25. April 2007 · Comments Off on Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, Media Matters Not, Politics, Rant, sarcasm, Science!, World

There are a good few reasons besides sheer contrariness that I am standing off to the side, pointing and snickering at the antics of the “global warming” warming crowd. One of them is that I have been to the “omigod-it-could-be-the-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it” rodeo before. Several times, actually; when I was in junior high school the panic-du-jour was about overpopulation. Eventually we would all wind up, standing shoulder to shoulder, running out of food and clean water. When I got to high school, it was global cooling; great honking ice sheets were going to advance across the earth, the sun would grow dim and we would all freeze to death. If we didn’t starve, first.

Before and during that was the oldie but goodie of global thermonuclear war; we were all going to be annihilated by the Russkies or a melting power plant. Or die of starvation afterwards. For a while in college we were supposed to be all freaked out by the scourge of “future shock” wherein things changed so fast and so suddenly that our poor little minds just couldn’t cope, and we would… oh, I forget what was supposed to happen to us with “future-shock”. Curl up in the fetal position, suck our thumbs and turn up the electric blanket up to high, I suppose.

So, I am a little resistant to someone jumping up and down and screaming “oooga-booga!” and demanding that I panic along with the rest of the lemmings about the latest panic-du-jour. Deal with it.

See, I know the climate of the world has changed, is changing and will go on changing. There were glaciers over the upper Mid-West, once. In Roman times, it was warm enough in England to grow grapes. Until about the 14th century (give or take) it was warm enough in southern Greenland for subsistence farming. A volcano eruption on the other side of the world resulted in a year without a summer early in the 19th century in the northern hemisphere. So it went. So it goes. How much global warming in the last umpty-ump years-decades-whatever is due to human activity? I don’t know, but I am not going to rush into taking a position on the say-so of the same sort of people who were banging on about global cooling, overpopulation, nuclear annihilation, future-shock or whatever in the days of yore.

Sorry. I’ll make jokes about them, though.

Which brings me down to the one over-hyped panic-du-jour that followed upon all the others listed, the one that commanded tabloid-style headlines all during the mid 1980s. That would be the “ritual-satanic-abuse-of-children-in-daycare-centers” scare. While it is not the same kind of issue, it seems to be meriting some of the same kind of popular press. Standing off to one side and looking on, I keep seeing the same sort of shrieking hysteria, the same light-speed jumping to conclusions, the same degree of absolute conviction, the same kind of ‘piling on’, and the same shouting-down of all the people who said “now just wait a darned minute”.

The global-warming trend might very be as real an issue, as much as the day-care ritual abuse wasn’t, but the degree of shrieking hysteria on display when the issue comes up doesn’t do it any favors. Or win me over as a convert, because I am pretty sure that in ten years, the usual suspects will be banging on about something else.

24. April 2007 · Comments Off on Let me tell you what to do with one piece of toilet paper… · Categories: General

I found this in the New York Post

April 24, 2007 — SHERYL Crow should eat crow. The save-the-environment rocker who’s on a “Stop Global Warming College Tour” with Laurie David and just proposed a limit on toilet paper usage is a big gas-guzzler. Her performance rider demands for each show include three tractor trailers, four buses and six cars for her entourage, TheSmokingGun.com reports. She also insists on 12 bottles of Grolsch beer, six bottles of “local” beer and a bottle each of “good Australian Cabernet” and “good Merlot.” Crow’s flack said the rider was “an old one from 10 years ago” but declined to show us a current one.

24. April 2007 · Comments Off on No Such Thing · Categories: Ain't That America?, Domestic, General, World

…As too many books.

There is however, such a thing as not enough bookshelves.

When Blondie and I PCSed out of Spain over fifteen years ago, the packing crew had a pool going on how many boxes of books they would eventually pack. The grand total topped out at 64 boxes at that point. Since we returned to the land of the Big PX, replete with establishments such as Half-Price Books, the sales tables at Borders, Barnes & Noble, and various library and book-club events, the increase on the 1991 book census has been geometric. At a certain point, accommodating all the books in free-standing bookcases would have reduced the house to a kind of solidly-packed, book-lined burrow, dark and fusty, with barely enough space for a reading light, and a stove.

Beginning bout five years ago, I took the situation in hand, and began buying lengths of shelving and brackets of the ornamental sort— for the ends that showed— and utility brackets for the interior of the shelves which wouldn’t show when properly packed full of books. The first efforts at securing order among the books involved a narrow stretch of wall where the kitchen merged into the dining area, to one side of a large window looking out into the back yard. Three small white-painted shelves advanced up the wall towards the ceiling, for the cookbooks that I used most frequently, and the jar of pencils and notepads best kept close to the telephone. The rag-tag collection of shelves that had served us until then were banished to the garage. Most of them were heavy, ugly dark-wood things that took up a lot of space, bought at the PX because I had an urgent need for storage at the moment, and they were cheap. A couple of weekends later, another set of shelves went up on the other side of the window, for the not-so often used cookbooks, and the gardening and home-improvement porn. I put up a long shelf over the window for the blue-flowering Danish china, and there was that whole end of the house rendered light, and bright, and all the books in order. So, I looked around and said, hmmmm.

The wall opposite the big window was next. This had a double-doorway from the living room into a little room that we used as a TV den, more or less in the center. Four-foot-long shelves went up on either side, all the way to the top of the door… and then five more shelves above those which ran the width of the wall, but shortened to follow the angle of the ceiling. I need a very tall ladder to get to the top three shelves… in fact; the stuff that I never use is all parked up there. Everything was ordered by subject or genre, and a couple of nice vases and knick-knacks interspersed between the books. Last of all, I fitted six shelves on either side of the fireplace, and all but one of the old bookcases were banished to the garage. Now the living room was lined with books on three walls, and all the space between freed up. The three wooden shelves I kept in the house still, were squeezed into the TV den, as they were oak and matched the stereo/media center.

The only place where chaos, clutter and disorganization still reigned was among the oldest collection of books… the paperbacks, banished to a set of tall walnut-veneer bookcases in the hallway, and shelved two ranks deep. I had made a stab at alphabetizing them by author, but locating a particular book was a particularly frustrating crap-shoot. But this last weekend, Blondie had prevailed upon me… since she had a shelf of her own books, overflowing in a most untidy way… to bring order, discipline and installed shelves to that last holdout.

We took ourselves away to Home Depot for brackets and five lengths of 5-inch wide shelving, and ran a series of shelves from the end of the hall to the washer and dryer closet. We’ll need to put in another three shelves, actually, but at least everything is now only single-deep. Heck, I can now find stuff that I didn’t lay eyes on since the last time I unpacked it.

Hey, I knew I had a copy of “That Darn Cat”… Granny Jessie took us to see that movie, and my copy was a tie-in, bought at Vromans for 35 cents! And I do have all of Dorothy Dunnets’ Francis Lymond books… read the first of them when I was sick with the flu in a youth hostel in Lincoln. And there was the episode guide to “Blakes’ 7”, and every damn one of Marion Zimmer Bradley’s “Darkover” books. Wow, that’s kind of an embarrassment. So is the R.F. Delafield “The Dreaming Suburb”. Not too many Agatha Christie mysteries, though. They always seemed a little formulaic to me; I preferred Josephine Tey. And one of the most uproarious novels about the Restoration ever written, John Dickson Carr’s “Most Secret”… So what if they are all stacked sideways on the shelf? At least they are not all hiding behind each other! In not a few cases, I despaired of finding a book that I thought I had, and bought another copy. (Half-Price Books buy-back desk, here we come!)
At least now, we can find what we are looking for. And the hallway seems a great deal wider, too.

24. April 2007 · Comments Off on Random Rants (070424) · Categories: Rant

Tired of there not being enough fresh content here every day? Can you write? Drop a line to Sgt Mom. She’ll hook you up. No Kevin, we’re not THAT desperate, but the never ending optimism is refreshing. You’re like family. I love my family, but I love them where they live, not where I live.

Sheryl Crow. What, you thought THAT was serious? We’re really just taking ourselves too fucking seriously. But considering that it was reported as straight news in so many places… UPDATE: Folks, seriously, it was a JOKE. She was kidding. What’s so scary is that we’re actually so used to crazy things from the lefty greenies that it was reported as straight news and we bought it.

It’s just about time to sit down, plop in the entire Firefly series, follow it up with Serenity, and remember what good storytelling is again. Because seriously? Other than Grey’s Anatomy and The Tudors (Henry VIII, ROCKSTAR) on Showtime, everything’s been sucking vast swathes of sucktitude lately. Painkiller Jane on SciFi? Everyone looks bored, it rubs off.

I’m pretty much done watching American Idol. There hasn’t been anyone I’ve cared about this season. The rock “mentor” is going to be Bon Jovi. That right there tells me that this show is no longer for me. Vote for the worst is going after Phil the bald guy and that tells me that they’re not listening either.

Patti Smith has a new album out. Twelve. A bunch of covers. Covers of songs that I didn’t much love the first time around. I think I’ll pass and just listen to Wave.

Britney Spears and Sanjaya. I think that just about says it all, don’t you?

Rosie O’Donnell. Okay, I’ve been wondering this for a LONG time. How did this chick ever get off of VH1 and into the mainstream? She sucks as a comedianne, she completely hoovered as a VJ. The fact that she loves Elmo no longer compensates for the fact that she’s become a sad, bitter, conspiracy fruitcake. How come I know she loves Elmo?!!! Why in the name of all that’s holy would THAT fact stick in my head?

Senator Harry Reid. Hawwwwwkkkk…patooooieee. He’s earned his place in my heart right next to Jane Fucking Fonda. I swear every time he opens his mouth, I’m more ashamed that I was ever a democrat.

Attorney General Gonzalez. You know, if liberals and conservatives both walk away from a lawyer and don’t understand a single word he’s said, he’s either a genius or an absolute moron. The fact that the President still backs him answers that question for me.

24. April 2007 · Comments Off on Anyone Want to Bet · Categories: Ain't That America?, Domestic, General, General Nonsense, Rant

…That in about twenty-five years, Cheryl Crow will star in an advert for toilet paper?
About a third of the audience will laugh, once they are reminded by someone else who Cheryl Crow is. Another third will ask themselves: You mean the old broad isn’t an actress? She was …what? Really? And the remaining third will not care. At all.

So, anyone else besides me getting tired of being lectured by well-heeled celebrities with lavish personal life-styles about how many pieces of TP we ought to use, and chided about leaving the lights on?

This is what we had grandparents for, people. Shut up and go get another $400.00 hair cut, or a dozen Priuses for your entourage. That or build another 20,000 square foot mansion. Just spare us the damned lecture about our carbon footprint.

21. April 2007 · Comments Off on Short Review, Meet the Robinsons, 3D · Categories: That's Entertainment!

The 3D was fun.  The movie was sweet and charming and very Disney.

“I’ve got a big head and little arms.” was not the funniest moment of the movie, but it still made me giggle like crazy.

Danny Elfman’s soundrack should win the Oscar…but it won’t.

20. April 2007 · Comments Off on Tales of a Citizen Militia: Northfield · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, History, Old West

It would seem from the history books that most veterans of the Civil War settled down to something resembling a normal 19th century civilian life without too much trouble. One can only suppose that those who survived the experience without suffering incapacitating physical or emotional trauma were enormously grateful to have done so. Union veterans additionally must have been also glad to have won the war, close-run thing that it appeared to have been at times. Confederate veterans had to be content with merely surviving. Not only did they have to cope with the burden of defeat, but also physical wreckage of much of the South – as well as the wounds afflicted upon experiencing the wreckage of that whole Southern chivalry-gracious plantation life-fire eating whip ten Yankees with one arm tied behind my back- anti-abolitionist mindset. But most Confederate soldiers laid down their arms and picked up the plow, so to speak fairly readily – if with understandable resentment. In any case, the still-unsettled frontier west of the Mississippi-Missouri basin offered enough of an outlet for the restless, the excitement-seekers and those who wanted to start fresh.

The war had been conducted with more than the usual brutality in the mid-west, though, in Bleeding Kansas and even Bloodier Missouri, where the dividing line between murderous vigilante bandit-gangs and well-disciplined mobile partisan units was considerably more blurred than elsewhere and some of those who had participated in warfare on that basis, were even more reluctant to shake hands like gentlemen and go back to a peaceable life when it was all over.

Such were men like the James brothers, Jesse and his older brother Frank, and their friends, Cole and Jim Younger. Jesse and Cole Younger had both ridden with the Confederate partisans led by the notorious William Clarke Quantrill. The Coles and the Youngers were so disinclined to give peace a chance that they hardly waited a year before holding up the Clay County Savings Association in Liberty, Missouri. Over the next decade, they hit banks from Kentucky to Iowa, Kansas and West Virginia, varying the program occasionally with robbing trains. By July of 1876 they appear to have made Missouri too hot to hold them, even though they had sympathy and quiet support among kinfolk and local residents who gave them the benefit of the doubt for having fought for the Confederacy. Casting around for a new and profitable target for robbery which would get them away from Missouri, the James-Younger gang may have taken up the suggestion of one of the gang members: Minnesota. Not only was gang-member Bill Chadwell a native, and presumably familiar with the lay-out – but no one would be expecting such an organized gang, so far off their usual turf. And robbing a bank in Minnesota would have the added piquancy of taking money from the hated Yankees.

In August of 1876, eight members of the gang, Frank and Jesse James, Jim, Cole and Bob Younger, Clell Miller, Bill Chadwell and Charlie Pitts all arrived in Minnesota – by what exact means is not certain. They pretended to be legitimate businessmen, and scouted various locations in southern Minnesota, in groups of two and three. They spent some time shopping for horses and equipment in Minneapolis and St. Paul, and did some gambling, drinking and recreating. Although they gave false names, they wore long linen dusters, to conceal their weaponry, and this had attracted notice. After some weeks of careful consideration, they settled upon robbing the First Commercial Bank in Mankato. On the day of the planned robbery, they noted a large crowd in the vicinity of the bank, and wisely decided on turning their attentions upon their second choice, the First National Bank of Northfield. They split up into two groups, to travel to Northfield, and arrived there on the morning of September 7th, where an alert citizen noticed that two of them had passed through Northfield and cashed a large check at the bank, some ten days earlier.
More »

19. April 2007 · Comments Off on It’s Getting Worse… · Categories: General

I’ve always held Blackfive and his team in the highest esteem.

Until today.

Maybe it’s me.  Maybe I’m the one who’s fucked up.  I don’t see any good coming out of making fun of a sick, twisted, evil man.  I simply can’t think any less of Cho.  I never thought I’d think of Blackfive and his crew as cheap and petty though.  I think this takes away from their excellent reporting on our service members, and is going to hurt their cred if they ever have to report on vets with emotional/mental disorders. 

Pointing and laughing at the sick, twisted, dead guy to try and keep the other sick, twisted sickos from acting out?  I dunno, I’m thinkin’ the fact that they’re sick and twisted kind of presumes they’re not going to care what Uncle Jimbo thinks.

This thing is going to keep on bringing out some real strong emotions and the true colors that are flying are telling.  It’s not just Blackfive and his team, it’s sort of all over the place.  People I thought better of are trying to get as much mileage out of this horror show as they can.

Yeah, I do that.  I have favorite writers and I do put them on a pedistal. 

I don’t care if you’re anti-gun, pro-gun, pro-media, anti-media or want to hitch your presidential campaign to this thing.  I think once the emotional hangover hits, there are a lot of people going to be wondering what the hell they were thinking.  Of course, that could be ME in a couple of weeks too so wtf?  Press on.

19. April 2007 · Comments Off on Pouring Scorn and Derision on Terrorists · Categories: Ain't That America?, Fun and Games, Fun With Islam, General, General Nonsense, sarcasm

I thought we ought to have started stuff like this, ages ago. Here’s one small step on the road to making Binny and Friends a laughingstock.

I thought the line about taking out the Verizon guy was giggle-worthy. Courtesy of Rantburg, one of the finest veins of sarcasm around.

18. April 2007 · Comments Off on Sanjaya’s Goin’ Home · Categories: That's Entertainment!

I’m so happy.

18. April 2007 · Comments Off on Dey Don’t Know Us Vewwy Well, Do Dey? · Categories: Site News

With all due respect to the sentiments involved…

We don’t DO silence very well.

Via Kate.

I’m with a commenter over at Electric Venom.  In a huge crowd, a moment of silence is very powerful.  In blogs?  It just sort of makes for nothing to read on my breaks.

18. April 2007 · Comments Off on Our Peculiar Local Institution · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, Rant, World

OK, now I am in the mood to thump the head of a spectacularly ignorant commentor….

“Being able to walk into a supermarket any time day or night, and buy a gun and bullets is obviously too much for the weak-minded American. It’s basic stupidity. Surely, surely the US can no longer deny the fact that their “freedom of protection” is a load of crap. Or must thousands more innocents die?”

Emily, Cape Town, South Africa, comment on Sky News thread, via commentor Dylan Kissane at Tim Blair’s place

Well, butter my buns and call me a biscuit, if that doesn’t qualify in my book as purely the stupidest, most ignorant and bigoted statement I have run across in regards to the recent sad events. Of course, I have charted a careful course to avoid some of the deeper and most notorious fever-swamps in the blogosphere. There may be more densely concentrated blocks of ignorance out there, but fortunately I am not moved to hunt them down… stumbling over that little example was enough to get the bile ducts going like Old Faithful.

That and the fact that South Africa, as dear little Emily must be aware, has a hell of a problem with home-invasion robberies, rapes and violent carjackings just puts a nice shiny gloss on the phrase “freedom of protection”. Wasn’t South Africa the place where an inventor had worked up a flamethrower that shot out from either side of the car, scorching the hell out of anyone standing there and menacing the driver or passenger? Why, yes it was. Doesn’t look like it was popular for too long, though. Must have been hell on the poor squee-gee guys, too.

As a matter of fact, you cannot buy guns and bullets from a supermarket, any time day or night… either that, or I have persistently missed seeing that aisle at HEB Grocery, or Smiths or Kroeger. Nope, sweetie… not even in Texas.

You can buy ammunition during the wee hours at Walmart, though… and guns from those Walmart outlets which have a well-stocked sporting goods department, and they are open twenty-four hours a day, but it’s stretching things a bit to call Walmart a supermarket.

Here’s what the Constitution says about our “right of protection”, Emily dear…
“A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.”

Savor the taste of the words “security of a free state” and “Right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed”. So, the part about “well-regulated militia” is a little loose and lumpy… somewhat like Michael Moore, come to think on it. My point is that a lot of common, ordinary Americans think of guns as tools… sort of like a band-saw, or a power drill, the sort of thing that a do-it-yourself enthusiast has around the house.

Because we are still, for a variety of reasons, a do-it-yourself kind of people… kind of prone to take care of stuff ourselves, especially in those places which do not boast 24-7 private security. We’ve been that way for a while… and sometime it gets ugly when it happens, but the odd thing that I keep noticing, is that it happens in the w-a-a-a-a-y biggest ugly way in those places…oh like Darfur, and Somalia, Kosovo and Zimbabwe, where the means of providing Miss Emily’s , “freedom of protection” is a little on the sketchy side. For the foreseeable future though, we are all stuck with the existence of unbalanced losers who want to go out in a blaze of glory and 24-7 news coverage, as well as the distain of people as exquisitely well-informed as Emily from Cape Town. It’s tragic and horrible… but it happens in other places than the US. And when some raving loony, or some hopped-up robber is disuaded by a do-it-yourself good citizen, it’s a couple of lines on the local police blotter… maybe on the local TV newscast for an evening.

I don’t own a gun, myself, and even though I have lived in Texas for a dozen years now, this last weekend was the first time I had seen a lot of people walking around with a surplusage of side arms. Even in the Air Force, our SPS were held down to one major weapon per person, two at max. Most of the antique firearms enthusiasts I saw this last weekend were dressed up in old West costume, and they were having fun plinking away at metal targets. It’s just not my cup of tea…but it amuses me as much as it would probably horrify Emily from Cape Town, to think that my own neighborhood may be as well equipped, weapons-wise as many small European militaries. (Say, San Marino, or Monaco? Do they even have militaries?) It guarantees that violent home invasions and car-hijackings in Texas are refreshingly not as frequent as they might be in those places where everyone has decided that “freedom of protection is a load of crap”.

17. April 2007 · Comments Off on Beyond Words · Categories: Domestic

I’m just all choked up.

Professor Liviu Librescu, 76, threw himself in front of the shooter, who had attempted to enter his classroom. The Israeli mechanics and engineering lecturer was shot to death, “but all the students lived – because of him,” Virginia Tech student Asael Arad – also an Israeli – told Army Radio.

Several of Librescu’s other students sent e-mails to his wife, Marlena, telling of how he blocked the gunman’s way and saved their lives, said the son, Joe.

Snipped from Blackfive.

16. April 2007 · Comments Off on Overheard in the Hallway · Categories: Domestic, Good God

“Why can’t these whack jobs just skip everyone else and just go straight to killing themselves?”

Indeed.

Our hearts and prayers to the families of the victims and to the family of the shooter.  I’m sure they never thought they’d raise a mass murderer.

UPDATE:  I’ve deleted all comments and have closed them.  I’m sorry.  I will not have a discussion about “more guns” or “less guns” or video games or movies or any of that other shite.  I’m sorry.  I can’t do it.  The politicalization of every event must stop somewhere.  I won’t be part of hijacking this horror show for any cause.

15. April 2007 · Comments Off on In the Interests of Pure Research · Categories: General, History, My Head Hurts, Rant, Working In A Salt Mine..., World

In the interests of pure research, over the last couple of days, Blondie and I have ventured into deepest, darkest downtown San Antonio… and also to a point well beyond the city limits. I can report that I have returned with a dozen pages of notes indecipherable to anyone but me, and Blondie came close to having her leg humped by a wolf. OK, so a wolf-dog hybrid. About fifteen percent dog, eighty-five percent wolf, said the owners and proprietors, who also said that he was very friendly. Yep, we figured out that much right away. He was chained outside a vendor of frontier clothing and accessories at a re-enactor’s event, on the grounds of a ranch in the Hill Country. Some people we talked to at the event said that something set him off howling, night before last, which was a sound enough to make your skin crawl. We figured that any coyotes in the vicinity must have been a) scared out of their next years’ growth and b) decided after careful consideration, that discretion was the better part of valor and removing to the next county was therefore an excellent career move. For the duration of the event, of course.

This all came about because I emailed The Fat Guy a couple of weeks ago, asking if he (as an enthusiast and Texas history buff) could put me in touch with any collector in San Antonio who owned an 1830s model Colt Paterson revolver… and who would be kind enough to show me how it was loaded, sighted and broken down for maintenance. So he gave me a link, which led to an e-mail addy, which led to a club-wide appeal from a certain organization, which led to some contacts… which led to the owner of a matched pair of replica Colt Paterson revolvers, the only person in San Antonio who possesses such, apparently. We set up a meeting at his place of employment on Friday afternoon, and Blondie drove me there after her classes. We spent a very informative hour or so, in a locked and windowless conference room. This is not exactly the sort of event where one welcomes the casual kibitzers. Even in Texas, someone walking in and discovering three period revolvers and the necessary tools are spread out over the conference table is obligated to make a comment to the building management. The fact that there was no ammunition involved would not have ameliorated the resulting excitement.

So, I was actually able to examine very carefully, all the resulting broken-down bits and pieces of a period revolver. It was necessary for the plot and character development to do this, so that I could write about it with authority and attention to tiny detail, and I am extraordinarily grateful for having had the opportunity to do this… all hail the power of the fully functional internet! It was rather a curious experience, because I had been able to write about it and get things mostly right, just from looking at diagrams and reading… but still, nothing beats the experience of actually holding the real thing.

Oddly enough, it was a rather small weapon, dull matte metal with a polished wooden stock. It fit my hand comfortably, and I have rather dainty hands. Blondie’s fingers are about half an inch longer than all of mine, when we match hands for comparison; when I did M-16 training, and side-arm training, I found that my hands were too small to grip and still reach things comfortably on the issue M-16 and the Beretta. And the Beretta was hard for me to hold steady after a while, even with two hands. So, the revolver that made things equal in a fight between Jack Hays Rangers and the Comanche was actually… rather small, especially in comparison with the next iteration, the Walker Colt. The collector who generously took time from his workday to show us all this told me he has a pair of those, as well. The Walker Colt is a massive weapon, weighing about four and a half pounds. After expending all six shots, anyone armed with one would have still had a dandy club/brass knuckles. No wonder they were immediately popular. But after wearing a pair of them on a gun-belt for a whole day of re-enactor events, he really, really felt every ounce of them, in a considerably painful way.

And after the re-enactor event, we went on up to Fredericksburg, where I bored the heck out of Blondie at the Pioneer Museum, talking about the early Fredericksburg settlers. I wanted to take a look at the various household implements on display. And the wooden trunks they brought them in. And the corner town-lot that I willfully assigned to the fictitious family that I am writing about, at the corner of San Antonio and Adams. There is a one-story, stucco professional building on that particular plat… but strangely enough, I described my fictitious family as leaving two trees on their townlot, shading the back of their house… and there are two trees, shading the back of that building.

Really, sometimes I do scare myself. It’s scarier than Blondie wanting a wolf-dog hybrid… well, one that doesn’t try to hump her leg.

Donations being accepted, via the Paypal button, to the left, underneath the ad for the memoir. They will be used to set up a website to market the books, and if I don’t get an agent and a traditional publisher, I plan on doing a POD book of “Truckee Trail” and the “Adelsverein Trilogy”. I just listened to a story this morning on NPR about how best-sellers are decided upon by the publishing industry, so I am feeling particularly sour about the whole literary-industrial complex.

13. April 2007 · Comments Off on Memo: L’Affaire Imus, and Other Matters of Passing Interest · Categories: Ain't That America?, General, Media Matters Not, Rant, sarcasm

To: Various
From: Sgt Mom
Re: The Smell of Hypocrisy in the Morning

1. My mind boggles actually, that someone who was around long enough to have a comedy disc in the AFRTS library (from the late 60s, if memory serves) with a piece called “2,000 Hamburgers to go” was actually trying to sound hip, trendy and with-it four decades later. Mmmm, ‘kay. Well everyone has hobbies. Mine is gardening… mercifully, I have come to that stage in life where I do not have to even pretend to be trendy. Nothing looks more ridiculous than extreme trendiness a couple of decades past its “best if used by” date.

2. It is kind of amusing, watching some of the very people who lined up to be on Imus’ show, line up to throw him under the bus. Please check out the definition of “shock jock”. One of the things they do is… er, shock. Also offend, belittle and berate. Or so I have been told. I’m more a classical music fan, myself. NPR’s “Performance Today” is about as cutting edge as I feel like getting these days.

3. So the ladies of the Rutgers women’s basketball team were shocked, hurt, insulted, etc. by his crude remark about them. They have a perfect right to be shocked, hurt, insulted; ladies should be offended when men say vile, demeaning and misogynist things about them. I hope that they have been kept in blissful ignorance about the lyrics of most rap and hip-hop hits, thought. That sort of language might very well prompt them to curl up in the fetal position with the heating blanket turned all the way up. Oh, but that’s different….

4. Right on schedule, here come the race-hustlers; Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton grown as fat as ticks by playing the race card, carefully inflaming old grievances and playing their version of a protection racket. “Give us what we want, or you’re a racist!”. MLK must be so proud. He’s probably revolving in his grave like a Makita drill.

5. Oh, and as regards ‘Affaire Duque La Cross’ ? If there are any communities in these United States who would instantly recognize such a thing as a lynch mob, virtual or otherwise, I’d expect it would be the academic community… and the African American one. That certain members of it were so quick to join in is only sad proof of the axiom that those to whom injustice has been done are just as quick off the mark in dealing it out to others. And the sainted “judged not by the color of skin but the content of character” MLK had such hopes that it would be otherwise.

6. And our lords of the Mainstream and Legacy Media were right there, with the pitchforks and torches. Thanks, guys… you covered yourself with glory, as usual. Now take a gallon of bleach and the garden hose, go around in back and try and scour some of it off.

Sincerely
Sgt. Mom

12. April 2007 · Comments Off on Bill Whittle · Categories: General Nonsense, Media Matters Not

…has written yet another essay.

SEEING THE UNSEEN, Part 2:

As usual, the whole thing is so very good, but here’s a taste: 

You know who I blame for this pathetic state of affairs? I blame Leonard Nimoy. I remember watching In Search Of… as a teen and always being just a little disappointed that there was so little – you know, proof — in any one of those episodes. In Search of Atlantis, In Search of Ghosts, In Search of Ancient Astronauts, In Search of the Bermuda Triangle, In Search of UFO’s…, In Search of, in other words, every conceivable hoax and superstition on the face of the planet. And I watched it in spite of the lack of actual proof and I believed it all because it presented one thin string of opinion and falsehood cloaked as “evidence” and no one rebutted a word of it.

“We’re just asking questions” was the official, voice-over disclaimer. You hear that too from the 9/11 Truth crowd when confronted with the lunacy of their claims. We’re just asking questions…

Well, in that vein I’d like to ask some questions myself. Is Michael Moore a serial pedophile? I’m just asking, and I’m sure a lot of my readers would just like to have some questions answered. I heard that Rosie O’Donell ate a baby at a Satanic Ritual once – is that true? Can you please provide the evidence that this did not in fact happen? Thanks. Who has murdered more hookers: Bill Maher or Charlie Sheen? Come on, you can’t tell me there’s no smoke there. I just want a possible explanation…

So that’s what it has come to now. We deserve better.

God damn it, we do.

That’s just a very small part of it, you must go read the whole thing.  Bring a soda, it’s a long one, but don’t skip the setup.

12. April 2007 · Comments Off on The Writers Life Waltz: Lento · Categories: Domestic, General, Home Front, Site News, Working In A Salt Mine...

A little slow this week; working on revisions and rewrites to “Adelsverein Part One”, or as one of the regular readers calls it “Barsetshire with Cypress Trees”. I have begun sending out query letters on it, reasoning that by the time I hear from an agent who wants to hear more, I will have finished the revisions and polished it all to a high gleaming shine.

I also put together all the materiel necessary— basically, the first fifty pages and an expanded outline— for “Adelsverein” and “To Truckee’s Trail” both, and submitted them to Tor Books, which is just about the only one of the big publishers who condescend to review un-agented submissions. They take four to six months to make any sort of decision, by which time I’ll be well along in finishing “Adelsverein Part Two”. Part Three, maybe… depends on how fast I can research and write. (links here, here, here, and here, for those who are new to the site.)

At this point, three separate agencies have looked at “Truckee” and have turned it down. They all liked it, said nice things about it, but… and this is the Big But… sorry, no. Either it is too hard a sell, defies easy categorization, or there is no place for it in their current collection of offerings . But they all wished me luck in getting it published, and threw in some blah-blah-blah about it being a subjective business and perhaps another agency blah-blah-blah.

This is the book that just about every who has read it in full has loved, and at least three-quarters of those people are not related to me at all. Sooo… the fallback position is that if Tor turns it down, I’ll do POD, and hire my friend Dave The Marketing & Computer Genius to set up a website specifically for my books, AND do some serious marketing. Even if Tor does think it worthy (and you’ll be able to hear my jaw hit the floor all the way across several time zones if they do) or I do manage to get an agent, I will still do a book website of my own.

Hence, the Paypal donate button, over on the left, just under the link to my first book. The PJ ads support the site, donations will help me get the best book about the most incredible wagon-train story you have never heard about get out there in the mad world of books.

12. April 2007 · Comments Off on Rites of Spring · Categories: Domestic, General, Home Front, World

We are having a very pleasant spring here in South Texas…of course, being that it is South Texas, where is saying is “If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes…” These conditions are apt to change with practically the speed of light. But this spring, all the climate u-turns have been favorable. Well, all but the overnight freeze over Easter Weekend which has probably trashed the Hill Country peach harvest for this year, as it hit when all the trees were blossoming. (As far as I know, Al Gore was not in town that weekend.) The next spectacular thunderstorm may yet favor us with golf-ball-sized hail… but so far all that has resulted is to make everything spectacularly green. Richly and lushly emerald green, as green as Ireland ever was, all the fields and the trees and the hedges that people have planted along the roads. And the flowers this year are splendid, not just the bluebonnets, but this year there are fields of purple wild verbena, and bright yellow daisies, drifts of pink primrose, more of them than I have ever seen before. And butterflies… we have had butterflies all this winter, for some strange reason. They are supposed to be especially sensitive to environmental pollution; guess we are not getting as much of it these days.

In my own garden, all the things that were blasted back to ground level by winter frost are practically exploding out of the ground. In a fit of boredom last fall, I had poured out some patented fertilizer goop on the ground under the rosebushes, and over the winter another fit of boredom led me to prune them all. Oddly enough, they have responded to this abuse by covering themselves entirely with bloom; red, white, pink and apricot. The sage and lavender plants that I scored from the severely-marked-down-get-em-outta-here-before-they-croak shelves at Lowe’s last fall are also blooming madly. The front garden actually looks, if you squint a little and back off to view it from a certain angle, like one of those spectacular pictures of a border at some stately English home; a mass of red, lavender and sulfur-yellow, on grey-green foliage.

Round in back, the wisteria came and went as it always does, in a week flat, but the jasmine is going strong, and the various potted limes and lemon, and the sweet-olive held out bravely… well, they did, once we banished the faint odor of dog-poop. The next rain shower took care of the lingering bits, and we finally moved around one of our junking finds to the back yard.

The last time the city came around for the bulk-trash pickup, where they will take everything but building debris and wrecked automobiles, Blondie and I spotted a wooden chaise-lounge put out in a pile of other trash. It was one of those sturdy home-made things, made out of 2x4s… very well made, actually, with metal slats on springs to support the cushions. The only thing the matter with it was one of the legs was a little rotted at the bottom, where it must have been sitting on wet ground for a while. And there were no cushions, of course. Until I made a set a couple of weeks ago, out of oilcloth, and we put it out where we have paved a large space with ornamental pavers set in gravel.

It is now nearly our favorite place to sit outdoors. I sat there for an hour yesterday evening, reading “The Worst Hard Time”… which seemed a terribly incongruous choice, given the garden and green trees all around me.

12. April 2007 · Comments Off on R.I.P. Kurt Vonnegut · Categories: General

I was never able to finish anything by Vonnegut.  What always happened was I got part way through, got disgusted, and would toss it away thinking, “What an absolute asshole.”

I have old friends that still haven’t forgiven me for that.

11. April 2007 · Comments Off on Shameless Plug (FTTW) · Categories: Site News

If you haven’t been over to Faster Than the World lately, you should check it out.  Lots of ongoing tales and serials.  Some good photography.  This week’s poll involves euphamisms for self-gratification so the spirit is much less serious than a lot of places and there’s NO politics…most of the time…or if there is, it’s completely silly.

10. April 2007 · Comments Off on I’m Bored · Categories: General

…and yes, I do care more about what’s happening on American Idol than what’s happening around our world these days.  I have about as much effect on one as the other and AI doesn’t give me as much of a headache as listening to yahoos on both sides of the spectrum lose their minds over this week’s deep socio/economic/geo-political item of the week.  It’s become painfully apparent that neither party paricularly cares about winning the war against terrorism, so I’ve stopped caring about them other than hoping beyond hope we have a couple of solid candidates to vote for come next fall.  Personally, I’m hoping for Fred Thompson.

Haven’t done this one for awhile.

Last 10 Songs on your Playlist (that you didn’t skip over…be honest):

Misty Mountain Hop – Led Zepplin

Old Love – Eric Clapton

Peggy Sue – Buddy Holly

Dream – Roy Orbison

The Souls of Distortion – Joe Satriani

Say Goodbye to Little Jo – Steve Forbert

Saving Grace – Tom Petty

Sweet Cherry Wine – Tommy James and the Shondels

When You Come – Crowded House

Adagio for Strings – Taliesin Orchestra (If you ever played Homeworld on your computer you’ve heard the version by Yes).

 

10. April 2007 · Comments Off on Question of the Day (070410) · Categories: That's Entertainment!

Is it just me or is Sanjaya on American Idol simply trying to see how Gawd-Awful he can be and still get away with it? I have a hard time believing that he’s taking it seriously any more.

While I’m thinking about it, J-Lo is coaching tonight. When I saw Gwen Stefani a couple weeks ago, I decided her cred was completely toast. But does J-Lo say more about her cred or American Idol’s?

What’s your feeling about Idol this year?

It’s the worst season I’ve ever watched but I’ve only been around since the end of the season with Fantasia so I’m not an ol’ timer.

10. April 2007 · Comments Off on Relatively Unsung Heroes · Categories: General, History, Old West, Pajama Game, World

Juan Nepomuceno Seguin was a man whose good and bad fortune it was to be always on the border between the Anglo Texians and the Mexican Tejanos, during his lifetime and after. He was born in the first decade of the 19th century, a native of San Antonio. He came of a prominent local family; his father Erasmo Seguin was a signatory to Mexico’s first constitution of 1824. Juan Seguin married into another prominent local family, and was himself elected to the office of alcalde, a sort of cross between mayor and justice of the peace while in his late twenties. Altogether, he was a promising young man in local politics, when Texas was merely a far-distant province of Mexico itself, and gradually becoming disaffected by the dictatorial actions of the Centralist President of Mexico, Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, and the self-styled Napoleon of the West.

When Santa Anna soon dissolved the Mexican Congress, and threatened to come down like a ton of bricks on those who disagreed with his way of running Mexico, moderates such as Seguin were thrown into opposition, right alongside their Anglo neighbors. Stephen Austin granted a captain’s commission to Seguin, who raised a company of scouts. When General Martin Cos was thrown out of San Antonio at the end of 1835, Captain Seguin’s company of nearly forty men were among those doing the throwing. He and his company were among the small garrison of the tumbledown mission compound known as the Alamo. I have read of speculation that Seguin might have been detailed as it’s commander, given his local prominence and background… but that he personally was too valuable, first as a scout, and secondly for his local connections. He was sent out of the doomed Alamo as a courier. At Gonzales, when Sam Houston began gathering his ragged Army of Texans, Seguin gathered up the remains of his little band of Tejanos, who served as scouts and as rear-guard, as Houston fell back into East Texas.

When Houston finally turned to fight Santa Anna, at first he wanted to leave Seguin’s company out of his line of battle, fearing that in the thick of it all, Seguin’s men might be in danger from their own side. After the massacre of the defenders of the Alamo and the Goliad, many of Houston’s army were not inclined to make distinctions between Mexicans. Houston first suggested that Seguin’s Tejanos guard the camp and the baggage.

Seguin angrily refused, insisting on a place for his company in the line: he also had lost some of his men in the Alamo. All of those he had left to him were from San Antonio, and they could not return to their homes until Santa Anna was defeated; they had just as much or more cause to hate him as any Anglo Texian. It was their right, to take a part in the fight. Houston relented, asking only that Seguin’s men must place pieces of cardboard in their hatbands, to distinguish them.

In Stephen Hardin’s book “A Texian Illiad”— a history of the Texas Revolution, illustrated with careful sketches of many of the soldier participants — there is one of a member of Seguin’s Tejano volunteers. His clothes and equipment are of the borderlands: American shoes, short Mexican trousers, a fringed buckskin jacket, a rolled serape and a Brown Bess musket, a gourd canteen and a wide-brimmed vaquero’s hat with a rosary around the crown and a slip of cardboard with “Requerda el Alamo” scrawled on it.

More about Seguin here :
His monument in Texas is the town of Segiun, a little south of San Antonio.
More »

08. April 2007 · Comments Off on Happy Easter · Categories: Good God

All around the world the glad tiding, “He is risen.” is expressed in too many languages to count.

He is risen. He died for our sins and yet three days later He comes back and shows us that there truly is everlasting life. It’s perhaps the greatest story of forgiveness and redemption ever written.

I’ve heard a lot about how there’s an attack on Christianity in the media and how the left particularly dislikes fundamentalists. I don’t think that’s quite it. I think there’s a universal apprehension growing for any sort of fundamental belief in the “God who must be obeyed.” that is expressed in the Judeo/Christian/Muslim tradition. And I’m going to go further and say it’s not belief in that God that’s under attack, but those who misuse the belief in that God. They are the ones that many folks, left, right and center are growing increasingly apprehensive about.

Thanks to whack jobs of all religions who have done things in His name, the word “fundamentalist” has taken on a very dark meaning. I hear “fundamentalist” and I immediately think of Islamic terrorists. If I think Christian fundamentalist, I think of the folks who attack gay people based on Leviticus, perhaps the most sociopathic book in The Bible. Jewish fundamentalists I understand the least. I think the hats and sideburns are way cool though.

I’m a believer. Or, rather I should say, I’m a seeker. I believe that there’s a God and I use that word because it’s easy to say and easy to spell and most folks have a good idea of what I’m talking about. Is that God expressed best by The Bible, by The Koran, by the Tao te Ching, or by The Complete Witches Handbook? I can’t tell you. I don’t know. But I continue to pray and meditate and seek to become closer to that entity that I call God. For me religion simply gives you common guides for community expression and a sense of community.
I respect and even envy people who have been exposed to a religion and immediately say to themselves, “Yes, this is what I believe. This is the set of rules I’m going to live my life by.” It seems much easier than what I tend to go through. I have to admit though that along with that envy and respect, I have no small amount of fear toward those folks. The purely rational part of me screams, “It’s a BOOK. Written by MEN trying to consolidate their power base! What’s the MATTER with you? You may as well live your life based on the Greek Myths.” Christian friends ask me if I don’t believe in The Bible, where do I place my faith?

My prayers are simple. I pray for the knowledge or God’s will for me and the strength of character and courage to carry that will out. If I’m in a particularly brave frame of mind, I’ll throw, “God change me, no matter what.” out there. It’s short, but it’s not a whimpy prayer by any stretch of the imagination.

Where do I place my faith? As a cradle Catholic, I can’t ignore the Christian faith that was programmed into me at an early age. Those symbols are pretty much ingrained in me. They’re a part of me. I use those symbols and stories as guides in my life. My favorite Gospel is Matthew and I would have loved to have been part of his Church. Communal living with the closest of friends all with a similar core belief? How cool must that have been?

But I think I can wrap up my faith in one word and the weird thing is that it comes from the Hindu which I’ve speant very little time studying. The word? Namaste. The easiest translation is, “The spirit which resides in me recognizes the spirit which resides in you.” For me that’s the very best expression of our journey here on Earth. Within all of us is some piece of the devine, the potential for spiritual life everlasting is within each and every human.  It’s the ultimate expression of unity. Part of the devine is within me and it sees the devine within you. Namaste. He is risen. Namaste.

My faith is in that someday, somehow, we’ll put all the stories and all the symbols together and use them to unite us all in a true brotherhood of man instead of separating us into conflicting tribes.  That’s where I place my faith.

08. April 2007 · Comments Off on You know your a native of San Diego when… · Categories: General

~Your high school had a surf team~

~You can correctly pronounce Tierrasanta, La Jolla, Rancho Penasquitos, San Ysidro, Otay Mesa, and El Cajon~

~There are four distinct seasons: Summer, Not Quite Summer, Almost Summer, and Oh Hey Look Its Summer Again~

~Chula-juana is a real town.~

~Your house is worth more than some small countries~

~You know what MB, OB, and PB stand for~

~Every street name is either in Spanish or Spanish related, and you’re surprised when other areas don’t have this~

~You can determine the accuracy of someone’s “i’m ghetto” claim by knowing their high school. For example, El Camino High School or Crawford High School~

~You see weather forcasts for four different climate zones in the same county, and aren’t remotely surprised. The Mirco Climate Weather~

~You’ve gone to Mt. Helix in July and known you still need a jacket~

~You’ve tailgated at Qualcomm Stadium, and for bonus points, also tailgated when it was Jack Murphy Stadium~

~You have a favorite- the WAP or the Zoo~

~You’ve been on a field trip to see an Imax movie at the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center~

~You still call it the Del Mar Fair~

~You say “i’m going to the track” and people know what you mean~

~You understand what May-Gray and June-Gloom is~

~A famous skateboarder/surfer lives in your town~

~There’s a North County, a South County, and an East County but no Central County~

~”Mossy Nissan! Mossy Nissan! Mossy Nissan Moves You!”~

~You know what it means when two guys are walking in Hillcrest~

~You know what it means when a girl in a short skirt is walking on El Cajon Blvd~

~You’ve gotten stuck in the Horton Plaza parking structure traffic after a Padres game~

~You know what “The Merge” is, and will plan your entire day around not being on it during rush hour~

~You’ve been to Belmont Park~

~You’ve taken the Coaster and laughed at people sitting in traffic on the 5~

~You know the difference between Clairemont Mesa, Kearny Mesa, and Mira Mesa~

~You’ve gone to Sea World on a warm day and sat in the first few rows at the Shamu Show to get cooled off~

~You’ve been delayed at the Border Checkpoints on the 5 and the 15~

~There are more bands than people~

~Your house doesn’t have air conditioning~

~You know it’s San Diegan, not San Diegoan, or San Diegoite~

~Everyone has their favorite beach~

~No matter what the weather is, there is always someone walking around in a t-shirt, shorts, and flip flops~

~You live on, near or are surrounded by hills~

~You hate tourists and their bad driving. GET OFF THE ROAD NORTH DAKOTA, NOBODY WANTS YOU HERE. SERIOUSLY. GO HOME~

~You have family and or friends that have moved to Arizona~

~You used to, and sometimes still do ride the carousel at Seaport Village~

~You know someone who doesn’t own pants, and have a neighbor who doesn’t seem to own a shirt~

~You know what Santa Ana’s are, and that they have literally nothing to do with the city of Santa Ana~

~If the menu doesnt have California burritos on it, forget it, its not real mexican food~

07. April 2007 · Comments Off on Fire on the Hill-Top · Categories: General, History, Old West, World

On Easter-evening, 1847, the hilltops around the new hill-country town of Fredericksburg, Gillespie County, on the far frontier of Texas suddenly blossomed with a crown of fire… bonfires that appeared, after sundown. The story is told that many people in Fredericksburg first thought that the fires were lit by Comanche Indians, to send messages about the movements of citizens of the town, to their chiefs far north in the Llano country, who were then negotiating a peace treaty with John Meusebach. Fredericksburg was then on the far frontier, a huddle of log cabins and huts in a clearing in the post-oak forest between two creeks in the Pedernales River valley, built by settlers newly come from Europe.

They came straight from comfortable, well-established towns and villages, where you could not travel a mile or two without encountering something— a wall, bridge, a castle or a church— which had been there for centuries. They came from a secure and orderly country, believing the promises of the entrepreneur who had recruited them with promises of land. They had packed up their belongings and taken ship— leaky wooden sailing ships— expecting to find something approximating in a rough way to what they had left behind. Which they did, eventually… but only after they had buckled down and built most of it themselves.

But on that Easter-eve, they looked up and saw the fires, and a fair number of them were afraid. Perhaps a quick-thinking mother told her terrified children that the fires had been built by the Easter rabbit and his helpers, to cook the eggs that they would have on Easter morning, all colored and decorated, and so that comforting story came to believed… among some of the settlers.

But in fact, the custom of setting fires on certain hilltops had been long-established in north-western Germany, in Westphalia and Saxony, from which areas nearly half of the Fredericksburg settlers had come. But the other half, from Hesse and the south, they would never have seen the Easter bonfires on the hilltops. And in any case, Meusebach had already met and negotiated the peace treaty with the Comanche by Easter of 1847.

They had brought more with them then their keepsakes and books and tools: they had brought their customs and habits. Some of them were refined and changed by new circumstances, but they endured. As did the people who brought them.