It's Over. America Remains Ours

There comes a time when one must realize and accept that one's argument lost.  This is something that every adult experiences.

It needn't mean accepting that you were wrong. Or that you didn't "deserve" to win.  No, just that you didn't. You lost. The game's over. It is time to move on. To be quiet. To go home.

I can't  but think that any objective viewer cannot help but see that we here in America have reached such a time. -That the big "argument" that has been going on -- the one about the underlying worth of our nation and the value of the principles on which it was built -- has been publicly won. And that in the nation's favor.

Yes, you can still think that we, the winners of that debate, were wrong, but the fight is in fact over. Now all that's left is acceptance of that fact, or denial and self pity.

In a real sense that argument was won a year ago last November. Or, one could argue, even before that, when Donald Trump took out all his adversaries and got the Republican nomination.  That because among his adversaries was a voice for every argument for what makes up good government here in America.  The other side in the election itself was simply the remnants of power trying to hold on to the same -- with old, stale, ideas and jaded, empty, promises.

But the losing side on that clear November night a year past didn't, couldn't, wouldn't accept it. They were certain that they were somehow right -- that they had been all along -- and that all that was needed was a bit of time and some loud, coordinated, voices of "reason" -- and then the nation as a whole would see and follow and be thankful.

Uh uh. 'Twas not to be.

This past week or so has, to borrow a phrase, "put the kibosh" on all of that.  The Stormy Daniel debacle on CBS's 60 Minutes, the news out of Korea (how funny -- yes, and revealing -- to see those two things set side-by-side as if they were equals), the restoration of the bull market on Wall Street, and now... and now...  the Roseanne show revival and its 18 million plus viewers.

You, Dear Coasties, lost.
You in editorial position at the NY Times and the WaPo, you lost.
You Hollywood types -- despite all your self-assurances (to say nothing of your self-congratulations) and despite your pretty faces and lovely gowns, you lost.
You in the news rooms, with your deep, serious, sonorous, voices, you lost.

We the people listened. We were unimpressed.

Your machinations of power, your lies, your corruption and attempts at control. They all failed.

You may still believe in yourselves -- in your supposed cause (whatever that may be?) -- but no one else does. In fact we are no longer even really listening. Well, except for a chuckle.

Trump not only won on election night, but he was won again and again ever since.

You can deny it. But you cannot any longer even pretend to be winning.

It's over.
Go home.
Be quiet.

America remains ours.

A slightly modified form of this article appeared on
American Thinker.

My Love of 1950s Sci-Fi. Why?

For a few days I've been participating in a really fun discussion on a forum of fellow musicians that focuses on 1950s Science Fiction films.  I was kind of amazed how many folks there love these as much as I do.  And not just older guys either.  Many younger ones who discovered them a while back, or even more recently, via TV and cable.

After several pages of discussion on each of our favorites -- many of which were shared -- one member new to the conversation asked about the thus far unmentioned Japanese sci-fi.  Films such as 1954's Godzilla.

One or two forum members said they liked those films, most had nothing to say.  I said I wasn't a huge fan, but had no idea why.

As is my want that got me thinking.  Is there a "why"?   And the answer is yes.  Here is what, after some thought, I concluded:

Sci-fi films of the fifties were in several ways much like another motion picture genre:  The American western.  Both were entirely products of the American culture of the time -- and for both genres that was a big part of their appeal.

Both westerns and sci-fi typically focused on situations of public risk, and then found the answer in the actions of an individual, often an outsider -- one who was generally viewed as unimportant and sometimes even looked down upon.

In the western genre such were Shane, the gunfighter who enters a community by chance, acts on principle beyond self, and saves that community from an 'alien' force -- he then moves on. Or Will  Kane in High Noon -- an older, retiring, lawman who is himself threatened by a murderous 'alien' force -- and then, after years of serving the town, finds himself totally alone, with everyone else in denial, thinking that the danger is his alone and one from which he should simply flee.  Kane, too, saves the town. Then he moves on.

Fifties sci-fi in much like that.  The "hero" is typically a nobody -- a teenager from outside the 'in group' -- such as "Steve," played by Steve McQueen, in 1958's  The Blob. Or the quiet geologist in "The Monolith Monsters."

Each of these become aware of the threat and takes charge, first for the care of an early victim of the 'monster', (an old man in The Blob, a little school girl in the Monolith Monsters), then for the entire town when the authorities -- the police (The Blob) or the state's governor (The Monolith Monsters) -- gets tied up with 'more important' things.

There have been popular westerns and sci-fi made elsewhere. Sergio Leone's westerns, The Man With No Name trilogy for instance, and sci-fi such as those popular 1950s Japanese monster films (of which Godzilla is just one).  These films have much to recommend them of an for themselves, but they are  very different from what American fifties westerns and sci-fi films culturally represented. Indeed -- and interestingly -- they are in many ways much more akin to what today's society has become.  Places where individuals are at best anti-heroes.  -Where communal salvation comes -- if it comes at all --  not so much from an average individual putting himself on the line, but from the top down -- the work of government agencies and the like. Or some magically empowered "super hero." A world where everyday men and women are basically seen as victims; as mere fodder, grist for the mill.

Much that has filled the news of late has been just this:  The cry for someone -- not meaning some individual, but government -- to "do something." To remove the threats. Yes, and people's fears.

How interesting it was, then, for me to see how, even unrealized, there was in my pre-teen years a strong attachment to that old, and to some, outdated, American ideal. A way of viewing life mythologized in these film forms that focused on an individual acting with conscience and strength. On this being central to a community's well-being.

Yeah, I'm old school.  And that in part explains why I'd often prefer to fill a Sunday afternoon with these old sci-fi films than the modern variety -- those where the focus in on wowing the film viewer with special effects and emphasizing how close we all are to death and destruction -- unless "somebody (else) does something."

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The Homeless -- "What would you do?"

I recently posted to Facebook an editorial from the L.A. Times about that city's (and others roundabout) severe and still growing problem with "the homeless." The troubled people, their needs, the terribly destructive affect such are bringing to the city's quality of life.  Yes, and the sometimes serious health crises their rapidly increasing presence has brought in its wake.

A long-time friend who is a resident in a community some miles from L.A. shared a caring and thoughtful response. He spoke of  his "mixed feelings about the group of homeless who roam around the park not more than a mile from my home" who "while relatively peaceful ...litter the grounds with all kinds of refuse." Of how "the recreational area where my children played are empty when the homeless sleep on the benches nearby and drive the families away" and how such have taken up residence, too, in the local library. About how "the staff is politely accommodating (as required by law) but must citizens put up with the common areas being used as a toilet?"

He spoke of his own concerns and actvity trying to find even a workable short term solution, and that while recognizing that "what is ultimately going to work to erase homelessness is anybody’s guess."

His thoughtful, deeply felt, and much appreciated comment ended with a question: "...how would you handle a sudden influx of the homeless into P________?"

Here, posted for my regular blog readers, was my response...

*****

K___, your's was a thoughtful answer -- deserving of more than a reply -- worthy of thought. And one that lead me to both think -- and to realize how ludicrous it was for me to do so while in my warm and comfortable home, surrounded by love and beauty, while making blueberry pancakes -- a long-time Sunday ritual -- to bring into my always smiling wife who is snugly wrapped in a blanket.

Where to even start? (and how it keep it appropriate-to-the-venue short?)

First off I realized that no frank answer would make for a good Hallmark Channel presentation. 

I started yet smaller... What if some down-on-their-luck people started an encampment somewhere on my property? Would I allow that?

No. 

I do keep it open for hikers, hunters, bird watchers, picnickers, and have had youths build blinds and small encampments -- a campfire and so forth. Such were welcome. But to take up residence? No.

Part of that is because such grows. One family becomes two then twelve. Appreciation becomes a right. And the law, generally, is so open to "interpretation" that I could not count on it if such became my only recourse.

But then what would I do? 

First find if they were locals. Then, if yes, see if the local family services could help. The goal even there would be for them to fairly quickly vacate.

But why the question of whether they were locals? The answer to me is in nature -- man's nature. Individual, family, tribe. I can care about the abstractions of "fairness" and "justice." But cannot care for the world. Big things for short periods. Small things for long periods. 

Okay, what about in a public park?

Basically the same. The town's shared spaces are just that -- the towns people's shared community spaces. The bigger "family." ("Tribe?)

No, out they must go. Not preferably cruelly, but go they must.

But where? 

The best answer is the old one: "Across the tracks."

That was what American society -- one built on personal liberty and responsibility -- came up with. For those who by choice, genetics, chance -- whatever -- had a non community-values way of living. They were free to do so -- "across the tracks."

Thus there was "the Bowery." Thus there was the "combat zone." Bars, shooting galleries, hookers, families with no responsible heads -- all of that.

Nope -- nothing "Hallmark" about it.

Does such "work"? Not in an idealized way. But better than anything else. For one it is self-contained.For another, self limiting. And nothing else that I have seen is.

"If you build it they will come."

Yup. Public housing. Free this and that. 

Free universities too I guess. But make them open to all, and not admission-standards based -- and well, we see where that took us. To just what your local library has become. And public rest rooms. And parks.

Now your local situation is not the same. The barn door was left open. The cows are wherever. The careful farmer no longer holds sway. 

How to clean up that mess "neatly" I have no idea. Today even what used to be called "slum clearance" is seen as something else. The once honored "smart" and "industrious" are today seen as the thieves. Of places. Of other's cultures. 

Nope. Do what you can. Be kind as you can. Genuinely -- not as mere manners. But kindness includes protecting what is good. What brings others here. They want it too! 

Fair enough. You want it? Here is how you get it... (and it is not what you wish to hear).

Is that an answer?

*****

Is it?

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