If one were to subscribe to the propaganda coming out of D.C. about The Windy City, one would think my husband and I risk being gunned down while shopping at the Jewel for our weekly grocery shopping.
Honestly, this is not how Chicago works. My husband and I have lived here over three years and we’ve never felt unsafe in our adopted city.
We live on the North Side. Our neighborhood is vibrant, eclectic, and exciting. We hear a smattering of languages while we walk the sidewalks. We can have anything we want at any time. There’s culture, there’s excitement, and there’s a certain amount of Midwestern friendliness and charm.
I will always defend Chicago. I always tell anyone who will listen what a beautiful city it is. Many American cities have their problems; Chicago is no different in this regard. But those that decide to call this city the derogatory “Chi-raq” have no idea what they’re talking about.
Apple reached two trillion dollars in valuation this week. The company is the first U.S. company to achieve this feat; and it achieved this, doubling its one trillion dollars in valuation in just two years.
Honestly, I don’t know a lot about what this means other than the fact that Apple has a metric ton of money.
Yet, the company continues to strong-arm developers and the like into following their “30% cut” of generated revenue from developer apps in their App Store. As a developer that has never developed an iOS app, I’m really not sure how I feel about this, as I’ve never developed anything where Apple had to take a 30% cut of the revenue simply for having the app available for iPhones and iPads.
As consumers we are stuck in a tricky place; Apple charges an exorbitant prices for their hardware and dings developers 30% of their revenue from the apps that are distributed through the Apple app store. Kinda sucky. At the same time, Google offers the Android ecosystem with their Android phones, but vacuum every scrap of data they can from the consumer and use the data to sell ads and share the information with god know who on the other end, disrupting any shred of privacy a user may expect.
Honestly, as consumers we have no great choice. Spend an unreasonable amount of money or whore out our privacy to god knows who.
This is not how technology was suppose to evolve. Devices were suppose to get cheaper and we weren’t suppose to give up our privacy. Why does a company need a two trillion dollar valuation? What purpose does that serve?
I figure if we’re going to be wearing masks for a while I might as well make the most of it. I’ve shown off my Star Trek mask before. This week I purchased a couple of the masks shown in the photo. If you’re not familiar with the design, the graphic is a part of a “sectional”, or the maps pilots use to navigate the skies. Actually, most pilots have moved to GPS and all sorts of electronic wizardry for navigation, but all of that data is based on a Sectional. It’s called that because you buy charts for the “section” you’re flying in.
The company I purchased my masks from gives the opportunity to get the sectional of your home airport as your design. If you look at the graphic on my mask, you’ll see KUGN, Waukegan Airport. The blue arc denotes O’Hare’s airspace. The “13” you see denotes the highest elevation, in this case 1300 feet, of an obstacle in that particular quadrant of the sectional.
There’s a bunch of other notation visible. If you want to learn more about a Sectional Chart, take a gander at this Wikipedia article.
If you haven’t seen it yet, please take 20 minutes and watch President Obama’s speech at the Democratic National Convention. Many of the speeches brought me to tears, especially Gabby Gifford’s speech near the beginning of the night’s lineup. It was good to hear a President speech coherently, with complete sentences, and cohesive thoughts. In many ways it boggles my mind how we went for President Obama to the idiot we have in the White House today.
When people share their politics: whom they’re voting for and whom they support, believe them when they share their truth with you. When they beat their chest and scream MAGA and call people childish names and casually put aside heinous acts by saying, “well I’m not like that”, believe their actions. Believe their truth. Actions speak louder than words.
I am using vacation time on Election Day to do my part to make sure that everyone that wants to vote is able to vote, and to make sure those who aren’t sure they want to vote are encouraged to vote.
If the Trump administration has showed me anything it’s that I am apparently a terrible judge of character. A few family and friends, that I may not see eye to eye on a few subjects on, have turned out to be rabid, heels dug in Trump supporters. If I was a smart person I would have seen that coming. But I look for the good in people. I really try to find the positive.
Sometimes there’s just not that much positivity to find.
A sly joke here, a remark there, these are things I would let roll off my back. Shame on me.
I’m reminded of Maya Angelou. “When a person shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”
I’m still on Facebook. Now look it, before you throw red paint at me or point at me and scream “shame!”, I will say that I have no idea why I’m still on Facebook. It’s not particularly innovative. It’s a gross perversion of development skills. It’s an abuse of network connectivity and it’s an abomination of technology, essentially raping society of all its useful resources.
But it’s how people keep in touch. I hang my head in shame.
For the past 48 hours the big kick on Facebook has been to show your support for the United States Postal Service. People are posting avatars and photos and showing other signs of support by saying things like, “if you live in a very blue neighborhood, drive to a red leaning neighborhood post office to mail you ballot!”.
Oh golly gee isn’t that a great idea.
Here’s the thing, how about we convince the elected officials we’ve put in office to do their job and get the postal service working the way it was intended to work.
I have a package coming to me from Cincinnati, Ohio. I have no idea what this package is but I got some email with a tracking number proclaiming the arrival of this Priority Mail package from Cincinnati, Ohio last Monday.
Cincinnati, Ohio is 295 miles from where I sit right now. We are on day 10 and the damn package still hasn’t arrived. I don’t know what the package is, I don’t care what the package is, but quite frankly it was sent by Priority Mail and it basically hasn’t found its way across the state of Indiana in 10 days.
The folks at the Post Office know nothing. I know nothing. The tracking number app knows nothing. No one knows anything.
This is what makes America Great. Right? Susan Sarandon and her friends say there was no difference between Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton so you might as well vote for the woman that sat on crystals. What was her name? Jill Stein? Yeah, it took a Google search for me to remember that. And I have a memory like a steel trap.
Susan Sarandon can go rotate on a lawn sprinkler shooting out boiling water for all I care.
It’s 2020 and we don’t even have a functional post office. Yet I have friends and families declaring that things are wonderful under Trump and life is great again in America. What the hell is wrong with these people?
Things are not great. When we need to publish guides for voters to drive to “more white” areas of the country to reliably mail their ballots we have something seriously wrong with these “United” States. Small wonder Angela Merkel is now considered the most powerful world leader.
But people post things on Facebook like it’s going to make a difference. Wreath wrappers on their picture. Ribbons. Rainbow colors. Postage stamp graphics. It doesn’t make a difference. Posting your protest on Facebook is a feel good maneuver and nothing more.
You know what makes a difference? Making phone calls. Screaming at switchboard operators that don’t want to forward you to voicemail. Voting. Putting up signs. Going to protests. Making your voice heard.
Facebook? It’s a waste of time. Your update is like screaming into an echo chamber. It’ll generate ad revenue and nothing more.
Do something. Make a phone call. Make someone cry. Make a difference.
My first “real” sci-fi novel was “The Demu Trilogy” by F.M. Busby. I’ve read the book over three dozen times. I recounted my experience with this book in a blog entry from 13 years ago.
Once in a great while I’ll do a Google search on “The Demu Trilogy” to see what others have to say about it. Usually the comments are not favorable. I find the reviews to be quite pedestrian. I think folks don’t get it or approach the series from a preconceived notion as to what it should be, and then are disappointed when it doesn’t meet expectations. Why should folks have an expectation when they start reading a book?
Recently I was going through the book shelf and came across my only copy of the book; it’s the second copy I’ve owned. I purchased it used back in 1993 after my original copy was eaten by my roommate’s cocker spaniel. I don’t think the dog enjoyed it as much as I did. It’s time for me to read “The Demu Trilogy” again.
I think I read “The Demu Trilogy” at my most impressionable time; there are elements of a casual approach to sex and relationships present in the book that I’ve had in my adult life. I suppose it’s just a manifestation of the way I’m wired, but back in the day I was never one for beating around the bush when I wanted to know if someone shared a mutual attraction. This is what made building a relationship with my husband so simple; I would just say what I was interested in, and he would honestly answer if he was interested in the same sort of activity. There were no games, no coy text messages, no hidden secrets. I knew I loved him, he knew he loved me, we said it, we did it, forever and ever, amen.
Perhaps if we all lived our sexuality honestly the country would be a better place. The problem is, the American soap opera would have never come to fruition.
One of the main hangups with relationships is jealousy. I’ve shared this thought before: jealousy is a feeling that comes from within. It’s an insecurity. It’s competitiveness. No one can make you jealous; only you can make yourself jealous. “What do they have that I don’t?” So many relationships end because of jealousy. So sad. I have several insecurities in my life, but those leading to jealousy are not among them. I’m just wired differently, I guess.
I’m reminded of the hilarity around an episode of “Maude” where a college professor of some sort comes out and says that he wants to sleep with Maude and then the Norman Lear hilarity of dialog ensues. The episode was actually filmed twice, the unaired version starring Bea Arthur’s then-husband Gene Saks.
I digress a lot.
One of the themes in “The Demu Trilogy” has to do with the humanoid race the Tilari. They’re very sexual beings. They are open and honest about their sexuality. Quite frankly, I’m surprised my great-aunt and uncle included this book in the box of books they gave me when I was 13 or so years old. Maybe they didn’t know the contents of the box, after all, this book was sandwiched between two copies of “Everything You Wanted To Know About Sex (But We’re Afraid To Ask)”. I read one of those two copies of that book in the box that was gifted to me by my Uncle Pete; I learned a lot of outdated things about being gay.
If people were just honest about who they are and what makes them tick.
I’m rambling. It’s been a while since I’ve rambled on the blog. Can you believe this blog turned 19 years old last week? Where has the time gone? I started writing this thing when I was 33 years old. Wow.
There is no forethought into the construction of this blog entry. I’m just letting the words flow, uninhibited. My husband says I get too hung up on my inhibitions and that I try too hard to try to fit into societal norms.
COVID-19 prevents us from congregating, but this is the type of dialog I would have with my husband and family around a campfire at the gay campground. We’d all be shirtless. I’d be drinking a craft beer. Something with some octane. Others would be drinking other things. We’d be relaxed.
And then we’d continue the conversation as this blog entry comes to an end.
For years, decades even, my husband has belched out the words “Kaye Ballard!” whenever we’ve spent time reminiscing about shows we watched as kids. His bark of “Kaye Ballard!” was in reference to “The Mothers-In-Law”, starring Kaye along with Eve Arden on the NBC show that was actually owned and produced by Desi Arnaz, and was co-owned by Proctor and Gamble. NBC didn’t make a lot of money from “The Mothers-In-Law” back in the day and therefore it was cancelled after two seasons and it’s not really talked about that much. Written by the same folks that wrote “I Love Lucy”, it has a very formula farcical feel that seems slightly out of whack from a 1960s sitcom that’s the same age as me, but when you’re in the right frame of mind, it’s a fun show to watch. I knew some about Kaye Ballard; I knew the name, I vaguely remembered the show, I remember her doing things on The Muppet Show and maybe Match Game, and I knew she could sing.
Earl and I just finished watching the entire series of “The Mothers-In-Law” on Amazon Prime this week. I’ve mentioned this a few times on the blog since the beginning of the pandemic.
Kaye Ballard chews through the scenery of “The Mothers-In-Law” in a way that’s hard to describe. Demonstrative? Oh, yeah. Loud? Yep. Boisterous? You bet.
What a freakin’ delight. She’s a hoot and a half.
After watching Kaye do her thing and finishing up the entire series I’ve been reading and watching interviews with Ms. Ballard via the Internet. A brilliant vocalist, she has an amazing voice that was featured on many an album and Broadway show. Kaye passed at age 93 in 2019. From every interview I’ve watched over the past few days, she was a delight, completely honest and forthright, and a good ol’ Show Business broad. They don’t make them like her anymore and we are all at a loss without Kaye Ballard no longer on this Earth. She never married. Who cares? People speculate. It was a different time. She lived her life honestly and completely and shared what she wanted to share and I hope I feel as much vivaciousness as she showed right up through the last interview in the last years of her life.
The third to last episode of “The Mothers-In-Law” features a scene with Kaye and Eve Arden with Don Rickles. Don is ad-libbing from the script during the scene and Kaye and Eve lose it a bit, something you didn’t really see in 1960s sitcoms. It was a delight to watch the other night and if you have Amazon Prime, you should watch it.
I can’t help but wonder if anyone will be writing in this manner in 50 years about the likes of the folks on television today. Will some middle aged gay man pine about Debra Messing that was I’ve been amused by Kaye Ballard’s antics these past few weeks? Doubtful. They don’t make them like that anymore and we’ve lost a great deal of class because of it.
I’m looking forward to spending time listening to Kaye’s albums and enjoying a few moments of what was.
I’ve hinted to my husband that we might have to watch a few episodes of “The Doris Day Show” where Kaye played Doris’ neighbor and owner of an Italian restaurant.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
