Sociology? History?

      It'll be a PhD thesis subject some day, I'm just not sure in which department: Is Republican rage at Dr. Anthony Fauci primarily driven by his refusal to validate quackery during the Covid pandemic, or by his earlier work in helping find effective treatments for HIV/AIDS?

     There's a certain subset of the Right, especially the Religious Right, that was delighted they could cast gay sex as a death sentence, and Dr. Fauci played a huge part in taking that away.  He was a low-key villain for the nutjob Right ever after, and the more widespread craziness over Covid opened the door to spreading that loathing.

     Now they're promising to get him behind bars, one way or another -- for doing what was at the time his job.

     Sorry, horse dewormer is still not a miracle cure for viral illness.  Vaccination is a effective tool in stopping the spread of disease.  AIDS was not the wrath of God.  You can stick your fingers in your ears and chant, "No, no, no," all you like, but it's still true.

Red Stew Wednesday

     Because if I call it chili, the Texans get restive.  The various kinds of stuff we make in the Midwest are drastically different anyway, so I don't mind calling the genre by a different name.

     Whit I grew up with was a mild dish with ground beef, tomatoes, red kidney beans and elbow macaroni, with cumin-heavy seasoning.  What I make is...not that.

     Tonight's had lean ground beef, a cut-up strip of bacon, a chopped fresh white onion, red, fresh red,  yellow and green bell peppers, diced fresh mushrooms, a little grocery-store fresh pico de gallo, bright red peppadew peppers, two cans of mild green chilis, a little pickled red onion, some bell pepper bruschetta, hot pickled okra cut into rounds and a box of crushed tomatoes.

     That's a whole lot of stuff, which got browned and sauteed and stirred and simmered, with various spices along the way, mostly chili powder, Italian-mix seasoning, smoked paprika, a little celery salt on the ground beef, a dash of Cajun seasoning, and of course, three big bay leaves after everything was in the pot together and simmering.

     It looks like this:

   I liked it, and there's plenty left for later, probably with some different meat added and whatever else appeals to me.

What Are The Odds

     What, do you suppose, are the chances that a man who still denies he lost an election to the Presidency and incited a (dimwitted) insurrection to stop it after running through a great many legal-system gambits will try a rugpull on midterm elections that are likely to cost his party at least one house of the legislature and maybe both?

     This guy figures it's a likely bet.  He's probably right; losing will be somewhere between personally frustrating to catastrophic for the incumbent, who is not a man who will put up with that.  What form i will take and how well the effort is likely to succeed, that's another set of questions.

     We'll find out.

The Thing Is...

      "Every spot in history is the most dangerous," a commenter told me the other day.  Which is on one level a tautology: we're a species that floats on the edge of disaster.  Our genetic heritage tells the story of multiple narrow escapes; many of our legendary heroes, all around the globe, are clever tricksters who talk or connive their way out of trouble.

     Humanity spends a lot of time running right at the red line.

     On the other hand, we're got a regime in Washington right now that is an outlier in both degree and kind:

     Degree because they're profiting from holding office far in excess of the usual.  I have resigned myself to believing that with billions wooshing by overhead, Federal politicians all eventually conclude they'd be fools to not do as all around them are doing, and net a few million for themselves.  Okay; I don't like it but there it is.  But these guys are raking in billions, and most are not the least bit coy about it.

     Kind, because we haven't seen this level of racism from the party in power since Woodrow Wilson.  We haven't seen nativism so bullheaded since the Know-Nothings.  We've only seen this much division once before, and it didn't end well.  A little over two years ago, Kevin Roberts, the president of the rightwing Heritage Foundation, source of the Project 2025 agenda, told Steve Bannon on his podcast, "We are in the process of the second American Revolution, which will remain bloodless -- if the Left allows it to be."

     That's not politics as usual.  That's not normal.  That's a promise to turn things over, to purge and remake not by compromise but in the likeness of just one party, just one part of the American electorate.

     So, yes, the present is always the most dangerous time -- but some presents are more dangerous than others, and they don't become less dangerous by pretending it's the same old same old.

Tam Takes A Chance

     For years, I've been buying Michaels of Brooklyn pasta sauce.  It's consistent and I like it, but I mostly stick to two versions: "Home Style Gravy," which has a long list of ingredients, and "Marinara," which is a more classic tomato-and-spices sauce.  I've tried their spicy Arrabbiata, which is good, but the Puttanesca....

     I admit it.  The anchovies scared me.  Put 'em on a pizza and they're overpoweringly fishy -- which is fine, if you're in the mood for it.  I didn't know how that would play out in pasta sauce.

     Tonight, I was going to make something we have every so often, fancy mixed fresh vegetables (mostly broccoli, cauliflower, asparagus, red onion, a little shredded carrot, zucchini and peapods) that the grocery packages with a little pat of Italian herb butter in a microwave-ready bag, with meaty pasta sauce poured over it.  I asked Tam to buy some sausage -- whatever looked good to her -- and a jar of sauce.  "Get the kind with the most ingredients," I said, not remembering if it was the Home Style Gravy or Marinara.

     As it happens, the Puttanesca sauce has the longest list of ingredients and she was happy to comply.  Dinnertime came, and I browned two mild Italian sausages and one hot one, all three squeezed out of their casings and crumbled as they cooked.  I drained it and added some fresh carrots cut into rounds and a half-dozen green onions, chopped, and cooked it a little more while I hunted up the sauce.  And it was....  Oh, my.  Well, it was what  we had.  I poured the Puttanesca in, gave it a stir and let the pot simmer, not knowing how it would turn out.

     It came out fine.  Better than fine -- there are green and black olives in Michaels Puttanesca, and capers, and if there are a few anchovies, well, think of 'em as Roman garum on the hoof (or fin): all they added was umami.

     I'll buy it again.

     The sauce-over-vegetables thing is an alternative to dinner with pasta noodles and salad.  It works very well, and anyone who has had that lecture from their doctor about limiting bread and rice and potatoes and pasta (and all those wonderful, lovely things) is advised to try it.  It's been a good way to serve zucchini as far back as I can remember, and adding a few other vegetables only broadens the appeal.

Don't Know Much About History?

     Have I got a guy for you!  A Collection of Unmitigated Pedantry will take you on deep dives into history with a genuine scholar, footnotes and all, often answering those questions that gnaw at perceptive students getting a view-from-orbit look at history.

     Wear comfy shoes and pack a lunch.  You're going to be awhile.

Letter To An Auto-Peddler

Dear Bedroom Community Chevrolet Dealer Who Keeps Mailing Me Offers To Buy My Car:

     Please take this to heart: The only circumstance under which I would purchase a new car would be if someone was holding a gun to my head.  That is, unless they insisted that I buy a Chevy.  If they did, I would ask them to please hurry up and pull the trigger.

     Sincerely,
     Fool Who Purchased A Brand-New Cavalier (in the first year the model was offered and regretted it for ten years.  While I was having the engine rebuilt after the heads warped, I bought a rusty 1974 MGB for $300, and found it to be more fun and more dependable than the Chevy.  I parked the Cavalier and drove the MG.)

     You could not give me a Chevy.  I'm sure they make plenty of fine cars, but that wretched little hatchback soured me on 'em for good. 

If It's Good Enough For a Plowman....

     ...It's good enough for anyone.  Thanks to physical therapy and some very mild yard work afterwards, I was hungry around midday, which I usually am not.

     Breakfast was a three-meat (a little bacon, ham and pastrami) and egg sandwich on rye toast.  Lunch needed to be at least nominally more healthy.

     Behold:

     It's a "Ploughman's Lunch" and a very fancy one, with buttered multigrain bread, Brie and Babybel (very similar to Edam) cheese, dark-red fresh cherries, pickled red onions, hot pickled okra, umami-rich bell pepper bruschetta, Kalamata and Castelvetrano olives, and "half-done" dill pickles with lots of flavor and crunch, plus a few roasted cashews not seen in the photograph.

     A meal like that, light though is it, leaves your palate amused and senses satiated.

Current Events

     The thing about commenting on current events is, right now, we have got a whole bunch of men -- and it's mostly men, you boys gotta own that -- who are busily setting the world on fire, like an entire gang of firebug nitwits creeping around California at the height of dry season with boxes of strike-anywhere matches and aiming to do just that: strike anywhere.

     I can keep on pointin' 'em out, but there are so many and they are so determined in their efforts that there are not enough fire hoses, and none of them fat enough, to prevent some damage.  Sooner or later, one or another is going to get something major going and the winds of history will fan the flames.  The Middle East?  Ukraine?  The Atlantic overturning current?  Most of Canada burning to the waterline (hey, don't we have a state up that way, and a lot of it also covered in woods?)?  Stock market crashing, Africa overrun by infectious disease...?

     Don't know.  Can't say.  The human race perpetually dances on the rim of a volcano, and we have got us a crop of boys who are choosing the more overhanging parts of it for our dance floor and doing a lot of jumping up and down.  Eventually, something's going to give.

     Better be ready to leap for safety -- and to know which direction will do you the most good, 'cos they are just looking for the rush when it crumbles.

Hoppin' John, Skippin' Jenny

     I started with some pretty good Hoppin' John -- ham, mild Italian sausage, green peppers, onion, canned diced mild chilis, a box of crushed tomatoes blackeyed peas and a little this and that.  We had it last week and I froze the leftovers in two batches.

     Then I picked up some pickled mild banana pepper rings, sliced pickled hot cherry pepper, pickled red onions and spicy pickled okra, plus the usual green Castelvetrano olvies and black Kalamata olives.  Handy stuff to have.

     Tonight, Tam brought home bulk sweet Italian sausage (it's not sweet-sweet, just a different herb profile than the mild).  I browned it in olive oil with a little gumbo filé (I should have held that back for later, to help thicken the broth), Cajun seasoning and smoked paprika, added pickled peppers and onions as it was about done and drained it, then added a little more of the onions and pepper, plus five big okra cut into rounds, along with a few of each kind of olives, a small can of tomato sauce, a big can of fire-roasted green chilis and half a can of pinto beans.  Meanwhile, I defrosted the half-batch of Hoppin' John and added it, plus some dried chives, cilantro, a little oregano, some dried garlic and a big bay leaf.  Plus a little more Cajun seasoning after it came up to a boil and I had a taste.  I let it simmer a bit before serving.

     Reheated Hoppin' John is Skippin' Jenny, and this pot skipped as nicely as you please!  This combination is rich in pantothenic acid and other B-complex vitamins, which may be why I have picked up a craving for it: it's one of the building blocks for all the things that help our joints work.  Or, whatever, maybe I just like the flavor.

Sleepy

     I'd post something, but I keep nodding off.  I haven't been sleeping well -- my back wakes me more often than I'm used to.

The Doctor Says

     I'm off for four more weeks.  Well, the doctor actually prescribed light duty, still not lifting any more than fifteen pounds, and that's a downcheck for work, where they require us to be able to lift fifty pounds -- or at least be able to try.

     That's a lot of weight, and far more than I routinely lift.  There are plenty of good workarounds.  The kicker is, there's a possibility of overhead work, and you really don't want to be dropping expensive, heavy equipment, especially when expensive people are working not too far away.  I don't like it but I understand it.  I'll do my exercises and hope for improvement.

One Nothingburger, All The Trimmings

     NPR has cogent analysis of last night's Presidential speech.  Tl;dr? A nothingburger with cheese, pickles, lettuce (oh, lots and lots of fine Taylor Farms lettuce), tomato, mushrooms, Ranch dressing, onion, mustard, ketchup, toothpaste, horseradish, grill-toasted sesame-seed buns and a dead mouse -- but no burger.

     China illicitly stole voter rolls?  Those are a matter of public record.  In many cases, you can make just like a Ministry of State Security spook, and download 'em yourself over the Internet, free for nothing!  No skull or duggery required, Mao jacket optional.

     Foreign countries -- notably China, Russia and Iran -- have tried to interfere in our elections, at least as far back as 2020?  You bet they have; we knew about it then and we know about it now, and they still haven't got into the election machinery to yank levers.  They mostly do indirect things, like fund influencers and leak damaging real information and disinformation, and the state and Federal governments are well aware of it, since they're constantly playing Whack-A-Mole against 'em -- and winning.

     OMG, there are 250,000+ non-citizens registered to vote?  Guess what, there kind of are, and there are two main sources.  The first is paperwork screwups, things like asylum-seeker Hector interacts with state or city governments in some way, getting permission to drive or signing up to pay his sewer bill and so on, and there's one more form to fill out, thanks to voter-registration outreach efforts.  The person behind the counter neither knows or cares if he's a citizen, oops.  Or, and this is a gotcha, Hector follows all the rules, and eventually becomes a shiny new U.S. citizen, Social Security number and all.  Of course he registers to vote -- unlike you, Hector is fresh off Civics classes, and he wants to be a good citizen.  But Homeland Security doesn't have any automatic mechanism to connect new-citizen Hector with asylum-seeker or Temporary Protected Status Hector, and when their SAVE list of non-citizens is compared with lists of registered voters, there he is.  (If he gets snatched by ICE, he will have to prove he's a citizen, and they're very picky about what counts as proof, something that has happened over and over in the past 18 months.)  And there are rather a lot of overlapping names with incomplete data; do they match, or not?  Well, maybe; ICE and CPB appear to be finding out in ways that are often quite rough.  Oops, wrong Hector.

     On and on the claims went, and it was all stuff with a relatively high ooga-booga-scary quotient and little real substance.  None of it was new.  And he capped it off by calling ABC and NBC "complicit" with his enemies in not carrying the speech, and suggesting their licenses to use the high-value public airwaves free for nothing should be taken away.  (TV networks as such don't have licenses, other than for the handful of stations they own directly.  Outside of New York, Chicago, Los Angeles and San Francisco, odds are the ABC/CBS/Fox/NBC station you watch is owned by a company other than a network.  PBS doesn't own any at all.)

     I watched the speech on CBS, who cut away before the President was done speaking and were surprisingly critical of the content, with extensive on-the-spot debunking from experts.  I don't know if Tony Dokoupil and Margaret Brennan still have jobs as of this morning, but they didn't pull any punches last night.  (I listened to NPR's coverage a little, too, with similar fact-based debunking.  They were both very careful to do their homework, shedding lots of light with little or no heat.)

Alea Iacta Maybe

     There's a Presidential address tonight, which the White House says will be be about "free and fair elections"* and "a couple of other things."

     If the sitting President manages to cover only three topics in the course of a speech, it'll be a first.

     But the stuff about elections puts news media in a quandary: provide a platform for yet more falsehoods about elections (including, according to credible sources, the 2020 Presidential election), or ignore it, and incur the wrath of an Administration with a history of striking back?  Brendan Carr's FCC has been uncommonly pugnacious, so we'll probably see and hear the spectacle all across radio and TV.

     Depending on what he says and takes action on, it could be a crossing of the Rubicon -- if that means anything at all under an Administration that crosses rivers-not-to-be-crossed as if they were taking commuter bridges in and out of Washington DC.  I'll be watching, if only because power-grabbing regimes count on burnout and over-familiarity with awfulness to enable their encroachments.

     Pundit after pundit, editorial after editorial has asked, "When will it get to be too much?"  I think that's the wrong question, one based an overly-simplified version of history.  There is very rarely a moment when everything changes like a flipped light switch, especially for the people in the moment; Ralph Waldo Emerson may have "heard the shot fired 'round the World" at the Old North Bridge, but he was listening in 1837, when the issues of 1775 were long settled.  Conflict had been ongoing; British troops and Colonial militias had been on the move long before.  Conversely, a lot of Americans didn't find out they were in the middle of a shooting war until long afterward.

     One day, everyone will have been against this.  One day, the current mess won't just be something happening on your computer or television screen.

     Tonight?  Who knows.  That's why I'll watch.

     Update: As a commenter pointed out, half of the Big 4 over-the-air networks won't be carrying the speech: ABC and NBC have said "No, thanks" to over-the-air; they'll stream it online, as will PBS.  CBS and Fox are unknown, but likely.  NPR will carry it on radio.  I'm mildly surprised.
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* Which, by the way, they're all been here in the United States, for at least all of your lifetime and probably long before.  Claims to the contrary (especially for 2020) have been unequivocally shown to be lies, distortions and/or bullshit-laden hot air, by everyone from investigating Feds to international observers, as well as journalists who stand to get a lot more attention from bombshells about cheating than a dull report that everything went according to routine.

The Men Who Built The Torment Nexus*

     It's a trope from The Onion and like a lot of satire, it's realer than real.  The essay linked below explains how zillionaire techbros have looted science fiction for settings and widgets while discarding the philosophy and warnings to rot.  Is the future not what you were promised?  Yeah, me, too, and here's one big reason why.
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* Title riffed from Alfred Bester's short story, "The Men Who Murdered Mohammed," which you should read if you haven't.  It's almost reassuring.  Or is it? 

Doctor Today, Dentist Tomorrow

      Saw my regular doctor today for general follow-up on my back and some discussion of long-term prognosis.  It is, as I suspected, partially a dice roll: I should avoid undue stress, but even then, it may flare up from time to time.  I've got a glitchy back now.

     I did very well on blood pressure (see what six weeks off gets you?).

     Tomorrow, the dentist will probably not give me good marks for tooth-grinding.  It's been a problem all my life, and some times more than others.  These are tooth-grinding times, and I bear the marks.

Antenna!

     After checking out the ladders I already own, I realized I had one that was light enough to carry and the right size to reach the roof, so with only one extra trip (had the wrong size of paracord), my ham antenna is back to the usable condition it was in before the raccoons-in-the-chimney excitement.  It was slow going, but I did the job.

     That was Saturday, and it left me pretty worn out.  Still, it's progress.

Looking Back

     The thing about a gerontocracy is that it crumbles away at the upper edge: with age comes power, but nobody lasts forever; the same "bathtub curve" that explains why most of a batch of light bulbs or hard drives fail around the same time shows that the men at the top, once they get there, die off.*

     Lindsey Graham went last night, younger than many but a year older than the age at which his father passed.  His political career followed an interesting path, one that led Anne Applebaum to feature him prominently in a prophetic 2020 article on the compromises some people make and others do not, when power outstrips constitutional limits and trumps political philosophy.  It's worth reading.
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* The horrific second-order effect is that the ruling elite of a gerontocracy has little or no interest in the future: they're not going to be around for it, after all, and so they'll take their pleasures now, and leave dealing with the consequences for those who will come after.

"Alexa, Get Out Of The Uncanny Valley."

     Amazon keeps sticking her in a hang glider and flying her into the Uncanny Valley, and I have to coax her back out again.  Alexa goes from useful and mildly entertaining to unnerving when the online giant turns her A.I. functionality back on.  They do so just about any time the software is upgraded.

     Like all of the big enterprises pushing so-called "Artificial Intelligence," they cannot conceive of anyone not enjoying a predictive text engine biased to suck up to the user.  This failure of imagination comes down from the top: the big-boss-and-owner class loves being catered to, and they don't care if there's any genuine respect or affection behind the tonguebath as long as they get the faithful appearance of deference.  There's nothing at all behind a large language model.  All it does is pick the most likely word or phrase that comes next, based on the prompt and context you and the setup have fed in.  You're talking back to the sounds your garbage disposal makes, not interacting with a creature like yourself -- or even a creature like a hamster, let alone a dog or a cat.

     It takes very little communication for Alexa's A.I. responses to become jarringly off; if you ask her if she and the HAL9000 are friends, instead of the old Easter-egg response, "I know him, but we haven't talked after what happened," the robot muses about HAL's "calm voice and cool demeanor," and wonders if she'd "be a bad influence on him," what with her being so chipper and all.  Never mind, I guess, that if we're treating HAL as an entity she might know, he has committed multiple murders and the bad influence is more likely to go the other way.

     We've got far too many organic sociopaths as it is, and nobody knows how to make 'em feel for others; we don't need to build new ones out of silicon and software.  That stuff is never going to have a theory of mind.

     A.I. is the The Wave Of Thirty Minutes Ago, and after the bubble pops and the economy crashes and recovers, spellcheck-on-steroids will be found to have only a few useful functions, including as a source of lowest-common-denominator entertainment and some non-critical agentic assistance, and it will otherwise be deader than optical disc recordings or analog audio on magnetic tape, as cringe as tailfins.  The unfixable problem is that it is empty at the core; it cannot love, it cannot feel pain or loss, and if a hiccup in the learning process has it considering turpentine a viable cocktail ingredient, it'll pour you a martini that can literally strip paint, without hesitation.  Bottoms up! 

Bear In Mind

      The words "Senator" and "senility" have the same Latin root, senex -- and yes, it means just what you think, only more so: "old, old man."

     U. S. Senators were supposed to be in those years between the attainment of mature wisdom and aimlessly wandering the halls in a bathrobe, and while you can't really mark them off on a calendar (well, kind of: nobody 29 or younger need apply), they're probably supposed to heed the wise council of their peers as they approach the upper limit, and step down gracefully.

     Increasingly, this is seen not to happen.  It's not an especially partisan phenomenon.  Neither are those other chief occupations of a U. S. Senator: lining their own pockets (stock markets and other investments, "campaign contributions" and so on) and getting their state (or pals and benefactors in other states) larded up at the ol' pork barrel.  I guess that's too engrossing to leave time for looking after their colleagues when they start to struggle.  (They cannot even be arsed to revise and pass -- or not pass -- laws, either, which was supposedly the entire point of the job.)

     As ever, the U. S. House runs their own Junior Varsity version of it; I remain convinced that their biggest problem is not too much dissension but a lack of tumult. If House debate were a little more spirited, it'd sort the dispirited right out, but it seems like you can't hardly get a good honest harrumph out of any of 'em on the chamber floor these days.  It's all weirdness and/or weasel-wording any more.