Is It Fall Yet?

 

No, it is not. A great friend and force of Reckonin’ emailed me a Faulkner quote recently about those few magical days that come along in August with a cool hint of the approaching autumn. I replied to her that while I used to relish those days, sadly, these days, I just drift right through them unaware. I may have missed them again, though it’s hard to tell. The pleasant-looking (in a light, at an angle) suburban small town where I exist is caught in a slew of 100-degree-ish days and concurrent warm, sticky nights. 

Hello, it’s another excuse for a column. Quality will improve tomorrow, maybe in two months or thirty degrees. Etc. 

I drafted two full alternatives to this ramble, but I simply could not pull the trigger on either of them. The first was a socioeconomic assessment of the lyrics of “Rich Men North of Richmond.” The second was a follow-up fictional report from your CSA Ambassador to Russia. The latter dealt with the subject matter of the former, set against the 2023 BRICS+ meeting in Johannesburg. I had not previously (seriously) contemplated the possibility of a preemptive ticket-taking plant, though I am unsurprised by it. The meeting in SA is, of course, very real. It’s of great importance to those out in the free world and of great consternation to the “rich men.” 

My news feed has a hiccup! I swear I saw a rehashing of a rerun about Donald Trump being indicted for something or another. At the gym, I imagined that one of the CIA-installed morons on the TeeVee was again stupidly saying, “If we don’t do something, we’re going to LOSE OUR RePubLiC!!!” [Note: If one cannot find a remote control, then a curl bar works just fine to silence the blathering nonsense.]

Langley’s lackey wasn’t entirely wrong about needing to do something. As such, I have a crazy idea. I need to think through it some more and refine it for publication. In brief detail, I figure what we need is what I call an “election.” Hear me out. Just the basics. What I envision is dredging the country and finding a couple of the lowest, dumbest, wickedest heathens in this strange, nation-shaped kind of place between Mexico and Canada. Then we let the great unwashed vote for one of them to lead our dead country. After that, regardless of what the hoi polloi decide, we let a computer and a mailbox pick whichever rodent is best suited to serve as head puppet for the “rich men.” Crazy, I know. But just think about it. Had we tried something like this before, we might not be where we are today. The near-mathematical certainty of an alternative that I foresee, as expressed quasi-mathematically, looks something like: (The Rwandan Genocide x The Yugoslav Civil War)^The Partition of India.

I heard something called “Covid” was making the rounds at airports and college campuses. It appears to be some sort of religious icon or possibly a demi-god. It has potential voters donning festive face coverings, gibbering about what I take for a Jonestown kind of poison, and/or stepping and fetching like a bunch of slaves without a future. I have never heard of anything like this before, yet I suppose this “Covid” might be the robot’s choice for a political savior. We’ll keep an eager eye on it, that’s for sure. On a related note, where the hell is Marvin? Something wrong with the AI? Thought he’d be heard by now. Watch. The. Skies.

In sci-fi, fantasy geopolitical news, Brandon the AI, Voldemort Zelenski, and some of the “rich men” have a plan to ship 10 aging F-16s to the former Ukraine. Maybe it was 60 of them. Or 600. Kiev (pronounced, with a lisp, “kEEEEEEEEy-Vsp”) has five pilots qualified to fly them. Or they will be qualified after they qualify. How would that work? Well, it’s technical. It’s some “Ghost of kEEEEEEy-Vsp” wizardry that I suppose would see each pilot operating multiple targets planes at once. When asked for commentary on the matter, one V. Putin muttered something about 30,000 SAMs and then laughed until he walked off, beat up a pack of wolves, ate some glass, roared, killed a few men by staring at them, and looked ten trillion times more presidential than this “Covid,” whatever the hell it is again.

Anything substantive? I am reading a few books, per my usual bad habit. One is by an author I like, but which isn’t necessarily his best work. In fact, I think it was his first novel. All things being equal, it’s equal. I’m inching towards the midpoint of just-released, posthumous Eschatological Optimism by the late, lovely, and thoughtful Daria “Platonova” Dugina. I told another friend I planned to review it in some capacity. This is not the review, perhaps just a preview. It’s a most interesting read, especially for an Aristotlenova. I suspect I am an Optimist of the kind she describes, though my views and reasoning are a little different than those she defined. All of these ideas, however, play well in the head.

I’ll save my favorite quote, so far, for another time. Instead, I’ll close with a cursory look at the topic of the second section, “The Feminine Principle.” While differentiating between what passes for feminism in the dying West and what the ladies live in Russia, Dugina lands on the fascinating concept of Christian Feminism. To give one an idea of the magnitude of the difference, she earlier addresses the fact women are not allowed on Palestine’s Holy Mount by writing, “There is something right about this.” It’s not a statement or principle that professors at Barnard would approve. Thus, there is something right about it. 

What she discusses, in higher apophatic terms, sounds to me like what I have also heard in more common words from the sweet lips of other Russian women, and younger women in the city at that. We’ll credit the amazing Eli from Russia’s EweTube channel with a video interview or three with some attractive Moscovites. Almost all of them claim to be “feminists”, and then proceed to expound upon the virtues of womanly femininity (of which their personal appearances and demeanor extol anyway without words) while also expressing a love affair appreciation for masculine men. Dugina explains the plain phenomenon, which will surely confound the Western feminist, by saying Russian (feminist) women saved the Russian Patriarchy(!) when it threatened to fall upon hard times. She mentions a dislike of inter-sex warring and the existence of communication and harmony between Russian men and women. In other words, they approach life and love in an honest, rational, and traditional way. 

None of this pleases the “rich men.” And before they destroyed America, we used to have a similar practical view of romance, life, and just being. Maybe after the next hoax, any of you still standing could try to revert to those better ways.

That is a wrap for this week.

Deo vindice!

UPDATE: They may be down to just 2 of those pilots.