Jeffrey Toobin was a writer at the New Yorker and an analyst for CNN. He is not a politician or an elected official so it’s hard to say if this will ruin his career or not. It sure won’t help.
Also to be fair to Mr. Toobin, who is undoubtedly already feeling like shit, onanism, while not considered proper etiquette in certain social situations such as a business meeting, is not a crime, and nobody was physically or materially damaged by his act. There will be no impeachment, or indictment. He was fired from the New Yorker, and is ‘taking some personal time off’ at CNN.
And all because he couldn’t wait till the end of his zoom meeting, his work zoom meeting, to start waxing the old flagpole. I’m really curious now as to what was said and in what tone of voice, by which one of the individuals present, some of whom were ladies, to send him into his squinty-eyed, monkey spanking frenzy.
“I didn’t think anybody could see me,” he said. “I thought I’d muted the video.”
I suppose it was inevitable. After the removal of statues of Confederate Generals, and then Christopher Columbus, it seems the backlash is coming.
A group called Christians Against Dinosaurs (well, not actually CAD, but one guy on their website) wants to tear down the statue of a Tyrannosaurus Rex which has stood in front of a McDonald’s in Tucson since way back in the ’90s, on the grounds that dinosaurs didn’t really exist or something.
It’s a doomed cause from the start because there are two things little kids love automatically, instinctively, and passionately: dinosaurs and McDonald’s.
But further, even if you believe the Earth is only 6,000 years old, like a lunatic, and that dinosaurs never existed, so what? Do you object to statues of mermaids? dragons? Santa Claus?
Any way, the owner says they have no plans to take down the statue and the protest seems to have already fizzled. So, score 1 for T Rex. He owns that spot.
I started this daily blog about 10 years ago as a way to encourage myself to write more, and I’ve been fairly consistent with it. I’ve missed a day now and then, this year more than ever, but it’s still going and I expect it will be until I die, which hopefully will be several decades into the future. There is no shortage of material, and it’s easier than poetry.
I’ve started other writing projects over the last couple of decades: to write a poem for every card in the Tarot Deck, to write more sonnets than Shakespeare, and a couple of others have resulted in books.
There was one project, though, that I worked on for a couple of years and then abandoned, because the theme was sort of played out and it was just more work than it was worth. That was Poems about Paintings, a web page. The idea was that paintings are very usable as a writing prompt. Even an abstract pattern, if you stare at it long enough, might inspire a few rhyming lines to float through your head. But it was too much work, I got tired of doing it, so I stopped.
Of course, since this is a thing online, it’s still there, and if anybody is interested, some of the poems actually provide insight into the universe we live in and the lives we lead. What I can’t figure out is how it continues to generate interest, given the complete lack of new content.
When I looked at my notifications this morning, it said “Poems About Paintings has 16 new likes, 2 new followers, 1 new save, and 5 new post… ” and I never figured out what came after the 3 dots. When I clicked on the notification, it took me to the page, which looks exactly like I left it, about 2 years ago, i.e. very abandoned and unchanged.
And I get notifications like that frequently.
I’m not complaining, I’m not too bothered. I just honestly don’t understand.
Taught my first online English lessons today. It was not as bad as I feared, but it wasn’t exactly a raging success.
It was good in the sense that it happened, it was begun and completed, and perhaps some English was learned. Not sure of that, but then I’m never sure of that in person, either.
Attendance was slightly less, but i think everybody who wanted to be there was there, although one girl had a hard time singing on and was only there for about half the lesson.
I found it a bit awkward, not being face to face, but that just has to be.
Mostly, though, I’ve got to learn the medium better and come up with some interactive activities.
The mind works in mysterious ways and we try to find analogies for it, stream of consciousness, train of thought, wool gathering, but nothing accurately describes it, or anyway we wouldn’t know if anything accurately did because we don’t really understand it yet, but I think it’s safe to say, and this is the point of this morning’s extremely random blog, that it doesn’t work perfectly and in fact generally doesn’t work very efficiently at all.
We sometimes wonder why our world is as fucked up as it is but fail to appreciate the near miracle that we manage to survive at all, as limited and erratic as our minds are.
I do not remember my dreams last night. Just a single, little jingle that was floating around my brainpan when I woke up this morning. A name plus a nursery rhyme. And the name is a famous person but about all I knew about him (before I immediately looked him up on Wikipedia to try and get some clue about why his name was in my head) was that he was some famous Indian guy. I did not know if he was a mathematician or a Bollywood star. (turns out he was a poet, novelist, philosopher and political activist of the early 20th century, won a Nobel prize, I really should have known).
So, this morning the earworm that I woke up with was:
Rabindrinath Tagore, Rabindrinath Tagore
hi-ho the derry oh
What does it mean? Probably nothing. We look for significance in all things, and sometimes it’s just not there.