composite drawlings

Today's earworm: trucker's delight

2012-01-27T07:30:00.000-06:00

I heard this long years ago, and every time I go past the produce section in a supermarket, it bubbles back to the surface....

go ahead. Toot. We all have to do it, occasionally.

Today's earworm: booming business

2012-01-26T13:05:00.002-06:00

It's been a few weeks since I posted any earworm. There have been no days gone by since, that I have lacked the sound of a song in my head, but I have spent the past three weeks with a computer that was too slow and uncooperative to go digging up swell videos of anything, so I've had what amounts to a forced vacation (and weren't you relieved?).

Anyway, for no apparent reason, John Lee Hooker has been rattling around here for a few days, now, so I figured I'd let you have a taste of what I heard while I was trying to sleep, last night....

Dunno if it will do you the same, but, well, it could be worse -- the booming in my ear, the one I could have placed in yours, could have been Pat Travers' cover of Boom Boom (Out Go the Lights). There's just no sex appeal in that one.

And I wasn't even wearing boots

2012-01-23T15:08:00.001-06:00

While I'm working on the computer or watching television, I generally sit with my feet up, on a footstool or an improvised footstool, with a blanket draped over my feet and legs. And, generally, there will be a cat resting somewhere in close proximity to my feet, when I'm settled in.

And, under normal circumstances, the blanket is necessary, since we keep the thermostat at a ridiculously low temp, because we don't need to roast. However, the house was warmed, yesterday, to accommodate the needs of a friend who had come over for lunch and a movie. Needless to say, when my friend went home, the house was still warm enough I did not need a blanket over my feet. Indeed, I was enjoying running around barefoot (and sitting around barefoot, too).

I had taken my shower for the evening, and applied my appropriate lotions and skin creams (all labeled as safe for children and animals, largely due to my allergies), then plunked myself into the chair to play a game or two on the computer, my girl kitty Maus stretched across my shoulder and the back of the chair, and the boy kitty Lucas decided he needed to be between my feet, on the chair I used as footstool. It was all very nice.

But then, for some reason, Lucas took an interest in removing the skin cream/lotion from my bare ankle. Honestly, it was one of the strangest sensations I've ever experienced. This cat is not gentle in his cleaning practices. And, when he was finished with my ankle, he moved down the foot, completely removing all the cream I'd applied to the top of my feet and toes. I'll never be sure whether he thought my skin treatment smelled and tasted yummy, or he wanted to clean that foul stench away before he curled up and went to sleep nearby.

I think I indulge the animals too much. I should have just pulled away & let him have the chair... but I can't resist an animal which strives to curry favor.

How do they know?

2012-01-17T16:09:00.002-06:00

This afternoon, before I was to ready myself for the great out-of-doors, I decided to use up a little of the milk and eggs in the bat's fridge -- I have intolerance for certain foods, and these are near the top of the list, so I have to use them sparingly, which means, when the parents go away for any length of time, their dairy products and such tend to spoil, unless I can find a way to bury them in something else and share them around. Of course, occasionally, the recipes I follow are the sorts of things I am reluctant to share... today's was one of those. I decided when I woke up this morning that I would make a batch of Frogs' Eyes in Mud. I was not expecting my student to stop in, since there were other study issues for her to address (she was expected to go straight to her own home after school let out, instead of settling in for an art session). Yesterday was my sort-of-semi-monthly visit from my bestie from childhood, for whom I fixed a batch of honey-wisky-sauced sweet potatoes and sacrificed a beef pastie. Nobody else just "drops by" in the afternoon.

Both of them did.

Not that I'm complaining. I made a double batch, and, considering how rich the Mud is, it would take me a week to consume a single batch on my own, so it's a very good thing they popped in to help me out with a gallon of very fudgy, chocolatey pudding. Plus, I sent a pint tub off with my student, for her mother to share at supper (they're going to another friend's house for dinner).

But still... I didn't have the vent fan running, so all the aroma was contained to the interior of the house. I wasn't advertising my kitchen plans. How did they know to come over just as I was finishing up? How did they time their surprise arrival so well?

As a result of their coming over, I, unfortunately, did not get out to run those errands (again!). This, of course, feeds my deep-seated guilt. OTOH, it's always nice to see these people, and there's no guilt at all in seeing their smiles... how did they know I needed that, too?

I do not think it means what you think it means...

2012-01-10T11:22:00.001-06:00

So, I finally saw the "trailer" for Newt Gingrich's PAC-made hit job on Romney. Quite frankly, I hope it backfires HUGELY on the Newtster. I could have, and did, early on, stood in support of Gingrich as he entered the campaign. I liked his style in the debates, and I liked quite a bit of his message. From the first, I recognized he wasn't exactly perfect, but he seemed, last autumn, to be better than the rest by just a shade.

Boy, howdy, how that changed!

In case Newt ever gets directed toward this little post, I'll direct the rest to him.

Let me set you straight, Newt, honey. Some of us out here in flyover country liked you until you started whining and whingeing about things not being fair... once those words left your lips (or your staff's keyboard, if you will) your shine diminished greatly. We were especially unimpressed by your complaint against the Commonwealth of Virginia, for its long-standing rules regarding entry into their primaries. You live there. You should have at least done your homework on your adopted home state. To blame Virginia for your failure demonstrates your mettle is less than advertised.

But then, you made matters worse by complaining that there were "mean" and "ugly" advertisements run against you in Iowa. I must admit, there were commercials which painted you in less-than-flattering light, but when you called for the Waaaambulance again, you punked out, painted yourself as the loser. It was your reaction, not the negative ads themselves, which cost you support out here.

But now, since it's obvious that the public agrees with the party leadership, that you are not the candidate of choice, you have decided "the gloves are off." You have no problem letting your PAC launch an ugly hit piece against the frontrunner of your own party. Well, that's fine. Mitt's a big boy. He can defend his own record, his own name. But what's not fine is the choice of subject matter for the attack. You and your loser pals have decided to go after Romney for being a successful capitalist.

You talk about Mitt's career with Bain as though it were nothing but malicious search-and-destroy, deliberately shutting down perfectly good businesses just for the joy of watching people lose their jobs. Well, old son, that dog don't hunt around true conservatives. We understand that what Bain was doing was actually trying to save businesses, because killing an industry loses money for all the investors. Most of the businesses which were shut down in South Carolina due to restructuring under Bain's hand shut down because unions refused to yield enough to save the businesses, or even worse tangles. But you sell the fiction that it was Mister Potter's evil clone who done them wrong...

Congratulations. With your whining about "unfair", with your trying to change the rules of the election just because you didn't get what you wanted, with your mud-slinging and badmouthing a business and a businessman for being successful, with your lashing out in malice because you couldn't win, you are positively... Democrat.

Today's earworm: Blame the primaries

2012-01-10T10:50:00.002-06:00

For the past week (since the end of the Iowa caucuses), I've heard little on the news except the "upcoming Republican primary" in New Hampshire", and that the mobs of journalists would be amassing in Manchester... so, naturally, an entire week of this has been going through my head.

Aren't you grateful I didn't post it sooner? It could have stayed with you, too, for all that time.

And that Williams fellow is always a Treat, isn't he?

Today's earworm: like a big long ride

2012-01-02T19:02:00.000-06:00

In light of the massive amount of press so many of the OWS crowd got for their piteous mewling over not being able to get a decent job in their fields, I thought somebody ought to teach them to repeat one key phrase from this song...

The world don't owe nobody no livin', no matter how much we'd like it to.

Plus ça change

2012-01-01T15:14:00.000-06:00

In skimming the pages of a volume I brought home from auction, I found these words:

Alas, my Friends, credulous incredulity is a strange matter. But when a whole Nation is smitten with Suspicion, and sees a dramatic miracle in the very operation of the gastric juices, what help is there ? Such Nation is already a mere hypochondriac bundle of diseases ; as good as changed into glass ; atrabiliar, decadent ; and will suffer crises. Is not Suspicion itself the one thing to be suspected as Montaigne feared only fear ?

The book? Thomas Carlyle's The French Revolution, bound in leather and marbled paper. This copy has seen better days, as has France, but it certainly has an interesting few points... if you're inclined toward revolution.

On the plus side, I'm informed it was one book Samuel Langhorne Clemens read repeatedly throughout his years. On the minus side, the above paragraph was one of the few which were not so convoluted as to be incomprehensible to the modern reader. I reckon it will take a few years to wend my way through it, in hope of finding a few more gems like the above.

And, now, a new earworm, too...

Today's earworm: with a request for aspirin

2012-01-01T07:30:00.000-06:00

In light of last night's revelries, a small request...

hush hush...

And, have a happy New Year's Day.

Today's earworm: is that Long Island Iced Tea?

2011-12-31T16:12:00.001-06:00

Watching the Marx Brothers in "Monkey Business" this afternoon, and hearing this tune in the midst of a Chico medley, it stuck... I suppose I'll need a good mixed drink or two to clear it from my head, or, perhaps Nat King Cole will smooth it out...

If this won't do it, nothing will.

There you go.

Today's earworm: holy day edition

2011-12-24T23:06:00.002-06:00

Today's earworm: with gumdrops

2011-12-21T15:05:00.000-06:00

So, when you handle a mess of gumdrops, what phrase naturally comes to mind? My best bud and I were packing candies for Christmas and Hanukkah prezzies, and, of course, this little ditty kept repeating and repeating...

Not that there's a problem, yet, but, when you're handling pound after pound of sweets, you sort of have to worry that somebody is going to end up bigger than these ladies, combined. That's a lot of joy, during the holiday season.

Today's earworm: Faithfull follower

2011-12-21T01:00:00.001-06:00

Some evenings, this little melody comes back to me in the voice of Mick Jagger, some in my own magnificent contralto, and, more often than not, in hers.

It's worth it, any way you play it. Until the seventeenth consecutive hour you hear it. Then, it's just another annoying tune. So, play it with care.

Today's earworm: Pop Candy

2011-12-17T23:13:00.000-06:00

Iggy Pop, that is. And this is what happens when I spend all afternoon with my bestest bud, in the kitchen, assembling Christmas gifts... a batch of coconut gumdrops, a batch of lemon gumdrops, and a lovely, lovely batch of salted whisky caramels, with a tiny, tiny touch of an SNL-Dan-Aykroyd-Julia-Child impression. Somebody gets to singing this, repeatedly. And the someone singing is not the musician in the room...

I suppose it's better than something by the Archies. So, now, which one is going to stick with you, all day?

Ain't I just the sweetest? You're very welcome.

Today's earworm: a trip to the moon on Cole Porter wings

2011-12-16T23:13:00.000-06:00

You know how it goes... it's just one of those things.

Of course, in my own mind, I sound even better than Peggy Lee...

in there, I'm a legend.

Today's earworm: not an exact fit

2011-12-15T08:00:00.000-06:00

Some days run smoothly enough that no song can get stuck inside the head. At least, I'm told there are people who don't suffer from day- or week-long earworms. I, on the other hand, have no relief. I get rid of one song by replacing it with another. And, sometimes, they come back.

Today's little ditty usually turns a lovely afternoon in the garden into an hour of irony. And, you just can't press out those wrinkles.

Still, be of good cheer. The age of depressingly "relevant" pop music will, someday, come to an end, in the same way that SNL did. ermmm. well... maybe they'll stop propping that corpse up, someday, too.

Meanwhile, have a perfect day. That way, one of us will.

Today's earworm: not a poultry menu item

2011-12-14T09:39:00.001-06:00

Jay Ward was a genius. Anybody who disagrees with me can go to Hanna Barbera.

You're welcome.

Today's earworm: A trip to Denver

2011-12-13T07:30:00.000-06:00

Okay, I read the biography of Samuel Ramey after I posted the Cole Porter number, yesterday, & found out that Ramey was born in Colby, Kansas. It was, then, inevitable that my mind go a song with the city in it... one that I used to sing to one of my cats, while I sat in the bathtub and he sat in the doorway "singing along" (or, was it really that he was asking me why I'd continue to sit in that water, if it made me scream so much in pain...?).

anyhoos. It's a song I've always had a soft spot for, but, well, after an entire day of it rattling around in my head, it's time to ask it to haunt somebody else for an hour or two...

Blue? I'm not blue. Blue is just a Kansas summer sky.

You're welcome.

Today's earworm: catching a little seasonal spirit

2011-12-12T08:00:00.000-06:00

No video, just one of the best modern Christmas pieces EVAH!

Between this and "Linus and Lucy", the holidays have begun to settle in. I hope your preparations are going well. This week's agenda, lots of cooking and baking, with lots of messy pots and pans and goofy grins...

Today's earworm: magic marker edition

2011-12-11T15:59:00.001-06:00

Got a black magic marker... tryin' to make a tagger out of me...

No reason. Just carrying a Sharpie around in my pocket all day, & this song wouldn't leave me alone. Now, it can be your demonic companion, too...

I know how much you appreciate this. And, you're very welcome.

Today's earworm: don't lower my ears too much

2011-12-09T17:08:00.001-06:00

As. If.

I go to the salon, and my hero practically pulls out the electric razor and reduces the mop to a controllable buzz cut (which, BTW, is why so many people assume I am less interested in men than I am... well, that and the fact that I've been celibate for two decades, this coming year).

Anyway, I got my grey unruly mass removed, and, of course, had a great and magnificent melody in response to my own preference...

I like the song, but, even more, I like not having to waste tons of money on bottles of products designed to make me spend hours in front of a mirror being more than dissatisfied. Let the hippies and the runway models lose fortunes on conditioner.

Meanwhile, just remember, it grows by itself.

You're welcome.

Today's earworm: don't knock it

2011-12-08T22:12:00.001-06:00

We got lucky, today. Mom called for diploma (dat's diguy who fixes dipipes), & he arrived with his assistant this morning, to see why our upstairs fixtures were backing up.

It seems that, in the process of his having replaced a badly corroded stand pipe (for escaping sewer gases, among other things) as it ran through the attic & out the rooftop, he knocked a little bit of the old iron pipe downward into the depths of pipe below. It wasn't much, but what there was, was enough to catch in the gradually growing roots on the way to the sewer. Had he not been called back to clean out the little bit of chaff he'd dropped, we'd have had the roots grow really big in the pipe, & we'd have had a very big plumbing problem in time. As it was, he and his assistant spent a total of 2 hours, including cleanup, and the main drain was easily cleared, when he got to it.

So, as I said, we got lucky. Two small things combined to make a medium problem, and... well, we can rest easily, tonight.

Which is why I've been wandering around the house all afternoon humming this eminently hummable ditty,

and expecting it will stick with yooooooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-oooh, too.

If you're lucky, you can thank me later.

BTW, some clothes from the disco era should not be revived. Like her hat. Sadly, I think it showed up at a royal wedding, last April.

Today's earworm: leftover turkey edition

2011-12-06T07:30:00.000-06:00

Not the song, although some will say it is. No, it's that, last week, Mom & I had amassed enough store credits to come home with a fourteen-pound turkey hen, no charge. Now, I'm the sort of person who could eat roast turkey 45 weeks of the year without tiring of its flavor, but poor Mom gets tired of it after three days, and Pop looks at is stale after a week.

Our freezer is full, too, so there was no option of putting the bird on ice for a month, until I'm back to being the house-sitter while they gallivant across the landscape... the bird had to be cooked.

So, I asked friends to come over for supper, last night. Free food, shared with others, becomes free food squared. And, since the freebie is a bird... well, the classic has been buzzing about since mid-afternoon Monday. Sigh.

Here's your free bird.

No gravy or stuffing, though, so it's a low-carb offering You're welcome.

Today's earworm: troosers-free edition

2011-12-05T07:30:00.000-06:00

I am a Scot. Sort of. A few generations ago, one of my ancestors arrived in this country from the highlands and proceeded to do the American thing by taking a local wife... very local, at that. But that's not important right now.

What makes me a further Scot (sort of) is my education... I attended a college whose mascot is The Fighting Scot (lately, he's taken a turn toward creepiness, in the same vein as the Burger King, since the school sprang for an actual, molded mascot head and full costume, instead of allowing one of our burliest young men to sport the colors about his loins). We are the Monmouth Scots. For fifty years, our pep band was the Highlanders, a pipe (of the bag variety) and drum band. Parades in this town did not start until the Highlanders were playing "Scotland the Brave".

Needless to say, we know a few good, old-fashioned Scots' drinking songs. Most folks remember best "The Drunken Scotsman", and, I confess, I have "enjoyed" some mornings awakening to its chorus rattling about in my head, too.

Today, however, the weather has turned chilly and windy, the direction of the sort which proves the truest, bravest Scots for what they are. For, as one fellow once explained it, you know you have a true Scots Man if he wears his kilt all year and has sons born late September.

Who needs troosers when you have this getting you dancing out of bed in the morning?

You can thank me after breakfast (we're not having haggis).

Today's earworm: YOU don't want to hear it!?!

2011-12-04T07:00:00.000-06:00

Sunday morning. Long day, yesterday. Long day today, from auction to art class to company at dinner... no rest, probably until after Christmas.

And if you have more for me to do,

Never mind. I'm not listening. I keep hearing this song instead of your voice. Now, you get to hear it, too, since I'm sharing it. Isn't that generous of me?

Today's earworm: not like we love our freedom

2011-12-03T07:30:00.000-06:00

Today, I'm going to be selling off most of my collection of dolls (yeah, I'm half a century old and still play with dollies). If you're in Galesburg or its surrounding area, please stop by and HELP ME

by buying a few of my wee things, or some from the other members of the Warren County Doll Club (soon to be officially renamed the West Central Illinois Doll Club) -- maybe you have somebody you still haven't shopped for, for Christmas. If you come early, and buy lots and lots of dolls and accessories, we can all go home early, free and clear of another burden.

And, if you're just going to hang around the house and read blogs and surf the net, we'll see how long you last, with this rattling around in your skull...

Today's earworm: rock on!

2011-12-02T07:30:00.000-06:00

Lately, I've been tuning out the political news on television, and swinging toward music programming. Not that I have anything against political hacks promoting their favorite fictions, or anything... it's just that, if you hear it once, you'll hear it forever echoed by others, and it's so much better to have it echoed simply by a somewhat mad mind, internally...

But, politically speaking, as they're still arguing budget and deficit and spending beyond the moon and taxing beyond all income.... all my dear children aren't going to be allowed to go anywhere but into debt. The poor rocking chair is going to be lonely a lot longer.

And you'll be humming segments of this until Congress gets itself under control, or until the end of civilization... whichever comes first (don't put money on the first-position horse in this race).

Today's earworm: Barry Manilow, with apologies

2011-12-01T07:30:00.000-06:00

Some folks are not exactly crazy about this singer/songwriter/entertainer. I've become one of those people. Unfortunately, once a singer's repertiore becomes ensconced in one's own mental music library, one will continue to play back stuff at inconvenient places and times.

For example, upon hearing about the disagreement over who shot at whom first, in Pakistan/Afghanistan this past weekend, one lonely little line from a Manilow song came to stay...

The crucial line starts right around 1:15.

And, now it is yours, as well. You may thank me later.

today's earworm: it repeats and repeats

2011-11-30T14:38:00.001-06:00

In light of the current events in Tehran, this little ditty comes back to haunt one of us who still remembers the year it was first released.

On the plus side, it's Dionne Warwick, and she always did have more class, less exhibitionism, than those who followed her, in the industry. On the minus side, it's a disco-generation earworm.

Today's earworm: postprandial Leon Redbone

2011-11-25T07:30:00.000-06:00

After all that turkey, do we expect to accomplish anything, today? I sincerely doubt it. So, enjoy.

Get the song out of your head... later.

Today's earworm (Holiday edition)

2011-11-24T07:30:00.000-06:00

How can you not like it? How can you avoid humming this over your turkey dinner? You're welcome.

Today's earworm: mooning you

2011-11-23T07:30:00.000-06:00

The first time I heard this song, it was on an old vinyl platter by Leon Redbone. It was most decidedly not country or western, but very, very bluesy. Still, for some reason, when I hear it in my head, it's in Marty Robbins' voice, these days....

I guess spending a year or so in Eastern Kentucky makes one a little less bluesy, and a little more bluegrassy.

Any way you roll, if you're traveling for the holiday, drive carefully.

Today's earworm: do NOT upset your mother

2011-11-22T07:30:00.000-06:00

First of all, nobody in my immediate family is a soprano, so when we get this one stuck in our heads, we sing it as contraltos (an abomination), we whistle the highest parts, or we seek out a respectable performance and listen all the way through... so, guess where we are, today?

Listening to somebody who makes it sound so easy... [sigh].

Today's earworm: Monday morning cuppa Java

2011-11-21T07:30:00.000-06:00

I hope it wakes you up. It kept me up all steenkin' night.

Today's earworm: a cautionary tale on excess

2011-11-20T07:30:00.000-06:00

In an interview I once saw of Jerry Doyle, he told of having gone from exceedingly heavy stockbroker to trim and fit actor. When asked how he stayed so fit, he answered, "Five days a week, my body is a temple. On the weekends, it's an amusement park."

For those of you with the same view of life (personally, I'm one of the amusement park owner/operators, & get to a temple only if it's attached to a ride), and are taking time for recreation this weekend, be careful you don't end up passed out in the bushes...

Or, if you do, be appropriately dressed for the occasion. Whatever that means to you...

Today's earworm: Sons' double header

2011-11-19T07:30:00.000-06:00

I know a lot of people who are addicted to the series, Sons of Anarchy. Me, I'm addicted to another set of Sons... and the song that tumbles through your head for hours on end...

good kindling, when you want to start a fire... and put it out with

Cool Clear Water. Drink up!

Today's earworm: what the Cat dragged in...

2011-11-18T07:30:00.000-06:00

Cat Stevens, that is... and dang, I sound great singing this to the cats, when I shower.

But he did it better.

Today's earworm: Funky! and so pale!

2011-11-17T07:30:00.000-06:00

Who'd 'a' thunk the seventies could have given us something so worthy of repetition?

'Til you die... or until the next time it comes up while you're peeling potatoes or listening to the laundry agitate in the washer...

Today's earworm: a polite request for courtesy

2011-11-16T07:30:00.000-06:00

After the few lessons I had in music and voice, I came to the conclusion that Katisha was within my range... and, sadly, her part in this song was ever to echo in mediocrity in my showers.

Here is the improved version. Enjoy!

A new beginning: earworms

2011-11-15T19:09:00.001-06:00

For those who are unfamiliar with the term, an earworm is a melody, song, or ditty which has managed to get itself stuck inside your head, much to your eventual frustration or annoyance. It can be a perfectly good tune, but after a few hours to a few weeks, it has burrowed in so deeply that it interferes in your rational thought...

what was I saying, again? Oh, right. Earworms. They don't come out with muriatic acid or cotton swabs. For most of us, the solution to the troubling tune is to play it all the way through at least once, correctly and enthusiastically. Therefore, I am aiming to rid myself of these daily nuisances by... [dramatic fanfare here] sharing them with you.

Here is today's. I'm happy just to share it with you.

Overzealous cleaner ruins artwork

2011-11-07T00:02:00.001-06:00

Here's a hint for artists and art museum curators: if it can be mistaken for garbage in need of scrubbing or disposal, there's a very good chance that's what it really is.

Is Life at Conception Law really a good idea?

2011-11-06T23:05:00.001-06:00

Let me be the first to cheer those good people for defending the ones who cannot defend themselves. I love their commitment to life. They're the good guys.

Unfortunately, sometimes the path good people take is not at all the right path. To strictly define life as starting at conception, and granting full protection of the law to those unborn sounds really noble and righteous, and I sincerely want to agree with every last letter of this law, but I fear this law may well have a little trouble keeping up with technology -- among other concerns.

After all, under this definition, there is no mention of a differentiation between natural and in vitro fertilization. Does the laboratory-mated batch of embryos genuinely equal those in utero? When a couple has a hundred embryos created in the hopes of having a single child, does this law protect the doctor and the parents, if they decide to freeze for storage or simply dispose of those not needed after a successful pregnancy? How are biological progenitors protected, when the match is made in a test tube? Does this law allow for protection, when science develops even more complex situations (and it most assuredly will)?

Further, how does this proposed law deal with severe hardship pregnancies which are not immediately life-threatening? Suppose a loving, married woman has done all she can to prevent pregnancy, because she has been told she is not strong enough to support a pregnancy, and yet her preventive measures fail. Suppose the mother is told that, in order to secure this new life, she will be required to remain bed-ridden for a year. It won't kill her, but she will be unable to care for herself, let alone her child in its initial growth. Will the law require her to be a fragile, unwilling vessel, simply because she's not actually dying?

Will every medically-required termination require a court hearing to decide whether or not it was justifiable homicide? What will this do to the courts? How will this affect liability laws? How will this affect medical insurance availablity and costs for patients, and malpractice insurance for the medical industry?

And, how does this all measure up to the notion that each American adult is a free and sovereign person? Sure, lady, you're sovereign until the second you bump uglies with sonny-boy over there, and after that, you're property of the little thing growing inside you. Don't mess with it, or there'll be hell to pay. How far will that go? Do we punish a woman for crimes against the fetus even if she endangers the child before she is aware she is pregnant?

I'm all for protecting life, but I'm not at all sure this law is the answer the proponents think it is.

your math is off

2011-11-02T23:18:00.001-05:00

I just saw a really poor equation while reading comments on a social network post. It seems that, in the minds of many who support the OWS crowd, this young man

is just the same as the people who sit on their tushes and expect the government to give them everything. The statement was made that regular citizens pay into their pension programs, but, of course, our men and women in uniform have everything handed to them from top to bottom, and it all comes from the pockets of our hardworking civilians. Apparently, our soldiers, sailors, etc., do nothing at all to earn their gigantic paychecks and overly generous benefits.... No risk, no sacrifice, nuffin'. At least, that's the gist I got from the few people who were willing to stick their necks out and ridicule this sojer for his personal opinion.

I mean, really! What do we pay these people for? They get free food, free clothes, free housing, transportation, they get to see all sorts of different places in the world (all of which places are filled with adoring throngs who toss flower petals in their paths). Why on earth should they expect us to throw actual money their way, or provide for their care when they are past the point of wearing the clothes we give them? Once they're finished with their stints, they can go ahead and get real jobs, right? As long as they haven't gone and become insane time bomb baby killers just waiting to snap and take out a bunch of innocents....

I used to wonder what sort of pinhead could believe this sort of claptrap, but then I moved back to a college town and listened to some of the members of the faculty and a few of their prize students. The locals know better. The locals have either served, or have a loved one who has worn (or is still wearing) a uniform. The locals know how little, comparatively, our military is "given" in exchange for the "little" they do.

In contrast, we have this.

Defender of the free world ≠ welfare queen.

Not by a long shot.

DADT and memory loss

2011-10-26T12:51:00.002-05:00

I've just run across a campaign ad, in which one of the "great accomplishments" of the candidate was the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell.

Does nobody else remember precisely why Don't Ask Don't Tell was enacted? I mean, after all the celebration at the administration's having finally crushed it, shouldn't somebody ask why all the dancing in the streets?

DADT was created during the Clinton years as a protection for gays who wanted to serve in our military. Until then, a serviceman/woman accused of being homosexual -- not even acting upon desires, but merely having the desires alone -- could get a dishonorable discharge. DADT was drafted into law to protect soldiers/sailors/marines, etc., from getting the boot based on what amounted to hearsay. As long as nobody did anything, nobody had a right to ask what your preferences were. You were expected to leave your naughty ideas at home in bed -- as long as you were on active duty, the uniform stayed on and stayed unstained.

In other words, before DADT, if you were suspected in the off-duty act of merely flirting with a same-sex somebody, you were promptly made a civilian, with no pension or other benefits. Once Congress passed DADT, as a gay in uniform, you had to be actively in-your-face queer to get drummed out... they couldn't just drop you because you batted your eyes and sighed over that same-sex somebody. If your preferences and habits were discreet, as most military (and other) relationships should be, Don't Ask Don't Tell protected you. It didn't "force people to live a lie." In fact, it allowed for being in active service while having a different outlook on interpersonal relationships, and protected you for it all. DADT merely sustained the notion that there should be consequences if you were careless about your bedtime habits.

Granted, we have come upon an age when being gay in civilian life is less physically, politically, and socially dangerous than it was fifty years ago. For that, I can see just cause for celebration. And, personally, I'm glad that the military no longer sees the need for special protections for gays who serve our nation. After all, some of those nearest and dearest to me either are gay or have loved ones who are so. I want to live to see the day when nobody needs to be a protected class of people.

I'd dance for that.

But, as long as people misinterpret the past and celebrate the demise of "the oppressive DADT Act," and other such revisionism, I'm not shopping for ballroom slippers.

Pop quiz

2011-10-17T20:03:00.001-05:00

Imagine you're standing in a house occupied by three humans and a handful of other pampered mammals. Those humans are three adults, one of whom is a serious, staunch atheist, the other two are agnostics. One has a PhD, has been a college professor and a particle physicist; the second has an advanced degree in history; the third is a professional artist of some small (very small) success. The artist is also partially disabled and mostly unemployable in the "real world" due to both physical and mental health challenges.

They have all been teachers.

They have an extensive library in their home. They can quote extensively from many sources.

Their families' bloodlines are of both European transplant and native North American backgrounds.

They own no firearms. They support the local arts. Occasionally, when they can afford it, they take trips to distant cities to visit those cities' museums and galleries, or to attend a special concert or performance of an opera.

Some of their closest friends are on the faculty and staff of the nearby college. Others are professional artists and musicians.

At holidays, their dining table has regularly welcomed persons from many different backgrounds, different ethnicities, different homelands.

The family drives a car which, when it was new, averaged 38 mpg on the highway, and occasionally capped 42 mpg on long drives, with a good tailwind. They have been proud of this economy.

They share a garden with their neighbors, and preserve much of what they harvest. Their wardrobe is of natural fibers. None of them wears cosmetics, uses hair spray or styling products.

In conversation in this house, it would not be unusual to hear the phrase, "the empirical data are indicative of...", or, "current research seems to point in the direction of...."

Their mean IQ is upwards of 150.

Now, the question: what are their political leanings?

Would they show support for

(a). the mostly-white, blue-collar crowd of the TEA party, demanding smaller government, or

(b) the mostly-white college graduates gathering in major cities demanding... whatever they're demanding at the moment? "Gun-toting, Bible-thumping racist bitter clingers," or "self-absorbed, over-schooled, uninformed, filthy, hippie communist/union-useful-idiots"?

Be careful how you answer.

Hello, sailor, allow me to accuse you of crimes against humanity

2011-10-11T18:40:00.000-05:00

Yesterday was Columbus Day. Personally, I like the day. For starters, it's a holiday, so we got out of school for the day, back when I was an undedicated scholar. Second, I celebrate Cristoforo Colombo's error of navigation, because, had he not stumbled upon these lands in his quest for the Western Passage to China, my family would not exist as it does, and I'm very proud of my oh-so-American heritage. My recent roots dig in earth both European and North American.

Without Ferdinand and Isabella taking a gamble on a crazy Genoan, Europe would not have developed a "safety valve" for their populations during times of radical change, and, likely, my German, British, and other ancestors would have had no way to escape inevitable poverty and probable war, famine and death... Opening up the Western Hemisphere, initially for trade, gave hope to many. Had they not come here, they'd have never met the North American family eventually wedded to theirs. Ergo, an incompetent navigator/captain/businessman helped merge both elements of my heritage into one, bringing me into existence. For all my faults, I'm not inclined to gripe about that. In fact, like many Americans, I celebrate the coming together in me, and in others I love and respect, of many different cultures and gene pools. Grazie, Signor Colombo!

I understand those who mourn the passing of the nomadic tribes' ways of life, and I sympathize, to some extent, with those who see the settlers as land-grabbers who had no regard for the indigenous peoples whose land this had been. Unfortunately, many of those who settled here from foreign lands had little or no choice. Some came because there was no future for them in their homelands, others were literally given no choice by their home governments, being deported for petty crimes or debts, and some were brought by simpler accidents of fate. In other words, they, too, were pushed out from their native lands. That sort of thing has been going on since Cain was forced to move to the land of Nod, or, for those who are less biblically-inclined, since modern man met Neanderthal. Why else would this continent have been settled, in earlier times, by Asians crossing the land bridge?

I also want these modern complainers to take into account that, in the days of the first settlers -- and even, up into the days of Hollywood's glory -- most of the Injuns, as they were called back then, were viewed as nothing but heathen savages, incapable of taking care of themselves, let alone the good earth. After all, how many, really, were tilling and farming in a rational manner? How many of those savage men were willing and able to perform basic farm labor (women's work, to the mind of the Indian man) without their attentions and persons wandering off to recreational activities such as hunting and fishing? They were like undisciplined children, to the early settlers -- and worse, they were pagans!

Meanwhile, the whites were loud, brash, pushy, self-absorbed, and incapable of behaving in a decent manner toward human beings.... and they kept cutting away the best food-hunting woods -- and then they kept their men doing women's work, and the women were, well, they all dressed funny... idiot children who couldn't even figure out what fruits and leaves were safe to eat, who weren't smart enough to take hunting and fishing seriously...

Needless to say, the groups were not easily compatible.

But, unfortunately, current travel technology and political situations of the day guaranteed there would be more coming. It was inevitable, and therefore, the message needed to be very simple: adapt or die. For both groups.

Nobody knows who fired the first shot. Suffice it to say, adaptation was, and still is, difficult and dangerous.

Now, several hundred years later, there are some who use Columbus Day as an excuse for pointing fingers and laying blame for any and all failures of modern civilization to bring light and happiness to every soul on earth. At the minimum, these people accuse the massively inept Columbus of having caused the destruction of the great and peaceable kingdom, and, at maximum, of maliciously brought about genocide. And, for some reason, they carry the thought forward to whinge and moan that it's all the White Man's fault that the Red Man is a bunch of drunken, starving diabetics living on a single horrible reservation in the Badlands, or some such... They use Columbus Day to celebrate hate, and race-based hate, to boot. Worse, there are people who fall for the race-baiting attacks.

Holding a grudge for things which (a) happened more than a century ago and (b) were, ultimately, inevitable is childish and self-destructive. Encouraging others to support that behavior is divisive and dangerous. It is time these people were shown for the racists that they are, and it is time our society taught its children to rise above the darker elements of our history. Instead of crying over spilt milk and pointing fingers of blame, we can stand up, grow up, and take responsibility for our own lives.

It's time to celebrate unity, in all our accidental diversity.

Right side, wrong reason

2011-10-10T18:06:00.001-05:00

Recently, the ACLU once again came out against a government agency acting in a manner unsurprising... power-grabbing, this time by police departments and other investigative agencies attached to law enforcement. The ACLU is against the coppers being able to put GPS gadgets on a citizen to track him everywhere he goes, without a warrant. The ACLU's complaint? It violates a person's right to privacy.

Well, I'm agin it, too, but not for the reason they are. You see, as far as I can tell, we really don't have an expectation of -- or a right to -- privacy, especially once we leave our homes and go out into... you know... public places. It's really hard to be private in public.

No, my reason for not wanting the police to be tailing me or any other US citizen without warrant falls under the presumption of innocence part of our nation's legal tradition. A person's going hither and yon is his own life, and, unless he does something obviously unlawful while on his peregrinations, he's still a lawful citizen. If you can't figure out how to demonstrate to a judge why you think that person ought to be watched more closely, it's your problem. Do your homework a little better before you go there.

If I haven't done anything wrong, or, for that matter, if there's no really good reason to think I've done wrong, and somebody -- uniformed or not -- puts a GPS tracer on me and starts following me around, it's not law enforcement, it's not justice, it's just plain stalking.

What do do with Palin now that she's not running

2011-10-06T23:25:00.000-05:00

Put her in the chairman's seat for the RNC. Not that I'm complaining about the job that Priebus is doing, but the position could be improved greatly by putting in Sarah Palin.

For starters, the job requires major fund-raising skills and talents. Reince Priebus has done a fairly good job at this end of things, but compared to what Palin has been doing, he's Dell computers and she's Apple. She's gangbusters at getting people to join up and sign checks for the party.

Second, the GOP needs a lightning rod, because the media will be almost as eager as the DNC and Obama to smear the Republican candidate, and if the RNC head is there to draw attention, it's better protection for their man (I'm not being sexist, I'm just assuming that Bachman is not going to stage a huge comeback, at this stage) and his running mate. When Sarah Palin appears, the media dogs salivate as though a bell had just been rung in their ears or a squirrel chittered in a nearby tree.

Let her do as much damage to their (and the DNC's) credibility as is humanly possible, while allowing the party to outflank the opposition. And, give her the title and paycheck to make it happen.

It's a darned shame the Republicans haven't taken full advantage of the gifts Palin has. She would be awesome if officially let loose on the Dems.

Plus ça change...

2011-10-06T12:59:00.000-05:00

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal...

The other night, I tuned my television in to watch the only non-irritating option I had for the evening. Unfortunately, that option was a flick I'd seen a couple of times before, back in the day when it was still new, back in the last century. I'm a big, big fan of Bruce Willis shows (for no really good reason. I guess I just like movies where wise cracks are tossed about like ping pong balls in a lottery machine and stuff blows up in unrealistically spectacular fashion).

Anyway, the movie, 1995's Die Hard With a Vengeance, was not my favorite in the series to begin with, but stuff blew up and smart aleck comments abounded, so originally I got a kick out of it. In fact, though, it was the flip remarks which ruined it for me, this time around. No, not the throwaway lines from Bruno, it was the anti-white lines scripted for Samuel L. Jackson that jarred. And it wasn't jarring in the way I expected.

What jarred me was the timing. Not the theatrical timing. The real world timing.

Here I was, watching a show filmed nearly a generation ago, in which a major character judged people by the color of their skin. Yeah, yeah, so what? you ask. It's cinema verité.

Somehow, Hollywood and a large contingent of the minority community think, today, that these sorts of racist remarks are still appropriate.

Today, while the rest of the world looks at somebody of pallor saying that somebody of another race or ethnic group is something less than saintly by dint of political disagreement or... well, whatever... is a lowdown dirty racist, having a person of color make a blanket derogatory statement about white people is somehow viewed as not only right and righteous, but bold and new. Hip-hop artists, actors, preachers, and even a few politicians have repeated their beliefs that white people are evil (or some political equivalent) and, in more than a few cases, have repeatedly called for violent actions against them.

I am not merely offended.

I am tired of racism in all forms.

One would think, two and a half generations after Martin Luther King spoke of his dream that a man would be judged not by the color of his skin but by the content of his character, we might have come closer to that goal. One would think, but, apparently, in some communities, one would be wrong.

Is that the best you've got?

2011-10-03T21:16:00.000-05:00

A lefty friend of mine shared this image on a social media site, and it got me to thinking...

I suppose that was what my friend had hoped, but I do not think I came to the intended conclusion. What I wound up mulling over was a handful of facts available via Wikipedia.

It seems that, shock of all shocks, the vast majority -- approximately 70% -- of hospitals and health care facilities in this country happen to be in the hands of non-profit organizations (read: religious groups or organizations with strong religious affiliations). These groups have built-in systems for providing care to those who can not afford to pay for it themselves, and who have no insurance to cover even the most basic care. Often, that money comes from individuals or groups within the religious community, sometimes also from the friends and neighbors appealing to sentiment (ever go into a convenience store and see a donations jar for some kid with cancer? Pay close attention: they're not demanding that strangers help, via taxes, they're simply asking. It usually works pretty darned nicely, and, instead of creating a well of resentment, the donors feel good about themselves and their fellow human beings).

In other words, followers of Jesus (and a few other faiths) are already giving away free health care to an awful lot of people.*

So now, I have to ask my friend and the sign-bearer a simple question: what, precisely, are you giving? Are you really demanding that Christians be more Christian than they are already, in their donating to hospitals and clinics and other NGO programs and emergency causes, or are you merely justifying another power grab by your favorite partisan beasts because you think that, when they rule the world, you'll get all the good table scraps without having to work to earn them?

*Oh, and, contrary to what so many leftists like this one would have you believe, Jesus was not a socialist. Faceless, soulless governments were not His idea of the direction in which one should surrender one's life, works, and soul. It doesn't require a degree in theology to figure that one out.

"having a heart" vs doing what's right

2011-09-28T11:39:00.000-05:00

It seems to me, one of the first requirements for in-state tuition when I was young enough to be filling out those forms was that I be a legal resident of that state. When did that change?

It wasn't just that I had to prove I'd lived in, say, Arizona for more than a year, and all that. I had to show I was lawfully there, and not on the lam from prosecution in Iowa or New Jersey or the FBI... shouldn't that particular standard be maintained? I mean, the point to higher education isn't just to let anybody who wants to be there, be there. It's about those who are qualified, getting in.

Of course, recent news articles indicate that playing by the rules is not exactly high on the list of requirements for a number of schools, so why should this be any different?

I'm sorry. Sympathetic feelings notwithstanding, there are reasons for establishing rules and laws, and for not making accommodations for those who break said rules and laws. Through no fault of my own, I was born in Illinois, and lived lawfully in (many) other states. Call me heartless, Mr. Perry, but I see no reason for putting somebody illegally in-country ahead of me and mine, when receiving taxpayer-supported education benefits from your state.

I don't have a problem with allowing in anybody who qualifies for admission. By all means, if a kid passes the exams and meets all the other standards, let him or her in. Just don't call it fair or right to give him a break that other, lawful residents of this country are not allowed.

When is it hypocrisy?

2011-09-23T20:41:00.000-05:00

I admit, I am frustrated. I've had a conversation, of sorts, with a friend, via one of those social networking things, and I can not say to this friend the things which must be said. I value the friendship, such as it is, for things other than this one particular topic.

The topic? None other than the Israeli/Palestinian morass.

Largely due to the fact that one of this friend's parents is of Palestinian lineage (and added to it by having fallen into the increasingly common, blindly leftist, universitythink), my friend is convinced that every single failure for peace to be gained lies in the blood-covered hands of the Israeli leaders.

This friend commented on Binyamin Netanyahu's address to the United Nations, today, by calling him a hypocrite:

He says that the Palestinians refuse to negociate, but he conveniently neglects to mention that Israel, throughout the charade implied in the empty euphemism "peace process" has continually, continually, continued to build settlements that now are shaped like 4 fingers, chopping up Palestinian land. He neglects to mention that conditions for negociation and rights have NEVER been equal as long as the U.S. has brokered negotiations because the U.S. is not a good broker. He's a cynical, hypocritical liar.

When asked if, perhaps, Abbas might also be a bit on the hypocritical side, attending these "mock- negotiations" while, back home, they were still lobbing missiles at schools in Israel, my friend, like so many other leftists, justifies the random murder of children and innocents by Palestinian terrorists by saying that, again, it's Israel's fault for being too well-defended. Seriously. Literally.

It's not a fair fight. You want them to quit lobbing rockets, give them the same missiles the Israelis shoot into Palestinian piles of rubble, give them the same air power, give them the same grenade launchers that we give to the Israelis. If not, then accept people getting blown up in bus stops and drastically inferior rockets getting lobbed over the border.

Because it's always a good idea to give murderers better tools for pursuing that end. While we're going there, why don't we send more advanced weapons to the savage drug cartels in Mexico?... wait, I guess we're doing that. So, maybe my friend has some support from our own government, there.

No. I'm sorry. From the very beginning, the Arab states have bargained in bad faith, and the Palestinian leaders may in no way be excluded from that group.

Further, a government which names streets, declares holidays in honor of the people who murder innocents, government of a people who give out candy to celebrate the murder of babies in their sleep... how can one believe they come in peace, when not one of the murderers has been prosecuted?

And, to that question, how does my friend dare to say the following?

I am not anti-Zionist, but there are no victims here, except for maybe the average Joe Palestinians that were controlled by greedy Arab countries that co-opted them and are now controlled by ever-expanding Israeli settlements in the West Bank,

If there are no victims other than "the average Joe Palestinians," then you believe that Israeli family asked to be slaughtered in their sleep, simply because they lived where you thought they shouldn't. If you believe that Israeli families deserve to be murdered for living in "unauthorized" settlements, then, obviously, you believe that illegal immigrants in this country deserve to die, too, no? We can go romping through East L.A., through California's Central Valley with hand grenades, M16s, and machetes to "clean house", no? Ooh, I think I don't want to move into your neighborhood.

If you believe that, because one side is better-armed (and, yet, has not, oddly, attempted the sort of genocide the lesser-armed side has repeatedly propounded), that justifies lobbing bombs at schools, then, by all means, let us invite Cuba to take out all the day-care centers and kindergartens in Miami/Fort Lauderdale. Our military bases in Florida should just lie down and let it happen. Let us invite the street gangs and cartel goons in Chicago to continue their practice of random, drive-by shootings. The CPD, after all, has a SWAT team or two, so it's not fair to get in the way of rank thuggery on the part of the gangs. Let 'em kill more babies. They'd only have grown up to be Chicagoans, anyway.

Of course, I see no hypocrisy in my friend's views. I see no bigotry, either. But then, I want to see this person as my friend.

Christian Fundamentalist Church to build near where Matthew Shepard was found dying

2011-08-01T22:26:00.005-05:00

They're preparing to build a hard-core Christian church on the lot right behind the fence where the two murderers left Matthew to die. It's a project by people who believe that people like Matthew invite, even deserve such treatment, simply by dint of being gay. They'll have a lovely piece of real estate, and an easy reminder of the Wages of Sin, right there in front of them as they enter and exit their house of worship.

Not really. No such plans exist, as far as I know. And, for decency's sake, I hope it never does.

I'm just curious how the folks on the far left would react if it were the truth, though. I've been thinking on this for a while, now... I'd like to know the reactions of those who think it's just fine and dandy, and the traumatized survivors and witnesses of the 9/11 attacks should suck it up that a center will be built on top of Ground Zero, built by Islamists who support the aims -- and justify the means -- of the hijackers and their leaders. Would they support the same freedom to establish a religious center near Laramie in spite of the emotional pain it may cause? Or, do they cherry-pick whose rights will be supported, based on some list of favored and unfavored causes?

Just wondering.

Yes, it's all Bush's fault....

2011-08-01T16:18:00.006-05:00

After half my friends continue to claim that all our current economic woes can still be lain at Bush's doorstep, I looked something up on the official Bureau of Labor Statistics site.

Note how unemployment jumped from around 4% to around 6% right around and just after 9/11/01, and they came slowly, gradually, back down nearly to where they were when Bush first took office (please recall, it was established that, as he took office in January 2001, we were already in a recession) showing a remarkable stability... and then, suddenly, in 2008, it virtually doubled.

Hunh. I wonder what happened in 2008 which might have Changed things? I Hope we can undo the damage, and soon!

Darn that Dubya!

(Sorry about the chopping off of the image. I couldn't figure out how to shrink the government graph any more than Congress seems capable of shrinking the budget.)

Okay, let's all go shopping for sh!t we don't need...

2011-07-31T20:00:00.003-05:00

Congress has done just that, again. And, they promise that we'll learn to love what they got for us, with our credit card... and there are still people who say they aren't spending enough, aren't taking enough from "the rich". That would be anybody with a business, I guess. In their view, if we aren't "broke", we ought to be, before we quit spending on every pork project and Obamanation.

So, let me put this in simple terms: Mom and Dad have worked very hard to earn what little they've saved. They scrimped where they could, but occasionally got the odd luxury item, like a nice, large, high-definition television with every HD channel imaginable, like new wireless communications toys for the kids, like dinner out once a week and a vacation to distant shores every summer.

But, lately, they've found it a little more difficult to predict where their paychecks will come from, and how much they'll get when the checks arrive (after paying off the debts for all the little necessities and niceties, especially for the teenagers). And, they're a little worried that Grandma's not going to be able to take care of herself, pretty soon, so they might have to have her move in. Naturally, they look at their small savings, and consider using it as a down-payment on an added room, so Grandma can come stay with them.

Then, one day, the teenagers hack into the accounts and discover that, shockingly, after they had continually told the kids, "we can't afford to keep buying that stuff for you," the old fogeys actually have money! Jeez, there must be at least a couple thousand dollars to spare, in that account! So they demand that the parents give them all that cash so they can throw an awesome block party, to remain popular in their adolescent community, and require that the parents throw a rockin' house party every weekend until graduation, and maybe beyond, "and new kicks, too. And stuff." And, today, the parents say, "Well, gee, we can't just have your good times end, so, of course we'll give you all our cash. Here, take the credit cards, as well. We'll just go get another credit card or two, and take out bank loans when we have to pay for what we actually need..."

Nice going, "grownups in the room". See how well you do next November.

Disparate tools for teaching

2011-06-06T19:06:00.005-05:00

There are currently two persons smack dab in the headlights of the mainstream media. One has long been the direct target of many powerful news media teams, and manages to, occasionally, get clipped as they madly careen in pursuit. The other was doing everything possible to bury all traces of attention-worthy activities, and, somehow, ended up this week with his nether parts exposed.

At first glance, Sarah Palin and Anthony Weiner have little -- if anything -- in common. Palin is a supremely telegenic conservative mother from mid-American roots, educated far from the elite academies (U of Idaho, to be precise), an only child, a business owner, openly Christian, a rugged outdoorswoman, and, by many accounts, not often accustomed to flash and often embarrassed by fuss. Weiner is a geeky metrosexual liberal raised with two brothers in Brooklyn, a graduate of SUNY, direct from college into the world of politics with no business experience, with no real sense of faith, and an apparent need to brag about his sexual prowess to young women he has never met.

And, yet, they both have something in common: teachers. His mother, her father were teachers in the public school system. And, from them both, we also have a teaching tool or two.

Beginning with the more immediate news, Anthony David Weiner may soon be under official Congressional Ethics Committee investigation for his part in a scandal of his own making. And, it seems, the lesson we are to learn from him, via the media, is that, if you lie to them, at least be polite about it (it also helps immensely if you are a prominent member of the Democratic party). So long as they like you, they will help you with your cover-up. Lies are good, if you're on the correct side of the aisle.

Or, if Andrew Breitbart gets accused of propagating fictions about you, make sure he never shows up at your own press conference. These lessons would seem to be fairly easy to live by, but, somehow, Weiner has found this as challenging putting a cat into a wet suit.

Anthony Weiner is a teaching tool of the worst sort. Anthony Weiner is a case study in what is wrong with the presumption of anonymity on the internet, and what is wrong with a class which believes it lives by a set of rules quite separate from the rest of us. He and his media accomplices had willingly seen a man falsely accused of a federal crime (hacking into a congressman's e-mail account has huge ramifications, were it true) simply so that they could continue their tawdry relationship. One might learn from him, at the very least, not to insult the media when they're trying very hard to be on your side. If one were a inclined to go deeper, one might also consider that trying to put oneself above the people to whom you are ultimately answerable, and/or above the law, is usually not a terribly wise option.

Anthony Weiner just saw the end of his latest ego trip.

On the other hand, Sarah Palin is on a plain old bus trip. She holds no office, has not announced any intention of running for one, and, without requesting their company has a bigger press entourage, possibly, than the President of the United States. If she allowed it, they would crowd her out of every place she wants to visit. She visits. After riding in the Rolling Thunder rally in D.C., she has toured Mount Vernon, the Statue of Liberty, the Liberty Bell, and many other historic locales. She discussed their relevance to today with her children. And she, when tired and accosted by another reporter, made a vague reference to Paul Revere's warning to the British army that they would be in trouble...

Egad, but the press and the left-leaning bloggers leapt upon that! You'd have thought she had just given a toast to the Queen of England during the playing of their national anthem, or some pax equally faux. It was all over the world what a doofus the woman was, for not knowing that Paul Revere rode from Lexington to Concord shouting "The British are coming! the British are coming!" Never mind that the good people of Lexington, Concord, Boston, New York City, Philadelphia, and other points colonial were, at that time, all British, so that warning would have meant nothing. Never mind that Revere himself wrote that he had, indeed, warned the British soldiers -- who stopped him on the road and prevented him from completing his ride -- that they would be met with resistance. What was important to them was that she didn't tell the story as they knew it, so she was, therefore, obviously unqualified to be in front of their cameras, and they'd tell her so every time they took another picture of her.

But the funny thing is, her apparent error forced people who held no animus toward her to come to her defense. People who really hadn't cared a whit about the woman suddenly found themselves researching and posting the results which supported her statements. Even the über-left Los Angeles Times ran a piece online covering her six.

What's great about this is not that there are converts to some political side or other, though. What's cool is, suddenly you have all sorts of people actually checking historical facts, just because some want to play "gotcha" with a woman who doesn't -- and won't -- play by their rules. It doesn't matter who she is, really. It doesn't even matter what she is, except in that whatever it is, it incites a percentage of the population to a frenzy that would put a school of barracudas to shame. And that frenzy leads others to fact-check.

In other words, they read. They research. They revisit history texts and letters and notions that had been out of favor or merely tucked away for a generation or more. So, they do precisely what it is that Sarah Palin says was the purpose of her bus tour: to reinvigorate the discussion of America's beginnings, and of what it means to be an American patriot; to educate her children, and anybody else who wants to learn.

Sarah Palin is what every good history teacher hopes for. Even if she were dead wrong in any and every statement, Sarah Palin is a catalyst for study, a teaching tool of the best sort. American historians should thank her.

At Klip's Joint, everything is peaches and cream...and biscuits

2011-05-09T18:26:00.003-05:00

Today, another dessert made its way to the table. The weather was hot enough nobody was in the mood for hot dessert (okay, that's a lie. Pop could eat hot fruit pie no matter what the weather). I was borrowing from and adapting two separate recipes from our library (one an online recipe I'd printed out a couple of years ago, the other from one of those organization's cookbooks with the cheesy spiral binding).

I had a canister of those "poppin' fresh" biscuits. I had a can of cling peach halves. I had a carton of heavy cream. And, I cheated. I made springtime a little decadent, without slaving over the Hoosier cabinet work counter. 'Twas peachy and creamy and oh, so easy! If you want a simple treat, try this. I'm planning to work a new variation, soon, & will likely post that linky goodness, too.

Pucker up! I've been in the kitchen again

2011-04-30T18:52:00.003-05:00

In between bouts of preparation for tonight's supper of Cantonese Tomato Beef on rice (which recipe I have yet to post), I was working on becoming a limey... or something like it, anyway.

I made me some lime curd. Using teetoncey limes. I have officially done myself grievous bodily harm in the process, as pressing the juice out of a gazillion eetsy beetsy leetle ceetrusy fellers is wearing on everything between the ear and the fingertips.... I'm gonna have to ask Maus to give me a shoulder massage tonight, if she will.

Two words: As. If.

Or, maybe I should just rely on the shower massage and some acetaminophen.

What's yours is mine...

2011-04-26T20:10:00.003-05:00

I have a few friends who still believe what the far ends of the spectrum tell them about how life should be. On the one hand, I have those who fear for my immortal soul, mostly because I've yet to decide in the absolute that there is a supreme deity and/or an earthly representative. On the other hand, I have those who are convinced I need proper education in order to understand why, for example, I need a labor union to protect me from myself, if I ever go back to work at a day job.

Today, the faithful on the Right are pretty much leaving me alone. Must be residual effects of a high holy season, or something.

OTOH, I've been asked by somebody on the Left why I'm not up in arms over the high price of medicines, etc., and why I'm not "hating on big pharma" thing or some other such. Granted, I can't afford to take drugs to keep me on an even keel. Also granted, I'm not a big fan of drugging oneself in order to fit into society. But if I could, I would. Being crazy is not something to celebrate, any more than being born with no legs is. If they were giving away something which could make me less sick, I'd take it.

But I'm not interested in taking something from somebody else's mouth. And that's basically what some folks are demanding of the pharmaceutical companies.

How so? I hear someone cry...

Let's just pretend the big pharma guy is not a big pharma guy but a gardener. For the past ten years, he's been working in his back yard, in a little greenhouse and a half-acre beside it, weeding and hand-pollinating and obsessing over the perfect onion -- not too hot, high in vitamins, and with a shelf-life nearly triple that of any other onion. Every spare minute, every spare penny he has had, he has invested in his research, and then, one day, he has it. The onion is his, at last. The darned thing tastes great raw, bitten into like folks eat apples, is brilliant in every recipe, and is complete once sauteed and piled high on a nice steak (I'd better stop, before I make myself too hungry). So, anyway, this gardener files for a patent for his perfect onion, and tries to take it to the market.

Suddenly, everybody else wants this onion, and they tell him he has to not only share the secret of how to grow it, but, in order to show how humanitarian he is, he's expected to donate any and all of what he grows to the poor and hungry throughout the world.

Or, shall we pretend the big pharma guys are clothing designers and manufacturers. Is there a great hue and cry because Calvin Klein is not giving two-thirds of his net plus half his product to the great unwashed?

Why is it that, when somebody develops something in the medical or related industries, the rules suddenly fly out the window? Decades and fortunes spent on research and development count for nothing -- you're supposed to be in this strictly for humanitarian reasons, and any money recovered in the process is to be considered contaminated, evil. Millions invested in research to cure breast cancer or AIDS, and if you don't give the whole of your work away, you're not merely in league with the devil, you actually are Old Nick himself. Breaking even is a sin, earning even the faintest profit warrants consignment to the darkest pits of the netherworld for all eternity... and heaven forfend your profits should actually come up above what the average cashier at the corner dollar store earns in a given year!

Let's face it. We need incentive for people to buy into pharmaceutical companies. Without the promise of some small profit, nobody would invest in curing some of the rarest diseases. So, the big programs rake in a profit for treating something which, in and of itself, is not fatal, such as AIDS.

To my lefty friends, I ask, if it's so important for you to see everybody get this property from the companies which produce it, why don't you convince more of your friends to take up a collection to buy it from them, at a fair price? Otherwise, it's plain and simple theft, either direct or via extortion. And, you wouldn't like it if they stole from you, would you?

Bunnies took over my kitchen!

2011-04-21T13:29:00.004-05:00

In anticipation of Eostre's arrival, I've been assembling an army... getting hare in everybody's food. So, in honor of the day and the task, I give you Doodles Weaver, as well.

Not the effect they were aiming for

2011-04-14T12:51:00.003-05:00

A regional jewelry store has a banner ad at the local tv station's website, with the words "Turn WOW upside down for Mother's Day," and, of course, directly under the "WOW" they've placed "MOM", using a circular pendant for the "O".

I don't know if anybody bothered to tell them, but, in most people's minds, to suggest turning a positive ("WOW") upside down is to imply negating it.

IMHO, the better application of the reversal of text would be to say something akin to,

"Have MOM flip on Mother's Day." The "WOW" works just as well underneath as it does above, and the message is even more positive.

But maybe it's just me...

Caturday returns

2011-04-02T18:19:00.002-05:00

Maus (aka HRH Miss Mausiemaus, Princess of Incurably Cute and Cuddly) has missed these sessions before the camera... in a pig's eye. If the hand holds a camera, it can't skritch her or rub her jaw or otherwise appreciate her soft silky loveliness. But at least we have this pic. Take the time to show appropriate awe. The quality of my sleep depends on her degree of satisfaction.

Save the bones... somebody's veggin 'out

2011-03-26T17:30:00.005-05:00

This weekend, Klip's Joint is serving up recipes for Vegetable Broth, Philly Fish Chowder, and Anadama Bread. No bones about it. No land animals were harmed in the making of this feast. Just a bunch of nasty, slimy, scaly creatures of the deep... and some molasses.

Postcards: Jubilee!

2011-03-03T10:11:00.004-06:00

So, as most people who know me have recognized, I have a bit of an obsession with open communication, in the form of postycardzez...

A month or so ago, at auction, I picked up a beer flat filled with cards, a few with postmarks most of which were between 1908 and 1917. This set of four lacked postmarks. They lack popular "collectibility", too, because there is no graphic element to them -- no photo, no flowers, no cute illustration, no bought-and-paid-for message. Still, I couldn't resist putting them in my collection, just because. After all, how often do you come across an announcement card for a birthday with hundreds of hand-written repeats of the same three-word message?

In fact, on the address side of these cards, the writer scrawled the count:

"377 times"

"218 times"

"677"

"640 times"

detail from second image

It's "Hexter's Golden Jubilee"!

(And it brings forth fond memories of naughty schoolchildren assigned the disciplinary "I will not [insert offense here] in school again." Write that in your notebook a few hundred times, and have it back to me by tomorrow at the beginning of class.)

The more things change...

2011-02-23T11:09:00.012-06:00

So, at auction on Sunday, I spent wildly on postcards (I know, I know -- you are shocked!), and also bought a flat of paper goods having nothing to do with postage, but irresistible to pass by. This is why:

front

back

approximately the same size as a certain standard Government-issued paper article upon which we are heavily dependent, these were published in 1936.

Here they are, cleaned up & converted to B&W images.

(Click on any image to embiggen.)

I think these require no comment. Unless you want to add your $0.02.

Ach! those oxen!

2011-02-07T19:08:00.003-06:00

Anybody who knows me can tell you I spend far too much time on a certain social network, frittering away my life in its endless apps. I kinda like them. a little.

Okay, I'm a bit of an addict.

But one thing that gets me in a mood to ditch them all is misinformation. Sometimes, it's the misspelling of a simple word, such as a kestrel being labeled as "kestral," or the redundancy of "narwhal whale". But, most of the time, I simply utter an "aargh!" and move on.

Still, one thing that keeps popping up in a number of games is of the bovine ilk. To be more specific, the ox. In one game, I was awarded "an oxen". In several others, I see cows are grown from "baby cow" while oxen -- or, in one game, "oxes" -- come from "baby ox". It appears the folks who write these programs are city kids who might not even be able to tell the difference between a cow pony and a cow patty.

For those whose experiences do not entail... er... oxtails, let me make this a little clearer.

You begin with a calf. It comes from a cow. That cow was once a heifer, but she got old enough to become mate to a bull. Now, that bull was once a calf, too, and grew up, grew a pair, and took an interest in reproduction. Not all male calves get to do that. In fact, the majority of male calves in western civilization are neutered. They don't live very long, after that -- not because they are pining for what they've lost. No. In truth, they have foreshortened lives because, once they are snipped, they are encouraged to become soft and lazy, producing massive amounts of meat, for which they will be slaughtered at the end of a couple of years, at most. So, an altered bull is a steer... under normal circumstances. Under optimal circumstances (for the steer), it gets a job. Hitch it up to a cart or a plough, and it becomes an ox. Two or more of these, combined, will be oxen. It's as simple as that.

So, let me rehash that, in plain, clear English, for programmers:

Cow + bull -> calf.

Girl calf = gonna be a heifer = probably gonna be a cow.

Boy calf = maybe gonna be a bull.

Boy calf - testicles = steer.

(Boy calf - testicles) + career = ox.

x(Boy calf - testicles) + career = oxen (when x >1).

Clear enough?

Not that I think it's going to make a difference with these apps... that would be as delusional as thinking I'm going to win the lottery, or something. But I feel better, now.

Madness and politics...

2011-01-10T11:43:00.004-06:00

I am insane. I am also politically aware (albeit not to a level of expertise I would prefer). This does not mean I am going to go out and shoot a bunch of strangers, no matter how much I loathe their views or actions. Those who think that it is politics which continues to trigger violent outbursts... well, they have their own insanity, don't they?

Remember when the experts blamed rock and roll music for assassinations? Or, for that matter, the violent television programs and movies? Twinkies? It's easy to point a finger at apparent influences, isn't it? But the trouble is, nuts are nuts. Regardless of what you put into their heads, the noise was already there, driving them to the point of pain and beyond.

And, if I thought it were apt, I might use the late incident of a madman in Arizona as a clear indictment of the mental health care system in our country today.

Unfortunately, treatment for insanity is still iffy at best, especially for those who have yet to do themselves or others any genuine harm. Most of us with mental illnesses live our lives threatening only ourselves, if that. And, from my own experience, I can safely say that clear and accurate diagnosis of a specific disorder may take years... or never come at all. You can not cure what you can not identify correctly. And, what with the shrinking budgets of many states, it is getting harder and harder to find a place where people like me (financially strapped and in a small rural community) can get help, even if we are properly diagnosed. No pointing of fingers... it's just reality, that the bottom line will always affect somebody, no matter how well-meaning the world tries to be.

And, in case you were thinking somebody should have been locked away years ago, when he first started showing signs of being nuts... our civil rights as Americans trump the responsibility of other citizens to take preemptive action against us crazies. Anything less than that, and we would be no better than Cuba or the old USSR (maybe even current Russia, although I can't prove anything, there), locking people away merely for political opposition. I may be nuts, but I'm not nuts enough to trust the system to protect the rest of our citizens from that kind of abuse, should we go down the preemption path again (yes, we did some of that, way back in the dark ages, up until the ACLU came in and emptied out asylums in the '70s).

There is no real fix for the problem of troubled minds. Madness exists, and it does real harm, but unless and until we can find a true, affordable treatment which does not violate our rights as citizens, expectations of safety from madness in this world will still be a fantasy. Life will always be a crapshoot.

Someone's in the kitchen with dishpan hands...

2010-12-10T14:58:00.003-06:00

Mom & I have been playing again in the kitchen ('tis the season, after all). Mom does the serious stuff, while I stick to idiot's delight activities, much to my delight.

Last week, I taught a couple of friends how to make a good basic brown gravy (my fave is Thanksgiving turkey gravy on anything, from taters to rice to a slab of bread). If you can cook meat, you can usually make gravy, too... unless you really like working with that extra-lean meat. And I can work around that, given enough advance notice. But I didn't do any of that, this week. I don't have much energy, still after having fought off the latest influenza (coughing for a month is not my idea of a swell holiday activity). I wanted to keep things simple.

This week, I went crazy and cranked up the oven for some baked goods... sort of. My main project: "What a Maroon's Macaroons." I'm posting it over in Mom's kitchen, aka Klip's Joint.

There's a little extra, too, for Christmas....

What's mine is mine

2010-12-07T13:36:00.003-06:00

According to my understanding of the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution (and I grant, I am no legal scholar of the documents -- just a sufferer of a slightly-above-average amount of history education), all men are created equal, and shall be treated as such under the laws of this great nation.

So, how is it that we have had a different set of standards for taxation of citizens? How is it that our leaders can be -- and have been for more than a century -- demonizing "the rich" and taking away from them a greater percentage of their earnings than they do others? I thought we were supposed to be the great egalitarian society, and the Land of Opportunity, but what the POTUS says is, we are a nation divided along class lines, just like Europe of two centuries past.

When will this nitwit and his ilk realize that class warfare is a nihilist game, and using the government to wage that war is quite the opposite of what the founders had in mind. When will it occur to them that undermining "the rich" employers also drags down the workers? To make the wealthy poor makes everybody poorer, because, not only are they destroying the source of employment, but they're also killing the goose that lays the golden eggs of investment in medicine, technology, art, and even infrastructure? If the government aim is ultimately to own everybody and everything so they can redistribute it as they see fit, aren't we little better than Zimbabwe?

And, on the subject of Constitution and our properties and persons... why is everybody discussing the TSA grope-and-hope stuff as an issue of privacy? That term is too (a) terribly overused, and therefore (b) too vague and generic to be remotely useful in this debate. It's not about mere privacy, here. It's about unwarranted search and seizure. When did this thumbing of the nose at of the laws of nature (man mechanically lifting his person in flight) actually violate Constitutional rights? How is the generic search of persons who travel even remotely warranted? Did somebody put a devil's clause in the ticket sales contract, surrendering all personhood once one sets foot on the concourse of an airport? Is it really too much to demand that the authorities first have probable cause before they scan our skivvies or put their hands on our erogenous zones?

Not that I fly. I'm just trying to wrap my head around this thing. I was raised to believe we had rights -- not the least of which being that nobody can search us or seize our persons and properties without our having first broken some specific law. I guess the documents I read are not related to the ones the current POTUS used to teach young'uns about.

In a stew...

2010-12-07T13:29:00.003-06:00

Just taste-tested a pot of chili I made for tonight's Warren County Doll Club meeting (Christmas potluck). It's a variation on this recipe. I made it extra-mild for the delicate taste buds of most of the elderly Midwestern ladies. It still has a little kick, though, so I'd better pack extra sour cream, shredded cheese, and such, just in case.

O'course, if I were making it for just myself, I'd have doubled the normal number & heat of serrano peppers, & had my sinuses finally cleared up. sigh. Maybe I should pack some of my many varieties of salsa, for kicks.

food for fun

2010-10-15T16:24:00.003-05:00

This sweet pertater is sweet on you....

Guilty pleasures

2010-09-28T21:12:00.002-05:00

We all have them. One of my favorites actually contributes to my living cleanly, though. I like bubble baths. I like to fill the bathroom with lit candles, fill the tub with hot water topped with a great heap of foam, and lower myself into the bath for an hour or so.

It isn't because I like to luxuriate, though (pleasant though that may be). The candles are a mask, in case somebody comes along and sees the residual bubbles by the drain.

I like the bubbles. I sing the old jingle, "Mister Bubble in the tub'll/ Get you squeaky clean...." I splash about for a while. But mostly, I sculpt the foam around me. I'm particularly fond of turning myself into Santa Claus, and/or extend my mammaries an extra few cup sizes (and make them far perkier than they have been, of late). But I've made myself into a unicorn, built a spare cat at the edge of the bath, built handlebars and gone for imaginary bike rides, and made up countless other fantasies in foam.

I'm led to believe that this is immature, and therefore inappropriate for a woman of my advanced years (gad, but once one puts a half-century behind one, people make such assumptions about one's condition!).

What I would like to know is, am I the only one who likes the froth for the fun of it, or are there other supposed adults who, when they build a head of lather, do something other than simply hide beneath it?

Afterlife

2010-09-23T10:00:00.003-05:00

A man of none-too-exemplary character passed on, and was met cordially on the other side by a creature with horns, a tail, and a pitchfork. He was surprised by the gentility of his host, and happily allowed himself to be shown around.

"Just as with my counterpart above," the creature told him, "there are many rooms in my home. And, as in His house, you will be allowed to choose for yourself which one of those rooms will be yours for the rest of eternity. The only difference is, here, you have to make your choice without first seeing what's behind the door."

The man nodded and indicated he was ready to consider his future more thoroughly. As they approached each door, though, the screams and lamentations behind it seemed to be more pained and horrified than from the door before. After hearing hundreds of options of this sort, though, they finally came to a place where, beyond the closed portal, only a calm murmur could be heard. The man sighed with relief, and announced that this was the room for him.

"Done!" cried the creature as he opened the door. In the room was nothing but a pit filled with stinking manure, and every person was in the manure up to the edge of his lower lip, whispering, "Don't make waves... don't make waves... don't make waves...."

So, now we have press and politicians who seem to think that this is our current position, especially as it applies to Islamists. If we speak out against the building of a mosque in an inappropriate location, if a jackass preacher in a piss-ant church threatens to burn Qurans, if a cartoonist proposes everybody draw anything and call it Mohammad, that person is making waves, and everybody else is going to get... well, you can see where that will go.

We may be in deep organic waste matter, but it isn't that deep, yet. We still have a Constitutional right not merely to have, but to express our opinions. We still have freedom, at least in the West, to choose our own path of Faith (or not, as the case may be), and to express both privately and publicly that belief. As long as we continue to stand for our principles, we will keep that manure pit from filling. But, every time government and press insist that we self-censor out of fear that somebody might be hurt, and we comply, they empty another septic tank into the pit.

So, you wanna make the connection?

2010-09-21T00:34:00.003-05:00

Several high-ranking members of the Democratic party have recently taken to referring to the Republicans as being (and I paraphrase) the home of the Tea Party. This is just silly. The Tea Party, non-partisan group that it is, was born in the house of the insane spendthrifts of both parties.

However, if the Republicans want to give the correct response to such declarations, their leaders ought to stand up and say simply, "We humbly appreciate the comparison and the assumption that there are ties between us and this movement by the good and honest people of this great nation. If we are to benefit from any perceived allegiance, we must then rise to the occasion by following the direction of the people, and strive to meet the implied expectations therein. In other words, we can think of no greater compliment than to be linked to the hearts of free-thining Americans, and we will do all we can to win those hearts and continue to earn that link."

Okay, I'm not a speechwriter, but it seems to me, the best reply to the accusations that the Republicans and the Tea Party to be in bed together is to say, "I wish!" And then go out and try to make it true, the old-fashioned way: earn the public respect and trust. It's short notice before this election, sure, but I don't think this populist movement is terribly short-lived. This has been brewing a long time, and Americans' life expectancy -- unless Obamacare really does take over -- is still pretty high.

New old kid on the block...

2010-09-19T17:40:00.005-05:00

Just for the heck of it, I've invited The Bat to contribute her own blogginess to the world, so I've helped set up a page just for our shared hobby... food. It's mostly for our own recipes -- favorites, greatest temptations, most intriguing discoveries, and such. The Bat has a large collection of old family secrets she's willing to share, since we were never big on secrets, anyway. She also has a rather obscene number of cookbooks, of all ages and styles, from Julia Child to Pillsbury's Bake-Off winners, from vanity press to Cordon Bleu. As we stumble across what we think deserves sharing, we'll post (attributions will accompany anything we steal from outside sources. There is honor among these thieves).

If, as you wander over onto our foodies' site, you have a particular recipe you want to share, please feel free to send one of us an e-mail, & we'll be on it as soon as possible. If you know we have a special recipe you have a sudden need for, let us know, & we'll do our best to post that, as well. There may even be opportunities for cross-posting, if occasion calls for it. We're not fussy when it comes to that sort of thing.

"Fiscally conservative Democrat"

2010-09-04T10:36:00.002-05:00

I hear tell there are Democratic Party candidates running on a fiscally conservative platform. I am reminded of the Gary Larson Far Side comic of a group of vultures around some bones, one of which vultures has donned hat and vest and is saying, "Hey, everybody, look at me, I'm a cowboy! Howdy, howdy, howdy!"

Iggernance doesn't sell

2010-08-27T12:17:00.002-05:00

Why is it that advertisers seem to think we're all ignorant schmucks who missed out on all the major advances of the twentieth century?

I'm talking, today, about a certain automobile manufacturer which, in its ads run during the tennis matches today, touts the "new" safety feature, wherein the vehicle's frame has some sections collapse on impact, while other parts of the frame remain rigid.

Well, now, I suppose that would be novel, if safety engineers hadn't invented the crumple zone for cars back in the 1950s!

So, now, I'm supposed to be impressed at this "innovation". Ooooh. Ahhh. Lookit me I'm dancin' with excitement.

Sheesh.

2010-08-21T09:26:00.003-05:00

In one of those investment companies' advertisements, the voice-over guy says, "some things need to be percise..."

Apparently, proper enunciation isn't one of them.

So, let me get this straight...

2010-08-16T13:24:00.002-05:00

Am I to understand that it's okay for the government to tell me what I should and shouldn't eat (sody-pop, Big Mag, or whatever), even though it really affects only my own comfort; and the government can tell us what medical treatments are appropriate for hospice care (disallowing heroin, e.g. to those with pain which can only be treated with opiates and opioids); and the government can force private companies to fire employees, redistribute the proceeds from shares -- taking them from honest shareholders (many of them pensioners whose shares are part of their 401(k) ) and handing the money and controls to democrat pals in the unions; and the federal government thinks it can require private doctors and hospitals to perform operations which are, in their view, immoral, indecent and homicidal, and require private insurance companies to pay for the same; and the federal government thinks it can tell us what, where, and how to teach our children; and the federal government thinks it can put a knee-jerk ban on exploring and drilling for much-needed fossil fuels in the Gulf of Mexico, regardless of the safety records of those other companies whose drilling rights had already been federally- and state-approved; and the federal government is attempting to tell us what and how we can communicate via electronic media; and the local government has denied permission for a Greek Orthodox church which had stood near Ground Zero and was forced to move due to 9/11-related damage, to return to their original site, and we're told that's an appropriate decision; but when a bunch of in-your-face anti-U.S.-Constitution asshats who support terrorism and terrorists (and has the support of terrorist groups like Hamas) wants to build a middle-finger-flipped-at-decency, dance-on-the-graves-of-3000-murder-victims, "victory"-advertising mosque on hallowed ground in NYC while giving political lip-service to "tolerance", the administration says it's none of their business, or, more importantly, none of ours?

Tell me I'm just confused.

A little more Fra Hubbard on Unions...

2010-08-09T18:59:00.004-05:00

As I posted yesterday, I bought a lovely pamphlet at auction. The document is a century old, and, startlingly enough, the more things change over such time, the more they stay the same... Elbert Hubbard had quite a moment expressing himself on the subject of labor union demands.

I posted the first section of that pamphlet on my Friday's Klips blog.

I have now posted part two of that same document, here, at Friday's Klips.

Here's another sample, to whet your appetite:

We long ago decided not to be ruled by a person in England, or a man in Italy. The Anglo-Saxon is a transplanted Teuton, with a dash of hardy Norse in his fiber that makes slavery for him out of the question. In every land upon which he has placed his foot, he has found either a throne or a grave. ¶ When those Norsemen with their yellow hair flying in the breeze sailed up the Seine, the people on the shore called to them in amazement and asked, "Where are you from and who are your masters?"
And the defiant answer rang out over the waters, "We are from round the world, and we call no man master !"
To these men we trace a pedigree. And think you we are to trade the freedom for which we have fought, for the rule of a Business Agent graduated from a cigar factory?
Excuse this smile––I really can't help it.

Tell us, what do you think of Unions, Fra Hubbard?

2010-08-08T17:23:00.004-05:00

I do my Sunday stint at auction here in my little corner of the universe, and today, I think I struck gold. Aside from a first-edition Twain "Tramp Abroad" (not in terribly good condition, but Mom doesn't mind, as long as the text is all there), I also picked up a set of three Fra Elbert Hubbard pamphlets published by the Roycrofters in AD 1910. The one I wanted most, I looked up to see if I could find a copy online, &, well, it wasn't listed except as something I might want to spend $7.95 (plus S&H) if I had it, and, well, this was too good to make people fork over cash to share an idea or two.

And so, today, I have posted the first half of Fra Hubbard's "The Closed or Open Shop?" over at Friday's Klips. I've done my best to copy it out faithfully, including his own paragraph markers (¶) (and any errors in spelling or typing are mine), but other details I have no way to copy save scanner and much more time on my hands. Still, I offer this lovely segment as enticement to those who would read a bold thinker's words:

When Unionism gets to a point where it dictates to the employer whom he shall hire, and decides who shall have the right to labor and who not, then Unionism has become un-American –– a menace too great to overlook. Unlimited power is always dangerous when centered in the hands of a few men.
The American Federation of Labor is controlled by eleven men.
These men are not working men. They may have been once, but now they live in the labor of others.
They undertake to manipulate and regulate the lives of those who toil, and take toll for their service. The result is that, being humans, they are drunk –– power-crazed by success –– and are attempting to run an engine fitted for fifty miles an hour at a speed of one hundred. It is the working out of the Law of Diminishing Returns. From being a benefit, the Labor-Union has become a burden. the few men who control the Labor-Unions have created a phantom in their minds called "Capital," which they think is after them and is going to shunt them into the ditch. They have frightened the laborers so long with ghost-stories that they have come to believe their own fabrications.
What shall be done about this insane clutch for power? Must we forever endure the rule of the Demagog?
Who is right in this question of "Labor versus Capital"?
I'll tell you : both sides are right and both sides are wrong. The capitalists of this country, for the most part, were once working men, and many are working men now.
And any laborer who owns a home and has a savings-bank account is a capitalist.

Solving a problem the old-fashioned way

2010-08-05T00:19:00.002-05:00

Anybody who ever looks at me knows I like food. I like to cook. I like to eat. I like to eat what I cook. And, as a result, I like to get recipes and ideas from all over the place, for the day when I can afford to buy really good ingredients, instead of ramen noodles and the like.

It seems that most of the cooking sites I surf through (and a few of those who send me stuff in my e-mail) have decided that the summer heat has prompted everybody to want to make ice cream. Of course, not everybody has an ice cream maker. I have three different ones, of two distinct types, one of which is completely useless (the electric crank puppy I bought at auction is older than I am, and I wouldn't feel safe plugging it in to a d-cell). The others are the sorts for which you put a canister in the freezer and, when you're inclined, dig it out and occasionally give its paddles a crank. They're easy to use, a pain to clean up if you want to make multiple batches.

But I kept looking at all these bizarre solutions for ice cream making coming from people who think the only answer is a blend of ice cube trays and blenders or food processors. Nuh. Too much mess, not enough pleasure. And, I'm actually too darned cheap to invest in an effective food processor, when I could (and did) pick up a heavy-duty blender and a batch of very nice knives at auction for under $10. Sadly, I have no electrical outlet into which I can plug the blender, so I've had to lend it to somebody until I can afford to get an electrician to... heck, let's be real, until I win the lottery.

On the other hand, nearly every kitchen -- even my ill-equipped one -- has a set of inexpensive nesting metal mixing bowls, or a bunch of bowls that can serve the same purpose. Or, if you don't have a set, you can pick them up at a dollar store or some discount shop, dirt cheap. And they can be used for more than just this task, which makes them desirable, no?

So, anyway, as they used to do a century or more ago, one takes the largest bowl and fills it about an inch or so deep with ice and a little rock salt. Set in the center of this, the bowl a couple of inches in diameter smaller (you need a little room between the walls of the bowls), then start pouring in layers of ice and rock salt (be careful you don't dump salt, etc, into the inner bowl, or you'll have less-tasty ice cream), until you've made a good, icy nest...

Pour your ice cream concoction of choice into the little bowl, and then start to stir it slowly with a good wooden spoon, a heavy spatula, or whatever you have that's available (probably not so ideal to use a bamboo whisk, though). Stir the creamy mixture from the edges into the center, letting the stuff set at its own steady pace.

It's a helluva lot cheaper -- and easier to clean up -- than all those machines.

Still, I like my little Donvier Half-Pint when I crave my yoplait deeply-chilled and in a cone.

Question about the future of Ground Zero, NY

2010-07-28T00:08:00.003-05:00

If the Cordoba Initiative gets to build its mosque atop ground zero, can we surround & enclose it with a multi-religion "Vienna Park?"

(also posted on Twitter)

Unto the nether world flees Proserpina

2010-07-13T13:33:00.004-05:00

It never would have occurred to me a year ago, but, by definition, mammals have mammary glands, and mammary glands, like any other part of an animal, can be subject to cancer. It isn't just people who suffer and die from breast cancer. Sometimes, the smaller treasures are taken, too.

This past weekend, Proserpina, aka Peanut, my Little Legume, took ill. She was ornery and fussy and bossy and opinionated and selfish and ruled the house with a steel paw and sharp claw... and an amazingly funny manner. Until Sunday. In the wee hours, long after I gave her her flea treatment, she showed signs of being unable to keep her food down. I believed it might have been poisoning, so I worried a bit, but the nausea seemed to quit after the morning had passed. Next, Peanut showed weakness in her hindquarters, with a pronounced dragging of her left hind foot. The symptoms became worse over the next day, but with both Mom and me suffering from stomach flu, we weren't in much of a position to do anything, ourselves. Unfortunately, today I found Peanut lying under the bed in a puddle of her own urine. It was obvious she was not going to get better on her own. I persuaded Mom to take us to the vet's office, where we left Peanut to be examined.

She had breast cancer. Lots of it. You don't really think about it, but she had six nipples, which means four more mammary glands than a primate has. They were all beginning to develop lumps, and one, which had had a cyst long years before, had developed a non-cyst lump I hadn't noticed because she had never liked anybody messing with her voluminous soft underbelly.

She had other problems, too, but the veterinarian said the treatment for those was manageable. The cancer was not.

This little girl came to me a decade ago, when I first moved into the house I now occupy. She already owned it, having taken up residence under its back porch. She was never bashful, demanding that I feed her every time I came outside. In fact, she did the same to all the houses in the neighborhood, a fact I learned long after she moved indoors in our house.

Having come from below, in time for the winter to recede, I thought it natural to name her after the Queen of the Underworld, daughter of Ceres, delight of the seasons, Proserpina (not the Greek version for the cat of a mediocre Latin student). "Proserpina" quickly became "Peanut", as she usually showed more signs of nuttiness in her demeanor. Most cats, when they choose to rest, will ease themselves into a lounging or stretched lying pose, but Peanut simply capsized to the starboard or port, whichever side had less of an obstacle beneath her.

She stole clean socks from my dresser drawers, separated them from each other and buried one of each of perhaps a dozen different pairs deep beneath my bed, where only she could reach without pain. She climbed through small openings to hide behind books on my shelves, knocking over tchochkes as she went, necessitating that I own no fine glass or porcelain -- or clocks, cameras, desktop telephones, or other such small breakables.

She bullied all other animals who came within a paw's reach, but never actually applied a claw, even when it was called for. She was a blustering bowl of pudding, one who loved to see me come in the door each night, chattered and mewed as I put her supper down for her, and would bolt it down so she could race to sit on my chest and purr as I brushed her short fur backwards and rightwards and rubbed her stumpy little ears before anybody could interrupt us.

But this past week was too much for her. There was no leaping to my chest, there was no growling at her adopted sister, Maus; there was only a rapidly declining form and a struggle to mime a "meow."

And, so, my clownish little baby, maiden empress of the seasons, has gone to her groom and her throne, pomegranate seed debt repaid in full. And, I, like Ceres, do not know how to fill the void.

SCOTUS says keep your paws off my pistol

2010-06-29T11:18:00.003-05:00

In the past few years, I've seen quite a turnaround in my family. My parents, who are teetotalers, who haven't danced since the fiddler retired, and who did, in the Reagan years, support gun control legislation because "guns are dangerous", have come around. They now say that governments are more dangerous, especially when they try to take away our Constitutionally guaranteed rights.

I'd have never imagined, when I wore my hair long and in my face, that my hippie days would end, also. Well, they haven't, entirely. In fact, I think I've become more anti-establishment than ever. Still, I'm not one advocating tuning in, turning on and dropping out. Been there, done that, got the certification to prove that self-medication doesn't work when you're already nuts. I have no interest in socialism, or other aims of the Left. Their espoused good intentions have paved a major highway, haven't they? As a matter of fact, I have no use for Reds, in general or at specifics.

I am a reactionary of a different color (or three, to be precise. Figure it out for yourself).

So, last night, while I was packing up the kittehs to take them home from their weekend at Grammaw's, I heard the discussion between Hannity and his pal Bob Beckel about the SCOTUS decision, and Beckel tossed out the favorite defense of gun control legislation: children. As in, "Do you know how many children die each year from gun accidents?" Isn't it time somebody responded to that question with another simple question: "Do you know how many children die each year in water accidents? Let us ban all pools. Let us ban all boats, rivers, lakes, ponds. Let us ban bathtubs, sinks, bird baths. Let us ban puddles (that should work around the Midwest, this summer. Yeah, sure). " Come on, people, carry it through to its logical conclusion!

Banning a thing by law does not make anybody safer. In fact, as we have seen in city after city where legislation forbids law-abiding citizens the right to defend themselves, the violent crime rate has increased. In the cases of drowning, it is not that the pool is there, but that the child has not learned, yet, how to behave safely in and around water. The same can be said of firearms in the hands of children (and laws in the hands of politicians, too, except, I think that kids can learn. Most politicians are idiots with a singularly unimpressive learning curve). The trick is to teach people to keep and use these things responsibly. That's not something modern governments have much talent at.

So, I'm relieved that the Supreme Court decided that neither the city nor the state may override the US Constitution as it comes to gun ownership. It's a step in the right direction. We can only hope they will continue to protect the Constitution, and thereby protect us from the idiots we elect. I won't hold my breath, though.

Are you sure you want that system?

2010-06-10T11:34:00.007-05:00

Your -ism or -archy may seem very nice

If you think you'll sit at the top of the -arch.

Will you be so pleased with your new world order

When some total stranger tells you how to march?

-rk

"Gifted" is not a verb

2010-06-06T07:51:00.003-05:00

Wow. Two posts in two days. It looks as though I'm going for a record, today...

Anyhoos.

Since when have we needed to find a new way of saying "given" or "donated"? These are perfectly good words, are they not? Do they not express the action of moving one object or substance from one person or group to another via an act of largesse? Why do we suddenly (well, within the past decade or so) have to appropriate a noun or an adjective to serve as a new verb?

I do not "gift" you a present on your birthday, even if I like you heaps. I might give you a spiffy prezzie, but that's as far as the word goes. If I say, "My sister is gifted," you should presume not that she has been donated to the nearest charitable organization, but that she has an extraordinary talent (and you would presume correctly about her extraordinary talent, no matter which of my sisters you envisioned). Or, for those people who care not a whit about my family, how do you like the notion that butchering the language is going to kill the humor in one of the many genuinely laugh-out-loud scenes in Blazing Saddles -- the one where Sheriff Bart meets Lili Von Shtupp in her dressing room, after she puts out the light... "is it twooo?"

Nobody "gifted" Sheriff Bart. And, yet, he was gifted, by God.

HT win friends and influence...

2010-06-05T17:22:00.005-05:00

I know it's been a while since I last posted, here. I'd like to say it's because I've had more important things to do, but it's mostly that I've been too darned lazy to focus.

I've been spending a bit of time on one of those networking sites, swapping nonsense with people I used to know quite well and now... well, thirty years later, we still have a few things in common.

Some of us.

Mostly, we play games. It doesn't provide one with much reason to post on a blog.

Today, I have an excuse.

I had, shall we say, a bit of a discussion. It started off innocuously enough: a former colleague (who -- I hope -- will forgive me for going public on this) posted a link to the video of Helen Thomas' egregious remarks regarding Israel. Another person who had once worked with him left an ad hominem attack on the poster, on the source, and on Jonah Goldberg and Glenn Beck, labeling them as antisemitic. Heh.

My mother responded:

[name redacted] I've seen the video..have you? Glenn Beck was defending Israel's actions this week. Keep Jimmy Carter in mind when you blame the Right for Anti-Semitism.

The fellow tossed another ad hominem attack, including me muddah, labeling her a "right wingnutt" and declaring that "everybody knows the only antisemites are on the right..."

I responded:

Interesting. [Name redacted], here you have been presented with clear evidence of the left's -- and a powerful member of the Mainstream Media's -- severe anti-Semitic bias, and not only do you refuse to see it, but you throw about unfounded accusations.

How does the nice Jewish man and Israel supporter Jonah Goldberg get labeled Anti-Semitic? Or, for that matter, Glenn Beck, whose open support for Israel has been voiced repeatedly (and whose staff includes several orthodox Jews)? So far as I've seen, the only far -right-nutcase who has spoken anything close to anti-Semitic or anti-Israel has been Pat Buchanan, and even the rest of the far right nutcases tend to move away when he pipes up.

One of the clearest signs of anti-Semitism is to support the avowed mortal enemies of Jews and Israel.

Your attempt at deflection is lame, at best.

Next thing I know, this person has come to me... that is, he posted on my wall, rather than trying to carry on the conversation in view of the others, in the original thread. On my wall:

Frankly, I'm sick to death of ignorant people like you and [my friend]. I don't need anyone giving me lectures, least of all you, about what is or isn't anti-semitism. I suggest reading a good book or two, and not one suggested by a FOX News commentator. You and your ilk scare me.
Have a nice life, wallowing in your willfull ignorance.

Sigh. On my wall. I responded:

Such a sad commentary on your presumed tolerant left. Your snap judgment based on a single remark, and I know more about your views and purported education than you will ever know of mine.

He:

OOOO I'm so scared of you! Which is a good thing. And it isn't a snap judgement dear. Scott constantly throws these bombs out. And by the way, you know nothing about me sweet heart.

Honey buns, the evidence tells me you're really good at knee-jerk, and that you think ad-hominem attacks are a good debate technique... puts you in the same group as so many other leftwits. That, and you called me "sweet heart" indicates you think you're superior to me by dint of my support of Scott's post, and you're a sexist pig.

All right. I tossed an ad hominem. But the evidence supported it, didn't it?

Anyway, back to the convo.

He:

You are good. Must be nice being you. Until you look in the mirror, that is. Please, you right wingers and your "bloody shirts" are full of bull shit. Always will be. Now be a good wingnutt and leave me alone.

Umm. You posted on MY [networking] page. You walked into my house ant (sic) tossed about insults. How did you continue to work at [a place at which public relations will always be first and foremost, and rudeness will get you summarily dismissed] with those manners, little man?

(I'm not always the best typost...) ;-)

He:

LOL. Well YOU worked there too didn't you?

I had done so, long years ago. Very astute of him, no?

Anyway, back to the dialog. He:

And I don't recall posting on your page. I responded to something [that friend] did, not you. Although it seems I've uncovered another one of you rightist/libertarian types. Plus your mother! LOL

Oh, good gravy. "LOL" twice in as many posts. Such wit!

Sorry. The dialog. I:

You clicked on my name in the little box. That puts you squarely in my [networking site] house, posting a note to me. If you hadn't wanted to post privately, you might more easily have replied in [the friend]'s thread.

I did work at [that place], for five years. Glad to say I don't remember working with you.

And, I've never been "covered", politically. You didn't need to pull back the curtain --unless you're talking about one around your own little mental shelter.

He:

Well then, dear, take a flying leap. And any reply to this will be considered stalking. Sweet heart. I mean that kindly, considering how butt ugly I'm sure you still are. Have a great day!

Now, long years ago I came to grips with the fact that I aint the purtiest pearl at the prom, but that's just plain irrelevant, isn't it? I ask you, did I just have a battle of wits with an unarmed man, or, as I described on my networking page, an a$$-kicking contest with a no-legged man? Has this person really spent his entire opportunity to debate an issue lashing out without a single reasoned argument?

Is this as commonplace among those on the political extremes as it seems (it seems I see more of it coming, these days, from the left, but that just may be that I'm avoiding listening to the real nutters on the right, and the nutters on the left won't allow me to ignore them).

And, moreover, does posting this here and sharing the bloggy post on my [networking site] page qualify as stalking? Hmmm. If I had boots, I might be quaking in them. ::snort, snort, guffaw::

Don't ask, don't argue

2010-02-07T14:42:00.004-06:00

I've been considering the question currently on the lips of the moderate- to far-left, of rescinding the military policy of don't-ask-don't-tell. The argument used is that the policy "forces people to live a lie." Therefore, the policy must die.

I really don't get the part where this policy forces lies. All it requires is discretion. In other words, keep your sex life to yourself. It's pretty much the same rule for women in service, isn't it? Fraternizing is frowned upon, so don't get caught. They don't want to know that you're having sex, let alone with whom. That's been my own personal view for a while, too. Not that I'm against people having sex... I just don't want to have to think about their doing so. I have an unfortunately graphic imagination, and I'd like it to not go there.

But here the liberal masses are, trying to revoke a policy which was, actually, written to protect gays in the military from unfortunate repercussions... the policy against fraternization and the policies against various turpitudes are old-fashioned and yet designed to maintain a certain solid structure, a solidarity among the troops, a grounding for trust from top to bottom, as it were.

There are still problems with sexist behaviors within the ranks, violence against homosexuals and against women, as well as against others who may not immediately be seen as "fitting in" with the rest of a given unit. And, too often, the internal judicial system doesn't measure up to the needs of those who have borne the brunt of such attacks. It seems to me, before the military lifts the policy on sharing information on your sexual habits with everybody around you, the real target should be, simple and plain, making sure that the troops are ready for the reality that women and gays and other "outsiders" will be let in, and will be able to actually serve their country well.

They don't need to lift a mind-your-own-damned-business policy. They just need to make sure that the real issue that gets addressed always will be the individual's capability and worth in service.

Can't sleep? Have your septum pierced.

2010-01-05T16:06:00.004-06:00

Let your cat do the surgery. Don't take time to apply an analgesic or antiseptic in advance of the action. In fact, just let your cats cuddle up around your chin and chest, until one decides the other shouldn't be sharing this nice snuggle time with the old geezer who feeds them and grooms them and otherwise does a fair job of worshipping them. At that point, just make sure your face is partially between the two of them.

It won't actually cure insomnia, but it will give you a better reason for sitting up than "it's too cold to sleep." After all, it will require nearly a full box of tissues, or several trips to the sink to rinse the damp washcloth. It takes a while for the bleeding to stop (one may also be tempted, on a miserable January night, to simply put one's nose just outside the door, where the sub-zero temperature and wind chill could serve as well as an ice pack to slow the flow, but don't give in to that, unless absolutely necessary. It will attract the attention of the neighborhood raccoons and opossums). Half the night will be gone, and you won't have even noticed its passage.

On the plus side, if you're like me, you'll have warmed up the atmosphere fairly well with a spectacular array of good old monosyllabic terms the use of which your mother might not approve. A cold, wintry bedroom does shift rapidly under those conditions.

And, you have the added bonus of seeing the two cats fly off the bed to end up crouched in opposite corners of the room, staring at each other, one looking mightily miffed, the other smug -- as if to say, at least now you can't get those chin skritches you were working toward...

Of course, you know you're looking at a true cat person when the cats are allowed back onto the bed, snuggling on the pillow, within a half hour after the final drop of blood falls -- and there's no complaint about little ones snoring or whiskers tickling that damaged nose.

What snew with you?

2009-12-19T00:11:00.003-06:00

I have, as the remaining few of you who occasionally stop by, been neglecting this blog. What's worse, it is for no good reason. I am not more depressed than usual, and neither am I more active than usual... except for the week around TanksGibbon, when my seester and her husband and their dog and cat came to visit. OY! Talk about calm flying out the window!

Not really. They're generally quiet, unassuming people, except for my BIL's habit of pushing people's buttons to see how long it takes for them to either explode or find his buttons. I guess I'm not too much fun, because I like being noncommittal when face-to-face. Unless it can lead to something I'll regret the next day, and will tarnish somebody else's reputation.

So, anyway. Snow is falling outside. The darkness of midnight is nibbled away by tiny ice fractals in a flurry of winter.

Holiday season having plopped itself down in Mom's kitchen, I've been doing a very little bit of baking and a larger bit of wishful thinking about having a working kitchen of my own -- one in which my refrigerator actually refrigerates, the freezer freezes, the stove heats up (as does the oven), and the sink is in the same room with all the other fixtures and appliances... and it will be a kitchen in which the cats will have no interest, and dishes and floors and countertops will wash themselves, and never a spider or mosquito or any other pest shall enter. In other words, a fairy tale kitchen. A Miracle.

But, hey, this is the season of miracles, right? So, shouldn't I go out and spend all my Christmas gift money (all two dollars, thus far) on lottery tickets, in anticipation of the new kitchen (and maybe a whole house to attach it to)? The odds improve, when there's religion involved, right?

I am so very much going to get in trouble for that, aren't I? Don't worry, I'm not betting on a miracle, and, honestly, I'm not going on a tear against faith in this holy season.

I have a lot of friends who live in deep faith, and I admire them, even when I tease them about their reliance upon the bearded guy who lives upstairs and keeps an eye on them all the time (should they consider a restraining order?). Faith -- trust in a higher power -- is a gift few actually have, fewer keep, and fewer still find answers to their most important questions in it.

But the truth is, I'm not dependent upon faith to bring me answers. I am not asking for God or Jesus to bring me a new stove and washing machine. I'm not even asking for an hour free of all pain and frustration. I don't really ask for anything. I gets what I gets when it comes my way. And, I guess, when I thinks about it in the wee hours, what I gets is not entirely horrible. I gots me a family who all actually help me keep from getting crazier -- I think that's miracle enough, don't you?

Still, if I'm still too preoccupied to come back and blog again before next week ends, I want to wish everybody a very merry Christmas, with all the joy of the season. What's more, may you discover that you are loved more than you allowed yourself to believe. May it sneak up on you, like those snowflakes, lighting on your sleeve unheard, unnoticed, until you suddenly find yourself a virtual snowman in a blizzard.

What keeps my skin so young-looking?

2009-10-28T18:23:00.003-05:00

Well, not mine, personally, since I keep mine looking wrinkle-free by filling it internally with another double-chocolate doughnut and a scoop of frozen custard... but, if this particular piece is true, then some folks are making their skins all pretty in a truly disturbing fashion:

Neocutis’ key ingredient known as “Processed Skin Proteins” was developed at the University of Luasanne from the skin tissue of a 14-week gestation electively-aborted male baby donated by the University Hospital in Switzerland. Subsequently, a working cell bank was established, containing several billion cultured skin cells to produce the human growth factor needed to restore aging skin. The list of products using the cell line include: Bio-Gel, Journee, Bio-Serum, Prevedem, Bio Restorative Skin Cream and Lumiere.

The very idea that somebody took fetal tissue to turn it into a cosmetic treatment is seriously abhorrent. I can hear the justifications, already, though: "The thing was already dead, so what's the big deal? It would have gone to waste, otherwise."

Well, the thing is, the thing was a human being. It did not die a natural death, but was taken untimely. And now it's being used not to save lives, but to make somebody feel pretty. It's not entirely unlike like putting grandma out of our misery because her medical care is inconvenient to us, and then saying, "As long as she's not using them, can I have her teeth for a necklace and matching earrings?"

Granted, the article says the tissue sample from the aborted fetus was (a) donated willingly and (b) very small, and granted, most of the stuff (the "human growth factor") used in the cosmetic product is grown in a laboratory from said small sample. And, I'm sure people have built great medicines from small samples of stuff I don't really want to know about. I acknowledge that wonders come from unlikely and unseemly sources. Bread mold, pond scum, bee stings, snake bites -- who knows what unsavory thing will help cure the next big disease? Still, it seems to me this is an ugly little foot in the door to much more sinister possibilities -- and no, I don't necessarily mean "Soylent Green." Once we have a marketable product to be made from something only grown from aborted babies, how do we restrict the trafficking of the unborn for such a business? How do we prevent poor young girls from virtually reducing themselves to slaves of a new, modern sex trade? What other "unwanted" lives do we throw away to satisfy the unending hungers of hedonists?

Where is the line drawn on the value of life? What dollar amount marks the end of humanity?

Soupy Sales reaches pie in the sky

2009-10-23T00:45:00.002-05:00

Milton Supman, aka Soupy Sales , the comic best known for taking pie in the face on his regular children's show in the 1950s and '60s has had his last pie hit. He passed away this past evening, at the age of 83.

Little lambs

2009-10-17T17:54:00.004-05:00

Bo Peep, Illinois style

photo from negative ca. 1910- 1920, "Henderson County" purchased at auction

I could never get my hair to stay up like that, when I had it long. That's why it's so short, now. That, and shampoo gets expensive when you have nearly a meter of braid to wrestle each time you shower...

Certain things you convince yourself are part of your identity when you are young, you eventually realize are merely burdens. The long, wavy hair, the high heels -- sure they're comely, but they're also cause for considerable pain at the end of a day. So much nicer it is to relax, enjoy the breeze blowing on your scalp without worrying how you're going to get rid of the tangles, so much easier it is to walk when you use the whole foot, the way nature designed it to be. Femininity is not defined by silken tresses or stiletto heels, but by manner and by intent. A tilt of the head, a tone of voice, those mark a person as womanly as clearly as does a bottled, blended fragrance and a scoop-necked blouse.

Masculinity, however, sometimes is defined by its trappings. (Language warning)

On the Waterfront

2009-10-15T12:45:00.004-05:00

Presumably, the Mississippi River waterfront.

Photo from packet of negatives marked "Henderson County", undated but circa 1910-1920, developed in Galesburg, IL, and purchased by me at auction in the fall of last year.

I don't know where on the river this photo was taken -- the packet of negatives was not clearly labeled, photo by photo. All I know is that many of the pics were described in the accompanying packet's note pages as "Henderson County", and that the packet design was patented in 1910. I don't know if there was anything like this industrial center in Henderson County, IL, during that time frame (the county seat was Oquawka, aka Yellow Banks, and it was something of a hub, then), but there were pics from other areas of the state, as well, so this may be as far-flung as Saint Louis or Rock Island.

Old-fashioned come-hither glance

2009-10-12T20:55:00.002-05:00

subject unknown, film developed 9 August 1921

Postcard for college homecoming

2009-10-09T13:21:00.003-05:00

This weekend is Homecoming for Monmouth College

Postcard ca. 1905

I'm thinking I ought to attend at least a few of the events, since this would have been the 25-year reunion for my class, had I actually gradgitated with them all. Some of my classmates have already electronically touched base with me or with my folks, so I'm set to spend time already with old friends. My not being terribly social is taking a hit or two, but I think I might actually enjoy the company. Not so much the events, though. I'm still too much a cellar-dweller for that.

We shall see if I survive the weekend...

Okay, so he's not a rocket scientist

2009-10-08T14:36:00.002-05:00

I was fool enough, myself, to sit down with the television turned on in the room, again, while I was playing on the computer. I like a little background noise, after all -- otherwise, I hear the creaks and groans of a house and a dog and my own anatomy.

So, there I was, in a room filled with FOX News. No big. Except for the fact that Shepard Smith is demonstrating he is a journalist, not a rocket scientist (or even a reasonable facsimile thereof). And this is about rocket sciences. He's had a guest on, explaining the purpose behind the moon shot experiment, in which NASA has tossed an SUV-sized projectile at the south pole of the moon, in hopes that we may find, among the dust and debris kicked up by the impact, a little water.

If there is water we can mine at the pole of the lunar orb, there is a chance that we can expand our science and industry alike into space, giving us greater survival opportunities, as well as greater knowledge in general. If there is water up there, it means, among other things, the possibility of establishing a lunar station, lunar industrial centers, maybe someday even a small colony. Things needed for research and industry in zero-gee would be already up there, and we wouldn't have to spend huge sums of money and burn huge quantities of fuel (dare I add, contributing to atmospheric problems and other ecological issues?) to ship stuff up there to get the jobs done. That's generally viewed as a good thing.

Even if there is no usable amount of water, at least we will have more answers about the heavens and about our own place in them. That's generally viewed as a good thing, too.

But, at the end of Shep Smith's interview of his guest -- the one explaining clearly what the program was about, and what its benefits might be -- after the farewells and thank-yous were done, Shepard muttered, "I still don't see why we're spending on this, when there are so many other, more pressing ways we should be spending our money, like health care and unemployment and such."

Well, Shep, for one, this project has been in the works for many long years. It's already bought and paid for, long before the economy went into obvious crisis, and long before your invented crisis in the health care industry. The project was planned, the equipment assembled, probably about the first time you heard the words "anthropogenic global warming" and thought they tasted good on your tongue. To pull out now from the research project -- which may very well benefit us all in only a couple of decades -- would be to discard something which has already cost a few billion dollars already spent, and is near completion as of this week. That would be like making a fancy birthday cake, and then throwing it away just before you got the last candle lit, because you thought the money should have gone to buying a birthday scooter instead. You want to complain about waste?

For another thing, the point behind this sort of research is pragmatic. While most scientists enjoy research simply for the sake of greater understanding of the universe (a totally understandable goal, if you have the least portion of genuine curiosity about anything other than how your voice sounds when it comes out those little teevee speakers), they also find that discoveries in space have very useful applications for us groundlings. Everything from non-stick cookware to clean water technologies have come from our sending handfuls of brave individuals out there, away from Mother Earth. It continues to give us new information, new advances, new wonders and new applications every day. Research in space has saved lives. Is that reason enough for you to continue to look to the skies, in these days of crisis?

There's a Reason

2009-10-07T17:33:00.003-05:00

Grape Nuts:

Things move for men of Mental and Physical Strength

"There's a Reason"

Full-page advertisement in back of Woman's World, 1927

(click for larger image)

Although, what that reason is, I'm not sure. It's probably something to do with the laws of physics, many of which I spend long hours trying to defy.

Question of logic, from my father, the Logician

2009-10-07T16:24:00.002-05:00

So, Congress is proposing a tax on all these medical services and devices, in order to lower the cost of medical services and devices. Some of the items listed to be taxed are mentioned here.

Dad asks, "I don't understand... how does adding a tax lower the cost, again?"