H'mmm.

Need t'work on those social skills. When's that gunblogger gathering in Louisville?

The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Verbal/Linguistic You have highly developed auditory skills, enjoy reading and writing and telling stories, and are good at getting your point across. You learn best by saying and hearing words. People like you include poets, authors, speakers, attorneys, politicians, lecturers and teachers. Verbal/Linguistic 96% Logical/Mathematical 96% Visual/Spatial 96% Intrapersonal 82% Musical/Rhythmic 68% Bodily/Kinesthetic 61% Interpersonal 29%

Go Have A Look, Then Come Back For The Rant

...Have a look at Blognomicon's response to an especially yammerheaded statement from a willing victim who wants everyone else to be just like him: Force.
Credit for this link to the clever and readable Sister of the Gun Squeaky Wheel, via the handsome and charming D. Martyn Lloyd-Morgan . You do read 'em, don't you?


The Rant:
A little something Squeaky and D. Martyn get, Ladd Everitt does not, something which happens to be one of my main ideals, is that while it is perfectly okay* to hold whatever nitwit notion one cares to, it is not okay to require that others share it.

I preach rather less than many libby gunbloggers; it's not that I don't want to, but on the way to the keyboard, my attention is taken by something shiny an' motorized on two wheels, or a nice plate of fried 'taters, mushrooms, scrambled eggs and bacon with fresh hot coffee and pastries from Rene's on the side,** and I blog about that instead; or a Farnsworth Fusor goes a bit wonky at the Skunk Works and I craft some vaguely-worded commentary on it; or some other wonder happens by and either way, a nice sermon on freedom of conscience or whatever is left by the wayside. There are, after all, plenty of freedom bloggers who will say it better.

But get this: I'm not out to convert nor am I here to utter platitudes everyone will agree with and feel reassured in our shared beliefs; I'm here to tell you it is a very large world indeed, one in which plenty of people find plenty of workable ways to accomplish their peaceable goals in a peaceable manner and every single one of them is okay as long as they're not messin' with you. It's very easy to see evil in things that are really no more than a matter of taste. Now, some people have very good taste and others favor the tacky, and the latter is indeed unfortunate; but the lighted, inflatable, unnaturally-neon-orange pumpkin in their front yard does me no harm at all. I may mock it -- indeed, I just have -- but I'm not going to insist it be taken down as a menace to all that is good and holy.

Try to identify the reality of things; try to see what matters and what is simply decoration. It can be difficult to do. I struggle with it. The noise-to-signal ratio of a free and creative culture is very high! But that's a healthy thing.

Yammerheads who insist we should all be disarmed "for the common good?" Not healthy at all. Yammerheads who disarm themselves? That's their worry!
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* Possibly counter-survival but as long as you're not hauling along the unwilling, bye-bye! Bon vo-ah-geey!
** Today's brunch! Hot American coffee properly made, country bacon with black pepper, cajun seasoning on the potatoes and portabellas as they fried, fresh brown eggs from the Organo-Mart scrambled, diced Swiss cheese and Cholula hot sauce to top the finished creation, V8 on the side; dessert was a fresh orange-hazelnut pinwheel from the best and tinest bakery in town. It'll either wake you up or do you in.

Work, Work, Work

Good progress at the Skunk Works, for a wonder. We have turned the corner on unmitigated disaster and are into the creative destruction phase, which is always fun.

Best quote of the day was from my peer C. Jay, sitting on the floor, tangled in wires, having just dumped his refreshing beverage: "My pants are soaked with coffee and I'm still optimistic!"

Yes, it was that kind of day.

To give a rough idea of what we're juggling at the Works, imagine we have jury-rigged a small research reactor and are now cleaning out the old one it replaced, preparatory to final installation of the new one; the physical risk is not so high but the financial risk is huge and so's the complexity of the task.

Came home and fell asleep watching a Firefly episode, "Out Of Gas." It's a brilliant example of non-linear storytelling, one of the best episodes of one of the best science-fiction series ever put on the tube. (It was cancelled by a short-sighted philistine, of course). My thanks to Bob G for reminding me that I'm still and always a Browncoat.

Mood Escalator

The one marked "up!"

Today, the Skunk Working was a glaze of unavailing effort, simply trying to get back to the level of functionality we had prior to the latest round of "improvements." As ever, much as I might like to detail every little bit of the joy and de-light, that would be tellin'.

Plus, this morning my cats were having some elderly-cat issues of a frustrating sort. I was late to work from dealing with said issues, not a clever plan in light of the above. And I worked over the preceding evening with a transmitter problem.

Yeah. Oh Woe Is Me: I slept warm and had an adequate breakfast and lunch. Still, I was in a rotten little mood most of the day.

Got home, looked at the scooter, realized I need to pick up groceries anyway; did my chores, then geared up* and just about froze my wrists -- I need better cold-weather gloves! -- getting up to the Organo-Mart where I picked up Purina Girl Chow, a/k/a salad-in-a-bag plus some goodies to add to it. By the time I got back home, I was smiling.

It's tiny, not very fast and a bit of a challenge to operate, an old-fashioned 150 cc Vespa clone with a slightly clunky manual transmission but it's a joy machine nevertheless. Adding a windscreen so I could ride in colder weather was the best mod I've ever made to a vehicle!
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* My cold-weather jacket looks like a prop from a bad Sci-Fi movie, "The Last Star Fidgiter" or maybe "Galaxy Kogyaru." I love it! Add the fringed leather chaps, black gloves with faux lepoard-fur trim and jump boots and all I need is a space ship. Er...got one?

Change Seasons, Change Guns

It's just about bundling-up weather, which means my dear little .380 (Colt Pony Pocketlite, one of the best guns I ever paid too much for) probably should be set to pasture in favor of a pocket gun with more oomph.

The question is, which one? I have a slim 9mm (8 rounds) and a nifty .45 (6 rounds), both classics and lightweight, the model BKM and PD, respectively, made by Star. Not modern super-duper wondergunz, but it's not like they get tons of use; I can't carry to work (it's considered rude by the owners) and I try to avoid gunfights anyway.

My preference varies -- having 2 more rounds of loud noise and muzzle flash is a good thing. On the other hand, a .45 makes really impressive "eye contact." On the other other hand, I tend to shoot better with a 9mm.

(And I didn't say "stopping power" even once! Oh, ooops.)

Don't have to decide right now. Looks like a warmish week.

Upcomin' Eeeeee-Vents

My dear search 'bots -- and you three self-aware protoplasms, too -- I feel a whine in the air, a temptation to which I shall not yield; feel free to imagine the vastness of the bathos you are thereby spared.

Instead, I'll mention some notions I've been kicking around, ideas that have yet to jell but show evidence of sufficient pectin:

"On soft-hearted economists and the short-sighted lenders that made 'em that way:" one of my better -- aw, shux, one of my darn few -- friends thinks the government ought to keep ripoff credit outfits from reelin' in the easy marks. I disagree, but not because fools are born to be fooled.

"The tragedy of the common roads:" this is a topic I promised Our Canadian Cousin;* the other way to handle roads is something I have experienced on a small scale, so it won't be all theory and high-minded blather. Look for a special guest appearance from a famous canard, the free-rider "problem." In this context, it might not be much of a problem.

And who knows, maybe other stuff. Or I might just chuck it all an' go hang out at the used bookstores, hopin' to find a nice geek who bathes occasionally an' all, a real charmer.

The last two days at the Skunk Works have been a good approximation of Hell, only without Samuel Clemens, Oscar Wilde and Ayn Rand jockeying for attention in the seats nearest the fire. I'd love to explain that, but it would be both a whine and tellin' tales that are not mine to tell, so you will just have to imagine. Antacids have nutritional value, right?
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* Please don't take this whimsical tag as criticism of Canada per se or Canadians collectively or individually; it's just a handy way of referring to my pal and critic whose initials are text-message shorthand. He's right, you know: I'm not human. Or not hardly.

Oh, my.

There's probably "something wrong" with my "sense of humor," but this gal makes me laugh until tears are rolling down my cheeks and I can't take a decent breath or see straight.

Thanks to "Xavier," who has the "link" posted.

Five Airplanes Aircraft

All the other kids are doing it! I kind of have my own take on the topic....

5. Any of the Goodyear blimps (Spirit of Goodyear shown). They're regular vistors to the city, wallow like a walrus on land in a strong wind, and are still majorly kewl. Slow but it takes a real pi-lut t' fly these softies. http://www.airships.net/2719295.jpg

4. von Braun's 1950s "space shuttle." Attention, NASA: This is how it was supposed to look and work. http://fetco1.homestead.com/files/rocket3.jpg

3. SpaceShip One. Beautiful, simply beautiful. (Ooooo, space ships. Space pilots. :swoon:). (NASA: see?) http://www.philsmith.us/SpaceShipOneSmall.jpg

2. LZ-127 Graf Zeppelin. I don't know where I'd keep it but I gotta get me one of these! http://www.airships.net/2719295.jpg

1. Beechcraft Staggerwing. I'd marry one of these. Even an airship privateer has to have something sporty for recon, right? (If you're flyin' a Staggerwing, call me. We'll talk). http://www.beechcraftheritagemuseum.org/images/gallery/model_17/snB-9_G17S_N99DV.jpg

As planned, I have replaced the pictures with links.

Officially, It's Today

Memorial Day, that is, and I hope you have a chance to thank a warrior. If you are a warrior, my heartfelt appreciation to you.

Being a little old-fashioned, I stopped for moment yesterday at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month and reflected on the nature of honor, duty, being willing to go stand up for modern civilization and the men and women who demonstrate those qualities in abundance.

As happens, I don't have a very high opinion of President Woodrow Wilson or his nasty foray into European wars. If you ask me the man was a short-sighted racist and those are merely his least-obnoxious qualities; but his likeness to the proverbial toad does not detract at all from the valor of those who, when the call came, took up arms and did the job. --If there's some parallel there to current events, well, how about that. Now, go thank a soldier, sailor, flyboy, Coastie or Marine, okay?

P.S. to "Moved Out!"

So, fifteen bags of trash, five old, beat-up wastebaskets, a 3'-cube wooden crate and assorted dead mops and battered window-blinds later, that minor "bagging up the trash" is done. Hully gee, I had no idea!

Spending eight hours in the house where we put undersized filters in the furnace for years and years (and I let it happen by being lazy, I don't think I changed one ever), scrubbing and throwing away, really does wonders to alleviate nostalgia.

Moved Out!

That's done. It's an odd feeling; I lived in Thunderbolt House for fourteen years, all but one with Mr. Ex. His nice cat Neko and my devoted Janie (who played together, quietly, at night, when the other two cats were asleep) both died there. It was there, over a decade ago, that I answered the phone about eight at night, already in my nightgown, to be told, "We have a working fire at the transmitter;" the following seven days, I took eight hours off to sleep, period. (It could well be that little things like that are why Ex X'ed out. At times, my job demands total attention).

That's the place he came to me, worried and angry, when our 10-year-old Jag was totalled while he was waiting at a stoplight; it's the house where I burned my first set of popovers* and where the call came from Mom that Dad was unexpectedly in the hospital and probably not going to wake again.

It was most of my adult life.

That's also where I found BBSs and teh intraw3b, using a '286 box and a (fast!) 2400 Baud modem, first logging onto Delphi, then a local outfit (who turned out to be a guy selling access "borrowed" from his employers!) and then a little neighborhood provider...which, a few years after AOL tapped into the 'net (it was a big deal then, invasion of the Visigoths!) got snapped up by a big provider, and there went shell access and my by-then antique computer -- and, once I'd replaced that with a modern laptop and a real ISP, there came the Web!

Which is most of the rest of my not-so-adult life.


And now my old home is empty. Dusty. I've got to go back over and bag up trash and then it will be entirely done. Someone else will call the place home, creaking floors, peeling paint, scary electrical wiring and all.

It's an odd feeling. This isn't exactly what I had planned.


Had to drop off the moving van at dawn's first light in the middle of a cold autumn thunderstorm. Aha, no problem, I'll dress in layers, I have my poncho, all set. Ha! Soaked jeans and shoes, nice fat drops of near-ice gave me a facial, and the best part was when, riding on rough pavement with a good coating of wet leaves, the poncho blew over my face. Sometimes it's better to be lucky than smart; it all worked out. Brrrrr!

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* Simplest receipe imaginable, yet easy to get wrong. Sheer heaven when properly prepared!

The Constitution, Voting, and Idiots

Covering the recent election here in the City of the Big O, the local litter box liner newspaper trotted out voter turnout stats for the last few mayoral elections.

Back when Mayor Voted-Out last won, we had a whopping 26% turnout, which the paper routinely decried, yawn. Ex-Mayor-To-Be won that go-round with 60% of the vote. 15.6% of the potental voters, unless my flaky math gene is on the blink. ...This is winning by getting the left-handers to vote for you, or all of [name any smallish minority]. More people bought new cars than voted (which is probably an indication of which activity is more directly rewarding; no argument from me there).

Sure, the paper's right, more citizens ought to vote. --But prior to that, it'd be a real help if more citizens were citizens.

Many of my fellow libertarian gunbloggers speak very highly of the Constitution of the United States of America. It's certainly a magnificent effort, but let's be realistic: it is beta-level software at best, running with over two dozen major patches (some of them crufty indeed, like direct election of Senators and Income Tax) and uncounted minor ones. It's old software and like all early efforts, it is extremely hardware-dependant.

Not so much the "hardware" of buildings or even of institutions; no, the hardware in question is us, or what we were presumed to be by the Framers: a largely aware, informed and engaged electorate.

I do not so very much mind a 26% turnout if most of them have done their homework and the other nearly three-quarters have not; it keeps the idiots from pushing the rest of us around by their whims and makes my vote count all the more!

But do you really want me deciding who'll sit in the seats of power? My most conventional notions are shockingly radical when compared to the popular wisdom! They might even be far-out compared to many of the ideals you hold dear.

And I am probably one of the least inimical voters out there. If you've been sitting out elections, either to protest or avoid empowering a coercive system or simply because you believe it doesn't matter, it might be time to think again.

The software's old and flawed but it's running. It's probably fixable. If you want to keep it running, if you'd like to have a chance at making things better, maintain that portion of the hardware you control: yourself, your awareness and your vote.