The Washington Video Game

You know how in a video game, one of those shoot-em-up things, you get to the Boss Lair and there he is, mighty and grotesque, sending fireballs and/or rockets at you. He’s right there, and so you fire off a burst of bullets/lasers/magical exploding crystals to finish him of.

But hold on there Sparky! All those shots are wasted. Why? Because between you and the Boss are the Protector Minions. Until you take care of them, your attacks on the boss are futile. Those minions are pretty badass themselves, and until they’re gone, you can’t kill the Boss.

In Washington, the Protector Minions are the Republican leadership in Congress. Two years ago, they (rightly) hated and distrusted Putin and Russia. (Rightly) hating Russia was part of the Republican identity. Now there will be no investigation into a foreign power influencing our elections, because the Protector Minions have formed a circle around the Boss.

At one point I thought that perhaps if something really terrifically damning came out about our president, that the Protector Minions would turn on him, but it’s too late for that. They have already overlooked too much, compromised conservative ideals too much. They burned their ships. There is nothing they can do to save their careers if Trump goes down.

Though perhaps, I hope, when the missing 19% ownership of the Russian state oil company is resolved, at least a few of the Protector Minions would see the writing on the wall. (You might recall that Putin promised Trump 19% of the company if he got elected. In December, a chunk that size + fees changed hands into a black hole.)

The question of the moment is not, “How do you impeach a president?” because the House of Representatives holds the power of impeachment and the Protector Minions will not allow that process to start. So first the House must be wrested from the Protector Minions. The real burning question is, “how do you turn enough of congress against the Protector Minions?”

Brief Movie Synopsis

Based on the trailer I saw, there’s a movie out with the premise, “A hydrogen bomb didn’t kill this thing, so we’re sending in a badass dude with a machine gun.”

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The Sanctity of Life

There are a lot of people who voted for our current president with the logic, “he can burn the country to the ground as long as he kills the Affordable Care Act and overturns Roe v. Wade.” We all have our hot-button issues.

I have a friend who might die if the ACA is repealed. I’m not making this shit up to create a straw man, so let me repeat myself. My friend, someone I worked with for several years, needs ongoing care to stay alive and without the ACA he won’t get it. He seriously might die.

He’s an interesting guy; if I have my stories straight he once taught unarmed combat at an anti-terrorism school in exchange for submachine gun training. You know, just your average liberal snowflake. He used to sit outside the office on his lunch breaks playing exotic (to me) musical instruments.

I wonder if any of the no-ACA right-to-lifers out there would like to sit in a room with him and explain their stand on the sanctity of life, and why they are so intent on letting him die.

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Good Times

I am sitting by the fire with my dog, sipping whiskey, and life is good. The log in the fireplace is the product of a factory, but it burns well. I’m sitting cross-legged, and my foot is going to sleep, but it supports the laptop well. The dog would rather I give her skritchins than use my hands to type, and one way she expresses her preference is by typing for me; I am currently using half my fingers to deflect the dog, while the others fill in for their distracted brethren. The whiskey is an inoffensive blend, as you might expect from Canada, but it goes down nicely.

I would not give up any of those qualifiers (except perhaps the foot gong to sleep); it is the details like that which make the moment real.

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Happy Oughto Oughto Day

Long ago, when the Muddled Calendar was actually present around here (dang, I hope I have the code for that still), one of the Muddled Faithful suggested that February 2th (pronounced twoth), or 02/02, should be celebrated as oughto, oughto day. It is the day you think of what you ought to do.

In the words of a person known only as Funkmaster G-Force:

Its the 02-02-2005 day, or aught two, aught two. We could make it oughto oughto day ,as in Jerry ought-to ought-to have the Monster Within wrapped up by then, or we oughto oughto make this a beer drinkin holiday.

While FGF’s definition made it more of a deadline, I’m unable to achieve that level of planning so I use it as a New Year’s follow-up. In the 31 days since January 2th, you can get a good idea what sort of vector you’re on, vis-a-vis resolutions for the new year.

Here’s how I’m doing:

Weight: Right on schedule. Five weeks, five pounds. I realize they are the easiest pounds, but I’m still stoked.
Bike miles: WAY behind. The rain is partly to blame, not getting into shape as quickly as I thought I would is another factor.
Writing every day: Ugh. I have to just shake off the way the world is going to hell and write my stories about people in worlds going to hell.
All the other resolutions: I… don’t remember what they were. I’m sure I’m doing well at them, though.

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The Young Writer Responds!

Followers of this sprawling mess of a blog will recall that a few days ago, I responded to an offer from someone who claimed to be a young writer looking for work. I get a lot of these requests, and generally they’re from robots. So when I respond to these messages, I am responding to an email spammer. That can make me rather flip. Apparently it also makes me sound Canadian.

Turns out Cliff is real! And he wrote back! And… he was pissed off. And he hates Canada.

Anyway, in fairness, it’s only right that I present his response here.

Hey man,

Not sure what life did to you that made you this way, but its unfortunate. Bottom line is i’m not a very experienced writer, but I one day wanted to try to make some money doing what I love. I know that day is not close, and likely there are some stages in between, one of which is gaining experience wherever I can and just getting my name out there.

So to keep it short, I knew the best way to try to gain experience was to offer to write for free, and since really i’m just looking for experience and to get out of my comfort zone a bit, I’m open to write about pretty much anything. So I made a catch all template and compiled a pretty decent list of websites that in some regard I thought were cool or at least decent enough to attach my beautiful and regal name to, and reached out. I’m sorry I didn’t personalize the reason for Muddled Ramblings making the cut in my template, if I did it might sound like this

Hey Virgin,

I think your site is pretty cool. I’ve always been a fan of blogs that are about nothing and everything at the same time, that contain good writing, and manage to post at least somewhat consistently. I thought maybe my writing, although not on the level of yours (I guess it’s easy to write well when no other humans will talk to you), might be close to a decent enough caliber to get published on your site. I have lots of ideas, but probably the one that’s going to fit best with your site that looks like actual poop, will be a recent interaction I had with my new puppy that deals with me pulling a piece of feces out of his rectum while not in the process not getting and excrement on my prized nike boots. What do you think, would you be into that kind of shit? (see what i did there, with the double entendre for shit, get it, I’m like the Jay Z of crap puns, wink emoji, hehe)

Anyway, hope you’re doing well in Manitoba Quebec or whatever fuckin canadian shit hole you probably hail from, and if you’re not, well i’m sorry about that, I know the effects of inbreeding sometimes manifest later in life.

Tootles,

Cliff
#MAGA

OF COURSE I had to reply. Like moth to flame, I am compelled to fling myself at boorishness. I have to admit, had I looked up #MAGA before I wrote my reply, I might have answered differently — and his letter only reinforces my opinion of those who chant that mantra. Anyway, this is my response:

Ah, Cliff,

You see the thing is that you sent your query to an address known pretty much only to email spammers. I get offers like yours all the time, and they’re invariably from article factories where people are paid to shovel out shit promoting whatever product the factory is marketing that day. Forgive me if I assumed you were one of those. The fact I responded at all is an indication that your pitch was better than most, however; there was at least the glimmer of humanity in it.

Crafting a pitch letter is difficult, but you need to keep in mind whom you are competing against: shit factories and spammers. Links to articles set off the spam alarm, while offering to write is shit-factory move. Personalization is key, as you point out yourself, and is also a good chance for flattery: “I really enjoyed your episode about…” In fact, your response, underneath the anger, contains the seeds of an excellent pitch. Beautiful and regal, even.

Writing and marketing are very different skills, but it pays to have a thick skin when doing either of those things.

I’m glad to hear you’re writing for the love of it, and I wish you success. I’m not sure what it was about my message that flipped your switch — ironically, I thought my reply was most likely to bring a brief smile to a tired shit-factory marketer before being thrown in the trash, as much of the humor was at my own expense. Perhaps next time I’ll try to make it more clear who my assumed audience is. Had you responded with something approaching a civil tone, we might have been able to work something out. I’ve never had a guest writer on the blog, but the idea was starting to appeal to me.

.j.

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The Ten-Album Meme

This meme ran around Facebook for a while, and it was so popular even I saw it. If this list looks familiar to you, it’s because I’ve already posted a version over there. It was a fun exercise, though, and worth expanding a bit and sharing in more intimate environs. After some thought I’d probably change some of these, but it’s not just a list of albums, it’s a list of memories, of little stories set in a time long ago.

The challenge was, without too much thought, to list ten albums that influenced you as a teenager. But “teenage” spans an enormous amount of time in terms of changes to who you are. In those few years I changed more than in all the years since. So I limited myself to my first teen phase: The time when I got my first radio and my first record albums, but before I traveled to England for a year — which was an entire phase of my teen life all by itself.

So here’s the list I came up with over in Facebook land:

Pink Floyd, The Wall — I’ve come to like other Pink Floyd albums much more, but this was was a gigantic concept album that told a story. Isn’t this where we came in?

Electric Light Orchestra, Out of the Blue — A big, ambitious album that needed the double-LP-sized canvas to carry its imagery. Kids these days don’t get the experience of opening up that super-glossy double album to see neon spaceships. Night in the City (oh, oh, oh) Madness at midnight.

BTO, Four Wheel Drive — Fuck yeah. This album spanned my various teens and carried me into adulthood. In a car, loud.

Steve Miller Band, Book of Dreams — I still had dreams of making my own synthesizers when that came out. While my friends were all about “Fly Like an Eagle”, this is the album that did it for me.

Eagles, Best Of (So Far) — That record belonged to my sister, and for a while it was the only pop album in the house, permanently installed on her clamshell record player. (By the end of that album’s life, there were two pennies taped to the tonearm of the record player.) You might think that such repetition would scar a guy, but honestly, while the world seems intent on hating the Eagles these days, I think they wrote some pretty good songs.

Fleetwood Mac, Rumors — More storytelling. I had no idea at the time what disfunction in the band created this magic, but this was the second pop album in the house, followed immediately by the Record Club Deluge. When Tusk came out I was dismayed, as was the world, but historians will revere the latter over the former. Yet the album was not just beautiful music, it was well-constructed, gently moving your mood from one place to another.

Kiss, the album with “Detroit, Rock City” on it — Pompous, giant guitars, the first album that got mom to tell me to turn it down. “Beth” was also there, but come on. If I had this in my digital library I’d listen to it right now.

Robin Trower, Bridge of Sighs — Memorex sponsored the “Blank Tape Special” once a week, playing an entire album starting with “hit the record button… now” followed by a pause to give time for the leader to pass over the heads. (Can you imagine that happening today?) Late at night, headphones on, half asleep in a beanbag chair, letting that bass do its magic. The next morning I wasn’t sure just what I’d heard, but I knew it was great. It took a long time for me to actually hear the music. I kind of went into a trance whenever I put it on.

Boston, Boston — The solid wall of sound. I still hum those tunes. I met a girl named Mary Ann in Wallingford, and that song became the story of my life.

Sex Pistols, Never Mind the Bollocks — I save this for last, but of all these albums it had the greatest impact. At a party in West Hagbourne the album came out and they thought it would blow me away, but it was already part of my vocabulary. This album changed me almost as much as it did the recording industry. Of the ten listed here, this one shaped my view of the world the most. After Punk went mainstream (*ahemRancidahem*) I turned to Riot Grrl for my musical anger.

There you have it.

I have subsequently thought of many albums that could arguably be on the above list, albums I listened to many times, from ABBA to ZZ-Top. But these are the ones that came to mind first, so I’m riding with them.

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