RUDIMENTS

RUDIMENTS, pt. 727 ('one fell swoop') 'If all men are brothers, then their natural state is fratricidal warfare.' That's pretty sensible and  very straightforward too  -  it means one man against the other, 'til death. I always fought concepts and implementations of things that back that up  - military; armies; law and order. Man's real test is one of 'Harmony,' not 'Distress.' Forget all that rotten stuff; humans need to get it together enough to co-exist and go-it in a 'together' routine. That's hard, in light of economic differences, cultural and housing, and school differences too. Refusing to admit those differences exist is a part of the problem all on its own. - It seems to me  -  general observation, and I usually watch for this kind of stuff  - that the dumber a person is, the longer it takes them to get out of their car. That's harsh, but I'll s

RUDIMENTS, pt.726 (here's a proposition for you) Many of the oddest moments of growing up still seem to resound around cliches : the older person, sweet and jovial, cherubic and wise, bending down in some silly grandparent pose, saying things like 'What do you want to be when you grow up?' like it mattered to them; like they had anything to do with it, like they even cared. 'Well, first I'd like to derail a train filled with people, then maybe go to El Paso and rob a bank, and then, returning home, knock out all the kids I once knew, with a baseball bat.' Just saying....Mostly, what a kid has to go by is what he or she sees, and that's it. -  The law is an odd thing, and one that I was never attracted to. When, as a youngster, I did send a letter to J. Edgar Hoover about my interest (at probably 11 years old) in an FBI career. I received a fairly basic form letter back, with I guess his signature at the bottom, saying how my aspirati

RUDIMENTS, pt. 725 ('ain't got time for the pain') pt. 2 One time about 1980, I took my parents, by car, to a Yankee game. My mother was always a big fan, surprisingly. I don't think my father cared  either way, but the story here gets to be, soon enough, about his  characteristic intensity. As an aside, at my mother's funeral, 2004 or whatever it was, I was asked to  eulogize her, and, among  other comments, I related  her affection for the Yankees. And then I (cleverly?) added, alas, she plays for the Angels now. (The Angels are, or were, another baseball team). It went over real well; people thought it was cool. She had a favorite player too, I forget the name, through the 1990's  -  no, I remember, Tino Martinez. Anyway, in the usual bustle, we got to the stadium crowd, the entry gate and all. My mother, as was usual, was made nervous by the crowd and noise, all the vociferous sports fans mil