No Automated Mail Today

I am supposing I received my answer from Toomey's team in the form of a non-answer, despite the fact I cleanly let a little hair down. I know they are busy and not worried about an angry, powerless woman, and her blog account. Even if federal law enforcement wants to prick up its ears on my behalf, I'm old, hygiene challenged, and the parent rental company in which I'm trapped has every rational conviction to boot me, but that is my objection: terrorizing and humiliating me since the system of structures and supports collapsed over my head doesn't solve anything, despite so called HUD protections. I do not have much quality time left, and need to stop shrinking like a violet. Just not sure how to get there, aside from telling a gay politician to fuck off, between a vacuum of nothing and nothing. I do agree with many of Pat's convictions, not all, certainly. I have to run.

Easing the Pedal

This interests me as branch off research, as I'd like to be nice to my ISP. If anyone can muzzle me with a "sorry sister," it would be a provider, but Ma Bell has put up with yours truly dashing about for years, wrenching my hair with dial up. I almost left the old telecom in 98 or 99 but stayed because I was confused about downloading a new service, and then never left. Why?

I'm stodgy, never quite agreed with the government breakup of the utility in the first place, and don't remain convinced that Verizon is a rival-- though Verizon Infinity beat Comcast and made a deal with this Presby owner to wire the building. I am not sure this is capitalism at work either, as opposed to inert municipal socialism (sputtering),

But in fairness to AT&T, we cannot all be online at the same time, and slowdowns are bound to happen. Comcast has been known to boot customers for overages, but AT&T has pretty much always accommodated me. True, I pay a little more than my neighbors, but I've never had much of a problem, and stay offline between 12 and 4 EST if I can help it, and imagine, if I need to parse on cell minutes, customer service will work with me. Is 5G plus the phone enough? No, but I cannot afford going up to 7 or 8, and so behave or once in awhile pay for another gigabyte. I may be mean, but I'm soft on Big Corporate, which may be why I never got fed to Jaws.

[Wry grin fade out.]

The Imagined Meritocracy, Rosy Muniment

Everyone has their own views on James. To Ellen Moody he was an aggressive lover of other men; to Sheldon Novick he was coy about homosexual practices. Others believe he was a tortured celibate; this also applies to the lens we bring to the text.-- the spastic dowager

When I raised my voice in transmission to Gregory Zacharias about my weariness in the role of the good lieutenant, perhaps I should have paused to reflect on why I always find myself in the uniform. I have been trying to revise, simply revise, a poem of mine which I like. It sits in my strongest manuscript which I am attempting to take out of moth balls and put it back into the contest circuit. Since the title of the poem is appropriate to cite in anticipation of this evening's spectacle, I will feed it to you: "A Festive Independence". Do you see what the immediacy of the digital age has done to those of us who had some sense of tranquility before it? As a member of the Henry James Society, until the early summer of 2014, I am now coddling the aggrieved ego of the non academic acolyte, and have done so in an attempted sympathy, with doubts in the back of my mind as to whether or not I didn't make things worse. I take no quarrel with Lionel Trilling's attempted rescue of The Princess Casamassima. Lionel's knowledge illuminates Henry's motives for the novel, but here, James's masterful ambiguity fails him, because anarchy is not amendable to the qualities of the fairy tale. Hyacinth is almost a protean transvestite for his beauty, and little convincing as the man in the middle between zealotry and aesthetic appreciation, and yet I think of James at his most invested in his middle years, his most cynical, trying to keep his creations, the doll-like Rosy, from "blowing her brains out." This is how the narrator leaves the poor girl, dreaming of aristocratic finesse and their vivid estates. Yet James did disability cultural a favor by pitting Rosy in a dialogical contest with the fabled Tiny Tim, because we have two extremes on the spectrum, pity, and the tyranny of guilt.

Every time I reveal that cerebral palsy necessitates dependence on my power chair, and that I am one of those in poverty who Henry James varnishes in semi-gloss, affluent white males, either in the vigor of their public roles, (Niall Ferguson), or in looking to me for assertive sympathy, convey the same sentiments, the same sorrow for my *situation*. Perhaps I am better off that Greg assumes the posture that I'm a disruptive force.

This certainly applies to Edward Snowden's mortal fear. Dana balances the bone stuck in my throat, and though I rarely agree with any columnists opinion in its entirety, Milbank touches upon the crux of the problem. Snowden's paranoia about Obama is overblown; Snowden's cowardice flies in the face of the gravity of his actions. Outsourcing security clearances to USIS represents the real problem, more so than whether or not his ass is fried. I'd contend, even if Snowden evades the executive branch for the time being, his ass is fried anyway, but you cannot run the CIA on absolutist free market models.

Snowman Boyce to Snowden

Tense, intriguing, and darkly compelling, The Falcon and the Snowman is a uniquely American story of betrayal. On the face of it, there was nothing to indicate that Andrew Dalton Lee and Christopher James Boyce were anything but two devout Catholic boys growing up in happy, warm families in one of the most affluent suburbs in America, living one version of the American Dream and facing nothing but the best of futures--Lyons Press

Robert Lindsey could assure you with the certitude of his specialization that we have been here before, as it pertains to Edward Snowden. Edward, Bradley Manning, Boyce, they form part of a larger pattern that is a distinct subset in the world of espionage, related, but discernible in motive from the gaming of Ana Montes and Robert Hanssen.

The actions of Snowden, to my nose, are slowly taking on the odor of sour milk; he seems to be a character inside of his own Timothy Hutton morality play, although the NSA's technical capacity and ability is something that I am sure keeps James Fallows awake on his pillow, in addition to this well bred correspondent's other worries.

Some films are distinctions of their auteurs; some films have an educational agenda. The Falcon and the Snowman, in addition to what I have written on it in other posts, is representative, at least through Hutton, of the corrosive effects of delayed ejaculations and rapist rage that ventilates itself in treasonous activities. 

Marcella Midget Queen Data Mime

I have indicated certain dark sympathies for people like Dorner, and many presume this to be a false alarm amid contradictory bias, but idiots, regardless of their superficial ethic differences, provide undue founts of justified pleasure for my cynicism. The reemergence of NSA data mining confuses me because it was already revealed at the close of the Bush Administration. It is not as if we did not know, regardless of the legal sword hanging over Snowden's head (and he confuses me more).

1. I do not have any faith in this kind of electronic surveillance;
2. It did not stop the Tsarnaev brothers;
3. It will be abused;
4. We need to start thinking about what kind of personal autonomy will remain at the end of this century.

If a minority excavator can kill six people because he was an oppressed drug addict deemed untouchable due to his civil rights (and lax oversight by city regulators) and a two bit industry actress can turn herself into a national security threat out of spite, then I guess we're finished. This center engages in illegal acts against a substantial minority of its staff, its clientele base, and my pain over what it and the activists around it did to me supposedly puts me outside the normal realm because I was not emotionally fit in the time frame the events occurred to go through the rigor of litigation, and the regulators with the power to reign in a bad system with a bad mandate will sit on their asses until the culture vomits out a Benschop or Richardson of its own.

Self interest and its blinding impact, incompetence, and the metrical creation of homogeneous compliance. Rulers of the universe.