That pretty much sums up the harp for the last two weeks. And it only started hurting like this when I started learning the “right” way to do it.
Things have just been a bit stressful lately in quite a few ways, and I seem to have gone to the piano to find some solace. This is probably because of the stress associated with the harp lately and my growing realization that for some reason, my hands are just not right for it. I despair of ever having a third finger that moves the way mine is supposed to move, especially when it seems to hurt even the people who can manage to do it. I don’t see anything but failure on this device in my future, and I want to play something that my hands actually work with, even if it’s not as satisfying.
Just been a very bleak time lately.
This whole meme is annoying the shit out of me. Let me put it plainly:
Israel does not recognize people as Righteous Among the Nations for punching the most Nazis, but for saving the most Jews.
And they sure as shit don’t care about people taking two seconds to tweet support for Nazi-punching and then going right back to their fucking xbox again.
If your society has gotten to the point where there are even Nazis around to punch, then you fucked up earlier on, okay? How about instead of blathering about Nazi-punching from the safety of your own couch and thinking yourself a badass for doing it, you learn some CPR and get educated generally on the kind of emergency medicine a non-doctor can do? How about you donate to your local Jewish or muslim community center? When the bombs start going off, punching a Nazi won’t accomplish shit, but helping to keep people out of danger will.
Hell, maybe you can even do something completely crazy like, oh I don’t know, getting a law degree so you can help keep a lid on this horseshit in the first place, or even becoming a cop or EMT so you can help respond to emergencies when they happen? Let’s face it, letting right-wing assholes own the nation’s police forces hasn’t helped, has it?
Oh, but that’s work. That’s haaaaaard. That takes time, even years, and puts you and often your entire family at a constant low-level, very stressful risk of retaliation. That doesn’t give you the simple two-second hit of adrenaline that punching a Nazi does — feels good for three seconds, then pfft! it’s gone. In protest terms it’s close to empty calories, people.
And — provided of course that your lazy ass actually puts down the smartphone for long enough to stop tweeting about punching Nazis and actually do it — there is a very real danger of getting to enjoy punching anyone enough that you will just go around looking for others to get that hit of adrenaline again … and you won’t work so hard to make sure that they’re the Bad Guys this time around. Once you enjoy punching Nazis, you’ll enjoy punching, period.
I know that sometimes punching a Nazi is necessary, if your society has blown it so badly that you’re backed up against the wall. My uncle was part of the giant fist of Allied forces that invaded France on D-Day, and he carried a fucking gun.
But again … if there are even Nazis around to punch, you fucked up earlier on.
This is not about what makes you feel like a badass or a stud. It sure as shit isn’t about what you can tweet about that makes you sound like a badass or a stud when you can’t get your face out of the bucket of hot wings long enough to get anything constructive done.
In order of decreasing effectiveness (and increasing sloth), the ranking goes:
|Doing things that have been proven effective for keeping your society from turning into a shithole in the first place,||Really good, but long-term, boring, and tedious|
|Saving Jews,||Awesome, terrifying, incredibly dangerous|
|Punching Nazis, and||Sometimes necessary if you ignored the problem long enough|
|Tweeting about punching Nazis.||Fuck you.|
So shut the fuck up about Nazi-punching already, because if that’s all you’re doing, you’re worse than useless.
I remember one of my cousins who, decades ago, was going into Ranger school. (He’s since been working with the Army and then the State Department, from which he only recently retired.) When he had just graduated, and I think just before I was due to go off to college, I remember having dinner with him and my aunt, and my making some remark like, “I’d imagine that most of your training is about staying out of bad situations in the first place rather than how to escape them,” and he agreed heartily. The movies might like to show guys like him engaged in hairbreadth escapes (and punching people), but the truth is, if you find yourself in need of escaping, you blew it earlier on.
I have quite a few cousins, several of whom have had sons (lots of Y chromos on that side of the family) who served in the military. One of those kids made a comment that talking a game about what kind of war you’d fight doesn’t mean anything if, by your actions, you’ve made it clear that you aren’t going to get off your ass to fight any war.
Add those two sentiments together, and you get my opinion about Nazi-punching: if it’s even needed, you fucked up earlier on, and you need to expend most of your effort making sure that that never happens again. And tweeting about being a Nazi-puncher means precisely nothing if you can’t be bothered to put down your phone for any reason.
When my uncle jumped at Utah Beach during the D-Day invasion with the 101st Airborne to go kick the shit out of a bunch of Nazis, there was definitely violence “on both sides.” He carried a goddamned gun.
Before you get your Righteous Rage on, just read — and I mean the whole thing. No matter which side of these issues you’re coming from, I guarantee this doesn’t go where you think it’s going to.
We Ain’t White, paesani.
When I see these names among white supremacists and those who tacitly support them, it breaks my heart.
Have they forgotten what they are? What kind of pathetic Wonder Bread wop is unaware of the fact that the largest mass lynching in the history of the United States was committed against 11 Sicilians in New Orleans?
What kind of wannabe whiteboy fools are ignorant of their own roots, and are so unaware of what our own ancestors suffered, and who are so anxious to call themselves white that they will turn aside from their own families’ experiences?
Do they know nothing of the Immigration Act of 1924, passed due to fears that this would cease to be a majority white nation, and specifically aimed to eliminate immigration by (southern) Italians and Jews?
People love to talk about how immigrants need to “assimilate” to “our” culture. Is this what “assimilating” to American culture means? To no longer get hanged from the trees but instead to do the hanging?
BTW, I know the answers to those questions:
- All of them,
- All of them,
- No, and
Both the right-wing and the left-wing Italian-Americans love to talk about how we were “white on arrival” — the right-wing wops because of their ethnic insecurity, and the left-wing wops because they are just as insecure, and let’s face it, there is nothing whiter than guzzling at the cup of white guilt.
I’ve got news for both: we never were, and we still aren’t, and deep down, we know it. (Jews aren’t either, but they have better memories, and never forget who and what they are. We have.)
But either way, Pinocchio wants to wake up one day with a consonant at the end of his/her name and be a Real White Person, a Real American.
“No, you’re not white! Wait, yes you are!”
There are the Cuomos and the Ferraros who remember who they are, but they are smaller and smaller in number as the right wing becomes more and more poisonous — and as the left wing drives more and more dark, ethnic whites away by snarling about our “white privilege” every time we open our mouths to identify — accurately! — downward. If I hear one more snotty fishbelly-white upper-class liberal:
- Demand that poor-to-working-class ethnic whites recognize our similarities to poor-to-working-class African Americans, and when we do, they instantly
- Smack us down and demand that we “check our privilege” and “unpack our knapsack,”
then well … it’s just be another Tuesday in the Gordian knot of 21st century American race relations, won’t it? (And they do that all the time. All. The. Time. In fact, I have never in 51 years on this Earth seen that conversation go any other way.)
I’m sick of wops forgetting who we are and betraying and shaming our ancestors, and I’m equally sick of monied, whitebread left-wingers who, when we own our brownness out loud and extend a hand toward other minorities, slap that hand back because it makes them feel uncomfortable when the untermenschen get too cozy with one another — then, in their next goddamned breath, they write condescending beratements like this to get us to extend that hand again … so that they can have their fun slapping it back once more and telling us to shut up and remember our privilege.
It’s like a sick game of Gotcha!
Keeping the Lesser Types Divided
They will happily say either of the following to poor-to-working-class and dark/ethnic whites: tell us we’re not conscious enough of our darkness, or tell us we’re not conscious enough of our white privilege, depending on which approach will let them hold us in greater contempt.
I will add that I have never once had my hand slapped back by an African-American — only ever by a monied whitebread liberal with less melanin and more privilege than I have ever had trying to win the tiara for the Nicest White Guy/Girl in the Room.
(And once again, Jews get their hands slapped back as well; new intellectual anti-Semitism is a big thing on the left. Most Jews however, except for a small, loud, screwed-up, self-hating contingent, brush this off and continue to steam ahead in defiance of what everyone else thinks. We fail to do this. My god, wops are so fucking insecure.)
If only we could get together and throw the goddamned limousine liberals out of the room when we have these conversations, we could make real progress in this country. Sadly, they remain the self-appointed umpires for all discussions of American race/ethnic relations, and they will make damned sure we all stay at one another’s throats. They’re not giving up that tiara without a fight.
I should flowchart these sorts of conversations. I also wonder how many people (who might, in some alternate universe, actually read this) will immediately leap to the conclusion that I’m a Republican Trump voter instead of the lifelong extremely left-wing liberal Democrat I’ve always been. Why the fuck else do you think I’m so angry about this, other than because I am directly and personally desperate for a more just society? This isn’t an intellectual bagatelle or excuse for fashionable outrage for me, unlike for the limousine liberals who consider these sorts of issues to be political arm candy. When the only reason you and your brothers have all of our teeth is because your parents have none of theirs, this shit gets very, very real.
This is what people mean when they accuse left-wingers of mere virtue signaling. They mean, often quite accurately, that you don’t actually care about solving any of these problems. You just bat them around to try to prove who’s the nicest white person at the country club.
Well-off White People Are Always Conservative — Even the Lefties
You know the more I think about it, I really don’t think it’s possible for middle-to-upper-class white people, be they right- or left-wing, to act in any way other than to reinforce existing power structures. You either have:
- (Right-wing) middle-to-upper-class white people who bankroll monsters like the current orange-baboon-in-chief and his cadre of Nazi anarchists and amoral robber barons, or else
- (Left-wing) middle-to-upper-class white people who instinctively and unfailingly act to cordon off poor-to-working-class and/or ethnic whites from our natural brown and black allies.
The first accomplish their task by just shoveling money at assholes like Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan (and the Baboon in Chief).
The second accomplish their task by quite deliberately sabotaging any attempts on the parts of poor-to-working-class and ethnic whites and black/brown people to unify: “Why won’t they understand how much they have in common with black people? It must be because they’ll all racists!” immediately followed by, “How dare you assume you have anything in common with black people! You have white privilege!”
Either the limousine crowd creates the atmosphere in which things like the rally in Charlottesville can even happen and illegitimate, tyrannical plutocrats squat in the White House, or else they make damned sure to herd as many people into that corner as possible.
Either way, well-off white people acting politically are bad, bad news no matter what they call themselves. Be they self-described right- or left-wingers, their actions invariably — and unconsciously on the part of the lefties — serve the forces of fascism.
Where To Go From Here
There are lately some very occasional and dimly understood attempts to get a grip on all this by left-wingers, including such obvious advice as not telling an out-of-work white dude who is living in a trailer and whose sister died of an opiate overdose that at least he’s not black, but this still assumes that the audience for this article is a left-wing, middle-to-upper-class white person who needs to learn how to talk to this strange, backwards alien tribe called “working class white people.” (And really, who the fuck is so clueless that they need to be told that in the first place?)
The actual solution may in fact be a whole lot simpler, and a whole lot more threatening to the Nicest White People in the Room: Don’t talk. Just STFU for once.
All of you, I mean — and not just the right-wingers but the goddamned liberals and “progressives” as well. Everybody at fucking Vox, Slate, and Salon who raises their hands heavenward and paces in circles theatrically moaning why-oh-why won’t those evil, racist, stupid poor whites understand? Posting condescending junk about why-oh-why my Jewish and Italian “friends” (yeah right, like you have any) won’t listen? Maybe you should STFU and listen for once.
For once, try to assume that you aren’t in possession of the most important and best informed opinion in the room. Try to get it through your thick goddamned heads that you don’t automatically get to play judge and umpire while the lesser folk clumsily and foolishly sort out our silly little malformed thoughts. Maybe stop assuming that black and brown people need you to be their Glorious White Savior. Confront the reality that we don’t need you at the head of the table to help us sort out our issues.
Instead, try to realize that the whole goddamned conversation would go a lot more smoothly, and a lot more progress would be made, if you’d just shut the fuck up for a change.
In fact, it would probably be best if you just left the room entirely, and let us talk to each other, because that’s really what’s needed — for black/brown people and ethnic and poor-to-working-class whites to finally sit down and have a conversation with each other, unmediated by you bunch of meddling egotists who think it’s all about winning the tiara and not about saving people’s lives. I can guarantee that no brown or black person would be stupid enough to tell that guy in the trailer that “at least he’s not black.”
Very pleased. I still want to see if I can’t shoehorn that Enat into the thing, but it works fine without it and is not hard to play. I’m very pleased and will be sure to keep this thing in my fingers.
Well, apparently it works because by the time I need an Enat, I’ve already moved past it so I don’t ever really need to bother with that pedal. I can use a Db instead, and still get the diminished sound that I want without even having to worry about the Enat. If I insist on it, it doesn’t need to be notched because I only need it for a second before it has to go back to flat so I can just flick my left foot over and do it, but it’s really not needed.
I’d like to do it anyway since … well, if it’s hard, then I want to do it. But I can get through it with a notched Gnat pedal, then notch an Anat and a quick slide over to the Gnat to put it back into flat. After that, I think I will just have to leave the Anat notched until I get back into the Ab7, upon which point I’m home free.