Category Archives: commentary

The Altar Call.

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Well.

Woody Allen is a brilliant storyteller, screenwriter, and director.
And, he’s probably, on some level, a criminal.
Yet, I still love the body of his creative work.
(I mean, seriously. His insights, into American character and human relationship ?) …there is none like him, no; not one.

And, I cannot justify that love. Not with law. Not with anything.
It’s unjustifiable.

Likewise, Hillary Clinton may be guilty. Of many things. So, also, might Donald Trump. Who am I to say?

Speaking only for myself, I must acknowledge that I cannot know.

I can, however, acknowledge that, across all systems in this world of marketing and promotion, there is a level of player, in an anonymous strata, that stops at nothing. It stops at nothing, in the act of promoting its figurehead, grasping, in the hopes of some reward or recompense or even personal advancement. And, through that window of possibility, greed and corruption drop their fecalith. And, in that hardened piece of excrement, a seed is carried. That seed finds soil, and takes root. And, what grows can defy both expectation and imagination.

Now, I also grew up bathed in the shimmer and aura of the Gospel preacher. I learned to believe that the words which poured from the mouth of the great orator were practically inspired by God. I learned to fear the presence of the Holy Spirit, descending upon the throng. And, I learned to shudder, deep within my soul, at the power of the words themselves.

As Americans we’ve all, if our minds were truly unbiased and open, heard the two political gospels this month: the gospel of Trump, and the gospel of Clinton. And, all the little henchpeople, exploited or no, in between. I just hope that God preserves our individual capacities for comprehension, reason, and clarity of thought long enough for us to make our very powerful decisions, each of us distinctly, when the time appointed arrives. May we consider all of our choices both wisely, and informatively, with prudence, humility, and internal calm, for the next rightful leader of the free world. And, if we cannot, then I pray God Almighty makes the next move on our behalf. Lord knows, we’ve never needed Providence like we do now.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo  7/29/16    All rights those of the author, whose commentary it is, and whose name appears above this line. Thank you for your respect.

littlebarefeetblog.com

“The Math”.

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Most of us can remember our first Math class in school. Mine, however, doesn’t stand out as worthy of any Save File. I think it’s because, for me, words always held ineffable depth. They were my perpetual fascination – right up there with picture, and flavor, and song.

But, math seemed like more of a force with which to be reckoned, some mysterious matrix within which one could easily be consumed. It seemed, with its persistent symmetry, its finality, to be at enmity with imagination and passion, with life force itself.

Sure enough, I struggled against the thing. I’d try to skim through the process, to make it go away faster; invariably, this tactic led to that common term, the “careless mistake” – the fleet error in computation that would always render my sums and quotients “wrong.”  Getting “wrong answers” unnerved me; effortlessly able to memorize, I and my natural lexicon made no room for them.

As school and, with it, life progressed, I would come to invoke math teachers as my nemesis; they didn’t seem to see into my soul and, if they ever did look in my direction, appeared lacking in any recognition. Rather, an expression of annoyance, restrained tolerance, would pass across their collective countenance; I was the stranger in their room.

In later years, as I developed and was trained to understand the human mind, I came to appreciate math from my own point of view, aspects of its discipline as they integrated themselves into my real time experience. I waited tables, and would add figures both quickly and accurately; my brothers would use formulae to build the beautiful homes with which their construction was entrusted. My mother’s dressmaking even depended upon the role of measurement. Sure enough, its devoted teachers were right about one thing; occasionally, we would use the maddening mathematics in our daily lives.

But, if I have to hear one more political pundit declare that Bernie Sanders can’t become President because “the math” isn’t in his favor, I think I might morph into a Texas Instrument Terminatrix.

Allow me to USE math to present my argument.

Statistics are known to cluster. Predictions are still at the mercy of the random life event, which cannot be measured. The mob effect is not without its power to alter the course of history. The human element must be f.a.c.t.o.r.e.d. IN.

And, the math pundits aren’t doing that. Moreover, when we see the crowd swell of human passion at every single Bernie rally, the collective captivation of human imagination, and ignore its unmeasurable power, we simply aren’t computing. After all, isn’t this how Donald Trump reached presumptive nominee?

It seems, rather, that the political math defenders are more about preserving the present system of gathering desired data, known as the electoral college, than any real concern for authentic democratic representation.

Bernie Sanders has a mathematically sound platform, by the way – possibly the only one any candidate can boast.

Best to lean in, and address that arithmetic, before saying another word.

Bernie Sanders for President 2016.

Thank you.

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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo  5/12/16      Use freely, everywhere, with respectful acknowledgement of the author. Thank you, again.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

 

 

The Grand Equalizer.

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A couple nights ago, in the midst of post-Presidential Primary furor and cresting to the height of their vigorous political panel discussion, somebody on CNN farted.

Now, we’re not talking your fleeting emission. This was a massive gasso profundo, one that could only have come from a colon of awesome dimension, stretched to its ultimate limits of retainment. This was the Grand Prize Winner of all Wind.

I was so gobsmacked, I actually stuck around until the whole news segment revolved, just to see what the audio crew would do with this monstrosity.

Perched on the edge of my buttocks, I waited with poised anticipation for the slightest of scant, aberrating vibrations.

And, then……

Nothing. Absolutely no sign of the mortifying mortar – apart from a deftly inserted, if faint, moment of Muzak, just as the camera pulled back to display the defendants’ line up.

Yes, CNN was nothing, if not prepared. I knew, at that instant, should the planet suddenly find itself under siege by unrecognizable life forms, this giant of the news circuit would be ready to photo and audioshop anything anybody on earth was absolutely certain had been seen and heard. Alternate reality was already in da house.

Even when whatever a pundit had for dinner refused to submit to digestive enzymes, anybody could be rendered the picture of virgin, if probiotic, equilibrium. We live in an air brushed, auto-tuned world.

But, just what are these public personae consuming? Is there some kind of sphincter syndrome plaguing our pontificators? Or, have they all been overcome by a fetish for the fanny fortissimo?

In my day, farting out loud was the predominant domain of the 8 year old boy. Oh; and, his father, on some joint expedition to the great outdoors. I even had a college professor, whose genius expanded to include a profound appreciation for the full on function; Dr. Walter S. Hartley*, composer, multiple ASCAP award recipient, was known to cut one loose, stop, raise a pointed finger, grin mischievously, and declare: “I believe that was a B-flat.”   then, lumber off, with the weighty gait of one whose cranium could barely contain its contents, leaving all to ponder the pitch potential of their own pooter.

Yes; uproariously hilarious to them all, we girls and various other civilized creatures just reserved ours for the appropriate time and place – being sure to strategically flush if guests were in proximity, of course.

But, this? Google “farting on Tv”, and you’ll be mildly alarmed. The women outnumber the men – and, most of them are either broadcasters or politicians.

One could speculate.

The media’s been catching a lot of flack, lately, regarding its veracity. Truth, in fair and balanced reporting. The profession used to be populated by the noble and impeccable, those who embodied what we all called “dignity.” Now, in the interests of appealing to a “wider demographic”, perhaps we’re settling for something that masquerades as the “human” element.

Either that, or the Euro-American diet finds itself at a crossroads. Consult your local gastronomist: health-conscious vegetable smoothies can’t be paired with bacon fat without explosive consequences.

Maybe we should be grateful for the technological touch ups that seem so essential, anymore, to our socio-professional survival.  After all, we’re a cross cultural melting pot, now, and the models held up for our children are coming from the four corners of the earth.

And, that, if nothing else, puts a whole new spin on blooming where you’re planted!

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In Memoriam

Dr. Walter S. Hartley

February 21, 1927 – June 30, 2016

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© 5/9/16 Ruth Ann Scanzillo  –  All rights reserved by the author, whose name appears above this line. Thank you for your respect. Now, pass the Grey Poupon.

littlebarefeetblog.com