Summertime And The Living Is Easy

The following post has no point or defining theme:

Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’
And the cotton is high

Oh, Your daddy’s rich
And your momma’s good lookin’
So hush little baby
Don’t you cry

One of these mornings
You’re going to rise up singing
Then you’ll spread your wings
And you’ll take to the sky

But until that morning
There’s a’nothing that can harm you
With your daddy and mommy standing by

Summertime,
And the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’
And the cotton is high

Oh, Your daddy’s rich
And your momma’s good lookin’
So hush little baby
Don’t you cry

Summertime, George Gershwin, 1935

I’ve had Summertime in my head for days. The haunting rendition by Janis Joplin and the verbosely named “Big Brother and the Holding Company” is my favorite.  I’ve been humming it all day. (Note: I’m not listening to it from a recording because iNinjas still have Janis in their clutches. I’ve liberated a lot of the iPod but that bloodsucking swine in a sweater still controls too much of my music; including Janis! In the end I’ll jailbreak the rest of my property if I have to use a crowbar. However, it’ll have to wait until I’m motivated to begin Phase II of the iPod liberation wars.  When I’ve won the war…and there can be no doubt I will win… I might take that infernal contraption on a short trip to the shooting range.)

No matter. I don’t need iDevices. Just a porch swing and a view composed mostly of nature. When it’s hot enough that the oak looks like it’s going to start sweating, Janis’ voice just comes into my head. How a drug addled hippie could muster such beauty is a mystery.

Also; what is it with Gershwin? It’s almost embarrassing to like his fluff derived of showtunes and lullabies; yet he was brilliant. If you can sit on my porch swing in July and not hear “Summertime” you’re a mutant.

…

Meanwhile folks have been haranguing me about letting my blog slide. “Crocs? You’re writing about crocs?!? Have you gone mad!?!” (You know who you are.) Thankfully my commenters (which I’ve been ignoring) report they’ve generally defeated the specter of Crocs. (Good show! I knew my readers were a cut above.)

As for the ones seeking more substance; tough. It’s summer and all I hear is birdsong and Gershwin. It’s a seasonal imperative. I live far enough north that the winter weather can break your soul. One must loll in the heat the better to endure the bitter cold that will arrive as surely as death and Christmas shopping. Making fun of lamentable electric cars and typing all 14 digits to the debt is best reserved for cold months. Nobody can take clammy gutless political talking heads seriously in this weather. Well there are exceptions; earnest unemployable community organizers and determined people who sleep with Atlas Shrugged under their pillow. The rest of us know sunshine is too valuable to waste.

My summer is mostly booked with relaxation and working my ass off. There is no contradiction in these two things; the good lord kindly gave me extra sunlight all summer long. You thought it had to do with tilted axes of planetary rotation? How silly! It’s so I can finish homesteading chores and still have time to go fishing.

So for the moment every time a blogging idea pops up it risks losing steam. Sunshine cannot be denied. I must amass firewood. I must butcher chickens. Actually I must sit on my porch swing and sip beer while the firewood is ignored (and baked) and fattened chickens live on borrowed time.

Yet the campaign threatens to ooze into our homes. How to react? Simple. Ignore it.

Trust me on this.  Nothing said or done by either side in 2012 has been surprising so far. They’re all following their ruts with clockwork precision. (Except Ron Paul who is always fated to be dismissed. That poor guy could resurrect an orphan on TV and be harassed for causing overpopulation.) Everyone else will stay in their foxholes until they’re dragged out by desperation when things come down to the wire in October. Tune out for now. Wait until you’re starting to daydream of hunting season and pumpkin pie. You’ll have missed nothing.

Here’s an example to illustrate the irrelevance of news this month. I was recently exposed (like one is exposed to a pathogen) to a press article. It breathlessly claimed that campaign ads have “turned unexpected negative”. Unexpected to whom? Anyone who expected positive campaigning in 2012 is either a six year old girl or a college student. The rest of us consult the calendar and think “the corn is waist high, I’m suddenly appreciative of air conditioning, and campaign ads are negative. Seems like mid-summer in a year divisible by four.”

In fact the only political surprises of 2012 so far have been the following:

1. The Obamacare Supreme court ruling ruling was not the wishy washy half-measure I predicted. It was a full fledged ballsack crushing punt through the goalposts. It proved that there are no limits to anything ever. In a way I found it cathartic. Watching the Supremes try to saw a baby in half always annoyed me. Plus life is simpler when your opponent has set fire to your car, fed your child’s hamster into the garbage disposal, and poisoned your houseplants. Clarity has value. Anyone who was sitting the fence pondering when government will start to self-limit either got the hint or will smile all the way up the ramp to the railcar.
2. The price of gasoline is vaguely low. It’s barely double what it was when the press was yelping about evil profiteering right wing cowboys in the white house.  (Factoid: gas was $1.47 when Bush entered office on Jan 2001 and $1.78 when Obama entered in Jan 2009.  It is now averaging $3.46 for regular grade.  Doubling Obama’s start price would be $3.56.)  I’m not alarmed about the price of gas but the press would be hyperventilating if it was up 200% in a year divisible by four if the guy in the big chair didn’t have a “D” after his name.  I was betting on $4.00 (see #45). I missed by $0.50 a gallon.  So far I have been (gasp!) wrong. Which is good news.

If seven months of politics has no more surprises than those two; 2012 is demonstrably on auto pilot.

Join me. Turn off the TV (and set it on fire). Kick back and grab a cool drink. I’ve been spending as much time as possible sitting on the porch, watching the rooster um… “herd” his hens, and pretending I might actually split some wood before sunset. (Hint: I’m won’t.) That’s what summer is for.

Happy summer.

A.C.