Saturday morning. Up early, if not bright. The weatherperson warns of two storms headed our way this weekend.
Being caught up on work-work (and even forbidden by one client to proceed on his projects for now), I know that kind of weather will leave me inert and gloomy if I don’t have a plan.
Hm. Plan … a plan. The choices are … framing and drywalling those closets I’ve been promising myself to build for three months. Or … going to the beach!
Well, I tell ya, that was a hard decision. But by 8:30 a.m. I’m off to a pleasantly grubby little oceanside town (not far from the one pictured in this post). By late morning, the dogs and I are holed up in a grubby little motel a short walk from the beach.
Let the storms begin!
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The first storm took its time, but boy, it was worthwhile. To me, anyhow.
You probably thought it was just hearts, flowers, mushy-mush, and (for the guys) excruciating pressure to be romantic when you’d rather be changing the oil in your car.
But nope. Turns out it’s forbidden, immoral, vulgar, profane, the subject of conspiracy theories, and likely to be the ruination of generations yet unborn. It’s also hush-hush, empowering, inspirational, rebellious, and possibly even a sign of a quiet revolution. In some parts of the world.
Outlaws should enjoy all of the above. Happy Valentines Day.
Memory is such a funny old thing. Yesterday when former Nawlins mayor Ray Nagin got convicted on multitudes of counts of corruption, the NPRistas tsked about Nagin’s long and tragic fall from the days he was the “face of New Orleans” during Hurricane Katrina. Do they actually remember what the “face of Katrina” looked like? A corruption conviction is positively lovely by comparison. (And it was for his “heroic” Katrina recovery work that he was convicted.) Just another grubby crook.
Anybody seen The Lego Movie? Critics and audiences are loving it. Foxians have ranted that it’s anti-business. This review say’s its a hilarious and inspiring romp that savages crony capitalism and promotes all that we hold dear.
Sure. You’re an anti-gunner and you just “forgot” you carried your gun into an elementary school.
Sorry for the blog being out this morning. Someone asked me to tell the story of that, but it’s really dull. Just something about the access file BHM uses to keep spammers out. Went temporarily haywire and kept us all out. Me, you, everybody.
Webmaster Oliver fixed it, but only after both his mailbox and mine filled up with worries.
I’m glad you’re keeping an eye out, guys. If you ever see something like this instead of that 403 message, you can start worrying for real. For now, though, no problem.
Back soon with Actual Content! I’m working on something now.
“The repentant informant.” This article on liberty’s former friend Stacy Litz was published last year. The reporter (whose name really, truly is Jason Nark) interviewed me but forgot to tell me when the story hit, which is why I’m late with the news. I’m not quoted, but he does reference the booklet the Commentariat collaborated on: Rats! So pat yourselves on the back. You’re famous. :-)
Cops do the usual no-knock dawn raid. On the usual word of a lying informant. Resident, believing he and his pregnant girlfriend are in danger, shoots and kills a deputy. Cops find pot. A grand jury refuses to indict. Even a blogger cop says it’s the right decision. And you thought there were no such things as miracles.
Unfortunately, the usual *&^%$ still goes on. But you know … credit card fraud was involved. And somebody in the house had a concealed carry permit. So of course any amount of coppish violence is totally, absolutely justified. If you don’t think so you must be a domestic terrorist or something.
Uh oh. Tricksy, buggy Adobe Flash now carries malware that can infect even Linux machines and Macs. Guess the good old days are truly over.
Here’s more on Freespeechme.org from MWD. For nerdstuff, this is pretty lucid. And he very kindly tells me he’s snagged me a clairewolfe.bit domain name just in case.
And never forget, no matter how weird the world gets, we can always enjoy the puppies. So here, via MLS, are big dogs who don’t realize they are.
Does the new CBO report put the final nail in the Obamacare coffin? That might be a tad optimistic. But the report just ain’t pretty, no matter how Big O’s flappers try to spin it.
MWD, who sent this development thinks it’s a world-altering change. Welllll … In any case, it’s a hopeful sign for privacy.
Also from Amazon: Just what every survival shelter and humble hermit home should have. (Tks, A.) (Yeah, and I put one of my Amazon links on it, even though you’ll buy one shortly after you open that ice cream stand in Hades. But hey, it does have free shipping!) (P.S. Don’t miss the reviews on this one, either!)
Why do “progressives” favor gun control? (Well, because they’re control-freaking authoritarians, that’s why. Still, it’s a pretty interesting article.)
Watched the SuperBowl last night. First football game I’ve seen in 20 years. But I used to love pro football and with “my” Seahawks playing (not to mention this being the Stoner Bowl), I had to tune in on the computer.
Funny how the game seemed pre-ordained to go the Seahawks way from its first seconds. The instant that flubbed first snap flew over Peyton Manning’s head and the ‘Hawks fell on it for a safety just 12 seconds into the game (earliest score ever in a SuperBowl), the Broncos seemed out of focus, off their game — and doomed.
And sure enough, from then on, the Seahawks could do no wrong and the Broncos could do no right. Or rather, even when the Broncos weren’t making awful mistakes, even when a Manning pass hit its intended receiver smack in the gloves, Seahawk defenders were right there to knock the receiver down. Manning actually passed for more yardage than Russell Wilson,IIRC, but you’d hardly have known it by watching the game. The Seahawks pwned the Broncos.
Of course, the doom could have reversed any time in the first half. Or during the half-time break. But it was sealed when — just 12 seconds into the second half — the Seahawk’s Percy Harvin returned a kickoff 87 yards for a touchdown (and made it look like a perfectly choreographed bit of football ballet).
If I were superstitious, I’d even note that Denver’s doom came with two 12s. The Seahawks are so famous for their “12th man” (their ever-faithful and very loud fans) that before the game they even charged onto the field waving a giant blue flag with nothing but a white numeral “12″ on it. The fans love their Seahawks and the ‘Hawks know the fans are part of their team.
Yep, Denver was dooooooomed.
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But of course, nothing was pre-ordained. It looked to me (I could be wrong) that, while they were also just overplayed by a team that was totally “on,” the Broncos doomed themselves by getting rattled. Every closeup of Manning’s face, from the get-go, showed consternation. I’m no football expert, obviously, and maybe Manning just looks that way all the time. But consternation often goes before destruction and a nervous spirit before a fall.
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My point (and yes, I have one aside from merely yakking about football) is that there are so many things in life that seem destined to have happened — but of course only seem that way because they’ve already happened. In reality, things could have turned out radically different, and not just last night at the SuperBowl.
There are many things that seemed destined to happen — that didn’t. For instance, the “success” of gun control. Back in ’93 and ’94 some of us were the ones with the consternated faces. But our nobler fellows got a second wind. Doom averted.
Currently, a whole boatload of bad things seem destined to happen. Privacy seems doomed to be slain by the combo of technology and big institutions. Freedom seems doomed to fall under waves of ignorance, apathy, and powerlust. The U.S. economy appears doomed in the long run by fiscal and political folly.
But we don’t know. We can’t know. All we can know is that that crisis presents opportunity. As can new technology, black swan events, and … well, a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil.
And what we can do is keep breathing, not get ourselves too consternated to function, take a break now and then — and hope to fly like a Seahawk when the wind is right.
