"Night bars, guitars -- misty green & blue .... " 24 hours / 3

Hmmmm .... where to go, what to do .... a contest, of sorts .... what is the name of the bar in the photograph and where is it located? I am certain many know of it, but few who pass this way have been there, I am near certain. It is a long, long way from where I usually hang out -- almost five thousand air miles. Since my blog is under lock and key most of the time, it is a bit foolish to have a contest, but I will keep it open for a day or two and try to discover if there are any saloon connoisseurs in the crowd. Maybe, there will be a prize for the first one to name it. Maybe, the winner could name the prize, he says with a smile. The photograph is my usual technical miscarriage, but one cannot be serious about all things all of the time and it serves my purposes. Here, also, is a pair of songs from a band named UFO. Like many bands, it has had some very talented musicians come and go, but no magical composers in the mix, which are those who separate the good bands from the great bands. Anyway .... here are the two songs from UFO -- "Love to Love" and "Try Me" -- which, I think, soared to the exosphere while most of its music just sort of fluttered in the troposphere. The guitar work is rapturous (which is pretty much extinct these days .... think about it) .... I saw this guitarist -- Michael Schenker -- perform a year ago in a saloon just down the road a piece .... or, was it two years ago ?? Hmmmm .... I am too lazy to figure it out. So .... I hope all is well for you in whatever world in which you reside and/or exist and that you have a dream which you are pursuing ....

And, in passing: Happy Birthday today, Benny, AKA Beniamino, and B.J., AKA Buddy Boy ....

As one year vanishes into the mists of time another year arrives to do to us as it pleases 24 hours / 2

The month of Martius

Hmmmm .... the twenty-four hour time period while the blog and this post were open passed rather uneventfully, and the days since it was closed have been quiet.
 

So, as an addendum to the original post (which consisted only of a "headline" and a song which I treasure), here are a few words to serve as an afterthought.

Happy Birthday, to .... to .... well, you probably know to whom or, in the least, can make a good guess .... including three Marines in my family (two on March 16) and to a few other family members and once-upon-a-time friends whose birthdays fall on other days during this merry month of March .... this month of Martius and Mars.

I believe March is the busiest month of birthdays in my circle. I might add that I have progeny in Stockholm (participating in an art exhibition) and another fresh out of Morocco and now in Brussels (sort of a tourist) at this very moment, so I am beginning to think I am not the strangest one in my circle. It must be something in the blood.

Whatever .... it is late and I need sleep .... I will open the blog for another few hours (out of curiosity) and close these thoughts with a notable line from a cowboy film: "If you want to call me that, smile!"

A reflection: From knowledge and belief come opinions and codes of conduct. All these things are branches on our "individual trees." The actual determinants of who and what we are are rooted in genetic codes which, for the present, are strictly formulated by accident of birth. In other words, we do not actually have the "free thought" we think we do.

We were all born too early in one sense .... in a few hundred years, maybe fewer, our descendants probably will be genetically coded to think and to act the same. This certainly will happen unless "authentic existence individualism" can withstand and survive the attacks of socialistic, narcissistic centrists.

Thoughts while in transtition .... 24 hours / 1

"The wreckage of a broken culture"

Ever since there were seventeen contenders to be the nominee of the Republican Party to become the forty-fifth president of the United States, I have been an ABT guy. Translated, ABT = Anyone but Trump.

Now I am not so sure, and here is why.

We are drawing to the end of having a narcissistic, socialist-leaning, my-way-or-the-highway mentality man who cares more about golf than about national security, who can lie (and, often does) with a straight face and who subverts the United States Constitution -- a document which was written and has existed at the immeasurable expense of the blood of thousands -- to fit his petty, personal, political agenda. Such has been the presidency of Barack Obama.

It has occurred to me -- me being me -- that why should I worry if this self-absorbed paragon of failed policies is replaced by a narcissistic, money-grubbing, my-way-or-the-eminent-domain-seizure mentality man who advocates carpet bombing as his primary solution to national security, who can lie (and, often does) with a straight face and who subverts religion and morality to fit his personal agenda? Such would be the presidency of Donald Trump.

What, perhaps, annoys me the most about Trump is that the typical twelve-year-old can speak with more eloquence and logic and common sense than he can, and that his idea of a detailed plan amounts to this: "I will make things better, trust me."

A part of me always has been an anarchist, so why should I care if the majority of Americans are content to allow "America the beautiful" to degenerate further until it crumbles in atop itself? As has been demonstrated again and again over the course of history, the veneer of civilization is easily penetrated and it usually disintegrates from within before being shattered by enemies from without.

Yes, why should I care? I would make out just fine in the midst of anarchy.

The "headline" for this piece -- "the wreckage of a broken culture" -- came from the "National Review," a conservative publication founded by William F. Buckley -- one of my "patron saints." I think when you put the presidency of Barack Obama and the candidacies of Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders into the same basket, this headline pretty much says it all.

It has become a world of false prophets; of self-ordained messiahs; and mankind remains simmering in primeval muck. What one demigod has opened the door to, another will follow to build the crescendo until the glass which holds the waters of civilization shatters.

Actually, after all those words, I continue to be ABT. I am the type who falls on his sword rather than surrenders it to a man who walks, talks and behaves like a troglodyte .... I hope there are enough others who feel the same way.