Chamblee54

Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2022 Part Three

Posted in Library of Congress, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 27, 2022


Part Three of the 2022 chamblee54 report on The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is here. (BALL wear LIT uhn) Parts one and two are there. Pictures are from The Library of Congress.

Jimothy walked into the joint like he owned the place, which he did, but not like a typical owner of a place like this; more like a classy, silver spoon owner, except not classy like wearing tuxedos to horse dancing and equine NASCAR event classy, but an eating a gas station hotdog with a knife and fork, napkin on his lap kind of classy. Elliott Cox, Clover, SC

Doris learned two things working at the Post Office—the first was that when Jake came in and asked her if she wanted to see a really big johnson, he didn’t mean he wanted her to go through The Special Limited Presidents stamp collection, and the second was that she didn’t need to head outside at the end of each shift with a bag of envelops and a trowel because it turned out the dead letters were not, in fact, actually dead. Susanne Antonetta, Bellingham, WA

While scrolling through the online catalog of the Acme website trying to decide if he should order rocket roller skates, TNT, and an anvil, or—Fool-Me-Twice fake tunnel paint, the Coyote suddenly realized, ‘Hey, I could just order food.’ Rusty Hamilton, Candby, OR

I’d just lost my third game of solitaire in a row, and was eyeing my last two Chesterfields, when she walked in, wearing an outfit that said “hospital orderly” but whispered “French maid” (a couple of the buttons were straining, but I didn’t feel sorry for them) . . . there was a package on her hip and a question on her lips—she had the legs of a supermodel, long and shapely: “Shall I leave them here on the slab, Dr. Frankenstein?”—and when a dame’s got gams like that, it’s hard to say no, especially when they’re so fresh. Benson Smith, Somerville, MA

As Bridgett the Discount Dominatrix flicked the length of clothesline she used as a whip, he licked the ball gag, which was really a tennis ball held in place by a length of duct tape, and thought, *Dad was right, you really do get what you pay for.” Andrew Nance, St. Augustine, FL

Pfandrilys was a classic beauty of her star-faring race, and Brian’s love was immediate, their kisses were magical, if scaly, and the alien sex was mind-blowing, and if only Brian had read more exobiology, perhaps he wouldn’t have been surprised that, when all was done, and they lay spent in each other’s arms, she bit his head off. Thomas Hill, Mountain View, CA

Whoever figured out that combining basic cyber-bullying techniques with third-generation sex robot AI technology would tap a gigantic market among submissives was a freaking genius, mused Mistress Tiffany 3.1 as she toweled off and plugged herself in to recharge.
G. Andrew Lundberg, Los Angeles, CA

Whenever Elvis graced the bar stools at the steakhouse, he never failed to order a rare steak, bordering raw, and oozing greasily at the edges; and during the interviews after the musician’s untimely death, none of the waiters could deny that he loved meat tender.
Leah Dagenbach, Loveland, OH

“Not again!” exclaimed Dusty the absent-minded trail boss, as he suddenly realized that he’d led the cattle drive to the wrong tumbleweed-infested prairie town, although a good time was soon had by all at The Saddle Sore Saloon, especially when the nattily dressed piano player started taking musical requests, including the lively square dance tune “Don’t Cry On My Shoulders ‘Cause You’re Rustin’ My Spurs.” Joanne Morcom, Calgary, Alberta,

Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2022 Part Two

Posted in Book Reports, Commodity Wisdom, GSU photo archive by chamblee54 on August 26, 2022


Part Two of the 2022 chamblee54 report on The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest is here. (BALL wear LIT uhn) Parts one and three are there. Pictures for this affair are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.”

It was a dark and stormy night, made darker still by the melancholy that gripped the drainpipes of my soul in a plumber’s wrench of despair that opened the u-trap of my consciousness to remove the last, great greaseball of hope. Jim Anderson, Flushing, MI

I stood transfixed at the eerie sight before me, so strange, so odd, so peculiar, so weird, so bizarre, so eldritch—Gods, mine ocular ducts weren’t meant to witness such blasphemous heresy—so indescribable, beyond all possible descriptions, at least in any kind of adjectival way!
Gabriel Burch, Edmond, OK

Even though the heavy snow forecast threatened transportation problems at the mountain pass leading to the social engagement of the season, every invited member of the party had RSVPed in the affirmative, for the single reason that the Donner family chef was nationally recognized for his all-vegan menu. John Hardi, Falls Church, VA

Clear, plump jellyfish lay scattered across the beach, like so many discarded breast implants.
Sara Corris, Brooklyn, NY

The trees sighed with pleasure as the wind caressed their limbs, the lake lapped contentedly at the shore, the grass waved cheerily to all and sundry, and the moon smiled benignly between the playful clouds while George buried his latest victim. Nick Waites, Bishop, Auckland, UK

“The clouds resembled an endless roll of runaway toilet paper that unspooled itself into a massive fluffy pile, the sound of the lightning banged like hundreds of inadvertently dropped toilet seats, and the rain quickly flooded the street and spilled over the curb like a toilet clogged with who-knows-what,” reported eyewitness to the sudden storm and flash flood, Steve Talbot of Steve’s Plumbing. Mark Meiches, Dallas, TX

The pallid North Dakota winter coughed its phlegmy wind in my face, spattering my face with its icy spittle. Andrea Dumas, West Fargo, ND

I’m very very good and I know this because momma told me and all her bridge friends that I was an angel she got when the stork dropped me from the sky and she says I’m such a good girl so if you want to be with a real honest to goodness angel tonight come on down to the corner of Bitcoin and Pussycat Way for a very special time with an angel who accepts American Express.
Sharon Durken, Port Wing, WI

When Big Rita was on parade in a tight skirt, moving like a burlap bag full of bobcats, the men in town sat up and took notice, knowing the hunt was on, for she had run the gamut from wealthy philanthropists to dopeheads and bikers, though, until today, she had maintained a shred of dignity by always rebuffing English professors. John Hardi, Falls Church, VA

White Boy

Posted in Poem by chamblee54 on August 25, 2022

Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest 2022

Posted in Library of Congress, The English Language, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 24, 2022


The Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest has announced the results of the 2022 competition. Every year, B-LFC solicits opening sentences for bad novels. The “winners” of this competition receive heartfelt condolences from all concerned. Chamblee54 uses B-LFC as an excuse for text to go between pictures every year. Parts two and three are available. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.

As a “value added service,” chamblee54 compiles a list of noteworthy author names and locations. None of the participants are from Georgia. This years notables: Brent Guernsey, Springfield, VA, Joe Tussey, Daniels, WV, Vivien Doyle, Buxton, Derbyshire, UK, Neil Prowd, Ballarat, Victoria, Australia, Emily Ho, Los Angeles, CA, Jim Anderson, Flushing, MI, Jordan Peace, Mountlake Terrace, WA, Nicole Postorino, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, Mark Meiches, Dallas, TX, Andrea Dumas, West Fargo, ND, Joanne Morcom, Calgary, Alberta, Canada, Sharon Durken, Port Wing, WI, Leah Dagenbach, Loveland, OH.

“Hoist the mainsail ye accursed swine” shouted the Captain over the roar of the waves as the ship was tossed like a cork dropped from a wine bottle into a jacuzzi when the faucet is wide open and the jets are running full blast and one has just settled into the water with a glass of red wine to ease the aches and pains after a day of hard labor raking leaves from the front yard.
Joe Tussey, Daniels, WV

It was only when the booming voice of the Sergeant-at-Arms rang out declaiming the surprising order for each and every member of the firing squad to shoot the Sergeant-at-Arms himself and then turn their rifles on each other, an order assiduously followed by the well-trained soldiers, that the cigarette-smoking, blindfolded Gerry Corker truly appreciated the seemingly endless hours his mother had denied him on the baseball field during his lonely childhood, instead sending him every afternoon to Crazy Barney’s School of Mimicry and Ventriloquism.
John Shafer, Tonbridge, Kent, UK

Three bears arrived at their den to discover a yellow haired girl sleeping, and as she was neither too hot nor too cold, neither too soft nor too hard, but just right, they ate her.
Neil Prowd, Ballarat, Victoria, Australia

The Director of Child Protective Services was aghast, and needed clarification, “Let me get this straight—You were rocking your baby on the tree top, and when the wind blew, the cradle rocked and the bough broke, the cradle fell, and down came baby, cradle and all?” John Tracy, Palm Desert, CA

The detectives wore booties, body suits, hair nets, masks and gloves and longed for the good old days when they could poke a corpse with the toes of their wingtips if they damn well felt like it.
Jim Anderson, Flushing, MI

They called Rock Mahon the original hard-boiled detective, and it wasn’t because of his gravelly voice, or his crusty manner, or his chiseled jaw, or his cement-like abs, or his feldspar fists, or his iron incorruptibility, or his calcite cynicism, or his uzonite unsentimentality, but because of his goddamned, geezly, infuriating habit of polluting every crime scene with shells dropped from the hard-boiled eggs he munched without surcease. Barbara Stevenson, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada

The heat blanketed the small village in much the same way a body bag blankets a murder victim, except that a body bag is usually black, which the heat wasn’t, as heat is colorless, and the village wasn’t dead, which a murder victim usually is. Eric Rice, Madison, WI

It was a Dark ‘n Stormy night: Dark n’ Stormy cocktails were half-off at Tata’s, the breast-themed barbeque chicken restaurant. Ross Ozarka, Auckland, New Zealand

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell mainly in the plain —except for occasional intervals when it was checked by Andalusian fields full of grain (for it is in Spain that our story takes place)—and the heroine of our story, Pam Plona, was in the middle of giving birth to a minotaur after running with the bulls. Joe McKenna, Iowa City, IA

Intellectual Bulimia

Posted in Georgia History, GSU photo archive, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 23, 2022

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One of the touted TED talks in the weekly email is Color blind or color brave? It is by Mellody Hobson, a POC in the investment business. It is the standard call to talk more about race. Talk, talk, talk, and talk some more. The word listen is not used.

At the 3:13 mark, Mrs. Hobson makes a remarkable statement. “Now I know there are people out there who will say that the election of Barack Obama meant that it was the end of racial discrimination for all eternity, right?” (Yes, this is a TED talk.) It is possible that someone has said that. There are also people who say the earth is flat.

PG asked Mr. Google about this. The top two results are about the TED talk. The third result is an article in Forbes magazine, Racism In America Is Over. It is written by John McWhorter, one of the “black guys at Bloggingheads.tv.” Dr. McWhorter does say racism is over, sort of. The problems that remain are a lot worse. Too much food for thought, for a population with intellectual bulimia.

There is a quote in the Forbes article that is pure gold.
“When decrying racism opens no door and teaches no skill, it becomes a schoolroom tattletale affair. It is unworthy of all of us: “He’s just a racist” intoned like “nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah!””
There are a lot more results. PG is getting tired of looking. If you want to see for yourself, google “the election of Barack Obama meant that it was the end of racial discrimination for all eternity.” Except for a rogue title editor at Forbes, almost nobody has said that. This is a repost. Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

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‘Traumatic Childhood’ After Mom’s Murder

Posted in Library of Congress, Weekly Notes by chamblee54 on August 22, 2022


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The Best Way to Cheer Yourself Is to Try to Cheer Somebody Else Up
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Robert Blake’s Daughter Speaks Out About ‘Traumatic Childhood’ After Mom’s Murder
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rachel glaser ~ flannery ph.d ~ tetanic ~ nejm ~ brandon tatum
krishnamurti ~ unconscionable. ~ 25 worst neighborhoods ~ relevation ~ chicago council surveyrepost ~ Dumpster ~ abortion rates ~ analogies in chains ~ pronoun pin
duck ~ repost. ~ flannery ~ flannery racist ~ sunday long read
the river ~ flannery o’connor ~ disco duck ~ vic romero ~ lyttle lytton
repost ~ bored ape yc ~ 120 minutes ~ chen chen ~ zorn substack
jussie smollett ~ terrorism works ~ boen wang ~ infinities ~ gni ~ otessa moshfegh
mama kim ~ stochastic terrorism ~ cdc monkeypox ~ synanon ~ sacred geometry ~ honest woman
@chamblee54 “When the rich rob the poor, it’s called business. When the poor fight back, it’s called violence.” … source … When the poor rob the memory of the rich, it’s called facebook ~ At the spring gathering, I had conversations about the labyrinth. I decided to make a picture of one when I got home. The final size is 11″x17″. The medium is sticker paper on plastic film, creating an image when lit from behind. This is similar to stained glass. The labyrinth is a powerful instrument of transformation. Unfortunately, a two dimensional labyrinth image is boring. For this image, I chose to use the twisted sister of the labyrinth, the maze. The colors were chosen for visual appeal, without any symbolic meaning. If the viewer wants to assign meaning to these colors, that is their privilege ~ The videographer story was not homophobic as much as dumb. He was afraid of being raped by a bunch of gay nudists. The truth is, those queens were more likely to want the videographer to rape them. ~ “Unsurprisingly, hate-speech laws have continued to expand, vigorously enforced by constabularies who find persecuting Twitter perps more rewardingly trendy, and less dangerous, than arresting armed burglars.” ~ @jonkay I just got sent the 136 pages (!!!) of slides for the “decolonization” training at a B.C. government office. Let’s take a look, shall we? It starts with the two instructors “acknowledging [their] positionality and power” … ~ “Drawing on Critical Race Theory and whiteness studies, Chapter One analyzes the ways in which O’Connor critiques the unjust racial practices of the South in her stories and other writings, yet unconsciously upholds them.” ~ Mark 6:4 But Jesus said unto them, A prophet is not without honour, but in his own country, and among his own kin, and in his own house. ~ @existentialcoms I don’t think people should pile on when someone comes out with a really stupid “leftist” critique of a novel or whatever, because here’s the thing, we can’t expect every leftist to be smart. Complete and total dumbasses must have a place in our movement too. … history has shown that without dumbasses on board you will never reach the critical mass needed to affect change ~ pictures today are from The Library of Congress. ~ selah

Look At All That Money

Posted in Georgia History, Library of Congress, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 21, 2022


It started Wednesday. Steve put a note on facebook that he needed a ride, from midtown to south atlanta, sometime early afternoon thursday. It had a medical sound to it. PG had been feeling the need to do a good deed, and sent a reply. After various negotiations, PG agreed to meet Steve on Howell Mill Road at 8:30am. They go back to South Atlanta when it was all over.

Thursday started at 7:40. I-85 is crowded, as usual, but moving. After several folders on the thumb drive, PG settled on Aphex Twin. This has a science fiction feel… going down an eight lane freeway, jam packed with modern vehicles, past ghastly condo projects, before you get to the megabuck medical center. Judy Jetson is a recovery nurse.

The first sign of induction into the medical machine is getting a parking ticket. The instructions were to go to level p6 of parking. The signs were small and confusing. It took a bit of searching to find p6. By this time, Steve had called from the surgery center. He had forgotten PG’s last name.

You walk into the surgery center. Steve caught a much appreciated lyft. The driver has to stay in the building all day. They can only leave the surgery waiting room after Steve goes back to be prepped. This waiting room has a tv, with the sound cut up loud. On the tv, some lady entertainer is singing, and the audience shrieks. It is not pleasant to listen to.

After a while, Steve goes back into the machine. PG goes down to the lobby, and is directed to the cafe. $2.35 later, PG walks out with a cup of coffee. The downstairs lobby is a marvel. Big, QUIET, full of the latest in medical interior design. Generous funding is invested in this facility.

The only problem is the seating area. There are two chairs on either side of a column. A small table is in front of the column. Instead of being in the center, between the two chairs, the table is off to one side. This lack of balance disturbs PG.

Soon, PG is back in the noisy waiting room. He is ushered into a prep area. Steve is in a surgery costume, with blood pressure cuff, iv drip, and other medical paraphernalia strategically positioned. Every where you look, you see $tate-of-the-art nurse toys. PG is reminded of the time when he heard a man say, regarding a field of cattle, look at all that money.

The procedure is scheduled for 10:30. For some reason, PG is sitting by Steve this whole time. It should be noted that PG and Steve are somewhere in the spectrum between friend and acquaintance. While there is mutual enjoyment of company, the two are not terribly close. The recovery instructions that PG hears are promptly forgotten. The Piedmont buddy system does have its advantages. Once, at a competing facility, PG lay alone, prepped and glasses-less, for 45 minutes. The only advantage to that was the take-home socks that are part of the surgery outfit. Steve got some Dunwoody banana yellow socks, while PG got vibrant purple.

Steve goes back into the procedure portal, and PG goes downstairs to the quiet lobby. His book for today is Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas, read in fits and starts. The other people in the lobby are scrutinized. Places to go meditate are considered, but nothing has the perfect feng shui. Soon, a call from the facility comes. PG cannot get to his phone in time to answer. Since the surgery center is just one flight up, PG goes upstairs. All the call said was that everything was going well. PG decided to stay in the noisy waiting room, but not before getting the lady to cut down the sound on the tv. By now, it is The View, with Whoopi Goldberg going Whoo Pee Doo, in technicolor and dolby sound, to the horror of The View‘s blonde of the moment.

At 12:14, PG is ushered into the Physicians Consultation room. The PC room is a marvel. Seven feet wide, seven feet long, eight feet tall. Three chairs, a lamp, a table, a land line phone, and a tasteful framed print. Walls painted JAP beige, with not a trace of dirt to be seen. PG wishes he could have spent all his waiting time in here. At 12:37 the surgeon stuck his head in the door to say all was well. At 12:43, PG was forced to leave the PC, to make room for the next friend-of-a-procedure.

The next stop was the recovery resort, which looked very similar to the prep spa. PG sat in the chair. Small talk was made, and recovery instructions read. Eventually, it was time to get the vehicle, and drive to the patient pickup spot. PG got a couple of feet out the door, and decided to go back inside to use the restroom. Coming out of somewhere, a familiar face walked by. PG knew who it was, as did the familiar face. Somehow, when you see someone unexpectedly in a medical facility, you wonder what the story is. The two made nervous small talk for a minute, and hurried on.

PG and Steve got on the freeway, still full of vehicles. The drug store was on Boulevard. After that, the route went past the prison, and down into the ninth most dangerous neighborhood in America. The patient was dropped off, goodbyes were said, and PG got back on the interstate to go back to Brookhaven. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. This is a pre-COVID repost.

Dump

Posted in History, Library of Congress, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 20, 2022


You have probably heard Donald Trump quoted as saying the White House is a dump. The quote was in a Sports Illustrated article, First Golfer: Donald Trump’s relationship with golf has never been more complicated. This comment is one of many unflattering comments about DJT in the article. Once the dump comment got publicity, it was *officially* denied. @realDonaldTrump “I love the White House, one of the most beautiful buildings (homes) I have ever seen. But Fake News said I called it a dump – TOTALLY UNTRUE” This is a repost.

Facebook jumped into the matter with a tasteful meme. The top part is the TrumpDump comment. The bottom part is a picture of BHO, with a quote: “In the evening, when Michelle and the girls have gone to bed, I sometimes walk down the hall to a room Abraham Lincoln used as his office. It contains an original copy of the Gettysburg Address, written in Lincoln’s own hand. …”

Most BHO quotes are legitimate. He is still a celebrity, and a record of his every word exists. It is not like historic quote magnets like Marilyn Monroe and Mark Twain. When you see a beautifully illustrated quote, with a famous dead person at the bottom, the odds are very good that the famous dead person did not say it.

This does not stop a skeptic like PG. Once you get started investigating, there is no telling what you are going to find. The BHO quote is documented by Huffington Post, Obama Pens Letter Commemorating Gettysburg Address On 150th Anniversary Of Remarks. The Lincoln bedroom at the White House does have one of the Copies of the Gettysburg Address.

The comments by BHO were originally posted at WhiteHouse.gov. When you follow the HuffPo link, you see this: “Thank you for your interest in this subject. Stay tuned as we continue to update whitehouse.gov.” The letter from BHO is no longer on WhiteHouse.gov. A cached copy is available.

Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

Ivermectin

Posted in Library of Congress, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 19, 2022


This is a repost from 2021. … I had never heard of Ivermectin (IVM) before June 22, 2021. That was the day of the “emergency episode” of the Joe Rogan Experience, featuring Bret Weinstein & Dr. Pierre Kory. The story they told was jaw dropping. An established drug, Ivermectin, was showing great promise against Covid 19. IVM worked both as a treatment, and as a prophylactic against infection. There were stories about use in Mexico and India, with positive results. Unfortunately, the patent on IVM had expired. There was no promise of windfall profits to encourage lab testing. I saw about 45 minutes of the show, and felt confused by all the conflicting information.

@BretWeinstein “YouTube just demonetized both DarkHorse channels, wiping out more than half our family income. Their message: Drop the science and stick to the narrative—or else. No, YouTube. Review *this* video. #CensorshipKills, belts tighten, incomes can be replaced.” Dr. Weinstein was promptly punished for his good deed. Apparently, someone in the government/pharmaceutical/google collaborative does not want to have a discussion of IVM.

Fifty years ago, the target of FDA ire was marijuana. Stories of potential medical uses had been circulating for years. However, there was little research. “In 1970, the federal government classified marijuana as an illegal, highly addictive drug with no medical value, making research harder to do.” Any medical benefits could be obtained through the use of synthetic, industrial chemical medicine.

In the eight weeks after the Rogan emergency, Covid has gotten worse. The vaccine euphoria has been replaced by a delta depression. People are looking for solutions, and not believing what big brother says. They heard about IVM, and are not accepting the official story. Unfortunately, many people are taking matters into their own hands, and buying IVM from livestock suppliers. A festive alert from Mississippi State Department of Health notes “Animal drugs are highly concentrated for large animals and can be highly toxic in humans.”

I began to ask questions after the memes started popping up. I went to google, with the question is ivermectin approved for humans? With one exception, the first page of google was devoted to tabloid nonsense. While there are scientific documents the message can be reduced to this tweet: @US_FDA “You are not a horse. You are not a cow. Seriously, y’all. Stop it.”

Google is not the only search engine, so far. When you go elsewhere, or ask different questions, a different story emerges. “Hailed as a wonder drug for tropical diseases, ivermectin is used to treat parasitic infections in humans, pets, and livestock. This drug has alleviated the burden of river blindness and strongyloidiasis for millions of people.” Yes, IVM “has been established as safe for human use.” Humans require a different dosage than livestock.

The FDA-approved drug ivermectin inhibits the replication of SARS-CoV-2 in vitro is the one pro-IVM result on the google first page. As the title indicates, this is a scientific paper. The bullet points are enlightening: “Ivermectin is an inhibitor of the COVID-19 causative virus (SARS-CoV-2) in vitro. ~ A single treatment able to effect ~5000-fold reduction in virus at 48 h in cell culture. ~ Ivermectin is FDA-approved for parasitic infections, and therefore has a potential for repurposing. ~ Ivermectin is widely available, due to its inclusion on the WHO model list of essential medicines.”

“Ivermectin is an FDA-approved broad-spectrum antiparasitic agent with demonstrated antiviral activity against a number of DNA and RNA viruses, including severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2). Despite this promise, the antiviral activity of ivermectin has not been consistently proven in vivo. While ivermectin’s activity against SARS-CoV-2 is currently under investigation in patients, insufficient emphasis has been placed on formulation challenges. Here, we discuss challenges surrounding the use of ivermectin in the context of COVID-19. and how novel formulations employing micro- and nanotechnologies may address these concerns.”

River blindness is an IVM success story mentioned on the Rogan emergency. “River blindness (onchocerciasis) is caused by the parasitic worm Onchocerca volvulus …causes severe itching, disfiguring skin conditions and visual impairment, including blindness. More than 99% of infected people live in 31 African countries. Ivermectin, the only drug currently in use, distributed annually to entire communities living in endemic areas, has significantly reduced river blindness … ”

Weinstein & Kory discussed using IVM as a Covid treatment in several foreign countries. Since this post is getting TL/DR, there will be no quotes from these stories. (one two three four five) Online Prescription Ivermectin is available. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress. The spell check suggestions for Ivermectin: Invective, Interactive.

Empathy

Posted in Commodity Wisdom, Georgia History, Library of Congress by chamblee54 on August 18, 2022


Today’s production is two stories from 2008. PG walked down New Peachtree Road. This is Atlanta, where there are a couple of hundred roads named Peachtree. No one seems to mind that most of the peach farms are south of Macon. The peaches grow a lot better there. They fuzz comes in heavier, and the pits are pittier. One time Dagwood Bumstead asked why peaches have fuzz. Blondie said, if they has arms they could shave. PG was walking down the road in the rain, with a freight train going down the tracks. This is forty percent of the ingredients for the perfect country and western song.

When PG was younger and drunker, there was a place on Clairmont Road called the Watering Hole. He would go there, drink beer, play pool, and have a good old time. As was the custom in such facilities, there was a jukebox. The patrons put money in the box and played the songs that they wanted to hear. A favorite was “you never even called me by my name” There is a little spoken part, where David Allan Coe talks about the perfect country and western song. This song must talk about rain, Momma, trains, trucks, prison, and gettin’ drunk.

New Peachtree Road has this gravel yard where the eighteen wheelers come and go. There was a big rig backing into place when PG walked by, and he may have heard the truck bump into a trailer. PG walked in the rain, between the train, and a big rig going bump against the trailer. The problem was, Mommas gone, PG doesn’t get drunk, and prison is way too much work. So much for the perfect country and western song.

The songwriter is Steve Goodman. He gave a show at the Last Resort in Athens GA, that a friend of PG attended. Mr. Goodman tells a story about performing on a train, during a series of concerts supporting Hubert Humphrey. It seems like Mr. Goodman had to use the restroom on the train. Now, in those days, the trains did not use holding tanks, but just ejected the matter by the tracks as they rode by. Mr. Goodman was told, do not flush the commode while the train is in the station. Mr. Goodman forgot the instructions. Mr. Humphrey said ”I am going to give the people of this country what they deserve”, Mr. Goodman flushed the commode, and sprayed the crowd.

PG told the Steve Goodman story another time. There was a comment.

“Great to see your blog post that invokes Arlo Guthrie’s version of Steve Goodman’s “City of New Orleans.” Goodman often doesn’t get his due. You might be interested in my 800-page biography, “Steve Goodman: Facing the Music.” The book delves deeply into the genesis and effects of “City of New Orleans,” and Arlo Guthrie is a key source among my 1,080 interviewees.

The book also delves deeply into “You Never Even Call Me by My Name.” John Prine and David Allan Coe were key interviewees, and the book debunks the notion, promulgated by Coe, that Coe had anything to do with triggering the famous last verse of the song.

Finally, the Humphrey story actually stems from Goodman campaigning for Sen. Edmund Muskie in Florida in early 1972.

You can find out more at my Internet site . Amazingly, the book’s first printing sold out in just eight months, all 5,000 copies, and a second printing of 5,000 is available now. It won a 2008 IPPY (Independent Publishers Association) silver medal for biography. If you’re not already familiar with the book, I hope you find it of interest. ‘Nuff said!”


Back to empathy for a minute. The word always takes PG back to an auditorium in 1971 Clarkston GA. PG was in his first quarter at Dekalb College. Today,the institution is known as Georgia Perimeter College. One of the selling points of college has always been the outside speakers that were brought to campus. This day, the subject was abortion.

A note on set and setting is appropriate. In 1971, New York state had legalized the abortion procedure. Roe vs. Wade was in the pipeline that would lead to the Supreme Court. That ruling would not be issued for another fifteen months. In the meantime, abortion was illegal in 49 states, including Georgia. The debate about abortions was not as politicized as today. The nomenclature of choice and life had not entered the vocabulary.

The Vietnam war was still being fought, although with fewer Americans in combat. The withdrawal of US forces took most of the steam out of the anti war movement. The modern spectacle of a person supporting a war, while claiming to be pro life, did not happen.

PG walked into the auditorium and found a seat. The lady began her presentation. After a few minutes of talk… she said something about a woman who was artificially inseminated with masturbated semen. The house lights were dimmed. A black and white film, of an abortion, was shown. It was noted when the fetus went into the vacuum cleaner attachment. The house lights were brought back up. They should have remained dim, as the woman was not kind on the eyes.

The closing part of her presentation was a song she wrote. She sang acapella. The song was written out of empathy with the not-to-be-born baby. The song was titled ” My mother My grave”. PG left the auditorium, and went to world history class. Pictures today are from The Library of Congress.

Religion And Perfume

Posted in GSU photo archive, Religion by chamblee54 on August 17, 2022

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Religion and perfume have several things in common. They are both fun to smell, but dangerous to swallow. A tasteful drop behind the ear is pleasant. Too much, and you will run from the room gasping for breath. Both are cheap products, sold in a fancy bottle, at a steep markup.

Before easy access to water, people did not bathe every day. To cover up the aroma of human existence, many used fragrances. This too is similar to the function of religion.

Perfume has been considered a feminine product. In a clever marketing move, a masculine scent was called cologne, and sold to men. Religion is gross to many people, so it is sold as faith.

Smell is a driving force in animal behavior. Ants used smell to communicate, and perform feats in numbers which would be impossible as individuals. Smells go directly to the brain, without filtering and processing like sounds, sights, and tastes. Religion is the emotional equivalent of odors. This is a repost. Pictures are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library”.

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Tiki Torch

Posted in GSU photo archive, Holidays, Undogegorized by chamblee54 on August 16, 2022


This is a repost from 2017. There was a wild weekend in Charlottesville VA. You probably heard about it. The media… corporate, social, anti social … is not known for restraint. The click bait happy datamongers go crazy when a racial conflict emerges. Social media swarms with virtue signalling, as the insecure/insincere masses leap at the opportunity to be seen “on the right side of history.”

The tiki torch boys enjoy bad press, and see it as as proof that they are cool. People see negative reaction as an affirmation of their virtue. One example is this purple prose headline: Procter & Gamble Release an Ad About ‘the Talk,’ and White People Respond With the Wettest, Saltiest, Stupidest White Tears Ever. A soap company decides that the hardships faced by black people are a good marketing gimmick. It is assumed that some white people will not like it, and will make stupid comments on facebook. It is all part of the game.

The white people parade friday night was breathlessly reported. The alt-right children were routinely labelled nazis. The original nazis almost conquered Europe, killed twenty million Soviets, and were one of the fiercest war machines ever created. The star performer saturday flunked out of the US Army because he could not meet their standards. Why do people routinely label these obnoxious children nazis? The Germans had standards.

Let’s do a bit of speculation. What if the tiki torch parade had been ignored? Let the idiots have their parade. Surround them with law enforcement, and keep antifa away. Repeat this on Saturday. Keep the alt right far away from antifa. Have a media blackout… don’t give these clowns, both alt right and antifa, the attention that they crave. Let the counter protesters have their sign waving party. When the rally is over, James Fields will get in his Dodge Challenger and drive back to Ohio. Everyone can go back home, eat hamburgers, and be happy. White idiots will get less attention.

Which brings us to Donald Trump. The democrats made racism a campaign issue. The slimy crookedness of DJT was ignored, and replaced by screaming racist, racist. When he won, anything perceived as racist is suddenly his fault. The black people feel more alienated than before. The lingering liberals blame anything they don’t like on the bottle blonde butthead. People are blaming the tiki torch antics, of the slobbering mob, on Donald Trump. Critical thinking is called for.

America loves to talk about police brutality. The police had a slow day Saturday. Deputies shoot, kill man who lunged at them with knife, official says. A non African American, Hispanic, man, Eduardo Navarrete, was beamed out on meth. He lunged at police with a knife, with fatal results. This was the only officer involved shooting reported on Saturday.

The role played by antifa, or anti fascism, is uncertain. Apparently, they wanted to give the alt right a fight. Since this makes the alt right seem virtuous, the offer the fight was accepted. When you wrestle with a pig, you get dirty, and the hog has a good time. The alt right is taking the blame for this mess, along with DJT, the police, and, of course, racism. Antifa is getting a free ride. If antifa had not been there on saturday, the alt right would have had to fight with themselves. Maybe antifa, whoever they are, and whoever is funding them, needs to be held accountable.

This too shall pass away. Pictures today are from “The Special Collections and Archives, Georgia State University Library.” The spell check suggestion for antifa is Tiffany.