Robot Jazz

If you are familiar with Stanley Kubrick's Cold War black comedy masterpiece Dr. Strangelove , you might recall the character of Group Captain Lionel Mandrake, expertly played by comedy legend Peter Sellers. Mandrake had the unfortunate responsibility of being the executive officer to Sterling Hayden's quite insane Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (😁), the delusional commander of Burpelson Air Force Base, a home for nuclear-armed B-52 bombers.  Convinced that the communists were engaged in a conspiracy to corrupt Americans' "precious bodily fluids" via such perfidious means as putting fluoride in the drinking water ( does that ring a bell ?), he locks down his airbase and sends his contingent of B-52s to bomb the Soviet Union.   I used to take delight in watching Sellers (who, ironically, was as mentally ill as Ripper in real life) portray the befuddled Mandrake. Now, though, I don't because I see myself in his performance. It was easy to laugh when the stake...

  This is an entry I've been avoiding for some time because it will be an emotionally charged exercise for me. After all, it is not an easy thing to anticipate the end of your country. Ever since the re-election of Donald Trump - after the self-profession of sexual predation to Billy Bush (who laughed like a hyena), after the botched COVID response that killed tens of thousands, after the felony convictions, and after the insurrection that put 130 capitol police in the hospital and almost ended the Republic - I knew America was headed for the precipice because, as the ancients tell us, no society has survived long when its people have lost their political virtue.  The question was only one of time. How long would it take?  💀💀💀💀💀 Now that 2025 has concluded, I can look back and say, yeah, that went as poorly as I expected. Actually, no. It was worse  than I expected. I anticipated a repeat of Trump's shambolic first year of his first term: chaotic staff assignmen...

  One of my favorite science fiction shows is The Twilight Zone . Despite being some sixty-five years of age, it remains one of the most fascinating exercises in televised speculative storytelling. With its iconic scripts - many penned by the giants of the pulp science fiction scene - and brought to life by a 'who’s who' of A-list talent, the series remains a landmark of television history, perpetually rediscovered by subsequent generations of viewers. The Twilight Zone also possesses a curious tendency to intrude into the real world, much as it did for its cast of characters. Consider the myriad times you have heard someone proclaim, 'I felt as though I were in an episode of The Twilight Zone !' Today, for me, was one of those days. This morning, I tuned in to Pluto TV to seek sanctuary from the stale, post-holiday news lineup being endlessly regurgitated by the increasingly irrelevant cable networks. It so happened that the episode airing was 'Static.' Writt...

  The city was cold, but the sidewalk was colder. I stepped over a tangle of tinsel that had seen better days, and that was only forty-eight hours ago. It was December 30th, a time when the lights should still be humming, and the spirits should still be high. Instead, I saw them. The "Clean-Slaters." They were dragging their Douglas Firs to the curb like they were disposing of evidence. They think the season is over just because the wrapping paper is in the bin. They’re wrong. We’ve still got six days of Christmas left, and I’m not letting them go without a fight... 🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄 It is time for a rant.  Okay, another rant.  This time, not about the Trump regime but about people who take their Christmas decorations down before the Christmastide has ended.  Two things really annoy the heck out of me this time of year: people who use a 200-hp snowblower to clear driveways a fraction of the size of mine (I clear my driveway, one that has been frequently mistaken for a landi...

  Hello, dear readers! Long time, no write! I honestly don’t know how professional writers stay on track. Between the holiday transition from Thanksgiving to Christmas and the sudden, literal disintegration of my old warhorse of a car, my writing came to a crashing halt for nearly a month. I need to work on not allowing my "RL" challenges from interfering with my aspirations to be a dedicated writing hobbyist.   🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄 Let us get down to business.   Just two days ago, President Donald Trump interrupted live television to address the nation. Now, I am old enough to remember when such "special announcements," as they were once termed, complete with bespoke graphics, were reserved for issues of vital national importance: matters of war and peace, major economic policy announcements, and other issues of broad national concern. Well, as this befuddled administration is now well known for doing, Trump decided to interrupt the nation's evening to, once again, was...

  It's been too many years for me to recall - and I am too lazy to check my dusty texts - but I believe it was Plato who wrote that to live under the capricious whims of a madman was the closest one could come to being in hell. (Or maybe it was a Reddit thread quoting Plato. Who knows anymore?) Why? Because a madman, being mad, does not govern by rationality but by passing fancy and impulse. One day, he declares the sky to be blue; the next, it is green. One day vanilla is the best flavor of ice cream, the next it is chocolate. Of course, the issues will be more serious than that (or will they?), and so will be the consequences. To live under a mad regime is so dangerous because having the wrong opinion can land one in a gulag. But what is the wrong opinion when right and wrong exist in a state of quantum flux, one determined not by truth and falsehood but by lunacy? This observation has been bouncing around my head ever since Premier Trump and New York City mayor-elect Zohran...