Crohn's Management: One

It is interesting that The Washington Post Volokh Conspiracy series contributor Jane Bambauer explains claim liberty First Amendment rights just as I am seriously beginning to wonder about all the penalties invoked on half baked academics, and getting my ass realigned by either playful or stark libertarian Caucasians who would probably prefer I go away and play kiss and make up with reasonable accommodation bromides. What Bambauer has achieved in explicating her studies is an example of what I want to do, not as it pertains to constitutional law, but on something. I thought I was capable of work at her level, and so did others, but hypothetically, had I attained a Harvard degree, been peer to Ross and Niall Ferguson, would things have been any different? Zuckerberg, his backers, like rich homosexual nutcases, Google, its ruthless efficiency paradigm rather belling its feel the love effusiveness, Microsoft, Silicon Valley gargantuanism birthed a monster, after a fashion, and I do not know why, following in Bambauer's footsteps as an expert in something that I accomplished matters, particularly as I am angry enough to court violence. I would not, like the alt.right, of late, duck for police protection. I'd go down with a roar that would have deafened our 43rd president, on that carrier. Many on the left would see that as a pathology at war with its finer essence, but what is it, exactly, I think I can repair any better than Ann Coulter modal grammars, or Ross'es superciliousness?  We all have a prescription, and can turn thence immediately to lower brow media, like this, as a reminder of our ground game. I am stuck on Race Street, with my past shoveled in my face daily, with a now irrelevant, once prominent, corrupt transsexual who sourced my very first article, black males who threaten and verbally lacerate me, seventy year old and plus seniors who have tried to get me evicted since I moved in, and yet I persist with some sort of belief, if I can climb back, become, miraculously, a CATO fellow, then this justifies the level of my rage in poverty and failure. Dream on. 

Coffee and Continence: Two

I often have to pause my life for a minute — whether that’s driving down the sidewalk, using my laptop, or eating a meal--my alma mater.

Whenever a writer prefers to sit around and pontificate, instead of working, it signifies sirens of calamity in the background, which actually aren't that dire: I wrote a response to George Will's rather ingenious attack on Trump's willful ignorance, forced myself to find a conclusion, hit the ground with six hundred words, and no one is happy. I have to retool it for other markets I've looked at, fairly certain of ones that would spit in my face, aware of the timelessness issue, and would like to turn the crusty baseball enthusiast upside his head and shake his premium express credit cards out of his pockets, also aware, that if I take these insider dirty laundry issues too far, I possibly wind up black balled. To a certain extent, I am already there, of course. Josie Byzek may not have closed her twitter account because of how often she is cited in Disability in Entertainment Arts, but it is safe to say, I'll never go home again. All I want to know is why I was frozen out of New Mobility. My feature, with intimations of Damore's fate, was controversial, but Tim Gilmer still included me on his contributors. The fat lady hadn't sung, as yet. By the same token, the periodical is very limited, insular in scope, and of little help to me. The only thing I can force upon the United Spinal Association is trouble, but I have larger behemoths in the scope, hence, I have to live with the rancor, or push a point with no real justifiable outcome, but what I want Josie to see is her rationalizations about ambulatory male ignorance in no way protected me, despite regulatory schematics, from paraprofessional abuse, from section 202's regimented discrimination. Does she like it, being a lesbian, that in the dark net of attendant care, so many helpless to defend themselves become enslaved to predatory control? I cannot shield myself from its likely recurrence forever. This, supposedly, was the point of Precious's author, this nothing we can do attitude, despite all our industrious legal generation.

Bambauer cleared up a contextual issue for me, in part, and this is how it works, but not really. Google Blogger should suspend me. Twitter too, and authority should force me into compliance, and I suffer say another eight years, until terminal issue discloses itself, or I can take up my little plan and try beating the odds, or go on, wrangle the system for the joy juice that will not force a lethal reaction. Difficult to do with cerebral palsy.


Drexel University is not that well known to me, but well known enough to be intuited that it's little league academics, a bit spartan, perhaps afflicted with uncertainty, and in the larger societal context, George may have survived employee termination, where Lisa did not, because he was white, angry leftist. In contrast, viewers saw Tucker at war with a paranoid minority in Durden, and echoes of the Black Panthers may have resonated. In real time, these issues are about group dynamics, and less about theory, like claims liberty. This is a contextual issue, our faith in an institutional judiciary. It punished Brandon Phillips, my assaulter, but this did nothing for me. It also pushed back against an unscrupulous landlord, one which thrives on a socialist subsidized federalism, dear libertarian friends, but I live in terror, nonetheless, after years of conflict. Yes, I have a choice: go homeless, bully the same old intake system into emergency relocation, but a real genuine legal fight is probably going to take 24 months. For what? Do I presume more affluence? Support him or not, (I am in the middle, hoping he will hurt progressives who failed me), Trump is a symptom; he is not a proximate cause. Some of my longest online associates have made me diffident because of well worn beatnik cosmetic protests that really cannot unravel poverty entrapment.

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.

Walking Back

My conclusion in Applicable is too broad. Neither my ISP nor Google have to tolerate that my anger veers toward being nothing more than threat rhetoric, of course, however much I pull it back for the sake of what else I'm doing aesthetically, but I suppose, if no incorporated entity is beholden to constitutionally protected speech, and social media companies fall into that category, then I'm questioning what the First Amendment actually protects, as it has no power to rectify, in and of itself, loss of economic freedom. We'll continue to chip at it, categorically.

Oden's Hammer, with admissible discrepancies

Part of what I am attempting to do on Disability In Entertainment Arts is utilize my brain damage to my advantage, which is why I convolute so many things together. It doesn't always work, and my short lived protégé Louise Norlie indicated I might be less confusing, and less rushed, but some of my triggers are indicative of trauma no iconic personage can cure, like guilt over my online usage. I need to at the very least, mitigate this. My provider isn't an authoritarian dragoon. I may have had a little trouble mailing my bill in during the era of dial up , for which even I can scarf as a primitive folly, despite not being fully wireless- but I waited a little too patiently for ATT to convert to online billing, and I followed suit. I have been responsible, did everything they every asked of me, including the dreaded credit deposit. (Years ago, and yes, they returned it, but I am lucky I had over 30,000 dollars at my disposal to play these games.) Quelch. Now she is discussing long lost freedom of her personal finances. No one does that, nor do I, up to a point, but I am only attempting to illustrate how far my life imploded thanks to the false assurances of the disability intake model: When I was 23, still a rather fresh inner city body, I was in danger of starving to death, because the SSA field offices, overwhelmed, did not keep tabs on what their verifiable cripple was doing, and arbitrarily suspended my SSI. It points to why, unlike my dying father's sister, I am very very reluctant to depend on state welfare. I got through it then, but being very nearly in the same place, 32 years later, is obscene. I'm fully cognizant that I am less elastic, and yes, part of this falls on my shoulders: I resigned from The Matrix Research Institute like a water logged koosh ball, frightened of my clients, overwhelmed at losing my brother-- hence, "bumping into" my former manager from the center from which Matrix plucked me, this wasn't my best option, confiding in her through posts. My wounds over that permeate this entire account, revealing to me an implosive level of destruction which could, hypothetically, write itself out as a NSA political thriller spiraling into Armageddon.

Ten years ago, getting away from Presby terian Homes, this would have mitigated such terrible scars. [Riverside is the beige white tower if you want to rescue and thereby own my loyalty for life.] Now? I may have a case to sue the corporate office in Spring Mills from here to the center of the earth, but if I perceive an occasional overage as a crime against humanity. I am not really long on holding onto my sanity. My shins are going, but this doesn't mean a paraprofessional represents an optimal solution, you can trust me. I see too many abuses, even under Trudy's duress, using every weapon she can, striking out at me without realization of the consequences, because she is a moron, because Presbyterians hire minorities barely a step ahead of their brutal underclass on which they earn their salary, and there are far too many people like this, as opposed to those of keen acuity damaged by relentless cruelty. I have research to do, and may slow with Blogger for a time. I don't know if the company will allow me to code ads back in. They do not have to. I may, just barely, hold my inner savage in check, but I shall never be entirely free of the belief that people driven to violence have had too much amplified whippings. 

As for Louise, I don't know how she is faring under the Trump Administration. She was a nice girl. Our contact had too much subterfuge.

Decline, Decant, Trip The Steel Grab Bars

For America's giant, dinosaurlike economy — with its small, wealthy head; its big, fat middle; and its long low-income tail — there is a tried-and-tested response to a change in the weather. -- Niall Ferguson

Of all the universities with which I’ve been affiliated, I have no direct connection to Drexel, other than my relatives, who have administrative contracts with the campus, and brief gunrunner visits, dashing my long deceased P-200 to their computer service outlet, and of all the city’s big campuses, Drexel’s is the most utilitarian, but not in the aspirational sense, in its combination of sienna brick-face masonry and steel cordoned pathways, its architecture is unpleasant, and that it seems to have induced, if not sanctioned, George Ciccariello-Maher's behavior is only further evidence of institutional authority erosion. Outstanding teacher my ass. The man is an obnoxious twit who should have thought about his responsibility as a faculty member before he tanked himself in social media’s septic refuse. Jerry was dismissed from Widener for similar reasons, but that was in house, and didn’t become a Reaganite pet peeve as Maher did with Fox.

Professors shouldn’t receive threats for insolence, but one can comprehend backlash provoked by such irresponsible sarcasm. I rode in on the tail end of the initial incident, and after Twitter allowed me to sample his account, I wondered about doctorate degree valuation. Trump may have polarized the country, but he has been an urban celebrity for more than 20 years, elected by those, like myself, never given air by media outlets. Snark by academics in political science, underappreciated, without the lucre of a television deal, aren’t rectifying the wounds the president has caused through scalding barbs of insensitivity.

Inverted Pulcinella

This juxtaposition of proud, cunning thief from the upper class and loud, crass pervert from the servant class is one that is key to understanding Pulcinella's behaviors.-- traditional characteristics

George Ciccariello Maher and Pamela Taylor show an incurious lack of balance, as pertains to their economic interests. Spastic has conveyed nearly a free speech absolutism, to the point of letting vacuous threats against individual enemies stand, but that is easily enough done for a woman who has had nearly every aspiration defeated. If spastic finds a news organization willing to provide a contract, this account may go into mothballs, but she has also been very cautious in her diction about the sitting President and First Lady. I am still a little too smart to give myself tapeworm from raw muscle torn hot and bloody from the rib, and even if  Taylor can be taken at her word about the context of her usage, she had to realize the reactive connotation between "ape" and Michelle's skin color, and writing a post like that on FB?
Statisticians say 1 in 3 people utilize Zuckerberg's Harvard yearbook monster, and everyone else followed suit, mimicking either Twitter or the other behemoth. For a sitting director to exercise that kind of language in a social media post might tell her bosses something about her lack of acuity and ability to compartmentalize.
I defend her. If I should have the right to allow my corrosive, sometimes explosive pain, sock it to the ambulatory world, then she can say what most Europeans feel about blacks. Not all Europeans-- but Pamela's voice is indeed a refection of aspersion, one which forgets the shield of her responsibility to her employer to reflect before she posts. Development corporations do not want to be in the position of defending pot shots at national figures.
Ciccariello is more mundane in the annuals of academic controversy. My mentor went through a similar steam bath with the dean of my college, but if an assistant professor can be so blithely acerbic, should he be teaching at an engineering school like Drexel? I placed his account in my new folder, adversaries, and the administrators removed it. Why is is so wrong, in this context, to acknowledge we have adversaries in the world? I do not know Ciccariello, and assume the real impetus behind his barb is unhappiness with his course load; his case illustrates that accreditation is not always a just winnowing process. With the appropriate sedative, a little preparation, I could roll to his lectern and eat his students for lunch, but alas, most of you look at me and see a savant, a phantasm suitable for Lord of the Rings emaciation. So I have 3 dollars in the bank, intimidating a bingo-eyed African building manage out of her career, willing to go to jail over black authoritarianism punishing me for my inner city victimization.

Corroded Pretty Pennies

"Dear Brothers and Sisters," a proselytizing Sanders email generated from my involvement with Obama for America, unfortunately

If it comes down to a choice between Trump and Hillary, Howard Gutman was fairly confident, in his analysis, that Hillary prevails by three points, which would mean the electorate cements Barack's legacy and gives the Clintons one more crack at the helm. I loathe both front running brands, if we want to contextualize the fame of both contenders in that manner, but if Donald apologizes to Pope Francis, and I'm able to cast a ballot, I simply cannot return to the Clintons. If it is Rubio and Clinton, I simply won't vote; not a matter of questioning Rubio's credentials. The Senator has a book, financial extensions, raises valid points about the quiet minority of immigrants who are on the Visa applicant list, and so what?

Given a choice, the public knows the Clintons, and presumes they will keep the country steady at the helm. If somehow Sanders manages to draw blood and then it's him and Trump, then maybe my vote matters, and I'd have to go with the bombastic charlatan, if he apologizes to the Pope. One might be critical of the Argentine's leftist leanings, but he is the Vicar of Christ, the head of state, and I demand respect for the prince of the Church, however hard and dark I might be.


On the chance that Bloomberg does enter the race, his track record as an executive has already sold itself, and I'd possibly advocate for his candidacy. I do not always agree with his command decisions, but at least he makes them, and offers his constituency a supporting rationale. Both as a writer and an advocate, my failure has been one of local indifference, because what goes on at the lowest rung is the most primal, and I regret it, since the Commonwealth's rust belt status conveys a certain truism about dilapidation, never quite conscious of the fact, until recently that City Council is merely the cabal out of whom lesser forces spring. Rendell became mayor because he was DA, because Goode literally torched his own fortunes. Nutter became mayor against Street's collusion, and became a no blame minority nanny. Kenney looks like a half-witted superintendent, and this doesn't bode well for the city, I fear. Does the First Amendment trump FCC regulatory authority? Doubtlessly not, as the commissioners are terrified of the decency legion.

Shame, Aggression, False Pretenses

When I first joined Examiner over the winter, their advice to me, however removed in locale and my internal time sensing mechanism, was "not to hide." But any raise in profile carries risks, and I sometimes wonder why Blogger tolerates my sometimes rampaging content, not all of it an act, because posts are regulated for behavior, and not given full free speech latitude, but this points to how social networking stokes paranoia. I am afraid of Linked In's controls, and the hassle of having everything I write in a group like the Professional Women's Network "subject to review". It is a large group, and I don't want to presume too much, but subjecting to review is neither a guarantee of containment, nor definitive indicator of future acts. My grudges have poisoned my emotional well being, certainly, but when I broke my wedding engagement with Frank, my family should have helped me relocate. They did not, and I am stuck in exactly the same place I have been in against my will since 1994. The former supervisor who hurt me has probably paid off her mortgage. My apartment manager Trudy Richardson, who was a cheaper investment for Pennsylvania than I, gets paid to harass me for being non compliant, and Jimmi and Erik, Christ knows what they think they've actually achieved. Disability activism presumes that transitioning from an institutional environment to a housing environment where behavior is proscribed to the 10th power is the definition of success. For me this rings hollow without rewarding matriculation-- and I have been without that since 2005. Being in section 811/202 housing from the beginning of a career that keeps breaking me hasn't been the easiest thing to withstand, but we seem to insist on regulating ourselves down to the bland banality of oatmeal. I wanted a real independence in my life, not 50 memos about inspections and tenant meetings and who gets ostracized for not being a black baptist. I wanted to travel, not demonstrate with other wheelchair users for empowerment. It is a flawed and forced form of inclusion that has its own sterility. I wanted an income for vanity, my own furniture, decent clothes, not struggling with disability payments, alone, with no friends of my own choosing.

I have interacted with a woman named Mary Bryant on the network, and if I am guessing correctly she's a better Catholic than I ever was, even in the fervor of my religious years. I opened up, just enough, to tell her I don't recommend Linked In members read my blog-- if the post goes through-- but if she did she'd probably wonder why I'm not on my dead mother's lithium dosage, getting *help*. It would certainly be a way for the social cruelty I've experienced life long to be buried, in tandem with the fact that I've dished some of that back, particularly on suburban female author hopefuls with caustic ferocity born out of despair. I may have wised up, but social fear is not an unwise prerequisite when utilizing social sites. I've had a horrible life. It pisses me off, and the people who've wronged me got away with it. Every time. 

Shards and fissures

I used to believe I'd automatically get myself excluded from the established press if I told the truth about inherent bias, but it is something of which most readers are suspicious of already, not without justification. Let me give a for instance. Eugene Robinson yesterday faults the administration's liberal self-righteousness in villainizing Putin's provocation in the Crimea, and indeed, Eugene's voice sates progressive outrage with the Bush Administration's 9/11 overreach. Nothing wrong with pandering to a liberal base trying to shore up a fading promise Barack Obama represented. If candidate Obama had not aspired to the presidency, one can speculate what he might have done as an inspirational leader on a more nuanced platform.

Like Robinson, I actually remember Grenada. I can neither affirm nor deny that it was an appropriate domino effect for Reagan era spheres of influence, but citing the US incursion on the petite Caribbean paradise doesn't explain Ukrainian turmoil. Neither does citing America's systemic destruction of Saddam Hussein's regime in Iraq. There is a minority viewpoint which doesn't equate Putin with Mussolini, which is not to be blind to modern Russian brutality. I am not unaware of ugly brute force in Russian penal systems, but this doesn't preclude Vladimir from acting out of legitimate national interests.

In that vein, plagiarism is not quite the crime journalists make it out to be, and that was what I was driving at in my column about fraud in my Examiner piece on Glass's inability to acquire a legal license. The editorial chicks who deign to approve or reject my pieces for a certain degree of promotional status didn't like it as newsworthy commentary. Certainly their prerogative, though I stayed up all night researching it, debating a call to the bar association contact. I am on to a thesis which matters, at least in relation to veracity. I do not believe my finished product, as such, does all that badly getting me where I want to go.  

I have to watch a very young Peter Falk play a spree killer for Hitchcock again; it was an interesting rationalization. Past informing the present; Falk did not mind spoofing himself, but he never played his audience false. I miss him. He loved life, tumbling with adversity and coming out of it with a twinkle in his eye. Tassoni had the same propensity toward sardonic affection in his gaze.

Per Vias Rectas

Note to George Will :That battle ended a long time ago. The minute centers like these borrowed the rhetoric of our Enlightened Founding Fathers, the experiment that was the United States came to an end. It is now in a persistent vegetative state, and my ability to discuss it with you across the aisle, one starving freelancer who will odds on die in permanent orbit, hanging at the mercy of the welfare state, to an economically secure libertarian, is guided not by the First Amendment, but by terms of service standards of civility. Manners may help us co-exist as ineffectual primates, but it is used to police both oral and written speech since Cervantes created the novel, at least. Best of luck old man.

I once believed in America, the America in which my father secured for his family the most beautiful rancher one could lay eyes on, and now I am nearly as much a product of urban ghettoization as the sanitation workers for whom King agitated just prior to his assassination. We may not yet be a fully socialist state, but independence no longer exists.