the lonely voice of youth

I get that youth wants to know from the Man in Black.  And the lonely voice of youth cries, what is truth.  I use it in imitation of the youth of today who I hear are always being ironic.  Irony is a funny thing, better described by example than by definition.  It seems to me that what passes for irony today is any form of mocking.  And of course youth must mock.  Everybody older they talk to knows more than them because they have been around longer, and by the time they learn all this stuff they won't be youth anymore, so it's best to just discredit it all.  Why learn about the lore of blues when you can invent rap, which is brand new so those oldsters couldn't possibly know more about it than the kids do? 

They dress different, they talk different, they have their own kind of music which the fogies hate, and as they surf this wave of newness they learn more about it and become, for a spell, the respected 'elders' of youth, and then one day when they are pontificating, they notice way back in the crowd among the youngest of the youngest, a roll of the eyes, and soon they are sloughed off of the youth movement like old dead skin.  Not so bad, they don't have to stay up so late anymore and do that stuff that now seems kind of crazy, and they can get together with their sloughed off cronies and talk about the problem with kids these days.


You know I'd heard the word Soyuz before and had a vague idea that the Soviets were doing the heavy lifting viz a viz the space station, but a visit to wiki on the subject was most enlightening.  You know we built those handsome challengers that looked like passenger planes, and I guess they had a pretty good run for thirty years, but this Soyuz thing, which I admit looks like shit, and it goes from the sixties till current times.  Which makes you wonder why the Soviets made such crappy cars. 

Splashdown sounds like a lot more fun than the hard hot rocks of a country ruled by some guy like Borat, but I suppose those international scientists know what they are doing.

Wild Blue Yonder isn't my favorite Herzog movie. The plot was garbled and seemed to be written new every day, but I just liked the space station video with those people floating around carelessly.  The women weren't wearing the scanty uniforms the scifi mags of my youth had predicted, but no gravity just made them sexy.  There I've said it.  And Old Dog appears to be hinting that there may indeed be some hanky panky going on up there.  Good for them.


As an urbanite I am certainly routing for Banbi and against Elmer.  I had no idea the blind was so far across trackless swamp from the homestead.  Which brings to mind how does one haul a what, hundred and fifty pound deer, once loving father or mother, now just dead weight?  Well I imagine there is some kind of sled, well I don't want to think about this anymore.  Wouldn't a can of Dinty Moore be just as fulfilling for supper, and the chunks of meat in that come from, well I don't want to think about that anymore.  How about some nice lentils, with fennel?

Were we calling It the Holy Spirit back in Elsdon?  I guess, not surprisingly for one who would fall from the flock, I wasn't paying attention.  Well right after that was the holy catholic church, which I know, did not mean that church, that whore of Babylon, just some kind of universal church.  Which begs the question why not just say universal instead of catholic?  If we can change a ghost into a spirit, and wine into grape juice,  and send men to the moon, why can't we change one little word?