Tuesday, August 31, 2021

The Writing's on the Wall

The writing's on the wall, it's not likely to get any better
No one is coming, this is the heart of the matter
You saw the warning signs long ago, face up to the reality
Wishful thinking does not lead to any kind of certainty
Ignoring home truths might well be a pleasant distraction
But you're apt to find yourself thoroughly unprepared for decisive action
And consequently suffer intolerable losses, more than can be borne
The fault is entirely yours,
   and wounds cut deeper when they are self inflicted
You dithered and suffered the cost, as measured in excess mortality,
A debased reputation, legacy, and a questionable economy
Human life should be precious and not just yours
The golden rule applies to the lives of others
Your track record is an award-winning advertisement
   for buyer's remorse
You'll have to deal with things now, there's no delaying the decision
Be pragmatic, a wise man once told me, heed the words of the proverb:
When the snake is in the house,
   one need not discuss the matter at length
The writing's on the wall, it's not going to get any better
No one is coming, this is your prisoner's dilemma

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The writing's on the wall, it's not likely to get any better
The meat that you stocked in the freezer
Came quite unstuck, became twice a victim
'Twas the Texas Freeze's collateral damage
Promptly thawed, and then refrozen - power outage
Was it manslaughter, that bit about poor planning?
Or the rapacious pursuit of black gold?
Witness: the bill of goods that you were sold
Out of the living wages of a failed state
Was paid out in the currency of cash grabs
Denominated in a bunch of mistakes
It's up to you now, entirely in your hands
Whether to throw it away and thereby cut your losses
Or weigh the risk to your stomach of eating dodgy pork
The writing's on the wall, it's not likely to taste any better
What paradise have we lost? And some say meat is murder

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The writing's on the wall, it's not likely to get any better
Be prepared was the motto of the Boy Scouts
First we heard some of the unguarded notions
Of Baron Baden-Powell, founding father
And the sexual, and other depredations
Of bad seeds, generations of troop leaders
Now in this overdue spring of reckoning
Legal liabilities, a barrage of bitter pills and payments due
The threats are of renaming streets and tearing down statues.
Original sin tends to end with this kind of scandal
I guess the cool kids these days might call it being canceled
Everything is written in sand, there are no certainties
Whatever you think of the man, or the organization's legacy,
Scout's honor, they're now beset with rather perilous public relations
While the rest of us are now left to ponder truth and reconciliation
About the only saving grace in this mountain of when,
Tarnished reputations make the best collector's items
If Rhodes must fall and they pull down the statues
All my prized stamps will only increase in value
The writing's on the wall, it's not likely to trend any better
The news forecast: a dire prognosis for the Boy Scouts
Be prepared, after-school enrollment rates face quite the market rout

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The Writing's on the Wall, a playlist

A soundtrack for this note. (spotify version)

baden-powell must fall


Timing is everything
Observers are worried

This fit of buyer's remorse is part of a series: In a covidious time.

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Writing log: March 14, 2021

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