Thursday, November 30, 2023

Romance of the Boeing 707 - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Romance of the Boeing 707

 

Out on Runway Number 9

Big 707 set to go

 

-Gordon Lightfoot

 

Old Ginsberg wrote that the typewriter was holy

An airport of words for coming and going

On a runway of ribbon, platen, and keys

McKuen might have said it’s a safe place to land

 

But then came the Boeing 707

Dear Gordon Lightfoot’s silver wings on high

It flew our words and us all over the world

And became for us holy in its own way

 

The 707 – there was nothing finer

But the last one I saw was a roadside diner

Sunday, November 26, 2023

HAMAS Appears to Have Taken Control of Our Nation

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

HAMAS Appears to Have Taken Control of Our Nation

 

Video showed a Palestinian flag raised on the statue of the Marquis de Lafayette near the White House, with "Free Palestine" spray painted on his pedestal. A Palestinian keffiyeh, popularized by the Palestinian Liberation Organization, was put on the head of one of the figures at the foot of the pedestal.

 

-Brady Knox, Washington Examiner

 

Columbia University Closes Campus Ahead of Israel-Hamas War Protests - The New York Times (nytimes.com)

 

Pro-Palestinian protesters shut down main entrance to Union Station in Washington, D.C. | Watch (msn.com)

 

The people say: ‘Shut it down for Palestine’ – International Action Center (iacenter.org)

 

NYPD beefing up patrols as Jewish schools worry over ‘day of Jihad’ (nypost.com)

 

Hamas’ Terror Also Holds a Warning for the US - The Washington Post

 

California Democratic convention in Sacramento shut down by cease-fire protest disruptions (msn.com)

 

Bad Medicine - Tablet Magazine

 

A Snapshot of Support for Palestinians Across America - The New York Times (nytimes.com)

 

Pro-Palestine protesters shut down Bay Bridge (ktvu.com)

 

Protest blocks Israeli cargo ship at Port of Oakland in support for Palestinians amid violence in Gaza - ABC7 San Francisco (abc7news.com)

 

Pro-Palestine protesters shut down OSU trustees meeting, demand divestment from Israel (msn.com)

 

SHUT IT DOWN Nov 9th Day of Rage: Terror-Tied Islamic and Leftist Destroyers Terrorize Communities, Target Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Raytheon, Northrop Grumman, General Dynamics - Geller Report

 

Pro-Palestinian group posts NYC map with locations, sparks fears of attacks (msn.com)

 

Chants ‘calling for the murder of Jews’ were shouted at me during Cooper Union protest, student recalls (foxnews.com)

 

Full List of Democrats Who Refused To Condemn Hamas Supporters (newsweek.com)

 

Pro-Palestinian protesters drag burning Israeli flag down NYC street as they warn supporters days are 'numbered' (nypost.com)

 

Jewish NYC high schoolers verbally attacked by woman on DC train after National Mall rally: ‘F–k all you guys’ (msn.com)

 

Jewish teacher hides in Queens high school as students riot (nypost.com)

 

Cornell student accused of threatening to kill Jewish students will remain behind bars | CNN

 

Israeli business owner in Florida speaks after several Jewish establishments tagged with antisemitic graffiti (fox35orlando.com)

 

Antisemitic incidents on college campuses spur federal investigation (usatoday.com)

 

Jewish communities threatened by acts of antisemitic vandalism across the US. | CNN

 

Campus Reform the #1 Source for College News

 

Pro-Palestinian Protesters Occupy New York Times Lobby In Demonstration – Deadline

 

Grand Central Terminal shut down due to pro-Palestinian protests (nydailynews.com)

 

7K pro-Palestinian protesters take over Brooklyn Bridge, call for elimination of Jewish state: 'By any means' (nypost.com)

 

Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade arrests: 34 people arrested after pro-Palestinian demonstrators interrupted parade, NYPD says | CNN

 

Pro-Palestinian protestors block Port of Tacoma military ship | Crosscut

 

https://www.bing.com/search?q=palestinian+disruptions+of+america&qs=n&sp=-1&lq=0&pq=palestinian+disruptions+of+amer&sc=11-31&sk=&cvid=A41FE5C2F4374955B9BA0D1649506991&ghsh=0&ghacc=0&ghpl=&FPIG=24A5D720EB0C48F18D38923D216D8256&first=11&FORM=PERE

 

Pro-Palestinian Protesters Shut Down 3rd & Fairfax, March Through The Grove – Deadline

 

Hamas terror organization charter targets Christians and US service organizations (msn.com)

 

Hamas Ally CAIR Has Been Operating With Impunity Inside America for 30 Years | | news-journal.com

 

Pro-Palestinian protesters rally on Mag Mile to draw attention to Israel-Hamas war - Chicago Sun-Times (suntimes.com)

 

‘Bombs are dropping, why are you shopping?’ Black Friday traditions interrupted by anti-Israel protests (bizpacreview.com)

 

Hamas’s Genocidal Intentions Were Never a Secret - The Atlantic

 

-30-

 

 

Saturday, November 25, 2023

November 2023 Update Made a Mess of my Apple Watch - Caution

 On the morning of 25 November I downloaded the latest Apple security update. I don't know about security, but the update made a mess of my settings without asking me if I wanted anything changed. Further, despite all the directions from Apple and other sources, I cannot change the settings back and I cannot delete the update. 

When this, my first and last Apple Watch, fades away I'm going to crush it into its components and retrieve my decades-old $10 Wal-Mart Timex from a desk drawer where it still ticks.

Friday, November 24, 2023

Like Children Dancing - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Like Children Dancing

 

Like children dancing, leaves form up in rows

Then skitter across each corner and street

As shoals in rolling ranks overflowing other ranks

Or little tornadoes laughing through circles and swirls

 

Like children celebrating their youth and strength

Leaves tumble and run before the shifting wind

‘Way up into the air and back to earth

In happy games of catch-me-if-you-can

 

Like children in the afternoon, just out of school

Autumn leaves joyfully mock every rule

Monday, November 20, 2023

The First Folio of...You! - mere rhyming doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

The First Folio of You

 

On the 400th anniversary of the First Folio

Of some playwright or other in England

 

I fear that there will never, ever be

A First Folio of the works of – Me!

Bound in leather most luxuriously

For sale at a wildly exorbitant fee

 

Scanned for pleasure over cups of tea

And studied by academics thoughtfully

Beloved by the climbing bourgeoise

As much as by the high nobility

 

I can’t adorn my poems with a PhD

So will kind readers accept a high school degree?

Sunday, November 19, 2023

Thanksgiving as a Singleton - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Thanksgiving as a Singleton

 

Memories of a drive-through just won’t do

Set something on your table, if only for you

A turkey plate from the grocery store

Two side dishes from cans, or maybe more

And gravy even if it’s a store-bought broth

Silverware, real plates, and a tablecloth

Wash your hands, light a candle, say a prayer

And open your napkin with your special flair!

 

You are where you are meant to be, it’s true

And know that God is with you to see you through

First, Catch Your Cookbook

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 


First, Catch Your Cookbook

 

Christmas was close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty honesty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness…

 

-Charles Dickens, The Pickwick Papers

 

Having never seen a copy of Mrs. Beeton’s famous cookery book I don’t know if her recipe for rabbit begins with “First, catch your rabbit.” If it isn’t true it ought to be, for it is fine example of both English logic (rare) and English whimsy (a defining trait). The expression is often used as a cautionary warning, similar to our American “Don’t count your chickens until they’re hatched.”

 

The arc from Thanksgiving to Christmas is when the thoughtful cook will seek out MeeMaw’s cookbook to verify seasonal specialties: Waldorf salad, corn casserole, turkey fried or baked or broiled, ham fried or baked or boiled, and those old traditional dishes special to each family.

 

Cookbooks are otherwise seldom consulted in our electrical times, for the cook can quickly seek out a recipe on the Orwellian telescreen / Tolkien Palantir. However, opening an old family cookbook in anticipation of the holidays is a way of inviting all the ancestors back home for a moment in time. The crumbling pages are the ones that the cook’s mother and grandmother and great-grandmother read, maybe by the light of a coal-oil lamp on a dark winter day long ago.

 

On the margins are many penciled notes and corrections. You can almost hear some ancestor muttering, “Harrumph! What does that editor in New York know about real cornbread!”

 

A slip of paper falls out – in Mama’s elegant penmanship is a recipe she copied out from her own mother’s telling. Another piece of paper might be a yellowing clipping from a newspaper, a rationing recipe with a scrap of war news on the other side.

 

Older cookbooks might be bound in leather, like a Bible, and the connections are real, for both allude to bread and life and stories. The pages of both books are pages of the histories of families. In them you can, for a moment, be a little child again, barely as high as the stove stop, helping (not very well!) your grandmother with baking your favorite cookies. Do you remember? Do you see and smell the joys of her warm kitchen again? Is Grandpa still sitting at the table rustling the pages of The Houston Post and muttering about the prices of cattle feed?

 

Some of the best memories are in that old family cookbook. With Thanksgiving and Christmas coming soon, it’s time to refresh them. This is a season when memories of a drive-through just won’t do.

 

-30-

 

Saturday, November 18, 2023

Decaying Orbits - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Decaying Orbits

 

Wild vultures swirl in distant elegance

Circling gracefully in the high, cold blue

Wings beating the downdrafts into place and space

Then orbiting down, a narrowing decay

 

And landing lumpishly upon the dead

Their distant grace was but foul deceit

Up close they know only vomit and filth

Their orbits have decayed into decay

 

Perhaps at a distance we seem beautiful

But would we want to know ourselves up close?

Friday, November 17, 2023

A Good Enough Leaf-Time - photograph and poem

 





We can make a little order where we are, and then the big sweep of history on which we can have no effect doesn't overwhelm us.  We do it with colors, with a garden, with the furnishings of a room, or with sounds and words.  We can make a little form, and we gain composure.

                                                               -Robert Frost


Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

A Good Enough Leaf-Time

 

No more the withered summer-browns of death

Crumbling and sere upon the dry and crackling ground

Beneath a Rime of the Ancient Mariner sky -

Leaves in autumn colours are falling now

 

Pale greens, poor yellows, weak reds, but good enough

To decorate this time of early frosts

With appropriate merriment, good enough

To rake into playtime heaps for children and dogs

 

These modest scenes will attract no peepers this year

But I will send you a snap – it’s good enough!

Thursday, November 16, 2023

A Gift of Omelettes - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

A Gift of Omelettes

 

For Max and Tod

 

We leave the comfort of a little fire

And repair to the kitchen for a morning repast

Of bacon crisp, of toast from homebaked bread

And omelettes more golden than the morning sun

 

The dogs come with us, for something good might fall

To be nipped before it ever hits the floor

And the fireside conversation begun

Continues around the festive Dickension board

 

Old friends, old dogs, and Christmas coming soon

And omelettes - altogether a happy boon!

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

American Businesses Losing the Metaphorical Plot - a back-of-the-hand business response chopped into ten-syllable lines

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

When Your Security Code is not Your Security Code

And Your Password is not Your Password

 

CONTACT US Our manufacturing facility

Near Austin, TX is not open to the public

And we no longer accept phone calls, but we'd

Be happy to answer your questions here.

 

Legitimate inquiries can expect

An email response usually within

24 business hours or less. We're closed

Friday - Sunday but we may occasionally

 

Answer a few emails over the weekend

If we get a chance. Thanks for your inquiry.

EMAIL US: Thank you! We've received your submission

And will get back to you soon.

Tuesday, November 14, 2023

At Yevna Something Happened - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

At Yevna Something Happened

 

The Talmud is to this day the circulating heart's blood of the Jewish religion. Whatever laws, customs or ceremonies we observe - whether we are Orthodox, Conservative, Reform or merely spasmodic sentimentalist - we follow the Talmud. It is our common law.

-Herman Wouk

 

At Yevna something happened, something quite real

Though no one seems to know exactly how

Those who entered as priests arose as rabbis

Carrying Talmud out into the world

 

At Yevna something happened

 

Ben Zakkai and Gamaliel sit at your table

Your study table, a house of wisdom in Yevna

Where all may come to study Mishnah and Gemara

Where the lamp of peace is lit on Sabbath eve

 

At Yevna something happened

 

G-d sees to it that even a few holy books

The wisdom of the sages

The library of the ages

Are Yevna written into your modest home

 

At Yevna something happened


Note: The quote from Herman Wouk might not be exactly as he wrote in 1959; I was following an elusive and shape-shifting cut-and-paste text through a trackless forest of quotations.

Monday, November 13, 2023

Our SSuper Dooper Ubergruppenpooper - rude, shallow doggerel

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Our SSuper Dooper Ubergruppenpooper

 

In every generation rises a toxic SSap

This one wears a SSoviet-red plastic cap

If you obey mindleSSly, SStand, and clap

You too can be his little SStormy trooper

 

Obey!

 

Our SSuper Dooper Ubergruppenpooper

 

Make hiSS perSSonal SSluSSh fundSS great again

He’ll grab you by your wuSSy; ya like it, then?

Now go to jail for him if you’re real men

And SSurrender your SSoul; exiSSt in a SStupor

 

Obey!

 

Our SSuper Dooper Ubergruppenpooper

 

SSo throw away your life for that coSSmic blooper

Our SSuper Dooper Ubergruppenpooper

Sunday, November 12, 2023

Forty Guns to Apache Pass - movie review

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Forty Guns to Apache Pass

 

If you’ve never seen Forty Guns to Apache Pass, you’ve still seen Forty Guns to Apache Pass.

 

Audie Murphy’s 1967 low-budget cavalry vs Indians film employs every trope of matinee shoot-‘em-ups: a brave, brash young army officer who breaks the rules, a patient and fatherly commanding general, a platoon of ill-trained, ill-equipped, and ill-tempered troopers, the usual casting-office injuns (none of them genuine Apaches), the blonde love-interest and her cranky old Pa, the love-interest’s errant little brothers, civilians who need rescuing, horses, wagons, villains, desperate sorties against a powerful enemy, a sub-plot of redemption, and lots of shootin’.

 

The film is centered on an element of the mediaeval quest; in this story the object that will save the kingdom / Arizona is not the Grail or a magic sword, but forty modern repeating rifles. The faraway government will send only those forty and only as far as Apache Pass. Our hero and his comrades must make their way through lots and lots of Apaches to reach them.

 

After a long journey, many battles against a fierce enemy, and complications in loyalties and plot twists, the hero and his surviving companions come through, true love is rewarded, and Arizona is made safe for truth, justice, and the American way (Superman).

 

We’ve seen the same plot, setting, and characterizations over and over in hundreds of assembly-line boots-and-saddles yarns made from the 1920s until the 1960s on budgets of hundreds of dollars, and yet the same old stories are still fun. Children enjoyed them as Saturday afternoon matinees at The Palace or The Bijou for generations, and now we can popcorn-out on the couch at home, still on Saturday afternoons, for thrilling tales of yesteryear (The Lone Ranger).

 

Sometimes we want cinema (pronounce “cinema” as a snooty anapest): a soupcon of French existentialism, a serious study of post-war Italian cinema, or a new adaptation of Shakespeare, and then sometimes we want movin’ pictures with cowboys and Indians and saloon fights. And though the plots are familiar, that’s okay; Shakespeare’s plots were old when he borrowed them for his plays.

 

Audie Murphy was a fine actor – as The American in Graham Greene’s The Quiet American, filmed in newly independent Viet-Nam in 1958, he is brilliant. But the westerns put more fans in the seats and paid the bills, and Mr. Murphy was a great cowboy.

 

One of the best things about Forty Guns to Apache Pass is the title. The viewer needs no exposition, no advance reviews. He or she (not “they”; one person cannot be “they”) knows what’s going to be on the screen and knows it’s going to be great fun.

 

God bless the American cowboy film, and God bless Audie Murphy, a hero in the movies and a greater hero in life.

 

-30-

Saturday, November 11, 2023

An Old Man in the Hardware Store Considers Autumn - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

An Old Man in the Hardware Store Considers Autumn

 

“And He has poured down for you the rain”

 

-Joel 2:23

 

“When I’m through here,” he laughed, “I’m going home

I’m going to sit and listen to the rain

My hayfield’s all burnt up, my yard is dead

So I’m gonna to let the rain sing me to sleep”

 

We said our good-byes to the driest summer ever

And a thank you, Jesus for sweet rain at last

Next to the paper sacks of deer-bait corn

And a display of made-in-China tools

 

The wind blew open the heavy double doors

And the rain blew with it, and we were glad

Thursday, November 9, 2023

Homeless Man Found Murdered - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Homeless Man Found Murdered

 

He had nothing

And even that nothing

Was stolen from him

Armistice Day / Remembrance Day / Veterans' Day 2023

Several years ago my old school honored me by asking me to address the students at the annual Veterans' Day program. I thought it a pretty good speech and so reprint it:


Judge Folk

Veterans

Students of Kirbyville High School

Honored Guests

Mrs. Gore

Mrs. McClatchy

Faculty and staff

 

Thank you allowing me to speak today.

 

There are many men and women from Kirbyville and Jasper County whose service and devotion to duty makes them far more fitted for the honor. But today I guess you’re stuck with me.

 

Master Chief Petty Officer Leo Stanley, who died last month, is one of those whose voice would be better today. I wish he could be here again to share this special day with you. He was a Navy Hospital Corpsman for forty years, earning promotion to the highest enlisted rank there is. In his retirement one of the ways in which he continued serving his country was by serving you, his beloved students, in your elementary school’s reading program. Many of you remember him with great joy, for he and Miss Mary loved helping you learn to read each Friday for many years.

 

If he were here – and perhaps he is - the Chief would talk about you and your service to God and country, and he would expect me to do so too. And I will

 

I will begin with thirteen fine young folks of your generation who were killed last summer while serving humanity in helping refugees escape from Taliban-controlled Afghanistan.

 

You have all seen the photograph of Marine Corps Sergeant Nicole Gee cradling an infant amid the chaos at the airport in Kabul when everything fell apart.  The picture is not a government propaganda photograph; if it were it would be of better quality. This is just a snapshot one of her fellow Marines forwarded to her.  She sent it by email to her parents with the words, “I love my job!”

 

“I love my job.”

 

Those may have been the last words this United States Marine - with her hair tied back in a ponytail - said to her mom and dad.

 

On the 26th of August Sergeant Gee and the others who were killed with her almost surely did not think of themselves as great Americans;  they were too busy BEING great Americans.

 

They would have thought of themselves – 11 Marines, one soldier, and one Navy Hospital Corpsmen, just like your mentor Chief Stanley - as only doing their jobs in the heat and dust and violence of Afghanistan, helping civilians escape being murdered by the Taliban.

 

That’s what YOU would do. Don’t let anyone dismiss your generation with cheap and shabby stereotypes. YOU would carry a baby amid the screams and terror and dust and heat to a waiting airplane and then return to the perimeter for another child or young mother or old man or anyone who needed your help.

 

That’s what these thirteen young people did, and they were young, like you.

 

You could have even been on the same school bus run:

 

The oldest by far was Marine Corps Staff Sgt. Darin T. Hoover, 31, of Salt Lake City, Utah.  31 might seem old, but he was young.

 

Marine Corps Sgt. Johanny Rosariopichardo, another woman Marine, 25, of Lawrence, Massachusetts

 

Marine Corps Sgt. Nicole L. Gee, 23, of Sacramento, California

 

Marine Corps Cpl. Hunter Lopez, 22, of Indio, California

 

Marine Corps Cpl. Daegan W. Page, 23, of Omaha, Nebraska

 

Marine Corps Cpl. Humberto A. Sanchez, 22, of Logansport, Indiana

 

Marine Corps Lance Cpl. David L. Espinoza, 20, of Rio Bravo, Texas

 

Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Jared M. Schmitz, 20, of St. Charles, Missouri

 

Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Rylee J. McCollum, 20, of Jackson, Wyoming

 

Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Dylan R. Merola, 20, of Rancho Cucamonga, California

 

Marine Corps Lance Cpl. Kareem M. Nikoui, 20, of Norco, California

 

Navy Hospitalman Maxton W. Soviak, 22, of Berlin Heights, Ohio

 

Army Staff Sgt. Ryan C. Knauss, 23, of Corryton, Tennessee.

 

They are your generation. They were killed in a scene of horror by a mad bomber who chose hate instead of love. His hate killed those 13 young Americans and wounded some 30 others who were saving lives, and killed and wounded possibly 200 or more Afghans.

 

One unhappy young man chose hate. He doesn’t represent anything.

 

But your generation has chosen love, the love Jesus spoke of when he said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

 

And these young Americans gave up their lives for people they didn’t even know.

 

No greater love indeed.

 

We have spoken of these 13, but let us remember this: every young American in Kabul that day was saving lives – they were helping terrified people get to the airplanes, helping them to safety.

 

That is also the story of just about every American soldier, sailor, airman, Marine, or Coast Guard.

 

If you look at us sometimes absurd old people, I hope you remember that we were once young like you – maybe when dinosaurs roamed the earth – and that every veteran you see before you gave up some of his or her own poor rations to help feed children, gave up some of his time and sleep and effort in helping those who were hungry or displaced.

 

And finally, that’s your story too. You are going to serve humanity

in some way,

in some place,

in some time – as a soldier, a police officer, a volunteer firefighter, a paramedic, or as a good American civilian who stands tall when needed and helps the community in some way. You may not be called to carry a child to safety from Kabul Airport or from a wrecked car or from a burning building, but you will surely be called to help feed children or teach children in Sunday School or, like Chief Stanley, help out with the reading program.

 

There’s an old Army National Guard recruiting slogan that says:

 

It wasn’t always easy

It wasn’t always fair

But when freedom called we answered

We were there

 

We and your parents know that you will be there too.

 

Thank you.


Tuesday, November 7, 2023

Wolf-Dog-Coyote Things, Dachshunds, and a 'Possum - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Wolf-Dog-Coyote Things, Dachshunds, and a ‘Possum

 

“Luna! Stop it! Let go of that ‘possum! Astrid! Get out of it! You’ll get bitten! Luna! Do you hear me!? Stop it! Let go! Astrid! Get out of the way! Luna!”

 

Snarls, hisses, and the crashing of garden tools for effect

 

The wolf-dog-coyote things sang in the fields

The dogs fought with a ‘possum in the shed

Which wasn’t organized very well before

But after the fight one can’t even step inside

 

The ‘possum has at last safely escaped

The little dogs are quite proud of themselves

They and I are all panting for breath

And the wolf-dog-coyote things have gone quiet

 

The rural life does not often admit

Time for meditation, reflection, and peace

Curbside Voting - Or Maybe Not - Photograph

 Voting in Texas is often an adventure, especially in the game of precinct tag - the citizen who has to negotiate the highest number of locations in order to vote wins. Texas voters are assigned a voting precinct, which is not the same as a county precinct, based on where he or she lives. In different elections (school board, county elections, state elections, federal elections, early voting, and so on, just where one is permitted to vote often changes. 

Another adventure is curbside voting (although once upon a time my precinct was a trailer off in some weeds and there was no curb). The illogic of this sign is wonderful - if someone who is handicapped cannot make it inside to the polling place then he or she almost surely cannot manage to reach the door where the doorbell is located.

But one of the many good things about Texas is that there is always someone around to help with wheelchairs and doors.




Thank You, Poll Workers!

  This morning I added a blazer to my ensemble because this is election day. The res publica - Latin for "the public matter" - is so important that I always dress up just a little to honor freedom.



The many nice folks who volunteer to serve America at the polls deserve our gratitude. Thank you, everyone!

Monday, November 6, 2023

All the Cool Kids are Genocidal This Year - essay

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

All the Cool Kids are Genocidal this Year

 

In 1925 some 30,000 KKK marched in our nation’s capital to bully the government and the people by demonstrating their increasing power. We read the newspaper accounts of the time and view the film footage and wonder why such an un-American display of hostility to humanity and to the Constitution was permitted by the local, state, and federal authorities who were expected to protect the people.

 

From 1936 to 1948 the German-American Bund perpetrated the same racist and anti-American racket. In 1939 they filled Radio City Music Hall with some 20,000 village idiots yelping and sieg-heiling in obedient, unthinking unison. Nazis appealed to a twisted concept of the First Amendment to cover their demands for tyranny and genocide.

 

Those uniformed and booted thugs who pretended to love this country were, as was known even then, funded, organized, and backed with propaganda through pamphlets and scripts from Nazi Germany’s Abwehr. The American Nazis were so influential that some Hollywood studios allowed themselves to be censored by a foreign power that meant to conquer the world. Again we ask ourselves how this could have happened.

 

More recently we have seen the streets of our capital and other cities infested by yet more racists openly flying the flags of foreign powers determined to destroy the free nations and conquer the world while our weakling Merovingian government entities do little but yap at each other as if they were on The Five and collect their generous salaries and perks. Our streets have been blocked, citizens menaced, historical monuments vandalized, and attempts made to breach the perimeters of the White House for malign purposes. And, like their predecessors, they expect that their demands for genocide will be permitted “peaceably” under the First Amendment.

 

On Monday the contemporary racists blocked access to the Statue of Liberty (how’s that for freedom of speech), and more have closed seaports along the West Coast. Hamas, an organization specializing in the mass murder of innocents and enslaving any survivors, appears at the moment to be in charge of America.

 

Violence, racist threats, vandalism of public and private property, denial of freedom of movement, and hostility to real Americans are sometimes defended as free speech recognized by the First Amendment to our Constitution.

 

This defense is invalid.

 

The First Amendment clearly connects freedom of speech with “…the right of the people peaceably to assemble and petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” The constitutional convention understood this and for over two centuries thoughtful and well-intentioned people of all nations have understood this too, and honored America for it. It is only in our time that wicked beings have twisted and perverted noble words for the destruction of free people who are sheltered by those words.

 

We the people may and should peaceably assemble at school board meetings, on the courthouse steps, in the streets, and in the assemblies to point out to the authorities whom we have elected our grievances at what we purport to be their failures and requesting that they stop fooling around and get on task.

 

We can stand outside the White House (although the incumbent is usually absent on perpetual vacation) and hold up a sign that notes the fact that the President is usually to be found not in the Oval Office but napping on a beach.

 

These rights are given by God; they are recognized by the Constitution.

 

But when the bullhorns, the spray paint, the rocks, the bottles, the obscenities, the threats, the flags of hostile foreign powers, the violence, and the racist taunts contaminate the free air, then the perpetrators have broken the peace.

 

In a direct line of succession from the Ku Klux Klan and National Socialism is Hamas. Hamas is a racist, genocidal, sexist organization oppressive to women, oppressive to Palestinians and murderous to anyone who disobeys.  Hamas employs hostage-taking, rape, and the murders of children as weapons, and punishes even a hint of same-sex relationships with immediate death.

 

Naturally all the cool kids wear the keffiyeh (for sale on Amazon.com) and hate America. They are blithely unaware of the slavery the Hamas doctrine, which they will never read, has planned for them.

 

Notes:

 

Ku Klux Klan in Washington, 1921-1925 - HistoryLink.org

 

American Nazis in the 1930s—The German American Bund - The Atlantic

 

Pro-Palestinian marchers push against White House fence, vandalize national monuments during protest - Washington Times

 

Doctrine of Hamas | Wilson Center

 

-30-

Saturday, November 4, 2023

Journalists Seem to Wreak Havoc Daily - or do They Havoc Wreak? - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Havoc

 

What is havoc, and how does one wreak it?

 

Havoc is a condition or state of being

That apparently exists only to be wrought

(There is no such word in English as “wreaked”)

A wreak does not now obtain without a havoc

And there is no havoc without a wreak

Friday, November 3, 2023

"I Called to the Lord from my Narrow Prison" - as a poem

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

“I Called to the Lord from my Narrow Prison”

 

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space.”

 

-Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl

 

Dark prisons of the mind are narrow too

A lack of light to fall upon a page

A page where hopes are written in words of hope

And spoken in hope through layers of shame and guilt

 

Dark prisons of the heart are narrow too

So reach into your mind, your heart, your soul

And even in the darkness of a narrow cell

Call softly to the Lord through the fetid air

 

Dark prisons of the soul are narrow too –

Perhaps you are the one who locked the door?

 

Open it.

 

Try.

Thursday, November 2, 2023

"I Called to the Lord from my Narrow Prison" - column

 

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

“I Called to the Lord from my Narrow Prison”

 

“I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space.”

 

-Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl

 

When Viktor Frankl was liberated from Dachau in 1945 after three years in several death camps he walked into a meadow, knelt down, and said, over and over, “I called to the Lord from my narrow prison and he answered me in the freedom of space.”

 

We have all been in a “narrow prison” of some sort, even if only a metaphorical prison, a prison of the mind in which we confined ourselves through false ideologies, a failure to think things through, or plain old fence-row self-centeredness.

 

St. Thomas More is said to have said (it’s in the movie, anyway) that he had no window with which to look into another man’s soul, but the mass murder in Maine last week leads to all of us to wonder about why the killer destroyed others and himself. And we just don’t know what was churning in his soul.

 

The murderer was a career soldier in the Army Reserve who wore a number of gedunk ribbons (he was never in combat) and was a marksman-instructor. He was a citizen-soldier who also worked in civilian life, drove a car, paid bills, and shopped at the local grocery store, indicating an ability to cope with the usual tasks of adult life.

 

Recently the murderer lost his job and was said to have heard voices that no one else heard. He was committed for emotional / mental evaluation for two weeks.  

 

He also owned a legal firearm, a semi-automatic rifle.

 

In that lies part of the problem, and chanting slogans through a bullhorn doesn’t change the reality of that problem.

 

No citizen needs a magazine-fed semi-automatic. Someone who can’t bag his deer with two or three rounds just isn’t going to have venison for supper. Continuing to spray the area from a 10-, 20-, or 30-round magazine is dangerous, wasteful, stupid, and unsportsmanlike, and demonstrates either malevolence or a lack of adult self control.

 

Such calibres and detachable magazines belong only in the capable, trustworthy hands of soldiers and law enforcement, and not as personal weapons but as issued and tracked government issue.

 

And yet here was a situation in which a well-trained soldier who was a career sergeant and instructor in that “well-regulated militia” decided he could tame his personal demons by massacring his unarmed countrymen, including women and children, who were enjoying community games at a bowling alley or a well-deserved after-work beer at the local Cheers.

 

He did not call out to the Lord from his narrow prison; he reached down into the darkness of it and embraced resentment, jealousy, and death.

 

We can make the same old arguments until the cows come home about the Second Amendment, the pointless distinctions between automatic and semi-automatic, clip versus magazine, and what “AR” stands for (I think we all know by now), but what argument can be made to a child whose torso has been exploded by a .556 round?

 

Real men do not play at G.I. Joe.

 

Not even if they are G. I. Joe.

 

Real men do not call to a gun to resolve unhappiness.

 

If a real man is in a prison of the mind, he will be a man: he will call to the Lord.

 

-30-

 

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

Out Where the West Begins in the Drugstore Parking Lot - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

 

Out Where the West Begins

 

 In the Pharmacy Parking Lot

 

An old man creaks his body out of the pickup

With boots on the ground he’s got his swagger back

He taps a Marlboro out of a cardboard box

And lights it with a manly Zippo (clink)

 

He’s practiced his technique since ‘66

A ‘way-cool curl of silver-white cowboy smoke

Rising up above the pickup cab and into the West

Along with a phlegm-rich boots-and-saddles cough

 

His wife’s inside the store, a-getting’ his pills

He can’t quite manage that distance himself

 

‘Way back when he was so ////’ cool, you know?

 

Science Experiments and Pirate Ships - poem

 

Lawrence Hall, HSG

Mhall46184@aol.com

 

Science Experiments and Pirate Ships

 

For Gordon, of Happy Memory

Whose death began in Viet-Nam

 

My boyhood pal’s home is now mostly gone

A concrete slab among some sunburnt weeds

The crumbling front-porch steps still stepped in place

But leading only to memories in the empty air

 

There where his bedroom laboratory used to be

We traded Heinlein stories and comic books

Experimented with chemicals and radio kits

And planned camping adventures that never were

 

His father was a widower who didn’t like either of us

But maybe that part of it doesn’t matter now