Lebanon for My Dad

Italy For My Mom

Italy For My Mom
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LSD
(Lying/Spinning/Dividing)
The #1 Epidemic

It is more caustic than cocaine, opioids or alcohol. The outbreak that began decades ago has become a cancerous catalyst for tribalism, hate, incivility, and downright meanness.

21st century LSD (as noted in the title) is highly addictive. It fogs evangelicals, unhinges the undecided and craters the conscience of critical thinkers. A subtle germ spread by social media and jester-ism in the form of journalism, it numbs one into embracing nonsense. Abetted by apathy and ignorance, it spreads and thrives, infecting freedom and conquering critical thinking.

The LSD concept of untruth, fact-manipulation, and populace fracturing is not a new phenomenon. Some of its past greatest hits include:

·      Hitler and the Nazi Party
·      Mao and his Little Red Book
·      The Crusades Con Job
·      Manifest Destiny
·      “the American Civil war was not fought over slavery”
·      The “Holy” Roman Empire

The above partial list illustrates an insidious success that LSD has had on society. Baseless blaming, gardening for a “goat”, fostering fear without factual basis, encouraging hate, tamping down tolerance…this is how the LSD-Dealing greedy and power-hungry few manipulate the masses.

These days, NIMBY (Not in My Back Yard) has been replaced with Non-Information Mind Bends Ya’ll. “God” is a weapon as well, invoking the deity for hypocritical hypotheses of supremacy, justifying repression and basically placing faith over facts (or scripture over science).

The anecdote: read, vote, engage, THINK!

There are many nuggets of news in the news. Pieces from the “Pro” are often seasoned with concepts from the “Con”, thus creating a societal feast supreme. But, the meal will be rancid if we don’t attest to who is swinging from a tree or incinerating in an oven.

An alternative remedy to LSD is: Be Nice, or at least civil. Tolerance works as well. This therapy is painless and many times joyful. Its antithesis, crass and cruel hate, brings happiness only to those who have a terminal case of LSD.

If you have the symptoms, get help. Group, volunteerism, study, objectivity and societal engagement are just some of the medications subscribed and recommended.

Perhaps, someday soon, LSD will mean, "Love  Sanity  Decorum".


The #'s Don't Lie or Spin

NY Times expose' affirms what critical thinkers already know. Twitler is a silver-spoon non-savant. Will truth and the Rule-Of-Law finally catch up to this False-Fake-Fascist Fool? Stay tuned.

Boozin' Brett Brat 

The Supreme Court. A bastion of common sense and a cradle for the rule of law. Sooooooo, why pick an unstable, angry, lying, name-calling Privileged Prep School Pundit?

It is clear that this dude is unable to be unbiased. His CV is testament to it.

Twitler can nominate someone just as conservative and push through the appointment. Just find someone not so much "Less far-right" as "Less far-flung".

With "control" of the executive and legislative branch, you think these crabby old Creeps would sail their selections through the choppy waters of a disillusioned majority of Americans.

Can we find a Judge with at least the appearance of civility, calm, and a panache for the rule of law?

Guess not.

Cheers.

LESS LABELS

Why are we so Hell-Bent on Labels? People Pigeon-holing Politics, Theologians Thinking theirs is the true truth and anyone not "believing" is lost, Men vs Women, Us vs Them, Left against Right...sheesh this is dumb.
What happened to critical thinking? Can we resurrect compromise? Are we at the nadir of negotiation skills? Will the tempest of terrible tribal tantrums take us to the precipice of global disasters?

For your consideration, here are my labels. Potential joiners are welcome?

I. Religion:  I am a devout APATHETIC. I do not concern myself with what or who you believe. I celebrate your freedom of faith while avoiding subscription or attention to your credo.

II. Nationalism: There is one country, the world. Fish don't have visas. Birds don't fly with passports. Acid Rain has no borders. The Rainforest is everyone's oxygen. The IceCaps boost sea level far beyond not-so-green Greenland. We all have only one planet. Every scrape and scar ANYWHERE and EVERYWHERE bruises our fragile Big Blue Ball.

III. Politics: I try to be an independent, critical thinker with an open mind. Public servants need to address their label (I know it's a label. What the hell. A little sprinkle of hypocrisy can't hurt).
They are elected by the public "usually" and are supposed to serve their employers...Us. Most of the bird is in the body and if it only uses the right or left wing, it ain't gonna get anywhere. Representatives who praise and practice this will have my support.

IV. Race: Human. Who comes up with these tags? 

V. Sex: Always with a consenting adult. M, F, Bi, Trans, LGBTQ, member FDIC...? Who cares what or who you do as long as you are a contributor to societal needs or, at least, a law-abiding dude, dudess, non-dude...whatever.

Watch this space for continued missives of misguided opinion, if you care the label them such.




Capri 

The locals call it La Piazzetta. This is a little public square, in the center of a practically smallest European town, nestled on a tiny island in the Mediterranean. Capri. In contrast, the views are expansive, aroma pungent, and beauty abounding. No wonder Augustus built his Empire Time Share here.


You arrive by streetcar, bus, taxi, scooter, or (if you are totally mad) on foot. Gardens of lemon trees and roses have guided you here after a probable bellissima boat ride from Napoli or the Amalfi Coast. There was a naval gladiator combat at the Blue Grotto with your tour boat and adversarial dingys filled with delighted-confused-frightened client/victims. A dash through the gauntlet of T-shirts, trinkets and tschochkie (never knew how to spell that one) at the harbor preceded your ascent. Between the two mountains you journeyed. Now, at this plateau, Piazza di Umberto Primo welcomes you. A quick look around and you grasp why they call it La Piazetta.

On one side there is the expected baroque church. On the other stands the logical city hall. In front of you is a panorama of sky and sea around the rocks. But behind you is the serpentine artery of Capri. Little alleys (vicolo) and streets (via) are time capsules of their Middle-Ages origin, still housing the human tenants who serve custodial to present day Capri.

From this artery stream the pulse of this and every piazza. Mamma and her rambunctious raggazzi, a pair of lovers, old man with a cart, old woman with a package, clueless tourist with their heads buried in an app or map instead of looking, smelling, sensing the majesty of it all. It is a symphony played in all piazzas. Yet, like and unlike the others, La Piazetta has its own unique voice, rhythm and style.

The antique bell tower clock maintains a faulty display as it tolls. No matter. No one seems to be checking the time, slugging his or her coffee, pounding the pavement, rushing to anywhere for any reason. Who looks at the town clock?  Who cares that the display is flawed? This is Capri. This is Italy. Lavoro la Vita. Not Vita la Lavoro.  Work to live. Don’t live to work.

As you sip your vino bianco at your postage stamp table in the shoebox piazza, you can’t help but glance at the waves of hilltops whence came the beverage. Your amber liquid serves as telescope, giving color to your surveying of its natural habitat. The looking glass serving its purpose, you slowly drain the contents and savor the taste.

Capri is a microcosm of urban Piazza life. There is culture, historic origins, strategic geography, everything the Roman Empire tattooed to its holdings. No exception here. From Tiberius to Mussolini, the powerful and influential praised and coveted this small island gem. Not particularly tactical or essential in war and aggression, Capri was mostly spared invasion, rape, pillaging and all that fun male civilized stuff. So it survives and thrives, this city center in miniature. “Urbs”, “The City”, is what Rome called municipalities back in the Latin day. Bingo! Urban. And their prized tiny get-away would characteristically assimilate everything civic and urban from the Empire.  All roads led to Rome. But all boats went to Capri (if you had the juice, the coin or the connections). Of course Romans would design, construct and embrace an island city center here. Have to have a place to gather, greet, gossip, gripe, grope, and glean from the great natural nutrients that abound and surround. Vero?

Capri walks a tightrope these days. It is a tourist mecca, but maintains elegance void of plastic, strip malls, outlets, chain stores and pub-crawls. In spite of the flea market appearance of the port, Capri remains a welcoming host, as long as you wipe your feet. Hospitality and tradition, beauty and conservation, enterprise without greed, meals without phony additives, sounds without noise, smells enhanced by dioxide not monoxide…Capri is the petite prototype of everything a city center is or should aspire to be.

High-end fashion and services for the elite share this piazza with laborers of the field. The tour guide, city official, teacher, peddler and musician all belly up to the same bar for a café’ lungo. Attuned visitors assimilate the rhythm. They stroll, bask, sit, ponder, smile and sip away the hours, negligent of our friendly-faulty tower clock guardian. It is like any other piazza in this respect.

Capri is everything a Piazza is or should be.  Spectacular location surrounded by indescribably beauty. Clean, cultivated and caressed by it’s proprietor/patrons. Hospitality without hordes. It is arguably the best island outdoor living room in the Mediterranean.

What time is it now? Memory of the Clock tells me to “Forget About It”. Time to save the doc, shut down the laptop, and dream of my next visit to Capri.






Italiano Americano

Italiano Americano
Vino and Cheeseburger

animation voices

Edu-Taining to and from Rome

Ciao World! Groove on!

Edu-Taining the Global Village