1787 Federalists vs. Anti-federalists

In what Mr. Chernow calls the “golden age of literary assassination”, the battle for the Constitution found a clear target in Hamilton, hitting him on the idea that he wanted to bring monarchy to the new nation.

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Then a pair of newspaper articles styled “Inspector” showed just how vicious the calumny against Hamilton would be. Hamilton was portrayed as the uppity “Tom Shit” and introduced as a “mustee” - the offspring of a white person and a quadroon. This was the first time that Hamilton’s opponents tried to denigrate him with charges of mixed racial ancestry. Tom Shit is mocked for his “Creolian” writing. In a soliloquy, Tom, a conceited upstart and British lackey, says, “My dear masters, I am indeed living a very hard life in your service.... Consider the great sacrifices I have made for you. By birth a subject of his Danish Majesty, I quitted my native soil in the torrid zone and called myself a North American for your sakes.” Tom is accused of having sent his “Phocion” essays, defending persecuted Tories, straight from the king’s printer in England. After castigating Hamilton as a treacherous foreigner, the author refers to Washington as Hamilton’s “immaculate daddy,” a snide reference to Hamilton’s illegitimacy. Thus began the baseless mythology, which persists to this day, that Hamilton was Washington’s “natural” child.”

-- Ron Chernow, “Alexander Hamilton”

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Hamlet (3,4) In the Rank Sweat of an Enseamed Bed

In this extended climactic scene between Hamlet and Gertrude, there is a lot of opportunity to get physical and provocative.

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“As Hamlet rages, throws off any mask, nakedly shows the face of hurt, jealousy, envy, even lust, Hamlet’s strictures touch on the most forbidden of a son’s mysteries: the mother’s sexual life. Once open the door and the demon may be let loose. Unless a cruel Hamlet disciplines himself sternly, the words pour out almost maniacally. The hands find themselves fastening on the untouchable flesh, she is made to sit, she is clasped, held, her clothes are torn, she is thrown on floor or bed, pressed down, in another moment... almost...”

-- Marvin Rosenberg, “The Masks of Hamlet”

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Cyprus and the Euro-Zone

“Small countries, be warned when joining the euro zone. You could be bullied any time by your big brothers if it suits their political objectives.”

-- Christopher Pissarides, a Cypriot economist, won the Nobel prize in economics in 2010

Cyprus has become the latest basketcase, but the Euro leaders have added a new twist in their proposed rescue play. They have made a claim to take straight from the account holders of the banks a lot of the money to cover the costs. Talk about power unlimited!

There is actually a little in the power-move that can warm a progressive's heart, in that Cyprus has been one of the bank havens for big money from abroad, principally Russia in this case. But it is still a terribly messy situation, not to mention the risk of angering Russian gangsters.

This story also makes one think of our Constitutional Convention and the need to balance the interest of small states with large states. It may be that the evolving Euro-government needs such a reform to take this factor into account.

Shaving

I shaved.

Daimon says, “I am so proud of you! I guess not all chores escape you.”

Well, I have been debating whether to give up shaving. And who knows for how long before I would shave again, since I have fallen out of the routine of taking downtown trips to the library, especially since I no longer have that chicken fried rice to look forward to.

Daimon asks, “So, why bother? Shaving.”

Well, I do like to take my walks to the duck pond, and it would be better if I did not look like a serial killer hitchhiking through the area. Aside from the nerves of the residents. The police do patrol the neighborhood rather frequently. Which is kind of reassuring, but I am not fond of the idea of getting stopped and questioned all the time.

So, I probably shouldn’t skip shaving altogether. But that left me with the question: How often? When should I shave.

Daimon says, “Well, what’s your answer? The drama is killing us.”

It felt right tonight, because I have the house to myself. Time passes more luxuriously when I am alone for an extended time like this. And maybe this is the answer.

Daimon says, “Now you just need good old dad to keep with his weekend trips.”

Yes, that is the vulnerable point, isn’t it? The routine has been holding up for some time now, and we just have to take life as it comes.

“Very profound.”

Do you have a better answer?

“Why not go ahead and forget about the shaving? Do you really think it helps that much?”

You may have a point. I’ll take it under advisement.

“I thought you might like that.”

It does play to my natural strengths.

“The great inertia of laziness.”

As I like to put it: just let it be! Just let it be.

“It has served you well.”

I do what I can.

Daily Fun

Taking stock by Rivertay on Flickr. Oraange-breasted sunbird, Cape Town, Richard Stead

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Friday, March 22, 2013

The weather is so dry, yet it was just misty enough this morning to keep me from my walk, just shy of becoming a light drizzle, but perhaps wet enough to foul up my book. I feel the pain of missing my walk more, now that I have this cracked corn on hand.

Pi says, “You didn’t want to go just to feed the ducks? It sounds like you could have.”

Yes, I probably could have done that. But, no, I did not want to lose the ‘reading time’. The ducks can fend for themselves. Besides, it is good for me to more slowly ration out my cracked corn. I don’t think I should count on being able to run through a whole bag every week.

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I should stop adding tumblrs, since Reader will be shutting down in a few months. I am creating more work for myself, as I think it will be a good idea to unsubscribe from a lot of my accounts, rather than count on Google just to trash everything.

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Pop has left for the weekend. At least this remains part of the routine. I need every little break I can get.

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Watering the elephant ears in the early evening, with the sun still pretty high and bright, I see that the grass looks like it wants to start growing. If we had any decent rain, it would probably demand a mowing. Pretty soon. As it is, the weeds are showing real life, and we have a number that are contending to be trees. It looks pretty bad out front. I suppose Pop has not complained because he sees that I take enough crap with his social life and his overnight guests; so, I guess I enjoy a little trade-off in that.