Letters! We Get Letters...

D. W. Drang asks, in a comment to "Wall? Head. Rock, Paper, Scissors," a musing on the long slow and, one hopes, not overly tumultuous decline of Liberty followed by Western Civilization (still with me? Geesh, these hills aren't gettin' any shorter), the Cluemeter-wielder (I gave you a link, go see) asketh, "So, is the proximity of this to the link to the Letter From Cthulu significant...?"

H'mmm. Could be -- though let me admit right now, Cthulhu's dark advent would be a serious exception to my "not voting from the rooftops" policy. (Futile? Sure, but some outrages are not to be borne, period).

Nearly as outrageous and admitting of no such simple solution is our Congresscritter's increasing inability to comprehend their job description. Don't take my word for it -- even oldtime media pundits have noticed.

This November'll be a pretty big election. I find the range of Presidential choices unappetizing (and hope to blog more on the topic later) but there are a whole lot of other positions on the line. Most of 'em are people you can size up locally, ginks that have to get out and press the flesh and may even read their own mail and, unlike the President, they are in positions where they propose and enact legislation: L-A-W-S. These're the one that can really mess y'up if you mess up and let the ijits do all the electin'. They're not the caliber they once were but they could be even worse -- if you let 'em. Don't.

Bing-Bong, Cthulhu Calling!

I knew there was a reason I'd not put a "Why vote for the lesser evil?" sigil on my blog but the precise nature of that reason was no more than a dire and formless foreboding until today.

The rest of yez, looks like you'll be havin' to write "I will not meddle with the Elder Gods" on the blackboard 776,005 times. In your own blood. Eh, well, it's a-living....

;)

Sentinel

I followed most of Tam's recent Wikiwander in realtime, with digressions of my own along the way. Despite having read and enjoyed the book as a child (and the film version of James and The Giant Peach as a more-or-less adult), I hadn't realized the fellow I knew as a writer of creepy yarns also wrote Charlie and the Chocolate Factory -- nor that he'd been a fighter pilot.

Somehow we picked up the thread again today. While I was looking at airplanes, Tam found herself looking up J. R. R. Tolkein's grandson for a quite interesting reason that connects the two topics. The photo in that link gives a good sense of the art but not of the structure; we wondered if it was a flat cut-out, or what? The Wiki page doesn't say.

But do we live on a kewl planet at a kewl time? Oh, yeah. You can zoom in on the sculpture from orbit! Of course, there's also the more-conventional way to learn more. And no, it's not a flat cut-out.

Tam elected to hand this one to me (she may have a funny "overheard" post in the works) so here y'are.

Wall? Head. Rock, Paper, Scissors

...You know what's worse than violent disagreement? Violent agreement, when both parties are saying just almost exactly the same thing in different ways -- but so used to disagreement that each delivers rants and never quite hears one another.

Here's the thing: I believe all government is inherently flawed. Government has a built-in bias to perpetually increase its scope, authority and pervasiveness. The very best governments the minds of men have been able to devise only manage to slow this progress; I do not think it can be halted.

I would argue that the folks who write of sinister conspiracies are seeing patterns as one might see familiar shapes in clouds: that thunderhead might look like Mickey Mouse but let's be real, Disney didn't put it there. Nevertheless, the other fellows over there under the banner of "Progressive" are indeed progressing; not to some carefully-crafted socialist world state, not under any Master Plan and not alone: anyone out to "do good" using government for a tool, from "free" universal health care to "defending" marriage from same-sex couples is part of the problem. What business has government to meddle in such matters? None.

Barry Goldwater said it for me: "Any government powerful enough to give you whatever you want is also powerful enough to take it all away." The general version of Ugol's Law tells me that if such power exists, eventually it will be used. --Probably, in our clean, well-lit Western Civilized world, in a nice way, for our own good, with a touch so light and gentle...! But used, nevertheless.

And that's why it's so easy to wrapped around one's own axle over half-witted comparisons to Nazi Germany or Soviet Russia. Ain't gonna happen here that way, gang: never that fast, not that crudely-executed, and not that obviously. Sorry, those "mysterious fenced compounds" and the wilder rumors of unpunished battlefield atrocity are just agitprop.

Conversely, only a blind fool believes we -- the West, or our nation, or our State government or our friends and neighbors -- are so especially special that we could never ever possibly comprise the sort of totalitarian system of which history has seen so much; those so sure it could never happen here have no more wit than the Chicken Littles of the Left and Right claiming Der Tag is right around the corner. Sorry; there aren't any sharp corners left, wickedness is easy and evil banal, especially when it becomes widespread, even more so when the spread is gradual.

We are neither devils nor angels and neither is our government. While I am mostly convinced that liberty as the Founders saw it is a lost cause for Western Civ, I believe there is a lot left, centuries yet to go; and fighting a valiant rearguard action in defense of liberty is a matter of education, not "shooting the bastards."

Rome did not fall over a long weekend and our age has had a lot more history to learn from than did they. The ramparts you must man are the most difficult sort: metaphorical ones. Far less blood and thunder, far less thud and blunder and even the most heroic incur but little physical risk and garner little recognition. But if these battles are not fought -- or if they are engaged too foolishly, with the wrong weapons and on unfavorable terrain -- future generations will pay the price.

That's why I'm not "voting from the rooftops" and why I am voting in the more-traditional manner. And it's why I bother to blog.

Kids And Motorscooters

I'm no expert; what I say on the topic is just talk, not advice. If it was my kids, I'd turn into my Mom and say No. Possible. Way. Motorscooters are not safe. They cannot be made safe.

...But if you are gonna, here are some tips: Don't assume "cute" equals "harmless." A motorized two-wheeled vehicle is more dangerous to a youngster than a single-shot rifle, and just about as dangerous to bystanders. If you wouldn't hand a child or teen a .22, don't put them on a scooter.

Seriously consider MSF class for any would-be rider who qualifies for the course.

For a younger rider, maybe you should take the class -- and make copious notes.

The scooter itself? 50 cc or smaller. Automatic transmission. Modern-style, with a strong frame under the body components. Four-cycle engine, you'll be happier and the machine will last longer.

Manco imports pretty good Red Chinese machines and that's about as low as I'd go in quality. They come in under $1K new. Some Assembly (usually) Required, including some safety-critical items.

Better machines will last longer and offer better service support; look to your local scooter shop for the major brands. In Indianapolis, Speed City Scooters is the major dealer, from Vespa to Kymco. Genuine's Buddy 50 is a good example of this level. Yamaha and Honda also make very nice small scooters, both classic-looking and zoomy modern styles. If you buy used, look to the major brands first. No-name Chinese imports are cheaper but can be tricky to keep running and I would not buy one used.

Please remember that Junior and his kid sister believe themselves to be immortal. Good instruction, proper safety gear (helmet and gloves, minimum) and getting them to apply and use same is absolutely critical.

Riding can be a fun hobby and can build valuable skills. One of my coworkers rode a 125 cc motorcycle from the moment he had a license until he was able to buy a car himself, years later; his Dad figured he couldn't get into nearly as much trouble as he might in a car. He survived intact and is a skillful, careful driver. He also hasn't owned a motorcycle in decades. YMMV.

So, Rev. Jackson Is Chopped Liver?

It's been gnawing at me for a good long while: Michelle Obama said her husband's primary run was the first time she felt proud of America.

I am no fan of Jesse Jackson but the man made a credible run for the Democratic nomination some years ago; I don't agree with his opinions on just about everything but look, lady, he put in the long hours and the baby-kissin' and the meetings and speeches, and people did not treat him like a singing pig. Every step your hubby took on the campaign trail? Reverend Jackson was there first.

Why didn't his effort make you proud?

Avant Moi, Le Déluge

...Though I don't think French "avant" supports both English meanings of "before." (or does it? Ah, the perils of an incomplete education). This deluge is more "below" as I sit and type.

"Welcome to Roseholme. Have you rainboots?" The [deleted][unbranching family tree][censored] [an act illegal in seven states] basement is leaking. Friday's sewer backup had been accompanied by some water leakage but what I'm getting now is far more intense. Of course the floor's not quite level, so puddles linger.

The floor had a lovely fresh paint job when first I saw it, about this time last year. I should have been suspicious then but was I? Not nearly enough! Old cracks have opened up and widened; at several points, tiny little fairy springs, streams of water no larger than a pencil lead, arc gracefully from the floor to a quarter-inch in height at apex and they do not look to be stopping any time soon. They'd be cute as can be in a garden water feature, but not in my basement! There's a consistent 1/8 to 1/4 inch of water on 75% of the floor. The drain is working, at least so far. The floor paint is bubbling a bit where water's forcing it up from below.

This is easily the worst post-rain leakage and it's singularly undelightful. Having a usable basement is part of what makes Roseholme work for two grrrl-geeks* of varied and wide interest: that's my radio shack, tube-type amateur gear storage, and my radio, leather and light woodworking shop down there. Most of my tools are in the basement. I can't have it leaking.

The humidifier's whirring away, at least, and I have things as well up off the floor as I can presently manage. But, friends, somewhere I've gotta find a reputable contractor and the funds t'pay him. Bedarned if I know where.
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* Tam's gonna ask, "There's more than one geek here?" Look in the mirror, roomie; embrace your geekitude! ;>

And Under This Rock...

Update: I don't know if it was deliberate disinfo, FUD or just silly rumor but I'm callin' BS on myself: there's no evidence this video ever existed or that the rant happened at all. IMO, if it was available, it would have been leaked as the Dem primary went to the wire. It wasn't used; QED, it's vaporware.

Not quite breaking news, the other shoe has yet to be uploaded to YouTube, but it's only a matter of time.

It seems Mrs. Obama delivered a full-bore "blame whitey" rant* at, yes, you guessed it, Trinity United Church back in 2004. And the scuttlebutt is that it was well over the top.
Update: (And no, I am not especially ecstatic about this news. True or not, overblown or understated, it is painfully plausible and that's just sad).

Meanwhile, Senator Clinton has yet to concede. Any connection? I don't know; but I would not care to get between the Junior Senator from New York and anything she had her heart set on. She's got plenty of arrows left in her quiver, count on it.
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* So, which of my ancestors is it that peeve you the most, Ma'am? The German farmers who arrived here after 1865, the long line of flat-broke Scots who were here well prior to 1776 and never had two pennies to rub t'gether, or the Cherokees who started out with not much and left all of it behind when they decided not to go along with President Jackson's notions and hied off to Ohio to successfully pass as American citizens instead? 'Cos while nobody made 'em sit in the back of the bus, they rarely had busfare to begin with. No one gets to pick their skin and none of us can control the actions and attitudes of our our ancestors; all any of us have is the here and now and the days to come.

They've Got A Little List

Ha! Haha, ha hahaha! SnarkyBytes (that much-travelled man) shares a web-find that proves my point, sports fans! They're savin' a seat for ya in the warm place!

See Item Four? Ha! And again, Ha!

As for me, I'm safe on that one and I have always been Temperance and never, ever, ever uttered a vile oath unminced. As far as you know.

In fact, I'd bet...

Oh, drat. Item 12, right up there at the top of the second column. And item six. Scoot over, willya?

You're Doing It Wrong

A report on one of the bigger radio-with-pictures old-media providers covered another effect of soaring gasoline prices: increased mass-transit ridership, Oh What A Surprise.

But alas, mused the talking head, some cities -- including Indianapolis -- that have not been stuffing whacking huge subsidies into their various BigCityVapidTransit services have to make a choice: they're having to turn away riders and as the price of diesel soars, will have to either reduce routes or hours, or raise taxes.

Now maybe it's just me but one option seems to be missing; certainly the Authorized Journalist did not so much as hint at it: Outside government-controlled endeavors, increasing demand and insufficient revenue would result in price increases. Look, if the service can't support itself even during boom demand, either it's not a needed service or your approach to providing it is incorrect. Picking my pocket even harder to prop it up is simply wrong.

I made my peace with high gas prices quite some while back. If you start out with not much, even a couple bucks a gallon is a lot to pay; I've ridden a bicycle for short trips for years (and mine's no toy: it can carry a week's groceries and often does) and started using my motor-scooter for longer travels shortly after buying it. Don't come to me with higher taxes 'cos you can't afford to gas up your leased super sport'emup non-utility vehicle!

Some of the "Public Utility" businesses may not ever be profitable but completely ignoring the possibility that they might manage to pay their own way bespeaks a mindset inimical to the approach that made the U. S. one of the best places in the world to live. It's a small thing, perhaps, but it's one more step down a path we travel to our own peril and our children's doom.

Security Theatre Knows No Border. Or Other Limit, Either

First, it was our very own TSA pants-wetting over penknives and gun-shaped keychain charms; then Canada's airplane-security geniuses got multi-level axle-wrapped over a tiny solid silver six-gun on a necklace. And now? Now, sharp-eyed screeners in that place where Great Britain once was* have kept us all safe -- safe, y'hear me? -- from a well-tummied IT boffin wearing a T-Shirt printed with a drawing of a robot holding a gun-like object.

He could have killed us all with his mind! Or maybe a router! Eeeeee!

I feel so much safer now.

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* Sun done set, chums. Sorry. Breaks my heart, too. --Can we start droppin' 'em Liberators with the little comic-book instructions now, can we can we?

Sundae

...A chocolate-covered blueberry sundae, that is, which is what I found in the car at the Art Museum this afternoon.

But as usual, I've gotten ahead of myself. With the basement more or less settled for the nonce, Tam was off to work the Indy 1500 Gun Show some more (this consists in part of sweet-talking nice gentlemen who have 'stonishingly pristine 19th Cent. rifles on display, plus sayin' Hi to throngs of adulators, all while helpin' at a friend's table). I scrambled for the shower soon after her departure, 'cos the Data Viking was hittin' town.

I was very nearly ready when he arrived and (him havin' some experience of wedlockery), he's well-content to chat with a gal while she's brushin' her hair and knows to retreat when I reach for the fixative that keeps my bangs from goin' entirely awry. DV is well, happy and reports the Frazier Arms Museum in Louisville well worth visiting. (I just tried to link to it and all I found was a watered-down "museum of history" with some sosh bilge on the homepage. Recent change of focus? Bad search params? I dunno).

After catching up, we headed off for the gun show ourselves, plannin' to haul Tam off for a bite to eat. (Er, that doesn't sound entirely correct. I assure you, cannibalism is way down in today's Royal Navy).

The show was -- well, it was an Indy 1500, and quite busy, especially for Day 3 of a warm-weather show. I picked up some munchables, havin' missed brekky (see para. one). We saw about half of it before findin' Tam, then off to Murphy's Steak Joi- Hey! They're closed of a Sunday. H'mmm, options...? Back up to Broad Ripple when I remembered Zest, one of the upscale breakfast/brunch places. It's got a great rep; I'd not been there before but they more than lived up to it, with fine omelets and quiche, good coffee and nice sides. My thanks to DV for the nice birthday brunch!

Back to the show (no extra cost for us, 1500 stamps your hand, but another parking fee at the Fairgrounds: they don't do pass-outs for cars), where we saw the other half of it and a few Tam-finds. (Needless Announcement Award when the PA came on with, "We remind everyone at the show there is no need for loaded guns at the show; the only people carrying loaded guns should be the on-duty officers at the show. A couple of the vendors at the West end seem to have loaded guns on their belts, blah blah blah..." Yeah, those sidearms are a-gonna just leap up, barkin', and fill the air with lead, all by themselves. Funny, we were at the West end and I saw no surge of IMPD or ATF guys to deal with the dire threat; you don't suppose they were not all that concerned... This is the same ghit who likes to warn us of the horror of Automatic Knives about every other show). Tam headed back to her helping-out and we headed just plain out.

Thence homeward but the day was yet young, so DV and I buzzed over to IMA and its extensive grounds and gardens. --I couldn't tell you if the museum was open but the flowers were in bloom. Saw a lot of tulip tree flowers, probably storm debris but never spotted the tree. The vertical range of the place is always a surprise; at one point we climbed about 75 feet up the stepped slope of the outdoor ampitheatre, up another 15 or 20 feet of stairs and onto a huge, empty plaza behind the museum! This overlooks a hidden storage area for large-scale sculpture to which I'll have to return with a camera; it looks like nothing so much as Things Found In H. P. Lovecraft's Back Yard After The Disturbing Occurrence.

Getting out of the car at IMA, I remembered the paper bag of munchies from the gun show: now a warm mush of blue chocolate with pasty berries in it. Well, I got to eat a lot of them earlier at the show.

Total haul for the day: a new purse, a new flashlight (daggone AAAA Streamlights are handy as can be but swole-up batteries kill them dead), another carry knife. H'mmm, no gun? Despite my extreme level of personal evil and fiendishfullness, didn't find anything that I liked, could afford, and that wasn't in need of much serious work. (Keep yer damn' Dremel off the Sistema, willya pleeeeeze?). Passed by a cute little Colt Mustang Pocketlight in fine shape; they just keep getting pricier. So it goes.