The Velociraptor of Yucca Flats

"I'm concerned about the risk of the risk."-- Donna Brazile, pretense of a force to be reckoned with

The only episode of The Good Wife which came to the dowager's attention when it had currency on the free CBS network was "A New Day," and even that was only a partial view 10 minutes into the story, which I can only say, now that I realize what was going on in the stratosphere Rahm Emanuel's dismal leadership, is one of the more improbable plots out of the third season, a gay Palestinian killing a one time Jewish hook up who didn't want him, with all of forty stereotypical stab wounds illustrating gay hysteria for the sole purpose of placing Chris Noth and Julianna Marguiles in diametrical opposition to each other as Alicia begins to assert her litigious independence. Rather than striving to regain a modicum of my independence, or burning my bridges with my godfather and his troubled designated vendor, Mainline Medical, such as they've never been burned before, I've retreated inward, lost in this neo-realist series developed by the King's in an effort to pave the way for Hillary's coronation never to be? I'm waiting on tinderhooks for Will's death, which reverberated the reviewer's pens and carried over to me, reading the reverberating reviews which I in turn should be doing, getting access to those contingent previews prior to air date. At this rate, conditions of digital media brands being what they are, that's a rueful notion, that I can still stand toe to toe in entertainment media, re-assemble my building blocks, still fortunate that I do not have the shriveled post-menopausal neckline Mary Collins of Virginia.

Think the answer is yes

— Mary Collins (@MCollinsVAGirl) January 22, 2019

This is what she wrote in my lack of response to a rebuttal aimed at me in relation to Mueller's grand political theater, which has oscillated outward on the flimsiest of specters. I lost my temper to these apparently habitual terse retorts of hers, not that she could have been aware that I am not always capable of responding when I am now forced to fight a staph infection, an infection which will kill me necessarily unless I find another power chair through which I can restore some function. I don't want a piece of the story in relation to the ramifications of Mueller's over reach and abuses, unless I pick up a side lede on Flynn, who mystifies me. Mary pissed me off, believing that I cannot possibly comprehend the criminality involved in a mere logo leasing deal in Moscow, but it isn't only that. We're losing that altruism we used to have before smartphones transposed our interactions into hyper-partisan scorecards. Ms. Collins apparently doesn't realize, herself, with those tart snippets, what quadriplegic means, and how I am a thousand times stronger than she for what I've survived, even with the vortex sucking me in these last 17 months, and that vortex is a permanent condition of Ray's, the tweeter who reached out to Woods in his threats to publicly advertise his desire for self-harm. Sunday evening I kicked Ray in the balls. He claims, this Sunday evening, that his suicide attempt failed, and I retorted I am sitting in diaper shit, broke, and he needs to get over himself. His Christian sympathizers stroke his anguish, but not I, in this insulating pain of his to illicit pity. If he truly wanted to be dead that would have occurred after the actor's efforts got Ray placed on 50/51. The nurturing TwitterVerse offers about his "value" is only encouraging him to continue illuminating his pain, and that devotion to Jesus he wears on his sleeve is no doubt representative of a martyrdom complex. Whatever his mental illness is, if he desires its mitigation, it is contingent upon him to relocate a healthier egotistical comportment, and swallow the therapeutic paradigm available. A nursing home, by contrast, will not do the same for me, and if I take drastic action, I have to be able to mobilize quickly.

The Long Pincers Umbra

"That statue is not about football," Gleason, straining to speak because of the effects of ALS, said moments before the formal unveiling on a rain-soaked Friday afternoon.-- a hero in continuing pan shots of emaciation

What I see in the above image is the less than illustrious rise of an ancestral peasant class, with its nearly denuding and uniformless dressing of the crone age female body, mass manufactured couture, making the best of it on a parochial teacher's salary, representative of the culture wars surrounding gender today, more den mother than feminine, all in slacks. They would not use the terminology of Gloria Steinem, but there is no doubt they've benefited from the feminist generation, emasculating males who simply do not have the fortune to be a Monsignor in charge of secondary education. They submit as the obedient second sex to Catholic priests, but dare I say this is primarily pro forma. The large woman in the back right is a retired principal, and doesn't live in the same building with a priest who let her go, many years ago, relieving her of her responsibilities, unlike myself, forced to delightfully reside with dying clients and one heinous transsexual who protected and covered up my toxic humiliation at the turn of the century. More on the limpid retraction of disability independent living due to the centralized triumph of Maximus later. However bad things were before under the decentralized Medicaid Waiver before, things under Maximus are like lining up humans over fifty for slaughterhouses, and this merciless safety net for indigence is traded on the NYSE. I can only snicker, starkly, not even compliant with near dying well, with brave smiles. Oh, my aunt, she only wants what's best for me. Not offering the same appearance of frailty as Justice Ginsburg and bubble wrap, she nevertheless encloses herself in a dome, with her own fears, near to 70, with allegories of rebirth in heaven. She is upset with yours truly for throwing a spear at the sacred pantheon of her mother, my grandmother, who sits at a table with a geriatric aplomb, zoological spectrum of vacancy. And exactly what, you ask, does this have to do with Robert Mueller's Russia probe rumbling along in avalanche? Aside from the need to demystify Putin, who has the same financial inability to restore the former Soviet empire as any other colonial power, Mueller's applied brute force is destroying lives, as opposed to protecting domestic election integrity. Manafort is no more or less unethical than the flash boys of Wall Street, and my eyes glaze over with the new, if recycled, Slavic paranoia. that's right, but I got sucked into a Twitter brawl with blat, and Mary. It cost me, but doesn't it always, at that? If Pelosi decides to impeach the ignoramus in chief, and starts to chip away at Senate solidarity, it doesn't change the continuing erosion of our former unifying ties as a country. Regular readers can scroll through 1600 posts, to discover my integrity in disposable linens. From this perspective, Justin Cronin manages to convince me of world's end. We're overwhelmed with pathogens, meaningless, aimlessly frail identities. His trilogy is so similar to Carey's film I thought the series was a clever spin off. Another error. Worried? Alas, don't be. I have decided to suspend medical services, soon. That will be the start of my journey as well, as if I am the first of the last. I am determined to leave Philadelphia.

Mrs. Iselin, Stockholm Perfectionist

Zamyatin's detractors in the Soviet Union might have been wicked men, but they were not stupid, and no one believed that a Russian We had been reconstituted out of a Czech translation..." Clarence Brown, translator, kindle location 120

Evan Perez, in the heat of the moment, does not care to reflect on when the Federal Bureau of Investigation cared to follow the letter of the law? Under the biracial nanny czar, if rumored revisionists are to be believed? Mueller made a few missteps with both anthrax suspects after 9/11, leading Hatfill to a nearly three million dollar settlement, and then miscalculating Dr. Ivins durability to the point that the public will never have criminal veracity tested through due process.

Granted, Hatfill and Ivin were both beneficiaries of western knowledge production, and had dangerous levels of expertise. Tamerlan was someone generated out of Stalinist oppression, whether or not he was aware of it before he struck out at an American liberalism that tried to give him a chance in a more free flowing society that is only free to those able to drive, those able to maintain geographical mobility, those able to generate income.

Whatever Hoover had buried in terms of personal secrets, he would not have allowed Tamarlan Tsarnaev back into the United States, and this is the level of difference we seemingly have forgotten how to determine. It may have been unkind to revoke his Visa, or pull his passport, but it would not have amounted to torture, not while we parried with Alexander's agents to get them to show their cards, and they had cards to play.

A waking nightmare about Obama being targeted by a black woman wearing a wig started me thinking about when a candidate is in charge and when they aren't. I do not take such dreams literally, but do not ignore them either, and Condon's late century thriller about stand ins and doubles was no doubt a slap in the face to Hoover's paranoia, but what was Mrs. Iselin's portraiture, really? Communist? Right wing?

What she is amounts to the certainty of conviction that runs so deep it frightens, and in the right hands, perhaps fascinates, and necessitated that the film adaptation was so rigidly schematic, because, much like other late Ike era narratives, the anxiety over the line between American muscle against Marxist radical leveling made people uneasy, and even Sinatra couldn't sanitize those who would be forever altered by Stockholm syndromes. Not quite brain washing, but certainly a psychological indoctrination of the kind that leaves deep scars. 

Amore and Hairy Monsters

"B+-- you seem to despair of the whole process." An intuitive foreign policy instructor

Alejandro González Iñárritu is the only Latin American leftist to whom I concede my argument, and I would luxuriate in your stunned silence over this admission, except that I do not believe in it. Babel should not be viewed on network television. These idiots butchered the full extent of the film and its implications with their edits and jump cuts to commercial, and I am going to hiss at them in protest. 

My critical faculties scatter to the wind with every viewing, and upon reassembly, I cannot recall which post it was I wrote that I have not been able to offer Alejandro's work justice, but the assertion remains as true today as when I wrote it into archive; I can stitch together a few threads. The police intervene in each of the three arcs of the film, with tragic consequences in the Moroccan  and US border segment. The Japanese police more or less waltz in on a denouement that began before the film started, with the death of Chieko's mother, and it is only the Jones couple who are not assisted by authorities after the mother is shot.

To the extent that I am able to enter into the posture Inarritu seems to demand, he is right, but that little bird of a cautionary tale fluttering so charmingly around the halo of Barack Obama, led to the botched investigation that gave us the Boston marathon bombing. I am super pissed off at both the FBI and what remnants seemingly remain of the KGB. Am I ashamed of the former attorney general Ashcroft, the CIA and military intelligence under Rumsfeld for water boarding and Jose Padillla? Yes.

Their replacement is a Harvard Constitutional scholar, killing the children of militants with UAV's in our blind spot, and with his other hand, he scratches Chechens behind the ears for that warm fuzzy feeling. Most liberals who have known me over the years, in our online projections, ward me off. Spastic is rude. Spastic is in pain, so much pain. Even if I throw you a challenge flag on the field as it relates to self-delusion, let me offer Mueller a few keen insights on what he can learn from a developmental brain injury:

"Gee, Russian security services send us a red flag over Tamerlan Tsarnaev. We cannot find anything, but let's hold him in Russia for the time being and get him on a watch list. Bush may have had constipation on civil liberties but this in Chechnya we're talking about."

Fucking assholes. I am never voting for another President. Ever. Period.