Wednesday, April 8, 2009

I Forgot

First thing I forgot was what I intended to write. Something was on my mind and seemed like an interesting topic. It wasn't even related to current political or collective madness.

The other thing I forgot was the name of a street in Memphis which is one of the main thoroughfares. I used to travel it frequently. I avoided it regularly. The thing that bothered me was that I could not call it to memory. There have been an increasing number of known things which I find temporarily unavailable when I call for them. That's disturbing. Sometimes I will be around people I know rather well, see frequently, and I will momentarily draw a blank on the name, or I'll feel uncertain about it. I've never been great with names but I knew the names of friends.

Just another of those things. It may be a reflection of the odd kind of stress I've placed on myself lately. Why would anyone indulge stress which could be avoidable or ignored? I don't know. Habit, maybe.

On the other hand, I am remembering more things of distant past, and see many of them in a slightly different light. Some of them are unchanged as far as my opinion and emotion. Mostly there is not much emotion involved. I guess worry is a reflection of fear, so I must be occupied keeping fear at bay. It's a mental exercise. If you are in a room with the walls closing in, the best course is to find an exit or a way to stop the trend. That's where thinking forward, conceiving new goals and endeavors probably pays off.

I think I need to figure out the what and how involved in starting my own business of some kind. Something less physical and more prone to increasing returns than straight job work. One guy can only do so much job work, and charge only so much. It is limited. I have no wish to build an employee heavy enterprise because it is not worth it when you consider the governmental hassles, tax issues and the headaches that come with most employees. I could care less about bossing people around. If others must be involved, I'd rather be the lead than the other way around, but that's not the nature of what I'm after.

Speaking of forgetting, I am in disbelief at this latest crop of Castro worshipping nincompoops. It just goes to show how low the bar really is when it comes to elected officials and others in political circles. Whether the embargo is backfiring or doing any good is one thing, to pretend that life for the average Cuban is equal to that of the overage American is nuts. Forgetting the way that country became a giant prison is dangerous. Of course the idiots who say that you have to crack some eggs if you are going to have a revolution, to justify his mass murder and firing squads are safely wealthy over here.

People were tricked. The wanted change and an end to corruption and such but they thought they were welcoming freedom when Fidel and Che swaggered into town. The got communist style socialism, and the cult of personality. Those places always post humongous portraits of the dictator and his chosen icons. Castro created the cult of Che, and some might argue he also was somewhat complicit in his demise. He became worth more to Fidel dead than alive. He could play him as a martyr to the Revolution and all that. Suckers around the world fell for it hook, line, and tee shirt.

It borders on criminal for people to go over there and fawn over the guy and his ideal state, especially if they are officials in our government. They are supposed to be about freedom and here they are praising the opposite and implying they'd love to institute similar policies and programs here. Oh, I guess they already are.

If you think all that "people's" this and that is glorious stuff, and that what we need is a glorious state like Cuba, just pray that you aren't one of the eggs that has to be cracked. And don't play the sax. They labeled instruments like that as symbols of capitalism, bourgeois, and wouldn't let them play. Cracking eggs was serious business. No time to play and have fun when the people's business needed doing.

I got off on a tangent there. Maybe my memory is not quite as selective as some. Those people get paid and make these trips on the taxpayer's nickel. If idiots like that can make a decent living, I ought to do OK. I'm not quite that idiotic.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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