Monday, February 09, 2009

Explications and factifications 'round his explanations of his "feelings"

Last Wednesday while watching a tribute to George Carlin, they ran a clip of his take on post traumatic stress syndrome.
The theme of the bit was the euphemism.
WW1 called it "shell shock".
WW2 called it "battle fatigue"
Korea it was ummm. "mission fatigue" (sic)
Anyway now they're calling it "post traumatic stress syndrome"

The punchline was "maybe if they still called it "shell shock" we could get some care for the soldiers who suffer it".

This brought tears to my eyes and I was almost sobbing.
Even though I've never suffered anything like it and have no need of any kind of care or support.

But then, on thinking about my historical reading, I remembered that in WW1 it was often just called "cowardice" and the cure was shooting.
Even after the war, many of these "cowards" were tried an sentenced to death.

It was WW2 that saw the last "coward" shot.

And now, in the latest New Yorker I read an article about tinnitus.
Tinnitus is a ringing in the ears, often caused by exposure to loud noises.
Rock stars get it.
Heavy equipment operators get it.

The Army now considers it a disability.

So George, brilliant as he is, is full of shit.

And my reaction was totally inappropriate.

A similar thing happened while watching a DVD about Saint Pete Seegar and his mission to get folks together for the healing of the worlds self inflicted wounds.
Yeah though he healed the Hudson river, we still managed to have the Bush years.
So, community for the good of humanity is just as ineffective as...as...well, prayer.

A musical weekend, this last.
Simple Measures at the Chapel on Fri.
A good show, a bit over priced.
Meredith was trying not to like it but enjoyed the music nontheless.
The guitarist, notwithstanding his obvious talent, was not Jimi Hendrix.
Jimi Hendrix did not have bar lines in his music.

Then Saturday, we watched the Pete Seegar DVD, wherein I experienced some of those "feeling" thingies mainly when I heard Joan Baez's voice and Bob Dylan's raw earthy sound.
Taking me back to my salad days in LA where I was a hobo-class itinerant wrench for an auto repair shop.
There was no dressing on that salad.

Sunday We visited a social highland neighborhood of Seattle for a performance of the Philharmonia Northwest's orchestra.

Brahm's piano concerto and Beethoven's eighth symphony.

The Brahms was loud ameliorated by even more loud.
I don't especially like Brahms, it's all a bit too mushy for me.
Too much like he was writing solely for the purpose of not being Beethoven.
Which is pretty much like writing music without writing music.

Something I can do accidentally.

The Beethoven was Beethoven, soft, loud, sweet, silly, bombastic, subtle, ridiculous,
profound, all repeated in every bar.

Then, later that same day, at the book group meeting, we discussed the movie "Lars and the real girl" wherein Lars cures his post traumatic stress syndrome and that of his entire community by encouraging all to play with dolls.

The movie was good, the discussion was good, the food was good, and I remembered to bring the chips and beer.
Although every body in the group drinks wine.
I've got nothing against wine, I just feel it incumbent on me to honor my blue-collarness with the appropriate libation.

And also use high flying rhetoric to try to distance myself from that social position.

See ya later, pal.

25 Comments:

Blogger butch said...

Yeah, George Carlin had some great material, and his delivery was very individual. His point, through levity, was well taken. I have just always been suspect of the "losers" who go through the PTSD programs. When you trace their prior histories before their combat experience, often you find divers mental illness, overbearing selfish parents, rabid siblings, mean dogs, and aloof felines. So when they use up our tax dollars whining about their PTSD, and collecting disability so that they can buy drugs, alcohol, and Ho's. But then that's just my opinion, based on 35 years of observing the flakes.

It is so refreshing to read that you CAN be "brought to tears". I, for one, feel liberated by strong emotions and especially tears. I brings out the real woman in me, that sensitive creative wench that hides south of the pancreas most of the time. I have always been a crier at movies, and now it slips in while watching the tube. In real life, during tragedies, I cowboy up, and handle everything camly, assisting all the others around me who are losing their control; then later, in private, I let all the emotion out. So I guess I am a hyrid, part Steve McQueen, part Truman Capote.

Go watch Kubrick's PATHS OF GLORY if you want to get steamed up about WWI, and the hypocracy of the military, politics, and human nature. Also take a gander at THE EXECUTION OF PVT. SLOVACK, with Martin Sheen, Slovack being the late GI shot for cowardice in WWII. The real cowards are those officers and politicos that start the goddamn wars for profit in the first place. Well, yeah, WWII was a different kind of deal, but the war effort did bring us out of the Great Depression, enit?

Keenan Wynn had tinnitus, from an explosion or two too close to him while filming THE AMERICANIZATION OF EMILY, in those war scenes with James Garner and James Coburn. Richard Widmark had it too, went nearly completely deaf. Keenan claimed that he became an alcoholic in order to get shit-faced enough to get to sleep, to dull the ringing in his ears.
Now how in hell did you determine that because the Armed Services of the United States consider tinnitus a disability, then George Carlin was full of shit? Quite a segue. And of course, your postulate that "community for the good of humanity is just an ineffective as...well, prayer." is really silly, inaccurate, and poorly concluded. Next you will be saying that philanthropy, like the Bill Gates Foundation, is just a selfish tax dodge. Gosh, where is your gullibility? Can you not ever be manipulated or sold a car?

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Your Book Club group sounds fairly progressive in that they are willing to discuss films as well. Sounds like your former rant on LARS AND THE REAL GIRL disappated midst torrents of chips and beer.

Joan Baez has aged very well, and is still a beautiful woman. Bob Dylan looks like a cross between Keith Richards and Vincent Price two days after he died; has turned into a bizarre scarecrow, reminescent of William Burroughs at his scariest. They still call Dylan "old yellow stain" cuz he rarely brushes his teeth; lovely.

I love your phrase, "hobo class itinerant wrench for an auto repair shop." Good wordsmithing, sir, kind of a romantic notion of what a working mechanic is like. I remember when you lived in LA, and I was so envious. Later when Kristi and I moved there, we found out the truth; but that's another story.

Beethoven versus Brahms, now that is a bitch slapping whirling duel not be missed. Thanks for your critique(s).

Snowed yesterday, and they say it will snow today as well, perhaps up to several inches, turning to rain this afternoon. Crazy shit winter go away, migrate to Michigan, get your cold ass up to Canada.

I guess I have worn every color of collar. I wear a tie most here at the office, but only wear a white shirt like once a month; kind of gray collar, red collar, pink collar, green collar, pale blue collar, brown collar kind of job, enit?

Our guests are still here, planning on a grand departure tomorrow morning. Melva will be sad for a time, and even I will have the baby withdrawel thing going on. I have a film club executive meeting tonight, and a blood test, and a date at Subway solo for dinner.

Glenn

6:12 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I slapped plenty of cowards when I was a hot shot general. Finally one of the little whiney bastards complained, and Ike made me have to make a formal apology for it. I never got over that.

............George Patton

10:29 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I would love to use some obscenities here on your blog site, but these days I have monitors that slap me if I get too randy.

...........George Carlind

10:31 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Very few folks really know this, but one of the reasons I got so drunk, and ended up launching my Harley off the Alaskan Way Viaduct was I had received my induction notice for the Army, and Viet Nam was still raging. I just couldn't see myself in country shooting gooks.

.............Eddy Emerald

10:33 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Some said that I had a meloncholy nature, and that was why I wept so much. I did have a sad life. Only my poetry sustained my spirit.

............Emily

10:35 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I know Glenn works at a decent VA hospital in Tacoma, but I assure you there are a lot of us that do not have good things to say about our treatment in VA facilities.

..........Johnny Trash

10:37 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

During combat, my outfit, the U.S. Army Rump Rangers, always conducted a rear guard action. So none of us ever got into a firefight. Fist fights, yes, bullets flying, no.

..........Sgt. Fred Farkle

10:39 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I tried to enlist in the Army, and get into the Rump Rangers, but no recruiters had the balls to let a raging homosexual loose with all those cherry boys.

..........Liberace

10:40 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The older I get, the easier it is to bring me to tears. Everything strums my emotions, a sunrise or set, blowing leaves, and pretty woman in a short skirt, children laughing, sad movies, the 6:00 o'clock news, my disability, your stalwart rides on Fidelio, my grandchildren....Christ, the list is as long as my leg.

.........Glenn

10:43 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I tryed to belong to a book club one time, and dey got pissed off cuz I wanted to read Henry Miller, Willy Burroughs, and cool dudes like dat. Youse are lucky dat you founn sevral peeps dat think like youdo. Even dat book about dat broad, Lady Chatterbox, was considered off limits. Dey even thot dat Tarzan stories were too racy cuz he was shacking up wid Jane.

........Vinnie

10:47 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Most of what you might read about me, and my life, and my demise are damned lies.

..........George A. Custer

10:48 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

How about RED BADGE OF COURAGE? Didn't that have Audie Murphy in it? Hell, I thought he was in WWII.

.........George Gooble

10:49 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Jannie still thinks I'm kinda cute, so bite me, Buttkus.

.........Robert Dylan

10:50 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Actually, Bobby, you are fairly scarey looking these days. You are at a point where Cate Blanchett played you as a young singer, and now Johnny Depp could play you as the freak you are at present.

..........Steven Speelburg

10:52 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You know, Douglas, there is a kind of blue collar nobility about you being an itinerant wrench for years. It was when you got greedy and decided to own your own shop that your integrity and honor went to the dogs.

......Suzie Q

10:54 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Doug saw Elvis 23 times in G.I. BLUES, and he began to fantasize that because he was a mechanic in the motor pool in the Army, kind of like Elvis, and he played the guitar as good as E, then why couldn't he be a kind of rock and roll mechanic.

.........Eddy Emerald

10:56 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Rather than shoot soldiers for cowardice, I would rather have shot officers, and politicians for stupidity and greed.


.......Che

10:57 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Healing the Hudson River," what a concept. Now someone get started on the Ganges, and then the Puyallup.

...........Depok Chopraw

11:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Pete Seegar was a Commie. Everybody knows that. He worshiped Woody Gutherie for God's Sake.


..........J. Eddie Hoooverr

WV: dongstic

11:01 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sometimes, while watching LARS, I swore Bianca's eyes moved. It was freaky; never happened.

.....Edgar Poo

11:03 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Never trust a blog site cyper gnome. My comment, clearly authored by me, gets the Anonymous label. This is beginning to be ridiculous, enit?

.....Seymour Builds Afire

11:07 AM  
Blogger butch said...

I seem to have the same trouble there, Seymour. The gnomes are busy this morning. Hey, I checked Joy Harjo's blog and she was sweet enough to place two of my comments on it. That is cool.

Glenn

11:08 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Jannie posted a sexy pic of a chick in a golden bra, with metal dragons on the top, at her site. It was worth the price of a click.

............George Foremann

11:11 AM  
Blogger butch said...

After a long hiatus, Rick Mobb's blog site, MY ENEMY GROWS OLDER, is back being active. I did miss Rick, but life can get in the way; that and making a living.

Glenn

11:12 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hallo, Lane & Glenn!!
I agree with you, Lane, on Brahms
as a composer and that Sunday's rendition was way too loud -- also too loud with Beethoven;s 8th, which is supposed to skip along merrrily rather than punding heavily like an elephant as was conducted Sunday; that conductor and GPS (a.k.a. Glorious Leader) both seem to think conducting should be to make the music as ear-shattering as possible.
And, Glenn, O agree with you about Joan Baez.
Tschuess,
Anonomann + LL

3:10 PM  

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