The protests will continue until the world gets better

Back in Brattleboro, the usual suspects gathered on March 11 to commemorate the sixth anniversary of the Fukushima earthquake, tsunami and subsequent nuclear plant meltdown. 

In today’s newspaper there’s a story that the Vernon, VT library will lose one of its staff due to budget cuts stemming directly from the closure of the nearby nuclear plant. 

It’s an unknowably complicated, interdependent world, and we as individuals don’t have a lot of control over the forces that make it work. So, standing on the street with a sign and some like-minded comrades is probably about as good as anything. Butterfly wings, hurricanes, etc. 

Beer please


The hotel was funny… beautiful facility, lots of eager staff, even little housekeeping carts for every hallway…. all the trappings of a modern international destination. But, it seemed as if having actual guests was kind of a surprise. A happy surprise, to be sure, but still a surprise. From check-in to food service, there was a lot of scurrying and conferencing required to get anything done, but once they figured it out, everything was really nice. 

One example: Of course we could get a beer at the bar, but getting a cold one required the use of actual ice. And cocktails are also available, as long as it’s fruit juice and booze, you buy the ingredients separately and show the bartender how to put them together.

Staying grounded 

The Horizon Lake View Resort from which I have just returned was a study in contrasts, specifically the kinds of contrasts like where the watch melts off the table or the staircase seems to go in an endless circle. The hardcore UN types who have made a career of fancy resort conferences in impoverished countries seemed unfazed, but it was weird for me. 

There was literally nowhere to go, or at least not without making a big production that I wasn’t up for. So, I stayed on campus the entire time. 


This post is about the outsides. 


The overall weather and vegetation looked and felt like the hottest muggiest haziest Southern California summer. Planted and watered things do great, but overall it’s kinda dry and scrubby. And I think those mounds of dirt might be termite mounds, which you don’t see in San Bernardino so often. 


Because everybody burns all their brush (and probably everything else), when you do see the sun (morning and evening) it’s  a bright neon pumpkin orange through the haze. 

The landscaping is done by a small army of laborers who squat in the sun with simple hand tools and cone-shaped hats. 


The resort also boasts a nice looking “organic farm” which was growing a lot of peppers and I think young grapevines. My understanding of the local economy is very limited, but I wondered if there might be a provision in their tax code saying that anybody with an organic farm of at least one hectare is permitted to invest a few tens of millions in a conference hotel with no need to pay any pesky taxes or worry too much about labor laws. Or maybe they’re just into sustainability…

Yowza. 

The biggest l’i’l hotel room in Nay Pai Taw

Or just about anywhere else for that matter. 

That’s a full size round dining table in the far background…


And a king bed looks small in front of the headboard. 


Sixteen foot ceilings, more or less. 

Honestly, just a little scary to be in at night when it’s really really dark and really really quiet. 

A three hour tour

Bangkok has an extensive canal system, and the long tail boats or a real attraction. I would guess they are roughly 50 feet in length, and only about 4 feet across the beam. Many of them, the entire (large) diesel engine is mounted on the tiller and swings back-and-forth. There’s no rudder at all, but instead it is the propeller itself that moves in the water at an angle to the boat for steering.


The boat ride was fun, although somewhat noisy and smoky from the old engine. We saw some interesting buildings, although nothing spectacular.


After we finished the tour, it was lunch in the mall and then grab your suitcase for the flight to Nay Pyi Taw. 

Bangkok Grand Palace tour

A few more pictures from our tour of the grand Palace, which was the residence for a bunch of Thai kings, but is now mostly a tourist attraction and used for certain Royal ceremonies. The old King, who was much loved, died in December of last year. If I understand the tour guide correctly, his body is still lying in state and being visited by many thousands of people lined up all day for the chance to file by and pay their respects.

You have to take your shoes off before you are allowed to enter the chapel with the Emerald Buddha inside.

This campaign to be more respectful with the Buddha is all over the place, on billboards and bus stops and so on. 

The whole complex is a riot of color and decoration, and must be one of the most photographed spots in Thailand. It was wall-to-wall people (cheap admission on Sunday) but the etiquette and culture around giving people a clear picture was very well-developed. 

That entire dome is made up of 1 in. square tiles, applied by hand over a period of many years.

One night in Bangkok 

Made for memories including a “laugh about it later” cab ride story (the Thai pronunciation of Radisson and Renaissance is deceptively similar), Tom Yum flavor ramen, and the sharp juxtaposition of only 3 hours sleep and an absolutely wonderful bed. 

But the writing is beautiful…

One day in Bangkok gave a tour of the Grand Palace and more Tom Yum,

at the biggest mall ever, 

and — as always — a reminder that the global 1% live awesome lives. 

Those who cannot remember the past…

…are doomed to repeat it.

Today’s episode of “Down the Rabbit Hole” started innocently enough with one of those breakfast-table musings: if “salting the earth” is a bad thing, then why is “salt of the earth” a compliment?

Luckily, this sort of question is why they invented the Internet… We now know that salting the earth was a medieval ritualistic practice for cursing conquered cities and such like (but never actually resulted in fields wrecked with salt). And, conveniently, right there at the top of the Wikipedia page is a reference to their Salt of the Earth article.

Here’s where it gets interesting… there’s not just one, but a whole collection of Salt of the Earth articles. The sense I was looking for is the sense of “a thoroughly decent person,” which is easily found in dictionary definitions, but doesn’t have its own Wikipedia article. There is mention in all those definitions that the phrase comes from the Bible (Matthew 5:13). However, after reading the rest of that verse and a couple of commentaries,  I’m more confused than ever… the whole warning about the salt losing its saltiness and becoming useless seems like a pretty anxiety-inducing state for all these good, decent people to have to live in.

I’m not much for trying to make sense of the Bible, and my initial breakfast curiosity was satisfied: the two phrases with “salt” and “earth” don’t have anything obviously to do with each other, and since they mean different things, that is as it should be, and all is right with the world. Language is fun.

But breakfast itself wasn’t over, and so I had a moment to look at some of the other Wikipedia entries for “Salt of the Earth.” My eye was drawn to the Salt of the Earth Strike, better known as the Empire Zinc Strike. Ah-ha, there’s your rabbit hole, let’s see what’s down there.

Here’s the salient points: In 1950, Silver City, NM, a bunch of miners went on strike seeking better treatment in general and specifically greater parity in the wages and benefits of Mexican and Mexican-American miners as compared to their white colleagues. They were led by charismatic activist Clinton Jencks, quite an interesting character in his own right. The strike was a big deal at the time, there was violence and treachery, but on January 21, 1952 the company agreed to settle and the miners got almost everything they were asking for.

It was common to condemn people at that time by calling them Communists , and the label could be devastating for your career, even your safety. Jencks himself was blacklisted and couldn’t find work as a miner any longer. But he was buoyed by the creation of a film about the strike, put together by some blacklisted Hollywood types. He eventually went back to school, got a PhD and taught history in San Diego for the rest of his life. Happy ending.

Regular readers will have noticed the new weekly series of “Trade Unionists for Trump” posts. The idea is that the very thought of any self-respecting trade unionist being pro-Trump is ridiculous to me, so I’ve invented silly unions to come up with their own self-serving takes on “MAGA.” Since I started posting those, we’ve seen the President appoint a Cabinet of The Man and systematically begin to dismantle a lot of the things that the trade unions won in the 20th century. The promise of higher wages for native-born Americans in steel, coal, and construction jobs is seen as more appealing, more important, than the promise of a clean environment, a safe workplace, an inclusive society, and anything remotely to do with the next wave of technology-driven work. If Trump succeeds, we can look forward to kicking the ass of 1960s-era China.

The opening quote from  George Santayana  (and no, it wasn’t Churchill) is bandied about a lot these past 40 days or so. Here’s a take on that same idea that might help the Resistance find its footing and avoids comparing Trump to Hitler (because while it might be true in some senses, the comparison doesn’t really rally me… Hitler did rise to power, and he did do all those things, and we want to try and get ahead of it this time. Let’s look for a FAILED autocrat, and focus on making Trump into that guy.). If we do manage to remember the past, and why not start with the trade unions, maybe we can find the courage to recreate some amazing and positive aspects of that past. Maybe we can find a way for all those disaffected salt of the earth types to get un-disaffected by figuring out what they really want and helping them get it. Right now, I interpret the Trump voter as essentially saying that black lung disease is better than opioid addiction, and I hope we can find a third option. Maybe we can move beyond  MAGA and “America First” to some kind of slogan that lets us all breathe more freely, sleep better at night, live better in this century, and somehow avoid blowing ourselves up.

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