Corrupted Science front coverThe Revelator newsletter, from the Center for Biological Diversity, will be giving away free e-book copies of John Grant’s Corrupted Science: Fraud, Ideology, and Politics in Science starting tomorrow and ending on Sunday. The offer holds for both current and new subscribers.

If you’re not a current subscriber, just click on this link to their site.

We’d highly recommend The Revelator newsletter — it’s free, well written, and enlightening — and if you subscribe by Sunday, you’ll get a free e-copy of John Grant’s informative, infuriating, and amusing book.


Randolph Bourne

“War is the health of the state. . . . In your reaction to an imagined attack on your country or an insult to its government, you draw closer to the herd for protection, you conform in word and deed, and you insist vehemently that everybody else shall think, speak, and act together. And you fix your adoring gaze upon the State, with a truly filial look, as upon the Father of the flock. . . . A people at war have become in the most literal sense obedient, respectful, trustful children again, full of that naive faith in the all-wisdom and all-power of the adult who takes care of them, imposes his mild but necessary rule upon them and in whom they lose their responsibility and anxieties. In this recrudescence of the child, there is great comfort and a certain influx of power. On most people the strain of being an independent adult weighs heavily.”

–Randolph Bourne, The StateĀ (1918)


“I should think judging by his ostentation, his absence of good taste [that obviously] he was eaten with vanity and ambition and his only measure of success was in terms of dollars and influence. . . . It must be a terrible thing to have to keep telling the world how great you are and to want so badly to achieve what is really impossible. We have much to fear from these people, but in a sense, I think, they are tragic.”

–Zina Worley, quoted by Pope Brock in his highly entertaining nonfiction book, Charlatan

Worley was not referring to Donald Trump, but rather to “Dr.” John Brinkley, a quack who exploited and and oft-times mutilated and killed the desperate and gullible who came to him for help. Brinkley became a multi-millionaire through sale of grossly overpriced ineffective (e.g., colored water) and outright harmful patent medicines, and through unnecessary, harmful operations intended mostly to restore male “virility.” Those operations included the implanting of goat testicles in human scrotums.

John R. Brinkley

Brinkley’s similarities with Donald Trump are striking: both preyed on the gullible and desperate; both were fascist sympathizers; both constantly bragged about themselves; both lied incessantly; both claimed to represent and be the voice of the common man — Brinkley nearly won the governorship of Kansas in 1930 and 1932; both had vulgar taste and indulged in ostentatious displays of wealth; both sometimes stiffed those who did work for them; and the one was brought down by a dogged, principled investigator, and, one hopes, the other soon will be. (There are other similarities, but these are the ones that immediately come to mind.)

The primary difference between the two men, other than working in different fields of fraud, was that Brinkley came from a very poor background and Trump was a trust-fund baby who received over $400 million from his slumlord dad.

 

 


Blue Front AmazonIn 2000, my old cat and best friend Spot Bob died. (“Spot” — think Star Trek NG and “Data” — and “Bob” — think Joe Bob Briggs, or as an ex-GF who grew up in a single-wide in a junkyard put it, “Joe Bob,” “Billy Bob,” “Spot Bob”.)

After he expired in my closet on a foam mattress, I swore I’d never have another pet animal. Ever.

Less than a month later, my GF at the time got in a horrible car crash after I dumped her. She was a hardcore hidden drinker, got abusive when she drank, and I just couldn’t deal with it anymore. The afternoon I said goodbye and said “call me when you stop drinking,” she drank a pint of vodka after I left, jumped in her car, and got in a head-on crash.

She left behind a baby parrot she’d been badly abusing. (She’d also cut herself up with razor blades, as I’d found to my dismay a couple months into the relationship.)

After she crashed, her ex didn’t want the bird, and neither did her two (barely) grown kids, who were, quite understandably, severely emotionally fucked up in their own right.

So, I took the bird and gave him a home — a year-and-a-half-old Yellow Naped Amazon. I had no idea how to properly take care of him. I just let him roam the house and fed him the food PetSmart sold me. He quickly became my best buddy. The only problem was that he attacked on sight any woman who came into the house, sometimes drawing blood. He drew no distinction between my horribly abusive ex and other women: he wanted vengeance..

IM000394.JPG

So, when women came over, I’d lock him up — but I felt guilty as hell about it. But he’d physically attack them — remove flesh — if I didn’t. (Now, he’s much better with women, still conflicted but nonagressive.)

Shortly after that, I met a woman in a web design class who was a volunteer with the local parrot-rescue group, TARA — Tucson Avian Rescue and Adoption.

I did 10 to 20 hours a week volunteer work for the next decade, doing fostering, behavioral rehab of abused and neglected Amazons (dozens), and parrot-care education classes, plus the web site.

Along the way, three more abused Amazons decided they liked it here and wanted to hang around. I couldn’t turn them away, so I now have four permanent three-year-olds with large powerful beaks.

I love them. They’re a pain in the ass, and it takes me about an hour a day to take care of them physically (cutting up veggies and fruits, cleaning water and food bowls, cleaning up the shit around their cages, changing the papers in their cages, etc.) Then there’s their demands on me: “Pick me up! Pick me up! Give me scrinches!” I spend several hours a day with a parrot on my shoulder. And it feels good. I’m doing something good for other conscious, feeling beings. (And you bet they are!)

It helps me get out of myself and care for others. I never had kids because I didn’t want to put them through the same emotional torture I went through as a kid — yes, “dumbth” on my part: generalizing from a sample of one terribly messed-up family that shouldn’t have and didn’t reproduce beyond me.

Over the last 20 years or so, I’ve been hoping that someone younger than I am would fall in love with the birds and would take them on after I croak. It hasn’t happened, and probably won’t.

As Albert Ellis said toward the end of his life, regarding death, “I’m not exactly looking forward to it.” Neither am I. But what I do worry about is what’s going to happen to my birds.


"Hell" graphic by J.R. Swanson from "The Devil's Dictionaries"

HELL, n. A place of everlasting torment, much like the United States during an election year.

* * *

— from The American Heretic’s Dictionary (revised & expanded), the 21st-century successor to Ambrose Bierce’s Devil’s Dictionary. (The link goes to 50 sample definitions and illustrations.)


Margaret Atwood

“Watch out for the leaders . . . and the led, then the tyrants and the slaves.

Then the massacres. That’s how it always goes.”

–“Crake” in Margaret Atwood’sĀ Oryx and Crake

* * *


* * *

MAGAbomber’s van

* * *

Some of Trump’s “very fine people”

 


(From Twitter. And for once, no comment — the image speaks for itself.)