely tragic war in Vietnam and its neighboring states.  The last few had their eyes opened to the terrible way America had treated its African-American citizens.  We learned how badly agents of this government treated citizens in other countries – especially non-white citizens of other countries.  But our various voices often spoke as one.  Those in the High School who looked at the time there as a way to get their advanced degrees mostly agreed with us and on occasion would help the various movements.  There was hope.  We didn’t trust our politicians but there was Jack and Bobby and Martin and Malcolm and though their lives were cut short somehow there was still hope.

What we didn’t realize was that hope was already fading.  It had already registered in our brains that if you tried hard and didn’t go along with the status quo and had power you would be extinguished.  The student in the high school felt the solidarity but also realized if you spoke up and were listened to it was very, very dangerous.  Pragmatism won out over hope.  Some of us who still maintained ourselves as Sancho’s to Quixote’s played a dangerous game except or one fact – the powers that be didn’t take us very seriously so we were mostly ignored.

Indifference won out over hope with a demonstration here and there.  But we hoped – I still hope that we can help the people of this world from suffering.  Hunger and lack of shelter and disease can all be conquered – I still hope.  It takes less than all of our resources to make sure everyone’s life is at least bearable.  Hope is not the lovely word it was of my younger days but still I hope, I hope that we do so much more that I know we can do, for all of us.

Hope

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Words

As sensitive to words that we are today, some of it deserved, in those days there was a greater selection of words that would cause people to shut off and not hear your message.  Bernie as a Socialist, would not be elected forty-five years ago because of that word.  Same message, just that one word.  Lots of words, first used disparagingly have been shifted and refined over the years.  We can now use African-American but not too long ago would mostly say Black.  Before that here was Negro but is often used disparagingly today.  And the words before that?  I wouldn’t, couldn’t say.

Words were difficult during my early political days too.  We wanted to let people know that we marched for equality but the word we wanted to be equated with was not evil or anti-American.  This meant segregation from the rest of the movement because those other leaders were too squeamish to use our group’s name.  We could work for the cause just not be identified.  When all the smaller groups came together on an issue it was a beautiful thing.  You felt strong, and also felt the solidarity.

Lennie and I ventured North to the big anti-Vietnam War demonstration in San Francisco.  Travelling was fun in those days.  It was like getting on a bus but for a much greater distance.  PSA, the state-wide airline of that time, did a first-come, first serve system ad the flights left every half hour or so between LA and SF.  You could board the plane and pay the stewardesses after you found a seat.  There were no Security lines and I think for this flight for the protest we left Culver City thirty minutes before take-off and made the flight easy.   We stayed with one of Lennie’s friends who had moved North a few years ago to Berkeley.  A couple more kids from Culver City showed the day before the protest from Culver City.  Our host drove us to downtown where the march was due to begin.  We went early and the crowd got larger and larger.

By march time the crowd had swelled to an estimated 500,000 which we didn’t know at the time, only that it was a lot of people there.  Both for your own spirit and the visuals for the news it was a wondrous event. Walking in a big group is of such great power.  The one downer was that listening to conversations I learned that some of the protestors were there only for the free concert following the march.

That day I learned to power of big crowds, how feeling that you are right would cause lots of people to your rally and a free concert by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young didn’t hurt either.

Words

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Culver City Again

I’m back in High School in Culver City.  We were a mixed-up bunch, full of lots of adventure and inquisitiveness and inhibitions.  We had so many cliques and sub-groups that our breakdowns were almost that of couples.  Lots of us were Jewish – in those days Culver City was controlled by the Jewish population though there were lots of other groups in the city’s population.  Culver City, which had several poor sections, was largely the poor man’s version of Beverly Hills.  The City was also the testing ground for potential employees – young, high quality teachers after a few years were poached by Beverly Hills as were people in all kinds of services.  But some stayed, enough stayed especially at the High School so we were still provided decent foundations for further exploration.  As I mentioned before this is when my grades started to slip and I was out performed until I became competitive about something, like passing AP tests because my teachers said I couldn’t pass and my counselors said I could.  My counselors were proven right.

I was horny as hell – there were so many sexy, lovely girls out there.  I went out with more than a few but didn’t engage in any sexual activity outside of kissing.  I felt it dishonest to have sex with someone unless you really cared for them, loved them.  And the one thing I didn’t feel was love.  I had a big façade of sexual liberation but it was more than a little fake imagery.

Come to think of it in this age of experimentation I didn’t smoke or try social drugs of any sort, I was not sexually active, I didn’t attend concerts or get tattoos – for a few years I drank and then gave that up late in College and haven’t touched any liquor for thirty years.  I was kind and sensitive but kept them well hidden.  There was anger against inherited wealth and how little chance the poor had to move out of that class.

I seemed happy enough and my brother and sister seemed to be doing fine.  My parents and I talked politics and got closer, if that’s possible.  I joined groups supposedly formed to help people but had little faith in them.  I was hoping the travels I would soon take would help with the emptiness I felt inside.

Culver City

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Back to It

On November 27th of last year, I wrote the last segment of my memoir and I feel it is time to get back to it.  In that six weeks the Donald has exhibited enough mania so that the one-third that decides elections and flirted with him once will never elect him again.  As a quick review before we get back to it the third that supports Trump will curiously support him no matter what he says or does.  Another third would never consider the Donald for any office.  And the aforementioned third, mad as hell at the status quo, will not vote for the Donald again (some of them did once) but are also not in favor of the old way, the return of the Hillary way. While we flirt with disaster during the Trump administration the 2/3s a bit more sane have to become more active, have to tell their representatives their feelings and concerns.

While we play along the abyss following the Donald there has been an increase of recognition of the danger we are in from various short term and long-term ways.  While this craziness sorts itself out it is time for me to take a breather ang back to it, retelling my ow story.  From what I recall I was in High School during the waning days of the Vietnam War and I was in Culver City, with my loving family who had pressures mounting of their own and that’s where we will start beginning tomorrow.

Back to It

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Pulpdiddys Permutations My Way

I’ve been writing Pulpdiddys Permutations several years now and several weeks ago felt it was time for a change.  The change is not because I am burnt out but because the nasty stories which is our current history has caused me to shy away from writing.  Frankly, it’s too ugly.  I still am a news junkie and when reading it still have my peculiar take of it.  The battle to stay afloat amongst the vast majority of the constituency, especially in a world in which the wonders are so great that we all can benefit, is a battle which depresses me because it should not be.  What we should be doing is focusing on worldwide problems first, like Climate Change, instead of pretending they don’t exist.

Basically, the old format has been this – Monday – Sunday writing about politics or social issues or economics except for Wednesday which I reserved for Neurotic Man, and Friday, which was Thursday repeated, and Sunday which was an explanation of the purpose of the column.  But I realize I’ve had it, I’m pulling a Duran.  So Neurotic Man will be taking a rest and the rest of the format will remain the same in which I write my memoirs.

While rare instances of man helping man remains, the rise of so much cynicism and jealousy and greed have forced me to re-examine the past, starting with my own.  Where did the dreams of fairness and democracy start, and where did they all go?

I know this is simplistic but we all began somewhere and mostly it is different.  While all stories can be similar, essentially, they are the same.  Well, for my story it all began in the city of New York, Borough of Brooklyn, Section of Brighton in the apartment of my loving family that will be re-examined for fun and maybe a few truths along the way.  And if it doesn’t work out for either of us there’s always the possibility of the return of Neurotic Man.

____________________________________________________________________________________

THIS IS THE WAY I’VE BEGUN EVERY SUNDAY FOR THE LAST TEN WEEKs

During the last ten weeks my chronic back pain has slightly lessened and I am now but a sixty-four-year-old man bent into a re-examination of the sidewalk.  I still read a lot but my revulsion with much of the news I read continues to grow and has become white hot anger so I must put the memoir aside and focus once again on the inhumanity I see performed by those supposedly elected to be servants of the people.  The sad, sad, thing is that they are not supposed to be despots. With what that horrible group has done and continues to do has helped me decide Pulpdiddys Permutations will re-appear with my take on the news at least for a little while.  And then my itch to get back to the memoirs must, well it must be scratched.

Christmas has just passed and so has New Year’s but the reason for them has not and that is to be good to each other – for all time.

Pulpdiddys Permutations

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Desire to Serve

The desire to serve, which was once ingrained in the people, became less and less as the zeitgeist of the society to reflect that service became less and less.  It does not really matter where it began but it had become so ingrained by Bill’s Clinton’s time that the selling off of bits of our history, like sleeping in the White House became ordinary instead of hardly fathomable.  As the appeal weakened of the desire to serve the process continued to slide in appeal and many good parts of our mythology was also lost.

The presidency is different now, different from my youth when the desire to serve was powerful, not the recent desire to enrichen yourself and your friends.   Everything connected to the presidency was full of pride instead of its current base evil.

Maybe Oprah will be a fine President, once she figures it all out like hiring quality aides.  Clearly, the Donald will not do so.

“Donald Trump is testing the institution of the presidency unlike any of his 43 predecessors. We have never had a president so ill-informed about the nature of his office, so openly mendacious, so self-destructive, or so brazen in his abusive attacks on the courts, the press, Congress (including members of his own party), and even senior officials within his own administration. Trump is a Frankenstein’s monster of past presidents’ worst attributes: Andrew Jackson’s rage; Millard Fillmore’s bigotry; James Buchanan’s incompetence and spite; Theodore Roosevelt’s self-aggrandizement; Richard Nixon’s paranoia, insecurity, and indifference to law; and Bill Clinton’s lack of self-control and reflexive dishonesty.”   https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/10/will-donald-trump-destroy-the-presidency/537921/

 

“The Framers of the Constitution wanted to create a powerful, independent executive branch, but they didn’t want to stoke fears that the new United States would replicate the monarchy from which it had just separated. Confident that George Washington would be the first chief executive and would use his power responsibly, they established an unstructured office with ambiguous authorities. Article II vests the president with “executive Power,” but it doesn’t define the term, and it gives the president only a few rather modest enumerated powers.”  https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2017/10/will-donald-trump-destroy-the-presidency/537921/

Desire to Serve

 

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Big Tent

Democrats have always thought of themselves as an inclusionary Party, the Big Tent.  It is with the Party’s effort to hear all that made it such a confusing combination of members – so many with different interests.  The recent focus on their urban members and questions of equality of all types makes the Party interesting but somehow, they have forgotten that the questions most important to large sections of the great middle of the country deal with survival now and in the future.  Just because the Democrats support and focus on moral issues (as they should) there is no reason they shouldn’t also focus a large section of their energies helping the working man and woman and the nuclear family, all of whom have generally slipped from interest in the Party.  Bernie Sanders understood this and that is how a Socialist could poll well in Oklahoma and Nebraska.

The Donald has rage, not the rage of the hard-working poor and middle-class, but it is the only rage matching the rage of the forgotten middle of the country and that is what they like about him even when they are leery about his programs.

Perhaps I was too harsh on Oprah yesterday and maybe she could understand the mid-America neglect. Maybe she understands economics and politics and is a brilliant manager.  Maybe she can do the job, I don’t know.  But the anger in the country has become irrational, as irrational as the Donald.

“Here in this not even 10-minute interaction, I thought, was the nub of the Bustos report—and the challenge it presents to party leaders who will be asked to grapple with its primary recommendation that Democrats focus on economic matters and steer clear of confrontation on contentious social issues. In theory, it seems obvious the party would do what it must to secure the loyalty of additional voters; in practice, though, this sort of overture means peace-making with people like Burns, through the face-to-face pragmatism of people like Goodin, some of whose views bump up inconveniently against the agendas of interest groups and the platform and mores of the party as a whole. Is Burns worth wooing back? And is Goodin a walking relic—or a key cog in the future of the party? Either way, as Goodin argued in his introductory address to the legislature, this should not constitute grounds for disqualification as a Democrat. “I have fired a gun a time or two, and I am familiar with the Scriptures,” he said. “Some might think that makes me an outcast in my own party. Nothing could be further from the truth. Our caucus is a caucus that values all points of view. There’s enough space for a farm boy like me, as well as woolly liberals.”

In a nutshell, this is the advice of Bustos’ report: Widen the definition of Democrat.

“This is the face of what the party is going to have to accept if you want to be in the majority,” Johnson told me.

“If we call ourselves a big tent party,” Bustos said, “then we should act like it.”  https://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2018/01/11/terry-goodin-rural-democrats-indiana-216273

Big Tent

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Not for Me

Oprah Winfrey seems like a very nice person but as a President, not for me.  After Trump it seems like anything goes but not for me.  It is time we get someone with some experience in politics to run for office.  After the Ronald and the Donald, a mockery has been made of those in office.  Ronald lucked out, (we lucked out) he had some good advisors, and it was a time in our history that we could afford a misstep or two. But what we need is greatness in the Presidency, something we haven’t had in a very long time.  Now as a Vice-President, she’d be real solid, except of course if something happened to the President. Vice-Presidents preside over the Senate and meet with people.  Who better than Oprah?  I don’t know if she has the economic or social vision to be a good President.  I guess we have become disgusted in our choice of Presidents that most people seem better.

Oprah Winfrey brought the Golden Globes audience to their feet with a powerful speech as she accepted the Cecil B DeMille Lifetime Achievement Award on Sunday night, prompting speculation about a run for the White House.

The notion of the talk show host and entrepreneur running for president against Donald Trump in 2020 was raised by the awards’ host, Seth Meyers, in his opening monologue.

“In 2011, I told some jokes about our current president at the White House correspondents dinner, jokes about how he was unqualified to be president,” Meyers said. “And some have said that night convinced him to run. And if that’s true, I would just like to say, ‘Oprah you will never be president.’”

After Winfrey’s speech her partner, Stedman Graham, told the Los Angeles Times: “It’s up to the people. She would absolutely do it.”

Celebrities used Twitter to urge Winfrey to run. The comedian Sarah Silverman tweeted “Oprah/Michelle 2020” while the actor Leslie Odom Jr wrote: “She’s running. A new day is on the way.”

After an introduction by Reese Witherspoon, the actor and philanthropist took to the stage to address racial injustice and sexual abuse on an evening in which women wore black to show support for the #MeToo movement.”  https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/jan/07/oprah-winfrey-speech-lifetime-achievement-golden-globes

Not for Me

 

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Pulpdiddys Permutations My Way

I’ve been writing Pulpdiddys Permutations several years now and several weeks ago felt it was time for a change.  The change is not because I am burnt out but because the nasty stories which is our current history has caused me to shy away from writing.  Frankly, it’s too ugly.  I still am a news junkie and when reading it still have my peculiar take of it.  The battle to stay afloat amongst the vast majority of the constituency, especially in a world in which the wonders are so great that we all can benefit, is a battle which depresses me because it should not be.  What we should be doing is focusing on worldwide problems first, like Climate Change, instead of pretending they don’t exist.

Basically, the old format has been this – Monday – Sunday writing about politics or social issues or economics except for Wednesday which I reserved for Neurotic Man, and Friday, which was Thursday repeated, and Sunday which was an explanation of the purpose of the column.  But I realize I’ve had it, I’m pulling a Duran.  So Neurotic Man will be taking a rest and the rest of the format will remain the same in which I write my memoirs.

While rare instances of man helping man remains, the rise of so much cynicism and jealousy and greed have forced me to re-examine the past, starting with my own.  Where did the dreams of fairness and democracy start, and where did they all go?

I know this is simplistic but we all began somewhere and mostly it is different.  While all stories can be similar, essentially, they are the same.  Well, for my story it all began in the city of New York, Borough of Brooklyn, Section of Brighton in the apartment of my loving family that will be re-examined for fun and maybe a few truths along the way.  And if it doesn’t work out for either of us there’s always the possibility of the return of Neurotic Man.

____________________________________________________________________________________

THIS IS THE WAY I’VE BEGUN EVERY SUNDAY FOR THE LAST TEN WEEKs

During the last ten weeks my chronic back pain has slightly lessened and I am now but a sixty-four-year-old man bent into a re-examination of the sidewalk.  I still read a lot but my revulsion with much of the news I read continues to grow and has become white hot anger so I must put the memoir aside and focus once again on the inhumanity I see performed by those supposedly elected to be servants of the people.  The sad, sad, thing is that they are not supposed to be despots. With what that horrible group has done and continues to do has helped me decide Pulpdiddys Permutations will re-appear with my take on the news at least for a little while.  And then my itch to get back to the memoirs must, well it must be scratched.

Christmas has just passed and so has New Year’s but the reason for them has not and that is to be good to each other – for all time.

Pulpdiddys Permutations

 

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