It’s our 46th wedding anniversary and we are surrounded by electronic doodads that just don’t freakin’ work. At the moment it’s our phone.
I have it in my mind not to cover any nooze today, try to take it as a holiday. We have crab cakes set aside for supper. I was scanning nooze yesterday afternoon and wound up just bagging the whole thing. So much crap going on, I couldn’t imagine where to start. Where do you even begin?
Have you noticed the media’s Two Takes on Biden? Fascinating. Take One: Biden is great, his presidency is great, and he will easily beat Trump. Take Two: The guy’s a disaster–who do we have to replace him?
And that’s all I want to say about that today. Let’s take a peek at the movies.
“It’s THE camp for OCD news junkies!”
If you can’t tear yourself away from the screen and TV nooze, Camp Bah-Lo-Nee’s the place for you! Here they’ve got nothing but nooze. Inside a week you’ll know the names of all the politicians’ lawyers.
Although the camp is still under construction somewhere in the Australian Outback, there’s already a waiting list. I don’t know where Byron the Quokka put it. This will be the first news junkies’ camp ever set up by quokkas, and everybody’s learning as they go along.
You know you’re spending too much time in the nooze when it starts breaking and entering into your dreams. When that happens, the dream becomes a nightmare.
The other night I dreamt I had to ride to work every day with… Hillary Clinton! It was a long ride, and I couldn’t get out of it because it was some kind of compulsory car-pool thingy. And she talked and talked and talked all the way there. You couldn’t have a conversation with her, any more than you can have a conversation with a bowling ball.
At least we can wake up from nightmares. The nooze is there every day.
“Elder Mike” gave me a wee shove yesterday for spending too much time and effort on the nooze. What he said made me re-think my priorities. To a certain extent, he might be right. We do want to know what we’re up against–but not to the point where we’re demoralized. We need Caleb–not those guys who came back to Moses whining “We’re like grasshoppers, compared to those bodacious mighty heathen!” (See Numbers 13)
Meanwhile, here’s a little guide which may help you decide whether you’re spending too much time on nooze.
You know you’re spending way too much time on nooze when:
*You know the names of the politicians’ lawyers (always a bad sign!).
*All the different stories start looking like the same tomfool story.
*You find yourself believing all the nooze and it makes you down-hearted.
*You find yourself unable to believe any of it and that makes you crazy.
*You have panic attacks over which pronouns you can safely use, and wind up referring to a single individual as “they.”
*You actually believe in Man-Made Climbit Change.
If any one of these describes you, it’s time to back off the TV or computer screen and get yourself some model trains.
I’ve been covering this stuff for ten years plus, and it’s getting to me. It’s all beginning to sound like the mysterious gibberish spouted by the hapless TV reporter in the video above.
So bad, so fast. I saw a piece of nooze yesterday: whole high school classroom goes ballistic because one kid had one critical word to say about “Transgender.” Apparently TG has become sacred to a lot of people. Thanks to teachers’ unions.
Some of us fear there’s been too much damage, we’ll never repair it, never get our republic back–to say nothing of our sanity. Certainly if it’s up to us, we’re goners. I think we have to depend on God deciding, “This stops now.”
So I don’t want to write up any nooze this weekend. God pity us if we walk by sight; because what we see is dreadful.
I wonder if He is using this evil age to teach us something that we need to know.
Enough is enough. Everyone is racist, “pregnant man” emoji, country governed by freaks, clowns, criminals, and dotards… enough already.
Outside it’s been snowing since early last night and it’s still coming down, big-time. Let it snow. If I can’t get my car out by Monday, there’s always the cab. It’s so quiet here when it snows!
Join us in spirit this afternoon, as we seek out a nice undemanding movie to watch and look forward to a supper of frozen cod fillets in beer batter (don’t laugh–they’re very tasty: Gorton’s got it right this time), french fries, and peas. See, we’re getting better. Slowly. We have ice cream, too.
Our cats are conked out sleeping, they always sleep when it snows. Robbie seems to be in pretty good shape; good spirits, too. Thank you for your prayers.
Childhood memory: heavy snow outside, I’m in bed with a favorite book, no school, and my iguana, half-grown, climbs halfway up the curtain and stops to watch it snow. later, a hearty bowl of pastina.
A walk around the block might do him good.
Several people I know have told me that their blood pressure has gotten high enough to require treatment; and they all seem pretty sure that the several hours of nooze they watch each day has a lot to do with it–because the TV nooze makes them angry, frustrated, fearful, and confused.
They’re not the first to think this. Here’s an article along these lines that was published in 2019: https://josephcwells.com/blog/better-than-news .
Do you find yourself yelling or cursing at the TV set, and the talking heads on the screen? Do you feel yourself totally powerless to do anything about any of the awful things you’re hearing from the nooze? If so, you’re certainly not alone.
We’ve just had an election stolen from us by massive fraud, and we don’t know what to do about it. A lot of us are afraid there’s nothing that anyone can or will do about it. Some of us have had our spirit crushed by these events–and we hear all about it on the TV nooze.
There’s something to be said for cutting way back on your nooze-watching. What good is being “well-informed,” if it only leads to helpless rage? What good is information if there’s absolutely nothing you can do with it?
I have to stay informed, if I’m going to continue to produce this blog. But I have to draw the line somewhere because I don’t want to go mad. I’ve decided that if I know the names of the public figures’ lawyers, then I know more than I need.
Try cutting back and using the time to do a crossword puzzle–or anything else that cools your jets.
You’ll probably be the better for it.