Hm. So how do I get an order to prevent Feinstein’s body guards from buying or possessing guns? Clearly they must be dangerous loons to work for a person like that.
What’s lost as cursive handwriting goes away? Intelligence … memory … turns out handwriting isn’t just some bugaboo in stuffy, old-fashioned teachers’ minds.
In Thailand, protestors salute with the touching gesture borrowed from The Hunger Games. The junta doesn’t like it.
Hm. I dunno. I guess if you’re too busy, have the bux, and don’t mind your dog pigging out on treats, this could assuage your guilt. Frankly, though, if I had the money and no time, I’d go with an automated fetch machine, instead. Keep ‘em lean and well-exercised. (H/T ML)
Now I’ve exchanged maybe five sentences with this kid in the past, all completely casual. But with virtually no preamble, he informs me that he’s had a bad month because on his birthday he came home to discover his girlfriend and his roommate doing guess what on the living room sofa. He commences to go into detail.
I make a few politely sympathetic noises while trying to indicate that I’m doing something really, really — I mean really, vitally! — important on my computer. I eventually have to say outright that I’m deadlining.
I’m embarrassed that any young man would think that a stranger either would want to hear the intimate details of his relationships or should hear them.
Where are the boundaries? Are there boundaries any more?
If you held out some tiny hope that Obama might not be as complete an economic moron as you thought him to be, read this and Lasciate ogni speranza. Yes, a raft of new federal controls will make energy cheaper!
Speaking of economic moronism: Under the inspiration of a Socialist city council member and waves and waves of trendy blueness, Seattle gone went and done it — raised the city’s minimum wage to $15/hour. For a while they may be saved by all the ifs, ands, and butts they included.
And on the other side of governmental asininity: Court official in Virginia refuses to perform a marriage because the couple aren’t Christians and therefore have no right to get married.
But wait! Governments have no monopoly on idiocy. Seems that hurricanes with female names kill more people, and it may be because people don’t think “girly” hurricanes are as dangerous, and therefore don’t flee or take as many precautions against them. (Oh, human beings, you are so very strange!)
Oh man. I didn’t realize that the latest baby-burning cops were also the preacher-killing cops from a few years back. I just love how the sheriff dismisses all this with, “Bad things can happen. That’s just the world we live in.” A fine statement from the guy who’s making the bad things happen. Tear ‘em a new one, Mr. Grigg.
This one’s already gotten around a lot, but what the heck. It deserves all the attention. Bloomberg’s “Moms” demand action at a Tulsa Chipotle — and they get it. :-)
I’m less competent when men are around. It’s kind of annoying, and it’s definitely one reason I prefer living solo. But there it is.
This usually shows around cars (where I’m genuinely befuddled) and construction work (where I have some practical knowledge). It’s not a matter of playing dumb. Not my style, that. Nor is it a matter of actually being dumb. It’s more as if an old “I’m no good” switch flips and I become fumble-fingered at things I can do perfectly well when I’m on my own.
I don’t usually “do” holidays, except Thanksgiving. But here are a pair of truly touching stories, one for today, and one (though it was just published), for the Mothers Day just passed.
That there in the foreground is “Saintly Syrup,” pure maple syrup made (so I gather) as a fundraiser for a church in the upper midwest. It arrived last week in a Big Box O’ Stuff, including the unsaintly (but equally welcome, and equally midwestern) Bloody Mary Mix you see behind.
So cool! I knew my correspondent had been spending his snowy spring weekends maple sugaring — but I had no idea he was doing it for a charitable cause. And though he’d hinted I might see a little of the bounty, I was never expecting a precious quart. That’s a lot of maple syrup — especially now that I know how much of my friend’s work went into producing it.
Thank you, Friend-Who-Prefers-Not-to-Be-Named!
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Thursday was hectic. I’ve got a big house project looming — the kind where it’s way, way, way too much for me to do myself, and in fact so complicated that a teardown may be wiser than a rebuild. I’m in the process of finding out.
I’ve been having weeks of trouble trying to get contractors out here. Of course, they’re crazy-busy this time of year. Three weeks — not much of nothin’. Then, between 2:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. I suddenly had more phone calls than I usually get in a month plus a multitude of contractors and potential sub-contractors showed up — sometimes unannounced and sometimes repeatedly. Plus a couple of delivery men and a neighbor. This hermit is feeling like she’s taken up residence in Grand Central Station.
In the midst of all this, the guy who mows my lawn pulls into the driveway even though it’s not that time yet. “What now?” I’m grumbling.
Then he comes to the door and says, “I was mowing a lawn down the way and a cop I know stopped to warm me that there’s a thief on the loose. The guy was last seen coming up your street.” He described the thief in detail (having himself encountered the guy earlier in the week). “His MO is to come up to you and be really friendly while he’s actually scoping out your property. I thought I should warn you.”
I never did encounter the thief. If he came near here I’d hope the noisy dogs (at every house) would deter him (not to mention the “Forget the dog; beware of owner” sign in my window). Still, it was a wonderfully neighborly thought.
—–
Fred, the wonderful man who decided to spend the last months of his life doing good deeds, died a week ago today.
His wife asked me, for privacy’s sake, not to reprint his obituary or link to it here, but it’s wonderful. It made me wish more than ever that I’d known Fred in person. Fred was many things that freedomistas aspire to be, and above all, he was a great soul.
In lieu of flowers or contributions, he requests that all who remember him perpetrate “random acts of kindness” to celebrate his life.
Kurt Hofmann gives it good and hard to the tyranno-cop who claimed police militarization was needed because of those non-existent rising rates of violent crime. And to fight American military veterans.
Those Texas open-carry activists whose tactics of carrying long guns into businesses have proven so … counterproductive, to say the least … are learning from their mistakes.
I hadn’t thought about this in years. Then yesterday while sitting on an old-growth log at the end of a gravel road, I remembered it. Now it won’t leave me alone. That’s always a sign I’m supposed to write it down, whether I want to or not, so here goes.
Used to be, the more student debt you incurred, the more likely you were to own a house. ‘Cause after all, that debt meant you were better schooled, therefore better paid. Not so much any more.
