Au Cochonnet Marin

When there is a Yin, there is a Yang. That’s the way it is.
I know this first hand. My wife is always hot while I am usually cold. She likes it spicy, I like it mild. She is fond of shoot ‘em up movies, I prefer comedy.
Basically we are direct opposites. She is Yin and I am Yang. That’s probably why we are together. The chances are that she will deny it, but she needs my serene Yang to counterbalance her tumultuous Yin.

“The principle of Yin and Yang is a fundamental concept in Chinese philosophy and culture in general dating from the third century BCE or even earlier. This principle is that all things exist as inseparable and contradictory opposites, for example female-male, dark-light and old-young.”

 There is no such thing as a unilateral force. For each push, there is an opposing pull… and a consequence. That consequence can be immediate or belated, but just like a stretched rubber band, it will snap back.

The current frenzy about sexual harassment is a prime example of Yin and Yang. People who have been abused (even a long time ago) are finally hitting back at their tormentors, with devastating effect. Powerful, seemingly untouchable individuals are now tumbling down like bowling pins. It is a celestially improved version of the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.

Even when you think that you got away with murder, the immutable forces of Yin and Yang dictate that some day you will be held accountable for it. Yin and Yang is a close cousin of Karma. Soon or later your misdeeds are going to catch up with you and lay waste to your life.

It is wise to remember that Yin and Yang is basically a give and take exercise.The underlying clause of the game is that you cannot have it all. You will win some and you will most definitely lose some. Deal with it!

Hubris is a bad counselor. The higher you climb, the heavier you fall.  

Alain

Good morning America and welcome to another mass shooting sponsored by the NRA… and perpetrated by nothing but a “mentally deranged” individual.

Judging by the last 6 months, it looks that this country has a large number of nutcases on the loose… but If I had a choice I would definitely prefer more deranged people running around and way fewer guns, because it is not the demented who kill. It is automatic weapons.

An unarmed madman might club or stab somebody to death, but without an automatic weapon he could never inflict the kind of damage that a Stephen Paddock or Devin Patrick Kelley did.

After another shooting, we get teary speeches, candlelight vigils and futile prayers. And that’s it. No official has the nerves to talk about the elephant in the room: the gun lobby.

Is this madness ever going to stop? Will our legislators ever muster the nerves to tackle the Second Amendment? We should remember that unlike the Ten Commandments, the Constitution is not cast in stone. It can and should be amended.

But “now is not the time” has said our “extremely intelligent” leader. I really wonder when the right time is going to be?

Here is the amendment as ratified by the States and authenticated by Thomas Jefferson:

“A well-regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.”

The right to bear arms, OK, but definitely not automatic weapons! Do you need an AR-15 assault-type rifle with a 50-round drum magazine to protect your family or go rabbit hunting?

Ultimately though the problem lies with Congress. Due to the fact that these officials are elected, they are highly susceptible to blackmail; especially the members of the House of Representatives who are in office for just two short years. They constantly chase money to get reelected.

If they want to keep their lucrative jobs ($174,000 annually) and their precious perks, they have to swear fealty to their Godfather, the NRA. Failing to do this will jeopardize their lofty status and could possibly get them kicked out of office. Horror!
Sticking with the NRA and its deep pockets is the safest way to keep their jobs.

Senators (elected for a six-year term) are a little less vulnerable, but still susceptible to corruption. As proven by the Russian investigation, a politician is not below accepting a (discreet) bribe in exchange for influence peddling.

Finally, a “brave” congressman might be willing to buck the system, providing that he is not going to run for office again. With nothing to lose he can finally feel free to vote his conscience, not his self-preservation.

I favor term limits. A legislator should not die in office. He should croak in his bed, after completing a maximum of two terms (just like POTUS) in office. With little to lose, he might vote candidly.

Alain

“Congress has 535 voting members: 435 Representatives and 100 Senators. The members of the House of Representatives serve two-year terms representing the people of a single constituency, known as a “district”.

Each state, regardless of population or size, has two senators. Currently, there are 100 senators representing the 50 states. Each senator is elected at-large in their state for a six-year term, with terms staggered, so every two years approximately one-third of the Senate is up for election.”

I always maintained that we have hidden talents in our midst. Here is an excerpt of a piece written in 1993 by our own “père Noel”. Alain

Here I am again at the House of Toast. I close my eyes for only a second; how did a whole year go by? It seems nothing has changed. I am at the same ancient chrome and chipped Formica table with the same dismal yellow and pink tablecloth. The thick white cups are stacked the same way. The black vinyl chairs, greasy walls, and gummy floor are the same. I am sitting with the same people, but I’m happy to be with them because we are like an extended family.

My suit and tie are also the same. It’s a good suit and expensive tie, but they, with everything else, define the sameness that we all share here. It’s just a few days before Christmas, the time of year when I like to think that I’m doing some good in this world, but wonder if I am.

I have always loved Christmas, and even as an aging House of Toast schlepper, I invariably look forward to the season. Every year I hope and believe that each new Christmas will be better than the last. I hold on to this belief, although evidence to the contrary occasionally finds me in John’s Grill, drinking Christmas cheer rather than spreading it.

As a kid, I believed that Santa Claus existed through the fifth grade. My aunt and uncle, who had raised my twin sister and me, tried to gently explain that they purchased our gifts, but I refused to believe it. Most of the other kids in my class either made fun of me or tried to convince me of Santa’s non-existence.

“Ralph, there ain’t no Santa Claus” my boyhood chum Louie Farina told me.

“If not, how come I get what I asked for in my letter? I replied.

“Because your aunt reads your letter and buys you the stuff you asked for”, advised Louie.

“Maybe that’s true for you Louie, but I mailed the letter to Santa myself. I put a stamp and my return address on it, and send it to the North Pole. The letter never comes back. Nobody’s letter to Santa comes back, and do you know why not?

“No” he replied.

“Because they really go to Santa. They have to be delivered or returned. That’s the law. Anybody who messes with the mail is gonna pick up a federal beef, and wind up doing time in Leavenworth.”

“Yeah, okay,” said a doubting Louie, as he ran off to play with someone else. I guess my insistence on a literal Santa Claus, and my version of Mafia logic was just too much for him.

I continued this conviction into the sixth grade, but that year I inadvertently found the gift I had written Santa for under the sideboard in the dining room. At that moment I surrendered my tenacious hold on Santa Claus. I now suspect that my aunt had left the gift in a location where I was sure to find it.

Noel D. Marcovecchio

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