In the early part of this century there was an imaginative musical ensemble, the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players.
In addition to its other attributes, winter is a time of low humidity. That gives static electricity opportunity to romp in its annoying way. It does dangerous things, too, such as making it easy for your city to burn down. We’ve joked for decades how January and February are the months of computer malfunctions, but it’s true: Static electricity caused by low humidity causes all kinds of otherwise inexplicable gremlins to invade our electronic devices.
We’re 12 days away from being rid of Bugout Joe Biden and his technocratic though dimwitted minions. As the coming months unfold and more and more institutions come to realize that backing the Biden organized crime family was not the smart play, we are likely to give thanks that Biden and his monkeys, well, bidened everything up. Their incompetence has been the country’s salvation.
There are things we can know about 2025 within a minuscule margin of error, and it’s worthwhile to know at least some of them ahead of time, for planning purposes. Many of them are things humans cannot change. Others are things that humans could change but probably won’t, for good or bad reasons.
In Austria, 206 years ago this Christmas Eve, one of the most enduring religious (as opposed to secular retail) Christmas songs was sung for the first time. In Athens, Ohio, 10 years ago, I did what I used to do every year after Christmas Eve midnight Mass (no longer held at midnight, I’m sad to say). Savoring, yes, the silence of the night, I would take a long walk through town, breathing it all in and thinking of a place now all buttoned up for (as Clement Moore put it in a poem published five years after the introduction of “Silent Night”) “a long winter’s nap.” Students mostly gone home, residents in their houses enjoying their own Christmas traditions, there were quiet and peace.
In my elementary school, we weren’t given grades of A B C D F as was the standard before and since. Instead, New Haven R-II school employed a different set of letters that meant the same thing. They were E S M I F. I have no idea how this came to pass, but I hope it was because some person seeking a doctorate in education realized that his dissertation was due tomorrow and he had nothing. Frankly, I could get behind that kind of education theory. Beats modern pedagogy, anyway.
It’s important, I think, to begin by saying that I’m writing this on my television, as I sit on the couch 10 feet away and use a wireless keyboard.
Yes, it is a stunt, but one in service of point. In that respect, it’s a little bit like the old television ads that began, “We’ve replaced the coffee in this fine restaurant with Folger’s Crystals to prove a point.” In this case, though, the point is not that even if you have enough money to dine above your station, your tastes are still probably those of a field hand.
Here we are, at sort of the end of the beginning of the spending orgy that starts the annual accumulation of debt in honor of the birth of Jesus. While the season should involve debt, it’s not the kind that can be redeemed by money and not the kind owed to the credit card company.
Most every publication in the country has run at least one column or “lifestyle” story this month about how to get along with relatives on Thanksgiving even though they are evil fascists. (To which I’d add, or football fans.)
Was it fate or just the path of least resistance? It’s been 20 years and I still don’t know.
In the autumn of 2004 circumstances too long and boring to explain gave me the opportunity to live pretty much anywhere I wanted. There was no particular reason, no special interest, leading me to one place over another.