More Twaddle

Japan has not warmed since 1989!

1989 is the year that Dr. James Hansen, then Director, NASA’s Goddard Institute for Space Studies, testified before a Senate subcommittee, its name too long to matter.  Prior to the hearing, air conditioning was turned off in the room and the windows opened. They wanted people to be hot and uncomfortable. This was the hearing that introduced the world to the concept of Global Warming, later changed to Climate Change (probably to avoid the embarrassment of absence of warming).

This article shows three graphs, one each for Tokyo, the island of Hachijō-jima, and the entire island of Japan. Winters there have not warmed since 1987 (the entire island), and 1984 (Tokyo). The graph for Hachijō-jima goes all the way back to 1947. If anything it shows a slight cooling trend.

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Tuesday Twaddle

The Ukrainian matter

Yesterday, as I read the discussion going on in Stephers’ post regarding the reality or falseness of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I was reminded that my name, Tokarski, originates in Ukraine, and is Ashkenazim Jewish. I am neither Ukrainian nor Jewish, but the name “Tokarski” is in the Jewish registry of surnames. The last I knew of my ancestors was a letter that circulated among us saying that my paternal grandfather’s family lived in Austria, “down the hill from Switzerland.” Legend has it that the surname Tokar, taken from the Tokar region of Ukraine (which I could not locate) spawned emigrants to the United States, many of whom landed in Pennsylvania, mining coal I imagine.

Indeed my grandfather immigrated to Pennsylvania, but not from Ukraine. The story is that while in school he had a particularly strict and unpleasant teacher. The boys in his class managed to subdue him and lock him in a closet. I would make him to be a young teen at that time. It was not shits and giggles. The authorities took the rebellion seriously, and enlisted police and military to hunt down the boys, who would be drafted. There was a war going on at that time (late 1800s, perhaps Franco-Prussian, a predecessor to WWI). My great grandmother stowed grandpa on the back of a potato truck, and he made his way to France, and then to Ellis Island, and only then to Pennsylvania. I assume he worked the coal mines, because he ended up in Great Falls, Montana. The “Great Falls” of the Missouri River, over which Lewis and Clark and their men (33 total) had to portage with massive outriggers, were by that time underwater, as the Anaconda Copper Company had a reduction/smelting operation there. They needed the electricity generated by the powerful movement of current, so no more waterfall.

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Dirty Hairy

By: Cranky Yanky

With gender fluidity being all the rage in this “woke” society, I thought I would take a closer look at the mysterious phenomenon known as the “hair band.”  I call it mysterious because I never understood what attracted so many young people to this genre of music.  I mean, even if I weren’t put off by the imagery (which I am), I still wouldn’t like the music.  Then again, I’ve never been a fan of what I term the “Velveeta” style of overly-processed production.  But each to his own, music is subjective. 

Still, I can’t help it wonder if fans of this sub-genre of music aren’t constantly questioning their sexual orientation and preferences.  I imagine females thinking to themselves, “His hair and makeup are better than mine, but I WANT him!  Wait a minute, do I secretly desire other women?”  I’ve always been under the impression that women do not like to date men who are prettier than themselves for obvious reasons.  Speaking of obvious, do I even need to conjecture what dudes might be asking themselves? 

The intel operation known as the Beatles can be credited, among many things, with initiating the acceptance of long hair on men.  It wouldn’t take long before the envelope would be pushed, culminating with the Glam Rock movement of the early 70s.  But, the purpose of that initial “Glam” phase appears to have been an acclimation process.  It wouldn’t be until the 80s when MTV became pervasive that the “in your face” emascusation aspect would take hold.

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Loretta Lynn: A Tangled Webb

Compiled by: Cranky Yanky

I have no interest in Loretta Lynn nor her music, but I still felt the need to compile this post since something about her Wikipedia profile just “sticks in my craw.”  But first, let’s get the Covid nonsense out of the way.

Well, I bundled up and Peggy Jean and I rolled out of Hurricane Mills so I could get this vaccine. I’m sure glad to get it and am sure ready to put Covid in the rear view mirror! And I enjoyed the mom daughter time, too! #winning #sickofcovid #stayhealthy #besafe #getyours,” Lynn posted on social media.

I have a few questions for Loretta:

  1. Why did you need to “roll out” of Hurricane Mills at all? How is it that an 89-year-old “legend” with your resources couldn’t get the jab at home from a personal nurse?
  2. If you did indeed leave home, why did you need to “bundle up?” Your ranch in Hurricane Mills features a recording studio, museums, lodging, restaurants, western stores, and since 1982 has hosted the largest amateur motocross race of its kind.  Does it not include indoor facilities to house vehicles?  Why haven’t you demanded a luxury vehicle with heated seats in an indoor garage?
  3. Is getting injected with God-knows-what the only way you can get mom-daughter time, and why are you and all your celebrity friends always so giddy and “glad to get it?”

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A Change of Pace – My Mustang Memories

A car can massage organs which no masseur can reach. It is the one remedy for the disorders of the great sympathetic nervous system.”

~ Jean Cocteau

(Stock Image)

I am a gal who loves cars.

When I was 16 years old, I got my dream car — a white ‘66 Ford Mustang. I called her my “little deuce coupe” (loosely) based on one of my favorite songs at the time — the 1963 song by The Beach Boys, “Little Deuce Coupe.” I had a customized license plate. I think I still have that plate stored away somewhere — in one of the plastic bins that survived the Ida flood

In any case, I purchased (with considerable financial assistance from my dad and my grandfather) a used Mustang when she was about 20 years old for about $2,000. She came (precisely as shown in this video) with a light blue interior, deep front bucket seats, a large leather-wrapped steering wheel, two waist seat belts in the rear seats, and of course, a 289 V-8 engine.

She purred, and she purred sweetly. She was a beauty! That said, I was a new — and timid — driver. I do not recall taking her over 55 MPH. Even on the highway, I drove cautiously in the right lane. Well, my dad thought that was a waste of a good engine, and he told me that my little deuce coupe needed to be run “properly.” So, my dad took her out for a spin about once a week. I bet he had a blast.

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On hating people, punishing goodness, you know, Fauci-type stuff

“Evil will always triumph over good, because good is dumb.” (Dark Helmet, Spaceballs (1987 Mel Brooks movie)

Beneath the fold here, for those of that kind of bent, is a musical piece, Opus 84 by Ludwig Van Beethoven, otherwise known as Egmont. It is the overture only, about eleven minutes. We were just listening to it today as we traveled up into the hills to view the change of colors.

Egmont is based on a play by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe of the same name. The reason I bring it here is not to go all hoity toity on you, but rather because I read the play some time back, and can only now place it in perspective.

In the play, Lamoral, Count of Egmont, is introduced to us via his aides, making decisions that affect the people he governs. He is eminently generous, kind, and fair. When it is suggested to him, for instance, that he can raise additional needed revenue by taxing pensioners, he notes that pensioners probably have more need for the money than him. These words, to my knowledge, have never been uttered in real life by any taxing authority anywhere.

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The Musical Industrial Complex #4

Musical Military Brats of the 1970s

(by CrankyYanky)

This installment is merely a collection that I put together based on easy-to-find Wikipedia information.  I’m sure more military connections can be made, but I’m unwilling to devote the time toward that endeavor.  Nothing earth-shattering here, but it’s still somewhat surprising to me considering that I used to believe that music and the military were mutually exclusive and at odds with each other.

Of course, It could be argued that many men were in the military during WWII and that these musicians may have renounced their parent’s military leanings.  Valid arguments, but It matters little because I’m not trying to prove anything or change anybody’s opinion.  It should already be abundantly clear that the entire entertainment industry is comprised of elites and military intelligence operatives who do not have our best interests at heart.  I wouldn’t even cross the street to fart in their general direction, and I’m sure they feel the same about us.


ELTON JOHN:   His father served in the Royal Air Force (having risen to the rank of sergeant, he was commissioned in May 1944, rising to squadron leader and serving at RAF Basrah in Iraq in 1949.)  

 Throughout the decade of the 70s, Elton’s musical producer/handler was a man named Angus ‘Gus’ Boyd Dudgeon. Their collaboration is considered one of the most successful artist-producer pairings, with Dudgeon “guiding” John throughout the decade.

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THE MUSICAL INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX — Part #3 (British Invaders WHO Are They Now?)

By Cranky Yanky

BLOGGER’S NOTEI will no longer be including the occasional music criticism in my posts since I have realized that it only confuses the message. Besides, music is highly subjective, and opinions are like a**holes; everybody has one, and they all stink. So, moving forward, I intend to be like a restaurant critic who profiles the chef and kitchen staff but never mentions the food. If you still choose to $ample the menu after I have pointed out the unsanitary conditions, all I can say is Bon Appetit! 

Of course, “Who Are They Now?” is a play on the VH1 TV series “Where Are They Now?” But considering that most of the 60s British Invaders have either moved on to their next incarnation or are desperately clinging to their last shred of (ir)relevance, an exploration of their ancestral origins seems more logical. I did a lot of genealogical work for this post but fear not, dear reader, since most of these characters appear to have magically manifested into this realm out of thin air. When I do have family history information to share, I have attempted to make it as concise and painless as possible. So, let’s “meet the parents,” shall we?

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By Cranky Yanky

I want to thank Mark for graciously providing space for me to vent. Although, after spending thirty minutes attempting to present a “mission statement,” I’ve realized that I have no mission since we are already chin deep in this quagmire called modern society. There will be no more proving or convincing. The lines are drawn, the die is cast. Still, I invite you all to join me in my ritualistic (though admittedly rudimentary) exorcism of musical vampiric energies.       

In conspiracy circles, it is widely accepted that promoted musicians have “sold their soul.”  I will go a step further and state that oftentimes their souls are sold FOR THEM by family members and handlers seeking power and wealth.  All of us are MK Ultra victims to some extent, but the talented and charismatic children of influential families often are given the MK Ultra crash course and are not to be envied, much less idolized.  They enjoy fame and fortune, but often at the cost of a lifetime of servitude (if they’re lucky) to narcissistic vampires who exploit their talents while envying their achievements.

Then again, many of them are just egotistical and entitled douchebags.  Take your pick.

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