yemeni crickets or sheiks on a plane

Although the message that these thwarted terror attacks is clear forboding for bogeymen of all sorts and a bit of erstwhile rallying for the American mid-term elections, it strikes me as suspect that such ink-jet fireworks were uncovered just days after the European aviation authorities expressed their indignation, led by Great Britian, wanting to put an end to the unnecessary kow-towing to US air travel rules, especially the ones that they have not yet applied to their own domestic flights.  While there are certainly forces out there that might restore to deguising a bomb as a printer cartridge--I like the French word, cartouche, much better as it makes me think of all the Ramesse and King Tut exhibitions that I have visited and the gift shops there offered to render one's name in phonetic hieroglyphs (in a pharonic cartouche) and  I would like to see graffiti in ancient Egyptian: Monkey, Eagle, Cat, All-Seeing Eye--it smacks too familar, like besmirching one's carry-on's, belt, underpants, essential fluids, and finally one's dignity.  While thousands more are deputized in the name of safety and security and more extensive and far-reaching bad-touches are offered as alternatives to naked body scans, passengers must realize that if for one second one was considered any less thorough than the other or any risk was present, no choice would be given, no passage offered.  US rules of engagement are merely innuring factors, performed by agents ignorant of their psychological and numbing effects.  Nothing negates determination as highly as the chance dissuasion, and disillusionment can be counter-acted through more direct means.

whatever happened to with my transylvania twist?

It seems every second Halloween is much scarier than on off years, and one imagines that we are a little spooked by the election cycles in America. Campaign spending and cult of personality has escalated out of control, and for the usual reasons, which cannot be repeated too often: elected representatives and their army of groomed pages and administrative staffs are essentially immune from insider-trading. A congress person or a senator, especially one seated in one of the numerous committees and to the manor born, like agriculture, defense or social programs, is privy to nonpublic information and can even influence legislation in favour of one company or special interest over another, and nothing bars (saving perhaps the recursive and self-governing ethics committee) them from owning and trading stock in the midst of the deal. Elected representatives certainly have a vested interest in retaining their incumbency, maintaining influence or preening their connections for future careers in the private sector that has bankrolled their terms to begin with. European politics are not altruistic and of course not exempt from such persuasions, although appointments and outfitting of former public servants with their hoped for golden parachutes draws at least some attention if not outrage.

schwung and kool-aid

The truly frightening facet of politics, particularly so in America, involves the inertia and moment of what either or any party can claim as a mandate. Changing course is forever the status quo because underlying factors remain entrenched. Government does not solely exist to promote economic welfare, but its policy and deportment which cast the mold for whatever shape businesses and tax-payers, as both purveyors and beneficiaries, can assume, the peg barely fitting the hole, whittled down to baseline requirements or made more substantial with all the riders it can carry and still squeeze through. Neither the diameter of a loophole nor manipulation of the facts through sophistry changes market fundamentals and obligations for civic and economic stewardship. A disengaged public is more liable to accept the truthiness of the governing party without healthy scrutiny and in general innocence of corrobative influences. Redirection without commitment of energies, standing on spindly legs, is only so much gas to inflate the next market bubble.

jinkies

With Halloween and trick-or-treating fast approaching, I thought it high time for a little holiday roundup.  I thought that this costume idea, from the opening credits of Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?--the scary witch-doctor, was very clever and instantly recognizable.  Myself, when I was very little, I can remember, however, wanting to be Velma "Liz" Dinkley.

For those of you still looking for a costume idea, with the democratization of shiny colour-printing and papercraftiness, I defer to the excellent website Superpunch and this collection of downloadable and printable masks (or come up with your own design) for holiday cheer.

product elasticity or wappenschmidt

Inspired by the rather inordinate and unseemly public hue and cry that followed a clothing label's decision to change its logo that could be considered familiar if not iconic, which surely inspired more directed debate and attention than a lot of other more important things, I thought I would try my hand at reimagining our fair and fake city.  Being that there's already inconsistent signage with different looks all about the town, the classic heraldry, a pop-art version with squares and a Q*Bert like creature, and a few not particularly memorable or creative, I thought I could offer this one up for municipal consideration, if only to rescind it later and pretend it never happened.  Maybe there should be a whole series of pop-art incarnations of this, lozenge, tinctures, field.

knock-about or double-rainbow day

H and I are just back from holiday in western Ireland and environs.  The visit was absolutely outstanding in all regards: the people, the history, the ancient and holy sites, but the natural wonderments were really superlative.  Here are just a few snapshots.  More photographs and stories are posted on the companion blog.

Downpatrick Head

This tall rocky outcropping at Downpatrick's Head was where the Devil lived but crumbled away from the mainland in the Middle Ages, and like the snakes, was banished from Ireland.

Doolin Harbour

At the southern edge of the karst moonscape, the Burren, we visited the village of Doolin before traveling on to the amazing Cliffs of Moher.

Cliffs of Moher

  There was no end of things to see and we certainly did not exhaust the Connemara region, with its undulating ribbons of coastline and picture-perfect drives.  We did venture further north, however, through County Sligo.  On the descent from the hike up Knocknarea Mountain, we had a spectacular view of Ben Bulben, which dominated the land like a green version of Ayers Rock, sides carved out by rivulets that swelled with cascading white water after a good, brief rain.



Ben Bulben

 

And about the weather, it was forever damp but the rains only stayed for a brief spell and afterwards we were rewarded with a cavalry of rainbows, coming one right after another, like the dominions of Rainbow Brite, My Little Pony and the Care Bears all put together.  Here was a particularly nice one over the fjord that frames Killary Harbour, just looking out of the window of our cottage.

Killary Habour

ichthys

My mother also has an extensive holy collection, icons, monstrances, crucifixes, and Jesuses--a Jesus Corner.  Once, in what may well be an apocryphal episode but still a cute story nonetheless, a visitor, a neighbor, studying the assemblage, remarked, "Gee, you have so many Henrys."  Henrys?  "You know, 'Inri."  The INRI is the initialism for Iesus Nazarenus, Rex Iudaeorum, Jesus from Nazareth, King of the Jews that was hung above the Cross.  In some places and at certain times, one hears the phrase "Jimminy H. Christmas" or "Jesus H. Christ" flung around like His middle name was Henry or something, whereas the H is actually a majuscule Greek letter Eta, one form of the definite article, the.  Incidentally, the once secret fish symbol for Christians, the Ichthys, probably originated itself because Jesus' birth fell at the dawn of the zodiacal age of Pisces, the Fish.