Amoeba’s Lorica: Moving Fast and Breaking Glass

New York Times Newsletter, 8 February 2025:
* Trump said he would dismiss several board members from the Kennedy Center, the storied performing arts group in Washington, and install himself as chairman.
* A clutch of young aides have swept into agency headquarters with black backpacks and ambitious orders to break the system.


So, one gets banned on Facebook for accurately predicting the future.

We suck. We voted for this. Yes. We. Did!! (Actually, We voted for Nobody, but since We steadfastly refuse, and have refused, to recognize Nobody as a candidate in Our elections, this does not get Us off the hook.) We voted for this, just as Germans voted for Hitler and his party, with their avowed intent to destroy democracy by democratic means. We did not prevent it. We have not stopped it. We own it.

We suck.

There are rumors in the wind of opposition to 47. Just as there were rumors in the wind of opposition to 45. Those rumors came to nothing. The odds are not great that the rumors of protest will come to anything now. The risks are higher, and 47’s mandate is greater. It nevertheless represents a chance (a last chance?) to reverse the trajectory we’re now on.

Perhaps it will transform Our system of government from Republican to republican … and allow We the People to reflect on how we can champion “democracy” when practically everything we buy is the product of a corporate royal house, every job we hold is in thrall to a corporate royal person.

Perhaps it will rein in the Black Backpack Gestapo … and allow We the People to reflect on how We allowed Our government’s bureaucracy to become dysfunctional to the point that it could plausibly become a target.

Perhaps it will allow some sort of resolution in the Middle East … and allow We the People to reflect on how We allowed a people that suffered a twelve-year Holocaust, that ended with the destruction of its perpetrators, to inflict a 77-year (and counting) Holocaust, the leaders of which are glorified around the world and in Our own churches and governing halls. Perhaps it will allow We the People to reflect on the true purpose of religious movements, and the wisdom in a secular world of tolerating any of them.

Perhaps it will allow (probably temporary) resolution of the red-blue divide in Our formerly-great Nation by permitting the peaceable secession of the New England Union and Cascadia.

And pigs fly. Because, at this point, to realize any of this, some of Us are going to have to give back things, and things are the sole objects of our true worship.  Some of Us are going to suffer deprivation. Some of Us are going to be in pain. Some of Us are going to jail, or into exile. Some of Us are going to die.

But, if We are not prepared to die for what We accept to be correct, how then are we any different from those who most ardently perpetrate those things and ideas that We hold to be wrong?

And hey. A lovely carved rock awaits those who pass away, as an enduring token of authentic atonement for Our sins.

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Amoeba’s Lorica: Diabolical Lexicographer (Business)

BUSINESSn. Machine for making money, the survival of which depends on its ability to tell its customers “Yes” even when they are wrong, and its employees “No” even when they are correct.

SUPERHERO: Product of a business. The survival of the product, and the business that produces it, depends on its ability to confirm to its customers, and the society of which they are a part, that “Yes, you can ignore the laws of physics, which are depressing, and defund the scientists who have discovered them, who are killjoys.” See ROBERT F. KENNEDY JR.

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Amoeba’s Lorica: Fruits of the Season

One fine day at the local market …


Grocer (entirely too cheerful): “Good morning, my man!”

Amoeba (instantly wary): “G’mornin’, Hank. Yer awful chipper fer a wet ‘n’ rainy Monday mornin’.”

(unfazed)“And why shouldn’t I be, when I’ve got golden sunshine in a box to brighten my day, and yours too when you take some home with you!”

A (battle stations)“Oh?”

(the reveal)“Fresh apricots! Just arrived!”

A (incredulous): Here? In January? Smack dab in the middle of the rain festival?”

(smug posture)“Among the many miracles of modern agricultural practice!”

(verbal eye roll)“Yeah-uh-huh. Just like the mangoes you had in here a month or so ago. Green bricks when we bought them, and rotten to the core in 24 hours. You do know that green mangoes are full of the stuff that makes handling poison ivy a rash act?”

(he doesn’t)“… whut?”

A: “Thought so. OK, where?”

G: “What where?”

A: “Where’s your ware?”

G: “Where’s my what where?”

A: “You’re not aware of where your ware is?”

G: “Are you aware that you’re wearing me down?

A: “I am not wearing your down, or anyone else’s. We’re not where we need to weather that weather. Thank goodness. You haven’t answered my question.”

G (completely bewildered)What question?”

A (insistent): Where is your ware?

G (grasping at straws)“I’m here. I’m right here!

(giving up):Where are the apricots?

(points at display, growls)“Right there!

(walks to display, inspects fruit, picks one up, tosses it in his hand)“Green. Hard as bullets. Spots and gouges. These are not apricots.”

(getting surly)“Are so!

(calmly, not responding to G’s emo)“Are not. At best, they’re B-pricots. And that’s with the grade inflation that comes from a system that sells courses to students, and keeps them paying fees, rather than preparing them to do a day’s work. In an honest, useful grading system, these would be Cminus-pricots. And that might be generous.”

(suddenly conciliatory)“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

(warily curious) “Oh? Were you a professor somewhere?”

(calmly)“Yes. I was, in fact.” (with abrupt savagery) “At the College of Hard Knocks. Where I learned to deal with the likes of you!” (turns away, is suddenly all sunshine again) “Good morning, Mabel!”

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