Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Batteries Low and Mau-Mau Memories

Batteries Low and Mau-Mau Memories

Battery Low

My wireless keyboard acts like Obama often does, when its batteries are low.  I type ABCD and it produces  AbC8.  Cyber boy must need a tune-up. 

And what's this "commemorate our common heritage and common sacrifices"?  Granted, we have very limited knowledge about robo-president's past, here on earth, but we do know of the Obama's history with British East Africa (later called Kenya). 

The Obamas were Mau-Maus (why am I suddenly thinking of Otis Day at the Dexter Lake Club?)  Anyway, considering how the British Army dispatched the Mau-Maus, including grampa Bam, I don't think you call that a common sacrifice?  I mean, yeah, a sacrifice by Gramps,  who hear-tell was a bit teched in the head afterwards,  but it was  mostly fun for the Brits, one imagines. 

These Obamas a strange people.
Mua-Mau Memories


Buncha shit
I switched to Firefox 4 last week, and was initially pleased.  Then, after spending more time than I should have had to, to get Firefox to save open windows on closing (still not accomplished), this.  When I tried to post this morning I got the Blogger sign-in page.  I tried about 20 times without success.  Okay, I went to IE and signed right in using the same PW.  But I don't like IE, because it's like an old whore wearing stinky perfume.  It smells like a funeral parlor. But there you have it.

Last week I activated the Verizon cellphone my son Hucker gave me.  I never wanted one, but realized it was nice to have in case I drove to the store and forget where I was. He thought it was nice, because when that happened his mom called and told him, "go find your father."  This Verizon phone met my one criterion; it was a pre-paid account, so no additional Verizon bills. At 99/call, the initial $10 should last through Christmas, at least. 

Anyway, Mo Sup was out of town, so I called her with the number in case she had to reach me.  I also called my daughter and gave her the number.  I had a Dr. appointment, so in the waiting room I decided to check this thing out.  It was dead.  Not only was it dead, but even after charging it up, it was dead.  It's broke.  I tried to access My Verizon,  but I couldn't get in.  Why?  Because by now I had Firefox 4.1, and Roboform was no longer supported.  Since Verizon issues passwords every time you fart, over the years I've collected about a million of them.  I went down the list (using Roboform), but none worked.

 I don't need this shit.  I don't want this shit.   I hate this shit.  What a bunch of shit, wot?

The Neverending Story

Ken Burns Baseball

Ken Burns Civil Rights Special

Over the past few weeks I watched Ken Burns Baseball.  I skipped the  premier run on PBS,  because I wasn't willing to commit to a series that long (and I'm an all-or-nothing personality).  Also, I was quite busy here, saving the union from the spector of  a "President Kerry."  While I enjoyed it, somewhere around the 1960's it struck me that a better title would be Ken Burns Civil Rights: Oppression of the American Negro.

While I acknowledge the injustice of barring Black Americans from playing in the major leagues (through an owner's gentleman's agreement), that was resolved by Jackie Robinson in 1949.  But, no.  Burns is entirely caught up in the American Liberal's concept of original sin, from which there is no atoning for.  Ever.  Even electing a mystery man with no past as president, because he's black, has only led to more racial turmoil.

Jim Piersall (CLICK)
Ken Burns style, of course, is to employ a kind-of deus-ex-machina device.  In his Civil War series, it was the disembodied voice reading poignant letters, or historians like Shelby Foote and FDR apologist Doris Kearns Goodwin chipping in with historical insights, with still pictures in the backdrop.  In Baseball,  Goodwin (is she sleeping with Burns?) quite nicely recalls growing up in Brooklyn, and her passion for the Dodgers.  Baseball aficionado George Will  is there too. Negro League superstar Buck O'Neil was himself a mainstay  He has a kindly, sage visage, and is a very effective story teller (I want to cite Uncle Remus, but can't. Obviously).

So much time (I'm guessing about 30%) is spent on baseball's apartheid, that unless you played for a New York baseball club, or made a error whilst playing for Boston, you may as well had never played.  How can nearly a full day's (22 hours)  focus on the sport miss Cleveland's (Fear Strike Out) Jimmy Piersall? Or knuckleballer Hoyt Wilhelm (whom I watch no-hit the hated Yankees)?  Nuh-uh.  No time.  The list goes on and on.

If you're are a young Black-kid watching this series, you probably  leave with a feeling of bitterness (as did Jackie Robinson himself leave baseball).  No wonder we can't seem to move-on in this country. It's not allowed.

As an aside -  In my yoot,  I despised Curt Flood for challenging baseball's reserve clause, the system whereby a player was owned by a club.  Because it just made no sense to me that government could dictate to the owners how they run their business,  Especially in this, where as Flood points out, the public perception was a battle of millionaire ball-players suing millionaire owners for their freedom.  After watching Flood in this series, I grew to admire, and even like him, without siding with him.  This is not a bitter man, but a man.  Who walked his talk. But here's what made my jaw drop.

In 1994 the players went on strike (causing cancellation the World Series!) over baseball owner's attempt to impose a salary cap.  It came down to a federal judge to determine —

...  if baseball’s leaders had undermined collective bargaining by trying to abandon some of the fundamental ways in which they dealt with the players. The owners’ militancy symbolized their frustrations with player salaries, and with how frequently the union had outflanked management in negotiations and public relations.

The judge ruled for the players  The judge was Sonia Sotomayor