this is a fabulous piece, Tom. as usual, anger has given you added eloquence.
I want to speak at some length about this stuff because, like many people here, I remember 1968 very, very well. and the whole PL or NCLC "battle" for the hearts and minds of...well, supposedly EVERYBODY was something I could observe from a distance, despite the fact that the following year, part of CCNY actually did go up in literal flames over the issue of Open Admissions. I stayed out of things because 1) I didn't want to embarrass my father, who was a highly placed administrator and 2) most of the "foot soldiers" I knew directly were either unserious or desperate to be hip or thought they'd get laid more easily or were just craving excitement after shooting heroin in the men's room of the South Campus cafeteria. at least half a dozen of them were dead within ten years of graduating, if they actually bothered to graduate.
but the thing is, I don't feel up to it. this was the worst day of my life in nine years because it was the day I knew the only thing to do was to help my Jubal over the Rainbow Bridge. my best friend Danny was here to help all day and I found myself relying a lot on my Aspie grand-nephew who's in Seattle and is one of my favorite people. I need to change my Daisy avatar to one of Jubie, possibly the most photogenic dog who ever lived.
but more tomorrow...I promise. or maybe threaten?
sorry, that was a shitty joke, but I'm gonna let it stand for now because this whole deal is getting me angrier and angrier and my tendency is often to dismiss that anger as being a symptom of some sort of old fogey-ness. did I spell that correctly? but the level of bullshit I've been hearing at some of these "protests" is reaching the level of sepsis. and I've actually HAD sepsis.
did you hear Ms. Omar's snide little answer at Columbia the other day? the one about the importance of dialogue between those who are pro or anti genocide? she lost me with that one, my immediate response being something I will not repeat here because it's gotten me in trouble on other Substacks. let's just say she earned it. big time. it's after two and if I'm going to sleep tonight, I'd better begin the process of winding down. that was me being optimistic...
it's also probably a very good time to say how grateful I am to be here, at TAFM. thanks Tom. thanks Everybody.
I'm so sorry to hear about Jubal, David. I'm looking at the same thing sometime this summer with my Cookie Cat, the best little lady I was every privileged to know. They come in our lives and bless us with their presence and then they're always gone too soon, no matter how long they were with us.
Exactly.
exactly, exactly, exactly.
this is a fabulous piece, Tom. as usual, anger has given you added eloquence.
I want to speak at some length about this stuff because, like many people here, I remember 1968 very, very well. and the whole PL or NCLC "battle" for the hearts and minds of...well, supposedly EVERYBODY was something I could observe from a distance, despite the fact that the following year, part of CCNY actually did go up in literal flames over the issue of Open Admissions. I stayed out of things because 1) I didn't want to embarrass my father, who was a highly placed administrator and 2) most of the "foot soldiers" I knew directly were either unserious or desperate to be hip or thought they'd get laid more easily or were just craving excitement after shooting heroin in the men's room of the South Campus cafeteria. at least half a dozen of them were dead within ten years of graduating, if they actually bothered to graduate.
but the thing is, I don't feel up to it. this was the worst day of my life in nine years because it was the day I knew the only thing to do was to help my Jubal over the Rainbow Bridge. my best friend Danny was here to help all day and I found myself relying a lot on my Aspie grand-nephew who's in Seattle and is one of my favorite people. I need to change my Daisy avatar to one of Jubie, possibly the most photogenic dog who ever lived.
but more tomorrow...I promise. or maybe threaten?
sorry, that was a shitty joke, but I'm gonna let it stand for now because this whole deal is getting me angrier and angrier and my tendency is often to dismiss that anger as being a symptom of some sort of old fogey-ness. did I spell that correctly? but the level of bullshit I've been hearing at some of these "protests" is reaching the level of sepsis. and I've actually HAD sepsis.
did you hear Ms. Omar's snide little answer at Columbia the other day? the one about the importance of dialogue between those who are pro or anti genocide? she lost me with that one, my immediate response being something I will not repeat here because it's gotten me in trouble on other Substacks. let's just say she earned it. big time. it's after two and if I'm going to sleep tonight, I'd better begin the process of winding down. that was me being optimistic...
it's also probably a very good time to say how grateful I am to be here, at TAFM. thanks Tom. thanks Everybody.
I'm so sorry to hear about Jubal, David. I'm looking at the same thing sometime this summer with my Cookie Cat, the best little lady I was every privileged to know. They come in our lives and bless us with their presence and then they're always gone too soon, no matter how long they were with us.
all of that, Tom.