In 1941, the animators at Walt Disney's Studio went on strike. The business had grown from a few people to a 1200 person working place, but in all that time the wages had stayed quite low for all but a few at the very top. Were you to check the credits of any of the cartoons from this period, you would notice that not a single animators name was credited, only Walt Disney himself.

So tomorrow my employment specialist wants to take me to a few places she applied to on my behalf. No doubt they'll tell me they don't do anything face to face anymore and that everything is done online now because that's the default response. Even when I do get to introduce myself to a higher-up, it never really goes anywhere. You simply can't get your foot in the door in the IT world.

I learned recently that the new guy at the cigarette store, he is a genuine hero.

Like everyone who works there, this young man, he is Syrian. And, like too many of them, he is tangled up, in deep blue, with the immigration authorities, of the Americans. Because, and for no reason that makes any sense to any decent human being, these Syrians, they must "prove," to these authorities, that they should be "allowed," to remain in the United States. Otherwise, they shall be "removed."

This, is preposterous. Because Syria, it is a charnel house. Everyone in the world, with a bomb, they are at present, hurling it onto Syria, or handing it over to someone else, to hurl. All three of the empires—Eurasia, Eastasia, Oceania—are amuck there. Anyone who is Syrian, who manages to get out of the place, needs to be welcomed, and immediately, wherever they might happen to land. The immigration authorities of the Americans, they have no right, to require any Syrians, to run any gauntlets. The job of these authorities, it should be to confer citizenship, if that is what is wanted, and at once—together, with fulsome apologies.

Each of the Syrians at the cigarette store, s/he has a different story. Because all of the humans, they are different from one another. Even, as they are all the same. If these people, they want to tell me their story, I listen. But. I do not pry.

The other evening, this man, he told me his story. Seems there came the time, when he came of the age, in which he would be drafted, into the Syrian military. "I don't want to be in a war," he said. "I do not want to be shooting anybody." And so, he left Syria. And then, eventually, in the course of things, he made his way, here. "Sometimes, yes, I will watch war in a movie," he said. "But I don't want, to shoot any people."

Absolutely: goddam: right.

Not only should this young man be permitted to remain in the United States, but a statue should be cast of him, that will then be placed on a float, that will be towed, slowly, down all the streets, in all the lands, in all the world, with softspeakers, that will broadcast, from the float, his story, and also encourage, all and every one else, in all the world, to do, as he has done.

Because, the very first thing, that needs to happen, before anything else can, is that all the humans, in all the armies, in all the world, need to put down the guns, and walk away. If everyone were as this young man, all the armed conflicts, in all the world, would, in this instant, cease. All of the people, in all the politics, all of the generals, all of the weaponsmakers, they are but big impotent mouths, without the millions of humans, who pick up the gun, and then go out, and shoot, and kill, as they are told.

August 29 is the 241th day of the year. There are 124 days left.

Today's number is 29

Today's number is Twenty-Nine

News is inherently bias. What stories do you think are most important? From my view this weeks big stories include the continuing leaks about the Clinton Foundation, Bernie's announcement of “Our Revolution” (despite his lack of support for Tim Canova), the escalation of the ongoing proxy war in Syria, and the continuation of the Brazilian coup. All that and more below... Please add your take on the week's news (or any other thoughts) in the comments.

So I am in the kitchen, weeping in frustration, uselessly attempting to get into some American packaging—please, jeebus, I just want a little cheese—when, suddenly, I am seized by a brainshower: the most successful terrorist, in the history of terrorists, that would be, whoever that was, that was that unutterable freak, who put the cyanide, there in the Tylenol. Back there in Chicago. And environs. Back in 1982.

Because, not only did this unutterable freak kill seven people, and never did get caught, but the Americans, in their typical fear-sweating, pants-crapping way, of Total Overreaction, to All and Everything, perceived as a Danger, that might ever Strike, at any time, Again, they then grimly proceeded to make it totally, permanently, impossible, to get into any product, that is intended, to be put, into a person's mouth. It is like, now, today, all these products, they are armored up, in impenetrable chastity belts. And, nobody, provides a key. Today, a hunk of cheese, it is more heavily secured, than is Fort Knox. Random screwlooses, they may occasionally leap the fence, and run right into the White House: but no American, ever, will get into a bottle of aspirin—not without several specialized tools, and at least three handymen. In you want to pry open some vitamins and supplements, you will need to purchase many and manifold complicated devices, that cost more than cocaine, and then you will need to devote at least the entirety of an evening, to the task. So that—at last—you may gobble whole fistfuls, of St. John's Wort, and Valerian Root, and Melatonin, and the like, in hopes you will then remain sufficiently calm, so as not to blow out a valve, or your aorta, the next time you try, to get into some American packaging.

And the American packaging, it has killed far more people, than ever did the original Tylenol poisoner. Tennessee Williams, for instance, he became so enraged, at his inability to open a simple bottle of aspirin, that finally he began wildly gnawing on the lid with his teeth. He then aspirated the cap, and commenced to choke to death. The world, it was deprived of another decade or two of Blanches and Big Daddys. Because the fear-crazed Americans. They insanely shield their aspirin. Better than they do the shit. They shoot up into space.

I remember once I was at my brother's, and he was trying to get into some American packaging. After several minutes of futile effort, he began muttering quietly, but intensely. This was never a good sign, with my brother. And, sure enough, he suddenly went for this huge knife, sheathed at his belt, and with it began savagely stabbing, the American packaging. I don't remember what was actually in the American packaging. But I do remember, that it was totally destroyed. I also remember that, my brother, he said he didn't care. Because, at least, he felt better. A year or so on, he called to tell me he had been wholly unable to extract a leg of lamb, from its American packaging. "So I used the 12 gauge," he told me. "Then I had to pick the beads out. But there were still all these goddam tiny shreds of plastic, embedded in the meat. Finally, I gave up, and threw it over the fence, for the neighbor's dog. All day, the fucker chews wood, and stuffed animals—he always goes first for the eyes—so I figure he can probably digest plastic."

All of the law jockeys, to this day, they claim, that they do not know, who it was—that unutterable freak—who put the cyanide, there in the Tylenol.

But I know.

It was The Hairball.

Erm, if stevej has something planned for this weekend, then take this down, but if anyone wants to post a photo......... feel free.

I'll start with a couple....

Carry on people (and keep calm).