July 2026

July 5-7, 2026: Someone said: two scorpions in a jar, or Trump and Netanyahu. Seems apt. Meanwhile, I continue with Cellini’s (16th century) autobiography. He wrote the thing himself, or so I say jokingly with friends. How else am I supposed to commune with my pals, some of whom have grief very much on their hands: the loss of spouses, the loss of amigos to the horrors of age? Cellini said: “…. Fortune always comes upon us in new ways, quite unforeseen by the imagination.” How else am I to think of biological fate and the upcoming mid-terms?

Cellini had a deal of trouble with the king of France who had the artisan in his service. This put me in mind of Trump’s staff, most of whom, as gossip and leaks have it, suffer from episodic whiplash. A number of commentators have commented on the Lincoln reflecting pool in the same breath as their mentions of Narcissus and his puddle as gave the gazer his sweet self-regard. Two-thirds of the way through Cellini’s memoir and he is still a braggart and something of a wanker, whereupon,
ten years of You-Know-Who, and braggadocio is the new state religion.

Well, some say religion is our physiology, or that it is the other way around. Politics (in a pre-history so far back we may have heard the echoes of dinosaurs) may have had its origin in who gets to control altered states of consciousness. How many ways can I allude to the mid-terms? So when did Hitler become all-powerful? Apparently, the Enabling Act, March 1933, granted him emergency powers that allowed him to bypass parliament. Within a year, what with other maneuvers, winks and nods and dodges, and he was absolute dictator. Trump now has the power to fire everybody from everything, and from government too, your dog included. Dark gallows humour and glitz as per 1930’s Berlin cabarets? I do not see much of that on the celebrity circuit, do you?

Postscript I: What happened on this day in 1947? It began with some New Mexico rancher who, having earlier in June, come across debris on the ground, reporting his find days later, set off a chain reaction. July 7th, and the military declared that bits of a “flying saucer” had been recovered, indeed. Which led to an almost immediate retraction on the part of the same military, different echelon perhaps. Which led to, well, a field day for conspiracy theories into our perpetuity. But we here have in mind a contested red card which speaks to Trump pulling strings with respect to the World Cup football matches, politics (are we aghast?) alive and well in sports. Which in turn leads to Carpenter painting a painting entitled “Trumpism”, all-black canvas as has nothing to do with the All-Blacks rugby team of New Zealand. (In rugby there are no “own goals”, an example of sport, not art, defying life….)

Postscript II: Speaking of sport and footie, Lunar: … …. ‘I've gotta say that was one epic game. Couldn't sleep for the heat and so started watching it at two in the morning. Now should Starmer do as Trump did and phone FIFA to reverse the red card that was given to one of the English players? That was utterly bizarre, FIFA giving in to Trump. I mean politics is one thing, football another. But then it was FIFA who gave Trump a peace prize. Yesterday we went over to see the girls who were hosting a cousin whose father has just died, a fellow called J who was in the Canadian Army in Kandahar, and I was unexpectedly and mightily impressed with him. He spoke about how the experience humbled him and exposed the arrogance of the "west" in assuming superiority. The only true soldier is a soldier who is for peace. Compare him to the scumbag Hegseth and his gloating. Where is west on the map if you are in the east? Which way does one turn one's head.’ … …. I expect that is one of those existential questions per se… …. Lunar, in any case: … …. ‘Watching the Trump 250 speech and well, yes, bullshittery. And no, it was not America that brought down the Berlin War.’ … …. And that is an end on it. But in the event, I do not get the memo, this: … …. ‘Putin has dropped heavy hints, by the way, of a military incursion into Poland presumably to test NATO's willingness to resist. That would be a nightmare scenario that will put Ukraine in the shade. As we all know there is no such thing as a reliable relationship with Trump as Starmer has learned to his and the country's cost… and… …. I can scarcely believe my eyes: Starmer let Trump bully him into forcing the NHS to increase buying from American pharmaceutical companies by 25% which will in effect cripple the whole system. Where does the treachery end? It was agreed quietly, very quietly, in December. I had "felt" for Starmer but no more. Weakness can be more dangerous than strength. It is already being predicted this could result in a rise of 230,000 needless deaths. That news clip I saw last year with Trump dropping his papers and Starmer on his hands and knees picking them up, that said everything we need to know.’ … …. A bawdy scene out of “Fanny Hill”, mayhap? In the IT AIN’T OVER TIL THE FAT LADY SINGS DEPARTMENT, lastly this time around from Lunar: … …. ‘Not that one wishes this to be at the expense of the American team who had no say in the matter of Trump reversing the orbit of the earth around the sun, but there is something awfully sweet about Belgium's victory.’ … …. We are talking Belgium 4, the USA 1, and runaway black holes, and Trump’s hands on handball which should have rated a penalty kick at the very least.

Postscript III: Cornelius W Drake of Champaign-Urbana, honk if you see a bunch of humanoids having a smoke at the drug store corner, before they go and play a round of pickle ball, and you are going to be a tourist on Enceladus, tours of organic molecules in the wild on the agenda: … …. ‘You mentioned Lincoln. I've always thought that, oddly enough, it was likely fortunate for his legacy that he was assassinated when he was. Had he served out his second term, I think he would have clashed with the Radical Republicans — and they had the superior concept (in my view) of how Reconstruction should play out. Its death I've always considered the real low point in US history. Not the Civil War, for it was an act of redemption. The end of Reconstruction was a crass sellout that poisoned all socio-politics for ever after. Including today. You could even say it launched Trumpism. [Well, I do.]’ … …. I would be the last person to argue with Drake on that score.

Postscript IV: Talking Avocado: … …. It must’ve been one of those instances when a movie viewed late at night becomes one’s sleep, some sleepy-head voice in my snooze saying that, often enough, people born happy stay happy no matter what, and that some people can never catch a break, hence “unhappy”; but that, with most of us, it’s one day happy happy, and then three days of misery… Back from the city. Steered clear of World Cup crowds. Saw an old cabbie going by, his cab empty, the look on his face that of “vanity, all is vanity, could use a cigarette”, and I thought of you for some reason. Again, I think I might trash my novel, but then something either relentless in me or fatal, questions that urge. Percival, of course, could care less. Goats are sanguine with respect to most things, unless their digestive tracts veer off track. Apologies for the malapropist pun which indicates a declining intellect. Oh and, I was down on East Hastings and was reminded that the Only Seafoods (restaurant) has long since been out of business, the building no more. I mention it because I remember that dream you said you had, Trudeau (Pierre Elliot) addressing you from the place, the winos, the rubbies politely hearing the PM out, and you were getting the third degree as to what was expected of you in the civics sense.’

Postscript V: Rutilius: … …. ‘Temperatures are down to 23 Celsius here in Presov. Faces of Trump minions that I’ve seen at random on this or that screen, they all have the unmistakable look (even the women have it) – the look that is smugness barely contained, hands caught in the cookie jar, but no foul declared, no harm, and in fact, they get to take the penalty kick, stutter-stepping, messing with the minds of the opposing goalies. Corruption is about winning, about drubbing one’s opponents with their own miscalculations, revenge tasting sweeter by the hour, and I wouldn’t want to be a mail-in ballot to save my life. Oh yes, we get the news here. Tibullus the poet: “Let other men gather bright gold to themselves and own many acres of well-ploughed soil, let endless worry trouble them, with enemies nearby.” I could wish much worse on various entities. Ditto, Persius the poet: "Retire within thyself, and thou will discover how small a stock is there." Trump might not have fazed Persius in the slightest, then again even the worst of the Caesars could speak in complete sentences….’

Postscript VI: Sissy Gadzilla: … …. ‘Returned from the Townships. Ordinary summer endeavours with Polish cousins. Perogies unlimited. Otherwise, had the thought that I’ve seen this movie before: Democrats, counting eggs, count their hatchlings, and what do you know, said hatchlings are sickly, deformed, and pliable, answerable to the highest bidders. And what about the NDP, speaking of True North mediocrity? Otherwise, cupcakes in the oven. Have had a reunion with French horn, he half-hearted, not much interested in “This Sportin’ Life” which is a song about having had it with life. No longer impressed, if ever one was. Will I go see the new Odyssey flick and put up with the obnoxious ads on the humongous screen as batter the sensibilities and then you’re as soft as butter, prepared for the onslaught of the flick? Don’t know. Convince me.’ … …. If it even remotely has some connection with the sensibility of the poem…

Postscript VII: Trail Mix: … …. ‘Pessimisms in me running rampant. Like elephants having a hissy fit. See Elephant Walk (old flick with Elizabeth Taylor). It is to say I can see things turning out hunky-dory for the man, and he get his vengeance and his legacy and his billions, and the country yawns, when it’s not frenzied with impotence. Not saying this will happen but, you know how it is. You try to be thoughtful, and words like “enshittify” flood the zone, public discourse cordoned off so as to save itself from itself. I watched one of the Odyssey offerings the other day, the mini-series with Assante in it. The moment when he returns to Ithaca after all those years, and he’s tasting his cheese, and for a moment, heart, mind and soul are all of a piece and home, could be that was a profoundly moral moment. Then there were the false suitors to deal with. You betchum, Red Ryder: Trump as a false suitor. This was the light by which I viewed the goings-on. Taking back the world stolen from one. Poetry as the only true source of morality, pace Plato and the Ten Commandments, and Kant and all the rest of the gang. Even as poetry is a pack of lies, as Plato had it. Trump, of course, can turn the game around and a moral vision serve him. But then, you may recall, I said “false suitor” as serves no one and no thing but himself. Ah well, you had to have been there.’