The Dyspeptic Tank
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
 
Tonight when I was getting a slow haircut, Susan ran to the Price Chopper to buy some cheese. While there, she happened to meet a former foster-child of ours who had grown to manhood; he was there with his girlfriend and her two little girls. Sounds cute, right? It ain't. This disgusting wretch was a multiple sexual abuser, a pathological liar and a textbook sociopath. When we lived in an apartment nearby, he drilled a hole in his bedroom wall into the bathroom so he could spy on us. He used to break into our bedroom and watch movies--whatever he could find that he though was salacious. And his history of taking advantage of young children (of both sexes) was sick-making. Sue, being true to her inability to think on her feet, didn't get "Larry's" girlfriend's name so we could locate her and warn her of his "little problem." I'm sure he isn't any better--the fact that the girl told Sue that "Larry is better with the girls than their own father" sent chills down my spine. I know I'm going to stay awake nights worrying about what that sick freak is going to do to those little girls. If I ever find he's done anything to harm those kids, I'll find him and make him wish he'd never been born.
 
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
 
I grow weary of politics and all things political. Politics is like eating old cigar butts. The shrill, polemical diatribes exchanged by both sides are tiresome; that I know one side is better than the other does not allay my impatience with either. Conservatives are supposed to be proponents of enlightened self-interest; our so-called "conservative" administration is not enlightened, and, if you look at the long view, hardly self-interested. Unless one is empathetic to others, rather than slamming down the portcullis and raising the drawbridge once a suitable hoard of goods have been obtained, one does nothing to encourage the open-handed civility which makes for gracious living in any society. The siege mentality (as practiced by so-called "conservatives") destroys society and ultimately most human relationships. "Democrat" and "Republican" are team logos, and have been co-opted by corporate forces far out of the hands of those of us sitting in the bleachers. Who could be a cheerleader for sociopathic capitalism? Who can root against his own best interest, and against the best interest of society at large? At present I'm pulling for the Democrats, particularly Howard Dean, with the faint hope that they are not as defiled as the side Now Controlling the Ball. Conservative and Liberal are meaningless epithets: who can we trust, at last, not to be an Asshole?
 
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
 
What is there to say that is truly astonishing? Rush is a pill freak and Arnold is going to be governor of California--real life is turning into an episode of The Simpsons. Forget about the "Death of Outrage" (that old thing trumpeted by Bill "Slot Monkey" Bennett)--what we are experiencing is the Death of the Surreal. If EVERYTHING is normal, what then? How will we know we are "out of whack" when we don't even know what "whack" entails?

I express outrage at people cutting keys off old typewriters to make tacky costume jewelry because that's the level of outrage I can deal with. Anything worse is too horrible to wrap my mind around, and so it flows over the dam, so to speak. Which is not to say that it doesn't register. It does, but I cannot express my reaction to it. If I started crying, I don't think I'd be able to stop. Every time I hear Ethel Waters's recording of "Travelling All Alone" it runs over me like a truck--it's schmaltz, but it kills me. Someday I'll hear it at just the wrong time and probably just explode.
 
Sunday, October 05, 2003
 
Neo-Conservatives are the lowest form of life on this planet. Crafters are the second lowest. Both are dedicated to destroying the past for their own short-sighted amusement or monetary gain. Whether it be old growth forests, foreign civilizations, or antique typewriters--they destroy, and they destroy irrevocably.
 
Opinions, observations, predilictions. prejudices, rants, satires, non-sequiturs, and panegyrics concerning politics, life, culture (that old thing), America in general and Upstate New York in particular, early jazz, Pilsener, and what-have-you by Andy Senior--ball-breaker, autodidact, scribbler, piano-pounder, sorehead, and fugitive from the Planet of Manual Typewriters.

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