2/14/24

 Wednesday, February 14, 2024

Ash Wednesday and Valentine's Day

In bed at 9:30, awake at 5:30, and up at 5:42 emerging from a dream of an imaginary going away party for someone at FF&SJ.  Let Lilly out.  I was about 12 inches from her head in the TV room before she woke up,  26°, high of 41°, sunny morning ahead, turning partly cloudy later. The wind is SW at 4 mph, 1-11/19.  Sunrise at 6:51, sunset at 5:21, 10+29.    

Treadmill; pain.  I woke with considerable pain in my shoulder and wrist, but mostly in my wrist.  It's painful to type.  Ferkrimpter body, ferkrimpter mind.  The wrist gets better with movement during the day, but the shoulder is a real problem, very limiting.  Regrettable day off the treadmill; no excuse.  My bad!

I'm grateful on this Valentine's Day for my wife, my partner in passing through this sometimes Dungeons and Dragons game of middle and old age.  We have teamed up for most of the last 40 years and, though I was sure I loved her when we exchanged vows under Tom and Caela's crabapple tree, I know I love her even more now, so many years later because I know her much better now.   I know why it is so easy for people to like her.  I know why she has so many long-term, really lifetime friends.  I sensed her goodness, her strength, her practical wisdom and judgment, and all her fine qualities before I married her but I've seen them confirmed in action now decade after decade.  She is my Valentine and for her partnering with me all these years, I am most grateful.

Zen and the Birds of Appetite by Thomas Merton is the book I picked up from the library this morning.  I want to know why Merton while continuing to embrace his Catholicism, was so taken with Zen Buddism.   I read for the first time the introductory essay The Study of Zen.  I say for the first time because it is clear that I need to reread it and to think about what it is Merton is saying.  Even on first reading however, it is interesting, especially how he distinguishes Zen from Zen Buddhism and how he weaves in some New Testament sayings ( like 'judge not') and the writings of Meiser Eckhart.  It's also interesting that I can see how Merton is speaking of the 3 levels of consciousness that I recently read about in The Idiot's Guide to Zen Living: sensing something, then identifying or naming it, and then judging, classifying, and thinking thoughts about it.  His epigram for this introductory essay is "Better to see the face than to hear the name."  Direct sensory experience is superior to thoughts about the experience, even naming it.  

Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris.  Remember, man, that you are dust, and into dust you will return.  I saw a reporter on television this afternoon with the smudges of ashes on his forehead.  It took me back to my youth when one would see such sights on so many people, at least if one lived in a Catholic neighborhood.  The ashes are supposed to be the residue of burnt palm fronds from the preceding Palm Sunday.  Ash Wednesday reminds us of our creation and of our curse: Genesis 2:7 - Then the LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.   Genesis 3:19 - By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.”  Ash Wednesday was a big deal when I was a kid and for some reason, it was a big deal to have your forehead smudged.  It symbolized being a member of the One True Church, one of the Faithful.  Ash Wednesday marked the start of Lent and was a day of fasting and abstinence.  We were expected to 'give something up,' like chocolate or comic books, or alcohol in the case of adults.  Whatever we gave up for Lent, we would "offer it up" to God.   I am not sure I ever knew the precise purpose of 'offering it up' but the idea was an attractive one.  For one thing, any nasty experience in life could be "offered up."  If you had pain from a burn caused by touching a hot skillet or teapot, you could 'offer up' the pain.  If your favorite team lost an important contest, you could 'offer up' the disappointment.   Whatever misery or nastiness life might throw your way, instead of it being simply a negative, it could become an occasion of grace because you could "offer it up."  I'm wondering whether this was a particularly Irish Catholic thing, or whether the practice was widespread within the Church, or even within Christianity.  Now that I think of it, my left shoulder has been painful for many weeks - I'll offer it up!

This is not who we are!  We are (not) better than this!   The big Super Bowl Victory Parade in Kansas City ended with a mass shooting with at least one person dead, 21 others, and several children shot.

18,874:  The number of firearm deaths, excluding suicides, in 2023

36,357:  The number of firearm injuries in 2023

6,192:    The number of children and teenagers shot in 2023

$438 million:  Federal grant funding awarded for community violence intervention programs and state crisis interventions since 2022

14 million:  The number of guns Americans bought in 2023

494.4 million:  The cumulative total of firearms produced for the U.S. market since 1899

144.7 million:  The population of states that allow concealed carry without a permit

656:  The number of mass shootings in 2023.  The mass shootings in 2023 killed 712 people and injured at least 2,692 others.

2/13/24

 Tuesday, February 13, 2023

In bed at 10 but unable to fall asleep, awake at 3:30 and up at 3:40, unable to sleep.  29°, high of 35°, partly to mostly cloudy day ahead.  Wind NW at 10 mph, 4-10/16.  Wind chills today are 18 to 30°°.  Sunrise at 6:52, sunset at 5:19, 10+26.  Solar noon at 12:05, altitude 34°.  

Treadmill: pain.  Woke up with considerable shoulder and wrist pain, and not enough sleep.  I will see the hypnotherapist this morning, with my fingers crossed.  I believe I have been experiencing some incipient pain in my right shoulder for the last few days.  I hope it's not a sign of things to come.  I took a slow, short walk on the treadmill at 5 p.m., 20:02 & 0.38.  The painful wrist & shoulder situation has kept me off because I hold on to the side bars while I'm on it and tend to lean on my arms; not good but better than losing balance and falling off.

I'm grateful for Tom and Sue's visit and for their happiness in moving to a new home close to their son and grandchildren.  I was happy to hear their report on cousin Georgie O's 90th birthday celebration in Orion with almost all of his vast family there with him and Janice.  Happy to spend 9 hours in enjoyable conversation throughout the afternoon and evening about family matters, sharing medical adventures of old age, political matters and our fears for the country and its impact on our children, grandchildren, et al.  Tom turns 80 on 4/5/24.

Hypnotism!  I attended my hypnotherapy session with Erica this morning.  She's originally an occupational therapist by profession but also a certified hypnotherapist.  It was an interesting experience and one I will repeat.  Nothing spooky, nothing exotic,  very much like a guided imagery process with some personalization.  I took a ride on some of the 'back roads' of the VA campus, roads I haven't driven on before, and was again impressed by what a huge operation it is.  When I got home, I played the recorded copy of the session for Geri, Tom & Sue, who wanted to hear it.  I'll listen to it again, hopefully, several times.

Long nap this afternoon - almost 2 hours.  Two nights in a row waking up at 3:30 a.m.  My head has been at least semi-shut down since this shoulder/wrist arthritis or whatever pains.  Not many thoughts, even with much national and international news happening.

  

2/12/24

Monday, February 12, 2024

In bed at 9, awake and up at 3:50.  Let Lilly out.  25°, high of 42°, sunny morning, then partly cloudy.  Wind WSW at 8 mph, 4-12/19.  Sunrise at 6:54, sunset at 5:18, 10+24.  Solar noon, 12:05, alt. 33°    

Treadmill; pain.  Woke with shoulder & wrist/thumb pain.  Applied diclofenac at 3:50 and set alarms for 9:45, 3:45, and 9:45.  00:00 on the treadmill today from a combination of nasty pains and T & S's visit.

I'm grateful for Tom and Sue's visit today and tomorrow.  It's an honor that they make a point of visiting us before moving to North Carolina.  We have shared many overnight visits here and in Arlington Heights over the last several years, though it has been at least a couple of years since I could visit their home.  Each visit has been its own honor, privilege, and blessing.  With this move, I wonder when or whether I will spend time with them again.  Other changes: Kitty's death, TSJ's death, DPL's move to AZ, Tom & Sue to N.C.  The sun is getting higher and the days are getting longer.  For everything, there is a season, turn, turn, turn.  Ecclesiastes and Pete Seeger.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, a time to reap that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to gain that which is to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time of love, and a time of hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

The Byrds' version of Pete Seeger's song was at the top of the Hit Parade in late 1965 when I was in Vietnam, though I don't remember hearing it.  The only songs I have a clear recollection of while I was there were the most popular song on the jukebox in the officers' club, California Dreaming by the Mamas and the Papas, and Ebb Tide by the Righteous Brothers.

  

2/11/24

Sunday, February 11, 2024

In bed at 9 and up at 5.  Let Lilly out.  26°, high of 37°, partly cloudy.  Wind is NW at 7 mph, 3-8/14.  Sunrise at 6:55, sust at 5:17, 10+21.

Treadmill; pain.  I woke with a lot of shoulder and wrist pain, and now having difficulty lifting my laptop, and uncomfortable typing on it.  I did not apply diclofenac yesterday because the wrist seemed acceptable and applying the cream to the shoulder is a problem because of the need to keep it uncovered by clothing after application.  The lifting pain means no undershirt.  I need to wear a zipped hoodie or stay in my robe during the day.  The wrist pain definitely involves the hand, thumb, and lower forearm.  I'm also feeling some pain in my right elbow.   A rough start to the day.😟  Hard to pull out a Kleenex, to blow my nose, to take care of personal hygiene.  

I'm grateful for the use I still have of my hands and arms (and other working parts) despite their limitations from age and pain.  I think of those who have no hands or arms, legs or feet, having had them ripped from their bodies by a bomb, a rocket, a land mine, or an artillery shell.  I think of those whose limbs have been crushed by collapsing buildings, buildings they had relied on for protection.  I think of children in Gaza, in the Spring of their lives, losing limbs to amputation on hospital floors, surrounded by other mutilés de guerre.  I think of those who drop the bombs and those who fire the rockets and artillery shells and of those, like me, who played supporting roles in wars' contests of death and destruction.  How do they feel about what they have done, what do they think, while the war endures and long after?  What did I think of working in the TACC?  Heroes, patriots, banal order-followers like Eichman, or do they feel or think about it at all?    

Reading Genesis by Marilynne Robinson.  I read a review in the current The Atlantic online by Judith Shulevitz of Robinson's latest book.  I read her novels Gilead, Home, and Lila, and got about halfway through the sequel Jack before I gave up on it.   I enjoyed the first three novels and looked forward to the sequel about the prodigal son, but I found its long dialogue in the cemetery pretty dismal.   Shulevitz points out that "Robinson is one of the greatest living Christian novelists, by which I don’t just mean that she’s a Christian—though she is an active one—but that her great novels (five so far) and her versatile, morally stringent essays (four collections and a book of lectures, on subjects including Darwinism and the Puritans as well as her own childhood) reflect a deep knowledge and love of Christianity."   Her Faith, like that of Flannery O'Connor, is a mystery to me.  O'Conoor's was rooted in Roman Catholicism, Robinson's in the teaching of John Calvin, but it surely wasn't the Church's Catechism, Aquinas' Summa or Calvin's Institutes of the Christian Religion that generated that Faith.  If a Hindu or Buddhist were to read any of them, would they be converted to Catholicism or Calvinism?  If O'Connor or Robinson were to read the Bhagavad Gita, would they become Hindus?  Isn't religious faith really mostly based on the indoctrination and inculcation to which we are subjected to in our childhood?  "We are all tattooed in our cradles with the beliefs of our tribe; the record may seem superficial, but it is indelible. You cannot educate a man wholly out of the superstitious fears which were early implanted in his imagination; no matter how utterly his reason may reject them, he will still feel as the famous woman did about ghosts, Je n'y crois pas, mais je les crains,—"I don't believe in them, but I am afraid of them, nevertheless".  Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.  How many of us, raised in the bosom of the Irish Catholic Church, or in a fundamentalist Protestant religion, carry a latent fear of going to Hell after death even if we say we don't believe in Hell?

Caitlin Clark's Iowa team lost in the last minute to Nebraska this afternoon.  I watched the last 3 quarters of the game, thinking I might see Clark break the NCAA scoring record.  As it happened, after scoring 31 points in the first 3 quarters, she went scoreless in the 4th quarter and Nebraska overcame a 14 point deficit to win the game.  Very exciting game.  Nebraska fans (full house) ecstatic after the game.  Iowa dropped to 11-2 in the Big Ten, behind Ohio State in the standings.

Shoulder pain had been pretty bad all day.  

2/10/24

 Saturday, February 10, 2024

In bed by 9:30, awake and up at 3:39 with Lilly in my bedroom.  Let Lilly out.  32°, high of 37°, sunny day ahead, wind WNW at 12 mph, 7-14/23.  Sunrise at 6:56, sunset at 5:15, 10+18.  Solar noon, 12;05, altitude 33°.

Treadmill; pain.  Bad shoulder pain on awakening.  I didn't apply diclofenac before going to bed.  The wrist is still pretty OK.  Ditto back and IC/CPP.   00:00 & 0.00

I'm grateful . . .    

Super Bowl and Las Vegas.  It seems so appropriate that this year's Super Bowl is being staged in Las Vegas, Sin City.  Marx wrote that "Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people (das Opium des Volkes)."  A case may be made that for many Americans, especially males, it is sports, especially professional sports, and most especially professional football that is the opiate of the masses, the analgesic that distracts from the painful realities of life.  Ordinary Romans during the Empire were entertained and distracted from the harshness of life by watching dangerous chariot races, or mock battles, or lethal gladiatorial combats, or by watching threats to the Empire devoured by lions in the Coliseum.  Today we have NFL football where every Sunday afternoon and evening, every Monday and Thursday evening, and at occasional other times, tens of millions of spectators watch men throw one another violently to the ground, causing predictable injuries in every contest and for most contestants, long term brain injury from multiple concussions.   Probably more than 100,000,000 Americans will watch tomorrow's Super Bowl.  Some will pay exorbitant prices to see the game live at Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas.  The price of tickets has quite a range but the average cost per ticket sold is $8,600, according to StubHub. The range is anywhere from around $6,077 to as high as $125,992.  The stadium seats about 65,000, so ticket revenues alone should exceed half a billion dollars.  Most Americans will watch the game and accompanying festivities on television,  at home, in bars, or with friends at Super Bowl parties.   Companies will pay an estimated $6.5M to place a 30-second ad during the game.  That doesn't include the production costs for the commercial.  CBS is expected to realize about $650M from the game.  ViacomCBS agreed to pay $2.1 billion each year for 11 years to the NFL to retain Sunday afternoon games and to air the Super Bowl for three seasons, including Super Bowl LVIII in Las Vegas.

Am I the only one to think that there is something pagan about all this?  That NFL football is much more important in most Americans' lives than religion is?  How many hours per week does the average American spend (I use the term intentionally) on religion?  How many on football?  How many people are as interested in their spiritual welfare as they are in how their team is doing in the standings? How much does money from religion add to the GDP and how much from football?  

My journal entry from last year's Super Bowl Sunday:  Super Bowl LVII - The Nation Celebrates Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy.  How many Super Bowl Sundays have I done something other than watching NFL football?  Work on a painting?  Read a poem?  Watch a movie or a documentary?  Go for a drive in the country? Make some soup or bake some bread?  Take a nap?  Daydream? How much of my life, before 5 or 6 years ago, did I spend watching NFL players bash one another, throw one another to the ground, run into one another reminding us of the sometimes deadly equation Force=MassXVelocity?  Ingfei Chen has an article in today's online New Yorker titled "The Forgotten History of Head Injuries in Sports."  "To a great extent, we collude as consumers of violence for the sake of entertainment. Damar Hamlin’s terrifying cardiac arrest reminded viewers that N.F.L. players aren’t action figures; Tua Tagovailoa’s multiple concussions, and their consequences, have shown that the N.F.L.’s much-touted concussion protocols have left plenty of danger in the game. And yet we keep watching—and, in some cases, signing our children up to play. As Casper sees it, American society is engaging in a self-deception rooted in old attitudes about the punch-drunk syndrome. He notes that the old street slang applied to afflicted boxers—“slug nutty,” “punchy,” “slaphappy”—was largely pejorative; in surveying oral histories, literary works, and other similar sources, he has found that suffering athletes have often been stigmatized as lower-class, semi-deranged malingerers. Getting hit over the head became the stuff of jokes, as in the physical comedy of the Three Stooges." . . . "Casper is writing a book about the history of concussions, to be published by Johns Hopkins University Press. I asked him what he thinks should be done about football and other contact sports. He and his colleagues have called for a broader diversity of views on the expert panels that write clinical concussion guidelines, and for more transparency about industry conflicts of interest. Other advocates have argued for promoting flag football, banning American youth tackle football, or delaying the age when kids start playing it; heading has been eliminated in some age groups of youth soccer in the U.S. and the U.K. Casper is skeptical about reforming the actual practice of football: he thinks the game can probably never be “neurologically viable.” At the same time, he said, “football’s way too woven into the fabric of American culture at this point to talk about something like banning it.” USA, USA, USA!!!

Geri and the Birch bough bonanza.  While Geri and Lilly were out on a passegiatta earlier, she encountered a Mequon neighbor taking down a birch tree.  She uses birch boughs as rustic fencing for her marginal garden walkway that she has been constructing for the last 10 years or so and she got the neighbor's permission to cut and take many of the birch boughs.  Serendipity.  Lilly insisted on waiting in the 37° temperature at her lookout post for Geri's return from her project.  I love my wife.  I love our dog.

2/9/24

 February 9, 2024

In bed before 10, up at 4:43 with uninvited, unwelcome thoughts of TSJ, a flooded cottage, the first visit with T and WSR, now both gone, as are RHF & WBG & DSB.  Let Lilly out.  39°,  high of 48°, a sunny & windy day ahead.  The wind is SW at 13 mph, 7-16/31.  My weather app says we had no precipitation in the last 24 hours, but a line of thunderstorms that had earlier spawned tornado warnings in Jefferson County passed overhead last night around 8:30 with much thunder & lightning.  Sunrise at 6:58, sunset at 5:14, 10+16.  Solar noon 12:05, altitude 32°.  

Treadmill; pain.   I woke with shoulder & wrist pain.  The last application of Duclofenac was at 9:30 last night.  At 2:15 p.m., 30:31 & 0.70 while watching on YouTube The Great Basin documentary about life in rural Nevada.

I'm grateful for the ease and pleasure with which I can raise and lower my right arm and the ease and pleasure with which I can move my left wrist, especially since I am left-handed.  For that matter, I have the same gratitude concerning the painless functionality of fingers, toes, ankles, elbows, neck, and (for the most part), my back and hips.  I am reminded of the vivid memory I have of going back to Iwakuni, Japan, south of Hiroshima, to receive, unpack, and repack the uniforms and other stuff (like my officer's ceremonial saber) that I had shipped to Japan planning to spend 13 months there in 1965-66, a plan changed by my unit's transfer to Danang, RVN.  What I remember of that return to Iwakuni after a couple of months in Vietnam was the lightness I felt walking on paved sidewalks while wearing shoes.  It felt like walking on air compared to walking in Korea-era, heavy leather combat boots on sand and dirt in Vietnam, carrying my holster Colt .45 service revolver and wearing my heavy cotton 'utilities' including this 'blouse' I've held on to since 1965.  This was early in the invasion before the Marines and Army switched to the lightweight camouflage uniforms and jungle boots that became standard issues during and after Vietnam, before the M14 rifle was replaced by the M16, before a lot of changes occasioned by experience in Vietnam.   Now that I think about it, just as my utilities aged and faded over the last 60 years, so have I, but I need to remember those few days in Iwakuni when I experienced how wonderful it is to walk on pavement, in shoes, unarmed, how I take for granted so much of what is wonderful, marvelous, awesome, miraculous and mystical just in being alive and conscious, how surrounded I am by much goodness and many people trying to be good in circumstances that too often make it hard.  With my persistent cynicism and pessimism, I am hardly a Pollyanna, but I guess I'm like Maggie Smith's realtor: "Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right?  You could make this place beautiful."  What I/we need is more mindfulness, wakefulness, awareness.

My memory is fine.  Just ask the president of Mexico, al-Sisi. Mexico is on our southern border; Egypt is on Gaza's southern border.  So, easy to mix them up, right?  

From this morning's WaPo:

Still, Mr. Biden’s mix-up of Egypt and Mexico came soon after a couple of slips in the last week regarding deceased European leaders. First, during a campaign swing in Nevada, he confused François Mitterrand, a former French president who died in 1996, with the country’s current president, Emmanuel Macron. Then, on Wednesday, he referred twice to having met in 2021 with Helmut Kohl, a former German chancellor who died in 2017, instead of with Angela Merkel, who led the country three years ago.

Can anyone have any doubts about why the White House, in an election year in which Biden is consistently trailing in the national polls and for the second consecutive year, passed up an opportunity for Biden to have an on-air interview right before the Super Bowl?

Biden's Legal Exoneration, Political Nightmare.   The Special Counsel's investigation into Mr. Biden’s handling of certain classified documents after being vice president called him a “well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory” and described interviews in which he could not recall when he served as vice president, what year his son died or whom he agreed with during policy debates.  In the report, Mr. Hur wrote that in a 2017 recorded conversation between Mr. Biden and the ghostwriter for his book, Mr. Biden struggled to “remember events” and was “straining at times to read and relay his own notebook entries.” Mr. Hur said that the interviews in 2023 with investigators were even worse.

“He did not remember when he was vice president, forgetting on the first day of the interview when his term ended (‘if it was 2013 — when did I stop being vice president?’), and forgetting on the second day of the interview when his term began (‘in 2009, am I still vice president?’),” the report said. “He did not remember, even within several years, when his son Beau died.”

First thought: This seems to me to be a nail in Biden's political coffin - not only the report about his "wilfully" retaining and disclosing to his ghostwriter classified information, creating real risks to national security, though that is certainly damaging, but rather the Special Counsel's characterization of Biden, as "a well-meaning, elderly man with a poor memory," which is to say, a doddering old man unfit for the presidency of the United States with whom a jury would likely sympathize because of his advanced age.

Second thought: the Special Counsel is a Republican, nominated by Donald Trump to be U.S. Attorney for Delaware, and this report was knowingly drafted to do political damage to Biden in his current race against Trump.

Third thought: Has the Special Counsel done the nation a service by disclosing Biden's unfitness, by virtue of age and failing faculties, to be president for another 4-year term during which his faculties would only grow weaker?

Fourth thought: What will happen within the Democratic Party in terms of pressure on Biden to withdraw his candidacy, even this late in the game, and the emergence of alternate candidates?

Fifth thought: I have long been biased against Biden.  There is something about him I don't trust or like.  It's not just his significant role in giving us Clarence Thomas or his significant role in bringing about the mass incarceration of Black men or his significant role in making student loan debt non-dischargeable in bankruptcy or even his long history of self-serving lies designed to make him appear more admirable than the facts would support.  I distrust his drive for presidential power and its accoutrements and his lust for the trappings of wealth and high status, like buying a DuPont mansion.  He ran for office claiming to be a "transition" between Trump and a younger corps of future Democratic leaders, but he did nothing to advance the political standing of any other potential candidate to succeed him.  To Kamala Harris he gave mo-win jobs: taking care of the immigration crisis at the Southern border, racial inequality, Black maternal mortality, women in the workforce, etc.  What did he do to advance the visibility and popularity of other potential alternatives to Trump and Trumpism?  Gavin Newsome of California?  Gretchen Whitmer of Michigan?  Andy Beshear of Kentucky?  J. B. Pritzker of Illinois?  Roy Cooper of North Carolina?  Elizabeth Warren, Amy Klobuchar, Gina Raimondo?  Cory Booker?  Stacy Adams?  Anyone?  Biden is running for president again at age 81 for the same reason that Trump led the coup attempt in 2020-2021: he just doesn't want to give up the job and all its benefits.  Hail to the Chief, all rise when he enters a room, Air Force One, private  Marine helicopters, and all that.  Joe Biden, Ruth Bader Ginsberg (a blessing on her soul), Chuck Grassley, Mitch McConnell - why do (or did) they all hold on to power into their 80s, or in Grassley's case, 90s?  Because of concern over the public interest or because of their own inability or unwillingness to let go of power, prestige, and all the trappings?  Heaven save us from our superannuated leaders.

Sixth thought:  For Trump's defeat in 2020, Biden should get great credit.  For Trump's probable return in 2024, Biden should get great blame.

 

2/8/24

Thursday, February 8, 2024

In bed at 9:35, and up at 6:30, but sleepless and on LZB during the night with pain, mostly shoulder.  38°, high of 49, a cloudy day ahead, wind S at 12 mph,6-18/33.  Sunrise at 6:59, sunset at 5:12, 10+13.

View from the front door, 6:30 a.m., letting Lilly out.

Treadmill; pain.   It was a very rough night with pain, especially in my left shoulder, hard to get out from under bedding and out of bed for pit stops and to spend sleepless time on LZB.  Around 3 a.m., I managed to get my undershirt off and to apply a dose of DICLOFENAC to the shoulder.  The instructions say this med should not be in contact with any clothing for at least 10 minutes after application and is to be applied 4 times each day, which means effectively that I'll likely be in my bathrobe all day since the shoulder pain makes it impossible to get into and out of clothing 4 times a day.   00:00 & 0.00

I'm grateful for my bodily joints, limbs, and digits, even those that hurt.  Without them, I would be like an amoeba or perhaps like a jellyfish, carried wherever currents may carry me.   I hope to develop a mindfulness practice that protects me from emotional currents uselessly carrying me away - anger, disgust, sadness, guilt, fear, . . .  Am I too old or too beset with physical problems or too undisciplined to start and benefit from developing a mindfulness/meditation practice?  I don't think so but time will tell.  

Pretty inactive day today after the rough night dealing with shoulder and wrist pain.  I spent the first half of the day in my heavy winter bathrobe, not wanting to struggle with getting into an undershirt only to have to take it off to apply the analgesic cream.  I finally figured out I could avoid the undershirt problem by wearing a zippered sweatshirt or loose oversized denim shirt, which I did.  I applied the analgesic at 3:30 a.m., 9:30 a.m., and 2:15 p.m. and will again in the evening (or before bedtime?).  I listened to the SCOTUS oral arguments in the Colorado ballot access case, all of them very professional, very competent, and very impressive.  The lawyer who appeared for DJT was especially impressive.  The questions from the members of the Court were also impressive.  It became clear early on that Colorado was going to lose the case.  The big question in my mind is whether CJ Roberts can get the other justices to agree to a per curiam unanimous, unsigned opinion without concurrences or dissents.  It's hard to imagine since there are several interpretive, legal issues on which one might expect different opinions:  Is the president excluded from those to whom Art. 14, sec. 3 applies?  Is the relevant language 'self-executing'?  Does Congress need to enact enabling legislation, etc?  The big decision will be whether they agree to grant Trump's expected Petition for Certiorari in the presidential immunity case.  My unrealistic hope is that they would simply affirm the D.C. Court of Appeals decision without written opinions.  That seems pretty unrealistic.  My secondary hope is that they simply reject the petition and let the court of appeals decision stand, unreviewed unless and until the case results in a conviction.  If they grant the petition and continue the stay of proceedings in Judge Chutkan's court, I will be, to put it mildly, disappointed.

Obayashi's Seven Weeks.  I re-watched the film's last 40 minutes or so this morning, and it was still rather confusing, especially the enigmatic character played by the beautiful Takako Tokiwa.  I'll read some reviews to see if someone smarter than I am can set me straight.

Factoid from Fortune and Food for Thought.  "As of 2023, there are a mere 735 billionaires in the U.S. The millionaires are more plentiful—almost 22 million."  America is home to 40% of the world’s millionaires.  The 400 richest people in the nation have a combined net worth of—gulp—more than $4 trillion. That’s a staggering figure when you consider that there are 12 zeros in it.