Never Biden

December 7, 2019

It should be as plain as the nose at the end of anyone’s face, that Joe Biden is the Democratic Party’s equivalent of Donald Trump. He’s every bit the white elitist and corporate butt licker that Trump is…they travel in the same circles. Those two are friends, and they’re playing a game at the expense of this nation’s sovereignty, ideals (no matter how badly tattered they may be at this juncture), freedoms (including the most important: your right to privacy), and universal respect and opportunities (for all citizens no matter their background, gender, skin color, financial class, bodily or facial appearance, hair color or eye color). By “universal respect” I mean all good things that come out of it, such as (but not limited to) quality education, housing, health care and job offers.

Bernie is the only one who even comes close to these ideals…with Biden a very distant second. But he’s all lip service and no tongue. We need at least a fighting chance, and having Biden as president will most certainly not give us that chance. He will be a weak opponent against Donald Trump, and intentionally so…he will cave in to him, intentionally so…because that’s the plan! And it’s been the plan all along, just as it was for Hillary to lose. And clearly explains why the DNC could not afford to have Mr. Sanders run against Trump…and so they sabotaged him. Think about it; that’s all I ask.

The only reason any democrat would vote for “The Pride of Scranton” is but one: they are white and affluent themselves, and identify with him, and not the common man. Their smugness knows no bounds, even when it comes to selling out their party…even when it comes to the destruction of all life on this planet. (Or, at least, the destruction of all higher life forms, that is: anything above one cell. Certainly, those rooting for Joe Biden have no more than one cell for a brain!)

These used to be called “limousine liberals,” but nowadays they’re called by either one of two interchangeable terms: “neoliberals” or “centrists.” And they are precisely the ones who’ve turned the rural and working class against the Democratic Party…starting with Bill Clinton, who manufactured the concept of “centrist,” though it only be a wolf in another clothing. A stridently pro-corporate wolf, just like the Republicans had already become a decade or so earlier, under Ronald Raygun. However:

Arguing for Bernie Sanders and against Joe Biden is just like arguing with Trumpsters over what a tragic mistake they’ve made: either way, you can’t change a single mind. As cartoon character Pogo once said: “We have met the enemy, and he is us!”


Gratitude & the Happiness Cult

June 10, 2019

Below is a link to an audio file of a comment I recently posted to a Mendocino community mailing list. As read by one Marco McClean, radio host of “Memo of the Air” on KNYO and KMEC. Followed by a Ted Talk on the same theme. My rant is just under 3 minutes, the rest is the Ted talk…total: 17 minutes. Click on the clown to get going:


The MCN Anti-Zeke Cabal

February 19, 2019

Some will guffaw, some will swoon, and some will foam at the mouth!

The MCN Anti-Zeke Cabal as Explained by Marco McClean, esquire:

Marco “I’m-not-your-butt-monkey” McClean’s analysis of the anti-Zeke phenomenon coming out of two MCN lists, in response to Bruce Anderson’s email query. A nine minute slice of sheer profundity from last Friday’s “Memo of the Air” on KNYO and KMEC. Click on the image below to get rollin’.


MY RESPONSE TO MARCO:

You explained to him very well, my particular situation there. I really didn’t expect the hostility I wound up receiving, when I first joined. However, hostility is often the result in the long run, on any list or other online venue I’ve posted to, almost always because of my gay activist contributions. But now, in this horrid era of Donald Trump, more nasty people feel extremely emboldened to attack anyone who speaks a progressive mindset. So I’m a frequent target. There are more right-wingers than ever online, and they’ve overrun many formerly liberal hangouts.

Though hostility has been a constant companion since the day I was born. I think that is the result of growing up in the lower middle class…there is a lot more dysfunctionality in the lower classes. Especially for the intellectual, geeky type such as myself. It is no great boon to see such a twisted ideology spread across this sorry nation to become more and more of the norm…our LGBT community no exception, though of course not quite as harsh. America bet on the wrong horse!

Now, I’d like to make a couple of corrections on your description about yours truly, followed by an explanation of my no longer calling in:

1) My health isn’t poor, it’s excellent…in spite of my bad teeth and lack of health care access. Though I did suffer a nasty attack of sciatica three months ago…for two days it was so bad, I almost had to crawl around my room instead of walk. But I’ve recovered..so well in fact, it’s like it never happened. It might have arisen from a possible B12 deficiency…and since I’ve started taking B12 supplements, it has entirely disappeared. Coincidence or cure, I don’t really know. But as a vegetarian, I am susceptible to such a deficiency, because I eat very little in the way of any animal product, which in my case is cheese. So I’m gonna keep the B12 in my diet from now on, just to play it safe.

2) I’m not from New Jersey, but close enough. I’m from Long Island.

3) Finally, the reason I don’t call in any more, is that I’m totally weirded out by the situation of phoning a distant locale, while I sit in my SRO w/o any social circle here. IOW: doing so accentuates my loner situation in the middle of the night, in what has become a very spooky neighborhood in a bad way. I also don’t eat out for the same reason: it accentuates my being a loner, when surrounded by happily chatting couples and families. Be that as it may, I’ve never felt comfortable calling in to radio shows. I rarely do, but when I started our over-the-air badinage, I thought it would be great for me. Instead, it brought out a more heightened awareness of my solitude…too much for my taste. I also think I have a bit of a phobia, similar to stage fright.

The moment we disconnect here I am, once again, alone in my room, late at night among the ghouls and other freaks that wander the Castro…the only thing separating me from them is my residency, though my two windows look over the bleak landscape 24/7, so it’s almost like living among the zombies. A lot of crazy stuff goes on below my window, and along the sidewalks and across the street…the horror of our dysfunctional society presses in on me with scant relief.

Oh, and they’re not all “libs” who attack me, as Mr. Anderson would like to believe. It started with right wingers such as John Retching. These pro-Trump types are the ones behind all this nonsense. They stir up the gossipy types, some of whom consider themselves “progressive,” thus they join the bullying, not realizing how they’re being manipulated by devious types. I find Bruce’s coloring the picture as a “liberal” problem both disingenuous and outright disgusting. Simply because right wingers always find ways to scapegoat lefties, and they work overtime doing this. And is why I will not renew my subscription to the Anderson Valley Advertiser…I do not care to donate my money in that direction. These creeps are empowered enough as it is. I am presently dealing with a brother who is a raving Trump advocate, and sees me as pathetic. I have made it clear to him that I want nothing more to do with him, now that all his inheritance duties as executor for our parents is complete. I have no idea whether or not he’ll respect that…these kind can be dangerous. So far so good, though, he hasn’t responded to my final “good riddance” email, nor phoned me. If he does, I’ll ignore.

So for me, this is personal. My discovery of my brother’s RW bent is rather recent…I had hoped for some real communication after decades of none going on. Instead, it’s only gotten worse, thanks to Trump’s absurd victory. Mr. Anderson can go eff himself. That’s it for now, and thanks again for setting Mr. Anderson straight on the “Zeke Matter.” For the most part.


The /real/ Zeke (Marco-is-not-my-butt-monkey) Krahlin


The Gray Box Anomaly

May 21, 2018

{{ Diaphanous Reader: I just emailed this frivolous post to the Mendocino Coummunity Network discussion and announcement lists, for mischief’s sake. }}

Date: Mon, 21 May 2018 17:01:21
Subject:
The Gray Box Anomaly (urgent)
From: Zeke Krahlin
To: MCN discuss, MCN announce

Has anyone else noticed a strange message that’s been posted to our list several times in the past two weeks, entitled “Promises Kept” (or maybe “Premises Expected,” “Prozac Effect,” “Prose Intercept,” “Proof Intact,” “Prune Intruder” or something else along those lines)…which vanishes shortly after first viewing, to make us think we either imagined or dreamt it? I just saw the message again this morning, while sipping on my first cup of ganja laced java for the day. I think I’ve viewed it three times so far, maybe four, though didn’t pay it much mind until this most recent arrival. I will now attempt to describe the contents:

Even though it is entirely composed in text, a small, floating gray box appears hovering just inches above my laptop screen. I gaze upon it, stunned into a hypnotic trance while attempting to read the actual post. Which is blurred in parts (including the subject title which seems to shift and wobble as my eyelids flicker), though perhaps that is an aftereffect, like vanishing ink. The words go something like this:

“We are wondering if you’d be interested in trying out our newest discovery [blurry text follows, then:] No obligation on your part, though we do request that [more blurry text]. If for some reason you don’t care to engage further, just [more blurry text], and we will not bother you again. Though we do request that you share this amazing breakthrough of superior promise with at least five other [more blurry text].”

At the very bottom it ends with the word “NAMASTE” in all caps, in a large, bold trebuchet font, followed by one short line of yet more blurred text just underneath. By the time I get to the end, the slowly rotating gray quadrate vanishes, along with the entire message a few seconds later. I can not find it anywhere in any of my gmail folders, including Trash and Spam.

Now I want to make it very clear that what I remember of the contents of this unusual email, may not be the least bit accurate, for they come to mind like a fading dream slipping through my fingers. In fact, the most solid recall I have is that levitating, gray cube hovering before me like a seductive sphinx…and those golden letters that spell “namaste.” For they remain seared onto my retinae like a faerie’s cattle brand.

Of course I still wonder if this /is/ my imagination, or a nocturnal specter; but at this third or fourth occurrence, I have become suspicious of subliminal intrusion of my email service. I checked my Amazon account, to see if I’ve made any purchases I’m not aware of. Likewise my bank account, to spot any possible withdrawals that look suspicious. In addition, I’ve pored over all my social media pages to see if I could identify any strange posts (either on my part or from others). So far, so good, nothing out of the ordinary. IMPORTANT:

My concern goes beyond the threat of subliminal spam that may coerce me to purchase some item or service unbeknownst to me until too late, and my bank account is wiped out (or the NSA knocks down my door). For maybe this is the intrigue of the shadow government, military psi-ops, dark science, religious cult, or some other devious group such as black hat hackers, intergalactic overlords, underworld demons or crazed heterosexuals overexposed to the rising tide of multi-sexual liberation (for examples).

But this is just Day One of my vigilance regarding this “gray box” message that may or may not be a will-o’-the-wisp summoned by my own subconscious. Yet because it does possess an element of subterfuge by the nature of its appearance and context, I am asking anyone else on this list to keep an eye out for a diminutive square box that drifts above a partially incoherent and blurred MCN message…but which you brushed off, thinking it just some brief hallucination conjured up by an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, or a fragment of underdone potato late at night during a restless slumber.

Thank you for your kind attention. I await feedback on any subscriber’s part with bated, purple-hazed breath.


Fi-Di Sunshine & Transit

April 12, 2018

A happy, free-spirited denizen soaking up the sun in San Franicisco’s gorgeous Financial District, shimmering with glass and metal to the clouds and beyond!

Riding one of San Francisco’s signature streetcars, on my way downtown. Spectacularly drab: an eyesore to tourists, residents and working drones alike! The 3rd world never had it so good.


Fi-Di Poppins

March 21, 2018

Mary Poppins is homeless, too? Well, maybe not homeless, but certainly desperate…she can’t even carry a tune any more. Hard times for everyone, I guess. Or maybe that’s Julie Andrews…or a cross between the two. Whatever, it’s still another Fi-Di treat to delight tourists and rush-hour drones, alike. I am so stoked…let it go, let it go, let it go!


2 Fi-Di Videos

March 15, 2018

Fi-Di Buttcrack:

One of the lovely scenes bestowed upon strollers of San Francisco’s amazing financial District, a.k.a. “Fi-Di.” Which reminds me of one of SF’s most horrible mayors, who brought Manhattanization to this once-fair city: Dianne Feinstein…”Di-Fi.” BTW, her husband is a notorious SF slumlord.

Fi-Di Early Twilight Noir:

Ah, yes, the sweet, sultry music of a transient musician that graces one’s ears while standing amid a throng of office workers, janitors and other assorted boot lickers scurrying off to their lonely, high rent cells to spend another evening of despair, isolation and cheap to-go dinners. Notice how the musician locks onto my eyes, once he notices me filming him…a standard, streetwise gimmick to guilt passersby into tossing some bills into the cup…or hat, or tin can, or wilted cardboard box.


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