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bloojayoolie · 5 years

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Aesop, Arguing, and Bad: Fi 1 hr THE INFORMATION #1054 JULY 19, 2019 LINK https://ift.tt/1as9wVZ. IN THIS ISSUE: THE LAW: LEMONHEADS; DIFFICULT POETS: PANIC PRESIDENTIAL DOODLES; WSJ'S HISTORY OF THE LAST 130 YEARS WOLF PEACHES; TRAGIC GOOFY; GEORGE ORWELL; AUTHOR HALL OF SHAME; THE CLASH, IVY LEAGUE SCHOOLS AT A PARTY; WHICH WAY TO THE CITY ON A HILL? Dog Is Reincarnated Lover; Tough On Deceased Pretty Fr Glen Phillips, "That I would like to go west someday, among the badmen, and learn their ways." "I often think," said William Batchelder Tallent to "Well, first of all," said Glen Phillips, his aspirantly lawyerly mind already measuring out and weighing up all the angles, "You certainly don't have to go west to encounter badmen. Plenty of them in Florida, and all through the Southron, as I understand it. And second, you've been reading too damn many dime novels. And third the west ain't what it's cracked up to be nowadays. You may think it is populated with glamorous desperadoes who have a special code of honor. I'll admit that many of them have hair-trigger tempers, and are skilled in the use of firearms. But as for any of their other accomplishments, so far as I know, they have none. There are a lot of folks out there who want you to think they are bad. Transplanted city dubs on the run from the law who wear green derbies and parlez-vous in their own broken and twisted dialect incomprehensible except to those of their fellow brutes who grew up nursing a growler in some miserable slum. Those asses are soon make to look mighty small by genuine badmen. Most of whom are illiterate brutes who grew tired of pushing a plough back at the old homestead, and so they lit out for the west in search of whores and and drink and easy money. Most of them never find them. Instead, they end up getting a bad case of the yips, and fleeing like a scalded dog back to the old folks at home. Or, at best, a bad dose of the clap. Those who stay will often end their short careers as desperadoes by getting gut-shot by some skulking coward--not a pretty way to go-or by dancing a Tyburn jig, which, in case you don't know what that means, is what happens when your near neighbors and all the other not particularly good townfolk get tired of you and your brawling and lubberly antics and decide to lynch you by way of a hempen necktie. They are a murderous bunch, those westerners. In any event, hardly any one of these self-styled owlhoots ever makes it past thirty years of age, which puts them only slightly ahead of aborigines and cavemen and African savages in the longevity sweepstakes. Sure, a man may make his fortune out west, if only he can stand the acid, but it usually requires capital, sheer nerve, the morals of a python, and frozen balls of brass to go along with them As far as I know, Mawny, your folks are prosperous horse farmers. but do they even have two dollars in cold hard cash to rub together? I thought not. You'd almost be better off moving to Washington D.C and trying your luck there, as I plan to do someday, and the sooner the better. Washington DC may be a mere quagmire compared to the great world capitals such as Rome, London, Paris, Berlin, Prague, and Budapest-but for a bold scamp who is bound to make good, why, it's hard to beat for sheer opportunity. Furthermore, it's a known fact that all the best whiskey and all the prettiest whores are mostly to be found in the Babylon of the Potomac. "I can understand how you admire badmen, and maybe you would even like to be one yourself. But the real badmen-the ones who have any lasting effect on things as they are-the ones whose rule holds sway-are the fat and gasping pettifoggers who clog out courts and judiciary. Most of them are lawyers. The law, Mawny, me fine bucko! Look to THE LAW! Do you think the policeman in the big bad city is there to protect the ordinary citizen from the depredations of the ruthless and the powerful? Maybe, maybe not. What the policeman is usually concemed with is what's in it for him, and if he decides to interfere in a dispute between two ordinary citizens, he is a green copper indeed. But if he hears of a burglary on Nob Hill why, he's Johnny-on-the-Spot. Furthermore, do you think that a politician actually represents the poor weak culls who elect him? A far cry from it! He represents the men who hold the whip hand-the plutocrats and other robber barons of great shipping and cartage and industry. And the only thing our executive officers execute are the people who happen to get in their way. I know you'll say that I'm a cynic-but I have every reason to be. I keep my ears open and my mouth shut, and on occasion-I'm not saying very often-Il hear a lot of things that ordinary folks just aren't privy to. I say that any well- spoken chappie who dresses trig and doesn't eat his peas with a knife has at least a fighting chance of making his way to the top of the greasy pole in the Capital. All you got to remember is that you must always smile and never, ever argue with your betters. Do at least that much, and your battle is half won. If you fawn on them, and fill their ears with pleasant fables, so much the better. Everybody loves a happy ending, so be sure to have the grease to hand, and to lay it on thick. It's almost impossible to pour too much flattery on a high muckety-muck. They love it like a schoolboy loves his pie. Tell the truth and shame the devil? That's the motto of half-assed chumps. Aesop had it right. "Any excuse will serve a tyrant." "How did they ever get to where they are by being susceptible to such craven admiration, such blatant flattery? Well you may ask! It is a mystery for the ages! But my urgent need is to always deal with the world as it is, and not as I would like it to be. And any man who, deep down, doesn't feel the same is either a damn fool or a saint, and in my book there ain't hardly even a lick of difference between 'em. Like Reply (1h) I literally have no clue to WTF is going on in this one! Dog is reincarnated lover & ramble.

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