Heat Struck On My Hay Wag(g)on
by (Anglo-) American Farmer Bodwyn Wook
1 July 2009
I think that to gouge on a bunch of meat especially that one has not killed and cleaned for oneself is obnoxious, but most cannot live except in that way. There is a lot of cruelty in it all at best, this can of course and should be lessened, to say otherwise is denial above all of the majesty and joy of the future. Any other stance (“It’s ALWAYS gonna be that way, Maaan!”) is just not very-well-disguised “secret” pessimism, something actually ridiculous in Libertarians.
But, the only authentic manifestation of any real gain in moral insight can only come from out of the hearts of individuals.
Example is additive and it is transformative…to just the extent that I do NOT take it as “power” to tell other people what to do. The goal is Liberty for all, and above all from needing everyone else to be made over in my image. In just the same way as to be free I must first of all get over on my own filthy impulses, first, “normalcy” and the whole list of secret pessimisms, all of that.
(Jesus Christ, the libertarian squawking of a cantankerous parrot! One of the Summer pleasures here is now with us, in southern Minnesota, and I’m drying plenty of chives and dill and summer savory, as well as catnip, against the loom of Winter now soon on us….
(Coming up, a second round of baling hay and, then, getting in the barley, and oats and wheat. The beer contract is my big one, and the other is for fodder and “just pure smartness,” as my late Uncle Emmett Jacobson used to say.)
2 July 2009
This to-day in An Englishman’s Castle took me back:
Here in the Land Of The Round Doorknobs the last barber but one to shave my neck with a straight razor was a fellow in 1968 or so who’d been a U S Marine in Panama in the 1920s and who told the best off-color stories about peacetime military service and chasing whores. He was Bill the Barber (I never knew his last name) of Bill’s Barbershop, on Riverside Avenue in Minneapolis, by the old Fairview Hospital there. Bill’s wife ran a beauty- and giftshop in the premises, too. Bill’s hand would shake all the while he spoke, and yet was steady as a die when he laid his other palm over my kopf to do his thing with the blade. He dropped a razor once, though — and, it shattered like glass on the deco, hexagonal white-and-black floor tiles. It was a specialized English steel, very dire and (razor!) sharp, but very brittle.
Then, in Old Mankato, there was John The Barber, a scion of our oldtime Syrian Christian (“Lebanese”) community. There was some “mandate” and so he had to quit with the cutthroat razor…. When he retired, some twelve years or so since, I bought a clippers and now shave my own topknot. It’s all terribly self sufficient I guess, but low class too, no doubt about it! (It’s also one less excuse to duck out for “the big city” on a rain day and wind up with a shot or three at Smuttler’s, our local and, like all these places, rather sad strip club.)
Wasn’t there something in Bevis about a razor? Or am I thinking of Peck’s Bad Boy?
26 July 2009
Anna Raccoon to-day has been having a little good-natured fun at the vanity of the French president…
And, so have I:
Vanity, thy name is…Wook!
I do not suppose that directly to concentrate on keeping a tight arsehole is really the thing. This smacks of fetichism. It conduces also to, well, derisory remarks by the slack-vented and (here in the States anyhow) that wretched statistical 17 % said, by demographers of the Peter Lustatt school, not to use any loo paper whatsoever.
However, I may say that at sixty to do now as I am regularly fifty-four or so over-hand chin-ups is, by definition, well, just remarkably costive. The under-handed seventy-eight or so come close, but the 111-121 press-ups, ‘crunches’ and such per session, none of these are a patch on it. President Sarkozy, I have no doubt, shall have occasion to discover for himself the truth of this pearl of wookiana on that occasion when he may well have to hoick himself over a wall in the Quai d’Orsay, to evade the canaille.
It really is, as the Sufis so often have pointed out, simply impossible to tell anyone anything, especially in this field, and so of course I am ‘just saying’. And, now, the coffee drunk, I must hie back to the combining, oats are all up and we are onto the wheat now, just as soon as it dries down a tad bit more. Barley this year will be the last in, together with M Sarkozy in his little basket one imagines….
28 July 2009
Aunty was all worked up yesterday about this:
It’s a mess…right now, I got to go superintend a column of kids, kids-in-law and Them Grandkids with a bunch of waggons, er, wagons up to the elevator in town — and then we are all piling into the eating restaurant for cheese burgers and cokes (DON’T tell the “healthier than thou!”)
Anyway, right now I am reading Woodward’s first book on Bush At War, it is dreadful to read with a disllusioned eye of the self-important coma of self-hypnosis these self-adoring “leaders” all get themselves into — the y are NOT Amishmen or Hutterites! It is a pathology quite independent of party and has to do no doubt with “cosmic” and “oceanic” feelings of “power,” and other delusions, no doubt about it. All fine for The Sufis, I guess — but these folks though, at most, are being tutored by The Wise only from WAY behind the scenes…if we are lucky.
(Incidentally, Nixon moped around on Tee Vee with the pooch back in the 1950s, I think….)
Wednesday, 29 July 2009
Longrider to-day paid some attention to the pretensions of those who would trifle with people’s choice of ao-called ‘alternative’ medicine, and who yammer and jabber about ‘unscientific’ with utterly no grasp of what the unfolding mystery of Science is. In this case, the subject is chiropractic, and the English (‘UK’) bone-men apparently are suing Some Ass Or The Other for traducing their craft and scam in the public prints there:
Needless to say, the farming life with its deep relation to all of Reality yields some peerless wookean insight into this furore, also:
Sorry, this piece of Longrider’s is too good to resist although I am busier than loading jackrabbits onto a flatbed right now with all the combining (oats, wheat, barley,) anyway:
When the state at the behest of the professions conspires, for lack of a better term, at sole licensure, it is at bottom a matter of monopoly.
This in turn is a function of rationing and in all cases, not just of “national” health services as for example American “conservatives” aver.
The American Rightwing, Who (objectively) Are NOT Conservative & Who ARE A Riot Of Hysterical God-Damn FOOLS In The Hands Of The Zionists & The Arabo-Semitic Greasers Of Big Oil, forget conveniently that their own “health-maintenance” organizations (HMOs) ration services and decree which practitioners one may see and so forth.
When there are downturns in the cycle, the pressure for protective governmental swaddling from “the professions” comes into play, as it does from all of the clientles of the prebendary state.
The manifest “concern” — they say — is for the health of “the people,” who in this narrative are treated as such doltish products of government-run “education” that they will, one and all, poison themselves with over-the-counter vitamins, and die in their hecatombs of cancer as a result of misplaced chiropractic.
The structural drive, however, is to maneuver a position in which the allopaths will also prescribe — and, hence get their cut from the sale of — vitamins and chirporactic.
All of this at correspondingly “professional” prices — which we are “assured” “assures” “quality” and “the people’s health.”
Of course, it also prices these adjuncts out of the direct reach of the many, as well as much the rest of institutional, professional and “ethical” medicine — Mr Singh, I am sorry to say, is a cunt and shill.
(As well, “Edzard Ernst” rather obviously is not…English.)
[Bodwyn Wook all text-rights reserved & all other rights revert to holders 31 July 2009]