It’s inescapable. The repubs are melting down, going through all the Kübler-Ross stages simultaneously and wondering how on earth they ended up here. And the conclusion, everything having been said is, “The odious guy with the orange comb-over is our guy. Let’s all pretend we’re happy to be voting for him.”
Really? If somehow you ended up with Benito Mussolini as your candidate – which the republicans have – you’ll go ahead and vote for him anyway because the other guys are running Madam Ceausescu and so your guy is the lesser evil?
Does principle ever kick in with these people? They keep telling me what principled conservatives they are. But now they’re thrust into a situation where there is no lesser evil, there’s only evil. A principled person would dish up a big steaming bowl of
And then he’d let it all fall down, rather than be a party to evil. But I’m not reading very many articles written by principled people today.
Obamacare was only imposed on us in 2010 and I haven’t had a “real” job in that time, so I don’t know what effect it has had on employment. At a guess, though, it’s been devastating for people on the fringes. It was well on the way to devastated when I left Socal, and largely because of health care costs. By the turn of the century I couldn’t beg or buy a regular job with benefits, and sometimes had to travel considerable distances to get a good long-term contract job. Employers I knew personally spent a lot of time in anguish over the cost of medical insurance, trying to keep the doors open without driving their regular workers into mutiny with insurance plan cuts. Personally, I’ve thought for a long time that group insurance as an employment benefit is the worst thing that could have happened to the whole health care industry.
All this is just life in these here United States, nothing to bitch about particularly. But having been in a position to wonder – for years at a time – whether I was going to have a roof over my head next month – and with the answer sometimes being “no” – I found this bit of reality-warping really angering…
“The trend of companies hiring more freelancers will continue annually, causing for an even more blended workforce, and creating new challenges for business leaders,” Dan Schawbel, a Partner & Research Director at Future Workplace, said in a statement provided to The Daily Caller News Foundation. “The workforce is willing to make sacrifices, including compensation and benefits, in order to gain the freedom and flexibility afforded to the freelance career path.”
You can’t see me through this laptop screen (can you?) but I’m struggling for words at this time. Pasting that paragraph into the text window made me angry all over again.
Okay, sorry, I must emote: No, you lying piece of shit, “the workforce” is not willing to make sacrifices “in order to gain the freedom and flexibility afforded to the freelance.” “The workforce” is willing to make sacrifices to avoid the freedom and flexibility of chronic unemployment.
I could go on in that vein for 5000 words or so without seriously repeating myself, but I’ll shut up now.
…maybe you were more attached to that old shirt than you thought you were when you threw it away.
I’ve got half a dozen longsleeved t-shirts, picked up in one thrift store or another at one time or another. They’re quite comfy in winter. But every one advertises some event that happened over a decade ago and couldn’t possibly have really been worth commemorating all that time. Plus, few showed very much wear when I acquired them. I imagine each one spending ten years or more in the bottom drawer of some minor dresser until finally sent off to thrift store heaven. And some must have moved with their owners at least once, since they tend to advertise fun runs and such in places nowhere near here.
But each one ended up warming the back of a smelly old git out in the desert, far away – in every way – from the suburban weekend they were printed to plug.
I dunno – it gives me something to think about during laundry time.
When Bloomberg says something uncharacteristically sensible, he’s either had a stroke-induced moment of clarity or he’s just being a hypocrite. Which would be perfectly consistent.
“[I]n a macro sense, one of the most dangerous places on a college campus is a so-called safe space because it creates a false impression that we can isolate ourselves from those who hold different views. We can’t and we shouldn’t try. Not in politics or in the workplace.”
Completely true, shockingly. But isn’t this the same guy who wants to turn the whole country into one big gun-free zone? Aren’t GFZs where all the best mass shootings happen, yet he still thinks they’re a good idea?
Oh, wait. That’s right. Gun-free zones are only for little people. Bloomberg zones are loaded with guns, and with professional thugs itching to shoot us with them.
I figure when the beer runs out and people there clear their heads and look around at what they’ve been putting up with under the glories of the commie state, they’re outa there faster than they can pack. Yes of course they’ll all end up here.
Yup. You guys are pretty much toast. Me, I’m gonna spend my day rigging jerky racks to deal with the occasional tourist or trespasser. Shoot and shut up, to be sure. But shovel? Wasteful.
I was checking my chicken pellet usage yesterday and being appalled at the chunk my newbies have taken out of #150 in only two months. And I was thinking, ‘those pullets turn a year old next month, and two of them have never laid an egg. I’m starting to think at least one of them never will. It’s time to cull some hens.”
And normally that would be no problem at all. The hens hate me, I barely tolerate them, they’re useful but not especially pleasant to have around and I don’t at all mind killing them. Up-close and personal, with a hatchet. And then eating them.
Except this is one of the worst offenders…
This is the pullet I call Little Miss Arrested Development – not an official name – and she’s the only cute chicken in the history of the Fortress of Attitude. She pecks my fingers to see if there’s food there, she follows me around hopping up and down until I pick her up. She has never and apparently will never grow up,and she really ought to go to the stewpot. But…
Oh, slippery slope, Uncle Joel. Do not make pets of them. That’s not just a good idea, it’s the law.
Realizing his home was being broken into, the homeowner yelled, “Don’t come in here, I have a gun!”.
Boyd, with his face covered by a bandana, ignored the warning and eventually “physically forced himself in through the front door,” Corinth Police Captain Dell Green said.
“A scuffle ensued,” said Dance, “and the intruder was shot three times, we believe. He then went out into the yard and fell.”
Chief Dance said Boyd had previously been arrested for burglary and robbery and had also been shot during a prior attempt a number of years earlier. That incident involved an elderly man who, after experiencing a prior break-in at his home, rigged his door with a homemade alarm system. When he heard the aluminum cans he had strung around the door rattling, he told the intruder not to come in, that he had a gun. Just like his final burglary attempt, Boyd went inside anyway.
He probably thought he was being brave. I can think of a different word.
Honestly, if forced to a prediction I’d have said anybody with two brain cells and a synapse in his whole head would have learned sufficiently the first time. But that’s why more people need to be willing to pull the trigger, I guess. Vacuum out the shallow end of the gene pool.
Yesterday morning he disappeared to go hang with Landlady. Possibly having enjoyed as much of Dharma’s company as he cared to, he wandered over to S&L’s and spent the night there. As they were packing to leave ahead of the next rainstorm, he showed up back at Landlady’s just in time for her Jeep ride to her car. He consented to come into the Lair just enough to get a treat, and bullied me to open the door and let him out as that picture was loading. So he’s back home, but it’ll take him a while to become reconciled to the letdown.
A serial rapist was killed by a runaway trailer while distracted by pornography on his cell phone in Tennessee – just half a mile from where he terrorized numerous women in the 1990s.
Kevin Jordan, 55, was walking along the sidewalk just a block from his home in Memphis when the 15-foot trailer smashed into a fence and struck him in the 3700 block of Park Avenue on Wednesday, authorities said.
Witnesses said police told them the convicted felon had been watching pornography on his phone – and had failed to notice the vehicle coming at him until it was too late.
Moments later he was reborn as a bacterium in the gut of a small dung beetle gathering material in front of the left rear wheel of a rolling Somali technical. “How did I get here?” he briefly wondered.
Yesterday I went out to the county road to pick up Landlady, because given the forecast only an idiot would drive her little townie car to the wrong side of what’s likely to be miles of mud by tomorrow. I held up my layer-laden sleeve and exclaimed, “End of April and look what I’m wearing!” I’m actually undoing earlier timid efforts at putting winter stuff into storage, because damn.
Early in the week a family member of the new owner of J&H’s old property moved an RV trailer in and prepared to stay the summer. That was Monday and it was cold and absurdly windy and spitting snow. By Thursday, with the wind trying its damndest to push that trailer right off the ridgetop, I really started to feel sorry for the guy and began to see – a rarity for me – why somebody might not actually enjoy living here.
Because this is April! Tomorrow is May! This is supposed to be the reward for all that bullshit we spent the last five months slogging through. But instead I’m anxiously watching my stump sock supply because it’s been too crappy out to do laundry.
And I’ve got it easy compared to some of you guys. Wah! I want my Spring!
And now I’m going to turn my computer off, because even though at this very moment there’s barely a cloud in the sky it rained all night and it’s supposed to be thunderstorms all afternoon. So I’m soaking up photons while I may.
With the opportunity to make chicken pies arising suddenly out of the ruins of a bread bake gone bad, I had to plan on the fly. Since I’m also still learning this, results were bound to be…uneven.
First one out of the oven. FAR too big. Cut it in half and wrapped up the big half for later.
Darned good. Needs gravy, but considering the chaos my kitchen – and every other horizontal surface in the Lair – is in at the moment, this quick snack would have to settle for barbecue sauce. Didn’t work that great.
Smaller – and less time in the oven – worked out fine. I’ll bring one of these over to Landlady’s place. She’s coming in this evening, just in time for all the weekend rain.
Bread baking normally makes a big mess in my vestpocket kitchen. Suddenly turning it into a meat pie project completes the job of ruination, so if you’ll excuse me I have quite a lot of cleaning up to do. Ghost took his half of the leftover filling and left without so much as a thank you, but Little Bear was there for me with the clean-up…
He’s such a mensch.
Never saw much more than a glimpse of the sun today, and the weekend is supposed to be pretty wet. So it looks like we’re back on an austerity budget with the juice.
End of April, and I’m blessing myself for not having put all the winter stuff into storage. The canvas coat needed washing, which I put off till I was sure things had warmed up, and now I’m wearing it…indoors, at the moment. I’m thinking of hauling in some firewood, and very well might by Sunday.
But that was okay, I thought; cold and windy and maybe wet is a good day for baking bread. So I pushed up my sleeves and got to work – and an hour later the dough ball has hardly risen at all. Hm – that was the last of the yeast in my ‘ready use’ jar, and I didn’t spend much time proving it before I made the dough.
I went up to Ian’s place, where I keep the bulk of my yeast in his freezer…
Stupid! Stupid! I completely forgot. This is over a year old and near the end. I should have replaced this last month! I did exactly the same thing last time.
I keep an eye on flour and bulk goods and canned food and eggs, but always forget the yeast until it’s a crisis. Maybe what’s still in the bag is good, maybe not. I may be able to buy more Monday, if not I got this stuff on Amazon.
In the meantime I have a whole bunch of dough that won’t rise enough for proper bread. Can I still make use of it? Fortunately I was still at Ian’s freezer…
That’s all the meat I could render from one of those obese Brahma hens, separated from the bones and great disgusting globs of fat. Barely enough to fill one one-quart freezer bag, but it’s good stewing meat. Ate one of them earlier in the week, and certainly didn’t intend to start on this one so soon. But meat pies work out pretty well. I’ll sauté some onions, boil some potatoes, and bake them into smaller turnovers this time. Film at eleven.
Woke this morning playing out all the things that needed to get done. It’s been an awful week for weather, as I gather it is all up and down this longitude. I’ve been out in it rather more than I liked, what with the new neighbors’ water problems. But mostly I’ve been hiding inside, reading books and watching loose items fly past the window. At least it was mostly sunny yesterday and I should have taken that opportunity to wash some stump sox while I could. But I let the wind deter me, and now I’m awake to full socked-in overcast.
The problem, it seems, is that I spent all day yesterday thinking it was Wednesday. Weather was supposed to be better on Thursday, so I put some things off – only to find that I had missed my Thursday window.
But a little laundry wasn’t the worst, by far. I woke this morning convinced – absolutely convinced it was Thursday, and that was an important day because on Thursday D&L were going to the city for a medical exam and didn’t think they’d get home in time to tend dogs and horses, so could I please stand by to…
I didn’t forget it! I didn’t! I just … forgot what day it was. So imagine my delight, upon realizing my mistake and snatching my lately-near-useless cellphone off the desk, to find a voicemail waiting. It almost certainly said something like, “Yeah, we’re trapped in [name of city] and can’t get home before midnight. Would you please [tend dogs and horses]? Thanks for not being the sort of terrible person who would forget all about it.”
Gods, I’m a terrible person…
Fortunately, Uncle Murphy gave me a break. The voicemail said, “We sailed right through and will be home in lots of time, so go ahead and stand down.”
This cellphone situation is giving me fretfulness. I get texts and voicemails, but sometimes not until hours after they’re sent and usually without notification. And it’s not just me or my cheap-ass phone, either; everybody complains about it. We need better comms.
Yeah, some day you guys will be sitting around the internment camps saying, “Hey, remember Joel? And that time they found that picture on his computer? Man! I didn’t know you could squash a person that flat.”
Will Blog for ISP Time, Glaucoma Meds, or Cheap Booze.
Free! (and worth every penny)
Scary Manifesto that keeps getting pushed down on the sidebar by filthy capitalism!
They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means "The Ultimate Argument of Kings," and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. "We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it's about: You'll do as I say or I'll send my goons to kill you."
I thought about that for a long time. If there's an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I've got bullets - he's got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that's not going to happen. So if there's an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain't bullets.
It finally came to me - and that's when I left the city, abandoned a goodly percentage of my goods, and gave all that was behind me a good, stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
Do you suffer from a lonely, unfulfilled, angst-driven existence? Do you often wish you could do something meaningful with your life, like end death or war or taxes, or maybe just read a really good book?
Then you need to buy the following novels immediately!
The Scroll of Jeremiah
The Last Faithful Man
Songs of Bad Men and Good
"Freedom Outlaw. It’s not what you do; it’s how you do it. It’s an attitude — from which actions always follow. It’s a do-it-yourself occupation. And a lifetime vocation."
I owe my success to having listened respectfully to the very best advice, and then going away and doing the exact opposite.
- G. K. Chesterton
"If every Jewish and anti-Nazi family in Germany had owned a Mauser rifle and twenty rounds of ammunition and the will to use it, Adolf Hitler would be a little-known footnote to the history of the Weimar Republic."
- Aaron Zelman
"Authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not from the threat of force."
"Never underestimate the ability of shit to find a fan."
- F. Paul Wilson
The...average man's love of liberty is nine-tenths imaginary, exactly like his love of sense, justice and truth. Liberty is not a thing for the great masses of men. It is the exclusive possession of a small and disreputable minority, like knowledge, courage and honor. It takes a special sort of man to understand and enjoy liberty – and he is usually an outlaw in democratic societies.
– H.L. Mencken, Baltimore Evening Sun, Feb. 12, 1923
"You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs." The sophistry of villains - Bah!
- Robert A. Heinlein, Double Star
“Truth is, I’m not specifically interested in an armed society. What I want is a free society.”
- George Potter
“Gold is the money of kings, silver is the money of gentlemen, barter is the money of peasants – but debt is the money of slaves.”
- Norm Franz
"You can have peace. Or you can have freedom. Don't ever count on having both at once."
- Robert A. Heinlein
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
- Helen Keller
"It has long been my conviction that a masked man with a gun is a target. I see no reason to change that view."
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.
- D. H. Lawrence
All men should try to learn before they die /
What they are running from, and to, and why.
Aristippus passed Diogenes as he was washing lentils.
He said, “If you could but learn to flatter the king, you would not have to live on lentils.”
Diogenes said, “And if you could learn to live on lentils, you would not have to flatter the king.”
Sandy Hook was a Gun Free Zone.
"The kind of man who demands that government enforce his ideas is always the kind whose ideas are idiotic."
- H. L. Mencken
"Civilization is the process of setting man free from men."
- Ayn Rand
If ever a man should ask you
For your business or your name
Tell him to go and fuck himself
Tell his friends to do the same.
For a man who'd trade his liberty
For a safe and dreamless sleep
Doesn't deserve the both of them
And neither shall he keep.
- Frank Turner
Don't be afraid to try something big, just because you're an amateur. The Ark was built by amateurs. The Titanic was built by professionals.
A basic split between shits and Johnsons has emerged.
- William Burroughs, 1988
"Be polite, be professional, but have a plan to kill everybody you meet."
- Gen. James Mattis
"Lust for power is the most flagrant of all the passions."
"The man who knows what freedom means will find a way to be free."
- F.A. "Baldy" Harper
"The greatest discovery of any generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitude."
- William James
We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
- Viktor Frankl
The free man will ask neither what his country can do for him nor what he can do for his country.
- Milton Friedman
“We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.”
- William Faulkner
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self.
- Ernest Hemingway
When asked the secret of how he accumulated 505 confirmed sniper kills on Soviet invaders, Simo Häyhä would smile and reply, "Practice."
"Everything the State says is a lie, and everything it has it has stolen."
- Friedrich Nietzsche
"The nine most terrifying words in the English language are 'I'm from the government, and I'm here to help.'"
- Ronald Reagan
The most dangerous creation of any society is the man who has nothing to lose.
- James A. Baldwin