A Few Hours Respite

We spent the night at Los Poblanos in Albuquerque's North Valley the other day. Had dinner and breakfast at their restaurant Campo. I drove there and back, and walked around the grounds with a stick instead of my walker. I'm paying for it now with sore muscles and joints, but damn it was a treat. 

And snow. We've had a very light winter, hardly any snow but much rain. California style. But while we were at Los Poblanos, a storm was coming in, and sure enough, snow fell, big fat flakes, and it was magical. Well, for us. Others were a little annoyed. Maybe three inches or so fell in total, but the air was warm enough to melt most of it by noonish. 

We saw a magnificent peacock at breakfast and before that as we headed to dinner. And there was a fat orange farm cat that came in our room and asked for cream out of the refrigerator. Sadly, that didn't happen. No, kitty had to beg from others.

I feel like we were more than 24 hours away, but really it was only from the evening of the 16th to the morning of the 17th. For St. Patrick's Day we wore our greens and that led to much hoo and hah in the restaurant as most people either forgot or didn't want to wear green. I think we might have even made some new friends as Ms. Ché got to meet a would-be poetess, and promoted her upcoming publication of poetry and a workshop/retreat with Jimmy Santiago Baca coming up in June. And we learned about an Irish poet we'd never heard of before. 

I usually have to explain when I do or put on Irish stuff that I'm only a quarter Irish. My father was half, my mother was mostly Scottish I've realized recently. She thought she was English, French and whatnot, but the record and DNA evidence is that no, she was mostly Scottish on both sides of her ancestry.

So I guess that makes me pretty much Celtic by ancestry. My father was half German, but for some reason the German part of my ancestry didn't show up in my DNA profile at all. Yet my father's maternal grandparents were immigrants from Germany, had papers and everything, and one of them never learned English and spoke only German.  Then suddenly, my DNA profile acknowledged a 9% German contribution. My. my, my. The rest, Scottish, Irish, and English. Hm.

Anyway, I don't give much credence to it. Europeans are notoriously mixed,  and there is no way to sort them into easy genetic categories. The thing is, people travel, they go places, sometimes settling for a while before moving on. Anyone who says they have German or French or Belgian ancestry may know about it because they have German or French or Belgian immigrant ancestors, but their DNA may not reveal any of it, and if it does, it may be very attenuated. 

Well, we went for a brief stay-cation (only 50-60 miles away from home) and it was remarkably refreshing. Just what we needed. I may be a little sore now because of it, but as we say, this too will pass.

We're thinking of a little longer stay in Taos next month. There are a couple of exhibits I'd like to see: Buck Dunton at the Harwood, and Gene Kloss at the Couse-Sharp Historic Site. We're thinking we need to revisit Mabel's Place since we haven't been there for years. And there's a literary event that would be good for Ms. to attend as she's one of the area's favorite poets. 

Getting away from it all for a while really helps physical and mental health, doesn't it? 

 

Running From the Woke Mob in Drag

WTF? I mean WTAF? For weeks now, my news feeds have been filled with DeSantis and his Anti-Woke Movement and competing governors and legislators proposing and passing Anti-Drag/Anti-Trans laws to prohibit performances and even, apparently, appearances of cross dressers anywhere in public where children might see them. This is complete nonsense. Is this a slow news week or what?

Drag has never been so despised nor under such threat and attack. Certainly it's never been legislated out of existence, has it? I don't think so. Not when Uncle Milty was on the TeeVee in a dress and heavy make up during my childhood -- as were any number of other performers on TeeVee and in the movies ("Some Like it Hot" anyone?). The fact that men dressed as women -- sometimes credibly -- was simply not an issue except when they were "really" doing it. A performance in drag was one thing. Dressing as a woman to try to "pass" was something else, and don't even start with women dressing as men for "real."

It confused the world and was discouraged, sometimes actively prohibited. Police raids of gay bars, for example. Stonewall comes to mind, where the queens went ballistic on the cops and achieved a kind of liberation for queers that they'd never had. 

As for transsexuals, that was something hardly even whispered in the old days. Well, there was Christine Jorgensen, but her case was considered unique. Sex reassignment just didn't happen, or at least didn't happen often enough to matter. And always the few cases we heard about were men becoming women, usually by getting their dicks and balls cut off and taking estrogen to get their boobs to plump up.

 But it hardly ever happened. 

Since then, "trans" has become a cause celebre on the right and left, with competing demands to prohibit gender dysphoria treatment for minors or anyone under 21 or apparently to prohibit treatment for anyone at all vs. tolerance and freedom for transsexuals to be who they are and be medically treated appropriately as they and their doctors see fit.

I have a relative who is transsexual and an outspoken advocate for trans rights so I guess I have a dog in this fight, but it strikes me as an inorganic struggle between phantoms. Gender dysphoria is rare, and treatment is pretty standardized. Hormones and sometimes surgery. Psychological counseling. Lifestyle training. Because it affects relatively few people, it was not really an issue until the Movement Right made it one, first concentrating their wrath on "bathrooms" -- primarily focused on prohibiting "birth males" from using girls' bathrooms in public schools -- and then on sports, prohibiting "birth males" from competing against girls or being on girls teams in schools.

All of this was somehow about "parents' rights" but I don't see it. Somehow it's supposed to be about Protecting Our Daughters against something something "unfair." Perverted. Ugly.

Except Our Daughters will almost never encounter whatever it is they are supposed to be so afraid of and if somehow they do, they will mostly likely have the social skills to deal with it ... appropriately.

If there is an issue, it's one of social skills that limit fear of the unusual or unknown. 

But there really isn't an issue except for those negatively affected, those who are demonized and scapegoated. They have an issue, and I'm actually surprised there's been so little fight back. I know there's almost no political interest in countering the Anti-Trans Movement Rightists, because there really hasn't been any. If the right wants to legislate against trans people, the attitude seems to be 'let them.' And so they do.

On the other hand, the Anti-Woke Movement is facing a growing backlash and push back. It's taken quite a while, but what passes for the Left **ha-ha** in this country appears to be fed up with the whole Anti-Woke bullshit, and they're starting to call it out. Cautiously, of course. But polling seems to indicate that Anti-Wokeness is not considered either a Good Thing or Popular. That's never stopped rightist authoritarians before, but in this case, the whole thing is just stupid. Woke is not Evil. Nor, in fact, is it considered a threat to any but those in complete denial of US history and social/governmental practice.

"Woke" is an honorable term for understanding social (and often legal) injustice, primarily but not exclusively racial injustice. Gee, who'd a thunk it, right? This country is notorious for all kinds of political, legal, economic, and racial divides and injustices, and people who are "woke" see them and combat them.

So what's the beef with "woke?" Those who scream the loudest have no answer. They can't define "woke"-- they just know they hate it and are fighting it. What is it? Anything they disagree with or feel threatened by.

They don't even know why.

DeSantis and his ilk have decided that being "Anti-Woke" is a ticket to the White House. Because a few willing fools will always be available to follow demagogues. The trouble, of course, is that those few can too easily snowball into the many.

So we'll see where these Movement Rightists wind up. They have a large media machine backing them -- for now. It can change in a heartbeat. Right now, though, it's not looking good for those who believe in tolerance, minority rights and social justice. The "Anti" squads are growing and they have been able to exercise considerable power without effective opposition. So long as they can, they will.

Not until their "movement" is stopped cold will it stop. 

This is something I'm not sure US society is willing or able to do.

Dentures

About a week ago I got a full set of dentures, uppers and lowers both. I'd had my teeth pulled -- what few remained -- in early  November and expected new dentures by January, but no such luck. The lab, they said, was backed up. Well, that's what they said.

My mother had dentures from the time of her stint in the Army during WWII when she was in her thirties. I never really understood what she was going through. Or that she was going through anything with regard to her missing teeth. The only time I was aware of her dentures giving her difficulty was when her upper denture broke in half and she had to wait over a week to get a new one made. She was pretty miserable.

My father had an upper denture, but his lower teeth were his own. 

I had bad teeth since I was just a tyke. I remember my first encounter with a dentist when I was in the second or third grade. I had crooked lower teeth and the dentist who'd come to the elementary school to check us out was filled with contempt and mockery at discovering that my teeth were not perfectly straight and white and beautiful. It was deeply disturbing to me, and I didn't want to see a dentist again. I didn't, in fact, see one until I was well into my fifties and my teeth were giving me lots of problems -- including a couple of bouts of pneumonia. No fun. I had a number of teeth pulled and then more out later. Some fell out on their own. By the time I had the rest of them pulled last November I think I had 23 left, six of which were pretty well gone from decay.

The dentist was very kind and gentle and expensive, and my dental insurance proved to be all but worthless for what needed to be done, but oh well. It was believed by my doctors and me that the spinal infection I suffered last summer and fall was due to a bad tooth that had allowed oral bacteria into the blood stream that settled in my spine and caused me pretty profound pain and disability and a long period of recovery and rehabilitation which still really hasn't ended. Rather than taking the risk of it or something worse happening again, I thought it would be better to replace those remaining, rotting teeth with dentures.

It's been a challenge. I became used to not having teeth at all. Gumming food is tricky but it can be done, and I got pretty good at it. Dentures require a whole nother set of mouth skills, ones I'm still developing.

I found, for example, that I cannot bite or chew with the dentures unless they are firmly stuck to the gums with Fixodent or some other glue. They stay in without the glue, but not if I try to bite or chew something. Then they come loose and sort of roll around with whatever I'm eating. Not a pretty sight or comfortable way to enjoy a sandwich or something.

They are the smallest teeth I could imagine. They are the size of teeth a child might have it seems to me, and it takes quite a bit of getting used to to feel comfortable with them. My dentist thinks they look great, and I suppose they do, but every time I smile in the mirror, I'm reminded of a "coon smile." This is something raccoons do as a threat display. Most people never see it, but I have seen it when a colony of raccoons moved into our garage in California. Oh, they were the sweetest things. We hand-fed some of them, petted them, laughed at their antics, but they were fierce in defense of their territory against other raccoons. So one day a raccoon confronted a stranger that was not part of the colony and they squared off against one another. Both showed the "coon smile." It looks just like a tiny human toothy grin. I've tried to find a picture of it, but the google is useless these days. On raccoons, it's not a grin. It's a "get the fuck out of here" smile, and when I saw it, both the raccoons were trying to get the other one to go away. The one that belonged to the colony won when he (I assume it was a he) followed up with the loudest roar I could think of from such a small creature. I swear it was as loud as a lion's roar. Which I heard many times in the circus.

In getting used to these dentures, I'm finding I can bite and chew though poorly. I can't really feel where the teeth are, and they only go about half-way back in my mouth. This absence of tooth feel is disorienting. It's getting better, but still it's frustrating. Hot coffee or soup or even mac and cheese loosen the dentures, and if there's any solid in the food, like ia chunk of meat in soup, they tend to want to fall out. Strategy will keep them in. But food can get stuck behind the denture line, and that's annoying. My gums tend to swell and sores have developed here and there. It only hurts when I chew or bite down on something. Otherwise the dentures are really quite comfortable.

I've taken naps with the dentures in my mouth, but I take them out overnight and don't put them back in until after I've had my morning coffee. Maybe 9:00 or 10:00. My mouth and gums are more uncomfortable without them these days.

As I say, when I was growing up, I never understood what having dentures did to my mother's disposition, but now I think I do, at least somewhat. You really never forget dentures are in your mouth and you're always thinking about how to keep them in and stable. You have to think about your food, how to eat this or that, what you have to do to make it edible in the first place -- how to cook it, how to cut it up, and whether you can eat it at all. 

You're also in pain or discomfort at least some of the time. Food gets stuck on your upper palate and behind the gum line. Owies are not uncommon. You try to do your best and mask your discomfort, but I know there are times you have to rush to the bathroom and take the damn things out and clean off whatever is causing pain or discomfort, then put them back without another application of Fixodent, knowing you can't bite on anything again, probably until the following day.

You can't eat an apple or an ear of corn on the cob. Nope. Nagannahappen. But puddings and pie, sure. Some things you can't gum, either, and even when I had my own teeth there were things I had to stay away from like hard candy.

Oh, it's just another factor of aging. There are so many things to take into account. Never thought I'd live this long in the first place, so I don't feel as old as I am. My chronological age and my mental/emotional age don't correspond. I'm physically frailer and frailer as the years go by. And yet I feel like I should be able to do much more than I physically can. So many things take so much longer to do -- or I can't do them at all. 

More later...

Meditations on Class Solidarity and "War of the Worlds" and Such Like

I have a movie playing on the TeeVee, an Australian picture called "Occupation" that is a variation on the perpetual theme of Alien Invasion which of course is the premise of H. G. Wells' "The War of the Worlds" of 1897-1898.

British imperialism was the subtext, particularly how Britain acquired and ruled its empire. It wasn't very nice, was it? In fact, it was bloody and cruel. From the point of view of those subject to the Empire, especially during the initial phases of conquest, the Brits and their mercenary "allies" were no different from, and perhaps in some ways worse than, the Martians so focused on destruction as they made their way across Britain and the globe. 

The question arose: what made them do this? Why? The theory after the fact was that Mars was a dying planet suffering from resource depletion and climate catastrophe, and perhaps overpopulation. 

The Martians saw the Earth as the ideal place for conquest and resettlement as the natives were so technologically backward, divided and unable to resist effectively -- if at all.

And indeed, the Earthlings were clearly losing the "war of the worlds," and in a sense weren't even fighting in part because they were unable to do so in any way that would protect and preserve their autonomy. This was an allegory for the progress of the British Empire in its global conquest of peoples and territories through force of superior arms, technology and a determination to simply and thoroughly exterminate and destroy anything and anyone who got in their way. Any survivors would be subject to enslavement and pillage.

Earthlings of course fight among themselves as much as or more than they resist the aliens. That's how it normally goes with these things. Yet ultimately, in every one of these Invasion pictures, the remnant humanity is victorious over the seemingly invulnerable alien hordes, and life, such as remains of it, returns to normal.

Or something.

The Earthlings fight among themselves, but sometimes as they do, they become aware of their common interest, solidarity against the invading All-Powerful Aliens, and despite themselves, they learn to work together against the common enemy. This process typically takes a long time, and sometimes it never comes. If they cannot become one another's allies, then the game is lost. The Martians win. Ah, but not forever, as the tiny Earthling remnant is always sufficient -- well, usually -- to overcome the power of the invaders. This story is so common as to be a trope. 

Another common trope is that the remnant humanity becomes allied with the invaders, and that's what happens at the end of "Occupation." Mankind and the Martians learn to live together on the Earth, so no more War of the Worlds. 

Is that a hint of socialism? Perhaps. 

Learning to live together is one of the prime directives of most socialist movements. There's a utopianism underlying the ideals of a socialist future, but at the same time, the community, the kind that already exists, is the model of the socialist ideal. Only larger. The joining of former enemies in common cause. The understanding that common effort can produce magnificent results that serve the common interests of the People rather than a small coterie of super-rich whose interest is not that of the Masses. That coterie is more likely than not to ally with the Martian Invaders, particularly if doing so will ensure their lasting benefit and survival.

This was one of the ways that British Imperialists acquired and maintained their Empire -- ally with a faction of the native rich and powerful and destroy any competition. It worked so well that other imperialists adopted the same tactic.

It's always hard to resist and counter this determination to conquer. 

And in "War of the Worlds" it took an Act of God -- in the form of a disease bacteria against which the Martians had no resistance -- to slay the dragon. 

In actual fact of course, spreading disease and famine and so forth to vanquish the natives was another of the many tactics employed by the British to obtain and hold their Empire.

What ended it was two world wars that saw the collapse of the Upper Classes through attrition and their inability to raise sufficient funds in their customary ways to maintain their grip on overseas territories. Empires are costly, no matter the loot extracted from the conquered peoples. Once India became more of a financial burden than not, the game was up.

Cleverly, though, the imperial strings are still being pulled through the advent of the Commonwealth. Which finally itself is dying a slow and tortuous death.

My Irish ancestors might be amused. I don't know. Ireland is now said to be one of the richest nations on earth, fiercely proud and European -- and surprisingly diverse and welcoming and functioning -- while Britain is in the process of domestic governing and societal collapse. Haw haw. 

Are we witness to end stage imperialism, finally? Hardly. The US has become the inheritor of the Anglo-Imperial mantle, and the US Empire, while apparently struggling, is actually expanding as American "interests" force their way into more and more overseas territories and endless wars are conducted to ensure US power is strengthened.

The internet has long maintained an Imperial Collapse Watch on the erroneous premise that US imperial overreach will cause its immanent collapse. Um, been waiting many decades. The collapse just never seems to come, does it?

Many errors, yes. But collapse? No.

Physical power is matched or exceeded by immense US financial clout. Sanctions against Russia though seem to have no effect and in fact may be backfiring. Hard to say. At any rate, the conflict over Ukraine, "proxy WWIII" as a correspondent puts it, appears to have no objective beyond depopulation and destruction of this borderland between Russia and Nato. Both sides are cooperating in that objective. Interesting. 

Class solidarity? So far only among the plutocrats and overclass.

Will it ever be revived among the Lower Orders? That remains to be seen, and I'm afraid I won't see it before I shuffle off this mortal coil.