Obviously, judging by the results, an empty threat.
Whitney Webb's "One Nation Under Blackmail" was his guidebook:
"Where did I go wrong?!"
When we were bombed out of the One World Trade Center in 1993, across the river we went to Jersey City where the bank had a Just-In-Case duplicate office.
My work being entirely interwoven with the contents of the document vault in 1 WTC (which turned into a Paper Cemetery when the bank went under, later in the decade), I spent the next four weeks taking magnificently long lunch hours.
(Greenwich Village in March is the most depressing place I've ever seen, second only to Fort Richardson, Alaska in the winter of 1976-77.)
I'm having a 12 noon pop at a bar in some dive in JC when in strode Menendez, then a congressman.
The omnipotent venality of the man preceded him like the aura of Halley's Comet, if the tail were to precede the comet.
Down bowed and scraped the maître d' as the waiters in mercenary unison took his coat and guided him to his table.
A repulsive sight. Have never forgotten that moment.
You're more than welcome. The Taibbi columns --- aside from their intrinsic value and brilliance, enhanced by the author's "up yours" festive sense of humor --- have turned into an unanticipated opportunity to write down what's been percolating since 1952. I might be eligible for a "Grandpa Moses" finger-painting award.
I've had similar experience commenting across substack, and it has been not just liberating, but psyche-saving, if that makes sense.
I wonder why it never occured to me that *civil* discourse, with its "disagreeing agreeably", and an emphasis on substance makes all the difference.
And I have found so many good writers like yourself. I would recommend starting your own stack if you are willing to make those wonderful "percolations" public, except that substack has stretched my reading budget too thin to guarantee I would have time to read you!!
--- Back in 2017, The Gunga-Dung-Bezos (Amazon) Brigade in India decided that my book reviews were blasphemous --- "violating community standards," as if the standards of someone in New New Delhi (Seattle WA) were superior to mine.
700+ reviews were obliterated. Just like that.
(AND the b*stards expect you to CONTINUE to order stuff on Prime. Granted, 0.00001% of their customers read books, much less write about having read them, so their Delete Jihad wasn't a big MBA-Wharton no-no, but that's besides the point.)
Someone someday will do exactly the same thing to Substack because if Musk can buy Twitter, someone equally wealthy as Musk will buy Substack.
And their intentions, my cynical antenna informs me, will be dishonorable (a comparison to Musk in this respect is not intended and does not exist).
--- Once I start writing to please anyone other than myself, I'll be corrupted.
Gradually, the Virginia Cowlesian* "the fact thats" and the "not only... but alsos" and "Buts"** at the start of my sentences will combine to Kudzu my prose.
But I'll be so delighted with my month $39.09 checks from Stripe, I'll be the last to notice.
("Harrumph! Harrumph!")
Things are swell the way they are.
People enjoy laughing.
And for the time being, we're on target.
Be well, and keep in touch.
*An otherwise admirable WWII journalist and post-war author.
** "But" signals us to pause, or even stop, reading. Why would such a word EVER be located at the START of a sentence? "I dunno."
Obviously, judging by the results, an empty threat.
Whitney Webb's "One Nation Under Blackmail" was his guidebook:
"Where did I go wrong?!"
When we were bombed out of the One World Trade Center in 1993, across the river we went to Jersey City where the bank had a Just-In-Case duplicate office.
My work being entirely interwoven with the contents of the document vault in 1 WTC (which turned into a Paper Cemetery when the bank went under, later in the decade), I spent the next four weeks taking magnificently long lunch hours.
(Greenwich Village in March is the most depressing place I've ever seen, second only to Fort Richardson, Alaska in the winter of 1976-77.)
I'm having a 12 noon pop at a bar in some dive in JC when in strode Menendez, then a congressman.
The omnipotent venality of the man preceded him like the aura of Halley's Comet, if the tail were to precede the comet.
Down bowed and scraped the maître d' as the waiters in mercenary unison took his coat and guided him to his table.
A repulsive sight. Have never forgotten that moment.
Wow! (And yet *not* surprising.)
Thanks for the story, Don.
You're more than welcome. The Taibbi columns --- aside from their intrinsic value and brilliance, enhanced by the author's "up yours" festive sense of humor --- have turned into an unanticipated opportunity to write down what's been percolating since 1952. I might be eligible for a "Grandpa Moses" finger-painting award.
I've had similar experience commenting across substack, and it has been not just liberating, but psyche-saving, if that makes sense.
I wonder why it never occured to me that *civil* discourse, with its "disagreeing agreeably", and an emphasis on substance makes all the difference.
And I have found so many good writers like yourself. I would recommend starting your own stack if you are willing to make those wonderful "percolations" public, except that substack has stretched my reading budget too thin to guarantee I would have time to read you!!
Thanks again, Don.
My pleasure!
Others have recommended "your own stack."
May I pass on the suggestion?
--- Back in 2017, The Gunga-Dung-Bezos (Amazon) Brigade in India decided that my book reviews were blasphemous --- "violating community standards," as if the standards of someone in New New Delhi (Seattle WA) were superior to mine.
700+ reviews were obliterated. Just like that.
(AND the b*stards expect you to CONTINUE to order stuff on Prime. Granted, 0.00001% of their customers read books, much less write about having read them, so their Delete Jihad wasn't a big MBA-Wharton no-no, but that's besides the point.)
Someone someday will do exactly the same thing to Substack because if Musk can buy Twitter, someone equally wealthy as Musk will buy Substack.
And their intentions, my cynical antenna informs me, will be dishonorable (a comparison to Musk in this respect is not intended and does not exist).
--- Once I start writing to please anyone other than myself, I'll be corrupted.
Gradually, the Virginia Cowlesian* "the fact thats" and the "not only... but alsos" and "Buts"** at the start of my sentences will combine to Kudzu my prose.
But I'll be so delighted with my month $39.09 checks from Stripe, I'll be the last to notice.
("Harrumph! Harrumph!")
Things are swell the way they are.
People enjoy laughing.
And for the time being, we're on target.
Be well, and keep in touch.
*An otherwise admirable WWII journalist and post-war author.
** "But" signals us to pause, or even stop, reading. Why would such a word EVER be located at the START of a sentence? "I dunno."