The Weekend: July 25-26, 2020

I’m not going to lie, neighbors. I shut it down today. Just not in the mood for dealing with the world. So I spent the day reading Neuromancer, among other things, and listening to, among other things, Bobby Hebb and Bobby Womack.

I’ve read Neuromancer before and couldn’t give you a solid reason why I’m re-reading it, apart from a general lack of inclination to read anything new. I didn’t care for it, partially because I think William Gibson’s a doorknob. I don’t know if he or Bruce Sterling is responsible for completely muffing the concept with The Difference Engine, but this doesn’t help. I do remember, though, that reading it made me feel “unwelcome,” I guess, but the whole cyberpunk thing. His vision of a  world run by corporations, though, that rings true even if I think Warren Ellis did it better in Transmetropolitan.

Oh, before we get too deep, let’s do the links for this week’s Gibberish. Tuesday was a bit abbreviated and the only time I’ve dropped below 500 words since I started this. However, I had a mess of Actual Paying Work to get done that night and I dicked around all day. I actually wrote something Thursday, though, even if it was a bit of weird, silly gonzo about the Many-Worlds Interpretation and the Mandela Effect and how they tie into roots rock. Saturday was pretty much a sneak-peek at today’s effort. Five hundred words say, “Yeah, I got nothing.”

I did write a neat little screed at the Tumblr site last night concerning my feelings about our heavily armed culture and the whole “Boogaloo” thing. In short, I don’t trust people who feel the need to go loaded for bear wherever they go for whatever reason. Unless I know you and know you competent to use such a device, good only for killing things, I’m going to assume you are dangerous to my well being. If that’s what you’re going for, well done. If you feel I’m being unfair, tough titty. I’m past the point of caring and America’s gun fans have pissed away any sort of benefit of the doubt they once had.

Well, between the pizza for supper and Otis being a pain demanding attention, it’s been about an hour since I typed the above words. I really don’t have anything new to add, either, unless you care about the quality of the pizza. Been listening to a lot of solo Ronnie Lane as of late. He’s one of my favorite bass players and I’ve talked of my love for The Faces many times before. His solo stuff is less raunchy, boozy rock & roll, and more influenced by country music and English folk music. Much like Rod Stewart’s first couple solo records, ironically enough. It’s good stuff, though, he was underappreciated as a songwriter.

So what else. Thirty words. I don’t really want to talk about Garrett Foster, the Navy vet who was shot last night at the Austin protest, apparently by an individual, now in custody, who was anti-BLM. Right-wingers were trying to say he fired first, but apparently, that’s been disproven by the Austin police. It’s a sad story, especially as this robs his quadriplegic fiance of her sole caretaker – that’s a double whammy – and I’m betting we’ll see more of this sort of thing as the summer burns on and the Powers That Be refuse to address the situation.

That being said, the man’s body was barely cold before the Law & Order crowd was saying he deserved what he got for bringing a gun to a protest. Now, I’m not at all surprised that the same breed of people who got gooey over the PATRIOT ACT 15 years ago are cheerleading someone exercising his First and Second Amendment rights being shot in the back because they dare challenge Father Trump. That’s to be expected, just as it’s not a surprise conservative Evangelicals are backing a pig like Trump as the new Savior.

I’m just saying them doing it so quick is a bit of a stunner.

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