Monday, June 29, 2015

mini-preamble rant

If you like Bob Hope, and Tarzan movies with Johnny Weissmuller, or Buster Crabbe, who ever, ape man, it will help like a sharpie pen to contextualize this jungle of cognition to place the facts in order.  The 'urban jungle' is a nauseating cliche.  Pittsburgh resembles one, in spots, but is for the most part new and modern.  It's going somewhere.  Not thrilled with all of it.  Anticipate melt downs up the pike for puerile zest in new construction and pro sports, UPMC as well is a pugnacious razorback hog of a medicine conglomerate. Big deal.  So was Standard Oil, and I'd guzzle martinis with their Holsteins and Herefords  any time, any where.  It's all a box of done deals.  I'm Ghandi all the way now.

It's just those dowdy, fluff-maned recollections   When I moved to the 'Burgh in the early 1990s, it was a non-Hispanic banana republic.  Few Hispanics were here, at the time, and the comparison has nothing to do with people of Spanish or indigenous ancestry.  It's the effect of a state of social dependency, nepotism, Father Knows Best socialism, protectionist family owned private enterprise, and a network of activist organizations tangled together like Karl Marx' 'rhoids, minding how he was a hairy son of a gun.  The 'Burgh, if you look past the gentrification, is still a banana republic.  A metaphor can be a prick.  This one is.

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