In spite of my writing yesterday, in which I went into some detail about arrogance and the potential of it's strong presence in my life, I cannot but help to pursue a certain feeling of 'superior to inferior' when I read my early morning op-eds. Harvey actually went out there in the fresh snow with me to get those papers. It is well past Christmas, and the effect of my magnanimous tip to the delivery person (whom I still have not ever seen) appears to be wearing thin...as the papers drift ever farther down the driveway, day by day. Harvey meowed and trilled as we went through the white puffery, the stuff so damn cold that it was more like icy ash than the snow we knew it to be. I walked back, after retrieving the plastic covered items, and waited patiently at the door, trying to get rid of the snow which had somehow gotten up and over the edges of my Ugg slippers. This is always a ticklish time. If Harv does not come back, after one of these 'step and fetch it' routines, then I am forced to get dressed and get out into the weather with him. But today was a good day, and, after one brief downward scamper, in order to force me fully awake, he flipped around and raced back inside. Life is good, except for the fact that this new Apple keyboard (the flat one with slightly raised keys) has made it easier for Harvey to get his opinion expressed herein. I don't like it, but what can I do? Push him away? Yell at him? I don't think so. Too early and, anyway, he carefully avoids my half-emptied coffee cup as a sort of return gesture. Yes, we are both strange.
The papers were lousy. Friedman was acting the idiot I have discovered him to be. His piece was about the Middle East. He is done with the 'flat earth' endorsement stupidity so he has switched from being a would-be economist to a political scientist. His first sally in that direction had to do with how the Middle East is going to be dominated in the future; by Saudi Arabia, by Egypt or by Iran. There is supposedly only one nuclear power in the Middle East (I personally think Iran has the bomb, which is why even Cheney will not aim his shotgun in that direction), and that is Israel. Even without the nukes, will you just look at that wild bunch of Sabra Jews over there? They have some great equipment, having invented and built some hot stuff of their own, as well as stealing anybody else's left lying about! Nobody in the Middle East is a match for them. Not even all together. You might think that the Saudi's would give them a run, what with all the state-of-the-art stuff we have sold them. But the problem there is, well, the Saudis. They are a bunch of creepy Arab dabblers. Light weights. Newly rich kids who are certainly not going to go off and fight a war, much less against those rabid crazy Israeli vets. Think George Bush Jr. So, Friedman is at it again. The rest of the article is just as silly. Friedman needs a cooking show. He and Emeril would do great.
And then there was Garrison Keiller. Usually I just love Garrison. Right behind Maureen Dowd. Garrison decided this day, however, that he would write sonnets about some guy he saw peeing into a bush while he himself was reflecting, and listening to music in the park, or some such. Friedman is contagious today. Poor Garrison fell down with that same flu. Slobering Dopiness. I know, I know, I am sounding just a tad arrogant. What can I do? Maureen Dowd was better. She wrote all about Caroline and why Caroline is better than a leper, or some right wing whacko, or even, and she said this without saying it, that sweet and sour dill pickle named Cuomo. I don't think Maureen likes him. So i don't either. Maureen Dowd is good enough for me. And I like Caroline, even when i am not writing the most complimentary things about her. Sort of how I run on about the Jews. I like Israel. I like the Jews. What a gutsy bunch of people who take care of their own, and refuse to be poked and prodded by anyone. I just don't like to see them killing all those people. Eventually they will feel bad about that. I do not wish post traumatic stress on anyone, especially not those tough bright people. And I pity those poor Palestinians without much of anything at all.
I am not over my arrogance confrontation. The confrontation I am having with myself. A woman of quite some intellect and personality (who no longer speaks to me, by the way, thereby showing a modicum of wisdom, as well) said to me once, in my coffee shop, right after I had skewered her with respect to a mispronunciation she had blurted out earlier; "you can be right.....and you can be alone." That did not stop me at the time. I made believe I had not heard her (maybe one of the reasons she does not have any truck with me anymore!), but I filed the expression away. Damn straight. She was right on. Her expression goes right to the heart of what I am tossing and turning over. I do not want to be alone. Does anyone? Not anyone that I want to know. Hmmmm...that is kind of an oxymoronic thing to say, as well. But is it arrogant?
So I am reflecting again, about all of this, as my coffee cools, Harvey slides one paw down to punch the 'Q' key (and I have to erase, once I decide that, although Q is an excellent letter and name...recall the character on Star Trek...it does not fit into what I am writing), and I lean back to give this whole thing a very cursory edit. This damn new key board (take note Mr. Steve, super-thin, I-do-not-have-cancer, Jobs!)keeps making little 'i's' when I want big one's. I don't always catch those. My readers are so few, and so laconic, that they do not seem to ever comment about such things, however. Or maybe my readers are just too arrogant to even bother.
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