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Author: George Palczynski

George (Wildman) Palczynski is a student of Life without certificate, degree or expertise. Knows a little about most everything but not everything about any one thing – which makes him generally smart but particularly stupid.

Life And Thanksgiving

Two Trains Of Thought On A Collision Course

“Thou must now at last perceive of what universe thou art now a part, and of what administrator of the universe thy existence is an efflux.”

– Marcus Aurelius, Emperor

“…that all the labours of the ages, all the devotion, all the inspiration, all the noonday brightness of human genius, are destined to extinction in the vast death of the solar system, and that the whole temple of Man’s achievement must inevitably be buried beneath the debris of a universe in ruins–all these things, if not quite beyond dispute, are yet so nearly certain, that no philosophy which rejects them can hope to stand. Only within the scaffolding of these truths, only on the firm foundation of unyielding despair, can the soul’s habitation henceforth be safely built.”

– Bertrand Russell, Philosopher/Logician, Professional Thinker

Score:    Emperors 1             Philosophers  -1

Imagine That!

Imagine so gauzy a cloak yet so thick in the warp and weft of despair as “life sucks, then you die.” It is a most favored locution of the indubitably healthy, the obviously well provisioned. They are of the sort who could not describe one true misery of their own to lament, even if a cocked revolver was held to their temple.

Now it’s evident that most such utterances are merely attempts at blasé airs. Indifference and ‘pooh-poohing’ the great things in life, is presently, most always has been, the height of sophistication.

“Life sucks” drips off the tongue like drool because it’s difficult to swallow. it’s better to give ‘life’ a slap across the mug than get one, deservedly, across one’s own.

From Another Horse’s Ass Mouth

Nothingness can be synthesized into “almost something”. It goes like this:

Thesis: The Absolute is Pure Being

Antithesis: The Absolute is Nothingness

Synthesis: The Absolute is Becoming

– Friedrich Hegel – Philosopher (Professional Thinker)

Score:    Emperors 1             Philosophers  -2

Make It Stop… Please

Here, an opinion on Jean-Paul Sartre’s “Being And Nothingness” right out of Wikipedia. It shrinks the expanding Universe and sets up a new paradigm.

“In Sartre’s opinion, consciousness does not make sense by itself: it arises only as an awareness of objects.”

THAT, readers, is the most deliciously wonderful expositional gem I had ever come across – EVER!  

Reflect on that! It comes out – epigrammatically – as —

“It is, therefore I am”.

 To overthink thinking is not a sign of mental or spiritual fitness. Most modern philosophers are mad about something or, just plain mad.

 Score:    Emperors 1             Philosophers  -3


You say the great emperor was a philosopher also. Yes, but he was principally an actor. He had done, had undertaken, had accomplished. He has the right to be called philosopher. The others? Charlatans, conjuring excuses and mitigations, (and – all of them – disappointments to their mothers).

Pessimist He Is, And The Other A Cynic

One man takes the measure of life and finds it all futility. The other man reasons himself into a mental cul-de-sac  Everyone has a God, for this crowd it’s Nothingness.

Why, I wonder, do these types so deeply invested in nothingness linger on the edge of doom? Why not jump and embrace Oblivion if it is the full substance of their faith? Cowards?  Charlatans? They are obviously not zealots.

What Does It Profit A Man To Favor Oblivion Over Life?

If you have not seen traces of heaven on earth; if you have not seen the reflection of GOD in a human face; have never sensed, suspected, the presence of an angel; have not experienced, seen, heard, and/or been moved by human goodness, selflessness, sacrifice, you have too little knowledge of, and no intimacy with, the greatness of Life.

There is in Life something of the force, the essentiality, of GOD. Life, our very ‘being’, is the very first substantiation of man having been made in the image of GOD – i.e., “being”.

“Existence is inherently, not to mention divinely, meaningful.”— Father Brown                                            – from the pen of G. K. Chesterton

If ever, just once, you have been blessed by someone to love; ever, just once, been forgiven a grievous trespass; received unmerited grace; felt, with all your being, pure joy; if ever you had mused that there was one thing in your life for which you would have gladly suffered; or said to yourself . . . “life is beautiful”, then you have a most intimate relationship with being, a great awareness of the generosity of Life, and an occasion for thanksgiving every day of your life and especially on Thanksgiving Day.

God Bless, A Wonderful Life, and Happy Thanksgiving to all:

Writers, readers, editors, and custodians of WTF!? 

Twentieth Anniversary

To Kill A Mockingbird               


Flipping The South The Bird


Twenty years ago, a significant portion of the population of this country, in a collective act of communal ’bulimia virtuosa’, purged themselves of common sense and went on a ‘feel good’ binge.’ It was a portent of what was the beginning of the beginning of the decline of a great nation.

Anyone Holdin’ RITALIN

Repeated attempts at finishing “To Kill A Mockingbird” ended in reflex blackouts. Desperation!  Asked Spon “What does “mockingbirds are made for singing” and “to kill a mockingbird is a sin” mean? “It means”, he said, “if you kill black people soon there won’t be any singers left”. Spon had a different angle on the world.

Remember getting an ‘F’, with notation – DNR (Did Not Read).

‘A’ for effort’ had not yet made inroads into pedagogic theory.

I remember not being bitter. Took full responsibility for the “F,” but not the sudden onset comas.

All personal experiences and resulting animus aside… (no, really), I continue – coldly, dispassionately.

Bitch Please!

In Judeo-Yiddish traditions, so I’m told, chutzpah is: “everyone has a novel in them” or “every Southerner can write.” And meshugah is publishing chutzpah by Harper Lee, who didn’t and couldn’t. Miss Lee took one year writing To Kill A Mockingbird (hereafter TKAM) and three more years rewriting, with battalion level editorial support (unreconstructed truth) and still the Muse refused to show. At one point, the Southern belle, in frustration, gave the manuscript its wings and chucked it out a window (unreconstructed truth) leaving it to make it on its own. The thing would not fly and dropped like a dead duck done in by buckshot. A literary agent, on the spot (protecting his cut) made Miss Lee retrieve it. And that’s not tall tales of sour grapes; it’s unreconstructed truth, it happened.

Finally published in 1960, TKAM became a best seller and went from publishing phenomenon to regnant exemplum of what went wrong in America. That’s right, regnant exemplum.

Flipping The South Bird

Now, there’s no need for a litany of TKAM’s shortcomings (I haven’t a book in me, either). Prospective rabble need only know this one thing; Miss Lee’s most egregious misprision, i.e., her characterization of the South. The author’s South is barely warm, and then in all the wrong places. More notable, and most inexcusable, is the absence of the South’s greatest charm – steam; dewy, sticky, steam – terrestrial clouds of breath defying steam. And where were the chilled mimosas, sultry nights amid scents of fragrant chocolate vines intermingling with night blooming jasmine, and the rustling of crinoline and taffeta, moonlit torsos, passiona……………… uhhhh…   …sorry about that!

If Ms Lee was intent on doing this, she would better have had it done in New Jersey.

Had she had it done it in the real Dixie, I’d have at least managed to stay awake skimming the steamy bits.

And all that is the least of it. The most of it is the insidious moral kitsch oozing from this bildungsroman leading to – get this – a Library of Congress book study, finding ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ the second most influential book readers had ever experienced.

The worst of it – THIS (swallow that coffee or bourbon now) a 1999 Library Journal poll chose ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ as best novel of the century. That’s right –  the entire one hundred years of 20th Century American literature (That there is the greatest  WTF?! Moment in my lifetime… so far)

Somebody, please make it stop! In 2006, British librarians ranked the book ahead of the Bible as one “every adult should read before they die”

Now… now there’s just no getting around all that! There’s no getting from here to there, from “TKAM is a novel” to “TKAM is the greatest novel of the Twentieth Century” without a long layover in dementia. If to kill a mockingbird is a sin, to kill ‘To Kill A Mockingbird’ should be worth a plenary indulgence.


Rouse The Rabble, Gather The MOB, Seize The Book, Ignite The Pyre, and Remand To The Flames “To Kill A Mockingbird”.

(Musical accompaniment: the stirring “Der Königgrätzer Marsch”


1Flannery O’Connor – a writer:

“It’s interesting that all the folks that are buying it (TKAM)don’t know they are buying a children’s book.”

WildMan: Go ahead, wonder at the demise of America.

2Both TKAM and RITALIN were developed in the 1950s. Both became prescriptive in the 1960s.

WildMan: Read into that what you will.

THE END  (in more ways than one)

Womenology – 102 – Advanced Womanry

Part 3 of 3

by WildMan aka, George Palczynski

Everybody sing!!!
“I can’t get NO… sat-is-fac-tion.

To a man, it’s a song. To a woman, it’s… a good deal more. It’s a trope the world over. For women, it’s not a learned inclination. It’s congenital. It is essential yin. A woman’s general satisfaction had never come from a placebo. She can’t be talked or tricked into being satisfied.

Fact And Fancy
This is a cold fact. Men, dissatisfied, make no effort to fix the source of their dissatisfaction. Men merely, simply, digitally, restore the balance. If 0, then add 1; if dissatisfaction, add satisfaction. All nature is balance. It’s called ‘equipoise’. It’s powerful and it works. It may be the preeminent calculation to durable human sanity. Women are not without it; they resort to it. Dissatisfied with X, they’ll open a tub of ice cream, or go shopping for shoes. See! It works… alas… not to their complete satisfaction.

Why then are women so persistent in fixing that which dissatisfies them? Because women will not rest until ‘it’ is …BETTER. Cavil at it all you want, but it’s in their make up, and there’s not a damn thing that can be done about it.

When I was a young man, a nice young woman asked for help rearranging the furnishings in her apartment. Apparently, she was… dissatisfied. As this had been part of my skill set by which I managed to pay off my bar tabs and stay stocked with Lucky Strikes – I agreed.

She was a feathery girl, light of heart and spirit. She could not crash through life, nor would she plow through it. It, life, was not a jungle for her to clear a path through with a machete. She, Carol was her name, did not flutter through it like a butterfly, she floated and glided – that’s how feathers ‘roll’ – they float.

You can have your bits and pieces as you like them but I’ll have them as they are… as long as they are packaged in a sweet, sweet disposition. Carol was so ‘at home’ within that sweet disposition that I’m not sure which had been made for the other. Had that disposition been made for Carol, or, Carol for that disposition?

A Lesson, A Class, A Seminar, A Tutorial

She deliberated upon each move of an assembled component piece. This was my resting time. I put it to good use, observing her – body language, facial reactions, voice – tone, pitch, and rhythm. This was not purposeful. She merely, naturally, caught my attention, my interest… and curiosity also. It was probably the signal life lesson on woman ever given me. She caught me smiling at her taking earnest consideration of the most recent composition. “What are you laughing about?” Said I, “I wasn’t laughing, I was smiling.” Said she: “Well, it looked like you were holding back a laugh.”

I moved this there, that here. Gave her props. She moved stuff along with me. We’d… she’d finally got it. She redlined ‘satisfied’. But wait! “Could you move your end back a couple of inches”, she said, of the sofa. Sure, I hadn’t said, just moved it. There. I’d almost asked if dinner was ready. She’d promised a meal in return for muscle. It was crockpot stew. The aroma was wafting for some time.

“Now just a quarter inch forward” came the words wrapped in that sweet voice. I swear it, with the saints and angels in heaven my witness… she said, “Now just a quarter inch forward”. …I’d laughed hard in my young lifetime, but I’d never been poleaxed by funny before. The laughing… it hurt. “You’re laughing again”. I nodded – I couldn’t talk. I was near on my knees on the floor, sputtering/wheezing with laughter. I’d hurt nothing moving all that furniture. I was certain I’d strained a couple intercostals laughing. Was she miffed? Damned if I could tell – couldn’t see through the tears.

She could do nothing but wait. Eventually, I’d settled. She did ask once, “What’s so funny?” I broke out again, waving off any possibility of an explanation.

Happiest dinner I ever had – smiling, grinning, chuckling and eating. She asked, several times, (CURIOSITY!), what was so funny. Having finally got control of myself I told her… “it was ‘a quarter inch'”.
“A quarter inch?”
“Yes, a quarter inch”
“How’s ‘a quarter inch’ funny?”
” It made me laugh”.
“It is if it makes you laugh”
“You’re weird”
Spent, I laughed, weakly. She shrugged, nodding disbelievingly. I was, to her, at that moment, an alien, so far removed from female/woman that she could make of me nothing more than ‘weird’.

A quarter of an inch is a big deal to a woman; and it’s never funny. That can’t be said of ANY other of GOD’s creatures. That’s the bottom line as to what will finally satisfy women everywhere… the last ‘quarter inch’ more… or less… maybe.

Atonement and Over Compensating

A woman’s curiosity and desire had got us into trouble but her amends got us from the cave to the penthouse. Women have earnestly set upon restoring the paradise that had been lost by them, whether they will cop to it or not. Not a one of them may admit it – ‘at’s okay – at some point you just have to let go of ‘it’.

Women will work ceaselessly to make things better, better men, children, homes, gardens, meals – better, always, everything, better. It’s not for nothing that women have themselves a reputation for being difficult to satisfy. They are on a mission.

Not The End

‘Better’ is without limit there where perfection is not known to exist.
– George Palczynski

Never Forget

“Insofar as something retains mystery, it commands interest.”
– George Palczynski

Always Remember

A man is never so assured of his manhood as when a woman insists he is weird.
– George Palczynski

Vive la difference

And THAT’s the Happy Ending