Applicable Meaning

"After nearly sixteen years since 9/11, Americans are weary of war without victory." --Donald Trump, dissembling in chief

One of my list files on twitter, which the administrators briefly interfered with, until they were assured the dowager wasn't going to engage in mortal combat with Ciccariello-Maher, a visiting professor at Drexel who should be stripped of his doctorate, not for his speech but for foolhardiness, is Adversaries, and a former NASA astronaut like Mark Kelly doesn't quite belong there, in a queasy tinge, but I am not quite sure what to do with him. If I had an equivalent political partner who was shot in the head, one who will spend the rest of her life in special needs, I too might develop mission fervor with a political action committee. One thing both NRA loyalists and libertarians should acknowledge is that guns are dangerous, as do other mortals, including Senator Toomey, and I appreciate his courage to stand with the Sandy Hook families, as no right is inalienable. I am not even sure I believe in human rights, but that contention is too broad, at least for this morning. It is equally true that I have distaste for Kelly's Responsible Solutions PAC, and blocked them. The rhetoric is holier than thou, and no one has a perfect pitch on perspective. Ciccariello-Maher survived his senseless provocation-- and yes, his tweets backfired because all they did was arouse, and that doesn't help. I might not either, but at least I have my context, and rather serious grievances behind that context, but I am not sure what makes Maher's raconteur tendencies any different than Durden's. I tweeted, and stand by, the sense that Carlson was slightly too self-righteous. Bigoted as I may be, I live in a black city, and being black in Philadelphia, in 3 out of 4 instances, translates into agrarian limitations obvious to anyone in the professional class. Let me state, emphatically, that I am not Durden's ally, and she isn't about to sympathize with my excoriating attacks on black arrogance. I'm posting, merely, that she paid a heavy price for that interview, which was really nothing more than her advocacy for blacks speaking for themselves. The disabled do this all the time. No one calls savants racists for self-congregating. It isn't like she was advocating a black militia movement.

Storey's tweets, on the other hand, were indicative of something else. Between the lines, he was weary of teaching, and shot his barbs into a real time event which has caused loss of life, and he might have held back, written a satirical opinion. The Republican Party isn't a monster simply because of Trump's alt.right revolt, and as Phillips source says, people don't do things like that, in the middle of a tragedy, in real time feed. Yet Palin's case against the Times was dismissed. I have not studied this. I don't have the time to back track every factual point, read the briefs, but from what established media has presented, in its examination, persuaded me Governor Palin had a case. I agreed with Wemple that there may have been an actual malice standard. Rakoff's ruling catches me by surprise.

Early on between 10 and 12, I voiced some criticism of Palin on twitter. The Atlantic's profile of her governorship spiraled into a damaged show horse nominee the media virtually pillaged, perhaps deservedly. Recently, I swung my battleship, and I'm following her, probably going to write a post, send it to her site, or a contact submittal, and see what happens. Maybe nothing, but Palin's sensibility as an independent wife and mother resonate more sympathetically, after my tribulations. My point, however, is, the First Amendment is, in essence, meaningless, at least, if we examine these examples.

John Carradine in Milan

John Carradine didn't need special effects prosthetics when guest starring opposite his grandson David in Kung Fu. His hands are gnarled, and he looks the part of a blind elderly cripple. Perhaps, despite his crepe wrinkled face, he did not have his grandson's range. This might have something to do with his training in theater as a Shakespearean, or perhaps vaunted legacy Jewish liberals like Ed Spielman, who created the cult classic martial arts serial for Burbank, weren't around to apply their intellect to give this Don Juan something better to do than lose a battle of wits against Greek goddesses, but Spielman's writers take us through the inevitable paces of rehabilitation law which existed in my childhood days, days when David Carradine was still an on going New Age concern. Kung Fu is a paean for the counter culture of my era. Disillusioned hippies get to see one of their own defeat monopolistic tyrants, whether in China-- Burbank's version-- which isn't all that more stereotypical than Beijing's version in the 21st century where Michelle Yech, for all intents and purposes, is the Asiatic supergirl, linear abstract fairytale heroine skillfully merged into the Chinese tradition, which bears some relation to conventions taught in Egyptology.

John Carradine's con artist may be blind, but the holy priest shows him what he's still capable of discerning, taking grand daddy through the liberal ideology of no pity, which collapses in the condensed span of serial time as John senior marginalizes himself, a frail old man, clearing the path for David's superstardom, which David radicalizes in his seventies, in turn. His last performance, on Mental, was nothing short of a fait accompli, a near virtuoso rebellion completed in a silent 50 minute arc, with a creative genius rivaling Verlaine's operatic intricacy, as if to pre-stage his ironic, speculative, death in Thailand, an auto-erotic exercise mishandled, taking a life long capitalization of body art a bridge too far; perhaps seemingly preferable to his grandfather's multiple organ failure, but David never sold his audiences short. Caine might as well have been the living embodiment of the Jesus Prayer as he was an adherent of the Tao, and in more neo-realism applications, if David was going to be a ruthless bastard, he lived that murderous abandon to the point of enthrall. What woman wouldn't want to make love to this projection of apex masculinity?

This liberalism, in its apogee, foretells the doom of its own exhaustion, even if a palsied quadriplegic removes the personal experience from the equation, and the level of expectation. For example, taking a downgrade of 250 per commission to 15 dollars for Examiner posts was a resentment generating exercise, but Clarity Media promoted her to an AXS writer, doing original articles, 5 to 10 USD. Had she persevered, rather than giving the automated snags the finger, it would have generated more revenue than these exercises. Impulse control only aggrandizes how the deck is stacked, but is no less countermanded by the evidence that it is. Burbank's idealism hasn't altered the social realities on our ground game, whatever our nostalgia for its morality plays. It represents another reason to solidly remain in Toomey's camp, the relatively invisible tea party heir who bestowed mercy on Stony Brook, to little avail. Do I expect to get past the gateway to utilize his legislative agenda for my own?