Posts Tagged ‘class’

A Few Choice Words On The Climate Change Hoax

20 Sep

As solar activity drops to high risk century low,
puzzling buzzing scientists—who've for past few decades
or so—insisted planet barely missed flaming new ice age,
all the rage in the Eighties, now had dutifully traded crazy moon
white snow boots for trendy new blue swamp goloshes
as they prepped the weak and the weary for pernicious
man-made global warming trends, projected
death of civilization, unprotected
men of calculation, sober cool thinkers
fighting like cats in the Captain's Tower,
having replaced Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot
competitively, at least two generations ago
with bursting advent of the whimpering class...

unless we stopped all modern activity,
removed it to a more needy neighborhood,
redistributed the wealth, heavy environmental taxation,
daring energy industry transfers nation to nation,
dumping energy back into the glittering soil,
boasting certain good intentions whipped
unintended consequences every time,
so peace could again perfect its reign
upon contemporary balance.

But this slick idea was modified when numbers
secretly fudged melted into gosh darn goo of scandal
from burning lights of world-wide media exposure,
and strange humiliating coincidences,
major players like Al Gore and The Hague
sensing jubilant masses lampooning laughter
even as Big Al the Grand Wizard slinked away
from his own imperial carbon footprint,

only to pop up again in news to sell his failing network
to Al-Jazeera. By that time powers had changed the name
of green movement from Man-made Global warming
to Man-Assisted Global Climate Change.

Shall we say more?

Yep. Cosmological scientists fooled again. Who
do you believe now, a gaggle of government-funded white coats
with pocket calculators fighting over grant money
and other tax subsidies or your own self-serving
senses when you step out the front door
every morning? Certainty is nothing
unless nothing is certainty.

In this age of Internet,
gonzo TV and one's own dilly
dallying daily devotions, everything
he needs to consider his puny effect
in challenging the cosmos, the gifted wing,
more than a few paltry molecules at a time,
man pockets like a broken rhyme.

Isn't that why a few cozy Parisians
rounded up decades of thought,
added some of their own,
codifying existentialism
the 1940s, until a few others
shuttered Sartre's approach for chaos theory,
hamming up for the 1970s, brokering game theory
to police chance, pushing the unified field lovers
back onto existentialism's pearly-gated scientist
hunkered down among his graphs and chunks
of ice, the Yukon Valley Dolls, analyzing
a bucket of balls, which then burst off-camera
his pus-filled cyst, stunning a moth
with some butterfly cough.

I'm merely a journeyman, mind you, but I can smell
ink, the rank differences in accumulative error
between humanity's penchant for gross
speculation and visceral control
while also being limited
by his obvious lack
of precision in husbanding
dormant or active volcanoes,
residual tsunamis, bitter storms,
topical flooding, global wind patterns,
colliding rocks aimed at a rotting nuclear plant
near you and various unsavory activities of our sun,
that ultimate troublemaker, all circulating
about this planet long before we began
questioning its wobble.

Mother At Oglethorpe, Old Friends Pass

19 Mar


Peggy Nix in 1953


Dear Ricky—I made a special trip in to school today just so I could check my e-mail, just hoping I would have something from you. I think your proposal is wonderful. I accept! It would have to be after May 12th and this YWCA award, however.

Well, that would be just a few days after graduation—so all the excitment will surely still be there. Let's make the plans as time grows a little nearer. Thank you! It is really a wonderful proposal. I have so much wanted to visit you and Sue.

Oh, we are on Spring break at the moment. Most of the Seniors have gone to Savannah—for all the St. Patrick's Day stuff—and I had made my reservation to go along. We got a huge block of rooms at a motel for practically nothing, and were going on Oglethrope buses, but at the last minute I realized I really needed a break—time out to sleep and rest, so I cancelled my trip. I really glad I did that. I am truly not as young as I once was—or sometimes think I am. I think I told you I found out that my friend Gerry Pennington Spicuzza died in 1981—well, through the internet once again, I found out that my boyfriend from my highschool days in Ft. Lauderdale and his brother are both dead.

It’s sort of like James Gault said to me at Kitty’s funeral—”There ought to be a law that everybody who grew up together have to have a meal together in celebration of their friendships at least once a year.” I like that idea.
I am going to quit trying to find old friends! Bob Lozier (my boyfriend) died in 1982 (aged 47) from mutiple sclerous(sic) and his brother, Eddie, died of a massive heart attact in 1993. I talked to Bob's wife of all people, and she was very cordial and nice to me. Told me Bob had been ill for seven years—a hard time for them I am sure—and that they have two lovely daughters. I had wanted to talk to Bob or Eddie because they had known Gerry, and I thought talking to someone else who had been in our crowd when we were young would help me get over her death. Cynthia, Bob's wife is not someone I have ever known, but she knew my name and remembered that I had come from Darien. She told me that all of my pictures were "still in there in the dresser drawer where Bob had kept them." I really was stunned—didn't know what to say, but she hastened to say it was okay, that she had actually been in love with Eddie and Eddie had had to marry a girl from New Hampshire while he was in the service, and she had ended up marrying Bob. She said Bob had been a good husband, a wonderful father and a good provider until his illness. We talked to each other sort of like old friends. I told her I was glad Bob had found someone like her to marry. She said if I was ever in Titusville to look her up. It is really sort of wonderful how once you get old you can get past so many things. I was in Ft. Lauderdale about twenty years ago and tried to find the Lozier boys—I couldn't remember their mother's second marriage name, and there were no Loziers in the phone book. I wish I could have found them then and had an opportunity to talk to Bob or Eddie before they died. We were really great friends. Well, I guess there is just one more friend I'd like to find from those days—Ronald Sapp. He lived in our neighborhood too—he taught me how to smoke. (Ha!) I am sort of afraid to try to locate him—I sure don't want to know he's dead too. It's sort of like James Gault said to me at Kitty's funeral—"There ought to be a law that everybody who grew up together have to have a meal together in celebration of their friendships at least once a year." I like that idea.

I am so afraid I am not going to make it thru the biology, but so far, I am passing. Examinations never bothered me before, but for the past couple of years, I just get sick and almost forget everything I ever knew about a subject.
Well, I've rambled on enough to bore you to tears—I am looking forward already to my trip to Washington!

The spring break ends on Monday and its a shoulder back to the wall again. I have six books to read about Alfred Adler in order to write a paper in my history of psych class, four books to read on Autism in order to write a paper about personal identity and soul for my Philosopy of the Mind class, My research on conformity must continue—I need more data so that I can crunch some numbers and come up with a paper presenting my work that is worthy of presentation at Emory (deadline 3/31), I have tons of work to do in order to maintain a passing grade in this 2nd semester of biology, and I am presenting a paper at the Psi Chi (Honor society of Psychology) semposium in Athens (U of Ga.) on April 8th concerning my last semester's research project (I am not a member of the honor society). I have to do all of this, plus go to class, take notes and pass exams in order to graduate. I am so afraid I am not going to make it thru the biology, but so far, I am passing. Examinations never bothered me before, but for the past couple of years, I just get sick and almost forget everything I ever knew about a subject. So, light a few candles for me or something, please.

Love, M

Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1999 10:42:38 DT
From: "Margaret Nix"

[simple_series title="Mother"]

Very Energetic Alpha Particles

08 Jan


Deserving Gods


Date: Friday January 8, 1999

Thanks for testing the search engine. I still haven't heard back from Matt after I posted your success in reaching it, making it work. He was off to the geological library job interview, said they were pleading for help, seriously understaffed.

Meanwhile Bracken called, was planning on returning the HTML book. What??? I shot back. What a flake! And off we were again rehashing the other night's hem and haw. Then I interrupted to tell him about the latest wrinkle in the GSIS client pool and now he says he just wants to make money. I told him I didn't wanna be conned. I rattled around a bit more, insisted he shit or get off the pot, that he dump this stupid anti-work rhetoric and play by the damned rules of normal sweat of the brow, or else go about his own funny business, following up those well-vocalized dreams of being some great writer. He replied that he was ready for a fresh start, new year, writing was all done for now, and all that jazz. I emphasized that he needed to LEARN something and quit all this hype nonsense. He insisted he would. Talked about taking a class. I retorted that he didn't need to take a damned class. I hadn't. With the WAP Webmasters Design & maintenance SIGs about to be formed, a good manual, and some on-the-job training, he would be in like Flynn (if he canned the power trip bullshit).

I then again asked him to explain to me what specifically possessed him to call me up this morning and off his tongue roll the words that he wanted to return my book. He replied that he thought we had resolved to keep somewhat of a soft safe distance between us while "remaining" friends. I told him he needed to get past this ridiculous paranoia that people were out to get him, blackmail him, oroptherwise hurt him along some bogus conspiracy crap like that, and meanwhile I thought he had agreed to accept last week's drunken nonsense for what it was, a drunken circus act, and simply get on with life in the real world instead of whatever it is he lives in...

I dunno. Very energetic alpha particles float around him like an aura, but that lad acts like some half-cocked prima nocta lost without a fluffer sometimes.

Oh yes, his opening paragraph consisted of praise he was passing along about my website (which one I didn't ask), that was offered him from some big name publisher contact of his. I guess that finally validated my work for him. Geesch. What kind of cross do I have to bear with these yahoos. Magnetic attraction I guess, like lonesome molecules attracting like, or the opposite, popping electrons, nagging neutrons hungry for an atomic fusion they know nothing about, or a more compelling karma because their mutual electromagnetic repulsion is stronger than any attraction the nuclear force they admire can muster. Such is the collapse of the post-modern hipster...



"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""