Something Olfactory Amiss in Denmark

 Another Constantine entry. This one isn't a story per se. It is political commentary. My father was often very angry back in the 80s and 90s about politics. He foresaw the catastrophe in which we find ourselves now, the dismantling of the United States, an imperfect, but the best in human terms, nation in the world in favor of the ultimate totalitarianism of socialism that morphs nearly always into Communism and lots of bloodshed. 

So this opinion piece (though opinion is now censored with great glee by the most progressive among us) was written like around the time of the campaigning for the 2000 election.  That's what, 20 or 21 years ago. I didn't always like how my father expressed his dissatisfaction. And even in this piece, I find a few things with which I disagree.  Alas, I now understand exactly why he did say what he did, as I find myself, long after his death 13 years ago, standing with the rest of the citizens of the nation, on the event horizon of apocalypse. 

SOMETHING OLFACTORY AMISS IN DENMARK

Scientists have discovered that both nostrils do not react identically.  My immediate question is how the one modifies the brain engrams to minimize an unpleasant odor, or conversely, enhances the pleasant.

I know how this is done politically.  Take the Democrat nasal aperture--metaphorically, of course. Now, as any observer of the national scene will admit, it is the one considered to be most identified with equalitarian justice.

Observe the unanimity of sensory observation when Bill and Hilary walk into the Rose Garden.  Ask any Democrat about the sudden zephyr that wafts across the land, and you will be told that it is the aroma of long stems, or American Beauties.

This is not something to be criticized in a climate where a presidential seat is the goal, or control of the Senate is the goal. Or, the control of the Senate is in the balance.  It is practical politics.

One would have thought that the Republicans would have learned this lesson in 1992.  They have not. Consider the antics of the six aspirants for the highest office.  Note the fact that candidate Forbes has aready invested a quarter of a million dollars on a single thirty-second advertisement to disparage the only viable candidate capable of ending an eight year tyranny of the proletariat--George Bush.

Now, I do not consider George Bush an ideal choice.  Nevertheless, choosing him is far more intelligent than another Bob Dole image, and a consequent inevitable defeat by a Clinton Clone, one similarly oriented to socialism, but without the Protean coloration of the master of smoke and mirrors.

Steve Forbes has that "lean and hungry look" of Cassius, a perennial candidate who loused up the previous election for the Republicans.  He did this with his intransigent ego and his flaunted inherited millions.  He is, futher, barely prettier than Bob Dole and perhaps not as rich as Donald Trump.  The Democrats have had a monopoly on pretty, as any political ingenue will testify.  It is far more potent than foreign policy knowledge about knowing the peregrinations of any mid-eastern Ali Baba.

Gary Bauer is somewhat medieval for our times, a one note Savanarola, without the brains to see that his campaign can only impede the conservative survival in a world that is still entranced with the promise of eternal governmental dispensation of good.  Moreover, abortion is here to stay.  It was here when the only solution was the knitting needly and it will be here even when a careless lady forgets to take the now legal morning after pill.

Now, Orrin Hatch is more palatable, though I think he has a greater talent for comedy than Presidential office.  I always felt he was a pseudo-conservative, especially when he rode the teeter board towards a policy of chastisement for our priapic President.  I wonder that he never used a few one-liners on the athletics in the dome.

He cannot win even the nomination process.  Wherefore does he try to injure the only viable candidate to a victorious Gore, or Bennett, depending on which promises more.  What, you may well ask? More anything, as long as it is somebody else's.

If it were possible to pick a candidate on the pure merit of what he says is Alan Keyes.  He espouses, in the purest oratory since Cicero, or Demosthenes, the stated principles of our constitutional promises, most of which have been abrogated. I like to think he believes what he says, but he is, after all, a politician in the luxurious postiion to say anything he wants.  He knows he cannot win so why not exploit the luxury? I would pay premium ticket prices for a national debate between Alan Keyes and Donna Brazile.

Who is Donna Brazile? Why she is running the campaign for that great egalitarian, Al Gore.  She cannot be chastised, certainly not by the media, for any form of racism. But she considers that African-Americans like Keyes and Watts are "Uncle Toms" as she describes them in her fashionable innovative rascist oratory. 

Does Donna apply this characterization to Hilary and her projected meeting with Al Sharpton? Or will Al smear the princess with the dung he used befor on a guilt ridden public--a blatant, fabricated lie--on his climb to political identity. ****

As for Gore and Bennett, the personality kids, the Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum of their soap operas--pick one.  Just add up the dollar amounts each will steal from a worker's pocket to bestow on the world.  The edge may be with Al, since he invented the internet and was the basis of that touching melodrama of a film, "Love Story."

Of course, one has to credit each of the with some expertise.  Bill can probably still toss a "three pointer" into the basket, and Al does have religion.  He is a Southern Baptist, so I suspect he prays. Now I only mention prayer because the issue was raised by George Bush. We know that Al is tolerant outside his Bible Belt affiliations, as he did attend a Buddhist ceremony.

George has exposed himself to great censure on the matter of his propensity to pray.  If I can offer him some gratuitous advice, I suggest he do so without kneeling in the Oval Offie as this genuflected position has cone into great disfavor of late. 

**** For the several generations not born at the time, Mr. Sharpton took up the cause, with great vehemence for which defamation was later found, of Tawana Brawley who claimed in 1987, that she had been raped by a number of white men, the letters KKK written on her chest and left smeared with feces.  She said that two of the men were from law enforcement. It was demonstrated that Ms. Brawley had lied in order to avoid being punished by her family for running away from home. Today, we have Ferguson, where a jury found for the police officer who killed Michael Brown, with the untrue mantra, "Hands up, don't shoot", or the Kavanaugh hearing where a Supreme Court candidate was accused of sexual misconduct without ANY evidence in order to prevent him from being appointed for fear of his conservative credentials. Up to here, the fear was unfounded. He appears to be more liberal than conservative in his interpretation of the Constitution. 

The Little Dog Laughed To See Such a Sight and the Dish Ran Away With the Spoon

I am taking a break from lamenting the state of our society in order to publish another Constantine story. Constantine as some of you know, was my father. He died over 13 years ago. While I believe in the eternity of heaven, I also believe in preserving memory and the creativity of those who have died, on this earth. That's probably why I read journals, and autobiographies and biographies with such intensity. I love to "meet" and get to know men and women who have been gone many years, even centuries. Their lives, in a way, are extended by my learning of them and passing my new memory onto others. 

Dad should have been a known writer. He was talented and prolific. But life has tides and eddies such that not everyone who should be known creatively, is known. My little blog entries of his material is my small way of trying to keep him and his life out there.  I am the last in the line of his branch of the family. I have had no children. I have no siblings. So, it is the least I can do to keep a thread of the man, a most complicated, charming, angry, brilliant man out there, here in the mortal realm.

THE LITTLE DOG LAUGHED TO SEE SUCH A SIGHT AND THE DISH RAN AWAY WITH THE SPOON

Laughter is more than a muscular response to the autonomic nervous system.  It is a human necessity, a knd of cathartic, something that produces an endorphin--a feeling of wellness.

Now, in the winter of my earthly journey, I do not hear the sound.  It is muted by the cacophony of a noisy mechanical world, its fairy-tale substance submerged in the false truths and revelations of modernity--soundless aginst the coarse bass instruments of today's indirection of purpose.

Laughter is not just a sound.  It is a Being--God generated and inspired. She is the daughter of Zeus--yes, she is a female--Euphrosyne--literally the Greek word for mirth. She is a spirit that delighted with romping for the amusemets of her fellow Olympians.  She and her sisters were the Graces who danced to the meserizing lyre of the immortal Apollo, and delighted the gods, and occasionally grateful beatified mortals.

Once, in anothr environment, she came to Sarah, the childless wife of the Patriarch, Abrahman, and father of a nation.  Sarah was impelled to laughter when she was told by angels that her ancient body would bear a son.  She named him Isaac, which is the Hebrew word for laughter.

In our present day we have replaced Euphrosyne with a kind of imitation laughter--one produced by wires and speakers that can produce laugh sounds--from a titter to a chuckle, thence to a mass of sound of approval in sheep like appreciation of a joke, or the disoriented gyrations of a spastic clown or a pratt fall. 

A renowned producer of comedy left the theater showing his presentation, distraught.

"We didn't get any laughs," he expostulated.  "I know the places where the audience laughs.  Maybe it's because they had to pay over a hundred dollars for the seat."

The laughter I remember to this day cost me ten cents.  That was the fee for a round trip ride on the Staten Island Ferry.  There I heard an echo of that Olympian grace.  It came from my companion.  We stood, close together at the bow of the ship, and the soft sea breeze caressed her hair-gently, lovingly.  I said something that pleased her and she laughed.  It was a sound that came from the cavernous depths of her loveliness, indescribable as to pitch, soft and soul enveloping as it would round my heart and then--it escaped into the limitless space wherefrom it was born. 

Infinite Rules by Infinite People Applied Inconsistently

 I know I have probably reported this childhood incident before. But it bears repeating, in my mind, given the tone and tenor of the society in which I have grown older and which is less and less appealing.

I was in second grade or so at my Catholic girls elementary school. I had been put in the first row because it had been discovered that my vision was not great, and I had begun wearing glasses in the prior year. I was one of those children who had been successfully trained, primarily by my mother, but reinforced by the pre-Vatican parochial school teachers, who was literally terrified to violate the rules, whether it be the theological ones, to the extent I could comprehend them or the ones proffered by any adult whom I was required to obey. Now, there were, of course, children who didn't buy even the most basic of rules. They obviously were resistent to the imposition of a strict frame. But not me. I was an only child who feared becoming invisible to her mother if she transgressed at home, and if any transgression were reported home. When I say, "invisible" I mean that my mother would literally cease to acknowledge my existence if I crossed one of her boundaries. I did not always know what those boundaries were, and so I didn't take too many chances. I in no way suggest I was the perfect child. I was born with a tendency toward sin, just like everyone else. But I can tell you I sweated a lot over what I did and did not do as a little girl. As to my mother, I report this memory with two caveats: 1. who knows but whether my memory of these things is incorrect. We know that memory is often unreliable and 2. even if my memory is correct and my mother's form of discipline was arguably unkind or worse, she was a child of her time with all the forces that impose themselves on each individual making up how she reacted to life and her family. This is something, parenthetically, that our modern society fails to do in its virtue signalling--the idea that you don't judge people of history by today's standards without recognizing the time and the place and the understandings of the time. 

Anyway, my teachers, and any adult were extension of my mother and I tried, as I say, with occasional lapses to follow the rules, which in those days were pretty direct and straightforward and overall were agreed upon by the community of man (which in case you don't know includes wo-man, with which some of us are perfectly sanguine). One morning, in class, some young rebel on my left wanted a note to go to someone on my right. As the note landed on my desk, as mostly happened then, and now, Sister Mary Agnes, saw the note. Would I have passed it on? I don't know. But probably, just to get it off my desk and feeling a rage that quite frankly I have had all my life, that people always feel free to impose on others in a way that potentially harms them and the good of all.

Naturally, when one becomes obsessed by rules there is a danger of obsessiveness, or in religious terms, scrupulosity. I had some version of these. And any violatioin of rules big or small was a likely conduit to condemnation, by me or others and of course, by God Himself. One of my failures ultimately led me to a long separation from the Church. I had forgotten about the part of sin that somes after repentence, true repentence, that is, forgiveness, restoration to the relationship that was ruptured by the sin. Anyway, spring forward many many years and now, there is no general agreement about what is right or wrong, and certainly much of it seems uninformed by God, theology of any kind or the Bible, or even basic clear Ethics. And what's worse, having replaced God, we now have nearly infinite mini-gods, in the government, in your school (think sex ed of the most pornographic time for your children; hey, I don't have children so I have no axe to grind except philosophical), at your local DMV, your electric company, you name it.

The Covid lockdown No. 1 (I do expect a no. 2) brought out the Napoleonic streak in a whole panoply of people. Stand here. (Hand up). Move now. Wrong type of mask. Mask when standing. Ok not to be on when you are sitting. If you went anywhere, you were back in grammar school in line for the fire drill, and required to be silent. Objections will not be tolerated. I obeyed. I got my vaccinations really early, because I am around older people, and I was scared by all the horrors pounded into my head, even though I did not entirely think the things said were rational or even, despite the mantra, that they "followed the science." 

I cannot tell you how inconsistent have been the rules in the name of Covid protection. I particularly have seen it in nursing homes, where alas, I spend a great deal of time. The restrictions are often procrustean in one instance, but things are allowed which in common sense are more dangerous based on their own claims--for example did you know that while you are not allowed in or limited in being with your loved one, many of the staff who work with the elderly are not getting vaccinated? Now, between you and me, I wouldn't care, but then why restrictions on me when someone in there all the time isn't following the so called science? 

Today's example, not Covid related, whic got me started. I went to one of my local grocery stores. They had a cashier, a lone cashier, on one of the far registers, away from the usual location for people to line up, the official location. They have removed the little social distance feet, for now, so it wasn't obvious that I was in the proper place. As I waited I noticed a woman, by the far register waiting to follow someone else. I thought, well, maybe they have changed the location to wait. But if not, I don't want to yell at the woman standing there, who had actually gotten ahead of me by doing that, not merely because I might be wrong about where the line was, but because she didn't look like she'd appreciate any remonstration from me. She had seen me come over and I think she had seen me waiting on the other side. She had that pouty look I have come to recognize in 20 somethings, that said, "Don't talk to me". She had her long silky black hair topped by a trendy fashion baseball cap, and her cell phone primed for use in her hand. She was called to the register.  No one remonstrated with her for being in the wrong place. 

Another cashier arrived. And one of the store employees went in front of me as if I were not standing there to check out her lunch. Now, I spoke up. Excuse me, I am next. The employee let me go, but the cashier, also a twenty something, said with a very serious authority fact, "The line is over there", pointing to the place I had thought was the proper waiting place. I said, "Well, this lady was waiting over here. And I followed her." The lady in question heard me but did not offer any assistance. The cashier seemed offered understanding or apology that perhaps I did not deserve her remonstration. No, I, DjinnfromtheBronx, was in violation of a rule. Why it would even be a rule given that there were so few people on line at that point, only me and the woman who concluded her transaction and left ignoring the proceedings that she had inititated, I do not know. After she left, I tried to explicate with a tone of apology from me for my irritation. A nice employee was kind, soeone who hadn't even been there when it all unfolded. The cashier though couldn't wait for me just to leave. Which I did. \

A friend has been trying to deal with a major bank. I have had dealings with the bank as well. What is the rule about deposits, or withdrawals, or legal documents, depends on which employee you speak to, that is, if you can get them to pay attention to you. They have rules. Unfortunately, the rules change at will. 

One of my last entries discussed the rules about smoking tobacco, as they become more and more draconian up to and including what you do within your own house or apartment. But not pot. Pot is fine.

During the Covid lockdown, we had all sorts of places called essential that plainly were not. But your Church was non-essential. And whether your mother got last rites, hey, that's the price of public health protection. 

Small things.  But these small things are building up. Like being carded at the age of 67 to buy wine. But dare you suggest that asking for someone to be carded to vote, you are an admirer of Jim Crow. People are flowing over the border, while others wait years to come to the country legally. Right now, Cubans who are being repressed can't get here easily, but others can. President Trump was trashed for things currently being done in triplicate by this current administration and is either not spoken about or admired. I am requested to protect turtle eggs and elephant babies, but if I dare to say that abortion is killing your child, I am alt-right. 

And the idea that the Catholic Church tells a so called Catholic politician he should not be receiving the Body and Blood Soul and Divinity of Christ, well that rule simply is not to be tolerated, even if it is a consistent one from 2000 years ago to date, and is based on serious thought by serious thinkers who the new rulemakers find laughable. 

This stuff is quite simply crazy making, the stuff of funny farms. Our society is insane. 

But maybe that's what is intended, that while we are all going crazy, the new world order is being established.