CAPITALISM ONLY WORKS IN PEACETIME

The Covid-19 pandemic is showing the world that capitalism doesn't work very well in the setting of economic collapse from a pandemic. Looking back in history, the same thing happens during wartime. Dog-eat-dog capitalism, every person for him/herself, libertarianism and rugged individualism all fail in times like these. Governments have to take over and do what is right for the population at large. That is happening in congress right now. It applies especially to healthcare but also to manufacturing, maintaining supply chains, transportation, almost all sectors of business. The stock market tanking in the face of pandemic or war is the perfect example of how Wall Street is really just a giant casino in peacetime. 

If there is one good thing that comes out of the economic fallout from Covid-19, it is the concept that government can be helpful to the entire country when it's done right. Even Republicans are accepting that healthcare, infrastructure, supply chains, and transportation require the safety net of government. We all would be better off if that safety net were in place all the time and the Wall Street casinos were closed.

https://www.jameschanningshaw.com

Fuhrer Trumpf

In 1934, many Germans were "extolling Hitler for his ruthless determination" and many in the working class "have also become enslaved to the uncritical deification of Hitler." 

Sound familiar? Good thing Trump wasn't prez in 1934. He would have sent love letters to Hitler. 

Now he has to settle for falling in love with Kim Jong Un and kowtowing to Vlad Putin while praising every other autocrat.

And all that with a stupid red truck-driver's hat for a halo.

quotes from Erik Larson: In the Garden of Beasts

Trump's SMASH-YOUR-FACE leadership

Trump's smash-your-face leadership excites Americans like no-jacket Jim Jordan, rep what’s-his-name Collins and Corrupt @CLewandowski. Trump’s lies, hypocrisy and misogyny don’t matter. The nastier, the better. Those who are loyal to narcissists hang on until they get torched when narcissist goes down in flames. The question is whether Trump’s downfall will come before the 2020 election. Not looking good for that.

Himmler was discarded. Goebbels stayed to the end. @RudyGiuliani was in, then toast, now he’s back; no-jacket Jim is still in (for now); @jeffsessions remains loyal to Trump’s coattails; @LindseyGrahamSC pin-balls too much for anyone to know his true stance; Pence waits, panting.

One flicker of optimism: in their eventual downfall, narcissists place blame on their most loyal allies, abandon them and find themselves alone with zero support from anyone.

Feb 21, 2020

https://www.jameschanningshaw.com

Chis Matthews and MSNBC: Time for him to join Fox like Lou Dobbs.

TIME TO POST THIS AGAIN! FIRST POSTING WAS 4 YEARS AGO. Watch YouTube clip of Matthews ranting against Bernie and Socialism. 
Original posting May, 2016: Title: MSNBC? Not so much any more.

I used to crave MSNBC, Chris Matthews, Rachel Maddow. Smart people, those two. And more or less politically compatible with my liberal thinking, except when it came to them actually promoting the results of the Warren Commission which LBJ commissioned to avoid a real investigation that might have suggested triangulated gunfire including a shot from the front right that took off the back of JFK’s head. How anyone can still buy into Lee Harvey Oswald as JFK's killer amazes me. But that’s getting off point.

Just recently, I decided I can no longer watch Chris or Rachel or anyone else on MSNBC. And it’s not just the incessant Cialis ads and other obnoxious direct-to-consumer advertising by Big Pharma. Chris and Rachel and the gang are so biased in their reporting, so pro-Clinton, and so utterly dismissive of Bernie Sanders and his ideas that it is clear that they or their bosses must be trying to manipulate the election. Did they do this in the Obama/Hillary primaries of ’08? Don’t remember. Must not have had the channel back then. 

Sander’s proposals are not  out-of-line with liberal Democratic views. It must be that Sanders-the-man is out-of-line with those who are beholden to Hillary Clinton in some way, or perhaps it is the owners and broadcasters at MSNBC. This generally applies to all the major networks, it’s just more painful at MSNBC. Even PBS, usually so thorough in their coverage of both and all sides of an argument, has been dismissive of Bernie’s message, assuming that Hillary is definitely the nominee, discouraging the all-important battles of ideas.

Come to think of it, maybe it IS Big Pharma. If MSNBC is dependent upon those drug company ads for their profit margin, it would make sense to be against Bernie Sanders because of his strong opposition to the deplorable ways of Big Pharma. 

 Whether it is biased individual anchors, the influence of Big Pharma, or indebted management, I’m almost finished with MSNBC. I’ve also given up on the rest of corporate network TV, and I suspect I’m not alone in this thinking. Unbiased, respectful reporting will have to be found elsewhere.

RUSSIA?

R(US)SIA is all over US.

Whom can we blame for the Russian hacking? Russians? Do a majority of Russians support the hacking, cheating and disruption of U.S. elections? Do they even think about it? Maybe it’s too broad, like saying that all Americans are in favor of grabbing ‘em by the pussy and telling Whitehouse staff members to lie under oath.

I sometimes wish I were Russian so I wouldn’t hate them so much for the meddling etc. I mean, they are a magnificent people. How can I hate a people who gave us Rachmaninoff and Stravinsky? Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy? How can we hate the country that, according to current historical thinking, had a larger role in overthrowing Hitler’s Germany than the allies did? Russians are a strong and creative people. 

But then there were the genocidal pogroms to rid the country of its Jews in the 19^thcentury and beyond. And Stalin’s murder of millions. And after the USSR fell, the oligarchs who threw their own people under the bus to become hugely rich through inside deals (and worse) in the name of capitalism. 

Can we lay the blame for hacking on the oligarchs and their ilk? If so, it would be perfectly fine to categorically hate those guys. But if so, Americans should be just as hateful of the titans of Wall Street who consistently swindle the American people for their own gain (2008 crash, anyone?). It would be no surprise for a president who cuts taxes for the most obscenely rich Americans to be in cahoots with the Russian hacking scheme that helps him get elected. Bernie Sanders has always warned that oligarchy is the primary threat we all should be worrying about. 

This is so massive in scope, it is hard to imaging reining it in, much less exposing it. We can't even get Donald's tax returns! It’s larger than the JFK assassination coverup that still no one has genuinely and successfully exposed. It is so large it makes cuddling up to Kim Jong-un seem like a mere indiscretion. Perhaps oligarchs in North Korea are not that far fetched. Perhaps Trump Tower in Pyongyang is moving forward?

Aug 16, 2019

https://www.jameschanningshaw.com

TRUMP'S HEROS #2

The headline might read:

In third term, Trump to replace bust of Putin with bust of himself.


The bust that replaced Churchill:

The bust that will replace Putin:

TRUMP'S HEROS #1

The headline might read:

In second term, Trump to replace bust of Churchill with bust of Putin.

Lip service:

Hero worship:

ADOLF TRUMP

Trump doesn't even need a Goebbles propaganda minister. He's his own propaganda minister. In lock-step with Fox News, he does it all, and Americans are buying it! The Donald and Adolf....sad, sad, sad.

DANDRUFF: THE MYTH OF WASHING YOUR HAIR TOO MUCH

James Channing Shaw's website: https://www.jameschanningshaw.com

One of the most common dermatological MYTHS is the belief that flaky, itchy scalp, so-called dandruff, comes from washing your hair too much. The truth is the exact opposite. Read on.

 Almost 100% of patients who see me as a dermatologist for dandruff suspect the flakes and itch are from drying out of their scalp. Patients instinctively reduce their hair washing but it doesn’t help. In fact, they all admit their scalp feels better the day of and day after washing, but gets worse after two or three days of NOT washing. Here’s the explanation:

Dandruff affects almost half the world population of adolescents and young adults to some degree. It affects both men and women but seems to be more common in men. Flakiness, itch, and oily scalp are the most common signs. At its worst, dandruff goes by a different name—seborrheic dermatitis and can even involve the skin of the face.

Many factors contribute: Testosterone leads to oiliness (both men and women have testosterone). Oiliness promotes microscopic yeast organisms called Malassezia. Individual immune responses lead to the inflammation (redness, itch) and discomfort. That, basically, is the package.

So how does washing hair influence the problem? The issue is this: Do you wash your face only once per week? Or your body skin? Daily washing removes the flakes, the oil and the yeast which in turn reduces immune reactions which ultimately reduces flakiness, itchiness and redness. The purpose is to clean the skin of your scalp, not your hair per se (the hair will get clean in the process). Use conditioners as needed.

What shampoo to use?Mere washing with plain shampoo can help, but the best anti-dandruff shampoos contain either coal tar (T-Gel®, Pentrax®), anti-fungal chemicals (Nizoral®, Cicloprox®) or cortisone-like steroids (Clobex®). Personally, I favor tar shampoos, which also happen to be the least expensive.

How often should you wash your hair? In general, the more you wash your hair, the better your scalp will feel. (Scalp skin is similar to face skin, and you don’t wash your face only once per week!) Daily hair washing is usually adequate in the setting of dandruff/seborrheic dermatitis. It depends on the severity of the condition. The important fact is that washing does not worsen the problem, it only helps.

There are cases where seeing a doctor is required. Topical prescription lotions can reduce inflammation or reduce the Malassezia yeast. Fortunately, the condition is not dangerous to your health, and tends to improve as you move from the prime of life into middle age and beyond. Something to look forward to!

And ONE MORE THING: The concept of lather, rinse, repeat is complete nonsense, falsely made up by manufacturers so that you  use up twice as much product as you need. Once is perfectly adequate. Thank you.

WOMEN IN TRUMP'S AMERICA

Women in Trump's America: Composition 1

 

  

Women in Trump's America: Composition 2

 

LETTERS FROM THE FRONT, Part 6: Hemingway's Pants

For all of James's blogposts, books, and more, visit his website at

https://www.jameschanningshaw.com

Emmett’s last encounter with Ernest Hemingway had nothing to do with drinking. He told it this way:

“After Hemingway was transferred to the Red Cross Hospital in Milan, no one back at ambulance headquarters thought he would drive again. Rumors were that he would be lucky to walk. Unexpectedly, after six months, he returned to say his goodbyes and gather his belongings before returning to the States. But he came back to an empty locker. His locker had been cleaned out and he was hopping mad about it! I ran into him that afternoon. All he said, looking down at my khakis, was ‘Shaw, those are my pants.’ All I could say was ‘Yes, sir, they are.’ I apologized and returned the pants the next day, laundered, of course. That’s the last time I saw Ernest Hemingway. No handshake. Nothing. C’est la vie. C’est la guerre.”

At home after the war during prohibition the art of drinking degenerated into a sort of a nightmare and good drinking companions were indeed hard to find. I like to forget those wasted years between 1920 and 1932 when we were forced to buy synthetic liquor from bootleggers and thugs and drink it in bedrooms and toilets and back alleyways. My best drinking companion during most of those awful years was a druggist who made his own poison by mixing a half pint of grain alcohol with an equal amount of strawberry pop. It was a vile concoction and ruinous to the digestion. We did most of our drinking in the rear of his drug store surrounded by shelves of patent medicine bottles and cosmetics.

One other fairly steady drinking companion I had during this gloomy period who was also a glutton for punishment specialized in moonshine. Between us we usually managed to keep a jug or two of the pale fluid that maims and kills cached in convenient places. He could handle the stuff a lot better than I. He liked it raw and the more it burned the better it seemed to suit him. I was finally forced to withdraw from this partnership. I just couldn’t stand the pace.

After repeal when it once more became possible to obtain decent liquor and drink it without hiding, I renewed many old acquaintances and even made one or two new ones.

As time goes on, however, I find myself for one reason and another taking it a little easier. I have almost ceased looking for new drinking companions. On rare occasions I meet up with one of the old friends of bygone years and of course we always celebrate the event in the fitting and proper way.

Only last year Larry Fisher came through town. I hadn’t seen him but once since the old days in France and Italy. We drank whiskey and soda until far into the night and fought the war all over again. After midnight he got his wife on the phone and introduced me over the long distance wire.

I have never claimed to be much of a connoisseur. I have always drunk and still drink largely for the fun and conviviality. If my drinking companion prefers wine, I usually drink wine. And if it’s beer or gin or rye or bourbon or rum or anything except moonshine, the same holds true.

There have even been times when I have gone for weeks without taking a drink. During such periods, although I may feel fine and everything running smooth, I rarely seem to have any fun and am usually lonesome as hell.

I love a good drinking companion. They are so rare. I have drunk with many during the past years, some good, some bad. The perfect ones are very, very few. I cherish their memory and the memory of the wonderful times we had drinking together.

Emmett continued to write and tell stories of North American Fronts: Fronts of gold prospecting in California, the Alaskan frontier immediately after it became a state, and histories of Civil War fronts and Texas in the making. But the beer glass is empty now. All that remains is the memory of the whiff of aroma.  

                                                The End

 https://www.jameschanningshaw.com

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LETTERS FROM THE FRONT, Part 5: 1918, Italy and Paris

Continuing from DRINKING COMPANIONS I HAVE KNOWN:

I shall never forget one weekend that Larry and I spent at Monza drinking Asti-Spumenti (sic) beneath the trees. Larry’s companion at the moment was a beautiful dark haired Italian Countess by the name of Marie. She had obligingly provided a companion for me in the form of a buxom English lass from Lancastershire who preferred ale to Asti-Spumenti and would rather eat than drink.

Larry and George Harris and I spent many a pleasant afternoon and evening when on leave in Milan drinking at the Cova or under the glassed archway in the famous Galleria. Sometimes Hemingway and other convivial residents of Milan would join us. We have since recognized some of those people as characters in Hemingway’s books.

It was also in Milan that Larry and I discovered the English-American Club. A German boat had been captured loaded with Münchner Beer. Somehow a portion of this precious cargo had found its way into the cellar of this club. Many a pleasant hour we spent drinking Münchner. It was delightfully rich and heavy and full of head. When we could no longer drink it we just sat and whiffed the aroma.

That autumn Russ and I secured a leave of absence and went sight-seeing in Southern Italy. Russ always carried a large fiasco of wine with him in his knapsack so as not to be caught short. On the slow train from Rome to Naples our wine gave out. At the next stop I stepped off the train to secure more wine and sandwiches. The sandwiches were provided but before I could negotiate the purchase of more wine the train pulled out. We had no more to drink until we reached Naples and Russ never forgave me. It was beyond him to understand how one could procure food instead of wine when both were obtainable and only time for one.

At Pompeii we visited the ruins and drank wine in the old Roman theatre. Russ took a keen delight in translating the Latin inscriptions around the market place. One in particular caught his eye. “Vote for Crassus for Prefect. He favors open gambling and wine shops.” Men’s tastes change little in two thousand years. We spent an hour or so in the famous or infamous Palace of Love viewing the beautiful life-like frescoes. Women tourists are not allowed in here. While we were inside an elderly American spinster insisted on entering. She took one look at the frescoes and vanished with her head in the air.

After the armistice our unit split up and I went back to Paris. America had gone dry in the meantime and some of us were reluctant to come home. I soon met a new drinking companion, a Texan from San Antonio named McCampbell. Mac had also driven an ambulance and was a graduate of Fontainebleau. We slept occasionally at 21 Rue Raynouard and made our headquarters at Maxims.

Paris was a gay town after the armistice, full of officers from the Allied armies and diplomats and interesting people of all kinds. King Albert came to town and King George and President Wilson. Mac and I knew all the ropes by then and did our drinking for the most part in choice and secluded spots where the wine was of the best and the prices within reason. Only once did we get mixed up in a brawl.

It was at Maxims one night that a young British Captain with a cockney accent told a Belgian Cadet that he hated Belgium. He said he had fought in Belgium since the beginning and the Belgians were no good. The cadet was willing to mix but appeared to be no match for the burly Captain so Mac proceeded to knock the Britisher flat with a well-timed right to the jaw.
Nearly two generations later, around the kitchen table, Emmett would also debut occasional new material from the war. One time in Italy, he and his ambulance partner incurred a  tire ‘puncture’. They were up a rise at the end of a valley one or two kilometers long. The road was completely exposed. In the middle of figuring out how to change the tire, an enemy shell exploded one hundred meters behind them. Frantically, they raced to complete the job. Minutes later, a second shell hit fifty meters closer, sending a cloud of dust into the air. They were just about finished, hurriedly returning tools to the car, when a third shell exploded close enough to cover them with dirt and dust just as they hopped into the front seats and pulled away to safety. “Yessir, that was a close one,” Emmett said, tipping a splash of lager into his glass. 
To be continued...

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LETTERS FROM THE FRONT, Part 4: 1918 Italy

A letter from Emmett to his mother explains his decision to transfer to the Italian Front:

From: E.H. Shaw

Am. Red Cross

5 rue Francois Premier, Paris

Italian Service

Section 4

January 15, 1918

My dear Mother,

I received a letter from you today which was written Dec. 18. I am awfully sorry that you are so put out because I haven’t come home.

You are not a pacifist, are you? Don’t you realize that there is a terrible lot of work to be done over here before Germany can be brought to terms and that there are very few men to do it. Perhaps you can understand the situation better when I tell you that France is talking of calling out her men up to 50 yrs., and England up to 46. Germany seems stronger than ever and America seems terribly slow and unorganized.

When things get so bad that 50 yr. old men have to step into the ring, I hardly have the nerve to calmly turn my back on the whole affair, I, who am barely 23 and healthy. I swear I would feel like an awful quitter if I came home now.

The U.S army may not need me – they have more men than they can handle already and I admit I did waste some weeks trying to land a commission (illegible) which might have been spent to better advantage elsewhere in view of the scarcity of man-power; -- but then, I figure a shoulder-strap is always worth a little effort.

The U.S. army having seen fit to reject me, however, I now feel that I am free to go where men are needed most (Believe me, the other armies aren’t rejecting men.) and I think that place is right here in France or Italy, not in America, three thousand miles from the fight.

If I were self-supporting, I would join the Foreign legion. They are reorganizing just at present and lots of boys are joining—boys like myself, who have been turned down by U.S.A because of physical reasons or otherwise. But the Foreign Legion pays its soldiers nothing, in fact it doesn’t even equip them properly --- so I figure the next best bet is Italy with the Red cross. They need men and it seems like wonderful work.

Surely you agree with me about this coming home proposition. The fight is here in Europe and I’d rather be where the fight is than 3,000 miles away—in the 1^st place it’s much more interesting—and above all, being here—I don’t want to turn and beat it away just as the crisis seems to be approaching.

I hope you agree with me.

Your loving son,

Emmett

p.s. I thought I was writing you often.
                                        ***
An excerpt from DRINKING COMPANIONS I HAVE KNOWN:

The Italians had recently suffered a terrible defeat losing many divisions and much material, and retreating 150 kilometers from Caparetto to the Piave river. The Allies were doing everything they could to bolster their shaken morale. We secured brand new Fiat Ambulances from the factory at Turin and drove across Northern Italy by way of Milan and Verona to Schio.

Scott Russell and Larry Fisher were my drinking companions on this trip. They had both driven ambulances at the French front and in the Balkans. Russ was a great red wine drinker while Larry preferred cognac or champagne. At Milan we were joined by a group of new recruits fresh from the States. Among these recruits was an old gray-haired cattleman from Yakima, Washington, by the name of George Harris, also a young reporter from Chicago called Ernest Hemingway. We who had served in France were at first very loathe to accept these recruits as equals. Old George, however, soon proved himself to be an excellent drinking companion. Hemingway was badly wounded in the leg during the Austrian attack on the Piave and spent many months in the hospital at Milan. No one realized that he would one day be famous. A Farewell To Arms must have been brewing that summer while Russ and Larry and George Harris and I were peacefully drinking.

I shall never forget one weekend that Larry and I spent at Monza drinking Asti-Spumenti (sic) beneath the trees.    TO BE CONTINUED...