DEFEAT FASCISM

A Song For The Victors 

One might consider a continuum of justice applied by the victorious to the vanquished. At one end we might find “occupy and govern.” This is a relatively benign situation in which, assuming there is order and tranquility, the defeated peoples go about their business. The Romans often used this, creating the so-called “Pax Romana." Napolean did at times. Even some of the Ottoman conquerors found it efficacious. Within this model, the victors may even contribute to the safety and reconstruction of a ravaged nation.

At the other extreme is the choice of “demolish and destroy.” The defeated are vermin who deserve no modicum of morality or shred of legal equality. The Spanish conquerors found little use for the native inhabitants of a country other than slavery and exploitation. The Nazi hierarchy had determined that Hungary would serve as a vassal state wherein its citizens existed only to serve German masters. Victors “own” the defeated under this concept.

Oddly, America offered a unique path, one hardly mentioned by history. After its Civil War ended, both sides simply went home.

It needs no saying which route America’s current victors have chosen at present. It will be interesting, though excruciatingly painful, to see how it works out.

The Russians have found on two occasions that it is hard to "own" large populations of dissatisfied people.

DEFEAT FASCISM: READ REBUKE RESIST

 Some years ago, when my country demanded it of me, I spent four years of my life, one in a war zone, helping protect the world from Russian thugs. To a large extent, and according to general consensus, we failed when the country we defended yielded to Communism.

In a larger context, though, we and our country accomplished much in a global economic sense. The U.S.S.R. supported the country where we fought and that support, accompanied by other efforts at world domination, cost a lot. In short, we bled Russia dry. Our system worked. Hers didn't.

And the wall came tumbling down. A global power saw itself demolished from within.

But wait.

The idea of destruction from within took sprout like a spring seed planted in warm soil.

If guns and cannons didn't work, what might? Could it be money? The lure of wealth and power is much greater than love of country. Why not try it?

We now, therefore, sit seemingly helpless as our country, the beloved one to whom I gave those four years, falls from a rot within. We may be one of the few countries in history that chose its destruction in a fair election. Russia will gloat as she changes the flag I love. I'm too old to care.

But I do.

DEFEAT FASCISM: READ REBUKE RESIST

 Sometimes when Spring is about to break out and the winter sun moderates, I think of one of the two men who influenced my life the most, particularly the one who spent the winter of 1944-45 in the Ardennes fighting the Nazis. I remember some of the things he told over the supper table or while we were tending cattle.

When quietly sitting and watching patches of sunlight break through a tree line. "That always reminds me of seeing those parachutes hanging from the trees."

On artillery barrages: "You just prayed to live one more second, just one more second."

On fear: "The ones who got killed were the new ones who would freeze when they told us to move up."

On karma: "It was during the last couple of days of the war. We were camped at a spa in Germany and the Germans were up in the hills. They would lob a shell over from time to time, just getting rid of their ammunition. One landed near us in the chow line and took the head off of a man just standing there. And he was the shortest guy in the company."

On life: "It's hard to kill a man. It's amazing how much a person can take."

On luck: I was by a window when the shell landed. Shrapnel hit me all over but I survived it. There was an iron stove across the room that was completely destroyed."

On Russians: "They would ask us, after the war, "What you gonna do when we come after you?"

It may be best that he is not alive to see what they are doing to the country he defended.

EPIPHANY OF THE DAY

 FACTS

This week, we learned that Russia had released American hostages not through negotiations with the current administration, but because of fears that Donald Trump might be elected and negotiations would get tougher. Was this a case of “anticipatory conciliation?”

Might we then say that the economy is doing well for the same reason? As the Alien C.W. once pointed out, “In the new conservative paradigm, “Facts are of no use until one fits them to a pre-arranged set of claims, beliefs, myths, viewpoints, or religious dogma.”

Russians

Love Sunday morns. First, I do my one-hour (plus) study of the Sermon on the Mount. Then I watch Noir Alley on TCM. If time permits, I catch the message from Pulaski Heights Methodist Church in Little Rock to make sure that a least one Protestant Church in America still preaches love and peace. I call it my “Grace Sandwich,” i.e. grace followed by darkness followed by grace. It’s a spicy-smooth delicacy that makes me think.

The films on NA were made in the 1940s and 50s. Invariably, the discussion gets around to the blacklisting of actors, writers, producers, and directors, particularly those carried out by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC), what, until recently, I regarded as the most evil group ever to achieve power in Washington. They were, of course spurred on by Senator Joe McCarthy (R-Wisconsin) and his chief vermin Roy Cohn, whom, until recently, I regarded as the two most evil men ever to gain power in Washington.  I don’t think it is documented how many lives these folks ruined. It was in the hundreds, I think, maybe more.

For what sin did they ruin innocent lives? It was for the sin of exploring Communism, an act legal at the time of commission and shared by many affected, and influenced, by the bitter poverty and despair in America during the Great Depression. Of course, at the time of the witch hunts, flirting with Communism meant communication with Russia. One minor dalliance could destroy you, your family, your associates, and your career.

One contact with Russia, the most casual incident of intercourse, and your life would drain away like the muddy remnants of a spring rain flowing to the sea.

Sometimes, while I’m listening to how some successful American saw her or his life ruined by simply having some turncoat colleague like Ronald Reagan accuse them of sympathizing with the Russians, I think of my life.

See, the same America that produced HUAC, McCarthy, Cohn, and Reagan, once ordered me to a war zone to spend a year of my life in harm’s way.

Why?

Let’s see, oh yes. It was to wage war against a country that had never done America a smidgen of harm, but which had to be destroyed because they were aligned with and armed by, … by … are you ready?

Yep, our old arch-enemy, Russia, that demon of demons. Over 50,000 of my comrades died trying to teach those Communist bastards in Moscow a lesson.

I made it home reviled, hated, and rebuked because we didn’t seem to punish the Russian proxy-nation enough. I withstood the experience, but I never was quite the same person who left for the war. I don’t think any of my surviving brothers and sisters were. Those who dodged the honor were the lucky ones, I suppose.

So you, dear reader, may understand that I can’t explain why the only love expressed by our current president is for the former communists in Russia. Maybe it’s because they never damaged him.

Well, at least we’re not trying to ruin people’s lives today because they don’t love Russians enough, the way we ruined them back in the day for not hating Russians enough.

Uh.

Wait.

Let me get back to you on that one.

Give Good a Chance

Normally, I don’t comment on social media posts. But … this week one of the cruelest, most insidiously insensitive posts I have seen in ages caused such a foul stench that I would be dishonoring generations of Americans if I didn’t respond. If I offend, so be it. If I offend gratuitously, I apologize in advance. I’ll never apologize to the makers of the meme used in the post, as I feel quite sure that it originated in Russia. That decent, but unwitting, Americans saw fit to post it is a symptom of our current national tragedy.

The meme featured a photo of Colin Kaepernick photoshopped to appear that he was on a landing craft at the invasion of Normandy. The caption read “I’m not going,” or something like that. The retching in my stomach didn’t allow time for careful perusal.

There are so many issues that could be used to denounce this cheap effort to promote hatred. One is that—dear posing person—a person of African-American descent wouldn’t have disembarked with white units at Normandy. They were assigned to “special” units of black soldiers, mostly commanded by white officers, and treated as second-class troops. Despite the discrimination, a million African Americans joined the military during World War II as volunteers or draftees. Another 1.5 million registered for the draft.

When they returned to America, after serving honorably, guess what? They weren’t allowed to buy homes in decent locations as did their white counterparts. They saw little training for decent jobs. Education opportunities were sparse. In short, they failed to receive their fair share of the benefits under the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944 —the G.I. Bill.

Further:

They weren’t allowed to bring their families to many restaurants.

They weren’t allowed to vote in Southern states, a practice now being revived.

Their children faced inferior education in segregated schools, a practice now being revived.

They were even still relegated to balcony seats in many movie theaters throughout America.

These men, many of whom, wore the Purple Heart and Combat Infantry Badge, faced being hauled off buses and beaten on their return, simply for “acting uppity.” Outrage could result in lynching, which Southern states refused to make illegal. While their white comrades kissed women in Times Square following the Allied victories, African-American veterans were denied every form of basic decency imaginable.

The “dis-honorment” did not end with WWII, nor with the Korean War. President Harry Truman saw the injustice, and he did integrate the military. For this, he became one of the most hated men in the country and was hounded from office, albeit while walking out of office on the right side of History.

It hadn’t ended, the injustice, by my time “in the barrel.” I’ve mentioned this before, but I can’t rid myself of the image. After our airliner cleared the massive Da Nang airport, and we saw the blue water of the South China Sea below us, we passengers broke out into applause. It was then that I remember thinking how 15 percent of those in the cabin were not going back to the same America I was, and didn’t share the reason for applauding.

                                                                                                                            

I don’t know if I would have done what Colin Kaepernick did or not. I’m white, and not very brave. There is no way that I could ever know. My friends who posted that noxious meme, and those of you who “liked” it, can never know either. Your distrust of Americans of different color has been carefully honed by false news channels and slogans rolled out by entities that want Americans to hate one another. The only way we can survive this assault on our decency and our country, is to end the poisoning. It’s not hard. We just avoid it. As Shakespeare had Hamlet say to his mother

“Assume a virtue, if you have it not.

That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat,

Of habits devil, is angel yet in this,

That to the use of actions fair and good

He likewise gives a frock or livery

That aptly is put on. Refrain tonight,

And that shall lend a kind of easiness

To the next abstinence; the next more easy;

For use almost can change the stamp of nature.”

Can we at least try?

Growing Up Southern: March 1, 2018

This ain’t exactly my area of expertise, but when has that ever stopped me? There’s been a lot of talk lately about top secret security clearances. No wonder. Some guy who didn’t rate one had access to all kinds of sensitive, potentially world-changing, info. It was a case of nepotism run amok. Oh well. Putin and “Nutty-Yahoo” both had bad days this week because of it. Tough noogies.

Anyway, here’s what I know, and it goes back a few years. Seems back when I actually knew people in military security, it worked this way: the easiest people to clear for a top-secret rating were young, straight, middle-class kids from “Andy Hardy America.”

They had likely never been in more trouble than getting caught sneaking cigarettes.

They didn’t allow kids to disrupt school classes back in those days, so classroom violence in one's past.

BB guns and single-shot 22s didn’t exactly invite mass shootings.

Temptations were limited, for boys, to girls like Beatrice Lundsford who wore her blouses a little low and showed too much of “Bouncin’ Betty” and “Jigglin’ Jenny.”

Temptations were limited, for girls, to “Elvis the Pelvis,” shakin’ that thang like ringing a bell.

Kids had no money, so there were no financial under-dealings to uncover.

You had to work if you weren’t in school, so truancy was unheard of, plus … there was always Beatrice Lundsford.

Imaginations were limited to mundane dreams like being able to whip Milton Walker or take a girl away from the captain of the football team.

There were no homosexuals—at least that’s what Franklin Graham says (because of all the thoughts and prayers being offered up in school)—so no likelihood of blackmail.

Aspirations were limited to a good job with the Highway Department.

“Bogartin’ a joint” meant being able to hold an unfiltered Lucky in your mouth with no hands and not slobber all over it.

“Hookin’ up” meant getting ready to go fishing.

“Coppin’ a joint,” was when the police officers drove through the “Wagon-Wheel” to make sure the kids were okay and not gathering around outside their cars planning mischief of some sort.

“Tonight’s the night” meant that there was a revival in town and Lennie Anne Colclasure was going to get “saved” again, a free show that was worth much more than a 50-cent movie. As they say these days, “If it gets the kids in church, nothing is off-limits.” There is a longstanding rumor that her “Faint and Fall” was nominated for an Academy Award once, but I don’t think that is true. It was true that every traveling evangelist in America knew her mailing address and sent her personal invitations to their services. It may also be true about that being the origination of “the backstage pass.” I don’t know.

Anyway. “Gimme your lunch money,” meant that it wasn’t your day to walk to “The Little Chef” to get the hamburgers.

“Drive-by shooting was what you and your buddies did back of O.T. Bennett’s daddy’s place with your BB-guns and bicycles.

It was a less tempting place. So those kids made the “top-secret” cut while their more sophisticated cousins, who benefitted from many more opportunities for nefarious behavior, didn’t.

It was said that Great Britain often suffered from internal espionage because of primogenitor. That’s where the eldest son inherited everything in the family. Second sons, and beyond, faced the military or civil service. Since the Brits naturally assume that the higher classes inherently possess a higher-level moral structure, they don’t bother the rich or elite with any sort of thorough examination for security clearances, or anything else.

We all know, now, how well that works out.

Back when juvenile crime was
tormenting the farmer's piglets.

Sunrise With Schubert: February 17, 2018

There was a song back when my generation was peaking that began, “Something’s happing here. What it is ain’t exactly clear.” It set the tone for an entire period of our country’s history, for better or for worse. One can choose for herself or himself.

I don’t know what song might fit our country right now. I don’t keep up with popular music anymore. Asked to write one, I might start out with, “I ain’t your parents’ president, so never mind that sulfur scent.”

Okay, I jest. I can’t get over, though, what I learned yesterday. It seems that it has finally happened. After my country put 58,318 names on a lonely granite wall in Washington, bombed sleeping families in Baghdad, and set us on the path of a never-to-end war in Afghanistan, always assuring us that it was to prevent foreign enemies from invading our country, it finally happened.

Our country was invaded, that is. What’s worse, a huge number of us don’t seem to care. It got them what they wanted. What if our beloved America, safe for these so many years, was breached in the process? We needed what we got.

Or, maybe we deserved what we got. Decide for yourself.

It wasn’t a new enemy that invaded us. It was one of the oldest in the modern age. It is the same enemy that forced our country to teach my generation to seek safety in a nuclear attack by ducking under a school desk and covering our faces.

It is the same enemy that duped us into the war that put those names on the aforementioned wall.

It is the enemy that murdered, by some estimates, 25 Million of its own people under the leadership of a man who talked tough, took care of things his way, and didn’t care what others thought.

It is the same enemy that provided us the very definition of “evil” for so many years.

Yes, yesterday we learned for certain that Russia invaded us. There should be no surprise here.

Of course, we have to redefine the word “invasion,” as we have had to redefined evil. For years, experts told us that invasion required ground troops entering another country. No more. Now we can do it with air strikes. Soon we’ll only use drones and robots. In the interim, we’ll use the internet, specifically what we call “social-media.” After all, that is the sole source of news for so many of us, especially those who are too busy even to be misinformed by malicious cable channels posing as news sources and quite willing to spread gossip and innuendo.

As for me, I should have expected it. After all, Arkansans sat and watched a decent, capable, socially conscious, and dedicated woman besmirched and defiled day after day and we did nothing. Oh, I asked many friends to be specific about what lies she told, who she had murdered, and the source of news about her child-pornography dens in the basement of pizza shops.

They couldn’t cite specifics. Everyone “just knew,” they said. She was just “crooked,” and they all knew it.

Now we know how they knew.

Morning Thoughts: November 7, 2017

Planned to sit and relax for a while last evening, but nooo. A mysterious force turned the TV to a horror show. It was Hollywood on Trial. This was the 1976 documentary covering the 10-year reign of terror conducted by the House Un-American Activities Committee against American citizens.

The committee ostensibly originated in 1938 to investigate alleged disloyalty and subversive activities on the part of private citizens, public employees, and those organizations suspected of having communist ties. In the 1950s, it took out after Hollywood. In addition to ferreting out dangerous communist terrorists such as Zero Mostel, Will Geer, and Ring Lardner Jr., it seemed to possess fervent hatred of Hollywood labor unions.

During the 1950s, HUAC as it was called, destroyed the careers of some 200 workers in movies: actors, screenwriters, directors, producers, and skilled workers, all suspected of having ties to Communism and, one supposes, Russia. Its most infamous tirade was against the so-called Hollywood Ten, a brave group of citizens who were jailed for for standing up to the inquisitors.

In the process it turned friend against friend by forcing, cajoling, or simply allowing (Ronald Reagan for example) fellow actors and others to name and testify against their own fellow workers.

The Role of Shame is long. It includes, in addition to Reagan, such luminaries as Robert Taylor, Adolphe Menjou, Robert Montgomery, Walt Disney and the heads of the other major studios. In my view, the worst depicted was Gary Cooper. His smirking testimony against his friends was made the worse by a most cavalier attitude. I’m finished with him.

It was a sad time, certainly not one of America’s “great” moments. Further, it opened the door to the horrors of Joseph McCarthy, an even worse moment in time.

Oh, but all is well now. Russia is our friend, protector, and benefactor. How times to change.

Or do they?

Some things never change.

Sailing To Oblivium: August 5, 2017

When I returned from overseas and checked aboard the USS Hunley for the remaining two years of my Navy enlistment, I carried my all in one sea bag.

When I moved to Little Rock to begin my first professional job, I carried everything I owned, save one sack of books, in a 1967 Chevrolet sedan.

You know those childhood dreams about a genie granting you three wishes? My first would be to live in that condition again.

How do we accumulate so much stuff? I don’t know. We buy things. People give us things. We acquire things through the death of others. Other family members and friends pawn things off on us. Some items simply appear overnight by magic, left by some invisible force seeking to add gravity to our lives. We even find things others have lost or discarded.

I have this person in my life, of whom I think highly—very highly—who can spot a wrench or other tool on the shoulder of the road 100 feet away at 50 miles per hour. The person in question acquired the skill from her father, who practiced it for over 50 years. We now have three tubs filled with such random items. A few even work.

In family fairness, I’ve been known to take a book from our condo “library” and not return it. Everyone knows, though, that books and guitars don’t count. And our best slip-joint pliers I found in a street gutter while out fat-walking.  But back to useless acquisitions.

We once lived on a wonderful block that had an alley. That alley was the social spine of our neighborhood as well as the trash collection route. People living there were known, on occasion, to peak at the “throw-aways” of others and sneak away items of some undetermined but potentially useful value. I’m not admitting to anything, but we still have an item or two obtained that way.

Flea markets and yard sales? Please don’t mention them. Every time I move some mysterious object from one place to another, I hear the words of dear friend and former neighbor Nick Nicholson, “Why the wood alone is worth the price.”

Doubtless.

Further, there is no cleansing, as there should be. The main obstacle? It’s what I call the “20-second rule” which posits that if one stares at an object for 20 seconds, even one just found 30-years since it was last seen, and whose original purpose is unfathomable, she or he will think of something for which it might be useful, and squirrel it away for another 30 years.

No, we never eliminate, we simply change storage spots. With the energy I’ve spent moving unused, sometimes unusable, items from one location to another, I could have, well hell, I could have helped renovate an historic home, learned to play the banjo, or written a novel.

Well, I’ve done those things, but I could certainly could have done them better if I weren’t caring for junk.

The problem is, any time I’ve thrown both caution and endearment to the wind and disposed of a completely useless object, I’ve needed it within a week or so.

Meanwhile the pile grows. We still have a path through the house, but it grows more narrow with each passing year. Eventually, we could become housebound.

Know what? The Russians don’t need to subvert our elections or out-bomb us. They could just hire drug-runners to change products, and instead of dope, they could smuggle in useless junk and set up fake yard sales. The country would be paralyzed in a few years.

Oh, wait a minute …

Would a clean desk improve
the quality of writing? I dunno.