WASN’T HE THE bad guy on the Smurfs?
WASN’T HE THE bad guy on the Smurfs?
ON THE BOSS when he asserts:
The Boss is owning up to a mistake. In an interview with Sunday’s New York Times, Bruce Springsteen says he shouldn’t have made a deal with Wal-Mart. This month, the store started exclusively selling a Springsteen greatest hits CD.
Some fans were critical because Springsteen has been a longtime supporter of worker’s rights, and Wal-Mart has faced criticism for its labor practices.
Springsteen told the Times that his team didn’t vet the issue as closely as he should have, and that he “dropped the ball on it.”
Springsteen went on to say: “It was a mistake. Our batting average is usually very good, but we missed that one. Fans will call you on that stuff, as it should be.”
(Hat tip: TUA at KisP.)
What happened was this: WalMart made an offer with lots of zeros and commas after the significant digits and before the decimal point. Jon Landau, calculating his fifteen percent, advised Bruce to take the deal. After all, his fans shop at WalMart like everybody else — most especially the ones who say they don’t. You’d have to be stupid not to. And, while there’s lots of stupid to go around in places like DC, Hollywood, and the Upper Weast Side of Manhattan, in the real America, people tend not to be too stupid with their money.
What? Pay bottom-dollar for crap made in China? The new “Made in Japan”?
No. Not at all. I’m talking about a 20-40% discount on major brand name merchandise, made in the USA, over what Kroger or Safeway charge. Toilet paper, coffee, peanut butter, Cheerios. And a lot less than the late, unlamented Circuit City used to charge for a CD. Maybe a third less. Plus, WalMart has a real sensitivity to the needs and concerns of its customers — as opposed to the faux poseur sensitivity the limousine liberals display. I mean, I don’t see MediCare offering $4 generics ($10 for three months). American drugs, not Chinese knockoffs. So don’t even try to peddle that “Made in China” crap here. Sure, a lot of labor is offshored there. So what? By en large, the people do well by the practice. The benefit to the American economy of WalMart’s aggressive price lowballing is in the billions, as in two-digit fractions of the Federal budget billions. Nothing in the — scorn quotes — “stimulus” bill can or will touch that.
But you degrease.
But we degrease. You contributed to this degreasion, Baby Doll.
The Boss: he can do the arithmetic as well as any of his fans — when they’re straight — and he told Landau to take the deal. As they say in the — well, in the everywhere — it’s easier to get foregiveness than to get permission. So he grovels for a few days — with total sincerity — and the thing goes away. He puts up a few tables at his concerts for WalMart Watch or whatever that particular beebonnet crowd calls themselves and goes about counting his millions.
Don’t kid yourself.
THE WHOLE FRITTERIN’ TOWN and don’t stop until they squeal, pay their damned taxes, or repeal the Internal Revenue Code.
I’ve been trying to lay off the f-bomb here lately, but… FUCK! What the hell is WRONG with these people?
HAS BEEN AFIRE this past week or so, since That One took office, I ween. And on one point they’re right — saying what I’ve been preaching for years. Stop picking nits and argue from principle. As Rush put it, don’t argue about whether the stimulus should include 375 billion or 275 billion in — scorn quotes — “tax cuts.” Argue that the entire concept of the thing is morally WRONG. It’s legally indefensible. It’s a pure power play and exactly the kind of thing the constitutional system is supposed to be structured to prevent. As such, it’s a perversion. Anathema. Abomination.
Yes, Dolly, that’s why the word came about. We know.
OR AT LEAST THOSE WHO DID for voting against the “stimulus.” Be sure to do it. Especially if they’re Democrats. There was the real bi-partisan effort, Bela Pelosi’s feckwitted blathering notwithstanding.
How on earth does someone so stupid…?
Amass so much powerful? Because she’s … not so much smart as she is … sly. Possessed of a certain low cunning. The kind that lets any bottom feeder spot and exploit a chance opportunity. Absent any real intelligence, and probably too lazy to actually prepare or do real work (why else go into government?), she’s been living on her animal wits all her overextended life.
But, if you work at something long enough, you jsut naturally will get somewhere with it. Like Woody Allen said, 90% of anything is just showing up. You don’t need talent if you’re alone in the game.
So that’s why Democrats keep winning? The really smart people stay away — for the most part — and the honest ones (the Republicans) aren’t cunning enough to cheat effectively?
Er… Something like that.
WENT RIGHT FROM being buried Tuesday to being iced in Wednesday. The city declared a Level 3 Snow Emergency, which as I understand it basically means if you’re not an emergency vehicle (or, I guess, the media), they’ll plow you off the side of the road and leave you there until thaw.
Or something like that.
So I burned ANOTHER vacation day and missed work. Emailed in slick at 7 and went back to bed.
Got up an hour or so later, my decision ratified by the fact that the road behind our house (our only way off the hill — up OR down) was STILL impassable. Ordinarily, I would expect traffic to substantially clear the pavement. (The road is a major artery between this eastern bedroom community and the central business district.) But NOOOooooo. A solid sheet of ice. Not simplified by the fact that the Gunga Din wallahs have been wagga-wagga-ing at a water main break up the way for the best part of the last week, and that it has this tendency to weep at the most inopportune moments. Down the hill. Past the end of our street. Which has a cattle pen of pencil-necked orange barrel-ettes emplaced to channel traffic — such as it is and what there is of it — around the (and I say this advisedly) “work” area.
Now, that’s not fair. Those guys are working their asses off in cold water, in cold weather, in cramped, uncomfortable placess. I remind you why you don’t like emergency plumbing.
True enough. I withdraw the above scare quotes.
But the interrupt was good for the pacing.
Like Brigid, we had pancakes for breakfast. We had ours with bacon. I don’t ordinarily like maple-flavored bacon, but just soaking in the syrup — even the fake “diet” syrup I have to have — it’s a bit o’ ‘eaven, ittis.
Toured the blogosphere and noticed that a lot of people were having snow days. The TV news clued us to the fact that this storm apparently hit most of flyovercountry. (Tip to New Yawkers: from the Appalachians to the Rockies is a lot more than half the country, even if to you it’s just The Other Half.) I hope you-all managed to wring some joy out of it. God knows there’ll be little enough of that days-to-come, what with the communist agitprop in the White House and the Termagent from Frisco clinging to the Speakership.
Spent the day indoors for the most part in domesticated bliss, doing a little bit of everything. Funny. People are starting to mention cabin fever. I’ve been indoors since Friday night, now. I remember from the winter of ’78, that it takes a lot longer than four or five days for me to get cabin fever. I can always find something to occupy myself. (Mom would say I can always find a way to get into trouble.) And if that fails, there’s always a nap. The cats enjoy the company.
Part of what I did was to transfer my files out of the milk crates they were in — supporting my cluttered … no, littered desk top — and into the new lateral drawers. For the first time since I started this project, three years ago next month, I feel like this room is finally a place I might be able to do some work. Even as work progresses on the room itself.
The weather reports Wednesday night look as though the weather might break. Cold overnight, to be sure — make sure you leave the water running a trickle — but with no major precipitation seeming to be predickitated, so we might be able to make it to work Thursday. Cars needed to be disinterred.
Dug out of the ground? Don’t you mean disinsnowed?
OK. Or disiniced, more the case. Both of our Jeeps were encased in inches of ice. I’m not sure what the official conclusion as to ice accumulation was, but I was hearing numbers around an inch. Maybe so. But there also had to be a glaciation factor — compaction of snow into ice — as well. It took me about a half hour to scrap, chip, melt, and sweep the stuff off my Cherokee and Toni a similar time on her Liberty. And the Foxy Divorcee did a number on her Camry with Toni’s telescoping Big Mamajama scraper while everybody was at it. FD also backed her car around nosing down the street (parked the wrong way and at an angle) in the hope that it would help her takeoff in the AM. I already park pointed that way and Toni’s an optimist. Or she figures she’ll be able to back up into FD’s space and turn around there or something. I sure wouldn’t want to try to turn around in the skating rink down in the cul de sac.
You’re being too kind.
You’re right. It’s more like the terminus of a glacier, with all manner of ruts and cravasses criss-crossing the cul de sac.
Do glaciers have ruts?
And so Thursday, it will be back off to the land of the employed and productive, our momentary lapse into a childlike enjoyment of winter over for the nonce.
As it turns out, that’s all I have the time, patience, concentration, and… something else that fits in this list… to blog about, so that will just have to do you.
AS I NOTED in Tam’s comments (or maybe Roberta’s), I think Cincinnati and environs got the snow that Indy was supposed to get. We got da dump overnight Monday and on into the day Tuesday. This was the scene that greeted us looking out our front door in the pre-dawn gloom Tuesday morning.
Now, those of you in less clement climes might find this hard to believe, but 4-6 inches of snow is a major event in Cincinnati. Not because it should be, but because it’s unusual. We don’t get a lot of it, so it haywires us. Plus: being situated in and near a river valley — and not just any river valley, but at the confluence of four major rivers in the system that drains the entire area between the Appalachians and the Mississippi, almost to the Gulf, and almost to the Great Lakes, we are on a lot of riverbanks here. Tall riverbanks. 200-300-foot and more riverbanks. We call them hills, but I imagine they would scare a Kansan acquainted with the term. And what they do when the friction coefficient of pavement approaches zero — as it’s wont to do under heavy snowfall — is make travel impossible.
Needles to say, I didn’t go to work. I emailed everybody I could think of — because I had no idea who ELSE might not be able to make it (the one owner who lives closest, lives on top of another one of those riverbanks) — to say I would be taking a vacation day. This on top of being sick Monday. Sucks to be me.
Of course, nobody consulted me (not that I expect them to), so I have no idea whether or not anybody made it in. The production manager, for instance, lives in farm country over by the airport. Yeah, they plow the runways and the beltway, but the state and county roads — not so much. The other owner lives on a side street off a hill I remember getting stuck on back in my cab driving days. Back when I was young and stupid and driving a fleet Plymouth. I wouldn’t blame him for putting his feet up by the fire. And so it goes.
To stave off the boredom, I worked on the Great Study Project. It was that or a Twilight Zone marathon on SciFi. I. Don’t Think. So. I know it’s probably not kewl, but I never did like the Twilight Zone. Even in the ’60s, it seemed lame compared to what I found in books. Now… Bleah.
And they’re saying Wednesday could be worse. We may not get as much snow, because there’ll ice.
That will not be pretty.
AS I SAID IN the apologia post yesterday, I was >||< this close to getting the drawers in and finished. No more. They're in. They open and close. They will hold the contents for which they were designed. As I also observed, serial failures of subsystems can grind you down to the point where your initial idealism and perfectionism will no longer carry you forward, and you have to rely on a dogged determination to just. Get. It. Done. Anyoldway.
Actually, that makes it sound worse than it is. But still…
The bottoms of the drawers barely stay in their dadoes. No. That’s a lie. In some cases, they’re not IN the dado. Not even remotely. Because some fuzzwit cut the boards too small. AGAIN. And said, “Fuck it!” and nailed strips of wood around the bottoms of the drawer boxes to extend the slots. In a couple of cases, I actually can’t figure out what went wrong, as — according to my measurements, the damned things should fit perfectly. But they don’t.
The action of the slides is nowhere near as neat, keen, and groovy as the ones that came in the Kraft Maid cabinets in Toni’s desk. Boo Hoo. They’re still pretty smooth. And they have a little “lock” feature at the back end of their travel.
Which doesn’t always engage. Must be due to installation error, because, when you play with just the slide, it works fine every time.
The countertop is level. Well, close. The drawers are level. Well… yeah. Close. And I’m pretty sure that, when I laid out the fronts on the drawers, they went on square. But the “lap” drawer on the northernmost cabinet distinctly lists to port. Or is it starboard?
I guess it depends on which end of a drawer you consider to be the bow.
Given’s I live inside your head, I’m not sure how I could get it wrong.
I could write it that way.
Yeah. But, on some level, I’d still know.
No. I’d have to write that, too.
Like you’re doing now?
OK. This is entirely too self-referential.
I’m pretty sure I can fix all the problems. And not with a piece of trim, (pace, Og), either.
IT PUTS FORTH, the comments to this post are pretty enlightening.
For one, in the “sub-grid” discussion, there is a pretty clear explication and a very good real-world example of what I’ve tried to explain in my clumsy essays on ten-mile boxes of atmosphere. Worth reading for that alone.
But the buried lede is even better. FORMER NASA SUPERVISOR OF PRINCIPAL CAGW ALARMIST SHOOTS HANSEN DOWN.
Theon declared “climate models are useless.” “My own belief concerning anthropogenic climate change is that the models do not realistically simulate the climate system because there are many very important sub-grid scale processes that the models either replicate poorly or completely omit,” Theon explained. “Furthermore, some scientists have manipulated the observed data to justify their model results. In doing so, they neither explain what they have modified in the observations, nor explain how they did it. They have resisted making their work transparent so that it can be replicated independently by other scientists. This is clearly contrary to how science should be done. Thus there is no rational justification for using climate model forecasts to determine public policy,” he added.
And, since this bit of poetry and prose is appearing flrst on the blog of Senator James Inhofe (R-OK) (note the .gov TLD), one might hope it should get widespread public attention.
Now I want you to take a broader lesson from this. Standing alone, the following assertion could be called fallacious as reasoning from the particular to the general, but, though the information is anecdotal, there is a strong — STRONG — trend. That is to say there IS no countervailing data. Therefore, I feel justified in reaching this conclusion, based on a half-century of observation in the field.
DEMOCRATS ALWAYS LIE. And they lie most egregiously to their own supporters. They may claim to have the best, the purest of motives. But in the end, they are Democrats — they are engaged in government — to “get things done.” Things for which government is singularly ill-suited.
How can you say that? (She asked, playing the good little shill.)
Because, Baby Doll, government is singularly ill-suited to every task.
Then why have it?
Because there are tasks to which no entity is well-suited, and government may be the best tool available. But it should never be the default tool, and that is the mindset of Democrats — that government be the default solution to any problem, real or perceived.
Fair enough. How is this relevant to catastrophic anthropogenic global warming?
Did you not listen to That One’s inaugural address? He said it right there. He intends to totally rearrange the global economy — and politics and governance, one presumes — in order to “fix” a problem that, even if it existed, would be unfixable, but which manifestly does not exist. He wants to turn the world upside down for a lie.
How much more relevant can you get?
MEET MOE the other white cat.
As you can no doubt tell from the professional quality of the shot, this is his creche picture, taken at the cat rescue place. He has been with us since Saturday — we think. That is to say, we’ve heard squeaky mews in an unfamiliar voice and the rumble and hiss of a realigning feline social order. Him, we haven’t seen so much. Accordingly, it’s been kinda hard to catch him in action with a camera.
Also hindering cat photography is the fact that I’ve been feeling like schnitzel warmed over for the last couple of days. I think I’m recovering and will be back at work at the Patch Factory Tuesday and should be able to post some bloggage Wednesday. Apologies for the lightweight blogging, but I think what I’ve had constitutes a good excuse.
Since I basically slept from Saturday night until Monday afternoon, I really don’t know what’s going on. I’ll need to catch up anyway.
I’m also about >||< this close to finishing the drawers. Amazing things learned: a weekend's work will extend out to a month's-worth at the slightest provocation; nobody else cares about your project as much as you do; enough disasters will wear down your perfectionism every time. I may expand on those sometime in the future, but right now, I'm off to bed. Sleep tight.
THE NEXT bubble.
Oh. Kaay. That’s not what I was expecting.
I thought you were going to go to “It’s what’s for dinner.”
Ah! Well, that’s true. Carbon is what’s for dinner, after a fashion. Especially with you cooking.
But not relevant, so you’re off the hook.
Oh, fo’ sho’. I am the original recipe off-the-hook.
Um… Different hook.
::head poppin’ finger snappin’:: Uh-huh
THE ACLU ACTUALLY makes sense! Head for the hills! It’s the Apocalypse!
“For over a decade the government has been trying to thwart freedom of speech on the Internet, and for years the courts have been finding the attempts unconstitutional,” said Chris Hansen, the ACLU’s lead attorney on the case. “It is not the role of the government to decide what people can see and do on the Internet. Those are personal decisions that should be made by individuals and their families.”
PROVIDING PEER-GROUP technical support on the Web: a referral elsewhere is less-than-useless and an admonition to RTFM is arrogant and feckwitted. Answer the frigging question or SHUT THE HELL UP!
OF ASSHOLES (and you know who you are, ::coughglenbeckcough::) telling me that I get the government I deserve.
Get this: fuck that.
I write here. I scream at my representatives. (I got a snippy note from Jean Schmidt’s listserve the other day, I’m so up in her grille.) I vote. I put my money where my mouth is. Don’t tell my wife.
What? Did you rat me out?
Hardly. She saw the American Rifleman in the mail.
Oh. Right. ANY waaaayyy.
I don’t door-to-door because, well, look at me. Would you open the door if I knocked on it?
So don’t tell ME I deserve this statist clusterfuck. You can fold that so it’s all corners and stick it where the sun don’t shine.
Ain’t got one.
What? Of course you do. Everybody does.
Nope. Sunbathe nude. Sun shines on every square inch of my glorious naked body.
At, I should add, considerable risk to my fair skin. The sacrifices I make for beauty.
(END IN TEARS) … I have no doubt.
What we are experiencing, in the deepening days of a global depression, is the desperate suspension of disbelief by people of intelligence – la trahison des clercs – in a pathetic effort to hypnotise themselves into the delusion that it will be all right on the night. It will not be all right.
Yet today, in this country, even some of those who remained sane during the emotional spasm of the Diana aberration are pumping the air for Princess Barack. At a time of gross economic and geopolitical instability throughout the Western world, this is beyond irresponsibility.
— Gerald Warner, in the Times
What!? There’s only one “The Times”
STATEMENTS are of value in debate, such as this one, found at Junk Science.
Bizarrely, NASA’s GISS does not use satellite data to guesstimate global temperature but prefers to perform voodoo incantations over appallingly corrupt near-surface amalgams.
One should wonder why a space agency declines to use data sourced at least partly from its own satellites, data virtually free of urban heat island contamination and with the greatest and most uniform global coverage by far, while promoting its space-borne observation platforms as a solution to a problem like enhanced greenhouse when its space-borne platforms demonstrate observed atmospheric trends can not possibly be due to enhanced greenhouse in the first place.
“Appallingly corrupt” — I like that. The turn of phrase, that is, not the condition.
MAKES A LOT OF SENSE at a tangent from received wisdom.
It’s been said by a lot of folk that Obama will probably be more of a disappointment to his own than to us.
WHEN I TRIP OVER one of those, “Here’s how you Rethuglicans should behave — know your place — now that you’ve been so thoroughly trounced (52% is a landslide, doncha know) at the polls and the American people have rejected your outdated ideology” things. (And that’s mostly the only way I encounter them, because I otherwise avoid them like a cliched comparison to a virulent disease.)
But this one actually kinda makes sense.
QUOTE OF THE DAY … spotted at Instapundit.
…[A] cautionary word for critics: “President Bush’s opponents on the Angry Left often succumbed to a blind hatred for the man and ended up mocking America’s ideals because they loathed the man who was speaking up for them. The Angry Right is susceptible to the same error now. An inauguration is a good opportunity to remember that those ideals belong to all of us, and that they endure regardless of party and personnel.”
First, the very notion of the existence of such a thing as The Angry Right is a fiction of The Delusional Left. Projection, as it were.
Anyone who listened to That One’s inaugural address and wasn’t sputtering mad halfway through is probably too ignorant to vote.
So far as I can garner from listening to the whole live and bits and pieces here and there, and from reading a transcript, which always sucks all the life out of a speech, there was one line in the speech that shouldn’t have caused any patriotic and aware American’s head to spin around and spew split pea soup. That line is:
We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is sronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.
But it was embedded in so much empty rhetoric, so much statist demagoguery, as to be labeled variously tripe or hate speech in this land of the free and home of the brave.
Go ahead and read it for yourself. Even those sentences which seemed designed to appeal to lovers of liberty seem pretty and empty, with no heft or bite. But there are too many which chill for the ill wind they ride to buffet the American body politic.
Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age.
The greed and irresponsibility may have been there. But the statement is meant to point a finger at the business world when the fault lies in Congress. And the cure so far proposed is more of the same. Fighting fire with gasoline. And, from all I’ve heard on the subject, the hard choices have been explicitly taken off the table as politically unpalatable — never mind that the topic is one the Federal government is neither competent nor authorized to rule on.
On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.
Translation: We’ve won. Now shut up, bitches. Sorry. Homey don’t play dat. Your party is the party of petty grievances and false promises, recriminations and worn out dogma, and has strangled not just our politics, but the entire country. That we are the strongest, most prosperous nation in the history of mankind has not come as a result of government policies, but despite them.
We remain a young nation…
I would remind the President that the United States is the oldest extant democracy or republic on the planet. And, no, England doesn’t count, as she has had several fundamental constitutional paradigm shifts since our Constitution was ratified. The Europhiles on the Left need to get over their worship of countries which, after all, our ancestors came here to get shut of.
There are some who question the scale of our ambitions…
We don’t question the scale, we question the sign. Your ambitions are not progressive, they are retrograde.
Whether or not government works is not a relevant question. The relevant questions are whether nor not what government does is good for the people, and whether or not the government is permitted to do what it proposes. On these scores, government has always failed, is failing abysmally now, and will always fail in the future, because it is in the fundamental nature of government that it cannot succeed. Therefore, government must be limited to serve only those necessities which cannot be met otherwise.
The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works – whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end.
You’ve got way too many luxury options on your wish list, young man. You need first and foremost to cut back. If you honestly assess government today, the answer is, “No.”
In the words of Ronaldus Magnus, government is not the solution; government is the problem. This is not cynical. This is realistic. This is also compassionate, because only in a state of true liberty, untrammeled by government coercion, out of reach of the greedy hand of the tax collector can a free people truly pursue — and find — happiness.
(Cross-posted at Eternity Road.)
OUT WITH a malaise speech.
Is it too early to grade his administration as failed? Seems like it’s made of it.
ARE SPINNING AT A rate nearly sufficient to generate a black hole, waving their arms and shouting all panicked like, “Pay no attention to that ice age behind the curtain,” and Obama nominates one to be his science advisor.
I realize that the President is supposed to get the advisors he wants, but where is the responsibility to the nation, forcing taxpayers to foot the bill for — forget substantive policy disagreements — an advisor who, despite his clothyard of resume, has been so palpably wrong on so many issues relevant to his competence for so much of that resume?
Why should we not oppose him? Or, at least, question him closely?
(SO FAR) spotted at Maggie’s Farm.
Bush 43 endured a deliberate and planned assault on everything he stood for, everything he was involved in, everything he tried to accomplish. Those who worked with him suffered nearly as much (and some even more — at least one, Scooter Libby, was convicted on utterly specious charges in what amounts to a show trial).His detractors were willing to risk the country’s safety, its economic health, and the very balance of the democratic system of government in order to get at him. They were out to bring him down at all costs, or at the very least destroy his personal and presidential reputation. At this they have been half successful, at a high price for the country and its government.
—J.R. Dunn, writing at
And yet, to quote an earlier work, none dare call it treason.
Did you see Krugman’s column calling for still more show trials?
Yeah. I was interested to note that the “author” graph from the syndicate alludes to his being a Nobel Laureate, which only further deprecates that brand.
So I really fargled this one up. I so carefully and precisely cut the bottoms of these drawers I’m building to fit into the dadoes routed into their sides. And, for some reason I only suspect at the moment, I cut them too small. By the depth of one dado — which should clue those schooled to the rogue as to the nature of my suspicion.
So I have to start over. Four handy panels of 1/4-inch birch ply. Cut. Sand. Oil.
I’d hoped to have at least one drawer completed Monday night. ‘Twas not to be.
I suppose I could blame it on the distraction of having to deal with burst pipes over the weekend. But that would be whining, and there’s no whining in baseball.
GLEN BECK ON MONDAY wondered why, when Obama more closely resembles FDR (promising dangerous, radical, anti-constitutional change) or JFK (young, attractive poseur of little or no substance) than Honest Abe, the media is pushing the Obama = Lincoln metaphor so hard.
Answer: Lincoln was a Republican. That the GOP is the Party of Lincoln shames the hell out of formerly-pro-slavery, formerly-pro-Jim Crow, formerly anti-integration Democrats.
And the leftist myrmidons in the legacy partisan press want to change that by taking Lincoln-as-icon away from the Republicans.
TO THINK NOT — the “contributions” of the media and the behavior of “our” candidate militate against. Nevertheless, an intriguing notion:
One has to wonder if we had put that much money and effort into defeating Obama in November would we have succeeded?
SHOULD HAVE remained silent. The Dylan chick on Glen Beck spoke up and removed all doubt. Like: wow. Shame, too.
IS ANYONE among you also a member of the set which caught Rush’s 1:00 hour Friday, with Ann Coulter. Did anybody besides me think this would be a powerhouse media pairing if these two were to work together regularly? Or was I the only one who thought there was a chemistry there?
Sure it’s cold enough for politicians to have their hands in their own pockets.
COLD SNAP Thursday and Friday. Thaw Saturday. Kitchen full of water from a burst pipe in the utility room. No water at Casa d’Alger. Gotta love winter.
Update: The thing that was really freaking me out — aside from having to work in cold, dirty water, with my hands in cold, wet insulation, that is — was having to sweat the joints. In tight quarters. Surrounded by cold, wet, but still somewhat flammable insulation and wood. Plus I just hate sweating joints on general principles. Probably has to do with most of my joints-sweating having been done in less-than-optimum conditions (read: cold, wet, cramped), under some type of stress.
Man was I delighted to discover these little puppies.
Standing in the plumbing aisle at Home Despot, amongs a bunch of other guys and couples, no doubt there for the same reason as Toni and I, I discovered the placard for Shark Bite. I read the material quickly and made a selection. I exclaimed, “This is a miracle, if it’s for real.”
The HD associate, walking by accompanied by a lucky couple who’d glommed onto him first, overheard and averred going away, “Then it’s a miracle. It’s for real. It’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.”
Plumbing joints with no solder, no tools. (Well, I used a cutter and a cupped wire brush to cut and clean the copper tube.) Just push and… that’s it.
Based on having our water on with no sweat… I agree. Greatest thing since sliced bread.
Although I’m sure some hippies might disagree. You know — the ones who don’t appreciate the massive contribution plumbing makes to civilization.
I’m for the showers. Ta!
APPARENTLY DON’T know when they’re not wanted. If you’ve been banned in the past and suddenly discover that you’re not, because we’ve changed platforms, YOU’RE STILL UNWELCOME.
B-Bye, Troll. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.
THE WHOLE Intarwebz’ Kwot uv tha Dei…
We’re tempted to say America needs a Treasury secretary who is smart enough to figure out his own taxes. But such a cheap shot would be beneath us. Instead, we are going to make a serious point:
America needs a tax code simple enough for the Treasury secretary to figure out.
Why is it that ideas out of common sense are stillborn, while witless collectivist nostrums Just. Won’t. Die?
CAPTURING Osama doesn’t matter.
Now that the Lightbringer has brought Hope and Change and Candy-scented Unicorn Farts (CUF) to the land.
Osama’s not so much a threat any more.
So all those Democrats who hung that around Dubya’s neck were… ill informed? Just stupid I guess? Lying traitorous scumbags?
All of the above?
I guess. So long as no two are mutually exclusive.
TAKE THE GLOBAL economy by the throat and shake it until it accedes to your demand that it commit suicide to suit your notion of a solution to a problem that we’re almost dead-certain does not exist and that even you concede isn’t likely to be even frationally solved by your nostrums?
My GOD, Man! Have no notion of the concept of hubris?
OF A DEGREE in 114 years.
Could almost get lost in the noise.
Benefit of the doubt, Dolly. Benefit of the doubt.
Color me dubious.
QUOTE OF THE DAY
Keynesians on the left are eager to dismiss Intelligent Design (ID) as the creationist afterthought to evolution, but just as eager to embrace its analog in economics. Disciples of Adam Smith know better. Darwin, after all, read Smith. As the late naturalist Stephen Jay Gould wrote, “the theory of natural selection is a creative transfer to biology of Adam Smith’s basic argument for a rational economy: the balance and order of nature does not arise from a higher, external (divine) control, or from the existence of laws operating directly upon the whole, but from struggle among individuals for their own benefits.”
Once we come to discover not only that the economy is an ecosystem — but that the laws of ecosystems are very different from the laws of machines — we’ll resist our urge to fix things from the top down. We’ll realize that economic growth is a holistic process that happens by virtue of countless adjustments and adaptations within the system itself. That’s why economic planning is, and always has been, a form of hubris.
(I changed the juxtaposition of the two paragraphs. I think the concepts flow better that way in this context.)
Kinda a Kevin Baker kinda QOTD.
Er… yes. About like that. ::grin::
A FREE MARKET system…
Socialism is supposed to be about democratizing work, so that workers can make decisions about their lives rather than the owners of capital.
(commenter Georges at David Thompson’s blog)
Meaning that everyone is an independent contractor, a cottage industrialist, self-employed and responsible for the maintenance of his life from the goods and valuta he can garner from his own labor?
I bet GM would lurve that.
Because, as we all well know, economies are ecosystems, not machines — distributed systems that do not admit to central planning, which is what socialism really is all about.
SAME COMMENT thread…
Actually Capitalism is far better at destroying tradition than Socialism.
Georges again. Heh.
STILL FURTHER ON…
Or maybe much of the current politics is actually an attempt to undo the consequences of an infantilised and welfare dependent underclass, while denying the role of leftwing ideology in perpetuating and legitimising that underclass and many of its miseries. That’s only part of the picture, I grant you, but one that’s often overlooked.
The blog author, this time.
OF THE WELFARE state is an earmark of Leftist denial of reality, then surely the so-called War on Drugs is a similar tag shot into the floppy ear of the Right.
Prohibition doesn’t work. The thing itself is prohibited by the Constitution. The “War” has a corrupting influence on our institutions of law and order. It has the effect of punishing victims. The creation of the black market enables criminal enterprises.
In short, it has the diametric opposite effects it’s supposed to have.
Yet, like the Washington Monument, it is untouchable in the corridors of power. And out here in Flyover Country, when The People vote to stop — or even slow — the “War,” our Federal masters say us nay in most oppressive terms.
Of the people, for the people, by the people. Uh-huh. Go peddle that crap somewhere else.
OF A FEMALE AGENT is — scorn quotes — “torture”?
All of America reads this and goes WHAT. THE. FUCK!?ELEVEN!!!1
You know, Dolly, I remember that exact frame of mind, attitude, weltanschauung, what-have-you quite well. When I was a teenager. One would sling all manner of horse hockeypucks to get out of doing work. And crap about how bad it made our widdle feewings huhwt was high on the ordnance inventory. Over the years, as I see changes in the education establishment in America — pursuant to the unionization of teachers in the late ’60s — and observe those changes as they seep through the fabric of society, I cannot help feeling a sense of deja vu, recognizing that same adolescent malingering and BS-slinging in now-official pronuncements.
Yeah. Like I said: WHAT. THE. FUCK!??ELEVEN!!!1!
Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming when the Democrats — bound and determined to undermine a Republican President at all costs (and without regard for the effect of those costs on the nation) — began their full court press on the witless assertion that waterboarding=torture.
No. I’m not telling you that. I just keep hoping that common sense will prevail at some point.
Come now, girl. You know better.
Yeah. ::sigh:: I do.
LAUGHING AT HIS little slick willie?
“Torture” my ass. Those spoldeydopes are a bunch of pussies. Our kick-ass American chicks scare ’em? Heh! May the Lord smite me with it and may I never recover!
(A little Fiddler on the Roof humor for you, there.)
HAS TO DO THE Kabuki routine of appearing to apologize to the UN for bombing their building in Gaza.
Although I don’t really understand why it’s reasonable to expect them to.
After all, what has the UN ever done for Israel? Isn’t it pretty much on the other side?
THIS SEEMS COCKEYED to me. So the New York Supreme Court (I thought that was the municipal court in NY?) says it’s OK for the state of New York to tax interstate commerce.
So? That and $4 will get you ripped off at Starbucks. (Wow! Remember when a cup of White Castle coffee cost a nickel?)
Maybe this is a question of having to pass “GO!” or something — climb the ladder in state court first before you can get to the Feds, but it seems to me that A) the state courts don’t have jurisdiction, this being a Federal matter, and 2) the entire NY court system ought to recuse itself on the basis of a conflict of interest. “Yes, we’re allowed to tax your customers, even though the Federal Constitution prohibits it. You can trust me on that, because I’m impartial.”
I laugh up my sleeve at the veriest notion.
I’m glad to see Amazon pursuing this. But I wish just once that principle didn’t cost more than accomodation with tyrants. If it didn’t ruin a business to say to an overweaning state government, “Fair enough. We’ll stop selling in your state, then, and you can explain to your citizens why that is.” It would be nice. I’m just sayin’s all.
CAN I GET A “Hell yeah!”
Lemme tellya. 35 bucks would feed the Alger family for about two days, and we ain’t cheap to feed. Hell, you could feed one of us pretty good (with adult beverages) OUT at our favorite price-no-object fancy restuarant for 35 bucks — plus tip.
I don’t think I could spend as much as 35 bucks for one meal. I mean, I just did Christmas. Standing. Rib. Roast. Smashed taters. Hot bread.
Veggies. Hell, throw in a bottle of bourbon! OK, so I spent more than $35 on that, but there were leftovers.
Where the hell are these people shopping!!!???
And they said Bush41 was out of touch when he expressed delight at a new kind of laser checkout scanner.
WAS: “CALL ME the minute you get to work.”
When I did, she told me, “Siamon’s gone.”
The floor dropped out. I said something stupid.
Siamon was our 8 month old Siamese mix that I loved so dearly and my heart is broken. His breathing seemed rapid last night and I called my boss, at home. No other symptoms. Gums were a little pale but he was alert and ate dinner and curled up and purred as usual. Doctor and I decided that I’d bring him in this morning for a check up. When I went to bed, he crawled up on me like every other night and purred me to sleep.
I took him out to our G******** Road office bright and early and his breathing had gotten worse. Still, no other symptoms. Temp of 103.2 which is not, as cats go, sky high. No sneezing. No open mouth breathing. No mouth ulcers. I was to put him in a cage and they would do a chest x-ray and blood work while I went to my doctor appointment. I took Siamon back to his cage, near the surgery and diagnostic area, and he had a seizure as I was holding him. I screamed for Doctor, and Siamon was gone before he had walked from the pharmacy area. 5 seconds tops.
My heart is broken. I know that you understand.
We were worried. He was breathing funny last night, as though in some distress. No complaint, otherwise fine, just… breathing funny.
Toni took him to the Animal Hospital Main Branch (the mothership to the little shuttle clinic she manages closer to home), where she met Dr. Shirley-you-jest. A quick check. A decision to keep him in the hospital for observation and tests. Toni had doctor appointments of her own to attend to, so she took him back in the kennel to put him in a cage.
Before she could even close the door, he siezed and died. That quick.
We doubt it was a pathogen or environmental. Autopsy revealed he had atrophied lungs — probably genetic. His chest cavity was filled with fluids — the proximate cause of his distress — but the size of his lungs would have done for him sooner or later.
Toni is devastated. Siamon was her kitteh. Hung out on her chest while we watched TV — the way Rommie does with me. He also slept on her desk chair in the office and with her in bed. He was the youngest of our juvenile crew, sure to be, we assumed, the last to go.
We thought sure he’d be with us for years to come.
Some memories of the boy.
He was the last to arrive of the current four kittehs in residence at Casa d’Alger. It is symptomatic of his nice-guyness that he fit right in. Rommie, the closest in age and size, became the sister he never knew he lacked. The two of them got along famously.
But what we noticed about him right away was his relaxed attitude. He slept famously, in boneless postures that must have had even the cats remarking on his absolute lack of tension. He was equanimity itself. I don’t recall him ever appearing to get uptight about anything. Not that he was a pushover — far from it. When he was a pound lighter than Rommie, (at 3#, that’s a significant weight advantage to be giving away), he gave as good as he got in their little chaffering sessions. I only wish… I was looking forward to years of watching them, catching them with my camera. Even when he played, it was with a footloose style, as here, that registered his joy in just moving his body. Whatever was going on in that head, the intelligence that controlled it was enjoying the hell out of life.
This sequence is unique for having been shot in natural light — pouring in the front door and across the floor of the study. That’s another thing I was looking forward to — being able to take pictures of him again in natural light come spring.
We never expected… We thought that it would be ten years at least before we had to do this again.
“The parent is not supposed to outlive the children.” It only slightly applies, here, but expresses the feeling.
Goodbye, little guy. Gone too soon, long remembered.
Requiescas in pacem.
WOULDN’T KNOW a fascist if he was wearing a brown shirt and kicking their lame asses.
If you want to know what persuaded me the Left has nothing to offer, here’s a large portion of it. The intellectual vacuity, abysmal ignorance, and general lack of couth on display in the linked photo set hasn’t changed a bit in forty years. Are they trying to persuade people to their point of view? Or just hanging their red baboon butt-tocks out there in a threat display? Either way… doesn’t look like it’s working.
THE RIGHT to waive my rights?
Sure, you can walk up to the slave master, take the manacles from his hands, and put them on yourself all day long, if you want to.
But where do you get off putting those same chains on me?
Where does that come from?
The idiots who voted in and keep voting in Democrats, Socialists, and other collectivists. The fools who aren’t storming the offices of their representative — literally or figuratively — demanding an end to the fiscal insanity that is our Federal government. The wannabe slaves who say to themselves in the privacy of their darkened rooms, “Well, at least I’ll get a little of my own back.”
But they do not have the right.
Ever hear of elections?
Ah, yes. Democracy. Two wolves and a sheep deciding on what to have for lunch. Ever heard of the Constitution? Says you ain’t allow to do that?
FOR A CHANGE. It appears that Rob Portman may run in ought-ten to replace the retiring George Voinovich as Senator from Ohio.
Ainnit funny that the Voin-o-bitch served just long enough in the Senate to qualify for the pension?
Dolly, you are an incurable cynic.
Yeah. Cute, too.
There is that.
But about Portman. He’s a bit to the right of the Bushes, in whose shadow he’s served most of his career. He’s reliably conservative on fiscal matters, ecumenical on social matters, and aware of the libertarian message, even if he doesn’t always vote that way.
He probably will win, if he runs. (Ohio is not happy under Democrat governance, and is due for a pendulum swing.) We could do a lot worse.
A good portion of GHCN stations are at airports like this one. Airports, as we know, have grown in size, sprawl, and flights served significantly in the last century to accomodate air travel growth. So when we have a significant portion of the GHCN record coming from airports, what are we actually measuring?
— Anthony Watts.