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WHEN in the course of human Events, it becomes necessary….
Welcome to the New American Digest: 2001-2022
Intellectual disgrace
Stares from every human face,
And the seas of pity lie
Locked and frozen in each eye.
Follow, poet, follow right
To the bottom of the night,
With your unconstraining voice
Still persuade us to rejoice.
With the farming of a verse
Make a vineyard of the curse,
Sing of human unsuccess
In a rapture of distress.
In the deserts of the heart
Let the healing fountains start,
In the prison of his days
Teach the free man how to praise.
– – WH Auden
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
FSA/8d22000/8d224008d22491a.tif
The steel mill sky is alive.
The fire breaks white and zigzag
shot on a gun-metal gloaming.
Man is a long time coming.
Man will yet win.
Brother may yet line up with brother:
This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.
There are men who can’t be bought.
The fireborn are at home in fire.
The stars make no noise,
You can’t hinder the wind from blowing.
Time is a great teacher.
Who can live without hope?
In the darkness with a great bundle of grief
the people march.
In the night, and overhead a shovel of stars for keeps, the people
march:
“Where to? what next?”
— Carl Sandberg
Down valley a smoke haze
Three days heat, after five days rain
Pitch glows on the fir-cones
Across rocks and meadows
Swarms of new flies.
I cannot remember things I once read
A few friends, but they are in cities.
Drinking cold snow-water from a tin cup
Looking down for miles
Through high still air.
BY GARY SNYDER
Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught
Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended
As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look
Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended
Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed
For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse
An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe
An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing
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That is no country for old men. The young
In one another’s arms, birds in the trees
—Those dying generations—at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.
O sages standing in God’s holy fire
As in the gold mosaic of a wall,
Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre,
And be the singing-masters of my soul.
Consume my heart away; sick with desire
And fastened to a dying animal
It knows not what it is; and gather me
Into the artifice of eternity.
Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
– – W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939
Stone-cutters fighting time with marble, you foredefeated
Challengers of oblivion
Eat cynical earnings, knowing rock splits, records fall down,
The square-limbed Roman letters
Scale in the thaws, wear in the rain. The poet as well
Builds his monument mockingly;
For man will be blotted out, the blithe earth die, the brave sun
Die blind and blacken to the heart:
Yet stones have stood for a thousand years, and pained
thoughts found
The honey of peace in old poems.
— Robinson Jeffers
Sometimes it seems I had a dream, and, as a dreamer woke immersed in mineral baths closed within a cool, dark chamber fed by streams flowing in from the center of nowhere.
Hanging from the granite ceiling a kerosene lantern cast shards of light through the pale steam rising from the surface of the pools.
Ripples radiated outwards from the edges of my body and tapping faintly on the rock revealed the edges of the chamber.
Outside I could hear the wind slide across the spine of the mountains, speaking in a language that I remembered but could no longer understand.
Steam filled my nostrils and heat penetrated my bones until, after a time, I had no body, only a sense of silence and distance and calm.
As if I had just woken from all water into dream.
— Tassajara Zen Mountain Center, 1973
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$1 in 1939 equals about $18 today
How can we deal with the national debt, soon all the taxes we collect will be need just to pay the interest?
I know kids, lets get off the gold standard, clean up that old building over there, call it the Federal Reserve Bank and print more money!
I had a piece on my blog last year on “Fifty is the new twenty”. I kept a twenty tucked up over the visor in the car, just in case.
Then last year my girlfriend and I went down to the beach to watch the sunset and on the way back had the urge to stop for a beer each and a small shared appetizer. But my wallet was still at the house and the twenty from the car didn’t cover the tab, even with five bucks in quarters from the stash for tolls.
Now I tuck fifty up there.
Public telephone. Operator, give me PR5-1325. That’s PRimrose5-1325 for you kids. That was my Grandparent’s actual phone # and you couldn’t dial direct. Ours was SE2-5183, or SElden2-5183.
Good times….
That 79 cent wind up alarm clock would probably still be working today is someone hadn’t thrown it away for a cool new digital one that cost $15 and required 2 AA batteries and then gets thrown in the landfill a year later.
A dollar in 1912 was worth a dollar but today it is worth 3 cents.
Said another way, that which cost a dollar in 1912 costs 97 dollars today.
Where’d it all go?
On a 1950’s Perry Mason episode last night the dood told Perry he kept $5000 in his home safe and Perry asked if he always kept that large amount on hand. My wife remarked that $5000 isn’t THAT much and I reminded her that $5k in 1955 was about $50k today. In 2055 that $5k will be $200k. (it’s exponential, in case you were wondering)
When I worked at McDonalds in 1970 a Big Mac cost 45 cents and sales tax was 4%, how much are they today? You could buy 5 hamburgers, at 19 cents each, and get change back from a dollar. How do you cure a thieving gov’t?
Large Box Bath Powder $0.09
Ebay today. 3 pack bath powder. Japan $0.99
NYC subway: 1972…25cents, 2019…$2.75.
Ten times higher.
minimum wage: 1972.. $1.50, 2019…$15.00
Volkswagen: 1972..$1,300.00, 2019…$30,000??
Certainly brings back memories. Our medium sized town had a well stocked Five and Dime, complete with a lunch counter. If it wasn’t there, you could probably find it at the Woolworth’s—complete with its trademark wood floor. If anything was marked “Made in Japan”, back on the shelf it went. for that was synonymous with junk. No worries though, as so little wasn’t made in the good old USA. What a time it was—late 50’s up to the hippie era, which was the beginning of the end.
Who broke the Merry-go-round?
https://tinyurl.com/y245jx38
Dollar stores are the five-and-dimes of today.
@Richard, the noninflationary version:
https://archive.org/stream/pdfy–Pori1NL6fKm2SnY/The%20Creature%20From%20Jekyll%20Island_djvu.txt
pdf –
https://ia802609.us.archive.org/14/items/pdfy–Pori1NL6fKm2SnY/The%20Creature%20From%20Jekyll%20Island.pdf
Ooh, I haven’t read that Patricia Wentworth!
Don’t know the rest of those books.
I second (or third, or fourth, or whatever) The Creature from Jekyll Island. It is one of the most influential books I’ve read, to the point that I bought copies for each of my children as well as my brother. None of them have read it, but I’ve tried.
Regarding the inflation of our currency, I’m no economist, but the Adjusted Monetary Base is just about the scariest chart I’ve ever seen.
https://fred.stlouisfed.org/graph/fredgraph.png?g=nWyb
We all know that we went through a crisis in 2008. Banks were closing, and the value of your home, your 401k and other investment accounts took a hit. Since then, things have recovered….or at least we’re supposed to believe that they have. Yes, things aren’t crashing like they were 11 years ago, but look at that chart closely. The AMB is now roughly 4 times what it was in 2008. Has the value of your home or 401k quadrupled? Mine has improved, but not to that degree, and I don’t think I’m alone. If the value of your assets hasn’t kept up with the increase in the number of dollars, then you haven’t recovered. I’m just an amateur, but I think that we’re in a deflationary period that they’re (“The Fed, The Powers That Be, Whoever”) are trying to mask by increasing the number of dollars in the system dramatically.
I like to think that if you flip that chart upside down, that will tell you the value of the dollar in your pocket.
Vitamin G!
The illustration on the cover of the “Fingers of Fear” paperback looks alarmingly like the alien characters in the Roddy Piper classic Sci-Fi film, “They Live”, where humans were turned into mindless consumers by the alien’s hidden subliminal suggestions.