Happy Birthday Anniversary, America!

In honor of those patriots who founded the nation, here’s Isaac Asimov speaking from the grave in praise of The Star Spangled Banner (stolen from Jerry Pournelle’s 2010 4th of July post… which he quoted from elsewhere):

Our National Anthem.

Four Stanzas

By Isaac Asimov

Introductory Note. Unless you’re already well acquainted with our “national anthem,” this interesting piece by the late Isaac Asimov will be an eye-opener. It was for me. It’s especially appropriate at a time when there is much talk of tossing out this difficult-to-sing and difficult-to-comprehend old song in favor of something that better suits Ray Charles’ voice. You’ll understand the song much better after you read Mr. Asimov’s explanation.–Hardly Waite, Gazette Senior Editor.

I have a weakness–I am crazy, absolutely nuts, about our national anthem.

The words are difficult and the tune is almost impossible, but frequently when I’m taking a shower I sing it with as much power and emotion as I can. It shakes me up every time.

I was once asked to speak at a luncheon. Taking my life in my hands, I announced I was going to sing our national anthem–all four stanzas.

This was greeted with loud groans. One man closed the door to the kitchen, where the noise of dishes and cutlery was loud and distracting. “Thanks, Herb,” I said.

“That’s all right,” he said. “It was at the request of the kitchen staff.”

I explained the background of the anthem and then sang all four stanzas.

Let me tell you, those people had never heard it before–or had never really listened. I got a standing ovation. But it was not me; it was the anthem.

More recently, while conducting a seminar, I told my students the story of the anthem and sang all four stanzas. Again there was a wild ovation and prolonged applause. And again, it was the anthem and not me.

So now let me tell you how it came to be written.

In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over freedom of the seas. We were in the right. For two years, we held off the British, even though we were still a rather weak country. Great Britain was in a life and death struggle with Napoleon. In fact, just as the United States declared war, Napoleon marched off to invade Russia. If he won, as everyone expected, he would control Europe, and Great Britain would be isolated. It was no time for her to be involved in an American war.

At first, our seamen proved better than the British. After we won a battle on Lake Erie in 1813, the American commander, Oliver Hazard Perry, sent the message “We have met the enemy and they are ours.” However, the weight of the British navy beat down our ships eventually. New England, hard-hit by a tightening blockade, threatened secession.

Meanwhile, Napoleon was beaten in Russia and in 1814 was forced to abdicate. Great Britain now turned its attention to the United States, launching a three-pronged attack. The northern prong was to come down Lake Champlain toward New York and seize parts of New England. The southern prong was to go up the Mississippi, take New Orleans and paralyze the west. The central prong was to head for the mid-Atlantic states and then attack Baltimore, the greatest port south of New York. If Baltimore was taken, the nation, which still hugged the Atlantic coast, could be split in two. The fate of the United States, then, rested to a large extent on the success or failure of the central prong.

The British reached the American coast, and on August 24, 1814, took Washington, D. C. Then they moved up the Chesapeake Bay toward Baltimore. On September 12, they arrived and found 1000 men in Fort McHenry, whose guns controlled the harbor. If the British wished to take Baltimore, they would have to take the fort.

On one of the British ships was an aged physician, William Beanes, who had been arrested in Maryland and brought along as a prisoner. Francis Scott Key, a lawyer and friend of the physician, had come to the ship to negotiate his release. The British captain was willing, but the two Americans would have to wait. It was now the night of September 13, and the bombardment of Fort McHenry was about to start.

As twilight deepened, Key and Beanes saw the American flag flying over Fort McHenry. Through the night, they heard bombs bursting and saw the red glare of rockets. They knew the fort was resisting and the American flag was still flying. But toward morning the bombardment ceased, and a dread silence fell. Either Fort McHenry had surrendered and the British flag flew above it, or the bombardment had failed and the American flag still flew.

As dawn began to brighten the eastern sky, Key and Beanes stared out at the fort, trying to see which flag flew over it. He and the physician must have asked each other over and over, “Can you see the flag?”

After it was all finished, Key wrote a four stanza poem telling the events of the night. Called “The Defence of Fort M’Henry,” it was published in newspapers and swept the nation. Someone noted that the words fit an old English tune called “To Anacreon in Heaven” –a difficult melody with an uncomfortably large vocal range. For obvious reasons, Key’s work became known as “The Star Spangled Banner,” and in 1931 Congress declared it the official anthem of the United States.

Now that you know the story, here are the words. Presumably, the old doctor is speaking. This is what he asks Key

Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light,

What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,

O’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

Gave proof thro’ the night that our flag was still there.

Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

“Ramparts,” in case you don’t know, are the protective walls or other elevations that surround a fort. The first stanza asks a question. The second gives an answer

On the shore, dimly seen thro’ the mist of the deep,

Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,

What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep.

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,

In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream

‘Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

“The towering steep” is again, the ramparts. The bombardment has failed, and the British can do nothing more but sail away, their mission a failure.

In the third stanza, I feel Key allows himself to gloat over the American triumph. In the aftermath of the bombardment, Key probably was in no mood to act otherwise.

During World War II, when the British were our staunchest allies, this third stanza was not sung. However, I know it, so here it is

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore

That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion

A home and a country should leave us no more?

Their blood has washed out their foul footstep’s pollution.

No refuge could save the hireling and slave

From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The fourth stanza, a pious hope for the future, should be sung more slowly than the other three and with even deeper feeling.

Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand

Between their loved homes and the war’s desolation,

Blest with vict’ry and peace, may the Heav’n – rescued land

Praise the Pow’r that hath made and preserved us a nation.

Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,

And this be our motto–“In God is our trust.”

And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave

O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the next time you have a chance, with new ears.

And don’t let them ever take it away.

–Isaac Asimov, March 1991

First verse only here:

Beats the pants (and socks and altogether) off any “pop star” rendition. Ever. If you find the Star-Spangled Banner to be too hard to sing, practice. Sing ALL the verses, and think about it.

This version touts having “All Verses” though it leaves out both the second (response to first) verse and the “spit in the Brits’ eyes” verse *heh* and offers only the first and last verses.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAYPN-1Yjt0

And These People Are Allowed to Vote…

…no wonder we have the kleptocratic, anarcho-tyrannical “feddle gummint” kakistocracy we have. Massive ignorance (and shameful–WILFULL–stupidity) reign supreme in our society today.

Remember third world county’s corollary to Santayana’s Axiom:

“In a democracy (‘rule by mob’), those who refuse to learn from history are in the majority and dictate that everyone else suffer for their ignorance.”

More and more I’m convinced that truer words were never spoken.

Plus Ça Change, Plus C’est La Même Chose

Dealing with hard times. If the engineered onset of depression our current “feddle gummint” has managed to effect continues (and accomplishes its apparent goals *sigh*), then perhaps more folks will learn this ancient wisdom:

“In the house of a wise man are stores of food, wine, and oil, but the foolish man devours all he has.” — Proverbs 21:20

Somewhere On My Top Ten List…

…of things I hate. Depending on the day, it might even rank ahead of politicians *gag-spew* and Mass MEdia Podpeople:

Grass lawns and the “care” thereof.

Think about it a second. On the one end of the spectrum we see maniacs who weed and feed and spray and water and “manicure” and roll and trim and vacuum and comb and all other kinds of weird and stupid shiite. And for what? A boring, monochrome green that would be OK on a billiard table but hardly belongs anywhere in nature.

On the other, more rational, end of “lawns” we might see a well-design rock “lawn” that can be “cared” for with a once-a-season herbicide or a lawn with some other no-mow ground cover that

    1. Is suitable to the climate and so needs little to no added water
    2. Is not some boring monochromatic green.

I vote for the “more rational” approach. Something to control erosion that I’d not need to water or mow… not that I’ve ever watered a lawn in any home we’ve had. (If a lawn can’t survive on what God gives it, then it doesn’t deserve to live, IMO. *heh*)

And mowing! Was there ever such a useless task invented? Grow a (grass) lawn. Mow it once a week (or be shunned by neighbors *heh*). Figure out something to do with the *@^#$* clippings–grateful that at least mulching blades finally arrived for that–and do it all over again, for eternity! Talk about hellish torture… Tantalus was a piker.

No, I can see that a Thymus serpyllum (“Elfin mint”) lawn is in my future… Having a groundcover that naturally limits itself to 1″-2″ and is drought tolerant and edible seems far, far more rational than continuing to torture myself with mowing (though NOT weeding or feeding or watering!) a grass lawn (which I’m also allergic to… in more ways than one *heh*). Maybe the “Elfin” mint will be as aggressive as the regular mint I grow and choke out the grass on its own… Well, a guy can dream, can’t he?

Here’s a Suggestion for Weiner’s “Rehab”

“News” of the “who cares what his latest ploy is” variety:

Weiner seeking treatment amid growing pressure to resign

While the New York congressman seeks treatment at an undisclosed location, he will take a “short leave of absence” from Congress, Risa Heller said in a statement.

A Democratic source, familiar with conversations among Weiner and Democratic leadership about his fate, did not know what specific type of treatment Weiner would undergo.

What “type of treatment”? Frankly, I’m thinking his treatment should follow a line from an old Cheech and Chong bit, “Bailiff! Whack his pee-pee!” *heh*

The Muse Within

My inner muse recently reminded me,

NEVER let a day go by without accomplishing some little thing in the art you are nourishing in your life. Great things (or even “just” good–within range of the best of one’s talent) are only possible when many, many little things are built upon day in and day out, consistently.

More than talent, blood and toil and sweat and tears: that’s what real chops are built by.

“[T]he art” could as easily refer to any craft or useful skill and not necessarily be tied to what are usually thought of as “the arts”–graphic, dramatic, literary, musical. Being better than just a good carpenter requires constant striving to be better.

I need to listen to myself more, I think…

Almost Sweet Enough

Bank of America Gets Pad Locked [sic] After Homeowner Forecloses On It

It seems the Bank of America decided to foreclose on the home of a couple who had paid cash for their home. Unfortunately, all the judge in the case did was declare that bank of America had to pay the couple’s legal fees, not some truly righteous damages, but still the bank refused to cough up what they owed. So, the layer got a court order foreclosing on the branch the fake foreclosure had issued from:

After more than 5 months of the judge’s ruling, the bank still hadn’t paid the legal fees, and the homeowner’s [sic] attorney did exactly what the bank tried to do to the homeowners. He seized the bank’s assets…

…Sheriff’s deputies, movers, and the Nyergers’ attorney went to the bank and foreclosed on it. The attorney gave instructions to to remove desks, computers, copiers, filing cabinets and any cash in the teller’s drawers.

After about an hour of being locked out of the bank, the bank manager handed the attorney a check for the legal fees.

Too bad. It’d have been better to have socked the BoA with a much bigger bill and foreclosed the entire BoA operation, the friggin’ cheats.


I do wish people who wrote and edited copy for a living were more ethical about their work. The stupid errors in the original noted above ought to have those responsible docking their own pay, since, after all, they make their living as wordsmiths, don’t they?

“Pad Locked”-nuh-uh: padlocked.

“homeowner’s”–nope. The article made it clear the couple owned their home, so it is “homeowners'” with the apostrophe following the plural “s” creating the possessive form. F’in’ idiots. I don’t get paid for this stuff, and even I know that.

Companion Thoughts on Memorial Day

Two WWI era poems to remind us what Memorial Day is about: the 1915 “In Flanders Fields” by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae, MD (1872-1918) Canadian Army and an American response by Moina Michael in 1918, “We Chall Keep the Faith”. Shall we?

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

And,

We Shall Keep the Faith

Oh! you who sleep in Flanders Fields,
Sleep sweet – to rise anew!
We caught the torch you threw
And holding high, we keep the Faith
With All who died.

We cherish, too, the poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led;
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies,
But lends a lustre to the red
Of the flower that blooms above the dead
In Flanders Fields.

And now the Torch and Poppy Red
We wear in honor of our dead.
Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We’ll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.

The last few lines of her response indict our generation,

“Fear not that ye have died for naught;
We’ll teach the lesson that ye wrought
In Flanders Fields.”

Oh, not all have failed to teach the lessons bought in blood at Flanders Field and elsewhere, but were they taught better and more widely, the traitors who are mostly running an ever-expanding anarcho-tyrannical oligarchy wouldn’t be in power today…

Keep the faith. Tell someone–today!–the truth about the rights and liberties our forefathers–and even many today–have been willing to lay down their lives to protect and defend, rights and liberties in serious jeopardy (or already abridged) by a government grown obese at the urging of the electorate.