“SORTA” working for it?

Is it because politicians are tone-deaf and don’t realize how upsetting it is for tax victims to see their stolen money squandered? Or is it because our dear leaders realize how complacent we are that they believe they can reward failure (again) to the tune of a 17.5% salary hike for the bumbling bureaucrat who “SORTA” works for it? (“Amid problems, streetcar leader gets big raise” — Enquirer 18 February 18)

I’m gonna have to go with confident in our complacency. No one could be that tone-deaf or stupid. Except voters. After all, we keep reelecting Repucrats and Demoblicans, even though sober, rational, and viable Libertutionists and Constitarians appear on the ballot just about every election. But we can’t vote for them, because “they can’t win.” And why can’t they win? Because we only vote for Demoblicans and Repucrats, of course. It’s a tidy circle, and it is the rhetorical equivalent of the child’s “just because.”
180218

We Are Doomed

22 November 2010 (Daily Paul)

The Federal Reserve Account Unit of Debt (aka the Federal Reserve Note fiat “dollar”) will tank. Let me repeat that. It WILL tank. The only question is: How fast, how catastrophically, and how much will it hurt?

If it continues its slow slide into oblivion, we will all be hurt, a little at a time, though the least able to afford it will be hurt the most. That’s what’s been happening for decades. In the history of fiat currencies, paper money ALWAYS disintegrates. If the decline accelerates (think Weimar Republic), the residue could be catastrophic, and tyranny will rush in through the window of opportunity.

If Dr Paul and the rest of the hard money advocates get our way, we will put the brakes on the Federal Reserve scam, restabilize the currency, and then we will be facing a mild to severe recession as misspent resources are reallocated into more rational and productive enterprises. Little people will get hurt while the dinosaurs thrash about in their death throes.

If we do nothing, then we face even greater danger (think of the immediate heirs to the Weimar Republic.)

That’s our challenge. We must try to sell immediate and certain economic discomfort as the only means to avoid greater and inevitable trauma. Promoting certain discomfort is an almost impossible political sell, but the only alternative to imminent discomfort is disaster, and the likeliest alternative to political correction is an orgy of violence not seen on this continent since the War Against the States.

I try to be optimistic and advocate for political salvation, but I’m also stocking up on gold, silver, canned goods, clean water, high test hootch, toilet paper, and ammunition.

It may have SEEMED obvious…

020704 — To the Diva: If being gone was the problem, how is coming home not the solution?

190719 — To the Coach:  If doing too little work was the problem, how come doing more wasn’t the solution?

210109 — To the AxisIf telling the truth caused the problem, how come lies don’t help?

211023 — The Difference:  I try to answer darkness with light; you try to answer with darker darkness.

from Jackson Browne, 1976 —  At the moment the music began, and you heard the guitar player starting to sing.  You were filled with the beauty that ran through what you were imagining.  Dreaming of scenes from those songs of love.  I was the endless sky, and you were my Mexican dove.  Now the music that played in your ears grows a little bit fainter each day.  And you find yourself looking through tears at the love you feel slipping away.  But it’s not the kind of love you might hope to find,  if tears could release the heart from the shadows preferred by the mind.    

Like a wind that comes up in the night caressing your face while you sleep, love will fill your eyes with the sights of a world you can’t hope to keep.  Dreaming on after that moment’s gone, the light in your lover’s eyes disappears in the light of the dawn.  But the morning brings strength to your restless wings and some other lover sings to the sun’s bright corona.  I know all about these things, linda paloma.

He reliably nails me every time.
I don’t need to write any of my own poetry.
211024

Feet, say “Good-bye” to Rug. Face, say “Hello” to Concrete Floor.

14 May 2019

Since the I.T. weasels at “bluehost/wordpress” (rtm) have seen fit to throw more impediments in the way of my learning to ‘b log, I suppose I’m going to have to start over. Let’s reset that timer, then, and see how this works. With any luck I should be successfully ‘b logging any time, as it has been almost five minutes and twenty months now…

Such optimism, as invigorating and inspiring as it may be, is hardly warranted by the evidence. I am nowhere nearly as e-woak, sadly, as the hip groovy ‘b logsters of the plenum cybernium. But I am undaunted and undismayed and undeterred and committed to antagonizing the thoughtless, the careless, the evil, the shallow, and mostly, the egregiously anti-literate!

Tutorials Mark II
Overview: Well this is encouraging. “Overview” is new, and offers perhaps a general understanding of what’s to come. That’s a helpful difference already. .Perhaps Mark II (of the tutorial series at least) will be an actual improvement over Mark I.
I’m generally optimistic BEFORE I press “play.”

WAIT! WHAT?
Installing WordPress? What happened to OVERVIEW? And besides, hasn’t wordpress already been installed? I’ve got that already, haven’t I? Besides, I just copy in from my home program anyway. What’s the deal? Oh well, nothin’ for it but to press on…

That WAS the first video. Moving on…

Um… “Basics of wordpress?
C-PANEL! Look! It’s a C-Panel! Finally! Never seen one before. For months those pinheads at the “help” line have been yammering about “C-Panels” but never show me one! After twenty months I finally get to see!
And it looks like nothing I’ve seen anywhere on my own screen. How did they get there and what does it do?
That may have been yet another waste of effort. All of those unfamiliar screens and unexplained motion seemed to get finally to the familiar “dashboard” screen that I tripped over long ago.
When I think of all the HOURS I spent talking to the alleged “help” line and their fucking refusal to explain what a “c-panel” was, how to get to it, and what I was supposed to do when I got there, I begin to think that maybe “weasel” is a little too generous.
Must stew….

29 March 2020:  Bluehost still declines to welcome the innocent.  Apparently, a “theme” is not a motif, or a style, or a topic.  Its new (anti-intuitive and non-obvious) cyberlogue definition seems to be “format” or “layout” or “pattern” or “template” and refers NOT to the “style” or “look” or “motif” but to the relative dimensions or aspect ratios available on the screen.
Hmmm…  “Anti-intuitive” and “non-obvious”   Could there be a better recommendation than that for cyberlogue neologisms?  How better to keep the riff-raff out of the Elites’ playground?

28 August 2020 I would like to thank my friends and family, and the TWSE, for their kind assistance in making this website the attractive success that it is.  I’d like to, except they didn’t, and it isn’t, so I won’t.

31 August 2020 I’ve got another datum! I’ve got another datum! With these I can now get a better idea of the translation scale I need to understand the assurances and blandishments of the savvy marketeer. Given that “blogging in five minutes” is going on three years now, and well short of accomplishment, I can readily surmise that “takes literally no time to set up” could well mean additional hours of frustration. With additional data I should be able to start drawing some reasonable curves.

Love Letters in the Air

undated, ca 1998? — Diva Dearest:  No one makes me laugh like you do, and no one I know laughs at my jokes the way you do.  I did have a rollicking good time at work tonight, and most of my material was well received, but there were moments when I wished you could be there with us.  You always make good times better.
In addition to sharing the same brain (mostly) I guess our strongest bond has to be that we share the same bad joke center in our brains.  (Was delicious blitzed bird — er — potted poultry — er — roast chicken)
I know you understand that I work this hard and this much for all of us, but I’m afraid sometimes that I shouldn’t be enjoying work as much as I do.  Why should I be having such fun when you’re stuck home?  It doesn’t seem fair, but then I’m the sort of person who’s going to have fun no matter what.  There’s GOT to be a pony in here somewhere!
I look forward to the time when I can be comfortable in taking it easier and not struggling so much to bring money into our lives and fighting to pay down our enormous debts.  I guess I can be a bit of a prick about it, but I feel strongly that we need this income to establish a little well-deserved and long overdue security.  Any way, I love you, and I’m sorry I can’t be as present as you’d like.  Yer sweetie always…

11 January 1999 —  Whatever you want, dear,
as long as you keep lifting your butt in the air for me.
update 210227:  As I recall, she did ask me to put it in writing.

3 May 2000 —  Should the horrific actually occur, & my airplane ends up at the bottom of the sea, please always remember that… Outrigger and Hilton owe us $.

14 February 2001 — Words once so abundant and beautiful,
have lately seemed so empty and debased.

update 210109:  Said “masterwork” is now available (see West of ’89)
Granny” and “Pops” were clever allusions to Major Doma‘s pregnancy;
Drama Queen later expressed her preference for “Fairy God Mother
She succumbed to a lifetime of physical ailments in 2017
(see Eulogy for a Drama Queen.)
Milli succumbed to elements unknown in 2015
(see Richard Milhous Nixon Brave Brave Sir Robin Axis Greigh)
And as far as Sugar and Bud go…  I think I may be on probation.
(see Singled Down)

30 September 2008
Your entreaties do not fall on deaf ears.  There is much to ponder these days, from cookies to colleges and everything in between.  It would not be prudent at this juncture to commit beyond the letter of our agreement without an income (& I am looking for work, alas!) but while weighing matters I am delighted to make interest free advance childcare payments while I consider options.  I would also retroactively adjust payments based on any increase in income (so I’ll get back to it!)  We’ll continue this discussion anon, but for now I hope this helps.
update 210227:  The cited advance payments were never actually deducted from future scheduled child support agreements after all.  I was fortunate enough to be able to help her out and let it go, though my wording did turn out to be a little contentious anyway.  But that was probably just knee-jerk Former Arch Nemesis reflexes on her part.

19 June 2022  —  Dear Early Riser,
I was saddened to learn, from Stargazer, via L’Historienne, that you’d taken another spill.  At one time I imagined that I’d be there for you, to catch you or to even prevent such mishaps.
Even though you have long ago released me from my pledge to protect and support you through trials, tribulation, and trysts, and because I always retain original affections, I still feel as if I have disappointed and betrayed us both.
I hope you mend well and soon, and that your prospective accommodations are both suitable and harmonious.
Love always, Lethargy Lad
post script:  Because of my peculiar cognitive attributes, I’ve tended to give off mixed signals, so many have allowed their erroneous expectations to disappoint them.  I commiserate.  Rational expectations are based on evidence, and because I often SOUND smart, many people assume that I AM smart.  Sorry, but I’m just a clever idiot savant, whose childhood led him to believe that every conflict MUST lead to violence.  So, by avoiding violence, I avoided confrontation, which ultimately denied me intimacy.
You learned better.  Diva Dearest learned better.  Missus Axis learned better.  “Who’s next?” I wonder.

8 July 2022 — found this, seems apt:  “If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” – Anne Lamott

3 September 2022  —  Dear Early Riser,
Please accept my congratulations on the successful completion of jour Three Score and Ten, and upon the commencement of jour Eighth Decade!  I wish I could be presenting you with a German Chocolate Cake and otherwise helping you to celebrate so auspicious an event!  I am almost breathless at the rush of time.  As I write this, I am now, to the nearest month, 6 decades, 6 years, and 6 months old, and I reflect that it is a mere thirty-six years and eight months since my misbegotten and ill-conceived effort to commemorate your thirty-three and a third.  Duegpd gayen jakket jolof pfogs hlah wed tju, foxio gawenk edji oimhoot yobur wed, ftjup ikol jix ffikus gaen omtugv yxed rjewm qik, gocow fuk.
Happy Birthday and Fondest Wishes for Joyous Memories!

A Secure Frontier

7 June 2002
campaign rhetoric… I exhort the crowd.

Responsible people will prepare themselves for dangers and accidents. Some carry guns, others study jiu jitsu, many pack first aid kits and jugs of water in their cars. Communities organize locally to protect themselves from predators and rough weather — murderers, rapists, blizzards, and floods. Likewise, on a Federal level, we establish a standing military to protect America from Nazis, Imperialists, and other aggressors. The world is ever perilous, and we must never neglect the unknown. Too many of the dangers we have faced as a nation have come upon us by surprise — whether the malign efforts of villains, or indifferent acts of nature. Though we can’t know for certain where they will next appear, whether from a Peoples’ Republic of Atlantis, or a rogue asteroid on a collision course with the Earth, we must prepare for all possible threats.

The Libertarian foreign policy is simplicity itself: “Do what you will with your own and be at peace with the United States. Trifle with us at your peril.” This is a policy of strict self-defense and non-interference. It is not isolationism, and it does not mean that we individual American citizens may not express our moral outrage at the atrocities committed by religious, racist, and misogynist zealots worldwide. It does not mean that individual Americans would be barred from supporting the partisans of their choosing, or even taking up arms on their behalf. It means that the American Government will spend American Dollars and spill American Blood only when it is our vital national interest. Otherwise, we should pursue a policy of peaceful trade with all nations, entangling alliances with none.

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization, for example, may well have served a legitimate purpose in containing the very real threat of Soviet hegemony, but in 1990, when the constituent republics of the former USSR renounced its aims of global consolidation and dissolved the beast, NATO lost all reason for being. However, like all government bureaucracies, it took on a life of its own and commenced seeking new missions. The NATO sponsored and United Nations endorsed assault on Serbia may very well portend a new internationalist order of conquest and domination to dwarf the aims of the Soviet Union. A free people and a peaceful republic have no place in nor any use for any such interventionist order.

Consistent with national defense, the Federal Government has a responsibility to explore and to secure the frontier. President Jefferson did right by sending Lewis and Clark to Oregon, and President Kennedy did right by sending Apollo to the Moon. We don’t know what dangers lurk in the heavens — solar storms to disrupt our weather, stray comets to vaporize our oceans, or massive meteor strikes to rain ruin onto our cities. We can’t know if we don’t look, and to dismiss the possibility and refuse to prepare for danger is suicidal recklessness. Wishes won’t make us safe, and hope is no refuge from the storm.

Human intelligence and our sense of wonder are gifts too rare and magnificent for us to follow the dinosaurs into oblivion.

But of course, the frontier isn’t all danger — neither Oregon nor Hawaii have ever threatened America, but both have enriched the Union. Likewise, there is enormous wealth in the New Frontier. The New Millennium Dawns with the promise of Life, Liberty, Prosperity, and Peace. A full belly for every hungry child. A good job for every able body. An ennobling challenge for every nimble mind. The Earth can be more fruitful, the seas richer, the air cleaner and sweeter. The future of industry is in the sky, where limitless energy awaits in the form of unfiltered sunshine, and limitless resources revolve serenely around the Sun in wide elliptical orbits between Jupiter and Mars. Let the Earth bloom as a garden, as a park, as a pasture, and as our own inviting back yard. There are fabulous riches and adventures in the outer realm, and they wait there for the people with the courage and the vision to reach out and seize them.

Toward that end, I propose that America re-establish a permanent orbital presence — a presence unstained by internationalist sentiments, unrestricted by internationalist intervention, and unimpeded by internationalist involvement.

Furthermore, I propose the establishment of a permanent settlement on the Moon, a manned mission to Mars, and that we send unmanned vessels to begin investigating the Asteroids. Do I overreach? Perhaps, but I believe that a vigorous society must overreach. To do less is to betray our posterity, and to condemn our heirs to lives of tyranny and poverty.

Big Newton’s

29 January 2018

Isaac Newton said he saw so far because he stood on the shoulders of giants. Okeh, I guess he can have his humble brag, and his salute to his predecessors, but he did at least have the fortitude to actually STAND on those shoulders. Most of the rest of us are comfortable today riding in the pockets of giants.

Without him there’d be anarchy!

Most Americans admire (“Honest”) Abe Lincoln; we love a winner! But take pause, history books are written and printed in winning regimes.

I firmly expect that if Adolf Hitler had won his particular war he would be revered today as the Father of a United Europe and the Savior of the Reich. Any talk of his closing newspapers, arresting judges, locking up protesters, closing legislatures, or shooting draft resisters would be dismissed as the tiresome rhetoric of “revisionist historians.”

To those who say that John Wilkes Boothe was too late to save America, I say that Hitler was too late to save Canaan.
180122

Just look at this parade.

30 October 2016
(a late election retrospective)

There’s the Anointee in the lead, resplendent astride her Regal Ass. She is followed by the Pompous Pasha perched upon his Pachyderm. Trailing him is the Flower-Child / Iron-Athlete walking his Pet Porcupine. Even farther behind, and Hugging her Tree…

It gets worse if you recast the contest as a race for the Iron Throne.

At the top of the bill, we have corrupt and conniving Cersei Lannister against serial abuser blowhard Ramsey Bolton.
Filling out the supporting cast…

You’d think their agendas wouldn’t converge, but they’re both committed to ethereal orthodoxies, and they’re equally ready to sacrifice humanity to their higher purpose. The Red Woman? The Green Woman? Color means little to the metaphorical corpses heaped at their feet.

And finally, and most depressing of all, we come to my guy. (Yes, full disclosure: I am a libertarian, and I will be voting for the Republican Governors). In this Game of Thrones skit I’m imagining, my guy… *sigh* My guy is Theon Greyjoy. He couldn’t come up with a solid argument or a rigid principle to save his life. And he’s the least bad of the lot!

ow ow ow ow ow!

17 February 2010

Oozing, suppurating, rancid, infected, abscessed tumors!
Incest and sodomy!
Death and taxes!

& did I mention “Ow”?

But first the good news…

I am once again gainfully employed. Picked up a temporary position with the US Census Bureau. Looks to be full time until about August. Also have been rehired by Kings Island… The park to open in April and run until October… so the income looks better for the next few months anyway. So no more worries for now about eating my savings.

Work is coming along well, I suppose. You know, mostly feeling lost for the first few days as I begin to catch on. The people there are acting like they think I’m smart and funny, and being patient with my unfamiliarity with the specific op system at the Senseless Bureau as I shed my old reflexes to make room for new. So work qua work is not a problem for me.

However.. This nasty winter storm is making life a little too exciting.

But before I proceed, I want to assure you that I am (mostly) well, and in no extraordinary danger. That having been said, I’ll continue with my narrative..

Unless you’ve completely disconnected yourself from the continental steno media, you are no doubt aware of the huge weather system that is dominating the region. Weather maps show it sitting on a wide band from Arkansas to Pennsylvania. And in the middle is me!

On Tuesday morning I was on my way in, switching from one Interstate to the next in a wide gentle three quarters of a circle in a wild snow storm. As I near the end of the loop I notice a little grey coupe in my far left periphery spinning out of control down the highway, raising beautiful big rooster tails of fresh powder and finally coming to rest pointed backwards in the far left lane. Upon initially seeing this possible danger I guess my brain moved into the slow motion seeming adrenaline consciousness that we need in the face of threats. As grey coupe comes to rest I am relieved to realize that he is not going to be my problem as he stopped before the highway reached the point at which I would be merging. As I was thinking that, suddenly a big black SUV enters the left periphery, spinning across the median strip separating my ramp from I-275, slides and spins across my lane, bounces off the guard rail to our right, then slides back across my lane and comes to rest on the very pointy end of the strip just as I drive carefully (as always) through his zone and onto the highway proper. Had I been just a few seconds earlier (or maybe just a fraction of a second — it’s hard to get an accurate read on time when one is dosing on adrenaline) he would have bounced off ME instead of the guard rail. Most of the locals have an appreciation for winter driving… I don’t know whether these two were both idiots (or very unlucky) or just one of them. Since I didn’t see what might have caused either of them to lose control I can only speculate, but judging by their relative proximity to each other — in space and time — I would conclude that AT LEAST one of them is an idiot and possibly spooked the other with his or her shenanigans and the hapless other simply over-corrected to a sudden danger so they both lost control. I made it to work about fifteen minutes later than scheduled, about which no one seemed to be the slightest bit concerned, as others were also trickling in late due to the less than ideal conditions.

And that’s not even the “Ow” part…

On Wednesday (10 February) morning, after I had gotten my windshield dusted off, the engine started and warming up and I was heading back into the house to continue preparing for my departure I stepped onto a slick patch in the driveway and WENT DOWN HARD. It happened all so fast that I’m not quite sure how I lost my footing — I’m usually fairly nimble — but I made a painful three point landing on my right side. I’ve got a nasty bruise on my hip, opened my brow over the eye, and worst of all, wrenched my wrist, probably bending it much farther than recommended. The little cut on the face and the bruise on the hip I could bear, but the wrist has bothered me since. All Wednesday afterwards the pain got progressively worse as I contemplated having broken bones in my hand or even having detached or torn tendons. But of course, I soldiered on during the day. One of the women involved in my training remarked excitedly that it was nice to see another lefty in the office until I explained that I was normally dexter and was only temporarily sinister due to the recent injury. As the pain grew greater during the day and the swelling became quite pronounced, at the end of the day I drove directly to Bud’s house (Sugar not being home from work yet) and told him that I MIGHT be needing his help the next morning. Fearing that there could be broken (or at least cracked) bones in my right hand I thought it could be prudent to seek a professional assessment. Begging drugs from him to get me through the evening I told him that I might be calling him early the next morning to take me to the ER or something. He sighed, I acknowledged the inconvenience, then we agreed that that was something that buds do for each other when needed. Fortunately, Thursday morning, the hand was feeling MUCH MUCH BETTER. Still bad, of course, just better. Typing is not a great hardship now, though any serious heavy lifting that exceeds my left hand’s capacity is still out. I feel very lucky that my health is generally so good, and that my healing ability remains almost adolescent in its vigor. It still hurts today (Saturday), but I am clearly on the mend, and well beyond any need to tithe the medical priesthood.

Addendum… Now a whole week out (Wednesday, 17 Feb) from the original injury, and the swelling has considerably subsided. Once again there is clear muscular definition across the back of my right hand and I have resumed wearing my ring on the proper finger. My left hand, in fact, is feeling a bit sore because it had to pick up the heavy lifting slack that the right sloughed off.
100217

update 180115: should mention, I suppose, that the hand did indeed fully heal, though the rest of me continues to deteriorate.